#criminal-navy-writings

[ikuudo]

Arcane Artober #4: “Leader”

Fiat Justitia Ruat Caelum

The wisps of smoke enthralls his fury, under the blazing sun of thy Lord Prometheus. A once tranquiled village has been robbed of its peace by the cruel. ‘Till spots of blisters start to grow, feet be stained with dirt and grime; he ran and ran, one question blares in mind:

“How doth one lives when pleas be ignored by God?”

If God were not to grant mercy, I myself shall bestow upon thine own strength.

The strength that grants others the mercy of ignorance.

— Andre Lai, “Executioner”

[drabbles-mc]

Waking Hours

Youcef Haddad x GN!Reader

For @the-slumberparty's May Monthly Challenge. Prompts: "Why are you looking at me like that?" & "Did you know you talk in your sleep?"

Warnings: 18+, fluff, so much fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: I have been meaning to write something for Youcef for so long and here we finally are! I have something else in the works for him as well that I'm hoping to post sooner rather than later. Hope you enjoy!

Emily the Criminal Taglist: @narcolini @cositapreciosa @justreblogginfics (I feel like maybe 5 people in total on tumblr have seen this movie lmao howeverrrr if you wanna be added to the taglist please let me know!)

(also i will pay someone in fic and undying love to make more gifs of this man from this movie because lorddddd)

Your arms were stretching above your head before you even tried opening your eyes. They reached up, fingertips brushing against the smooth, cold wood of your headboard before you stuck them out from your sides. One arm dangled off the edge of the mattress, the other got caught up in the blanket that was draped not just over you but over Youcef as well. Reaching just a little farther, you could feel the planes of his chest even through the puffy comforter wrapped around both of you.

Eyes still closed, you could hear the soft chuckle that he let out. You might’ve been clinging to the idea of dozing back off, but you could tell just from his quiet laugh that he was up, that he had been for a while.

Prying one eye open, you turned your head just slightly so that you could look at him. And, sure enough, there he was. He was lying on his side and already looking at you. He had his elbow against his pillow, head rested in his palm. His curls were unruly from the night before, from tossing and turning and everything else. There was still a smile stitched across his face, the hand that wasn’t holding his head up reaching out for you.

Once you felt his arm come to rest across your stomach, you managed to get both of your eyes open. He laughed again, forever amused by the way you always had to drag yourself out of sleep and into your waking hours.

“Do you ever get bored of watching me sleep?” you mumbled with something that sounded like a laugh underneath the yawn that was trying to fight its way out.

His smile broadened as he shook his head. “Not even a good morning, hm?” He joked softly. When you just smiled and shook your head in response, he finally answered your question. “No, I don’t get bored.”

There were a few beats of silence between you, but the longer you watched him, the more you could see the way his shoulders were starting to shake with laughter that he was trying to hold in. Blinking hard a couple times, you finally rubbed the sleep from your eyes and focused in on him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” he asked, with a tone that let you know he knew exactly like what.

You chuckled, rolling onto your side so that you were facing him completely. “Like you’ve got something funny to tell me.”

“Like a joke?”

You laughed, slowly starting to feel more and more awake the more that you talked to him. “Yea, like a joke.”

He hummed in amusement, allowing your statement to hang in the air between you before finally shaking his head. “No jokes.”

“Then what?”

He moved his hand, slipping it underneath the covers with the rest of his arm so that he could put his hand on your side. His palm felt cold for a moment compared to your skin that had been kept warm beneath the covers all night. Despite the goosebumps that rose over your skin, you didn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, you let his hand grip onto you just a little tighter so that he could pull you just a little closer.

“Did you know you talk in your sleep?” he asked, dazed grin still on his face.

You laughed, eyebrows lifting slightly. “What?”

He nodded. “You do. You talk in your sleep.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending to pull away from him just so he could stop you and pull you closer as you argued. “I do not.”

“And how would you know, hm?” he asked, his nose just barely brushing against yours with how closely he had pulled you in. “You’re asleep when it happens.”

You laughed, placing your palms to his chest. “How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

The look on his face softened, and you could feel his breath against your skin as he huffed out a small laugh through his nose. “When do I ever lie to you?”

The thudding in your chest picked up for a few beats at that. He never did lie to you, and he had every reason to feel like he should with the life that he lived. That wasn’t something that you ever let yourself take for granted. For all the things he’d ever done, everything that he was involved in, he somehow managed to stay genuine through it all. He somehow kept that air of softness around him, especially with you.

“What do I say then, hm?” you finally asked when your heart had slowed back down to normal.

“What do you say?”

You laughed, nodding as you slid your hands up from his chest and into the curls at the nape of his neck. “When I’m talking in my sleep, what do I say?”

His eyes drifted shut for the briefest second as your fingers started to tangle themselves in his hair. “You mumble a lot,” he said before finally opening his eyes again. “Sometimes you say nice things to me.”

Your smile widened enough to make your cheeks hurt. “Do I? Do you coax it out of me?”

He chuckled. “I don’t have to.”

“Oh, you don’t, huh?” you joked with a shake of your head.

“Sleeping you is always saying how much you love me.”

Heat rushed to your face at that. Everything with Youcef had happened so fast, instantly diving headfirst into the deep end of the pool without pausing to check the temperature of the water first. There was something about him that made it so easy to be like that. It was how you ended up here. But still, even with how quickly the two of you had taken off with each other, neither of you had said I love you yet. At least, not in those words exactly.

“Do you say it back?” you asked.

He hummed, nodding with no hesitation. “Of course I do.”

If it had been physically possible to do, you would’ve melted completely into him right then and there. You settled for the next best thing, pulling his lips to yours in a kiss as you tangled your legs together. His arms wrapped tighter around you, one hand finding its way to the center of your back, the other drifting down to your thigh so that he could grip onto you, keep your leg hooked over his.

You could feel the smirk that was curling his lips as he slowly pulled out of the kiss. He didn’t let you go, though, just pulling away enough so that he could rest his forehead against yours. You allowed your hands to wander, trailing down over the sparse facial hair that lined his jaw before bringing them back down to his chest again. It was his turn to have his heart skipping a couple beats.

He could feel the way that your body was relaxing against his, your breathing starting to slow back down. “Are you going back to sleep?”

You laughed quietly, the tiredness in your voice making you unable to even try to lie about it. “Maybe. Are you going to keep watching me if I do?”

He laughed as he kissed you again. “Maybe.”

[railingsofsorrow]

Game of Pretend

[Spencer Reid x Reader]

summary: In which friends with benefits go undercover as a married couple and they ended up playing the part almost too good.

pairing: spencer reid x f!bau!reader

w.c: 2.7K

warnings/content: criminal minds case related stuff; suggestive content (no smut!); graphic descriptions of violence and wounds; idiots in love/friends with benefits trope; their love language is touch, you'll notice that; just a little bit of angst.

A/N: and I'm back. again. this challenge motivated me to write cause I was really going through it. but anyways. this is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins “Undercover Challenge” with the prompt “Characters go undercover as a married couple” and the dialogue prompt “I'm just acting.” “Oh, so you can make your heart race on command?”

navi

masterpost

criminal minds masterlist

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“He’s looking over here.”

You looked at your partner, taking a sip of your non-alcoholic beverage slowly as you slightly inclined your neck to watch the UnSub having a drink in the other end of the bar counter.

“Let’s start the show then.” You winked at Spencer, earning a scowl that he quickly masked into a loving smile towards you.

Such an in love husband.

“He’s staring at her.”

JJ’s voice boomed into your ear as a warning as you reached for Spencer's hand, intertwining your fingers.

“My mom wants us to visit her first thing after the honeymoon.” You said, playing with the straw of your cup. “We should extend it.” That got a laugh out of him and you felt his curls tickling your temple as he leaned closer.

“We can do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?”

“Yeah, baby.” You didn't know why the nickname surprised you but it did.

Spencer watched as your eyes traveled across this face in contemplation, wonder. He's just playing his part.

“Whatever I want huh?” You hummed softly, cheek leaning on your hand. Spencer knew that expression. He has lived with it these past months whenever you were going to do something you knew would piss him off. Often to tease him.

God he hated that look. Your teasing was relentless.

He pulled a strand of your hair behind your ear, his hand lingering near your cheek. His touch was warm and in spite of not really being a fan of physical touch, you'd always find yourself leaning closer to Spencer at certain moments. He represented some type of safety to you, you never really read too much into it, but you also never denied yourself to be close to him when you wanted to.

The way his eyes briefly shifted from behind you to you again told you the UnSub was closer this time.

“We could maybe do that thing in bed we were thinking of trying…”

The way Spencer choked on his own spit — he had a drink but he didn't even touch it — made you grin so big your mouth could split open. What he did with touches you were able to do with words.

“Kinky.”

You heard through your earpiece and Emily's voice almost got you to crack. You didn't.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, “Well, I have a few ideas I’ve been wanting to try but yeah, it's not like we have all the time in the world now.” You bit your cheek, hating the fact that he paid with the same coin. You, on the other hand, felt your neck heating up. His honey brown eyes stared you down and you saw the edge of his lips quivering in amusement. Caught you. You could read his thoughts.

“Oh, shit! I'm so sorry, miss.”

And you needed the UnSub to act to get out of your staring contest, you didn't know if that was good or bad.

First move — to accidentally bump into his victims with his drink ✓

Perfectly done.

Second move — the victim goes into the women's bathroom to clean herself up.

Now, it's your move.

Spencer heavily glared at the man as he insisted to buy you another drink, but you squeezed his arm and brought his attention back to you. Your voice was calm and calculated, a pointed gaze sent his way. I'm going to the bathroom, watch out for his partner. I got him.

“I’ll come with you.”

You halted, practically feeling the guy's gaze on your back. He had walked away after apologizing a thousand times but he was the one to watch the woman enter the bathroom while his partner stayed outside with the car, ready to take off.

They had fallen for the bait, it had been a simple stakeout. The whole reason the women were caught without any commotion was because they went into the bathroom alone. So why the fuck did Spencer want to come in with you? It wasn't part of the plan.

“Honey, it's the women's restroom.” You laughed as if that was the most funny thing in the world. Hotch’s deep angry voice resonated through the earpiece, telling Spencer off. You didn't have time to dwell on it because you were already moving away from your husband's pouty figure.

Flashforward and you were sitting in the back of an ambulance with an EMT tending to your superficial wounds. Nothing serious happened, a minor physical conflict when the man noticed you were about to fight back. He got a punch in your eye. You knocked him out with a swing of your leg. That was it. Still, Spencer was fretting.

“You need a head CT.”

“You need to calm down.” You told him with a sigh after pulling him away from the EMT so he would stop bugging them about your health. “Jesus Christ, I've been through worse. Relax.”

“He had a syringe to your neck—” He started and you interrupted him with a bored tone.

“Didn’t even graze my neck, Spencer.”

“It could've!”

Your voice was resigned because you were tired. All you needed was your bed and sleep twenty-four hours straight. That fucking duo of bastards had you and your team chasing them for a week. “Okay, honey, drop the overprotective husband act. We're off the stage. I'm fine.”

Spencer seemed to get the point and left you alone. After Hotch congratulated you for a good undercover job, he let you know you were not going back tonight because the jet would only be ready in the morning. So yeah, no warm bed with your soft mattress and your fairy lights tonight. Just the old musty bedding in your motel bedroom. At least it was a room for one, you didn't have to share with anyone else neither would you have patience to do it.

Emily and JJ followed you on your way to your room. You noticed their exchange of looks right away.

“Spit it out.”

JJ blinked innocently at you. “What?”

Pressing your thumb against the bridge of your nose, you tiredly said, “You two are either flirting shamelessly right in front of me or silently discussing something about me. I believe is the second option so spit.it.out.”

Emily wasn't one to beat around the bush when it was something she wanted information on.

“You and Reid at the bar.”

“You mean where we served as bait to catch the UnSub?”

“That kinky talk all of a sudden, I mean.” Emily smirked as JJ chuckled beside her.

The only thing you could do was offer her a blank expression. You also knew how to play dumb like JJ just did a few seconds ago.

“Oh, please. He didn't even bat an eye at you!” She carried on, raising a brow. “Something’s going on, right?”

You narrowed your eyes at them.

“What is this, fifth grade?”

Emily let out a groan that echoed the hallway just as you reached your door. Their respective rooms were a few doors down.

“Told you she wouldn't reveal anything.”

“I had hope.”

You rolled your eyes before pressing your key in the keyhole and opening your door. “Goodnight, girls.”

You liked certainty.

It was so much easier when people would be straight forward and simply put the cards on the table to avoid misunderstandings.

You've had that trouble in relationships throughout your life. The experience of navigating a situationship on eggshells. Am I giving too much expectations? Am I having too many expectations? Is this even worth my time? Sometimes you just wanted to take the edge off. Simple and effective. No strings attached.

Somehow, you never had that issue with Spencer. That doubt.

“Serendipity,” he said one night. Your limbs were tangled under the sheets and he just blurted out the word as if you were supposed to know what it meant without any context.

You looked up at him, your lashes barely letting you open your eyes since your latest activities had tired you out. “What?” You were used to Spencer’s random bursts of smart comments.

“It means when you…” He paused to kiss the back of your neck, causing you to squirm away only briefly, a smile growing in your lips. “... find something good accidentally…” another kiss, his hands wrap around your waist slowly. “without meaning to.”

“Oh.” You turned around as his arms caged you in, supporting your torso against his chest. You liked how his eyes seemed relaxed after you spent a night together. Ever since you met Spencer, he never had a healthy night sleep. Either because of a good book or worry. He never really rested. You had that in common. That was probably why you two clicked immediately in more ways than one. “You’re saying i’m that something good you found, Doc? Careful, I'll start thinking you’re getting attached.”

Certainty was in your agreement when you decided to turn friends with benefits. Things were pretty clear for the two of you since the beginning. Both wanted to just… forget about your jobs for a little while. And that's what you did.

That agreement was none of everyone's concern but yours. So you didn't tell anyone. It was your own thing, which was going well so far.

Too well.

You were too good at ignoring signs. All your life, you've been so focused on not getting attached that it usually worked well in your favor. But you realized you fucked up when after a bad day the only person you wanted around was him. And sex wasn't what you had in mind. Spencer’s presence was inviting and all you desired after being (barely) beaten up was to tangle your limbs with his and call it a night.

That's bad. Your brain warned. Very bad. Cut it off before it gets worse.

You stood in front of his door, staring at the wood as if it would knock on its own. Why were you even there? Maybe you should apologize because you felt like you did something wrong when he looked pissed moments before he left the crime scene. But then you remembered that he left. How dare he?

He answered your harsh knocks with a confused frown. His glasses were perched up on the tip of his nose, probably had slipped down while he tried to sprint to answer the inconvenient person at the door in the middle of the night.

“Is everything okay?” You entered without an invite and crossed your arms, waiting patiently until he closed the door. You were mad. You didn't have any reason to be mad.

“You left.”

He placed the book you only now noticed was on his hand on the nightstand. His nose scrunching up in confusion. “Left what?”

“You left the crime scene.” You left me — you wish you had say but you would've sound like a jealous girlfriend. Which you were none. “Didn’t wait for anyone.”

He didn't reply right away, his eyes accessing you carefully. He wasn't mad anymore. He wasn't even mad before. Just frustrated. You were just doing your part of the job and he let emotion go in the middle. It happens. Though the absolute terror he felt right before he got into the restroom was another thing. He never felt that before, it didn't just happen.

“I was tired, just wanted to… get some rest.” His eyes then softened which contributed to you feeling like a fool. “I’m sorry I didn't wait for you.”

“That’s not the point.”

He nodded, approaching you with careful steps. He wanted to redeem himself. You sighed in exasperation, running a hand over your face but you flinched when you touched your wounded brow.

With a gentle touch to your chin, he tilted your head upwards to check on your wound. Your eyes followed him every move. You felt like you could melt into a puddle. His touch was exactly what you needed.

“Does it hurt too bad?”

“No.”

“It may still be sore.” He observed, brushing your hair away from your forehead. Your eyes fell shut, you couldn't help it, your body had its own mind. “I’m sorry I reacted that way. It wasn't professional.” He mumbled after a long pause between the two of you. You had already given up on your tough act, resting your cheek against his chest as his fingers worked through your hair.

“Fuck professional.” You said, nuzzling against his neck while your arms wrapped around his shoulders. You fit perfectly and that would always amaze you. Spencer never rejected your touch and it made you wonder, for a moment, if you were being unbearable. That thought was quickly shut down by him pressing you closer.

“Your heart is racing.” He pointed out, both of his arms tightening around you as if that was supposed to make it better.

“I’m just acting.” You whispered, enjoying the sound of his laughter after you said it.

Spencer leaned back, quirking up an eyebrow looking down at you “Oh, so you can make your heart race on command huh?”

“I bet you got a scientific fact just on the tip of your tongue.”

“When you exercise, your heart rate increases,” he started slowly and you felt his fingers draw up your shirt slightly. You liked where that was going. His raised his hand until it was right by your chest, so he pressed his open palm right by your heart. You ignored the shivering. “It is actually very easy to raise it. When you take the stairs… When you're running on a treadmill…” He lowered his lips to your neck. “But when you're not doing any hard work with your body, let's say, it's even easier. Like now.”

The way he pressed kisses down your neck made your eyes flutter shut.

“If you're experiencing strong emotions like excitement or… stress? Which I know isn't the case right now, is it?”

“Oh, shut up.”

He chuckled, kissing the corner of your mouth. Before he could move to your lips, you drew back, but not so much.

