#i’m still decompressing lol

[charmac]

Friday night we talked to Charlie about how much we loved Season 16 and are looking forward to 17, and "We miss Mac being a fake bad-ass," was his example when he was talking to us about how he is really trying to prioritise getting back to who these characters really are, and digging into the weeds of them all.

It’s so special to hear directly from him that the character’s core wants, cares, and motivations are what he uses to drive every episode plot (and I am going to spiral about this forever, I think).

[emmaspolaroid]

cried so much my head hurts <3 but now the hard part is over

[harrylights]

ok i just need to write down these whack 1d dreams i’ve had the last couple days

[togrowoldinv]

Instagram

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

You find out about Natasha’s secret Instagram while she’s away on a mission

Note: Inspired by the romanoffthereal account Scarlett is definitely running lol. Enjoy this one!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

When you walk into the living room, you hear your oldest kids giggling. You smile at the sound, but your curiosity is piqued when you notice their attention is on a phone.

“What’s up?” You ask them. Ali drops her phone into her lap and they all turn to you. You raise a brow.

“Hi Mom,” she says. Her voice is sincere but her eyes don’t quite meet yours.

“Do I even want to know?” You ask, assuming it was something the kids wouldn’t want to spend time explaining why it’s funny.

The boys stand up as if on cue and excuse themselves with a little side hug to you. They’re getting older, but still remain sweet.

“Just ask Mama,” Ali says before running off too.

You shake your head in confusion. Why would Natasha know what they’re laughing at? She’s not even in town. A mission she didn’t want to go on pulled her away for a couple of weeks.

The rest of the day is spent trying to wrangle all of the kids. You don’t find anymore sneaky laughter sessions. Settling in for the night, you lie down and get on your phone.

That’s when you see your friend sent you a post on Instagram. It’s been a while since you opened the app, finding yourself way too busy with kids and with Nat not wanting too much of the family information online.

You open the message to see a picture of a Black Widow toy along with other Avengers. Before you even read the caption of the post, you read the message from your friend.

Is this your wife?

You furrow your brow in confusion. Clicking on the photo, you see the post is written in first person from an account named romanoffthereal.

Surely not, you type in response.

You examine the photo further and wonder if it really could be her. But surely she would’ve told you she made a secret Instagram. Right?

You try to sleep, but the cold spot in the bed next to you doesn’t help. You miss Natasha. Glancing at the clock, you decide maybe she’s getting up across the world.

Your contact photo of Nat always makes you smile. A silly selfie she took one day on your phone when you left it on the table. You click on it and wait for your wife’s voice to ring through.

Unfortunately she never picks up. You sigh and put your phone back on the nightstand. Sleep never comes around and soon it’s 5am.

You get up and start on breakfast for the kids. It’s a never ending process, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. The life you and Natasha have made is absolutely perfect.

As if she knows you’re thinking of her, Natasha finally calls you back.

“Hey,” you answer.

“Hi sweetheart,” she replies. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You sound upset. Plus, you called me in the middle of the night,” Natasha explains.

“You knew I was upset by me saying one word?”

“I’m a spy, baby,” she jokes. “And we’ve been married forever now. I have good news though.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“One second,” she says.

You wait for her to reply over the phone, but instead you’re met with the front door opening. Natasha walks in with a grin on her face.

Whatever fruit you were cutting is abandoned. You run over to her and hug her tight.

“It’s okay,” Nat says. “I’m back.”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you more,” Nat replies.

You kiss her lips and hold her tight once again. Soon, the kids wake up and everyone is so happy to see Nat.

By dinner time, she’s soaked up all of the love she can take. Nat escapes to some solitude to decompress from the mission.

You take her a plate of food to your bedroom. She’s sitting on the bed on her phone.

“So, I have a question,” you say. She narrows her eyes. “And I expect you’ll have an answer.”

“Okay,” she says, but comes out more like a question.

“Do you have an Instagram you didn’t tell me about?”

Natasha smirks. She’s been caught.

“Which one of those kids ratted on me?” She asks.

“Wait, it’s true?!”

“It was for fun,” Nat shrugs. “For the kids to laugh at. So who told you? Was it Jack? He never could lie to you.”

“It was not the kids actually,” you say. “Although, I did see them all laughing at their phone’s yesterday and Ali said to ask you why.”

Natasha chuckles and smiles softly at the fact that she made the kids laugh. She prides herself on being humorous, even in a nerdy way.

“My friend sent me the post though,” you say. Nat doesn’t smile at that.

“Shit, I thought I made it private.”

“No, baby. You know for a super spy, you’re really bad at using media,” you tease her.

“I’ll remember you said that,” Nat says, feigning seriousness.

You laugh and lean into her. Nat wraps you in a hug so tight you can barely breathe.

“I’ll delete it,” Nat says after a minute.

“The kids like it. Just have them help you make it private,” you suggest.

“Deal.” A minute later she adds, “I love you.”

“I love you more,” you reply.

“Mhm,” she hums.

You pull away from her just enough to look in her eye. She kisses you deeply. Her want for you is evident in her touch.

“The kids occupied?” She asks.

“I turned on a movie,” you say.

“Perfect.”

The two of you don’t waste a second getting reacquainted with each other. Life with her is perfect with her silly Instagram and all.

[qlossytbh]

Hello my love can you do a spencer reid x reader who experiences olfactory hallucinations (smelling things that arent there) please i just scared the shit out of myself cus i smelled a burning power outlet for like an hour 😭 the whole time i was unplugging everything and i thought my house was going to catch on fire 😰 i want him

𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬- 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 you experience olfactory hallucinations and spencer’s there to experience the rollercoaster that come with it lol

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 fem!reader, established relationship, just a lot of fluff, allergies (ugh), reader is freaking out (anxiety), me pretending to be science-y and act like i know what im writing about!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1.2k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i actually loved this request because I myself experience olfactory hallucinations due to my allergies and it’s really cool seeing someone else who has it! i unfortunately smell a wide varieties of things such as spoiled food, clogged toilets (yay!), and tobacco (love that for me)

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You rubbed your right eye vigorously, sniffling loudly with a following groan. Your hand then fell to its familiar rhythm, writing down your notes as you tried copiously to ignore the stuffiness that enclosed throughout your throat and nose. Your face itched gratingly, the corners of your eyes running with tears that wouldn’t seem to leave no matter how many times you tried blinking them away.

You had taken your allergy medication about thirty minutes ago and it wasn’t easing up— you felt puffy and somewhat aggravated.

Your T-shirt hung around your hips loosely, bunched up onto the chair you sat on at the desk of Spencer’s apartment, completing an assignment you needed to get done for your current job. Your hair was damp, ends still wet from the shower you had taken to decompress your sinuses.

You suddenly stopped all together, mind running blank. Twisting around in your chair, you turned to the kitchen and lifted your chin, staring down the ambience as if it was looking right back at you. What was that smell?

It was smokey and acrid and rotten and— definitely not supposed to be floating around the apartment. Unless something was wrong, you thought. You stood quickly, bare legs meeting the cold air as you patted over to the kitchen.

Your eyes scanned it frantically, checking for any signs of smoke or if any of the gas burners were on. Your heart was beating gratingly against your ears. The silence was so heavy you were beginning to feel dizzy. It was the type of quiet that made your skin crawl all the way up to the nape of your neck.

You sniffed again, trying to make sure you hadn’t hallucinated smelling what you had but much to your dismay— it still smelled like something was burning.

You hastily made your way to the desk, grabbing your phone and opening your contact list. It was only a few passing beeps from the other line before a voice rang out. “Hello?”

“Spence,” Your boyfriend picked up on your tone quicker than you would’ve preferred.

“Hey,” He said, sounding like he was reassuring you that he was there, voice soft although he didn’t necessarily know what had made you so distressed in the first place. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ears shamefully, glancing over at the kitchen.

“I’m pulling into the driveway right now, what’s going on?”

You bit the flesh of your bottom lip, making your way back into the kitchen. “Did you leave any of the burners on? Or plugged in anything you maybe— shouldn’t have..?”

Spencer paused on the other line, almost in profound contemplation. “No. I didn’t, why?”

“Because it smells like something is burning Spence,” You reached at the small handles of the ovens burners, rotating them all to signal they were off. “Are you sure you didn’t leave anything in?”

“I’m positive,” Somehow he could practically feel your hesitation, so he continued. “Baby, I have an eidetic memory. I would’ve remembered leaving something on,”

You huffed, still not entirely convinced because the smell was right there. It wasn’t strong, which caused even more anxiety to swirl inside of you, but it was there. The sound of a car door slamming shut was heard on the other end of the phone. “I’m freaking out,”

“I’m getting into the elevator, I’ll be up in a few seconds,” You paused.

A few rather long seconds later, the door pushed open. Spencer glanced at the handle, brows furrowed in annoyance. “It’s not locked— Why isn’t this locked?”

Your habit with leaving doors open was a problem, but it currently wasn’t your biggest. The strong smell still floated around, dancing through your nose and torturing you slowly. “Screw the door, do you not smell that?!”

Spencer closed the door behind him and set his bag down, along with his shoes. You watched him from the kitchen, crossing your arms across yourself and hugging your body closely.

“Where is the smell?” He stalked over towards the kitchen. His eyes lingered on the sight of you wearing nothing more than a t-shirt. It was something he didn’t think he’d ever get used to.

“I don’t know where it’s coming from,” You griped. Spencer really tried to find where the smell was coming, only so that he could ease you from your anxiety, but he really didn’t smell anything.

“I don’t smell anything love,” He reassured, looking over towards the stove just to be absolutely, positively sure.

“How do you not–?” You stopped, face falling from its tightened up expression. A relief unlike any other fell over you the second you understood what was going on.

“I’m–” You rubbed your temples, letting out a breathy laugh. “I’m an idiot,”

Spencer furrowed his brows, quickly walking beside you and setting a very much needed and comforting hand on your shoulder. “What?”

You remain quiet, reaching out and wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your face into his chest. Spencer stood there, muddled by your behavior but nevertheless happy to oblige with whatever you deemed necessary to feel better. He wrapped his arms around you, rubbing a few soothing circles onto your back.

“Yeah, I get olfactory hallucinations,” You trailed off, resting your cheek on his chest and not yet looking up at him.

“Phantosmia?” He quipped. You pulled away, looking up at him inquiringly.

“Huh?”

“Phantosmia,” He shifted his arms down to your waist. “It’s a sensory perception disorder where people experience smelling odors that aren't present in their environment. Unlike actual smells, which are triggered by external stimuli interacting with the olfactory receptors in the nose, phantosmia originates internally within the brain.”

You pulled a face. “Well, I call them olfactory hallucinations.”

“Well, medically they’re called phantosmia.” He countered. You narrowed your eyes as he tucked a strand of damp hair behind your ear.

“Show off.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I thought you liked it when I talked a lot.”

You hummed. “Yeah, that's true”

Unfortunately, you got olfactory hallucinations– or phantosmia– often. And it should’ve been the first thing you recalled once Spencer was denying any smells of burning outlets and gas. It always simultaneously flared up when your allergies did, meaning you probably should’ve known better— definitely would’ve saved you the near heart attack.

Spencer dragged his hand up and down your waist instinctively while you poked a finger into the rough surface of his chest “Got some more info for me smart-ass?”

Spencer gave you a look, rolling his eyes at your ridiculous giddy grin. “It isn’t very common. When it comes to disorders that affect the sense of smell, phantosmia makes up 10% to 20% of cases.”

“Well that makes me feel unique.”

Spencer bit back the need to tell you that you were already unique, but he referred against it. Not because he didn't want to— he always wanted to. But he knew he spent every single chance he could get to telling you how special you genuinely were to him.

“For some people, the odors that they hallucinate are pleasant, like freshly baked sweets—“

“You're joking,” He shook his head. You huffed, drawing your lips into a pout. “Do you know what I'd give to smell that instead of a goddamn burning outlet— it gives me anxiety.”

“Yeah, but look on the bright side,” Spencer leaned forward kissing your forehead. You basked in the simplicity and loveliness of his touch. “At least there wasn’t actually a burning outlet.”

“Yeah,” You smiled up at him. “That's true.”

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober (2024) Day 19 - Kidnapping

Kink: Kidnapping

Pairing: M!Reader x Tentacle Monster

Other Kinks: Tentacles, Consensual Non-Consent (sort of...)

Word Count: 1312 words

Kinktober Masterlist

A/N: I've done quite a few kidnapping tentacle monsters scenarios so far, so it thought I'd put a fun little twist on this one ;). Lets just say this reader is just as horny as all of us are lol.

“Taste…so good.”

The tentacles lather up and down your body, nuzzling into each and every crevice, lapping up the sweat still soaking your hiking clothes. With a day like today, the air as thick as a bowl of soup, they have plenty to taste.

“Oh no! Stop it!” You say, airy and artificially scandalized. The tentacles wrapped around your wrists, holding you in the air, climb further down your wrist, hoisting you up and making your back arch. The hanging stretch actually feels quite good, decompressing your spine after a long day on your feet. “Not under my shorts!”

The monster hadn’t even considered going under your shorts yet, but your not so subtle suggestion doesn’t slip past them. Wriggling tendrils push past the tight inseam, the whole mass of the beast shivering once they reach the crotch of your boxers. 

