#finding a job is hard too i hate everything about the process

[atomicmonkey1122]

Really want the new Taco Bell Cheezit thing because I fucking love Cheezits. Been looking forward to the stupid thing since last week.

Also had 3 job interviews lined up and today 2 of them told me they weren't interested and who knows when ill get another interview so I GUESS i should probably not spend money on stupid cheezit taco bell ugh

[stargirlygirl]

How would lads react to mc hitting their arm(in embarassment) in a kissing scene while watching a movie?

star girl's initial words: hello! thank you for sending this in. i usually write for reader (not mc/non-mc specific) so i hope you still like my take on this!

you hit their arm during a movie

⭑.ᐟ zayne

i think zayne would react the same way he reacts when you slap his butt.

you're half-way through the newest episode of love island (i hc that before you came along, zayne was a big fan of reality tv as an outlet from his stressful job (besides from sweets)) when two of the stars start going at it.

you slap his arm, covering your face with your hands, but even that can't block out the making out on screen. the wet smooching sounds act as the perfect background music to your boyfriend flinching so hard he almost jumped off the couch.

squealing at the screen, "noooooo!!! he doesn't even like you, tessa!" you don't notice how rigid zayne's gone as he processes your 'playful' affection.

once the kissing fades, he murmurs, "you can look now." your hands drop into your lap as you refocus on the show. you even cuddle into his side, but quickly take note of the lingering stiffness in his posture.

"everything okay, babe?" you ask sweetly.

he nods slightly, "yes, everything's fine, dear."

you giggle, "m'kay" while tightening your hold on his toned arm. zayne can't find it in himself to tease you when you're embracing him so innocently.

⭑.ᐟ sylus

i think sylus would tease you until you're all flushed (not from the kissing on-screen).

you're cuddled up on the sofa, watching a cheesy romcom when the make out sesh starts. you nuzzle your nose into his shoulder, not wanting to watch saliva being exchanged when you could do that with your own boyfriend.

he smirks while swishing his red wine around in its glass, "what're you hiding for, kitten? never seen two adults kiss before?"

you slap his arm in embarrassment, making him chuckle. the mirthful sound reverberates in his chest, too carefree for you to be upset with him.

the tension on your face dissolves as you try and bite back, "shut up, sy." instead, you sound like a third grader attempting not to laugh at a fart joke.

calming down, he grins, "oh? look it's over now, sweetie." rolling your eyes, you shift into a comfy position to watch the film, albeit, with a slight distance between you and your boyfriend.

sylus doesn't traverse the gap. he just sits there, watching you more than the movie until your cheeks are heating up and you're sliding yourself back to his side (where you belong).

⭑.ᐟ rafayel

i think raf hates romance movies because he could care less about humans falling in love. BUT i do think he can appreciate the artistry of film.

let's say you're at your apartment (does he even own a tv?) and watching pride and prejudice (your recommendation, of course). you're coming to the end, watching mr darcy walk across the brightening field for at least forty seconds.

"how long is he going to walk for—"

"shhh," you cut raf off, pivoting your head to stare at him momentarily. he's slouched, lean arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips.

turning back to the screen, you bite your knuckles as darcy confesses his feelings for lizzy.

"god, this is boring—"

"raf, shut up!" you're on the edge of your seat, soaking up every longing glance and camera transition until you finally get to the kiss scene.

mr darcy is repeating "mrs darcy" as he smooches lizzy's face so sweetly, reminiscent of the way raf loves to kiss all over your face before he ensnares your lips with his.

and when they finally kiss, you squeal in delight and slap raf's shoulder. he stares at you like you're the most foul bin juice that's dared to stain his silk shirt. but you pay no mind as you lean back and kick your feet gleefully.

once the credits roll, he grumbles, "worst film ever."

you roll your eyes, sassing him back with, "please, you have no taste."

he exclaims, "no taste?! i'll give you 'no taste'—" you shriek as he lunges at you, effectively pinning you to the couch and tickling you until you're crying.

later on, he reluctantly admits just how beautiful the cinematography and acting was.

⭑.ᐟ xavier

xavier pookie would be spooked.

picture it: cosy night in, a candle flickering, dim lights, and a warm blanket spread over both of you. you're watching some romance film because it was your pick tonight (you weren't particularly fond of the gory horror film xav chose last movie night).

xav really did try to stay awake, but he's inevitably dozed off. his head was resting on your shoulder before you shoved him off, and he slumped the other way, never waking, of course.

you're at the good part: the hero pulls the damsel in distress into an emotional kiss. you squeal, bobbing up and down excitedly. but when you glance back at your bf, you see that he's still out of it.

not actually thinking you'd wake him up, you slap his arm. xav jolts awake, his sapphire eyes wide open and arms raised, ready to summon his sword in a heartbeat.

he murmurs, "what happened?" you can't stop yourself from laughing at him. you're bent over, hands pressed to your tummy, practically wheezing as his eyes sweep the room and don't find anything out of the ordinary.

"it-it hurts," you cry out, joyful tears blurring your vision before you wipe them away with shaky fingers. your cheeks ache from your smile.

"why are you laughing?" he deadpans. you shake your head and return to watching the film, hiccuping out the last few giggles.

"just go back to sleep," you grin. xav sighs before wrapping his arms around your midsection and drawing you into his chest.

by the end of the movie, he's fallen asleep again, almost on top of you.

⭑.ᐟ caleb

growing up together, you and caleb have seen your fair share of movie kiss scenes. and, they're always awkward.

why? because i think he's been wanting to ask you to re-enact them with him for most of his life. being his childhood friend/adoptive sister (depending on which language version you play), he's never been able to do that until now.

as the familiar kissing scene comes on screen, you instinctively grab a cushion and position it to block your view of the action. usually, caleb groans from beside you and tries to snatch your pillow to conceal the sight for himself. but this time, after he plucks it out of your hands, he tosses it on the floor.

you stare at him with wide eyes, confused by the intense look he's giving you. with the way his fists clench and unclench, you know he's hiding something.

"what is it?" you ask quietly. caleb shakes his head, resolving to forget the stupid thought poking at the back of his mind.

"nothing," he mumbles, settling back on the couch and enduring the painstaking sight of smooching. you shift over to him and grab his hand.

holding it tenderly, you ask, "tell me," and add as an afterthought, "please." he shakes his head again. you don't like that. climbing onto his lap, you cup his reddening cheeks in your hands and force him to meet your gaze.

"caleb," you say like a warning.

he sighs, "fine. just wanna know if you'd wanna recreate the action on-screen with me."

you gasp, "caleb!" as you slap his shoulder playfully.

"'what?" he asks, all alert, like you're under attack by a wanderer.

you wave your finger in his face, tutting, "naughty, naughty boy. you just wanted an excuse to kiss me, didn't you?" he stutters out incoherent syllables, making you giggle. you shut him up by pecking the corner of his mouth before capturing his parted lips in a cocky loving kiss.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Wait omg I can imagine pregnant!reader going through all the pregnancy hormones. Like she's getting super emotional and lashing out at Joaquin sometimes and then she cries some more cuz she feels bad. But he's just super understanding and not taking any of it personal and that makes her cry some more cuz what did she do to deserve such an amazing husband. And then he goes out to buy her stuff to help her relax

Hard Days

about this; wc: 732, pairing: joaquin torres x pregnant!reader, contents: angst, pregnancy hormones, fluff, an: here you are my darlin i hope you like it! thanks for sending me this it’s so cute :)

danny ramirez characters masterlist

You haven’t slept through the night in almost a week and it’s wearing on your psyche. Between the baby using your ribs as a punching bag and the persistent ache in your lower back, everything feels like too much. Even your shirt feels wrong today. It’s too fucking tight, too scratchy, and didn’t it fit just fine yesterday?

You could scream.

You’re holding back tears when Joaquin pokes his head into the room, all warm eyes and easy affection. “I’m running to the store—need anything, mi amor?”

Despite his sunny disposition, the way you usually love that he can always be on the bright side of things, the question hits you wrong. Your dam breaks.

“Do I need anything?” you snap, voice rising before you can stop it. “I— I need to not feel like a beached whale. I need to sleep. I need my husband to know what I need so I can stop thinking or feeling for just a moment.”

You don’t mean it to come out that way, you’re not even mad at him. But, the frustration’s flying out of your mouth before you can stop it, and the silence that follows feels loud. Heavy.

Joaquin blinks, processing everything you’ve just said. After a beat, he steps over to you and presses a kiss to your hair without a single word. And just like that—he leaves.

Panic grips your chest.

You sit down on the edge of the couch, heart in your throat, rubbing a hand over your belly like an apology. “I didn’t mean that,” you whisper to no one in particular. “I didn’t fucking mean that. Why would you say that?”

The tears come fast this time, hot and mortifying. What if you actually hurt his feelings? What if he’s tired of this, of you?

You don’t know how long you stay there crying. Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty, before the front door opens again. You don’t look up right away, the guilt weighing on your shoulders, but you hear his footsteps. But then something warm is placed gently in your lap.

A stuffie, a sweet little pastel yellow bunny. It’s adorable. It matches the nursery.

You look up to find Joaquin standing there with two bags. One is full of snacks, the other a bundle of fuzzy socks and what looks suspiciously like a brand-new body pillow.

“I thought maybe a fresh one might help,” he says gently, crouching down in front of you. “The old one’s a little sad-looking.”

You burst into tears again.

“I’m sorry,” you manage between sobs, shoulders shaking. “I shouldn’t have yelled. I didn’t mean it. I just—everything feels like too much and I hate snapping at you and you didn’t even do anything wrong and now you’re being so nice. Why are you so nice?”

You already know the answer— Joaquin is nice because he’s Joaquin. It’s deep in his heart, the kindness and sweetness. It’s what made you fall in love with him.

Joaquin smiles like he’s been expecting this exact moment all day. He cups your cheek, guiding your gaze to his. “Because I love you,” he says simply. “And because you’re growing our baby, which is kind of a full-time job right now.”

You sniff and try to laugh, but it comes out watery. “I’m a mess.”

He shakes his head, brushing a thumb under your eye to catch a tear. “You are a beautiful, growing mess. But, you’re also mine.”

That earns him a weak smile. He presses a kiss to your forehead, then helps you get settled on the couch. He tucks the heat pack against your lower back, places the snacks within reach, and props your feet on his lap once he sits beside you.

The baby kicks just then, as if making their presence known, and you guide Joaquin’s hand to your belly with quiet reverence.

“Even they’re dramatic today,” you mutter, half a laugh under your breath.

He grins. “They take after you.”

“No, they take after you, mister wings.” You swat his shoulder.

And as he rubs slow circles into your swollen feet, you realize—he’s right. You’re in this together. Even on the hard days. Especially on the hard days. And maybe that’s what love really looks like: swollen feet, hormonal breakdowns, a brand-new pillow. Maybe it’s someone who stays anyway.

let me know if you’d like to be on the joaquin torres taglist!

sfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @sidkneeeee, @galaxywannabe, @retrosabers, @marchingicenotes7, @marroonwitch, @jaebugzz, @that-girl-named-alex, @bxtchboy69, @moonymeloncholymoney, @mischiefmanaged71, @something-random-idk, @dualinstinct, @alevanswrites, @articel1967, @lanoviadestiles, @zolassalgorhythm, @peacefangirl, @awkwardgiraffe726

[hermaeusmorax]

What have you done?

CHARACTERS: Jayce x reader, slight Viktor x reader (more platonic!)

SUMMARY: you, Jayce and Viktor share history. You're arguing with Jayce about his actions in the Undercity. Reader is described having a metal arm!

WARNINGS: SET IN SEASON 02 EPISODE 06 SPOILERS AHEAD! this is very angsty, descriptions of death and bodies, gets steamy in the end (minors DNI!), enemies to lovers type shit (my jam!)

A/N: okay so this is my very first piece after a 4 years HIATUS (hiii haha), anyways, fucked up Hexcore!Jayce is just sooo *twirls hair*

"What have you done?" You scream as you blindly lunge towards Jayce, a random weapon tightly clutched in your hands — no doubt discarded by some, now dead, Noxian soldier. You could barely see an inch in front of you due to the surging chaos, but you were sure about Jayce, you would never mistake him, his silhouette, his scent.

It had been months since Jinx's attack on the Counsil. Months since Viktor emerged out of the Hexcore changed, taking you to Zaun with him and leaving Jayce behind. You were a chemist, Viktor's childhood best friend that stuck by him since the very beginning. You and Jayce had a brief, intense, spark. It happened before him and Mel, before it became hard to grasp his attention, being Piltover's golden star and everything. It hurt when you left him, standing at the laboratory, his pleading brown eyes boring holes into yours and Viktor's backs. But Viktor was right, your paths, your visions, had long strayed, being held together only by lasting affection.

In Zaun, at Viktor's — The Herald's — growing community, you acted as a chemist again. Helping the newly cured zaunites, researching to improve their lives as much as possible. You had been specially busy since Vander's arrival, severely mutilated by Viktor's former teacher and in desperate need of help. You were working in your makeshift lab, absent mindedly humming a familiar tune when hell broke loose.

A loud, sharp sound echoed, followed by more crashing sounds and piercing screams. Smoke rose in the air, making it almost impossible to inhale. For a split second you could hear Viktor's voice in your head whispering, "Jayce", you ran as fast as your legs permitted, desperate to locate the origin of the sound, to locate Viktor. When you finally did find them, you wished you hadn't. The starking image of his limp and dead body made your breath hitch, mind speeding so much to make sense of things it made you dizzy. Blood rushed to your ears, making a deafening ringing sound, you rubbed your eyes, squinting to adjust, then you saw another figure, a tall and dark frame.

Jayce looked, different, but your brain had no time to process that information as you grabbed the first weapon you could find thrown on the floor, lunging at him. "What did you do?" "How could you?" "I hate you!" you breathlessly shout, aiming for Jayce's head with your stray weapon, then again, you never were much of a fighter, that was Jayce's job. The last thing you heard before the world went complete black, was his voice, a cry of your name, sounding so broken and lost.

"Sorry for knocking you out like that. I hope your head's not hurting too much." you heard Jayce's soft voice, distant at first as you were regaining consciousness, then close, right at your ears. You slowly woke up, blinking the throbbing pain away you were at last able to recognize your surroundings.

Jayce had brought you to your old laboratory, right at Piltover's heart, where you had last seen him, where you had left him. You were sitting in a chair, your mechanical arm resting on the table beside you, laying alongside dirty, well-worn tools. "I fixed it. Your arm. It looked broken and I-" Jayce blurted out, stopping with a nervous chuckle when you looked at him. "My technique might not be as delicate as Viktor's but it's fixed, working. I promise!". When Viktor's name left Jayce's lips, a haunting image of his corpse flashed in your mind, compelling you to leap forward and forcefully grab Jayce's collar, gripping so tight your knuckles turned white, drained of blood. You were trembling horribly, fueled by an ugly mixture of grief and hatred, your words came out hoarse, stinging like a whip.