“I came here to talk to you about something.” He withdrew his hands from your waist, his fingers traveled up your arms and he squeezed them reassuringly, urging you to go on. “So… this. Between us. It's cool, right?” Suddenly, you weren't good at communication at all. You barely remembered your own name.

“Yes?” His brows furrowed slowly. “Why? Do you want to stop?”

Your brows shot up. “No! No. That's not— it's not about that.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I mean…” You place a hand on his chest, taking a deep breath so you could gather your thoughts. “It’s not that it's wrong. But. Have you ever considered…”

Spencer tilted his head so he would catch your gaze. “Considered…?”

“Becoming serious. Exclusive. Like a—you know.”

You would've pushed him back annoyed because of how his face was scrunching while he tried to prevent a laugh. He was laughing at you. He held you back, hand crawling up your back to keep you in place. You felt like a fool.

“Yes.” He whispered, cupping your cheeks to make you look at him despite your annoyance. “Yes, I do want to be a couple. Exclusive. Whatever you want to call it. I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“Don’t sound too excited.”

“But I am excited.” Spencer emphasized, pulling your face closer which made you smile a little. “I was waiting for the right time, I didn't want to pressure you. I thought you would cut me out of your life and I'd rather just… stay with our deal instead of that being the case.”

“I’d never cut you out of my life, Spencer.” You said with your shoulders slumping in disappointment that he even thought that.

He nodded, resting his forehead on yours and silence took over both of you for a moment. Just your breathing balancing together.

“Stay the night?” His request was useless because you were about to do that anyway.

“Mhm, yeah, I'll stay.”

“Good.” He kissed you, his warm hands wrapping around your waist. “Girlfriend, right?”

You let out a loud groan. “Shut up.”

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[oscquinn]

HELLO! I say your adorable event and wanted to ask if you could do the prompts ❛ are you wearing my shirt? ❜ and ❛ and where do you think you’re going? ❜ with my (second) favorite boy, Trevor? I’m too excited to see what your beautiful brain comes up with 🥰

HI BRYNN !! absolutely love this combo :))

"are you wearing my shirt?" + "and where do you think you're going?" from this subtle smut list. part of my mini writing event!

trevor zegras x f!reader, rated M. suggestive content but no explicit smut, innuendos and sex jokes cause it's trev, his thighs are fucking criminal send tweet.

you've paired a white skirt with one of your boyfriend's loose button downs, half undone and tossed over a white tank top. you're going to head out for drinks with the girls before his game tonight, you know trevor will be leaving for the arena soon anyway.

"trev, baby!" you call out, stepping into a comfy pair of white wedge sandals. "come gimme a goodbye kiss."

trevor walks out, adjusting the white tie he's pairing with a navy undershirt. still dressed in his boxers, his muscled thighs are bare and on display to you. you can't help but bite your lip, gazing over him. the bulge beneath his v-line is obvious, fucking teasing you. there's not enough time. is there?

your look doesn't go unnoticed, and a smirk forms on trevor's face, looking you up and down in turn. "are you wearing my shirt?" he asks playfully, stepping close enough to cradle your waist in his large hands.

"you like it?" you murmur, looking up at him with a nod, your height just a bit closer to his with your choice of shoes. still, you have to lean up to kiss him. your hands brush downward, feeling the tops of his thighs under your fingertips. you brush under the lower hem of his boxers as he slips his tongue past your lips.

trevor lets out a gentle sigh when your fingers ghost over his stiffening cock. "you look pretty in it," he murmurs, hands massaging your hips. much to his disappointment, you pull away. he watches in exaggerated shock as you gather your purse, wallet, keys, all the things you need before going out the door.

you're smiling to yourself when his hand grips your wrist, pulling you back to his side. "and where do you think you're going?" he asks you, already backing you up against the wall.

you gulp, pretending to squirm and struggle away from him, with no real intent of leaving. you 'give in' after a mere handful of seconds, and the cool surface of the wall hits your back. trevor's thigh presses between your own, his hand coming up to cradle your face. "that's right baby, you're not going anywhere."

"trev," you whine as his lips find your neck. "no marks. and we don't have time for this."

"five minutes baby," he whispers, strong hands guiding your hips to rub along his bare thigh. he flexes his quad, bounces his leg so the the hard muscle bumps against your needy cunt, and laughs darkly when you whimper. "yeah, only need five minutes to take care of this pretty pussy," he continues, running that filthy mouth like always.

you break when his hand dips under your flared out skirt, thumb rubbing your clit over thin, cotton panties. a breathy moan escapes your lips and you slump against him, "o-okay! okay, fuck, please," you whine. "but you're not messing up my fucking hair."

trevor smirks, pulling on your perfectly placed ponytail as he lifts you up. "hm, i'll help you fix it. makeup too, promise," he kisses you sweetly, as if he hadn't just been talking so filthy in your ear. as if he wasn't promising to fix whatever he messed up with how well he fucked you. "and i'll make you up and excuse for the girls," he continues, finally dumping you on the couch.

he begins to kiss you, pawing at your tits through the fabric of his shirt. he's fucking needy, hips already rolling against yours in smooth thrusts. you pull away, fingers gripping trevor's hair to hold him back for a moment. you press one quick kiss to his pouting lips then call out, "alexa!" you smirk at the way your boyfriend's face flushes, waiting for the device to respond. once it does you prompt, "start a five minute timer."

trevor takes your hand from his hair, moving your palm down his body to the waistband of his boxers. "you're fucking in for it baby."

© oscquinn, 2025. click here for my inbox.

[cheollipop]

heists and celebrations

navi | taglist

pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader x choi san

w.c.: 3.9k

tags: smut, they're all criminals/partners in crime, criminal behaviour (theft), mentioned boxer!san and his manager!wooyoung, some reckless driving

with the stolen necklace secured around your neck, wooyoung slumped back in his seat, fingers gripping the steering wheel while his eyes remained focused on the overhead mirror, watching his two partners celebrate another successful heist in the back of his van.

warnings: semi-public sex, van sex, really fucking filthy sex (genuinely disgusting), dom!woosan, sub!reader, some jealousy, reader is wearing red lipstick and it gets everywhere, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, cum swallowing, cum sharing, spit kink, praise, degradation (reader is called a slut once), a cute little breeding kink, a sprinkle of breath play (barely any), some begging, overstimulation, nicknames (sannie; youngie; baby, darling, sweetheart, love, good girl, pretty girl), wooyoung watches them fuck the whole time, and teases san because he's cute when riled up

A/N: I've had this fic idea in my notes since the very first woosan teaser dropped so I'm really glad I was finally able to write it out! ( ´∀ `) though challenging fsr, I really enjoyed writing the smut for this one. happy reading! ^^

nsfw under the cut—minors dni!! 🔞

Walking past the metal detectors, you raised your phone to peek at your reflection, making sure the glitter on your eyelids and the red painting your lips were intact, smacking them together once before walking further into exhibit.

Your footsteps slowed as you passed the broad, arched doorway and entered a wider gallery with accessories from numerous eras lining the walls, people crowding in front of the displays. Your eyes trailed over the diamonds and gold encased within the glass boxes, the overhead lights reflecting the luxury accessories. In any other heist, your eyes would remain forward, playing the role of a mere passerby minding their own business. But today, you were just another visitor in this exhibit, ogling at the jewellery on display. A quick, discrete scan of the room was enough to find you your target – standing near the wall to your left, the blonde head of hair displacing him in the monochrome room.

Just as you were about to move towards the tall figure, your gaze unintentionally flitted to the right, colliding with feline eyes staring right back at you from the other side of the room – the man standing idly in a uniform too big for him, bruises from last night’s match tainting his angular features. You twisted your body in the other direction, heeled boots clacking over the polished tile with confident strides, your eyes meeting the blonde man’s and dragging his attention off the rowdy school kids in the far corner. You waited until his gaze fell on you to dig the tip of your tongue into the corner of your mouth, blinking innocently as you approached him, your eyes moving down to read the ID card hanging off his neck.

Security Guard Song Mingi

Stepping into his personal space, your hand flew to his shoulder and you drew your eyebrows together in feigned distress. “Oh, thank God! Sir, could you please help me?”

Mingi’s head lowered to eye the hand resting delicately over his chest, looking back up to meet your anxious eyes. “S-sure, yes, of course," he stuttered when your fingers tightened around his lapel. "What can I help you with?"

You twisted your body and walked backwards until you hit the wall behind him, slumping against it and exhaling deeply. “My friend,” you paused, looking up at him now that he’d turned his back to the rest of the room. You blinked faux tears into your eyes, quivering your bottom lip ever so slightly while you spoke, “I’ve been looking for her for hours. Could you please help me find her, Sir?”

You watched Mingi’s ears shift hues, his head turning to the side as he coughed awkwardly. The bright red blurred in your peripheral as you stared ahead, nodding discretely at the idle figure across the room and watching it slip past the restricted ribbon closing off a section of the exhibit, looking back at Mingi when broad shoulders disappeared behind the corner.

“She said she’d meet me at the Tiffany and Co. section, but she never showed up. She won’t even answer her phone,” you leaned forward to wrap your fingers around his forearm, looking up at him with wide eyes, glassy with simulated concern. “I’m really worried about her, Sir. Please help me?”

--

Nimble fingers worked over the display case’s lock, occasionally looking back at the doorless entrance to confirm he was still in the clear. Moving his attention back to the small keyhole, he worked the pick and wrench inside with steady hands, the flashlight held between his lips reflecting off the glass. A whispered curse vibrated around the flashlight when his jacket sleeve slid down his arm, covering the hand holding the pick – along with the bloody scrapes and bruises colouring his knuckles – but he was too far in to back out now, working the lock with the fabric draped over it. After a few more tries, a muted click sounded and the glass door swung open.

Cat-like eyes raised off the picked lock to examine the diamond necklace hanging off the jewellery stand, studying the angle at which the light bounced off the large stones. Reaching forward, he carefully lifted the necklace with his index and thumb around the clasp, securing it in the felt bag he’d pulled out of his blazer before tucking it back inside. Digging his hand into his back pocket, he pulled out an identical replica – cheap moissanite bedazzling the silver – and intricately placed it inside the case, adjusting it over the stand before closing the glass door and listening for the soft click of its automatic lock.

Pulling the flashlight out of his mouth, he switched it off and patted his breast pocket once before walking back towards the entryway. A quick peek into the short hallway outside to ensure it was empty followed by quick steps past the red ribbon sealing off the section he had been in, San squinted at the bright overhead lights as he made it back into the main gallery, rooting himself in his previous position just in time for five suited men to make their way into the big room. Their conversation continued as they walked past San, nodding in acknowledgement before making their way over the restriction ribbon and through the short hallway, grease from the sandwiches they’d had for lunch coating their moving lips.

The familiar sonance of your laugh drew his attention to the wide entrance, his eyes finding yours over the blonde security guard’s shoulder before trailing down to study the arm draped over your waist. The plan was for you to guide him away from this gallery and into another, but there you were, barely an inch separating you and the tall man. San’s eyebrow twitched at the proximity, but more so at the dumb smile splitting his face in half while his other arm points towards where your ‘friend’ was supposedly waiting for you. Meeting your gaze once again, he gave you a firm nod before solemnly staring ahead.

With a flirty smile and a few bats of your eyelashes, you slipped a fake number into Mingi’s phone and walked away, the guard barely noticing you walking in the opposite direction of which he pointed you in.

San’s eyes flitted to the antique clock hung up on the wall across from him, turning around just in time to watch a man with a sharp nose and jet-black hair approach him. Quickly glancing at his ID card, San bowed slightly and began walking away as his ‘shift’ came to an end.

“Wait,” the deep baritone halted San’s movements, twisting his torso to look back at the guard. “Let me see your ID,” he reached a hand out, palm up and expecting.

San blinked once, twice, before pulling the lanyard off his neck and handing it to the man in front of him, turning his body to face him fully. The grim man examined the card, flipping it over a few times before sliding it back into San’s hand.

“Good work today, Yunho,” he gave him a tight smile which San reciprocated with a small bow before he moved away to stand where San had been all evening.

Stepping out of the stuffy exhibit and into the chilly night, San inhaled deeply, walking down the small steps and reaching into his blazer for the felt bag, swiftly stuffing it into his slacks before shrugging off the loose uniform and slinging it over his shoulder. He strutted down the block, his lips pursed as he whistled mindlessly, his soiled tank top sticking to his body with the night breeze blowing over his skin.

A few minutes of walking led him to a familiar convenience store, the lights flickering weakly and the table set out the front swaying with the light wind. Casually peeking over his shoulder, he made sure no one was following him before turning a corner, your familiar figure – resting against the graffitied wall – waiting for him in the damp alleyway. You pushed yourself off the grimy concrete, a smile stretching your lips when your eyes zeroed in on the felt bag pinched between two of his fingers.

Grabbing onto the thin material of his tank top, you pushed San backwards until his body crashed into the wall, the red on your lips transferring to his when you pressed your mouths together, the metallic taste of blood seeping into your taste buds as you licked over the corner of his lip. San’s fingers wrapped around your nape, inhaling deeply before parting his lips and running his tongue over your bottom teeth. Cold fingers tickled the sides of your neck, a heavy weight falling over your collarbones while San’s tongue pressed against yours. One of your hands untangled from the material of his top, running over your decolletage until your fingers made contact with the cool silver and curved over the slope of the large diamonds. The felt bag – now empty and worthless – fell into the puddle by your feet, the malodor of sewage masked by the hunger in San’s eyes, his hands wandering over your body while he devoured you.

A loud honk from the van parked down the alley cut your fit of passion short. You giggled at San’s irritated griping as you made your way to the vehicle, the metal surface littered with dents of various sizes and the colourful lettering chipping off the white paint. You walked past San as he pulled at the back handles, skipping your way to the front and watching the door fly open, sliding into the passenger seat as Wooyoung retreated back into his.

“Welcome back,” he flicked the tip of your nose, his eyes fixed on the glimmering stones hanging off your neck. “I’m guessing we can skip the debrief?” A lopsided smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Looping two fingers around the silver band, he tugged you towards him, the clasp digging into the back of your neck as some of the lipstick still painting your lips smeared over Wooyoung’s, his tongue gliding over yours to flatten over the roof of your mouth.

The curtain behind you slid open, San’s deep grumble obscured by your heavy breathing. “Ya! I worked my ass off to get that. If you wanna pull that hard, just buy her a leash,” he propped his forearm on the back of the seat, resting his chin over it to study the red smudged over Wooyoung’s lips.

“Worked our asses off,” you complained.

“No, I worked my ass off while you were busy flirting with that prick.”

You could see Wooyoung’s eyebrow quirk, his questioning gaze lasting only a second before he parted from you with a final kiss, letting go of the necklace and slumping back in his seat to turn the engine on. “Leave her alone, Sannie. If you wanted to be praised for doing your job right, you should’ve just said so,” he pressed his foot down on the pedal, reversing out of the alleyway before digging his palm into the steering wheel and turning it twice to move onto the empty road.

The pout on your lips faded when your eyes met San’s, angling his chin to point at Wooyoung, the silent communication bringing a shared smile to your lips.

“Youngie,” you tugged on his sleeve, leaning over the console to get closer to him.

“Yeah, baby?” his eyes remained trained on the road, a few cars driving alongside him on the dark highway.

San chuckled breathily, “I think our pretty girl wants to thank you for the ride. We couldn’t have pulled this off without you. Right, sweetheart?”

You nodded eagerly, gliding your palm up his thigh and inwards to tease at his clothed crotch. He glanced over at you, his teeth peeking through his parting lips, the corners curled upwards.

“Oh really? Is there anything else you want to thank me for?”

“Thank you for getting rid of that Yunho guy, we would’ve been in trouble if he had been there,” your fingers trailed over the zipper, circling his button before popping it open.

“Mm, that’s right. Come on now, sweet girl, thank me properly,” Wooyoung slumped further down in his seat, widening his legs and dropping one hand off the steering wheel to give you space.

Just as you freed his half-hard length from the confines of his boxers, San’s hand cupped the back of your head and pushed you down. Your torso bent over the console, the gear stick digging into your waist by the time San let go of you.

You pulled away slightly, fingers wrapped around his base and tongue rolled out to place kitten licks over his cockhead. Wooyoung peeked down at you to follow the line of drool dripping off your tongue to lubricate his cock, snapping his eyes back up to the road with a guttural groan squeezed your fist around him. You pressed your lips to his tip, placing your hands over his upper thighs and moving back to admire the painted outline of your lips – the last of your lipstick colouring it red.

When you deemed him hard enough, your lips closed around his leaking head, giving him a gentle suck to feel his thighs contract before taking him further into your mouth. You nuzzled your nose into the hair around his base and relaxed your throat, flattening your tongue over the underside of his cock and reveling in the tight grunts it elicited from above.

A loud horn blared from the lane beside yours, Wooyoung’s vision unblurring and his palm hurriedly gliding over the steering wheel to adjust the swerving van. San snickered behind him, partly at your muffled coughs around the younger man’s cock as the rough steering jerked your body around. You pull away to breathe once the vehicle settled, inhaling deeply and clearing your throat, the bitter taste of precum on your tongue.

“I don’t think she’s thanking you hard enough, Youngie,” San tsked behind you, palming over his clothed cock as he took in your red eyes and sniffling nose.

“Mm, I think you’re right,” the arm resting idly over the console raised, fingers tangling in the hair at your nape and pushing your head downwards until the warmth of your mouth engulfed him once again, soft groans escaping through gritted teeth as your throat constricted around his tip. With the hand in your hair, he began moving you over his cock, bobbing your head and noting the weight of the necklace adoring your neck falling over his thigh every time his tip brushed against your uvula. “Fuuuuck, that’s my good girl.”