You have to bite your lip when they push past your fly, pulsing muscle slithering around your cock and balls, not taking a moment to wonder why you’re already hard. No, they just focus on the taste that seeps through the pores of their gelatinous skin, of secreting more and more ooze that makes your skin tingle and your stomach grow taut. It’s laced with an aphrodisiac that forces you to relax, makes it easier for their prey to become their willing sex toy.

Not that you really needed it, but you weren’t going to complain. The high of their drugging ooze was delicious, only heightening your senses and making you wonder why you didn’t do this sooner.

The hike hadn’t been easy. Most pathways specifically avoided this territory for good reason, meaning you had to push past miles of untamed forest to get here. In these slutty shorts of yours, it was no easy feat. After all that you also had to act convincingly enough that you were actually lost, not wanting to frighten your potential kidnapper away. If you had come in too confident they would think you’re a monster hunter trying to lure them into a trap. In reality you had the opposite intent; you were desperate to get lured yourself.

“Oh…goodness.” Your eyes go cross as the tentacles around your cock squeeze, practically milking you for the tiny drops of precum. Others encircle your sensitive head, lapping up the salty liquid and smearing it across your skin. “Is it getting..hot in here?”

It already was, not even the shade of this cave keeping out the stench and the heat of the forest in summer. But your comment makes the monster tremble in excitement, dextrous tentacles yanking open your belt and pulling down your fly’s zipper. Your cock bounces out, practically throbbing in their grip. Your shorts and underwear are quickly shrugged off, thrown to a corner to be smelled and sucked on later. Seems this particular tentacle monster has a thing for scent and taste.

You act scandalized when something starts prodding at your lips, puckering them closed. You barely put up a  fight, a little gasp when they easily push past and start rubbing up and down your tongue. They explore the entirety of your mouth, feeling every molar and every taste bud.

The tentacles around your cock begin to move up and down, joined together to mimic the feeling of a hand. You gurgle around the tentacle in your mouth, now pressing at the back of your throat with glee, excited to find that their new toy doesn’t have a gag reflex.

That’s right, baby, I’m a hot commodity.

Testing the waters, you clench your mouth a tiny bit when the tentacles around your cock yank, just nicking the gooey flesh with your teeth. The tentacle vibrates and pushes against the sides of your mouth.

Seems they like a little pain too.

You make sure to time your tiny bites with their strokes, as if it was an uncontrollable reflex. The average person would probably be too delirious from the slime to bite like that, but it seems your horniness has prevented a lot of the mind-numbing side effects. Like a slutty vaccine, you were already boosted for tentacle fucking before you ‘wandered’ into this trap.

You try not to pout when the tentacle pulls out, dripping with your saliva. Striations of a slightly lighter color show you left somewhat of a mark, something like the crescents human nails leave on skin. The tentacle strokes the side of your face, leaving a sticky trail of juices behind.

It doesn’t linger long, quickly sliding down your back and between your ass cheeks. It circles around your hole, thoroughly prepared with its slime and your spit.

Yes! Yes!

“No! Anywhere but there!” You say, not so subtly arching your back as best as you can. The tentacle monster groans again, the several around your cock wrapping tight.

Fuck!

The monster wastes no time, tapered tip pushing past the ring of muscle and pushing forward. The slime works its magic, easing the stretch so there’s barely a burn, just nice hot pleasure.

“Gods!” You shiver.

“Tight fit.” The monster mumbles. “Not for long. Will stretch you out, every day…..perfect little pet.”

Please!

The thickest part of the tentacle finally reaches, sitting snug between your ass cheeks. The feeling of something writhing inside you is sort of weird, but no less arousing, the tip pushing against your prostate with expertise. Stars shoot across your eyes, cock twitching in the monster’s slimy grip. 

Once fully seated, the monster starts fuckign into you with fervor. It’s timing is ferocious, matching the tentacles on your cock perfectly. This beautiful creature has so much coordination between all its limbs, a tapestry of elegance. Gods, it’s so fucking sexy.

Slime spatters across your ass as it’s fucked wide open. A tapestry of liquids decorate your lower half, making it shiny and debaucherous. The noises alone would be enough to make a highly applauded audio porn.

“Right there! Fuck me, just like that!” 

With the amount of slime you’ve been covered in, it's alright to fall into your base instincts and let out your true feelings. The monster eats it up, if it had a face it’d no doubt be smirking.

“Yes,” it purrs, “-good pet. Take it all.”

Your mind is now actually getting foggy, the heat and the fucking short circuiting your nervous system. Your heart pounds in your ears, toes curling as you get it from all sides. 

“Oh my gods! Yes!”

“Feels so good, pet. Feels so fucking good.”

Another tentacle shoves itself into your mouth and down your throat, now truly filled to the brim. Sweet slime coats your tongue like a syrup, sticky and delicious.

“Hmmph! Hnngh!”

“Make such pretty noises, pet. But throat feels too good. Must have it.”

That’s fine by you.

Time slowly begins to lose all meaning, but at one point the sun does set. The air becomes a bit cooler, but no less humid. You wouldn’t notice, the frantic friction of tentacles keeping you quite cozy.

“Close, pet?” The monster chuckles as your cock began to twitch, your balls tightening as your orgasm nears. “Bet cum is tasty too.” Tentacles constrict around your cock. “Need it.”

Who are you to deny that?

Your orgasm is explosive, not even close to any other you’ve had in your life. It wracks your whole body, has your eyes rolling back in your head.

“Nnngh!”

The tentacles all around and inside you give their final thrusts, trembling as hot spurts of goo shoot deep down your hole. It coats your entire crotch, drips off your legs in streams. It’s a slightly different flavor than it’s slime, more tangy and sour.

The creature is nice enough to pull out slowly, lowering you down into its warm and wet embrace, massaging your lower back and neck.

“All mine. You’re all mine.” It whispers in your ear.

Hell yeah.

[minkdelovely]

kinktober — day XXVII

prompt: sex pollen

the pollination of angel dust

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor x Angel Dust ; RadioDust ; MDNI 18+

tags/warnings: top!alastor x bottom!angel, handjob, blowjob, overstimulation, masturbation, anal fingering, mentions of pain/raw skin, minor blood warning, mentions of dry orgasms 🥀✨

word count: 6.1k

summary: valentino sent a bouquet of flowers imported from the lust ring and angel has been doing his best to manage on his own, but can’t seem to break the fever when alastor shows up and proposes the offer of an afterlife.

author’s note: sunday, sunday, sunday! this wasn’t supposed to be as long as it ended up being, but here we are lol this prompt was quite the challenge for me, but i hope you enjoy it, and i’ll see y’all on thursday for the kinktober finale ♥️

coven: @fraugwinska @hazelfoureyes @macabr3-barbi3 @sugoi-writes @synamartia 🕯️♥️

the coven's kinktober masterlist

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Angel being absent in the evenings wasn’t unusual, as Valentino typically enjoyed having him work through all hours of the night. What made his empty chair ominously noticeable today was that everyone knew he was home. But they all had their right to choose — free will was Hell’s burden to bear, wasn’t it? — and Angel had missed meals before. Usually catching up on some much-needed sleep or just decompressing after days of grueling shifts. So his absence was noted, briefly discussed, and moved on from. 

Or it would have been, had Alastor not been the one in charge of making dinner.

While everyone else began to work on cleaning up, Alastor took it upon himself to go see what kept their coquettish spider so preoccupied that he couldn’t deign to join them downstairs. Had Little Miss Muffet come to exact her revenge? The Radio Demon’s cackle was the only thing that lingered in the dining room as he dissolved into shadow. 

When he manifested in front of Angel’s room, cloche in hand and ready to disturb the peace, Alastor’s eminent knock was interrupted by a wanton mewl on the other side of the door.

Ah. Not a good time… Perfect!

The smile on Alastor’s face grew as he poised his fist again and waited for another loud moan before rapping it on the door, effectively sending Angel into a scramble. Alastor’s keen ears picked up on all of it: the cursing, the ruffle of bedsheets, the groans of anguish from being forced to stop what was no doubt an enthralling pursuit of self-pleasure.

“Whoever the fuck is out there, you know I’m busy — so scram!”

He didn’t even have the decency to open the door and dismiss Alastor to his face! It was an insult to injury that could have gone unchecked, but where was the fun in that? So Alastor knocked again, purposefully silent. Let their little celebrity find out who he was talking to like that the hard way.

There was more cursing and grumbles. Alastor refreshed his posture and smile with a shimmy as he heard the star in question stomping towards the door. He had expected Angel to throw it open and give him hell but he merely cracked it. The golden chain of the door lock still dangling loosely in the meager amount of space.

“What?”

The insolent tone of voice was the most egregious slight thus far. Not many sinners in this roiling pit had the courage to give Alastor real cheek. Yet here he was, on the receiving end of a five-star glare that he had to tilt his head upward to meet. Not a pleasant experience, but Angel’s upset was intriguing — and impressive — enough that it kept his own irritation at bay.

From what Alastor could make out, the poor fellow did seem to be in dire straits. It was clear that his robe had been donned and tied in haste. The pink silk haphazardly wrapped around most of the tall, lithe body underneath it. Hair fussed and sweaty, pieces of it clung to his flushed face in a way that gave Alastor a sudden urge to swipe it back. Though he quickly dismissed the lingering trait from his childhood, recalling how put upon he felt when Mother would do exactly that — grooming him when he hadn’t done a good enough job himself. She simply couldn’t abide by unkempt hair, and in turn, neither could he.

It wasn’t just his hair that was off — though Alastor now noticed the matted tufts on the demon’s usually coiffed chest. Angel’s eyes were glossy and blown, his flared temper only adding to the lust that radiated from them. A telltale emulsification of sweat and arousal wafted through the crack of the door, underlaid with something Alastor couldn’t pinpoint, just short of floral. 

Perhaps a candle to set the mood?

Alastor fought to keep his hackles down. Whatever it was, it burned in his nose and sent a rippling tingle through his body; every strand of hair on edge with a lovely sting.

“You weren’t at dinner, so I’ve brought it to you,” Alastor said amiably, but his smile hid venom as he brought the cloche into view from his left. “I hope you didn’t skip out because I was in the kitchen today. I put a lot of care into it, you know.”

“Look, Alastor. I’m not in the mood to play along with one-a-ya shitty games right now, capisce?” Angel’s voice was stern but short of breath, and Alastor had a fleeting thought that he might be suffering from some illness until the echo of a moan resounded in his ears. No. It was too frivolous a remedy, even for the adult film star. “Just… leave it on the floor and I’ll grab it later.” 

The door was resolutely shut in Alastor’s face, dissolving the remnants of his patience.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Angel let out a sigh of relief after closing the door. Of all the motherfuckers in this hotel to come a-knocking, it just had to be Alastor… 

The Radio Demon had easily captured his attention when he showed up here all those months ago. Since then, he had managed to smother most of the embers of his attraction toward the notorious Overlord, but in his current state those feelings had gone molten; pooling heavy in his lower belly with an agonizing ache.

Even now, Angel Dust could smell him. That spicy, earthy signature cut through with something unknown — dangerous,  even — still lingered in his nostrils, despite the barrier of the door. He groaned in frustration, letting his forehead fall gracelessly against the door as one of his hands hastily brushed away the silk of his robe to tend to his incessant erection.

Angel hissed in pain as his palm made contact, his dribbling cock raw and inflamed. How many times would this be now? It felt like hours since the first wave of arousal had woken him from sleep. When jerking off a few times hadn’t done the trick he changed tactics, and was fucking himself through round two on his favorite dildo when Alastor interrupted him. But if he was being honest, he had completely lost count of his orgasms. A fact made worse as the last couple had been dry.

Something was wrong… he just didn’t know what. Maybe Val had slipped him something this afternoon before he left the studio? He knew it wasn’t Valentino’s pheromones, being very familiar with the effects, and this was unlike anything he had experienced before. He’d do just about anything to be rid of this pain and fever, heating him from the inside out. Every beat of his heart was an uncomfortable throb in his pulse, reminding him of his predicament like the sinister ticking of the extermination clock. Angel choked out a sob, grip loosening until his hand fell away from himself as his top right fist came down harshly on the door.

“I seem to be interrupting all sorts of private moments this evening,” Alastor said sardonically, drawing a yelp of shock from Angel before he recollected himself. 

“What the fuck are you doing in here? I told you to leave.” Angel’s anger tapered off, dulled by the quiver in his voice from tears he was trying desperately to hold back. Whether they were from the pain or shame, he couldn’t know, though it was likely both.

Alastor didn’t answer. He had his nose in the air, sniffing the room before his face pinched with displeasure as he zeroed in on the bouquet of flowers from Valentino. They had been delivered just as he had gotten back to the hotel earlier, and in his desire to keep their existence to himself Angel had brought them up. He had plans to toss them into his fireplace but decided against it once he made it upstairs. They looked pretty in his room, and why take his frustrations out on harmless flowers? Though the letter peeking through the blooms remained unread.

Angel watched as Alastor approached them, almost vindictively, hovering over them with his arms crossed behind his back as he inspected. He took another sniff and recoiled, the ever-present hum of his static shrieking like feedback on a bad mic as he brought a hand up to cover his nose. Even his ears had gone stiff, as if petrified by danger.

“What, ya got allergies or somethin’?” Angel joked, unable to fight the small laugh that escaped him. 

The pain wracking his body was momentarily forgotten as he observed the Overlord. He didn’t notice that it was beginning to shift from agony to desire now that Alastor was in his room.