"You promise? Ha! You killed him Jayce! You- you just disappear and then when you finally come to us, you go and kill him? What's wrong with you? I don't know you anymore, you've become someone else entirely and I- No!" you were panting, tears angrily threatening to spill "That's too gentle for you, you're a murderer, Jayce, a monster!".

Jayce's mind was racing, spinning with the force of your words and then it finally snapped. "Shut the fuck up!" he tore your hands away from his shirt, holding your wrists and pulling you close, pressed up against his chest. "You have no idea Y/N! You can't possibly begin to understand what I was put through!" "I was in there, while you and Viktor were out here playing house!" "I kept my promise!".

Jayce's eyes were red, frantically shaking looking into your own, in desperate search of something. He was so close, you could feel his heartbeat and his breath fanning your face, his scent was attacking your nostrils mercilessly, engulfing you in his presence. Like this you could almost see the old Jayce inside there, somewhere — untainted, full of promise — the one you fell hard for. All it took was a single look from him. A single, meaningful, glance down to your mouth from his so pretty brown eyes. He was so, so close. Next thing you knew you and Jayce were in each other's arms, kissing so forcefully it almost broke skin. Kissing like your very lives depend on it, like you'll die of asphyxiation if you stop.

Jayce hoisted you up the table, sending tools and papers flying, both of you couldn't care less right now. He positioned himself in between your legs, leaning some of his body weight on you, forcing your back to meet the cold surface beneath. "Jayce!" you breathed out, talking into his mouth, gasping for air and breaking the kiss for a second too long. Your hands, firmly resting on the back of his neck, wandered to the hem of your shirt, fidgeting with it, trying to lose it. Jayce noticed and made quick work of your shirt, hurriedly sliding it over your head and tossing aside to a forgotten corner.

"Don't stop" you huffed against him again, voice dripping with want, you struggled blindly to unbuckle his belt, too busy reciprocating his fervent kisses to bother to look down. "I got you" Jayce urged, going crazy with the way your lips felt on his, even more addicting than he remembers. He reached down, tugging off your pants and underwear in one precise motion. Your senses were completely overwhelmed, all you were able to think, see, hear, smell and feel was Jayce.

You were both pouring everything into this kiss, into this very moment. Bleeding years of bottled up love and regrets into each other's systems. Even still, you harbored feelings for him, and him you. Despite the hurricane of emotions and thoughts swirling inside your head, a small, nagging voice coming from the darkest dephts of your mind, kept quietly chanting "What have you done, Y/N?"

[fireya-x]

family dinner

AO3 Link (for the full tag list) || masterlist

John Price x Reader

John asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for one night, to save himself from annoying questions from his family. Turns out, you're actually who he really wants.

[9k+ words]

cw: smut, piv sex, cowgirl, handjobs, come eating

Embossed golden script on cream white card paper - it was an invitation to his grandmothers' birthday party, alright. A subtle attempt at elegance from a woman who thought tea and a tin of biscuits solved most problems. John sighed.

He already knew the drill; his mother, every aunt and uncle, cousins and second cousins twice removed would be there, armed to the teeth with baby pictures and probing questions to make him wish he’d stayed in another country in some godforsaken warzone.

The phone ringing cut through John’s meager dinner of takeout curry, one of his favorites, when he was back in his flat for a short time leave. He picked it up and answered before checking, as he usually did, expecting it to be Laswell – but that voice wasn't Kate.

“Jonathan, my dear boy, did you receive the invitation?” His grandmother’s voice was a robust cackle for her age, a force of nature that kept her so fit at ninety.

“Just held it in my hands seconds ago, Nan.” 

“Ninety years young, can you believe it?”

“Never a dull moment,” he answered, picking at the takeaway container lid.

She laughed lightly, then cleared her throat. “Listen, dear. The caterer is extra fussy. Your opinion is special to me, you know that. It’s not like I get to plan this every day”

Here it comes.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m asking you what you want, John. I have everything else planned.” Of course she did. 

“It’s your birthday, Nan. I’ll eat anything,” he sighed. “Toffee pudding can’t be missing from any birthday, though.”

“Of course, that’s a must! Especially with you visiting! You’ve always loved it as a little boy. Now tell me, is your girl more a partial to fish or chicken?”

The fork clattered onto the styrofoam. John almost choked.

“You’ll be bringing someone, aren’t you?”

He should have said no. He should have clarified, for the thousandth time, that his occupation left no room for romantic walks on the beach and candlelit dinners. Maintaining relationships wasn’t something John did, especially when his job included more explosions than birthday candles on her birthday cake. And apparently, eliminating terrorists and global threats was not a suitable substitute for great-grandchildren.

But there was something in her voice. Hope? Excitement to finally see her grandson with a woman at his side? It was her 90th birthday, after all. Who knew how long John would have her still? Seeing him happy was the greatest gift he could give her, and he knew that.

John sighed. “Yes, I will bring someone.”

That she didn't squeal was unexpected, but he knew his mother was right there with her, listening to everything.

Fuck.

What was he supposed to do? Try Tinder, maybe? How hard could it be to find a woman who’d go on a date with him? But John hated every single aspect of using his phone for anything other than texting and calling — and he gave up when the app asked him too many questions about himself.

That’s when he heard footsteps outside his apartment. He remembered that beautiful, chatty neighbor of his. You'd watched his flat and watered his plants a few times when he was deployed. You’d only met briefly, but given John’s sparsely decorated way of living, he wasn’t worried you would steal anything. But his grandmother's plants were something holy to him, and you kept them alive, and that made you a trustworthy person in his book.

And he would be lying if he didn't admit he'd stolen a glance at you here and there, always hidden in a hoodie or a way-too-big raincoat that obscured your figure, and something about it intrigued him.

Before his brain could even process what his feet were doing, he stumbled to the front door and opened it, revealing you, arms full of groceries, struggling to get the key into the door.

“Need help with that?” A low, grumbling voice startled you, and you almost dropped the bag full of fruits and veggies.

“Jesus, you scared me.”

John chuckled, then took the bag from you as if it was something he'd casually do all the time. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, putting the key in the lock. You took the bag from him and wanted to escape this awkward situation with your way-too-good-looking neighbor as fast as possible. But before you could close the door, he intervened.

“Hey, uh, I have a question.” John’s hand ran through his hair, a nervous gesture that betrayed his usual confidence.

“Yes?”

“I – I kinda promised my grandma that I’d bring a girlfriend to her 90th birthday party, and, well –”

“You don’t have one?” The question came out sounding more shocked than you intended. You were certain he had women lining up for him.

“Yeah, I mean, no, I don’t.” His gaze dropped to the floor for a fleeting moment, as if suddenly embarrassed by the admission. You tilted your head, looking at him expectantly.

“So, you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend? What’s in it for me?”

“Free fancy food?” He smiled crookedly, and you were done for. How could you say no to that smile? The same smile that had been haunting your thoughts ever since he’d given you his keys to his apartment? Your heart was pounding.

“It’s a date,” you said, the words slipping out before you could overthink it. The relief that flooded his eyes made something inside you flutter.

“Thank you, I owe you one. Six p.m. on Friday, alright?”

“What should I wear?”

John wasn’t prepared for that question. And he didn’t mean to check you out – but he did. His eyes wandered from your boots, over your hips, up to your breasts – where his gaze lingered a second too long— and then to your face.

“It’s a garden dinner. I’m sure you’ll look nice in anything,” he said, the words feeling ridiculously inadequate the moment they left his lips.

“Very helpful, thanks.” He braced himself for a sarcastic retort, but you chuckled, shaking your head. “I’ll figure it out. Have a nice evening.”

You retreated to your apartment, leaning back against the closed door, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your heart was still pounding. Did John, your neighbor, ask you out? The same John who seemed so unapproachable, wrapped in that aura of intensity he always wore, who disappeared for weeks on end to go on “business trips” and returned with a deep shadow under those blue eyes? 

What did he even do when he disappeared? You'd never asked. Even when he'd given you his keys so you could look after his flat while he was gone, there was nothing that gave away what exactly he did or where he went.

The small conversations you’d shared had always been just that— small nothings, polite exchanges with your friendly neighbor. Still, those infrequent encounters always sent your stomach into a nervous frenzy. 

You rummaged through your closet, trying to find something that screamed “I'm a cool, collected woman who casually dates mysteriously handsome men ” without looking like you’d overdone it. A garden party could literally mean anything, especially since you knew nothing about his family. Were you supposed to pick a nice, flowing dress or stick with casual jeans and a shirt? You had no idea.

You stopped your mind from spiralling further. It wasn’t a real date. It was a fake date . 

What were you thinking, agreeing to this? You were doubting your own sanity — but then you remembered the crinkled corners of his eyes when he smiled, the warmth that radiated from him when he’d helped you with your groceries – saying “no” to him wasn’t even an option. There was something about him that drew you in, a gravitational pull you couldn’t resist, even if it meant playing pretend.

The sundress you wore – he couldn’t even pinpoint the colour, something soft and warm, summery, like the sky just before dusk – hugged your curves in all the right ways, the delicate straps showcasing the elegant line of your neck and collarbone. His gaze traced the gentle swell of your breasts beneath the thin fabric, the way the skirt flowed over your hips, his mind already picturing how it would look bunched up around your waist when –

Fuck.

A wave of heat - he knew it so well, yet hadn’t felt it in what seemed like forever - crashed over him, settled deep in his gut, tightening his muscles, making his cock twitch.

He shifted uncomfortably, desperately hoping you hadn’t noticed the way his pants suddenly felt about two sizes too small.

He’d usually never been one for flowery dresses and delicate gold jewellery like the earrings that decorated your ears. They clashed with the brutal reality of his world. But on you, it was devastating. You were an innocent, oblivious creature walking straight into his hardened, cynical world without even knowing it. And somehow, against all logic and years of self-preservation, he wanted to corrupt every part of you.

His gaze snapped to the flesh of your delicate thighs that left little to his imagination, those toned legs wrapped around his waist while he pulled you closer and –

Jesus fucking Christ, get a grip.

He forced himself to look away, clenching his jaw so hard he thought he’d pull a muscle.

This was his neighbour. You , who’d watered his plants, borrowed his toolbox, offered a smile whenever you met in the hallway. The one who’d agreed to this incredibly stupid idea. You were doing him a favour, for God’s sake.

“Ready?” He shoved the word out harsher than he’d intended, the sound completely alien to even his own ears. But before you could answer, he shut his door and ushered you towards the exit. He needed air. He’d preferred an ice bath, preferably yesterday.

You didn’t mind adapting to roles and play pretend at all, but as soon as you arrived at the estate, your confidence got humbled. The house was huge, and the driveway alone was already filled with floral arrangements and all sorts of birthday wishes – an enormous ninety made out of entirely blush pink roses and lavender decorated the front yard.

The garden party was in full swing already when you two arrived. The air buzzed with the sound of laughter and chatter, clinking glasses and the distant beat of a live band. John seemed oddly out of place in between the flowers and the brightly dressed guests, like a lone wolf who had been dragged to a tea party.

But as soon as you stepped further into the event, the warm air surrounding you, the scent of freshly cut grass and citrus, the smiling faces all around you, your anxiety about the whole thing lessened. 

“Don’t worry too much," John's arm brushed against yours as you navigated through the clusters of guests. He reached out to grab two drinks from a passing waiter’s tray. “The worst they could do is show you my childhood photos.”

He offered you a drink, and you took it from him, smiling. “Somehow, that’s not as reassuring as you think it is.” You earned yourself a deep chuckle that rumbled through his chest and did decidedly inappropriate things to your equilibrium.

When John took your free hand into his like it was the most normal thing in the world, you felt like this was going to be the easiest task. For a fleeting moment, it was easy to forget you were living a lie.

Until dinner.

The seating arrangements were strategically orchestrated, it seemed, to maximize family bonding - or torture, you hadn’t decided which. You found yourself sitting between John, radiating a mix of polite restraint and his usual natural intensity that set your pulse racing, and a woman with the same kind eyes as him.

“This is my mother, Eleanor,” John had introduced her earlier, her smile so warm and welcoming you’d almost forgotten you were supposed to be playing a role. She seemed almost too impressed when you'd introduced yourself, as if she couldn't quite believe he was telling the truth about having a girlfriend. 

You'd prove them wrong, not for their sake, but for your own growing satisfaction at seeing John surprised.

You were no stranger to the barrage of questions about your single status and lack of a partner from your own family, so you knew how tiresome it could get. You braced yourself for a similar interrogation.

Across the table, John's grandma beamed at you with a delight that melted your heart. You understood then what this was all about for him — fulfilling his grandmother's wish to see him happy, settled.

On impulse, you reached out to grab John’s hand beside yours, your fingers threading through his, offering him a reassuring smile, pretending to bring out your best I-am-so-in-love look you could muster. 

He seemed taken aback, his entire body stiffening for a split second as if your touch were an electric shock. But then he recovered quickly, his fingers tightening around yours with a gentle pressure that sent goosebumps dancing up your arm. He raised your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against your knuckles that lingered a heartbeat too long.

Your breath caught in your throat, your gaze fixated on the curve of his lips, the way his beard scraped against your skin. Your stomach did a somersault, your senses flooded with a rush of longing that was as unexpected as it was undeniably thrilling.

“So,” John's aunt leaned across the table, her voice a bit too loud, as if intended to break the spell you’d fallen under. “What do you do?”

You blinked, momentarily disoriented, your gaze reluctantly leaving John’s hand and focusing on the plate of food a server had just placed before you. Shepherd's pie. But not just any shepherd’s pie. This looked like a culinary masterpiece compared to the frozen meals you were used to eating all the time.

“I work in healthcare,” you answered, your mouth already watering at the sight of the culinary heaven before you. “I’m an ER nurse.”

“Oh, wow,” his grandma chirped from across the table, her eyes twinkling with genuine interest. Her comment, however, was quickly drowned out by his aunt's next, slightly more probing, question.

“I'm amazed you two met with such busy schedules. To be fair,” she added with a sly smile directed at John, “I'm shocked Jonathan managed to find someone at all with his occupation .”

Your fork, laden with a generous portion of creamy mashed potatoes and perfectly seasoned mince, froze halfway to your mouth. Your earlier questions about the nature of John’s job came rushing back. What exactly did he do? You knew he was often away for extended periods, you even kept his plants from dying a slow death from time to time, but his reasons had always been vague. “Business trips,” he’d called them, with a shrug and that infuriatingly handsome smile.

“Right,” you managed, forcing a light laugh as you carefully set your fork back down, your appetite momentarily forgotten. “We make it work. We talk a lot on the phone."

“You do?” His mother, ever the perceptive one, turned to John, her brows raised in what you could only describe as disbelief. “How come you always tell us you can’t contact us?”

John cleared his throat and his hand reached for his beer, his fingers wrapping around the cold glass. “Kate makes some exceptions,” he explained, his gaze fixed on the drink.

