#and now it's a national park somehow
Text
in the time loop the only way out is to leave her there but you don't ever leave her there, never in the roughly one thousand years you have been in the same day. it is probably like "50 first dates" but you haven't stooped so low as to watch "50 first dates" yet. (but who is to say what another thousand years of the same media will bring to you, maybe you will develop a new taste).
you spent about 200 of these years sulking in a bathtub or on the couch or staring at the seaside. 300 of them have been spent slowly mapping the geographical distance you can actually get before the time loop restarts. you have a list of favorite places: one library in Western Massachusetts called "The Bookmill", which has weird hours and has never raised an eyebrow to you arriving out-of-breath and panting, asking to see a specific book on a specific shelf. There is one beach without a name in North Carolina; it is an accident of geography and ownership title disputes - and it is pristine, untouched, warm and cozy. you've taken her on a lot of picnics there. Acadia National Park. One specific birdhouse in the mountains.
you were stuck in the time loop with the money you entered it with: not enough to rent a private jet. you've robbed a bank a few times, you don't like the way it ends. maybe next century you'll get the hang of it. you don't like the look on her face when you say hang on i have to stop at the bank.
you just have to leave her, and you can go back to being a person again. you took 5 years just catching a flight and sitting in the Grand Canyon. if there's one thing you regret more than anything, it's that you hadn't gotten your passport renewed before this fucking time loop. maybe you should spend some time learning forgery - but also, like, you look like an english teacher. nobody is going to be cool about you asking to see their paper printing machines.
the world is very big. that is one of the things groundhog day gets wrong. there are no consequences, so you have literally all the time (or none of the time?) in the world. in groundhog day, he does a lot of very cool things, but in reality - your muscle memory never gets better. you can't necessarily learn how to play piano or sculpt ice, because your hands never remember the practice. but hey - maybe you'll try violin next. drums. synth.
you can open any door and walk into any conversation. money isn't really an object. you can try every meal off every menu, forever. take her on helicopter tours and into every museum and on every event that is happening right-now at-this-moment. parades and funerals and calligraphy classes.
but you are somewhat trapped by the limitations of your body. if you were reading a book, you still need to get up and go back to the library and find that book again when the day resets. (thank god for the internet). it still takes like 2 hours to board a plane, and then takeoff and landing and traffic. you've gotten off to run around on the freeway. one of the little thankful things: since your brain isn't actually developing (it's a muscle too), the days thankfully don't feel shorter to you. that would be agony.
all you have to do to leave the timeloop is let that man get away with it. that's all. in every version of yourself - forever - you have stopped him.
the problem is that this experience has convinced you of the existence of the human soul. after all, how else are you forming memories? your very cells reset. information has to be transferred somehow. and if timeloops are real, you can convince yourself other magic exists. so you have two choices here: this hell, or the next. there might be a millennia where you have been worn down to the point you can accept fate's decision. this is just not one of them. ironically - she is the one thing you have left.
and besides! if you can't always find something new in your partner, aren't you failing them? there is something new about her, every day with the same morning. every brutal day with the same orange sunset.
after all, you wanted to live with her in heaven, in eternity, and, well - isn't this second-best.
7K notes
·
View notes
Text
Dani should Kidnap The Clones.
It's basicly protective custody. Preemptive child services, if you will. NONE of these fuckers out here makin adorable clone baby just cause they want kids!
*kicks down the door to your shady lab* Knock Knock! ITS THE POLICE! *Walker's Shock troopers swarm the place as Dani secures the kids*
Look me in the eyes. You KNOW he'd love an excuse to enforce The Rules on people technically outside his jurisdiction. It's for The Children(tm)! Why, he simply had no CHOICE!
Meanwhile? Dani is shoving all these mal-adjusted Murder Clones into her Lair? Which is? Basicly a Door style Lair she hid inside Danny's Lair for safe keeping. It's shoved behind a vending machine just outside the observatory. And the inside? Goes on for DAYS.
Like national parks and every beautiful beach she ever came across. She smashed together the BEST sights and places she's found in her travels, like a collection. Always adding more. New waterfalls, new noodle shops, new fields of wine grapes. It's... beautiful. Snapshots of every wonderous little thing about Earth, stitched together.
They can't hurt anyone. Can't achieve their "objectives". Are just treated like actual individuals and the children they truely are. Are surrounded by other Clones. So it's NORMAL here. Just? All of it.
But also?
Dani and Dan? Teaming up to make History's Scariest Adoption Agency(TM). Dan runs it. Dan wants to know why EXACTLY you want a kid. Explain yourself to Dan. What are your references? Qualifications. He's doing a home visit to inspect the premises. He BETTER not find any suspicious Labs.
And? It just? Appears out of nowhere. It's powered by Zone Bullshit. One second you're thinking "oh woe is me D:> I will never have a child to fill my lovely home, because of all my Superhero Secrets and also because government bureaucracy!" And the next?
.....wasn't that an out of business taco bell? "Zone Adoptions"?
"....Free Clone Baby?"
Okay that is HIGHLY suspicious and as a hero you are basicly legally obligated to investigate. But now it's bigger on the inside? Fancy waiting room? You are being interrogated? Wait, no, you're supposed to be the one doing the-?
Somehow? You leave with your Clone Son from another Dimension. And a pamphlet. You're scheduled for a home visit in three days. You... you never told them where you live.
Somehow that doesn't seem like it will slow them down.
Did the Fae just Suprise Baby you with a clone baby? Can they DO that? W... what's happening? What days is this? Who ARE YOU PEOPLE?! HUH!?!?
Just? Imagine. IMAGINE. I was gonna say Bruce... but?
Damian.
He finds himself... pondering What Could Have Been. Had his Clones not wanted him dead. Wondering if he could have saved them. If, perhaps, he had found them as infants. Raised them. Could he have given them a good life? Been a good father?
He gets emotional. Fatherly. He's about 14.
Dan's been around Ghosts too long to remember how humans age or how age relates to development. This one TALKS like An Adult. Must be one. Probably just short.
And Damian? Never backs down. The second Dan starts challenging him? His character is flawless and his morals divine. He has never done anything wrong, ever, in his LIFE. Fuck you. And on TOP of that? He not only will be the SINGLE GREATEST FATHER TO EVER FATHER, his home is the most loving and beloved ON THE PLANET!
In entirety of EARTH'S history, no less!
....what are they arguing about?
*is handed a baby and kicked out of Dan's adoption agency*
See you in a few days!
(o.o ) *happy gurgling from the baby* *Damian.exe has stopped working*
Smash cut, after Damian speed runs his stages of grief at his own Dumbass Life Choices, to his rocking back up at the Manor like? Congratulations, Father. I have brought you your first grandson! Do Not ask how I obtained him. It was likely dubiously legal but I will not be returning him. We have bonded.
And just? Annihilating the collective Bats on one go. You did what? You have What?! That is a baby! WHY IS THERE A BABY?! How is there a baby!? WHOS BABY!? *sirens going off and everyone panicking*
Will Damian be allowed to KEEP the Baby? Ha! Hell no. Bruce will. Damian is a child. But it will be a Needlessly Dramatic Bat Cold War Of Dramatic Drama to pry that small cherubic baby from his grip long enough for Bruce to fill out the paperwork.
Child thieving bastard that he is. How dare he. That is Damian's SON! D:<
*happy oblivious baby noises as Alfred feeds him in the background, while the Bats do their Dramatic Custody War*
@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @mutable-manifestation
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
some facts about my father, a perfectly ordinary human being:
got tenure in two years by getting two 2.5-million dollar grants from the government and he's now held that job for the longest time any faculty at his university has ever been tenured. literally almost longer than his entire school has existed.
he's won a fullbright...thrice.
speaks five languages (fluently: english, hebrew, russian; functionally: polish, dutch) and can get around in three others (german, japanese, and "pidgin arabic" whatever the fuck that means)
he was once locked inside the great pyramid at giza. on purpose.
one time i went to austin when he was out of town and when we got back to his house the only food in his fridge was 1) bulk family size cocktail shrimp from costco with all the shrimp eaten out of it and only the marinade left, 2) three boxes worth of frozen yoghurt bars, 3) two bags of frozen mini-wontons that expired two years earlier
has only one demand for his funeral and it's that while his casket is being lowered into the ground i make sure they play "whatever it is, i'm against it!" from the marx brothers film horse feathers
broke into (and out of) martial law poland in the early 80s and brought four hams in his back seat so he could spent six months living with his girlfriend, including a short period of time where he tried to drive from białystok to kraków in the middle of a blizzard, got lost, had no phone, no map, ran into the police, accidentally gave them his fake texas passport and almost got deported, bribed them with a ham, and then somehow ended up at his girlfriend's brother's apartment by complete happenstance and got blind drunk for a week
made friends with his assigned kgb agent in the 70s in russia
his car broke down in the middle of the sinai desert in the 70s and was saved from dying by a roaming passing band of bedouin car mechanics who took his entire car apart and put it back together and drove off without saying anything except "it works."
convinced me and one of my childhood best friends that he had found a way to time travel an hour into the future through the careful use of daylight savings, a radio station, a car clock, and the fact that he has never been on time for anything in his entire life
when he got his house renovated he decided that two attics and two cleverly hidden crawl spaces wasn't enough, so he added two more attics and another cleverly hidden crawl space, and i wish good luck to whatever poor schmuck (my cousin) has to sell his house someday.
broke his cherry-wood dining table under piles of papers...twice.
when in grad school, pretended to be a visiting russian statistics professor named "professor blowjob" (in russian) and somehow got away with this in order to teach a lecture on how s of x = f of n (sex is fun)
conned me into the belief that i had a magical color-changing guinea pig and kept this act up for literally a decade before admitting the truth
became a fellow on one of the yellow river restoration projects by making friends with an old man doing tai chi with a sword in a park in beijing. turned out that old man with a sword in a park in beijing was the head of the national environmental protection office at the time.
#ill add more as i think of them.#and post links to the full stories once i get my dad to tell me them#so i can write them down#his versions are funnier than mine#this is a stable writing tag
9K notes
·
View notes
Text
Shadows are to protect III
Alessia Russo x Putellas!Reader
Victoria Pelova x Putellas!Reader
shadows are to protect I, II, IV
summary~ Victoria has been nothing but good to you but somehow you find a way to ruin everything
You picked the dead plants up and carried them into your kitchen that was still covered in white flour. Surely you could bring them back to life right. They just needed a little more loving and they’d come back. A little water and some sunlight.
You were puzzled by Alessia’s reaction. She didn’t want you, she made that very clear. But why was she so upset about it. Okay yeah, you made sure to show her that you were over her, that you moved on. But she had a boyfriend, she shouldn't even care.
You took a good look at the plants, they were doomed. In some way they were just like humans. They needed to be taken care of, they need love, light and water. They can't survive on their own, at least not long. Some can, like a cactus. But even they can't remain alive like that forever.
You've been doing most things by yourself, until Alessia. She was your water and sun until she wasn't. And you had held yourself up after but you couldn't keep doing that forever so you'd gone to your sister and then Vicky came along. And Victoria didn't just give you water and sun, she took care of you. And maybe that was the difference between the two of your teammates. One cared for you and the other pretended to.
Victoria was there for you when you needed her and she actually liked being around you. Alessia loved the idea of you, she was there whenever she wanted you. Not when you wanted her. It was a hard pill to swallow but it was the truth. You've been romanticizing this idea of Alessia Russo, the goalscorer, the golden girl, the fucking winner.
And the fucking worst of it all was that you still cared for her.
You fell into a new routine in the upcoming weeks. Victoria insisted on driving you to training even though she was clumsy in her car, maybe even more than Alessia. She'd buy you coffee on the way to training and you'd kiss her thank you every time. It was nice, she was nice.
Victoria took you out on dates after games and you'd have little picnic dates after training. You'd make the food and she covered the drinks. The two of you would spent hours playing with puppy’s and talking. You loved the park.
Training was less enjoyable. You got dirty looks from a certain striker and especially when you were with Victoria. Alessia took it upon herself to make trainings a living hell for you. She tackled you harder than was necessary and was throwing you at the ground every chance she got. You were absolutely fucking done with it and so were your teammates.
“God, Alessia what has gotten into you!” Leah scolded the blonde when she made yet another unnecessary hard tackle. “Nothing, just a bad day.” she grumbled. But Leah knew it wasn’t a bad day, she’s been doing this to you for a long time now. “Whatever, keep that out of training okay. No need to injure our own players.” Leah told her. You rolled your eyes at her, why did she have to act like this.
It wasn’t until days later that you spoke Alessia again. She hadn’t reached out since that kiss with Vic. You didn’t try to text her, if she wanted to say something she should be the one reaching out to you.
Vic drove you to Viv and Beth’s house. They planned some kind of victory dinner before the national camps. You were actively trying to get more along with the team since Victoria was close with most of the girls and you knew she’d love it for you if you got closer with them. Viv was like family for her so you tried your best to put your awkward self away to attend a team dinner.
Everything was going fine, Beth welcomed you in and Rona and Myle were happy to see you too. The dinner was amazing, since Viv cooked it for you. It’s been a while since you had a home made meal so it was nice. There were people all over their house talking and eating, it was kind of like team hang outs you had in Barcelona.
Looking around, in search of a Dutch girl’s eyes your eyes caught those of an English player. Her blues were drilling into you. It was hard to ignore the feeling of someones eyes on you, so you didn’t. You stared right back at her and the only reaction you got was a huff and some eye rolling. Jesus, what did she want.
You got up, ready to pour yourself another drink. “Vicky, you want another drink?” you asked the brunette. She was in a conversation with Teyah so she shook her head no. You walked towards their kitchen. The chaotic noise of conversations was still somewhat on the background but the quieter space was still nice.
Filling your wine glass with some water, something Caitlin would take the mick out of later, you leaned into the wall.
You were somewhat in peace until someone bumped into you. Your eyes shot open, “What the fuck?” you groaned. Blue eyes stared back at you, totally unimpressed. “What? Can’t take a little push, just like in training. Grow up man.” Alessia rolled her eyes.
Now you were getting mad. She’s been the one telling you to fuck off, how you were clingy and that she didn’t want you. “What is your fucking problem. I’ve done nothing to you, i stopped bothering you right? Just like how you wanted.” you placed your glass on the counter.
Alessia took a step towards you. “Yeah so you got with my best friend to get back at me. You’re so fucking selfish.” she huffed out.
“Joder, I didn’t do anything to you! I’ve let you do your thing with your boyfriend. I didn’t say anything to anyone about us, just how you’d like that right. I was just your dirty little secret no one should know about.” you walked out. But she captured your wrist before you could take another step.
“I broke up with him weeks ago and when i wanted tell you i saw you.. with Victoria. I wanted to say sorry but then you seemed like you didn’t want it anymore.” she whispered carefully.
It was hard to believe she wanted you, especially after what she had said to you. “Don’t say that, you don’t want to be with me. You made that very clear.” you turned around. Alessia’s brows were knitted together and her eyes were getting glossy. But she did that every time. And every time she got what she wanted, you in her bed by the end of the night. And after, she told you those lies all over again. How she didn’t want you, how nobody could ever want you and the next Saturday she’d look at you with those eyes and you’d fall for it all over again. It wasn’t healthy.