“Allergies,” Alastor scoffed under his breath, putting himself to rights with a tug at his lapels. “No, dear, I’m afraid these flowers must be the cause of your,” he gave a pointed look to Angel’s flagrant problem as he searched for his next word, “…affliction. I don’t recognize them as any breed that’s grown here. They’re twisted.” 

Angel cursed. Of course Valentino would skew a romantic gesture into something obscene.

Alastor merely hummed, then proceeded to summon an opening to a pocket dimension in which he quickly disposed of the devious flowers. When the portal shut the air in the room was immediately lighter, and Alastor breathed a sigh of content. His face plastered with the saintly look of a job well done.

“Where’d ya send ’em?” 

Angel couldn’t help but ask. If they really were the reason why he’d been suffering, he hated the thought of them causing harm to someone else. Well… no one in the hotel, at least.

Alastor leveled his eyes on him from across the room, his grin wide and superior in the way someone with a secret always was. “A dump, where they belong. But I fear the damage is already done. Tell me, what was the first symptom so I know what to expect?”

Angel Dust wrung his hands, a fresh onset of arousal spreading through him as Alastor’s scent replaced the aroma of the flowers. The cadence of that transatlantic voice making his cock twitch with interest, erection briefly forgotten but not gone. Why was it suddenly so hard to think? He was trying so hard to answer Alastor’s question, but words evaded him. Disappearing from his mouth like popped bubbles.

It didn’t help with the way Alastor was staring at him, a cat eyeing the canary. This is a look that normally would have given Angel a healthy dose of apprehension, maybe even fear, but at present it was smoldering. He was practically naked, something that didn’t typically bother him, but under the scrutiny of Alastor’s gaze he felt as if he was being examined under a magnifying glass. Leaving him bare and tinkered with like…

Like a plaything.

There was a sourness in his mouth at the all-too-familiar dynamic, and he found himself panting, stomach tight as Alastor sauntered over. Casually removing his coat and draping it over one of the armchairs as if Angel was the guest in this room and not the other way around. Alastor crooked a finger under Angel’s chin once he was close enough, and Angel properly whimpered. Helpless as another dribble of precum soaked into the silk of his robe.

“Cat got your tongue? Or is that too on the nose?” Alastor teased, smile goading and voice sultry; crimson eyes piercing him like needles. 

“Fuck you,” Angel managed to retort, but the heat he needed to land the barb escaped him in steamy puffs of breath. 

“I’d like to extend an offer,” Alastor said guilelessly, ignoring the insult, “since we find ourselves in need of each other’s help.”

“Help with what?” 

He sounded far away from himself, as if speaking from another room. Having Alastor this close was fucking with him; endocrine system not knowing whether to ramp up his testosterone or cortisol levels. With the way his heart and loins were hammering, it most likely doing both.

“Poor fellow, you’re in quite a stupor, aren’t you?” Alastor chuckled. He took one of Angel’s hands and brought it to his lap to cup his forming erection, drawing a gasp from the younger man. “As you can see, I’m already suffering the side effects from those damned flowers.”

The words had barely registered before Alastor returned the gesture in kind, the soft leather of his glove a surprising balm to the irritated skin of his cock. Angel crooned and let his head fall back with a thump against the door as Alastor gave him a few exploratory strokes, and all but cried when his thumb pressed into the slit.

Alastor clicked his tongue in mock admonishment. “I expected a professional would know how to better care for themselves. Look how red you are, poor thing...”

Angel squirmed, gasping, unable to hold back the fresh tears that stung his eyes from the bliss of Alastor’s hand pumping him. “I do,” he protested, “but if what you said is true — mmm — then those f-flowers did somethin’ to me. And nothin’s worked all — fuck!” 

He groaned as his cock kicked, a small rope of ejaculate painting the top of Alastor’s gloved hand. Angel hadn’t even felt the onset of this orgasm, but did feel the relief of it for the first time all evening. His body shook as another little spurt spilled out. Meager proof for what had been his best climax so far.

Alastor hummed pensively and brought his hand up to his mouth, licking the glove clean with two wide swipes of his tongue. He seemed to ponder over the taste of it for a moment, then shrugged it off. Some internal debate settled as that same hand gave a tug to the handsome bow at his neck. His eyebrows perked up as he began to roll up his shirtsleeves, as if forgetting that Angel was fighting for his sanity in front of him. 

“Shall we take this to the bed?” 

Angel was still trying to process what had just happened, but couldn’t deny that he was already feeling a bit better after the handjob, rudimentary as it was. Still, something about this just didn’t seem real. Alastor offering to go to bed with him? He had to be sure, lest he embarrass himself further.

“If you’re serious about this you actually have to fuck me. Ya know that, right? No cuttin’ corners just usin’ those tentacles ’a yours,” he said warily, searching the Overlord for any signs of a gag.

“Clever boy,” Alastor purred, smile wide as he extended his hand. The sight was about as comforting as a loaded gun, and Alastor hummed when Angel stared down at his open hand for a moment too long. Adding a singsong, “No strings.”

“No strings, huh?” Angel couldn’t help but be a little skeptical, being very familiar with the demon’s reputation. “You ain’t gonna make me sign for it?”

Alastor chortled. “Of course not! This is between gentlemen. What do you say?”

How the fuck did he end up in this situation? To think that if he had just tossed the flowers like he wanted, he would have had another mundane evening under his belt. Instead, Valentino just proved that he would never change, and left Angel holding the bag as usual. What was he even trying to achieve by sending those fucking things here, anyway? If Valentino knew what the flowers would do to him (and Angel had a really hard time believing he didn’t), it’s not like he was here to take care of the result. The thought alone made Angel nauseous, a shudder wracking his body that left him feeling dirty.

But it was Alastor standing before him now. Alastor, the enigmatic Radio Demon, whom Vox both adored and detested. While Vox certainly wasn’t the only one who felt that way towards the guy, knowing this was all somehow tied to Valentino helped. He’d be lying if he said he never thought about what fucking Alastor would be like. After all, that blowjob he offered when they first met wasn’t completely for shock.

Let’s see just how serious he is…

“Can I suck your dick?” 

In a flash so quick Angel thought he had almost imagined it, Alastor’s face lit up in surprise before settling back to his usual facade, his open hand curling into a fist. But he didn’t answer, instead pooling into shadow to re-form on the edge of Angel’s bed; fingers dancing on his thighs while he spread his legs just enough to show off the growing bulge in his trousers.

“I suppose you’ve waited long enough for your chance.”

It shouldn’t have had the affect on him that it did. Angel had seen more than his fair share of men in the exact same position after making such an offer. While his erection had yet to weaken, he was surprised at his capacity for lubrication, embers of lust burning just under his skin as he knelt before Alastor with as much dignity as he could muster. God forbid he appeared over-eager, even if he was. 

There was just so much mystery surrounding the man before him, it was hard not to let his imagination get away. Angel was already impressed by his size, swallowing the saliva that had began collecting in his mouth as he tentatively palmed Alastor through his pants. The jerk of his hips caught Angel off-guard, but only made his own arousal worse.

Sensitive, huh?

Under normal circumstances Angel would have teased him, draw it out with strokes and licks over his pants until Alastor was begging for his mouth. But he had the distinct feeling Alastor wasn’t the type to to beg, and he didn’t really feel like testing his patience to the point of being thrown around like he was at the studio. Since, under normal circumstances, Angel wouldn’t even be here in the first place — removing Alastor’s belt and unfastening the button, his own groin tingling with anticipation as Alastor sighed with relief through his nose. A small, shaky sound with momentous impact.

It was enough to make Angel give in to his impatience, his need to really see what he was working with too great to delay any further. Alastor was right. 

He’d waited long enough.

Angel sighed when he pulled down Alastor’s pants and boxers, moaning a little despite himself as he watched Alastor’s cock trying to win its battle against gravity, straining under its own weight. He was thick and uncircumcised, causing Angel’s mouth to water again with the desire to see more. If he was already enjoying the dark tan color before him, he couldn’t imagine what else lied in store when he eventually got around to revealing the head. 

“This has gotta be Hell’s best-kept secret,” Angel said, grinning as he looked up to Alastor’s face, which had grown rather red. “I shoulda known you’d be packin’. The quiet ones always got somethin’ up their sleeve.”

Alastor shifted self-consciously, smile strained as the flush of his face crept down under the collar of his shirt. “I’ll take it as a compliment, but I suggest you put that mouth to better use before I change my mind.”

Angel thought about responding. He had several sarcastic quips in his back pocket for instances such as this. Work would do that to you after a while — quite literally suck the joy out of things — so you had to find the fun where you could. And his idea of fun right now was to make Alastor eat his words. He wanted to see what this mouth could do? 

So be it, then.

Without further delay to his own gratification, Angel Dust took him in hand, soaking in the gasp Alastor tried to swallow as he pulled back the skin; greeted by the flushed tip, a deep rosy hue that complimented his tan so nicely. Big and beautiful? Some assholes were just born lucky, Angel supposed. He was, of course, included in this exclusive group, but it was a rare treat to be able to indulge in a gorgeous cock that wasn’t his own.

Angel started slow, circling his tongue around the glans and relishing the salt of Alastor’s skin, heightened by his musky scent. Not unaware of the little sounds Alastor was still biting back; something that Angel was more than willing to rectify, when the time came. For now, he was happy to ease into it. Planting a small kiss right over the slit before treating the rest of him, Angel’s hand gently working the head as his trail of kisses traveled down. 

He could have cried for joy as Alastor adjusted himself, legs spreading further to give Angel more access. Even daring to take a testicle into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bulb and sucking while his hand continued its massage. Alastor was breathing heavily through his nose, losing the battle to keep his breath even as Angel switched testes. If he wasn’t so dedicated to giving Alastor’s balls the attention they deserved, he would have smiled as he felt the first wave of precum sink under his fingers. Already feeling so satisfied and he’d barely gotten started.

Angel pulled off with a purposefully salacious pop, working his hand further down Alastor’s shaft now that he had some lubricant to work with. He could have easily grabbed some — Lord knows he wasn’t lacking in supply — but earning it was always nice. Jumping in with both feet was something he related more with being at the studio, and he was off the clock at the moment. No lights, no cameras, no shitty actors with even shittier hygiene. 

He was in the comfort of his suite, with Alastor on the bed willingly letting him have his fun. Was the circumstance anything like he thought it’d be? No. Angel fought back the anger he felt simmer in his gut at the reminder of Valentino’s gift. The silver lining being that Alastor, for whatever reason, decided that the only way to get through this fever was together. It would be a secret they’d take to their figurative graves, and if Angel was being honest with himself, it was more than he could have asked for. A memory just for him.

The moan that left Alastor as Angel’s mouth finally surrounded him was sublime, his own dick weeping steadily as he sunk down to the base. Practically smothering himself in the wild scent of Alastor’s manhood, relishing the soft hair that tickled his nose. Even better was how quickly Alastor’s hand found itself grabbing at Angel’s hair while his body jerked from pleasure and shock as Angel slowly bobbed his head; refusing to let this be just another sloppy blowjob. Not that he had anything against them (Angel enjoyed them quite a bit) but having someone gag and choke and gasp and drool all over his dick just didn’t seem to be Alastor’s style.

Angel whined as he felt Alastor twitch and grow in his mouth, swallowing down his saliva now delightfully flavored with the salty-sweet of Alastor’s arousal. It reminded him of the kettle corn he would get on Coney Island. A treat he was only allowed when he had been on best behavior running errands with his Ma, and he found sucking Alastor off to be just as gratifying. 

He didn’t even notice how his hands were gripping Alastor’s hips until he felt the Overlord begin to rock into his throat. The hand in his hair still held firm, the slight sting of the pull against his scalp only spurring the star on, widening his tongue to press it up against the pulsing vein as a reward for Alastor’s growing enthusiasm. Made evident by the static-laden gasps and groans he was freely making, complimented by the wet sounds of Angel’s mouth as his throat relaxed to let Alastor chase his fun.

Not afraid of a little mess, after all…

His lower set of hands busied themselves cupping and massaging Alastor’s testicles, the wanton sound that he earned from it one he vowed to sear into his memory for safekeeping. He could tell that Alastor was getting close, pace stuttered but flirting with brutal as Angel focused on making sure to keep enough air in his lungs. Not that he doubted his capacity, but he hadn’t exactly planned for the sudden face-fucking, either. 

He risked a glance up, and what he saw almost didn’t seem real. Alastor’s head was tilted down towards him, but his crimson eyes were shut tight, framed by his sweat-damp hair. The blush from earlier had truly bloomed from the fever, the glow contrasting handsomely against his complexion in a way that was almost irritating. Sure, red was his color, but did every part of him have to rub it in? 

But the real showstopper was his fumbling smile. Alastor’s patented grin gone soft and trembling; gossamer strings of saliva connecting the lips of his open mouth, looking like dew drops on a spider web. 

“Fu — haahh, Anthony, I —”

Angel moaned at the sound of his name on Alastor’s tongue. Nearly sobbing as he felt and tasted the first shot of cum, fastening his grip on Alastor’s hips to keep him in place as he swallowed every bit that he received. It tasted different than his pre, more on the bitter side, but not unpleasant. Angel was finding less and less things to associate with that word when it came to Alastor, a worry blossoming in the back of his mind that he’d have to think on more later.

For now, he focused on savoring the moment. The taste, smell, and feel of the Overlord before him. The little jerks and shudders of aftershock slowly beginning to subside as Alastor’s breathing evened out, loosening the grip he had on Angel’s hair before falling on his back; a static hum vibrating in the air, sounding the way he always imagined a sleeping beast from a fairytale would.

