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#i can't believe i forgot to make gifs of this scene
yohankang · 9 months
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have you ever seen a character introduction more iconic than this!!! have you!!!
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damnamour · 1 year
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Sam - S06 E04 (2022)
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beybaldes · 8 months
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It hits different cause it's you
summer sleepover masterlist
jamie tartt x gn!reader
summary : “passionate kissing, pressed up against a wall.” Requested by anon.
contebt warning: one use of yn, throw up, Jamie being insanely jealous, Roy being a big brother figure, angst In the form of Jamie being self deprecating to fluff, allusions to smut but non written.
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There was not a square inch of the Crown and Anchor that wasn't buzzing with life; the whole Richmond team, players and otherwise, were crammed into the tiny, town centre pub.
"Hey, who's that?" Jamie didn't recognise the tall blonde that had his arm around your shoulders, prompting him to sharply nudge Sam in his side, attempting to gain some insight as to who he was. Obviously, he wasn't a member of the team or the staff, he knew that much, but if someone had brought him as their plus one, it was rude of him to try and make moves on his friends friend. Jamie nearly spat his drink out at Sam's words. "They have a boyfriend?"
"Well, boyfriend is a strong word really, they've just seen each other a few times." Roy added, now suddenly beside Jamie and Sam with a frown firmly on his face. Even though it was a familiar sight, it had an even darker twinge to it then usual.
"And how would you know that?" Jamie scoffed, arms folding tighter across his chest as he watched the guy pull you over to the bar, his arm wrapped around you, guiding you through the crowd.
"They told me." Roy answered shortly with a shrug of his shoulders. "Though they also told me the guys a fucking prick." Now that had caught Jamie's attention. With each word that slipped past Roy's lips, Jamie could recognise the look of disproval more and more. "Forgot to show up for one of their dates and they had to run home in the fucking rain."
"Fucking prick." Jamie half expected some comment from Roy about how he, himself, was a prick, but it never came, him so focused on burning a hole into the head of the blonde who had his best friend - though Roy would never admit to you being his best friend - entranced.
"You should go and save them Jamie." Sam suggested, a smile pulling at his lips as he nudged Jamie's side teasingly. "They deserve better than him."
"What? And they deserve me? Right." Jamie scoffed, taking a swig of his drink as he continued to stare at the scene before him, unease filling his stomach as he dwelled on the way your smile filled your face and the way your shirt defined everything perfectly.
"Cut that shit out." Surprisingly, that came from Roy. "You're...well...you're a fucking half decent guy, Tartt. Y/n would be lucky to have you."
"Aw, Roy." Jamie cooed, reaching up to pinch at Roy's cheeks like you would a cute baby. Though before he could make contact, Roy had slapped his hand away, a scowl settling on his lips "You're so kind."
"Fuck off." Roy left at that, walking across the room to meet you and your date for the night at the bar.
"Hey, Angel." Roy saddled up next to you at the bar, slipping a hand around your waist and pulling you into a side hug. When you pulled him into a proper one, he took the opportunity to glare daggers at your date, who, in great shock to Roy, just glared right back. There was no way he was letting you date this guy.
"Roy, you know Jake." When you pulled away from the hug, Jake was quick to put his arm around your waist in a way that screamed controlling to Roy.
Jake. Jamie. Jamie. Jake. There was no way you'd picked the blonde on coincidence; and though Roy would rather bubble wrap you up and put you in a cupboard so no one and nothing could ever get to you, if you were going to be with anyone, he'd rather you be with Jamie. The thought knocked him sick. "Yeah. I do."
"I can't fucking believe this shit man." Jamie couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene before him. Roy seemed to be being more amicable with this random guy you were seeing then he'd ever been with him, and he'd just quite loudly proclaimed how much of a dickhead he thought he was. He just couldn't wrap his head around it.
What was there to this guy that Jamie didn't have? Why couldn’t you like Jamie the way he liked you? Why did you have to look so good in that shirt? Why hadn’t you told him but had seemed to tell Sam and Roy? Too many unanswered questions were swarming around his head. Roy clearly approved more of this stranger then he did of Jamie - and even though he'd blatantly told him otherwise seconds ago, the fact he was even entertaining a conversation with him made Jamie quickly forget it. Never once did it cross his mind that maybe Roy was entertaining the conversation because he cared about you.
Jamie felt like he couldn't breath more and more with each second that passed that he watched the three of you converse. It was all too much for one night. Roy liked him less then the dick who didn't show up for your date and made you walk home in the rain, he'd confirmed you didn't feel the same way about him that he felt about you, Mae had put up some disco lights that were stopping him from seeing straight, and the vanilla vodka he'd consumed was making his stomach churn. "I'm gonna be sick."
Jamie didn't hear Sam call after him when he sprinted from his side in the direction of the pubs door, he didn't hear Roy call after him when he barged past the three of you to get out of the pub, and he didn't see your concerned gaze that followed him until he'd disappeared from your vision.
Roy made a promise to be right back, taking a step away from you and Jake after calling down Mae for a glass of water. When you pieced together where he was going, you took the glass from his hand, appreciating the way the condensation cooled the palm of your hand. "No, it's okay Roy. I'll go check on him."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, course. Be right back Jake." You didn't wait for his response, turning for the door almost instantly. Thankfully, Jamie's actions and your want to see him had given Roy the opportunity that he'd been waiting for.
"Let's have a chat Jake, yeah?"
"Jamie!" You called out when you stepped outside of the pub. When you didn't immediately see him, you went to call out his name again, only stopping at a loud wrenching sound that was coming from the side of the building. "Holy shit, are you okay?"
Jamie pulled his shirt sleeve over his hand, wiping at his mouth then retuning it to his side. His other arm rested above his head, allowing him to balance himself against the wall as he hunched over. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine babe, go back inside."
Taking steps closer to Jamie's side, you made sure to avoid the mess he'd made on the floor, rubbing one hand in circles against his back. When his heaving had finally stopped, you wrapped an arm around him, slowly guiding him to sit on the step of the door that led into the kitchens. "C'mon."
Silently, you handed him the glass of water, letting him drink it before speaking. “What's wrong Jamie?"
"What do you meant what's wrong I'm-" Jamie's words fell short as he looked at you. Clearly, you didn't plan on taking any bullshit from him tonight. At his failure to provide a response fast enough, you nudged your knee against his, keeping the side of your leg pressed tightly against his after. Jamie let out a sigh, running a hand down his face. "I just got in my own head. That's all. And then with the vanilla vodka, and the lights, and so many people talking, it went to shit."
Jamie's heart nearly stopped as you threaded your fingers into his hair, pushing it back for him and readjusting his headband. Even when you'd fixed his hair for him, your hand remained in it, resting against the back of his neck and scratching at the hair there. "What did you get in your head about Jay?"
This wasn't real. The vodka had clearly got to him and he was experiencing some kind of deluded, fever ridden, dream. A too hard tug on his hair ground him back in the moment; this was definitely real and you were definitely playing with his hair. He was so fucking in love with you. "Nothing important, don't worry about it, go have a good night with your boyfriend."
"It's important to you, so it's important to me." Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. How you had no idea what you were doing to him, he was clueless. Jamie could've sworn up and down that right then his heart was beating a metre out of his chest - how could you not see it too? "And, also, he's not my boyfriend."
"He's not?"
"No." A weight had been lifted from Jamie's shoulders that he hadn't realised was there. For the first time since he'd noticed you under the arm of whoever it had been, he felt like he could breathe. "We've been out a few times but, honestly, I'm not really feeling it, he's a bit of a dick."
"I know. Roy told me."
"Oh did he?” You asked, your head titling in a way that made the dim street light accentuate all your features. It made your eyes glimmer and Jamie had to resist the urge to kiss you. “Fucker doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut."
A laugh rumbled through Jamie’s chest and he was certain your presence alone had made everything better. God, if you’d let him, he’d never leave your side. "I’m all good now, if you want to go back in, I think im just gonna head home."
"Let's go." Your hand moved down from his hair and slotted into his hand, intertwining your fingers and squeezing. Jamie took your action as a sign, allowing you to lead him to your car without a thought spared as to how your date would get home, what Roy was doing to him right now, or what anyone would think of your shared absence. All he cared about was the fact his hand was in yours and that it remained that way the whole ride to his house.
He opened the door for you and then made a bee line for the bathroom with you hot on his heels. As he brushed his teeth several times over, forcing the taste of vomit out of his mouth, you took a seat on his counter. When Jamie spat out his final lot of toothpaste, he turned to you with a minty fresh smile. “So, your ‘not boyfriend,’ that’s definitely not going anywhere?”
“Oh, yeah, definitely not.” You answered honestly, jumping down from the counter and walking in step with Jamie down his hallway. “Besides, I kind of have a thing for someone else. He was the BTEC version, if I’m honest.”
“Really?” Jamie asked casually, as though his heart hadn’t been crushed for a second time tonight, this time in what should’ve been the safety of his own home. “So, what was he like? Aside from being a huge dick, obviously.”
“Obviously.” You confirmed, a laugh slipping past your lips as your lingered in Jamie’s doorway, not quite ready to go home yourself yet. “Oh, well, you know. He plays a lot of football, not too bad at it too, he’s from somewhere up north so he’s got this sexy twinge of an accent.” If Jamie didn’t know better, he’d think you were describing him. “And get this. His name? Jake Heart.”
Jamie had never been sure if heaven was real, but if must’ve been, because he knew if it was, this would be his idea of it. When you said you were going out with the worse version of who you really liked, he never in a million years would’ve thought you really wanted to be with him - even as much as he hoped it. It was like all of his dreams were coming true and his life was finally, fully, piecing together.
“Me.” Jamie gasped, taking a step closer to you. “You like me. I’m the one you like.”
“Yeah, doofus.” You took a step closer to him, sliding your arms up his chest and over his shoulder, placing your hands in his hair like they had been on the doorstep of the pub. He was still fully convinced this was one of those good dreams that make you regret setting an alarm the night before. “Was kind of hoping you’d have caught on by now, but, it is what it is.”
Jamie slipped his arms around your waist, connecting his hands over the small of your back. “So, if you like me, does that mean we can, like, be a couple and stuff?”
“Depends what you have in mind when you say ‘and stuff.’” The coy smile on your lips had a smirk pulling on Jamie’s. God, he couldn’t fucking contain himself around you, and he hoped he would never have to again after today.
Jamie pulled you flush against him, pressing his lips firmly to yours, and squeezing your hips, slipping his tongue into your mouth at the gasp that he pulled out of you. Carefully, he manoeuvred you away from his doorway, kicking it closed behind you, and pushing you against his hallway wall. One of his hands quickly moved to cup the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair to keep you from knocking against the cold plaster and to kiss you even more firmly. He didn’t hold back on his actions, squeezing and rubbing and nipping and sucking on every bit of skin he could reach as he pulled himself away from your lips and made his way down your neck.
As he pulled away for air, his forehead resting against your own and his chest heaving, he suddenly became nervous again. “Something like that, I don’t know, only if you’d like it.”
You pressed a fervent kiss to his lips, knocking the air from his lungs before he’d even had the chance to regain it. “I’d like that very much, Jay.” Jamie stared at you dreamily, so in love with you and you didn’t even know it yet. He couldn’t wait for the day that’d come when he’d finally, fully, tell you. “Couldn’t help but notice you closed the door though Jay, you wanting to figure out what more of that ‘stuff’ looks like, yeah?”
“Yeah, I’d like that very much.” Jamie used your position against the wall to his benefit, moving his hands to hold your waist as he dropped to his knees before you, ready to sing praises between your legs. “Think you’ll like it very much too.”
While the walls of Jamie’s hallway were permanently scarred by the whimpers from your lips and the scratches of your nails against the wall, Roy and Jake sat in the crown and anchor.
“- and you’re not fucking good enough for them. So, you’re going to disappear from their phone, and from the face of the fucking earth for all I care, and not be a fucking duck about it either, yeah.”
Jake was shaking in his seat, and even though Sam had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to butt in the conversation for the past 30 minutes, he never got the chance to. Jake had stood from his seat and left the pub without so much as a goodbye or a sip from his drink taken.
“Roy, do you really think all that was necessary?” Sam asked, sliding into Jakes now empty seat and sliding his untouched beer over to Roy.
“Abso-fucking-lutley.”
Hope you enjoyed this Jamie fic!!! Let me know what you think <33 more to come as I get up to date on the summer sleepover prompts x
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paperclipninja · 5 months
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I can't believe I forgot one of the most significant moments (imo) when I was mulling over duality etc here, and that is when Crowley goes up to Heaven to try and figure out what's going on. Actually, it's more than just multiple layers of truth. Yes there are a couple of truths at play, but as an audience we are given SO much information in this scene that it's almost hard to take it all in so I'm going to try and lay it out.
Here is what we learn in the whole scene:
Crowley knows that Muriel is a scrivener, including that they're 37th class. How?? Up until Crowley tricking Muriel into taking him to Heaven, there'd been no conversation about their angelic status
Crowley has a solid understanding of the way Heaven works and how to get around it (bees/once you're in, that they never change passwords etc)
Crowley has access to high level files
Saraqael seems to have a fondness? towards Crowley and allows him to view the trial, let's him know what happened and tells Muriel off but also not really
We get all the info about Gabriel and what happened
That Heaven wipes memories when demoting angels
When the alarm goes off because Aziraphale uses his halo, Crowley declares 'let's get back there' and directs Saraqael, 'you too' and they follow without question (though Crowley's original plan may have been to go and get Heavenly reinforcement but still, interesting the way he takes control and they just listen)
So the overarching duality in this scene - yes it is hilarious, the way Crowley gets Muriel to take him to Heaven in the first place and of course this whole situation:
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but it's also an incredible act of love.
The entire season establishes unmistakably that Crowley has some very real trauma from his experience of being in Heaven as Aziraphale and cast into the hellfire, highlighted through his reactions to JimGabriel. Not to mention his history with Heaven and all that.
So in trying to come up with a solution to the demons attacking the bookshop, knowing that Heaven no longer have any real interest in helping Aziraphale, he willingly goes up there, the place he has made his feelings about very clear, to try and find some answers.
Yes this is a demonstration of Crowley's love for Aziraphale but it's also a demonstration of his love of humans and humanity. He puts aside his own feelings, takes a real risk (because he couldn't have known how any of the senior angels might respond to him being there...could he? Or what if the Metatron had seen him there? That's another pondering for another day...) and goes to the one place he has outright said he doesn't want to go back to, just to try and find a way to protect the humans and help Aziraphale.
THIS, to me, is the entire crux of where this is all heading. It's exactly the same reason Aziraphale gets in that lift. At the end of the day, Crowley and Aziraphale love humanity and want to protect it, even if it means risking themselves.
The multiple truths of this scene actually create a distraction I think. The humour of Crowley's outfit and little prancy toes make us think this is a light and funny moment, while we're also delighted by his subversion of Heavens 'rules' and processes and the revelations about Gabriel. It is both funny and informative. It does give us hints about Crowley's past while moving the current story forward.
But I think it's easy to miss the actions here, and that is that Crowley, who was cast out of Heaven, witnessed the ease with which they continue to cast angels into hellfire, saw the callousness of the Supreme Archangel as he condemned his best friend to no longer exist, put aside all he's witnessed and experienced because of love.
This is a love story. The love story of an angel and a demon, yes, but the love story of two entities, hereditary enemies, who fall in love with humanity and whose love for one another will give them the strength to protect it. At least, that's my take on it anyway :)
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𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝐍𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬
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ARCH NEMESIS | RAFE CAMERON X READER | IMAGINE | 
PAIRING: Rafe Cameron x Reader, Sibling!John B x Reader SYNOPSIS: You're not supposed to like the Kook king because of your brother John B, you two are arch nemesis right? WORD COUNT: 678 WARNING(S): Flirting, teasing, Pogue!Reader, Arch nemesis, Enemies to lovers.
AUTHORS NOTE: Trying to come back to my blog. (yes I'm aware this is similar to my last post Do you hate me sweetheart) I saw this tiktok of this little scene and thought why not.
| RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST | OUTERBANKS MASTERLIST | TAG LIST |
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Y/N and Rafe Cameron had been sworn enemies for as long as they could remember. She was a Pogue, and he was the arch-nemesis of her older brother, John B. The rivalry between the Pogues and the Kooks was as old as the Outer Banks themselves, and neither side was willing to let it go. Y/N had always believed that it was her duty to despise every Kook, especially Rafe.
But there was one problem. Rafe Cameron wasn't making it easy for her. As much as Y/N tried to maintain her grudge, Rafe had a way of getting under her skin. He was impossibly charming, with those piercing blue eyes and that devilish smile. He seemed to relish the fact that he could turn her world upside down with just a glance.
One sunny afternoon, Y/N found herself alone on the beach, away from the rest of her Pogue friends. She was supposed to be keeping watch, making sure no Kooks dared to set foot on their turf. Little did she know that Rafe had been watching her from a distance, his eyes locked on her every move.