“Alessia, don’t.” you looked at her. But she didn’t take that for an answer and took your head in her hands like she’d done on some many other evenings. But those evenings were in one of your houses, where nobody could see. Her lips touched yours and you didn’t pull away, not fast enough.
You heard someone clear their throat and that pulled you out of your trance. You opened you eyes and saw Vic standing there with an empty glass in hand. “I- i uh i was just getting something to drink but..” her voice trembled.
“Vicky. Vic, i’m sorry but it’s not what you think it is.” you got out of Alessia’s grasp but Victoria was faster. She picked her keys up from the dinner table and walked out of the door.
Alessia watched the scene play out in front of her and placed her hand on your shoulder. You pushed her hand off of you. “Fucking look what you did Alessia! I don’t want you okay, you’re confusing me and i don’t need that. I just want someone that loves me as much as i love them and you clearly don’t” you breathed out. The tears had found an escape in the corners of your eyes and they traveled down your cheeks. You wiped them away angrily and walked out of the door.
Why couldn’t Alessia just leave you alone. You were finally getting along with everyone, you found your person, football was going good but she just couldn’t let you be. You’ve hurt Victoria, the only person that cared about you enough to be there for you.
You took your phone out of your back pocket and called her. No answer.
“Vicky, lo lamento. I didn’t want that. I only want you and our picnic dates, your weird movie choices and your clumsiness. I’m so so sorry. I will explain everything if you give me the chance. Ik hou van jou.” you spoke.
You knew she never listened to her voicemail but it was worth a shot. Maybe she’d listen to it. You had to leave for camp tomorrow and somehow that felt worse than your situation here. You had to pretend everything was fine and you were thriving at Arsenal like always. And you had to leave Victoria, that just wasn’t fair. You don’t get the chance to make it right.
And even though you don’t have a choice in leaving, you want to stay, or even better, disappear.
A/N i don’t know what i’m writing anymore. It seems like the story is only getting more angsty and there has to be another part. Should r just disappear and move or something?
#shadows are to protect#woso fanfics#woso community#arsenal wfc#woso x reader#alessia russo x reader#alessia russo#engwnt#barca femeni#victoria pelova x reader#victoria pelova#barca women#espwnt#alexia putellas x reader
373 notes
·
View notes
Text
the grudge (5) // lionesses x reader
lionesses x reader
part one part two part three part four
…sorry for the long wait. promise i’ll try and keep on top of this from now 🫶
-
leah’s power of persuasion was something you both loved and hated. even more so when it was used against you. because somehow she’d persuaded you to follow your international teammates with her for the final two matches of the nations league tournament.
she called it a welcomed break, told you that it would be good for you to be around other people.
you also hated how well leah knew you. all it took was one well-timed facetime call from the blonde for her to break through your walls and you cried as you told her how horrible you felt for constantly snapping at the barcelona girls, for treating them so horribly when they were doing nothing to deserve it. and you told her how you hated feeling sad and angry all the time because nothing ever seemed to work to fix it.
opening up to leah was easy. it always had been. so when she told you that it was probably a good idea for you to tell the barcelona girls how you were really feeling, you admittedly freaked out. despite the promise you’d made to open up to the girls more, the thought of it terrified you. for reasons you didn’t really understand.
deep down you knew that it was the right thing to do. letting them inside your head would be better for everyone. it was what they wanted. so you approached ingrid one day with the genuine intention of telling her how you were feeling but you chickened out at the last second, and ended up asking if you could join her and mapi for breakfast the next time they went.
you tried to bring it up again when the three of you did go out but again, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. after everything that happened with katie, you hated feeling like a burden. you hated the fact that the girls seemed to walk on eggshells around you more often than not.
but you didn’t know how to stop any of it. whenever your mood lifted, it only ever seemed to be temporary. something would always send you toppling back down and you’d be right back at the beginning and for you, it was one of the worst feelings in the world.
so instead, you told ingrid and mapi about your plans to fly to st. george’s park with lucy and keira to join the england camp. much like leah, they thought that it was a great idea. in fact, everyone you brought it up with did. alexia actually seemed relieved. at first you took offence, thinking that she was happy to be rid of you but upon seeing the look on your face, she was quick to explain that she was relieved that you seemed to be making progress.
progress.
that was the word bouncing around your brain as you, keira, and lucy climbed out of the car outside of the hotel, the cold english air hitting you instantly. you thanked keira when she grabbed your luggage and waved happily at the media team as you passed.
walking into the lobby, your body relaxed unconsciously and you smiled widely upon seeing your international teammates. your happiness only seemed to heighten when you spotted a familiar blonde.
“beffy!” you squealed, moving as fast as you could on your crutches towards her.
“slow down, kid, i’ll come to you.” beth laughed and once she was close enough, you practically threw yourself into her arms, your crutches hitting the floor noisily.
“i’m so glad you’re back.” you whispered.
“me too.”
“so there’s no more problems?”
“no more problems.” beth confirmed and you laughed happily as she rocked you both side to side.
you squeezed her again for good measure and glanced down, frowning at the disappearance of your crutches. your eyes scanned the room, your brows furrowing when you spotted lucy staring at you intently. you quickly grew sheepish when you realised why.
ella had your crutches, seemingly racing grace and maya through the lobby as alex told them to behave. the first and last time someone stole your crutches in barcelona, you may have overreacted just a little.
“come on now tooney,” mary said, approaching the trio that still held your crutches hostage. “she needs them back, we’re heading upstairs now.”
with very visible hesitation, ella begrudgingly gave you your crutches back and you thanked her with a laugh.
“let’s go roomie.” leah held up a room key and you smiled.
“ooh i have missed rooming with you lee.”
keira followed you and leah to your shared room and you thanked her as she placed your belongings on the bed. she quickly left to get reacquainted with georgia and you sat at the edge of the bed, tilting your head at leah. the blonde was fidgeting with her hands, clearly holding something back.
“what?” you asked, making her jump slightly. she looked at you with furrowed eyebrows. “i know you, leah. you have something to say so just say it.”
leah sighed and moved to sit next to you. you immediately noticed that she refused to look at you no matter what you did to catch her eye. “i think katie and caitlin are giving it another go.”
you blinked. “okay.”
her head snapped towards you. “that’s it? don’t you care?”
“of course i care but it’s not my business anymore. what—who katie does in her spare time is up to her. i don’t have the right to be upset about it,” you shrugged. “the same way she has no right to be upset about anything i might do in my spare time.”
a small grin appeared on leah’s lips then. “and what does that mean?”
“nothing. doesn’t mean a damn thing—hey, let’s go find niamh and beat her up with these crutches until she agrees to transfer to arsenal.”
ᡣ𐭩
you closed your eyes, sighing softly as alessia ran her fingers through your hair. there was a nudge to your leg and you were quick to swat in that direction, hearing leah laugh.
“come on you,” she nudged you again. “they need to get ready and we need to find our seats.”
“fine.” you huffed, pushing yourself off the floor with alessia’s help. you smiled at her when she passed you your crutches.
you gave leah a look and playfully jabbed at her ankle with a crutch, laughing as she jumped back. “don’t do that or you can’t have your surprise.”
the girls laughed as you instantly perked up. “surprise?”
leah hummed. “hurry up or it might disappear.”
“…good luck losers!” you called, hurrying out of the lockeroom as quick as you could manage, the sound of leah’s footsteps following.
she quickly took the lead and the the of you navigated your way through wembley stadium in relative silence.
“so where’s my surprise?” you asked as soon as the cold air hit your face and you could clearly see the pitch.
leah rolled her eyes at your impatience and motioned behind her. “there.”
you shuffled over a bit and gasped, seeing who your surprise was. “laura!”
the austrian looked up from her phone, a grin spreading on her face as she spotted you. “hello liebe.”
you shoved your crutches into leah’s awaiting hands, wrapping your arms around laura when she got close enough. “oh i have missed this. i’m coming back next season by the way.”
a crutch clacked against your good ankle and you yelped, letting go of laura to quickly turn and glare at leah. “you are not coming back. we do not need you and kyra running around causing trouble.”
you rolled your eyes and let laura guide you to your seat as the girls made their way out to train. leah took the seat to your other side and laid your crutches on the floor.
“so,” laura started when the three of you settled. “how is spain?”
both blondes immediately noticed the slight blush on your cheeks as you stared down at the pitch. “it’s good. very warm. miss you guys though.”
“aw, we don’t miss you.” leah grinned and you were quick to punch her leg.
as your former teammates chattered over your shoulder, you pulled your phone from your pocket, unconsciously searching for the results of the spain game so you’d have a reason to text ona so late.
as soon as you’d seen that spain had won, you were typing out a message, not really expecting a reply.
but smiling widely when you did get one.
ᡣ𐭩
“good goal, lucia,” you grinned as you hobbled over to lucy. “finally putting that head of yours to good use.”
“you’ve certainly perked up.” she commented and you shrugged.
“what can i say? i just love laura.”
lucy rolled her eyes and tugged you over to join the huddle. the girls murmured nervously as the netherlands game played on a staff members phone.
you were nestled between niamh and esme, staring at the ground, your heart dropping at the next words said loud enough for everyone to hear. “they’ve scored.”
you felt utterly helpless as you watched each girl react. but even more so as lucy sank to the ground. without a second thought, you lowered yourself next to her, resting your head on her shoulder.
“i’m sorry, luce,” you murmured, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “i’ll get you to the euros yeah? promise.”
and you intended to keep that promise. you’d get lucy and the rest of the girls to switzerland, no matter what.
#woso imagine#woso fanfics#woso x reader#woso#lionesses#lionesses x reader#leah williamson#lucy bronze#keira walsh#alessia russo#ella toone
276 notes
·
View notes
Text
miami vice || rhett abbott
Rhett Abbott x F!Reader
Word Count: 3,015 words
Summary: tailgates and trucker hats and drinky decisions. that's all.
Content Warning: HEY!! THIS HAS SMUT!! So if you’re under 18 pleaseeee go away. (brother's best friend, f fingering, choking, oral f receiving, missionary, safe sex, CNC because drunk, strangers to lovers, possession kink if you squint?)
Author Note: hey bitches i'm not dead - jk ily all sorry. if you can't tell i'm self indulgent and needed to put this horny energy somewhere other than my head. enjoy.
"HEADS UP!" You barely register the sound before a sand filled bag clocks you right across the top of your eye, making you curse and drop your beer, hand flying up to your eye. The voice has traveled from the other side of the tent to land in front of you, a large hand taking your shoulder. "shit, i'm so sorry 'bout that."
Finally blinking away the pain in your eyelid, you can open both of your eyes to reveal the jackass who'd struck you - a jackass in a black sleeveless tank with a backward trucker hat. Your chin drops as you look him in very blue eyes, which are flooded with clouded concern. "You good? C'mere," his hand moves from your shoulder to behind your back as he moves to your side, carefully tucking under the tailgate tent. The male moves to one of what had to be a dozen blue coolers tucked under folding tables, pulling it open and carefully pushing the cold can to the affected eye. You've not said a damn word as he carefully settles the drink to your forehead, eyes still trained on him. "Real sorry, again I- my buddy's got shit aim."
"It's fine, I'll just go back to my place looking like I got jumped. " Your quick retort has him chuckling as he guides your hand to take the can and hold it. After he's sure you won't drop it, he's grabbing another two cans, large hands able to handle them with ease, extending one to you as he polishes off the other he'd carried over with him.
"You can actually drink that one." This time, its you laughing at you watch him crush the now empty can and toss it in a nearby hanging trash bag, clicking the tab to open it, foam coming to the top. Instinctually, you're dropping down to catch it with your lips before it can overflow onto his hand, the aluminum still in his grip. Withdrawing, you carefully navigate it from his hands.
"Thanks. You always treat the victims your sloppy shooter assaults?"
"Nah, only if they're stupidly hot." The forwardness leaves your eyebrows to pop up, the pain dully reminding you how you got here in the first place. The nameless cornhole vigilante reaches up to the tent frame, gripping to the accordion metal and leaning in. "I don't think I recognize you? Are you bummin' booze off these guys?"
"First you hit me with a sandbag and then have the nerve to question if I'm crashing a tailgate that isn't mine?" No Name points to your with an index finger while the remaining fingers keep curled around his Miller Lite.
"Good point. Name's Rhett." Nodding in response, you're carefully moving back to the cooler to toss a somewhat warm can back to the cooler, and return to your spot. Sorta. The brunette somehow seems closer - at least his face seems that way. You introduce yourself in response, and he laughs. "Dane's sister?"
"That's the one. This is all him. The RV, the parking pass - the booze I'm 'bumming' from him." Another sip of his beer blocks the view of his devilish grin. It almost matches the flames of the shirt he's wearing. "Where's the accent from? Definitely doesn't sound like it's from here."
He would proceed to explain that he's originally from Wyoming, and had come down to compete in the National Rodeo Circuit finalist events. That made him a cowboy cornhole viglinate. Rhett had insane stories from his events - like how he fucked up his shoulder on one of his best runs and rode again the very next day. When he ran out of stories - two beers later - he was happy to attempt to get revenge on his former cornhole partner for smacking you across the face.
"You're absolutely ass at this!" He laughs, watching the bag splat against the concrete. Bouncing along to a nearby speaker you turn to him when the other two start collecting bags.
"I gotta admit - I've never played."
"You-" His face fills with surprise and disdain, shaking his head, "How have you never- damn it, we're teaching you."
On the next turn, Rhett keeps the bags to himself, and feeds one into your hand. Before you can throw it however, his larger hand comes under yours, fingers skating along your forearm before getting comfortable under your grip. His chest is flush against your back, his scruff brushing against your ear as he leans in. Thick drawl gives you instructions about the power you want to put behind the throw, moving your arm along with it. Guiding your toss, the orange bag goes flying through the air, lands on the board and slides right into the hole. "Atta girl."
You end up losing the game, mainly because Rhett's cheating by continuing to tug you backward by the belt loop every time you take a shot to the board. Each time you looked over at him with a scowl, he would sip at his drink, mumbling 'don't look at me'.
The closer and closer to game time that you got, the thinner and thinner the tailgate group got. Dane had started cleaning up, his friends helping him put things inside the RV and his friend's pickups. Rhett still clings to you like tipsy velcro, his hand stuck in your back pocket as you try to help pack things away.
"Here, I'll dump out the cooler."
"Rhett there's still-"
"Oh there's still beer in here. Would be a shame to let it go to waste." Tossing one to you - which you somehow catch - he's snagging Dane's keys from a nearby table, pushing the first key blade he can find into the bottom of the can, duplicating the hole in your can that he's guided to the horizontal position. Dropping the keys to his feet, he looks at you. "Do I gotta teach this shit to you too?"
"You gonna cheat at this too?"
"Who said this was a race?" He asks.
"This is always a race. Three, two-" Both tabs crack open as you push the cans to your mouths, shotgunning commencing without a final count. As you tilt the can properly, you realize that Rhett has already finished his can, dropping it to the pavement. How the fuck- you obviously can't ask as you continue to chug, your throat working as you keep downing the liquid. Rhett's hand, coated in beer, carefully tucks under your chin, pushing your head further back, back and back.