Alastor was far from asleep though, grumbling over the persistence of his erection as he hastily tugged at the buttons on his sweat-dampened shirt. The effects of the fever digging in despite their efforts. Angel could understand the frustration, his own member practically screaming for relief. He knew his own touch would only bring pain and irritation, resolving to do his best to ignore it, but found himself growing eager. The lingering taste of Alastor’s skin and semen in his mouth warming him from the inside out.

“How many times do ya think we need to try before it goes away?”

“I think there’s only one way to find out, darling,” Alastor replied, sounding a bit out of breath. “Why don’t you come up here and join me?”

To his surprise, Alastor didn’t pat the bed, but the top of his thighs. His knees still bent over the side of the bed while the rest of him laid flat. Angel crawled up, fighting through the stiffness that had begun to settle into his bones, and settled himself over Alastor. Sighing as strong, large hands held his hips and red eyes roamed his face. 

Without thinking, Angel reached up to remove Alastor’s monocle. For such a small thing, its absence made quite the impact. Alastor’s face, much like the rest of him now, laid bare for no one else’s eyes but his own. Angel took in the sight, crimson splayed over the pink cotton of his duvet. With Alastor laying in the center of it, his hair and open shirt was reminiscent of a pool of blood. Angel found it fitting — gruesome and glamorous all at once. He was struck by the urge to kiss him, and drew his bottom lip between his teeth to keep it at bay. Alastor only smiled, one of his fangs poking out from his closed lips while his hands massaged the star’s narrow hips.

Angel cleared his throat and looked up and off to the side where his discarded toy and bottle of lube laid haphazardly on the sheets. He was just able to reach the bottle, and proceed to rub a generous amount over his hole; feeling the blush warm his face from being watched. It was a little funny… Angel Dust was used to this, enjoyed it, for the most part. But something about having Alastor’s eyes on him while he prepped himself made him feel shy, as if he were seeking some kind of approval despite being the professional.

The slick sound of his fingers filled the gap of their silence, punctured by little whines and heavy breaths. And still, they maintained eye contact. The intensity of Alastor’s red eyes was smothering, and it felt nice to know that Angel wasn’t alone in his need for more.

“Okay, that should do it,” Angel said, and shivered at the sound of Alastor’s eager inhale of breath. “Ya want me on top, or should we switch? I don’t care either way, just make it quick cuz I can’t wait anymore.”

Alastor laughed and gave him a playful slap on the ass, the unexpected gesture heightened by the words he spoke next. 

“Get on your back.”

Angel complied with an embarrassing speed, dismounting from Alastor’s lap to scramble up the bed. Hastily removing his robe to gather his discarded dildo in before placing them on the floor to give them a cleaner space to work with. His chest was heaving as he watched Alastor shed his shirt and slacks, and couldn’t help but to finally touch himself; moaning loud as Alastor crawled up the bed while running his tongue over his teeth. 

He sighed as Alastor grabbed his legs and hitched them over his shoulders, pulling him close as he lined himself up with Angel’s entrance. Alastor sunk into him with one swift thrust, their groans of relief harmonizing as they both paused to adjust. He didn’t give Angel too long of a wait, slowly receding before slamming back in. Alastor’s thick length forcing him open with a delicious stretch as he steadily pounded Angel’s ass. His hand remained busy on his own cock, doing his best to stroke in tandem but failing from the force of Alastor’s body rocking into him.

Maybe it was from the wait, but Angel was shocked to feel that prominent tightening in his belly so soon. The promise of another orgasm adding to the haste of his hand as he keened. A high, wanton sound ringing out over mounting static and bit-back groans, elevating the crude noise of wet skin-on-skin. They were already so drenched in sweat, the fever in full force as the men desperately sought to break it.

Angel didn’t even notice that Alastor’s nails had dug into the skin of his thighs until he saw the blood trickling down, and found himself clenching around that delicious cock in response. Alastor’s head fell back with a moan, his hips stuttering from the sudden tightness before resuming his pace.

“Oh fuck, Alastor, please don’t stop. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Angel begged, breathless. Tears beading at the corners of his eyes as the molten heat in his abdomen boiled over, his climax hitting him with a force he hadn’t felt since his first time.

Somewhere under his cries of rapture he heard Alastor curse with a gasp, the feeling of the Overlord’s release sending him over the edge as his orgasm renewed; his dick twitching against his stomach, shamelessly painting himself with a fresh wave of his own seed. The relief was exquisite, the heat in Angel’s body noticeably dropping as Alastor gave him a testing thrust before resuming a slow, deep pace. Seemingly unfazed by fucking his spend into Angel’s ass, for which the star was grateful. It felt too good, and he’d hate to point it out and make Alastor squeamish. 

“What an improvement,” Alastor observed, his voice thick and low, eyes glowing with a hunger that made Angel whine. “Feeling better now, my dear?”

Though his mouth was open, Angel could only nod his head in answer. Rolling his hips to meet Alastor’s thrusts as they chased another high. His head was clearing up, and he was determined to get Alastor to finish first this time. There was no way of knowing just how many rounds they’d need to go to get through this, but Angel was feeling hopeful that it wouldn’t be too much longer, at least for himself. 

He watched, mesmerized as the antlers on Alastor’s head began to grow. Spreading out like roots until they had tripled in size, handsome and stately and entirely befitting the head they adorned. Angel couldn’t help but reach out, his desire and curiosity to touch them overriding his sense of propriety. To his delight, Alastor noticed his unspoken question, folding Angel’s body beneath him as he lowered himself enough for the star to reach out and grab his brow tines. Earning a delicious moan from Alastor from the touch.

Their faces were so close now that they were breathing the same air, a dizzy feeling building in Angel’s head as he lost himself in Alastor’s unrelenting eye contact. 

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, ya know that?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, moaning as he felt Alastor twitch inside him. He let his other hands roam the expanse of Alastor’s furry chest, relishing the groan it drew from him as his brow furrowed. “Can’t wait to see you cum again… got a front row seat this time.” 

He felt another throb as Alastor gasped, grinding his hips in tight circles, his steady pace unravelling as buried himself in Angel’s heat. 

“That’s it, baby, I can take it,” Angel encouraged between breaths, seeing stars with every pass of Alastor’s cock over his prostate. Doing his best not to blink lest he miss the face he was so eager to see.

“Anthony…”

There it was again. He didn’t even know how Alastor knew it, but the sound of his name in that filtered voice was a weakness he could have lived without. Knowing that it would haunt him as he tried to sleep for nights to come. That he would recoil the next time he heard it from someone else’s mouth instead…

With another cry of his name Alastor shuddered, his face scrunched in pleasure as his orgasm wracked his body. Angel took it all in, his body squeezing out every bit of Alastor’s essence while his eyes memorized the flushed, handsome face. Every bead of sweat, every misplaced strand of hair. The heat of Alastor’s breath on his face, huffed in invisible clouds of steam. His upper hands were still latched to Alastor’s tines, the others gently caressing the man as he sloppily rode out his high. 

It wasn’t until Alastor collapsed on top of him that he realized he didn’t experience his own orgasm, and found that the absence of it wasn’t painful. His body felt to be back to its usual temperature, his head light but clear as he waited for Alastor to pull out. Not that there was a rush. There was no way for him to know the time, but he wasn’t ready to turn back into a pumpkin.

“I think my fever’s gone,” he says anyway, his voice quiet as Alastor nestled his face in Angel’s chest. “Thanks for puttin’ up with this. I know…,” he sighed, searching for the words and settles on, “I know it’s not somethin’ we woulda done under normal circumstances.”

Alastor hummed, pensive. He still hadn’t removed himself, and Angel couldn’t help but find it oddly comforting. “I’m not so sure I’m out of the woods yet. I’m typically not so… voracious.”

Angel laughed a little, content to pet Alastor’s back while he figured it out. Seeing as this would most likely be a one-time thing, he figured he should get his money’s worth. So to speak. 

“Hey, your secret’s safe with me. A gentleman never tells, ya know.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The even sound of heeled boots echoed in the empty hallway as Lucifer made his way to the doors of his penthouse. He was in a lovely mood, whistling a tune that hadn’t deigned the ears of mortals for centuries; his right hand flourishing his apple-adorned cane like a baton. 

His mirth died with the song on his lips as he took in the vase of flowers on the floor, recognizing the breeds that made up the bouquet as genuses that only existed in the Lust Ring. Lucifer bent down to pluck the card out of the pink and maroon blooms and grimaced almost immediately.

Thinking of you, Angelito. Call me when you feel the burn. ~ Valentino

Lucifer shuddered and incinerated the card, furiously wiping his hand on his coat in disgust as he opened a portal to V Tower. 

Seems like a certain Overlord needed to remember his place.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

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[sovya]

like magic

ran haitani x f!reader (with hints of rindou haitani x f!reader)

minors n ageless blogs dni

cw: inc-st, dddne, use of honorifics ("nii-chan/san"), slight manipulation (on ran's part), pet names ("princess" "little girl" "sweetheart" "sweet girl"), D/s dynamics (including having rules), infantilization, slight humiliation, praise, degradation, teasing, hand as a gag (to keep you quiet), piv (mating press), size kink, free use (if you squint)

synopsis: ran, after a long day of work, wants nothing more than to decompress with his favourite girl—but he doesn't want to share. ♡

an: if i forgot any cws, pls let me know ! also srry this is so disgusting lol

wc: 2.5k

"you make it sound so easy..." a loud huff departs from his lips, pink and slick with your saliva and his own.

your whines cut through the heavy atmosphere of your sizeable bedroom, a sound that echoes off the finely decorated walls before seeking purchase in the recesses of ran's mind.

"but i need you... don't you need me?" long eyelashes give shade to your gaze as you look up at him longingly. you can almost see him question if you're asking in good faith or if you're simply trying to rile him up. 

either way, it's working. 

"aw, c'mon princess, you know that i do... nii-chan just hates to hurt his favourite little girl, that's all."

"but 'm tough... i can take it! i've taken you before."

"no, i know... i’m only worried that if you hurt too much, you'll scream and cry and then rindou will wake up. an' if rindou wakes up, he'll want a turn with you… and we both know rindou will be much meaner to you than i am."

your eyes leave his face as you look around the darkened room, just barely visible thanks to the lights of the city. he makes a good point, even though you wish he didn't. as much as you love how rin fucks you, your sleeplacking body might break under his strength alone. your gaze returns to your eldest brother's face, giving him a dejected nod. 

"hey, don't look so sad, little girl... 'm still gonna fuck you." his form hovers over yours rather menacingly, his hands on either side of your head holding himself up.

he looks like a God like this, you think to yourself. his normally perfectly styled hair now falling around his face after his nightly shower, the dark purple strands contrasting against his rather pale skin. the tattoo along the length of his neck bobs as his Adam's apple does, as if intentionally drawing attention to itself—though maybe that was the point of getting it on his neck in the first place. your sights trail further down his body, his work shirt having been discarded hours ago, hung up for dry cleaning the next time the maids come by. despite the strain on visibility, you can make out the distinct markings of his half body tattoo, eyes following the intricate patterns the ink has weaved into his skin. he's too good to be true but he's here and he's real and he's looking at you like he wants to eat you—not whole, but to savour you instead.

"so how are you going to..." your voice trails off, words fleeing into the sound of the fan running on the other side of your room.

"fuck you?" he smirks at your hesitation to use a curse word, something him and rin have agreed is strictly unallowed—only for you though, of course. "'s okay, honey, you can say it just this once. i won't tell rin."

"how are you going to f-fuck me if you don't want me to make loud noises?"

his smirk spreads wider, like a burning wildfire across his face, one he couldn't contain even if he tried.

"i’ll be gentle, sweet. take good care of ya." he shifts his weight to his left hand, using his right to caress your cheek, his thumb smoothing out the plush skin there.

“but… what if it hurts? like you said…”

“hm…” ran starts to look around the bed before reaching for your stuffed rabbit, placing it onto your chest, “hold your bunny, okay? cry into her if you need to cry.”

an involuntary whine escapes you, your arms wrapping around the stuffed animal your brothers bought you many years prior—prior to this moment, prior to them fucking you stupid nearly every night.

reaching his hand down to the waistband of his sweats, he haphazardly pulls them down until the band rests around his muscular thighs, his cock finally springing free.

“see, baby, there you go. just hold onto your bunny an’ nii-chan will be right here, okay?”

“okay…” the utterance comes out much less confident than ran was hoping for, but he’s too hard and his day has been too long to give a fuck.

he gathers the skirt of your nightgown and pushes it further up your hips, his large hands finding their way to your bum as he lifts you slightly, allowing the garment to collect around your body, just below your belly button. he leaves your bottom half completely exposed, your cunt now in full view.

“just as pretty as the first time i saw her…” ran sighs, speaking mostly to himself.

while his left hand remains on your body, touching your side with a gentleness not unfamiliar to you, his right hand pulls back, finding its way to his aching cock. he begins to touch himself, teasingly slow, as his gaze drags up and down your body.

“nii-chan…” whining, you give him a pout and ran can’t help but laugh.

“what?”

“want touches…” your eyes begin to well up as you watch him masturbate above you, knowing that the brothers gave you a rule against touching yourself without their express permission.

“what do you say, then?”

taking in a shaky breath, your brows furrow a little more, “please?”

“please what?”

you can’t totally see his face given the darkness of the room, but you can just tell he’s got a smirk plastered across his face.