As Y/N scanned the horizon for any intruders, she suddenly felt a presence behind her. She turned to find Rafe, casually leaning against a driftwood log, a smug grin on his face.
"What are you doing here, Kook?" Y/N asked, trying to sound tough but failing miserably as her heart raced.
Rafe chuckled, pushing himself off the log and stepping closer to her. "Just thought I'd come say hi to my favorite Pogue," he replied, his voice dripping with charm.
Y/N crossed her arms, determined not to let her guard down. "I'm supposed to be like your arch-nemesis, remember?"
Rafe raised an eyebrow, and his grin widened. "What are you arching exactly? Your back?" he whispered, his lips dangerously close to her ear.
Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine, and she couldn't help but blush. Rafe's proximity was unnerving, and she found herself at a loss for words. This was not how it was supposed to go.
Rafe leaned back slightly, still wearing that infuriating smile. "Come on, Y/N. We don't have to be enemies all the time. I've seen you sneak into the fancy parties, Kook-hunting with your Pogue crew. You're not like the others. You're… intriguing."
Y/N's heart was pounding, torn between her loyalty to her friends and the undeniable chemistry she felt with Rafe. She knew her brother would flip if he found out about this, but there was something about Rafe that she couldn't resist.
"I can't just forget everything, Rafe," she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rafe stepped even closer, his hand lightly grazing her arm. "I'm not asking you to forget. Just… consider that maybe we could be more than enemies. We could be something… exciting."
Y/N's head was spinning. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn't deny the attraction she felt. She took a deep breath and looked into Rafe's eyes, which were now filled with a mixture of desire and curiosity.
"Okay, Rafe. We can be something more," she said, her voice trembling.
Rafe's grin was positively wicked as he closed the gap between them, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. The waves crashed on the shore, and for that moment, Y/N forgot about the Pogues and the Kooks, the rivalry, and her brother's disapproval. All that mattered was the electrifying connection she shared with her supposed enemy.
Little did they know that their secret romance would set off a chain of events that would test their loyalty, love, and their place in the divided world of the Outer Banks.
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alexawynters · 3 months
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Scarlet Whispers pt. 3
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Gif not mine
Master list here
Author's Note: Nightmare portion written by @Never_Trick_OnlyTreats on AO3 - I outsourced the nightmare because it was a struggle my first time trying my hand at it, so thank you so much for your help with that scene!
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader
Trigger warnings (let me know if I forgot to tag anything): Mentions of past child abuse, ongoing adult child abuse, stalking, horror, dubcon, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, gaslighting, angst, smut. There will be bits of fluff tho.
Rating: M. Minors DNI
A few days pass as you and Wanda settle into a rhythm, which you are currently referring to as a roommate situation. You hesitate to label it anything else since other labels seem... unbefitting. Everything feels so complicated, and you find yourself with more questions than answers. Whenever you try to ask Wanda about her plans for you, she distracts and flusters you, causing you to forget what you were trying to ask in the first place.
After casually exploring the grounds, you notice that Mount Wundagore no longer looks the same. Instead of the gloomy stone temple in the mountains, Wanda has transformed it into an idyllic countryside cottage. The weather outside is always perfect, with a gentle crisp breeze and the sun shining just behind the clouds. It feels like a perfect autumn day. The small cottage is surprisingly spacious inside for something so small, with multiple rooms including an office, living room, gaming room, quaint kitchen, and a library that you’re pretty sure resembles the one from Disney's Beauty and the Beast. There is only one bedroom which you and Wanda share, though Wanda frequently reassures you there is no pressure from her to do anything.
You are amazed by the witch's incredible powers and the careful consideration she put into creating your new "home". It seems as though she knew exactly what you wanted and turned it into a reality. The thought and effort she put into making it comfortable for you warms your heart. As always, after some time passes, you can't help but wonder when reality will catch up. You still have exams to complete, job applications to submit, and a life to live. When will you be able to return to that? Surely you couldn’t stay here forever, life simply didn’t work like that.
Wanda made an effort not to leave you alone for too long, especially if she knew you wouldn't be engrossed in an activity that would occupy your time, like playing a video game. When asked where she was going, she would dismissively say she was ensuring your safety, being intentionally vague on the details of what that entailed. You never fully believed her, partly because of the intense look in her eyes. However, she could easily distract you from her plans, and if you insisted, a brief glow from her eyes would suddenly have your mind immersed in another activity, causing you to completely forget what you were originally talking about.
The witch didn’t like to use her powers on you excessively; it felt like cheating. Nevertheless, she couldn't afford to have you scrutinizing her actions and movements too closely, especially when she would return, often covered in blood, from removing any possible threats that might have been trying to take you away from her. She couldn't risk you questioning her and discovering the truth, not until she had complete control over you. Wanda needed you to desire and depend on her, and for that, she needed your trust and happiness.
Most days, you would wake up with Wanda's arms wrapped tightly around you. Early on, you discovered that she preferred being the big spoon, and you had no complaints about it. Once she held you, she wouldn't let go anytime soon. While initially awkward for you because you weren't used to physical touch from others, especially from someone you found so beautiful, she made it easy for you by never demanding more than you were comfortable giving. When Wanda woke up, her raspy voice, and thick accent, would greet you with a good morning, usually asking if you wanted breakfast.
That was another adjustment you had to make - having regular meals. You had become so accustomed to skipping meals and practicing intermittent fasting that you originally felt a bit queasy when you learned that Wanda wanted you to eat three full meals a day. At first, you declined her offer, but Wanda insisted, after she somehow managed to make you admit that you had been practically starving yourself in an attempt to lose weight. Because of this, she was insistent that you would now have three meals a day, and that you would eat all of them in her presence. Although you felt a bit annoyed by said insistence, you secretly appreciated her concern. You remembered how your mother would praise you every time you went down a pant size, unaware of the fact that you were going days without eating to achieve it.
After breakfast, Wanda would ask if you wanted to watch a movie or go to the library to read a book. If you chose to watch a movie, she almost always let you pick. Once in a while she would decide what to watch, you found it endearing to learn that she enjoyed classic sitcoms such as Dick Van Dyke, and Bewitched. If you opted for the library, you both had your own books to read, snuggling together in the nook by the window, enjoying the warm glow of the sun.
For lunch, Wanda would usually prepare it herself, using fresh herbs and ingredients from her garden. At times she would ask you to accompany and help her, you always agreed. Unable to help but follow her around like a puppy. If Wanda wanted you around, you were happy to be included.
After lunch, you would either watch more movies or play video games for a few hours. Some games were multiplayer, where you would take turns beating each other at Mario Kart. Others were single player, where Wanda would ask you questions about the characters and the plot, or why you made certain choices in the RPG. Unlike when other people in your life had asked, you loved answering any questions she posed for you.
This went on for a few weeks, but eventually, you needed to know what the future held for you. One night, while Wanda held you as you were drifting off to sleep, you decided to ask, knowing in this moment there was nothing she could use to distract you.
"Wands?" you asked, quietly. If she was actually asleep, you didn't want to disturb her. Part of you almost hoped she wouldn't answer, dreading breaking the spell of the last few weeks.
The redhead hummed her acknowledgement.
"I-" You curse yourself for faltering so quickly. You knew you should have rehearsed this in your head at least a few more times.
"I don't mean to sound ungrateful. The last few weeks have been... nothing short of... the most amazing of my life. But what are we doing here? I've missed finals. I have to go back and reschedule my proctored exams to see if I can still take them or if I have to wait for another semester. I need those to get my degree so I can get a job and start my life. As much as I appreciate spending this time here with you, when do I get to go home?" Your voice is quiet, afraid you have upset the witch who has shown you nothing but kindness. Probably the most kindness you have ever experienced in your entire life.
Although you can’t see it, Wanda’s eyes emanate a deep red as she delves into your mind in search for the source of your thoughts. Once she is satisfied that she has identified the core issue - your desire for independence and refusal to burden others - she begins to reassure you.
“Darling, why would you ever want to go back home to those.. people? After the way they treated you? Besides, you don’t need your degree, a job, or any of that. Everything you need, I can provide for you. It’s no trouble at all, detka, I promise you. You have no idea how… happy… I am that you are here, and I would do anything to keep you that way.” Her grip on you tightens slightly.
You can't fully grasp the extent of the truth of her words, or the extreme measures she has taken to bring you to this point. From your perspective, your parents, the very individuals who were meant to love and care for you have harbored resentment towards your very existence your entire life. The thought that this woman, a mere roommate, who has already done so much for you, could one day develop the same resentment for you as your own parents is agonizing. You don’t want to overstep your welcome in her life.
You have some idea of the lengths she has gone to. You know she has crossed universes to find you, although you still cannot understand why. You are not her deceased lover, and you never will be. Despite sharing the same genetic makeup, you are unsure if you could ever measure up to someone so courageous. It all still feels too good to be true, as if she’s gone to too much effort for someone like you. You worry that she will be disappointed when she discovers the truth - that you are not good enough. Accepting her kindness feels like an act of deception on your part, even though that couldn't be further from the truth.
You fidget uncomfortably. It hasn’t occurred to you that you have been silent for some time until you feel slender fingers running themselves soothingly through your hair. “Oh detka,” she whispers softly, her voice compassionate. “They really broke you, didn’t they?”
Your boy stiffens as you feel the unmistakable sensation of lips pressing themselves gently to the crown of your head, resting there for a moment. Surprisingly, the urge to flee doesn’t come as you had expected, and you allow yourself to relax into the witch’s embrace.
Wanda takes a moment to contemplate her phrasing. "You could never be a disappointment to me, darling. Even if you don't have powers like your other self, or if you never return my feelings, I don't ask for any of that from you, Y/N. All I ask is that you stay here with me, and I will take care of everything. Let me help you, rebuild you. Let me love you, and you won't regret it, I promise, darling."
You consider her offer. It sounds appealing. Nonetheless, you can't help but feel cautious. After all, nothing comes for free. You also feel uneasy about how effortlessly she can read you, leaving you vulnerable and defenseless. While you don't want to offend her, you have reservations about the idea.
"Wanda, I... I appreciate your offer. That's incredibly kind of you, but we can't stay here just the two of us forever. That's not healthy, and it's not how the real world works. I don't want to trade one prison for another, as beautiful as it may be," you add, trying not to offend the witch.
"I like you, and I would love to get to know you, but I also want to go out and live my life. Ideally, I want to have a job, a home, and friends of my own outside of these walls. We can still visit each other. Do you understand?" you ask, turning in Wanda's embrace and hoping she can see the sincerity in your eyes. You've never truly experienced freedom before, and now that it's within reach, you're unwilling to let it slip away so easily.
A range of emotions flicker across the witch's face before a stoney mask settles over it. "The world isn't safe out there, Y/N. Why do you need a degree, a house, friends when you have me?" Her voice grows louder in her exasperation, causing you to shrink in fear. "I can create anything you need. Isn't this house enough for you? What don't you like about it, hmm? With a wave of my hand, I can transform it into anything you desire."
Her voice turns frustrated. "Why do you even want to work? It's not enjoyable. Wouldn't you prefer to spend your time here, with me? You can do whatever you like, and I can provide for us. You don't have to worry about anything. You don't need anyone or anything except me!"
By now, her voice has practically risen to a shout, and you are recoiling in fear. After all this time with the former avenger, you had forgotten how powerful she was. She had only done her best to provide for you and care for you, asking nothing in return but your presence. Suddenly, you understood why she felt like you might be ungrateful, and you only had yourself to blame. Shame and fear roil in your gut. Still, it had been a while since you had felt fear like this, not since she had taken you from your parents. The only thing keeping you in her arms is her unnaturally strong grip on you.
"W-Wanda," you whimper. "Please stop, I'm sorry."
Realizing she has scared you, Wanda takes a slow, calming breath, in an effort to de-escalate herself. She knows that she won't earn your affection if she continues like this, but the redhead is furious at your lack of gratitude. Wanda has put in so much effort to create your ideal life, and yet here you are, wanting to return to the misery of the "real world."
 The witch mentally scoffs. She has grown tired of this argument that she has already had with you multiple times. Not that you recall, of course. Each time seems to end the same, and Wanda is frustrated that she never manages to clearly express her thoughts on the matter enough to convince you.
With a wave of her hand, red phosphenes surround your head, and you unwillingly close your eyes, drifting into a magic induced sleep. The argument is long forgotten by you as she holds you tightly. Something must be done to suppress this independent streak of yours. If you can't be molded to accept her as your provider, then you will be forced to accept it. She considers that perhaps she will have to have a firmer hand in manipulating your mind.
It's not ideal, but Wanda is unwilling to risk losing you. She has already come so far and done so much. As she gazes upon your sleeping form, she contemplates the rules she has broken for you, both in terms of human laws and magic. The people she has murdered.
It would devastate you to know that after those first few nights, Wanda had gone back and eviscerated your parents, and decimated your home. There was nothing redeeming about them. Yes, she had promised not to harm them, but after witnessing all they had done to you and seeing your panic attacks during those first few nights, the witch couldn't restrain her anger. Unbeknownst to you, there was nothing left for you to return to.
To have come so far only to lose you now? Wanda closes her eyes, tears sliding down her cheek as she envisions the consequences if you were to find out. Her heart aches at the thought of your possible rejection. No, the witch thinks firmly. She cannot bear to lose you. She is willing to wait indefinitely, to do whatever it takes. At this point, what do ethics and morals matter?
She would never force you to love her, but Wanda is not above subtly influencing events to win your affection. If that means making a few alterations to some of your memories, so be it. The witch drifts off to sleep, her body wrapped possessively around yours, as you dream on, unaware of the danger you are in. 
You know the minute your eyes open that this dream isn’t like the others. You’re lying in bed next to Wanda, but you can’t shake the sensation that something is wrong. You carefully slip out of her arms and pad softly to the door, opening it as quietly as you can. You can’t quite explain it, but the need to run is screaming inside your mind, an echo of the countless other nightmares you’ve had. As soon as the door latches behind you, you take off. If you can just make it to the front door, you can be free! It should only be a few more feet, after all… but the hallway stretches before you impossibly, and that dark laughter you recognize all too well rings in the darkness around you. 
Just keep running, you urge yourself. It can’t be much further. Yet with every footfall you find yourself no closer, and her laughter only seems to grow stronger as you push yourself to run faster. In your peripheral vision, something slithers, but each time you turn your head, there is only the dark hallway. The sweat pours from you, and you realize that you will never make it to that door, that freedom. You sink to your knees in that godforsaken, never-ending hallway and feel the despair swell inside you, just as you feel a familiar presence behind you. You turn slowly, terrified to face her… 
You wake up suddenly, your body snapping up in bed, rigid, and ready to run. Although you can't remember the specifics of the dream, your shirt is soaked with evidence of your fear. A cool hand gently presses against your sternum, rubbing soothing circles on your body.
"You're alright, darling. It was just a bad dream. You're safe here with me," reassures Wanda with her soothing, raspy voice, thickly accented in the early morning. "Lie back down, Y/N. It's still early, and we can still sleep." Strong yet comforting arms pull you into a warm embrace, and once again you drift off into the darkness of your dreams, this time blissfully free of nightmares.
Time passes in a similar fashion, with Wanda taking care of you and keeping you entertained. During this period, you found yourself becoming increasingly drawn to her. Wanda had made it clear that she had no expectations of you other than your presence. She didn't want you to replace her deceased wife, nor did she expect you to have romantic feelings for her. The witch simply wanted to be near you and protect you.
This was a new experience for you, as genuine altruism was not something you had encountered often in your life. True to her word, Wanda never pressured you for anything more than you were willing to give. As a result, you found yourself developing feelings for the older woman.
It would strike you with sudden clarity in the most unexpected moments. The redhead would laugh with you during a movie, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. This endearing sight and sound would bring a tender warmth to your soul. At other times, she would be busy in the kitchen, preparing one of your favorite meals. As you helped, you would occasionally feel her hand caress your lower back as she passed by, ensuring you wouldn't bump into each other, while managing to avoid being intrusive to your orbit.
Some of your favorite moments were when you could just exist in your own world on your Nintendo Switch, wandering through the halls of your home. Sometimes, you would nearly bump into a wall, just like you often used to at your old house, but instead Wanda would gently guide you back on track, while she continued doing whatever else she was occupied with - usually being on her phone or reading a book.
She would follow quietly behind you without saying a word. She never made you feel bad for being clumsy and uncoordinated. In fact, she didn't seem to consider it a problem at all. A simple gentle touch to your side for adjustment and a quiet "hmm" to get your attention, but she never made a big deal about it. Her actions made you feel cared for; even if you still worried about inconveniencing her, she continued to insist that you weren't.
