#I actually don’t know how to respond to this

[cutiefulism]

puppyboy!caleb who just wants to fuck a litter into u :((

cw — breeding (dadoy), use of gege, typical caleb activities except hes a germand shepard, pet names (baby, honey, wife but theyre not married). fluffy prequel here.

he thinks you should have known. all the signs were right there, practically jingling in your face.

“did you— mm . . really think i’d invite you over for somethin’ as harmless as a common cold?”

he knows you won’t respond verbally. can’t respond, he thinks, not when his hips are slamming against your juicy ass, cock filling you up to the brim after his fingers and mouth worked so hard to stretch you out.

and even that hadn’t been enough. he still had to go reaaaal slow, ease it into that filthy, drooling hole, and by then he was just so impatient that he couldn’t wait any longer! :p

caleb will be gentle next time, he promises.

saliva and tears dribble down your chin, rolling down your chest and onto his sheets, and he wishes he could lean forward to lap it all up with his tongue. instead, he nuzzles into the side of your tainted neck, pressing little loving pecks against reddened skin as if to make up for the brutal way he’s splitting you open.

“y-yer just so gullible, baby. always takin’ your gege’s word for fact.”

you attempt to shake your head, a few, rare pieces of coherent thought stringing together enough to actually speak. “ungh, ngh! n-no, ‘m not . . not dumb.”

look at you. stubborn as always, ready to defend yourself and your beliefs at a moment’s notice. it’s cute.

“of course you aren’t,” caleb coos with a breathy chuckle, and he takes your soft, warm skin into his mouth, sucking another bruise to join the others. “never said you were. you’re a smart girl. my smart girl, and that’s exactly why i have to breed you.”

he feels the way your velvety walls clamp down on his aching cock at his words, and he grins. he knows all of your little weak protests earlier were fake.

all those “but, caleb, i don’t think it’s a good idea, we’re not even married” and “i’m just not ready yet” and “we’re both so busy, how will we have time for the baby?”

that was all bullshit.

you want this. you know you do, and caleb definitely knows you do.

you’re just in denial. but don’t worry — he’ll fuck that out of you.

“it’s o-only right to— shit–” plap “spread my wife’s beauty and smarts–” plap “to the rest of the world, right?”

caleb slams forward, hips stilling for a moment as he whimpers against your bitten-up neck, and a desperate mewl leaves your own lips as the impact lunges you forward.

his weeping tip is smooching your cervix, ready to pump a load into your temporarily empty womb.

“say . . say you want it.”

you blink, brows drawing together as you try to focus through the drunken haze. “w-wha?”

“say you want my cum, say you wanna be a mommy f’me,” he groans, and despite the low roughness of his voice, you can hear that almost pathetic pleading underneath.

and how could you deny caleb like this?

your head bobs, throat dry. “i wan’ it. please, caleb. fill . . fill me up.”

that’s all he needs.

caleb’s thick tail gives a happy thump against the sheets as his hips start up again, this pace much more demanding than the previous. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’d be trying to fuck you into the mattress.

“thaaaat’s it,” he sighs, and all you can do is squeal as the bed creaks and rocks beneath you. “lemme stuff this pretty pussy full, honey.”

“i’ll . . f-fuck, ngh— give you as many pups as ya want. a whole . . a whole fucking football team—!” his words break off into a whine when you clamp down on him again, and he already knows what’s going to happen before you even try to say it.

this time, you really can’t speak. all you can do is moan and attempt silly, broken cries of his name, pleasure coiling to a fever pitch in your gut.

he knows you better than you know yourself, after all.

“mmf, a-ah, ‘m cumming— c-caleb!”

his name sounds so beautiful on your lips, like a siren’s call to his heavy, tightening balls and twitching dick.

within seconds of you gushing all over his cock, squirt spraying all over that dark, almost curly patch of pubic hair, his hips are stuttering, pretty violet eyes rolling back as he mumbles your name again and again like a damn prayer.

caleb dumps thick ropes of gooey seed into your warm, waiting womb and, oh, it is so much. much more than you expected, and it feels . . good.

a small bulge appears on your tummy where caleb has stuffed you to your limit, and you’re sure it’s going to leak out, make an even bigger mess all over your sheets.

the knot at the base of his girth swells, trapping his cum inside, and even if caleb had the traitorous thought of pulling out of you, he couldn’t.

even his basic biology knows that a single drop can’t and won’t go to waste.

he whines, hot, damp breath ghosting across your skin as he shoves his face into your neck again, that feral need mostly disappearing. you can feel his chest heaving in time with your own against your back, fluffy ears twitching.

“i’ll make up to you for rounds four and five, how about that?”

“l-let’s take a small break, okay? ‘m sorry for bein’ so rough on you, baby,” he mumbles, and your heart gives a helpless flutter at the genuine guilt in his tone.

you’ve never quite gotten used to his flips in personality.

doing gradients is actually hell on earth wtf

[transcendragonreblogs]

There’s so many things you’re saying here that just have. Nothing to do with what I said. I’m not even sure how to respond when what you’re saying has nothing to do with me and everything to do with some version of someone who might say something similar to what I said.

1) the revolution wasn’t caused by greed and I never said it was? It was co-opted and corrupted by people who were after personal power or gain.

2) Every single animal on the farm was intended to represent the working class in some way, as I said. That strongly implies that the pigs are also proletariat and it’s really weird that you’d randomly assume otherwise.

3) The fact that specific bad faith individuals act a certain way doesn’t imply all are stupid and incapable. The animals on animal farm all act in different ways, they all have different intelligences and personalities. It implies that the working class isn’t a hive mind that thinks one single way. The only person here saying anything like that is, well, you.

3) The “revolution” from the middle class intellectuals in 1984 fails utterly. The real signs of underlying resistance - such as uncensored versions of songs - come from the “proles”. You’re not actually supposed to take the biased and flawed and ultimately failed main character’s perception of them at face value. You can debate this point with different lenses and reading of the text, but it’s not nearly as cut dry as you’re acting like it is.

I don’t care what you think of George Orwell, but your basic reading comprehension is terrible. You’re reading in things I never said in responding to me. You’re asserting things about the text that just aren’t true (like that only the sheep represent the proletariat).

I know I’ll never get through to you, you’ve clearly already who I am through the way you put words in my mouth, but I hope anyone reading this feels permission to be more thoughtful in their different interpretations of the text. The fact that someone is confident and scathing on tumblr doesn’t actually make them right.

very funny to me when people act like animal farm and 1984 are revolutionary anti government texts that the Powers That Be dont want you to read when they have literally been a part of every standard middle/highschool english lit cirriculum in the usa and beyond for decades. precisely because theyre such convenient primers to propagandize that Commies = Bad. the government is quite literally making kids read them

[plaidcowboy]

HIMBO .ᐟ RAFE ┆ meeting ✶ ❝ not all quite there . . .

. . . crazy with a wrench ❞

pure lapdog behavior 𖥔 unabashed showing off chaotic inner monologue 𖥔 himbo .ᐟ rafe’s introduction 𖥔 he takes requests .ᐟ

“hey, hey,” rafe slapped topper in the chest about five times until topper responded, “stop hitting me, i’m right here.”

rafe ducked down in his seat suddenly, bracing his head, “did she see me?” topper looked around, already over rafe’s behavior, “who? why are you in that position, you look like a fetus, dude.”

rafe peeked over his arms, seeing you were now turned around. he blew out a breath then responded, “that girl over there. you know her? don’t answer, i don’t want you to know her. actually, can you go over there and put in a good word?”

topper blanched, “i am so confused. do you want me to talk to her or not?” rafe shrugged, tilting his side to side, “a little. not too long. crap,” he said suddenly, ducking back down, “i think she looked over again. or am i delusional? i can’t tell anymore. she can’t see me until i’m ready.”

topper frowned, “ready? what are you about to do, you just healed your ankle from jumping two stories, don’t do that again.”

rafe shrugged, “i can and i will. just . . tell her about how much i can press. girls like that right? does she look like she’s into bench pressing? don’t look at her. say something about how i fix cars. and i can fix her car if she has a car. if she doesn’t, tell her i’ll buy her one.”

topper stood, making his way over while walking backwards, “so, that’s all gonna scare her. i got it,” he turned around, making his way towards you.

rafe shifted in his chair, crossing a leg over the over, then putting them back down. he stretched to flex his arms, then quickly put them down too. how the heck do you sit?

while rafe wondered that, topper was doing his best to introduce rafe, “he’s not all quite there . . crazy with a wrench, though.”

rafe looked up after he settled himself when you turned your head to look at him, smiling when you spotted him. that means go, right? rafe sprung up, making his way over, not being able to sit still for another second now that you looked at him. smiled at him.

“sup?” he said once he reached you two, gesturing his head for topper to go away. topper got the hint, returning to his seat. passing rafe, he muttered, “she doesn’t have a car.”

rafe blurted, “i can buy you one,” startling you. he wasn’t able to see topper shaking his head in disappointment as he walked away. your brows scrunched, “sorry?”

rafe smiled nervously, “me too. um, i can buy you a jacket. you look cold,” you realized you were rubbing your arm, “oh, yeah. no, it’s fine. not that bad,” you laughed slightly.

rafe shook his head, anxious you were cold and possibly uncomfortable, “no, if you’re cold, i’ll get you a jacket.”

you tilted your lips, “it’s fine, really. i’m leaving soon, anyway. kind of bored . . was that your friend?” you attempted conversation, but rafe was distracted, staring at you after you mentioned leaving, until he heard the last part of the sentence.

“huh? no, don’t think about him. where are you going?” he didn’t want you to leave yet. did topper talk about his bench press? did you care? did you want to see the callous on his hand from handling tools?

“uh . . just back home. my comfy place,” you muttered shyly. rafe nodded, then frowned. you don’t have a car, are you walking? alone? “i can walk you. i can buy you a jacket on the way. what kind of cars do you like?”

you couldn’t keep up with all that he said at once. you giggled, rafe slightly going weak in the knees at the sound, “sure, you can walk me. i’m still fine about the jacket. mustang’s are pretty cool. what’s your favorite?”

rafe responded distractedly, “the one that drives. you said i can walk you?”

you really have never met a guy like him, “yeah, but i don’t even know your name,” you narrowed your eyes, jokingly suspicious. you didn’t expect rafe’s response, “i’d endure fifteen stab wounds before i hurt you, i’m rafe,” he held his hand out.

your eyes widened, “oh . . don’t do that. nice to meet you,” you shook his hand, responding with your name, then turned to start walking. rafe followed alongside you, thinking about how sweaty his hands just were and how you probably didn’t like that. is he walking alright? are you sure you don’t want a jacket?

“your hand . . ” you suddenly spoke. rafe stilled slightly, scared you noticed the sweatiness. great one, rafe. but then you continued, “it felt rough. what’s on it?” rafe turned to you quickly, excited you brought it up and not the sweat thing. he extended his hand again, “i have a callous, look . . ”

[zeltqz]

PICS & VIDEOS — caleb

✈︎ content warning | references hidden waves memory (sick caleb), phone sex, i made tara a freak cuz why not, simone hates caleb lol, suggestive texts, lingerie photos, caleb sends a dp, reader sends her wet fingers lol, no actual sex yet, just phone sex, sexually frustrated reader, caleb whimpers cuz i want him to, colonel caleb era, caleb abuses emoticons lol i love him ✈︎ synopsis | you are getting sick and tired of caleb always pulling away from potential kisses. frustrated, you take it up with your friends who give you advice on how to get him to fold. send him pics.

“I’m telling you Tara, he literally won’t make the first move. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

Tara rubbed her chin. “Hm. And you’re sure he likes you?”

Beside you, Simone scoffed. “Unfortunately yes. It’s obvious.”

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to address her one-sided beef with Caleb. “Yes, Tara.”

“How is it obvious? I only met him once.”

“And you couldn’t see how obvious it was?” Simone added, genuinely surprised Tara missed the obvious clues. “He wouldn’t stop staring at her like all day. The whole time we ate, he was just staring at her. Not even subtle too. I would’ve thought you two kissed by now, or at the very least fucked.” Simone looked at you now. “Seriously, why don’t you just make the first move?”

“I dunno?! It’s weird…and as much as I dream about just grabbing his face and kissing him, in the moment I just chicken out…”

Tara hummed, stroking her chin again. “I see. I see. And you know for certain he likes you? Besides the staring, and all.”

You nodded. “Yeah.” You looked down at the table, at the fries sitting on your tray, reminiscing about the last time you were in Skyhaven. 

Caleb had caught a cold from standing in the rain for too long, and the two of you were on awkward terms after an argument. He didn’t want you to see him while sick but eventually relented and let you inside his room. You checked his temperature and he was burning up, so you didn’t want to take your hands off his face, caressing his red cheeks, embracing his warmth. You sang for him, and he leaned in, and you just knew it’d finally be the moment you kissed. You even closed your eyes shut, waiting to feel his lips against yours, but he pulled himself away and turned to the side. Obviously you were frustrated, no denying that, and you were about to just leave his room before he pulled you in for a hug. Though you didn’t kiss, the hug was more intimate than you’d imagined. Every time Caleb was sick, even in the past, he rarely let you see him in that state. To see him so weak and vulnerable, unable to stop coughing, his red cheeks and ears. In that moment you wanted nothing more than to just be with him.

You were unaware of how long you were just staring off into space as you recalled the memory from a few weeks ago. Tara and Simone share a look with each other. 

“Um, hello?” Simone waved in front of your face. You blinked yourself back to reality and looked between the both of them. Simone got a good look at your face and clicked her tongue. “You’re so whipped.”

“I’m not!”

Tara cheered. “Wait, were you thinking about him?!” She questioned, and your face flushed even harder. You looked away, and she cheered even louder. “Tell me what you were thinking about!”

Simone, who’d rather die than admit she was curious, rested her elbow on the table, cheek in palm as she turned to look at you, waiting for the explanation.

You sighed and told them the story in extreme detail about your last encounter with Caleb in Skyhaven. Though it started on bad terms, the two of you had been even closer than before. You text every single day whenever he can respond, and when he’s unable to come to the phone, you always spam him with funny videos, and emojis. And he responds to every single one of them. You two fall asleep on the phone almost every night, if he doesn’t come home too late from work, and wake up to see either him still dead asleep, or the call being cut, but he always follows it up with:

Sorry for hanging up, i had to head to work ;-; ill text you as soon as i come back :D 

You hadn’t spoken to him in the last few days though, as he was leading a team to explore the Deepspace Tunnel and would be out of service for at least 5 days. It’s only day 3 and you’ve been missing him so much, it’s crazy. He’s what you think of when you fall asleep, and wake up. You’re not even safe from him in your dreams.

“I’ve got a question,” Tara says, raising her hand up.

“Proceed.” You gesture for her to continue.

She leaned in across the table, cupping her hand around her mouth. “Can I be the maid of honour at your wedding?”

“TARA!” you exclaim. Simone nearly snorts her milkshake up her nose at your reaction. The two of them start laughing and you chuckle a bit yourself. They continue talking and you whip out your phone to open your messages with Caleb, eying the message you sent him this morning.