The outline of his vein slid over your tongue, pulsing as you took him down your throat. You could hear the slick movement of San’s hand over his cock, his eyes moving between your stretched lips and Wooyoung’s parted ones, soft, breathy moans muffled under the wind rushing through the open window. You felt him twitch inside your mouth, the familiar clench of his abdomen egging you on, taking him all the way and hollowing your cheeks. The van veered to the left again, Wooyoung’s eyes barely open as pleasure rushed through his veins with every squeeze around his cockhead. You swallowed around him once, twice, before gagging around the hot ribbons of white shooting down your throat. The limp fingers in your hair regained their strength, pushing your head down while he rolled his hips into your mouth, your jaw going slack as he used you to milk out the last of his cum.

San’s eyes fluttered shut to take in the melodies playing through Wooyoung’s parted lips – rough grunts paired with airy moans while he fucked the last of his load into your mouth, pulling you off him to wipe the tip of his cock over your face, a line of cum smeared over your cheek. A few seconds of muted shuffling passed before saltiness consumed San’s tastebuds, your mouth roughly pressing against his, tongue breaching his lips to share some of Wooyoung’s release. His Adam’s apple bobbed, eagerly swallowing down the tangy liquid before diving in for more, pushing you further into him with a hand to the back of your head. A throaty moan vibrated against your lips, San’s cock lurching in his limp fist as he sucked the last of Wooyoung’s load off your tongue. Pulling away, you grabbed San’s jaw firmly and moved your head closer to spit into his open mouth, a mixture of your spit and his marbled with milky white reflecting the passing streetlights before disappearing down his throat.

“Wooyoung, fuck,” he spoke, words slurred from the tight grip you have on his jaw, rolling his wrist around his leaking cockhead. “Pull over. I need her right fucking now.”

--

The van jumped over a speedbump, the driver too distracted to slow down, eyes trained on the overhead mirror instead of the road as two bodies moved steadily in the reflection. Two fingers twisted the volume knob to the left, silencing the music to revel in the harmony of moans surging from the back of the van.

The worn-down mattress was anything but comfortable, your dripping pussy adding to the stains decorating it. Looking over to the side, your eyes settled on the discarded boxing gloves from the night before, splotches of maroon flaking off the faux leather. One of San’s hands cupped the back of your head, pushing your face down while he pounded into you from the back, his other pulling at the necklace around your neck, the diamonds pressing into your skin to form thin crescents.

Wooyoung scoffed at the sight – red spreading from the soiled collar of San’s tank top and up to his neck, beads of sweat rolling down his skin and sinking into the cheap cotton. “What happened to all your hard work, hm?” his eyes rolled down to San’s white knuckles, wrapped tightly around the accessory restricting your airflow.

“Shut up,” he spat, his hips slamming into the backs of your thighs as he pumped his cock between your fluttering walls. The hand covering the back of your head slid down your spine to squeeze at your waist, his blunt nails stabbing into your heated flesh while husky grunts vibrated through his throat.

Wooyoung’s eyes shifted to your face, concealed as you looked over to the side, your lips parted with drool pooling under your head. “Aw, I think Sannie got a little jealous earlier. Right, sweetheart?”

The words reduced to mere sounds in your head, the syllables meshing as San’s cockhead pistoned into your g-spot, barely registering the rough fingers tangling into the hair at your crown before sharp pain seared through your scalp, your chest lifting off the tattered mattress and neck craning as San angled your face upwards. You sucked in deep breaths now that the silver band wasn't digging into your neck, choking around broken cries of pleasure. Hooded eyes studied your face in the small mirror – pupils dilated, tears and glitter eyeshow staining your heated cheeks with saliva trickling down your chin, body jerking forward every time San’s hips slammed into yours, his cock stretching you open around his girth.

“'Don’t think she can answer,” San rasped, his eyes dropping to watch the flesh of your ass ripple every time he drove into your clenching cunt. “Ah- So fucking tight for me.”

Wooyoung’s fingers squeezed around the steering wheel, “is he fucking you good, baby?” The corners of his lips twitched with a concealed smirk, “or is my pretty slut still thinking about that man’s cock?”

Your brain short-circuited, shots of burning pleasure soaring through your veins and forcing your eyes shut. “it’s good, s-so good,” your speech was barely coherent, moans spilling out of you as San continued to fuck you through Wooyoung’s interrogation.

“What about my second question?” San’s eyes flew towards the mirror to meet Wooyoung’s, clenching his jaw so tight it bordered on painful, the younger man smiling to himself over how easy it was to rile San up.

San rammed his cock inside you, holding it deep within your cunt while he bent at the waist to whisper in your ear, the deep baritone of his voice nearly masked under your pathetic moaning, “be a good girl and answer Youngie’s question, or have I already fucked you dumb?"

“I-I’m not! ‘Love Sannie’s cock so much- hnngh!” your upper body flopped onto the mattress, your scalp burning under the palm San had flattened over your head, fingers rubbing soothing lines over your roots while he ground his cock into your heat.

“That’s right,” he pressed his lips to your slick shoulder and gave you a harsh thrust, rolling his hips once, twice before pulling off you. His hands slid down your body to grab at your hips, dragging you back over his length with a grip tight enough to promise bruises. One of his knees nudged against your inner thigh to spread your legs even further, giving you a few seconds to breathe before he began hammering his cock into you. “Love my cock so much you’ll let me breed this tight pussy, won’t you, darling?

“Nghh- fuck! Sannie, please-”

“Give it to me, love, ‘wanna feel you cream all over my cock,” the tautness of his voice, strained as he chased his orgasm with sloppy thrusts, was enough to send you over the edge.

Your vision went black as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, thighs shaking while you your orgasm rushed through you. A succession of curses and San’s name rolled off your tongue, followed by desperate pleas for him to come as he frantically humped your overstimulated cunt. Your body jolted as pain mixed with pleasure, your vision blurring with tears while San used you like a cocksleeve, leaning over you to whisper in your ear, whimpered praise falling off his tongue – a melody of ‘just a little more’ and ‘you can take it’ sending shivers down your spine.

You felt him split you open thrice before a familiar warmth spread through your lower belly, his cock twitching between your fluttering walls as he unloaded his seed inside you. His arms wrapped around your middle, holding your body flush against his shuddering chest while he grinded into your used cunt, draining himself of every last drop. Delicate hands smoothed over your sides at the pained whimper you released into the dungy mattress, San’s softening cock slipping out of you and making way for a stream of his cum to trickle out of your gaping hole. He took a few seconds to moon over the mess he'd created before pursing his lips and adding to it, dropping a wad of spit onto your drenched pussy, your hips jolting when a calloused thumb ran through the fluids painting your folds.

You barely noticed the van making a sharp turn, the engine going silent half a minute later and drawing your attention to the front, a rest stop sign shining through the windshield. Wooyoung’s head poked through the gap between the seats, his eyes glazed over as he took in the sweaty bodies sprawled out in their own mess. He lifted his arm to hurl a roll of cash at San, his eyes remaining fixed on your twitching form as he imagined the steady stream of cum making its way down your thighs.

“Sannie, go grab some food and water. I think I need to be thanked a little more.”

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[nottswitch]

yellow hearts

summary: the times you put yellow hearts around his name, and the times he put them around yours.

pairing: sirius black x reader

warning: sappy fluff

wc: 1.6k

a/n: yellow hearts by ant saunders. a cute little thing I made upon hearing this song after many many years. finally able to write something short!

“Girl, what is this?!”

You whine, slamming your diary shut. Your cheeks suddenly feel hot and you try your hardest to avoid Lily’s prying gaze. She tries to look over your shoulder again, letting out a disappointed groan at the sight of a shiny cover.

“Just… Zip it,” you sigh, still flustered and really embarrassed. “You didn’t see anything!”

“No, no, I definitely just saw it!” Lily shouts and you have to hush her, noticing a few people at the table giving you weird glances. “Was it “Sirius” with hearts around?” she asks, her voice a bit calmer but still conveying the same emotions.

“No…”

You stutter, giving yourself completely and irrevocably away. Your eyes make an automatic roll and you scoot over to make space for your friend. Lily plops down next to you, her eager hands already reaching for your little navy-blue diary. Before you have time to hide it, she snatches the book from you and starts flicking through the pages, ignoring whatever is written on them. Finally, she finds the right page and bends the spine of the diary to have a better look.

Here it is, in all its glory. A “Sirius” with shiny yellow hearts drawn all around.

“Eww!!!”

Lily wrinkles her whole face, looking at you and then at your scribbles again.

“Don’t tell me it’s that prat Black from our year! Is it?!”

You sigh, taking the diary from her and putting it safely in your bag.

“Who else has the name, Lily? Think.”

You stare down at your breakfast, hoping that as long as you don’t look at your friend, she will miraculously forget about your existence.

“But he hangs out with Potter and they’re a bunch of tossers!” Lily’s voice is loud again, earning you a few more concerned looks.

You sigh again, biting on a slice of bacon.

“Maybe,” you mumble with your mouth full.

Lily rolls her eyes. Her plate remains untouched as she turns to you, fully intending to push for more information.

“And since when?” she demands, raising her eyebrow. You start to feel like a criminal being questioned in court.

“Last year,” you answer reluctantly, knowing that she won’t let you be if you don’t pour your whole heart out right here and now.

Lily scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief.

“This is so messed up! What’re you gonna do?”

You don’t reply. You don’t know yet. You don’t plan to ever know. But you don’t stop your sappy scribbles – you just make sure Lily never sees them again.

The second time someone sees the yellow hearts is much, much worse.

It’s your fifth year. You lost the diary a couple of days ago and you go absolutely mental trying to remember all the places you could have left it at. Your heartbeat briefly stops every time you think of a possibility of someone finding it, reading it and knowing it all.

“Oi, come on! It’s not like fancying Black is just a you thing!”

Lily tries to calm you down as best as she can. She has been lightly teasing you about your crush on Sirius for the previous two years, but she sees your worry and, being a good friend she is, hugs you and helps you on a secret mission to search every single classroom for any signs of the diary. Unfortunately, no luck.

“Lily, shut up! I have a wand and I’m not afraid to use it.”

You nibble on your nails for the hundredth time today – a nasty habit you have developed ever since losing the only way to let out your growing feelings towards a certain someone.

“What? The whole school is mad about him and his pack of tossers! No one’d blink an eye.”

“But what if he finds it?!”

“He finds what?”

You freeze at the sound of a voice, and not just a voice, his voice. A young fellow appears from behind the bench you’re sitting on, followed by three other guys, all snickering and whispering something to each other.

“Hello there, ladies,” Sirius murmurs, making a funny little bow.

“Black, shut it!” Lily immediately retorts, noticing your hopeless gaze. “Keep walking, and you might just live.”

“Well, I would, but I may have something you’re looking for.”

No. No, no, no, no.

A small navy-blue book appears in his hand and you suddenly feel like the bottom of the lake wouldn’t be such a horrible spot to be in. Lily’s eyes are wide and you think that if she had an ability to cast spells with just her eyes, she would use it right at this moment.

“Where the hell-” she starts, but you cut her off, not willing to prolong the already tense and miserable moment.

“Sirius, please, give it back.”

Your voice trembles treacherously and you mentally curse yourself for such a poor attempt at hiding your emotions. A thought of trading your face for a brick wall doesn’t seem that unappealing.

To your surprise, Sirius hands you the book without any of his usual shenanigans that you would normally expect. Your fingers brush his as you snatch the diary from him and you hold in a gasp; you would not mind becoming a delicious meal for the mermaids to munch on.

Sirius turns on his heels to leave, but then stops abruptly, as if he forgot something. A moment later, he’s at your ear, his breath warming up your already flaming hot cheek.

“I like yellow,” he whispers as his lips graze against your stray baby hairs; they suddenly feel like а bouquet of exposed nerves.

He leaves, shameless about the fact that his actions made your heart perform acrobatics within the bounds of your ribcage.

“What did he say?!” Lily repeats over and over, but you can barely hear her voice. You flip through the pages erratically and the right one catches your eye at last. A glaring “Sirius” with yellow hearts around it. You notice another name at the bottom of the page. A name of your own, staring right at you. And around it, the same yellow hearts.

The third time someone sees the yellow hearts you aren’t anxious anymore.

It’s your seventh year. Exams are approaching, but seeing as your boyfriend is Sirius Black, it’s hard to get any actual studying done. You have been dating for quite a while now, but it still feels… new.

You’re in Transfiguration together. He sits several rows behind you – a rule McGonagall made just a week prior, “For your own good”, as she said, because together you weren’t making much progress. But he still finds ways to remind you of his presence – he makes paper birds, charming them to fly right to you. Sometimes they’re just pretty birds, sometimes they’re notes with some silly poem he wrote for you, just to make you laugh and earn a warning from Minerva – for both of you, because the source of your distraction is really obvious.

Another bird lands on the desk in front of you. You quickly glance at McGonagall and, much to your contentment, notice that she’s preoccupied with her textbook.

“Hey,” you hear a whisper from behind. Of course, you recognize Sirius. He grins at you and gestures to unfold the origami. Even before you can do it, you see a sheer golden glow emanating from within. Your smile grows wider as you open the poor bird and see the letters scribbled down on a piece of parchment.

Your name. And yellow hearts around it.

McGonagall clears her throat somewhere above you. Her menacing glare tries to burn a hole in your head, but you don’t really care. You give her a sorry nonetheless.

“Shall I teach special classes, so that you attend in the morning and Mr. Black – in the evening?” the professor demands, but you see glimmers of amusement in her eyes. She briefly glances at the note she took from you and gives you and Sirius one of her raised-eyebrow looks, but you see the corners of her mouth lift up ever so slightly. You hear Sirius chuckle, close your eyes and smile. You don’t need anyone else.

The fourth time yellow hearts frame not one name, but two.

You and Sirius have just returned from your honeymoon. You have a whole stack of polaroids from your trip and you want to pick just one to put on the fridge in your shared home. The job proves to be rather difficult. You almost have a fight, which is so stupid and insignificant, but so you.

“Babe, this one is obviously superior! You see how stunning I am in this jacket?!”

“Yeah, and I’m blinking like an idiot because the sun is right up in my face. Sirius, babe, not everything has to be about you.”

You finally choose the one. It’s the last polaroid in your stack and you just can’t take your eyes off of it. In the picture, you’re waving at the camera and laughing, with an ice cream cone in your hand. Sirius pulls you in for a kiss and when he leans away, his nose is adorned with a spot of white ice cream.

You can’t help giggling, show the polaroid to Sirius and he does the same.

“This is it,” you say simultaneously and cackle at your apparently developed skill in Legilimency.

“Just a moment.”

Sirius stops you from taking the picture, takes out a sharpie and writes something on a white area at the bottom of it. He takes out his wand, silently waves it in front of the picture and only then goes up to the fridge and puts it up with many others. He steps back to have a better look at his creation.

You’re flustered, but a joyful smile doesn’t leave your lips. Sirius understands and places a gentle kiss on your temple. You look at the words written on the polaroid once more.

A “Sirius” and then your name below it. Around it, shiny yellow hearts shimmering in the sun and casting an array of rainbow specks all over the kitchen.

my masterlist

[messyemmy]

Run-Ins- Harry Styles x reader

Premise: Harry decides to challenge a heatwave, If it weren't for a surprise run-in with an over-zealous puppy and its disgruntled owner, things would have been much worse.

Warnings: Sexy, sexc sweaty Harry. Gender neutral!

Word count: 3.2k

Part 2 // Other Writing

☀️

Skin sticking to shirts, the breeze carrying summer in full swing. It hadn't even reached ten am, and the weather was already swelting, only increasing by the minute. Harry had already tried to beat the heat, changing what was supposed to be an early afternoon run to one he was currently stepping out the front door to attend.

The rays of the sun had followed him since waking up, shining on him throughout the act of making coffee, blinding him from sitting on the porch and checking his phone for emails and notifications.

Harry didn't have a strict schedule for the day; the only thing he wanted to complete with certainty was his daily run. It was criminal enough that he had missed out on two opportunities last week and with the promise of a pure, stress-free fifty minutes, something that becomes increasingly sacred as more and more responsibility is piled onto his plate.

Without this one piece of his habit, he had zero routines to fall back on, and he felt stir-crazy at just the idea of sitting out his run for the sake of avoiding possible heatstroke.

Besides, the weather was still reasonable; he would just have to dress lighter and take extra care remembering to carry a bottle of water in case. Showering could wait until later- after all, he was unlikely to see or be seen by anybody.

So, with that, Harry rushed through his breakfast of a fruit salad, laced up his trusty sneakers, and grabbed a water bottle on his way out of the front door. He hadn't even taken a full step out into the summer sun when his skin was greeted with the feeling of opening an oven, steam sending a rush of heat straight to his face.

Without thinking, he walked back inside with determination, sifting through his suitcase for a pair of shorts even tinier and cooler than the ones he currently wore; his thighs were thankful, and so was his head once he threw an aged navy baseball cap on. 

He was ready now, certain this run wouldn't get the best of him. His day would be tainted, and that was embarrassing enough for him to admit, so when he stepped out into the heat once more, he tried his best to ignore the way his temperature began increasing like a reptile, instead focusing on the route he was going to take.

The usual park he had frequented recently was quiet for the most part- trimmed neon green grass stretching as far as the eye could see, and on a few occasions when Harry had forgotten his earphones, the singing birds were a welcomed replacement- something he found himself humming along to. 

But, his favourite part of this park was the little stream that started from the walkway and looped all the way to the end and back. If he was lucky, he might run past a duck with her gaggle of ducklings or pass by a couple having a cute picnic.

