#and so many people on here are so smart and correct and funny and talented

[thessaralka]

babe i'm so high on my own gas it's unreal 😂

but i also think everyone else should be high on their own gas as well and know their own genius and applaud it, even if they aren't perfect bc that's what empowers other people. people who know their own genius aren't hating on other people or being whiny little bitches, they're creating things that empower/ inspire/ entertain other people.

sorry to make this deep but you made me feel things, ily.

...how much of a bastardass solas is to rook vs how sweet-loverboy solas is with vhenan gives me whiplash and makes me both horny and physically ill

he would never show vhenan that side of him. like he tried so hard in trespasser and he physically couldn't do it. he called her vhenan and almost choked to death holding back his tears and self hatred as he kissed her lmfaoaofjilhbleiuhb

and then with rook he's like

"yeah i hate blood magic >:(" *blood magics rook to get his way*,

"varric, yeah? at least you still have him to chat with. lol." *literally kills varric and uses blood magic to fool rook about it*,

*traps rook in the fade with the full intention to leave them there to rot and die in the worst fucking prison imaginable to him specifically*,

"i swear 2 god and on the lives of all my friends (leaves vhenan out of it) the veil won't come down by my hand sweetie pie :) love u. we've made such good memories together, yeah?" *because the veil will come down by rook's hand, the chesspiece solas uses to win the game, doesn't give a single flying fuck about rook other than that they are his foil and he begrudgingly respects them*.

i love pookie so much. he's so dastardly and pathetic at the same time

[yestrday]

— A FITTING PRISON. yan! shikanoin heizou x gn! reader

stupid people like you shouldn’t be trying to think for themselves. more so if you’re only looking to destroy yourself.

just a short read after i finished his hangout. he’s so funny lmao with itto. funky lil dude,, but also... hot

( self-destructive tendencies on reader’s part, hinted dépression )

“poor thing. i told you, didn’t i? my detective’s intuition is always correct. they were trying to prey on you.”

you want to muster up the most hateful glare you could manage to smug-sounding boy, but you find yourself too tired to even try. the toll of today’s events have taken a drain on you. you slump down defeatedly on the waiting table in the police station and close your eyes. heizou continues to yammer on in the background.

always likes to hears himself talk, does he?

someone settles down a tea cup in front of you, the aromatic smell bringing you out from your tired stupor. uesugi smiles down at you with pity. “heizou-senpai’s talking a lot more than usual, huh? he’s always liked showing off... but i guess it has always been more severe when you’re around.”

“ue-su-gi~?” heizou impatiently taps his foot with arms crossed. subtly gesturing to the door, he gives him a pointed look. “out, if you may? i am trying to talk to my beloved assistant here?”

you roll your eyes and huff, looking the other way as you sip at the chipped cup. uesugi awkwardly chuckles and leaves. “i don’t need another hundred told-you-sos from you,” you grumble. “’you’re too gullible,’ ‘you’re too naive,’ ‘you’re too helpless,’ i’ve heard them all before, okay?! just... ugh. leave me be.”

but heizou, the oh-so-great detective never leaves people alone, does he? not until he’s finally provoked out of them the results that he wants. you feel him step closer to you, stopping at your back as his gaze peers down at you. “and i’ll tell you another hundred if i need to. this silly business venture of yours has stop, [last name]. you merely don’t have the talent for it and the cleverness to see through someone else’s schemes.”

“and what?!” you abruptly stand up, spilling the hot tea over and glaring at heizou through tears. “i’ll stay here by your side as your sidepiece?! here to make you look smart because i’m stupid and i don’t understand anything you people say?!” your voice breaks as thoughts of your own incompetency at everything flashes through your mind and stabs you harder than you liked. “you and i know i’m useless as your assistant! i faint at the sight of blood, i ruin every legal document i touch, and everyone’s complaining that i’m wasting too many resources!”

“i’m...” you sniffle, slumping down on your seat as hot tears spill onto your lap. “i’m wasting everyone’s time by existing... you should just let me go and watch me ruin every opportunity i get then die bankrupt and alone in some ditch... there’s no use in letting someone like me stay and ruin everything even further.”

the implications of what you just said lay heavy in the air and although it makes everything more awkward ( heizou’s silent stare while you fiddle your thumbs does not help ), you feel somewhat relieved. the emotions and words had spilled out of you so fast that you barely had the time to rethink what you were about to say and yet having them spoken out loud lets you finally realize what you were wanting for.

and master detective that he is, heizou has figured it out too.

“i hate sinful criminals. i hate it even more when i remind someone again and again of what they should not do and they continue to do it again.”

forcefully, he kicks the chair around and slams his palm into the backrest. your noses touch and irritation boils over you once again. you make a move to push him away, only for your feelings to simmer down and your clammy hands shakily cling to the armrest, finally taking a good look at his face and wonder—

when were his eyes so ... blank?

“and even after that,” he mumbles for only you to hear. drawing his lips to your ear, he harshly bites at the soft flesh of your lobe and hisses, “i abhor it when stupid people like you throw away their own life like it’s nothing.”

he pulls away with a smile you’ve only ever seen directed at criminals. his green eyes devour your shaking figure hungrily and decides that yes, this was better than the reckless fool who willingly threw themselves to the wolves for a chance to be devoured.

“if not the office, then i’ll just relocate you, dearest assistant!” he pats your head and stands up straight. “perhaps to the shrine, where cuz can take care of you? or maybe... my home?”

you stare up at him unbelievingly and he only laughs at the foolish expression. 

“ah, yes, perhaps that’s it.” he hums to himself in self-satisfaction. “a perfect prison for a would-be murderer.

“as for the cuffs... well, i’m sure the police station can spare some for us ♪”

[wonderlandleighleigh]

midge/lenny just being midge/lenny (you can interpret this however you would like)

"Have we ever actually been on a real stage together at the same time?"

Lenny thinks about that as he sits down on one of the stools provided for them. It's 1992, and they've been asked to do something special for a Broadway Cares charity event. Which means...

"I do not believe we have," he responds. "How does it feel to be on-stage with a comedy legend?"

Midge smiles at him. "Who, Robin Williams? Amazing. The man is a really something."

The audience laughs as Lenny rolls his eyes.

"I'm very famous and important you know," he tells her, pretending to be annoyed.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, he says that every time he fails to perform in bed," Midge tells the audience.

Lenny laughs at that along with the audience.

"Is this what they had in mind when they asked us to do this?" she asks. "Just roast each other for an audience?"

"I hope so because that's seemingly all we know how to do," Lenny chuckles. "I guess we could sing."

"You can sing," Midge says quickly. "I don't do that."

"She does," Lenny tells everyone. "She does. Voice of a fucking angel, refuses to admit it. Has the entire world believing she has no musical talent, and yet..."

"Look, if I'm pretty, and smart and funny and I can sing, I'm not leaving anything for any other performers," Midge explains. "There has to be something wrong with me."

Lenny looks up in exaggerated thought, and the audience laughs as he clearly weighs his options on what to say next.

"It's not worth it," he tells everyone. "I'm getting too old to spend that many nights sleeping on the couch in my office. Come on, you really don't wanna sing with me? Sure you do."

"What do you want to sing?" Midge asks, looking amused. "You're the Top? So you can call me a turkey dinner? I do not want to be called a turkey dinner."

"Well, what do you wanna do for these nice people?" Lenny asks. "They paid a lot of money to be here. We're standing on stage in front of an enormous portion of the Broadway community."

"I love Broadway," Midge beams. "I won a Tony."

Lenny groans. "We know."

"In 1968."

"Yes."

"For a play I wrote, and co-directed about my mother's time in Paris," Midge keeps explaining. "It's called Ma Cherie."

"They know," Lenny insists. "We all know."

"He won a Tony, too," Midge says, pointing at Lenny. "But I won mine first."

Lenny looks to the ceiling, shaking his head as the audience laughs. "This is why we don't do double acts."

Midge smiles and laughs. "Okay, okay, I give. We can sing."

"Finally. What are we singing?"

Midge smiles and dashes over to the piano player at the side of the stage, who's been patiently waiting for his cue, and when she dashes back, he starts playing and Lenny perks up, looking at her in surprise.

"You sap."

The audience laughs as the strains of Til There Was You start playing.

Midge laughs and turns to the audience. "The time is early 1960, and the place is a very atmospheric club in Miami. Two morons sit around staring at each other, trying to decide if they have genuine romantic feelings for one another, of if they just want to have sex and then never see each other again."

"One moron," Lenny corrects her, gazing at her adoringly. "The other moron had been head over heels in love for months."

"That moron gets to his feet and asks her to dance," Midge smiles fondly. "And this song starts to play."

[neptune-midheaven]

The Third House Placements and Their Handwriting Styles ~💖🌺🐚

Welcome back babes 😁🙏✨ I’m back posting someee bit but anything nonetheless ! This was a post I wanted to do for a while, this really intrigued me💫

I’m going to be talking about third house placements and their unique to the placement writing styles. Third house rules hands, arms, fingers and writing, correct !😄🎶 There is a correlation between handwriting and third house in astrology as it literlaly rules over it, so components in your third house astrology will dictate how this will look. Use all of the possible combinations you have in your chart ! 🙂☝️

For generational planet ruled signs, use whatever works better.

🔆Sun/leo ~

May have a gift in being very dramatic and showy whenever they express their ideas or in their communication they can be very bright and charming. They’re very talented at absorbing knowledge and facts, they usually are the types of people to dish out random facts about anything whoever you’re talking to them, they have so much random knowledge kept in their minds it’s almost funny. They’re silly and a bit childlike people,

Handwriting style 🦁

Regal, nice looking. They have a confidence to their writing, if the whole class wrote on one piece of paper, theirs would stand out more, maybe a “I can trust what they write is the best there is here” is what people reading over theirs would think.

🌙Moon/cancer ~

Loves sentimental things, talking about the past and family makes them feel good and safe, attachments to the mother, most likely missed her or their family whenever they had to go to school, homesickness at school

Handwriting style 🌝

Soft, homely words. Shyer? They write with a grace and their words are poetically beautiful. It looks like something out of a movie. Nostalgic, their ink is softer and lighter, their curves are soft, their lines and o’s are soft and so sensitive. SO gentle and calm. It’s sleepy?

💫Mercury/gemini/virgo ~

The wittiest, most social people ever. They’re all definitely extroverts, I am one with my gemini in 3rd house ova here 😘, they love talking, and never stop talking and love chatting about anything and never stop chatting about anything, they love walking up to random people and never stop walking up to random people and staring a convo with them out of nowhere 😀. My friends bully me all the time for this. I understand. The one kid in school with like all the answers, they just knew the answer to things and easily got good grades. People asked them for answers all of the time since they are so smart and intelligent, they absorb what they’re being taught so quickly they don’t ever let the teacher finish talking. They’re fast and versatile.

Handwriting style 🤸‍♀️

Fast writing, so many words. They write super fast and probably have so many typos in their essays and papers. Handwriting can look like crap 🤨😐. Like there’s no rush, you’re gonna get your paper done on time! You can’t read what they write al of the time because they rush through writing everything. Their letters and words look fancy somehow, like they were written by the scholar of all scholars, they’re just unintelligible words and sentences. Teachers may need to ask what the student with this placement writes because they can’t read it. Scribbles, jumbled and mixing up things all over the page. You can tell they write fast with the jagged lines and crooked n’s and t’s ajakksks.

💕Venus/taurus/libra ~

Very sweet and charming way of talking to others, they have strong persuasive powers with their honeyed words, they can almost charm you into doing anything, they seem so innocent and sweet. These people are very kind though of course! They love giving others compliments, strangers, their friends, their family, they’re such sweet people to have in your life. They attract partners and relationships by doing their daily tasks, lovers can show up suddenly when they’re running errands or they can attract a lot of interest at their school.

Handwriting style 🍓

The most pleasant, aesthetic handwriting i have ever seen, even if their handwriting is bad it still becomes an art style somehow, i don’t really know how else to describe that. It’s like no matter how bad it could possibly look or how incoherent it is, their script still manages to look NICE.

💥Mars/aries ~

Very loud voices, a bit like sun, but it’s more like their power and strength is used whenever they talk. They could be meaner or aggressive classmates, angry talkers, I know so many people with this placement who talk so mad, so much cursing, ranting and screaming. We love it all.

Handwriting style 🥵

Very rough and fast handwriting, similar to mercury; however, it has more fervor, the messiest and most impulsive handwriting out of all of the other placements.

🐚Jupiter/sagittarius ~

Loud and expressive communicators, similar to the sun here, but they’re louder and bigger. You can hear their voices from across the room and they’re usually the know-it-all’s in the classroom. Very friendly and fun to talk to, they talk about so many exotic and interesting things. They love to crack a joke or two. Also, it’s something about these peoples voices are just FUNNY. Like how they talk is like hilarious and jolly in a good way. It make you wanna crack up and feel good. They make you feel good and BLESSED when they talk to you.

Handwriting style 🍀

Larger letters, I’ve noticed they have bigger “holes” and like to expand their letters over the pages, their words go over the lines and it could be messy usually, sort of like mars fashion but it’s just wider words on the paper.

🪐Saturn/capricorn ~

Very punctual people with perfect punctuation. They hate it whenever their thoughts are messy or unorganized, it makes it hard for them to think thoroughly like they are expected to. They’re the smarter most mature minds in the room. Very deep, daddy voices. IDK HOW TO DESCRIBE IT. THEY SOUND LIKE THEIR DADS. ITS CRAZY. They talk with so authority and sureness, their diction is so perfect it makes everyone mad.

Handwriting style ✏️

Perfect handwriting, they hate it when their sentences look off or unstructured on a page. The most rounded o’s, the straightest lines and perfect length for every letter they write. Correct punctuation once again, their words look like they were printed by a typewriter.

🌪Uranus/aquarius ~

Very different minds, they could feel strange or odd in school, like they were just the oddball learners, had weird interests, or was a huge nerd over so many subjects. Crazy coffee drinkers, the ones with monster drinks and twenty textbooks that are about to fall out of their open backpacks because they rushed to get to school on time. The craziest people actually, their minds are like on drugs, they can be hard to keep up with.

Handwriting style ⚡️

Weird ways they write certain styles of their letters and their words can “come out” of the page. They write SO fast this is usually why they take harder classes in school with more work just solely on the fact they can write much faster than anyone else. Maybe comic-book looking writing? They’re dynamic and crazy like harsh lines and crazy o’s, there’s something unique about the way they write.

🌊Neptune/pisces ~

Such idealistic thinkers. They want to see the good in their surroundings, they do need to be careful with this because surroundings and things can be deceiving. They can absorb such much of their surroundings, they can be quieter communicators because of this. It can be taken advantage of since they’re overwhelmed by conversations or they can be easily fooled by the wrong people. Like they believe things that aren’t even true? Or they like tell a lot of white lies when they’re talking that make people go like uhh is that even true?😀😀 But they play it off when they’re caught lying, it’s very deceptive. The quietest kids in school that either did drugs or tried to escape class by doing some illegal stuff, or they just left. Some were never seen at school.

Handwriting style 🌀

The sleepiest handwriting I’ve ever seen. It’s provably hard to read what they write. Faded words maybe? Faded words on faded paper. So poetic though, it’s pretty but not in a venus way, it like captivates you. It’s hypnotizing they way they draw out their e’s and their a’s have a dreamy tail that connects to their next letter.

🥀Pluto/scorpio ~

Obsessive minds, they want to know everything possible, they want to reach the deepest depths on information and knowledge. They are motived and driven to know as much as they can, and they always seem to succeed. They’re very smart. The kids in school who would keep to themselves or would obsess over what the teacher taught them, the way they communicate is like they’ve read the same page over and over again for days. Obsessive.

Handwriting style 🖤

Darker, hard to see words, they can have obsessive writing. It’s perfect but fast writing, maybe a bit scary that they have the ability to write so much with so much power? People can be freaked out with just how much they know already. So their words can be very persuasive, so the letters would be magnetic, you love their writing once you read one of their essays. You’re obsessed, just like they are.

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 8)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 3k

warnings: smut (semi-public sex), possessiveness (some sexual, some not), jealousy, some fluff and some angst, also some violence (including a very small amount against the reader, proceed with caution), mentions of infidelity in a previous relationship

a/n: oh y’all thought it was gonna be smooth sailing from here on out? lol

You didn’t want to abandon Bucky to do carpetside interviews, but he refused to get anywhere near a hot mic so you let him go while you walked over to a reporter you recognized; she’d been nice before, probably would be again this time, so you were a little relieved to see her tonight.

She introduced you to the camera and you were slightly spaced out until she turned to you and got your attention again.  “So, you’ve been making a lot of headlines lately for your new relationship— what’s the scoop?  How’s it going?” she asked playfully, pushing the microphone into your face.

“Uh, great,” you breamed, “he’s my date tonight and he seems to have disappeared to…” you turned around to look for him.  “Oh, he’s talking to... is that... Laurence Fishburne?”

“James, is that his name?” she prompted, making you focus your attention back on the interview.

“Um, yeah,” you nodded, the name sounding a bit foreign, “legally, but he goes mostly by his nickname Bucky.”

“Aw, that’s cute,” she smiled.  “He’s, uh…” her eyes widened a bit and you laughed.

“Yeah, he is,” you smirked.  “I assume by that facial expression you mean ‘crazy hot.’”

“I mean, in the politest way possible… yeah,” she giggled.

“Yeah, no, don’t pretend not to notice for my sake, cause, yeah, it’s… apparent.”