08:44 I just woke upppp. I’m heading to lunch with some friends today!!! I’ll send you some photos you can salvate over once u get back

You swipe to the camera and snap a photo of your half eaten burger with fries, sending it in chat with a yummy emoji.

13:33 Bet u wish this was u huhhhhhhhhhhh

You throw the fact he has to be on a strict diet in his face, adding a few random emojis before turning off your phone. 

“She was texting him just now,” Simone’s voice startled you. 

“No I wasn’t.”

“Look at that grin on your face.”

You quickly drop the smile you didn’t know existed off your face. “I’m not grinning!”

“You so are!” Simone cackled, leaning into your personal space, eyeing your phone. “Show me what you said.”

“It’s not much,” you say, turning your phone back on. “Just send him a picture of my food.”

Simone looked at the one sided replies, how you’ve been spamming him with messages for the last three days and he hasn’t been online since. She raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, is he ghosting you?”

“What? No.” You take your phone back and hand it to Tara who was struggling to see from the other side of the table. “He’s just on a mission right now. Five days long. I always spam him with he’s unavailable. He says I can tell him whatever is on my mind.”

“Mm-hm,” Simone hummed.

“You know what would be so crazy?” Tara said, scrolling through your messages. 

“What?” you and Simone say in unison.

“If you sent him nudes.”

You nearly choked on air, Simone’s eyes widening at the words coming out of Tara’s mouth. 

“It’s always the innocent looking ones, huh.”

Tara giggled. Meanwhile you were still in a state of shock. 

“Um??? Isn’t that a bit far?”

“Well, no,” Tara defended. “Think about it. You two are basically dating already, just haven’t made it official. And you said you want him to make the first move right? How will he know if its okay to do or not if he doesn’t know you are just as into him as he’s into you? And since you don’t wanna kiss him first, show him you’re into him at least with a few picturesssssss.”

On the surface she wasn’t wrong, you couldn’t deny that. Growing up, Caleb had seen your body before, it wasn’t unusual. Beach days where you were mainly in bikinis, heatwaves where you were wearing mainly shorts and crop tops. He’d even walked in on you changing a few times, and vice versa. It wouldn’t be anything he hadn’t vaguely seen before. But the thought of actually doing it make a knot form in your stomach. But it also made arousal pool between your legs at the thought of him seeing you in a different light.

Maybe this would be the transition you both needed to take your relationship to a different level.

You finally spoke after a while of contemplation. “I mean, sure. But I’ve never taken any before. I don’t even own sexy clothes.”

Simone waved you off. “It’s not that hard. Men are so easy to please. I got you.” She finished her milkshake in a few sucks and set the empty cup down on the table. “Come on, let’s go shopping.”

“Shopping?” you questioned.

Tara squealed. “Shopping, yes!” She quickly got up from her seat and dragged you out of yours. 

Tara and Simone led you out of the food court  and into Victoria’s Secret a few floors down. The three of you spent the next two hours picking different outfits, ranging from two piece sets, to one pieces, bralettes and panties. You ended up spending more than you thought you would’ve but it was all worth it. 

You took them back to your house and the photoshoot began. Was it awkward at first? Yes. You barely wore tight fitted, revealing outfits, especially ones as sexual as this. But after a few test photos, your body loosened up and you gradually became more confident. 

“Press your boobs together,” Tara shouted from behind the camera. You were laying flat on your back, your head hanging off the bed as you stared into the camera. 

“This position looks silly,” you comment. 

“You look smoking hot though!!”

Simone moves behind Tara and bends down to peek at the camera. She wrinkled her nose. “I agree. It looks a bit silly.”

You sat up, sighing. “Thank you.”

“Okay wait, what about sucking a finger into your mouth? Would Caleb be into that? Ooh! Or arching your back on the bed?” The longer you spent with Tara today, you realised she’s not as innocent as she looks. She really is the mastermind behind the operation. From picking out each lingerie set, to looking up seductive posts on Pinterest to make you copy. 

“Are the ones we took now not enough?” you asked, muscles and back aching from bending over and twisting your body in such unnecessary positions. 

“If you’re this tired after some nudes, how are you gonna get the stamina to get fucked hard by Caleb?” Tara retorted. 

“I—”

Simone grabbed the phone and began scrolling through the photos. She picked out one she really liked and turned the phone to you. “This is the one you should send.”

It wasn’t any of the over the top poses Tara suggested. It was plain and simple but it got the job done. You were laying flat on the bed, holding the camera up in the form of a selfie, and biting your fingernail. The camera covered everything from your lips, down to your mid thigh, covered in fishnets from the lingerie.  

“This one? Really?” you asked as you examined the photo. You weren’t denying you looked hot in it, but doubts were starting to fill your mind. What if he thinks you’re being desperate? Or if he thinks it’s distasteful to expose yourself like this for no reason. Though you know Caleb would never think of you that way, your brain can’t help but convince you otherwise. 

“Or or maybe I should just delete them,” you request in a panic as Tara and Simone go through all the photos to see if there’s any better ones. 

Upon hearing your request, Tara nearly breaks her neck with how quickly she looked up. “ExCUZE ME?! Delete them?! For what???! Why!”

“Because! What if he doesn’t like them? Or thinks I’m…desperate?” You scratch your arm, looking down at your thighs. 

Simone’s nose twitched. “Then I’ll beat his ass.”

Tara added. “Well, it’ll suck if he does. But with how you described him, I don’t think he’d look at you that way. And if he does, you can always just say “oops meant to send to someone else” to save face. OH! We can even do the prank where we dress up as a boy and take photos to make him jealous!”

Hearing that, Simone smirked. “I’ll happily do that for you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No you’re right. Caleb wouldn’t do that. He’s never as much belittled me or even insulted me before in my life. I genuinely cant think of a negative think he’s said to me.”

“Soooooooo what’s the holdup?” Tara commented. 

You shrugged. “I’ll send it. I just need time to process before I do it.” They both deadpanned you and you continued, feeling the urge to defend yourself. “You guys won’t understand! I’ve known him for over a decade! Almost 14 years! This kinda stuff you don’t send to someone like that without at least thinking it through.”

“You’re right,” they both hesitantly agreed. 

You don’t end up sending Caleb the picture that night. Or the night after that. The day he’s supposed to return from his mission, you’re in bed, scrolling back through your messages. With no fault of yours, you had gone months without contact with him, assuming he was dead and all, but now you can barely even handle a few days. 

His profile displayed a green dot beside his name and you sat up quickly, eyes darting all over your messages and seeing the “Read” Message pop up on each one. 

He responds to each of them one by one, and your smile can’t stop growing as you see him reach the final message, the one about the burger. 

Now you’re just showing off >:( 

Anyway I’m back safe and sound from my mission did ya miss me ;)

yes so much

You responded without missing more than a second. 

Oh didn’t expect you respond that quickly you MUSTVE missed me that bad huh

How much did u miss me? 

You could tell him straight up. Tell him about how you read his messages everyday, thought about him almost every second for the last five days. Or you could just show him. 

You opened your camera roll and picked out the photo. Your thumb trembled over the send button before finally pressing down on it. Your stomach dropped as you saw it send in chat officially. It was too late now. 

Caleb read it and stayed quiet. Thirty seconds passed and he didn’t respond and you felt like you wanted to throw up. Your thumbs were already typing out Tara’s excuse: oh sorry! I meant to send that to someone else 

And before you could press send, Caleb responded. 

Is that for me?

You swallowed. If you said yes, and he hated it, then your excuse wouldn’t work anymore. You decided to risk it all and simply respond truthfully. 

Yes. Is it…bad?

Caleb takes longer to respond than usual and less than thirty seconds later a picture sends in chat. His cock stands tall in frame, precum leaking out from the tip. His hand has a firm grin around the base off it, the tip a reddish hue in comparison to its natural pink colour.

Your breathing stopped as you stared at it. This was Caleb’s dick. You were fucking staring at his dick. 

You swiped out of the picture and sent a 😧😯😮😲 combination. The two of you often communicated through emojis and you weren’t sure how to respond with words. 

Caleb sent crying emojis. 

Did you like it?

Yes? You’ve been hiding that the whole time? 

Says you. I knew your body was gorgeous but fuck. 

You fought the urge to kick your feet together, curling into a ball on your side as you tried to not let his words get to you. Clearing your throat, you refocus yourself and send another message. 

Sooooo what now 🧍‍♀️

I dunno 🧍

You get ready to type a response before he double texts. 

Do you wanna call?

You never thought you’d see the day you’d actually be nervous answering a call from Caleb before. 

Yes

You barely had time to let the message marinate before Caleb started calling. Readying yourself, you pressed the phone up to your ear and swiped. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he responded, taking a deep breath. “Is it just me or is this sorta awkward now.”

“No it’s definitely awkward,” you joked, laughing under your breath. 

“I mean, I can always blame you for it.”

“What?” You almost shrieked and broke your back with how quick you sat up from your bed. “How is this my fault?!”

“Nobody asked you to send me that sexy photo out of nowhere,” he joked, tone light despite his words. You didn’t take anything to heart however. 

“Yeah, well be grateful. Otherwise you would’ve died without seeing a girl in lingerie before.”

“How do you know I haven’t seen that before?”

“Because I know you, Caleb.” You said each word slowly. “Or at least I hope you haven’t.” You paused, voice softening ever so slightly. “Have you?”

“I was joking around. Of course I hadn’t. I am assuming though you’d never seen another guys dick before?”

“Well obviously I have. Like in movies and stuff. But not in person.”

“What kind of movies were you watching?” he questioned, suspiciously. 

“You know! Just movies! Shut up,” you whined, ignoring his obnoxious laughter. “Anyway, dudes sent me unsolicited pics in college all the time. I’ve seen dicks before. They weren’t like yours though.” The words spilled from your mouth without even realising you said it. 

“Oh? What’s the difference between mine and theirs?”

You didn’t realise the interest in his tone with how distracted you were, eyes closed and picturing the sight of Caleb’s dick in the black fog of your mind. You could always go back and look at the photo, but you wanted to burn the sight in your memory first. 

“Yours was bigger. And for once, looking at a dick didn’t make me wanna throw up. Theirs were so…ew. Like it was never hard, which is so fucking offensive. If you’re gonna send me that shit unsolicited by the way, at least sprout a hard on or something. Fucking hell.”

Caleb laughed. “You should’ve seen how quick your picture got me hard. It’s not normal.” His voice dropped a little and you inhaled sharply. 

“R—really?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, sounding slightly out of breath, his breathing ragged. 

“What did you like about it?” you questioned, shifting down onto your back on the bed. 

“Everything. Fuck. You—why are you so hot?” His voice betrayed him at that moment. He let out a soft moan and you could hear wet sounds in the background if you listened close enough. 

Your hand trailed down your stomach, entering your panties and softly rubbing your clit. “W—what else?” 

“Your skin. Looks so soft—mm—and your lips around your finger? Holy fuck.” His filter was long gone now, freely speaking his mind about your body. Your thighs clenched together. 

“Do you wish they were wrapped around something else?”

“God yes,” he sounded so whiny, his hand moving faster up and down his aching cock. “You don’t know how much I love your lips.” He says your name and for a moment you freeze up. 

It’s not often he says your name, and you’ve been so used to just hearing him address you as Pipsqueak. Hearing your name roll off his tongue so easily, and with how whiny he sounds right now, you couldn’t help but insert a finger into yourself. 

Your legs twitched as you began pumping your finger in and out, back arching off the bed and an involuntary moan left your throat. “Caleb—”

“Yes, princess? What is it?”

“I wanna see you so bad right now—mm—fuck.” You gasped as you curled your fingers inside you, shoving them as deep as you could. “I need you.”

“I need you more. Shit. I’m gonna cum soon,” he announced, squeezing the tip of his cock whenever his hand reached it. 

“It’s hard to make myself come,”  you whined. You were never able to successfully have an orgasm on your own and it was frustrating. You wanted nothing more than to experience it first hand right now with Caleb. 

“I’ll help you. Shit. I can teach you. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Next time I see you, I promise.”

“Please,” your voice barely reached the mic. 

“Fuck!” he let out a loud moan as he came, heavy pants slowly turning to whimpers as his cock milked him dry. He couldn’t control his breathing for at least thirty seconds and you just listened to him pant until he caught himself. 

Letting out one more shaky exhale, he tried to swallow but his throat was dry. “Fuck my throat hurts.”

You laughed and pulled your fingers out. Unable to reach an orgasm, you frowned. But the promise he left earlier gave you hope. 

“Go drink some water dummy.” You looked down at your fingers, glistening with your slick and contemplated. “Wait Caleb.”

“Hm?”

“Check chat.”

You put the phone on speaker and opened the chat camera, taking a photo of your wet index and middle finger, a string of slick connecting them both. You captioned it:

Drink me instead

Feeling more bold, you sent it without even batting an eye. You could hear the exact moment Caleb processed your message with his sharp inhale.  You heard the sound of screenshots being taken, once, twice, then three times. 

“Okay okay damn chill out,” you said while laughing, Caleb joining in. 

“What does it taste like?” he asked, utterly curious. 

“Come find out,” you responded, voice just as sultry as your words. 

“Don’t tempt me. I’ll come over right now.”

“Wait now?” You glanced at the clock, the time reading almost 2 am. “You have work in the morning don’t you?”

“So what? I have bigger priorities right now.”

On one hand it would be so wrong for the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel to miss work over some pussy, but on the other hand, you hated the goddamn fleet. 

“Well what are you waiting for?”

authors note: can i just say i literally love this man with everything in me like WTF???? HES SO CUTE AND HOT AND I JUST WANNA SQQUEEZE HIS FACE

he brought me out of my writers slump😩🙇🏽‍♀️

[gothicflowers]

damn why did Kyle’s ass block us tho

Continuing this Gaz blurb

*4 months later*

Gaz still felt guilty, and even worse… he couldn’t get off without recalling the way your body moved and voice sounded that night. Gaz was ruined. The innocent pictures he had of you when you two went to the beach once were like a playboy magazine to him. He tried a few hookups from shitty pubs but none compared to how you made him feel. Loved, warm, safe… happy.

He tried going on a few dates… one he accidentally called her your name as they were making out in his car. The other looked like you but lacked personality. Needless to say karma was biting Kyle in the ass.

“So you blocked her, after you took her to the fanciest steakhouse, wine back at her place while sharing secrets… and had the best shag of your life” soap says from the other side of the aircraft. “And let’s not forget all the cute couple shit you two had been doing”

“Who we talking about” ghost questions.

“Lass that Gaz was seeing months ago, and bloody blew it after a quick shag from the sound of it” soap snickers.

“I thought you were still seeing her” ghost questions.

“I didn’t think I’d actually sleep with her, that wasn’t my goal. And no, it’s been a while” gaz defensively replied.

Soap pinches the bridge of his nose “so your original plan was essentially a break off date”.