Five minutes into the run, Harry hasn't seen anything or anyone; he thinks he actually got lucky by choosing to run earlier than usual. This is as quiet as he has ever seen it, and with the wind on his back only blowing hot air around, he rids himself of the only item left holding him back. His flimsy black tee is off and strung lazily over his shoulder. His hands are empty, hat shielding a sunburn... why are his hands empty?

Harry suddenly pictures the forgotten bottle of water, sitting patiently on his side table, discarded when he had hastily decided to switch his shorts. The mere thought of water has him thirsty, and he looks forward to finishing this run more than usual.

Pushing his way up the incline of the dirt pathway, he promises himself a rewarding break once reaching the peak. But, with each step, his skin glistens sweat, heart thudding harder in his head, and he's slowing down for sure, forcing his muscles forward, ignoring the resistance created by the hill- certain he would be fine, just a little tired. Besides, it was good to be challenged- he needed to switch things up now and then.

Every muscle is asking him to stop, but he mistakes this for motivation and only presses on, relieved when the pathway shows an end in sight. Exerting the last he has to give, Harry looks down at his shoes, focused on putting one step in front of the other. His fists balled, arms flexed and pressed against his torso; Harry gives one final push before reaching the summit. 

And when he does, it's a lot harder to catch his breath than expected; every part of him feels like it's beginning to float away, and his ears are ringing with desperation to gasp for air.

He tries to steady himself, folding over, his hands resting atop his hips- skin warm to the touch- bending forward in an attempt to better open his airways, but the need to sit down is only encouraged, and Harry has to concede.

He finds himself sitting now, his legs stretched out before him, wrapping his arms like a chain atop his bent knees, and with a bowed head, he works to regain breath control. The wind wisps through the long blades of glass, whistling in tune to the songs of little birds, and the stream is strong; he wishes he had the strength to make his way over, at least dip his feet in the cool water.

The sounds all blend into one sweet symphony, so relaxing that Harry almost feels himself starting to relax. But his tongue is like sandpaper sticking to his palate; with each suck-in, his body begs for water.

The only thing that could distract him- and does- is the sudden feeling of something rustling against his side, trying to make its way into the gap between his arms and lap. It has a wet nose and makes familiar snuffling noises that can only be attributed to that of a puppy dog.

Lazily lifting and tilting his head to see better, Harry is greeted by the enthusiasm and curiosity of a very cute and very excitable golden retriever- wearing a pretty pink bandana, big brown eyes smiling up at Harry as if he were heaven itself.

Turning all of his attention to the pup- who is trying desperately to climb up onto him- giving it a rough and thorough ear scratch. 

"You're a friendly one, aren't you?" Harry chuckles, opening himself up to be further fussed over by his new friend.

"What's your name, huh?" Harry shifts and lets the dog continue sniffing him, reaching over to get ahold of its collar- a sparkly little disk covered in silver gems holds both a phone number and the name 'Beans'.

"Beans... Well, it's very nice to meet you, Beans." He smiles even wider as the pup reacts to its name, tail wagging, hopping all over him in the hopes of somehow getting even closer.

"Beans!” A voice called in the distance, quickly swept away by the breeze. Harry looked around, unable to spot anyone nearby, turning back to the pup currently occupied with trying to remove his baseball cap clean off of his head. He chuckled and scanned the area again, “I think someone’s looking for you, bud.”

“Beans!” The same voice sang, carrying over the hill straight to Harry’s heart. This time, Beans stops chewing and looks off in the direction of the searching song, and Harry follows suit, gaze settling just as the silhouette of someone starts to get closer. A harsh ray of sun forbids him from getting a good look at the person who is seemingly searching for his new companion.

“Is that your owner, Beans?” Harry asks, patting the pup with his free hand- the other working hard at helping shield the sun from blinding him further.

Beans' excitement only increases, tail wagging in all directions, eyes darting between Harry and the mystery person- still uncertain of whether to make a run for it or stay put. But, as the owner gets closer, amping up to call out for the cheeky dog once more, Harry is spotted sitting side-by-side with your dog.

And at the mere sight of you exiting the rays of sunshine, Beans is a jumble of jumping and excited barking. You release a relieved sigh, one you hadn’t known was trapped in your lungs, hyper-focused on the fact that you had lost control over your pup again. In fairness, what were you supposed to do? You had trusted her to stay, for just a second, whilst you fiddled with her matching collar and leash, but the promise of chasing an unsuspecting bird was just far too much for Beans to ignore.

You weren’t nearly fast enough to catch up to her- the whole point of walking with Beans was the promise of building better stamina, on your part- and once she was far enough ahead, you weren’t even sure which direction she had gone.

With dread, you followed your instincts up the hill, hoping she would have tired herself out by this point- she had done a splendid job of ensuring you were. What you hadn’t expected, hoped for, or even considered, was that someone might beat you to it. Seeing your naive little dog practically in the arms of some stranger was more than your nerves could handle today.

Legs starting to ache, you make your way over to the pair, thinking up some sort of jumbled-up apology for both your dog and the mere existence of yourself. But the man is smiling up at you- such a very pretty smile- and you almost lose all sensibility, startled as Beans hops up with vigour, bounding over and almost tripping you.

Harry starts to rise; the dull throbbing of his muscles is easily ignored as he gets a proper look at you. Beans is bouncing about, making it hard for you to walk much further, and the eagerness to meet you in the middle is what carries him your way.

He can see you perfectly now, and even though you’re mostly squinting, Harry likes how pretty your eyes look, being lit up by the sun. Trying to pacify your pup, hands patting at her, cooing to her to calm down, you do your best to examine Bean’s supposed new friend. His cheeks are so flushed that you feel warmer just looking at him, little droplets of sweat sneaking past his forehead, his skin glistening, muscles flexed. He’s very handsome, and you’re rather grateful for stumbling upon him, but he looks like he just completed a marathon, and with the way his chest rapidly rises and falls- shallow breaths evidently stopping him from cooling down- you actually feel concerned for his health.

Other than a discarded t-shirt, he seems to be empty-handed, and considering this may be the hottest day of the year, there’s no way he had chosen to go on a run without at least a little bit of water… right? He doesn’t seem to be too bothered because he’s still smiling at you with a fondness that you just know is a result of spending time with your dog.

Harry is still dying inside, an irritating sharpness at the back of his throat following each breath he dared to take, but long ago decided he could put up with it a little longer. After all, Beans is still circling his ankles, and you seem far too pretty to just give a greeting and a goodbye. Your own cheeks are slightly flushed, and Harry wonders if it’s from working up a sweat or simply shyness.

It happens to be both, with a hefty sprinkle of embarrassment and a dollop of regret for even leaving the house this morning. 

Beans running off, you could deal with. Having to make it seem like you weren’t, in fact, a moron of an owner- who on many occasions could be seen chasing after their pet- was a damn nightmare.

The quicker you said it, the closer you would be to putting this mess of a morning behind you. He’s just so pretty, though… and you’re thankful that he doesn’t seem to be the type to reprimand someone over a trivial mistake. So, with a much-needed inhale, the formalities begin,

“I’m so sorry about my dog-”

“Please, don’t apologise-”

“I swear, I’m usually a better owner than this.” You try reasoning, but it’s only for your own sake.

“I’ve seen much worse, honest.” Harry smiles reassuringly, the corners of his eyes scrunching cutely as he crouches down to give Beans another rough petting,

“Besides, I got to make a new friend.” He beams up at you, “I’m quite fond of her already.”

“She majored in likeability.” You add with a playful eye roll.

He smiles at that, turning his attention back to Beans, scratching her belly as she rolls over sillily, moving side-to-side to ensure Harry gave her the best belly rub ever.

“I like you very much, Beans.” He beamed down at her fondly,

“Yes, I do. Yes, I do.” Beans loves all of the dotings, her tongue wagging in tune with her tail. Harry continues, 

“I love your silly brown eyes and your goofy smile, and I especially like your bandana.” He admires, glancing up at you.

“She picked it out herself.” You inform proudly.

"Oh, is that right?" His gaze shifts between you and Beans, smiling fondly at the situation he has found himself in, 

"You're a good girl, aren't you?" He hums, and you scold yourself for the way your thoughts turn filthy, stomach clenching at his praises.

Harry finds his feet once more, towering over you with ease. And, you can't even begin to ignore the sight before you- a practically naked man, desperately trying to cool down and enamoured with your dog. Every part of him is on full display; his chest still glistening, his tattoos shimmering in the sunlight, abs flexing and contracting on impulse.

He suddenly understands the utterly distracted gaze swallowing your features, finally sane enough to remember the lack of clothing he donned- how damp and frazzled he must appear. If possible, his cheeks are turning even pinker, all calmness replaced with the same heat he had worked so hard to dispel.

When Harry can't help but take a sharp inhale, you have enough reason to stop gawking at him and instead assist him in regaining his strength. Reaching into the tote bag currently slung over your shoulder, it takes only a second to retrieve what you were searching for, pulling out a mostly-full water bottle.

The bottle itself looks custom-made; probably something you had stumbled upon in a store, deciding it was too cute and camp to pass up on. Decorated in bright pink and pastel blue, two My Little Ponies prancing on either side.

You extend the bottle his way, and Harry looks at you curiously, taking a moment before registering what you're trying to offer. 

He feels bashful, but the mere presence of water makes it impossible to ignore the burning in his throat. So, he sheepishly accepts, his fingers brushing over your own. The water feels like a miracle as he welcomes it, and Harry thinks you might be a saviour disguised as a very pretty, very kind dog owner. When your face morphs into one of relief, the shame he felt is long gone.

After a hefty sip, you're tempted to reach out and wipe the small droplet that slips down his lip, and when Harry attempts to return your gift, you only shake your head in dismissal, getting ready to argue over the ownership of the bottle,

"Keep it." You insist, "You need it more than me."

"I couldn't-" He tries.

"You must."

Harry prepares to protest, but he can feel your sternness swallowing the space between you two, threatening to double down if he even tries. Instead, he accepts defeat, secretly grateful for your gesture,

"That's very kind of you." He commends, totally enamoured and already praying for a second meeting with yours truly.

"It's nothing, promise." You smile shyly.

Harry wants to use this opportunity to at least ask your name- this may be the oddest meet-cute he's had so far- but his mind is a scramble for what to say next, and by the time he manages to string words together, you cough awkwardly,

"Thanks again for taking care of Beans... And sorry again." You glance down at your feet bashfully, and Harry chuckles at your soft shyness,

"It's not a problem, promise." He reassures playfully, enjoying the way your eyes crinkled with a matching smile, 

"If anything, I owe you." 

You hope to god you're not blushing, and when you glance down at his hands, you almost lose all sanity watching the way the water bottle looks so small in his hand, thinking that they may be the perfect size to wrap around.... 

Thankfully, Beans barks enthusiastically, and you manage to pull it together enough to remember that home awaits; your body aching to kick its feet up on the couch, pour some fresh fruit juice, and perhaps take a well-deserved nap. 

"Well, good luck with the rest of your...run?" You confirm, and Harry chuckles heartily, 

"I'll give it my best shot." He promises before crouching down to address your puppy once more, 

"Thank you for keeping me company, Miss Beans, be a good girl for...?" 

"Y/n." 

"For, Y/n." He nods avidly, enjoying the way it rolls off of his tongue, smiling up at you sweetly. Beans lends him one last lick before retreating to your side, ready to follow you to the ends of the earth. 

"C'mon, Beanie baby." You nod at Harry in final departure, a shy smile still swallowing your lips as you turn on your heels and leave.

Harry stays put, watching as you slip further away, ready to descend this monstrous hill, excited puppy in tow. Glancing down at the bottle still clutched in his palm, he feels his heart racing- but this time, there was no physical exertion required. 

He wonders if he might get the opportunity to return your gift- to see you in general. 

But, what Harry does know with certainty is; Almost passing out from heatstroke can have its perks, after all. 

[gotta-winwin]

SEVENTEEN'S CYANA'S PROFILE

૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა > BASIC INFO

NAMES ->

birth name ── cyana yue chinese name ── 岳安娜 (yue an na) korean name ── 유소연 (yu so yeon)

NICKNAMES ->

seventeen ── nana, yue, yeonie vernon/joshua ── cy, anna minghao/jun ── 月亮 (yue liang / moon) wonwoo ── yana

BIRTHDATE & LOCATION ->

birthdate ── dec 27 1999 birthplace ── vancouver, canada residency ── vancouver, canada (1999 - 2016) los angeles, california (2016 - 2019) seoul, korea (2019 - present) nationality ── chinese-canadian ethnicity ── chinese

LANGUAGES ->

english ── 98% (fluent) chinese ── 60% (can speak, cannot read or write) korean ── 10% to 80% (from debut to present)

PHYSICAL DETAILS ->

height ── 160cm (5'2") weight ── 47kg (107lbs) blood type ── AB hair color ── brown (naturally) eye color ── brown

GENDER/SEXUALITY ->

gender ── female sexuality ── bisexual pronouns ── she/her relationship status ── unknown

૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა > CAREER

NAME ->

stage name ── cyana hangul ── 시아나 origin ── when deciding her stage name, she decided to continue the name she used as a child actor in the states to keep continuity.

INDUSTRY ->

company ── disney junior (2016-2019), pledis entertaiment (2019-present) trainee period ── 4 years in acting, singing and dancing

IN SEVENTEEN ->

debut age ── 19 years old subunit ── vocal team positions ── main vocalist, sub dancer, co-producer, visual, twin maknae representative emojis ── 🐰 individual fandom name ── cyans

૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა > PERSONAL

MBTI ->

infj-t > [the advocate] description ── an advocate excels in creativity and imagination, and is known to be a perfectionist. They have intuitive understanding of complex systems and human nature, sensitive to criticism and have a tendency to internalize stress. They're able to make strong connections with people easily although shy.

PHOBIAS->

autophobia — fear of being alone agoraphobia — fear of large crowds

LIKES ->

late night walks, dogs with soft fur, black cats, diy activities, harry potter universe, watching movies and tv shows, heart to heart talks, skinship, arranging flowers, writing lyrics

DISLIKES ->

loud noises, jumpscares, horror movies with children or dolls, crowded spaces, misinformation, eggs, swallowing pills, hot weather, casual cruelty

FAVOURITES ->

color — lilac purple, sky blue, navy movies / tv shows — harry potter (specifically POA), criminal minds, grey's anatomy, modern family, the office, little women, one piece, falling into your smile, american psycho, the perks of being a wallflower emojis — 😭😰🤗👍🤍 season — autumn / spring

[galway-girlatwork]

Smells Like…

Fandom: The Mentalist-AU

Rating: Mature. Angst. Smut. Angst. Mush. Angst.

Central Characters: Marcus P. and Female Reader

Central Relationship: Marcus P. and Female Reader

Word Count: 2,668

AO3

This was written for Jana and Daphne’s Writing Through The Season’s challenge. I got Marcus Pike in Winter and the prompt was “Smells Like Jealousy.” So, grab whatever tickles your tongue and enjoy. If this is not your shot of whisky, scroll on by.

Please do not copy my work. If you liked it, please re-blog and tag me. Please do not steal the moodboard. It was a gift. Stealing is just WRONG. I do not give permission to copy, translate, or post my work to any other platform. If this is not your shot of whisky, scroll on by. If you wanna read, grab whatever tickles your tongue and enjoy.

Music Inspiration:

Fallout-Mariana’s Trench

Can’t Forget You- My Darkest Days 

Lips of Angel-Hinder

Summary:

Marcus had always told himself he wasn’t the jealous type until her. He told himself she was gone for good, that she had moved on. But when he sees her at an art exhibit a year later, with another man, something inside him snaps. The jealousy, the longing, the love he never let go of all crashes down on him.

One heated confrontation later and the past proves impossible to ignore. The chemistry is still electric, the connection undeniable. But Marcus isn’t willing to let her slip away this time. As passion ignites and old wounds resurface, he makes one thing clear—he wants her back.

But is Marcus willing to risk his heart one more time to find out?

Marcus had never been the jealous type. Or at least, that’s what he’d always told himself. He was calm, rational, someone who took heartbreak like a man and moved on. Maybe that was a slight over exaggeration, when in reality he always felt like someone who’d been kicked to many time in the ribs, protecting that heart that beat furious in his chest. Until he met her. Someone who’d truly stolen his heart, his soul, like a thief before disappearing with both.

They’d been together for two years before he ended it, thinking it was what she wanted, the demands of his job finally getting to her. He knew it was a fear, not an irrational one, that she had. That one day someone would show up at the front door and tell her the unimaginable. What he didn’t expect was for her to take that out and go radio silent for a year. He’d given her time, space, hoping she’d come back. He had buried himself in work, pretended he didn’t check his phone late at night, hoping for a text that never came. He had told himself she was probably out there, happy, moving on—just like he should be.

But here he was, a year later, at some stupid art exhibit that the higher ups wanted him at. How it would look good to see the Feds there, making sure they were all safe while they drank watered down champagne, mingled and stared at God awful art.

The place was packed, air thick with conversation and the scent of expensive perfume, the kind that induced migraines, not caring if the pain crippled you or not. It’s why he was at the corner of the bar, water in hand, praying the six Advil he took would put him in a better mood.

But then he saw her.

His breath caught in his throat, and for a second, his pulse pounded so hard he could hear it. She looked beautiful, radiant in a navy dress that hugged her curves, curves he used to trace with his hands. That familiar way she tilted her head, the way she smiled—God, he had missed that smile.

But she wasn’t alone.