Kate? Your mind scrambled for context, your internal “John’s-Life” file coming up short. “Kate” let him make exceptions? Who was Kate, and more importantly, what kind of job required someone to ask permission to make personal phone calls? And why did you feel jealous - you had absolutely no business to feel this way. 

“Who’s Kate?” You asked, reaching for your champagne flute, unable to hide the accusatory edge creeping into your voice.

“My boss . Sort of.” The golden liquid got caught halfway in your throat. First name basis with his boss? His family knew his boss? So many questions came up, and you were slowly starting to panic. You were supposed to be a believable girlfriend, but you were scared the mask was slipping away by the second. 

“Oh, right, Kate. Sorry, darling. You know how my weeks have been lately. It's a wonder I can remember my own name half the time.”

“She must be happy for you, too,” his mother commented, delicately spearing a piece of fish with a precision that made you suspect years of etiquette training lay beneath her impeccably polite facade. “Finding someone special, I mean. Might even spare her some of your, shall we say, moods .” She glanced at John, her eyebrows arched as if she was sharing a private joke with the entire table, except you.

Moods? You’d always found John to be quiet, reserved, perhaps a tad intimidating at times, but never moody. 

You glanced at John, who was pointedly studying his plate, the faintest hint of a flush creeping up his neck. You wouldn't have thought the man capable of embarrassment. It made him seem unexpectedly human, and somehow even more attractive.

You were about to ask for clarification when Nan seized the conversational reins. “So, darlings,” she asked, her gaze moving back and forth between you and John, her smile widening expectantly, “How long have you two known each other?”

“I think six months?” you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips.

At the exact same moment, John declared, “Almost a year now,” his voice deep and steady, completely contradicting your rushed estimation.

You froze. The silence that descended upon the table was deafening. 

“Has it already been that long?” you exclaimed quickly, forcing a bright smile and injecting as much wonder and mock surprise into your voice as you could muster. You prayed that your sudden rush of amnesia would be enough to distract them from the giant, elephant-sized hole you’d just blown in your story. You reached over to slightly squeeze his hand. “I suppose time flies when you’re in love.”

You snuck a peek at John, expecting to see panic, maybe even annoyance, but what you found in his gaze made your heart skip a beat. He was watching you intensely. And that smile playing at the corner of his lips? It made something dangerous and delicious twist low in your belly.

“I believe that,” John’s grandma chimed in, her voice warm with the wisdom of nine decades lived. “You two are very lovely together.”

Eleanor nodded in agreement. “She’s good for you, Jonathan. Maybe having someone special to come home to will make those long missions away a little easier.”

"Speaking of which, how’s that new posting treating you, lad? Heard it’s a bit of a hot zone, eh?” John's uncle boomed across the table.

“It has its challenges,” John replied, taking a long sip of his beer as if to fortify himself for the inevitable round of inquiries. “But it’s good to be back in the field.”

You frowned. Field? Posting? What kind of job involved working in a “field”? And what exactly made it a “hot zone?” You felt more and more confused by the conversation, it was as if they spoke an entirely different language, a language riddled with code words and shared experiences you weren’t privy to.

“That I believe,” his uncle answered, also reaching for his beer as if to toast to a shared understanding. “Bet your rank will get you far, though.”

You felt John tense beside you, his hand tightening around yours, not letting go. His family's casual acceptance of his frequent — and apparently lengthy — disappearances made you increasingly curious. You knew by now he often travelled for work, but something about the way they spoke, the underlying thread of concern laced with pride, hinted at a world you were only just starting to glimpse.

“I imagine those long stretches apart must be difficult, darling,” John's aunt commented, her gaze fixed on you with a sympathy that only deepened your bewilderment. “But I’m sure you’re used to it by now, working in a hospital and all. Those long shifts must be a challenge, too.”

You smiled, still confused about what was going on—but you also saw an opportunity. It was time to take control of the narrative, to steer this conversation into a territory you could navigate — even if it meant bending the truth further than it had already been twisted.

“Speaking of long stretches,” you interjected, shooting John a look that was equal parts challenge and playful invitation. You’d gone from wanting to bolt to wanting to play this game, see how far you could push him, how convincingly you could both lie. “Remember that road trip we took last fall? The one where we got hopelessly lost in the Scottish Highlands and ended up sleeping in the car?”

As you spoke, you noticed that everyone else at the table had dived into their food, the initial round of introductions and polite inquiries fading into a comfortable murmur of conversation. Nan beamed at you both, her fork hovering over a generous slice of shepherd’s pie, her eyes twinkling with the quiet pleasure of seeing her grandson – even a pretend version of him – happy.

Beside you, John stiffened, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of surprise and what you could only interpret as wary amusement. “Ah, yes,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, like velvet draped over steel. “Scotland. Beautiful, isn’t it, love?”

“Beautiful?” you countered, tilting your head and letting out a soft laugh that you were fairly certain sounded far more genuine than it should have. You couldn’t help but admire his quick thinking, the way he effortlessly picked up on your cue and played along. “Those winding Highland roads. They were more treacherous than romantic, if I’m being honest. I was certain you were going to drive us straight off a cliff at least a dozen times.”

His smile widened, revealing a flash of teeth that made something deep inside you melt a little. “I assure you, love, my driving is impeccable. You were simply distracted.” His gaze lingered on your face for a beat too long.

A delicious warmth flooded your cheeks. “Distracted? I seem to recall you being the one with wandering eyes," you countered, your voice dropping to a low murmur as you met his gaze head-on. You weren’t sure if the heightened awareness you felt buzzing between you was a product of the lies you were weaving or something more.

“That’s because you are quite the sight to behold, love,” he said, his voice husky, the words brushing against your senses like a caress.

You stared at him, your mind scrambling to process his words, their unexpected sincerity throwing you off balance. Had he just complemented you?

“You are—” He paused, his gaze sweeping over you, lingering on your chest. He didn’t even try to hide it. You held your breath, waiting, as the air thrummed with a sudden, unexpected intimacy.

“Breathtaking.”

What was he doing? you thought, your heart pounding. Was he still playing the part, or was there something more simmering beneath the surface? And why did the possibility excite you?

The air thickened, the sound of his family’s conversation fading into the background as the world seemed to shrink, the space between you charged with an energy that was impossible to ignore. You weren't sure if you wanted to laugh or lean across the table and kiss him senseless.

Just as you felt yourself leaning into that dangerous impulse, Eleanor cleared her throat delicately.

You both startled, like students caught whispering in the back of the classroom. John's cheeks, you noticed with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction, were flushed a faint shade of pink. Even a man like John wasn't immune to a mother's watchful gaze.

“Those rolls are delicious, dear,” Eleanor commented, and turned to you, her tone light but her eyes sharp with amusement. “Why don't you have one?” 

You reached for a roll, suddenly starving, the earlier tension dissolving into a relieved chuckle as you caught John's eyes. He winked at you, a playful glint in his blue eyes. You winked back, feeling a warmth spread through you caused by the man sitting beside you, a man who, despite your best efforts to resist, was quickly becoming more than just a convenient prop in this game of play pretend.

You'd managed to escape the clutches of the dinner table without completely blowing your cover, even when, at some points, you weren’t so sure how nobody saw right through you. But then came the real challenge — mingling. The party had moved inside the house, and you were separated from John. 

You silently cursed yourself for agreeing to this whole fabricated scenario. What if you told completely different stories to his relatives? What if someone asked you about his work, for God’s sake?

Glasses of port in hand, John’s extended family seemed very determined to catch up on months’ worth of news in one evening. You did your best to smile politely at every occasion, your inner monologue continuously reminding you to simply not say anything stupid.

Suddenly, a very chipper and well-dressed woman intruded on your personal space, waving her phone in front of your face. “You must be John’s girl!” she exclaimed, and before you could even answer, she swiped through numerous photos. “Look at her – isn't she adorable!”

You leaned in, attempting to make eye contact with the child in the photos while subtly taking a step back, her perfume a bit overwhelming. “Absolutely adorable,” you agreed, putting on a wide grin, and the woman beamed. “Oh, I can’t wait to see what children you and John will bring into this world. Aren’t they the greatest thing?”

Children? Your smile faltered. You opened your mouth to respond, to stammer out some vague response about “one step at a time”, but before you could even get a word out, the woman had moved on, already excitedly showing off her offspring to the next unsuspecting relative. 

Note to self: Avoid eye contact with anyone holding a baby photo, you thought, your internal panic rising. This whole “fake girlfriend” thing was rapidly becoming a high-stakes obstacle course, and you weren’t sure you were agile enough to navigate it without falling flat on your face.

You were trying to reach John, a plate of sticky toffee pudding on your plate, wanting to show off that you were going to try his favorite dessert – when a booming voice cut through the chatter, catching your attention. “There he is!” A tall, older man with curly hair approached John and shook his hand with a force that could crush granite. “That last mission you pulled off? Absolute textbook. A captain leading his own task force? The old man would be bloody proud.”

John’s posture stiffened ever so slightly. “Cheers, uncle,” he responded, raising his glass, his gaze darting towards you for the briefest of moments.

Mission? Captain? Task force?

The people around you, completely oblivious to your internal meltdown, continued chatting, casually dropping words like “deployment,” “classified,” “weapons,” and all other sorts of military jargon as if they were discussing the weather.

Suddenly, everything fell into place.

All those late-night departures, when you heard heavy footsteps echo through your shared hallway; the vague explanations about “work trips” when you met him outside your apartment; those calls he received at odd hours, his voice tight, his tone clipped, echoing through your shared walls; those calls that always seemed to coincide with a breaking news report or some global crisis. John, your sweet, infuriatingly attractive, seemingly normal neighbor – was leading a deadly task force.

Not that it was any of your business what he did. He owed you nothing.

Then why did this feel like such a blow? That he didn’t tell you beforehand, throwing you into the midst of his family who were clearly all about that life, and leaving you in the dark, making a complete idiot of yourself?

You had been looking forward to trying the famous dessert all evening, but suddenly, your appetite completely vanished. The plate that you held suddenly felt as appealing as cold porridge.

“Everything alright, love?” John approached, noticing the shift in your mood.

You forced a smile, hoping it was convincing. “Peachy,” you replied. “Just, fascinating, hearing everyone’s stories.” You stabbed the pudding with your spoon, not sure where the feelings of anger came from.

You shoved the plate into his chest, forcing him to take it from you. “I just need some air.” You turned and made your way towards his Nan’s beautiful rose garden.

He’d lied to you.

Well, maybe not lied, exactly. Maybe it was the sudden awareness of the danger that shadowed his every move, who he really was, who he was compared to you.

You had every right to feel foolish, to even agree to such a stupid idea. But betrayal? You had no idea where it came from, it seemed like an overreach for a situation that had been, from the beginning, just a constructed lie.

Stepping out into the cool of the garden, you breathed a sigh of relief. The scent of flowers seemed to calm your racing mind a little, a welcome contrast to all the voices you just escaped. You found your way to a small bench underneath an old oak tree, sinking onto the cool wood, straightening your dress doing so.

You didn’t hear John approach, but then again, stealth was probably part of his many talents. You didn’t know whether to be impressed or terrified.

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, stopping right next to you, an arm leaning on the backrest of the bench.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, frustrated by all these emotions you were feeling. “Well, the food is excellent, your grandma is adorable, and I haven’t witnessed any international incidents first-hand - yet. So that’s a win, I guess?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, a welcome contrast to the tension that had been knotting your stomach ever since you’d pieced together the things about his life. You’d grown accustomed to that sound, to the way it rumbled deep in his chest, unexpectedly gentle for a man who, apparently, spent his days navigating a world far removed from yours.

He shifted slightly, settling beside you on the bench. You felt the heat radiating off him in the cool air of the evening, an awareness that lingered even though he wasn’t touching you.

“Look,” he began, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt, a gesture that was strangely endearing on a man who usually was so confident. “My life –” He gestured vaguely towards the party, the house. The unspoken explanation – “ my life is a full-blown, military-grade soap opera ” – hung in the air between you.

“You know,” you interrupted him, turning to face him. “A little heads-up about what you do would have been nice. Especially that it’s such an important thing in your family.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. It wasn’t fair to throw you into that without a warning. I guess because it’s so normal to me, I just completely forgot about it.”

“I’m a nurse, I don’t really specialize in disarming bombs or whatever it is your uncles like to do for fun.”

He laughed then, a full, hearty laugh, that made your heart flutter faster in your chest.

“It’s not funny.” You said, looking away. “And I know I have absolutely no right to feel – ” you struggled to find the right word. 

“To feel –?” he prompted, leaning a little closer.

“Disappointed,” you breathed. “It’s silly, I just felt like I was left out of inside jokes during dinner. I tried so hard to not let this lie slip, but it could have been so much easier if I had known.” You took a deep breath. “So, while I was keeping your plants alive," you added, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice, "You were out there doing what exactly? Neutralizing threats? Saving the world? I missed that chapter in the ‘Good Neighbor Handbook.’”

You couldn’t help the edge that crept into your voice. At first, it had just been a fun little game, a chance to play dress-up and enjoy delicious food. But now, now it felt different. You were, suddenly, uncomfortably aware of just how much you didn’t know about the man sitting beside you. 

The silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the gentle chirping of crickets and the soft rustling of leaves overhead. John stared at you, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

“You probably think I am a complete idiot,” you continued, the words tumbling out in a rush, a jumble of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher. “I'm sorry, I'm being absolutely dramatic –”

The words died on your lips as his hands shot out, cupping your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks with a touch that was both possessive and unexpectedly tender. His gaze held yours captive, those blue eyes burning with a fierce intensity that stole your breath away. And then, without a word, without warning, his mouth crashed down on yours.

His lips were hard, demanding, hungry, devouring yours as if he couldn’t get close enough, his tongue tangling with yours in a desperate, unyielding dance. 

It was primal, raw, untamed. It was the kind of kiss that stripped away the pretence, obliterated the boundaries, and left you gasping for air, your mind reeling, your body aching for something you couldn’t name but craved with every fibre of your being.

Time seemed to stand still — the garden, the party, the lie — it all faded away. There was only the feel of his lips on yours, the light scrape of his beard against your skin. The taste of him was intoxicating, the heat of his body radiating off him in waves.

Eventually, he pulled back, his breath mingling with yours in the night air. His hands lingered, resting on your face, slightly tracing the lines of your jawline. His gaze was wild, eyes dark and burning into you with an intensity that made you want to melt into a puddle.

You stared back, your mind racing. This was the moment the lines blurred. There had been something there — you felt it. It was more than pretend, more than just playing a game. Desire. Interest. Even though you felt like you no longer knew this man at all, you wanted to get to know him all over again. Taste him, touch him — you blinked, trying to collect your thoughts.

“Would you prefer to leave?” John's hand, still warm from its possessive grip on your face, gently brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture both intimate and oddly reassuring.

You shook your head. “It’s your grandma's birthday. You can’t just leave because I feel uncomfortable.”

“I think we’ve both had enough of the party for one night,” he murmured, a quick smile flashing across his face. “I’m going to let her know you aren’t feeling too well. Alright?”