“Apparently he was your driver first?” she pressed.

“Yes!” you beamed, and then heard the way it sounded and backpedaled slightly.  “I promise that’s not why I hired him.  I actually didn’t meet him before he was on my team, but, I mean, I wasn’t mad to have some eye candy in the front seat.”

“Eye candy, huh?”

“But he’s so much more than that, that’s the thing,” you explained.  “We became good friends first, because he’s so smart and funny and kind and… I mean, I know he looks tough, and he is, but he’s really very sensitive underneath the slightly intimidating exterior.”

“Hard shell, soft center, sweet— he really does sound like candy!”

“Indeed,” you nodded.  “Gotta run but it was nice to chat!”

You dashed over to Bucky and clung onto his arm.  “Oh, hey, we were just talking about you,” he beamed.

“Loved you in After Midnight,” Mr. Fishburne smiled and even you were totally starstruck.

“Oh, wow, thanks, I loved you in… everything…” you trailed off, internally scolding yourself for the vague and useless compliment.  He was about to respond but was pulled away by some member of his team, giving you and Bucky a quick wave as he began a carpet-side interview.

“That was Laurence Fishburne, wasn’t it.” Bucky mumbled to you in a stunned monotone.  

“Yes, what were you doing talking to him?” you asked, amazed at his bravery to approach such a huge star.

“He came up to me, to congratulate me on… on dating you, I guess…”

“Or he mixed you up with Brad Pitt,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, if Brad Pitt lost all his money, spent a decade in the desert, went loco and buzzed all his hair off,” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, you look great,” you soothed him, straightening his tie.  “Wanna go take some pictures?”

“I’m a little scared,” he admitted with a shy smile.

“It’s easy, just give them that sexy brooding look you do so well.”

Bucky smirked pridefully.  “You think so?”

“Totally.  You’re a natural,” you assured.

You tugged his arm and guided him to the carpet, letting him lead the way (or look like he was leading the way) as you found a clear spot and noticed how the cameras instantly flashed faster and brighter.  Photographers called your name to get your attention, and you waved and smiled and pulled Bucky closer.  The feeling of his arm around your waist was warm and comforting, and you hoped holding you had the same effect for him.

“Where are you looking?” you asked.

“At you,” he answered.

“Bucky,” you giggled, “you’re supposed to look at the cameras!”

“I honestly can’t, it’s blinding,” he frowned.

“Here,” you sighed, pointing out into the darkness just above the sea of flashing lights.  “Look out there.”

“I can’t see anything!”

“I know, but, look as if there was something there to look at, trust me, it helps.”

You adjusted slightly a few times, turning a little to show off the low back of your dress.  You almost gasped when Bucky held your face and kissed you suddenly, but you were happy to melt into it even as you heard the cameras flash even more aggressively, some whoops and hollers coming from the crowd on and off the carpet.

He pulled back and you wanted to chase him for more but you realized it wasn’t the right time.  

“Let’s go inside,” you offered, guiding him the rest of the way down the carpet— mainly because you were afraid you’d end up jumping his bones right here in front of everyone.

He nodded and followed close by, arm resting on your shoulder the whole time, and just as you saw one of your friends and thought you might want to go over and introduce her to Bucky, you saw who she was talking to.

Sam.  

Seeing him always made your heart stop.  At first, it was because you were starstruck by him, in awe of his talent, amazed that you were going to be working with someone you admired so much.  Then it was because you had fallen for him and he had gladly swept you off your feet, bringing you into a whirlwind romance that at the time had felt like the only thing that mattered.  But since the break-up, and now, it was something else.  Fear wasn’t the word, it’s not like you were afraid of him in a literal sense, but there was this anxiety, this tenseness to seeing him.  It always brought back memories— the best and the worst, all at once.  Nights laughing together, sharing secrets, stealing glances and touches and kisses; nights spent alone staring at a phone that never rang.  Limbs tangled together between the sheets, that warm brown skin encompassing and surrounding yours; laying side by side in a bed that isn’t empty but is still plenty cold, seeing the way he angles his phone away from you and wishing you had the strength to just leave because you already knew what he was doing.  The first time you said ‘I love you.’  The first time he said ‘it won’t happen again.’

“You alright?” Bucky asked, tearing you from your thoughts.  You looked away and met Bucky’s gaze, hoping he either hadn’t seen your ex or at least hadn’t recognized him.  

“Yeah, I’m great,” you answered quickly, “let’s go get some drinks maybe?  And then I need to show you off to some people.”

“Show me off?” he scoffed.

“Yeah, why did you think I brought you here, really?” you winked.

“Hey, if we’re showing each other off, does that mean you’ll come to my next high school reunion?”

//

You’d been antsy ever since the two of you had come inside; it was obvious from the way you were clinging so much closer to him, and yet it was clear that your mind was a million miles away.

“Hey, it’s starting to wrap up, wanna head out soon?” you asked, trying to act casual, but he saw the way your eyes were darting up to where Sam Wilson was mingling and he knew it wasn’t about getting home early.  Did you really think he wouldn’t notice that you’d seen him?

“Whatever you wanna do,” he shrugged.

“Okay, could you bring the car around for me then?  And I’ll meet you outside?” you offered.  “I should say hi and bye to a few people.”

“Sure,” he agreed, starting to walk away after giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

And he really did try to do what he said he was going to, but the further away he walked, the more he glanced back to watch you walk across the room, the harder it was to just let it go.  He knew you were going to talk to him, and before he really even decided to do anything about it he found himself circling back around the room, following you.  

He thought he’d lost you when he turned a corner and you were gone, but then he heard voices from a doorway and cracked it open slightly to see you inside with a few other people, nobody he recognized although one of them he’d definitely seen in something before.

He sighed with relief, about to turn and go get the car like he said he would, but then Sam Wilson just had to magically materialize out of thin air as he stepped up behind you and tapped your shoulder.

“Sam!” you blurted out, spinning to face him with wide eyes.

“Hey,” he greeted, acting all suave and shit, making Bucky’s blood boil.  “You look great.”

“Oh, thanks,” you mumbled, “you too.”

“You’ve been all over the internet lately, making quite the splash,” he recalled with a contemplative nod.  “You and this new boytoy you’ve got.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is boyfriend,” you corrected sternly.  

“Honey,” he scoffed as he rolled his eyes.  Bucky couldn’t decide if it was worse to hear him call you a pet name in earnest or with the derogatory tone that he currently had.  “Everybody knows you go through these guys like potato chips.  Especially when they’re not famous— how many PAs did you hook up with on your last set, huh?”

“I don’t roll like that anymore,” you denied.

“That’s not what Jake Friedman says,” Sam smirked.  It actually took Bucky a moment to remember that that was the guy you’d… entertained in the backseat of your car, or maybe it was more that he had entertained you; you seemed to tense up when Sam mentioned him, as did Bucky.  “I mean, sure, he’s not crew, but he’s not famous the way you are.  The way we are.  And neither is your new guy.  He doesn’t ‘get it’, does he?  He doesn’t get what it’s like.  Has he already started freaking out about all the hate online?”

Bucky regretted that he’d ever said anything about that; if he’d known it would come around to prove Sam Wilson right about something, he wouldn’t have done it.  “No,” you lied.

“Well, he will,” Sam assured you, stepping a little closer to you and letting his fingers languidly brush over your arm.  “I made a mistake before, letting you go.”

“Damn right,” you hissed as you pulled away from him.

“But I realized that, and now I’m wondering why we aren’t giving the people what they want.”

“That’s what I never understood about you,” you frowned.  “It’s always about other people with you.  It’s never about you, and it was never about me.”

“But it is about you,” he explained, “and me: us.  You’re forgetting how good we were together.”

You shook your head.  “I was single for years and you never called.  Now you’re all over me with all these regrets about ending it?  Get a grip, Sam.  This is about you wanting what you can’t have.”

“Can’t have?” he repeated incredulously.  “Baby,” he purred— and Bucky decided it was definitely worse to hear him call you that in earnest.  “You know you’re always gonna be mine.”

As you started to shiver, Sam’s arms slipping around your back and grabbing your waist, Bucky felt like he had lost control of his body.  He was watching himself from far away as he stormed across the room, nearly knocking a few people over on the way, and shoved Sam off of you and onto the ground.

“Bucky!” you yelped.  “Bucky, stop!”

“You’d better watch your hands, Wilson, before they get somewhere they’re not supposed to be,” Bucky growled, ignoring you completely even as you helplessly tugged at his suit.  

“Jesus,” Sam spat, “the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What are you doing?” you asked Bucky, irate and confused as you stared up at him with a furrowed brow.  He grabbed your hand and guided you out of the room and down the hall, barely managing to drag you into a random bathroom before he started tearing at your dress, leaving rough bites and kisses down your neck as you gasped and moaned softly.  

“Mine,” he mumbled against your skin, “all mine.  Did you forget?”

“No,” you sighed, “I could never…”

“That’s not what it looked like,” he sneered, hiking up your long skirt to run his fingers over your skin and expose the delicate, lacy panties you were wearing. 

“Bucky, please,” you sighed, rubbing your hips up against his leg, riding his thigh shamelessly.

“What’s got you so worked up, baby?  Is it me, or him?” he asked darkly.

“You, baby, just you, nobody else— I’m yours,” you assured him feverishly, “I’m all yours, please, I need you.”

“Yeah?” he breathed, fumbling with his belt and fly as he pulled his growing cock from his suit pants.  “You need it that bad?”

“Please,” you sobbed, “fuck me.”

He pulled your underwear aside and quickly shoved into you, groaning at the feeling of your walls stretching to welcome him.  “Fuck, angel, so tight,” he sighed, knowing how much little praises drove you crazy.

“Bucky,” you sighed, “oh my god… harder, please— n-need you deeper…”

His hips moved back only to slam back against yours, making you whimper; he smiled when he felt your leg wrap around his waist and try to hold him inside, but he couldn’t slow down now, not when he needed this so bad.

He sucked on your neck as he kept thrusting into you, your wetness coating his cock so thoroughly that he slid right home every time.  It was clear that he was hitting your g-spot from how you moaned with each thrust, your spongy channel pulsing and tightening in rhythmic patterns.

Overcome with the need to assert his, for lack of a better word, ownership over you, he found himself reaching up to hold your throat— not quite in the way to choke you, just to remind you that he could, if he wanted to.

“Did he ever make you come like this?” he asked with a gravelly whisper, lips right against your ear as he tightened his hand around your neck slightly.

“No,” you shook your head, “nobody has.”

“Nobody’s ever loved you this good but me, is that it?  Nobody else has ever fucked you like this?”

“Just you, Bucky, please don’t stop— I’m so close…”

“Do you think they can hear you out in the hallway?  Say my name when you come, princess, just in case they can— I want them to know who’s making you feel this good.”

“Bucky,” you whined, chanting it over and over with a few ‘yes’s and ‘fuck’s interspersed occasionally.  He thrusted faster and harder as he felt his own orgasm building; he needed to come inside you and claim you again, mark you as his one more time, and the flexing of your walls was only egging him on.

“I know you’re close, baby, just let go,” he whispered against your ear, “come for me, just like that, you’re doing so good— fuck, so good for me…”

You whimpered and clutched at his shoulders, a gush of wetness and a final, strong tightening of your inner muscles signaling that you’d reached your peak.  He couldn’t hold back any longer when he saw (and felt) that, groaning as he began to release thick streams of come into you.

The absolute second your afterglow began to fade, you pushed him off of you and grimaced as you adjusted your panties and dress.  "The fuck is wrong with you?"

"Wh— what?" he stammered, breathless and confused.  "What did I do?  Was I not supposed to come inside?"

You gaped at him in shock.  "Do you really not realize what you did?  Bucky, you assaulted my ex-boyfriend."

"I— he'll be fine," he dismissed, "he was putting his hands on you, what was I supposed to do, just let him do it?"

"You were supposed to let me handle it," you hissed.  "You were supposed to be pulling the car around and not spying on me!"

"Spying?!  I was protecting you."

"You shoved him hard enough to knock him over, Bucky, that's not okay."

"Hold on," he shook his head in disbelief, "so you're mad at me, when we just had sex?!  Why didn't you say something before?"

"Just cause it's hot doesn't mean it's okay," you explained, a little embarrassed.

"Tell me something," he frowned, "what is this—" he motioned to the space between the two of you— "to you?  Cause it kinda seems like I think we're boyfriend and girlfriend, and you think—"

"What?  What do I think?" you challenged.  "Go ahead, tell me."

"You think it's just a sex thing."

"Oh my god," you rolled your eyes.

"Well, what am I supposed to think when you get off on me dealing with your ex, and then tell me it's this big terrible thing?"

A sick idea clawed its way out of the back of Bucky's mind: was Sam right about her?  Was Sam right about us?

You crossed your arms and huffed, but didn't respond.

"Was everything that just happened just a fuckin' kink for you or something?  Cause I meant every goddamn word," he growled.

You sighed, like you weren't taking it seriously— like you weren't taking him seriously.  His fist tightened at his side involuntarily.  He'd never felt so used, so ignored; or, at least, he never expected it from you.  "We'll talk about this later," you dismissed quickly.  "Let's just go back there and put on a happy face, okay?"

"Oh, so you can let another guy feel you up?  Sounds like a fucking blast," he hissed.

"Fuck you," you snarled as you pushed him aside to leave the bathroom.

He didn't remember grabbing you, he didn't remember twisting your arm as he pulled you back.  He didn't remember you crying out, trying to wrench yourself away, clawing at his grip on you.  All he remembered was you looking up at him with watery eyes, expression twisted in fear.

"Bucky, you're hurting me," you whimpered weakly, and only then did he notice his metal hand was holding your wrist.  When he let go, he already saw a mark forming in the shape of his hand as you grabbed your freed wrist to rub the damaged flesh.

"I'm sorry—" he began to whisper, but you were already gone.

[crowsmybeloveds]

Shadow and Bone Series: Chapter Two

In Cold Blood

Pairing: Jesper Fahey x Reader

Summary: The Crows continue to visit Y/N at the Emerald Palace, and make some interesting developments.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Implied suicide (don’t take it too seriously hint hint); abuse; Pekka Rollins; again canon typical violence/slave stuff (this time it’s described more, but again nothing graphic); the Menagerie;

A/N: Thank you so much if you liked the first chapter!!! This one is a little longer and I promise the end isn’t as bad as it might seem.

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~

Jesper Fahey liked to do his own thing. Sure, as a member of the Dregs he had to listen to his boss and go on jobs, but he loved his free time in between. Hence, he often avoided going on little arends for Kaz at all costs. It would be a waste of his time.

Jesper Fahey was now talking to Kaz. Volunteering for an arend. For the fourth time this week.

Kaz, Inej, and Jesper had been visiting the girl in the basement regularly since their first meeting with her. Kaz chalked it up to business, the girl and her potions were powerful assets, but the other two would admit they had found a new friend.

There were rules to these visits. First, only go during the day. Even if it seemed counterintuitive to sneak there in the broad daylight, Y/N insisted she would be unavailable in the night, as that was when her “work” was done. Also, if you are there, you must hide well behind the crates, and remain armed. You were lucky every time you made it out of there alive.

It was a daunting task, but Jesper was always up for it.

“You’re going to go there again?” Kaz asked him, eyebrows raised, “You know it’s Inej’s turn, correct?”

“Yes, and I also don’t care,” Jesper answered, “Also, she probably has things to see, people to do, and whatnot. I, on the other hand, have my whole day cleared. And I couldn’t deprive the lovely basement girl of this face.” He smiled, pointing to himself, “I mean, come on.”

Kaz stared at him, seeing through his antics in a minute. Jesper had taken a liking to the girl. What will happen the day he visits to find she’s not there anymore? Kaz thought. His hopes are too high.

“Fine, Jesper,” He agreed, “but be careful not to draw attention.” He scrunched his nose. “Do your best not to dawdle.”

“Right, I’m off then!” Jesper exclaimed as he clapped his hands together and ran off.

“I’m going tomorrow!” Kaz shouted after him.

The sharpshooter knew his boss was suspicious of his actions, but in all honesty he didn’t care. Normally he would have thought there wasn’t much spending time with her could do, as she had told him many of the same things over and over. That must have meant she had told him all that she knew. But Jesper was not going for information, he was going to be with her. He liked to think they were friends.

Jesper was often distracted. Whether he saw a pretty person to flirt with or a table to gamble at, he always found a way to not be doing whatever he was supposed to. Everything around him was so appealing and stimulating, especially in the Barrel. Even so, he sped down the streets without a single double take or second thought as he headed to the Emerald Palace. He really wanted to see her. So bad it was addicting. At first he thought that maybe the girl was drugging him, seeing as that is her particular expertise, but soon he realized that he just liked her. She was funny, and she laughed at all his jokes. She was also so intriguing. So powerful yet rendered powerless. He was enchanted, but he knew something was missing. It seemed it wasn’t her fault. He wanted to help.

That day when he arrived at the window (after making sure no one could see him, of course) Jesper saw Y/N sitting against the wall with her legs hugged to her chest. He called her name softly, and waited for her to reply. She didn’t reply, or even move. Against his better judgement, he shouted louder, risking being discovered by one of Pekka’s crew. He didn’t care. He banged the windows. Praying she would say something. Or turn her head. Or nod. Anything. She didn’t. A single tear rolled down her face.

Y/N had been sitting there for three hours. There wasn’t much to be said about what had happened. Only that she did not remember, whether her loss of memory was intentional or not. It was an off day, that’s all.