Wanda always wanted to know what you were thinking but made an effort to ask instead of simply taking that information from your mind at her leisure. Conversations with her could last for hours, with topics flowing effortlessly between the two of you. Rarely did you two run out of things to say. Even when you did, the silence was not overwhelming. To your delight, you discovered that you could coexist in the same space, each doing your own thing, and still feel content in the other's presence. You had never felt this comfortable with anyone before.
There was one day recently that stood out in your memory. Wanda was making adjustments to the house, and you casually mentioned how the drapes in the library could look prettier if they were a different color. You suggested that a new color would make the room brighter and more inviting. Without hesitation, Wanda took you to the room you had referenced and with a flick of her wrists, used her magic to make the change.
It was these little things that caught your attention and made you feel seen. This particular instance made you believe that she genuinely cared about your opinion and was willing to make the effort to meet your specifications.
As Wanda changed the colors and asked for your opinion, all you could focus on was how incredibly beautiful she looked. She was in her element, completely at ease with herself and her abilities. Put simply, she was stunning, almost otherworldly. Your mind didn't even process that she was asking about the color of the drapes when you replied in a soft, breathy whisper, "Perfect."
Upon hearing the tone of your voice, the witch paused in her actions and looked at you with curiosity. She didn't need to read your mind to understand what had happened. A delighted smile slowly formed on her lips, completely charmed by you. Part of her wished to take this moment and playfully flirt with you, since her favorite activity was causing you to become flustered. Instead, she decided to cherish it as a sweet and endearing moment, and let you get away with it.
"I'm glad you think so, darling," she said in a soft, knowing tone, and you realized you had been caught nonetheless. Bright red bloomed across your cheeks, reaching all the way up to your ears.
You mumbled a quick "The colors look great, Wanda. Thanks," before hastening to escape her scrutiny.
Although she didn't want to, Wanda allowed you to make your escape. She bit her lip as she watched you flee, knowing that you hadn't experienced much kindness after enduring so much trauma. Seeing the progress you had been making brought her a great deal of happiness. Maybe one day you would be receptive to her advances, but for now, she would be patient and give you the space you needed.
She didn’t often actively read your mind these days, you still had yet to master shielding your thoughts from her. Not that she wanted you to. Additionally, being so familiar with your other variant, she was intimately aware of your mannerisms and facial expressions. While there were some differences and new quirks for her to learn, she found that she loved each new aspect she discovered. Wanda almost couldn't wait for the day when you would finally be hers completely and when you would embrace her love for you the way she desired.
You were growing more comfortable with her, Wanda could tell, simply by observing your reactions to her. The way your body would relax and lean into her touch, the way you appreciated the small gestures she did for you and how you tried to assist her wherever you could, even when she didn't necessarily need it.
Wanda certainly couldn't mistake the lingering glances you would give her when you thought she wasn't looking. She knew you would never objectify her; the few times your thoughts did wander in appreciation, were often followed by an immediate scolding from yourself. But sometimes, she wished you wouldn't get after yourself so harshly. Wanda wanted you to see her in that way. Craved it, even.
Unfortunately, you didn't seem to understand the distinction between objectifying someone and appreciating them. Throughout your life, your parents conditioned you to believe that you were a predator of some sort. Consequently, whenever you felt any attraction towards someone of the same sex, self-loathing would kick in almost immediately, accompanied by a deep sense of shame. Your conditioning making you believe that you were no different from a man on the street who harassed women, thereby making them feel unsafe.
As you quickly left the room, you couldn't help but notice the way Wanda's knowing gaze had lingered on you. You intended to spend the rest of the day hiding out in the gaming room, trying to process what had just happened. Your Imposter Syndrome was rearing it's ugly head, making you doubt yourself. While Wanda's constant reassurances that she only wanted your presence and nothing more had been comforting in one way - at least you didn't have to worry about her making any inappropriate advances. However, another part of you had begun to wish she would, inspiring deeply conflicting emotions in you.
What if Wanda never saw you that way? Someone like you could never hope to measure up to a superhero. You were simply... you. Knowing that she was the widow of your Avenger variant left you feeling inadequate to say the least. Besides, what if Wanda was being honest about not wanting anything more from you? What if all you were to her was a means to get over the grief of her lost wife?
It was this thought which sparked a new fear within you: what if, once she finished with you, the witch simply discarded you like so many others had and moved on? Your stomach tightened into knots, and your breathing quickened. Thoughts raced through your mind as you realized how much the idea of being abandoned, now that you finally felt at home for the first time in your life, terrified you.
If she grew tired of you, your only choice would be to return to your parents. Considering the way you left, it was unlikely that they would welcome you back with open arms. While you were only a few exams away from completing your degree, it dawned on you that you had been constantly stressed and overwhelmed long before Wanda had come into your life. Did you really want to go back to that? Was having a job after earning the degree even worth it? You had few, if any, friends, and if they weren't upset with you for disappearing for however long you had been gone, it would be a surprise. You had nowhere to go.
As your thoughts spiraled and your body froze in place, Wanda could practically hear your unshielded anxiety screaming at her all the way from the library where she had remained. At first, she thought maybe there was an intruder within their home, but that was impossible - her wards always alerted her to any external presence. No, she realized the threat must be internal. Fear gripping her, Wanda waved her fingers, opening up a portal directly to you.
The sight she came upon was heart wrenching. You were curled up on the couch, clearly trapped in a panic attack, completely disconnected from reality. Although Wanda had been trying lately to respect your thoughts and not delve into them without permission, she needed to understand the root cause of your fear in order to support you better.
Not that she needed to go far, your thoughts were so loud, but they were also disorganized and scattered, like a whirlwind. It took her a moment to decipher exactly what you were afraid of, but once she figured it out, the redhead regretted not taking more time to reassure you earlier.
"Oh darling, no, hey. Honey, listen to me," she said, kneeling in front of you and taking your hands in hers. She rubbed soothing circles into them, trying to provide comfort. As much as she wanted to pull you into her arms until all your fears evaporated, she knew that unexpected hugs often had the opposite effect on you, as even your Avenger variant occasionally struggled with anxiety attacks.
“Y/N, can you hear me? Can you focus on my voice for just a moment? Please?”
Her soothing voice barely interrupted your thoughts, and if Wanda used her magic just a little to help her reach you, well, that was in your best interest. You didn't move much, but your eyes lost their unfocused look, to meet finally shifting to meet Wanda's, indicating that you were paying attention.
“Darling, you are perfect, just the way you are. I will never discard you, okay? I didn’t come this far to let you go. This is your home now Y/N. Our home. And I’m never letting you go, alright? I don’t expect you to be a superhero, Y/N. I like you just the way you are, and I would never abandon you, lyubov moya.” Throughout her words, Wanda was continuing to rub soothing circles into your hands, occasionally straying up your arms to grip you reassuringly.
“Can you breathe with me please? We’re going to take some slow, deep breaths. In for four, hold for four, and then out for four, okay Y/N?”
You nodded, blindly following her words.
The former avenger spent the next few moments guiding you through breathing exercises. These exercises were designed to calm the parasympathetic nervous system, and as she went through them with you, she continued to speak quiet reassurances and hold your hand. The goal was to keep you grounded in the present moment. She wanted you to focus on what you could hear and feel, while also settling your breathing.
It worked. Within a few minutes, you regained your calm, or at least as calm as you could ever be. This wasn't the first panic attack she had witnessed from you, but it was certainly the most intense one. The way Wanda always came to your rescue, assuring you that it was perfectly normal to have these moments and helping you recover from them, made your heart melt a little more for her. Especially when she brought you back to your shared bed, helped you change into your favorite comfy pajamas, and snuggled up next to you for a nap to help you overcome the episode.
Truly, Wanda was your savior.
A/N 2: I've never done a taglist before so I hope this works? @dorabledewdroop Chapter three, hope it lives up to expectations!
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bronx-bomber87 · 2 months
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Happy Thur lovely fandom :) So sorry for being a day late. Kinda a miracle took this long for life to knock me off course tbh. Entering our final 3 eps of this rewatch. It’s the final Countdown ha This is a glorious episode top to bottom. This season really finishes out very strong. Let us begin.
5x20 S.T.R
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We start off in the most domestic fluffy way. I was giddy af when this premiered. Took me awhile to get through this ep cause I rewound this part so much. They have this flirty dance as they prep for breakfast together. Tim checking her out as he places the pancake down. Not subtle in the least looking down at her chest. I love that he can shamelessly check her out now and does so. Lucy is soaking it in. I mean if Tim Bradford was openly checking me out I’d feel empowered too.
The confident way Lucy leans extra hard into Tim as her response. *fans self* Needing zero space between them if she can help it. She is eyeing those gorgeous lips of his as well. Doesn’t take much to ignite Tim around her. Moth to flame this man. Lucy pressing into him like she didn’t just have him this morning in the shower. Gah I love it so very much. Our horny little ship never getting enough of each other. I’m a puddle. Look at her seducing him with just her body language and gaze my goodness.
Tim’s soft reply of 'Hey.’ Smitten Kitten Tim reporting for duty. Getting what she is throwing down for him. *sigh* These idiots in love. I love them so much. Happiness once again looking so damn good on them. They’re both beaming in this scene. Look at the smiles on these two. Said it a few times. Forever love how one kiss is never enough. Doesn’t take much to get them going and wanting extra kisses. Tim pulling on her for more as he goes in for that second kiss.
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Also Tim cooking breakfast for Lucy is so adorable I cannot. This is canon now and I love it. So nice she has someone to cook for her now unlike when she was with the clown. And for Tim to have someone who enjoys breakfast. Which he didn't have with Ashley. Tamara breaks up their love fest. Parting the Red Sea that is Chenford on her way to the fridge. Tim's reaction is so funny. Just throwing his hands up in the air all defeated.
At first he’s annoyed then Tamara says her line. Then he’s like she’s not wrong... LOL Oh Eric you’re the king of expressions sir. Let’s just take a second to to soak this moment in. They’re making breakfast together, can’t keep their hands off one another, his hands on her waist pulling her close, they can’t even keep it to one kiss. It’s glorious on so many levels. Not squeeing to death at all.
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Lucy and Tim still gravitate toward each other despite Tamara's interruption. Lucy noting she thought she was sleeping in today? Ha Thought she had the morning to herself with Tim. Tamara explaining she was but the smell of pancakes woke her up. We see Tim perk up so excited to make her pancakes. He truly does love having her around it's adorable. Happy it was his cooking that awoke her. Such a dad excited she wants his cooking. I cannot.
He is so happy to make her some pancakes. What a man. I LOVE the way Lucy is looking at him when Tamara says she wants 3. He looks back at her and she cutely raises her eye brows. Just as smitten with this man as he is with her. They’re so adorable. They hear the doorbell ring and Tim freezes and says ‘shoot.’ all adorable like. Telling Lucy Isabel texted him. Her name getting stuck in his throat a little. That he totally forgot to tell her he invited her over here. Lucy stumbles and is in shock but recovers pretty nicely if you ask me.
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Tim being adorable saying he is sorry. That he was gonna tell her when she got out of the shower. But then he got in the shower…oh my lord. Legit announcing they had shower sex this morning. Am I dreaming? Tim Bradford saying out loud they had little morning delight in the shower. I can't believe my ears and I'm ship drunk. S5 continues to feel like a fever dream.
Not only that but talking about their sex like in front of their pseudo daughter LOL Lucy playfully hits Tim but is still beaming at him. The shower sex was so good and distracting he forgot his ex-wife was coming over. I'm reeling. God I love this season so very much. It’s insane the glorious goodies that we got. Also must point out the necklace anytime I see it. I spy with my little eye Lucy’s Valentine’s Day gift that never leaves her neck. *internal screaming*
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Lucy is so uncomfortable once Isabel is inside poor thing. Trying to be a good last second hostess. Asking if she’d like something? Isabel says coffee. Tim guides Isabel to the living room. Tamara speed walks to Lucy asking if this is the ex-wife? Lucy scolding her for being so loud I'm dying. This is hysterical.
This is such a mother/daughter moment I love it. Lucy agreeing it is odd he invited her over. Tamara's protective instinct kicking in saying she’s gonna do some research. Lucy doesn’t want this whatsoever. Scolding her once again but the train has left the station haha I love Tamara so much. I hope we get lots of her in S6.
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Lucy joins Tim and Isabel in the living room. I have to say before I start. I’m so distracted by Tim’s hands in this scene. Mmm doing things to me. I know I have a one track mind when it comes to him. But look at the man... Anyways she brings up 8 years ago she was UC in the Teska family. Became a mentor to the boss’s daughter Dara. Love the little check in's they do with each other BTW as she speaks.
It's subtle their eye contact but that's their specialty. Silent communication at it's finest. Isabel tells them she got close to Dara. In that weird way you do when you’re pretending to be someone else. They have no idea what that’s like…*cough double down cough* I do love the way Lucy’s eyes dart between Tim and Isabel.
So after Frank her dad was arrested she scattered and left that identity behind. Hadn’t heard from Dara in 8 years. Until now. She had answering service for her old covers. That she left a message for her. It was a distress call and sounds like people are chasing her. She came to them because she’s out of cover. Can’t seem to find her through other channels. Tim says they can go to station get warrant for her phone. See if they can't find her that way.
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Once they’re at the station Tim and Isabel are en route to Grey. Smitty welcomes him back and is awkward af with Isabel. Because well Smitty. She asks if he's back from vacation? He says no a shooting. That he just got cleared from it. Says he’s getting there but Lucy keeps trying to get him to meditate. This would be adorable to see btw. I love all of Melissa’s tea ceremony’s and meditation videos. Tim is more the kinda to take a deep breathe and go for a walk and chill like he did in 3x11 with Barnes. Their versions of meditation are vastly different LOL
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I love the way Harper walks over to check in on Lucy. Forever be in awe of how they started to where they are now. Nyla being apart of Lucy’s BAMF journey still makes me so happy. Harper asking her if she’s ok with Tim working this case? Lucy letting her know it’s not a big deal…that he’s over her. Nyla shooting back she knows that. She’s making sure Lucy does. Love her looking out for Lucy. Doesn't want her to get riled up over nothing.
Clearly Harper has seen the way Tim beams around her. Knows that man is gone for her. Lucy couldn’t be cuter telling her to stop it with a playful hit. Tamara comes up ruining her 'ok vibe' with her deep dive news. Harper’s face is hilarious. She like Eric has fantastic expressions. They make me laugh so much during this scene. Tamara divulging everything she’s found. Lucy trying to spin it into something positive. That it sounds like she’s got her life together.
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Tamara is instigating saying 'Or she wants Tim to see she’s doing well.' Why are you doing this to your mother? Lmao. She loves you and houses you little lady haha I do love Lucy calling herself his new girlfriend in her explanation. Yeah you are. Tamara continuing her instigating mentioning how Tim said she looked good. Also tacking on 'Keep your enemies closer...'Lucy is so exasperated with her I’m dying. Pulling that look from her husbands book.
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Isabel asks how long Tim and Lucy have been dating? He says a few months. Can tell he doesn’t want to delve too much into this. Diverts it back to her. Asking if she’s seeing someone? Letting him know yes and no. That he set the bar really high. He sure did and you threw it away madam. Didn't know what she had till it was gone. I know some saw this as her trying to get him back. I didn't see it that way at all. This SL wasn't built on that. This ep had her show back up for a couple reasons. One we will see later on with Lucy but this one here was more about closure IMO. The last time they spoke or the last time we saw them really speak was back in 1x12.
A conversation where she basically blamed him partly for their marriage falling apart and her addiction. That he would be a constant reminder of it. Tim didn't walk away from that convo feeling great about himself. It inflicted some deep wounds for him actually. Those wounds showed themselves in his relationship with Ashley. By not rocking the boat and being less rigid. Him smile is a little uncomfortable and strained. I I think because one it's opening up wounds he's worked really hard to close. Two he's not totally sure he believes her words but he will take them anyways. Some closure is better than none at all.
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Tim and Isabel are waiting outside a motel. They tracked Dara down here. Isabel stayed here once in hiding with her. They talk about her UC life a bit. Tim telling her how he held his breath every time she went on a long term assignment. Isabel noting even when she came back she wasn’t fully there. Even though she wanted to be.
Tim pulls his gaze from her. It’s like re-opening a wound for him once again. One that’s been healed over for while. He doesn’t want to pick at it any further. Tim tells her since she’s not a cop anymore she needs backup. Lucy is on her way to them now. Isabel can’t help but note he's dating another UC.
The sweet smile when he thinks about her has me squeeing. Nothing makes him melt faster than talking about her. Telling Isabel ‘But Lucy is different.’ Yeah she is. I love him being able to see that. He looks so damn in love as he speaks. Just giddy and gushing. Also him once again being protective over his relationship with Lucy. It makes me so happy. He couldn’t be more in love with her if tried.