He leaned in again, his lips brushing against your cheek, then, with a low rumble, he whispered in your ear, “Wait here.”

In front of both your apartment doors, the silence was an awkwardly long stretch. It felt like you were both trying to understand what had just happened, unsure where to begin.

“So, um,” he started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that you found strangely endearing. “Thank you for coming.”

You nodded and smiled, “Of course. It was nice to get the dust off this dress again.”

He leaned towards you slowly, and your breath hitched. For one heart-stopping moment, you thought he might kiss you again – would he? Was what happened in the garden just an impulsive decision?

But he hesitated, the moment frozen, and there was something indecisive happening between you. But you didn’t mean to push, neither did he.

He cleared his throat and finally spoke. “Good night,” he said, his words careful, as if he were holding back from saying something else.

“Good night,” you echoed, your voice barely a whisper. The small hope that you'd taste him one more time evaporated.

You turned, your hand reaching for your door, keys almost to the lock, when strong hands grabbed you, spinning you around in a dizzying motion. Before you could even register what was happening, his lips were on yours again — silencing all those unspoken doubts and hesitations.

This was real. You felt it; your heart screamed it; the way his mouth was devouring yours, displaying a hunger and desire that shouted it from the rooftops.

Your hands tangled in his hair, holding on for dear life, as his tongue traced the seam of your lips with a possessiveness that made your knees weak. You felt the rumble of his groan against your mouth as he backed you against your apartment door, his body moulding against yours as if he was starving for the feel of you. You were breathless, lost in the heat of his touch, the way his hands roamed your back and finally settled on the curve of your ass.

You realized then that you had always dreamed of kissing this man, silently, secretly, whenever his eyes lingered on yours for a beat too long right there in the hallway. You’d always dismissed those fantasies as wishful thinking, but clearly, he’d been wanting the same.

You heard a click as the lock on your door was turned, and you felt as his hand fumbled with the doorknob behind your back – all while his lips were still on yours, occasionally wandering to kiss your jaw and giving you an opportunity to breathe. He cursed under his breath, and before you even processed what was happening, he shouldered the door open and pushed both of you back into the darkness of your apartment.

The familiar space of your home was suddenly transformed, and John's touch was the compass guiding you. He didn't release you, keeping you close to his body as if you might slip away. With a smooth movement, he shoved the door shut, tossing your keys somewhere onto the floor.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you up flush against him, the gasp that escaped your lips quickly swallowed by his next kiss. He carried you, your legs wrapped around his waist, until he reached your couch, where he gently laid you down, his body hovering over yours, his eyes devouring you, making you feel incredibly vulnerable.

The sofa dipped as he planted his knees left and right next to your legs, and he leaned to hover over you. You were both breathing hard, the only sound in the silent room. The only light illuminating you was the sliver of moonlight spilling through the window above.

“Is this still pretend?” you managed to whisper, your voice a shaky breath.

His eyes locked onto yours, the slight smirk on his face sending a thrill to your core. His hands moved to your hips, deliberately grinding them against his groin. You gasped as you felt the hardness of his arousal pressed against you, hyperaware of the thin fabric separating your most intimate parts.

“Fuck, no,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. He moved his hips again, his hands slowly but intentionally pushing up your dress.

Your skin felt like it was on fire; your head was spinning. 

One of his hands moved up to the line of your dress, and with a rumble in his throat, he pulled the fabric aside, exposing the swell of your breasts to his hungry gaze.

His pupils dilated, his eyes dark and intense, as he stared at you like a starving man presented with a banquet. You'd never been so incredibly turned on, no man had ever made you feel this way— John’s simple gesture of delicately tracing the skin around your nipples made you moan so loudly you immediately threw a hand over your mouth, slightly embarrassed.

“No, let me hear it all. You sing so beautifully, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hand gently moving yours away, his touch a mixture of possessiveness and unexpected tenderness.

"John,” you breathed, your voice a shaky sigh.

“This bloody dress,” he groaned. “Wanted to rip it off you the second I saw you standing at my door.” His voice was raw, unfiltered – gone was the nice, gentle neighbor; this was the Captain coming through, the darker, more commanding side of him that should have scared you, but only served to intensify the desire swirling inside you. You wanted to know all about the man he left behind as soon as he stepped into this building.

“Every fuckin' time I saw you in the hallway, those quick hellos were never enough,” he confessed, one hand tightening on your hip, the other slowly trailing down your skin beneath the hem of your dress. His touch was agonizingly slow, leaving a trail of heat in its wake that made you lose your mind. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His words were so honest, it caught you off guard completely. It must have shown on your face right then, because he smiled in return. “Never thought I’d stand a chance," he admitted. "You always seemed out of reach.”

You frowned. “Out of reach?”

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Figured I’d never stand a chance against the queue of blokes lining up at your door.”

“John, what? A queue, for me?” You laughed, your disbelief genuine, gesturing towards yourself.

He sighed, sitting up, his fingers playing with the lace trim of your panties as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You’re beautiful, and tonight, I learned it’s inside and out. You're you, and that's fuckin’ wonderful."

You shook your head in disbelief. His words made your entire body tremble.  He wasn’t just looking at your body; he was seeing you. And it felt extraordinary.

He watched you intently, his eyes filled with a longing that mirrored your own. “I kept thinking about what you were hiding underneath those baggy clothes,” he confessed, his voice a husky whisper, his fingers slowly sliding your panties down your legs. He felt you shy away from him a little, a smirk on his face stole your breath, as he pushed your legs apart with his calloused hands. “Like I said, so beautiful.” He whispered, his voice so rough with what you could only describe as lust. It made you shiver.

“You know,” you whispered, “The funny thing is, I thought exactly the same.”

“What do you mean?” You watched as he slowly ran a hand along your thighs. A ragged breath escaped your lungs, and you struggled to continue speaking.

“You’re incredible – there’s no way you didn’t have someone to –”

“To what?” he asked, suddenly stopping his movements, his gaze intense. “Willing to take a chance on a bloke who doesn’t know a thing about flowers or romantic dinners? Who spends more time on planes than in his own flat? Whose idea of a good time involves dodging bullets and disarming explosives?” He let out a self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head.

He was being so completely honest with you, so vulnerable, it sent a sharp pang through your chest. He was seeing you – the real you, hidden beneath the baggy clothes and carefully constructed walls – and for the first time that night, you were truly seeing him . John, who looked like he could bench-press a small car, who radiated an aura of danger as naturally as he breathed. 

He wasn’t some playboy who brought women home every other night, like you’d assumed. He could have any woman he wanted – and yet, here he was, his gaze tracing every inch of your naked body.

He liked you. He’d thought about you.

It felt surreal.

“Best decision I’ve made in a long time,” he murmured, leaning closer. “Asking you, I mean. Thinking I could never have you, and now –”

You held your breath, anticipation coiling in your stomach. “Now what?” you whispered.

“You’re mine.” He growled, and before your brain could even process what happened, his mouth was on your clit, kissing and sucking like he finally got to taste that delicious meal he was promised. 

“Oh god–!” you moaned, your hands instinctively gripping his hair, your nails digging into his scalp. He moaned, and the vibration of it against your skin made your legs twitch uncontrollably.

John’s touch was relentless, his tongue swirling against your most sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you that were unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. You arched against him, your hips bucking involuntarily, craving more of the delicious friction that was driving you to the edge of madness.

He seemed to sense your desperation, the way your body was begging for something more. He pulled back, his gaze meeting yours, his eyes dark with a possessiveness that both thrilled and terrified you. His hand replaced his tongue, fingers gently caressing your sensitive clit. “Look at you,” he murmured. “So fuckin’ hot.”

“John,” you breathed, you were speaking without any control over it.

“What do you need, love?” he asked, his voice thick with lust, his hand never ceasing its tormenting, exquisite torture against your aching core.

“I – I need –” You couldn't form the words. Your mind was blank, and your body was trembling with need that eclipsed all rational thought.

He seemed to understand, his gaze softening, a knowing smile curving his lips. He rose slightly, his hands moving towards the belt buckle, groaning as he released himself from the confines of his trousers.

He stepped out of his pants, the sound of fabric hitting the floor echoing in the sudden silence. His shirt followed shortly after, and you were captivated. His body was hard, sculpted muscle, his arousal straining against the fabric of his boxers, proof of the desire you'd awakened within him.

You watched, mesmerized, as he slowly peeled off his boxers, his gaze never leaving yours. His hand reached down, fisting himself, and your breath hitched at the sight.

“Still think you’re not attractive to me, love? Look what you’re doing to me,” he let his thumb slowly run over the head of his length, spreading the drop of pre-come that formed there, and he must have known it was teasing you, driving you mad. “Tell me what you want,” he commanded.

You opened your mouth to speak, to voice the desire that was burning through you with the force of a supernova, but the words caught in your throat. All you could manage was a whimper as your fingers were digging into the cushions, hips arching upwards, instinctively seeking out friction you craved.

You felt like if you couldn't have him, you might die.

“Uh-uh.” His hand reached forward to grab the soft flesh of your tits, one after the other, and his thumb brushed a teasing circle around your nipples, the pressure increasing just enough to make you gasp. "I said, tell me what you want.”

“You,” you confessed, the words torn from your very soul. “For God's sake, I fucking need you.”

John's gaze intensified, his eyes dark, and the corner of his mouth twitched, a predatory smirk playing on his lips. He loomed over you like a predator about to claim his prey. With a growl, he leaned down, pressing his mouth on yours, and you could feel his erection pressing between your folds.

One of his hands shot out, cupping the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair, holding you captive. 

“You’re going to get everything you need, love,” he breathed, and followed by his promise, he entered you in a deliberately slow movement, almost torturous. He moaned, so raw and primal, it made you clench around him, and your entire body ignited as he filled you completely. His size, his heat, the intensity of the sensation – it sent your senses into overdrive, causing you to dig your nails into his back.

“Ohhh fuck,” you moaned, your voice a breathless whisper, lost in a world of sensation he'd created with his touch.

He paused, holding himself perfectly still within you, savoring the feel of your body clenching around him and the soft moans escaping your lips.

You whimpered, arching your hips up instinctively, desperate for more, aching for him to erase every thought, every doubt, every worry, with the overwhelming pleasure that throbbed between you.

He chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers down your spine, and then he moved. Slowly at first, deliberately drawing out the sensation, his hips rocking against yours, each thrust a slow, agonizingly delicious torture that had you clinging to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your nails leaving trails of fire on his skin.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice tight with need as he buried himself deeper. “You're so fucking tight – so fucking wet.”

But even in the haze of pleasure, a primal instinct took over. He needed more. He rolled you both over, shifting his weight so that you were straddling his lap, your legs draped over his thighs, your core aligned perfectly with his arousal. He kept his eyes locked on yours as he reached for the hem of your dress, his fingers working quickly, impatiently, to free you from the loosely hanging fabric.

“Now,” his hands found your hips, guiding you closer, his thumbs stroking the sensitive flesh. “Ride me, love.”

You looked down at him, at the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes, the way his chest heaved with each ragged breath, and a surge of confidence, of pure, unadulterated lust, washed over you. You began to move, supporting your weight against him by running your hands through the light fur that dusted his chest. 

His hands dug deeper into your skin as you increased the pace, moving faster, harder, riding his cock wildly, completely lost in the pleasure.

Every movement sent jolts of pleasure through you. He watched you, his gaze never leaving your face, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath as if he were hanging onto your every move.

“Fuck, yes,” he growled, his voice thick with approval. “Like that, love. Ride me hard.”

His words were a primal command, a challenge that sent a thrill through you, making you even bolder, even more daring. You leaned forward and kissed him, biting his lip, drawing a groan from him that resonated deep in your core.

He tasted of salt and desire, the scent of his arousal filling your senses, making you wild. His hands were guiding your movements, matching your intensity, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge of release.

With each thrust, you felt the coil of pleasure tighten inside you, building towards a crescendo that threatened to shatter you both. You moved faster, harder, your body driven by an instinct as old as time itself. His touch was a brand, marking you as his, and the possessive hunger in his eyes as you rode him, almost send you over the edge alone.

He was groaning now, his words a jumble of incoherent pleas and praises, his fingers digging into your flesh as he struggled to maintain control. You felt him tense, the muscles in his thighs and arms bunching beneath your touch, and you knew the storm was about to break.

“Don’t stop,” his voice was raw with need, his gaze burning into you as if he wanted to sear this moment into his soul. “Come for me, love. Let me feel you shatter."

And with one final, earth-shattering thrust, you did.

A shudder ripped through you, a wave of pleasure so intense it stole your breath away. Your walls clenched around him, a thousand tiny sparks of sensation exploding behind your eyelids. Your name tumbled from his lips, a breathless groan, as he held you tighter. You cried out, the sound swallowed by his eager mouth as he captured your lips in a desperate kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as wave after wave of pure bliss crashed over you, leaving you trembling, weak, utterly undone.

After you came down from your high, you watched him intently as he was also struggling on the edge of release. Driven by need and desire, you slowly let his cock slip out of you. He made a sound that sounded animalistic, a groan, low and deep in his chest, an expression of frustration. Your hand moved instantly, your fingers finding his length, circling him, stroking him with a deliberate, unhurried rhythm. Your fingertips traced a feather-light path up the underside of his shaft, lingering at the sensitive ridge just below the head before gliding back down to the base, your thumb brushing teasingly against the swollen vein that pulsed with his arousal.

His head fell back against the cushions, his eyes closed, a ragged breath escaping his lips as you continued to tease him, your touch the only cure for his aching need. You watched him, mesmerized by the play of muscle beneath your hand, the raw power he embodied even at that moment of vulnerability.

“I can't –” His fingers dug into the cushions, his body tensing as if fighting against the tide of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him.

You smiled. The power thrumming between you was intoxicating, addictive. “Can’t what, John?” you whispered, leaning in, your lips trailing a teasing path along the hard planes of his stomach. “Can’t hold back anymore?”

His answer was a strangled groan. His body went rigid, and the wave of pleasure that followed was written all over his face. His hand shot out, not to stop you, but to grip your wrist. His fingers tightened around it, his control started slipping, shattering, as his release washed over him.

You whispered small praises, and watched, fascinated, as his release spurted over your hand in hot, pulsing bursts. His hips were stuttering, his cock, hard, thick in your grasp, throbbed, and the remnants of his release felt warm against your skin. He was completely at your mercy.

You’d never felt this bold, this empowered, this reckless. Before you could overthink it, you raised your hand to your mouth and licked his come off of your fingers.

Your wish to taste him, it couldn’t get any more him than this. Salt, sweat, and something so uniquely his. It made your walls clench around nothing, sending a new wave of excitement through you.

John’s gaze snapped to yours, his eyes wide, a flicker of something dark and possessive flaring in their depths as he watched you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and reached out, his hand resting on your neck, his thumb slowly stroking along your pulse. “You’re something else, you know that, love?”