"You can take it." If you weren't so determined to show him up - you would've sputtered foamy wheat water everywhere. You nearly choke thanks to the new pace, but make a smooth recovery. Dropping the can, you gasp for air, throwing your head back as you let the beverage settle in your stomach. Looking at Rhett, he's got a stupidly large grin on his face, upper lip covered in beer foam. You're about to say something when Dane comes out of the RV, calling your name.
"You don't have tickets right?" Nodding, the cowboy looks at Dane and then at you.
"You're not going?"
"Unless you're tucking me into your purse, Rhett - no." Dane slaps the taller male's shoulder before reaching down for the keys on the ground and pushing them into your hand.
"These are yours 'til we get back," Turning to Rhett, he nods toward the stadium. "Ready to start walking?" The mid-west male starts patting at his jeans, all the way down to his boots. Popping up to his full height, he grips your brother's shoulder much like he had yours earlier.
"I can't find my phone or my wallet. Let me go check the RV - I'll just meet you at the seats." Dane nods, and moves to the rest of the group, starting the trek to the metal building. When they're out of earshot, Rhett's hand tucks back into your pocket again. "You wanna give me the tour?"
In the most hasty fashion, you clamber into your brother's RV, showing off the kitchenette/living area, before leading him to the bunk areas, where you'd be sleeping tonight. Rhett's hand hasn't left your pocket at this point. As you show off the tiny space, he laughs. "What's so funny?"
"It's cute y'think both of us are gonna fit in there." Like a tipsy cocker spaniel, your head tilts at him. Fingers move to grip your ass through your jeans, before he spots the pocket door to the owner's bedroom of the mobile home. He's easily pushing the door open, a larger queen sized bed waiting on the other side of the door. "That's more like it." Before you can argue with him, his lips are latching to yours, hands gripping your hips enough to tug you flush against his own.
Rhett is efficient in pulling the jersey you were roasting in off your shoulders. The cowboy is about to let it hit the floor when you pull back. “Be smart about this.” You warn. Before you can blink, he’s thrown it to a side table and you back onto the bed.
“Or. You be smart and leave the commands to me.” A hand slides up from your lower back, up along your spine, soft finger tips electrifying the skin under them as he finds the strap of your bra. His lips busy themselves along your neck, wet and sloppy open mouthed kisses are soft and smooth compared to the sharp and coarseness of his stubble. The clasps are disengaged in quick time, and he pulls away from your skin to switch to the other side of your neck. Your bra- unlike the jersey- is discarded to the floor, leaving you in jeans that hugged you well, and sweat slick bare skin.
He carefully cups your breast, gripping onto it, a thumb rolling over the peak as your head cranes back. His kisses are getting shorter and closer and closer to your chest, until the warm and wet feeling blooms along your other boob, his tongue forming many shapes in the process. Your hands are eager to tug the backwards hat off his head, fingers carding through his hair, tugging with teeth teasingly scraping your skin a moan lifts from you. “Oh did my girl like that?” He taunts, moving to switch sides.
As he keeps mouthing at your tits, his hands busy themselves with your belt and button of your pants. It’s damn near expert execution, jeans swiftly thudding to the floor, no awkward entanglement to be found. His maneuvers leave you with only your panties left to hide yourself from him, but even then, a curious index finger runs along your pussy lips through the skimpy material. Slowly, he pulls the elastic free from your skin, running along it in a pacing line, smirking up at you as he moves to the edge of the bed. "This is such a treat, cause I know that stadium doesn't serve tacos."
Adjusting to sit on your forearms, you stare him down as his lips start leaving wet spots along your inner thighs, a slight sound leaving you. "Did you just call my pussy a taco?"
An idiotic and drunken smirk floods his face as rough hands slide under the sides of your underwear. "Depends. Am I gonna starve, or are you gonna let me eat it?"
The surprise on your face speaks for itself as his hands free the material from your hips. His hands come to your calves, guiding your legs to prop up and spread apart. "Let me just set my plate here- that's just perfect." It takes mere seconds for his tongue to slide between your folds, the sensation making you somewhat melt along the duvet under you. He doesn't continue in his stripe patterns but in zig-zags, waves - patterns that tease you and just barely hit your clit. Rhett keeps this behaviour up until you're grinding up against him, his hands grabbing your hips. The hold is tight, and sharp blue eyes glare up at you, darkening as you whine.
"You're gonna stay right where I put ya. Y'hear?"
"But-" He snaps up back onto his feet, hovering over you again, his finger tips gliding along your skin and delicately wrapping around your throat.
"Wanna try that again?" It's punctuated with the slightest squeeze, the revelation that he was truly in control. You shake your head, and he smirks, his eyes locking you and your attention in as he catches you off guard, his other hand pushing a finger into you, thoroughly soaked from his toying. "Good girl. You just sit there and look all pretty while I take care'a you." His hand at your lower half begin to pump in and out, his other hand still decorating your body in the form of a necklace. "You are just the damndest thing I ever did see, know that baby?"
Rhett's thumb comes from the side of your neck, tracing along your jawline and chin before it taps your bottom lip. "Open up, my girl." You do as you're told as he dips his thumb past your lips, instinctively closing around him. Your cheeks hollow out as you suck intently - the digit stifling the moan that vibrates through you as he gets another finger into you. "God you are so fuckin' beautiful." It's muttered as his hand picks up a pace, your body relaxing and holding onto him tightly in two separate places.
The faster his hand rocks into you, the more distracted your tongue becomes, he can tell. Which is why his hand pulls back, using the slick from your lips to begin rubbing circles against your clit, the feeling making you sigh in contentment. His lips trap yours momentarily, his tongue running along your teeth as his hands blindly work against you.
"Fuck, you are so wet for me, aren't you?" Rhett pulls back, the both of you catching your breath as pushes - in, out, in out. Your jaw slacks, trying to get an answer out. A particularly rough thrust of his hand drives his question again. "Aren't you?"
Eagerly, you nod, a gasping answer sneaking out. "Yes, god, I'm so wet, so wet for you, Rhett."
His hands retreat, moments from letting you finish with just his fingers. The male is rapidly undoing his belt buckle, slithering a hand into his back pocket, fishing out a condom from it. He sticks it between his teeth as he barely manages to get his hard on free from his boxers.
Part of you wants to ask him to let you put it on, let you admire the length that has sprung free from his jeans, but you know he's working against a running clock. Someone is going to notice he's taking too long. He didn't want to run that risk it seems.
The wrapper disappears somewhere. You're sure it remains somewhere in the RV floorboards, but as he's entering you, there's no fucking way you care where the evidence went.
Rhett presses into you, inch by inch, his lips playing with a spot on your neck. He stretches you so well, a hiss coming from you that times well with how he sucks a bite mark onto your skin. "My girl's so tight for me. Fuckin' so goddamn tight." His voice is low, gruff and right in your ear.
The smell of his body wash hovers over you, mixing with the newly formed scent of sex in the air as he pulls back, only to move forward again. "Sweetheart, you want me to move?"
"Yes, yes I want you to move-"
"Ask me nicely, baby." He freezes above you, staring you down, piercing blue eyes drinking you in like this. Sweat slick from the stale air of an RV and the Miami heat, tucked under him, captive.
"Please move, baby. Please, I just wanna come." The expression he makes strokes your ego in ways it likely shouldn't.
"Oh you're gonna come, I'll promise you that- you're gonna come." His hips begin rutting into you as he stands up a little further, hands coming up under your knees. Propping your legs up slightly, not fully extended but providing an angle to get even deeper into you, a sound escapes you, pinpointing exactly when he does. As his thrusts move quicker and quicker, your legs seem to slip from his hands, leaving him to reach up on the bed, snagging the nearest pillow.
"Hips up, sweetheart." A pant leaves him as he aids you to pop up, sliding the cushion under you. Upon the next thrust, and each one after, Rhett continues to hit the exact same spot, earning himself a rhythm of moans that time with his hips. "Oh honey, if they didn't know, they sure do now."
His hand drops between where the two of you meet, his thumb returning to do paces, sending you careening off the edge and into a blazing white haze, your body shuddering from the sensation.
Your cowboy continues his pace, no faster, no slower - continuing to ride out until you're nodding, encouraging him along. His pace picks up, his lips snagging onto yours as the sound of a cell phone comes from the floor. It only serves as encouragement for him, until he's finishing, his upper body hovering over yours as sloppy kisses and whimpers from him fill the soundscape.
His phone stops ringing, and when he pulls out, you remain trapped under him. Rhett gives you one more slow kiss before he moves to pull off the condom, cleaning himself up. "I think that big brother of yours is lookin' for me." He charms, pulling his pants back up, zipping himself up.
"Seems like it does." You offer, squirming on the bed, not ready to get up yet. Rhett pulls his phone from his pocket, nodding and confirming that's who'd called.
This time, your phone starts going off.
Simultaneously, his does too.
Then there's a pounding coming from the RV door.
#rhett abbot x reader#rhett abbott smut#rhett abbott fanfiction#rhett abbott x reader smut#rhett abbott outerrange#outer range#lewis pullman#lewis pullman characters
284 notes
·
View notes
Text
Wildfire, Chapter Three MV1
Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!
Summary: Someone snitched on you and now you are stuck in a team building camp with Max!
Reader: Male
Warnings: Nothing really? Beer is mentioned ONCE at the very end
Now playing: 'Boys will be bugs' by Cavetown
AN: Im so sorry for not updating this story! I've got a lot going on at the moment. I have lot's of upcoming exams, i've been practicing for a concert i'll have soon and i participated in a horse riding competition last weekend, so yeah, my calendar is FULL. But anyways, this part isn't as long as id' like it to be, but don't worry! You and Max will be staying at the camp for a little longer...
(Here's a little Social Media AU to go along with this chapter)
(Here is the previous chapter)
(Here is the next chapter
Somehow word of your fight made its way to Christian, which was the cause of you now sitting on a bench at a camping facility, squeezed in between mechanics and other team members of Redbull Racing.
Just a few days before, you were sitting in a leather chair in Horner’s office, not squeezed between people but suffocating in the room’s atmosphere. He wasn’t one to get angry with his people, but you and Max’s behavior was a pain in the ass and very counterproductive.
He sighed heavily, “Guys, this has to stop. You’re both adults, behave like it. I know you two are very stubborn, but it’s for the sake of our team.” He gave you both a stern look, you heard Max swallow hard beside you. “Have I made myself clear?”, he looked you right in the eye, then shifted his stare towards your Teammate. “Yes.”
The air smelt fresh and clear; the sun was high up in the sky accompanied by thousands of fluffy clouds. The ranger standing in front of you was explaining a few rules you had to follow while staying at the campsite and its surrounding national park. He looked a little bit like a bison, you thought. His curly dark brown hair had a few strikes of silver in it, making him look old and experienced.
“…lastly, please keep away from the swampy areas, they are indicated with yellow signs.”
Many of your fellow Redbull mates looked bored, no wonder, they have been listening to this man talk for about an hour.
“Does everyone know how to not get killed now?” He looked pleased as he earned a loud ‘yes’.
Christian thanked the ranger, then took his place in front of you guys. “So, fellas, we’ll assign the cabins now!”, he gave you an unreadable look. He fumbled around in the pockets of his jeans before pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. He began reading out names and telling the people to go and take their stuff from the bus and settle into their new stay. Then after a few minutes, more and more people left, and it was only you and Max sitting on the bench.
“As you two might’ve guessed, you’ll be spending a lot of time together on this trip. And I don’t want to hear any complaints.” Horner looked serious, meaning what he said. You were annoyed, of course, but you understood why he wants you two to get along. Max nodded, glancing your way, but quickly looking away as soon as you meet his gaze. “Now, head off. You’ll be staying in cabin 33, here’s the key.”
You pulled your suitcase over the gravelly path, searching for a sign with the number 33 on it. Soon enough you found what you were looking for, the two numbers were burnt into a beautiful wooden sign, decorated with various little details. You unlocked the door, holding it open for Max after entering. He threw one of his Bags on the bed on the right side of the room. “I’m taking this one.”, he stated dryly. You shrugged slightly, setting down your suitcase next to the other bed. The cabin was decorated simply but had all the necessities. Besides the two beds there was a couch with a coffee table and a small bathroom.
The room felt awkward, and you started getting annoyed with Max being unusually quiet. You turned towards your fellow firecracker. “I don’t want to start shit with you, so just stay out of my way.”, he then spoke before you could even open your mouth. “It’s hard to do that when you’re all over the place Max.” He glared at you, definitely not appreciating your words. “We should head back to Christian, come on.”, you swiftly changed the topic.
“Looks like you all settled in! Now, let’s take a look at our first activity”, Horner held up a bag of Maps, “We’ll be doing a scavenger hunt. The price is… well, your dinner. There are clues scattered throughout the Woods and they’ll lead you to an opening with a grilling space. I’ll be waiting for you there!” He then passed around the bag, there was a Map for every group in it.
“Obviously you can’t just all work together, that would be way too easy. Every group has a different route, so you can’t just follow the group in front of you.” Murmuring erupted around you, discussing what the clues might be. You looked at the first clue that was posted to the map.
“Like goliath i tower over them, making them shiver beneath my needles.”, you shifted slightly, showing Max the Map along with the clue. He then pointed towards the forest, where a Pine tree stood, taller than all of the surrounding oak trees. “Let’s go.”
You’ve been wandering around the forest for about 45 minutes, hunting down clues and discovering the national park’s beautiful landscape.
But now? Well, now you and Max were lost. All the trees looked the same, no matter what direction you walked. The map was of no use in the depth of the Woods and your phones would continuously read “No Signal”. Not being able to do anything you two just sort of strolled along bushes and trees of all kinds, hoping to end up on a trail or a familiar opening. Birds were chirping and to your surprise you heard frogs quaking. “Do you hear that?” You turned your head towards Max, still walking. “The Frogs? Yeah, really weird…” Suddenly the thicket spit you out onto an opening, revealing a forest pond, which must’ve been the source of the quaking.
And indeed, a green, slimy frog hopped into the water right in front of you, disappearing in a log beneath the water surface. “Can we stop here really quick?” Max only sighed, but then plopped down on the floor. You sat next to him, gazing over the reflective water. Would you two still find the grilling space before sundown? You hoped for it, at the very least.
“This is nice.” Max closed his eyes and rested the back of his head against the tree behind him, taking in the smell of the forest. His usually tense shoulders looked much more relaxed, and he had a pleased expression on his face. You silently agreed with him, copying his movements.
"You know, i don't actually hate you." The words that flowed from your lips felt fragile and just like glass they fell to the floor and shattered. Your advance was met with a sigh and then a warm silence. You really wanted to try and get along with Max, for the sake of your team's future. But if he was gonna be stubborn, you wouldn't gift him your friendliness.
"Nevermind."
The leaves rustled beneath your feet as you two went back to walking after resting by the pond for a while. The golden light was slowly disappearing from the trees crowns. You really weren’t prepared to sleep under the stars tonight, but luckily you wouldn’t have to. Laughter could be heard in the distance, announcing the presence of humans. Your steps quickened ever so slightly, same for your companion. You two reached the opening and were greeted with the smell of food and the chatter of your teammates.
“Maxie! Y/N! I almost thought we’d lost you two!” Chris came walking towards you, handing each of you a beer. “Come on, join us!”