His stomach turned to stone as he watched her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, laughing at something the man beside her had said. Tall. Polished. Probably some lawyer or broker, someone with soft hands and an easy life. Someone who hadn’t spent years chasing criminals across the world.

He hadn’t expected jealousy to burn through him so hard and fast that it stole his breath. His jaw clenched, forcing himself to look away but he knew it was useless. It was like watching a car accident, one you couldn’t look away from, one that caused back-ups on the highways. Fuck, he thought, it had been a year and he had no right to feel this way. No right to feel the sudden, savage possessiveness clawing its way through his chest.

And yet, when she turned and met his eyes, her smile faltering for a second and he knew. Knew that he wasn’t the only one still haunted by the past.

He didn’t think, didn’t give himself a chance to reconsider. He was walking toward her before he even realized what he was doing.

“Marcus.”

His name had never sounded like a warning before.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” he said, keeping his tone even, careful. He didn’t acknowledge the man beside her, didn’t even bother looking at him.

Her lips parted slightly like she wanted to say something, but she hesitated. That hesitation was all he needed.

“You look good,” Marcus murmured, stepping closer.

She swallowed, her gaze flickering over his face like she was trying to gauge his mood. “So do you.”

“Really?” His voice dipped, rougher than he meant it to be. “Because I feel like hell.”

She blinked. “Marcus—”

“No.” He exhaled sharply

He took another step, closing what little distance remained between them, voice dropping lower, just for her. “You really think I stopped loving you?” he whispered.

Her eyes shone, and for the first time in a year, Marcus felt like he could breathe again.

Her date extended a hand. “Hey, I’m—”

Marcus didn’t so much as glance at him. He couldn’t. He wasn’t interested in this man’s name; in whatever role he played in her life.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Seriously?”

Marcus’s lips curled. “What?”

“You’re glaring,” she said, arching a brow. “And it smells like jealousy in here.”

Marcus stepped closer, so close that if she just leaned in, her body would be pressed against his.

“It should,” he murmured. “Because I’m drowning in it.”

Her breath caught as silence stretched between them, heavy, suffocating, before she looked away, biting her lip. That damn lip. How many times had he kissed it, traced his thumb over it, stolen her breath just by looking at her?

Marcus saw the way her fingers twitched at her side, how she swallowed hard like she was trying to keep her composure but she couldn’t hide from him. Not after everything they had been. Not after the way he used to know every inch of her.

Before she could recover, Marcus leaned in, his lips barely ghosting over the shell of her ear.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice dark, possessive. “Does he touch you the way I did?”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Marcus—”

“Does he know,” Marcus pressed, his fingers grazing down the inside of her wrist, sending a shiver through her body, “that you like to be kissed right—here?”

He brushed his lips just below her ear, and she let out the softest, most infuriatingly beautiful gasp.

It nearly broke him.

Her date cleared his throat awkwardly. “I think maybe I should—”

Marcus turned his head, gaze cold, sharp. “Yeah. You should.”

The man hesitated for a moment before putting his hand up in surrender, stepping back, muttering something under his breath, neither one of them acknowledging his exit. They were too busy staring at each other. Too busy feeling the weight of what still lingered between them.

Her hand found Marcus’s wrist before he could say anything else. “Not here,” she whispered.

Something in her eyes sent a jolt of hope through him. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe she wasn’t as over him as she wanted to be, the air between them still suffocatingly thick, heavy with things left unsaid.

Reaching for her hand, his grip firm, unyielding. “Come with me.”

Her breath was unsteady. “Marcus—”

“Now.”

She could have refused but she didn’t. She let him lead her outside, down the quiet side street, away from prying eyes and unwanted interruptions.

And when he turned, pressing her against the cool brick wall, his hands braced on either side of her, she didn’t push him away. She should have but she didn’t.

Instead, she lifted her chin, her breath shaky but defiant. “You don’t get to do this,” she whispered. “You don’t get to walk in here after a year and act like you still own me.”

“You don’t get to pretend,” Marcus interrupted, his voice rough with need. “You don’t get to stand there and act like I don’t still own every inch of you.” He watched, smirking, as she swallowed hard, fingers trailing up her arm, slow and deliberate. “Tell me to stop.”

He leaned in, lips ghosting over hers. “Say it,” feeling her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt.

Silence, eyes flashing with something desperate and raw. She was shaking.

“Tell me he touches you better.” His voice a challenge, his hands tightening on her hips. “Tell me he fucks you better.”

A broken noise slipped from her lips, and Marcus nearly lost his damn mind as her hands fisted his shirt, yanking him closer. “I hate you for this,” she whispered.

He smiled darkly. “No, you don’t.” Before he heard her whisper, “I never stopped wanting you.”

His lips crushed against hers, swallowing whatever words might have come next, feeling her melt against him, completely, utterly, like she had been waiting for this, starving for it. Hands slid up his chest, threading through his hair, pulling him deeper.

Like something dangerous, something forbidden, like something she still wanted.

That spark still lingered, a flame that had never fully extinguished.

“Come home.” Was all he whispered against her lips.

As soon as they were inside, he turned to her, pulling her close, hands cupping her face gently as he leaned in close, lips brushing against hers softly, like no time had passed at all.

Tongues tangled in a familiar dance as they continued to kiss deeply, room spinning around them as passion ignited like wildfire as they stumbled backward until they reached the bedroom. He pushed her onto the bed, body following hers, chests heaving with desire, eyes locked on each other. Deft fingers curled into the fabric of the dress, peeling it from her shoulders, baring breasts hidden beneath black lace, knowing the panties would match, since the set was a gift from him.

Fingers grazed against sensitive areas he knew would make her shiver, feeling her arch into him as he pulled the lace down, nipple already puckered, demanding attention. Lips wrapped around it, mouth pulling it deep into his mouth, knowing what it did to her. Clothes were pulled off so fast, buttons flew across the room, pinging as they hit the wood floor.

The need to possess her, filled every cell within his body, pushing what control he had out the window, each second that passed was fucking torture, wanting to remind her of where she belonged, with him, in his life. Reaching out, a finger traced her sternum, trailing down her stomach before slipping inside her body, feeling her clench around it, before adding a second digit, curling them up, finding that spot just behind her pelvic bone, just as his mouth latched on to the other nipple, his name falling from her lips like a chant. He could feel her hands in his hair, holding him to her, as her hips jerked against his hand, body begging for release.

So, in tune with her body, he knew she was on the edge, but he wanted to push her to her limits, hear her scream his name and beg for more. Was it his way of punishing her for the last year of hell he’d lived in? Possibly but it could be the way he loved watching her, bucking against his hand, breaths labored and quick, that bottom lip tucked between her teeth. It could be that he had fallen so deeply in love with her. Was he an idiot? Probably.

Moving off of her, hearing whimpers of protest, he stood at the edge of the bed, looking down on her. “Hands and knees. Now.” Her eyelids grew heavy as she turned over on her stomach, loving how she gave up control so easily to him, that slight edge of darkness and possessiveness surged through him.  

Hands grasped her hips, fingers digging into her skin as he positioned himself behind her. God how he loved when her back arched, head bowed almost to the bed, before one of his hands released its grip on her hip, sliding up her back, his fingers intertwining in her hair, giving her hair a gentle tug, pulling her head back slightly. “God you are so fucking beautiful.”

His other hand remained on her hip, thumb tracing the curve of her lower back before suddenly, his palm came down on her ass with a sharp slap, the sound echoing through the room, he heard her gasp, feeling her body tensing for a moment before she relaxed into the sensation.

With a swift motion, he drove himself into her, body merging with hers as he began to move in a rhythmic cadence. His hands returned to her hips, holding her in place as he thrust deeper, the air filling with the sound of labored breathing, of skin slapping skin as they moved together.

Continued thrusts into her, bodies began to tense, movements becoming more frantic and urgent. Her hands clenched into fists, arms trembling as she supported her weight, while his grip on her hips tightened, fingers digging deep into her skin that he knew would be bruised come morning. He could feel her shuddering, feel her cunt contracting around him as she came, his name screamed into the air before low, keening cries escaped her lips before her head dropped to the bed, voice now muffled by the bedding as her body continued to convulse.

His thrusts became shorter and more intense as he felt himself building towards his own release, arm wrapping around her waist, fingers finding her clit, the pad of his middle finger, gently rubbing against it, knowing how sensitive she was. With one final, powerful thrust of his hips, they both fell off the edge, sweat soaked bodies shaking with the intensity of what just happened. As the last waves of their orgasms faded, his body collapsed on top of hers, pressing her into the bed, as he held her close, lips trailing across her shoulders, as they slowly relaxed, trying to catch their breath. He could feel her beneath him, trying to adjust to the weight of his body, his arms loosening as he rolled to the side, but still holding her against him.

Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting silver streaks across the sheets tangled between them, skin still warm from where they'd been pressed together, Marcus now lay on his side, propped up on an elbow, watching her in the dim glow. She was quiet, staring at the ceiling like she was already thinking of slipping away before dawn.

“Don’t,” he murmured, voice low but firm.

She turned towards him, brows lifting slightly. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t run.” He traced a slow path down her arm, fingers brushing the familiar curve of her wrist.

A flicker of hesitation in her eyes betraying her, before she lowered her head. “Marcus…”

“I mean it.” He shifted closer, his fingers curling under her chin, making her look at him. “I let you go once. I told myself it was for the best, because you were afraid, you didn’t want to know what could happen if you got that visit. But that was a lie. I never stopped wanting you. And I think—no, I know—you never stopped wanting me either.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “Marcus, this isn’t that simple.”

“Yes, it is,” he countered, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “You belong with me. You always have and you know it.”

Closing her eyes, breath shuddering slightly. He could almost feel the war inside her, the push and pull between instincts and heart. When she opened them again, something softer lurked there beneath the guarded exterior. Something that looked dangerously close to hope.

“Say it,” he whispered. “Say you don’t want this. Say you don’t love me, and I’ll let you go.” Silence stretched between them, thick and electric.

But she didn’t say it. She couldn’t say it. She loved him. More than her life. A life that would be a shell if something ever happened to him.

Instead, her lips parted, voice barely above a whisper. “I fucking hate you for knowing me this well.”

A slow, knowing smile curved his lips. “No, you don’t.”

Sighing, she leaned in, pressing her forehead against his. “I can’t say those things Marcus because they would be lies and you know it. It’s never been about loving you, belonging to you…It’s always been about the what if.”

“I know baby. I love you. Come home and we’ll figure it out. Promise.”

He watched as she moved over him, lips brushing against his, whispers between them of yes’s and love you’s before they showed each other that there never really be a good-bye between them.

@guiltyasdave @sizzlingcloudmentality @jessthebaker @tinyglamdramaqueen @almostfoxglove @pedgito @whocaresstillthelouvre @iamasaddie @burntheedges @ease-out-the-clutch @beefrobeefcal @toomanystoriessolittletime @pearlessance @littlemisspascal @goodwithcheese @burntheedges @jolapeno @604to647 @missladym1981 @kittyfox1107 @secretelephanttattoo

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[contemplatingoutlander]

"I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!" --Howard Beale (Peter Finch) in Network (1976)

The above quote from Network sums up what I'm feeling right now. With their decision on presidential immunity, the far-right SC justices shredded the Constitution, and paved the way for Trump to become a dictator if he is put back in office. The above article goes into detail about the liberal justices' dissent. This is a gift🎁link if you want to read the full article. Below are some excerpts:

The Supreme Court’s three Democratic appointees railed in dissent against the conservative majority’s ruling that former President Donald J. Trump has some immunity for his official actions, declaring that their colleagues had made the president into “a king above the law.” Writing that the majority was “deeply wrong,” Justice Sonia Sotomayor added that beyond its consequences for the bid to prosecute Mr. Trump for his attempt to subvert the outcome of the 2020 election, it would have “stark” long-term consequences for the future of American democracy. “The court effectively creates a law-free zone around the president, upsetting the status quo that has existed since the founding,” she wrote, in an opinion joined by the other two Democratic appointees, Justices Elena Kagan and Ketanji Brown Jackson. Insulating the president of the United States — the most powerful person in the country and possibly the world, she noted — from criminal prosecution when he uses his official powers will allow him to freely use his official power to violate the law, exploit the trappings of his office for personal gain, or other “evil ends.” “Orders the Navy’s Seal Team 6 to assassinate a political rival? Immune. Organizes a military coup to hold onto power? Immune. Takes a bribe in exchange for a pardon? Immune. Immune, immune, immune,” she wrote, adding: “Even if these nightmare scenarios never play out, and I pray they never do, the damage has been done. The relationship between the president and the people he serves has shifted irrevocably.” [...] Sometimes justices conclude their dissents with a softening and polite qualifier, writing “Respectfully, I dissent.” Justice Sotomayor instead concluded this one harshly: “With fear for our democracy, I dissent.” [color emphasis added]

________________ Video source for gif

[sherwees]

cw : y/n is kinda freaky in this idk (I snorted), guess who's our roommate important, fat shaming a cat, huge cat alert, mega pussy(cat), jeno big schlong core, desperate jeno (but only for a second), just a simple blowjob and his cum tastes like WHAT?!

side note: I took long asl writing this because I'm so used to writing for wayv like the 2 day gap between the haechan fic and hendery fic compared to the 13 day gap between this fic and the hendery fic makes me SICK.

extra note: I've never written for jeno before either.

apart of the nct corny plots series!

why were you so excited for a fuckass plumber?

you had a bigger problem anyway. under your sink, it smelt like fucking mold and water.

man fuck this.

your roommate, jungwoo was barely home.. you asked him if he knew anything about pipes and he only sent a dog emoji.

there was a familiar brushing in between your feet, you looked down at your fatass white cat, nella rubbing against your ankles. jungwoo thought that it'll be funny to make her rhyme with nutella because her old owner said that supposedly.. she ate jars of it.

picking her up, you think you tore your acl but once you met eyes with her; you felt kinda bad. isn't that basically neglecting..? but whatever, she's fine now.

nella's head nudged against your flat hand against the counter, you obligated unconsciously to petting her whilst spacing out on a random hummingbird perched on a fence.

“nella, do you think I'm weird?” you asked the unaware feline, she only licked your palm with a sequence of purrs. that was probably a yes. you sighed and fixed the navy blue edge of your short nightgown, there was then a knock at your door.

it's must've been him before nella jumped her big ass down and skedaddled to the basement. “who is it?” you called whilst heading towards the door, trying to identify the warpy figure through the translucent glass. “uhm, I'm here to fix your pipes” jeno, you presumed, scratched his head, you could make out his muscular figure.

you opened the door with uncertainty and the first thing you noticed was his dirty ass uniform and the smell of dirt and water bouncing off your senses. “you're jeno, right?” you said with a coy smile, trying to not look at his bulky torso by keeping unwanted eye contact. he only nodded, his shy doe eyes met yours finally.

“well, don't be shy.. come in then.” you muttered, you might've even given him a dirty look. this hefty nearly 6 foot male was so shy for what, what if he was a criminal? eligible for death row?!

not your problem, for now.

right now.. you wanted to have his kids.

you unconsciously licked your lips as he walked past, like that one italian weirdo from that weird italian movie where they fucked every 39 minutes. you know, that one? why was his ass fatter than yours?

“um, what seems to be the problem?” jeno's voice echoed from the kitchen, snapping you out of your thoughts. only yelping an “oh!”, you shuffled like a flintstone to the kitchen and found him leaning in the corner of your kitchen counters; looking at the sink and you with uncertainty.

“oh well,” you clasp your hands walking over to the sink. “so basically.. urm.. uh” you side eyed him for a second before scratching your head. “it smells like mold and.. urm..” you looked at his nose again, stop looking at his nose, don't look at his lips?! why are you looking at his DICK?!

“I'll just show you.” you sighed before falling to your knees and opening the cabinet, the smell of mold almost made you shrivel into a fucking pinecone. jeno must've gotten whiff of it too because his nose scrunched in disgust and he held back a gag, but soon you'll be gagging on his– not now.

“see, but I think—” you said, slapping your hands in dismay. you crawled under the sink, looking for that bitchass rustic pipe that you glanced at earlier. “it seems like it's this one pipe–” you babbled on and on about the pipe, literally it sounded like mimimimimi. but he really focused on, your negligee raising with every subtle movement of yours; you weren't even wearing panties..

you were leaking, more than the pipes probably.

and it needed some fixing.

if you get what I'm saying hahahaha ahhahahahah oh.. never mind.

“yeah and all he does is send me–” you came from under the sink, jeno's tongue clicked. his expression was a line between curious, perplexed, maybe focused on something.

“oh.” you mumbled, he was spaced out on something and definitely didn't listen to your rant about you undependable roomie. you looked behind you to see what he was so interested in besides your rambling but you only looked at him in confusion.

“um..” you popped your lips inward before he suddenly cleared his throat. his eyes widening in a quick realization, “oh my fault..” his belt scuffled against the cabinet when he tried to adjust his now.. erection.

urmmm, let's just ignore that.

he anchored his back slightly, “there seems to be a lot of moisture–” he paused weirdly, eyeing your slick hole once you looked away. “on that one rusty pipe..” the male pointed at the anomaly. you could only nod, hands respectfully clasped together.