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The scene in the truck is fantastic. First off Lucy looks amazing. Second I adore her absolute confidence about Tim. Isabel thinking it’s about Tim she wants to pick her brain. I love her saying 'No she has Tim all figured out.' I mean she does. Has owned the book of Tim for years now. No one knows that man better than she does.
Isabel may have years on her. Knowing him longer but Lucy has her beat in knowing him better. She don’t need no cheat codes for this man haha This scene is really cute. They’re both laughing and having a good time. Tim is confused as hell trying to hear their convo LOL So annoyed and frustrated he can’t hear what they’re talking about.
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Lucy gets serious and asks her about UC. If it was worth it for her? Despite all the bad things that happened? I love how honest Isabel is. I also love how this wasn’t a oooh his ex-wife comes back and causes havoc thing. So grateful they went the mature healthy route with this. Was so very lovely to see her back and healthy. Isabel coming back added to the elephant in the room. Lucy being a UC while being with Tim. Like I mentioned earlier she came back for a couple reasons. This is the other one.
Lucy getting an honest opinion about this career she's considering. Isabel is completely honest with her. Saying it took a lot from her. Her husband, her job and her self respect. But she can’t blame all that on being a UC. That she had stuff in her past that added to it. Adding in sounds like Lucy has much healthier coping mechanisms than she did. Lucy is seeking out some answers because she’s having doubts. No doubts that she can do this. Lucy is very aware she is good at it.
What she’s weighing is the cost now. Here’s my take on a Lucy with UC. Take it or leave it and I'll delve into this more at the end as well. Pre-Tim UC made ton of sense for her. Hell even Pre-Tamara as well. Now she has this little patch work family she loves. That’s what she’s leaving behind now with these OP’s. Leaving Tim behind. I think she struggling with the idea of doing so in the future. Isabel’s answer was open and honest. IF she’s prepared to make those sacrifices. IF. I don't know that she is. Not anymore. Falling in love with Tim has changed everything.
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Speaking of our boy. Tim ends up calling Lucy asking if the wire is fixed? Poor love is feeling so anxious right now. He needs to know it’s working. Lucy laughs with Isabel and says a wire must’ve disconnected. Mmhmm… Does a sound check for him so he can see it’s ok. They see Dara coming back and Lucy calls him ‘Babe.’ again and I’m floating. It’s such a simple word and makes me all giddy. I need more of this in S6. I really do.
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We rejoin them post-op coming home. Love her asking if he wants a beer? Such a domestic moment. We got to start with one and end with one. Fantastic. Lucy mentions 'She seems good. Happy.' Tim asking Isabel? Lucy just replies ‘Hmm.’ Tim saying yeah she deserves it. Seems like he's talking about more than just Isabel. I do love the look in his face when she says this. That empathy of hers shining through.
One of reasons he loves this woman. Genuinely being happy Isabel is ok. There is also a lot behind the second look he gives her before he sits down. How he’s staring at Lucy before he lands on the couch seems loaded. Isabel coming back has stirred up a lot for him. That lingering look he gives her. It's almost got a sad haunted look to it.
Tim has been through so much all he wants is to be happy with Lucy. Saw a sad tag about his expression. Saying how he looks like he doesn’t deserve to be happy. This broke my damn heart. Falls in love again for the first time since Isabel and she’s on the same path she was. He looks so tired and defeated by the time he sits on the couch. I wanna hug him.
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We get a cute little moment before this scene turns serious. Lucy mentioning it was nice to get to know the person behind all his stories. Tim asking if that’s why they muted themselves? Ha A little serious but mostly joking. Lucy saying it was just to talk trash about him of course hehe Tim couldn’t be cuter with his smile and saying sarcastically ‘Funny.’ That Lucy smile we all know and love.
The way this man looks at her my goodness. Also let’s not skate passed the sexy stubble adorning his beautiful jawline. Or the fact that they’re drinking and chatting at the end of their day. So married. Making my heart swell. The sassing and teasing never gets old. It’s the best between them. Just hits differently now they’re together too.
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Lucy looks at him and takes the plunge into what she wants to talk about. Asking if she can share something vulnerable with him? Gah I love her sharing in the first place. Tim puts down his beer and gives her his full attention. Saying of course she can. I love this first shot of them. Her beautiful view as the backdrop to start this conversation.
Lucy starting off with telling him she loves working undercover. Tim doing his Lucy smile for her. Knowing how much she truly does. Even though it kills him. Lucy goes on to say she’s never gone as deep as Isabel. Doing a 6 month run or a year long. Tim thinking he has this pegged. Voicing she's worried she won't be able to handle it?
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This next line kills me. Makes me a little emotional. Because Lucy is so emotional bringing this up. Her worry for him so very evident and deep. Tears brimming in her eyes. The way she touches his shoulder gently. Voicing her vulnerability and fear about him. It’s the way she rubs her hand up and down his shoulder not making eye contact till she speaks her worry.
Ripping my heart right out. Tim putting on a brave face for her and reaches out for her hand. Embracing her warm touch. Covering her hand with his. Telling her he’ll be fine. Ugh but you won’t my love. You really won’t. Even though he knows it is different this time. Because it is. Logically he knows this. Doesn’t mean he’s going to worry any less.
Hell it might even be more worry this go around because of the PTSD. Next ep is proof of that. Lucy not fully believing him says ‘Yeah.’ Tim is refusing to be in the way of her UC aspirations. Reassuring her he will be fine. I love the way he pulls her into his arms for a snuggle. Telling her to 'Come here.'
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Her leg over his thigh. *squee* I’m dying. Getting real close to snuggle in for this moment. Tim looks like he goes for her hand but lands on her knee. Lucy looks damn near ready to cry. Tim rubbing her knee/thigh soothingly. My heart. Trying to find some solace in holding her in his arms. Look at his face. This man is anything but fine. He’s so very worried.
Holding her tight to him. Taking comfort in the fact she’s with him now. Savoring they're together right now. They really need to have more conversations about this. Honest ones. Lucy doesn’t want to leave him but he also isn’t telling her to stay. Just lying liars who lie right now. We all know she would have just as much trouble if it was Tim.
This sweet cuddling is beautiful and heartbreaking all at the same time. I am excited we finally got some good couch snuggling. Tim looks absolutely terrified he’s going to lose her though. Not only lose her but to same thing he lost Isabel too. Ugh it hurts so good everyone.
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The way Tim slightly shakes his head trying to kick loose his tormented thoughts. *heart clutch* His little smile though is everything. Knowing she so worth going through this again even if scares him to death. Lucy looking gutted about the thought of leaving him behind UC. Knowing he is anything but ok with this scenario. I believe she is having some doubts about being a long term UC now. I think she was hoping Tim would’ve had a different answer. Maybe given her an out about it. I think she’s being torn between what she thinks she should be and what she now wants.
She's been on on the UC path so long it scares her to get off it. I totally get it I wanted to be a dog trainer forever. When first moved to CO it didn’t happen. It was my goal moving there but it didn't happen. So I got a different job settled into that for awhile. Then when things came up for dog trainer while at this other job. I felt the need to still do it even though I was fine at my current job. Why? Because I had been on that path forever thought I had to because of that. But I wanted someone to tell me it was ok not to if I didn't want to anymore.
I think Lucy wants Tim to tell her not to so she has an out and can pursue something else. You can be amazing at something and not have it be your career path. Also her sticking with it might be little bit of that old self doubt creeping back in. Lucy thinking I’m good at UC can I be this good at anything else? Doubting she will be good at anything other than UC. I mean she doubted herself in 5x19 with the test. She has grown but those doubts can still creep back in. *sigh* These two. Both still holding back. Needing to have more convos about this for sure in s6. But what a damn good ep.
~~~~
Side notes-non Chenford
Aaron being Angela’s aide is hilarious. Also her getting the guy to confess cause she’s so pregnant and uncomfortable is hilarious.
Isabel and Lucy being bad asses on their OP was fun to watch.
Thank you to all you amazing readers who like, comment and reblog these reviews. Give me life hehe Shall see you all in 5x21 :)
87 notes · View notes
sgiandubh · 3 months
Note
So you believe he's with Cait? Why when she's in France shooting a movie would he be on a ferry with a woman in Greenwich? Your Getty pictures are industry event, them promoting a show and 6 years old. They weren't together then and even more obvious from the past 3 years, not together, very different lives now.
Dear Greenwich Anon,
My God, you are stupid!
But, in your own words:
'Why, when she's in France shooting a movie, would he be on a ferry with a woman in Greenwich?"
I don't know, Anon: maybe because she's working and he has no reason to be in France? Something you have no idea about, by the way - there is no evidence she's there, just that there are scenes being shot there, which may or may not involve her. Quite a different situation altogether, but sure - twist it until it fits, fake it until you make it.
Why wouldn't he be in London? Business, pleasure, whatever: people come & go and do things as they please, irrespective of what me or you would like them to do. Oh, but how #silly of me, Anon: I forgot he can't be seen with anybody, at any time, for any reason (friend visiting, chance encounter on a boat commute he took to cut traffic, you name it). Nope. Verboten. He just can't. He must stay put on the shelves of your imagination, in his JAMMF attire (or even better: shirtless 🙄), until the End of Days. And for sure, being seen with a woman must be love. Or at least friends with benefits. How stupid of me, Anon - should have thought of all this way before, huh?
Lashings of apologies, all around. Uh, nope: not really.
You see, I have been the one sharing those pics first. I have explained very clearly they were taken in 2018 at an industry event he had, by the way, no real reason to attend himself. She was the one being nominated for a Golden Globe award for OL and she was, technically speaking, escorted by her 'fiancé', three days after the ceremony or whatever that beach rigmarole was. So don't come screeching at me, Anon: these are things that have been duly mentioned and it's none of my business if you can't read and/or use the same old and very cheap rhetoric in order to argue with me.
What is really bothering you, Anon, is what these people are doing in those pics and the way they behave every single time they are seen together. The other thing that is bothering you is the fact you have no fucking idea about the way they live their lives and their truth. At the same time, you are bored and bitter and bothered by any dissent. Why did you even take the time writing all this nonsense to me? We'll never agree, for many reasons, but I always love it when y'all come in here like Mao's Red Guards (quick, Wikipedia!), with no facts and no solid arguments (I know all your repertoire, at any rate), just to soothe yourself.
My God, you're stupid! And scared. It can't possibly be just about a bunch of six-year old pics, Anon. Read the room and see yourself out.
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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year
Text
IV ║ Strawberry Roan
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Jack Daniels x f!reader
{ Part 3: Dapple Grey | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 5: Appaloosa }
Rating: E
Summary: Jack pulls out all the stops for your birthday. All of them.
Warnings: Flirting, yearning, insecurities, sexual tension, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, use of dating app, sexual innuendoes, fingering, protected sex, dirty talk, language, mention of food, drinking, mention of breakup, mention of hair, no use of Y/N
Word count: 8.4k
Notes: It's here. See you on the other side 😉 Palomino will be taking a little break, if you want to see what I'll be up these few weeks, check it out here. See you in November!
I forgot to link to it when I posted this - a deleted scene from this part is published as a drabble - Béarnaise.
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Strawberry Roan: A horse with a reddish coat that is liberally flecked with white hairs.
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Day 3
The next time you wake up, the sun is high in the sky and Jack is nowhere to be seen. You tap your phone for the time and sit up groggily - by this hour, you’re usually already saddled up and ready to go.  Grabbing your toiletries and riding clothes from your bag, and a bottle of water, you trudge barefoot towards the nearest treeline to get ready.
Jack has his back to you, cooking breakfast, when you make your way towards the camp in jodhpurs with mint on your breath. You stop by the horses grazing in the shade, giving all three scratches behind the ears and a pat on the neck good morning, mindful not to get your toes trodden on by accident.
‘Morning,’ you call out as you approach the reignited fire.
Jack twists around to smile at you. ‘Mornin’, darlin’.’
Bending over, you roll up your sleeping bag. ‘Why didn’t you wake me? It’s late.’
‘It’s your birthday, you deserve a lie-in,’ he answers over his shoulder. ‘We’re not far from the Halfway House anyway - we can take it easy today.’
Sitting cross-legged next to him, your eyes light up at what’s sizzling in the pan. ‘A lie-in and pancakes for breakfast? You spoil me, cowboy.’
A bowl of mixed berries sits next to the pancake batter and maple syrup. You pop a raspberry into your mouth, the burst of tart sweetness sharpening your still fuzzy senses. With a tea towel, you grab the kettle carefully from where it’s sitting warm on the fire, pouring yourself a coffee and topping up Jack’s half-empty mug. 
Jack flips the pancake over theatrically in the pan, flashing you a smile with teeth. ‘Only the best for my birthday girl.’
You really shouldn’t - and you suppose you can blame it on the fact that you’re not quite awake yet - but your heart lurches at him calling you as his in any way. The kettle lands clumsily on the metal grill with a clatter as your arm gives out.
You’re still floundering when he asks casually, ‘How are you feelin’?’
With four little words, he unwittingly throws you into bedlam, and you go stock-still. Oh fuck. Is he asking you about the kiss? The chaste yet spine-tingling kiss which, in the bright light of day, you can't even quite believe actually happened - 
His calm drawl cuts through your panicked thoughts, oblivious to the turmoil inside you. ‘I’m a bit hungover myself, not gonna lie.’
Oh. Okay. Hangover chat. You can do that.
You clear your throat and force a smile. ‘I’ve been worse - just a tiny bit of a headache. Thought you could handle your liquor, cowboy.’
Satisfied that the pancake is done, Jack slides it onto a clean plate and passes it to you. He pours more batter into the pan, and the sweet smell of butter clings to the morning air. ‘Well, luckily, today’s ride is easily managed even while hungover. We chose a good night to drink.’
Except… you didn’t just drink. Revelations, too intimate to even fathom in the waking hours, confided in the dead of night - none of which you had the chance to discuss before throwing in the kiss at sunrise into the ring. And you’re not brave enough to bring up any of it.
Jack flips the pan again, sending the half-cooked pancake somersaulting through mid-air, and shoots you a triumphant grin. 
You can’t help but grin back. 
Later. You’ll worry about everything else later.
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One thing you’ve come to realise about Jack is that he’s a meticulous planner. It’s easy with just the two of you, but the logistics of moving twelve horses and twelve riders across the mountains can’t be an easy feat. The way he equal parts encouraged and pushed you yesterday so that you can have a laid-back birthday today offers a glimpse into his firm grasp on the planning of the trip.
The unassuming way that he both literally and metaphorically takes the reins has you staring at his hands more than once today.
It’s just past half three when the Halfway House appears on the horizon. It has a red roof like the main lodge back on the ranch, and it is bigger than you expected - a sprawling single-storey house with a handsome veranda out front. There’s definitely plenty of space even for a fully-booked pack trip. 
A fenced paddock stands next to the house, and adjacent to it is a half-enclosed stables with a free-standing roof. There’s a small outbuilding on the far side which you assume is the tack room. Even from a distance, you can see that three stalls have been done up with clean wood shavings, and there is hay in the nets for the horses’ supper this evening.
It’s a well-rehearsed routine now when you go about untacking Scotch. After putting the tack away in the store room and leaving the damp saddle pad to air-dry on the fence, you give him a thorough hosing down, careful to brush out any sweat that has built up. Then with a rubber scraper, you skim it over his coat to wring out the excess water. By the time you finish, Scotch is impatiently tossing his head, and you let him into the paddock with an affectionate pat on his rump.
Jack’s just about done with Whiskey. Glancing up at you, he nods towards the house. ‘Go ahead, darlin’, your bag will be in there. There’s a bathtub if you feel like it, so take your time. I’ll come in when the horses are settled.’
‘Alright, I’ll see you in there,’ you reply, plucking your pack from where it’s lying on the grass, and a couple of others as well, and walk up to the house.
The stairs to the porch creak under your boots and the door grinds on its hinges when you swing it inwards. It’s stuffy, so you open a window to let the breeze in, and it sweeps through the space as you glance around appreciatively. The house is cozy with low-maintenance stone floors and plush rugs in front of a huge sofa and a wood-burning fireplace. A stack of logs sits neatly next to it.
The kitchen is open-plan and modern, surprisingly high-spec for a house in the middle of nowhere. There are multiple cooking hobs, a big double sink, and high stools are neatly arranged around the kitchen island. The more formal dining table can easily seat a dozen.
Despite the high ceilings held up by wooden beams, you can’t help but feel somewhat closed in with a roof above you.
As you move about the space, your ears pick up on the low hum of electricity, and your phone vibrates in your pocket from new messages coming in - it’s strange to be back in civilisation after just three days away. You idly wonder how Jack jumps between these two worlds. 
The bag you packed for the second part of the trip, with a fresh supply of clean clothes, is sitting in the living room. Hitching it onto your shoulder, you venture down the corridor on the far side of the house, ready to clean up for the day. 
Pushing open the first door of many, you peer into the comfortable space. It’s roomy and welcoming despite the simple furnishings - but if you’re being honest with yourself, you only need the king-sized bed in the middle of the room. 