#f1 x male reader#male reader#gay#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x male reader#male reader insert#male x male#x male reader#f1 fic
132 notes
·
View notes
Note
Don’t know if this is the right place to ask, but could you talk more about zoos? I’ve seen many people say that zoos are inherently exploitative and that we should instead focus on advocating for wildlife preserves, etc., but I’m not sure what to think of that. You seem to know a lot about wildlife protection, so what’s your opinion on this?
There are folks faaaar better than myself to talk about the issues of zoos specifically and I'll try to toss in some sources so you can go and learn more, but let me try and explain my mindset here.
Summary of my opinion on this: BOTH of these things can be poorly managed, and I broadly support both. They should exist in tandem.
I am pro-accredited zoo and am extremely sensitive towards misinformation.
I also do think the best place for animals to be is in their natural environment, but nature "preserves" aren't inherently perfect. They can also be prone to the capitalist (and colonialist) pressures that less informed people believe they're somehow immune to.
Because of the goal of my project being to make the setting of WC accurate to Northwestern England, my research is based on UK laws, ecology, and conservation programs.
On Zoos
On Nature Reserves
An Aside on Fortress Conservation
On Zoos
The legal definition of a Zoo in the UK (because that is what BB's ecological education is based around), as defined by the Zoo Licensing Act of 1981 (ZLA), is a "place where wild animals are kept for exhibition to the public," excluding circuses and pet shops (which are covered by different laws.)
This applies equally to private, for-profit zoos, as well as zoos run by wildlife charities and conservation organizations. Profit does not define a zoo. If there's a place trying to tell you it's not a zoo but a "sanctuary" or a "wildlife park," but you can still go visit and see captive wild animals, even if it's totally free, it's a marketing trick. Legally that is still a zoo in the UK.
(for fellow Americans; OUR definition is broader, more patchwork because we are 50 little countries in a trenchcoat, and can include collections of animals not displayed to the public.)
That said, there's a HUGE difference between Chester Zoo, run by the North of England Zoological Society, which personally holds the studbooks for maintaining the genetic diversity of 10 endangered species, has 134 captive breeding projects, cultivates 265 threatened plant species, and sends its members as consultants to United Nations conferences on climate change, and Sam Tiddles' Personal Zebra Pit.
Sam Tiddles' Personal Zebra Pit ONLY has to worry about the UK government. There's another standard zoos can hold themselves to if they want to get serious about conservation like Chester Zoo; Accreditation. There are two major zoo organizations in the UK, BIAZA and EAZA.
(Americans may wonder about AZA; that's ours. AZA, EAZA, and BIAZA are all members of the World Association of Aquariums and Zoos, or WAZA, but they are all individual organizations.)
A zoo going for EAZA's "accreditation" has to undergo an entire year of evaluation to make sure they fit the strict standards, and renewal is ongoing. You don't just earn it once. You have to keep your animal welfare up-to-date and in compliance or you will lose it.
The benefit of joining with an accredited org is that it puts the zoo into a huge network of other organizations. They work together for various conservation efforts.
There are DOZENS of species that were prevented from going extinct, and are being reintroduced back to their habitats, because of the work done by zoos. The scimitar-horned oryx, takhi, California condor, the Galapagos tortoise, etc. Some of these WERE extinct in the wild and wouldn't BE here if it hadn't been for zoos!
The San Diego zoo is preventing the last remaining hawaiian crows from embracing oblivion right now, a species for which SO LITTLE of its wild behavior is known they had to write the book on caring for them, and Chester zoo worked in tandem with the Uganda Wildlife Authority to provide tech and funding towards breakthroughs in surveying wild pangolins.
Don't get me wrong;
MOST zoos are not accredited,
nor is accreditation is REQUIRED to make a good zoo,
nor does it automatically PROVE nothing bad has happened in the zoo,
There are a lot more Sam Tiddles' Personal Zebra Pits than there are Chester Zoos.
That's worth talking about! We SHOULD be having conversations on things like,
Is it appropriate to keep and breed difficult, social megafauna, like elephants or cetaceans? What does the data say? Are there any circumstances where that would be okay, IF the data does confirm we can never provide enough space or stimulation to perfectly meet those species' needs?
How can we improve animal welfare for private zoos? Should we tighten up regulations on who can start or run one (yes)? Are there enough inspectors (no)?
Do those smaller zoos meaningfully contribute to better conservation? How do we know if they are properly educating their visitors? Can we prove this one way or the other?
Who watches the watchmen? Accreditation societies hold themselves accountable. Do these organizations truly have enough transparency?
(I don't agree with Born Free's ultimate conclusion that we should "phase out" zoos, but you should always understand the opposing arguments)
But bottom line of my opinion is; Good zoos are deeply important, and they have a tangible benefit to wildlife conservation. Anyone who tries to tell you that "zoos are inherently unethical" either knows very little about zoos or real conservation work, or... is hiding some deeper, more batshit take, like "having wild animals in any kind of captivity is unlawful imprisonment."
(you'll also get a lot more work done in regulating the exotic animal trade in the UK if you go after private owners, btw. zoos have nothing to do with how lax those laws are.)
Anyway I'm a funny cat blog about battle kitties, and the stuff I do for BB is to educate about the ecosystem of Northern England. If you want to know more about zoos, debunking misconceptions, and critiques from someone with more personal experience, go talk to @why-animals-do-the-thing!
Keep in mind though, again, they talk about American zoos, where this post was written with the UK in mind.
(and even then, England specifically. ALL UK members and also the Isle of Man have differences in their laws.)
(If anyone has other zoo education tumblr blogs in mind, especially if they are European, lmk and I'll edit this post)
On Nature Reserves
Remember how broad the legal definition of a zoo actually was? Same thing over here. A "nature reserve" in the UK is a broad, unofficial generic term for several things. It doesn't inherently involve statutory protection, either, meaning there's some situations where there's no laws to hold anyone accountable for damage
These are the "nature reserve" types relevant to my project;
(NOTE: Ramsar sites, SACs, and SPAs are EU-related and honestly, I do not know how Brexit has effected them, if at all, so I won't be explaining something I don't understand.)
Local Wildlife Site (LWS)
Selected via scientific survey and managed locally, connecting wildlife habitats together and keeping nature close to home. VERY important... and yet, incredibly prone to destruction because there aren't good reporting processes in place. Whenever a report comes out every few years, the Wildlife Trust says it often only gets data for 15% of all their registered sites, and 12% get destroyed in that timeframe.
Local Nature Reserve (LNR)
A site that can be declared by a district or county council, if proven to have geographic, educational, biodiversity, or recreational value. The local authority manages this, BUT, the landowner can remain in control of the property and "lease" it out
(and boy oh boy, landowners do some RIDICULOUS things)
National Nature Reserve (NNR)
This is probably closest to what you think of when someone says "nature reserve." Designated by Natural England to protect significant habitat ranges and geographic formations, but still usually operates in tandem with private land owners who must get consent if they want to do something potentially damaging to the NNR.
Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) (pronounced Triple S-I)
A conservation designation for a particular place, assessed and defined by Natural England for its biological or geographic significance. SSSIs are protected areas, and often become the basis for NNRs, LNRs, Ramsar sites, SACs, SPAs, etc.
So you probably noticed that 3/4 of those needed to have the private ownership problem mentioned right in the summary, and it doesn't end there. Even fully government-managed NNRs and SSSIs work with the private sectors of forestry, tourism, and recreation.
We live under Capitalism; EVERYTHING has a profit motive, not just zoos.
I brushed over some of those factors in my Moorland Research Notes and DESPERATELY tried to stay succinct with them, but it was hard. The things that can happen to skirt around the UK's laws protecting wildlife could make an entire season of Monty Python sketches.
Protestors can angrily oppose felling silver birch (a "weed" in this context which can change the ecosystem) because it made a hike less 'pretty' and they don't understand heath management.
Management can be reluctant to ban dogs and horses for fear of backlash, even as they turn heath to sward before our eyes.
Reserves can be owned by Count Bloodsnurt who thinks crashing through the forest with a pack of dogs to exhaust an animal to death is a profitable traditional British passtime.
Or you can literally just pretend that you accidentally chased a deer for several hours and then killed it while innocently sending your baying hounds down a trail.
(NOTE: I am pro-hunting, but not pro-animal cruelty.)
The Forestry Commission can slobber enthusiastically while replacing endangered wildlife habitats with non-native, invasive sitka spruce plantations, pretending most trees are equal while conveniently prioritizing profitable timber species.
I have STORIES to tell about the absolute Looney Tunes bullshit that's going on between conservationists and rich assholes who want to sell grouse hunting access, but I'll leave it at this fascinating tidbit about air guns and mannequins which are "totally, absolutely there for no nefarious reason at all, certainly not to prevent marsh harriers from nesting in an area where they also keep winding up mysteriously killed in illegal snares, no no no"
BUT. Since Nature Reserve isn't a hard defined legal concept, and any organization could get involved in local conservation in the UK, and just about anyone or anything could own one... IT'S CHESTER ZOO WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!!
They received a grant in 2021 to restore habitat to a stretch of 10 miles extending outside of their borders, working with TONS of other entities such as local government and conservation charities in the process. There's now 6,000 square meters of restored meadow, an orchard, new ponds, and maintained reedbeds, because of them.
It isn't just Chester Zoo, either. It's all over the UK. Durrel Wildlife, which runs Jersey Zoo, just acquired 18,500 acres to rewild in Perthshire. Citizen Zoo is working with the Beaver Trust to bring beavers back to London and is always looking for volunteers to help with their river projects, and the Edinburgh Zoo is equipped with gene labs being used to monitor and analyze the remaining populations of non-hybrid Scottish Wildcats.
The point being,
Nature preserves have problems too. They are not magical fairy kingdoms that you put up a fence around and then declare you Saved Nature Hooray! They need to be protected. They need to be continuously assessed. They are prone to capitalist pressures just like everything else on this hell planet. Go talk to my boy Karl he'll give you a hug about it.
"Nature Preserves" are NOT an "alternative" to zoos and vice versa. They do not do the same thing. A zoo is a center of education and wildlife research which displays exotic animals. A nature preserve is a parcel of native ecosystem. We need LOTS of nature preserves and we need them well-managed ASAP.
We could never just "replace" zoos with nature preserves, and we're nowhere near the amount of protected ecosystem space to start thinking of scaling back animals in captivity. Until King Arthur comes out of hibernation to save Britain, that's the world we live in.
An Aside
My project and my research is based on the isle of Great Britain. The more I learn about the ecosystems that are naturally found there, the more venomously I reject the old lie, "humans are a blight."
YOU are an animal. You're a big one, too. You know what the role of big animals in an ecosystem are? Change. Elephants knock over trees, wolves alter the course of rivers, bison fertilize the plains from coast-to-coast. In Great Britain, that's what hominids have done for 900,000 years, their populations ebbing and flowing with every ice age.
Early farming created the moors and grazing sheep and cattle maintain it, hosting hundreds of specialist species. Every old-growth forest has signs of ancient coppicing and pollarding, which create havens for wildlife when well-managed. Corn cockle evolved as a mimic of wheat seeds, so farmers would plant it over and over within their fields.
This garbage idea that humans are somehow "separate" from or "above" nature is poison. It's not true ANYWHERE.
It contributes to an idea that our very presence is somehow damaging to natural spaces, and to "protect" it, we have to completely leave it alone. NO! Absolutely NOT! There are places where we have to limit harvesting and foot traffic, but humans ALWAYS lived in nature.
Even the ecosystems that this mindset comes from rejects it, but this shit doesn't JUST get applied to British people who become alienated and disconnected from their surroundings to the point where they don't know what silver birch does.
It's DEADLY for the indigenous people who protect 80% of our most important ecosystems.
It's a weapon against the Maasai people, stopped from hunting or growing crops on their own land. It's violence for 9 San hunters shot at by a helicopter with a "kill poachers on-sight" policy, as one of the world's LARGEST diamond mines operates in the same motherfucking park. The Havasupai people are kept out of the Grand Canyon that they managed for generations because they might "collect too many nuts" and starve squirrels, Dukha reindeer herders suddenly get banned from chopping wood or fishing, and watch wolves decimate their animals in the absence of their herding dogs.
It's nightmare after nightmare of human displacement in the name of "conservation."
That all ties back to that mindset. This idea that nature is pure, "pristine," and should be totally untouched. There are some starting to call it Fortress Conservation.
You can't begin to understand the criticisms of modern conservation without acknowledging that we are still living under the influence of capitalism and colonialism. Those who fixate on speaking for "animals/nature/trees who don't have a voice" often seem to have no interest in the indigenous people who do.
Listen. There's no simple answer; and the solution will vary for each region.
Again, my project is within the UK, one of the most ecologically devastated areas in the world. There are bad zoos that the law allows a pass. There are incredible zoos that are vital to conservation, in and outside of the country. There's not enough nature preserves. The best ones that exist are often exploited for profit.
I hope that my silly little blog sparks an interest in a handful of people to understand more about their own local ecosystems, and teaches folks about the unique beauty even within a place as "boring" as England.
But, my straightforward statement is that I have no patience for nonconstructive, broad zoo slander that lumps together ALL of them, and open contempt for anyone who tries to sell nature preserves like a perfect, morally superior "alternative." We need them BOTH right now, and we need to acknowledge that zoos AND preserves have legal and ethical issues that aren't openly talked about.
#ALSO THAT GUIDE IVE BEEN WORKING ON IS DONE#Im just waiting for the input of the sensitivity readers bc I made a whole section on--#How ableis m might express in the different clans#And part of it became a thunder-callout post lmaooooo#Also this zoo doc has been sitting competed in my drafts for a while#All this to say that uh. I hope the strange place they visit in the upcoming se is not a zoo :J#I will hit it with a golf club if it is <3#Leaning heavily towards the 'oh no two DEMIGODS ended up in a zoo' idea#Which is objectively funnier#And you know what else is objectively funny. When these posts break orbit and then ppl are surprised that i am a kitty cat blog#Hal. It's about Cats.#Bone Babble
97 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello i have a very specific request but it will not leave my mind
Reader is just entirely in love with the stars, and this is no secret. Donnie makes a lil projector thing that projects the real positions of the stars at the time, and dramatically shows it to em?? Please... thank you so frickin much
rise donnie x gn reader
How many times have you complained about light pollution? Around 500 times, according to Donnie’s data table.
That was around an average of 3.5 mentions per week. You usually mentioned it when outside, during the dark, or when Donnie dragged you in for a documentary on space.
How many times had you mentioned stars? Too many to count. Donnie gave up on that spreadsheet months ago. Oh, there you went again. His fingers itched with the need to put it into the spreadsheet. Maybe he could make a new one standing from this month and forward.
But along with stars and pollution, you had started talking about Texas and Ohio. How you could see the stars so easily from some National Parks there.
You had talked about wanting to move there when you got a job and money.
Ohio and Texas were not New York. Donnie also was sure that the sewers didn’t continue on forever through the entire country and he wasn’t sure how their tank would get through tolls on the highway.
He had two options to convince you to change your mind.
One: solve pollution.
This one was a little difficult. For one, that meant convincing a bunch of countries to stop doing what they were doing immediately and changing. Also, he was a turtle mutant that would be shot dead if he tried to contact a president or dictator’s personal phone number that he definitely did not have.