“p-please… ran-nii, will you please touch me?”

“touch you where?”

goodness, you feel like sobbing. you feel a painful lump in your throat beginning to form and you swear it’s going to weigh you down into the mattress and leave you there, crying, for an eternity.

“r-ran… please? i need you. need you t-to touch me on my… in my… my…” you struggle desperately to get the words out, wrestling with your mind to just let you say the words—those incredibly humiliating words—you need to say.

“your… what?” his hands go back to your bum, lifting you up as he goes to line himself up with your entrance. afterall, you both know he can’t have you sobbing.

“there! touch me there! please!”

ran places a hand over your mouth, trying to keep you from nearly shouting at him again. the sheer size of it engulfs your face, causing you to clench against him, and he can feel it.

he hisses out a “fuck” when he feels your pulsating cunt against the tip of his cock, the way your arousal is dripping down your slit.

ran simply cannot wait any longer. he needs to feel you wrapped around his cock. his sanity depends on it.

the hand on your face presses harder against your skin, the bones of his digits digging in as he starts to sink himself inside of you. his jaw falls slack, letting a strained groan make its way past his lips. it may be dark in your bedroom, but he can see how your eyes dart around his face in a panic, never having taken him with this little prep before. you’re scared and incredibly pliant, just how he likes you.

you draw in a shaky breath, intense and fraught, like with every inch he presses inside of you, he threatens to knock more air out of your lungs. gripping onto your plushie tighter, you feel tears beginning to pool at your lash line, his cock stretching you with a harsh sting.

“there you go sweet girl… look so pretty like this…” ran whispers as he finally bottoms out, his gaze nothing short of absolutely adoring.

you blink and a tear falls down the side of your face and onto the pillow, “i do?”

ran lets out a breathy laugh, nodding while his hips start with a relaxed pace, “yeah, princess, so fuckin’ pretty.”

smiling up at him, you manage a small giggle, “thank you, ran”

he begins to speed up, the sound of his skin slapping against yours getting louder and more frequent, “that’s not what you call me… you know that…”

starting to sob, you partially hide your face with the head of your bunny plush, “sorry nii-chan… ‘m sorry…”

clenching his jaw, ran groans through his teeth, low and needy—like a man possessed.

“there we go, good girl… that’s what i like to hear.”

his cock stretches you open, keeps you open, as it drags along the gummy walls of your cunt. the feeling is almost agonizing, despite the arousal dripping down and forming a little puddle below you. you feel an intense ache in your core, like he’s threatening to tear you open. and through all of this, you feel so ardent, so eager, so good.

feeling you tighten around him, ran draws in a sharp breath, his fingers gripping at your pillows even harder, “fuck, sweetheart… love when you do that. w-what’s it you’re thinkin’ about in that pretty little head of yours?”

you give him a drawn-out whine, all of a sudden feeling overwhelmingly shy. looking up at him, your brows furrow as you shake your head.

“no? you don’t wanna tell me?”

you can feel yourself tighten around him again, but you repeat your headshake.

“alright, that’s fine.” suddenly, ran stops his movement, causing you to gasp—and you’ve got that precious panic face back on—how cute.

“wait… no. please keep going, ran-nii. i-i’ll tell you, promise,” you do your best to talk quietly, but the possibility of ran stopping is just too much for you to bear.

“you promise?” 

his cock is still buried inside of you, and he’s just as desperate as you are to keep going, but he’s gotta tease you. what else are big brothers for?

sniffling, you nod, opening your mouth to speak, “was just thinking about how you feel…”

ran starts to roll his hips into yours again, a smug look creeping across his face anew, “how i feel?”

“yeah… h-how you’re stretching me out and…”

moving faster, bringing himself back to his previous pace, ran raises an eyebrow at you, “and what?”

“just… how big you are…”

he licks his lips and his eyes grow heavily lidded, the classic haitani stare piercing through your soul, sending the most primal feelings surging through you—feelings you can almost guarantee are rushing through him too.

“how big i am, huh?” his large frame shifts above you, ran’s hands moving off the pillows and to the undersides of your thighs, pinning your legs to your chest.

you let out a squeal and ran’s hand finds its way to your mouth once again, attempting to keep you quiet as the weight of his body keeps your thighs pressed to your torso. a muffled “mhm” leaves your lips but is cut off by your big brother’s palm, causing him to laugh. the low rumble comes from deep in his chest and you can feel his abdominal muscles tensing against the backs of your legs as he chuckles.

he’s so strong, the feel of his muscles like absolute torment to you, causing your cunt to clench around him another time.

“you’re such a naughty girl… getting off on your big brother folding you in half and fucking you like a toy.” ran growls, throwing his head back and moaning. his head comes back down just as quickly so he can look at you while he speaks again, “but that’s okay, you know that… nii-san loves his dirty little girl.”

ran moves his hand from your mouth, pressing his sweaty forehead against your own, gazing into your eyes with so much love.

i love when he does this, you think to yourself. ran can play all the mind games he wants, can be conniving and tease you until you forget where he starts and you end, but the way he looks at you when he’s close gives all of his secrets away.

“i love you s’much, ran-nii.”

before you can register what’s happening, ran’s lips meet your own, capturing you in a kiss. it’s passionate and incredibly comforting all at once, making you dizzy and sending your heart pounding. his soft lips move against yours languidly, a wide contrast to how harshly his cock slams into you.

“nii-chan wants to make you cum, baby… ‘s that okay?” ran practically moans into your mouth, but you know his question is rhetorical. you know it doesn’t matter what you want, not really. that you finishing is all a part of his fun, too.

you nod anyway, lips parted and wet with both of your saliva.

ran snakes a hand down between the two of you, the pads of his middle and ring fingers touching your clit as he begins rubbing fast, tight circles against it.

you can’t help but squeeze your plushie tighter, tears starting to well up and fall, the crystalline droplets catching what little available light peers into your room.

“you’re so beautiful…” ran still speaks against your lips, as if he’s trying to convince you to let go right there underneath him. “the best little sister a guy could ask for.”

whimpering, you dig the back of your head further into your pillow, ran’s lips having no issue following.

“p-please?” although you’re unsure of exactly what you’re begging for, ran takes the cue to keep going. his long fingers continue swiping at your clit as his cock drags against the sweet spot inside of you, your entire body shivering and your eyelashes fluttering as you struggle to maintain eye contact.

your eldest brother ruts into you like an animal, breath catching in his chest with each thrust inside of you. his lips meet yours once more as he feels you starting to spasm and clench around him, desperate to swallow your moans, keeping them all to himself.

a high-pitched mewl escapes from your throat as you finally cum around his cock, your arms and legs trembling as sobs begin to wrack through your body.

ran’s orgasm isn’t far behind yours, his movements stuttering as he wraps his arms around your back, desiring nothing more than to hold you close as he finishes deep inside of you. he looks blissed out and incredibly vulnerable, so unlike the untouchable God you’re used to viewing him as. still, you can’t see him as anything short of perfect.

as the two of you lay there, you do your best to catch your breaths, hearing the sound of ran’s heavy exhaling right next to your ear.

“you okay, princess?” ran’s the first to speak, as always. you guys could have gone for hours and he could be mere moments away from passing out, and he would still check in on you, still do all the aftercare you needed. he’s attentive and sweet like that.

“yeah, ‘m okay… are you?” your voice comes out as a whisper, moving your hands from the plushie you were holding to return ran’s embrace.

he chuckles, maneuvering his head so he’s looking at you again, the warmest smile on his face, “just peachy.”

suddenly, the tender moment is interrupted by the sound of the doorknob to your bedroom jiggling, followed by the harsh light of the hallway as it creeps open.

"aniki... i believe it's my turn now."

[bronx-bomber87]

Hello my wonderful fandom family :) Thanks for being so patient with me. I know I have till January but I am moving/slash road tripping at the end of Sept to a new state. Which is a HUGE change. Going two time zones ahead and everything. So wanting to get it out there before I move and have even less time LOL Also thank you for wanting to take this journey with me. S6 was hard on all of us.

Haven't had a show rock me this hard in a very long time. So I'm forever grateful for the love and comments these in depth reviews get. Never want to take that for granted. This was a ROUGH season to say the least. But I’m excited to dissect it with decompressed eyes and somewhat healed shipper heart. Be lying if I was saying it was fully healed. But was a much needed break for me. Let us begin shall we?

6x01 Strike Back.

Premiere starts off with a literal bang. They’re all trying to figure what is actually happening. The mastermind clearly not the man they just took down in Luke Moran. Also loving how scruffy Tim is in this first shot of the premiere. The stubble all over that gorgeous jawline of his. Mmm. Delicious dusting. Love to break me off a piece. Wouldn't be a review if Feral Caitlin didn't make an appearance would it? ha God he's beautiful I can't help myself. This is his fault really.

Anyway back to matter at hand.... Lucy points out Luke may have been a patsy for the real crime. Diverting all their resources to this this one spot instead of their real target. Our girl always being the brains and Tim being impressed by it. They go hand in hand. You know that man loves her brain. Her intelligence is just one of many reason's he fell in love with her. Fun to watch her flex it I have to say.

There’s so much to love about these shots in the shop with them. The Metro call sign being one of them. It does things to me. It’s just sexy. Also the automatic way she’s paired with him in this moment. Like anyone else would be in that car with him but still. Ever the packaged deal. Just the little things I always love so very much. They don’t share shops anymore. So this is a treat. Riding together, brainstorming, and just being the bad ass team they always are in the field. Makes my shipper heart happy to see it.

After the Federal Reserve mayhem we skip 6 weeks into the future. I always wondered what happened in those six weeks with our ship. Probably nothing massive tbh. But be fun to know what shippy goodness could’ve occurred. I imagine they had some time off after that. Spent it together and decompressed from the madness. Just a nice thought to think about is all. *cough fic writers cough.*

We start off our cuteness with Lucy in Tim’s office studying. There’s so much to love about this scene it’s unreal. Let’s start with Lucy taking residency in his office like it’s hers. Knowing it’s a quiet place for her to retreat to. Also I’m sure Tim offered it up long ago for her. Which makes me giddy to no end. He’s not the least shocked that she’s using it. Only that she’s not out on patrol. Married status continues to level up in this moment.

Lucy explains she’s fallen way behind in her studies. OT is killing her atm. I can’t imagine how stressed she feels. Lucy is our resident academic. Not having the time to nerd out on her studies has to be killing her. It’s why she reaches out to her man for help. To pivot this in a different direction. Something that worked for Tim when he needed studying time. Asking if she could ride with him today? Could quiz her between calls.

Getting flashbacks to 2x02 when she helped him study between calls for his exam. I always love the callbacks they do for them. Continuity is ship crack for me. I eat it up. He accepts and Lucy is beaming. Their smiles in this scene are so adorable. Couldn’t be more in love if they tried tbh. I remember thinking how much I missed our idiots in love so much. I'll be this way for S7 too. I miss them.

Tim looks excited for this challenge. You can see it in his face above. But he is also letting her know how hard it’s going to be if she wants him to do this. That it’s probably not going to solve her problem. But he’s willing to expand her knowledge base on wildcards. This way she can take any curve balls Primm has to throw. Lucy’s smile is everything when she thanks him. Relieved her man is gonna help her her out. I mean of course he would. Nothing he wouldn't do for her and she knows it.

I remember seeing the funniest post for this moment before it aired. How it was her basically asking ‘Babe, please be mean to me.’ LOL Lord knows this woman is well aware he wasn’t gonna take it easy on her. Just like the old days. It's where she learned the most. So it makes sense she would wanna dip her toe back in that pool.

Tim is ready to roll. Starting his ‘boot’ engines back up. Don’t tell me it's not a little bit of a kink for Tim. That man is too damn excited to be able to boss her around again. That being said says she learns best when she’s pissed off. I mean he’s not wrong…No one knows how to teach her better than he does. Lucy counters by saying does she? Or is this is just giving him permission to be an ass?

Tim letting her know if that’s really how she feels she doesn’t actually want his help. Lucy backtracks and is desperate for him to guide her with this. Saying she needs it. Tim is lighting up like a Christmas tree. You know that man LOVES her needing him professionally. It’s been awhile since she has. He’s excited. Lucy has been a self sufficient cop for long time now. Hasn’t needed his guidance for quite some time. So for her to come to him with this he is a happy camper.

Tim is thrilled to put his T.O. hat back on for her. They have such married energy through out this scene. Lucy telling him she doesn’t like his excited smile. Tim deflecting saying it's just his smile haha The absolute wifey look she gives him is hilarious. They just be flirting freely in the hallways. Like they aren’t completely married at this point. Even though he’s driving her insane she follows him out with an 'in love' smile. She loves her ass of a boyfriend haha

They hit the road and Lucy is still questioning her decision. Oh my girl. Saying maybe should’ve chosen Harper or Lopez instead…Tim makes a joke how Angela just got back. Her cop brain is just booting up. Which earns a smile out of Lucy. She loves this man sitting next to her so very much. Written all over her face. Doesn’t take long before Tim triggers a Lucy rant though.

Poor man is just trying to help the woman he loves get through this. Wasn't expecting the time bomb he received. He sets her off by saying no matter who teaches her they all have the same database. That there’s only a 8 percent difference between ranks. This is what ignites the Lucy meltdown above. That Primm is going to use that eight percent to trip her up. His face above when she starts is priceless. Tim is just bracing for impact at this point LMAO Ain't no stopping what's coming his way.