Gaz shrugs “I didn’t want her last memory of me to be me saying see you later after our usual Sunday walk. Plus we were never technically together”.

Prices eyebrows raised “So you just strung her along for a month and you were going to ghost her regardless of how the night ended”.

“Well… yeah and it was actually more like five months” gaz sheepishly replied.

The men went silent as they gathered their thoughts. Price being the first to speak up after a painful awkward silence “five months, you bastard she probably was falling in love with you, then you decided to pull the shittiest move a man can make”

“I panicked” Gaz shrugs and diverts his eyes from his captains burning gaze.

Ghost chuckles “wrong, you premeditated disappearing from her life. Sounds like you got a fear of commitment”.

Gaz defensive responds “I do not, it’s just with what we do it’s not worth the risk. I mean what if something happens”

“Sounds exactly like something a person with commitment issues would say” ghost quickly replied.

Soap decides to add fuel to the fire “Aye didn’t you do the same thing with the last gal you liked. Maybe it’s the chase you like. Love ‘em and leave ‘em“.

“Fuck off soap” Gaz responds trying to control his irritation.

Price sighs “I didn’t realize how much of my life I wasted having that mentality when I was your age. Had some fun one night stands but the loneliness catches up real quick. Granted things are turning up for me but boy do I feel like I missed out on that young love”.

Gaz starts to think about what price said. After a plane ride home in deep thought he asks price one last question before departing base “So what should I do to get her back”

Prices brows furrowed “You want something optimistic or something realistic”

“Fuck, realistic I guess” gaz leans against the doorframe of prices base office.

Price stands next to a filing cabinet and shakes his head “Honestly I’ll be amazed if she gives you as much as a moment to explain. But if she’s does let you, be honest about why you left and apologize. No point in lying when you have everything to gain and you can’t lose what you’ve already lost Sargent” price gives him a sincere look “regardless of how it turns out you need to let this be a teaching moment. Because maybe she doesn’t take you back, maybe life sends someone else your way. But if you get that lucky you know better than to fuck it up like this ever again”.

Gaz nods “Would flowers be a nice addition to the apology”.

Price smirks “I don’t think flowers will help your cause much, but maybe it’s sweeten her up”.

Gaz nods “thanks, see you later captain”

Gaz needs a plan to get you back, forever hopefully.

*the next day*

She wasn’t even home. So Gaz decides on waiting to see if you’ll come home anytime soon by sitting on your front door steps for two hours. He has no plans to leave until he sees your pretty face.

Gaz scrolls endlessly on his phone when the sound of heels awaken his senses, only to actually look up when he hears your voice “What are you doing here” you very clearly are not happy to see him.

Gaz stands up with flowers in his hand, clearing his voice he carefully starts his plan “I came to explain, but more importantly apologize”. Gaz sheepishly said.

Your eyes look down at the flowers in his hand, appalled. “No need honestly, I’ve moved on and I think you should to”.

Shit this isn’t going well Gaz thinks. Time to take the soft puppy dog approach. He takes a step forward to you and his eyes fill with hurt “Would you at least let me explain, if you don’t want to hear it I’ll leave now but at least let me be honest as to why I ran off”

You huff defeated, hard to say no when he’s looking at you like that but you can’t give in. “Nothing you can say will change my mind”.

“My job. It’s dangerous and I was worried that it wouldn’t work out because of the demands. And I didn’t plan on sleeping with you. Honestly I just wanted you to have a nice night before I disappeared” gaz trying to reach for your hand, you move back.

“That’s great Kyle. Well my boyfriend just left his office and I’m making dinner, so I really don’t have time for this” you fumble with your keys, as they slip to the ground Gaz picks them up and unlocks to door for you.

“At least let me help carry all this in for you and I’ll be on my way” he politely asked. Praying you’ll let him in.

You sigh a defeated “Fine”. You walk in the door first as Gaz grabs the rest of the bags on the porch. He watches as your hips sway, he can feel the blood in body start to boil. Stay calm, stay fucking calm.

Your home still smells like fresh cotton and lavender. Still perfectly tidy and comfortable. He looks over at that corner sofa where you two made out. He closes the front door and walks to the kitchen and sets the groceries on the counter, he notices a silver watch with a rather large band. Must be a big fella. That’s when he hears the front door open and close. A heavy set of footsteps approaches silently.

“I think you should get going now” you say plainly avoiding Kyle’s burning gaze. He hurt you too much for you to have a moment of doubt.

A deep voice speaks as the footsteps stop at the kitchen “Sargent”.

Gaz turns around to the voice in the room and swallows hard.

“Captain”

Pt.3

[walkawaytall]

A lot of us actually are very aware and we fully support y’all doing all of this.

The reason you may not hear us talking about it is because it’s currently a hypothetical, while we’re having to deal with a ton of stuff that’s already happened.

In the five weeks since Trump has been in office, the White House has issued over 250 proclamations of some kind. Some are serious, others aren’t. It’s a lot to sift through, and overwhelming citizens is the point.

Our president has been issuing illegal orders — some of which literally go against our Constitution — and courts have been slow to respond.

Elon Musk and his band of non-qualified programmers have been irresponsibly sifting through government spending allegedly to find fraud and waste, but since they’re not auditors and don’t know anything about the government, they’ve mainly just been sowing chaos and accessing citizens’ sensitive data for reasons no one quite understands. Like, they literally have fired people from two departments that they had to then backtrack because it turns out, oopsie, we really do need people who understand how our nukes work on the payroll.

The White House is removing news outlets from their press room that choose to still use “Gulf of Mexico” in their international publications because they’ve decided that calling that body of water anything other than the “Gulf of America” is “lying”.

Our representatives are constantly pushing bills that are blatant loyalty signals, like the proposition that would allow Trump to serve a third term (but, coincidentally, not Obama).

Our President is ignoring the checks placed on his office and actively consolidating power under his position that belongs to other branches of government.

We are calling our representatives multiple times a week about a number of things, but our attention can only be pulled in so many directions.

We know Canadians are pissed. And many of us are pissed, too. But we’re busy trying to put out a thousand fires; we can’t also focus on the possibility that the arsonist is toying with the idea of setting another, especially when this arsonist had a tendency to pull out a box of matches with no intent to light them just to freak people out.

I am really, really sorry that our leaders keep threatening this. Please know that many of us stand with y’all in doing what you need to do. We just may not be expressing it right now because there are so many active issues that need our immediate attention.

Americans have no idea just how pissed off Canadians are about Trump.

Like, the tariff thing got us mad, but the 51st state thing? It's got us seething.

Liberals, progressives, even most of the Conservatives are all united on this.

We're sharing lists of Canadian-owned alternatives to American brands.

We're cancelling tourist trips to the US (one lady in a news story said she cancelled a trip to Florida for six and doesn't regret losing $1,300 due to the cancellation).

And if we have to go to the US, such as the couple who's selling their California home? We're taking Canadian flights instead.

Some travel agencies have seen as much as a 40% decrease in bookings of flights from Canada to the US, and it's estimated it'll affect at least $2.1 billion dollars of the travel industry alone (not counting the tourism side of things like Disney trips and hotel bookings).

I've also heard of people from the Commonwealth cancelling trips to the US to visit Canada instead, and the same from people in Europe.

[transmutationisms]

Hey. So that claim that stimulants do completely different things for people who “have ADHD” and “don’t have ADHD” is obviously bullshit but I was wondering if you happen to have read anything I could refer to about that

Okay I want to try using this to break down how I would actually approach this type of question, inspired by some posts I've seen recently about how to read and analyse things that are wrong / bad / liberal.

I don't have, off the top of my head, a published & refereed source that discusses this particular claim. I'm pretty certain there is at least one such thing out there. But I'm also pretty confident it won't be very good. The claim it's responding to is relatively historically recent, & is cloaked in still-fashionable neurobiological terms. Also, the literature on ADHD is bad in general, and so is the general quality of the kinds of imaging studies that are cited to support such claims about 'brain differences.'

If I were writing a literature review or a historiography, here is the part where I would need to go find these things anyway. Then I would have to explain how they make their arguments and what's missing, and depending on the scope of the piece I might have to explain my own philosophical / political position, and advance my methodological critique of the literature I just spent several days finding & reading.

Fortunately I'm writing a tumblr post & my sense is your actual question is "how can I better argue against this obviously bullshit claim," so I don't have to do any of that. There's not really much point sinking that kind of time and effort into finding a source I already think is unlikely to adequately make the argument I'm looking for anyway.

Instead, I would now look at the claim itself. What must be true in order for it to hold?

ADHD brains differ from non-ADHD brains

This difference is relevant to the action/metabolism of stimulant drugs

Okay, claim two on that list requires dealing with psychopharmacology & very exact physiological mechanisms, which means a shitload more reading and most of it punishingly dry and technical. Sad & bad.

Fortunately, though, I already know -- from every reading ever, as well as my experience existing on earth -- that ADHD is not diagnosed by any sort of brain scan, anatomical observation, blood test, etc, but by subjective (yes, even if they made you do it on a computer) clinical observation. Hmm, that's super weird for something that is a 'brain difference.'

I also know that psychiatric categories are difficult to correlate with biological observations even where those observations do exist, because an imaging study on ADHD is necessarily only pulling the 'ADHD sample' from people already diagnosed with ADHD. It's circular. Philosophically this is the same problem I laid out in section one of 'What is an alien?' (which you can read & understand even if the main topic of the essay doesn't interest you).

And I also know that brain imaging studies generally are riddled with serious methodological flaws (post discusses the dead salmon study among others) and don't actually produce meaningful, replicable biological distinctions in any kind of correlation with psychiatric categories (also, variation within categories is also very high).

Oh, wait. Now the claim above looks like patent nonsense with zero philosophical foundations. The burden of proof is on whoever's making that claim, & the basic underlying principles are wrong. Yayyyy.

This exercise means 1) I've sat down and reasoned through my own opinion, giving me clarity on why I think what I do and what evidence would change my mind and 2) from now on, when I see someone else make the claim I'm responding to here, I'll know off the bat that they haven't done the same & are starting from a very credulous attitude toward very low-quality research. And I didn't do this by trawling the literature until I found the exact thing I was looking for, but by thinking through the arguments and evaluating a body of literature that is generally explicitly hostile to the kinds of critiques I make & respect.

[zeroseuniverse]

Oh my gosh I need to know how their Wooyoung's date goes please 🙏🏻 💕

You Are The Only Exception

Word Count: 832 Summary: "You brought me to a café?" you mused as you slid into your seat. "I was expecting something more… chaotic." Pairing: Wooyoung X Reader

Navigation

Wooyoung showed up at your door looking… different. Not drastically so—he was still Wooyoung, still had that effortless charm—but something about him felt quieter. Like, for once, he wasn’t trying to fill the air with noise.

"You clean up nice," you teased, eyeing the way he’d traded his usual playful wardrobe for something a little neater—still casual, but with an intentionality you hadn’t seen before.

"Had to step up my game," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Didn’t want to mess this up."

That caught you off guard. Wooyoung never seemed nervous. Yet here he was, shifting his weight slightly, watching you like your reaction actually mattered.

You softened. "So, what’s the plan?"

He perked up at that. "Come find out."

The two of you ended up at a quiet little café, tucked away from the usual crowds. It was cozy, the kind of place that felt untouched by time, with warm lighting and soft music playing in the background.

"You brought me to a café?" you mused as you slid into your seat. "I was expecting something more… chaotic."

Wooyoung chuckled. "I thought about it. But I wanted to actually talk to you—without distractions, without me being, y'know, me all the time."

You tilted your head. "And who are you being right now?"

His gaze flickered to yours, steady in a way that made your heart stutter. "Just… someone who really likes you."

You weren’t sure how to respond to that.

For once, there were no jokes, no over-the-top gestures. Just Wooyoung, looking at you like he meant every word.

The conversation came easily after that. He asked about your favorite books, your childhood memories, the little things that most people never thought to ask. And he listened—really listened. No interruptions, no teasing, just quiet attention.

At some point, you realized how natural it felt. How easy it was to just be with him.

"You’re not what I expected," you admitted, stirring your drink.

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I mean, I knew you were obnoxious," you teased, earning an exaggerated gasp. "But I didn’t expect you to be… this thoughtful."

He smiled, something small and genuine. "I meant what I said. I never wanted this to be a game."

You let that settle between you, warm and certain.

And for the first time, you let yourself believe it.

The café had long since emptied of its earlier rush, leaving behind only the quiet hum of conversation from a few late-night customers. Your drinks sat half-finished between you, but neither of you made a move to leave.

You weren’t ready for this night to end.

Wooyoung leaned back in his seat, fingers tapping lightly against his cup. He had relaxed sometime during the night, the nervous edge from earlier melting into something softer, more open. His usual playful grin was still there, but it was gentler now—not a mask, just him.

"You know," he started, tilting his head, "I think this is the longest we’ve ever talked without you threatening me."

You laughed. "Don’t get used to it."

His eyes twinkled with amusement. "Too late. I like this side of you."

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. "You act like I’m some cold-hearted villain."

"Never said that," he countered smoothly. "But you do have walls."

Your fingers tightened slightly around your cup. "And you don’t?"

Wooyoung exhaled a soft laugh, nodding as he conceded the point. "Fair enough." He traced the rim of his cup with his fingertip, suddenly thoughtful. "I think people assume I don’t take things seriously because I joke around so much."

You stayed quiet, sensing there was more he wanted to say.

"But I do," he murmured. "Especially when it comes to the people that matter."

Your heart did something complicated in your chest.

"Wooyoung…"

His eyes lifted to yours, warm and steady. "I don’t want to rush you," he said quietly. "I know I’ve spent so much time pretending none of this mattered, but it does. You do. And if you need time to figure out how you feel about that, I’ll wait."

You weren’t sure when it had happened—when the flirt who drove you insane became the person sitting across from you, saying things that made your breath catch.

Maybe it had always been there, underneath the teasing and the quips. Maybe you had just refused to see it.

The weight of his words settled between you, steady and patient.

"I don’t think I need time," you admitted, voice quieter now. "I think I just needed to hear you say it."

His lips parted slightly, as if surprised by your honesty. But then, slowly, that warm, genuine smile spread across his face—the one he didn’t show just anyone.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Wooyoung reached across the table, fingers brushing tentatively against yours. It wasn’t a grand gesture, nothing dramatic. Just warmth, a quiet promise between you.

And for the first time, you let yourself hold on.

[halsteadlover]

𝐀𝐧 𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐎𝐧𝐞

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Fem!Reader.

• Requested by @hart-kinsella: Basically, the fan fic could be set at one of Jay's Intelligence colleagues' wedding and mc is one of the bride's closest friends; the bride wants to set her up with one hot cop (could also be one who works on patrol). It could either be that the 'chosen' guy is not Jay, but then mc and Jay naturally connect at the reception (maybe through her wanting to avoid the guy she's set up with) or Jay being the 'set up' guy from minute 1 and them just meeting there (with the usual embaressement that comes from friends insisting you should get together) and hitting it off immediately.