Jesper was panicking. He had no idea how to get her to wake up. That is, if she was asleep. Truthfully, he did not know what was wrong with her or what to do. Unfortunately, his noise making had roused a different group of people. Jesper had to run down the alley as he heard shouts coming his direction. He ran the rest of the way home, still in shock. He was not haunted by his near escape with the Dime Lions, but the look on the girl’s face. What had they done to her?

“And she didn’t move at all?” Inej asked. Jesper had just explained to her what happened after he showed up to her room at the Slat. She hadn’t appreciated being woken up from one of her rare naps, but she didn’t complain when she saw the look on his face.

“Not that I could see,” he replied, shaking his head, “Inej, I swear she could hear me.”

Inej did not know what to say. This kind of behavior was not usual for Jesper. He had his normal amount of energy, but it was not often it was all directed to one place: worry. It was odd that something upset him and he did not distract from it by going to gamble or making a joke.

“I just, if it were you I’d understand, but who could ignore me?” he said, “Going unnoticed is not a Jesper talent.”

There it was.

“You’re deflecting” She called him out, “It’s not funny. We should tell Kaz.”

“That's not funny,” Jesper replied, “what is Kaz gonna do? Tell us to stop talking to her?”

Inej sighed. It’s possible that he would advise that. But he also wouldn’t just let Pekka Rollins keep his most dangerous weapon. Especially not when she didn’t seem to have much loyalty. She had told Inej so many times. The girls had a bond due to the Menagerie, and Y/N told her much about her past and present. She explained different chemicals she had made and plans she had heard to Kaz. But with Inej, she explained how she felt about them.

Y/N hated every second in that basement. She had told Inej as much. Repeatedly. But she was rather scatterbrained. She repeated herself often and forgot things that she had already been told. She would forget what day it was and what she had done the night before. Inej had experience with trauma and sleep deprivation enough to shrug this off. She didn’t want to cause her friend anguish by questioning it.

The incident Jesper was describing made her think that maybe she should. Y/N was smart. Hell, she was a self taught Grisha fabrikator. So good, she could kill people from miles away. How could she be so forgetful? Someone so scientifically gifted must have a better mind than that. Someone must have been messing with it.

After some convincing to Jesper that Kaz would not kill or give up on Y/N, the pair made their way to their boss’s office.

“I was waiting for this to happen,” was Kaz’s response.

“What, that’s it?” Jesper raised his voice, “You have nothing else to say?”

Kaz glared at him from his desk. “I don’t know that you thought through your attachment to her, Jesper. You should never have assumed she was on our side.”

Jesper stared bullets at his boss in front of them. They seriously weren’t going to help her at all? She needed to get out of there, he knew that for certain. If it wasn’t because he cared about her then it should be because she is an asset. A good investment. Saints, he hated calling her that.

He didn’t say any of this, however, and instead started to walk out of the office. Just before he was out the door, he heard Brekker speak up.

“I’ll go and see her tomorrow.”

When Kaz Brekker reached the girl’s window, he gave it exactly seven taps with his cane, with a very specific beat. It was a signal he had made with Y/N so that she knew to open the window and talk to him without him having to raise his voice.

The girl turned toward the window at the sound. She set down the bottle she was currently working on and walked over. Kaz started speaking as soon as it was opened.

“How long have they been drugging you?”

Y/N scoffed, “Hello to you, too!”

“How long?”

“Um, never?” She replied, getting confused. “They don’t drug me with anything. I’d notice. That’s kind of my job description.”

Kaz looked to the side, thinking. The only way to explain her odd behavior, forgetfulness, and calmness in her position was that she was being manipulated. And because she was constantly making poisons and “potions” for Pekka, it made sense that she was being given her own drugs without her knowledge. He had thought this since he’d met her. She had to be on some sort of relaxers when he first saw her. Why else would she have so willingly opened the window for strangers?

“Why did you ignore Jesper when he was here yesterday?” He asked, hoping to get the information from her in a more roundabout way.

“I didn’t?” Y/N asked, “Inej was here yesterday, she got those vials of knockout gas you asked for.”

Kaz squinted at her, “Y/N, that was two days ago.”

She shook her head, “No, no, because I was working on those just yesterday and I just finished them when she stopped by. I haven’t seen Jesper in a couple of days, Kaz. Are you feeling ok?”

Kaz wasn’t sure how to react to this. She had missed the whole day? He was sure things like this had been going on this whole time, but never in the month since they began speaking with her has she forgotten a whole day. She had to have taken something.

“Are you self medicating?”

“No! Why- what are you talking about? What is going on?”

“Y/N, Jesper came here yesterday and you were sitting in that corner near catatonic. You wouldn’t speak or even move.” Kaz informed her.

“He must not have shouted loud enough, I was probably asleep.”

“You normally sleep with your eyes open?” He is tone was sharp. “Jesper said you were crying.”

She didn’t respond. She was shocked out of her mind. It was possible Kaz was lying to her to get some sort of information out of her, but it didn’t seem that way. He looked uneasy, the kind of unease that comes from not knowing something. He was a very smart man, and when something did not make sense to him he got nervous. So, this must have actually happened. And if she could not remember it, something was terribly wrong.

“I’m sorry, Kaz. I just don’t remember.”

“Fine. Then I need you to stop eating the food they give you. I’ll have Inej stop by with something to eat during the day.” Kaz paused, thinking. “And I would like to get you out of here, and have you join the Dregs. I just have to figure out how.”

“No, Kaz. I can’t leave.”

“Why? You have loyalties to Pekka Rollins?” He asked, anger clear in his voice.

Do I? She thought. While she knew his treatment of her was unfair, she wondered whether or not she still cared about him. In her time at the Emerald Palace, Pekka had told her many things about how he was the only one who would ever care for her. He claimed that he had saved her from the Menagerie, and he was taking care of her because he loved her. He also said that he would help her find her sister, often claiming that the potions Y/N was making was helping him follow leads about her.

When he started bringing men down into Y/N’s room, she was only a teenager. The first man that had ever touched her in that room also told her information about upcoming trips, which Pekka used to choose the perfect time to rob his house. Y/N felt disgusting in her skin ever since, but Pekka reassured her. I’m sorry , canary. I’ll protect you. Those men are not like me. While any sane person would call giving her food and shelter supplying her basic needs, Pekka called it courtesy. A gift because he loved her. A gift that could be taken away. He let men take advantage of her just so she could get him information, and then called it love. And she believed him. Until one day.

A man had come down into her room, which was usual for her on any given night. However, this man started out rough and stayed that way for the rest of his visit. She had tried her best with past men to get as much information as she could through simple flirting and drugging, but he was not there for small talk. For a brief moment, she considered saying no. In the moment following, she remembered what happened the other times she had done so.

She didn’t get any of the information she had been asked to draw from the man. Pekka was livid. The argument following had been explosive and painful. Not just emotionally.

“This isn’t love.” She tried to say it in a firm voice, but it came out broken and weak.

“How could you possibly know?” Pekka replied.

“Because you don’t deny it.” She said, summoning the strength to look up at him. “The men who come down here sometimes mention their wives. They might not be the pinnacle of married men, but I know they would never do this. This is bad for me.”

“Oh, is it so bad for you?” He raised his voice. “And who is going to treat you better, hm? Who out there would possibly care about you like I do?”

She turned her back to him. She sniffled as she cleaned up her worktable, silently hoping he would just leave.

He grabbed her arm, whipping her around to face him. “I don’t care if you hate me. You will stay here because of Anais. You will stay because you need me.”

The memory was scarring.

Kaz watched as Y/N got lost in her own thoughts. His voice startled her out of her memories. “Y/N, do you have loyalties to him?”

“My sister, Anais.” She breathed. “He is helping me find my sister.”

“Is that all?”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I need to find her. Have you ever had any siblings?”

Kaz paused for a moment. The comment seemed to toy with him. “No.”

“Then you don’t get it. I want to be with people I belong with. To figure out where I’m from.” She sighed. “Pekka is helping me with that.”

“And he has proven that he is actually doing so?”

“He said that he knew she was involved with the slavers who took me away. He is getting in with them to try and figure out where they took her.”

“Y/N, I don’t think he is actually doing that.” Kaz said, shaking his head. “This is your reason for staying?”

“And I have nowhere else to go!”

Kaz took a deep breath. He had decided what he was going to do for the girl since the day he met her. She was an asset. With her power he could complete jobs and gain kruge with record speed. Not to mention, if Kaz had her on his side, Pekka didn’t. The sweet taste of revenge covered his tongue just at the thought.

“I have an offer,” he began, “You come with me. Not now, but soon. I’ll come everyday to ask questions and we’ll plan your escape. In the meantime, you gather your things discreetly and try to find as much dirt on Rollins as you can.”

“But my sister -“

“If you are a part of the Dregs, you will help when asked, but the rest of your time is yours. Look for your sister, gamble your money away, take up baking, — I don’t care. You’ll be free.”

The offer was good. Great, actually. So why was she hesitating? Was Pekka’s manipulation really enough to make her turn away an opportunity like this? I don’t know.

And what about Kaz? Could she really trust him? The man wanted her for her powers, too. How was he different from Pekka? In her limited experience, he wasn’t. I should stay.

But Jesper. In the short while she had known him, Jesper had become her favorite part of being alive. And Inej, who was the kindest soul she had ever encountered. If they were with Kaz, he couldn’t be the demon he tried to be. At least not like Pekka. I should go. I should have gone a long time ago.

“Deal.”

In the weeks following, Kaz came every day to discuss every aspect of the Emerald Palace with her, in the hopes that he could get her out. Getting her out of the building would be simple, but keeping her from being hunted by the Dime Lions for the rest of her days would be complicated. The plan would have to be completely airtight, so Kaz needed time.

A few days later, Jesper was at the window speaking with her. The other members of the dregs would often visit along with Kaz and stay to talk to her, or they might come in his place. Today, after describing her entire tailoring process to Kaz, Y/N was speaking to Jesper about music.

“It’s like this huge golden machine made by Fabrikators, right?” Y/N smiled as she excitedly spoke. “And you take this small disc, place it on the machine and put the needle on it, and then music comes out!”

Jesper grinned at her. He loved the way she looked when she was excited about something. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen one before.”

“Well, it’s wonderful,” she sighed, “Not to mention there’s thousands of the disc things, and each one is a different song. I wish more people had them than just the rich men who can afford it. I mean I wish I could have one.”

The two had been known to discuss things that had nothing to do with her escape, which Kaz had scolded them for plenty of times. But they enjoyed talking to each other, and they often got distracted. Odd topics of discussion were bound to happen whether they liked it or not. However, when Jesper realized that they had strayed from their original reason for speaking, he redirected the conversation.

“So, you get tailored nearly everyday?”

“Well, whenever anyone comes to see me. Only Pekka knows what I really look like. And you and your friends. Maybe it's a security thing.” She told him, thinking as she spoke. “Also, if anyone sees me who isn’t supposed to, I’m meant to drug them so they forget. Pekka really just does not want anyone knowing I’m here. Some bastard might try to steal me away.”

Jesper smirked at her. “I cannot imagine who would ever do something like that.”

Visits were going relatively well. Kaz had nearly enough information to finalize his plan for her escape, so he visited less and less. Y/N was becoming a solid member of the Crows even though she had so little time with them. She matched Jesper’s humor, built trust with Inej, and had a shared anger for Pekka with Kaz.

Today was Inej’s day to go visit Y/N, and she was running rather late. She knew the girl had mentioned not to visit after the sun went down, but Inej had been busy all day and could only find time to make it to the window after dark. When she got there, however, she realized why Y/N had made the warning.

When she looked through the window, she noticed that Y/N was not alone. When she looked closer, she realized Y/N was with Pekka Rollins. Luckily, Inej was the Wraith, she could watch what happened next without being seen.

“I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to eat your dinner,” She heard Rollins speak first, in the most condescending tone she had ever heard. “Not after I worked so hard to get your favorite.”

Y/N sat on her cot, avoiding eye contact. “Not hungry.”

Rollins grabbed her by the jaw roughly, forcing her to look at him. Inej noticed tears shining in Y/N’s eyes. “Not hungry, hm? We both know that’s not true.” He laughed, with a terrifying lack of humor behind it. “Why are you lying to me, canary?”

The girl shook her head as the tears fell down her face.

“Your tears will do you no good.” Rollins snarled. “Do not forget what you are.” He paused, raising a brow. “What are you?”

The girl sniffled and didn’t respond.

“What are you?” He shouted and raised his voice this time, causing her to shake.

“A canary.” She whispered out.

“Good, and if I give you a song...”

He raised her chin higher, prompting her to finish his words. “I sing it.” The words fell from her lips like something rehearsed, but unbearably painful.

He gave a tight lipped smile. “Right. Don’t forget it again.” He sat down next to her and handed her the plate she had sat on the table beside her. “Now you eat and I’ll tell you about the man who is coming here tonight.”

Inej felt like she was going to throw up as she travelled the rooftops of Ketterdam back to the Crow Club. She knew Y/N was being mistreated at the Emerald Palace, but seeing it take place was something entirely apart.

As she walked in the doors of the club she felt a presence beside her. She looked over to see Jesper walking with her. He must have been guarding the door. He was waiting to ask a question.

“Yes, Jesper, I went to see her.” Inej spoke to him, her voice rough.

“And?”

“And Pekka Rollins was there.”

Jesper stopped in his tracks. “Saints, is she ok? Are you?”

“I’m fine,” Inej assured, “But I’m not sure about Y/N. He is anything but gentle with her. And he forced her to eat the dinner he gave her. I don’t think she’s gonna be able to avoid the drugs they give her anymore. If only she could remember to take an antidote before her mind goes.”

“Shit, we need to get her out of there, soon.”

The pair once again went to Kaz to discuss the girl, only to find him at his desk, writing furiously with two bottles in front of him.

“Kaz, Inej -“ Jesper was cut off.

“She told me how she’s been killing all those people.” Kaz stared at the bottle in front of him, observing it scientifically.

Inej and Jesper looked at each other before looking back at their boss. What was he on about?

“I don’t understand.” Inej had a confused look on her face as she tried her best to make eye contact with Kaz. She wanted to try and read him like she knew she could, but right now the man in front of her was like a blank page.

“Y/N. She gives them a liquid of her own design, but it isn’t poisonous,” He kept his eyes trained on his work, “At least not until she makes it poisonous. She can give someone poison hours in advance but it kills them right at the perfect moment. Right when she can get away. And, once they are dead, she can change it back to something nontoxic. It’s flawless: not a single trace is left.”

“Great, boss,” Jesper said, growing impatient. “Can we talk about why we are here?”

Kaz frowned, “What, because you want to get Y/N out sooner? She’s in a terrible situation?”

“Exactly,” Inej pleaded.

“If I tried to save everyone in the Barrel I’d be broke by dawn.” Kaz said, looking back at his work. Inej and Jesper stood there in shock. “If you don’t have anything else to say…”

Inej placed a hand up to keep Jesper from exploding. “Kaz, you told us that you would help her escape.”

“I needed information, Wraith, you wouldn’t help me if I told the truth.”

Jesper spoke up, “So you lied to us? And what did you tell her?”

“Nothing. She’s prepared to leave the Emerald Palace tonight.” Kaz tsked. “I doubt she’ll make it two feet out the building without our help. Solves all of my problems.”

Without another word, Inej slipped out of the room, leaving the boys to fight. Through the walls, she heard muffled shouting.

“How could you? You act like you have nothing you believe in but really you are so terrible that you’ve made yourself your own Saint!” Jespers voice was desperate, filled with rage. The betrayal he felt was clear even though he was muffled. He sniffed. “Put too much faith in that saint and he’ll kill your friends.”

Inej cringed, hating the harsh truths her friend was sending toward her boss. She had always known partnership with Kaz would mean conflict, but it also meant freedom. She and Jesper often commented on their cold-hearted boss. “We are both too good for him.” Jesper would laugh as he said it, but now it seemed to be a reason to leave. But where would they go? When it came to Kaz Brekker, no one was better, and no one was worse.

One thing was for certain, Inej was not going to let her friend die. She had just pulled Y/N up from the grave, and she’d be damned if she let Kaz Brekker push her back in. If he was so certain the girl would be dead by tomorrow, she’d get to her before then. She didn’t have time for Kaz’s lectures and Jesper’s shouting. There was a life at stake. She begged the Saints to help her, but deep down she knew that this was up to her and her knives. If Inej couldn’t save Y/N, the Wraith would.

When she reached the Emerald Palace, a nauseous feeling spread throughout her stomach. She willed her hands to stop shaking, but the tremor remained. She reached the window after carefully checking her surroundings and gasped at what she saw. Nothing remained in Y/N’s room but a white letter and dark ash, both standing out against the gray stone floor. Inej frowned in confusion. So, she is gone. Where could she be?

Y/N was a smart girl, she could be out of Ketterdam by now. However, she had barely had any human contact and had been drugged and manipulated for years. If she was not already found by Pekka Rollins, she could have already been killed on the street. But no one knew who she was, and only Pekka and the Crows knew what she truly looked like. She had become one huge question.

Suddenly, Inej remembered something.. Specifically, a conversation she had with Y/N not long ago.

Inej, this might be the worst thing I’ve ever made. She had said, a fire in her eyes.

Then why are you smiling? Inej replied.

Look! Y/N had pulled a thin glass bottle of a swirling liquid and a small flower out from behind her back. She then poured a drop of the bottle on the flower, which disintegrated into a pile of ash within seconds.

Saints. Inej was amazed.