The flood gates have opened and phew lord what a meltdown it is LOL Holy hell. She is the queen of them. I adore how Melissa can shoot off so much dialogue in one breath. It’s impressive af if you ask me. Also makes me cackle so much cause I’ve been her. So many times when I’m under immense stress I do the same. You prattle on until you run out of steam. I can’t believe there isn’t a gif set of this rant so I made one. It’s too good not to have in this review.

It’s the look on Tim’s face that has me ROLLING. It’s been awhile since he’s had an epic Lucy rant thrown at him and it shows. Eric the King of facial expressions is at it again. I’m laughing so damn hard. I remember having to pause cause I was laughing so much at his expression. He most definitely wasn't expecting the rant that he got. If you can look at him above and not laugh you're made of stone. Hang in there Tim lmao Your girl Is worth this intense stress/anxiety vomit she just spewed all over you. It's like he doesn't even know where to begin after she's done. So he just doesn't....

The married energy continues once Lucy has wrapped up her meltdown. Tim being the smart man he is doesn’t say a word. He’s learned a thing or two from this relationship. Lucy though takes his silence as saying everything for him. With her ‘Please don’t.’ Tim trying not to start anything telling her he’s said nothing. He truly wasn’t expecting the explosion he got. Was happy to be a passenger princess today, while he quizzed her through out the day. And instead got an epic freak out right out the gate.

Tim can’t win for losing in this scene. (or this episode really) Lucy telling him she hear him thinking it. I remember there being a Chenford Bingo of some sort before the premiere. And exasperated husband was on there. This delivered that in spades. His reaction after her saying this is gold. Haha This is the woman you’ve chosen to love Timothy. LMAO You know he loves her to death neuroses and all but good lord ha.

Their banter never fails to hit and the marriage vibes on top of this is top tier. I am here for it all damn day. One of those 'When did they get married again?' moments. His look at the end is like he’s chanting to himself . ‘You love this woman…you love this woman...’ Lucy tops it off saying she just won’t sleep till the exam. Leaving Tim to shake his head more and not say a word. Only look out the window as he rolls his eyes. Primo banter and chemistry here. *chef kiss*

They roll up to their first wildcard. I adore the Metro call sign as they do. Tim assigning the crime scene to Lucy as he does. *fans self* I can’t explain why the call sign so sexy. Just is. Also them sharing it on the scene also gets me all in my feels. Tim is telling her that he is there as a resource for her. But she is the one in charge. Asking her what’s her first move?

The Plain Clothes Day vibes are all over this scene and it's fantastic. Another callback I am so happy they touched on. Lucy confidently strides onto the scene and explains her move. Tim tells her to call it in. Love the way she looks at him the entire time she does. Tim asks her what else? This is where Lucy’s confidence starts to wain sadly.

Where that panicked rookie from all those years ago begins to resurface. The way she is talking at Tim trying to figure it out oh my lord. The PCD vibes are so strong. Only this time Tim is helping her out a lot more. Unlike back in S1 he was there to watch her flop around, second guess herself and drown. It’s much different this time around. He truly wants her to succeed and let's her know as much in his responses. Lucy doesn’t see that in this moment though unfortunately.

Tim telling her the obvious boxes are checked but what’s her wildcard? The spiraling is so real for her in this moment. It hurts to watch the anxiety build in Lucy. Tim testing her knowing she can do this but her confidence is eroding in this moment rapidly. He is trying to get her there faster by saying she doesn’t have a minute. Which she really doesn’t when we know how this scene ends…

One of my fav parts of this scene is the line above. The kindness and gentleness Tim has. Because he wasn’t in love with her during PCD like he is now. Here he is trying to be supportive and gently guide her to the answer. Even give her an out for it. S1 Tim never would’ve said there’s no shame in not knowing the answer. Not this directly anyways. Doing his damn best to support her through this. But also help her get to the answer so she learns. Lucy takes it the wrong way though.

Reason being it has nothing to do with the man next to her. That man would die first before not supporting her. Level headed Lucy would know that. Sadly she is not here with us at this crime scene. Who she really is mad at is herself at this point. Because she should know the answer and her brain is stalling out in this moment. Tim told her he wasn’t gonna take it easy on her. But breaks a little with his kind reply. Giving her an out if she wants it. Lucy can’t handle it though...Because she is being far harder on herself for this than Tim could ever be. I can relate so hard to this it's unreal.

I do love the way she says ‘Sergeant Bradford, please.’ Lucy feels like she’s suffocating in her own thoughts. The panicked rush to get this right and hitting a wall. The anger building towards Tim at the same time. The confidence she has built since S3 just melting away the more she stresses. All the while taking it out on Tim. Why you ask? Because in this moment she is projecting that anxiety and stress onto him with her reply. Defense mechanism thy name is Lucy Chen.

Doesn’t take long after that line for the sprinklers to come on….The wildcard revealing itself on its own. We watch as the evidence literally gets washed away and the bullet down the drain….Lucy rushes to chase it and watches as it goes down a storm drain. A reflection for how she feels about her hopes of passing this test…It’s a rough scene to watch unfold for her. The devastation on her face when she realizes that bullet is gone is very rough.

They return to the station and Lucy is as defeated as she can be. Hoping no one knows about it as as she rubs her tattoo. They start to play clown music as she enters. SMH. Tim trying not to laugh. Aaron doesn’t help when he also laughs at her misfortune. Not a good day for our girl….Lucy gets distracted by Wesley being there with the baby.

We get a small sweet departure from her anxiety in this moment. While she has him she wants his legal opinion on her crime scene. He too laughs. These men in her life are the worst right now. Not helping her building anxiety and loss of confidence. Wes telling her she fatally ruined that scene. That she’s gonna need a straight up confession to convict someone. And that’s only if she finds the killer…oof.

We rejoin our beautiful duo staking out the crime scene. Lucy grasping at straws to fix what she so royally screwed up. Her heightened state of spiraling continues on in this scene. Lucy admits she wants to skip the exam. Her face breaks my damn heart. Killing me here Melissa. I do love the way he says her first name in response. Still gets me he can. After years of Officer Chen and ‘boot.’ Just hits differently and makes my shipper soul happy.

Tim tells her she is ready. That man would not tell her she was ready if she wasn’t. Relationship or not that man doesn’t hold back. Wouldn't send her head long into failure. If Lucy was in a better place emotionally she would’ve heard him. Heard the confidence in his tone. Seen the empathy he was exuding for her. This man has changed so much in his time with her.

It sky rocketed when they got together. Tim couldn’t have been more supportive if he tried in this scene. Hell this entire episode. But she is so very stuck in her head. A place Tim could normally shake her loose from. A specialty of his really. He can’t gain an inch of ground in this scenario. Lucy has dug her heels in so to speak that she’s gonna fail. Nothing he says is getting through.

Our girl is experiencing massive amounts of anxiety and self doubt. The panic attack is real. The fact that the one person she would’ve sold her soul for, in order to get his support back in the day, isn’t getting through is a problem. Lucy goes on to say she knows herself. That if she takes this test right now she will fail. Her confidence will die along with it. That it’s better to wait. Tim steps from one minefield to the next with this convo.

When he once again is just trying to be supportive and says ‘Then wait.’ Not only is he being in her corner he gives her something she can do in meantime. Something he hates the idea of. Her going UC while she waits this anxiety/doubt out. If that isn’t him supporting her idk what is. He is also still learning how to be there for her emotionally and she isn't giving him the grace for that. Sadly Lucy isn't in the right mind to see that though. She is just stuck in the mode she's been trapped in all ep.

I get it I really do and empathize with her. I’m the same way when my emotions are in a heightened state. Nothing gets through. I'm frozen in place emotionalIy. I get very doom and gloom as well. Lash out at anyone who isn’t going to be positive and reassuring. Which Tim is doing his best to be. But Lucy is in such a dark state of mind she doesn’t see it. All she sees right now is he doesn’t believe in her and is kicking her while she is down. She needs reassurances right now. To her he isn't delivering that the way she is wanting at this point. Him agreeing with her that she should wait is only making matters worse.

Anxiety is a cruel cruel master. It makes you believe things that aren’t true. Amplifies them to the point that you’re so wound up you’re lashing out at everyone. Even your person. Which is exactly what’s happening with Lucy in this moment. Her accusing him of making it worse with how bad she already feels. When Tim is professing words of encouragement all she hears is him saying she can’t do it.

Tim is desperate for her to know he’s in her corner after this display. Asking her if she heard him? Lucy is distracted by someone showing up to the crime scene. Tim asks her what? Lucy replying that woman was looking at the crime scene while crying. Tim is so sassy in his reply I’m proud of him. ‘Or maybe she just had a frustrating fight with her girlfriend’ heh love this. Calling her his GF always gives me the feels.

Lucy gets a last minute win with this case. Catching this lady trying to get her bracelet back after tossing the gun. Her cop gut serving her well. Sadly Lucy doesn’t see this win as such and it bleeds into this final scene unfortunately. Once again the music is absolute perfection. I’ll post some of my fav lyrics at the end of my analysis of this fight. But first let us witness the incredible chemistry that is Eric and Melissa in this final portion. You know your ship is amazing when even their angst is lightning in a bottle goodness.

This fight I will say when I watched it originally excited me. Because it just showed they’re human. Real. The both of them. They make mistakes and aren’t perfect. How healthy this was for them to get off their chest. Because honestly the UC/detective tension has been building for a long while. This was the boiling point for it IMO. This scene hurt so good to watch. I rewound it a few times before I could process it the first time.

Tim starts off with congratulating her on her 4th quarter win. He’s genuinely so proud of her for bouncing back. Felt like she NEEDED this win. So he makes sure she knows. But like I said earlier Lucy isn’t viewing it that way. Her perception is more than a little skewed atm. Her building anger at Tim has reached it's peak. She is cold to him and brisk as hell. Tim immediately picking up on her clipped ‘Thanks.’ Like she was going to be able to hide her anger and frustration from him. Girl no. Tim asks her what? Lucy shrugging him off once again.

Tim pulls on her arm gently and parrots her own damn words back at her from 5x21. That they’re not gonna work if she’s going to lie to him. Lucy conceding immediately to that. I mean they have a lot to work on communication wise, but they’ve also come really far in this aspect too. Don’t wanna disregard that. Look at Tim confronting this right away and communicating effectively. There are causes for excitement with that growth. That being said they have a ways to go. This fight is proof of that.

Lucy pulls zero punches when she asks if he undermined her today so she wouldn’t make detective? The absolute look of hurt painted across his beautiful face kills me. As you all know I relate with Tim so very much. He is so deeply loyal and loving. That any of his motives are to help those he loves around him. He truly thought he was helping her out today. Being supportive and helpful. So for her to come at him like this is leaving him stunned and extremely hurt.

His person the one person who knows him better than anyone, accusing him of something he would never even fathom doing. I was hurt for him watching this. Last thing he would ever do would be to hinder her intentionally. Loyalty to a fault is having someone else hurt you first before you’d ever do the same. That’s Tim. It’s why he is so defensive the rest of this scene. And rightfully so. I'm proud of him telling her it upset him she would even think that of him. Because IMO he did not undermine her. That man did what was asked of him.

All of Lucy’s pent up anxiety, anger, and frustration comes out full force at Tim in this scene. And my boy didn't deserve it. I was on his side the first time I watched it and I am now. I didn’t see that changing though lol. Do I understand what Lucy is going through? Yes. Good god yes. I've been her. I feel so much for what she's going though. I want to make that very clear. But Tim didn't deserve this barrage against him. Wanna also note i’m so proud of the writers for tackling mental health from the jump with this season. Both our babies got issues and this was the precursor to the season really. We just had no idea at the time....

Lucy assumed all day he was undermining her. Instead of just confronting that fact she sat in it. Stewed in it really. ALL. DAMN. DAY. Which isn’t like her. She is the type to face it right away and voice that to Tim. But didn’t this time. Giving us a little taste of their communication problems early on this season. There’s that saying. 'When you assume you make an ass out of you and me.’ And by the end of this convo Lucy is feeling like an ass. I guarantee you that .

Lucy continues to dig herself a hole when she bring up that maybe it was "unconscious". Not deliberate but also that he couldn’t help it. Which doesn’t make Tim feel any better. Nor would it make me feel any better either tbh….Basically saying he has no control over things he does. Which just insult to injury at this point for him. Then Lucy goes for her next punch below. One I still feel was unfairly delivered.

Does Tim still carry those issues? Of course he does. 100% that is still a weight on him. It’s reflected in the next ep when the subject of UC comes up. But does it belong in this fight with him? No. It has zero place in it. But like I said before she is feeling a loss of control and confidence in herself. So she is projecting her insecurities and feelings onto Tim. By bringing up his and using them to stabilize hers. It's a low blow she is dispatching to him.

She is running from her own feelings about this. She is also protecting herself by making it about Tim and his problems. (Which he has for sure) Because she isn’t ready to face the fact that she’s afraid of UC and all that will come with it. How being a detective on top of it is going to pull her from him even more.

She voiced these concerns in 5x19 when she was originally studying for her exam. It’s easier for her right now to hide in and blame Tim for his problems, than deal with her own right now. Tim’s reaction is so valid in this moment. Because to him all he did was have her back from the jump. He is feels sucker punched by this explosion and it's written all over his reaction.