A nervous giggle escaped your lips. The sudden awareness of your actions, the intimacy of the moment, sent a wave of shyness washing over you. “I, uh,” you trailed off, averting your gaze, unable to meet the intensity burning in his eyes. Your cheeks burned, and you wanted to hide.

John’s hand shifted, his fingers tracing the curve of your jawline. He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Don't shy away from me now, sweetheart,” he murmured and softly ran his thumbs over your lips. “Not after that.”

“That was –” You struggled to find the words, your thoughts were a mess. “I've never –”

“Never?” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, the scent of him filling your senses, making you dizzy.

“Never been that bold,” you admitted, your gaze dropping to his lips, their fullness suddenly a source of endless fascination. “Or wanted someone so intensely.”

A dark smile spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with triumph and something that sent a delicious thrill through you. “Good,” he growled, the word a low rumble that vibrated through you. “Because you're mine now, love. And I'm not about to let you forget it.”

And then, before you could protest – not that you had any intention of doing so – his lips crashed down on yours. It wasn’t gentle. This kiss was a possession, a claiming, a wildfire consuming everything in its path. His hand shot out to grab your neck, holding you close to him.

This really wasn't pretend anymore.

[user211201]

Ape boy

--- Originally posted on 2017-01-10 on realhankmccoy ---

“Just don’t make me dumb, man, I want to keep everything about my mind totally intact,” I told my friend at the lab.

I was totally willing to go through the procedure but I didn’t want it messing with my intellect any – my job and lifestyle were too important to me.

They promised me a whole new masculine experience, that they could bring out the man in me in ways that were easily accessible through epigenetic therapy.

I’d be fitter, more energetic, more attractive and just altogether healthier. It was in the beta testing process and they said they’d throw in $3000 if I signed off, too. I’d only need to take a few weeks off work for an outpatient trial.

“That didn’t seem so bad,” I said after the doctor finished up removing the slow drip from my arm and the infusion was complete. Took two different bags of fluid but I mostly felt fine, if a little faint at first.

I got home and realized I was pretty tired so I stripped down and went to bed. I started noticing the changes the next day already. I did have more energy. My face seemed handsomer, just a tad. After two days I was feeling pretty into this.

It was the third day when I started noticing that I was getting beefier.

That was cool, I thought, but then I noticed I was feeling hornier, too. I ignored it at first, but by the end of the day I was jacking off in my bedroom, hard. I got up off my bed, still stroking my dick, to check myself out in the mirror.

“Looks hot,” I thought, stroking it slowly. If this stuff made my sex drive a little stronger, that was fine with me.

I started getting obsessed with checkin’ out the changes in the mirror, and I had so much energy that I started working out. I’d be doing pushups on my hardwood floor and getting excited over how I was going to flex in front of the bathroom mirror after I finished a set of 50.

I went back to the lab and they didn’t seem to think it was a problem.

So I figured, what the hell, I might as well enjoy this. Pretty soon I was hanging out in just my underwear all the time. That didn’t make me dumb, I knew, it just felt good. I might as well get into it, I figured.

Only problem is I got used to it pretty quick. I hate wearing clothes now, dudes.

I looked in the mirror one day and I just looked so fucking good with these thick pecs and the thicker stubble on my face. I figured I should have fun with a haircut so I got kind of a high and tight, cut real short though, and that just turned me on. Even my facial structure has changed from this shit they’re doing to me. My ears look like they stick out more, like some dumb ape or something, and that just makes me hard. I’ve hot this thick abdomen and these beefy deltoids. I feel like I look more like a football dude, even, and I started watching football even. Might as well have fun while I’m stuck in outpatient anyhow.

They told me it wouldn’t alter my mind any but it’s like I’m addicted to working out, flexing in the mirror, taking selfies, hooking up – with dudes – I just find em on my phone. I stopped reading. I look at these hairy legs and I get hard just touching em, I rub a hand across my pecs and my nipples are hard right away and I feel my cock jump up wanting a piece of the action. All I can think about is my goddamn cock, man.

So I took another week off work because I’m not ready to go back, and told myself on Monday I’d start getting ready to get my life on track. I just procrastinated the whole day, jacking off in bed, mostly, slowly stroking it. I guess my new bod’s so awesome that it’s just depressing to think of going back to the office.

My alarm goes off on Tuesday, and I throw it against the wall and say fuck it. One more day of fun’s not gonna hurt. Dudes, I look so fucking good. At least I’ll be productive today, I tell myself. So I start off the day with a ton of pushups, make myself a protein shake, and I look so ripped in the mirror that I figure I’ll score myself a hookup off Grindr. Guy comes over, and his hairy, hard pecs crushed against mine – my rubbing the short beard I’ve got started all up on his asshole, and that turns him on enough that he’s letting me lift his legs and plow the shit out of him..

After he’s gone, I’m back in front of the mirror saying “you fucking stud. Yeah you fuckin’ ape boy. Fuckin’ just want to fuck with dudes, don’t you, gay boy. Yeah you jocked up fuck. Just want to get naked and fuck, don’t you?”

Still hard, still horny, so just stroking my dick slowly while I put the game on for ambience. I don’t know how Thursday’s gonna shake out but today I just went out and bought a basketball hoop for the driveway so I could burn off some of this energy. Felt fuckin’ great, too, goin’ out in the sun in just some shorts and Nikes working on my game. Soon as I was back indoors though, man, just stripped back down to my underwear – I can’t stop admiring this body. Gotta get another dude over here to mess around with. Fuck work, man, you only live once, right?

Think I’m gonna pick up a big screen for the bedroom because that’d be pretty cool, and I just found out gay dues have their own hockey leagues you can join so I’m thinking of that. How hot would that be – those dudes are fuckin’ built, man, and I could pick it up pretty quick I bet.

Fuck, let me know if – oh, fuck it, I’m gonna order a pizza and see if I can find a hot hookup for tonight. Some dude with pecs as thick as mine and who’s like me slapping this cock all over his tongue for a couple of hours while I tease the shit out of his hot jock ass. Yeah man. Fuckin’ hot, man, I could pump a full load into some dude’s muscle butt and be ready to score again two hours later. That’s how good I feel. Friends with benefits, whatever you want to call it as long as it’s none of that lovey-dovey or dramatic shit – I’ve got em on the phone. Sex, muscle, good food and workin’ out, so glad I met those lab rats.

[yelenaslyubov]

Autumn in New York

main masterlist || kate bishop || autumn fic list

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ pairing: kate bishop x reader

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ warnings: mentions of depression, lots of flufffff

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ description: kate has been noticing a change in your mood. in order to help cheer you up, she takes you out on a date day to explore New York in all of its beauty

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 1.9k

Between the sun setting earlier in the evening and the cold fronts coming in quick, your seasonal depression was taking over. Though summer could be a little too hot for you at times, you found your mood to be changing with each passing day.

Your bed started to become your best friend and Lucky felt your pain, as he looked to have gained a pound or two. It didn’t help that he always joined you in your activities, even if they consisted of eating your favorite treats while watching ‘New Girl’ in the dark.

To top it all off, your job made it all too easy to stay home. While most days you taxied to work in person, you have been taking advantage of the fact you have the option to work from home. Lately, there has been a lot more home and a lot less work.

It was just another day and you heard the door downstairs open and close, indicating that Kate was home. You were asleep when she had left, so you were not sure exactly when she had left. Since Kate was in the process of moving up in Bishop Security, she was gone at odd hours of the day. You could consider it being on call.

“Babe, I’m home!” Kate yelled through the house.

You always felt guilty for going through spells of depression, even though you knew you couldn’t help it. It didn’t take away from the fact that you felt useless and lazy, especially when you could see how hard Kate was working.

“There you are,” Kate said, acting surprised as if you hadn’t been in bed for three days. “You’re up early.”

“Am I?” you questioned. You hadn’t even thought to look at the clock.

“It’s about eight in the morning, the day is still young,” she smiled. “Speaking of…”

Kate trailed off a bit and you could tell in her voice that she was about to suggest something that you may love or hate. Most ideas lately you resented the thought of.

“When I was coming home, I was thinking that it would be nice to have a little date day?” Kate suggested lightly, knowing that it could be a long shot. “I know things have been a little bit tough lately and I want to treat you.”

She waited for your response, whether that was verbal or physical. You weren’t turned off by the idea, but nothing sounded better than staying home.

“Please?” Kate said with a pouty face.

“Are you begging now?” you asked.

“Maybe,” Kate giggled. She came over and sat on your side of the bed, looking at you closer now. That’s when the puppy dog eyes began.

“Now that’s not fair,” you whined. “You know how I feel when you do that.”

“That’s exactly why I’m doing it,” Kate smiled.

She stared longer and longer until you said “yes,” with a reluctant groan.

“That’s what I like to hear!” Seeing the excitement on Kate’s face made it worth it for you. You could tell your sadness had affected her too, whether or not she would admit it.

“What are we going to do?”

“That’s the best part, it’s a surprise,” Kate grinned from behind the closet door that she rushed to in order to find clothes for you. “It’s chilly today so you need to wear your nice coat.”

You groaned and flopped down on the bed. “But I hate that coat, it makes me all itchy.”

“I know honey, but it’s the only way you will stay warm, I promise. And that’s coming from me.” Kate was never one to wear thick clothing or layers, usually one coat would suffice.

Kate laid everything out nicely for you and helped you get ready as fast as you could. She was anxious for the both of you to leave the house and spend the day together, something that rarely happened.

Once you were carefully bundled, Kate practically dragged you and Lucky both out of the apartment and into the bustling city.

“Okay, first things first, we need caffeine,” Kate declared.

You already knew where she was taking you because you always went to the same coffee shop close to the apartment. It was also the place that you and Kate had your first date, making it special each time you went.

“You wanna hold onto Lucky and I can go in and order for us?” Kate asked and you agreed.

You didn’t want to admit it yet, but being outside felt amazing. With each passing minute there was a part of you that felt rejuvenated. The temperature was perfect for you, making it cozy but not unbearable. The chilly wind pierced your skin and gave you the wake up call you had been begging for.

After a few minutes, Kate came back out to join you. “Your usual, dear.” She handed you the warm cup and you shivered. The warmth from your drink gave you even more motivation to enjoy the day together.

You walked several blocks with Kate leading the way before you dared to ask where you were going. “So, where are you taking me?”

“I see what you’re trying to do,” she said. “I’m not telling you, but nice try.”

You groaned and walked on. The farther you walked down the street the more crowded it became with both people and dogs. Up ahead, you could now see groups of people blocking the road and you assumed you were headed that way as well.

Kate took your hand now, comforting you as you both moved through the sea of people. When you made it towards the front, you could see now what Kate was taking you to see.

“Is this the Halloween Dog Parade?” you asked excitedly.

“Are you surprised?!” Kate said with glee.

“Are you kidding me? Of course I am!”

The annual dog parade was an event you always wanted to attend each year, but something always got in the way. This year, you hadn’t even given it a thought, but your girlfriend remembered. She always remembered.

You watched as dogs of all kinds walked down the street dressed in everything from food to movie characters. Your personal favorite was the little dog dressed as Bob from ‘Beetlejuice.’

As the parade wrapped up, you couldn’t keep the smile off your face. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this happy. Whether it was the energy in the city, the autumn feeling, or the sheer fact you were finally spending quality time with your girlfriend, there was no stopping your light from shining.

“Onto the next adventure,” Kate said. She grabbed your hand once again and pulled you in another direction.

“You should have warned me we would be doing this much walking, or else maybe I would have worn different shoes,” you said uncomfortably while moving your feet around in your shoes.

“I’m sorry, babe.” Kate genuinely seemed upset, which made you feel bad for ever complaining in the first place. “We can go back and you can grab some different shoes?”

“I’m afraid if we go back we may not leave again,” you laughed. “Let’s keep going!”

The look on your face was enough to make Kate’s life. She was so grateful for your happiness that she hadn’t seen for several weeks. You walked several more blocks until you had reached Central Park.

“It’s so beautiful,” you sighed.

Taking a break from the concrete buildings seemed to be all the medicine you needed. You looked into the park and saw a flood or orange and red leafed trees. You had spent so much time looking down that you were reminded to finally look up.

There were families running through the grass and dogs playing happily through the leaves. In addition, the amount of food vendors made your stomach growl, not realizing how hungry you were.

Kate looked at you after the noise from your stomach caught her off guard. “I guess that’s a sign it’s time to eat,” Kate laughed. “My vote is a good old fashioned New York hot dog.”

“I raise you a soft pretzel and cheese,” you rebutted with a smiling scowl.

“Hmm,” Kate thought. “You have a deal!”

You laughed and wrapped your arms around her waist while she placed her arm around your shoulders. You walked together through the park until you made it to the pretzel stand. You each got your own to snack on while you strolled through the park.

You switched from holding hands, linking arms, and holding each other while you walked. You weren’t always someone who enjoyed PDA, but you were proud to be with Kate Bishop.

There were so many beautiful things. From the way the wind ran through the leaves to make them fall delicately on the ground to form piles for the children to play in, to the view on your left of Kate guiding you through the park on the most perfect day.

You hadn’t realized how much you needed this day until you were living it. Kate knew your heart inside and out.

Once you had walked as much of the park you could, you made it back to where you started.

“I have just one more place to take you and then we will be done,” Kate instructed you.

At this point, you would follow her anywhere. She made you forget that your feet were even hurting in the first place.

After walking several blocks you stopped in front of ‘The Strand,’ your favorite book store. You could spend hours walking along the aisles of books that were waiting for you to open their pages.

“Ta-da!” Kate said. “Now, I want you to pick out whatever your heart desires. It’s on me.”

“Kate, I can’t-”

“You can, and you will.”

You knew Kate was in the position to do so, but that did not make you feel any less guilty. “Whatever you say,” you smiled, unable to contain your excitement. “Wait, but what about Lucky?”

“Don’t worry, he and I will slum it out here next to the heat lamps, we’ll be alright,” Kate replied. “But that also means you can’t take five years.”

“Well, that might be hard but I’ll try my best,” you said sarcastically.

“Uh huh, bye now,” Kate waved you off with a smile.

You couldn’t deny how happy you were. You were able to roam all the aisles that you pleased. The smell of coffee and paper became your favorite smell, savoring it as much as you could before leaving. You ended up buying three books for your enjoyment, hoping that it would take your mind off of your struggles as of lately.

You walked out of the store with your books in hand and found Kate sitting in a chair with Lucky between her legs. She was watching the people fly by around her, while you just couldn’t take your eyes off of her.

“There you are!” Kate exclaimed. “I was about to call the cavalry, but here you are alive and well.”

“Oh please, I was gone for maybe 30 minutes… 45 minutes… okay maybe an hour.”

“Mmhmm, you owe me. My hands are practically ice.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I lost track of time,” you said sadly.

“Did you have fun?”

“Of course.”

“Then that’s all that matters,” Kate smiled. “Now, let’s get you home.”

“That sounds like my kind of party.”

“I’m so happy to see you smiling again.”

You blushed awkwardly. “Today meant a lot, thanks Bishop.”