“so, I'mma start working on that..” he said whilst grabbing a wrench. “it only needs a replacement and I should be done..” he reassured, raising his head with a squiggly grin; his cheeks flushed.

simply, you nodded awkwardly before he continued with his work. what do you do now? you decided to situate yourself on your couch, glancing at him every once and a while. but during one of your peeping moments, there was a big white blob heading towards jeno.. wait NELLA?!

the feline brushed against his leg, jeno froze. you bit your lip in fear that he'll just storm out or what if he breaks out in hives? with a gut wrenching clang of his wrench, your fucking heart stopped. but, his hand extended towards the mass you called your beloved cat and your heart resumed but it still kept a hectic beat.

nella approached his inviting hand before she started to lick his index before grazing her teeth on his nail; about to bite him. almost breaking your ankle, twisting it, stubbing your toe, chipping a nail, almost falling over nothing, almost falling over a plant, almost falling over a chair, almost dying, you pick up nella and almost tear your fucking hamstrings.

she ended up biting your forearm instead and threw herself down the basement stairs, “oh, I'm sorry..” you carried a solemn tone whilst rubbing at the small but wide bite mark with a sigh. jeno stands to his feet, concern etched on his features as he inspects the wound.

his hand found your wrist and pulled it towards him, you winced at the rough padding of his fingers. “cats could really be unpredictable, huh?” he declared playfully as miniscule drops of blood seeped from the wound, you giggled at his comment but it wasn't fucking funny because what if you got rabies? you wished he would actually just break out into hives right now.

“I mean.. are you okay?” jeno finally looked up at you, his deep black eyes punctured into your soul.. there was some sort of romantical vibe in them.

you blunk and the room spun.

there's suddenly rose petals EVERYWHERE, the room is hot as hell, careless whisper is playing in the background and he suddenly has a comically large moustache like mario, “mi mujer, mi todo, ¿te importaría si atendiera tu herida?” his sultry gaze met your muddled face, his eyebrow raised suggestively and the buttons of his shirt popped in your face and revealed his toned torso. you seriously have no words and even I can't explain this scene as I'm typing it.

you only nodded before jeno broke out into pirouettes as he spun to the bathroom and came back with bandages twirling around and above him into a pretty pattern of curls and ended in a break out of elegant dance moves then a split.

“mi amor déjame atenderte..” he placed a chaste kiss on the lesion, it burned. he wrapped the bandage around your forearm and tore it off with a smirk.

everything was suddenly back to normal, his moustache was gone. “man what the fuck was that?!” you stumbled back and rubbed your bandaged arm in confusion, jeno's lips were parted in bewilderment. he was staring like it was your fault,

“nothing happened?” he stated sternly.

“yes, something happened! you turned into a fucking whatever the fuck!”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” he retorted, crossing his arms across his torso and steadying his weight on one foot with a pop to his hip. “you know what, never mind.. is my sink fixed?” you asked with restraint frustration whilst rubbing your forehead, keeping yourself steady on the island just incase you would black out.

jeno shook his head, “I mean, I could fix it faster if you helped a bit..?” he asked shyly and smiled when you nodded, you now noticed the crinkle in his eyes when he did so.. heading over to the sink, you crawled into the small space along with him.. he handed you the flashlight.

he slid into the confined space, “just point it where my hand is, alright?” he reassured you before continuing with his handiwork. jeno's muscles flexed and strained with every twist and turn of the screws. every once in awhile his leg would nudge against your bare thigh, which you now noticed and pulled the hem of the gown down but it'll just raise up slightly above your ass once again but you're sure that jeno wouldn't notice.

but, he did. the curvature of your ass would be exposed with every subtle movement of his leg, yes he's a weirdo and he's intentionally but unintentionally brushing his knee in that same area. his boner was becoming quite visible and ample than before, his neck burned in restrainted arousal and he was probably a bright cherry red. he swore that if that bitchass dress raised even an inch more, he woul– it did.

“sorry miss, I need to g-get some tools from my truck.” jeno slid out and quickly stood on unsteady feet, you realized that his hands were weirdly set at his groin area once you looked up at him with unintended doe eyes.

uttering a quick “fuck”, he finally gave in.

jeno's hand coursed through your hair gently, his rugged hands running through the tangles. his erection now stood out like a spear like those over exaggerated brazzers videos, his hand gripped your scalp and nudged you towards his soaked tip and pulled his cargos down with the other.

“I– uh.. need you to suck me off, please..” he pleaded stupidly, his speech slurred and rasped slightly as his hand found the hem of his pants. “you're so fucking pretty, please..” he whined once his cock sprung out, you were NOT going to take that flag pole down your throat, but you gave an exception for him. both of his hands found your head, gripping and clenching to your head with urgency, jeno chuckled triumphantly once you parted your lips.

the masculine scent of his member intoxicated your senses, the tip placing a blob of precum on the tip of your nose and ran down to your lip. your tongue peaked out and licked the cream off the bump, it tasted awfully sugary?

enveloping his tip into your mouth, he grunted loudly, his gentle touch turning tense in your hair. jeno's hand guided your head up and down his lengthy member, your narrow esophagus pulsating and clenching with every hurried thrust down it. veins sprawled from his other hand to his neck whilst it gripped the island, his eyes rolling back to his skull once you managed to take him all the way to his base.

“s’ fucking good at this..” he praised in an unattractive wheeze, jaw unhinging to emit another groan. he suddenly stilled at the back of your throat, your glossy,pleading eyes looking up at him. jeno started to gyrate against your nose, your jaw and lips straining trying to accommodate to his girthy base as you held back a series of gags and chokes.

his head bumped and leaked precum against your tonsil once he resumed his shallow thrusts. “m’ so close..” jeno rasped, his balls tensing against your chin. with a final shove of your head and another gag from your end, he exploded in your mouth. why'd it taste like that? you suddenly pulled away, gasping for air at the realization.

“jeno—” you hiccuped, his aching cock bobbed, resting against your top lip; quite literally interrupting you. in your blurry peripherals, nella licked at a small droplet of his release; your stomach caved at the sight.

the sweetness of his cum made you sick, the thick substance coated your throat for what seems to feel like globs. “why does it—” you coughed and choked on air, jeno suddenly picked you up by the armpits and sat your writhing figure on the counter.

“your cum tastes like cheesecake..?”

taglist: @haechansbbg

[phantom-riter]

The Start of Something New (Smoker X Reader)

This is my fic for Coe / @coernixen for the One Piece X Reader Fic Exchange by @infixop

Title: The Start of Something New

Pairing: Smoker X Female!Reader

Word Count: 5144 words

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63893950

CW: Mentions of murder, explicit content, unprotected sex, inappropriate use of devil fruits, enemies with benefits

Notes: I'm so srry, but I had to write Smoker with just one cigar. Trying to figure out the second was just too taxing. >-<

As Smoker stomps down the gangplank onto the smaller Marine vessel, it vaguely registers in his head that he has done something like this before. And boy was he sick of it. It always started the same, a frantic call at odd hours, about some random Marine Captain stationed somewhere on a small island (usually on the edge of any well traveled routes, far away from any bases), who was found dead under suspicious circumstances. And then all of the traveling, the investigating down rabbit hole after rabbit hole, dead end after dead end, one wild goose chase leading into another.

Honestly, he was just happy all of his hair was already white, or else he was sure the stress would have been evident to everyone.

Smoker nods to the small crew aboard the vessel, relieving them from their salute. He scowled down at the assembled men, silently hoping that the description he’d been given over the transponder snail had just been a coincidence. Surely any number of women looked like that, doesn’t mean that they had to be his her. “You say you caught your suspect?” He grunts, flicking the burnt out end of his cigar away, reaching to grab another. “Y-yes Sir, Vice Admiral.” The ship’s captain, Suge or Gesu or something Smoker was too tired to recall stammers. “We’ve been keeping her in the brig, under strict guard as requested.”

Smoker felt his brow twitch, but did his best to seem as nonplussed as possible. It simply couldn’t be. She left years ago. Doesn’t matter that this last Marine had been killed in what had once been her hometown, doesn’t matter that she always preferred this stretch of the Grandline over anywhere else. Simply coincidence. He lit his new cigar, his eighth this hour, and gently inhaled. He allowed the foreign smoke to curl in his chest, to twist and sway between his ribs, trying to make it fog out his stuttered heart beat. 

“We’ll have to take her with us for the investigation,” Smoker exhaled slowly, letting the smoke dissipate into the evening breeze. “But I’d like to interrogate your suspect before we do. Alone.” The Captain stutters and stammers, trying to wriggle his way out of the situation, but Smoker could see through him too easily. The way he wrung his slimy hands together as he pleaded for Smoker to allow him the honor of turning in the ‘rebellious criminal’ to HQ. The eager glint in his eye, obviously looking forward to the potential reward he might receive for being the one to turn in this particular nuisance to the Navy, to the promotion he might get.

It made Smoker sick. But a harsh glare turned the air around them cold, and the ship’s Captain silenced himself, croaking out his affirmations to Smoker’s requests as he sheepishly began to lead him below deck. Smoker ran through every possible situation he could be walking into, avoiding all but the most obvious. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding, and they’d just picked up a civilian out on the water, or a fisherwoman who went too far from shore. 

”You should watch out, Sir. She’s a fighter.” The Captain interrupted his train of thought as they reached the bottom on the stairs, landing on the bottom floor of the ship. “Put nearly thirty of my men in the infirmary. N-not that I don’t think that you can’t handle yourself, Sir, I just-” Smoker waved the man off as they came to the last door in the hallway. “‘S fine.” He grumbles, glancing at the four men guarding the door, two on each side. The Captain seemed to have noticed and started on yet another bragging spree about how his valiant soldiers had followed his orders exactly and managed to capture the suspect fleeing the nearest island in a small sloop ship. Smoker vaguely recalled seeing a small vessel moored to this boat, and felt a confusing pang of relief. 

Shaking his head briefly, he glared harshly at each of the four men guarding the door. “Get out.” He ordered, and he must have looked as stormy as he felt, because the four guards started tripping over themselves as they ran down the hallway. Smoker turns to the Captain, holding his hand out silently for the keys. The Captain nodded silently, and quickly forked over the small keyring. As Smoker turned and unlocked the door, he felt his shoulders tense involuntarily.

Turning back to the Captain for a moment, he pauses with his hand on the door handle. “Evacuate all of your men on this floor and the ones above. I don’t want anyone down here but me.” The Captain sputters and pleads, but Smoker leveled him with a firm look. “That’s an order, Captain.” The man shrunk back as if struck, but relented, nodding his affirmation and leaving as quickly as he could.

Smoker took a deep breath, collected himself as best he could, and opened the door in one fluid motion. As his eyes land on the room’s sole occupant, he felt his heart stutter as he took her in. She looked the same as the last time he had seen her, but different, better. Her hair was a little longer, just enough that he knew that she’d be looking to cut it soon. Her skin was glowing in health, as opposed to the last time he’d seen her, eyes sunken and haggard, arguing (they were always arguing before she left). She looked like the years had treated her well. She also looked like she was about to throw a chair at him. 

It was only by the grace of his devil fruit that she missed, the chair passed right through him and clattered noisily against the hallway’s opposing wall. He felt his lips twitch involuntarily as he huffs in amusement. “Good to see you too, I suppose.”

You simply bore your teeth at him, still as wild and beautiful as the day he’d asked you to be his. “Why are you here?” You ask, and  Smoker just barely resists the urge to sigh. “The real question is, why are you here?” He snarls back, closing the door behind him as he steps into the room. “Under investigation for the deaths of no less than twelve Marines.” He looked at you, really looked at you. 

Your hands were cuffed together, but it didn’t seem to faze you. Besides the chair that now lay out in the hallway, all that was left in the room was a simple wooden table that you were very clearly trying to keep between the two of you. Your shoulders were hunched and it hurt to see you so tense. As if you were simply looking for a chance to bolt past him, to disappear from his sight once again. Well not this time.

You snorted, seeming pleased by something. “You and I both know that those men had it coming,” Gods above Smoker wishes that he could focus more on the matter at hand, and less on the fact that he realized that you were still wearing the same perfume that he’d bought you, all those years ago. You must have run out by now, did you buy more? 

He growls in frustration at your seemingly nonchalant attitude. “Is this a joke to you?” His voice was filled with heavy gravel from all his frustration, all his anger, and he could see the way your eyes dilated slightly at the tone. “Do you not realize what you’ve done, those men had families! Communities who were-”

“Who were just as happy for them to be gone, believe me.” Your tone was cold, but you didn’t care. “None of those men cared about them, not really. They only cared about keeping their pockets full and furthering their career.” You felt yourself slipping, heading down the road of awful memories you usually kept under lock and key. “I told you Smoker, you don’t know what it’s like, living this far out in the Grand Line.” You didn’t even register Smoker moving closer, rounding the table until he was just an arm’s length away.

“But I do.” He said, snapping you out of your spiral, and if he was a weaker man, he’d have reached out to grab your hands. He didn’t, but he knew that you could read it in his eyes. “You told me, remember?” Your sad smile was just another stone in his heart. “I did…” You admit softly, sighing as you hop up onto the table, letting your cuffs clatter together as Smoker took another step forwards, now standing in front of you.

“Please,” Smoker whispers your name as he tilts your head up to look him in the eye. “Did you do it?” The question hangs in the air for a moment, before you snort, shaking off his hand. “Do you think I killed those men Smoker?” You ask, softly laying your forehead against his shoulder. “After all we’ve been through, after all I’ve said, do you?”

Smoker sighs deeply, as he places his left hand on your shoulder reassuringly. He remembered all of the arguments, all of the accusations from years ago. Back when you were his. Before you left. He remembered all the times you would come home to him, angry at yet another report that led nowhere, another accusation of fraud or misconduct that led to a slap on the wrist or a simple reassignment.

He knows you joined the Marines to help people, to help places like your hometown. You’d told him that was your dream once, laying in bed together. To just help people. 

And then he’d asked you to be his, and you’d accepted, and he thought that you were going to grow old together. And not three months after you’d gotten engaged, he remembered how you came to him like a peal of thunder, angry and resentful for how your Commanding Officer had demoted you yet again. You believed that it was because of your investigation into corruption, and you begged him for advice, for anything that would help.

And he remembered taking your hands and trying to reassure you that there were other ways to help people. The two of you had talked about one of you stepping down after getting married, and he wondered aloud if this might be the time. In truth, he was just worried. Worried that one day he’d come home and you wouldn’t be there. That one of the higher ups you’d been investigating would get tired of your snooping and put a stop to it, and he argued that if being a part of the Marine’s wasn’t getting the job done, then it might be time to take a step back and think of something new.

He remembered you snapping at him, and that starting an argument that left him alone in bed that night. He remembered waiting up for you to join him, and eventually giving up. He remembered returning home later the next day to see your ring, alone in the middle of the table. He remembered searching for you, only to find that you’d put in your resignation, and disappeared onto some civilian ship that no one could remember the name of, one of the dozens that came through every day. He remembered taking that promotion to Loguetown some time after to try to run away from the feeling of losing you. He remembered how your ring still kept him company on his nightstand.

“I don’t know.” He breathes out. “I know that you could’ve done it, but..” The silence that rang out was deafening. He wishes that he could pull you close, that he could tell you all the ways he’s thought about you ever since you disappeared.

“I miss you, you know.” You said softly, breath light against his skin. “I miss you everyday.” He felt his chest grow tight, but he swallowed the lump in his throat to lay his other hand upon your shoulder, loosely holding you to his chest. 

“I miss you, too.” He whispered into your hair. “I-” I still have your ring. I still love you. Come back to me. Come home. Stay.

Smoker shook his head to rid himself of such thoughts. “I’ll have to tell them that this was a mistake.” He said resolutely, pulling his hands away from you as you took a step back. “There’s no evidence of-”

“I did it.”

A beat of silence.

“What did you say?”  Smoker asks, looking at you in silent horror. You smile at him, a glint of sadness in your eyes. “I said I did it, I confess.” Smoker felt like his head was reeling as your words sank in. He backs up as you cross your legs, hands suspiciously free, though he could see your handcuffs laying on the table next to you. How did you….

“That’s what this is isn’t it, an interrogation?” You looked at Smoker with a hint of mirth in your eyes. “The big bad Marine Vice Admiral here to get the poor defenseless prisoner to confess.” Smoker shook his head, even though he knew that that was the truth. He was here to get a confession, to lead an investigation, to find out the truth…

But if the truth was that you were somehow responsible…..

No, he wouldn’t believe it, he couldn’t. There was no evidence tying you to any of the deaths in any way, nothing suspicious about you besides your lack of identification aboard your ship. Now that he’d found you here, he knew he had to convince you to come home with him. Smoker steadies his gaze upon you. “Then this interrogation is over, dammit.” He grunts. “I’m taking you with me and we’ll figure this out back at base. You might have to see a court about the lack of ID but…”

“And what’ll you tell your commanding officer when you turn me in?” You ask, and Smoker felt his breath hitch at the thought. He coughs to try and cover his blunder, but he could tell by the twinkle in your eye that you knew you’d caught him. 

“T-the truth of course.” He stutters. “That d-due to your confession, and the lack of evidence, you were clearly coached to-” A laugh, airy and light flutters out of your chest.

“Oh please Smoky.” You tease, your fingers soft against his bare chest, trailing up until you finally clasp your hands around his neck. “You and I both know that I was always far better than you at lying.” He places his hands on your waist (purely to keep you from escaping the room, of course) and inhales deeply, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. It didn’t seem to work too well, since all he could smell was his own cigar smoke and you, and oh how he’d missed the scent of the two of you together.

His hands squeeze your hips lightly, before he shakes his wandering thoughts from his head. “Better at disappearing too.” He mutters. He can barely stand the twang in his heart at your guilty expression. You look away again, as if you could sense his loss too. “I always knew you’d find me.” You whisper, and Smoker feels his face flush.