Wild, huh? Footsteps came from the stairwell in the corner of the room. Shit. Inej, go. Inej hesitated. Go! He’ll see you!

Now, looking at the large pile of ash on the floor of the room, Inej realized what had happened.

“Saints,” She whispered, tears forming in her eyes. “She’s drunk it.”

She heard footsteps approaching in the alley, and immediately grabbed two of her knives, ready to protect herself.

“Easy,” Jesper appeared, holding his hands out toward her. “It’s just me.”

Inej lowered her knives as she stared back at him. “We’re too late, Jes. She’s gone.”

He laughed, nervous. “No, she wouldn’t.” He lowered himself down to the window. “No.”

Inej stood up and looked up at the stars, praying to any Saint that she could think of that she wasn’t dead. That her friend was out there somewhere. Alive. “Jesper, we need to get out of here.”

“But,” Jesper paused, his voice weak. “She was just here.”

“She’s not anymore.” Inej looked at him with pity. She could tell how much the girl had meant to him. “I’m sorry.”

“She was just here.” He repeated, voice cracks littering his words.

Inej grabbed his hand, forcing him out of this frozen state. “I know, Jes. I’m sorry.”

[godslayingenthusiast]

https://qgpennyworth.com/portfolio/sermon-no-9-there-are-no-bars-or-cages/

Sermon No. 9: There Are No Bars Or Cages is a work from Holy Nonsense, a Creative Commons project. View Holy Nonsense 2020 here.

Each entry (single page or multiple pages of the same work) is released under an individual CC: Attribution, Non Commercial, No Derivatives license. That means you can repost this work as-is anywhere for any non-commercial purposes.

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Rev Roger Sermon #9: There Are No Bars Or Cages -

Brothers and Sisters, sinners and mutants, freaks and walking glitches, I bid you a good evening. This evening, we are gonna talk about prisons.

Now, there are a few different kinds of prisons...there is The Big House, The Prison of Toil, and The Prison of Your Frickin' Head.

The Big House, as we all know, is the prison they send you to when you get caught breaking one of their rules (Which, as Kafka noted, you can't help doing. The rules are so complex, you WILL break them, every day). We aren't gonna talk too much about this type of prison, because you can see that on any network, though not so much now as the last couple of years...save for this: All of those prison TV shows, "Inside reports", "OZ", "The Big House", ad infinitum, ad nauseum, are there for a reason. The lesson they impart, my friends, is this: If you get out of line, we'll put you in a cell with people like THESE!

The Prison of Toil, however, is a prison they put you into starting at age 5. You are placed in an unnatural state for a juvenile primate; you are forced to wear clothes, sit in an uncomfortable position, and stay still for HOURS while they teach ya the proper art of the Fnords. You are told that you must excel, so you can go to college, where presumably, the Fnords can't get you.

Once you get to college, however, you are told that you must continue to toil, so that you can get a good job... you STILL aren't safe from the Fnords. Then, one day, you graduate to the supposed "real world", where you are told that you must now work hard for your parole at 65... because if you don't the Fnords will make you eat dog-food in your retirement... WHAT A SUPRISE! The Fnords don't eat children, they eat senior citizens. They lied AGAIN! The problem is, even if you DO follow their advice, you are still screwed. By the time you are paroled, you are too old to enjoy it, and just like real prison, most inmates don't LIVE long enough to GET parole. What can you do about this? How can you escape THIS prison, which has no bars (though many inmates DO have cells, or cubes as we call them)? Well first, you have to escape the REAL prison, The Prison of Your Frickin' Head.

The Prison of Your Frickin' Head is the worst jail of all...As G.G. Gordon once said, "Where can you run, where can you hide, when the man in blue is on the INSIDE?" This is the prison from which very few people get out alive. There is NO parole, and you will spend all the days of your life inside it, should you not escape. This is the prison built for you by those around you, wih your willing help. It is done in the following fashion:

1) You are convinced by society that you are not good enough, and that all of your accomplishments so far have been GOOD LUCK. You will be found out for (as RAW said) the "no good shit" you are. The only escape from this is ego-training, or stupidity. Most talented people think, deep down inside, that they are frauds. Most utter fools consider themselves gawdlike. Go figure.

2) You are told by society that they are watching. Just who they are is never made clear; but it IS made clear that they had better not catch you in any funny-business, or you are screwed. (Of course, they are the Fnords)

3) You are taught to "fit in", one way or the other. Either you fit in to the mold the establishment sets up for you, or you rebel...and most rebels tend to fit into one group or another (Goth, Punker, New-age bliss zombie, Discordian, Subgenius, etc)...and if you aren't careful you fall into the conformity of non-conformists. If you don't dress a certain way, or mouth the correct ritual sayings, you are obviously a "normal" or a “greyface"... Despite the fact that the weirdest freaks, the truest Yeti, usually BLEND RIGHT IN!

So what do we do about it? How do we escape? We escape SYSTEMATICALLY. You don't saw each bar a little at a time, you whack each bar out, methodically...thus:

1) For the ingrained failure complex, use ego-training. Not that "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough" affirmation shyt, either. No, you are superior. This is proven by the fact that you even noticed the cage in your head at all! When you look in the mirror, don't THINK there are no flaws, KNOW there are no flaws. When you screw up, screw up catastophically! ROLL IN YOUR MISTAKES! WALLOW IN THEM, AND LEARN FROM THEM. Most "normals" will start wars to avoid admitting they made a mistake. Don't fall into that trap. When you are no longer afraid of mistakes, you will make less of them, and you WON'T CARE about the ones you still DO make.

2) There is no they. You've been lied to, all these years. THERE ARE NO FNORDS! There never have been. The cage is only in your head, there is no warden, and we are all free, should we realize it. It's all a collosal LIE. Now, most people are afraid of freedom. They might make a mistake...for that, see #1. As far as getting caught and going to The Big House, well, if you can't outwit the morons who run the system, then you aren't much of a Yeti after all, are you? LIE to them, SMILE in their face, and KEEP YOUR BOBDAMNED MOUTH SHUT AFTER PRANKS! He who kicks society in the crotch and shuts his mouth, usually lives to kick it again tomorrow.

3) Don't worry about fitting in. Just because you LIKE to dress like a Goth, for example, doesn't make you a conformist...provided that's REALLY why you do it (as opposed to seeking acceptance from Goths). If you say to yourself, "Is my image perfect today", you are probably screwing up. If you say, "Cool" when you look in the mirror, you're probably ok...the best rule is, if you are BEING YOURSELF, don't sweat it.

Or kill me.

[aside: Over the last year over 50,000 deaths were attributable directly to surprise.]

[itsallyscorner]

so, I was watching the video that came out today and I was thinking about a age gap seb x reader around his friends like Jessica or maybe chace? And they're just hanging out and they both have this lovesick look on their faces and when she leaves the room for some reason they don't waste any time addressing how in love she is with him, and sebs glad bc they were kinda wary of her at first?

Hiyaaa babes! This is my first request so woohoo🥳 Since you mentioned the video, I literally thought of the pictures that were released while they were filming 355, and now I can’t get the image of Seb in Paris because holy shit he looked good. So I’m gonna be using Jessica❤️

- This came out so long, I’m a sucker for background info and can’t get past writing a story without one💀 Enjoy!💜

💌.

Lovesick

You and Sebastian were unexpected. Literally the chances of you guys getting together were so off and you guys were at different times of your lives. He was in his late 30s, already living most of his life as a successful actor. While you were in your early 20s still in college working on your doctoral degree to become a Pharmacist (It was the only major I could think of atm because it’s the one I’m planing on lol.) You guys met at the cafe near your campus. You always went there every morning and would spot him drinking his morning coffee with his nose stuck in a new script he was reading. You two would sneak glances at each other, admiring each other from afar. Until one day when the cafe was fairly packed and you needed a place to sit. You spotted his familiar face and asked him if you could sit in the seat across from him. Obviously he agreed and you guys talked, getting to know each other the whole time. When it was time for you to leave for classes, you guys exchanged numbers and kept in touch.

Which brings us to today. You and Sebastian have been going strong for about a year now and were approaching your second year together. Though you two are as happy as can be and are still in the honeymoon phase (even after a year), the first few months of the relationship were quite rough. There was an obvious age gap between you two, it didn’t bother you two as much, but the public didn’t react too nicely about it. Your parents weren’t too fond of the idea of you dating an older man, but after getting to know him they knew his intentions with you were well. Same goes for your friends and family. When it came to his fans and the media finding about your relationship, that’s when it went to shit.

The media made Sebastian look like some creep who was going through a midlife crisis for dating someone much younger than him. A few “fans” even claimed that he were a “groomer” after pictures of you and him heavily making out on the street were released. These issues caused some bumps in the road for your relationship, though after many arguments, you two realized that the only opinions that mattered were each other’s.

Now you two were staying at a hotel in Paris. Sebastian was currently working on a big project, “The 355”, something he was very excited about. This was one of the first projects that he was really involved in, from script to screen, he played a pretty big role in this project.

You were typing up a report for your class when Sebastian entered the hotel room. He was still in his set clothes, a light blue shirt, dark jeans, and a pair of Chelsea boots. He approached the bed where you were typing and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Hey sweetheart, how’s school going?” He greeted you as he settled himself on the bed, laying on his side.

“Meh, it’s going...but I finished my report on time. Now I just need to proofread it.” You smiled as you finished typing the last sentence of your report. When Sebastian discovered he was going to film in Paris, he immediately told you, knowing you’ve been dreaming of visiting Paris. Luckily for the both of you, your school allowed you to do online learning (it probably doesn’t work like that but just go with it) and you were able to tag along with him.

“I’m sure it’s prefect, you’re a great writer.” He complimented, you hummed in response. Turning to him you run your hand through his short hair making him lean into your touch. You loved his fluffy hair but the short hair was starting to grow on you.

Sebastian turned his head and pressed a kiss into your palm, stormy eyes gazing up at you.

“How has your day been?” You asked.

“It was good. We got through a good amount of scenes without messing up, so I’d say it was a successful day.” He answered. You smiled at his enthusiasm. Sebastian’s face always lit up when he was talking about a project and it was one of the things you admired most about him, his passion for his work.

“So, you’ve been cooped up in this damn hotel all day. Why don’t you come to dinner with me and the cast tonight? You’ve been waiting to visit Paris all your life and you haven’t even been outside this hotel for days.” He suggested. It was true, you haven’t done much but do school work, order room service, and binge watch shows on Netflix.

“Are you sure they’d want me to come? I might be intruding.” Honestly you were nervous to meet the rest of the cast. You’ve met Jessica a few times but they were brief and she seemed like she didn’t like you. Though that could just be your thoughts making you paranoid, you were still nervous to meet the people Seb worked with. You didn’t want them to think you were using him for money or to travel around the world because you weren’t. You loved Sebastian for himself, not the money and the fame, you could care less about all that.

But they were still Sebastian’s friends and you wanted to have a good first impression on them. You didn’t want them to think you were just some immature college girl who needed money to pay off her college funds.

Noticing you were drifting off, Sebastian pressed another kiss into your palm and grasps it. “You wouldn’t be intruding, Jessica actually suggested you come along.” He mentioned.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, baby. Come on, let’s put this stuff away and get ready. We’re having dinner at the Eiffel Tower.”

“I— the Eiffel Tower?”

•

To say you were intimidated and scared shitless was an understatement. Here you were in the Eiffel Tower having dinner with some of the most talented women in Hollywood. Like seriously Jessica Chastain, Lupita Nyong’o, Penélope Cruz, and Diane Kruger. Of course Seb and Édgar Ramírez where there as well. Then there was you, NYC local college student. You didn’t wanna say you felt out of place, but you did. These were successful people who probably starred in some of the movies you watched growing up. Now you’re literally in the Eiffel fucking Tower having dinner with them.

Dinner was going smoothly, everyone was talking about the set, shared some funny stories, and you were keeping to yourself simply eating your steak. That was until the attention was brought to you.

“So (y/n), Sebastian mentioned you were in college, what are you studying?” Jessica asked. Everyone turned to you and you swear you felt like a deer in headlights. Seb nudged your thigh with his, a reassuring smile on his face.

“Yes I am! I’m actually taking a PharmD program at St. John Fisher to become a Pharmacist.” you answered.

“For your masters?” She followed up curiously, slightly leaning forward to you.

“No, for my doctoral degree.” You corrected her proudly. You didn’t want to come off as an ass, but you were proud of your work and you worked your ass off for it.

Everyone at the table was taken back by your response. Except Sebastian, who had a just as proud smile on his face. They knew you were in college but not studying something as serious as Pharmacy.

“St.John Fisher College? I had a cousin that went there, it’s a great college.” Lupita was the first to break the silence.

“So are you working in the field yet? For some experience?” Penélope chimed in. Sebastian snorted, “Oh she has experience, trust me.”

You chuckled as you softly smacked Seb’s bicep, “Well currently, I’m interning as a Pharmacy Tech at a hospital pharmacy. They’re thinking about making me a permanent one until I graduate so fingers crossed!”

As you answered all their questions about your personal life and your major, Sebastian couldn’t help but just admire you. Just like how you admired the way he talked about his projects, he admired the way you got lost in rambling about your soon career. The way your eyes lit up, how your hands moved while you talked, and that hint of a smile on your face. He absolutely adored every single thing about you.

Dinner continued, the last question for you about why you chose to do college in New York, which segwayed into a conversation about— well New York. As the others talked about their love for the city, Sebastian wrapped his arm around your shoulders. Your back was now pressed to his chest, both of you not listening to the conversation. You pressed a kiss to his arm and looked back at him.

“Hey you.” You hummed at him rubbing your thumb along his arm.

“Hi.” He gazed down at you with that smile that made his eyes crinkle. The moment was interrupted by your phone ringing. Quickly glancing at the contact ID, it was the hospital pharmacy you interned for.

“You should take that.” Seb whispered into your ear.

“No, Seb that’s rude. We’re at dinner, I’m sure it can wait.”

“I have a good feeling about this call, draga mea.” He coaxed you. Having a feeling that he might be right you excuse yourself from the table. When you’re gone the table goes quiet.

“Sebastian, you’ve got one hell of a girlfriend.” Penélope stated as the rest of the table agreed.

“She’s so smart! What the hell, a doctoral degree? Kudos to her because the amount of motivation I would need to even try!” Jessica followed up with an amazed look on her face.

“I think you guys are forgetting to mention how whipped they both are for each other! Those two were in their own world over there!” Lupita pointed out. The whole table laughed as Sebastian was turning red. Of course he was whipped, he knew he was.

“I love her guys, she’s, she’s something else. The spunk she has, her intelligence, she’s-,” Sebastian began to list but was cut off by Édgar, “Out of your league?”

The whole table burst into laughter as they agreed with Édgar. You were also coming back to the table after your call. Sebastian spotted you, eyes connecting to yours immediately.

“Everything alright?”

“They gave me the permanent job!”

draga mea - my darling 

[lunarfly]

Defending Harmione part 3!

I'm back to defend my fav ship!

I have a part 1 where I debunked some of the most popular arguments against Harmione and in part 2 I debunked the "siblings" argument. Time for part 3! This one is going to be about a video on YouTube titled "Why Harry and Hermione Wouldn't Work - Harry Potter Video Essay" and I'll go over the points the YouTuber made and try my best to debunk them. 💘

Also, I accept that there's still a few minor flaws to the ship, but these little flaws and obstacles make every ship beautiful. 🥀

1. "It would be too cliche. The hero gets the smartest and prettiest girl as a trophy."

This is a fair argument to the whole story itself, but it doesn't defeat the ship in any way. If you put it in other words: "Harry and Hermione wouldn't work together because they're both very powerful and great and that would make it very cliche." That's silly. But even that isn't right. The situation isn't exactly how people make it seem.

Hermione isn't the all-perfect girl, the most beautiful, the most intelligent, everything perfect. She has flaws, many flaws (which weren't portrayed in the movies) and she is a very realistic character. She is intelligent and productive, she is a perfectionist in a way, but that also causes her to be very anxious and stressed out at moments, she puts too much pressure on herself, and she's also insecure! Who said Hermione was the most beautiful one? Just because Emma Watson was gorgeous doesn't mean Hermione was too. Of course, Harry thought she was pretty according to OotP, but it's clearly stated in the books that she wasn't the prettiest girl in the series. Fleur, Cho and even Ginny were much more beautiful. Hermione is NOT the perfect superstar.

You might say that even if she's not perfect, she's still the female lead. But the actual "cliche" part is about the hero ending up with the perfect superstar and not necessarily with the other lead hero.

So back to Hermione being the brightest witch of her age. But her being very bright and powerful doesn't make her a bad match for Harry. Ginny was very smart in fact, she was beautiful and funny, very sassy and confident. Why isn't she considered as a trophy for Harry?

The point is, NO, Hermione is NOT a perfect all-star and their relationship wouldn't even have to be built on the hero and the heroine being perfect, their relationship would be built on trust and loyalty.

2. "Harry and Hermione's relationship prove that a male and a female can be friends without having a romantic relationship, so we shouldn't ruin that."

Yes, it's truly a beautiful demonstration that a male and a female can be best friends, but this says nothing that's actually against the ship, just like the previous one. If you put this in other words, it would sound like this: "Harry and Hermione were amazing best friends so they can't date." I understand that their friendship was amazing, but that in no way means their relationship would be bad. Of course, you don't have to see their relationship as romantic just because they were good friends, you can see it as platonic, but I'm just saying that the argument makes no sense.