The bedroom has a clear view of the paddock through the window, and you set your bag down on the desk next to it. You linger for a little while, half digging into your bag for a change of clothes and half watching Jack brush down Bourbon.
His sleeves are pushed up past the crease of his elbow today - the beginnings of the bulge of his biceps peeking from underneath the fabric. Then he bends over by the waist to lift up Bourbon’s hind leg, checking if there are any small stones or caked dirt in the hooves that need to be removed - granting you an unobstructed view of his pert backside and the strong columns of his thighs from behind. 
You turn around before you get too wound up. The last thing you need is him catching you masturbating in the shower too.
Taking one of the fluffy towels on the bed, you go in search of the bathroom, which is a couple of more doors down. Jack wasn’t lying - a stately clawfoot bathtub takes prime position in the space, but what you really need after three days in the wild is a deep clean in the shower. The bath will have to wait. 
You take your time, relishing the strong shower stream and hot water as it will be another few days before you get the chance to take another one. You condition your hair and run your razor over your legs and underarms. You tidy up down there as well - maybe a bit too hopefully.
There must be a second bathroom in the house. When you finally step out of the shower, you hear another one shut off. Towelling dry, you pull on the cutest outfit you brought on the trip - your favourite jeans with a flattering cut and a long-sleeved blouse that shows just a hint of cleavage.
There’s a hairdryer which you make full use of, and you dig into your sponge bag for the minimal makeup that you brought. You hear Jack puttering around while you dab concealer under your eyes and colour on your cheeks. When you’re done, you pace nervously in front of the mirror, picking off invisible lint from your clothes and studying your reflection critically.
You can’t put off leaving the safety of the bathroom forever. Taking a deep breath and squaring your shoulders, you open the door and walk into the living space.
It’s strange seeing Jack in a domestic setting. You haven’t even been indoors with him yet, if you don’t count the stables. He’s in clean jeans and a light shirt, wearing socks but no shoes. His hair is wet and sits a bit closer to the scalp than it does than when it’s dry.
Prepping bowls and crockery are spread over the kitchen island, but you’re sure there’s a method to his madness. He’s easily commanding the space, wiping a kitchen knife with a tea towel and setting it on the chopping board. He’s humming to himself with his broad back to you, unaware as you pad quietly into his space.
‘What’s that song?’ you ask as you sidle up to him.
Jack doesn’t miss a beat, even when you catch him by surprise. He hums a bit louder before answering, ‘It’s called Strawberry Roan.’
You grin at the name of the song. ‘I love it - cowboy music. I’ll play it on Spotify?’
‘Spotify what?’
You shake your head as you connect your phone to the bluetooth speakers, and brisk guitar chords fill the space. ‘I know you’re old-fashioned, but at least try to keep up?’
I was hangin' 'round town, just spendin' my time
Out of a job, not earnin' a dime
A feller steps up and he said, "I suppose
You're a bronc fighter from looks of your clothes"
"You figures me right, I'm a good one" I claim
"Do you happen to have any bad ones to tame?"
Jack dips in and out of the song as you watch him organise his mise en place, his throaty crooning has you leaning on the table as your knees wobble. A few choruses in, you remark, ‘It’s strange seeing you cook in an actual kitchen. All you’re missing is an apron.’
He narrows his gaze as you pat yourself on the back for your bright idea. You rummage through random cabinet drawers until you find one, in a gingham print with a loud, frilly border, brandishing it triumphantly like a prize.
‘C’mon, it goes with your plaid,’ you tease.
‘No ma’am,’ he says sternly. ‘I’m not wearing that.’
Ignoring his protests, you walk straight up to him and stand on your toes to loop the apron around his neck. You could’ve - probably should’ve - circled around to do up the apron from behind. But instead, grabbing the ends of the strings, you pull them back and tie them around his waist with your nose to his very warm chest, catching the whiff of soap on his skin and fabric softener on his shirt.
If you’re being honest with yourself, you miss the musk of his sweat and the scent of leather that he seems to wear like a second skin - but you might be crossing the boundary of reason if you begrudge a man for practising personal hygiene.
Drawing your hands back to rest on your hips, you tip your face up at him impishly. ‘The apron suits you, cowboy.’
He shakes his head, but a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips as he taps the tip of your nose with a spatula. ‘Don’t get used to this, darlin’.’
What does he mean by this, exactly? Him cooking for you? Him letting you do whatever you want, as long as you flirt your way out of trouble? 
Well, it’s too bloody late either way.
Reluctantly, you step back, rounding the counter to sit on a stool. His eyes follow you, and he says, ‘You look nice tonight.’
It’s not fair how even the most mundane of compliments from him sends your pulse racing.
‘Thanks, you too,’ you answer, a sudden shyness creeping in, and you twine your fingers together so they don’t fidget. Changing the subject, you ask, ‘So, what’s for dinner?’
‘Poppy really went all out.’ Jack spins around to open the fridge and heaves a fully-laden tray to the kitchen island, reciting the menu to you. ‘You have three options - a beautiful ribeye from our neighbouring cattle ranch, wild-caught salmon from California or a vegetarian lasagne with produce from our own farm. Or all three,’ he adds with a wink.
‘Steak sounds good,’ you reply excitedly. All the meals on the trip so far have been mostly vegetarian, which is understandable due to the lack of refrigeration, but you can do with some variety.
‘I was hoping you’d pick that,’ smiles Jack, transplanting the two thick steaks onto a chopping board, then pops the rest back into the fridge. ‘And of course, there will be Poppy’s famous chocolate cake for dessert.’
Your tummy rumbles - breakfast was a while ago. ‘Perfect.’
‘You want a drink while I cook? I’m not letting the birthday girl lift a finger today.’
‘Maybe a Coke if there’s one?’
Jack pulls a can out of the fridge and pops it open, then pours it into a glass with ice, setting it in front of you on the counter. ‘I thought you weren’t hungover?’
You take a sip, the carbonation bubbling on your tongue. ‘I’m not, just taking it easy. I’ll have a glass of wine with dinner.’
Elbows on the countertop, you watch Jack bustle about the kitchen, just as at home as he is in the saddle. Steady fingers turn the knobs on the oven at precise angles before five measured steps bring him back to the fridge. One large hand easily holds a bunch of asparagus, shallots and mushrooms from the vegetable drawer, the other grabbing a casserole dish of ready-made potato dauphinoise. There’s no hesitation as he plucks oils and condiments from the shelf, lining everything up on the kitchen island.
‘So, was cooking part of the job description when Champ recruited you?’ you ask conversationally.
Satisfied the oven is preheated, he slides the potato dish in to bake and sets the timer. ‘It wasn’t even a consideration when I first joined. It was sandwiches and cereal bars for a long time, but when Poppy came on board she really turned things around.’ 
‘When was that?’
Jack tilts his head to the side as if counting the years. ‘About seven years ago. It was like boot camp, we were cooped up in the kitchen all winter, all day long, to get up to speed before pack trip season started. Tequila still needs a bit more help, so Poppy preps more things for him when he’s on duty. But I enjoy doing it.’
The ice in your glass clinks as you swirl it around. ‘So you didn’t cook before that?’
He seasons the steaks with salt and black pepper. ‘Not much, my wife did most of it. But I had to learn to fend for myself pretty quickly. What about you?’
Your heart swells warmly at the spontaneous mention of his wife. It doesn’t escape your notice that it wasn’t accompanied by any wary glance or hesitation. Like he trusts you enough to bring her up in casual conversation with you.
Realising you’re slow to respond, you reply, ‘My ex and I used to take turns cooking, me more than him. It’s a bit more effort to cook for just one nowadays, so I’ve been getting a lot of takeaway.’
He looks up from the shallots he’s peeling expertly. ‘He called you last night, didn’t he? Your ex?’
You pinch your lips. ‘How did you know?’
‘Your face fell pretty spectacularly when your phone rang.’
Yeah, because he was just about to kiss you.
You shrug. ‘I told him not to contact me this week. It was probably about the house we’re trying to sell.’
Jack arches an eyebrow and cuts off the ends of the shallots. ‘You sure he’s not trying to get you back?’
You snort. ‘That ship has long sailed, cowboy. Boarded by pirates. Set on fire. Sunk to the bottom of Davy Jones Locker. Eaten by the Kraken.’
That draws a chuckle from him. ‘So - that’s a no?’
‘A hard no,’ you confirm.
Warm brown eyes hold yours as one corner of his lips ticks up in a smile. ‘Good.’
You chew the inside of your mouth. ‘Yeah?’
He nods in the affirmative. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
Tension hums between you again, but before it gets too heavy, you sneakily slide a hand over to the asparagus. Jack raps you on the back of your fingers playfully. ‘No. You’re not helping tonight.’
You pout. ‘Please?’
He sighs and gives in with a lopsided smile. ‘Anythin’ you want, darlin’.’
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The steak is delicious cooked, if Jack may say so himself. It was the right call to make the Béarnaise from scratch, even though it’s a pain in the ass - or rather, in the arm. Watching you happily smear the last of your steak through the creamy sauce makes all the whisking worthwhile.
The two of you are perched at the kitchen island, bookending an intimate corner, a vase of wildflowers sitting between your plates. Earlier that morning, he caught the way your gaze lingered on the meadow as you mounted Scotch, obviously finding it hard to leave. He cut a bunch of blooms with the Swiss knife he keeps in his shirt pocket while you weren’t looking, putting it away in one of the saddle bags. 
Your eyes softened when they alighted on the slightly crushed flowers as he laid the table, which in turn, softened his.
Red wine - one sensible serving each - sits low in the glasses when Jack clears the counter surface, setting the empty plates in the sink.
Drying his hands with a tea towel, he asks, ‘Can you give me a few minutes, darlin’?’
Polishing off your drink, you give him a quizzical look. ‘What for?’
He pulls an imaginary zip across his mouth with a shrug.
With a roll of your eyes, you slide off your seat and give him a little shove on the shoulder in warning as you pass by. ‘You better not be planning anything funny, cowboy.’ 
It’s getting chilly despite the windows being just cracked open. As soon as he hears your door shut with a soft thud, Jack starts with getting a fire going in the antique fireplace which Champ bought from an auction a few years back. He collects the cake from the spare room where it’s been left to thaw from the fridge chill for the past hour - under strict instruction from Poppy - and sets it down gently on the kitchen island.
Hands on hips, he glances about for the birthday candles. An inconspicuous paper bag sits untouched on the counter by the fridge. That must be it. He grabs it and peeks inside -
- only to find a spanking new pack of twenty extra-large condoms. 
Thinking he hears movement, Jack hastily closes up the bag and shoves it into the space on top of the fridge in a panic, spinning around with his heart thumping in his ears as he fully expects you to catch him red-handed and sweaty-palmed.
He sighs in relief when an empty living room stares back at him.
Fuck’s sake. He bets that it’s Tequila’s idea of a joke. He scoffs to himself as he shakes his head at his co-worker’s antics. He got the extra-large part right - he'll give him that. But a twenty pack? Really?
He eventually does find the candles in a drawer near the dishwasher, and he plants one delicately in the middle of the cake. Spotting the other party decorations in storage, an idea comes to him.
You’re reapplying a lightly tinted lip balm when you hear Jack call your name.
All the lights in the living room and kitchen are off when you emerge from the corridor, the only source of illumination being the roaring fire in the hearth. It’s strangely comforting to see Jack in the familiar firelight. You cross your arms. ‘What’s all this, cowboy?’
He tips his head towards the door. ‘Someone wants to say happy birthday.’
Only then do you realise that the porch light is on, and a laugh tumbles from your lips when your head finally makes sense of what you’re seeing.
All three horses are hovering at the door, birthday hats hanging from one ear, sparkly tinsel around their necks. They seem confused but not unhappy to hang about the doorway - with the air of teenagers being cajoled into doing something vaguely embarrassing by their dad.
You give each of them a well-deserved cuddle, promising them extra treats tomorrow for being such good sports. At Jack’s smooth baritone singing happy birthday, you turn around and watch him approach with a wicked-looking chocolate cake. Your cheeks ache at how wide you’re beaming when he stops in front of you.
‘Make a wish, darlin’,’ he prompts, eyes flecked with gold as the candle flickers in the breeze coming through the front door.
You do - eyes closed and hands clasped together - and blow out the flame.
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‘Ginger did promise I’d have the best birthday ever.’
‘And did we deliver?’
‘You know you did. Thank you, Jack.’
The plush cushions laid out on the rugs are kind on your sore muscles as you lean back lazily against the sofa, the fire warming your bare feet. Your plate of half-eaten chocolate cake lies abandoned on the floor. It’s sinfully rich and delicious, but you’re so stuffed that you can’t bring yourself to have another bite.
A buzz from your phone draws your gaze.
‘You can reply to your friends if you want,’ Jack says.
You wave him off. ‘No, I’ll do it later. I want to send a picture to my parents though - take a selfie with me?’
‘Sure.’
He shuffles closer, draping an arm on the seat of the sofa, brushing the ridge of your shoulders. You fit into his side comfortably, the turn of his strong shoulder pressing into your nape. Boldly, you lean your head against his so his moustache tickles your temple, and snap the photo.
‘It’s a cute picture,’ he comments when you show him, chin brushing your shoulder.
Neither of you move away when you open up Whatsapp to send it to your mum. As you do, you accidentally brush the Tinder notification that appears on top of the screen, which takes you to the app.
You laugh and tilt the screen towards Jack. ‘Look who showed up on my Tinder?’ 
He snorts, amused. ‘Tequila. I'd be disappointed if he wasn't.’
You scroll through the photos while Jack watches, sniggering, ‘Why am I not surprised that he’s topless in four out of five photos?’
He rolls his eyes, but there’s an undeniable fondness in his tone. ‘That’s Teak for you - always the exhibitionist. We once had a bachelorette party book a private tour and Champ put him on it - he never did tell us exactly what happened on that trip.’
‘So… should I swipe right, or…?’ you trail off.
‘What’s swiping right again?’
‘If you like the look of someone, you swipe right. Like, they’re right for you.’
He stares at you closely. ‘So? What’s it gonna be?’
You swipe left unceremoniously and Tequila’s profile falls off the screen. ‘Not my type.’
You feel a rumble of a laugh in his chest pressed against your side. ‘What is your type then, darlin’?’
Is he being deliberately obtuse?
You nudge him in the ribs with your elbow for his insolence, and he grunts, pretending to double over in pain and catching your wrists to immobilise you. 
Heat runs up and down your spine at his touch, and you put your nose in the air. ‘Don’t think I’ll just spill my secrets like that, cowboy. Your turn.’
Any disappointment of him letting go of you is tempered by the way his weight pushes into your side as he struggles to get his phone out from his very tight jeans.
‘Alright, here goes nothin’,’ he grumbles and taps on the fire icon.
A woman shows up on his screen, exuding confidence and sex appeal. You make a noise of appreciation at her curls and red lipstick as he flips through the photos.
With a nonchalant shrug, Jack makes to swipe left when you stop him. ‘Whoa, hold your horses cowboy, what’s wrong with her?’
‘Nothin’, she’s just not my type.’
Your eyebrows reach for your hairline. ‘Not your type? She’s gorgeous.’
He swipes to a photo where the woman is holding a cocktail, wearing a plunging black dress. ‘Look at her nails. I can’t go out with someone like that.’
You scoff, ‘I’m not saying marry her. I’m saying, if you met her in a bar, wouldn't you pick her up?’
Jack gives you a long-suffering stare. ‘Darlin’, I’m not interested. Do I have your permission to swipe left? Please?’
‘Fine,’ you grouse, shrinking into yourself.
If a woman like that can’t sway Jack Daniels’ interest, you don’t know who can.
Certainly not you.
As he swipes the woman out of view, your profile pops up.
His fingers find your shoulder and he gives you a squeeze, along with a teasing grin. ‘Well, well, look who I found.’
You squirm at your own face smiling back at you on the screen. Coming after that beautiful woman, you feel like an absolute sucker. Like the kid who's unfortunate enough to go after the prom queen’s dance and musical number in the high school talent show. 
‘What were you doing here?’ he asks, pausing at one of the pictures where you have a champagne glass in hand.
‘It was my best friend’s wedding.’
‘It’s a great photo of you,’ he smiles at you.
‘Thanks.’
After clicking through the rest of the photos, you panic when you see where his finger is poised to go. ‘Wait - what are you doing?’
Jack turns to you, confused. ‘I’m swiping right.’
You shake your head. ‘No, you swipe right if you’re interested.’
He looks amused at how you drag out the word as if it’s four separate ones. He nods slowly, ‘I know, darlin’.’
You blink. ‘But… you weren’t interested in the last one.’
‘Yes, and?’
You squint at him. ‘She’s gorgeous. And I…’
‘What?’ he prompts you.
‘I - I look nothing like her.’