• Warnings: curse words/strong language, mention of alcohol consumption, lots of tension and physical contact, heavy making out, suggestive at the end.

• Word count: 8.8k

• A/N: PLEASE READ ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+ DUE TO SUGGESTIVE THEMES. The way I was so excited about this fic but I reread it and now I hate it why am I like this 😭 Let me know in the comments what do you think about this one, I love you all ❤️

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” you said to Kim as you watched her sip the champagne from her glass, her huge ring shining against the lights of the room.

She was radiant, a smile plastered on her lips as wide as you had ever seen her in all the time you were friends. She was happy and your heart exploded with joy seeing her finally have her happy ending with Adam, especially after everything they’ve been through.

She looked beautiful in her white wedding dress and you couldn’t hide the tears of happiness you shed when you saw her walk down the aisle, a radiant smile on her lips. Adam looked at her with eyes so bright and full of love it made you wonder if there’d ever be someone who’d look at you like that, as if you were the only person who mattered, as if without you he couldn’t even breathe.

“Of course it’s a good idea! There’s nothing better than a blind date with a hot cop,” she finished sipping her champagne and set it down on the tray as a waiter walked by, thanking him immediately after. “You don’t trust me? Have I ever let you down on the men front?”

You didn’t respond, just looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay there might’ve been some unfortunate meetings but this won’t be the case. Please, please, please. I swear he’s a really cute and good guy!” She begged, putting on her cute puppy face that not even the devil could resist.

Little bitch.

You sighed and rolled your eyes and that was enough to make her clap her hands with joy. “Only because it’s your day.”

“You won’t regret it, I promise.”

The fact was you were already regretting it.

You had never been very good at blind dates, you hated not knowing who you were going to talk to and spend the evening with, you wanted to be able to decide first if you liked that person. What if you didn’t like him, or if he didn’t like you? It would’ve been very awkward.

Actually, it was. It was definitely awkward.

Kim had pointed out from afar a man who was talking to Adam—ignoring how the latter was watching Kim without ever taking his eyes off her even while talking to other people—and you took your time to observe him.

He was a tall man, from behind you noticed his ash blonde hair and a statuesque body that was embraced by a tuxedo. Without even saying anything, Kim grabbed your hand and dragged you towards them, ignoring your signs of protest.

You were so nervous and you hated it.

And it certainly didn’t help that Kim had made it her mission to pair you up with someone, since you were the only single girl in your group of friends.

But you were happy, you weren’t lonely, you were fine being alone and that was important, you didn’t need a man by your side to determine your happiness. You defined your own happiness.

“Hi babe,” Kim greeted her husband, who smiled before sliding his arm around her hips and kissing her. The two of them were so in love it was almost disgusting. “Sorry I was rude. Caleb, I wanted you to meet my friend.”

Your cheeks flushed red as you felt the man’s gaze on you. “Oh so you’re the famous Y/n right? I’ve heard so much about you.”

God please have mercy.

“I hope only good things,” you replied with a smile and offered him your hand, which he immediately shook. The way his eyes moved up and down your body made your skin crawl, and the smirk he had plastered across his lips as he looked at you didn’t suggest anything good.

You pulled your hand away, forcing a smile as he started to speak, and cursed both Kim and Adam when you saw them sneak away, both giggling as they left you alone with that guy.

As they say, a woman’s sixth sense is like a gift, it never fails.

And it didn’t even take half an hour of talking to Caleb to realize he was self-centered and you’d never see him again. He talked your ear off as if you’d known each other your whole life, focusing mostly on him, his work, the gym, his exploits. You nodded every now and then, just to give him the impression you were listening when in reality your mind had dissociated after the first ten minutes of conversation.

And by conversation you obviously meant monologue.

He didn’t ask you anything, and by nothing you really meant nothing, not how old you were, your job, your hobbies, in short the simple questions one asks when one is getting to know another.

You looked around bored, cursing Kim and yourself with every fiber of your being for letting yourself being dragged—for the million time— in a situation you didn’t want to be in.

You decided you’d never take a single piece of her advice about men ever again.

“Once, when I was still on patrol, there was a robbery a few blocks away. I was alone and when I got there the thief was already running. I’ll make this short but even the commander congratulated me…”

You were trying really hard to listen to him but every time you tried to pay attention, he was still talking about himself. It was hard to follow his conversation/monologue without being fascinated by some random spot in the room like the chandelier.

Caleb was a beautiful man, that was objective. He was tall, broad-shouldered, he had a sculpted physique, defined jaw, eyes as blue as the sky. But beauty wasn’t everything, not when his character was similar to a mollusk.

“Hey baby, here you are, I’ve been looking for you for a while,” a male voice reached your ears from behind and you almost had a heart attack when you felt an arm wrap around your shoulders. You snapped your head towards the man, finding yourself in front of one of the most beautiful man you’d ever see.

Forget Caleb, who the hell was this man?

You froze, having no idea what to say or do. Who the hell was he? What did he want?

“Sorry it took so long but the line for the bathroom was endless,” the stranger continued and you tried with every fiber of your being to remain impassive. Your body was tense as a violin string as you tried to subtly move away from his grasp.

Breathtaking or not, you didn’t know him.

“Baby? You have a boyfriend? Kim told me you were single,” Caleb exclaimed almost indignantly, alternating his gaze between you and the stranger. You thanked God he was a second-rate cop and had the detective skills of a hamster or he would’ve seen from a mile away this was the first time you’d seen that man around you.

“Oh, well this is pretty new not many people know about us, but we’ve been seeing each other for a while. Thanks for keeping my girlfriend company—”

“Caleb.”

“Carl. Thanks,” the stranger held out a hand and Caleb looked at it before looking back at you and walking away without a word, a furious expression on his face.

You didn’t even bother following him because damn, you were so relieved you got him out of the way.

The stranger’s gaze was on you even though he had removed his arm from around you.

“Well, I guess you need to work on your acting skills but it went well right?”

You widened your eyes, still confused about what the hell was going on. “Who are you?”

“Oh you’re welcome, I didn’t just save you from the most boring date of your life,” he smirked.

You continued to look at him, confused, embarrassed and unable to form a coherent sentence. Who the hell was this man? And why was he so breathtakingly handsome? And why did he just pretend to be your boyfriend?

He held out a hand towards you, a smirk plastered across his lips, acting like he hadn’t just pretended to be in a relationship with a stranger. “I’m Jay Halstead. You must be Y/n right? It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Jay? Why does this sound familiar?

You widened your eyes, not even trying to hide your expression of fear and shock. “How do you know my name?” You asked, taking a step back, ready to run away.

His gaze softened, understanding he must’ve really looked like a stalker. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you, I work with Kim in Intelligence. She mentioned you a couple of times and I assumed it was you since you’re the only one of her friends I’ve never met.”

Then you realized why his name was familiar to you. Kim—when talking about her job—had sometimes mentioned a ‘Jay’ and it was nice to finally be able to associate the face with that name, especially if the face was that one.

God he’s so hot.

“Listen,” he continued, raising his hands in surrender, a drink in the left one, “I’m not a stalker I swear—I came off in the wrong way. I just saw you from afar while you were talking to Carl, and you seemed to be in trouble so I thought I’d help. Let’s start over, shall we?”

You tried not to chuckle at the way he got Caleb’s name wrong and stared at him for a moment. He maintained eye contact, his irises locked on yours with no sign of changing direction. You had only just noticed how green his eyes were and you didn’t know why, but something inside you made you no longer want to run away.

You nodded and he smiled triumphantly and, God, he had one of the most beautiful smiles you had ever seen. He held out a hand to you again. “I’m Jay, nice to meet you.”

You tried to suppress a smile of your own and you clasped his hand. “It’s Y/n, the pleasure is mine.”

That handshake sent a spark up your entire arm, not in the cliché kind of way, but in the way that made you feel your body suddenly enveloped in a wave of heat.

He didn’t let go of your hand right away, but you didn’t care. You liked it, you liked the way his grip was strong, firm, confident, but his touch soft at the same time. You liked how his palm felt rough against yours but his skin was warm, a stark contrast to yours.

His thumb skimmed against the back of your hand before he pulled it away, bringing the glass to his lips with his other hand and taking a sip of his drink. All without him ever breaking eye contact with you.

This single innocent gesture left you breathless.

Did I mention he’s so damn hot and sexy?

He looked at you with curiosity, as if he had already decided that from now on his attention would be solely on you.

“This is the part where I have to thank you for saving me from an embarrassing date, isn’t it?”

His eyes flickered for a second on your lips as you spoke and he subtly took a deep breath, taking another sip of his drink. You pretended it didn’t affect you in the slightest even though your stomach had just flipped.

“You not filing a complaint against me is a great thank you,” Jay replied making you laugh, “and besides, I should be the one thanking Kim.”

You tilted your head slightly to the side, looking at him with a questioning expression. “Kim? Why?”

“For setting you up with the wrong guy, might’ve missed my shot otherwise.”

You burst out laughing again and rolled your eyes. “C’mon Jay, is that the best you can do?”

“Ouch,” he put his hand to his chest as if he was in pain. “That really hurt, I may be rusty but I’m not that bad c’mon.”

You smirked. “You’ll survive officer.”

“Nuh, uh. It’s detective, please.”

“My bad, I apologize Detective,” it was your turn to raise your hands in surrender. “But seriously, thank you for saving me from whatever that was.”

He smiled softly at you. “It was a pleasure. You were a couple seconds away from pulling the fire alarm to escape, I couldn’t just stay there and do nothing.”

“Oh, so you make a habit of being a knight and saving damsels in distress?”

“Nah, only the ones that are worth saving,” he replied, and you laughed, feeling that anxious and nervous feeling fade away as you continued to converse—for real this time—with Jay.

“I could’ve gotten away with it, you know,” you crossed your arms and Jay’s eyes flickered, for a millisecond, to your chest, specifically the neckline of your dress.

“Please,” he raised an eyebrow, “if he had kept talking any longer you would’ve ripped your hair out.”

“Stop you’re so dramatic, that’s not true at all,” you rolled your eyes—even though it was the truest thing you had ever heard—making him chuckle. “What’s your poison?” You nodded to his drink as he brought it to his lips and took a sip.

A teasing smile caressed his lips and then it was your turn flicking your gaze to his mouth. You had tried to resist but damn it was so hard. “Bourbon, neat. Effective right?”

You raised an eyebrow, mirroring his playful energy. “Is efficient a new fancy way of saying banal and predictable?”

He let out a soft laugh, the sound so low and warm it made your insides squirm. “Probably,” he countered, “but it’s still a classic.” He slightly tilted his head to the side as his green eyes roamed along your body, lingering for a moment on your dress before meeting your gaze again. You felt every inch of your skin catch fire under his eyes and you couldn’t help but compare Jay’s gaze to Caleb’s, which only made your skin crawl instead. “But it’s not for you. I think you’re more of a champagne kind of woman.”

At that same moment, by pure coincidence, a waiter carrying a tray of champagne glasses passed not far from you. Jay stopped him and took it, before offering it to you. You blushed, before taking it, your fingers brushing against him. “Thank you.”

You lifted your glass towards him, a quiet smile playing on your lips. “To Kim and Adam,” you said.

“To Kim and Adam,” he repeated voice low and smooth. He raised his glass to meet you, the soft clink echoing between you. For a moment, neither of you spoke—his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. It was just a toast, simple and harmless, but the way he was looking at you? Nothing about it felt simple.

“So, you’re a champagne type of woman,” he smirked.

“Guilty,” you shrugged your shoulders. “But what can I say? I like little sparkle in my life.”

You took another sip of champagne and that time it was your gaze that roamed along his body, perfectly wrapped in the tux he was wearing—over the broad lines of his shoulders, the way his dress shirt stretched just right across his chest.

Man, he looked so good it had to be illegal.

When your eyes returned to his you noticed the way he clenched his jaw and the slightest twitch of his lips as he looked at you, as if he knew exactly what you were doing but didn’t mind a bit.

His fingers flexed around his glass and a sexy smirk appeared on his lips, his eyes shining like the moon in the night. He slightly tilted his head to the side, his index finger brushing along the rim of his glass in a slow, absent-minded motion—like he was thinking about something he probably shouldn’t say out loud. “A little spark huh? And here I thought I was bringing the spark.”

You giggled. Yep, actually giggled. “Oh yeah? So that’s what you’re doing?”

“If you’re asking me then I’m not doing a good job,” he retorted, with a fake sad expression acting like he just wiped a tear, “you’re hurting me so much tonight.”

“Oh, you poor thing, I’d hate to bruise that big ego of yours.” You placed a hand on his bicep and caressed it in mock comfort and, fuck, you had to use every fiber of your body to not squeeze and feel up his muscles.

He tensed under your touch, his breath hitching in his throat feeling of your hand on him.

His lips curved into a slow, lazy smile—the kind that sent a shiver down your spine. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he drew, his voice dropping just a notch lower. “I can take a hit. Besides…” His gaze swept over you again, slower this time—unapologetic. “Something tells me it’s worth it.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop the smile threatening to break free, but to no avail. He was too good at this—too smooth, too charming, but damn if it wasn’t working.

“Careful Detective Halstead someone might think you’re flirting with me,” you smirked, taking another sip of your champagne.

He shortened the distance between you, subtly and not too noticeably, but you felt his presence, his scent enveloping you fully, more than it had done so far. “Luckily I don’t care about anyone but the person I’m talking to right now,” he replied, “and they’d be right because that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

The air between you grew heavier—not uncomfortable but charged with something unspoken. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the noise of the wedding reception fading into a distant hum. You should’ve looked away, said something to break the tension, but you didn’t want to.

You’ve never felt anything like this, being so damn attracted to a man you were dying to kiss him, to touch him.

“So confident,” you murmured. You tried to keep your eyes on his, but you couldn’t, not when his mouth was not too far from yours. “And here I thought you were just being nice.”

He chuckled, his voice low and deep. “Trust me sweetheart, there’s nothing nice about what I’m thinking right now.”

You took another sip, hoping to steady the warmth curling low in your stomach. Why were your legs suddenly turning to jelly?

“So…” you started, arching a brow in an attempt to shift the focus back on him, “do you flirt like this with every girl you save, or am I just special?”

Jay’s smile widened and he took a slow sip of his bourbon before answering. “You tell me,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “Do you feel special?”

Damn him.

You laughed softly, shaking your head and taking a deep breath at the same time. “You’re trouble, Halstead.”

He didn’t deny it. “And yet, you’re still talking to me,” he pointed out, eyes gleaming with mischief. “What does that say about you?”

“That I make questionable decisions?”

Jay let out another quiet laugh, but this one felt different—lower, warmer. “Or maybe,” he murmured, leaning in a bit towards you, “you’re exactly where you want to be.”

And the truth? You weren’t sure you could argue with that because he was right, you were where you wanted to be.

You finished the rest of your glass in a single sip because there were two possibilities, this or jump on him and you couldn’t already do that considering you had just met him.

He was throwing you off so much it left you speechless and it wasn’t like you. You didn’t know if you loved it or hated it.