Besides, was Hermione really the only female friend Harry had? What about Luna? What about Ginny (if you consider Harry and Hermione start dating and Ginny remains a friend, she was clearly very included after OoTP)? What about Ron's friendship with Hermione? What about Ron and Luna's friendship? What about Neville and Luna's friendship? What about Harry's quidditch teammates (Alicia, Katie, Angelina)? Why does everyone always make it seem like Hermione was the only female friend he had? Surely she was his only BEST friend but then Ron and Hermione were best friends too...

3. "It ruins the dynamic of the story. Harry's relationships were never meant to be the main focus, just a demonstration of his maturity. While Ron and Hermione's relationship developing in the background is nice to see."

I really didn't want to drag Romione into this because it's my second favorite ship from the entire Harry Potter universe. Just a disclaimer that anything I say here is not meant to bash Romione and hate on it because I'm truly a big fan of them and their love is undeniable.

I also mention Ginny and Harry's relationship in this and I have to say they're ALSO one of my favorite ships in the entire hp universe so no hate to them either. 🥺

Okay, so, basically every point he made in his video was about the story and not their actual relationship. The title is wrong, this doesn't show why Harry and Hermione wouldn't work, he's just saying how it would change the storyline. But I think we are all already aware that Harry and Hermione getting together would change a lot in the story. But I'll go over it anyways.

First of all, I don't entirely agree that Harry's relationships weren't the main focus, I mean half of the half-blood prince was about him developing feelings for Ginny-

But anyways, if Harry and Hermione were going to end up together, it would still happen in a similar way. We have all read the beautiful moments they shared together throughout the books, and those would've been enough for them to develop their feelings, but just not realize it until the last 2 books. We wouldn't have to add in any scenes that would change the story massively to lead them to falling in love, honestly, we had enough already in the books. So the only thing that would change would be probably Harry not developing feelings for Ginny, but instead slowly realizing his feelings for Hermione. Simple!

And as for Romione, I agree, the slowburn was beautiful, but we could've had the same thing, same development but as a friendship! Ron's character arc is one of my favorite things about the series and nobody can convince me that it wasn't amazing. Instead of Ron changing for Hermione to become her lover, we could have Ron changing for her to become a better friend. His character arc remains the same and Ron Hermione become best friends. Of course this would change many scenes and the storyline would've changed a lot as I already mentioned, but hey! At least we wouldn't have Ron haters who bash him for mAkInG hErMiOnE cRy. 🤡 And JKR could add different scenes instead of the ones hinting at Ron and Hermione's romantic relationship. We still would have had a beautiful story with a VERY SIMILAR dynamic.

4. "Harry wasn't the kind of guy Hermione was looking for. She already made a mistake with dating Viktor Krum, and she realized she didn't need a hero. She was a hero herself. Although Harry ≠ Viktor, they have very similar qualities like: bravery, loyalty and they are both heroes."

This is probably the best argument of the entire *almost* 5 minute video.

But there's still so much wrong with this.

Bravery and loyalty are literally Ron's best traits lmao. That's exactly why she chose him. 🤣 Every Romione shipper knows she doesn't value intelligence and looks, she values bravery, courage, loyalty. That's exactly what she said in the first book and stuck by it until the end.

She didn't need a hero? She was a hero herself? - Then why are we forgetting that Ron was also a hero? Everyone always makes it seem like Harry and Hermione are the mighty heroes and Ron is their goofy sidekick. He was also a hero! I believe he is even on the chocolate frog cards (correct me if I'm wrong)! And we all know that's the biggest flex. 😌

But besides that, Ron and Harry are very similar in many ways. They're both brave, they're both loyal, they both like to have fun, they're both lazy, they're both amazing at quidditch, they're both talented (Harry is very powerful and he's good at DADA, while Ron can do many impressive things like mimic voices and come up with quick solutions even when he's under pressure and his life depends on it!). So if Hermione liked one and thought he was her "type", then there's a hight possibility she liked the other too. In canon, she only likes Ron obviously, but I'm saying that since Ron and Harry are so similar and share the same traits, Hermione could've chosen Harry too.

Anyways, that's all that the video included, it was very nice hearing different opinions and I actually wasn't writing this out of anger like I wrote the post about defending Romione against *the ridiculously stupid* arguments that Dr*mione shippers like to use.

Once again, if it isn't clear, I STAN both Romione and Hinny, but Harmione definitely could've worked. :)

Thanks for reading! ~ Lia <3

Art: Asha47110 on DeviantArt :)

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from the "American Psycho" film (trigger heavy)

"God, I hate this place. It's a chick's restaurant."

"Are you freebasing or what ?"

"They don't have a good bathroom to do coke in."

"You're a fucking ugly bitch. I wanna stab you to death and play around with your blood."

"I believe in taking care of myself, in a balanced diet, in a rigorous exercise routine."

"I always use an aftershave lotion with little or no alcohol, because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older."

"And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours, and may be you can even sense our life styles are probably comparable, I simply am not there."

"Don't wear that outfit again."

"Come on. You're prettier than that."

"You don't like this, I take it."

"Do you know anything about Sri Lanka ?"

"This is crazy ! You're a fool.

"I mean, can you talk to these people or something ? I'm not getting anywhere.

"You're fucking me, and we haven't made plans."

"I'm on a lot of lithium."

"What could you possibly be up to tonight ?"

"Wear something fabulous."

"I just want a child."

"How on Earth did you get a reservation there ?"

"It looks so soft."

"Impressive. Very nice."

"You're sweating."

"Why don't you get a job ?"

"You got a negative attitude. That's what's stopping you."

"You gotta get your act together. I'll help you."

"You reek of shit. Do you know that ?"

"I don't have anything in common with you."

"I have all the characteristics of a human being-- flesh, blood, skin, hair-- but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust."

"Something horrible is happening inside of me, and I don't know why."

"My nightly bloodlust has overflowed into my days."

"I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy."

"I think my mask of sanity is about to slip."

"Mistletoe alert."

"It's a Vietnamese potbellied pig. They make darling pets."

"How you been ? Workaholic, I suppose ? Haven't seen you in a while."

"I like to dissect girls."

"Did you know I'm utterly insane ?"

"I've got a tanning bed at home. You should look into it."

"Do you have a dog ? A little chow or something ?"

"He was completely naked and standing up on the table."

"Where do I send the bastard ?"

"I hope I'm not being cross-examined here."

"It's just strange. One day, someone's walking around, to work, alive, and then-- Nothing. People just disappear."

"That's a very fine chardonnay you're drinking."

"You have a very nice body."

"Not quite blonde, are you ? More dirty blonde."

"Don't you wanna know what I do ?"

"How much did you pay for it ?"

"I don't want you to get drunk, but that's a very fine chardonnay you're not drinking."

"It was too artsy, too intellectual."

"You can practically hear every nuance of every instrument."

"Look at the camera."

"If they have a good personality and they are not great looking, then who fucking cares ?"

"There are no girls with good personalities."

"A good personality consists of a chick with a little hard body who will satisfy all sexual demands without being too slutty about things and who will essentially keep her dumb fucking mouth shut."

"The only girls with good personalities, who are smart or maybe funny or halfway intelligent or talented-- though God knows what the fuck that means-- are ugly chicks."

"Listen, what about dinner ?"

"I've seen you looking at me. I've noticed your hot body. Don't be shy."

"I've gotta return some video tapes."

"I never knew you smoked."

"I'm not sure, but I don't think dyslexia is a virus."

"It's a fucking milligram of sweetener. I wanna get high off this, not sprinkle it on my fucking oatmeal."

"Can you keep it down ? I'm trying to do drugs."

"Sorry, dude. Steroids."

"I'm into, uh, well, murders and executions, mostly."

"So, where do you work out ?"

"You think I'm dumb, don't you ?"

"There's something sweet about you."

"Would you like to accompany me to dinner ? That is, if you're not doing anything."

"Let's not think about what I want. How about anywhere you want ?"

"You look great. Very fit."

"You can always be thinner, look better."

"What do you really wanna do with your life ? Just briefly, summarize. And don't tell me you enjoy working with children, okay ?"

"Well, I'd like to travel and maybe go back to school, but I don't really know. I'm at a point in my life where there seems to be so many possibilities, but I'm-- I don't know-- I'm just so unsure."

"Do you have a boyfriend ? "

"Are you seeing anyone ? I mean, seriously ?"

"It's me. Don't try to hide."

"I know I have a tendency to get involved with unavailable men."

"I think if you stay, something bad will happen. I think I might hurt you. You don't wanna get hurt, do you ?"

"I don't wanna get bruised."

"I'm not so sure about this. I had to go to Emergency after last time."

"This won't be anything like last time. I promise."

"This is nicer than your other apartment."

"If you had a platinum card, she'd give you a blowjob."

"Do you have any coke ? Or Halcyon ?"

"Let's not get lewd. I'm in no mood for a lewd conversation."

"Are you telling me you've never gotten it on with a girl?"

"No. I'm not a lesbian. Why would you think I would be into that ?"

"You're making me feel weird."

"You actually listen to Whitney Houston ?"

"Not the face!"

"My need to engage in homicidal behavior on a massive scale cannot be corrected, but I have no other way to fulfill my needs."

"You're inhuman."

"I'm in touch with humanity."

"I know my behavior can be erratic sometimes."

"What do you want me to do ? What is it that you want ?"

"If you really wanna do something for me, then stop making this scene right now."

"I'm leaving. I've assessed the situation, and I'm going."

"Drop the weapon ! Drop it now !"

"I guess I've killed maybe... 20 people."

"I ate some of their brains, and I tried to cook a little."

"I just had to kill a lot of people !"

"I'm not sure I'm gonna get away with it... this time."

"I mean, I guess I'm a pretty sick guy."

"I think you should go now."

"What did you say, you dumb bitch ?"

"Stop sounding so fucking sad."

"I'm not going anywhere unless we have a reservation."

"Keep your shirt on. Maybe lose the suspenders."

"Just fucking call them. Give me the phone. I'll do it."

"Such a boring, spineless lightweight."

"Now, where do we have reservations at ?"

"What are you so fucking zany about ?"

"I'm just a happy camper!"

"I need a scotch."

"All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused, and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed."

"My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape."

"My punishment continues to elude me and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself."

"This confession has meant... nothing."

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

Rubber Ducky

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Word Count: ~6.3k Notes: I was totally inspired by RDJ’s latest insta post! Between the motorcycle, gray hair, big ole’ combat boots, and the rubber ducky - it was hard not to write about it. Add on S’s insatiable need for that silver fox goodness and here we are! Warnings: There’s some smut in here, but that’s about it. Summary:

Born to old money, Tony is in the limelight simply because he exists. After a misunderstanding caught on video, he's personified as a spoil socialite & no matter what he does, he can't escape the title. Instead of letting it get him down, Tony uses it to his advantage - if anyone were to find out what he really did with his life, his reputation would be ruined. No one needed to know that he threw clay for a living or that one of the most successful ceramic business belongs to him.

When things become to much to handle on his own, Tony reluctantly takes on a personal assistant by the name of Peter Parker.

Preconceptions are a funny thing - Peter finds out just how nefarious they can be when he gets to see the real person behind the Tony Stark public persona.

Or: the one where RDJ and a rubber ducky serve as the best muse.

Read it on AO3 here.

In hindsight, Tony should’ve known his reputation would come from a spectacular misunderstanding.

In the early years, Tony was not nearly as schooled in maintaining his composure – especially when he deemed himself correct. One misunderstanding caught on camera later and he was officially known as “Manhattan’s Spoiled Brat” to every major gossip rag and tabloid that could get their hands on information to print about him; true or otherwise.

From that point on, no matter what he actually did, Tony’s movements in the media were always framed with the perception of spoiled, outlandish, and in some circles, downright rude. It didn’t matter that before the paparazzi ambushed him outside of his apartment, he spent the morning setting up some private dog walking for the local shelter dogs. He couldn’t ever pull the trigger on actually adopting one – but he digressed. Those out for a story and a story only took their photos, heckled him, and reported half-truths and words taken out of context.

Despite the initial turmoil over it, Tony found himself with a lot more free time in the sanctity of the space he called his own. Other socialites didn’t want anything to do with him – the mere thought of being out papped drove them all mad. To avoid too much attention, Tony took his peer[s dismissal and ran with it – if a bad reputation got him the privacy that he sought, why wouldn’t he take advantage of it.

It all seemed to work out in his favor, because if his fellow socialite peers ever found themselves privy to his actual occupation, Tony knew he could count himself on the list of social outcasts that no one talked about – in fact, the few people he knew like that weren’t even spoken about in the circles he was forced to affiliate himself with. Being old money had so many advantages, but in the long term, Tony could have easily done without it.

Never one to care about the money, unless it was supposed to be caught on camera in some way shape or form, Tony enjoyed his solitude and the time he had to chase after his one true passion – pottery.

The addiction started halfway through his time at MIT. Desperate to escape the confines of his dorm and the information that didn’t interest him in the least, Tony found himself wandering the streets of Cambridge, his eyes wide and peeled for the bright shine of cameras being clicked. In his slow meanderings, Tony caught the sight of an interesting looking woman, the dreads in her hair and the big pot in her hands dragging him in. And when she felt his presence, instead of getting upset, she shot him a smile and slowed her step – the woman obviously not afraid of Tony’s attention.

He ended up walking half a mile a couple of steps behind the unnamed woman, the pot in her hands becoming more and more interesting the longer he got to look at it. The workmanship of it was obvious, the lines were neat and the dip of the pot perfectly symmetrical around the rim. Not for the first time, Tony marveled at the intense beauty of handmade work – he longed to work with his hands in the creation process. His father wanted him to put that energy into machines and technology that would further their wealth. Tony, on the other hand, he just wanted to create – no pressure, no expectation… just creation.

The building they stopped in front was all open space with big windows. Locking eyes with the woman, Tony rushed ahead of her and opened the door, holding it and his breath as she walked through the door. Upon entering, Tony noticed the multiple rows of what he knew to be pottery wheels, each one of them gleaming in the wash of sunlight that flowed in from the streets. Sucking in a breath, Tony had to stop himself from gravitating towards one.

A soft voice turned him around, his heart beating wildly – in the moments since walking in, Tony completely forgot the woman was there. “The dedication you showed in following me here is more than enough for me. Do you want to learn?” the still unnamed woman asked, her cheeks crinkling in the corner as a smile overtook his face.

It didn’t take but an extra second for the excited ‘yes’ to slip out of his mouth. He understood an opportunity when it was presented to him and didn’t want to squander it.

Without saying anything else, the woman walked by him, sat down at one of the wheels and looked expectantly at the one next to her.

From there, Tony found in himself natural talent and a burning desire to learn all he could about the craft. Despite having the means to buy his own wheel and supplies, Tony returned to Nona’s, the old woman insisting he call her nothing but. Over the course of the last two years of his undergraduate degree, Tony split his time between uninteresting studies and the maddening obsession of wet clay and the never-ending possibilities the potters wheel could bring.

The art brought him joy and when he graduated and Nona gifted him his very own wheel and her blessing of finally being ready, Tony took to it with a passion he never experienced before. No one in his circle would understand the desire to get his hands dirty or create something that could easily be bought at some auction, or fancy gallery opening. So, he kept it a secret – the thing he treasured most in the world was his and his alone.

That trend continued for many years after that. In order to keep up his expected persona, Tony put himself in the public’s eye a few times a year to cause a ruckus, whether it was with scandalous photos he manipulated himself, or a random appearance in a place he was supposedly blacklisted from. And between those times, Tony threw clay and created a whole line of masterpieces that culminated into a pretty popular business.

As his talent and the demand for his work grew, Tony let the smallest bit of pride settle deep within him. Despite not being satisfied with the way the world saw him, his most favorite piece of himself was flourishing – and on his own merit, nonetheless. Making something out of himself away from his father’s money meant so much and each step he took towards that brought him a peace he wasn’t sure would ever exist for him.

After almost 10 years of being in business, Dirty’s Pottery was finally unmanageable by himself – especially if Tony wanted to keep the anonymity of the business. No matter how much he didn’t want to bring in another person into the folds of his life, Tony knew he needed the help.

Which is why, when Peter Parker walked into his life, Tony was thrown so off guard. For most of the morning leading up to the interview, he felt a sliver of dread start to worm its way into the confines of his chest. Just seeing someone for a position like this took an amount of trust that Tony had not ever given to anyone – ever – in his entire life. The need for it was the only reason he forced himself to get his shit together and actually give the guy a chance at actually getting the job.

His entire attitude changed when he caught the glance of milk chocolate eyes that shone, well-kept facial hair, and a smile that so obviously hid a beautiful personality behind the lengths of it. In that moment, Tony wondered about so many things – where did this guy come from, how did he walk around in those pants without getting hit on with every step, and his favorite – what could he do to get this person to stick around. All of that without a single word being exchanged between them.

When Peter finally did start to speak, Tony couldn’t help but get lost in the interesting human sitting in the chair next to him. Instead of making it a formal affair, Tony poured them coffee and nestled into the remaining chair in the small office Tony kept slightly clear in his workshop. He went so far as to start the conversation with a question totally off the wall, which Peter answered with ease and kickstarted what turned out to be a couple hours’ worth of back and forth between the two of them.

It was obvious, in the way it took Peter a little while to open up to him, that his reputation proceeded him. Before Peter even walked in the door, he was looking at him a certain way – and Tony couldn’t wait to do everything in his power to prove that perception wrong. In true Tony Stark nature, Tony started by finishing their conversation out in the main room of the studio, his hands covered in red clay, the length of his hair pushed back with a bandana he’d taken to wearing over the last few months. The interested eyes that watched his hands with fascination brought a smile to his face and the job offer to the tip of his tongue.