Lucy asked him to help her. He did. Even told her it wouldn’t be easy and he wouldn’t be soft on her. She accepted the terms of this situation willingly. Tim supported her best he could through her meltdown. Did his damndest to not comment on it. He knows it’s her process to spiral a bit then right herself. Because he knows her so well. He had her back in trying to help figure out her wildcard. She rejected it and drowned.

Tim was calm and kind even if she didn’t recognize it about the exam. When she was doubting herself he built her up letting her know she can do it. Did his best to be in her corner if she truly felt she wasn’t ready. Then congratulated her when she got her case win. To Tim all that was him having her back.

It’s why he’s so blindsided and hurt by her words. Lucy is basically kicking him while he down in this moment and it hurt to watch. Because her anxiety and immense stress has blinded her. Making her act so very not like herself. She came at him with a one-two punch. First punch accusing him of undermining her and second being an unfair Isabel punch.

The K.O. punch really is him reading her face above. The way she looks at him when he says ‘But if you can’t see that then…’ Doesn’t even finish his sentence. He can read her just as well as she can read him. Lucy cannot see that right now. Too clouded by her extreme anxiety and stress to see him and his intentions clearly. So he ejects out of the convo. She has knocked him down for the count.

Tim can’t take the way she is looking at him right now. The way she is making him feel. Tim has always held how she viewed him in high regard. Nothing means more to him than what she thinks of him. So for her to level him with this is heartbreaking for him. So he reverts back to old Tim and clams up. Tells her he’s tired and for them to take the night off. Then walks away from her with no way for her to retort.

Lucy is a block of ice until this line of his. She was fully expecting him to apologize and go home with her. And he did not. He ejected out of the conversation to go lick his wounds. The look of shock on her face is everything. She wasn’t expecting that at all. You can see the panic on her face. That raw panic of her being left behind by him. Of Tim leaving her. The tears building in her eyes as he does this. Oh the painful foreshadowing that is this moment…..

The lyrics for this scene are so poignant and perfect. As is the entire musical lineup for this season. Perfectly encompasses Lucy in this episode and especially this scene. Here are some of my favs.

‘I think I’m losing my mind. I see you’re losing your light. Drowning out the decibels. Do you wanna find the antidote? Trying to watch my obstacles, see how fully I’ve been broke.’ Lucy is so broken in this episode and doesn’t reach out to the one person, her person to help fix her. She was drowning and went to him for the antidote and then refused it the entire time. Then gets consumed by it all.

Just a glaring look into how they both deal with being emotionally overwhelmed and vulnerable. And it’s not a good look for either of them this season tbh. But we start out with Lucy’s where I side with Tim before we go head long into Tim’s and I side with Lucy it's balanced at least lol. Damn good premiere though. I was buzzing with excitement after it.

As always thank you to anyone who read this. To all the likes, comments and or reblogs I may receive you are the best. I shall see you all in 6x02 :)