He chuckled as he continued to look at you, as if he had just read your mind.

Your guardian angel, Kim—who you’d thank for the rest of your life from that moment on—appeared at that exact moment, interrupting the game of glances between you and Jay that was becoming too intense for your own good.

“Jay! Y/n? Where’s Caleb?” She asked, visibly excited and smiling.

“I have no idea, courtesy of my fake boyfriend here,” you nodded at Jay who chuckled sexily.

How could laughter be so sexy?

“We need to talk about your questionable taste in men Kim, what kind of rat did you want her to be paired with?” He joked one hand shoved into his pants pocket while the other held his almost empty glass.

“Hey, don’t talk to my wife like that, I’d say she made a good choice in men,” Adam suddenly intervened, wrapping his arm around Kim’s hips and pressing a kiss to her temple. The sight warmed your heart, making you smile like an idiot.

“So, you’ve already introduced yourselves,” Kim continued, alternating her gaze between you and Jay but with a sinister smirk on her lips.

You and Jay exchanged a quick knowing look. “Yeah, he saved me from the mess that was Caleb. And by the way, I’m never listening to you ever again Kim, don’t do that to me again.”

“You two look so good together,” Kim blurted out and giggled, visibly tipsy. “Don’t you think they look hot together honey?”

“Okay that’s enough, let’s get back to dancing,” Adam chimed in again, struggling to contain his laughter, before dragging his wife away.

Before she left though Kim came back to you and whispered, “I was watching you two from afar there’s so much sexual tension between you two that even I got turned on.”

Your cheeks turned on fire but before you could respond Adam finally dragged her away, leaving you alone with Jay again.

He let out a light laugh, and you turned your head towards him. “Do I want to ask you what she said?”

You shook your head, taking another sip of champagne as you still heard her words echoing in your head. “Nope.”

He looked at you for a moment, his eyebrow raised. “Kim really does have questionable matching skills, I take it this isn’t the first time with Carl,” he said, changing the subject.

“You have no idea,” you rolled your eyes, “my brain can’t comprehend how she managed to match me with these men and not one of them was normal.”

“Well, have you thought that maybe they weren’t the problem?”

You gasped in fake shock and elbowed him in the side, and he pretended to be in excruciating pain, making you laugh at the show he was putting on. “I could arrest you for assault on a police officer you know that right? You’d look really pretty in a prison uniform.”

“You think I’ll look cute in handcuffs too?”

What the fuck?! Where the hell did that come from?

Jay, who was taking his last sip of bourbon, chocked on it and started coughing after the liquor went down the wrong way and, although you were embarrassed by the stupidity of that statement, the scene was pretty hilarious.

“You good? Should I call a doctor? What happened?” You teased him, trying to hold back your laughter but failing miserably.

“You know damn well what happened,” he retorted with mock annoyance even as the smile on his lips belatedly came. “And pretty wouldn’t even come close to how good you’d look in handcuffs if you really wanted an answer, but that’s something we’ll talk about later.”

You blushed, once again, from head to toe and hated yourself for this reaction and how easily he could see it. “Later? Who says there’s gonna be a ‘later’?”

He smirked down at you, and it was so sexy it made your head spin. “Trust me there will be.”

“You’re so cocky detective.”

Jay leaned in just a fraction, enough that the faint scent of his cologne wrapped around you—something warm and woodsy, with a hint of spice. “Only when I’m sure about something,” he said, his voice softer now, but no less intense.

His words hung in the air, thick and heavy, and you felt heat creep up the back of your neck. You could've played it cool, thrown back a quip, but the way he was looking at you made your pulse skip in a way that was impossible to ignore.

His gaze dropped to your lips again—just for a second—but it was enough to send a fresh wave of heat curling through your body.

“C’mon,” he said suddenly, holding out a hand towards you. “You owe me a dance.”

You lifted a brow. “Do I?”

Jay shrugged, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, I did save you from Carl. Seems only fair.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight the smile that broke free as you slipped your hand into his. “Alright, Detective,” you quipped, “but only because you asked so nicely.”

His fingers curled around yours—firm, warm, just the right amount of possessive. And as he led you toward the dance floor, you realized something else: you didn’t want to let go.

The music shifted as you reached the edge of the dance floor—something slower, smoother, the kind of song that practically begged for two people to be just a little too close.

Exactly what you wanted.

Jay didn’t hesitate. His hand slid easily to your waist, fingers splayed warm and wide on the small of your back as he pulled you against him, close enough to send all your senses into a tizzy.

It had been hard until now, but this? Being so close to him that you could even count his eyelashes? It was devastating.

You couldn’t even recognize yourself, you’d never found yourself craving a man’s touch so badly, like you needed it to breathe, and in that moment you realized you’d only met the wrong people because, fuck, you were missing out.

“You good with this?” he murmured in your ear, his voice just for you. Low. Intimate. And there was something in the way he asked—like he cared, but also like he already knew your answer.

You nodded, hoping he didn’t feel the way your heart was beating against his chest. Your bodies began to sway in time to the slow music, like you’d done it a million times, like he wasn’t a stranger to you and you a stranger to him.

You didn’t know anything about the man, and he didn’t know anything about you, but you were so drawn to each other it almost drove you crazy.

As you engaged in small talk, you tried not to focus on how close he was—on how his thumb brushed against your back every time he shifted—but it was impossible. Especially when every slight movement seemed to make the space between you shrink.

He asked about you, what do you do for a job or in your free time, how old were you, how long have you known Kim, you asked about him and his life, and it was crazy how, even though you had known each other for literally a short time, you both felt comfortable talking to each other, joking and laughing when you both made terrible jokes.

“You’re really giving me a hard time,” he said, his fingers flexing on your hip.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, realizing how he was already looking at you. There wasn’t any trace of humor left, his eyes were staring at you, but they weren’t focused on yours exactly, they traveled along your face as if he was analyzing you, memorizing every feature and detail.

“Why?” You asked and his eyes flickered on your lips. He continued to caress your hip unconsciously, your bodies pressed against each other and with every slight movement you could feel the heat between you intensifying.

“Because I’m trying so hard to behave and be a gentleman but it’s getting really hard,” he answered softly, his voice raspy, his breath an inch from your lips. “And I hate not being in control.”

You stopped breathing for a second and a shiver ran down your spine. It would’ve been so easy to break that distance, it would’ve only taken a couple of inches and his mouth would’ve been on yours to finally satisfy that visceral attraction that was pulling you towards each other.

And you most likely would’ve let him do it if it hadn’t been for Kim who, with her usual perfect timing, had grabbed your arm, totally drunk and with a beaming smile.

“C’mon Y/n, we have to dance together!” she exclaimed loudly, jumping up and down with an enthusiasm you had never seen in her as she continued to pull on your arm without even leaving you room to protest.

Jay’s arm was still around your hip, though his grip wasn’t as firm as it had been before, and you hated to admit it, but you already missed that touch.

It seemed mutual because you felt him tense for a moment, his fingers reluctant to release their grip on you, as if he also hated the idea of letting you go. But eventually he did, slowly, the heat of his hand still burning through your dress and against your skin even after you’d pulled away.

“Don’t go too far,” he whispered in your ear, quiet enough to make it seem like a secret between the two of you.

And as Kim dragged you through the crowd to the beat of a more upbeat song, you turned to him and gave him one last look. Jay was still there, standing at the edge of the dance floor, his hands stuffed in his pockets, that intense gaze still fixed on you. He winked at you before you disappeared into the crowd and you almost tripped on your own feet.

Oh my fucking god.

Jay leaned against a wall, his hands still in his pockets, one foot placed in front of the other. In other moments he wouldn’t have waited to take another drink, but that night he wanted to be as sober as possible.

His gaze was fixed on the crowd of people dancing on the dance floor, but not on everyone, his eyes scanned the people only for one person in particular. He cursed those disco strobe lights because, in those dim lights, it was not easy to find you.

But when he finally did, his attention was focused only and solely on you, not on the music, not on the world around him.

You were laughing now, spinning with Kim on the dance floor, some strands of your hair coming out of your hairstyle as you moved to the music. He should’ve backed away. Hell, he’d spent years perfecting that skill, knowing when to pull back, where to avoid getting too close, perceive when there was danger. But with you? It wasn’t that easy.

It hadn’t been from the second he laid eyes on you, when he saw you enter the wedding venue with some of your friends.

He didn’t know what kind of witchcraft you had performed on him but he seemed to not be able to stop looking at you. His gaze tracked the curve of your smile and the movement of your lips as you sang along the song, the flush on your skin from the warmth of the room, and the way your dress hugged your figure just enough to make his thoughts stray somewhere they shouldn’t.

He told himself to get it together—to stop looking at you like a creepy stalker—but it was a losing battle, he seemed hypnotized.

And when you tipped your head back, laughing at something Kim said, Jay swore under his breath.

He was in trouble.

Because the truth was, it wasn’t just the way you looked—although you were one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen—it was the way you felt. Warm and soft against him when you danced, your hand fitting so easily in his. The way you leaned into his touch, like part of you wanted him closer, even when you were pretending otherwise.

It almost scared him how he found himself talking, laughing and joking so easily with a stranger he had just met.

But he wanted more of that. More of you.

And that realization hit him harder than it should’ve.

Jay exhaled slowly, willing the tension in his chest to ease. It didn’t work. Not when you turned your head as you kept dancing, scanning the room as if you were searching for something, or someone.

And when your eyes locked, his heart gave a sharp kick, one he didn’t truly expect. And the way you held his gaze? It did something to him.

Your lips curled into the faintest smile—small, almost shy—and damn if it didn’t make something twist low in his stomach. He should’ve been the one in control here, but with just one look, you had him pinned. And the worst part was that he didn’t mind.

Not even a little.

Your attention was caught again by one of your friends who pulled you towards her as you belted out the song in the background, breaking eye contact.

He tried to look away from you sometimes, focusing his attention on something else but it was as if his eyes were attracted to a magnet, you.

And maybe that was the problem.

He wasn’t supposed to feel this, wasn’t supposed to want someone he’d just met with this kind of heat and desire curling through his veins. But here he was, eyes on you, mind already running a dangerous path of wondering how you’d taste if he let himself get too close.

He was about to move—to do something, anything—but then Kim grabbed your hand again, spinning you around in a dizzy circle. Your laughter rang out, bright and carefree, while Jay just stood there against that wall.

He didn’t belong in this moment. Not really. A guy like him—weighted down by too much baggage, too many mistakes, a very dangerous job—had no business wanting you like this.

But God help him, he did.

When the song shifted to something louder and faster, you finally pulled back from Kim, breathless and glowing in a way that had no right to make his pulse pick up. Kim was already dragging Adam away, leaving you alone again, and for half a second, Jay thought this was his shot.

But then, just as quickly, you disappeared into the crowd.

And that shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did. More than it had any right to.

Jay exhaled, dragging a hand through his face. He told himself to play it cool, to just let it go, but the thing was, he didn’t want to let it go. Let you go.

And if he had anything to say about it, this night wasn’t ending until he found you again.

Jay pushed himself off the wall, his pulse thudding a little harder than he wanted to admit.

He wasn’t the type to chase after someone, not like this. But that night, he couldn’t seem to help himself. His eyes scanned the room, but the crowd was thicker now, people swaying to the music, bodies pressed too close.

You weren’t on the dance floor anymore. He knew that much. And the longer it took to find you, the harder it became to shake the restless feeling gnawing at the edges of his control.

Get a grip, Halstead.

He could’ve leave you alone. Should’ve, probably. But as he moved through the party he knew nothing would sit right until he saw you again.

And then, just when he started to think he’d lost you for good, he caught a sight of you through the open door leading to the balcony.

Jay hesitated, his hand curling into a fist at his side. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing, all he knew was that the moment he saw you again, his mind quieted. And maybe that was reason enough.

Without giving himself time to second-guess, he stepped outside.

You were leaning against the railing, your back to him, the cool night air brushing against your bare shoulders. He let himself take in the sight of you for just a second longer—how the city lights reflected off your skin, how you tilted your head back like you were finally catching your breath.

You were breathtaking. So fucking beautiful it hurt.

“Wasn’t sure if I’d get another chance to steal you away.”

You turned your head at the sound of his voice, and there it was again, that little smile. “Something tells me you love a good challenge Detective.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, nodding. “I feel like the reward will be worthy.”

He moved closer to you as he took off his jacket and placed it on your shoulders, leaving his hands there for a while as he let your scent engulf him. You then turned fully to face him and Jay didn’t miss the way your eyes roamed along his body, focusing for a moment on his chest, his arms, before looking back into his eyes.

“Oh so you really like me,” you joked, eyes still on him, slightly tilting your head but he couldn’t ignore the blush on your cheeks.

“Thought I made that pretty clear by now.”

And just like that, the tension stretched tight again, thicker this time but with the difference that nothing and no one would interrupt this time.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The distant thump of music spilled through the open door, but out here? It felt like the rest of the world had faded away.

He closed the distance between you, never taking his eyes off yours. He tried to pull away, but it was as if he physically couldn’t, as if he needed it.

“And here I thought you’d even left the party.”

“You’re hurting me so much tonight, I’m not that bad at hitting on you c’mon.”

You giggled and bit your bottom lip. He found himself suppressing a groan because, damn, he had never wanted anything so badly as he wanted to bite your lip.

“Well,” you batted your lashes, “you’re definitely making it hard for me to leave now,” your eyes flicked to his lips before returning to his and he told himself to calm down but, God help him, if you did that again he’d lose every ounce of control he had left.

“I guess you found a good reason to stay then,” his tongue flicked across his bottom lip and he couldn’t miss the way your gaze landed on his lips, again. The light was dim, not very bright, but he could see so clearly how dilated your pupils were and it drove him crazy, knowing you felt the same.

“Is that so?” You murmured. He leaned closer to you and placed his hands on the railing at either side of you, trapping you in his arms but not touching you. Your breathing quickened at the closeness, your lips parted slightly as if you needed air, and that was enough to make his pulse quicken and the heat in his blood spike.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” he taunted

You let out a quiet laugh, warm and soft, and something about the sound made his fingers itch to touch you again, so much so that he tightened his fingers around the cold metal of the railing.

You took his tie—which had been dangling between you—into your hands, and Jay seriously thought he was going to collapse at your feet at any moment. You hadn’t done anything too dramatic, but he felt like he was going to have an aneurysm. Just seeing your fingers caress the fabric of your tie, how you played with it while you continued to look at him, drove him crazy.

“I’m exactly where I want to be,” you repeated under your breath the words he had said a few hours earlier. His hands were gripping the railing so tightly his knuckles were completely white from trying to vent the frustration he felt.

His fingers inched closer and closer to you, until the sides of his thumbs were brushing against your dress. God, how much he wanted to grab you, hold you and touch you, every inch of your body until the ground disappeared beneath you.

You didn’t pull away, if anything, you shifted closer, your warmth seeping into his skin.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked when he remained silent, staring at you while you continued to play with his tie.