The two of you sat in silence for several moments, just breathing in each other’s presence. Eventually, you wiggle against him as a thought comes to mind. You didn’t seem to think before asking, either. “Was there ever anyone else?” Horror grips his heart as he thought of your ring, lonely and vigil by his bedside. “No.” He snarls, anger alight in his chest for the first time since he’d seen you. He pulls back to stare into your eyes before repeating himself, softer this time. “No…”

You smile at him, serene, and suspiciously at ease in his arms. “Good, me neither.” He didn’t know how much he needed to hear that until just now. 

You ran your fingers through his hair for a few moments, looking at his face as if trying to memorize it. “Smoky,” You breath softly. “I need you to let me go…”

“WHAT?” He barks, pulling back as far as your grip would allow. “No, I can’t just-”

“Smoker,” You said seriously, cupping his face to force him to look at you. “Just because you won’t see it doesn’t mean they don’t.” A smirk grew across your lips. “And besides, I promise that I’ll leave more obvious clues this time.” You lean in, your lips a hair length away from his. The ember of his cigar causing an orange flame to appear in your eyes. “You could chase me again…” 

He feels his pupils dilate a bit at that, but closes his eyes instead of looking at you further. “I can’t just let you walk out of here you know.” He said gruffly, only slightly leaning into your hand on his face. “They’ll know if I do.” 

You smile at him again, warm and reassuring. “Then we’ll just have to make them think that you didn’t, yeah?” You place both your hands on his shoulders, and wiggle your hips against his. “You could just say that you let your guard down around the prisoner,” His breath hitches as you reached up, your hand trailing through the short hair on his nape before grasping it harshly. “Could say that I got the better of you, that I surprised you and made a break for it.” You giggle as he fought against himself, he always was weak for you. “Could say you left me for a second and I wiggled out of my restraints, that you were distracted by a pretty face.”

“No.” He said forcefully, barely trying to shake you off of him. “I won’t lie about you like that. You wouldn’t…I…..” He cleares his throat. “I have to take you back to my ship.” And yet he made no move to try and separate the two of you.

“Please, Smoker…” You said softly, placing a featherlight kiss against his neck that left him burning from head to toe. “I know you missed me too, missed us.” You laid back slowly against the table, and Smoker followed you diligently, stepping between your legs to maintain the distance between you as he caged you in underneath him.

“We can’t…” He whispers, as though he hadn’t ordered the entire lower floors of the ship abandoned before walking in this room. “According to the law I have to-”

You shush him so gently, softly pressing your fingers to his lips to silence him, before gently plucking the cigar from his mouth. You bring the cigar to your mouth, and, while keeping eye contact, place the glowing ember against your tongue. Smoker heard the sizzle as the cigar was extinguished, before you threw it over your shoulder. You lick your lips as you grab the lapels of his jacket, wrenching him forwards against you. “No more talking.” And then you were kissing him.

You weren’t sure who deepened the kiss, just that it happened. One second you were mouthing against his slightly chapped lips, and the next you were pinned beneath him. He could taste it in your mouth. Ash and smoke from his cigar, along with a hint of that spiced rum you always loved to indulge in. You were busy trying not to cry as his hands slowly slid under your shirt, already desperate for him. Meanwhile, Smoker was trying to fight back the urge to devour you whole.

The feeling of your skin under his hands was driving him insane. It’d been so long since he’d touched anyone this intimately, not since you left. One hand tangled in his hair, you trailed your free hand down his arm till you could grab his wrist, tugging his hand lower to the seam of your thighs. Letting go just long enough to fumble the button of your pants open, you pulled back from the kiss. “Please.” You whine, and it seemed like Smoker got the message as his hands jump down to help wiggle you out of your pants. 

As he tosses the garment to the floor, your hands are already working on slipping his belt free. Your fingers graze his bulge through his pants and his resulting groan shook you to your very core. Smoker snarls as one of your hands slides into his underwear, slowly stroking as much of his shaft as you could. “Fucking minx.” He growls, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

It seems like that was the wrong move, as his eyes darkened and he reached out and grabbed either side of your underwear. He inhales sharply before tearing it off of your body in one solid motion. Your breath stalls for a second as your mind fights to catch up. “Not so funny is it now, brat?” He snarls, and gods above how you missed this man.

His massive shoulders eclipsed you as he pushed you against the table, his lips hungrily demanding more of your attention as he kissed you deeply. Your head was swimming with nothing but thoughts of him, and you felt drunk on his presence alone. Your hands drift up his hardened torso, before coming to rest on his shoulders, their original duty long forgotten. Smoker took over undressing himself, shrugging off his coat with ease and pulling his pants down just enough to free his hardened cock. 

It slaps against your thigh, and you moan softly at the feeling. It was already rock hard and throbbing against the delicate skin of your inner thigh, painting you in precum. Smoker grunts in your ear as you reach down and stroke him from base to tip twice. He was just as big as you remembered, and his hips twitch as you ran a nail softly along his frenulum. 

Smoker pants above you, eyes wild and hair beginning to fall out of place. “D-do you have anything to-” He swallows, only not realizing how the two of you’d rushed into this. You shook your head at his unasked question. “I’m clean.” You huff, wrapping your legs around his hips to bring the two of you even closer. “Please.”

“B-but,” He began, eyes nearly rolling back as you lined his head up with your entrance. Wiggling your hips, his hands squeezed your waist to the point it nearly hurt. You look up at him, offended and hurt that he’d deny you. “What if I get you….are you sure you’re okay with…is it safe?” You smile up at him, flattered by his apparent concern over leaving you with his child. You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, humming an affirmation. “I almost married you once, Smoky, did you think I didn’t want children with you?” Smoker’s eyes were so dilated, you could only see a small ring of steely grey around his pupil. “Besides, it’s a safe day, so we should be good to-”

You never get a chance to finish your sentence, as Smoker’s control slips, and he slams you down on his shaft, forcing you to yelp out a moan that you’re sure would've been heard on the floor above. Smoker didn’t give you a moment to rest before he began his punishing pace, his grip on your waist still tight as he slammed his hips against you, growling as you mew beneath him. 

“Shut your mouth brat.” He orders, and you can’t help but whine in response, all higher thought seemingly fucked out of you in a matter of moments. Trapped beneath his weight, it’s hard to tell where one of you begins and the other ends. You can already feel him adjusting his grip gently, shifting his hips to try and suss out that spot that makes you scream. And when he finds it, there’s nothing you can do to hold back your voice. Begging him for “More!”, and “Right there!” and “Please don’t stop!”.

Smoker seems to find his own perverse joy in watching you fall to pieces beneath him, a wicked smile stretching across his face. He slows his pace to focus on hitting you as deeply and as harshly as he could, battering the tip of his cock against that spot that made your legs jelly. He coos as your eyes rolled back, as you lose control of your voice just a little bit more, resorting to gargled out cries of his name between whimpers and moans.

He lay his head upon your shoulder, and as he did, you watch as along his back and shoulder his form began to shiver and ripple. Wisps of smoke arose from his skin, just barely floating above him, and blurring the edge of his form just a little bit. You moan as the smoke reaches you, grabbing greedy lungfuls of him. Smoker moans at the sensation, not having realized that his own control was slipping so far.

The smoke in your chest is warm, but light. It doesn’t quite restrict your breathing, but you know from experience that if he wanted to, Smoker could make your head spin without even trying. Out of practice, it takes you a moment to get your breathing under control, taking a breath in through your mouth, then exhaling through your nose. Smoker curses against you at the feeling, pulling back a tiny bit as he reforms himself completely. You whine as he steals back the air in your lungs, not that you wouldn't give it to him if he asked.

You’re just about to give him a stern talking to, but stop as you feel his teeth sink into your shoulder for a moment. He bites you delicately, just enough to leave an imprint in your skin, to make you lay still beneath him. When he releases you, you whine his name softly, already wishing that he’d touch you more.

“Please,” He begs as his pace stutters. “Please come home.” He pulls his head back to look you in the eye, pleading with his gaze. “Please come back to me.” You shake your head, and feel a rush of pleasure as Smoker whines in the back of his throat. “I can’t.” You stammer between thrusts, hands hooking over the edge of the table above you to prevent you from sliding off. “‘M so sorry, Smoky.”

As Smoker whined again above you, all you could focus on was the sensation of his cock battering the walls of your cunt, over and over and over. “Please.” He begs, but you don’t know if he even knows what he’s pleading for as he collapses against you, repeating the word as he holds you tightly against him, arms wrapped around your waist and face buried in your neck.

Smoker groans out your name, catching your attention through the pleasure. “D-do you want me…..inside…” You moan loudly, almost losing yourself at his words. “Please!” You beg shakily. “Please, please, please, cum inside me, Smoker.” 

He hisses out in near pain as he pulls you impossibly closer, his form going blurry around the edges from his smoke as he cums inside of you. You groan out as your own orgasm washes over you like a wave, breaking down your defenses and leaving you vulnerable in his arms. You breathe him in deeply, nearly whining as he pulls himself back together, exhaling wisps of him reluctantly. 

“I can’t go back, Smoky.” You whispered, breaking his heart all over again. “I won’t.” Smoker feels panic wash over him as he pulls you close, practically chest to chest with you now, able to feel your racing heartbeat in your chest. “And I can’t let you go.” He mutters softly into your skin, a confession that startled even him. “Don’t go where I can’t find you, please.” 

You smirk at him, hair haloed behind you on the table as you look up at him. “You don’t just get to decide that Smoky, you should know that.” A loud click sounded through the room, and Smoker leapt back from you, only to fall short as a tug on his arm stopped him. The metallic glint of metal caught him off guard as he stares down at the handcuffs you’d caught him in, one cuff around his left wrist and the other threaded around the leg of the table.

“You….you……” Your giggle did nothing to stop his rising annoyance. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around, eh Smoky?” You hop off the table after taking a moment to collect yourself, collecting your pants off the ground and pulling them up, completely forgoing your underwear given its state. You gave him a pat on the face and a kiss on the cheek, and made for the door.

“Hold it!” He grunt, straining his shoulder to reach out and grab your hand as you walk past him. You stop, turning to stare at him quizzically. He pauses and thinks about what he was doing, before raising your hand to his lips. He presses a firm kiss to your knuckles as his eyes burn into you with the heat of his gaze. “I’ll find you.” He whispers against your hand as he tightens his grip minutely. “I promise, that this time I’ll find you.”

You smile at him, playful and teasing and so much happier than when you’d left him. “I’ll be looking forward to it then, Vice Admiral.” You give a halfhearted salute, before making your way to the door. You look back at him one more time, before giving him a firm nod and opening the door. 