He throws his hands up in frustration. ‘I don’t know how many other ways I can put this, darlin’. I’m not interested in her.’
‘Why not?’ you ask, almost accusingly.
‘Why should I be?’
You sigh, agitated. ‘Because you’re so handsome and she’s beautiful -’
‘You’re beautiful,’ he interrupts you.
That shuts you up. Your heart is set to claw its way out of your chest any moment, especially when he’s looking at you like that.
‘You really mean to swipe right?’ you ask in the smallest voice.
A smile twists his lips. ‘I kissed you, didn’t I?’
‘I thought it was like - a happy birthday kiss,’ you admit with air quotes.
He laughs, the rich sound warming you. ‘You think I just kiss anyone who has their birthday on a pack trip? Like how you get a free dessert at Applebee’s?’
You flush. ‘I don’t know!’
He chuckles, reaching out to brush your cheek with the back of his fingers. ‘Darlin’, I can assure you, I don’t just go ‘round kissin’ guests.’
With that, he swipes right emphatically, and your phone buzzes with the notification that there are new potential matches nearby.
From the corner of your eye, you see his profile, which you set up for him just yesterday, come up.
You turn to meet his stare. Without even glancing at the screen, you swipe right - there’s a matching ping from both of your phones.
Jack’s voice drops an octave, raspy in the tense silence. ‘So - what happens now?’
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If you were with another man, your mind would’ve wandered - thinking about how you haven’t been with anyone but your ex for the last three years. Worrying about how you haven’t felt a man’s touch in months, if you’d be any good.
But it’s not any other man. It’s Jack. And he’s kissing you, lips latched to yours wet and restless, every stuttering exhale sending your head spinning. One big hand curls around your waist, the other sliding down your denim-covered thigh to twist your body towards him. Your head is full of him - his earthy scent with a touch leather, hoarse grunts as he swipes his tongue into your desperate mouth. You taste chocolate on his tongue - and dark rum, must be Poppy's secret ingredient - as it moulds around yours.
You can only cling to him, one arm hooked around the back of his neck, fingers sneaking into his still damp hair as you angle your mouth to kiss him deeper. Your other hand finds the seat of the couch as you clamber atop of him, your knees on either side of his slim hips.
You haven’t made out with a man, fully-clothed, in years. Jack seems happy to keep kissing you - deeply and skilfully - like he has all the time in the world. You jump when he cups your bottom through your jeans, nails scratching a path down the back of your thighs, making you whimper.
‘Jack,’ you pant when you pull back for air, eyes struggling to focus on his intense gaze on you.
His next words are unexpected.
‘I have to tell you somethin’.’
Your stomach drops and your body, pliable under him just now, goes board-stiff as dread runs icy in your veins. You jump to the worst conclusion - was he just joking that he wanted you? Is this some kind of elaborate prank? You should’ve known it’s too good to be true -
Jack senses your anxiety and holds your face between his palms, calloused palms grounding you and resting his forehead on yours. ‘Darlin’, listen, it’s nothin’ serious. I just want it to be out in the open between us before anythin’ else happens.’
‘Okay,’ you exhale shakily.
He takes a breath, and says, ‘Champ - I think he meant to set us up.’
You blink. ‘How do you mean?’
He adjusts his grip on you, hands falling to your waist to pull you close. ‘The Kingsman have been comin’ to the ranch every year in the same week for the past ten years. There’s no way they just rescheduled - I know for a fact Champ changed their dates just so he can get us alone.’
A chuckle bubbles in your throat and you let out a low whistle. ‘That’s a bold move.’
He grins. ‘That’s Champ for you. Can’t say I’m too mad at him right now though.’
‘Me neither. In fact - I think I owe him a fruit basket.’
He’s still chortling when you kiss him again. And this time, he pushes your hips into his unequivocally, and you gasp at the hard bulge in his jeans that nudges at you insistently. You rub against him, the heat and tension quickly escalating between you.
Jack skims his teeth along your exposed collarbone and his palms find their way under your blouse. ‘It’s a very pretty top, darlin’ - can I take it off?’
‘Please.’
The hitch in his breath when your bra comes into view goes straight to your head. You bait him teasingly, ‘You’ve seen me in a bra before, cowboy.’
He tries to smile at you, but it comes out as a pained grimace. ‘I remember darlin’ - you made me just as hard that time.’
Your lips part in a question. ‘What?’
He drags a kiss over your neck as he confesses, ‘When you jumped on me in the lake, you got me so hard. I had to rub one out in the shower. Came all over my fist thinkin’ about your beautiful tits pressed up against me.’
You can’t believe what you’re hearing, but it’s alright because Jack kisses his way down the swell of your breasts before sucking a nipple into his mouth through the thin fabric, making you squirm. ‘Can I take this off, darlin’?’
In your delirium, your fingers skid uselessly off the buckle, so he reaches back to help you, working the clasp open with a practised flick. He peels the bra from you, and with reverential hands, he pushes your breasts together and his tongue laves a wet trail from tip to aching tip.
‘Jack,’ you whine. There’s too much denim between you, it’s not enough. You feel the slick dripping from between your legs, probably staining your jeans, even though he’s gone nowhere near it. ‘Want you. Now.’
‘Want you too, darlin’,’ he growls into your skin.
A thought strikes you suddenly, like thunder on a clear day, and you push him back with clumsy hands. ‘Wait - wait. Do you have any protection on you?’
Jack freezes, and your heart drops. It’s not like there’s a corner shop you can nip out to for a quick purchase -
He clears his throat and peers at you sheepishly from under thick eyelashes. ‘Ok this is embarrassin’ - but they sent a box of condoms with the cake.’
Relief floods you as you burst out laughing. ‘You wouldn’t believe the five-star rave review I’m going to leave on Tripadvisor.’
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You bounce off the surface of the bed where Jack drops you, bare back hitting the soft duvet. Just that sensation alone is enough to make you moan.
Your top and bra are abandoned where he took them off you on the floor in front of the fireplace. His shirt is discarded somewhere between the living room and your bedroom.
Blood pounds in your ears as you watch Jack take off his jeans, pushing them down and kicking them off impatiently, together with his socks. He crawls over you, cock straining in the confines of his boxers. There’s just something about being underneath this man that has your heartbeat rioting in your chest. Blinking up at him through your lashes, so broad and all-encompassing that you can barely see anything other than his silhouette, you pull him down by the nape of his neck for another kiss. Your lips are swollen but you don’t care, wanting more.
You reach down to unbutton your own jeans and undo the zipper, the metallic purr loud in the stillness. His big hands join yours, shucking the denim from your skin, leaving you writhing in your soaked panties. A low groan echoes in his rib cage as he hovers over you, close enough that you feel his body heat, but not close enough to touch. You arch off the bed for contact, and he deliberately holds back with a cocky smile that has you letting out an almost bratty wail, which makes him grin even wider. Dragging his eyes over your almost naked form, he patiently kisses down your throat and sucks an earlobe into his wet mouth.
Jack drawls into your ear, his voice deep as sin. ‘I want you to show me how you touched yourself that night, darlin’. When you were thinkin’ about me.’
Your eyes widen, biting down hard on your bottom lip. Hooking your fingers into the sides of your panties, you slowly push them down your hips, bringing your knees up to untangle them from your ankles. Jack’s nostrils flare when you part your legs and his dark stare lands on your pussy.
‘You’re so pretty, darlin’,’ he praises you, one hand palming the back of your thigh before pushing it right up against your body, splaying you open to his hungry gaze.
You’ve never done this, never let anyone watch you touch yourself - the debauchery makes your pussy clench. But there’s no taint of embarrassment with the way he’s staring down at you, jaw slack and his hands gripping hard on your inner thighs as if he needs to keep them open - not that he has to, you want him to see.
Dipping into the wetness that’s pooled in your pussy, you trace a glossy trail up to your clit, just like you did that night in the dark. With two fingers, you circle and rub and tease, and you hope he can hear how wet you are over your panting breath.
‘That’s it, darlin’,’ he whispers fiercely, his moustache tickling your ear. ‘Tell me - does it feel good?’
Somehow, you muster the sass to talk back, ‘I bet your fingers will feel better.’
That unleashes a feral growl from Jack, and he surges forward to kiss you, before ripping away from your face to grab your wrist, sucking your fingers into his mouth. Pressing into the cradle of your thighs, his clothed erection grinds into your wetness, making you wriggle beneath him. ‘You taste amazin’. What about my tongue? Please - can I eat this gorgeous pussy?’
Self-doubt pins you to the mattress, unmoving. You avoid his keen eyes that have no doubt picked up on your sudden change in demeanour.
What kind of woman would turn down such an offer? That girl he swiped left on Tinder certainly wouldn’t have. What would he think of you?
A gentle kiss pressed to your lips dislodges your thoughts. ‘You can say no, darlin’. I can make you come with my fingers, and my cock,’ he groans when a shiver runs through you. ‘Or maybe even my words would be enough?’
You mewl, and he hums into your throat. ‘As much as I love these sounds you’re making, tell me what you want, darlin’.’
‘Can we take a raincheck on your mouth?’ you ask timidly.
A gentle thumb brushes your cheek. ‘Of course. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the suggestion.’
Recovering your composure - or lack thereof - you give him a crooked smile and reach up to grip his broad shoulders, letting his weight anchor you to the present. ‘I’m far from uncomfortable, cowboy.’
He chuckles and retorts, ‘But I don’t want you to be comfortable, darlin’. I want to make you come so hard you can’t walk tomorrow.’
You choke on an inhale at his words, but somehow, you manage a brash comeback. ‘Good thing we’re travelling by horseback, huh?’
A laugh rumbles in his chest as he takes your lips again, and you sag under his ministrations. Easing your thighs apart, two fingers glide over your sensitive clit, mapping invisible patterns as he mouths at your neck, your hips thrusting into the contact. You feel him rut against your hip, a shudder running through your bodies in tandem as he pushes one finger into your heat.
‘Fuck,’ he husks as he sinks all the way in down to the knuckle. ‘Such a tight pussy, darlin’.’
‘More,’ you say bossily, and you breathe a yes - both in relief and also not enough - when he reenters you with two fingers.
He shifts, bracing himself on one side so he can watch him emerge from you, shiny with your slick, before pushing them back in. Your pussy is loud, squelching around his thick digits as he pumps deeply into you. You cry out when he brings his other hand to your clit, rubbing insistently, and he grunts at the gush of wetness he feels around him.
‘That’s it,’ he growls. ‘Getting so wet on my fingers, darlin’. Can’t wait to feel you on my cock - fuck, I’m so hard for you.’
‘Harder, Jack,’ you urge him, hips lifting from the bed to get more friction. ‘I’m gonna cum.’
No sooner do the words leave your mouth when you feel it - your stomach starts to tighten and the air gets knocked clean out of your lungs in anticipation of the fall. Jack eases up and over your body again, whispering encouragingly in your ear as you break, telling you in his delicious Southern timbre how tight your cunt is squeezin’ him, how you’re drippin’ on him, how he can’t wait to push his cock into you.
You seek out his mouth, teeth and tongue connecting as your high gives way to a drunken sluggishness. Your limbs are heavy as you pull him down onto you, caging your smaller body in his grasp, still inside you, relishing the snug fit even as your pussy stills.
He kicks off his boxers, and you jump when he brushes the velvety underside of his cock through your wet folds. He slurs against the shell of your ear, ‘Want you now, darlin’.’
‘Yes’ you beg, head thrown back into the soft bed. ‘Need you inside me.’
He fumbles with a condom packet, tearing it open with trembling hands before rolling the rubber over himself. You watch him, running your palms languidly up and down his firm back, which has him preening under your touch. ‘You definitely didn’t photoshop that nude pic, cowboy.’
‘As if I’d know how to do that,’ he chuckles, settling on top of you again. You hook your knees onto his hips, gasping when he runs a finger along your leaking seam. ‘Ready for me?’
With a nod, you reach down to line up his tip with your entrance, your noses bumping together, and you stop breathing as you both listen to the wet give of your cunt as he nudges just the head in. The air is pushed out of your lungs as he inches in, his grip bruising on your inner thighs as he grits his teeth. ‘So tight, darlin’. You feel fuckin’ incredible.’
Too full to make a sound, you can only stare when his face twist into pained pleasure when he finally fills you to the hilt. Your words come out garbled. ‘Jack - you’re so big.’
Something like possessiveness colours his tone, and he pinches your chin so that you have nowhere to look but at him. ‘Yeah, darlin’? Am I bigger than your ex?’
‘So much bigger,’ you whine.
He shudders like it’s exactly what he wants to hear, shifting just the tiniest bit inside you, which is enough to make you moan. ‘Good. You ready for me to fuck you with my big cock, darlin’?’
Remembering the way he reacted yesterday, you scrape together the last of your brain cells to say with all the cheek you can muster. ‘Yes, sir.’ 
Oh, the way his eyes turn completely black as your words sink in has you squirming and fisting the sheets. He swallows thickly, and you see his arms flex as he holds his body over you to watch your face. He draws back slowly, savouring the slow slide out of the tight clench of your pussy - mercy, even that feels incredible - before plunging back into you with a reckless snap of his hips, eliciting a loud cry from you that he swallows in a hard kiss.
Maybe you’re naive, but you didn’t know missionary can be like this. The way he’s groaning into your throat, into your tits as he sucks on them, makes your insides twist and your nails dig into the meat of his ass. When he’s had his fill, he plasters his firm front to you, pressing your foreheads and your humid, panting breaths together. It’s so intimate your eyes slide shut of their own accord, and you snag onto his dark hair to press him deeper into your skin as he scrapes his teeth from your clavicle to your shoulder, the sensation making you keen. The lewd, rhythmic slap of skin on skin makes you even wetter, the blunt drag of his cock in your pussy makes you keen for more.
‘Harder,’ you whimper. ‘I can take it, Jack.’
Pulling back suddenly, he sits up on his knees, and you have a split second to trace your heavy eyes over him - skin flushed in the moonlight, the firm lines of his arms swelling and contracting as he manhandles you clean off the bed, still buried deep inside you, rearranging your legs around his waist. Leaning over you, one hand by your head and the other holding your curve of your ass, he fucks into you, harder and deeper at this angle. He feels bigger like this, barely squeezing into you without a fight.
‘Like this, darlin’?’ he asks you, but by the way he’s smiling down at you - warmly but with just a healthy touch of confidence - it’s clearly a rhetorical question.
‘Yes, yes, yes!’ you call out anyway even though he doesn’t need the endorsement. You grab onto the pillows behind you as he jostles your entire body, making the bed shake on its frame. His lips catch one nipple after the other as they jiggle lasciviously under his movements.
‘Such a good girl, askin’ for what she wants,’ he grunts, regarding you with dark eyes. ‘Need to feel you cum on my cock. Will you give me one more, darlin’?’
You nod frantically as two of his fingers breach your swollen lips, and you suck crudely on them. You savour the look of utter abandon on his face as he watches your little show, tasting yourself on his skin. Now spit-slick, they retreat - almost reluctantly - from your mouth to find your clit again, sensitive as you shudder from even the gentlest touch. It won’t take much, his cock begins to hit somewhere deep inside that makes you quiver.
This one starts deep inside you. The beginning of a devastating high that swells and builds inside your pussy as he continues to pound into you, granting you no quarter - until you’re clenching desperately around him, tugging on his hair and screaming his name. His rhythm starts to stutter and broken words fall from his lips. ‘That’s it, darlin’ - you feel amazin’ - oh fuck yes, ride it out with me, ride it - I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna -’
Is it wrong that he wishes he’s fucking you with nothing in between? That he’s cumming into your bare, pulsing cunt, instead of the condom? That he wants to see you dripping with him, just so that he can swipe at the dribble and have you lick his fingers clean?
With one last push of his hips, his arms give and he crumples onto you, barely managing to hold his weight so he doesn’t crush you. He hums at the way your body rises and falls against him as you catch your breath. You squeak, voice hoarse from how vocal you’ve been, when he rubs his nose into your throat’s sensitive hollow. Your body instinctively seeks him out as you stretch languidly, movements slow as syrup as the adrenaline seeps from your system, only to leave a deeply sated exhaustion.
The sweat that’s pooled in the dip of his back is rapidly cooling, and he feels goosebumps break across your bare skin as the chill sets in. Shifting off of you, he presses his front to your back and yanks the duvet from beneath him to drape it over you both, pressing a wet kiss on the nape of your neck as his softened cock falls out of you, making you shiver. 
The condom is so slippery with your cum that he can barely get any purchase on it. Carefully removing it and tying it up, he throws it at the trash can by the bedside table when you twist around to smile at him. He returns it, leaning over to kiss you.
‘Did you - was it - good for you?’ he asks with a touch of insecurity that you find infinitely endearing.