“The job – it’s yours if you want. You’re smart, capable – the experience you came in with is amazing. I’d be pretty stupid to not snatch you up while I have the chance. But hear this now,” Tony said, his voice dipping. “If you fuck with me, I’ll ruin you. Understood?”

An awkward chuckle was his answer, Peter’s eyes flashing with some sort of feeling as he nodded his head. “Understood, Mr. Stark. This is a big opportunity for me – I wouldn’t screw that up for 5 minutes of media attention.”

And just like that, Tony was sold. He extended a clay covered hand out, a challenging quirk to his brow as he looked up, his own cognac colored eyes meeting Peter’s after a moment. “Cut the Mr. Stark shit, it’s just Tony.”

Grinning, Peter returned the handshake, his soft hand wrapping around Tony’s like it fit there, like if he let himself think about it, Tony could’ve sworn it’d been there his whole life. The contrast of wet clay and pale skin did something to him – something that, after 45 years of life, Tony couldn’t remember experiencing ever before.

----

It took a while, coaxing Peter from whatever picture he painted in his head about Tony and what he knew about him. The first few months together were tense – when they attempted their first staged photo for the public eye, Peter looked at him skeptically, as if the entire situation was crazy. Then, Tony stepped in front of the camera and pulled his mask on, his expression and demeanor changing to suit the air and attitude needed to portray the spoiled persona he’d been keeping up for years now.

The click of the camera was rapid, like the change in Tony was just as eerie for Peter as it was for the man himself. He turned and smiled and smoldered enough to make sure he had a few pictures to play with over the next few weeks, then dropped the whole act the second he could – Tony more than glad to be done with this part of his act until the next need for it came to be. Shrugging his shoulders and letting the conceded air rush from him, Tony shot Peter a smile – his assistant’s facial expression telling him much more than he needed to know.

“It is just an act, isn’t it? I’ve never seen someone put on another skin like that before,” Peter mumbled, his ears a little red from the blush that slowly spread down his cheeks with every word. His long fingers fiddled with the dial of the camera, brown eyes down casted in what Tony could only assume was apprehension or embarrassment.

“Everyone does it, Pete. Sometimes, it’s just more necessary than others. I had one little mishap and all of the sudden, I was painted as something that I’m not – something that I never will be. No matter what I did after that, things didn’t change. So, I use it to my advantage. Put a little chum in the water for the sharks every now and again and live my life the way I want it in between.” Tony shrugged then, his hands already working to take off the stupid jacket that pinched between his shoulders.

Peter was quiet for a few minutes, the two of them moving around each other in the slightly uncomfortable silence. “I’m just a kid from Queens. I couldn’t even imagine what that’s like. I probably would’ve taken the opportunity you did, too. It sucks you have to be someone different, but I get it.” A soft smile could be seen on his face, the look one of Peter’s that Tony quickly became enamored with – the shine of it hitting him in the gut, supplying him with his next bit of energy from all the goodness hidden within it.

Though it wasn’t monumental, things between them changed. While Peter used to come and go without much fanfare, Tony was surprised when he started to stick around a little longer after their work was done for today. Where the conversation could easily be described as stilted before, words started to flow between them easily – now that the damn was broken, it was like there was no stopping the conversations that could so easily exist.

And they did, flow easily. Peter graduated from Columbia with an Economics degree – a career field he quickly understood was not for him after two years in a job that he absolutely hated. The shared hatred for what they studied in college opened up the door for actual passions, ones in which Tony quickly came to find that Peter had many of. Including pottery, though he never did anything aside from buying it until coming to work for Tony.

“Your coffee cups are actually why I wanted this job,” Peter admitted out of the blue, the two of them settled on the soft couch in Tony’s living room after a long day of boxing and shipping orders. “When I first started college, I was dirt pour – living the dream, you know. I got the short end of the stick in housing and ended up having to find my own apartment. It was a shit hole, but I had a Dirty coffee mug to drink out of every day – so things couldn’t have been as glum as they really were. For some reason, I thought of that when I saw the ad – felt compelled to apply.”

Shifting a little, Tony let their shoulders brush – the physical contact between them also flourishing now that Peter didn’t think he was such a piece of shit. He leaned in, applying the slightest bit of pressure to the firm deltoid he felt through Peter’s shirt. “And now you get to drink out of them whenever you want,” Tony remarked, the joking tone of his voice pulling a smile from them both. “Never thought you’d run into me when you signed up for this gig, did you?”

“I didn’t. Honestly, when I saw it was you, I almost turned around and walked right out the door. If it wasn’t for the way you look sitting behind the potters wheel, I might’ve done exactly that.”

A chuckle fell from Tony’s lips, the tightness in his chest that’d been building up from that first day finally loosening, whatever happened in the minutes between stepping in front of the camera and that moment obviously winning him a bit of favor.

“I do look good behind the wheel, don’t I?” Tony answered, a shit eating grin on his face.

Peter reached over, swatting his thigh in joking exasperation. “Shut up.”

That exchange stayed with him after that, a subtle reminder of the distance between them narrowing. Tony didn’t even know if Peter liked anything about him other than the way he looked, or the way his mugs held coffee – but a small bit of hope sat in his chest, regardless. Things were so different now, all smiles and laughing, inside jokes between the two of them that didn’t cease to be funny, no matter how many times they stopped dead in their tracks to deal with the chuckling fits that spontaneously occurred at the thought of any of them. It had to mean something, even if it wasn’t the sort of intensity that Tony wanted.

Like most things in his life, Tony got his answer in the form of a shout, or at least, the closest a kiss could come to the form. About a year and a half into their working relationship, Peter was finally comfortable, so comfortable in fact, he allowed himself to fall asleep in the many different spaces he’d been invited into in Tony’s home and workshop. That particular day, Tony walked into his office to find Peter passed the fuck out, a cute string of drool lulling from the side of his mouth. His eyes were moving behind his eyelids, hands clenching by his sides.

For a second, Tony thought to wake him up, what he thought was distress making him want to take care of Peter in the only way he knew how. Resisting, Tony walked around his office quietly, grabbing his smock and the most recent designs before trying his best to sneak past Peter without waking the sleeping beauty up. He was about to step away from the edge of the couch when a hand shot out, grabbing his wrist.

“Pete, what – “ Tony started to exclaim, his body falling towards Peter stopping the rest of the words from coming out of his mouth. Without being able to suck in another pull of breath, Tony’s lips were covered, all of Peter pressing fully against him, lips and obviously interested cock, included. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, Tony kept himself still, the need to flatten Peter out and press into the contact so close to winning out, despite knowing it probably wasn’t his best course of action.

A gasp of breath against his lips alerted Tony to Peter’s conscious state, the man pulling back from him in the next second.

“Tony?” Peter gasped; the words still tinged with sleep. “Is this real? I was just dreaming – “ He stopped then, realization of what he just said grinding everything else to a halt. “Oh god.”

Putting a finger across Peter’s lips to stop any other words from spilling out, Tony leaned back into his space, their faces mere inches away from each other. “I dream about it, too.” Tony mumbled as he closed the distance and pressed their lips together – this kiss one they were both conscious and aware of.

The fingers slipping into his hair were the only sign that he needed. In a desperate attempt to get more skin right in that very moment, Tony climbed onto the couch, his knees pressing into the cushions bracketing Peter’s hips. His own hands moved to grasp whatever skin he could reach, Peter’s nap on the couch affording him stomach and back from a ridden-up shirt.

Plush lips were such a distraction, the thickness of Peter’s bottom lip ridding him of any thought other than right that second and skin and more kisses that felt like straight heat touching him. Peter’s fingers dug into his scalp, blunt nails cutting into the skin in the most tantalizing way possible.

An annoying need for oxygen pulled them apart, Tony panting into the skin of Peter’s neck as he continued to explore the long planes of skin there. If this dream haze was the only way he got what he’d been wanting since he first laid eyes on Peter, Tony would take it – simply because he never let himself and he really, really, really wanted this; wanted Peter.

Hands on the side of his face stopped his assault, Tony pulling  away with so much reluctance – his entire being shouting against the disparity of the action. Peter brushed their noses together, his fingers caressing Tony’s face, cupping behind his ears – each digit moving restlessly.

“I want you,” Peter said plainly, the seconds of silent stares and heavily panted breaths already forgotten – the words already enough to change the way the world tipped on its axis. “I want you. Have wanted you for so long. Please, Tony – “

Whatever was going to come next, Tony cut him off – their lips sealing back together now that they were both on the same page, both ready for the next step – both wanting each other.

Not in any frame of mind to do anything other than kiss, be kissed, and pull at clothes in hopes that they came off, Tony did just that – his fingers slipped under the soft t-shirt covering Peter’s chest, the pads of them tracing the smooth skin of rippling abs, and the slightest bit of chest hair just starting to coat over trim pecs. He pushed the shirt up until it rested under Peter’s arms, his brain unwilling to allow him to pull away from their kiss to actually take it off.

Peter, like he did so well over the past few months, took the matter into his own hands. He pulled away from Tony to yank his shirt up and over his head, eager fingers doing the same to Tony’s once he got the memo and shifted so Peter was able. Soft hands found the thick patch of hair covering his upper chest and the straight path down his abdominals that trailed down into the confines of his now too-tight boxer briefs. The touch was like electricity, each inch of perusal like a shock rolling across the surface of his skin.

Moaning, Tony let his hips drop, the bulge in his pants pressingly deliciously against Peter’s erection, the slide of his jeans against his passion both tantalizing and harsh – the perfect combination. In an attempt to gain more friction and a better position, Tony climbed off of Peter’s thighs, slotting himself between muscled legs, instead. Instantly, Peter wrapped his thighs around Tony’s hips, using his strength and leverage to pull him close, closer than either ever thought they would ever get.

The next few minutes were a flurry of kisses against bare skin and hands wandering all the inches they could – Tony focusing on the softest little swell of Peter’s stomach, the roundness of it only enhancing the strength the rest of him portrayed. They fumbled and thrust, erections grinding through several layers of jean and fine clothed underwear. It was glorious and not enough all in one breath. Tony forced himself to create space between them in hopes of furthering things along, his shaky hands making quick work of Peter’s pants and then his own.

Completely naked in front of him, Tony was surprised to not feel a single shred of self-consciousness. In all of his imaginings, he thought he might curl in on himself – there weren’t many people that knew the real him; baring himself this way to Peter, Tony no longer had the pleasure of anonymity, the barrier of protective shell he tried to keep with him at all times. A grinning Peter brought him away from those thoughts, his own lips turning up in a smoldering smirk.

“Reach behind you – I think there’s something in the side table we can use for lube.”

The words came out panted, like Tony needed every shred of oxygen in his body to deliver them, yet, he couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed – Peter fumbled over himself to get to the drawer, his upper body twisting to reach, despite Tony pinning his legs down into the cushions of the couch below them. A sound of triumph left them both when Peter righted himself, a small bottle of lube in his grasp.

“Any reason why you have lube in your workshop office?” Peter asked through a chuckle, his hands already moving to grip Tony’s bare skin, the lube sitting on his stomach in offering.

Ignoring the question for the moment, Tony reached up to grab the bottle, his lips busy tracing the lines of Peter’s abs until he found himself face to face with a delectable erection, the tip of it glistening with the tangible exertions of their efforts. He brought his eyes up to glance at Peter, the usual honey-hazel completely overtaken by black pupil and want – so much want.

His tongue peaked out to sop up the leaky moisture, Tony letting a moan slip from his lips before redoubling his efforts, his lips wrapping around Peter tightly. It was erotic, bobbing up and down on the most beautiful erection while maintaining such intense eye contact. The state of Peter’s eyes matched his own, the glassy nature of them making his own cock throb – the smear of precum he felt himself thrusting into a tell-tale sign of what this did to him; what Peter could so easily drag from him.

“Jerking off, of course,” Tony finally answered, his lips pulling away from Peter’s cock with a loud pop that echoed around the small office. “I practically lived here before you came to my rescue. I’m not a saint.”

To emphasize the point, Tony snapped open the cap of the lube, his eyes flashing as that sound too seemed to bounce off the walls. A weak moan left his lips when he turned the tube over to dump a good amount of lube over his fingers, the implication of what came next and the frigid cold of the lube doing something to him. Peter grinned up at him, his hips rolling up in the most obvious form of permission.

Taking Peter’s cock back into his mouth, Tony let two of his fingers slip between the crease of firm butt cheeks, the tip of one tracing a tight rim. With the thought of distraction, Tony sucked hard and pressed his finger in, breaching the muscle with a kind of ease that had him moaning around the thick cock in his mouth. The boil of heat and arousal felt like it was consuming him – he’d feel lucky if he actually got to the point of slipping inside Peter without completely embarrassing himself.

Long fingers dug into thick, salt and pepper locks, Peter’s grip tight and flexing rhythmically with the bob and pull of his mouth around the most luscious erection. Slowly, Tony opened Peter up, his fingers working in tandem with his cleverly talented mouth. Little by little, he felt the muscle around his fingers relax, Peter easily able to take three fingers after his careful ministrations.

The grip in his hair tightened, forcing Tony to look up to gauge the situation. The sight he was met with caused his cock to throb again, the tip now completely covered with pre-cum and weepy, each second passing filling out the appendage more and more, Tony feeling so fucking close to burning already.

Peter’s pupils were completely blown, the glassy nature of them from before overtaken by a sort of heat that Tony didn’t know existed. His hair was in disarray, the obvious toss of it back and forth showing in the tangled strands. Sweat covered him, the tiny drops on Peter’s forehead the only indication that he too was physically straining himself, desperately trying to hold himself off.

“Fuck me, Tony. I need it – need you,” Peter gasped out, his fingers tightening in Tony’s hair even more. “Please.”

Not one to deny himself or those he cared about, Tony pulled himself up and away, Peter’s pulsing erection slapping against his chin for the effort.  A laugh left his lips as he sat up completely, nervous hands moving to grab the lube. The snick of the cap opening made them both jump, each man completely wound up and ready to go off at any moment. Dumping a generous amount of lube onto his cock, Tony reached down to spread it, smearing the last little bit of it around Peter’s entrance – the thought of the sticky-slick slide pushing him into position faster than he thought imaginable.

Nudging Peter’s thighs, Tony settled further between them, the muscles there clenching with the subtle pressure of a cock head against the relaxed rim; the feeling jolting them both. He sucked in a quick breath, his chest expanding with the long pull of air. Breathing back out, Tony pressed forward, thrusting his hips without hesitation until they were pressed soundly together, Tony’s pelvis to the warm flesh of Peter’s ass.

“Oh, fuck –“ Tony babbled, his head hanging between his shoulders as he held himself above Peter, giving them both a moment to adjust to the heat and tightness – the overall feeling of their connection blazing up between them.

Peter’s answer came in the form of a swift clench of muscle around Tony’s cock, the heat of it all burning any ounce of self-control Tony might’ve had. His hips snapped forward, the sound of skin slapping against skin pulling a groan from the depth of his chest. If this was what just being wrapped up in Peter felt like, Tony couldn’t even begin to fathom what the end result of their joining would be like.

A little bit desperate, Tony dropped down until their chests were pressed together, hands moving to urge Peter to wrap his thighs a little higher up his chest to better the angle. With that done, he nestled his face into the side of Peter’s neck and let go.

Every thrust was accompanied by the sweetest sounds, both men contributing to the groundbreaking symphony of passion and connection. The slap of skin on skin and breathy moans were the only thing that could be heard around the room, each crescendo of sound driving Tony that much closer to the edge he never wanted to reach – staying there, in that moment, it would’ve been the best thing in the world.

Yet, he found himself chasing the feeling of jumping over the peak, anyway. Peter was clamping down around him hard, the constant press of Tony’s dick against his prostate creeping him towards the edge – the man’s cock was slick between them, each thrust pulling yet another pulse of pre-cum from the tip to guide the way. Their stomachs provided the friction to Peter’s cock that Tony couldn’t, his attention completely consumed by thrusts and sweat and the heat surrounding him.

With his orgasm impending, Tony picked up his pace, the rhythmic strokes from before completely gone, replaced with an animalistic push and pull that was quickly driving him towards completion. He didn’t want to reach it until Peter did, however; the clench of muscles around his touch sensitive cock a good indicator of how close Peter was, too.

After another few hard thrusts, Peter wailed, his hand slipping into Tony’s hair to pull at the locks.

“I’m gonna cum – oh god, Tony!”

Holding on just long enough to see the look of pure ecstasy on Peter’s face, Tony thrusted once, twice, three times before letting himself go – his orgasm washing over him deliciously, the feel of it like passing out and coming to all in one shot.

Tony felt his arms give way, his body crashing heavily into Peter’s. They were covered in sweat and semen, both physically exerting their bodies to the point of exhaustion, but completely sated, nonetheless. Pressing a kiss to Peter’s neck, Tony let himself relax, not giving two shits about the sweaty stickiness between them.

“We should have been doing that for ages now,” Peter whispered, his voice deep and wrecked sounding, a sort of pleasure radiating from him as the words left his lips.

Chuckling softly, Tony wrapped Peter up, his arms squeezing him tightly to his chest, the two of them settling into the gentle comfort surrounding them in that moment.

“Well, you’re definitely not getting rid of me, now.”