But there was also the second option: Make an alternative star system. One that would satisfy you enough to stay.
This didn’t mean just taking glow in the dark stars and sticking them on the ceiling. No. That was too basic.
He’d caught you watching time lapses of night skies before. As the Earth spun, the stars moved.
So, he’d have to make a star projector that moved. Even better, he could make it accurate to New York. This meant watching a lot of videos and somehow timing everything right.
But he was Donatello Hamato. It couldn’t take that long right?
Well.
It did. It took forever. His usual projects lasted at most six months. This took him up to close to a year. So he waited for your anniversary to gift it to you. (Luckily, your complaints on light pollution and instances of randomly staring up at the sky had only increased according to his spreadsheet.)
He already has it set up. All he needs to do is to make sure you don’t go into his room—
“No!” he shouts when he spots you opening his curtain. He runs right at you and apparently terrifies you as you jump out of his way. He trips over a sock and falls on his face, inches away from crushing his gift to you.
“Is that an Xbox?” You pick it up off the floor. “You shouldn’t leave this just lying around.”
“Haha… ha!” He snatches it away from you. “Follow me.”
He leads you all the way back to your own home. You’re obviously confused. He asked you to come to the lair and now he’s just bringing you back to your own house. Honestly, the poor turtle was just too nervous and didn’t think it though.
“Close your eyes…” He said as he placed it on your nightstand in your room.
You sat on your bed, waiting.
“Ahem. Drum roll please.” You blindly reached out for your night stand. Donnie moved the projector out of the way in time before you slammed your hands onto it.
Jeez. This thing was going to be broken before he even showed you what it really did.
“Okay. Open.”
Your eyes opened. You stared at him until he almost nervously pointed up at the ceiling. His nervousness disappeared when you gasped in excitement.
“The stars are proportional to real life, obviously scaled down to fit. They also reflect what the stars would look like over New York right now. So, as the Earth rotates, this should show the new stars that would show.”
Your jaw dropped.
“Also, it can adjust to any room you put it in.” He crossed his arms, almost posing proudly. “Happy anniversary.” He already know what is about to happen by the look in your eyes.
He steadied himself just as you launch yourself into his arms.
#rottmnt x reader#donatello x reader#tmnt x reader#rise donnie x reader#rottmnt x gn reader#donnie x reader#rise donatello x reader
328 notes
·
View notes
Note
HII SMOOCHES OMG I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM AHH OKAY I GOTTA CALM DONW, uhm so can I request like Dottore and segments with fragile reader who went outside without telling them? I imagined that reader went out to the market to the park or shop and stuff, and Dottore or the segments were worried when they realized that the reader were gone so they went out to find reader and when they come back to the lab they scold the reader a little bit but it’s out of worries but the reader weren’t scared or afraid cause they think it’s cute how the segment or Dottore were scolding reader out of worries, I JUST THINK ITS CUTE SOMEHOW CAUSE DOTTORE AND THE SEGMENTS WERE SEEN AS A HEARTLESS PEOPLE BUT WHEN IT COMES TO READER TEHY DROPPED EVERYTHING FOR THEM, ANYWAYS I LOVE YOU SMOOCHES I HOPE YOUR DOING WELL BYE BYE💗💗💗
It had been an impossibly long time since you had to deal with your illness, but over time, there were times Dottore was able to stabilize your condition enough to allow you to enjoy normal things more easily. One such thing was leaving the lab to enjoy the beauty of Snezhnaya. Very simple, but so fun for you, who had been deprived of such things for so long. It had taken a long time for Dottore to be convinced to let you go, still cautious about your health, (now that was an understatement) but in the end, you won (of course). Always, there was a segment or one of your friends accompanying you though. But this time, Bina couldn't come to pick you up, and it seemed like all the segments were too busy to even bother - wrapped up in the middle of an experiment or meeting... well, this was an issue. You really wanted to go! You had plans! Well, maybe if you return quick enough they wouldn't notice? If they did... that's it, you'd just tell Zandy to tell them the situation. And you'd take lots of Fatui agents, yes, everything would be okay.
And it was great! You made it and had lots of fun by yourself and with Bina... exploring the frosty nation and picking up a few specific ingredients you wanted for some recipes. Very fun. Unfortunately for the group of blue-haired scholars back at the lab, nothing was okay. One worried segment had turned into two into three into all of them who were currently flipping the lab over to discover where you could have gone. For themselves and also before Prime terminates one of them for not watching you properly. (Zandy had fallen asleep for a nap before he could convey your words.) All while you were none the wiser.
After very much scoping out every inch of the huge lab and discovering you are actually gone, for once they manage to work together flawlessly and it takes them no time to start investigating and discovering your exact coordinates. You may have succeeded in escaping their radar for a little bit but, you can't underestimate their tracking skills.
When you're entering the carriage to go back home and the original Dottore is there inside waiting for you, you nearly lose your footing. Needless to say, you have a lot of explaining to do...
You can tell he isn't exactly angry at you, just a bit annoyed but out of worry for you. Yes, he can understand why you did it, but you still need to be more cautious than that! What if your condition acted up and no one could help properly? The long lecture from him and mostly the older segments is thoroughly embedded in your brain, and although you feel bad, you can't help but think it's cute, how much your crazy lovers care for you this much.
#smooches talks#fragile reader <3#dottore love notes <3#dottore being dragged along to ur gossip tea parties with columbina...#DEEP BREATHS ANON DEEP BREATHS#I LOVE U MORE!! I HOPE UR DOING AMAZING#i love them being silly for u 😭😭#reminds me of the WHERE IS THE PRECIOUS???!! ask
69 notes
·
View notes
Note
From your post about tf humping random cars: now I’m imagining it as some National Geographic Channel documentary, like “and here the wild sportcar approaching an ambulance. See, you might think the size difference would discourage it, but the sportcar knows the ambulance’s strong body can carry big, healthy litters. Look, see how it’s pushing his bumper against the ambulance’s tailpipe? It’s making sure it’s primed for breeding…”
Man’s then, it’s all like, cars mounting each others, suspensions creaking and whining, tired squeaking and car alarms going crazy. At climax, sirens and clacson go off, scaring the whole neighborhood.
Also, funny idea, Drift being absolutely shocked when, finding himself stuck close to an incident, he can’t find Ratchet between the various ambulances, and he start talking with some random vehicle.
i absolutely had a cybertronian humping a car in root mode on my mind but this is somehow hotter. I like alt-mode sex.
Humans making a whole documentary on cybertronian mating behaviour bc they can and also if they didn't want them to, they shouldn't have been humping vehicles in car mode in the first place, lol. I'm imagining a bunch of camera-men staking out a hospital parking lot, waiting until a transformer shows up and starts to press their bumper against one of the ambulances, gently commenting how the cybertronian's probably too revved up to care, and is attempting to mate it regardless of whether or not it's sentient...
Two cybertronians getting really horny and they don't feel like transforming so they hump in car more... I frankly think we don't utilize sirens and car alarms and horns often enough in transformers porn, i feel like a cybertronian overloading so hard their siren/car horn/whatever goes off is so hot...
53 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rumor Has It: Chapter 7
Peña x f!reader x Pike
Pairings: Javier Peña x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Peña x f!reader x Pike
Chapter 7 Summary: The case is progressing more quickly than expected, presenting the first opportunity to set the bait for the narcos. When plans for the undercover operation go awry, you have to think and act fast. Meanwhile, whatever is going on between you and Javi gets kicked into high gear.
Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters
Chapter Warnings: no use of y/n, previous relationship (Marcus x f!Reader), boss!Marcus, slowburn, workplace romance, ohh the yearning, fake relationship, protective!Javi, Dom/sub dynamic, precisely (1) spank, almost caught, please just fuck already
Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color.
Words: 8k
Author’s Note: I am SO happy to finally post this! I’ve been sick with back-to-back viruses ever since November, so I’ve been slowly chipping away at this chapter. It’s super plotty and a lil smutty, but I had to kick Javi and Reader in the ass to move this shit along somehow. I have so many thots and ideas for these two, especially when we get to see more of Marcus. As always, a HUGE thank you to my dear, sweet, lovely beta @kilamonster, who lets me torture her endlessly with all the dirty things that come to mind and for correcting my atrocious Spanish. 💋💜
Masterlist || Previous Chapter
The Next Morning
Washington, D.C.
There’s a knock at Marcus’ office door and a grinning man pokes his head inside. He’s got a slight build, and sandy hair that falls across his forehead in natural waves. You had always told Marcus this agent reminded you of that weaselly guy in Dirty Dancing, Neil, and he can certainly see it now. Though the resemblance was probably more down to personality than looks.
"Sir, you wanted to see me?" The man asks, waiting for permission to enter.
"Yeah, Wilkins, come in – and shut the door.” Wilkins has to halt midway to turn around and close the door and is looking a bit less confident now as he sits down in the chair across from Pike.
Pike fixes the smaller man with a neutral expression. He'll give Wilkins a chance to be honest and forthright, but he’s not going to beat around the bush.
"Did you receive a call from a DEA agent about helping them with a potential art money laundering case?"
Wilkins' eyes grow wide for a second, and he stumbles a bit over his next words. "Uh, I'm not sure, maybe?"
"Maybe?" The fewer words Marcus gives Wilkins to work with, the more he'll have to come up with himself, and the less he’ll be able to turn Marcus’ words back around on him – a common interrogation technique.
"I remember a call from somebody at the DEA, but I don't think I recall the specifics." Wilkins fidgets with his tie.
Marcus keeps his face neutral, but laces his fingers together on his desk and leans forward, closing the space between them. "What do you recall?"
"He might have mentioned some drug dealers." Wilkins, a man with an ego the size of Nationals Park, has already been reduced to a little boy getting in trouble at school.
"Being that he's DEA, that would make sense." Pike says blandly, waiting for Wilkins to continue.
"Yeah. And... there might have been some talk about art." Wilkins’ voice is small, tentative. He knows he’s been caught out, and it’s no small matter.
"That's interesting. And why do you think this DEA agent called us – the FBI art squad – about art?"
Wilkins doesn't say anything in response. He knows there's nothing else he could say in his defense at this point.
"Do you know who that DEA agent was, Wilkins?"
Wilkins juts his chin out defiantly. "No, Sir."
"You might, if you'd bothered to get his name." Wilkins has grown sullen, already tired of the tongue lashing.
Pike has no patience for this guy’s attitude. Normally, Marcus wouldn’t draw out disciplinary issues like this, on the rare occasions he has them with his crew. But this guy has pissed him off too many times.
"That was Special Agent Javier Peña. You might have heard of him, made the news awhile back." Marcus leans back in his chair, watches Wilkins’ petulant shrug.
"He put away Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel, remember them?" Wilkins doesn’t respond, but there’s recognition in his eyes. "So when Javier fucking Peña calls to ask for help, that's probably when you should tell your superior.”
Marcus pauses, waiting for Wilkins to say something, anything, but he just sits there.
“Do you agree?" Marcus prompts, each word punctuated.
"Yes, Sir." The man replies, his tone clipped.
"Glad to hear it."
"Is that all?" Wilkins stands, and Marcus fights the urge to stand as well. But there’s power in showing you’re confident enough to not rely on being physically overbearing.
"No, I'll tell you when that's all. There have been some rumors floating around the office for a while now.” Finally, what Marcus has wanted to confront Wilkins about for months.
“I tried to ignore them, thinking it was just some office gossip, but then one of our best liaisons at Customs fast-tracked a transfer.” Marcus has to take a breath, the lead ball in his stomach growing heavy. “Some of that office gossip was about her. Know anything about that, Wilkins?"
"No, Sir." Wilkins shifts from foot to foot, glancing around the office nervously. Marcus lets him squirm for a bit longer.
"That's good. Because if you did know something about who was spreading those harmful rumors – rumors that affect the lives and careers of federal agents who outperform you on any given day – we’d be having a very different conversation."
Wilkins stands rigid, eyes wide.
"That's all." Marcus turns back to his computer and without giving Wilkins another glance.
______________________________________________________________
That Afternoon
Texas
The briefing went off without a hitch. You could feel Javier's smile on you from the other side of the briefing room while you talked through each of the slides. Your stomach was in your throat, but Javier's presence gave you the bit of confidence you needed every time you glanced his way.
The other agents ask questions you and Javi had anticipated and discussed thoroughly the day before, and even a few you didn’t prepare for. Once you answer their questions flawlessly, Javier dismisses the group to their respective assignments. Several of them shake your hand on their way out.
Javi stands back and watches the crowd file out, then saunters over to you. You’re beaming a smile at him and fight the urge to throw your arms around him in a grateful embrace.
“That was…” You shake your head in disbelief, eyes as wide as your smile.
“‘Amazing.’ You can say it.” He’s smiling in return and leans a slim hip against the table, crossing his arms.
“It was amazing! God, that felt good.” Adrenaline pumps through your limbs in a rush.
“You did a great job today.”
“Thanks, I had a lot of help.” You start to gather the briefing materials and Javi jumps in, working his way around the opposite side of the table. You meet on the other side, where he adds the stack from your hands to his own.
“Not as much as you think.” Javier tucks the stack of briefings under his arm and gives you a friendly wink. Friendly, yet it still manages to set those butterflies flitting again. You haven’t felt this moony over a guy in…well, awhile.
The rest of the day goes by like a blur. Javier introduces you to the two agents he’s assigning to report directly to you for the duration of the case – Diaz and Tran – and the three of you get to work immediately. The first thing you do is get in touch with the closest ports of entry to see what high-priced artwork may have crossed in or out of the country within the past few months.
You lose yourself in piles of customs reports, flagging anything that catches your eye, and before you know it, Javier appears at your desk, knocking on the wall of your cubicle. Blinking, you’re surprised to see that the office has emptied out.
“Hey,” he says softly.
Your eyes widen when you see that it’s past seven o’clock on your computer screen. “Jesus, no wonder I was starting to go cross-eyed.”
You start putting the reports away in your bag, intending to look at them some more at home. The excitement and buzz of the day is fading, and the fatigue finally starts setting in.
"Want to grab a drink?" Javier has his jacket over his arm, a hand casually in his pocket.
"Can I take a rain check?" You feel bad saying no, because you actually would like to have a drink with Javi.
“Are you going to keep working at home?”
“That was the plan,” you admit sheepishly.
“Then, no.”
“‘No,’ what?”
“No rain check. Let’s go – there will be plenty more to do tomorrow. I had to learn that the hard way.” Javier reaches over and takes your bag.
You let out a long-suffering sigh for dramatic effect and shut down your computer. As you join Javier, he splays a broad hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you to the elevator. You barely have a chance to register the warmth of his hand before it drops, leaving pleasant tingles in its wake.
The silence between you is born from that day’s weariness, yet it feels comfortable. Javi takes you to the same bar as before, and you grab the same table in the back while he orders you each a beer. A server brings a couple of glasses of water over as well, which you find a sensible choice, given how tired you feel already.
Javier settles back in his chair with a groan and starts taking off his tie. As he stretches his long neck, you try not to stare, but those freckles and prominent veins hold your gaze. He takes a long pull from his bottle of beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.
Tearing your eyes away, you focus on the rings of condensation your beer bottles have left on the table and try to think of anything to talk about. Before you can think of something, Javier speaks up.