Smoker watches you leave, and though it hurts to hear your footsteps fade, he knows that now…now the hunt begins. And he can’t wait to catch up to you…

~~~

“Well that was a complete waste of time” Captain Sugeto muttered as he watched the Vice Admiral’s ship disappear over the horizon, in pursuit of the escaped prisoner. “I can’t believe that he let her get away, there goes my promotion.” Some of his crew threw a harsh look in his direction, still licking their wounds from when the woman snuck past them and onto her ship.

They hadn’t even noticed that she was missing until the Vice Admiral appeared, disheveled and sweaty in the doorway to below deck, and informed them that she’d slipped past him. Screw the Captain, what would happen to all of them! The Fleet Admiral wasn’t going to like this…As the Captain laments his stagnating career on deck, one of the privates clearing the room below deck pauses, tilting his head thoughtfully. He grabs the handcuffs that the Vice Admiral said that the prisoner managed to escape from, and then used to lock him to the table. ‘Funny…’ He thought to himself. ‘I don’t remember using seastone to lock her up…’

[innerfare]

Random Crocodile Headcanons

Summary: A random collection of Sir Crocodile headcanons

CW: None // SFW

———

Has known Daz Bones since they were teenagers, before he was a famous pirate or Warlord. Daz was his OG first mate, basically doesn’t remember what life was like pre-Croc. 

Claims he doesn’t enjoy giving orders, he’s just so much more intelligent than the lowlife criminals he’s surrounded by that barking orders at them is inevitable. Often tells Daz his dream is to live in a world where people know what to do without him having to spell it out for them. Daz doesn’t believe it for a second. 

Will never admit it, but he has a sweet tooth. Likes to have chocolate with his whiskey and cigars, but keeps the chocolate hidden in his desk drawer so people don’t know. Also, Mihawk has sticky fingers, and Crocodile gets extra annoyed because he only buys the expensive stuff (Mihawk would never steal anything cheap). 

Knows how to count cards. Actually started scamming when he was just a little kid, has quite a few tricks up his sleeve from those days. Doesn't strike people as a petty thief, but his sleight of hand could rival a certain red headed captain's.

Is left-handed (RIP Crocodile’s left hand). Was a very skilled swordsman prior to losing the hand (even Mihawk had heard of two-handed Crocodile, one of the reasons he respects him enough to go into business with him). Worked really hard to learn to write with his right hand because he couldn’t stand the sight of his poor handwriting. 

Also used to roll with a pimp cane but stopped carrying it after he lost his hand because he thought the cane-hook combo made him look like a weak old man instead of a baller. 

Stole literally every jewel on his right hand. Also stole the gold his hook is made out of; it was originally a statue in an aristocrat's house and he decided he wanted it; had it smelted down, and added the poison on Daz's suggestion.

Desperately misses being out on the open sea, but between his devil fruit turning him into a rock in water and his weakness being moisture, isn’t willing to risk it very often. Impel Down and Marineford were a nightmare, but he gleaned a sense of enjoyment from sailing between the two, and especially from barking orders at the other pirates aboard the commandeered Navy vessel (again, he insists he didn’t enjoy it, but Daz knows better). 

Smokes so many cigars because they dry out his mouth and throat, and he finds that dryness comforting considering his moisture weakness. Also enjoys blowing smoke in people’s faces as a sign of disrespect. 

Wants people to fuel his ego but also despises ass kissers. It’s a precarious balance you have to strike if you want this man’s respect. 

Still respects Nico Robin because she didn't kiss his ass or quiver in fear before him; she was also the rare combination of intelligent and powerful that he respects. Pretends he wouldn't, but would take her back in an instant if she asked.

Carries an insane amount of tension in his neck. Lives for neck and shoulder massages. Will never pay someone to do it because he doesn’t like being touched by strangers. Gets extra grumpy when his neck is hurting. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[itwasrealtome]

AGENT GRAY

Chapter Two — Sailor to Fed

TAGLIST FORM

⚠️ DO NOT READ IF THIS MIGHT TRIGGER YOU

Olivia Benson x fem! FBI AGENT OC

Summary:

Content Warning: Usual SVU talk • SA, Kidnapping, Human Trafficking, Criminal Record, public drunkenness, domestic violence| Reckless behavior • Jumping from a roof to another | Lack of sleep | FBI and Navy talk • Military Services, U.S Navy SEAL Training, Advanced Special Forces Training, Deployments, Lists of Awards and Commendations | Weapons |

•

FRIDAY, JULY 29

BENSON's Apartment, 10:17 PM

The apartment was quiet when Olivia finally made her way inside. She slipped off her black boots, threw her jacket on the coat rack and stuffed her weapon into the safe, just to catch her young babysitter performing the opposite gestures. Except that she, at least, didn't carry a gun around all day long.

Lucy was a trustworthy person. She'd pick Noah up from school, take him to the park, sometimes even eat pizza if Olivia was stuck at work. In a way, she was everything Olivia had no time to be. She taught Noah to write, listened to whatever came into his mind and even read him bedtime stories. She was there. Not like Olivia, who hadn't even had time to properly cancel her dinner with Ed and had made a quick phone call to Lucy so she could stay longer.

Olivia could only thank her and let her go, a few bills in her pocket. The young woman may have been paid to keep an eye on the four-year-old, but she wasn't paid to listen to her boss mope at the end of the evening. What would she have said to her anyway? A case had come up early in the evening and she was forced to watch some FBI agent act as some acrobat, jumping from a roof to another as she chased a suspect.

Down the hall, she found her way to Noah's bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, allowing a thread of light to shine through. The little boy was curled up in his sheets, brown hair a mess, as he kept Eddy the Elephant close to his face.

This, if anyone cared to ask, was Olivia's world.

She barely had time to place a kiss on Noah's forehead; someone was at the front door. It was late, she was tired, and she hadn't had dinner yet. It came as a relief, however, to find Ed on her doorstep, bag of takeaway food in hand. He sent her a gentle smile, his hand brushing back a lock of her hair. As if it hadn't been a long day. As if he'd guessed her need for comfort.

Before long, Olivia was sitting curled up on the couch, her sock-clad feet tucked under her as she sipped from a glass of wine. Eyes on Ed, who was finishing his noodles with a chopstick, her mind was elsewhere. Back on that scene, in front of that agent who had caused a stir in Olivia she found hard to define.

Alexis Gray.

—You seem distracted. Long day?

"It's a peaceful evening," murmured Olivia to herself. "Don't ruin it."

—Does the name Alexis Gray ring a bell?

Olivia couldn't stop thinking about her. All the other feds had this annoying habit of getting under her skin. They were arrogant and manipulative. Not once had she managed to maintain a cordial relationship with any of them. At least, until today.

—Who?

—Alexis Gray, FBI. Violent Crimes Unit. The brunette took a long sip of wine before setting her glass down again. She took down a suspect on a roof tonight. Like it was nothing. She just waltzed up to the roof and jumped after our perp to the other one. She barely broke a sweat.

Ed couldn't help but chuckle. The woman could never let it go, no matter how much she wanted to. She was determined. It was better than using the term obsessive, or workaholic.

—Sounds like she made quite an impression.

Olivia rolled her eyes at him, leaning back a little more against the couch, arm supporting her head.

—So, do you know her?

—Gray, Gray... name sounds familiar. I might have crossed paths with her before. But no, I don't know her personally.

The wooden chopsticks found their place on the edge of the coffee table. To hell the leftover noodles. A bright, beautiful woman was losing her mind.

Ed's arm was around Olivia's shoulders the second she grumbled with a mixture of fatigue and exasperation. She leaned against his chest, hand gently gripping his sweater. The sweet scent of his cologne lulled her for a moment. But if she closed her eyes for too long.

Alexis was there again.

—She's going to be trouble. I can feel it.

—That, or you just don't like that she got under your skin.

ϕ

SATURDAY, JULY 30

Manhattan 16th Precinct, 08:39 AM

BENSON's office

The precinct was quieter than usual. The typical hum of ringing phones and shuffling paperwork replaced by the occasional footstep and the low murmur of detectives and officers on early shifts.

Sunlight slanted through the blinds of Olivia's office, casting long, sharp lines across her desk, but she barely noticed. Her entire focus was on the file in front of her–Stanley Reed's file. At least, the one the unit had managed to put together since last night.

She skimmed through his history: from his date of birth to his first criminal record, and finally the most serious charges against him. His pattern of escalation was undeniable and utterly sickening. He had gone from public drunkenness to domestic violence, and then on to becoming involved in a human trafficking network. Kidnapping, abuse, trafficking. The list was long, but still very partial.

The soft knock at her door barely registered before Ed stepped inside, moving with the ease of someone who didn't need an invitation. He wasn't in work clothes, just a crisp button-down and dark slacks, but he still carried himself like a man who'd spent decades enforcing the law.

—Didn't think I'd find you anywhere else.

Olivia smirked faintly but didn't look up. She was in the middle of Reed's latest deals. Things he'd already confessed to in the interrogation room during the night. Three victims in one week. Four with Lennie Holmes.

He was worse than they thought.

—Where else would I be?

Her voice was faint but hoarse. As it was when the night had been long, devoid of any decent sleep. Ed didn't answer, he just set a file in front of her. This one was thicker, more compact. One look at it was enough to stiffen her spine.

COMMANDER ALEXIS GRAY.

—You pulled her file?

—You've been thinking about her since last night. Ed leaned against the desk, arms crossed. Figured it wouldn't hurt to know who you're dealing with.

For a split second, Olivia paused. She didn't need to do that. She could simply ask, right? After all, she'd given Gray an appointment at 9 a.m. sharp. It was only a matter of time.

FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION

PERSONNEL FILE

NAME: Gray, Alexis Frances

DATE OF BIRTH: August 29, 1985

PLACE OF BIRTH: Manhattan, New York

SEX: Female

HEIGHT: 5'9"

WEIGHT: 150 lbs

EYES: Green

HAIR: Dark brown

BLOOD TYPE: O-

Olivia felt foolish. Here she was spying on a federal colleague's life, as she had just done with their suspect. But her eyes trailed lower, reading more.

PARENTS:

Father: Admiral Eli Gray, USN (Ret.)

Mother: Dr. Nora Williams

SIBLINGS:

Brother: Thomas Gray

—Daughter of a retired USN Admiral?

She glanced quickly at her partner, surprised. His eyes suggested it wasn't the only unexpected thing she'd find in the file. Even though the term Commander had already tipped her off.

EDUCATION:

High School Diploma (Location Classified)

U.S Navy SEAL Training (BUD/S — Completed)

Advanced Special Forces Training — Completed

FBI Academy — Quantico, VA

MILITARY SERVICE:

Branch: United States Navy

Enlisted: June 2001 (Age 17)

Assignments: Special Operations Forces, Classified Deployments

Rank at Discharge: Lieutenant Commander

Awards and Commendations:

Silver Star

Bronze Star with Valor

Purple Heart

Navy Commendation Medal (x2)

Joint Service Achievement Medal

Expert Marksman Qualification

—Hell of a record, huh?

Olivia couldn't speak. She had in her hands the file of a woman she had secretly suspected of something even she didn't know. A woman who had shown nothing but determination, courage and respect. It was a hell of a record. She wasn't just dealing with an FBI agent. She was facing a SEALS commander.

—She joined the Bureau in 2013 after 12 years of service. No record of any disciplinary action.

—She had an entire career ahead of her. A commander. A decorated SEAL. And then she just... walks away?

There was no indication of anything that could have explained such a departure. No disciplinary actions, no demerits, no forced discharge. Just an empty space where an explanation should have been.

—Not the first soldier to leave service for something else. Ed shrugged, not as bothered as Olivia. Plus, the FBI loves to recruit former military—especially special forces.

—She wasn't just a soldier. She was one of the best.

—She still is. Ed's voice was calm, something unreadable in his eyes. But whatever made her leave? It's not in that file.

Olivia cursed Ed for bringing that file over. He had wanted to answer her questions, her concerns, but had only created new ones. She was going to have to work with a woman whose file she had read and about whom she had so many unanswered questions. A woman who left behind a world to which she was clearly fated.

—Don't go too hard on her, yeah?

ϕ

SATURDAY, JULY 30

Manhattan 16th Precinct, 08:59 AM

SVU Squadroom

As the clock neared 9 o'clock, the door to the Lieutenant's office opened again. The man took a few steps out of the room, just enough to prompt Fin, Rollins and Carisi–who had kept an eye on the office throughout the whole conversation between Ed and their superior–to hurriedly look away. It was awkward enough to see one of them dating a former internal affairs guy. They didn't need to get caught in the middle of a snooping session.

Their heads perked up again when a brunette woman walked onto their floor. Hair still pulled back into a bun, holster tight around waist and thigh, Alexis Gray carried herself with an effortless confidence that was anything but pretentious. She stopped at the reception desk, sending the officer a polite smile as he gestured toward Lieutenant Benson's office. She was right on time, as always.

—FBI, huh? huffed Rollins, crossing her arms in disbelief. Since when do we trust them?

Carisi found it amusing. Gray had arrested a suspect on a rooftop the day before and was now standing on their premises as if she hadn't risked her life.

—She and Benson had a chat yesterday, clarified Sonny, knowing Amanda had already left when it happened. I think Gray offered her help with the case.

—She's got skills. Doesn't mean we gotta like her.

Fin had just shrugged, his eyes firmly locked on the federal agent. She had walked over to the office where Ed and Olivia were engaged in a final brief conversation. It was nine o'clock. It was time.

—Hey, am I interrupting?

Olivia took her eyes off Ed and turned round to the voice. The very subject of her thoughts stood a few steps away, a box probably filled with files at her feet. Alexis had kept her words. She was there to help, right on time. It was no surprise to Olivia after reading her file. She was dealing with someone disciplined, someone who lived by organization and precision.

—No, you're right on schedule.

The lieutenant shook her hand, briefly, before turning slightly to her boyfriend. He was already waiting, holding out his hand, his gentleness replaced by a somewhat more professional attitude. Even from their desks, the three detectives could sense the tension between the trio.

—Edward Tucker. DA’s office, Conviction Integrity Unit.

–Special Agent Alexis Gray. Violent Crimes Unit.

Tucker wanted to laugh, but he only cracked a smile. They were far from just having to deal with an FBI agent. Gray either took them for fools or showed a rare humility. Either way, he decided against any action. He placed a brief kiss on Olivia's temple, offered a nod to the agent, and headed for the exit.

—Gee, as if that wasn't awkward enough.

Amanda cracked a smile and gave Carisi a knowing look. He was right. It had been terribly uncomfortable. She could already see herself having to buy enough popcorn to keep up with the next adventures. Olivia wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to work with an agent like Alexis and Ed, no matter what Olivia might see in him, wasn't going to disappear from their lives.

—Guess that means we're working with the Feds now.

•

Taglist: @nciscmjunkie @certainlychaotic @thefatobsession @ginasbaby @makkaroni221 @kiwiana145

[the-stars-in-between]

I'm in my Parent Benn Beckman Feels Era right now, so expect a fic in the next few days with lots of fluff and also lots of angst because I'm apparently incapable of writing anything else.

Luffy nodded, looking determined, and walked towards the sea, his bare feet leaving footprints in the sand behind him. Makino straightened up, clasping her hands under her chin and watching him go with a smile on her face. She looked immeasurably proud of him, a sort of parental pride reflected on his own face. Which was odd considering he had only known the kid for a few months.

But Luffy stopped a few meters from the sea, the waves lapping at his ankles making him take a step back. Beckman's eyebrows furrowed in incomprehension and even Shanks lost his stupid smile.

"What's going on, Anchor?" Shanks called, his hands cupped around his mouth to make his voice carry. "Are you afraid of the water?"

"No!" Luffy replied, his voice quivering.

Makino stepped forward but Beckman stopped her with a hand on her arm. He joined Luffy in a few strides, tossing his weapon to Shanks and leaving his shoes behind him in the sand before crouching down next to Luffy.

Beckman had never seen Luffy cry, or maybe he had never heard him cry.

Tears silently ran down Luffy's cheeks and Beckman's heart broke like it had never done before. Luffy was a happy, loud, radiant, sunny child—almost painfully so at times.

"Hey Luffy, what's wrong?" Beckman asked softly, running his hand down Luffy's back.

Beckman wasn't soft, he was a pirate and a criminal for even longer before he set sail. He had the blood of dozens of people on his hands—sinners and saints alike. And he didn't even like kids!

And yet, he was the one who had bought the t-shirt Luffy was wearing today, navy blue and white with an anchor on the back. He had spent entire afternoons coloring with Luffy in Makino's kitchen, building huts and pirate ships with him.

Beckman didn't like kids but somehow, Luffy became his kid. And that changed everything.

[rene-hl-trashcan]

OC/MC Alternate Universe Ask Game

So, I was inspired when @starry-slithers asked me what would my gremlin's role/actions if they were stuck in a zombie apocalypse AU and I thought of doing this list.

Reblog/Link this list so your followers can ask about your MC / OC's role or actions in the AUs! (Who knows if it can double as a writing prompt too?🤣)

(Part 1 for now until I get more inspiration and do another one)

source image

Zombie Apocalypse AU (What kind of zombie apocalypse? RE-style zombie? Train to Busan-style zombie? How do they deal with it? What is their role in the AU? How long would they survive? If they turn, will there be a miracle where they don't hurt their loved ones? How would they be put down and by who if they turned?)

80s/90s slasher AU (Are they the killer? If they are, how do they hunt their prey? Or are they the final survivor? If they are, how do they defeat the killer? Or are they the first to die? If they die, how did they die?)

Idol AU (What position do they have in the group? Or are they a solo artist? Any challenges they had to face as an idol? Do they find love in a fellow idol or a fan? If so, how does that relationship works?)

College AU (What is their major? Or are they the professor? How do they cope with college life? Do they have a scholarship? Will they enjoy crazy college life or will they stick to studying?)

Forgotten God/Deity AU (What kind of forgotten deity would they be? Why were they forgotten? How were they in their prime? Do they still have a believer, or are they vanishing because their last believer passed away?)

Mermaid/Siren AU (What kind of mermaid/siren are they? What do they look like? Do they have human-like disguises to lure their victims? How do they lure their victims? If they're not born mermaids, how were they turned into one?)

A/B/O AU - recommended guide made by my friend if you're interested (What are their A/B/O gender? How did that affect their life? How do they meet their pair/mate? How do they cope with societal challenges/life as whatever their second gender is?)

Monster/Monster Hunter AU (What kind of monsters are they? If they are the hunter, who do they work for? Weapons of choice for hunter, signature feature for monsters? Do they find love in their enemy? If so, how? And how do they deal with the opposition against their love?)

Actor/Hollywood AU (What kind of drama/movies they usually star in? What are the roles they usually get? Were they well-loved or controversial? What are they like during interviews/promotions? What kind of style do they go for while attending award shows/Met Gala?)

Influencer/Content Creator AU (What kind of influencers/content creators are they? What types of content do they make? What is their fanbase like? Does their fanbase have its own name? If so, what it is and why? What platform do they prefer?)

Medical Drama AU (What are their role in the hospital? General physician? Specialist doctor? How are their bedside manner with their patients? Do the hospital staff like them? How do they wind down after a gruelling workday? How do they cope if they lose a patient? How professional are they at work? Are they good doctors or the diabolical ones? If they're diabolical, how and why?)

Medical Supernatural AU (What supernatural shit happens in the hospital? Is the hospital for the supernatural folks, or is it a regular hospital but your MC was affected by an unexpected event like in Ghost Doctor K-drama? How do they cope with the supernatural stuff?)

Pirate AU (What kind of pirates are they? The chaotic but good ones like Jack Sparrow or the heinous ones like the historical pirates? Do they have a love interest? If so, is that love interest a rival pirate/navy officer hunting for them/others? What is their main purpose of being a pirate? How do they climb the hierarchy?)

Crime Drama AU (What are the roles of your MC in the AU? The detective/cops? If so, what kind of crimes are usually assigned to them? Or are they the criminal? If so, what kind of criminal are they? Is the police corrupt? If so, are your MCs corrupted? Why/why not?)

Harem Drama/Concubine AU - (What kind of harem they are in? Is the lord/lady they serve kind to them? Do they fight fair to be the top concubine? Or are they the types to fight dirty to gain power? If so, how do they eliminate their rival? Are rival's children off the table or will they go all out to gain power?)

Superpower/EVOL AU - (What kind of superpower do they have? Were they born with it, or were they experimented on? How do they use the power? Are there any side effects of the power? Do they like their power? Why/Why not? Were they on the side of the law or were they on the opposite side? Why/Why not?)

Soulmate AU - (What are the soulmate rules of the AU? Do they believe in/like the soulmate thing? Will they fight the determined destiny to be with the person they like? Will they resist their soulmate to prove that destiny cannot control their life?)

Coffee Shop AU - (Are they the barista, manager or the customer? If they're the customer, what kind of customer are they? Do they have preferred orders? What time do they usually come to the coffee shop? If they are the staff, what are their customer service style?)

Fairy Tales AU - (What is the fairy tale story they are set in? What is their role/archetype in the story? Do they subvert the traditional expectations of the roles or not? If so, how do they do it?)

Step-parent AU - (Why do they choose to date/marry someone with a child? Does the child like them? How do they treat the step-child? If they have their own child, will the treatment be different? How do they deal with negative reactions from the step-child?)

Spy/Undercover AU - (What is the organisation they work for? Are they good or bad? What is the purpose they go undercover? What kind of spy/undercover agent are they? How do they conduct their mission? What would they do if they were caught? What will they do if they fall in love with the enemy?)

Isekai AU - (What kind of story would they get isekai-ed into? What is the character they transmigrated as? Will they stick to the original plot, or will they change it? If they change it, how would they do so? What would be their main goal after realising they have been isekai-ed?)

Holy War AU - (What kind of religious system are they fighting for/against? Why are they supporting/fighting the religious system? What are their role and position in this AU?)

Exorcist/Ghost Whisperer AU - (How do they get their ability? Are they kind towards or are they scared of the ghosts/supernaturals? How do they exorcise the supernatural? How do they use the whisperer's ability to deal with the supernatural folks? Do they appreciate their ability or do they wish it to be gone? Why/Why not?)

Arranged Marriage AU - (What era does this set place in? Does their spouse love/like them? How do they treat the spouse that they do not love? Why are they in an arranged marriage in the first place? Will they fall in love with their spouse? If so, how will it happen? Will they cheat on their spouse with their actual lover? If so, will they feel guilty about it? Will the spouse accept it?)

Shapeshifter AU - (What kind of creature do they shapeshift into? Why? Is there any specific time they will shapeshift or will they have full control over when to shapeshift? Is it a common thing everyone does or will they have to keep it a secret? Any cute love story that comes from their shapeshifting shenanigan? If there is, how does it happen?)

NSFW/Mature AU under the cut

Serial Killer AU (What kind of serial killers are they? What are their motives behind the killings? Bonus point if it's not childhood trauma. Do they collect trophies from their victims? What are their modus operandi? Any specific murder method they favour? Do they torture their victims? Who are their target victims? Why do they choose these poor souls? How do they discard/dispose of their victims? Do they taunt the authorities? If so, how and why haven't they arrested?)

Camboy/Camgirl AU (What kind of stuff do they usually do while streaming? Are they into roleplay? If so, what kind of roles do they do for their shows? Do they like the job, or do they do it for survival? What would be their stage name for the job? Are they the people-pleaser type who do everything their viewers ask for, or are they the type of are in control and put their viewers in place? What are their target demographic?)

Stripper/Prostitute/Porn Stars AU (What kind of establishment do they work for? Is that establishment kind and fair to them? How happy are they with the job? What kind of people are on their clientele list? Do they enjoy the job? Are there any costumes/kinks they favour? Do they wish for another job? Why are they in the field in the first place?)

Organised Crime AU (What kind of organised crime do they do? What would be their position in the organisation? How do they prefer to eliminate rivals? How do they deal with traitors? Do they like leaving warnings to the authorities/rivals? If so, how do they do that? Do they have a forbidden love interest in law enforcement? If so, how do they approach that love? Would they betray their organisation or would they abduct, manipulate and gaslight their love interest?)

Power Abuse AU (What kind of situation are we talking about? Is it Sovereign/Servant, Scientist/Experiment subject, Boss/Staff, Loan shark/Debtor or other situations? What kind of power/role do they have and how do they abuse their authority? Are there any exceptions to their power abuse? If there are, why the exception? Do their victims retaliate? Was that retaliation successful? Why/why not? What are their response/reaction to the retaliation?)

Stalker AU (What is the reason they stalk the victim? How do they stalk their victim? Is their obsession fatally dangerous, or it's only traumatisingly creepy? Will they be arrested? If so, why? Will they cross the line from mentally traumatising their victims to physically harming their victims? If yes, how will they do it?)