----

Loosening the reins on the idea of his public image got a little easier the longer Tony spent in Peter’s arms. Without much to rely on in the personal life Tony cultivated throughout his existence, his image was really the only thing he had. Even if that image was one that wasn’t the best – at least the world knew something of him. Yet, the closer he got to Peter and the effortlessness of their relationship, the less he cared about what people thought of him – of his sassy, diva, socialite attitude that he’d been cultivating for so long.

Instead, Tony felt the need to let little pieces of himself shine through as the months past. It became clear that being his genuine self was important to Peter – the man seemed to like all the pieces of him and wanted the world to see him in all of his glory.

It’d been too long for him to completely pour his public persona completely down the drain – there were too many people that came to expect a certain sort of thing from him. And he wasn’t anywhere close to being comfortable with a public reveal of his face in conjunction with his pottery business, but – they were slowly making progress.

Several months after finally coming together as a couple, Tony and Peter were back where things started to change for them – Peter behind the camera, watching as Tony put on his mask to face the public. This time, they were camped in front of a sleek, all black motorcycle – the bike one of Tony’s most recent glutinous purchases (he happened upon it a week or two after Peter mentioned how sexy he thought it would be, Tony on the back of a bike like that). Tony let Peter pick out the outfit he was sporting, the straight black pants and stiff collared jacket one of his absolute favorites.

After several of these over their time together, Tony understood Peter’s feelings on the smolder he let free when posing for these types of photos – there was a love-hate relationship with the particular faces he made throughout the process. On one hand, Peter hated the reason for the false look – pleasing people was never something he became accustomed to, even after spending so much time with Tony. On the other hand, Tony knew that Peter found it irresistible – the fact that he could kiss it off of him now only adding to that feeling.

Peter let it go on for a while – they shot several different poses in, on, and around the bike. Directing him from behind the camera, Peter made comments here and there, most of the time allowing Tony to do what he wanted. When his limit was reached, Tony found himself slapped across the face with a rubber duck, the toy hitting him before he could even see it coming.

“I can’t take that look anymore. I want to pull you off that bike and ravage you. But I can’t – because we’re in public.”

Peter’s eye caught his, the truth of his words existing in the small space between them. Grinning, Tony let the rubber duck rest against his thigh, a smirk slipping across his lips. He heard a series of clicks before Peter was staring him down again, a mix between lust and hilarity playing across his face.

Later, when he downloaded the pictures, Tony couldn’t stop the big bust of laughter that fell from his lips, a huge smile slipping across his cheeks. He quickly opened up the one he would post and did the customary touch ups in Photoshop before sending it to himself, anticipation and excitement sitting in his chest at his most recent idea. Tony didn’t hesitate, bringing up Instagram and posting the photo without a second thought.

The thunk of a phone hitting the ground in the other room, followed by fast footsteps coming his way was the clear sign that Peter saw the picture – his boyfriend appearing in the doorway of their room a moment later with the most affectionate look on his face making Tony feel like he was about to burst open at the seams.

“All of those pictures and that’s the one you post?” Peter questioned, his long legs carrying him over until he was inches from Tony. “That rubber duck can’t be all that good for your image.”

Reaching out, Tony pulled Peter until they were chest to chest, his boyfriend’s arms wrapping around his shoulders to narrow the space down even further. “Someone told me it needed a change,” Tony mumbled, his words somewhat muffled by the press of his lips against Peter’s as he spoke. “Thought it might be a step in the right direction.”

Peter’s answer came in the form of a desperate kiss, their tongues and teeth clashing in the best of ways. “I love you, you fucking dork.”

Pressing back in for another kiss, Tony let himself revel in the feeling taking him over in that moment. After so long, it felt good to take the tiniest step out of the closet – there were many more to take, but at least he knew the effort was appreciated. He let himself stay lost in the kiss for a while, the desperate caress of soft lips and eager hands the only thing that really mattered.

[zodiyack]

The Artist Behind His Heart

Requested by @morganofthecoves1: Hi! Can I request a Roman Sionis x plus size reader oneshot, if your ok with it. I had the idea that the reader is the one who created most of the art Roman owns. He takes her out for meals and invites her around to 'talk' about art but really he actually likes her. The reader is insecure so she doesn't realise that he flirts with her but she is also wary of him because she's heard rumours about him (AKA he kills people). Thanks!

Pairing: Roman Sionis x Plus sized!Female!Artist!Reader

Warnings: Insecurities, mention of the peeling of faces (it’s Roman guys), swearing, fluff, slight accidental ooc Roman(?), not proofreading

Note: I apologize if this is sucky, again, I ran into a bit of a block. I hope you like it apart from that! And I’m so sorry this took a bit! I’ve been busy and had some more tough writer’s block, but I’m pushing past it! Again, I’m sorry if this is eh

taglist: @stardancerluv @matth1w​ @redspaceace​

masterlist

Roman checked the clock before heading out, fixing his hair and breathing heavily. He breathed into his hand, then popped in a mint. Sionis, sprucing up? It’s a normal sight, but not as normal as him being nervous as he did so. Like a teen boy going to pick up his first date, he was a bit panicky.

Y/n was the woman who did his artwork for him, most of it at least. She was a cute lady, one that Roman had the feels for. He often enjoyed going and eating with her, preferably in places that didn’t know him all too well. He wanted to avoid scaring the girl away, wanted desperately for this to last, and possibly, evolve into something more.

The driver followed his directions, taking him to some random restaurant Victor recommended. There she sat, waiting by the door, sketchbook in hand. He found himself smiling, her state of distraction allowing him to look over her features without being weird. He admired her, her body, her art, and with his eyes- he admired every bit of her every time they met up.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have the guts to ask her out quite yet. Roman was known for peeling the face free from whomever it was that wronged him. Or just lose his temper so bad they had to do it in the end. He wouldn’t be able to take it if Y/n rejected him, so he couldn’t take the chance.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t just demand it of her, it was because he didn’t want to. He always got everything he wanted. Y/n was a bit shy, and was frequently confused by his flirting. Maybe, for once, Roman could get something on his own? It didn’t matter what anyone else thought, Roman was determined.

“Hello, darling.”

Her head shot up, her eyes were the size of saucers. “Hello! I’m sorry if I’m in the way.”

“Don’t fear, dearest, you’re nowhere near in the way. Come, I hate to prevent you from eating any longer.” He walked over to the door and held it open for her, smiling genuinely as she walked past him into the building.

Roman spoke to the waiter, asking for a seat in the spot Y/n liked most, wanting to make her happy. The waiter led them to their seats and handed them menus. “What will you be having, my dear?”

“Uhm... probably the f/f, please.” She smiled shyly and looked down, returning to her sketchbook while she waited for Roman to order.

“So, Y/n, any new projects for me?”

“Actually, yes! I was thinking, perhaps a portrait of you and Mr. Zsasz? Or maybe a new sculpture? You said last time that you wanted more, but you didn’t specify what you wanted more of, so I drew whatever came to my mind.”

She flipped her sketchbook around and let him look through it, nibbling on her lip with anticipation. Roman took his time on each page, not even bothering to hide the smile that grew on his lips. Once he had finished looking through it, he handed it back to her.

“Shit, those are nice!” Y/n thanked him and went back to her sketchbook. An idea popped into his head after the silence took over. “Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“May I ask, are you seeing someone?”

She blushed and looked away, “No.”

“No? Why would a beautiful woman like you be all alone?” He chuckled for a second, “Then again, no one deserves your beauty and talent.”

“Mr. Sionis-”

“Please, call me Roman.”

“Roman, I don’t understand.”

He folded his hands an reclined in his seat. “Don’t understand what?”

Before she could answer, the food was delivered. Roman almost snapped at the waiter for interrupting Y/n, but remembered the exact reason that he Victor chose the place. He wanted to prevent Y/n from seeing the side of him he thought she was most likely to fear, and his emotions were no exception. It took everything, literally everything, in him not to yell. But Y/n was worth it.

“This is good...” Y/n mumbled after a bit. Their food was almost finished and Roman had yet to talk to her about his feelings. “So...what other projects would you like me to work on?”

“Why would I need you to work on anything when there’s already a work of art right in front of me?”

She looked around, still oblivious to his advances. “I guess. This places has some cool works... I should ask who their artist is, maybe I could get some advice from them, ya know?”

Roman sighed. He didn’t understand why she wasn’t getting his hints. They were becoming more and more obvious too. “Sure. Uh, Y/n, have I ever told you how extraordinary you are?”

“Every time, Mr-” she corrected herself before she could say his last name, “Roman. I just don’t know why you do.”

“Because it’s true. Just like when I say how beautiful you are. I’m an honest man, Y/n.”

“I- I never said you weren’t- my apologies, Roman.”

He frowned. “Don’t. You have nothing to apologize for, it’s me actually. I can see now that you aren’t interested, yet I keep fucking pushing it. I’m sorry, Y/n.”

She stopped, completely caught off guard by his sentence. “Excuse me?” Her tone probably came of the wrong way, as Roman looked hurt. “No! I mean, no, I didn’t mean it that way...”

The waiter came by to give them a check, then took it back after Roman filled everything out with visible annoyance towards the interruption. The boy turned and left as quickly as he cold.

“Well what way did you mean it then?” He could feel his patience growing thinner, with himself and Y/n.

“I was just curious- you said that I’m not interested? Interested in what?”

Relief. Maybe he did have a chance after all. “I’ve been flirting, Y/n. You don’t react the way I thought you would, so, after a while, I thought you weren’t interested.”

“What?”

“Flirting? The thing you do when you’re romantically interested in someone?”

She rolled her eyes with a small smirk, “I know what flirting is. I’m just... confused. Why you... would flirt... with me.”

“Who wouldn’t flirt with you? You’re fucking breathtaking!” Roman spoke as if her not knowing her own beauty was a personal offense to him. And honestly, he felt it was. “Here, how about this, you let me take you on an actual date, no art, no business, just romance?”

Y/n averted her gaze to think. There were pros and cons to being with Roman Sionis, one major con was the rumors of things he did. Would she want to get involved with that kind of life? Would he force her to get involved?

Then again, Roman was kind to her, saw past her exterior and into her heart. There isn’t that many kind of people in Gotham, especially as many as handsome as Roman.

‘If anything bad happens, I still had my rights of backing out,’ she told herself.

“Y/n?”

“Alright. It’s a date...” He helped her pack up her art supplies, and held the door for her as they exited the restaurant. “But Roman?”

“Yes?”

“Why, exactly, are you asking me out?” It still bothered her. Was he using her as a dare? Was he just using her for her work? He was Roman fucking Sionis, he could do anything he wanted, yet he could use her without her even knowing it.

His smile dropped and his brows raised. “Why?” Roman chuckled loudly. Y/n was thankful they were outside and not in the crowded place anymore. “Look at you! You’re talented, kind, smart, funny! All of you is gorgeous! I’ve been dying to ask you out for a while!”

“You have?”

“Well... yes. Wasn’t it obvious? The consistent flirting and offers?”

Although Y/n hid the blush on her face by looking down, Roman cupped her cheek softly and tilted her head upwards to look at him. They held eye contact for what felt like forever, their orbs were studying each other so intensely, before he finally leaned in and touched his lips to hers.

Y/n was taken aback with shock, but quickly recollected herself and wrapped her arms around his neck. When they separated, Y/n giggled shyly, the blush on her face had spread.

“Don’t hide..you’re beautiful, angel. I’ll pick you up tomorrow, at 7, deal?”

She nodded eagerly. “Deal.”

[fictropes]

Hi Louise who are some good people to follow? Thankyou and hope you are ok❤️

Thankyou!!!!!!🦀💕I want to talk about my friends !!!!! I will stop at ...7 cos I said so.

@rawritsamehh literally the nicest person on planet earth. I cannot think of anyone more wholesome and lovely than Amy they deserve all the good in the world

@ahappydnp ohhhh my long time fwiend Keelin. Ever met someone who can just... make everything feel better. Was one of the first people who I spoke to and it’s a treat to hear all their thoughts and feelings because they’re always very smart and correct.

@sierraadeux oh me and Sierra are so very evil but deep down... Sierra is actually one of the best people I know and it’s a gift to be able to talk to them basically every day. My experience here wouldn’t be the same without them + read our house 2 change ur life

@finalfeud kellllyyy. My widdle kelly who I lub and will hold hands with in evil. very talented very funny very much a joy to have in ur life. All go through Kelly’s art tag for some free serotonin ... plus the only person who understands what Johnlock did to me💕

@chickenfreeblog 🐓 is my dog companion and to recieve so many pictures of free Jasper... life changing. But aside from dog, chicken is very funny and has always been very kind to me and I’ve always appreciated that 🦀. And tftwa ...life changing

@judearaya Jude is my enemy to lover who is super duper talented. And will stop trying to give their books away from free ! Always funny(even if sometimes not on purpose) always super supportive and I’m so so glad I got the chance to get to know them cos being here would be so much duller if I didn’t have their friendship 💕

@irrationalqueer my buddy, my pal. Jade is wonderful ans beautiful and I will recommend jades fics till the day I die. Another person who is just so nice to see on the dash, you know when you see someone and you go ahh!!!!! There they are... 🖤.

[locke-writes]

Stolen Trust

Author: locke-writes

Title: Stolen Trust

Based On: Imagine being Spencer’s sister and an unsub and him having to be the one to take you down. By: Myself. Originally Requested By: @ofthedewthesunlight​

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,484

Tag List: @lotsoffandomrecs​ / @opalsandlacemain​

Slipping the candy bar in your jacket pocket you made your way out of the convenience store. It wasn't hard to leave with anything, there were no security cameras and no alarm systems rigged to go off when unpaid merchandise left the building. A candy bar was nothing compared to what you usually decided to steal but it would help take the edge off while you planned the next big robbery.

It had started, as it always seemed to with those in your criminal profession, with shoplifting. Being young with no money and not of the right age to get a job, you made do with what you were able. And what you were able, was theft. You had expected to be caught at least once, certainly when you were first starting out but it was easier than you had anticipated. Or perhaps you were smarter than anyone had anticipated. The funny thing was, there was no guilt involved. Surely there had to be a voice in the back of your mind telling you that what you were doing was wrong?

No. There was nothing. And that made it all the easier to continue.

From there, you escalated. There were bigger and better places to rob and you would conquer them all. It was simple for you, balancing an appearance as a normal member of society with a typical office job and then worming your way through the criminal underbelly at night. It also helped to have a brother in the FBI who unwittingly tipped you off on occasion. Spencer was smart but he was more trusting than he should have been.

You robbed whatever and whoever you could. Shoplifting from small stores when in the middle of planning a larger robbery and thieving from banks and jewelry stores mostly. You took what you could but you were smart, especially when it came to uncirculated money. Nothing had ever been traced back to you and you were certain nothing ever would. But being cocky was everyone's downfall.

Spencer looked over the file that had been handed to him by Garcia. He hated that he felt relieved that it wasn't another killer. Robberies were easy most of the time, they were simple to breakdown and most of the time the unsub was easy to catch. He wondered if anyone else on the team felt that same sense of relief. He looked over the list of robbery locations but upon first glance he could find no connection although he did note that the last location was a few towns over from where you lived. Maybe he should call you, see if you knew anything although he doubted you would.

As children the two of you were inseparable. Being only one year older than Spencer it was easy for the two of you to get along. You were the one person he truly understood and you were the one person who truly understood him. At least he believed that was the truth.

Maybe there was some sense of foolishness to leave thank you cards at the scene of a robbery. Surely there was someone who had made the connection between every single one you'd committed and the thank you cards left on the scene but there wasn't anyone set to come after you, no one had brought you in for questioning and it seemed easy to continue rather than to stop what you were doing.

When you heard the FBI was onto the case you took it as a challenge. Would you be caught, you wondered. Spencer had let slip his involvement with the case when he called you to inform you where he was staying wondering if maybe when the case was finished the two of you might get together to catch up in person rather than through your weekly phone calls. You agreed and wondered if they would actually end up finishing the case of would you be talented enough to make the trail go cold.

The team filed into a conference room at the local police department to review the evidence that had already been compiled. Unfortunately that was nothing other than some points on a map and the information that all security footage was deleted a week before the robbery through to the night off. Garcia was called to prepare a trail but you were good and nothing was traceable, sending the tech wizard into an endless loop across countries where you stashed and changed your IP address.

You called Spencer each night he was on the case. It had been agreed upon as he was close by and you wanted to be informed on when the case was ending. He never worried about your curiosity regarding cases, it was his job, you were his sister, it seemed to him only that you were feigning interest in his chosen career.

Nothing was going to stop you from sticking to your plan. From what information had been given to you by Spencer you knew that nothing held a pattern. There was no way of predicting when and where you were going to strike next, and you aimed to keep it that way. You'd had your eye on the jewelry store for months looking at watches in cases to steal. Earrings and bracelets would have given you away but you did know that you were going to take whatever gems you could grab.

It was your thank you note that gave you away. Spencer recognized the writing straight away and refused to believe it, or rather he denied it and presented the idea to Hotch for confirmation. He carried a photo of you and himself from graduation where you had written on the back. The writing wasn't exact but Spencer could tell from the way some of your letters matched. You were smart in using your non dominate hand but Spencer knew.

Hotch had pulled Spencer aside to discuss what he'd found. He felt sorry to be the one to inform Spencer that his suspicion was correct, you were the unsub they had been looking for. Spencer wasn't shocked, not reluctant to believe it. It was you, every single thread they'd chased had been caused by you. If he hadn't recognized your handwriting, if he had been anyone but your brother, you would have never been found out.