“I think,” he murmured, his thumb sweeping slow circles against your pelvis’ side, “you’re gonna be a problem for me.”

The tension cracked, sharp and electric, and neither of you moved, like you were both waiting to see who’d break first.

“Maybe I want to be,” you admitted quietly.

That was all he needed.

Jay didn’t overthink it, he just moved, closing the last bit of space between you. His hand slid to your waist and made you stand upright, as he tilted his head down, giving you plenty of time to pull back.

But you didn’t.

You stayed right there, your breath warm against his skin as your fingers curled into the front of his shirt.

“You’re making this impossible,” he said, his voice rougher now, low enough that only you could hear. His fingers flexed against your waist, dragging you closer without meaning to. Or maybe he did. He wasn’t sure anymore. “I’m trying so hard to be good, but—fuck.”

“But what?” you interrupted, your tone softer, breathier than before. His eyes snapped to yours, and the challenge in your gaze nearly broke him. “What happens if you stop trying?”

His breath hitched. Jesus Christ.

Jay let out a low, bitter laugh, because you weren’t making this any easier. And the worst part? You knew it. You knew exactly what you were doing to him.

“Do you really want me to answer that?” he asked, as his fingers trailed up, just slightly, brushing the curve of your ribs. It wasn’t a question. Not really.

Your lips parted, and for a second—just a second—he thought maybe you’d call his bluff. But instead, you tilted your head, eyes fixed on his mouth like you were imagining the same damn thing he was.

“I really, really do,” you murmured. And that was it. That was the crack in the dam.

His other hand came up before he could stop himself, fingers grazing along your jaw, tilting your face toward his as his nose brushed against yours. “You have no idea how much I want you right now,” he admitted, no more games, no more teasing. Just raw, unfiltered truth. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “I don’t even know you but you’re driving me crazy. You have to stop me.”

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Instead, your lips curled into the faintest smile, bold, knowing, and it only fueled the fire already burning through his veins.

“The thing is, I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, leaning in just enough for your breath to brush against his lips, “I don’t want you to be good or patient.”

The words punched through his last shred of restraint like they were designed to. And for a beat, all he could do was look at you—at the flush on your skin, the way your chest rose and fell a little too fast.

“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” he warned, though it came out rougher than he intended, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw, slower than necessary.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” you shot back, quiet but sure—so sure—and, fuck, he was done for.

He wanted to win that little silent race, to see you snap but the truth was that he had lost from the start, he had no chance of winning.

So, when he finally kissed you, it wasn’t an attempt.

It was slow, deliberate, like he wanted to memorize the way you tasted, in case it was the last time. The faintest hint of champagne lingered on your lips, but beneath it was something that made his heart slam harder against his ribs.

You kissed him back like you wanted this just as much as he did, your hands sliding up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, deeper, making his jacket fall on the floor.

And Jay? He let himself fall into it. Into you.

Jay’s lips moved against yours, slow and thorough, but nothing about the way he touched you felt careful. His hands slid along your waist, fingers pressing into the curve of your hip, squeezing you like he was memorizing the shape of you. Every brush of his skin against yours sent sparks racing through your body, and the heat pooling low in your stomach only grew stronger with each passing second.

His palms flattened against your lower back, pulling you closer until there wasn’t a single inch of space left between your bodies, until you could feel how much he really wanted you. He was warm, solid—everywhere—and the way he held you made your breath hitch.

You tugged lightly on the back of his neck. The muscles beneath your fingers were tense, and a shudder ran through him as your nails scraped gently against his skin. His breath hitched in response, and something about knowing you could unravel him like this made the heat in your blood burn hotter.

“You’re killing me,” he muttered against your mouth, his voice rough and frayed at the edges. His lips brushed over yours again, lingering like he was savoring the taste of you. But his hands, God, his hands, were anything but patient.

His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path up your spine, skimming beneath the hem of your dress as he went. The warmth of his touch against your bare skin felt a sharp, delicious shiver curling through you, and when his hand settled at the small of your back again, his grip tightened, so possessive like he wanted to keep you exactly where you were.

And you wanted to stay there.

You wanted more.

Your body arched instinctively into his, and Jay swore softly under his breath, his hold on you turning rougher, like he was losing the battle to keep himself in check. His fingers flexed at your hip, sliding lower, almost touching your ass before skimming back up, as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch you most.

And when your hand drifted from his neck to the front of his shirt, fingers curling into the soft fabric, you felt the sharp rise and fall of his chest beneath your palm. His heart was racing and the realization felt another jolt of heat spiraling through you.

“Jay,” you breathed against his mouth, in such an intense and desperate tone, as if you needed him and his distance hurt you, and his response was immediate. His lips crashed back onto yours with a hunger that stole your breath, and the slow, careful rhythm shattered beneath the weight of all that tension.

He kissed you harder now, deeper. His tongue swept along your lower lip, and when you opened up for him, he groaned softly, a low, desperate sound that made your knees go weak.

His hand slid higher, dragging up your side, fingers brushing the sensitive skin beneath your ribs. He didn’t stop there. He traced the outline of your body desperately, knuckles grazing the side of your breast before his palm flattened against your ribcage, holding you firmly against him.

“Is this okay?” He whispered against your lips.

“Yes, god, yes please Jay,” you whispered back and damn, if your breathy voice hadn’t completely destroyed him. He loved seeing you as desperate for him as he was for you.

He kissed you again. “You’re driving me insane,” he murmured against your lips, and there was no teasing left in his voice. Just raw need. “I can’t—If you want me to stop say it because I fucking can’t.”

The response to those words of his was the way you grabbed his face and crashed your lips onto his again. “I don't want you to stop.”

Whatever fragile restraint he’d been clinging to snapped completely.

Jay’s hands tightened on your waist as he backed you against the wall, pressing you there like he needed to feel every inch of you against him.

His lips left yours just long enough to trail down your jaw, his breath warm as it ghosted over your skin. He didn’t stop when he reached your neck. Instead, he tilted your head gently to the side, giving himself more access as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your throat and making you sigh in pleasure.

And when his teeth graced that sensitive spot just below your ear, you couldn’t hold back the soft sound that escaped your lips.

Jay froze at the sound—just for a second to control himself before he’d come in his pants. He groaned low in his throat, his mouth returning to yours in a kiss that was rougher now, messier, hungrier. Like hearing you fall apart pushed him over the edge.

One arm was around your waist as he held you so tightly it was almost impossible to move, while the other hand slid down, fingers spreading wide across your thigh. His thumb brushed slow circles against the sensitive skin there, inching higher with every pass. “Tell me to stop, and I will, okay?” he repeated.

But the way he touched you, the way his mouth lingered on yours, made it painfully clear he didn’t want to stop.

And neither did you.

“If you stop now, I might actually lose my mind.”

He chuckled before kissing you again as you pulled him closer, tilting your head to deepen the kiss even further. Your hands cupped his face, his beard tickling your palms as he took your breath away completely.

He slid his hand up your thigh again, taking advantage of the slit of your dress to touch your skin, to squeeze it, to feel it, to press his fingers so deeply into it until they left their mark. He grabbed your leg and wrapped it around his waist, making his pelvis grind with yours and making you both moan into the kiss.

His lips trailed back down to your neck, licking and sucking every inch of skin he had access to. “I want you so fucking bad.” His breath was hot against your skin, and when he spoke again, his voice was nothing but a rough, desperate whisper.

“Oh my fucking god Jay,” you gasped, trying to keep your voice low as his hand slid on your ass, squeezing it until you almost moaned again. “I want you so much too… Please…”

His lips found yours again, a desperate, greedy kiss that only deepened the ache between you two. There was no hesitation, no slowing down. Every touch, every movement, felt like a need that couldn’t be contained. You could feel the heat rising between you, consuming both of you in a way that made everything else fade.

His hard dick pressed into you, and the pressure made your breath hitch, another moan escaping as you started to grind into him again. His mouth left yours only long enough to whisper your name, low, rough, like a command.

“God, I need to feel you,” he muttered against your skin, like he was about to break. His teeth grazed your ear before his lips closed around the sensitive spot just below it, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped again. It only turned him on even more, his hands moving and exploring every inch of you, as though he couldn’t get enough.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, his back, his chest, pulling him even closer, matching the urgency of his movements. You wanted to rip that shirt off of him, you wanted to feel his skin under your fingers, touch him everywhere.

His lips trailed down to the curve of your shoulder, sucking gently as the strap of your dress slid down. The sensation made you pulse race beyond imagination, and you found yourself tugging at his shirt, eager to feel more of him.

“Jay,” you breathed again, voice trembling, and you pulled his face back to yours, crashing your lips together with the kind of hunger that mirrored his own. The kiss was messy, full of heat and need, and you lost yourself in it. You bit his lower lip, sucking it and making him groan. And, fucking hell, the sound was so sexy you felt it directly in your lower regions.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck Y/n,” he muttered desperately. His fingers brushing over the lace of your underwear before slipping inside, feeling how wet you were. The contact was electric, and the sharp Moab you let out made his almost like in his pants. “Is this okay?” he murmured against your lips.

“Yes, shit… Oh… Oh god Jay you feel so good please don’t stop,” you moaned, your body moving on instinct, a desperate need for more, and the words only seemed to unravel him further.

There was no turning back now, and for once in your life, it felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

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[captain-kit-adventuress]

I never, ever said that mutual aid refusal to labour are defeatism. What I actually said was that they are only two parts of what must be a multifaceted solution, given that the problems themselves are multifaceted. There is no one size fits all in activism, and there never was.

And before you start denigrating me as someone who doesn’t put their money where their mouth is, maybe ask yourself how old I am before you start insinuating I don’t know how to work as an activist. I’ve worked in activism longer than a lot of the user base of this website has been alive, so don’t come at me with that bullshit.

I never suggested assimilation or appeasement, either, so if you’re assuming that’s part of my proposed solution, you’re dead wrong. You don’t even know for certain I support it, all you know is that you think I support it, but what you think isn’t always true, and critical thinking will tell you that a mile before you ever get to responding to my post.

What do you liberals have been trying to do for at least the last forty years, with very little support from other liberals or liberal politicians? How do you think I know that? We’ve never had help, and it’s often because a bunch of other smug-faced liberals who talk a big game about the revolution but won’t bother to get their hands dirty refuse to accept any solution that isn’t their solution, or they insist on ideological purity. These problems of the left are not new, they’re old, and I’ve been experiencing them firsthand for most of my life.

Also, I would watch my mouth about someone’s bandwidth, if I were you, because I am a chronically ill, multiply disabled person who honestly, doesn’t always have the spoons to handhold condescending so-called progressives who think the only solution to any problem is to blow it up. I don’t have to explain a damned thing to you, and all I’m liable to think from you trying to force an explanation is that 1) you don’t actually have a substantive rebuttal that doesn’t resort to name calling and ignorant insinuations and assumptions, and 2) you don’t know what the other solutions even are and my point about doing research still stands.

If anyone’s the defeatist, it’s people like you who just throw up their hands and go, “Ok, time to kill everyone!” any time they want systemic change rather than bothering to understand that even in a perfectly liberal society, progress and change are slow, and they will always be slower than vulnerable people need.

We’re treading water and trying not to drown, but you’re out there like, “Why not just drain the ocean?”

Ignorance is never the leverage people think it is.

votes don't influence policy, and now there's no way for anyone but 1% of the wealthiest to leverage buying power.

the only power anyone has left is withholding labor.

to do this we will absolutely require alternative sources of water and food.

if, as is so much more likely, everything falls apart, we will still need water and food.

Mutual Aid + General Strike are literally our only shot to stave off mass mayhem and aimless violence.

[monzabee]

the nanny - a. hotchner

criminal minds masterlist || part of the nanny series

Summary: there is a mysterious woman visiting hotch’s office... it’s his nanny? 

Pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

Word Count: 1.1k 

Warnings: nosy profilers, other than that none  

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

“Excuse me, can you point me to the direction of Aaron Hotchner’s office?”  

Thirteen words.  

Thirteen words is exactly what it takes for the BAU to lose their minds over the fact that there is a woman who is visiting their boss.  

“Do you think that’s his girlfriend?” Penelope whispers, failing rather miserably, as they watch you retreat into Hotch’s office.  

Emily’s eyebrows raise at the insinuation, “No way, when was the last time Hotch was even on a date?” 

“Not for at least two years,” Spencer scoffs, earning glaring looks from three of his co-workers. “What?” He asks, innocently shrugging his shoulders.  

“Look at her,” JJ shakes her head, she isn’t she isn’t convinced. “She doesn’t seem like just a random visitor.” 

“Maybe she’s a lawyer,” Derek offers, arms crossed as he leans against the desk. “Or, God forbid, a new profiler.” 

Penelope gasps dramatically, pouting. “Another profiler? In our sacred little family?” 

“I don’t think so.” Emily tilts her head, watching through the glass windows of Hotch’s office. “He doesn’t look like he’s briefing her. He looks… I don’t know. Different.” 

“Different how?” Spencer asks, squinting as if he could analyze the interaction better. 

Before anyone can respond, the blinds to Hotch’s office suddenly snap shut. The team collectively inhales. 

“Oh my God.” Penelope clutches at Derek’s arm. “He never closes the blinds. Never.” 

JJ exhales, shaking her head. “I don’t know what’s crazier. The fact that Hotch might actually be dating someone… or the fact that none of us had any idea.” 

If there is one thing Aaron Hotchner is good at, it would be compartmentalizing. He had to, as a unit chief who wanted to protect his team from all the bureaucratic headache that he had to endure, or as a father who wanted to shield his son from his line of work as much as possible.  

So, it came as no surprise to him to not talk about his nanny—well, not his nanny per se, but rather Jack’s nanny.  

“You’ve caused quite a scene downstairs, you know that, right?” Aaron asks you as he makes his way back to his desk from the small window overlooking the ballpen.  

“I only asked them where to find your office,” you shrug, hands folded primly on your lap — something rather uncharacteristic now that Aaron realizes. “They were very nice, though.” 

Aaron sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They're not used to seeing unfamiliar faces here. Especially in my office.” 

You raise an amused brow. “I figured as much from the way they all gawked at me like I had grown a second head.” 

He exhales, shaking his head. “You should've called. I would've met you downstairs.” 

“And miss the chance to see your team’s collective meltdown?” You smirk, crossing one leg over the other. “No way.” 

Hotch gives you a pointed look, but there's the ghost of a smile threatening to break through his usual stoic expression. “What are you doing here?” 

“I brought you lunch,” you simply shrug, placing the brown paper bag on his desk and leaning back into the chair, “I got you a sandwich from that place you like near the park.” 

Hotch looks at the bag, then back at you, his expression unreadable. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

You roll your eyes. “I know I didn’t have to. But let’s be honest, you were either going to skip lunch entirely or eat some sad excuse for a meal at your desk.” 

Aaron exhales through his nose, the closest thing to amusement you’ve seen from him in days. “I eat just fine.” 

You arch an eyebrow. “Last week, I caught you eating dry cereal straight from the box while reviewing case files.” He opens his mouth to say something in retaliation, but you stop him before he can get a word out, “Do not even dare to say it was late, I left you a whole plate of food out.” 