‘I would count any day with two orgasms as a pretty good one,’ you joke with a lazy grin, your eyelids drooping as you slide your hand over his bigger one, tracing your fingertips over the ridges and veins. ‘But seriously - I think you’ve ruined all future birthdays for me. So thanks for that, cowboy.’
And if you’re being honest with yourself - he’s probably ruined all other men for you as well.
But that’s a whole other can of worms you can’t open right now.
‘Good. That was exactly what I was goin’ for,’ he flashes you a playfully smug smile.
He gathers you into his arms so that your head is tucked underneath his chin, his body bracketing yours with an arm around your waist. Wanting to feel every part of you, he wedges a leg between yours so that he’s entirely tangled up in you.
He knows, without looking, the exact moment you fall asleep - your soft body going pliant in his grasp and your breath evening out all at once.
More often than not, he can’t sleep after sex. In that midnight purgatory, his fingers almost always itch for a cigarette that he has long given up and guilt usually finds a way to settle deep into his bones when the pleasure dissipates, leaving him staring blankly at the ceiling until it’s light enough for him to sneak out and drive away.
But tonight, he lets go of all of that.
Neither of you move until the morning light spills in through the window at sunrise.
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Jack's Tinder profile:
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Horsey notes (optional reading): Temperament varies widely by breed and by personality of each horse. The school I used to ride at retrains racehorses for schooling, and I don't think any of the thoroughbreds would let you anywhere near them with tinsel 😂 One thing that you could do with a horse is desensitisation training. It's a wonderful thing to do and you have a much safer horse if they don't spook at every little thing or sound.
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sissylittlefeather · 7 months
Text
Aaaaaaand....
A Very Quiet Life: Chapter 3
A/N: Part 3 of the AU where Elvis is your next door neighbor in the suburbs in the late '60s. This one is a long chapter, but it HEATS UP, my friends, so stay with me. Parts 4 & 5 are also written, so they'll be posted soon as well!
Warnings: 18+ SMUT, Minors DNI! There's mention of an injury (non-violent), reader is a widow, cussing, then the dirty stuff like oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, etc.
Link to Chapter 1
Link to Chapter 2
I hope it is worth the wait! ❤️
Song inspo (in case you forgot)
Gif inspo (because why not?)
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You should be careful what you wish for.
******
Two weeks after the popsicle incident, as you've been calling it in your head, you're out front with your kids while they play in the sprinkler. You can't believe how hot it still is in mid-September. You're seriously considering getting in the sprinkler yourself when you see Elvis walk into his yard to water his grass. He's mowed your lawn twice since the incident, but you haven't let him come inside. You don't trust yourself to be alone with him and he always seems to choose a time when you are alone. He waves and smiles and you return the gesture. You wish you didn't notice how good he looks today, but you've got on sunglasses, so you let your eyes wander. He has his short sleeves rolled up and he's wearing blue jeans that fit his ass perfectly. You're no longer sweating because of the heat. The sun is starting to go down, though, so it's a perfect excuse to gather your kids and go inside. As you look back at them, Michael jumps over the sprinkler. His feet hit the wet grass and slide out from under him. He hits the ground hard, landing on his wrist. He lets out a blood-curdling scream and your heart stops. You're out of your chair in seconds, running over to him. Somehow, Elvis beats you to him and scoops him up off the ground.
"Go get your keys! We need to go to the ER!" He calls to you while Michael screams in his arms. His wrist is bent in a way that makes your stomach turn. You sprint back into the house and grab your purse and your shoes. In seconds, you're back out the front door. Elvis is holding Michael close, leaning against the hood of your car, and rocking him gently. He's stopped screaming. Jane is crying quietly next to Elvis, holding onto his shirt. As you get closer to them you hear his voice. He's singing to Michael. If the circumstances were any different, the tender scene would warm your heart. His voice is smooth and silky and it hits you in all your soft places. But you're too worried about Michael to think about anything else. You unlock the car door and Elvis slides into the back seat with both kids. You jump in the driver's seat and try to start the car. Your hands are shaking, though, and you struggle.
"Take a deep breath, honey, we're okay."
His voice is steady and calm. You do as he says, breathe deeply, and start the car.
******
In the emergency room, you hold Michael and Elvis holds Jane while you check out. You've been there for over three hours and both kids are wiped out. Michael has a new blue cast on his wrist that's wrapped loosely around your neck. He's still awake, but just barely. Jane is asleep on Elvis's shoulder, snoring quietly. You finally get back out to your car and softly lay both kids in the backseat.
"I can drive." You nod at Elvis and toss him your keys. You're exhausted too. You slide into the passenger seat and start the drive home. It takes you a good five minutes to realize you're holding his hand. Or maybe he's holding your hand. Either way, your fingers are interwoven on the seat between you. It's comfortable and intimate in a way you haven't experienced since your husband died. You know you shouldn't be doing it, but you're too tired to care. He's been so kind and helpful today. It was nice to not be alone through this. You look up at him. His profile is beautiful with the streetlights shining in the windows.
"Thank you. You didn't have to do all this today." He looks at you and smiles.
"I really don't mind. I'm just glad he's okay."
"How are you so good with children?" He shrugs.
"I don't know. I've always been like this. I teach piano and guitar lessons and most of my clients are kids. I just think they have the best view of the world." That's why he's always home during the day. He works there.
"You didn't want kids of your own?" That question probably crosses a line, but with his hand in yours it feels like you can ask anything. Still, his face darkens and he looks out the window.
"I did. My wife did not."
"Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business." You start to pull your hand away, but he tightens his grip on your fingers.
"No, it's okay. I don't mind." He looks at you again with a sad smile. "She works a lot. She's one of the only women in her office, so she didn't want to be held back by having kids." It's weird to talk about her while you're holding her husband's hand. "I just wish she'd told me before we got married." There's a hint of bitterness in his voice when he says the last part.
You ride quietly for the last bit of the drive. He pulls the car up to the front curb and gets out to help you carry the kids inside. Once they're both safely settled in bed, you drop onto your couch and burst into tears. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, the fear and pain and tiredness of the day win out and you fall apart. Elvis sits next to you and puts his arm around you, letting you cry on his shoulder.
"There ya go, honey, let it out. I know today was a lot." He kisses the top of your head and strokes your hair. After a few more minutes of crying you're able to pull yourself together a bit and you look at the clock on the mantle. You sit up straight.
"It's almost midnight! Isn't your wife going to wonder where you are?!" He looks at his shoes for a moment, like he's trying to decide whether he should be honest, and then looks back at you.
"She's on a business trip. I can stay as long as you need me." Your stomach does a flip flop. As long as you need him.
His eyes are so blue as they flick down to your mouth and back up to your eyes. He puts his hand on the side of your face and caresses your cheek with his thumb, wiping away any remnants of tears. Your heart beats so hard and fast that you're pretty sure he can hear it.
Slowly, carefully, he leans in and touches his lips to yours. Lightening shoots through you straight out to your fingertips and he kisses you softly again. The third time he kisses you, his mouth is open and he parts your lips too. You let his tongue slide into your mouth and send yours to match his movements. His hand moves back to your hair and he holds you closer for a more passionate kiss. After a few minutes, he pulls you onto his lap, straddling him, with his hands on your hips. You press your body against his and kiss him so intensely that you start to get lost in him. He loses control too and slides both hands up under your shirt and bra, cupping your breasts and squeezing them gently. You pull your shirt off over your head and he reaches behind your back to undo your bra. He kisses your shoulder and then moves back to the center kissing you along your collarbone. You throw your head back as he grazes his lips down to your nipple. His two hands cover almost all of your back as he sucks and nibbles your chest. You feel his erection between your legs, pushing into you where you want him the most. You lift his shirt and pull it over his head, exposing the soft patch of hair on his chest. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a deep kiss, your naked skin pressed up against his.
You back away from him and slink down to the floor between his knees. You reach up to unbutton his pants and free his erection from his jeans. His dick is perfect. You slide his foreskin down, exposing the tip, and run your tongue around it softly. He groans and leans his head back on the couch. Then he looks back at you, watching while you work your mouth on him, taking him in as much as you can until he hits the back of your throat.
"Fuckkk, y/n..." he moans as you continue to lick and suck him. Hearing him say your name like that makes you even wetter than you already are. You pull him fully into your mouth again and then slide your tongue in a small circle around the head. You lick slowly up and down him a couple of times and then back off of him. He opens his eyes when you stop and watches you stand up and slide your pants down. You hope he won't notice how wet your panties are, but he immediately does.
"This all for me, baby?" He asks as he reaches his hand out and touches your panties. You nod as he begins to rub circles on you. Then, he slides your panties to the side and pushes his finger into you. He pulls your hips closer to him and switches from one finger to two, moving them in and out and tickling inside you. You groan and shudder around his hand. Just when you can't stand it anymore, he pulls his fingers out.
"Lay down, honey." He guides your hips down to the couch and lays you back, slipping your panties off and positioning himself between your legs. He lowers his head down and pushes his tongue into your slit. You gasp and arch your back as he continues to lick your sensitive bud around in circles, then left and right over the top, stopping periodically to push his tongue back into you. Your orgasm is building inside you as electricity gathers in your center. He continues to lick and tongue-fuck you until you feel like you might explode.
"Come for me, baby." He whispers it into you and the vibration of his voice throws you over the edge as he flattens his tongue against you one more time. You do exactly as he tells you to and shiver and pulse as the waves of pleasure crash into you over and over again until he finally stops licking you.
He climbs back up your body and kisses your neck while you lay under him breathing heavily. You haven't been able to say much this whole time, but now you find your voice and speak softly into his ear.
"Fuck me, Mr. Presley." He groans and stands up to remove his pants completely. For a moment, he stops, and just looks at you laying there naked. You worry that he's having second thoughts or thinking about his wife. Before you can say anything, though, he smiles.
"You're fucking beautiful." You sit up and pull him down on top of you.
"I noticed it the first time I saw you through that window." So he did see you. He lines himself up with your entrance and teases you a bit with his tip.
"I've been dreaming of this ever since." He thrusts deeply and plunges his dick into you as far as it'll go, filling you entirely.
"Oh my godddddd" you moan as he pumps in and out of you.
"You feel so good, baby. So tight and wet for me. I fucking love it." He kisses your neck and shoulder. You continue to fuck in this position for a good while, both of you reveling in the satisfaction of finally getting what you want.
Eventually, you push him backwards off of you into a siting position. You straddle him again and lower yourself onto him until he fills you up. You whimper and moan again at the feeling of his length hitting the sensitive spot inside of you. As you slide up and down on him, you feel another climax building. You bounce wildly with his hands on your back guiding your movements. You stop and roll your hips, pushing him as deep as he can go. You want to feel every inch of him. He holds you still for a second and looks into your eyes.
"Can I...? Should I pull out?" He asks tentatively.
"No." Fuck it. "Come inside me. I need to feel you." He groans again as you continue to fuck him with everything you've got. Your own orgasm is so close; you don't want to stop. Every pump brings you to the edge until he lifts his hips under you and you slam down onto him one last time.
"Oh fuck yes y/n!" He yells as you tumble into oblivion with him, the unimaginable pleasure filling every part of you. Your legs begin to shake as you lay your forehead on his shoulder. You sit there for a bit, trying to catch your breath. He wraps his arms around you and kisses you playfully.
"Can I stay?"
"The kids wake up really early..."
"I promise I'll be gone before they even think about it." You secretly wish he could be there when they wake up, like a normal family. But he's not their father. He has a wife. You climb off of him and try to walk to the bathroom. He grabs your hand and pulls you back to his lap, wrapping himself around you again.
"I just want to be close to you as long as possible." He kisses your shoulder and any resolve you had about sending him home melts.
"Come get in the bed." He smiles a wide and relaxed smile and puts his boxers back on. He picks up his T-shirt and pulls it down over your head, so that you're wearing it. Then, he follows you into the bedroom and crawls into your bed. You go to the bathroom and get some new panties to sleep in. You leave his shirt on, though, because you love that it smells like him. When you get in the bed, he pulls you close to him and wraps his arms around you. You haven't slept with a man in your bed in a long time. It feels nice. He feels nice.
How are you going to keep yourself from getting used to this?
******
Chapter 4 coming soon!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Taglist:
@itlover8000 @deniseinmn @elvisalltheway101 @ccab @suxny @hernameisnoellex3 @ashtag6887 @arabellapresley @littlehoneyposts @dkayfixates
Want to be added to the Taglist? Let me know!
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wanderlust-in-my-soul · 10 months
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The moment we could see the raw thoughts
There were two strong scenes in this weeks episode of Step By Step, where you can see the emotions and thoughts of the characters unfiltered, kinda raw.
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This is the moment Pat knew he doesn't like Put the way he should in this situation, the way he thought he would like him. There was this whole do-you-like-me-scene and instead of answering directly, because Pat is such an innocent and honest bean, he kissed Put, to show how much he likes him. But who did he try to convince? Put or himself? And he couldn't go on with it, because he was not feeling it. He thought the feeling he had inside must have been love or attraction, instead of a cold shadow of former feelings, which he didn't manage to leave behind. Put was a shadow hanging over his love-life this whole time. I wouldn't say that Pat doesn't know what he wants, he is just very unsure what those feelings are. He wants to go down to the party, he wants to speak to Jeng, he wants to get out of Puts embrace.
I guess he can't see it himself, but Put is manipulating him all the way. Put tries to go back to where they were when he left. He doesn't believe, that Pat could grow in the time they were apart. That is the reason why he came up with the plushy. That worked in the past and is still his go to when he fucked up. But he still thinks, that his needs and desires come first. He sits with Pat at the table, eating the things Pat made for him and just doesn't notice Pat or that he might just say fucking thank you for the food your boyfriend made, while you were doing shit. His career comes first. He couldn't help Pat when the woman (forgot her name) attacked Pat. Couldn't he? Or did he not want to? And when he comforted Pat, he just wanted to make sure Pat isn't angry with him, because Pat needs to understand, Put couldn't do anything. He makes everything about himself. And I hate this. And Pat is starting to see this too. He is starting to question his feelings and his relationship. And moment after moment he realized those feelings were just dark shadows in his heart, which he now finally can let go of.
And Put knows it.
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He sees Jeng as his enemy. If you were sure of your relationship and the feelings of your partner, you don't need to mark your territory everytime you see your rival. But Put can see the way Pat looks at Jeng. It is the interest Pat has in him, which Pat himself might not have seen yet, which made Put unsure of the relationship and drives him into these stupid fights with Jeng.
And after the party, when Pat demands Jeng to make the jelly and couldn't stop talking about the jelly, Put knows, that he lost the battle. Pat didn't ask for him or recognise him. He ask for Jeng's jelly. And the fact, that Put was searching for Pat, but couldn't say so when he met with the people in the hallway, is another point. Perhaps he understands that this is not the love Pat needs and wants. Pat is young and out and proud. Put knows this relationship would put him back in the closet, and perhaps this could be something what troubles Put deep down, because he might truely like Pat.
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theseasasleep · 5 months
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Story of Kunning Palace, E05 (semi-live reaction)
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Of all the ways I thought Ning would handle the proposed slander against her beloved Zhang Zhe, the way she actually handled it did not align with my imaginings in the slightest. Sometimes what plays out is really better than the fiction in your head, hee. I did not see her calling out, not the dumb fiancee but the You-daughter. Nor did I foresee her half-drowning her in a jar full of goldfish.
FIERCE
Judging by the all the clips I have gorged on, this particular love line will be quite strong and trend for a while. Sigh. A decade plus of drama watching has whittled my patience for second lead to first lead love lines to whisper-thin nub but everyone keeps commenting on how amazing Zhang Zhe is so.... I guess the wait and watch won't be too grating.
...
I'm not sure I understand.
Zhang Zhe broke or bent his principles to help her on the oath that she'd become a good person thereafter.
Sometime later, Zhang Zhe is condemned to death for this.
Did he naturally get caught? Or did she deliberately sell him out? Was it more similar to the Yan Lin situation in which her people made moves without her knowledge and when push came to shove, she didn't make the necessary moves to upend the conspiracy for the sake of remaining Empress?
Whatever the case, it's clear Ning did many terrible things - some in ignorance, some in knowledge - to accomplish everything she achieved. I think she squared most, if not all of it with herself when weighing it against the ultimate end result... until Zhang Zhe ended up on the chopping block. I don't think she would have been able to write this sin off and once one stone in her ambitious bedrock was overturned, the rest likely came apart. It's why when she knew she was going to die she wanted her death to mean something, to be a reparation of sort to the only person remaining who might accept it because he thought she was worth something, because he's that good.
...
Oh. Oh. Look at the expression on his face as he listens to the patronizing, sexist drivel:
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My scrumptious proto-feminist
...
LOL, he did a dignified catwalk and every lady in the room forgot to think and breathe!
I understand, ladies, I understand.
Geez, Ning, Xie Wei had them open a window for you, and only you, so you would have fresh air and bright light, to improve your mood and chances! Not to silently accuse you of being a potential cheat!