“I got a call today.” He’s fiddling with the label on his beer bottle, peeling it back. His knee bounces under the table, jiggling close enough that you can feel the edge of his pant leg against yours.
When he doesn’t continue, you prompt him with a soft, “Oh?” and take a swig of your beer.
“It was the FBI art squad getting back to me.”
You pause before swallowing, determined to play this cool. “About time.”
“Yeah, the guy was really apologetic. He said they could assign a couple of people to help us with whatever we need.” Javier finishes pulling the label off his bottle, all in one piece.
“That’s great!” You hope Javi can hear the genuine enthusiasm you feel in your voice. “My contact said they’d help, but wasn’t sure what they could do.”
“I spoke to the agent in charge, Pike. Do you know him?” He keeps his large, brown eyes on you as he takes another sip of beer.
Schooling your features, you dare yourself to meet his gaze. “I do, yeah.”
“Have you worked with him before?” Javier tilts his head a fraction, watching you.
“That case I finished before transferring, he and I worked on that together.”
“Closely?”
“What are you trying to get at?” You counter, putting your beer down harder than you intended, your hackles starting to rise.
“Nothing.” Javier shakes his head and looks down at his beer, but you can see a hint of a smirk appearing under his mustache.
Huffing, you slouch and take a sip of your beer, then cross your arms, feeling a little like a child. “Yes.”
“Hmm?” Javi looks up at you through his lashes. Those damned eyes of his. He could bring entire cartels to their knees with those eyes.
“Yes, he’s the person I had a… thing with.” You cross one leg over the other, bouncing it peevishly.
“Sounds complicated,” Javier remarks, not unkindly.
You shrug, as though to say it was nothing. As though the time you spent with Marcus didn’t mean anything to you, and wasn’t the healthiest relationship you’d ever been in, even if it didn’t have the label society demanded. You’re embarrassed to feel the sting of tears in your eyes and turn your face away from Javi before he can see.
“I understand complicated,” Javi says, his soft words a balm to soothe your injured heart.
The beers are finished in contemplative silence. Both of you take plaintive sips of water, mindful of the drives ahead and the weariness you’re each already fighting.
Neither of you seem to mind that the space between you is shrinking, or that your legs rest gently against each other’s under the table. Neither of you flinch or pull away when the backs of your hands wrapped around your water glasses touch. When Javi’s thumb grazes your knuckles, you only look at him, but his face stays turned down determinedly.
You move your thumb against his in a soothing repetition. Slowly, but without hesitation, Javi takes your hand in his, linking your fingers, and you give a gentle squeeze. Your breath slows, the noise of the bar fades, and the tension in your muscles unwinds as you inhale and exhale in time with Javi.
Without a word, without a glance, Javi pulls you to your feet and begins to lead you out of the bar.
It’s completely dark now, but the goosebumps erupting across your arms aren’t from any chill in the air. Holding tight to Javi’s hand, you follow swiftly behind him. He lengthens his stride, shoulders back and jaw set.
About half a block from your office building, Javier pulls you around a corner and onto a darkened side street. You let him lead you without thinking, completely trusting him. But before you can blink, he’s got you pressed up against the wall of a building, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other around your waist. Instinctively, your hands grip onto the lapels of his jacket to not lose your balance.
Everything Javier does is purposeful, focused, intentional – he is not a man to lose complete control of himself, especially when he feels out of control. With his face mere inches from yours, and the faint scent of beer on his breath, he speaks.
“Tell me to stop.”
Javi’s tongue pokes out and licks his plump bottom lip. The cool stone of the building at your back is a welcome relief from the heat pooling in your lower belly.
“W-what?” A glance at his eyes, black from the shadows around you, makes your knees shake.
“If you don’t want this, tell me now.” The hand on the back of your head gently eases down to cup your face, and Javi caresses your cheek with his thumb.
“Please,” he pleads in a whisper, his lips a hair’s breadth from your own. “Before I do something I’ll regret.”
“Don’t…” Your breath shakes.
A sigh from Javi’s lips is warm on your face. Almost imperceptibly, Javi nods and begins pulling away. You tighten your grip on his jacket, holding him in place.
“I mean - don’t stop.”
Javi’s smile changes his entire face, and the tension in his shoulders eases.
“Cariño,” he murmurs, resting your foreheads together and nudging your nose with the tip of his.
Before Javi can do more than brush his lips against yours, a small group of people pass by on the sidewalk a few feet away. This close to the office, it’s very possible they work in the same building – might have even come from the same bar. Fortunately, Javier reacts quickly. He shifts your bodies and tucks your head into his chest, blocking the light from the nearby street lamp – and their view of you – entirely.
Their chattering ceases abruptly as they spot your forms in the shadows, one letting out a quiet, “Whoops,” under his breath. Another sniggers, and they continue on their way. You think you hear one of them whisper Peña a bit too loudly and get shushed by their companions.
Javier holds you there a few more moments, your bodies molded to one another in the dark. Stilling your pounding heart, you breathe in his scent and run your hands around his back, underneath his suit jacket. The muscles of his back are firm under your hands. He presses his face to the top of your head and wraps his arms around you in return. For a while, you stay there together, breathing in sync and savoring this stolen moment.
Eventually, Javier starts to pull away, and you reluctantly let go. He leans in, and tenderly places a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, and your ear. Softly, he says, “Come on, cariño, I’ll walk you back to your car.”
Holding hands again, your pace is much slower this time. There seems to be an understanding that what you just experienced was too close a call. Still, neither of you are in any hurry for this to end, whatever it is.
At your car, Javier stands back with his hands in his pockets while you open the door and toss your bag inside.
“Get home safe, cariño.”
“You too, Javi.”
In your mirror, you see him give a small wave as you drive away.
~*~*~*~
It was stupid to ask you to grab a drink after work. Javier doesn't really understand what motivated him to ask you in the first place.
That’s a lie – he knows exactly why he asked you, why he asked you about Pike, why he dragged you out of that bar. You're on his mind all the time now, to the point of distraction. Javier sees you when he closes his eyes, pictures you lying next to him when he’s going to sleep, tries to imagine the feel of your skin, soft on his fingertips. The only relief he feels is when he's with you in the flesh.
It’s selfish of him, he realizes, to want these things from you. You haven’t said much about what happened in D.C., but it was enough for him to understand that he can’t put you in that position again. People are cruel, especially to women.
With a heaving sigh, Javier rolls over in bed. Even if he can’t allow himself to act on his desires, he can let go a little in his mind. For a moment, he lets himself indulge in the fantasy of having you, fueled by the memories of your fingers laced with his, the heat from your back where he placed a gently guiding hand, the scent of your shampoo when he kissed your face.
Javier imagines what it would feel like, being able to touch and feel you in those natural ways people together do: your arms wrapped around his chest and kissing the back of his neck and shoulders, the weight of you seated on his lap, caressing all of your lines and curves. All the things he could do with you, just because you’re his.
______________________________________________________________
Five Days Later
Texas
You’ve never seen a case get off the ground and progress so quickly. In the last few days, the DEA managed to bring in the art gallery couple suspected of planning a money laundering deal with the narcos under investigation. Not only did the couple admit to their plan, but they agreed to cooperate with the investigation in exchange for immunity.
The gallery was hosting a special exhibit opening that night, and the narcos – Castano and Lopez – were confirmed guests. The timing was perfect to introduce Peña and another agent, Bateman, who would be posing undercover as business partners in competition with the art gallery owners. But that meant their task force had to act fast to get everything organized and ready in time.
Surveillance had been placed on Castano and Lopez, and the agents tailing them were sending in frequent reports on the men’s movements. They had already arranged transportation to get them to the gallery event after dining at an expensive restaurant nearby. Their dirty money certainly didn’t stop them from enjoying a lavish lifestyle.
You check over the information on the tablet in your hands. Posing as an event coordinator gave you access to all areas of the gallery, service entrances, back rooms, the whole shebang. It also gave you the ability to watch a live video feed of all the cameras placed around the gallery, right from your tablet, and listen in on the audio through the wires Peña and Bateman would be wearing.
A few other agents were staged as caterers, wait staff, and private security detail for the special event, but this evening would only have one mission: get the narcos interested in finding out what Peña and his “business partner” could offer. He and Bateman were already out on the gallery floor, mingling with the crowd, and looking at the art.
Javi was wearing a dark blue suit, fitting snugly to his broad shoulders and tapering in at his slim waist. He’d obviously taken extra time grooming himself that evening, because he had some kind of pomade in his hair that added a sleek wave, and his mustache was neatly trimmed. It was criminal how fucking good he looked.
Surveillance checks in to report an ETA of approximately 10 minutes. Letting out a deep breath, you tap out a message on your tablet with the ETA and send it to Javi’s phone. Through your earpiece, you hear Javi’s phone ding, a pause, and then his voice mutters, “Copy.”
Things between you and Javier that week had been a bit tense, to say the least. The two of you orbited each other, coming close yet never touching before being slingshot back out in opposite directions.
The memory of his arms around you and his lips ghosting across your mouth kept you warm each night. You continuously waffled back and forth between reprimanding yourself for even thinking about indulging in another workplace fling, and craving him like a drug. It was maddening.
Diaz’s voice in your ear says, “Targets have arrived, entering now.” You message Javi, and he confirms he has eyes on them. He and Bateman continue circulating a bit, keeping an eye on Castano and Lopez, but blending with the crowd for now. Things are right on track.
Closing your eyes for a moment, you take a deep breath and lean against a wall in the back corridor. The coolness of the wall reminds you of the cool stone against your skin in that alleyway. You let the radio chatter in your earpiece fade as you remember the heat from Javi’s hands, the strength of his arms and chest, the smile on his lips when you told him ‘don’t stop.’ Heat pools in your lower belly, imagining what could have happened if you hadn’t been interrupted.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You hear Javi’s voice in your ear and your eyes fly open. A few taps on your tablet and you’re watching video from a nearby camera. Bateman is gripping his abdomen and grimacing in pain.
“Yeah, just this stomach ache. I’ve had it for days.” Bateman gestures to his lower right side. Something tells you that’s no mere stomach ache.
Quickly, yet calmly, you bustle over to their location and assume your best event coordinator voice. “Sir, is everything alright? Can I get you some water?”
Bateman tries to wave you off, but is interrupted as another wave of pain hits him and he doubles over. Javi watches his partner and concern knits his brow.
“Boss, the targets are headed in your direction, I think they’re trying to check out what’s going on,” Tran’s falsetto says over the radio.
You lay a hand on Bateman’s shoulder, lowering your voice to say, “We need to get him out of here.”
You put your arm around Bateman’s hunched shoulders and say loudly enough for some of the looky-loos to hear you, “Everything’s alright, Sir. Please come with me.” You give a meaningful look to Javi and gesture for him to come with you.
The gallery owners have a small office in the back that’s part of a larger storage area with a loading dock for larger works of art. You take Bateman and Javi back to the office, passing through the swarm of catering staff, who have been using the storage room as their staging area. Pulling out one of the office chairs, you guide Bateman to sit. Diaz bursts into the small room, dressed in the typical black attire of private security, worry etched across his face.
“Nick? Talk to me – what’s happening?” Diaz’s voice is a bit tremulous, but he takes charge and gets on the radio to report an agent down. You’ve seen how close Diaz and Bateman are at the office and wonder if there’s something more between them than friendship.
Javi catches your eye and nods his head to the side, indicating for you to both exit the office. Following him a bit down the hallway, you step close to his side to escape the bustle of caterers with trays of hors d'oeuvres.
“What’s happening?” Javi wipes a hand over his mustache and flicks a finger at your tablet.
He leans over to look at your screen and you swipe through several views until you spot Castano sipping on champagne and Lopez looking bored. The latter was the one, if memory serves, who made the comment about modern art being just a bunch of splattered paint.
The scent of Javi’s cologne and his closeness make your hands tremble. You haven’t been this close to him since he almost kissed you. In fact, his face was near enough to your own that you could easily turn your head and place your lips to the side of his neck or shoulder. Your head swims at the thought.
Hazarding a glance up, you see out of the corner of your eye that Javi isn’t looking at your tablet anymore either. His chest rises and falls, brushing your arm with every inhale. Those dark chocolate eyes are nearly black, his pupils wide and intense. Seconds tick by that could be minutes, both of your bodies frozen in place.
Movement on the screen in your hands catches your attention and breaks the reverie. You can’t let yourself be distracted by whatever is happening between you and Javi. Not now, on this big of a case – your first opportunity to really prove that you’re capable on your own, and not someone who fucks their way up the ranks.
Javi takes half a step back, and you clamp your teeth down on your lower lip to stifle a sigh at your loss. How the hell are you supposed to focus with all of these feelings and urges flying through your body?
Clearing his throat, Javi rasps, “I better get back out there.”
You nod your head in agreement. “Yeah. That’s good, I’ll - uh, check on Bateman.” Javi moves to leave but pauses.
“You’re doing great,” he whispers next to your ear, his touch on your lower back light as a feather before slipping off back into the crowded gallery. You fight the urge to run after him and shift your focus back to Bateman. Stepping back into the office, Diaz is already on the radio, arranging transportation for the two of them to the hospital.
“I think it’s his appendix,” Diaz says to you quietly when you walk over.
You grimace. Shit.
Bateman was chosen to be Javi’s partner in this operation because he could carry a conversation about art and make it convincing. Javi – to use his own words again – doesn’t know shit about art.
Looking down at your tablet, you tap through the various video feeds and see that the narcos are in the same section of the gallery as Javier. Switching the channel on your earpiece, you listen in on the audio feed coming from his wire.
You’re not sure if Javi is genuinely distressed over Bateman’s condition, or if he’s acting it up to try and draw the attention of the narcos, but you can hear his labored breathing from his wire. Could he be nervous? You select the video feed with the best vantage and see Javi rubbing the back of his neck and fiddling with his tie.
With Javi’s breathing in your ear, you make up your mind. You can’t let him finish this alone.
“Diaz, you got this?”
“Yes, ma’am. Transport will be here in less than five minutes.”
You’re already setting down your tablet and removing the curlicue wire from behind your ear.
“Good. Report in once you get him seen to.” Diaz nods, but watches you curiously.
Next goes your blazer and the clip holding your hair back. You grab your purse and find the red lipstick, quickly applying a fresh coat to your lips.
“Well, how do I look? Can I pass as a shady art dealer’s girlfriend?” You step back and smooth down the dress you were wearing under the blazer.
You don’t have many occasions to wear the black cocktail dress, but for tonight you needed something more stylish than your regular work clothes. Its V-neckline is relatively modest, but the smooth material clings to your curves in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination.
Diaz gives you a once over and says, “With all due respect, Boss…you look hot.”
“Thanks,” you fluff your hair a bit, using your reflection in the office’s window. “Bateman, take it easy. We’ve got this.” Bateman groans in response and you rush out the door.
You’re flying blind now – no eyes or ears on anything but what’s in front of you. Tran spots you and cocks her head quizzically, but otherwise doesn’t break her cover as she approaches you with a tray of champagne flutes.
Grabbing a glass, you mutter, “Bateman is down, I had to do something.” She nods and quirks an amused lip.
“I like your dress,” she mutters back. You toss back the rest of the champagne in your glass for courage, and Tran hands you another to take its place.