He gives you a pointed look, but you only grin in response. There’s a beat of silence before he reaches for the bag, opening it to inspect the contents. His lips press together in what you assume is reluctant approval. “Roast beef?” he asks. 

“With extra mustard, just how you like it,” you confirm. “I even got you one of those overpriced iced teas you pretend not to like.” 

He pulls out the bottle, eyes flicking up to you in mild disbelief. “I should consider adding you to my team.” 

“Jack and I have a system,” you reply breezily as you shrug again. “He tells me your weird habits, and I use them against you.” 

That actually earns you a soft chuckle, and for a brief moment, he looks lighter. Less like the hardened unit chief, more like the man who lets his son climb onto his back during bedtime stories. 

But the moment doesn’t last long. His gaze shifts back to you, more serious now. “Was this really just a lunch delivery, or is there something else?” 

Damn profilers. You hesitate, then sigh. “Jack asked me to check on you.” Hotch stills. “He’s fine,” you add quickly, knowing where his mind just went. “He just… he worries. He said you looked ‘extra tired’ this morning, which, considering your usual level of exhaustion, is saying something, and I’d thought I’d check up on you.” 

Aaron closes his eyes briefly before exhaling. “I don’t want him worrying about me.” 

“He’s a kid, Mister Hotchner. He’s going to worry about his dad.” You soften your tone. “And honestly? I get it. You do look extra tired.” 

He looks at you then, really looks at you, as if trying to figure out how you always manage to see right through him. 

“You know,” you say, leaning forward slightly, “you’re allowed to take a break every once in a while. Eat your sandwich. Maybe even come home before Jack falls asleep tonight.” 

Hotch doesn’t answer right away, but eventually, he reaches for the sandwich, unwrapping it with a sigh of resignation. “I’ll try.” 

“Good,” you say with a satisfied nod, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off your skirt. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go face the firing squad out there. I’m assuming Penelope is probably two seconds away from storming in here for answers.” 

Hotch smirks, shaking his head. “You brought this on yourself.” 

“I promised Jack,” you say over your shoulder before heading toward the door. 

And sure enough, the second you step out of the office, six pairs of eyes snap to you, curiosity burning in their expressions. 

You grin. “What? Never seen someone bring their boss lunch before?” 

You can hear the pandemonium that ensues as you make your way towards the exit. 

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Dream (Dean Winchester x female reader)

You love Dean when he’s awake, but there’s just something about him when he’s sleeping.

Read it on AO3

My 2024 Kinktober series

Rated E. 1.2k words. Consensual somnophilia. Sleeping Dean. That's it, really.

You agreed on this a long time ago, but it still feels illicit every time you do it.

The case done, you catch up with some old girlfriends from college who live close by. They think you’re a traveling saleswoman, maybe part of a pyramid scheme, but the small lie doesn’t hinder the fun you have. While you dress up before the evening, tight jeans, breasts pushed up, Dean watches you intently.

“You’re gonna have a hard time keeping the local Neanderthals off you,” he says and you grin while you apply lipstick in the mirror.

“I have my ways,” you say, smacking your lips together, then looking at Dean in the reflection. He chuckles a little, but his look tells you he would prefer to bend you over something right now to you going out. Too bad your hair is already done, or you might let him. Later.

You get up, grab your bag, run a hand through your hair and Dean walks up to you. One arm goes around you and he looks at you like you’re a snack he can’t wait to get between his teeth.

“Have fun now,” he says and then inclines his head. “Just not too much fun.” You wink at him, give him a small kiss, then run your thumb over his lips to wipe off the lipstick there.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be,” you say and look into his eyes. “I’ll try not to wake you.” You see the second Dean registers what you say. He nods slowly, a smile playing on his lips.

The evening is full of drinks that are too sugary and that perfect mix of scandalous gossiping and soul-searching deep talk. You show the girls a picture of Dean and one of them, your former roommate, shakes her head.

“I would buy five of him, even if he wasn’t on sale,” she says, clicking her tongue. You grin.

“Believe me,” you say, taking a sip from your drink and playfully running your tongue over the top of your straw. “You don’t need five of him. One does everything you need him to.” The other women squeal and then suddenly you’re dancing, hugging each other, and there’s one or two Neanderthals but you couldn’t care less about them.

 It’s extra hard being quiet when you come back to the motel, because you’re a little tipsy. You unlock the door, sneak in. Bag goes on the floor, shoes are carefully kicked off. Then you look up.

Your eyes are still adjusting to the darkness but you can see Dean’s shape in the bed, sheets tangled between his legs. You bite your lip. Your jacket goes too and then you are crawling onto the bed, trying to move as carefully as possible.

That was one big challenge when this all started – Dean has the instincts of a hawk, so one worry was if he would actually stay asleep long enough for it to work. You got lucky, though. Apparently, your sounds and actions don’t register to his subconscious brain as threatening.

You just look down at him for a second. God, he’s beautiful, especially like this. Puffy lips slightly parted, long lashes resting on his skin. Unguarded, like he’s a living thing that could actually get hurt and not the god of war that appears once daylight breaks. It makes love and a good host of arousal run through you.

Then you extend your hand, and with the gentlest of touches, lay it on his crotch, over the boxershorts he wears to sleep. Small circles, that’s how you start.

Dean’s responsive as all hell. It’s one of the things you always liked about him. How all you need to do is to bend over, pretend to pick something up, look back at him and he’s ready to go.

It’s the same now, and after only a few seconds, you can start to feel him respond, his cock slowly hardening, growing, until it strains in his shorts. Your other hand pulls the waistband down slowly while you reach in and take him out. Perfection, you think as you lean forward on your elbows, and start licking at him. Curved and with soft skin and a pink head.

You nibble at that head now, spreading a little bit of saliva on it. Dean, all of Dean, twitches in his sleep, and you wonder what he’s dreaming. Wonder if maybe you can turn one of his frequent nightmares into a good dream.

You hear the side of his face hit the pillow when you take him deep for the first time. He tastes salty and slightly musky, and you would like to bottle him up if you could. You bob your head up and down, slowly, but go deep each time, the head of Dean’s cock tickling the back of your throat. You actually close your eyes at the feeling of him, because you are just that much of a lost cause.

He’s making some wonderful noises in his sleep so you speed up, letting more spit collect in your mouth to ease the passage. The sounds your mouth makes make you clench and for a moment you think to stop, to instead get naked and ride Dean. But you don’t want to stop, and you can be patient.

Dean whimpers a little, a light sound deep in his throat that he wouldn’t be caught dead making during his waking hours, and it’s enough to make your eyes flutter open, because you know what will happen next. You live for this part. You keep going, and soon you can feel the twitch that’s telling you he’s about to come.

Without moving your mouth off him or stopping your movement, you bring your hand to Dean’s arm, gently scratch your nails along the skin there.

The feeling along with the budding orgasm help bring him into wakefulness just as you feel his balls tighten. It’s not easy from the position you’re in but you just manage to look up at him.

You know Dean’s awake though when he twists his hands into the sheets, desperately fumbling for anything to hold on to, his hips bucking up and you make eye contact just before he shoots down your throat.

Beautiful, desperate whines leave him as his stomach muscles contract, sounds he would be much too controlled to make otherwise. You wish you could drink them down along with his come, you catch yourself thinking, and nearly roll your eyes at yourself.

You finally move off him, hand lazily pumping him a few more times while Dean catches his breath. His chest is rising and falling, and he looks so perfectly broken that you want to touch yourself just to how he looks right now. Guard down, spent, no pretense. Just the perfection that is him.

You wipe your hand across your mouth, then crawl up to him and snuggle against his side. His hand pats your arm, uncoordinated.

“Fuck,” he says and you grin. You bury your face against his neck and settle down to wait.

Dean is extra generous on nights like this. He’ll take care of you, filthily and thoroughly, in a little bit. But just now, this is all you want, all you need. To know that Dean has let go, and that you were the cause of it.

You grin to yourself. It’s gonna be a long night.

[muchanmocha]

Do you think that Luka has a hard time understanding and/or feeling remorse for his actions if they don’t directly affect him, and do you think this is why he lacked a reaction at Hyun Woo’s death? Your post about him being horrified by killing his clones when he really wanted to set them free was great, and that, along with him also being horrified at Hyuna’s death, has me wondering this. But Luka seemed to genuinely see Hyun Woo as his friend even though they weren’t as close towards the end, but maybe they had drifted far enough apart in Luka's mind that he didn’t really associate himself with Hyun Woo at that point? What do you think?

[Referencing this post]

I actually have a longer post in the works about how the dead clones scene fits into the bigger picture and why I think it'd basically set everything else in motion, including what happened with Hyun Woo. But I can try to respond with some of the main points here!

-

Why did Luka lack a reaction to Hyun Woo's death, unlike with the clones and Hyuna?

But that's exactly it isn't it? Those two events bookend all of the times inbetween where Luka doesn't seem to care.

The scene with the clones is significant because it's the first time.

The scene with Hyuna is significant because it happened to Hyuna, and as I will get into further down, Hyuna fulfills a specific role for him.

What happened to the dead clones utterly broke his will and Luka chose to cope with that by completely withdrawing into himself, essentially committing to a form of escapism or dissociation.

In your dreams, you'll run and play

In paradise

— Wiege

I think after the clones incident, he basically just started blocking out everything that involves him processing death and loss.

That's where Hyuna comes in.

Hyuna is his escapism.

[Made a post breaking down the events with Hyun Woo here]

What changed with Luka and Hyun Woo wasn't that they drifted apart so Luka didn't care about him enough to be affected by his death.

What changed was that after the clones died, Luka threw away a reality he couldn't cope with to drown himself in Hyuna and only Hyuna.

In other words, he didn't react to Hyun Woo's death because it's part of the reality he's denying. He's (perhaps subconsciously) not allowing himself to acknowledge it or process it.

But he can't do that with Hyuna.

If Hyuna is his way of escaping from reality, where is he supposed to go, to escape to, when she's the one dying?

Despite the blood that follows him, Hyuna is the probably first time he's been forced to confront death since that very first scene with the clones.

Do you think Luka has a hard time understanding/or feeling remorse for his actions if they don't directly affect him?

There are strong implications that come with the fact that Hyuna told Luka to forgive himself.

It means he hasn't forgiven himself.

He keeps running away from what happened, and what's happening, because he isn't able to and won't be able to forgive himself for what he's done.

By not acknowledging the present and not processing the deaths that follow him, he essentially side-steps the problem.

He doesn't have to confront the guilt, shame, internal struggles, or the question of forgiveness... if it had never happened, right?

(To be clear he does know that people have died, whether that be Hyun Woo or the Alien Stage contestants he went up against.)

(However knowing something and processing something are two different things and I suspect he's mentally blocking himself from doing the latter.)

The dead clones incident can only affect him so deeply because he does have the inherent capacity for compassion.

But the world of Alien Stage is not kind to those with compassion. So he throws it away.

The post-Round 7 interview states that Luka looks down on Mizi and co for getting swept up in their emotions.

Luka likely dismisses this as foolishness by simply avoiding it.

— Post Round 7 Q&A, Patreon

Yeah, he does. I mean he basically dialed up that avoidance to 100.

Vivimeng describe Mizi and co as "strong individuals who, in a space that seems inhumane, seek to connect by loving others."

And that's absolutely true. They really are brave individuals for daring to care when it will only hurt more if they do.

At the same time it's understandable that Luka chose to turn away from that.

At a young age, he's already been shown, quite brutally, what happens if you care.

-

Thanks for the ask, anon! I ended up connecting even more dots while writing this up lol

[dock57]

Do you think Shrike knows what species he is?

Assuming anyone knows at all.

Zeurel described him as redacted. I imagine his readings show up as such on scanners. “Oh…this one is…uh….yeah…”

I imagine whatever he is, it’s heavily classified and strictly No Reveal. And anyone who does know is advised to not say anything.

LAW definitely knows for sure.

I like to think if you ask Shrike he responds by saying “I’m me.” “I is what I is.” Or any variations thereof as if he rehearsed it.

And Beebs advises anyone asking to not do so. “Don’t ask him. He’ll only end up raising more questions.”

“I heard that!”

(My own theory is that he was a failed experimental extremophile hybrid with cephalopod, human and monkey traits)

What do you think?

[Yes, I absolutely believe that Shrike does not know what species he is. Its been implied often throughout the series that Shrike’s species is “unknown” or endangered in some way- even the first time we see Shrike’s profile on Kara’s screen said “Species: Unknown.”

Shrike, not the brightest child, so ignorant could be at play too, but I theorize the thought that Shrike may have been taken in and raised at LAW. So far, it seems like from what we receive in the series is that very much of LAW past life is with LAW. I honestly do not think he knows or where he came from.

I think another example that tells me that Shrike is clueless about himself is the gem embedded into the back of his head.

When Punti asked Shrike where (or how?) he got the gem, Shrike says on the line that he has it forever, not really having a point of origin of where or when he got it. Heck, its unsure if he was born with it or it was added onto to him.

I would support the idea that LAW may no what he is and keeps that information restricted- even to Shrike. Since the cataclysm is taking out species, it could be possible that Shrike’s kind was involved. How involved? Who knows.

Actually I have heard of the experiment theory! I cannot think of anything on the top of my head to support it? Or examples I can pull for it.

You could take the scene I just mentioned from episode two, when asked about the crystal and his absence knowledge of how it came to exist. You could even take the one scene from episode 4, when confronted by Jawbone who questioned why Shrike was still wearing a red suit, despite not “being” one anymore, and Shrike said on the lines “they won’t put me back under the knife.” However, you could say that just about the suit itself.

I would disregard the theory though, I think have done some experimenting on him, but I don’t know if Shrike is an artificial creation himself, since at the end of episode 2, when Beebs pass Punti over and ask what will happen to him- they said that it will take some time to get used to being the last of your kind, then paneled over to Shrike.

But dang, what do I know? This series always surprises me! I’m very curious what Shrike’s kind has to do with the cataclysm, if anything.

Also that little interaction you mentioned- I wanted to doodle something out for it, so I hope ya enjoy!

[sylusonychinus]

Episode Three: A Question Left Hanging

The clinking of silverware and the hum of conversation filled the reunion hall as the dinner progressed. Laughter echoed from different corners of the room, old classmates sharing stories of how they made it in the aviation world. But amidst the cheerful energy, Marissa had her sights set on something else.

Or rather, someone else.

"You know, Caleb," Marissa drawled, swirling the wine in her glass, "it’s so surprising that you’re sitting with [Reader]. I mean, of all people."

[Reader] sighed inwardly. Here we go.

Caleb arched a brow, his fork pausing midair. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Marissa smirked. "Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s just… people change, you know? Some for the better, some for the worse." Her eyes flickered toward [Reader], full of artificial concern. "I just don’t want you to waste your time on someone who doesn’t deserve you."

The table grew quiet. Eyes darted between them, some eager for drama, others visibly uncomfortable.