“Don’t get all mushy on me now. How about we pop open a bottle of wine, take a bath, and end the day with a movie… preferably watching it on the couch,” Kate laughed.

“I think I’m done with beds forever,” you chuckled. “We should do this more often.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

.

.

,

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[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The Kumquat (The Surprise, Part 4)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: pregnancy times, established relationship, fluff on fluff on fluff, some references to past sexual trauma (nothing graphic), a Pap smear (aka the WORST medical exam and I will stand by that) Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: It's Emily's first non-local case since finding out you were pregnant, and you're both struggling. Especially because it means she'll have to miss you first prenatal appointment–and the first sound of your baby's heartbeat. Maybe there's still a way to share the moment, though...

Week 10: The Kumquat

Your heart beat wildly as you pulled into the parking lot of the OBGYN’s office. You wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans and checked your phone. Nothing. You groaned and rubbed your forehead.

You had a hard time with doctors, particularly with gynecologists–a stubborn remnant of past trauma. Emily knew that. Emily knew it was your first appointment and that you’d be scared. She’d wanted to come along; she would have asked all the questions you'd forget.

But duty called. It always did. You’d gotten lucky over the last month since finding out you were pregnant. The BAU hadn’t caught any huge cases and, even the cases they did catch had been local enough that Emily still made it home to you most nights. But, of course, your luck had run out.

You were angry with Emily for leaving, but you knew that was unreasonable. This is what you’d signed up for. Her job was important to her. It was important to you. The fact that she was so passionate about and dedicated to her team and the work they did was one of the things you loved most about her. You were always sad to see her leave and, yes, sometimes frustrated when she had to miss things you’d planned together, but at the end of the day, you knew she loved you, and that was all that mattered.

But this time. This time you were struggling. You tried not to take it out on Emily too much; it wasn’t her fault that your hormones were going wild. You were more everything than usual. More angry at her for leaving, more sad while she was gone, more terrified of going to the doctor.

You glared at your message-less phone for a few minutes before taking a deep breath and texting Emily.

Headed into the OBGYN🤞 I wish you were here. Be safe love 💗

You waited a few minutes with no response, taking a deep breath to swallow your rage. For all you knew, she could be in a bulletproof vest trying to talk down a murderer right now. She loves you, you reminded yourself. If she could be here, she would.

In the office, you were assaulted with the smell of rubbing alcohol and Lysol. You filled out what felt like a full novella of personal and family medical history. When they finally called you back, you felt like a science experiment–poked and prodded and measured. When the doctor pulled out the stirrups, you flinched.

“Is that necessary?” you asked.

She nodded at you. “Sorry. It’s just been long enough since your last Pap smear that I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

You hated it. Hated the whole process, you always did. It was painful and invasive and it made you remember things you’d really rather not remember. Emily usually went with you, to let you squeeze her hand and to whisper that it was okay, you were safe.

You clenched and felt tears prick at your eyes as the cold metal forced its way into you. Hands gripping at the paper covering the seat, you tried your very best to imagine Emily’s voice, her face, the smell of her hair. And you tried not to feel too furious that she wasn’t there. It’s not her fault, you repeated like a mantra.

They took some blood, they asked about running tests to screen for the baby’s health.

“Yes,” you said. “Run all of them.”

“The good news,” the doctor continued, “about these tests is that you also get to find out the gender earlier if that’s something you want.”

You knew you’d need to talk to Emily about it, but part of you didn’t want to know. Emily stubbornly calling the baby he, so sure was she that it was a boy, and you calling the baby she out of pure spite, had become an endearing part of your pregnancy to you. You might just rather be surprised.

“Now for the fun part!” the doctor said, clapping her hands together. “Would you like to try and find the heartbeat?”

Your stomach fluttered with excitement. “Really!? Isn’t it too early?”

“Sometimes we can hear it early with Doppler.”

You nodded vigorously, lifting up your shirt. It was the only time in your life you’d voluntarily had a doctor examine you.

She pressed the device to your lower belly, searching for sound. You waited rapt, barely breathing, so scared were you that you’d miss it.

But then: a whooshing sound and a quick, urgent, pattering heartbeat. Your baby’s heartbeat. You grinned wide.

“That’s her?” you asked, giddy.

The doctor nodded.

You felt like crying, from pure joy, but also because you wished Emily was here. She would be so sad, so sad, to have missed this. But maybe you could bring the heartbeat to her.

You took out your phone. “Can I record this?” you asked. “I want to send it to my wife.”

“Of course,” the doctor said.

You pressed the record button on your Voice Memos, and recorded a good thirty seconds of the baby’s heartbeat, knowing that Emily would listen to it again and again and again.

When you finally left the office, proud of yourself, you hopped in the car and checked your phone. Still nothing. You sent off another text to Emily.

Must be a hard day. ❤️Here’s something to cheer you up! 👶🏻🫀I miss you. Call when you can.

Later that night, as you lay in bed reading, your phone started buzzing. You smiled wide. Emily.

“Good evening, Agent Prentiss,” you joked.

“The heartbeat!” she squealed, so loud you had to hold the phone away from your ear.

You grinned and gushed. “Isn’t it the most beautiful heartbeat you’ve ever heard!?”

“Yes! After yours, of course.”

“Wow, you’re laying it on thick.”

“I’ve got a lot to make up for.” Emily sounded genuinely sad. “Honey, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“It’s okay,” you said, most of your anger dissipating the moment the words I’m sorry left her mouth.

“It’s not okay. I should’ve been there. You hate going to the doctor, and it’s our baby. It’ll get easier after we tell my team. Then I can take a step back.”

“It’s really okay, Em.”

She sighed, and you could tell there was nothing you could say that would alleviate her guilt. She’d carry it with her until she was home again, until she could scoop you up and hold you and take care of you the way she wanted to.

“Was everything okay? With you and Little Kumquat?”

“Kumquat looks good. Healthy as a horse. I–” You thought about the Pap smear, the taste of metal seeping into your mouth. “I’m okay, too.”

“You’re lying.” Emily’s voice shifted, now deep and concerned. “Y/N, what happened?”

“I’m not lying!” Sometimes you really hated being married to a profiler.

Emily grew more panicked. “Is something wrong? Honey, do I need to come home?”

“No! Em, it’s just…” You sighed, picking at your fingernails. “They had to do a Pap smear.”

The line was quiet for a moment before Emily spoke, her voice thick with emotion. “Oh, honey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered, shaky, afraid if you tried to say more you might start crying.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I know how hard those are for you.”

You stayed quiet, willing yourself not to cry. Emily felt guilty enough; you crying would make it ten times worse.

“Listen, I’m at a hotel tonight, okay? I’ll have my phone by me all night. I know sometimes you get nightmares after, so just call me if you wake up, okay?”

“Emily, you don’t have to do that,” you said softly. “You need sleep.”

“I won’t sleep one wink if I’m worried about you all night, so promise me you’ll call.”

“Okay. I promise.”

“Thank you. Ugh, Rossi’s waving me over. I gotta go, but I love you so much, and I miss you every second, and I can’t wait to get home to you.” 

“I love you, too.”

You slept with your phone on the pillow next to you that night, and it wasn’t the same as having Emily there, especially when you woke up gasping in a cold sweat. But her voice lulling you back to sleep was pretty close, and you were so, so glad to have her–even from far away.

[writingwisterias]

could you do an eras Leon x older! reader?.. I was thinking about older male (old man yaoi❤️) reader but it's completely fine if you do it gender neutral too. specifically the kind of oldie that is a softie and spends their days at the park feeding pigeons and reading old books❤️❤️ idk why I'm craving old couple fluff

This is soo cuteee omg! I can do older Male since you specifically asked for it!!

Warnings: Fluff Older!Male! Reader

RE2:

There's obviously going to be a bit of an age gap here

At first I would imagine Leon would be fairly awkward with the idea of the relationship but I think that is just any relationship it's not a reflection on you

If you are dating him after Raccoon City I imagine he would enjoy the quieter side of this

He would need a lot of hugs almost relying on you to be stable and hold onto the smaller things whilst he tries to process everything

Once he's comfortable with you he's clingy, in a good way

I don't think he would sit and read books along side you but I imagine he would enjoy just being there whilst you are

You are just something table for him and he yearns the endless love that you pump through him in anyway he needs it

Sugar daddy vibes

RE4R:

He would really value your companionship to start of with

Having someone mature means that you would be able to cope with the nature of his job slightly better than the average person

Leon would have realized this after he comes back from Spain and immediately goes to you for comfort

It's then maybe a Subby side of him shows that he needs/craves your love and attention

Sitting still as you patch him up or dot on him if he needs it

And older person means that you can read his body language better and he doesn't need to fear worrying you when he needs to shut away a little bit

Infinite Darkness:

Cocky piece of shit most of the time, teasing you about the age gap (even tho it's not that large)

Despite his mouth he actually craves it more than anything and hates having to leave you

His favourite way to spend time with you is later on in the evening, you curled up in his arms with a book

You could read it to him but the words aren't registering with him, he's too busy sinking into this moment

Focusing on your weight sinking into him more the more you relax, How you move with every breath he takes

It's a moment of silence in his current busy state of life and despite how much he teases you for it, he appreciates the stability of it

Damnation:

He didn't really think of himself as someone who would enjoy board games

Normally wanting to spend his time in ways that didn't mean he had to overwork his brain

Yet, every night he got to spend with you a new one would be pulled out from the ottoman

Scrabble, Monopoly, Dominoes and his personal favorite Cluedo

(Only because he figured it out quicker than everyone else...he wasn't top of his class for no reason)

RE6:

Seeing you in the sun was his favorite, you always seemed to be yourself when you would garden with him

He enjoyed listening to you ramble about each plant, pointing to them telling him your favourite features

You would force him to help with the weeding or settling up the new flower bed you had mapped out

Simply handing him a shovel and watching him to all the hard work offering him cold drinks and snacks

It didn't matter if his body was sore from where he came from, he would always find time doing this

Plus he know you would dote on him later making sure to work every ache away.

Vendetta:

Perhaps it was his near death experience during the events of New York that awokened the "you only live once" side of him

He's using you as a life line to forget about the drinks and the things that haunt him

I think he would enjoy the quieter moments like you said

So going to lake and reading or just having a picnic

It wouldn't happen to often I think he would prefer to stay indoors so expect lots of cuddles instead

He would love watching your favorite movies too

It's more quality time with him

Death Island:

Again I think he's at the age where he would appreciate the quieter side of life

So your relationship is thriving

Coffee dates to the parks and beaches are a must

Would feed the pigeons with you and probably name them

Then claims he knows which ones they are next time even though you are sure it's a different bird

Jokes all the time

It's refreshing to you seeing this relieved side to him and you are happy that you bring it out

He's a lot more calmer and caring, taking notice of your routine and adapting his own to fit yours

[cheriemariii]

see if i had been the one to write romantica and terrorist i definitely would have definitely aged up shinobu and misaki. And its not just that i find it icky to have grown ass men dating these barely legal boys (i mean yeah it kinda is the main reason,,) but because i genuinely feel it would add more to both their characters???

(whatever my take is under the cut 👍)

Just like the original, lets say Misaki makes it out of high school at 18, as any normal teenager would. Takahiro offers to get him a tutor for his college entrance exams, but he refuses: he wants to do it on his own (bc when doesnt he🙄).

So he tries to make it into college and fails; but thats ok, not everyone makes it on their first try, he can always try again. A year later he is 19, he tries again, and he fails again,, but he did a little better than the last time! He just has to keep trying, maybe third time will be the charm? So another year passes, he is 20 now, he tries again,, and fails again.

At this point Misaki is starting to lose it. To be entirely honest, he doesn’t even care that much about college. He is not passionate about anything in particular, so he would have no issue just finding a job in whatever and figuring it out from there. Thats what his brother did after all, and he turned out great!

His brother… wasnt Takahiro why Misaki wanted to make it into Mitsuhashi in the first place? He has done so much for him these past years, he owes him this much. But no matter how hard he tries to memorize or what study technique he attempts, he just cant do it. And this process isnt so easy for Takahiro either: he hates nothing more in this world than to see his little brother so helpless.

At some point after the third failed attempt, Takahiro brings up again the possibility of getting a tutor. So far, Misaki had been denying it because it’s his nature to not want to be a burden to anyone else, and he wanted to prove that he was capable of doing this on his own. But the fact that not only he is not making his brother proud (or so he thinks), but that he is actively burdening Takahiro by letting him see him so distressed, is finally enough to shatter Misaki’s pride.

Now, given the urgency of the situation, Takahiro cant afford having Misaki test the waters with any stranger, so he decides to put his trust on the smartest person he knows. And that is how Misaki Takahashi, age 20, accepts the help of prolific writer Usami Akihiko out of desperation and makes it into college :)

From here on the story runs its course normally (a couple other changes here and there, but thatd be another day’s yap). I also like the effect it would have on Misaki’s psyche to feel so behind his classmates. He made it into college at 21, an age where other people are starting to think about graduation; and there is nothing wrong with this, but Misaki is not gonna see it this way; he is definitely gonna think this makes him not enough (and comparing himself with everything Takahiro had to achieve at 18 in order for them to survive, and maybe also having Fuyuhiko throw this to his face at any given opportunity bc ofc he would definitely wouldn’t help :/).

Now Shinobu. In this scenario he would be making it out of high school (18) when he first interacts with Miyagi and finds out he is gonna marry his sister and it breaks his heart and all that jazz. And so out of spite he moves to Australia to study college there.

A few years pass by and he has just turned 21. He is about to enter his fifth semester of uni, has had amazing grades and even got himself a nice job in the Japanese embassy in Australia (iirc he studies law???); so far it's just to assist on minor administrative matters, but by the look of it he might actually escalate to a more important spot sooner or later! So life is very much smiling at Shinobu until,, oh! Guess who just got divorced!!!

Now, any normal rational adult would've not given this too much mind; but if the canon supports me on anything it's on the fact that Shinobu is not a normal rational adult. He never really made it past his crush on Miyagi, but at the time he let it go, aside from the obvious, bc he knew he wasn't fit for Miyagi just yet. But now he is an adult by any stance of the law, and he had done so much with his life, and Miyagi is available now so,, what exactly would be stopping them?

And so he does the last thing a normal rational adult would've done: he makes it back to Japan, makes his attack on Miyagi, and the plot goes on as it would (you can even keep a reinterpreted version of Shinobu's college entrance exams from the original!!! He is gonna have to find a way to continue with his studies after all,,). I like to think, in a way, this shows just how much was Shinobu willing to sacrifice in order to follow this so called destiny; he practically had his life figured out in Australia, and yet that silly little feeling turned out to be stronger.