Wow, this is all up hill climb, my guy. Get your shoes with the best tread on, Xie Wei.
I know not a drop of Chinese and even I can see that's atrocious. And what did she draw in the corner. A flower? A dancing sun? A really fat, disproportionate hand with a vestigial finger?
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And she asks, did she put too much effort into [failing]? Girl. It's so obvious she'd bring out the contrarian impulses of a saint. But maybe it's worth it since we get this face:
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Teacher does not approve.
What I am enjoying so much in this scene is the action and counteraction. The way they each boldly challenge the other. She sent up an exam paper so abominable as to be a mockery [of him]; he passes her. She tries to expose her "stupidity" to the rest of the class; he threatens to critique the entire class, turning everyone against her idea.
point:
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Counterpoint:
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Concession:
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Me:
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...
I'm not even touching the "dementia." Rolling my eyes and moving on.
But, but, but... How was he so spot on?! How did he guess at reincarnation?! I mean, yeah, he said he doesn't believe in the supernatural but it can't be a coincidence to the narrative that he's the first to come closest to the truth?
Xie Wei: Ning, what's your relationship with Yan Lin? I NEED TO KNOW... *whispers* for science.
Oh, your father asked me to take good care of you in the palace... Yan Lin asked me to help you... By the by, that study partner list? Yeah, another ministry generates it but ultimately it has to run by me. The moment I saw your name I marked you for the palace. After going to so much trouble, it would be stupid of me to release you from palace duties now!
Xie Wei, be like:
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...
God. I Hate Ning's Mom.
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aleserzal · 8 months
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Crowley's theory after watching Good Omens season 2
Oi!
I'll start straight away. Crowley was actually an archangel before he fell. I now proceed to explain my theory:
1. Crowley has immense power. He has demonstrated it more than once, but what strikes me the most is that he still has that tool, that mechanism that he used to start the creation of the universe, and honestly, I don't think they put an ordinary angel on such an IMPORTANT task. Besides, with that mechanism, he can create a safe space, one where time doesn't exist. We saw it in season 1, where Crowley used it to give Adam Young a few seconds to clear his head and come up with a plan. Or when he "saved" Aziraphale (I put it in quotes because he really could have saved himself, but he loves to leave it to Crowley because it makes him so happy) from dying on the gallows in France. AND next to inmense power... He is a shapeshifter.
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2. And to return to my point number one, Crowley can STOP time. Something that has not been seen with others in this story… and ONLY archangels can do that.
3. When, at the beginning of the first episode of the second season, Aziraphale and Crowley meet for the first time, Aziraphale does introduce himself, he tells Crowley his name! but Crowley responds with a simple "Nice meeting you".
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4. A lot of people know Crowley, even from before he fell, from being a demon… but he ALWAYS claims NOT to remember all those faces/names. It's true that thousands of years can make you forget some faces, but… all of them? Even Saraqael's, where they worked together in the creation of the Horsehead Nebula. (This further reinforces my point number 1). There's also furfur, which he also forgot, among others. Perhaps… his memory was erased like Gabriel's?
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5. If we follow the clues, we have met: Gabriel, Michael, Uriel, Sealtiel (also known as Saraqael) and Sandalphon. I mean, there are still many on that list, so I can't tell you EXACTLY which one could be Crowley. It could be Raphael, Raziel, Barachiel, Zadquiel… and a few more names (I invite you to look them up and try to guess who Crowley might be). All of whom know who exactly Crowley is, and not only know him because of his approach with Aziraphale.
6. Finally. The Metatron knows a LOT more than that naive old man would have us believe. We can see how he looks at Crowley and the tense music. We can see that he DOES know him because he mentions him to aziraphael while they are talking outside in the cafeteria. We can see how he insists on bringing Crowley back into the angelic ranks, hence why he chose Aziraphale as the position for Gabriel. In fact after the kiss scene, The Metatron enters the bookshop and first of all asks him about Crowley, Aziraphale tells him he didn't want to and Metatron replies: "always did want to go his own way… ALWAYS ASKING DAMN FOOL QUESTIONS". The Metatron knows WHO CROWLEY REALLY IS. And finally that look and "sigh" that he gives in the lift when he sees that he is taking Aziraphael with him to heaven.
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I think I have enough points in my favour to be right…. But you never know what can happen in the fantastic mind of Gaiman and the rest of the writers.
Let me know what you think and who you think he might be!
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emmatgc · 5 months
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Twin Flame ❤️
Tommy x Grace
The scene of Polly saying "or maybe its time you forget about her" and Tommy replying "forget about who?" is very poignant to me in the whole series and I'm sure to all viewers esp Tommy x Grace shippers. The acting and delivery was superb. The feelings oozing on the screen. We felt it.
Little did we know that line would foreshadow what's gonna happen and expose the mind of Tommy from the beginning, in between the break up, the reunion and her death.
Tommy has always been a conflicted and tormented man. He says this yet does exactly the opposite at times. But with Grace, he is ride or die, hell or heaven, he means what he says. Its black or white regardless his methods are greyish and blurry. Plain and simple, his feelings for Grace was never in question. Never in doubt.
To be fair, he tried to move on. He really did. She held on though. He let her go once, she left. I believe he really believed there's no future for them. I believe he thought he doesn't deserve her for both reasons-she was different and she hurt him. It is very interesting to me that never once Tommy brought up any anger or animosity about the so called "betrayal" of Grace in the show directly. The reunion scene was more of her being married to a rich guy. Hardly real anger. Polly did, yes but in a bigger picture, it is heavily implied, it was her job. An actual job. She got the best of her job and in the process lost her one true love at that time. They say all is fair in love and war but neither was true.
Both lost something. Both used each other. Both hurt each other. But the most amazing thing was? Neither of them cared. Neither was mad enough to let go. Neither was sane enough to move on. Neither was reasonable enough to hate or take revenge against one another. For above all of it was love. Love. Respect. Integrity. They were fighting for causes they believed in. In reality, that is a fight worth fighting for ever damn time.
Tommy fell in love with a woman fighting for a cause she believed in. She was not perfect, oh no, she was very flawed, too. But Tommy?heck he was the worse of them all, the family I mean. No sugar coating. Tommy was not a simple man. He was bad, in a lot of ways. But yes, he had redeemable qualities. Twin flames, they were. For better or worse.
See, their worse is not worse though. Theirs was a shining beacon of hope. What they had was a promise of tomorrow, a brighter future and a peaceful life. All colors of Tommy and Grace were brighter, clearer and bigger. That's deliberate by the show. Not coincidence.
So, 2 years without her don't mean a thing. He chose to let her stay-in his mind, heart and soul. She moved on but see that's one of her biggest mistakes. Grace, for me I believe was the one angry he didn't followed her or stopped her the 1st time. Tommy's ego would not allow that plus Tommy loves Grace too much to force her into staying . He respects her too much to make up her own mind. It upsets many Tommy fans that Tommy was passive, indecisive about Grace like dude, forget about her already! You have your whores, etc..she is just another woman, there will be others as Polly said. Yet, there was none.
Tommy held on. Grace held on. Despite the odds. Both patiently waited under dire circumstances. Both went through the uncertainties and dangers, the family objection, the doomed life and for what? For Love. So, no, nobody forgot. Nobody truly moved on. Nobody let go. Those 2 years be damned. Didn't put a dent to Tommy's feelings. Grace loved Tommy, she came back but Tommy fell harder. She was his oxygen. His air and water. You don't forget that. You simply can't. She leaves him breathless after all.
When after all is said and done, all Grace had to do was say "It's me" and the battlefield is back and Tommy is alive again. Love is a battlefield for Tommy. Grace had no one left only Tommy. Tommy had so many baggage but Grace was a priority. Grace warned her. She took his heart and never gave it back. Not because she doesn't want to but because he doesn't want to give it back nor give it to someone else. He allowed his heart to be taken away, broken and repaired only to be broken again. He doesn't care at all. If Only for her. Only with her. They will always find each other. Twin Flame, Tommy and Grace.
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cryptomiracle · 9 months
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Jeff the killer headcanons (romantic version)
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I might make a more "dark" version like I did with my ticci toby hcs, but idk 😭
Also, I just wanna go ahead and say that for this, y/n IS a proxy of slenderman.
(ps, this doesn't really apply to my main hcs for Jeff, I just wanted to write some cute lil headcanons yk)
Physical touch
He's not a big fan of it, but he doesn't deny you if you tried to kiss him/ hold his hand or hug him.
Although he doesn't like much psychical touch, he doesn't really mind kisses on the cheek, hands, lips, etc
He prefers you do all the kissing though.
He especially likes when you kiss his scars, and compliment him.
But overall, he likes to be alone with you, you and him, both in your own personal space, but together.
Anything other than that has to grow on him.
You can't just walk up and kiss him on the lips, you have to take baby steps.
He also doesn't want to seem like one of those "cringey couples" that make out in front people.
(BEN may have made fun of you two when he saw you kissing, and it's kinda stayed with jeff ever since)
If you tried to cuddle him, he'd kinda freeze up.
But eventually he'd melt into it, especially if he was the big spoon.
He likes when you do his hair.
He'd let you do anything to his hair, dye it, cut it, braid it, whatever you want.
He loves listening to you laugh as you give him some silly hairstyle.
It soothes him.
If he's had a really hard day, he'll just kinda flop onto you, and stay there for the rest of the day.
Comfort
He's horrible at comforting people
I headcanon that he spent a lot of years away from people in the woods, before moving back into the manor, and the only contact he had with people was with his victims.
So after a while, he sorta forgot how to act around relatively normal people.
He's not the type to ignore you if you're literally broke down crying, but he definitely has that "tough love" mentality.
From his point of view, the world has never been kind to him, so why should he be kind to it?
Someone is rude to you? Kick their ass
Something didn't go your way? Fuck it, it doesn't matter anyway.
Someone hurt you? Be worse to them.
Etc etc
When he's intoxicated, he's 10x worse.
"what are you crying for?"
"don't be a pussy y/n, go blow their fucking brains out."
His reaction honestly depends on what your personality is like.
If you're more "sensitive", I feel like he'd be more gentle with you.
But if you're not, he has absolutely no filter with you.
Protectiveness
He's not very protective, unless he's mad.
Any other day he doesn't really care.
Like if someone flirts with you, he gets annoyed, but he knows he has you practically wrapped around his finger, so he's not really worried about you leaving him.
It's not like he'd let you anyway.
But every now and then, just when he's bored, he likes to cause a scene.
Outings
Unlike EJ, or Jane the killer, he actually likes going out in public with you.
He believes he's beautiful, he doesn't regret what he did to himself at all.
He's proud to show you, and himself off.
He's broke most of the time (he spends his money on his knife collection)
But he loves spoiling you when he can.
If he's flat broke, he doesn't mind robbing a store just to get you something.
Cute things he does
Sometimes he'll just stare at you, not in a creepy way.
But in an admiring way.
He'll never say it out loud, but he genuinely admires you.
You're strong, you're talented, you're caring, and somehow you love someone like him.
He doesn't get why, or how you love him, but you do.
Other times he'll grab you by your waist, and pull you closer to him if you walk past anyone in the manor.
He feels he has to protect you, even though he knows you can handle yourself, he still feels like he has to.
He knows that practically no one there is trustworthy, especially hoodie (he's the king of blackmail).
So he keeps a close eye on you.
The relationship overall
All in all, I'd say Jeff would be an 'okay' boyfriend.
He deals with a lot of stuff mentally, I hc that he deals derealization, so sometimes it can seem like hes "detached"
He often has breakdowns where he just "shuts down" for a few days, he doesn't come out of his room, he doesn't have the energy to do certain things that are an "easy task" for most people.
but if you can support, and love him through that period, or even just be there for him, he'll cherish you forever.
Anyway, I'm back to doing requests ig 😼
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crushingonevery1 · 3 months
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DUMBLEDORE'S HIER (Part 3)
Summary: your wait comes to an end as you begin ur journey at Hogwarts with your loving boyfriend and ofcourse your grandfather, along with ur magical family.
Warning: Slytherin reader. Pancy Parkinson rivalry. Very tiny bit of soft Snape ( tell me if I should add more of him).
Pairings: Draco Malfoy x fem! Slytherin!reader
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Getting off the train, you parted ways from the golden trio and the Weasley twins you were talking to. As soon as you stepped off the train you met one of your favourite people in the whole world.
"HAGRID!!!" He turned around from trying to spot you in the tiny students spilling out of the train and immediately with his loud voice replied
"Y/N DEAR THERE YOU ARE!! I FORGOT HOW TINY YOU WERE!!"
You immediately started crying and jumped into his arms, while he picked you up letting you cry in his arms trying to calm his own self down, not wanting to look soft in front of the students.
Hogwarts and it's professors, they were your family, they all played just as much of a role in raising you as your grandfather. You valued each and everyone of them and they all loved you just as much.
A lot of students paused to watch the scene unfold while others couldn't care less. Soon everyone made their way to the school.
~~~~~~~
Everyone was gathered in the dining hall while you along with Hagrid waited outside for your grandfather to call you in so you could be finally sorted into your house.
You felt so many emotions, there was so much going on you were almost overwhelmed. You were reuniting with your family after years of keeping in touch only through letters. You were suprising your bestfriend and boyfriend. You were gonna finally get sorted into your Hogwarts house. Right. Your house. It always bothered you Mr. Malfoy's obsession with Slytherin. What if you didn't get Slytherin, would they force you and Draco to split up? No they can't. They wouldn't. Would they?
Your thoughts were broken when you heard you grandfather's voice from inside the dining hall.
"WELCOME BACK STUDENTS, WE HOPE YOU'VE ALL HAD SPLENDID SUMMERS AND ARE READY FOR THE NEW YEAR.
Tonight I keep the introduction short, I wanted to introduce you all with the only family I have. I, Albus Dumbledore, have a granddaughter, and today, she begins her journey like you in Hogwarts. We are here to encourage her through her sorting ceremony. I expect you all to be no different to her then to each other. She will be treated just the same as all of our other students."
"HERE SHE IS, Y/N DUMBLEDORE" presented Hagrid not containing his excitement opening the door for you.
The moment the door opened you looked around trying to find the pair of shocked eyes you longed to see all day. Spotting him at the Slytherin table,you gave him a wink loving the smile in his eyes. He couldn't help but give you huge grin with his eyes already tearing up, it's okay though noone would see, everyone was too shocked by the new unexpected student.
You made your way to your grandfather hugging him and all the other professors while crying your heart out. As much as Draco wanted to go there and comfort you and hug you and ask you why you didn't tell him, he sat there in his place, not wanting to interrupt your family reunion. He knew you waited for this for years, and he wouldn't let himself or anyone else ruin it for you. He sat there watching you with heart eyes knowing this was going to be his best year at Hogwarts, ever.
Parting from professor McGonagall, you made your way to professor Snape, if there was one person he has a soft spot for, it was you, he considered you his own daughter, he claimed he raised you, and infact he did.
"professor Snape" you nodded in acknowledgement making your way to him.
"Ms.Dumbledore." He nods back before you throw yourself into his arms, today would go down in history some of the students claimed. They couldn't believe they saw Snape laugh, not scold not glare but actually laugh.
Eventually once you were done with your greetings and cleaning your face from all the crying, the sorting hat was brought and placed on your head.
You wished in your head it wouldn't be anything but Slytherin not wanting to even so much as threaten your relationship with your lover. Soon the hat made its decision.
"SLYTHERIN"
A wide smile made its way to your face and soon you got off the chair and sprinted across the room making your way to the teary love filled green eyes that were waiting their turn since the moment you entered the hall.
He stood up letting you crash into him immediately wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. The tears he was holding back since this morning thinking of not being able to meet you for the next year finally made their way out. He hid his face in your neck and sobbed not willing to show anyone his vulnerable side other than you.
To say say everyone else was shocked was an understatement, not only did Draco have a girlfriend, but it was Dumbledore's granddaughter of all people.
The golden trio looked at each other all of a sudden doubting your intentions of befriending them in the train, and you could tell, but you let it be. They werent important right now.
The students around Draco, his friends (that you also knew very well) all cheered. The girl sitting two seats away, Pancy Parkinson as you recognised, had her jaw on the ground and she looked ready to get up and pull your hair out. But you didn't have to worry. Not at Hogwarts, not with your family around, not when your standing in the protective arms of the one and only Draco Malfoy. The boy who had promised himself that no matter what happens you were his. His responsibility, his to take care of. He wasn't going to let a soul near you if they meant any harm.
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Ps: I'm very clueless of what to write in the coming parts so please please please help me out with requests of what you'd like to read. I'm not willing to write smut and can't promise the best when it comes to angst. So I'll keep my acc a lot more fluffy. Also please do tell me if I should post a little character background seperately cause I'm clueless if people actually wanna read that.
ANYWAYS LOVE YALL MWAHH!!
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