“Thanks, so does Diaz.” Tran snorts and pivots to offer champagne to a cluster of guests nearby.
The three of you gelled almost immediately, and you felt immensely grateful. Their support on the case made you feel at ease with being in charge of a team. You wonder if Javi assigned Diaz and Tran on purpose, thinking you’d all suit one another.
Javier, Castano, and Lopez are still in the same gallery space, admiring adjacent pieces. Well, Lopez is digging a finger into his ear, but at least Castano seems genuinely interested.
Seemingly more relaxed now, Javi stands with his back slightly to you, leaving his body language open to the targets. But you already know him better than the casual observer. The veins in Javi’s neck are more prominent, and you tamp down the urge to lick them. He’s practically vibrating like a plucked wire, but his shoulders are relaxed, one hand casually in his pocket. Fuck, he looks good in that suit.
Taking a deep breath, you decide you’ll just have to go for it. It’s just for tonight, after all.
“Babe!” A few people turn their heads to look at you, including the three men you needed to take notice.
You shuffle over on your tiptoes to not break an ankle in your heels, and Javi – to his credit – doesn’t react beyond a shift in his eyes and a twitch of his jaw.
“Oh, my god! I’ve been looking for you everywhere, babe.” You practically throw yourself at Javi and cling to his side. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other hand coming out of his pocket to lightly grasp your bare arm.
“I saw poor Nicky – he didn’t look so good,” you say, placing your free hand on Javi’s chest and adding a touch of real concern to your voice.
Javier’s entire demeanor shifts with you in his arms, his body relaxes, immediately falling into lockstep with you. You’re impressed at how quickly he responds to this curveball. Neither of you could have prepared for something like this.
“Yeah, he decided to head home, probably just ate something bad.” Javi took everything in stride. “You’re feeling okay, right?” He pulls back a bit to take you in, like he’s checking you over for bumps and bruises.
“Yeah, baby, I’m okay. But…” you drop your voice to a stage whisper, aware that at least Lopez is paying attention to this little charade. “What about the you-know-what?”
Javi glances around like he’s worried somebody might hear you. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. He wasn’t moving it until next week anyway.” Javi kisses your temple. You nod, seemingly pacified, and offer your glass to him.
He smirks, and instead of taking it from your hand, he leans down and places his lips to the rim. You let out a little giggle and tilt the glass for him. A little dribbles over the side of his mouth, dripping off his mustache. Letting out a mock tutting sound, you wipe it away with your thumb and lick the remnants from your skin.
Your eyes meet, and you melt a bit, seeing that Javi’s pupils are completely blown.
“I can’t take you anywhere,” you tease, managing to regain composure.
“I know exactly where you can take me,” he fires back, and – to your utter shock and private enjoyment – squeezes your ass.
“Babe!” You gasp, and hit him playfully on the arm. Looking around nervously, you notice Lopez staring lasciviously at this public display, and you still, clearing your throat. Javi notices, and follows your gaze to Lopez, who is now adjusting his pants by his gaudy belt buckle.
“Hey - qué pasa contigo?” Javi’s face morphs into something serious and intimidating.
The two men exchange some words in rapid Spanish, and Castano gets involved. You’re genuinely flummoxed, not understanding what the men are saying, but it’s clear Castano is trying to apologize for Lopez’s rudeness and making amends.
You tug at Javi’s arm to pull him back to you, running a soothing hand over his chest. “Come on, baby. It’s fine.”
“I want an apology,” Javi says, stubbornly.
“Lo siento, Señor,” Lopez mutters, and Javi shakes his head.
“An apology to her,” he clarifies, his eyes boring holes into Lopez’s forehead.
Lopez repeats himself, but can’t meet your eyes. Castano steps forward and reaches out a hand. Without thinking, you place your hand in his, and he holds it between his own. You know what this man before you is capable of, what he’s suspected and guilty of, and you fight the urge to shudder.
“Miss, I am so sorry for my associate’s bad manners,” Castano begins in lightly accented English. “When a woman as beautiful as you is nearby, any man would take notice.”
Pretending to be flattered and appeased, you dip your head. Castano – a slim man of equal height – bends at the waist formally and brushes dry lips to your knuckles. You turn a disgusted curl of your lip into a demure smile.
“Thank you,” you simper.
Javi says something to Castano in Spanish, and the two begin to converse, their tone much more pleasant now with formalities out of the way. He drops his arm from your waist and joins Castano at the painting he’d been admiring.
You catch Lopez’s eye and let the corner of your mouth tilt up as you take a sip of your champagne, now warm and flat. The man – squat, with a thick unibrow under a greasy forehead – is the kind of fish you want to keep on the hook for a while. It lets them think they’re winning.
“Cariño,” Javi says and beckons you to join the men.
Sauntering over, you let the high heels do their job and smile sweetly up at him. The conforming dress rises up your thighs a bit higher than you’d be comfortable with in real life, but you decide to leave the hem where it rests when you see Javi’s eyes rake over your exposed skin. The hair on your arms stands up, and the heat in your core begins to rise.
“Señor Castano has a question about this piece, and I told him you were the brains between us,” he winks, and your breath hitches.
Over the next ten minutes, you speak knowledgeably about the art on exhibit in the gallery. You’d never felt more grateful for the times Marcus would get excited about a case or piece of evidence and animatedly answer your questions while sharing takeout from one of your regular haunts. There’s a sudden pang in your chest.
Just as suddenly, Javi is right behind you, stroking the backs of his fingers up and down a bare arm. His left hand is on your hip, caressing his thumb over the thin fabric of your dress. You relax into his touch, melting back into him until you feel the swell of your ass meet the front of his pants.
Javi sucks in a sharp breath, and his fingers on your hip tighten their grip. You’re trying to focus on Castano’s words, but you feel Javi’s breath shudder a bit as he makes the smallest of movements with his hips, pressing himself into your ass.
“...and that’s why we’re here tonight, drinking champagne, admiring the works of art on display… and speaking with beautiful women,” Castano finishes. The smile on his face would be genuinely charming if you didn’t already know what a deplorable human being he is.
“Mi amor loves talking about art, I only wish I knew more. She and my partner could talk all night about our latest deals–” Javi stops himself short, pretending that he’s let something slip.
Castano’s eyes go sharp, but his smile barely changes. Showing a bit of intelligence, even Lopez perks up at this false faux pas. You’re surprised he was even listening, he’s been so busy shoveling canapes into his mouth and ogling the other women nearby.
“Ah, so you are art dealers then!” Castano exclaims. “Little wonder Señorita is so knowledgeable.”
You move your left hand to caress Javi’s on your hip. Not sure if Castano thinks you and Javi are married, or he’s just being polite, you’d rather play it safe and leave your ring fingers out of his sight until you and Javi can speak privately.
“My partner is really the art dealer, it’s a shame you couldn’t meet him tonight. I’m just another man of business.”
“And what line of business are you in, Señor?” Castano asks.
“Please, call me Javi,” he says with a casual wave of his free hand. “And I’m in whatever line of business is good – I’ve done a bit of this, a bit of that. Here, have my card.”
Javi fishes out the prop business card from the inner breast pocket of his suit jacket. “I represent my client’s business interests, whatever they may be.”
Castano takes the card and glances it over, then hands it to Lopez to hold. “And your clients are interested in art?”
“Some are. That’s how I met mi alma. She was working at the private gallery my new partner owns.” Javi stands next to you, keeping his fingers locked with yours on your hip, and smiles down at you.
You have to remind yourself that none of this is real, it’s all for the cover – and a last-minute cover, at that. None of this was supposed to happen. But standing there, basking in the warmth of Javi’s affection, your heart races a bit and you give him a genuine smile in return.
“And the rest is history,” you finish with a small shrug of your shoulder, then rest your head on Javi’s shoulder for a second. Lopez’s phone rings and he turns away to answer it quietly, then taps Castano on the shoulder deferentially.
“Well, Javi, Señorita,” Castano nods at each of you in turn. “I would love to treat you to dinner soon. I have a new case of vintage bordeaux and a new painting I’m looking for any excuse to show off. I’ll have my associate call to make the arrangements. Please, bring your business partner.”
Javi nods and shakes Castano’s hand. The two men leave, and you see Lopez stuff a napkin full of food into his suit pocket. Castano rolls his eyes in exasperation and glides away to the front exit.
Javi gives your waist a squeeze, and you turn to face him, smiles on both of your faces. You hover for a minute, just in case the men return, but then Tran comes by with another tray of champagne.
“May I take your glass, ma’am?” Javi takes the glass from your hand and sets it gently on the tray. He busies himself by taking another so Tran can murmur, “They’re off the premises, tracking in place.”
Javi nods and sips the champagne. Tran moves away once more. A couple beats pass, and Javi sets the champagne down on a nearby cocktail table, grips your hand tightly, and starts pulling you in the direction of the back office.
This time you struggle more to keep up with him, not in your usual office attire. Javi is pulling at his tie and undoing the top buttons of his shirt. In the back storage area, Javi drops your hand and makes a beeline into the small office.
You slow almost to a stop, a bit winded from practically jogging in heels. Javi turns and meets your eye. Seeing the intensity in his face, you pause before the threshold and worry flits across your mind.
Maybe Javi’s actually upset with you for going rogue, for jumping in and messing with the plan. Maybe he’s just really good undercover, and you projected your own desires onto his smiles and touches. He silently crooks two fingers, bidding you to join him in the office.
Steeling your spine, preparing for a fight, you pull your shoulders back and strut into the office. Closing the door behind you, you take a breath, ready to go toe-to-toe with Javi if that’s what it takes to prove you were in the right.
You made an executive decision in what could have been a crisis, and you’ll stand by that judgment call. You did what a good leader is supposed to do when plans go south. Everything worked out with the narcos, and even if they don’t take the bait and call, you still have tracking and surveillance on them.
Javi remains silent, finishes unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his freckled skin underneath. He removes the wire taped to his chest, then sets it down on the desk and switches off the receiver. You open your mouth, prepared to state your defense.
In two strides, Javi closes the distance between you and takes your mouth in a crushing kiss. You throw your arms around his neck and his hands grip the backs of your bare thighs, lifting you effortlessly and setting you onto the desk.
Deepening the kiss, Javi’s tongue plunders your mouth and he lets out a strangled grunt when you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him flush against your panty-clad pussy. Groaning, you feel his cock quickly getting hard and you soon realize you were already wet before he even started kissing you.
Javi kisses a searing trail across your jaw, the hairs of his mustache tickling the tender flesh under your ear as he nips at the lobe. You gasp and rut against the front of his pants.
“You are – fucking – incredible,” Javi growls in your ear, grinding his straining cock against the damp spot on your panties for emphasis. Your breathing is shallow, and you cling to his broad back as he continues his way down your neck.
“You’re amazing,” he adds, then gently sinks his teeth into the flesh between your neck and shoulder, eliciting a small whimper from your lips.
Letting your head loll to the side, willing him to take whatever he desires, you whisper, “Javi, please…”
You can feel his mustache turn up as he smiles, his path across your clavicle interrupted.
“‘Please’, what, cariño?” His wide hands roam up the expanse of your back, then down to massage the meat of your hips and ass. You rock yourself against his cock again, but he holds your hips still and pulls back to look into your wrecked face, lifting an eyebrow in question.
“Fuck, Javi–” You rebel against the grip of his hands, trying to feel that pressure from his hard cock again, but he stops you. He mimics your tut-tut from earlier out in the gallery, and pulls his hips away from yours. You lock your ankles behind him, trying in vain to keep him in place.
Javi smacks a hand against the flesh of your ass that’s still covered by your dress, which luckily muffles the sound. Your mouth pops open in surprise, and you look at him. The intensity in his face has returned, but there’s no malice in his eyes, just hunger. Without a word exchanged, you unhook your ankles from behind his waist and let your legs spread open.
Javi lets out a satisfied moan from deep in his chest. “Mm, somebody trained you well, cariño.”
You let out a shuddering breath and Javi leans in to capture your bottom lip between his, sucking it between his teeth before letting it go with a soft pop. You nod, just barely, and wait for him to continue.
“I bet I can guess who it was,” he teases, then his tone changes. “Stand up and turn around. Palms on the desk.”
Javi pulls away and walks the two steps to the door, never looking away as he watches you follow his command. Your dress is now hitched up onto your hips, your ass presented to him.
Before he can lock the door, a tentative knock on the other side makes both of you jump. You immediately straighten up and pull your dress down, while Javi checks through the blinds in the door’s window.
“Tran,” he mouths.
You try to smooth your hair down and Javi opens the door and quickly turns away, busying himself with the wire and receiver on the desk, as though he’d just turned it off.
Clearing her throat, Tran stands in the doorway, not meeting your eye and says, “Boss, Diaz just reported in. Bateman is getting an emergency appendectomy, but he should be fine. They got him to the ER before it got too bad.”
Both you and Javi let out sighs of relief. “Thanks, Tran. We’ll debrief in the morning.”
Tran glances between you and Javi, and gives you a sly smile. “Sure thing, Boss. Have a good night.” She winks and closes the office door behind her. You’ll have to deal with that later.
“Fuck me,” you sigh and sink down in the office chair. All the adrenaline of the evening was starting to make your legs shaky. Javi sits a hip on the corner of the desk in a way that reminds you of Pike.
“That’s kind of what I was trying to do,” he tosses his head at the door. “Before we got interrupted.”
“It was very rude,” you agree, both of you sharing a smirk before going quiet.
“Listen,” Javi swipes a thumb at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know if this is a good idea–” You put a hand on his knee to stop him.
“But it’s what I want. And you obviously want it too,” you look pointedly at his crotch, where his aroused state is still quite evident, despite the interruption.
“Fuck yeah, I do,” he states emphatically. “It’s just…” He sighs and places his hand over yours. “I recognize what a huge deal this case is for you, for professional and personal reasons.”
Javi pulls you to stand and cups your face. “I couldn’t live with myself if I fucked that up for you.”
You sigh, and think for a moment.
“Javi, no offense, but that’s bullshit.”
“What?” He pulls back in surprise.
“First, you’re giving yourself way too much credit,” you chuckle to break the tension, then grow serious. “Secondly, I’m a grown ass woman who can make her own choices. If anything gets fucked up, it’s because I made a decision, so I’ll deal with the consequences.”
Javi takes a deep breath, evaluating your words. You can see that he doesn’t like the idea of what those consequences may be, nor the thought of you being the one to deal with them.
He swears under his breath in Spanish, looking to the heavens for help, then leans in and kisses you. Gently at first, then more persistently, holding your face until you’re both breathing heavily through your noses. He breaks the kiss and you both take a deep breath.
“Okay, ‘grown ass woman,’” he says, and you let out a small laugh. “I’ve got a choice for you to make.”
“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”
“Your place or mine?”
Chapter 8 - Coming Soon!
Additional Author’s Note: Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for all the lovely comments and reblogs! I can’t tell you how much they mean to me. As always, I would love-love-love to know what you think. I really want to become a better writer, so any and all feedback is welcome! Thank you for reading! 💜
#senorabond writes#rumor has it fic#javi x reader x pike#javier pena x reader#javier pena fanfiction#javier peña#javier pena smut#javier pena narcos#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike x you#marcus pike x f!reader#marcus pike the mentalist#marcus pike fanfiction#marcus pike
77 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dungeon Meshi - Quick Reacts (CHAPTER 10: Snacks)
Who does this person remind me of....