I also feel maturity would become a really major theme in this version of terrorist. Like Shinobu thinks he is apt for Miyagi now bc he is legally an adult, so he SHOULD have the maturity it takes to be with him (which could also translate to Shinobu trying to rush himself into ~certain~ things in order to prove himself worthy to Miyagi). But maturity doesn't work that way; it's not about how old you are but how much have you lived, and at the end it will turn out not even Miyagi is mature enough to have a relationship like this. But that's ok, because now they can grow together into being apt for each other :)

And ALSO!!!!! this doent even have to cancel the whole reincarnation theory (Miyagi's teacher reincarnating into Shinobu as her death and his birth would happen very closely to each other), or the fact that Shinobu mirrors young Miyagi. My issue with terrorist was never the age gap in itself (that's kinda what makes the story interesting xdxd), so what the fuck. Make Miyagi have his crush on his teacher at 21,, keep him twice Shinobu's age,, make Miyagi (42) truly deserve the old man title (not really but y'know) !!!!!!

.

.

.

(also this is all bull this whole thing is part of my yuri au where they are all women, and I myself am 20, so in a way having misaki and shinobu so close in age to me allows me to use usamisa and miyanobu (and also yukisa) as scapegoats for my own fixation for older women 😋)

[neeweekeewee]

OCHRE REWRITE!

Ochre:

My version of Ochre is one of my biggest changes. Ochre as a dragonet was extremely quiet and struggled with fitting in with his sibs. Although he did have one sib who cared for him and made sure he was included as much as possible (Mire). But he continued to struggle, preferring to be alone doing his own thing. Socializing was very overwhelming for Ochre. Due to this, he never developed proper social skills. He was a very hyper independent dragonet. He doesn’t understand social cues very well and mostly does his best to remain stoic and walled off from others. When the war started, he was a soldier. In his training, his general slammed it into his head even more that he has to remain emotionless going into war and that emotions indicate weakness. He learned later that all of his sibs were killed in battle. Although he was not close with them compared to other Mudwing siblings, this still hit him incredibly hard. When he feels any form of emotional distress, he turns to food to comfort himself. He is very overweight compared to other Mudwings which is very surprising. He often tries his best to avoid anything that can upset him. This makes him seem aloof and dismissive. While he seems mostly calm and uncaring of everything around him, he’s deeply troubled and does not know how to properly process his emotions. He’s very pessimistic towards everything due to underlying depression after the death of his sibs. When he was plucked out of the Mud Kingdom to be a Dragonet of Destiny, he developed a friendship with Flame. Ochre found him very interesting due to how Flame had no shame in expressing his emotions. Fatespeaker was also interesting too, but he found her overwhelming due to her incessant talking. He mostly stayed in the background and remained as quiet and invisible as possible. Flame grew a liking to him because he was a good listener and he was quiet compared to the other false dragonets. This was Ochre’s only friend. His friendship with Flame helped him get out of his shell. They would often joke about how much they hated being here and how much they hated their lives. They enjoyed dark humor. When Flame gets injured, it shook Ochre to the core, making him freeze and shut down. He fell into a deeper depression and eats until he pukes. Seeing his Flame’s wound and hearing his agonized screams traumatized him badly.

Ochre stays with the Talons of Peace but later leaves, realizing this wasn’t the life he wanted. Feeling very alone and lost in the world. He finds out that Flame is in the Rainwing Kingdom being treated for his wound given to him by Viper. He awkwardly walks into the healer hut which makes Flame thrilled to see him again. Ochre begins to cry seeing his friend again, something he’s never done before in front of other dragons. He even begins to make a friendship with Fatespeaker after learning about how she’s responsible for saving his life.

He stays in the Rainwing Kingdom, mesmerized by all of their wildly colorful and unique fruits. He goes to many different restaurants and loves the food the Rainwings make. Wanting to learn to make meals like this, he gains an apprenticeship under a Rainwing chef. He thrives at his job, and even creates his own meals to be added to the menu. He felt like he finally had a place in the world.

He later gets enrolled into the Dragonets of Destiny’s’ academy, to learn about culinary all around Phyrrhia. He gets to see Flame every day due to him and Fatespeaker being the academy healers.

This is the color palette I used for him!

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Mad Love Chapter 24

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there

Kate: Alfons!

When I left my room, I saw Alfons waiting for me in the hall.

But he clearly did not look pleased.

Alfons: Have you mistaken me for a chaperone?

Kate: “One month today” means I’m Fairytale Keeper until today ends. That’s why I still need someone watching over me when I go out. So, please.

(...This feels a little self-centered of me)

Alfons: You know, you’re starting to become like Roger.

(Ah…I can’t deny that at all. They do say that pet dogs resemble their owners…)

I couldn’t help but laugh when I thought about where I am now after being a “pet dog” for some time.

Kate: Hehe, I don’t know about that.

Alfons sighed in exasperation at my response.

Alfons: Let’s make haste. I only came back this morning, so I’m feeling extremely sleepy.

--

Alfons and I went to the post office where I used to work.

Black-eyed colleague: Kate! I thought it’s been a while since I last saw you, but I didn’t think the next time would be because you’re resigning!

Brown-eyed colleague: Yeah, I was surprised you suddenly disappeared after being “summoned by the palace”.

Kate: …Sorry for the short notice.

Black-eyed colleague: I’ll miss you, if I’m being honest, but things happen in life. Leave this to me.

Brown-eyed colleague: Eh~ I’ll miss you too. Who’s going to listen to my complaints~

Black-eyed colleague: Kate, maybe resigning was the right choice.

Brown-eyed colleague: Hey, hey, what do you mean by that? You’re so mean!

Kate: Hehe…

(Aah…I love this sort of atmosphere)

Friendly colleagues, a hard-working office chief that likes trying new things…, the sound of letters being sorted, the counter being crowded with people holding letters.

This was all an important part of my ordinary life.

(—But)

Kate: I’m so grateful to you all. Everyone, take care.

I waved away the place I loved with a smile.

I had found where I belonged and began my making my way there—

--

On the way, I stopped by my flat on the second floor of the bakery to finalize the process of selling it.

Kate: …Alright.

Alfons: You’ve resigned from your job and have moved out of your flat. Everything is gone now.

There was a look in his eyes as if he wanted to say “you’re an idiot.”

Kate: …Alfons. You once asked, “If Roger did not have very long to live, would you still choose to stay by his side?”

Alfons: …

Kate: Even I think I’m an idiot. As you said, I might end up a widow who spends her days in tears. However…no matter what, I can’t be apart from Roger.

I hated myself for being weak.

Roger was the only one who always stayed close to me.

Roger’s the only one I want to see me grow stronger from now on.

(Even if it means letting it all go, I want to be by Roger’s side)

Kate: This choice isn’t because of self-sacrifice, devotion, or anything idealistic like that. To continue on as I am, I need Roger, so I’ve thrown everything away to take the plunge. This is an extremely egoistic choice, isn’t it?

Alfons: … Has falling in love with Roger turned you silly?

Kate: Hehe, seems so. Unfortunately.

With a brand new future ahead of me, Alfons smiled in resignation.

Alfons: I have no right to criticize your way of life. You’re free to do as you wish, welcome to the depths of darkness.

A gentle voice invited me into a world crawling with villains.

(But it won’t be like when I was Fairytale Keeper)

(I am definitely entering this world by my own free will)

Kate: …Ah, I said all that with so much enthusiasm, but there’s still a chance I’ll be turned down.

Alfons: Aha! Should that happen, then I will sew that man’s mouth shut so that he’ll never speak again.

--

Alfons then escorted me to the bar before disappearing like an illusion with a big yawn.

I entered the bar alone—

(...Ah, found him)

Roger: …

Roger was sitting by the counter.

We had agreed to meet here.

…Because I had something to tell him.

Kate: …Sorry for making you wait.

Roger: I just got here. So, you wanted to talk?

Straight to the point. I felt my heart speed up.

Kate: It’s been one month since I became Fairytale Keeper. As promised, I’ll be released from my duty. That’s why… I threw everything away. My job, my home, everything.

After saying that all in one go, I looked at Roger…

Roger: …O_O

Kate: Roger. Please make me your exclusive Fairytale Keeper. I already have Victor’s permission. All I need now is your approval.

I could see myself reflected in those amber eyes that widened with surprise.

Kate: …I heard all about it. Alfons told me about your lifespan. 

Roger: Ah, then…

As if figuring out the reason, Roger’s lips curved into a self-deprecating smile.

Kate: You were planning on using the final trial to say farewell to me today, weren’t you? I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be pushed around by an egoist like you forever.

I put strength behind my words, but my heart couldn’t stop my heartbeat from going crazy.

My brand new future depended on Roger.

Kate: …I want to be with you so that I can be me. It’s frustrating, but it can’t be anyone else but you…Roger, let me be your Fairytale Keeper. …And your final lover.

Roger: …

What words will follow this silence?

I clenched my fists tightly on my lap, so nervous that I could hardly breathe.

Finally, I heard it…

Roger: Haven't had all my words taken out of my mouth before. Kate, you’ve cleared your final trial.

(...Huh?)

(My final…trial?)

I couldn’t process those words that came out of the blue.

Kate: W-what do you mean… Please explain so that I can properly understand.

Without thinking, I leaned forward, grabbed Roger by his shirt, and shook him.

Roger just went along with it, laughing happily as if being grabbed by a dog.

Roger: What you heard from Al’s true. But you’re overestimating how much of a good person I am. It’s definitely not smart to pick a guy who could die at any time. You also had an important daily routine to “go back to”. But…why does that mean I gotta let you go?

Kate: Huh…?

I loosened my grip on his shirt.

Roger looked right at me with tender eyes.

Roger: Kate, your final trial was going to be “can you throw everything away and choose me?” But then you threw everything away yourself. Pfft…

Roger’s shoulders started shaking.

Kate: …Roger?

Roger: Pfft, hahahahaha! You really are the most interesting woman I’ve met.

This man~~~ +4 +4

Y-you’re the worst!

You expected this?

Kate: This man~~~ ( ｡ •`ᴖ´• ｡)

Roger: Haha, you fell for me again, didn’t you? You love a strong, egoistic man.

Roger’s large hand ruffled my hair.

Roger probably knows that I like being pet by those hands of his.

Roger: Right now, I’m so happy I could die. So happy that I started laughing without even reading the room.

(Ahhh geez…)

I threw away my job, my home, my ordinary life…

This man goes on saying this was all part of his plan and then gives the best laugh.

He showed me how much more of an egoist he could be…I was completely defeated.

Roger: Kate.

The hand that was on my head slid down to the back of my neck and pulled me closer.

We were so close that our noses touched and my heart pounded.

Roger: Throw it all away and become my lover.

He was still the same self-centered egoist who pushes people around.

That will definitely never change even in our time together.

However—

Kate: I’m the only one who can handle you, Roger. I’ll be your lover.

Roger: …Oh?

I felt embarrassed when he smiled suggestively at me like that, so I snatched his glasses.

And then…I pressed my lips against his.

(...Huh?)

Roger: …What’s up?

Kate: I…don’t taste any alcohol.

Roger: That’s ‘cause I’m not having alcohol.

Roger glanced over at the beer mug on the table.

Kate: Why? I never thought you wouldn’t drink at a bar…

Roger: If we’re gonna have sex, I wanna be sober for it.

Kate: ….Eh…ah…

(In other words…)

While he waited for me, he was betting on the fact that I’d throw everything away.

(My chest’s pounding too much for me to form a comeback…)

Roger: …What’s with that cute face? I’m not waiting any longer. Let’s go.

Roger pulled me up by the arm.

Roger: Barkeep, I’m leaving the money here. Keep the change.

Kate: Where are we going?

Roger: An inn nearby.

Kate: …We’re not going back…?

Roger: Do you think you can hold your moans back during our first time together?

Kate: Wha…!

Thinking about what Roger just said to me was enough to make me feel overwhelmed.

Kate: ……Probably not.

When I muttered this, and amused huff brushed against my cheek.

Roger: …Then follow me.

Next

[chibishortdeath]

Tumblr mobile’s image limit is so annoying. (_ _ )

Anyway— I have Transformers OCs :3!!!!!!!!!

I’m currently in the process of drawing all of them digitally right now so their color schemes are set and it’s been a pretty neat experience. I expected to be really bad at drawing them since I don’t typically draw cars lol—

As per usual I ramble about things so long explanations of the drawings and some character info under a cut d(>< ):

This is Crossroads!!!!!!!!! My boy!!! His alt form is a 1958 Plymouth Fury and pre-war he was a model. Basically the thought process for that was “that’s pretty car that’s not really for racing or anything in specific— besides car shows. What would be the equivalent of car shows on Cybertron—“ lol. Augh I have a ton of lore for all these characters planned already and aaaaaaaaa— but yeah, he’s a nice dude :). During war he’s kind of a tactician since he had a lot of experience with planning and scheduling events. He has history with another OC I have yet to draw because I’m still planning her design named Rivette because she was his manager, but they get separated in the war and she ends up leader of a gestalt that I also have to plan about. Really the only reason why I haven’t drawn her yet is because I need to make her design at the same time as the other combiner members. Anyway, Crossroads!!! :D He ended up a little unintentionally angel coded with that wheel on his head, so I just went with it for the rest of his design lol. I think he came out really cute!!! Though his arm wheels are a little difficult to draw consistently 💀💀💀

This is Allen Wrench! :3 Awhg he’s a sweetie— pre war he was a general repair guy, worked in a larger group that took random odd jobs and stuff. Coincidentally was part of Crossroads’ repair crew for a short amount of time but, they didn’t really meet each other then. Model work is fast paced, you see hundreds of random workers daily and don’t get a chance to remember them 😔. Anyway, when the war hits the two run into each other again and Allen convinces Cross to join the Autobots. They end up basically in the same scouting group and get really close. He’s a 1996 Suzuki Super Carry van in alt form, and I also have his color scheme figured out: it’s giving like Van that’s been repaired a few times but no one bothered to paint the new spots to match? Yeah XD. He’s also had a lot of redesigning done to his chest already in the span of time when I drew this and when I started drawing them digitally to make it look way more like the car he’s based on :).

The minibot of the group: Fork! Silly ass name I’m so glad it wasn’t taken yet hahahsjkl. Actually, so far, all the names I’ve come up with haven’t really been taken— which is cool cause like Transformers has so many characters and it’s stupid hard finding a name 💀💀💀. You gotta go on the wiki and look up words to make sure some other bot doesn’t have it already lol. But yeah! Fork! I think I might give him another minibot (idk the relation to yet) named Spoon just to keep that naming convention hahaha— Fork is a 1977 AMC Gremlin :3. Very cute little car, I saw a lot with really neat swooshing pattern paint jobs which worked really well for the designs on him I’d already drawn. I’m not exactly sure what his pre-war background is going to be yet, I gotta finish writing more of the first two guys since the scenario focuses a bit more on them and their relationship before I can figure out everyone else after that. Also btw Fork is a grown man lol. He’s on the same scouting team with Cross and Allen :)!