Liana Reyes, seated a few chairs away, leaned in with a practiced smile. "What Marissa means is," she said, her voice saccharine sweet, "you and I would make a much better match, Caleb. We come from the same background, the same standards. [Reader]… well, she’s just not in our league, is she?"

[Reader] clenched her jaw, fingers tightening around her napkin.

But before she could respond, Caleb set his glass down with an audible clink, his usually calm expression darkening.

"Marissa," he said, voice steady but cold, "shut up."

Marissa’s smug expression faltered. "W-What?"

"You heard me." He leaned back, arms crossing over his chest. "I don’t know where you got the idea that I need your opinion on who’s worth my time, but let me make something clear—I decide that. Not you. And definitely not Liana."

Liana scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "No need to be so defensive, Caleb. We’re just looking out for you."

"Yeah?" Caleb tilted his head. "Then maybe you should start by not treating people like garbage."

Marissa’s face turned red, her mouth opening and closing like she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

[Reader] placed a hand on Caleb’s arm, a silent gesture to calm him down before she stood.

"Let me handle this," she murmured.

Caleb hesitated, then gave her a small nod.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to Marissa, her voice clear and unwavering. "You’ve spent years trying to make me feel small, haven’t you?" She tilted her head. "Why? Did it make you feel powerful? Like you were better than me?"

Marissa scoffed. "Oh, please—"

"You called me pathetic, made fun of my clothes, told people I’d never make it. But look at where we are now." She gestured to the grand hall around them. "I built my career with my own hands. What about you?"

Marissa stiffened.

[Reader] let a smirk cross her lips. "Oh, that’s right. You spend more time chasing after men with money than actually earning it yourself."

A few gasps rippled across the table, quiet murmurs breaking out. Marissa paled.

"Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d rather enjoy my evening with people who actually matter." [Reader] picked up her drink and sat back down beside Caleb, dismissing Marissa completely.

Humiliated, Marissa grabbed her purse and stormed out, Liana quickly following after her.

The tension slowly dissipated, and soon, the table erupted into casual conversations again, as if the whole ordeal had never happened.

Caleb let out a low chuckle, nudging [Reader] slightly. "That was satisfying to watch."

She smirked. "She had it coming."

—

After the reunion, Caleb and [Reader] stepped outside together, the night air crisp and cool. The city lights flickered below, painting the streets in a golden glow.

Caleb shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing at her. "I still can’t believe I didn’t recognize you."

She laughed softly. "I wasn’t exactly the loudest person back then. Always kept to myself."

"Yeah, but we studied together, trained together. It’s crazy." He shook his head with a chuckle. "I must’ve been blind."

"Or just busy being the golden boy of the academy," she teased.

He groaned. "Please don’t call me that."

They walked in comfortable silence for a moment before Caleb slowed his steps.

"You know," he started, voice quieter, "our moms set up that blind date hoping something would happen between us."

She hummed, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, I figured."

He turned to face her. "Did you ever consider it?"

That made her pause.

All these years, she had carried that quiet, unspoken crush—watching him from afar, wondering what it would be like if he ever noticed her.

And now, here he was, asking if she had ever thought about them.

She opened her mouth, ready to answer.

But then—

His phone rang.

Caleb pulled it out, checking the caller ID. His expression shifted, a flicker of frustration crossing his features.

"Another emergency flight," he muttered. He let out a sigh before meeting her gaze again. "I don’t need your answer now," he said, voice firm. "But when I come back…"

He took a step closer, just enough for her to catch the warmth in his eyes.

"I want to hear it."

And just like that, he was gone again—leaving [Reader] staring after him, her heart pounding.

For the first time in years, she had a chance.

And for the first time ever—Caleb was waiting for her.

Taglist: @jinwoosbabyboo @kithyyy @mcdepressed290 @nezuswritingdesk @elegantdeerlady @yuuuumii @duhgurl @lumieresdreams @bidisasterforevermore @i-messed-up-big-time

@that-one-scoundrel @justpassingdontworry @ansbobcar @nagireos

[loopstagirl]

20 or 26 with Merlin and Gwaine?

For @Febuwhump day 26: hiding an injury

Gwaine whistled to himself as he strode along the corridor, casting an appreciative eye at the couple of maids who passed him. He looked back, and so did they, before they hurried off, giggling. Gwaine grinned. Maybe being a knight and living in a castle had some benefits, after all. 

When he reached the armoury doors, however, his smile slipped. Hand resting on the handle, he paused, leaning in closer. He could hear low voices, unidentifiable, but filled with malice. Then came a thud that sounded suspiciously like a blade being driven into wood, and a voice raised in protest. Gwaine raised his eyebrows. That voice he did know. 

He shouldered open the door and strode in, resuming his whistling. It didn’t take him long to spot the commotion. 

“We’re making a habit of this,” he said, grinning at Merlin. It didn’t meet his eyes though, and it took all of his self-control to keep his voice even. 

His friend had his back against the wall, half of Arthur’s armour in his arms. The other half was in a pile by his feet. While Gwaine hadn’t taken long to figure out Merlin didn’t take a usual servant’s approach of being careful with his master’s belongings, these had the look as if they’d been dropped. 

In front of him were two nobles who Gwaine didn’t know, nor did he care too. Both looked furious. One had a knife in his hand, a snarl on his face and a mean look in his eye that instantly got Gwaine’s back up. The other instinctively reached for his sword when he saw Gwaine, only for his hand to close on nothing. The weapon was still quivering in a shield. 

Merlin grinned back. “Let’s not.” 

“Still.” Gwaine drew his own sword. “I’d quite like to know what is going on here.” 

“This boy didn’t bow when we entered.” It was the older man who spoke, the one who’d lost his sword. Gwaine was almost impressed by the colour his face was turning. 

“You don’t look like the king.” 

“What?” 

“The king. I’m pretty sure he was younger. Blonder. Hate to admit it, but better looking, too.” 

“Show some respect!” The younger brandished his weapon at Gwaine. 

Gwaine sighed. He flicked his hand, making use of the longer reach of his sword. As he’d predicted, the man didn’t have a proper grip on his knife and it went soaring out of his hand the second Gwaine’s blade connected.  

“How dare-,” 

“He’s a knight of Camelot,” Merlin said. “You probably don’t want to do that.” 

“A knight? You, sir, do not look like a knight!” 

Gwaine gave a theatrical groan and clapped his hand to his forehead. “That’s what the cloak is for?” He asked Merlin. “So idiots actually know who defends the kingdom?” 

“Yep.” 

Merlin’s posture had softened, his grin coming more easily now. Whatever situation he’d got himself into, he obviously knew Gwaine was going to get him out of it. It was a nice feeling, this belonging. Gwaine was starting to get used to. 

“Right. I’m a Knight. Hand-picked by the king himself. Who, we’ve established, is not you. So why would Merlin bow to you? I’m pretty certain he doesn’t even bow to Arthur.” 

“He is a servant! We’re nobles. It’s only right-,” 

“That you get out of here as fast as you can. Excellent idea. Off you go.” 

Gwaine gave a mocking bow, gesturing to the door with his sword. Both men eyed him in hatred but neither made any attempt to retrieve their missing weapons. 

“The king will hear about this,” the older spat, but he motioned for his companion to head towards the door. 

“Please do,” Gwaine said. “Just do me a favour and wait until I’m there. I’d love to watch his face when you admit to bullying servants and threatening his own manservant.” 

The men responded, but it was mumbled into their chests as they hurried out. 

“Thanks,” Merlin said. He bent to retrieve the rest of Arthur’s armour. “I had it handled but-,” 

“Really? What were you going to do?” 

Merlin shrugged. “Throw something at them?” 

Gwaine chuckled. “Come to the training grounds with me, I’ll teach you a few moves. For the next time you get yourself in this situation.” 

“No thanks,” Merlin said with a shudder. “Arthur tried to teach me, once. I think I might have traumatised him. Besides, I don’t need it.” 

“You don’t?” Gwaine kept his tone light. Merlin sounded as if he had spoken without thinking.  

Merlin shrugged. “With you around to save the day? How could I deny you the chance to be a dashing hero?” 

“I am dashing,” Gwaine agreed. He sheathed the sword and took some of the armour from Merlin’s arms. “Where we going with this?” 

“Arthur’s rooms.” 

“He there?” 

“Hopefully not,” Merlin grinned. “As I was supposed to do this yesterday. Think he’s in a council meeting.” 

“Then I’ll come.” Gwaine hoped he wasn’t supposed to be in said council meeting as well. 

He let Merlin lead the way. But as his friend walked in front of him, Gwaine frowned. 

“Are you alright?�� 

“Fine,” Merlin called back over his shoulder. 

Gwaine didn’t push it. But he watched closely as they walked, and by the time they reached Arthur’s rooms, he was certain. Merlin was favouring one side and his sigh of relief as he put Arthur’s armour down sounded suspiciously pain-filled. 

“Merlin.” 

“Gwaine?” 

“Did they hurt you?” 

“Those idiots? They couldn’t if they tried.” 

“Then why are your favouring one side?” 

Merlin crossed his arms defensively. He wasn’t quick enough to hide his wince this time and Gwaine just stared at him. One thing he’d learnt about Merlin was his complete inability to let a silence lengthen. 

“Arthur’s armour is heavy,” he said conversationally as he took the remaining pieces from Gwaine. “Surprised he can stand up in it half the time.” 

“Mm hmm.” Gwaine moved into the room. He hadn’t been in here very often – Arthur didn’t intend to invite him in. Only Leon seemed to have that privilege, although Gwaine suspected that was more to do with his ability to actually advise the king rather than annoy him with unhelpful suggestions. 

He pulled Arthur’s chair out and straddled it, watching Merlin work. A few shirts strewn on the floor were tossed behind a dresser but he was careful when it came to handling the armour. 

Once that was away, he turned towards the bed. He kept his left arm clamped tight to his side even as he dragged the coverlet up with his right. 

“Two hands will make it easier," Gwainw pointed out. 

“Where’s the fun in that?”  

Gwaine had spent a lifetime getting into and running away from scraps. He knew how to suppress pain, to act as if everything was fine. He thought he was good at it. Not, it seemed, as good as Merlin was. 

“What did they do to you?” 

“Wha-? Nothing!” 

“What did who do to who?”  

The voice came from the doorway and Merlin jumped. He let out a hiss which he tried to cover up in a cough. 

“You’re back early.” 

“We resolved matters. Gwaine, get off my chair.” 

“It’s not like it’s the chair,” Gwaine complained. “I can sit in this one.” 

“Move,” Arthur said. But he came to stand next to the knight, arms folded and eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?” 

“Some of your uppity nitwits decided they are more important than you and want the entire castle bowing,” Gwaine said. Despite his previous words, he did stand. It pleased him that he was taller than Arthur. But it also meant that Merlin was faced with the pair of them staring him down. 

“Gwaine-,” Merlin began, but Gwaine ignored him. 

“Cornered our boy here. There were blades drawn.” 

Arthur stiffened and Gwaine saw a muscle throb in his jaw. 

“I’m fine,” Merlin protested. “It’s nothing I haven’t handled a hundred times.” 

This time, it was Gwaine who winced. That probably wasn’t the wisest thing to say in front of Arthur. 

“You cut yourself on a wooden practice sword,” Arthur said. “Did they hurt you?” 

“No,” Merlin scowled. 

“Yes,” Gwaine spoke over him. “He’s favouring his right side.” 

Merlin shot him a look of betrayal. Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. 

“Go to Gaius, Merlin.” 

“I’m fine!” 

“Gwaine, take him.” 

Merlin glared at the pair of them, before throwing the pillow down on the bed with a huff. He stalked towards the door and Gwaine didn’t hesitate to fall into step with him. He nudged Merlin’s shoulder lightly with his own. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with things like this.” 

“Uppity nitwits?” Merlin asked.  

Gwaine chuckled. “Don’t know their names: don’t care to find out. Arthur can figure it out himself or you can tell him.” 

“I’m not telling him. They might-,” He broke off suddenly. 

“Try again?” Gwaine said softly. “I’m all for being your knight in shining armour, Merlin, but, apparently, I do have duties now and then. You should tell Arthur. Just in case I’m not around.” 

“I don’t need protecting.” 

“I think we all do. Now and then. There’s nothing wrong with accepting help, either.” Gwaine spoke from past experience, although not something he’d shared with his friend. Merlin gave him a sideways look. 

“Are you alright?” 

Gwaine grinned. “’course I am. Look, here we are.” 

He pushed open the door. He couldn’t hide his sigh of relief when Gaius looked up at them. If the physician had been on his rounds, he knew he’d never get Merlin to agree to come back later. 

“Sit. What have you done now?” 

Gwaine looked at Merlin, then gaped when he realised Gaius was speaking to him. 

“Not me!” 

Gaius’ eyebrows came together.  

“Merlin?” 

“Uppity nitwits,” Merlin said by way of explanation. “Nothing to see here. Arthur’s kicked me out: need any help?” 

“He’s hurt,” Gwaine said simply, “and won’t admit it.” 

Merlin had avoided his questions. He hadn’t answered the king. But he balked when Gaius fixed him with a stern look and found his shoes very interesting. 

“Shirt off,” Gaius ordered.  

Gwaine twitched, almost as if he was going to obey himself. There was a type of authority in Gaius that Arthur could learn a thing or two from. Merlin also seemed to have no defence against it and he begrudgingly took his shirt off. 

Gwaine whistled. There was an ugly bruise blossoming on Merlin’s ribs, surrounding an area of red. Merlin hissed as Gaius pressed against it. 

“You’re lucky you don’t have a broken rib,” he scolded. “You should’ve come straight to me.” 

“It’s fine,” Merlin muttered through gritted teeth. “Gaius, you know-,” he lowered his voice and Gwaine strained his ears to catch the end of the sentence. 

He couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like ‘I’ve dealt with far worse than this’. It made him wonder what being a servant in Camelot actually meant. 

“I once broke a rib,” Gwaine said. He kept his tone light, as if he hadn’t just dragged his friend here against his will. “I fell off a barn roof.” 

“And what, pray tell, were you doing on said roof?” Gaius asked, shooting him a disapproving look before instructing Merlin to sit down. 

Gwaine shrugged. “Can’t quite remember. There was ale. A barkeep’s wife. Or maybe his daughter? And a group of thugs who I think owed her money?” 

Gaius rolled his eyes as he picked up a point of ointment. Gwaine recoiled from the smell from across the room when he opened it. But his words had done what they needed them to do. Merlin was grinning at him again. 

“Next time,” Gwaine said, “don’t try and hide it. You’re a poor liar, Merlin.” 

He chose to ignore the look that passed between physician and servant, and instead headed for the door. 

“Where are you going?” 

Gwaine grinned, and touched his sword. “I have some uppity nitwits to introduce myself properly to.” 

“I’ll keep the salve to hand then,” Gaius said drily. 

Gwaine winked but before he exited, Merlin called him back. 

“Thanks,” he said, sounding sheepish. 

Gwaine’s smile was genuine. “Anytime.”