...........Diantha from Pokemon. And I know that’s weird but somehow. The energy is there. Hmmm.
also what
The fact that this whole dungeon thing is being referred to, at least on some level, as a game, is super curious. I mean in a sense I understand but also.... it really kinda goes hand in hand with how casually they treat death, since it’s not permanent.
I see you, Marcille Counterpart. I also see you, Laios counterpart.
Love the fact that this dude seems to be just as easygoing. At least for now. I wonder if he’s actually secretly super into the idea of becoming King. Who knows?
Well they-- .........I mean I GUESS
😉
Can the dungeon’s layout.. shift? Hold up.
Is the dungeon even.. a dungeon? I know it’s magical but like. Is this a Mystery Flesh Pit National Park scenario?
forbidden medicinal herbs sound great, idk what you mean.
,..................LMFAO.
wait why do they look like they’re napping...?
👀 👀 👀 👀 👀 👀 👀 👀
............the Little Friend in the sword knows. Listen to the little friend.
this is legitimately so cool though. I know it’s horrible but. It’s so cool.
she bout to snap.
and snap she did.
YESSSSSS
....gem jam............. I’m.............. that actually looks really cool?
it reacted because it wuvs u
LAIOS. LAIOS PLEASE.
I can already anticipate the chapter where someone forces you to get rid of your adorable little mussel sword friend......... 😰
THAT’S WHAT I FUCKING THOUGHT. WHY WOULD YOU JUST TOSS IT NOO
.............
did they really introduce a whole nother adventuring party just to fucking kill them off?
286 notes
·
View notes
Text
-My Life Begins Now-
I want to live.
I crave warm summer nights, stargazing
And philosophizing about the little, insignificant
Things that bring us immense joy
I crave heartfelt laughter whilst eating
Apple crumble as a close-knit family,
And climbing into bed
With warm sheets fresh out of the dryer
I just want to live.
I desire long walks,
Barefoot through national parks
And singing in the rain
As the droplets begin to descend
From an ombre sky
I desire bubble baths scented with essential oils
And hearing a captivating new song on the radio
As I drive leisurely through the countryside
I want to live.
I yearn for homemade baked goods
And roasting peanut butter smores
On a makeshift firepit in the garden
I long for the ability to appreciate
All the beauty in this world
To wake up eternally grateful
And to find the meaning in existence
I want to live.
I never wanted to die, not really,
I just wanted the pain to stop
The finality of ending it all
Was not a lasting intention
And now,
I am lying awake in a white hospital bed,
Somehow gifted with a second chance,
And I am beyond thankful
Oh, God, I really do want to live.
And I will take this opportunity now
To start living.
#writing#poetry#poem#writingcommunity#poetrycommunity#books#bibliophile#reading#author#aesthetic#study#studyaesthetic#publishedauthor#writers#schizophrenia#mentalillness#mentalhealth#prose#quotes
44 notes
·
View notes
Text
“you clean up pretty nicely fer someone who’s such a fuckin’ scrub.”
osamu loves his brother dearly, though his smile doesn’t quite reach his homey brown eyes as he fixes the pretty gold bow tie around his twin brother’s neck. instead of snarling back a playful response, atsumu only blinks at the reflection of himself in the mirror— sweat beading on his brow, Adam’s apple nervously bobbing up and down as he recites his words in his head.
“oi!” osamu snaps his fingers in front of his brother’s face, frown on his identical features while he grabs the lapels of atsumu’s tux. “whas’the matter with you, dickwad—?”
the blonde blinks— cutting the younger twin off. “ya think she’s ready f’me ‘samu?” the great atsumu miya, voted sexiest man in sport by Japan vogue, pride and joy of their national team, the better miya despite how brash and loud he can be…nervous. it hits osamu like a truck. “i mean like…’m a lot to deal with, she’s gonna have’ta deal with the shitty media, with shitty me and ‘m scared, ‘samu. what if she changes her mind about me?”
“don’t be stupid, she’s dealt with your dumbass f’this long. she loves you enough to want your last name.” osamu grunts, ruffling his brother’s perfectly styled hair and even though his ma will probably kill him, ‘tsumu somehow looks better than before. more like himself.
“will ya go and check on her?” the blonde half begs. “it’ll make me feel better.”
osamu obliges, heading straight to a dressing room further down the hall— knocking twice but not expecting to be whacked in the face by a lace garter.
“atsumu miya i told you not to come in here! it’s bad luck to see the bride before the—oh! osamu!”
you look like a bride, no, you’re prettier than most. the sweetheart necklace of your couture wedding gown looks perfect on you, the lacey bodice hugging your figure perfectly. you have that glow of someone who’s just about to be married, who’s going to be happy for the rest of her life— and it only shines brighter because of the sweet little gems accenting everything you wear. osamu miya’s heart nearly stops in its place.
“hope yer not confusing me with my stupid mug of a brother,” he finally says when he enters the room— hand held out to twirl you and watch your dress spin under the warm afternoon sun.
“you’re identical, osamu.”
“but he’s the uglier one,” the younger miya twin says pointedly, making you smile, melting at your gentle laugh while you politely cover your mouth with your manicured hand. “‘n stop calling me that, ‘m not your boss anymore and yer practically family now.”
still giggling, you nod cutely, looking up at osamu and he swears he might die. “sorry ‘samu, it’s a shame about ‘tsumu though; wouldn’t want him to ruin any wedding photos.”
“impossible,” the restaurant owner whispers without thinking. “you’ll be in ‘em, and you look so beautiful.” he twirls you again, as if watching your skirts spin in a brilliant flowing circle will turn back time. take osamu back to when he first met you; when you were meek and shy and looking for a part time job in onigiri miya to make ends meet.
he would have turned back time to a place in your lives where he would have taken you on dates instead of pushing you away the night you confessed to him in the back office. he would have stolen you away on a trip to his favourite ice cream parlour in his hometown to tell you he loved you before atsumu confessed his love to you at a big game in Tokyo with the whole world watching. he would have held your hand a little tighter instead of letting them brush softly while you worked together in the kitchens, he would have walked you home more often, danced with you around his shop after closing time, held your hands between his to warm them up in the cold winters.
he wouldn’t have fought his own twin brother in the onigiri miya staff car park for a chance to make you happy. he wouldn’t have let atsumu pin him down into the gravel, straddling his hips and shaking him by the collar with blood blossoming from the cut on his twin’s lower lip. “i can’t give her up b’fore i’ve even tried, ‘samu. i’m not like you.” atsumu wouldn’t have said, teary eyed in fear of betraying the person he loves most in the world.
then none of you would be here on your wedding day, engaged and soon to be married to the one and only atsumu miya.
then he wouldn’t be picturing you at the end of the makeshift aisle outside his family shrine hyogo, marrying osamu instead.
then osamu wouldn’t be hurting, living a life with only one regret.
“‘samu?” your voice penetrates his thoughts even while so quiet. “do you think he’s ready for me?”
funny how you’ve said the same thing as his twin, you’re both so alike and maybe that makes you perfect for one another. “of course he is, if he wasn’t i’d have to knock some sense into that empty skull of his.” osamu hums when you face him again, biting his tongue. he could have told you how much he had loved you all these years, he could have ruined everything but then he wouldn’t have been able to see that angelic smile grace your lips and watch the spark in your eyes nearly blind him.
“oh, thank you ‘samu…”
you’re about to say more, he’s about to do the same but your bridesmaids rush in shoo him out to add the finishing touches to your bridal look. the door closes in osamu’s face, and he sighs, because although he can’t go back and turn back time…part of him still wishes he fought back, to be then one that loves you now, instead.
#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu x you#miya osamu angst#osamu angst#osamu x reader#osamu drabble#osamu imagine#hq x reader#hq x you#hq angst#hq imagines#osamu scenarios#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu angst#haikyuu imagines#tteokdoroki#haikyuu drabbles#🗑. aali’s chatroom
756 notes
·
View notes
Note
okay, so, 30 (tourist/knowledgeable local au)
go go go
this turned into tourist/park ranger au and is heavily/entirely based on a hike i went on in arches national park years and years ago. slot canyons my beloved. please reblog if ya like it!
“Alright?”
“Great,” Ava says, trying not to look down into the canyon between her feet and the rest of the hiking trail. It’s maybe two feet wide and a long way down. Beatrice holds her hand out over the gap, and Ava takes it. She doesn’t even try not to enjoy the warmth of Beatrice’s hand or the callouses on her palm. Thirsting after her park ranger guide on a group hike definitely isn’t the highest point of Ava’s life, but it’s not the lowest, either, and she’s refusing to feel shame about it. It’s not her fault that Beatrice somehow makes a park ranger uniform look good. It should be impossible, between the pleated trousers and the baggy grey shirt and the stupid, stupid, stupid hat, but Ranger Beatrice is doing it. Ava has been at the front of the pack through the whole hike, throwing in an occasional glance at the shape of Beatrice’s arms beneath the short sleeves of her shirt amongst the views of slot canyons and rocky vistas.
“Ma’am?”
Ava blinks. She’s still holding onto Beatrice’s hand, and has yet to take the step over the canyon before her.
“Ava,” Ava says. “Ma’am was my mother.” She makes a face. What did she just say?
“Ava,” Beatrice says. Oh, Ava likes that. She really likes that, the way Beatrice’s accent turns over the second a in her name. “Just one step. The more you look down the worse it seems.”
“For sure.” Ava decides to let Beatrice think she’s afraid of heights. At least for now. She’s getting, like, major gay vibes, so maybe she can correct that misunderstanding at a later date.
Ava takes the step.
“One small step for Ava, right?” Ava says, looking up from her hiking boots to grin at Beatrice. Beatrice smiles back at her, which is just—devastating. Ava will never be the same.
“One giant leap for Ava-kind,” Beatrice agrees. She squeezes Ava’s hand before she lets it go, and Ava has to clench her jaw shut to keep from doing something embarrassing like asking her to do it again. Or moaning.
They follow the trail as a group as it narrows between two rock walls, then widens again, letting them out into a sort of split in the side of the solid rock hill, rock faces soaring a dozen feet high on either side of them. It affords them an incredible view of the desert out beneath them, sand and rocks and hills. Beatrice stops near the far end of the open space, turning and waiting as the hiking tour group files in behind her.
“Everyone doing alright?” Beatrice says. Ava watches as she does a quick headcount, following along with the numbers Beatrice mouths. If that involves staring at her lips, well, Beatrice probably can’t tell. Beatrice nods a moment later, apparently satisfied with the number of hikers gathered before her.
“This is my favorite spot in the entire park,” Beatrice says. “If you’ll all entertain it a moment, I’d like to tell you why.”
“Go for it,” Ava says. She’s the only person in the group to speak aloud. Beatrice glances at her, and Ava refuses to be embarrassed, offering an encouraging grin.
“Well, if Ava approves,” Beatrice says with a smile. She reaches up and takes off her hat. Several strands of brown hair have escaped their neat bun, and she brushes them back with one hand while the other holds her hat against her side. “My first summer in the park, I was cleaning cabins. I graduated college and lost contact with my entire family not long afterwards. It was a very difficult and confusing time in my life. I thought that I had made a mistake in coming to the US. I thought that I had made a mistake by coming here. I thought that I was in the wrong, that it was my fault somehow that my parents weren’t accepting of me. That it was my fault I was different.”
Gay, gay, super gay, totally gay. Ava agrees with the voice in her head and then tells it to shut up. There’s a rehearsed quality to Beatrice’s voice—Ava suspects she gives this speech on every one of these hikes—but there’s something genuine in it, too, and Ava wants to listen.
“One day towards the end of July—the hottest day I’d ever experienced up til then, being from England,” Beatrice says, “a friend I’d made, a ranger, took me up here. She sat me down and told me to talk to the desert, and ask it if I’d made a mistake. And then she went back up the canyon to give me some privacy. I sat here for ten minutes before I finally did it. The desert did not answer.” A ripple of quiet laughter goes around the group. Ava doesn’t join in. She’s transfixed by the look on Beatrice’s face, a little half-smile that Ava wants to stare at forever. “But on the hike back out I found a tarantula on my backpack.”
“And that made you want to stay?” Ava says. Beatrice glances at her.
“The tarantulas are a very important part of the ecosystem, Ava,” Beatrice says. Ava shuts her mouth and busies herself with the lid of her water bottle. “But yes, it did. It felt like…the desert was calling me stupid for even asking. What does a bunch of sand and rock care if I’m here or not? Have a spider for your troubles, you idiot.” More laughter, and Beatrice laughs quietly at herself this time. “But the people do care. My friend cared to take me here and show me all that sand and rock. And I care to show it to all of you. It’s my job, yes, but it’s only my job because it matters to me. And I hope that it matters to all of you.” She takes a deep breath and puts her hat back on.
“So,” she says. “On the way down the hill, if you want to, I hope that you’ll all ask the desert a question. Doesn’t have to be out loud, don’t worry. The sand won’t hear you either way. And I can’t promise you a tarantula, although some of you may be grateful for that”—no fucking kidding—“but I can promise that the desert won’t answer. And I can promise that that will be more comforting than it sounds.” Beatrice pauses for a moment. Ava might be in love with her. “Are we all ready to start?” There’s a general murmur of assent, and Beatrice turns away from the group, leading them towards the trail out of the split in the rock and down the hill. Ava hurries to catch up to her.
“So,” she says as she draws up shoulder-to-shoulder to Beatrice. Beatrice looks over at her. “Quite the story.”
“I suppose.”
“All true?”
“Of course.” Beatrice shakes her head slightly, amused and scandalized by the idea of lying.
“Got any more stories you’d like to share?” Ava says. “Maybe over a beer or something?” Beatrice is silent for long enough that Ava’s rapid, anticipatory heartbeat turns worried and even faster. “That can be my question for the desert,” Ava says. “If you want. Don’t want. Whatever.”
“Asking the desert to have a drink with you,” Beatrice says. “How unconventional.” Ava shrugs.
“I’m not really the conventional type.”
“No?” Ava shakes her head. Beatrice looks down the trail. “I’m done for the day after this tour,” she says. “There’s not many bars worth visiting around here, but if you’d like to come by my cabin, I make an acceptable gin and tonic.”
“High praise,” Ava says. “There’s literally two things in that drink.”
“Three,” Beatrice says. “There’s lime.” She pauses. “Four. And ice.”
“Sold on the ice,” Ava says. “How the fuck do you do this hike in July?” Beatrice laughs, a sharp, abrupt noise, like it’s been startled out of her. Ava’s hands clench into fists at her sides, trying to catch it in her fingertips.
“You get used to it,” Beatrice says. “Now watch where you’re going. You’ve been missing all the views staring at me.” Ava flushes pink at being caught, but she obeys, turning her head and watching the desert stretch out before her.
#avatrice#ava silva#sister beatrice#warrior nun#evan says shit#my fics#fic: avatrice#piratekane#answered#ranger beatrice my beloved......
201 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
wildestsizzy
out of the darkness
sungrownarchive
look to the warming sun
paradilight
bright eyes
sixtosmobileautodetailing
Untitled
asacredthebread
Lance