Our main antagonist of the scenario I’m writing: Maul. Stupid evil catboy I hate him— he’s so fun to draw X,,,,,D. This guy sucks, he makes everything worse being alive lol. Maul is a Decepticon and he’s particularly formidable. He was denied a place with the Predicons and in much other divisions because he’s way too uncooperative. Typically he’s off on his own just looking for groups to ambush— often times ignores orders and lies to get the blame off of himself. He also has a particular reputation for killing other Decepticons whenever they bore him or if he’d think doing so would be fun, though this cannot confirmed nor denied. Pre-war he was a hitman. In this scenario, Cross, Allen, Fork, and three others (that I need to design and name) were sent to survey the area around Autobot base, something routine and low risk usually, got sent off course, and crashed into a cliff side after Maul got on their craft and sabotaged it. They’re all stuck there with this freaky cat guy all like idk Alien (the film) style for a while until someone is able to send a distress signal and alert Prime of where they’re trapped. Not spoiling anything else until I’ve completed it, but judging how he’s holding some bot’s head here, it doesn’t go very well 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀.

More Maul— he’s fun to draw lol. And also has some energon on him or something.

I’m actually really surprised the name Maul was largely unused for anyone major. Like I think maybe one guy from the comics that dies a couple panels into his introduction might’ve had the name, but I’m gonna count that as unused tbh 💀. Besides, some have had the same name before— after all the names Breakdown and Knockout were reused for some very new characters in Prime and they tend to be the ones people think of first. Yeahg anyway—

Crossroads is saying “Communications are out— I have no connection to Prime— Oh- if only we had a mechanic!” Hmm, something happened there hmmm. He’s also being really cute in the top left corner look at him :3. Waving back at my little guy hehehe \(^^ ).

Maul again and he’s been a creepy threatening guy! He’s probably not this close to anyone in the ship very often, he prefers to go stealthy and take cover in the walls and ceiling and stuff, but he wouldn’t be above threatening someone face to face either. I also didn’t mention his alt form— it’s probably some kind of military drone I think, not sure yet.

Yay! The three guys I have planned currently! Wow they sure are all good companions, what a great team, would be such a shame if something terrible happened to them :3.

Uh oh— Crossroads is yelling “ALLEN!!!” Eeesh that can’t be good—

Okie, the second I have all their digital ref sheets I will post them here too :3!

[maxiine]

Sunshine

Enjoy this angst/fluff about neuvillette <3

_______________________________________________

Sitting quietly at one of the many cafes in Fontaine was a daily occurrence for you. You’d often enjoy a cup of tea whilst reading one of the many books you cherished- it was routine.

What wasn’t so common was for it to suddenly down pour amongst the tranquil afternoon you were just enjoying before.

You didn’t hate the rain- in fact you used to be so fond of it. That was before you moved here. Before you became so acquainted with a certain ludex.

With the realization of what the cause of the rain had been, you made haste to get to him quickly; Leaving some mora as a compensation for the inconvenience.

Striding swiftly towards the Opera Epiclese you were stopped by one of the many melusines that accompanied Fontain. She considerately offered you an umbrella whilst demanding you try not to make it habit to run in the rain unprotected. You smiled sweetly at her kind yet reprimanding comment and took the umbrella. With a quick thanks you continued onward- this time with some protection from the droplets that were falling from the sky. Oh how you hoped they weren’t falling from his beautiful eyes too.

Please please, don’t cry.

Finally you found him, standing silently outisde of the Opera Epiclese.

Letting the rain drench him whilst he looked completely lost in thought, hands slightly shaking at his side- you knew he wasn’t okay.

as if the rain hadn’t already made it so blatantly obvious.

You approached him carefully as to not startle him, making your presence known by calling his name softly from a few feet away.

“Neuvi?”

You finally made it beside him and couldn’t help but reach a little higher so your newly gifted umbrella could shield him from the rain.

He stiffened slightly at your nickname for him- almost like he was caught in some embarrassing moment.

He relaxed a bit before turning to face you and immediately he felt a warmness inside as if the sun had appeared in the sky again. Your eyes had glimmered so delightfully, showing so much compassion and concern in just the way you squinted slightly.

You smiled up at him to show him you were here so it was okay now.

‘Hydro dragon, Hydro dragon- don’t cry’

A chant you often sung when it would rain heavily. But nowadays you’d find it better for him to embrace the emotions he bares- for they are what make him part of humanity. He had always struggled with understanding human emotions yet he portrays them so well. However ’Dealing’ with them was the hard part of his learning process. But since you’ve been around, since becoming aquatinted- you have allowed him to feel these emotions to the fullest. Although One feeling you couldn’t bare to see him sulk in was his sadness.

The many trials he’s had to endure recently have become burdensome and have even started to have their effect on his mental being. Neuvillette is known for being passionate about his job and never letting his feelings affect what needs to be done; but once the job is done- once the doors are closed- he’s left with his thoughts and the hollowness in his stomach. What a suffocating feeling indeed.

“You’re going to catch a cold my dear.” He tells you whilst grabbing the umbrella from your hands and covering you both equally as he noticed you were only covering himself.

“And are you not?” You reply seriously with a sigh. “Please neuvi, let’s go home and get you dried and changed.” You reach for his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

“Yes dear. I am sorry you had to come find me like this.” He replies while stroking the back of your hand with his thumb ever so softly. He wore a sad expression that you couldn’t bare to see.

You reach up and caress his cheek softly, wiping away the tears or drops of rain- you did not know which.

The crashing tides were unforgiving in life, for everyone and everything; but no matter, you would always be there to save him before allowing him to drown in those waters- in those unrelenting thoughts.

“My love, do not apologize.” You kiss the corner of his mouth, gently and carefully. After doing so, You could taste the salty wetness on his cheek that confirmed he had indeed cried before you found him. Your heart broken at the thought.

You hold his face in your palm a little longer, gently rubbing his cheek. He leans in to your touch while slowly closing his eyes to embrace the feeling. His heart felt warm. Love and adoration danced inside his chest for you just from a simple gesture. As the rain came to a slow drizzle, the clouds started to part slightly revealing the sun ever so slightly.

He smiled.

You were the only one who was able to clear his mind so simply, you made him feel so safe, so heard. As long as he has known you, you have been the only person to have completely fill his heart. He never knew love and he never knew these emotions. It was all so foreign. But you’ve shown him everything, you’ve truly shown him the world and more.

You were the sunshine to his cloudy sky’s.

Oh how he loved you so.

[erisweekofficial]

SURPRISE! 🔥❤️‍🔥

We are SO excited to have chatted with Matthew Bassett, the voice actor for Eris Vanserra in the Graphic Audio Production of the ACOTAR series.

Read below for an Exclusive Q&A with Matt ❤️

How long have you been voice acting? How did you get started in the voice acting industry?

I’ve only really worked with Graphic Audio for voice acting, and I’ve been in their roster of actors since 2012. I’ve been a stage actor (with a tiny bit of film) since 2003, and I’ve taught acting in the Washington, DC, area since 2012. When I moved to the DC area after graduate school and started working around here, a number of actors I liked and admired kept mentioning this company that provided steady work on fun material - westerns, fantasy, sci-fi. The comic book adaptations sold me, I’m a huge comics fan. Since 2012, I’ve played countless varmints, monsters, cads, aliens, superheroes/villains, and the occasional good guy. Along with Eris, my larger roles have included voicing The Homelander in all six volumes of GA’s adaption of The Boys graphic novels and Cullen in the World of Lupi series.

Can you describe the process for being selected for the role of Eris (or any other character)? Were there auditions, callbacks, or specific criteria that led to your casting?

Graphic Audio works like a repertory acting company, in that after your initial audition, they maintain your contact information for project directors to pull from when needed. I’ve done a lot of work with Colleen Delaney, director of the ACOTAR adaptations, including several longer character arcs in multiple series, so she thought I would be a good fit for Eris based on similar characters (rogueish, but with hidden depth that is explored over time) I’ve played elsewhere. I’m glad she did! Eris has been really fun.

How did you prepare for the role of Eris in terms of understanding the character's backstory, motivations, and relationships with other characters?

Graphic Audio does a fantastic job of preparing actors and directing us through performances. Colleen sent each actor a brief but rich character description, often quoting directly from the novels, as well as providing a plot description for each specific novel (necessary since the turnaround from offer to recording is very short). During our sessions, Colleen tells me everything I need to know about where Eris has been since the last scene/book and how his relationships have evolved. GA directors also read in as “scene partners,” which, considering they are all performers themselves, makes it very easy to react as I imagine Eris would.

Eris is a complex and morally ambiguous character. What aspects of his personality did you find most challenging to convey in your performance, and how did you approach tackling those challenges?

His vulnerability is very challenging. Eris has had a hard life, despite growing up with every privilege, which is difficult to convey. He hates everyone to some extent, but it all comes from how much he hates his family and himself. The scenes with Morrigan in particular take a while to record - he has all the feelings when talking to her, but he can’t show any of them.

Did you have any creative input into how Eris's voice would sound, or was it a collaborative effort with the production team and director? Were there any specific discussions about the character's vocal tone or style?

Definitely collaborative! His basic vocal character is very close to mine, with the musicality dialed up a bit so he can taunt everyone so well. Where my director really helps is pushing me to find the different levels to his interactions - when he’s teasing (often), when he’s antagonizing (mostly with Cassian), and when he’s speaking from his heart (VERY rarely, usually to or involving Morrigan).

What actors (voice, stage, film, etc) have inspired you? And did any actors or other characters help inspire your performance for Eris?

Hoo boy. Too many to list! For something like Eris, a lot of inspiration from Tom HIddleston’s Loki, Tom Cruise’s Lestat de Lioncourt, and anything Jeremy Irons has ever done. Characters that you can’t take your eyes off of, even as you want to beat the crap out of them.

Were there any specific challenges or unique aspects to voicing Eris compared to other characters you've portrayed in the past? How did you adapt your voice to capture his essence?

Y’know, for all the dirtbags, murderers, literal monsters, aliens, and villains I’ve voiced, Eris is the one with the biggest heart. The biggest challenge is allowing him to have a deep want, hidden from even himself, for some tenderness, the one thing he has been denied his entire life. A character like Eris is easy to just have fun with and play as a smug prick (which he is), but he has moments of aching loneliness that make him much richer. SPOILER: One of my most recent favorite moments was playing Eris’ surprise and gratitude when receiving a “made” dagger for safekeeping. Eris can’t fathom trusting anyone else with something so powerful and important, because he simply wasn’t shown that level of trust or respect. The moment took him by such surprise. It was great to let myself feel that in the playing.

Do you have any advice for aspiring voice actors who are considering pursuing a career in Voice Acting? Any tips for breaking into the business and honing their craft?

Train your voice! I received excellent vocal training as part of my MFA (Master of Fine Arts) in Acting at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville. I learned how to care for my vocal health, how to support with my breath, and how to modulate the dynamics of my voice for character differentiation as well as basic performance beats. You may not have the inclination for that level of training, but a regular voice lesson with a singing coach will give you similar techniques. In terms of breaking in: like anything of this nature, it’s relationships. Build a strong resume, but also build strong relationships with your collaborators and a reputation for reliability. Directors know that I’ll prepare so that I can make strong initial choices, but that I am more than happy to adjust my choices as needed to make the overall production its best.

[liquid-bonhomme]

HEY Y'ALL IT'S MIKAILER WITH AN "ER" WHY IS THAT SO HARD TO GRASP!?

---

Did I get your attention, Mikaila? I hope so, let's see.

Mikaila, I don't like you. You've done shit that's soured my opinion of you. I'm acknowledging that now to get that out of the way. I'm not here to be two-faced about this or blow smoke up your ass.

But as one idiot who stayed in a toxic relationship to another-- I'm not making fun of you because I think I'm better. I know. Being in a relationship like that brings out some ugly shit. You resent and fear people will never forgive you. You don't know if you will forgive yourself. I'm not making fun of you because I think I'm better than you.

And it feels kinda good, being treated badly? In a weird way? When you're used to it? When you feel you kind of deserve it? It did for me too. My abuser did some fucked up shit to me. I don't know how to describe to you the strange feelings I'm left with now. Sometimes I think I finally hate her, sometimes, as pathetic as it makes me feel, I still miss her. It's a rot in you that never really goes away, but you learn to live with it. I understand that agony. I understand that anger of how fucking unfair it is.

You know my opinion of Lily. You're not going to trust me that I'm not saying all this just to get you two to break up to hurt her. Fair. Very fair, not going to pretend like it's not. But if Lily loves you, nothing I'm about to say should be an issue. She should want what's best for you, right?

Here's the rub Mikaila, it's been a few years now. I know you want out of your situation at home, but it doesn't seem like Lily's going to be able to help you with that at this point. I'm sure Lily's given you plenty of reasons as to why, and it's time to listen to her.

If you're heart's set on coming to Canada, your best bet is getting a job here. Or even, going to school. Art degrees (Here in Canada) aren't as expensive, provided you go to the right school. Even taking out a student loan for just one year to figure your shit out. I know you're in quite a bit of debt right now and don't want to get into more, but. You gotta do what you gotta do.

Here's the college I went to. Yes, your work is sufficient to potentially get admitted. Believe it or not, art school's get that illustration is a learned skill. Artists start from all different levels:

Look through the admissions requirements to see if you have the academic records to be admitted. If not, you could also consider upgrading through online classes aswell.

Again though, your best bet is to try to find employment. The cost of living isn't great here right now, but it isn't great anywhere. I doubt you'll be able to find cheaper rent in America.

Once you're here or wherever you end up, away from the chaos of your home, you might find it a lot easier to get your head around, establishing some better independence and becoming a citizen by yourself. It's a shitty process, but not as bad as the one you guys have in the States. We stan an immigrant here.

You need to look out for you, Mikaila. It's not selfish. It's not a matter of whether you "really deserve it or not." Nobody's going to save you. You're emotionally spent because of your parents, You're emotionally spent because of Lily. And it feels kind of nice how much Lily needs you. But you can't help her until you help yourself - and again, if we're all wrong and Lily really loves you, she shouldn't have a problem with you finding your way.

My own mother once told me I was "born sad." I've never not hated myself. I ate up any little bit of love and validation no matter how many bitter, razor pills that came with it too. That's just how it is for some of us.

But you know what Mikaila? Fuck em. Fuck all of them. Fuck everything. Fuck me, Mikaila. You've got one life. One body. One you. Whatever you think of her, someone's gotta fight for that poor bitch. Why not you fight for you?

Everyone's a stinky meat bag stripped down, Mikaila. Everyone's made a fool in the wake of the shit people like you and I have been through. Not everyone's going to be able to forgive everything, but everyone's not wholly past forgiveness.

I'm no better than you Mikaila. Nobody is. Some of us just get to know the worst sides of ourselves better than others.

I don't like some of the things you've done, girl. But I see you. I get it. Tell us all to eat shit. Fix your life. Don't rely on Lily to make you feel whole or to save you. To make you feel worthy. No person can do that. She could be the reincarnation of Mary Mother of God herself, and you couldn't expect that from her. Be your own advocate. If your relationship isn't toxic, it can survive you becoming a more whole you.

This asshole is rooting for you. Give me an excuse to undoomer "Mikailer." My girl needs a win.