While Hotch was reluctant to let Spencer go after you alone he recognized it as the only way you would cooperate. The profile they had on you didn't deem you dangerous but he still knew that could change on a dime. You knew of the team but you certainly knew your brother and you were more likely to open up to him and confess than you would a stranger.

The SUV that pulled up to your house signaled your end. There were no sirens yet you knew that it was the FBI. Your brother stepping out of the front seat only confirmed it. Running wasn't an option for you, you didn't want to make things any more difficult for yourself than you already had with the high number of robberies that surely would be connected by the FBI at this point. Instead you swung the door wide open when Spencer got to the front porch.

"Hello, baby brother! We've some things to talk about"

Following you into the house you gestured to the dining room table and he sat in a chair opposite from you.

"I suppose you have questions. I know I'm through so I will confess although I'd like to take a look at whatever list they have on me. Wouldn't want someone else's work to be attributed to me"

"You admit it then. That you were who we came here to find."

"Surprise!"

"But why?"

"Why lie or why do it in the first place?"

Spencer shrugged, "Both."

"Why lie? Because I couldn't let anyone know what I was doing. Why do it in it the first place? Because I could get away with it. At least up until now."

"You know I have to arrest you."

"And you know I'll go willingly. Let's leave the cuffs for another day Spence. Live a little, disregard protocol for once. I am your sister after all"

He didn't want to risk being reprimanded but you were right, you wouldn't run. It was quiet on the drive to the precinct and it was quiet as you were walked into the interrogation room. Before anyone entered you turned towards the glass where you knew everyone to be watching.

"I can help you, you know. How many people like me in the world do you think there are? Whatever the number is, double it and that's still too low. I know how to catch the people who no one can catch. You need me, so let's come up with a deal"

And with that, you waited for their reply.

[mojofun]

How to chat up pretty gals - A manual by Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

Hello there. This is for @summer-writes​​​; the prompt was “I’m not an assassin, but I want to take you out” “After that, I kinda wish you were”. It’s part of my small celebration for hitting 100 followers, which I’m still thrilled about; I met so many nice people here on Tumblr.

That being said, the request thing is still on if anyone wants to participate.

This story is fluff

(He’s making sure he looks good before his date with Y/N :3)

Enjoy :)

                                      _________________________________

<<So, what do we have here?>>

<<A man, found dead this morning by->>

<<Yes Anderson, thank you for your valuable contribution. I’ll see for myself now>> Sherlock dismissed the other man, pushing past him and walking toward the body on the bed. John did not even try to apologise for him: both he and Anderson himself knew it would be pointless, a mere pretence.

The detective crushed beside the corpse, pulling out his lens to examine the scene up close. His inseparable companion slowly approached to give the body a once over

<<Livid complexion, yellowish scleras, rigidity in the sims… All telltale signs of->>

<<Poisoning>> A female voice interrupted the army doctor.

Everyone in the room turned to look at the newcomer.

It was a young woman dressed in semi-formal clothes, a Tyvek sterile suit in her hand; she had H/L H/C hair, E/C eyes and S/C skin. The smirk on her lips alone told them she was sure of her deduction.

John agreed immediately

<<Precisely. And you are?>>

<<This is Y/N Y/S>> Lestrade answered for her while she donned the protective covering <<She is the district’s rookie, fresh out of college with a degree in Criminology>>

<<Nice to meet you>> John greeted. She gave a curt wave and immediately got down to business, squatting beside Sherlock to inspect the victim

<<Damn,>> John murmured <<she already behaves like Sherlock>>

It was Sherlock who was not behaving like Sherlock.

Much to the amazement of everybody else, he simply observed Y/N do what she had to, admiring her concentration and her no-nonsense attitude.

When she was done she stood up, dusting off her knees

<<Sherlock?>> Lestrade called <<Don’t you have anything to say?>>

<<Uh? Oh, yes, of course. John, did you notice anything unusual?>>

<<Well, from my first check I can say that the cause of death is snakebi->>

<<It’s not a snakebite>> Y/N interrupted with a monotone voice.

The curly detective glanced at her in a strange mix of amazement and pride: he was expecting her to correct John, but part of him didn’t think she would notice

<<What?>>

<<It is not a snakebite, Dr Watson. Your colleague did not allow you to look very close, but if you did you would have noticed the disposition of the two punctures.

The discolouration around the wounds is not very different, meaning the second one was inflicted almost immediately after the first>> The girl beckoned him closer, pointing at one of the small holes in the victim’s neck <<What do you see?>>

<<The one on the left is deeper, more scraped than the other>>

<<So?>>

<<It was made before>>

<<Precisely. The victim probably put up resistance, hence the greater damage.

I think we have to go through the list of people invited to the party, see if there is anyone whose profession or hobbies entail knowledge of snakes and poison. Speaking of which, where are the animals kept now?>>

<<You mean the victim’s collections of reptiles?>> Anderson asked

<<Obviously>> She huffed

<<They’re at the police station; Sherlock suggested they could be evidence>>

Y/N grinned, looking at the lanky man

<<Excellent. I’m going to pay them a visit now. See you later!>>

<<Wait, Y/N! Aren’t you going to tell us anything?>>

The woman smirked

<<Oh, I think Mr Holmes may have an inkling of what is going on. Bye!>>

That said she ran out of the building, leaving them all in awe.

Lestrade, like everybody else, turned to look at Sherlock, silently begging him for answers

<<The victim likely knew the assassin, or they wouldn’t have ended up in his room.

We have to examine the list of guests and staff from yesterday’s party, see if we find someone experienced with poisonous animals, as Y/N said>>

He had a hard time saying those words; he just couldn’t believe that someone could have reasoned brilliantly and rapidly enough to be at his same level

<<So… She was right?>> John questioned, half smug half incredulous

<<Yes, she was>>

It was the first time something like that happened to Sherlock, and he was incredibly fascinated by the most talented newbie in the Yard.

                                    _________________________________

Months passed.

The case was solved in a couple of days thanks to the combined brains of the Baker Street sleuth and Y/N. Sherlock and John found themselves crossing paths with her more and more often, but they were both far from displeased about it. The doctor was intrigued by her talent, like his roommate, but he also considerably enjoyed seeing her keeping Sherlock on his toes.

Much to the famed detective’s annoyance, he’d grown smitten with the H/C-officer: she had beauty, brains and a tongue sharp enough to cut him. On top of that, she was well-versed in many subjects, and she kept up with him spewing theories with no difficulty.

He was stumped.

He’d tried talking to her, even flirting -just the thought made him cringe- with her, but he had no idea what he was doing.

William Sherlock Scott Holmes, the clever detective in the funny hat, was reduced to a teenage boy with a major crush, and he hated it.

That was how he ended up hiding in the living room at three in the morning, praying that John wouldn’t catch him red-handed while he looked up some tips on how to “chat up pretty gals”, according to the page he was currently scrolling through.

The brunette had winced violently when he first read that title. Nevertheless, that was how he went about things: research. He was treating it like a case, and he wanted to be prepared when he met Y/N again for a new case- which, according to the clock, would be in less than four hours.

He would need coffee. The website said a nice gesture would help his case, so maybe he could get one for her, too.

He already knew how she liked it.

                                    _________________________________

<<It was the babysitter?>>

 <<Yes>>

 <<With a knife>>

<<Obviously>>

<<In the living room>>

<<What, are we playing Cluedo?>> Y/N cried out.

They had solved another case in a matter of hours, and he was now accompanying her to the police station to write the report

<<John never wants to play that game with me>> He mumbled

<<I can see why>> The girl snickered.

He couldn’t help but notice she looked adorable when she smiled.

Suddenly, he stopped walking

<<Sherlock?>>

Yes, they’d somehow gotten to a first-name basis, which was a huge success- as far as he knew

<<Y/N, I have to tell you something>>

<<What’s wrong? You are making me worry>>

<<Nothing is wrong, doll>>

The woman’s eyes widened

<<Doll?>>

<<Do you prefer darling? Honey? Babe?>>

<<B- Ba- Babe?!>> She sputtered.

The detective went on with his tirade

<<I did some research. According to the pages I visited, when you like a woman you need to call her “pet names”>>

<<When you- Like- P- Pet names!?>>

<<And use pickup lines>>

<<Pickup lines? What the->>

<<Yes, so I chose one. Y/N?>>

The poor girl was extremely puzzled, but she went along with it

<<Yes, Sherlock?>>

<<I’m not an assassin, but I want to take you out>>

For a few moments, all was silent.

Sherlock was anxiously awaiting her reaction, even a small sign.

Then, out of the blue, she began giggling; it soon turned into a belly laugh, with tears streaming from her eyes as she held her stomach

<<Oh- Oh my- Oh my gosh!>>

The brown-haired man stood beside her, patiently waiting for her to calm down; it took more than he expected, but he did not complain.

When her laughter finally dwindled and eventually stopped, she wiped her cheeks and looked at him, shaking her head in amusement

<<Oh, Sherlock… After that, I kinda wish you were>>

<<What? It wasn’t good?>>

He frowned. The girl moved closer to him, taking his hands in hers

<<Listen, you brilliant fool… You don’t need all that to impress me>>

<<I don’t?>>

<<Not at all. I’m already impressed by how smart you are, the way you solve cases>>

The man finally smiled, lightly squeezing her hands, but then he furrowed his brow again

<<Y/N?>>

<<Yes?>>

<<If that’s not the right way to “chat up pretty gals”->> They both cringed, and she barely suppressed a snort <<how should I do it?>>

Y/N blushed, but she did not lose her smile

<<Well, Mr Holmes… Bringing me coffee was a good move, and this… This was the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me, I have to admit, however cringe-worthy it may have been>>

Sherlock’s grin broadened

<<However, do you know what I would like even more?>>

<<What is it, doll?>>

<<Mh, doll… I could get used to that>>

Without warning, she grabbed the lapels of his inseparable coat and pulled him closer, cementing their lips together; Sherlock’s eyes widened, but he relaxed almost instantly and tightened his arms around her.

He found it surprisingly enjoyable, and she was not complaining so he assumed she did, too.

When they pulled away Y/N bit her lip, her cheeks even redder

<<Mh, doll… I could get used to that>> She giggled

<<I would love it if you did this more often>>

<<Far be it from me to deny a pretty dame her desire>>

<<Sherlock?>>

<<Yes, doll?>>

<<Stop with the dumb nicknames and kiss me again>>

<<Gladly>>

After another kiss, he gave her a wicked grin

<<Mh, it becomes more pleasant the more we do it>>

<<Then I suggest we keep experimenting>>

<<I second the motion>>

Their lips met again, and their arms wrapped around the other in a vice-like grip.

                                    _________________________________

A few feet away, sitting at a table outside a café, Lestrade slid a tenner toward John, who pocketed it smugly

<<It’s a pleasure to do business with you>>

<<Bloody hell, there’s three of them now>>

[darthspideys]

im yours

Of course, you can do whatever you want with it but here my request. Poe and the reader are best friends, and they love each other, they tried dating but the war was a constant obstacle, but now that it's over they can try again so Poe gifts her his mother ring/necklace as a promised they promise to love each other forever and they kiss

poe dameron x reader

words: 1477

a/n: so I kind of love this like so much??? I’m like really proud of it and it’s kind of inspired some longer fic ideas for me so thanks to @leia-saveourskins for the prompt! 

The first time you had feelings for Poe Dameron, you were sixteen. The two of you had grown up together on Yavin 4 and been close friends for as long as you could remember. You’d been the one who he’d talk non stop to in school about how his mother had taken him flying in her X-Wing the day before and the one who he held onto when she died. When you had that first crush on him at sixteen, when the two of you would go on adventures together and he’d convince you to make trouble, just so things were ‘finally’ interesting you didn’t say anything. He was this tall boy, daring but smart, who’s parents were legends around town and you were-well you at the time, and you thought it would pass, and it did. 

He’d left at eighteen, off to the new republic naval academy to fly. He’d always been restless, you knew that what you didn’t know was that you were the reason he thought hard about saying. He liked you at seventeen but never said anything because you were resourceful, charming, funny and he was just him. He thought it would pass, and a few years after he left, they did. 

There had been people before and after Poe Dameron but none the same as the way you had felt for him. You chalked it up to the time and place, home a place you missed as you fell into your role as a New Republic Senator, and the wild feelings of being a teenager when you felt like you had no responsibilities and the world was whatever you wanted to make of it. You’d convinced yourself that if you ever saw him again the feelings would fade when you pulled him out of the romanticized world you put him in, nothing would happen.

The two of you met again when he came to the senate with General Organa to try and get support for the resistance, or at the very least make them recognize the threat of the first order. He approached you in the hallway and you’d realize that you were wrong, after all those years you still couldn't shake your crush on him. “Well if it isn’t (Y/N).” He smiled. 

“Senator (Y/N) actually, Dameron.” You corrected him, trying to keep a series face despite the fact that you were messing with him. 

He could tell and teased you right back, “It’s Commander Dameron actually.” The two of you started laughing, and you pulled him in for a hug that lasted a little longer than normal. You could tell that he hadn’t changed, but something did feel something was off. 

“You seemed stressed.” You observed squeezing his hand. 

“Yeah? This assignment is important, the first order is building up troops, ships, weapons, they're a huge threat and everyone here seems too scared to do anything.” He said, “No offense.” 

“None taken.” You replied, “Look, the older members who were around during the last war, they're afraid. They don’t want another one, they don’t know if the galaxy can take it so there willing to make concessions, including ignoring the first order.” He started to say something, “We don’t get it because we weren’t there.” 

“I see you haven’t lost your talent for talking.” 

“You don’t have to say it like that.” You punched him in the shoulder lightly. “I’m a politician now.” 

“Don’t remind me.” He sighed. 

“Ouch.” You pretended to be hurt, “Don’t worry, I’m one of the good ones.” 

“I know.” He smiled. “You have a good heart, you always have.” 

“And you-” You paused, “Are exactly the same as the day you left, stubborn and uncompromising in your beliefs.” He made a face, “Relax, Poe it’s a compliment. I’ve always loved that about you.” 

“So you loved something about me?”

“One of many things.” Nobody said anything for a long time, and that's when you realized how close the two of you were. So naturally, you leaned in to kiss him. 

It took a second but he kissed you back, and the two of you kissed in the hallway as you silently hoped that no one would come out of any of the rooms and catch you. When you thought you heard footsteps coming down the hallway, you pulled away. “That was way more thought out in my head,” You said. 

“I think it went pretty well.” He smiled back. 

You turned and lead him down the hallway. “So how long are you here for?” 

“Rest of the week.” 

“Well, we have a lot to do then.” 

At the end of the week, the two of you were at a crossroads. You had been-together the entire week but you knew it couldn’t stay that way. Poe had his duty to the new resistance and you had your duties to the republic, so there was no way around it, you couldn’t be together at least not right then. So you made a promise, that when the threat was over you would find each other again and be together. Little did you know it was going to be a while before any of that could happen. 

You met again before the war was over. This time as he sprinted across the resistance base to meet you, his heart pounding in his chest, his body full of relief. The entire planet of Hosnian Prime had just been destroyed, including the entire new republic but somehow you were safe. He picked you up off the ground suddenly and squeezed before putting you down and continuing the hug. You returned it, and neither of you ever wanted to let go. “How are you here?”

“I was off-planet, I had to take care of something at home and then I heard I just-“ Tears flowed down your cheeks. “It’s all gone.” You paused, “I could’ve died.”

He wiped the tears from your face, “But you didn’t.” 

You sniffed, “Yeah, I didn’t.” You stood tall and looked out over the people at the base rushing our feverously, “So I’m going to do something about it.” 

You joined the resistance on that day. You did mostly groundwork, coordinating missions and supply movements but it meant you were closer to Poe than you had been since he’d left home all those years before. But the two of you had decided that you couldn't be a real couple until the war was officially over, there was still too much that each of you had to do and you didn’t want any distractions getting in the way of the important work that you were doing. Of course, that didn’t stop you from being together when the two of you had time. Most of the people on base knew about your non relationship, and Finn made sure to tease Poe about it when he had the chance. 

Years passed until the battle of Exogal. You watched Poe leave on the mission that was the last chance to save the galaxy from the first order and you were more than nervous. But then somehow, they succeeded and you won, the war was finally over. When the ships began to come back to base, you looked for Poe to make sure that he had come back. As soon as you saw him, you ran full speed and pulled him into a huge hug, crushing his injured arm in the process. 

“Arm.” He said gruffly but he was happy to see you. 

“Oh sorry.’“ You pulled away, “So we won.” 

“Yeah, yeah we did.” You pulled him in suddenly for a kiss, and you melted into him for what felt like forever. 

“It’s finally over.” 

“Which means I can finally do this-” He reached for the chain around his neck and unclipped it, holding it in his hand. He didn’t have to explain what it was, because you already knew: his mother’s wedding ring. It was the same necklace that he’d tried to give to you when he’d left Hosnian two years before, when he’d offered it then you said you weren’t ready for it that it was too special for right then. The truth had been that you weren’t sure if you were going to see him again, and you didn’t want to make any promises that you didn’t think you could keep.  

But standing in front of him after the war was over and it seemed the dust had finally settled? It felt like the right time.  

“Usually when people propose they get down on one knee.” 

“Oh!” He looked panicked, “I wasn’t really going to-but I mean if you want me to-I didn’t know that you were-” 

“I’m messing with you.” You smiled, “Go on.”

“It’s not a proposal,” He moved around you and clipped the necklace around your neck. “But it is a promise, that I’m not going anywhere. Whatever you want to do now, whatever you want to be I’m there. No matter what.” He said, “I’m yours.”