Side notes-Non Chenford

~~~~

Scruffy Tim in this ep has my ovaries in overdrive. Mmm just wanna nom on his jawline like corn on the cob.

Nyla Harper being a bad ass in a tense situation is primo. Can always count on her. The aftermath sucks for her though.

Angela being more excited to see a burrito than her husband is hilarious and so on brand haha

Main baddie gets eliminated at the end of the ep. Not sure I remember why tbh haha Things got hazy at the end of the season for me with the SL.

[traffic-was-a-b1tch]

anthem of the heart

(jake kiszka x reader) 18+

summary: you and your best friend move into a new apartment after college, wanting a fresh start in nashville. however, you come to find that your neighbors are musicians. very loud musicians who like to keep you up at night. especially one, who likes to bother you on purpose. you would hate him… if he wasn’t so hot.

warnings for overall series: eventual SMUT!!!, angst, mentions of past abuse (not jake), abuse (not jake), mentions of past sexual assault (not jake), sexual assault (not jake), enemies to lovers, cursing, let me know if I missed any. (i’m still making this series up as I go along so it might change)

warnings for this chapter: mental struggle after SA, mentions of the SA in chapter three, therapeutic exercises, sexual tension to the max, cursing, let me know if I missed any!

author’s note: hey everyone! sorry about my inactivity! I get in writing moods some days and write 2-3 chapters in a few hours, and other days I rot in bed with no motivation lol. but thank you endlessly for the love! as always, please feel free to give me feedback, requests, comments, etc. enjoy!!!

• • •

Chapter Five:

you wanted to immediately run for the shower. your blouse was starting to stick to you; you felt so unclean. not just because you had been in the same clothes for 24 hours, but because of tanner.

before you could get to the bathroom you checked kailee’s room for her. you forgot to tell her where you were last night and knew she was probably worried sick. opening the door, you saw she wasn’t in her room.

you checked your phone and saw dozens of missed calls and texts from her. she wrote an hour ago that she was going to the police if you didn’t respond.

fuck. so that’s where she is.

you needed to call her and stop her from making a scene.

dialing her number, you thought about what to say. how could any words capture the last 24 hours? she answered within two rings and sounded frantic.

“oh my god! i’m so happy you called. are you ok?! where the hell were you last night? I called and texted with no answer. fuck, i’m even outside the police station right now!”

“kailee, i’m so sorry. please calm down. so much happened and I don’t know how to tell you-”

“don’t say another word”, she cut you off, “i’m on my way home. you can tell me everything in person.”

you sighed in relief of not having to have that conversation over the phone.

“ok, i’ll see you when you get here. I love you.”

“I love you more, houdini”, she countered and hung up.

thankful that she gave you time to decompress and think about how to tell her, you got back to business.

returning to the bathroom, you turned the water to hell levels of hot and stood in front of the mirror for a second.

fuck.

you were covered in bruises.

there was a few finger shaped ones of your arm and one big one on the bottom of your breast. you felt awful.

finally, the events of yesterday settled in your mind.

the fear of seeing tanner again hit you, and you realized you hadn’t seen him today. he was gone and you didn’t know where. this terrified you more. the unsettling notion that he might come back, surprise you when your all alone. when jake isn’t there to save you. tears were flowing down your face by now and you wiped them away.

you thought you didn’t need saving, that you could handle things yourself. but it was becoming increasingly more difficult, and you couldn’t deny that tanner would’ve done worse things to me if jake hadn’t been there to stop him.

you started to feel disappointed in yourself. you never really thanked him for helping you. you had gotten wrapped up in your frustration that you failed to express how thankful you were of him in those moments.

no more dwelling on this today, you told yourself.

stepping into the shower was relieving. the hot water running over your body and through your hair started to relax you.

you started with your hair, scrubbing shampoo all over it and into every crevice, then rinsing. next was conditioner, running it through your hair with care and rinsing.

getting a squeeze of body wash on your loofah, you started to softly wash your arms.

you breathed shakily, getting flashbacks as you ran it over the bruises. then you sped up, increasing the pressure, trying to scrub as hard as you could; trying to wash him off of you. you gasped as you panted and grunted, scrubbing so hard you were turning red.

it was never going to work.

you told yourself to calm down, to center yourself. you counted down from ten, slowing your breathing. taking a second, you turned your face under the water, letting the water wash your salty tears down the drain.

you were going to leave it all here. all his touches, all the sadness, all the anxiety.

you finished washing your body and cleansed your face. you were overwhelmed. the emotions from the interview, seeing tanner, and jake swarmed your head. you were determined to leave them all in the shower.

you were pretty much done, just basking in the hot water’s peace, when your heard a door knock.

probably kailee.

you were going to be happy to see her face after the day you had.

you got out of the shower, cutting off the water and wrapping yourself in a towel. there were more knocks, growing heavier and impatient.

you started to unlock the door and open it, groaning, “kailee, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

as it opened fully, you looked up shocked to see jake.

instantly you regretted not getting dressed, or even dried off.

“don’t tell me what to do with my panties, thank you”, he smirked.

his presence drifted in the doorway: cocky and sexy. damn.

you rolled your eyes, “oh please, jake. you wish I cared about your panties.”

it was then that he realized what you were ‘wearing’, if you could even call it that.

it was a fluffy pink towel from a dollar store back home. it was wrapped tightly around your chest, emphasizing your breasts, and only reached down to your mid thigh.

it was revealing, to say the least, and you saw his eyes as they trailed your body.

he breathed deeply, meeting your eyes, as if he had been holding his breath looking at you.

“I- um, came to return this.”

he held his hand out, offering the clip that had been in your hair last night. you forgot that you had taken it out and set it on the nightstand to try to detangle your hair.

you were knocked out of his trance, smiling and replying, “oh, right. I forgot I left that there. um, thank you.”

you reached and took it, your fingers brushing his. you waited for him to pull away, to recoil at your touch. but he stayed.

the chemistry was getting to be too much for you. you found yourself questioning: did you want space? your cramped mind said yes, begging to get a break.

or did you want him? your body screamed yes. every time you were around him you were annoyed; annoyed at his arrogance, annoyed at his loud band, annoyed that you couldn’t have him in your bed. fuck, that was a thought that haunted you as soon as you imagined it. him naked, in your arms, exploring your body.

you couldn’t decide what you wanted, but you felt the heat around you both getting hotter. too hot for comfort.

you pulled your hand away, repeating, “thank you.”

he nodded, returning to the conversation, “it’s really pretty. I knew you’d want to have it back.”

you smiled, “it’s one of my favorites. although, it seems like you would benefit from it right now.”

you glanced at his slightly messy curls, giggling softly.

it was becoming painfully obvious that both of you were dancing around what you really wanted to say to each other.

he laughed at your comment, rolling his eyes.

the sight of that made your mind betray you, imagining his eyes rolling back as you took him in your mouth. fuck, could you get any peace from this need?

jake’s eyes zeroed in on the deep red marks littering your skin, frowning.

you realized that you found your chance to let him know how appreciative you were.

“I never really thanked you for what you did. i’ve known tanner for years and knew I couldn’t overpower him. who knows what he would’ve done if you hadn’t helped.” you looked at him in genuine earnest.

he nodded, reaching out and brushing one of the marks on your shoulder, causing you to melt for him internally.

“i’m sorry I couldn’t do more.” his tone was full of regret.

you hated seeing him like this, pitying you.

“what else could you do? kiss them to make them feel better?” you laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

but the mood only shifted.

his eyes flicked to yours, filled with dark desire. his breathing quickened, causing yours to do the same as you saw his thoughts plastered on his face.

your mouth opened slightly, watching both of you struggle to keep your electricity at bay.

he was slipping though, stepping closer and whispering.

“is that what you want?”

oh my god.

you could barely breathe, your eyes never leaving his.

the lust that hung in the small gap between you slowly dissipated as he blinked his eyes away and stepped back. you stood there confused as he shook his head at himself.

“i’m sorry. you’ve been through a lot lately. you should get some rest.”

you swallowed your need, nodding. one part of you was thankful that he was so considerate of your mind and body after the trauma; but another part of you was aching for him.

but you knew he had made the right choice. probably.

“i’ll, uh, see you later.” he walked towards his door.

you closed yours, catching your breath. that was so charged with sexual tension that you needed to sit down.

you made your way to your couch and lowered down onto it, sighing. maybe all of this was for the best. why were you letting your life get complicated with another relationship? hell, you need to be thinking about your ex, not some guy that likes to annoy you. a really, really hot guy who likes to annoy you.

just then another knock came.

your head shot up.

he changed his mind.

running back to the door, you flung it open.

“where the fuck have you been?”, kailee gasped, engulfing you in a hug, “you have no idea how worried I was.”

• • •

the chemistry is so sickening I can’t!!!

tag list: @gvfpal @hollyco

(please let me know if anyone else would like to be on the tag list!)

[sweetcreaturetm]

Picturing modern day steddie where Eddie works from home doing coding or something nerdy lol. Steve is a nurse so he’s working days in the ED and he comes home and Eddie just bombards him with hugs and kisses.

And finally he just snaps. “EDDIE!” He yells and covers his face with his hands and just breathes.

Eddie backs up and has a wounded puppy look on his face when Steve drags his hands down his face. He sighs “babe I’m sorry-“ he gets cut off.

“No it’s fine.” Eddie pouts and walks off to his office/game/music room and closes the door.

Steve sighs again but decides to take the quiet for now. He showers washes all the patients of the day off him. He didn’t have anyone super bad that day but everyone was just so needy. He needed a second to breathe. They didn’t live too far from the hospital so his commute had not been long enough. He barely got 3 songs through his calming playlist.

He gets out of the shower and sees Eddie’s door still closed. He takes three deep breaths. He starts the kettle for some tea and takes inventory of their groceries.

He finally makes his way to Eddie’s office. Takes more deep inhales. He walks in and sees Eddie sitting on the small loveseat he has playing his acoustic. “Can we talk?” Steve asks.

Eddie looks up at him still pouting. “I’m sorry for being clingy and annoying.”

“You’re not clingy and only a little annoying” Steve tries for a joke. Didn’t land. “I’m the one who should be sorry. It’s just- I had so many needy patients I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off all day. I was just overstimulated and took it out on you.” He takes the guitar from Eddie setting it down gently. He straddles Eddie’s lap and wraps his arms around his neck. Eddie pulls him in closer. They hug for a minute.

“While you were showering,” he starts leaning back to look at Steve “I read an article-“ Steve gives him a look “okay I watched a TikTok” rolling his eyes “that said people who work from home should give their spouses time to decompress from work since they weren’t home all day. But I just miss you all day long and I’m like counting down the minutes till you get here.”

Steve laughs at that “I know but I think a little decompression sounds nice when I first walk in the door.” Eddie looks down so Steve picks up his chin to get him to look at him “I miss you all day too, you know.”

“I know, baby” Eddie leans in for a kiss. It deepens quickly.

Steve pulls back a little breathless “as much as I want this to continue if you don’t feed me in the next 10 minutes; this” he gestures to himself “is off limits”

Eddie practically jumps out of the couch Steve barely manages to hang on laughing hysterically. He stands on his own feet and laughs with his hands on his hips. Eddie grabs his hand and drags him out of the room “Hurry Steve before you starve to death!”

[toporecall]

AO3 or read below <3

Summary: Set immediately following the High Lords meeting in ACOWAR.

Rhys and Feyre are reeling from the somewhat disastrous and emotionally wrought meeting with the High Lords. They turn to each other for comfort and escape - Feyre leaning in to the “nice little wife” Tamlin wanted her to be (but not with Tamlin lol).

Or 3600 words of angsty smut cus I wanted the night after the High Lords meeting to go a bit differently than it did in the book.

Warnings: choking, sub/dom dynamics

---*---

“My nice little wife,” he crooned, smirking as he echoed the words I had hurled at Tamlin earlier. “Do you want to feel good?”

“Yes,” I breathed, barely audible, “please.”

The look he gave me was so heated, I could’ve sworn there was fire in his eyes. “Then go to the bed.”

---*---

“What a long, shitty, exhausting day,” I sighed, collapsing into a plush armchair dramatically.

Rhys and I were finally alone after the meeting with the High Lords. Everyone had decided to stay the night so that in the morning we could continue working on this tenuous alliance against Hybern. We’d spent some time decompressing with Azriel, Cassian, Mor, Nesta, and Helion, before everyone had split off into their rooms for the evening. It did not escape my notice that Helion’s voice was emanating from Mor’s room, along with a few more…revealing sounds. But it didn’t bother me. On the contrary, I was happy that Mor had someone to comfort or distract her after what we’d all been through today.

Now alone in our bedroom, Rhys was pacing by the window like a caged animal. 

“Are you okay? The things they said today…” I started.

“The things they said today were nothing,” he answered sternly.

“They weren’t nothing, Rhys. I’m sorry…I’m sorry those things had to get brought back up fro you. The things you did Under the Mountain.”

Rhysand continued looking out the window and sighed before speaking. “They can call me a whore as much as they want. I protected my people - our people - and I have you. That is what matters.”

“You’ll always have me,” I assured him quietly.

He turned to look at me, concern in his eyes. “And are you…all right?”

“Honestly I…I don’t know. Yes, I guess.”

Rhys crossed the room, standing before me as I sat in the armchair. He put his fingers lightly on my chin and lifted my face to look at him. Even after today, my breath stuttered in my chest at how beautiful he was. 

“Tamlin is still in love with you, you know.”

“Tamlin just wants a small obedient wife to warm his bed,” I said, my voiced filled with ire.

“Tamlin doesn’t even know how obedient you can really be, Feyre, darling.” Rhysand’s eyes sparkled and for the first time all night, a small crooked smile slid across his face. I almost couldn’t believe he was flirting with me now, after all of that, but maybe after today this is what we both needed. To feel wanted. 

Despite myself, despite the humiliation and the worry and the hundreds of problems we still had to deal with, I felt myself smile back coyly.

“No, he doesn’t. But I could play nice and obedient wife for you,” I purred.

Is it okay for us to do this here? I asked down the bond.

I think after today I need- Rhysand started but cut himself off.

Need what?

Never mind, I…today has been hard on both of us. I shouldn’t be asking for…just, never mind.

“Rhysand, what is it? Anything. Anything to make it better.” I whispered out loud.

He hesitated, clearly debating something within himself, before answering down the bond, as if the words were too much to say out loud.

I just feel so…angry, so frustrated. I want to tie you up and take what’s mine. I want to fuck you so good that everyone in this building will know I’m more than just Amarantha’s whore. I want fucking Tamlin to know what he lost.

I could feel my face heating. Hell, I could feel my whole body heating at his words. And it made sense to me. We’d been humiliated today, over and over. I wanted to give Rhys anything I could to remind him who he really is - the most powerful High Lord in Pythian. And honestly, I wanted to feel good too. I wanted to feel loved and taken care of. And, if I was being totally honest with myself, I also wanted Tamlin to be reminded who I belong to now.

The way Rhysand was looking at me almost broke my heart - so afraid of what he’d just asked of me. So sure that I would run away.

I took his hand off of my face gently and slowly, so slowly, slid out of my chair and onto my knees in front of him.

I looked up, my eyes meeting his which were full of surprise. “You told me earlier today that I bow to no one. I bow to no one but you, High Lord.” Despite my shaking hands, I smirked up at him, letting him know I’m in on the game.

He seemed genuinely taken aback and for a moment I wondered if I was making a fool of myself. But then I heard his voice through the bond, warm and full of want. Is this okay?

Yes, anything you want. I meant it.

You’ll tell me if it’s too much?

It won’t be. But yes, I’ll tell you.

“In that case,” he finally said out loud, voice gravelly and low, “I also said earlier that tonight I want you wearing that crown - only that crown.”

Within a blink, my dress was gone, leaving me in only lacy white panties with the crown atop my head. Cool air wrapped around my body, my skin breaking out in goosebumps under Rhys’s intense gaze. His eyes moved down my body slowly.

“My nice little wife,” he crooned, smirking as he echoed the words I had hurled at Tamlin earlier. “Do you want to feel good?”

“Yes,” I breathed, barely audible, “please.”

The look he gave me was so heated, I could’ve sworn there was fire in his eyes. “Then go to the bed.”

I started to stand but Rhys put a hand on my shoulder. I looked up questioningly.

“I didn’t say you could stand.”

He took a step back from me as it clicked in my mind. It should have been humiliating, crawling across the floor toward the bed at his command. After today, after being called a whore, after putting up with the things Tamlin and Beron had said to me, it should’ve been degrading to submit myself this way. But it wasn't. I crawled but I crawled with my head high, keeping my crown balanced and steady. 

When I reached the bed, I turned around to look at Rhys again, still on my knees.

“On the bed, Feyre, darling.”

I rose slowly, silently and knelt facing him at the edge of the bed, burning under his stare.

It was almost embarrassing how hard I was breathing already and he hadn’t even touched me. I was panting, anticipation a living thing in my core. I squeezed my thighs together, trying to relieve some of the pressure I’d begun to feel.

Rhysand smirked as he made his way toward me, obviously clocking the way my body was responding to this.

He stopped in front of me, his face about a foot above mine as he stood before me at the end of the bed. I let my eyes flutter closed as he ran his fingers lightly up and down my bare arms. I felt dizzy at his touch already.

He hummed to himself a little as one hand ghosted up my arm to my neck, encircling my throat. My breath hitched as he squeezed lightly.

“I think I like you like this, Feyre. All quiet and sweet and obedient just for me.” He squeezed my neck lightly again as a finger on his other hand ghosted lazily over one of my nipples, so light it was barely a touch but it sent shivers across my body. “Open your eyes and look at me, sweetheart.”

I opened my eyes, breath stuttering at the rawness of everything I was feeling.

“Do you want to be good for me, Feyre?” Rhys purred, a smug smile ghosting his lips.

“Yes,” I managed to get out. He continued stroking my nipple, his other hand not squeezing but merely resting around my throat like a collar.

“Did Tamlin ever make you feel this way? Were you ever this good and obedient for Tamlin?” My cheeks burned at the mention of his name. He was somewhere in this building, laying in his bed, probably feeling high and mighty about all of the digs and personal information he’d revealed about me today. His words echoed in my mind, Beron’s too. He whored for Amarantha for decades. Why shouldn’t you be his whore in return? 

Despite myself, despite all I knew Rhysand and I were and had with each other, I felt the beginnings of shame creep into my heart.

“No, never.” I tried to keep my head high, tried to keep my eyes from betraying my thoughts but of course Rhys didn’t miss a beat.

“Hey,” he said gently, releasing my throat and placing his hands on my shoulders, thumbs skimming back and for over my skin soothingly. I hadn’t said anything down the bond, but I could tell he knew what I’d been thinking, practically word for word. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. We have nothing to be ashamed of. They only know what they’ve seen, they don’t know who we really are.”

I knew that was true for most of them. Beron only knew what they had let him see - what he’d seen of me Under the Mountain and what I’m sure he’d heard about the role I’d played in the Court of Nightmares, perched on Rhysand’s lap as his plaything. But Tamlin did know me. He knew me and he saw the parts of me I was most afraid of.

“Just make me forget. I don’t want to think about them.” I took his hand and placed it back on my neck, fingers curling over his so that they once again circled my throat. Please, I said down the bond, I want to keep playing.

Rhysand looked torn for a moment before seeming to make a decision silently.

He squeezed my throat harder, my breath actually cutting off for a moment before he loosened his grip just enough for air to get in and out. Instantly, I felt my my mind emptying. Heat returned to my core, fast and intense.

“Is that what you want, darling? Do you need someone to remind you how good you can feel?” His voice was like a flame shooting straight through my body.

“Yes, High Lord,” I barely managed to get out.

“That’s right.” He smiled down at me smugly before leaning in and kissing me, finally. I felt myself melting at the contact, my mouth opening to him immediately. His tongue skated across mine and he kissed my deeply and possessively. I felt a hand trailing down my side, over my hip, before stopping on my thigh and squeezing hard. I whimpered into his mouth and he huffed a laugh against my lips. “Lay back, darling.”

I did as he said, inhaling deeply as he let go of my neck and I laid down on the luxurious bed, scooting myself back toward the pillows.

Rhys pulled his shirt off and climbed into the bed, undoing his belt as he moved toward me. 

“Hands up,” he commanded. 

I swallowed, raising my arms above my head and taking hold of the posts running vertical through the headboard. I thought he was going to tie my hands to the headboard with his belt, but instead he looped it around my neck, feeding the end through the buckle and pulling it tight to my neck. It wasn’t tight enough to cut off my air, but my body went taught at the sensation, the knowledge of what he could do with this.

He knelt over me, one hand holding the end of the belt, the other skimming aimlessly over my almost entirely naked body. 

He hummed under his breath. “Pretty little High Lady Feyre. All mine to play with.” 

I gasped as he suddenly pinched my right nipple. He smirked, fingers moving to my other nipple and pinching a little harder. I whimpered, my cheeks blazing red.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Feyre. I didn’t know you’d enjoy this sort of thing.”

Despite being so full of nerves I was nearly shaking, I put on a brave face and smiled flirtatiously back at him. “Well you never asked,” I said sweetly, fluttering my lashes like I was the most innocent girl in the world.

He growled, eyes flashing at my insolence. “Don’t let go of the headboard.”

He moved down my body, kneeling over my legs and pulling my panties off. He pushed my legs apart roughly, sliding my feet across the bed toward my ass so that I was spread open wide before him. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured, looking down at me. Heat spread across me again in embarrassment at how exposed I was. But I could see that he meant it, could see the adoration in his eyes. Without warning, he pushed a finger inside me. I let out a strangled cry and he moved it in and out steadily. “So fucking beautiful and so fucking wet for me. Do you like all this, Feyre? Do you like being my good little wife?” All I could do was whimper back, the sensation of just that one finger already short circuiting my brain. “Do you like knowing that Tamlin is somewhere here? Probably thinking about me doing this to you right now?”

I groaned as he added a second finger. 

“Answer me, Feyre.”

“Yes,” I choked out. “Yes, yes I like it.” And I did like it. Despite my earlier shame, I liked knowing that Tamlin was here. That maybe he could hear me right now with that Fae hearing. 

Rhysand hummed again, fingers still pumping insistently. I could feel it all the way up my spine. I was losing control embarrassingly fast, back already arching as I gripped the headboard so tight my knuckles turned white.

“I don’t even mind knowing he has memories of you to keep him company. Because right now he’s probably stroking himself, all alone, wishing that he was here doing this to you.” Gods this was so fucked up and I loved every second of it. “I don’t even mind because you’re all mine, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, High Lord.” I moaned.

He growled under his breath leaning over me and licking my clit. I could feel electricity burning through me, pressure building hard and fast in my core. I heard myself let out some strangled cry I would normally be embarrassed by, especially with so many fae nearby, but in this moment all I could think about was my mate’s hands and mouth on me.

“Come for me, Feyre. I want to hear you.” He curled his fingers as they pumped insistently inside me, tongue lapping at my clit, pushing hard. I let out another strangled moan, gripping the headboard, and arching my back hard off the bed. So close, I was so close.

And then I felt Rhys’s other hand moving up my body. It found the end of the belt still looped around my neck and pulled, tightening around my throat and constricting my breathing. My head swam and stars exploded across my vision as I came hard. I moaned agonizingly as he continued fingering me, every muscle in my body tightening as my orgasm seemed endless. I felt wetness leaking from my body across the bedspread but I was too lost in the moment to feel even remotely embarrassed. 

“So good, so good, Feyre.” Rhys was murmuring, lips on my stomach has his hand started to slow. He let the belt loosen just a little so I could catch my breath for a moment.

He kissed my hip once before sitting up on his knees again.

“Hands and knees, facing me,” he ordered, pushing his pants off and tossing them to the floor.

I was shaking all over, still reeling from cumming so hard but I did as he said eagerly. I rolled over and pushed myself to my hands and my knees, turning to face him. I looked up into his eyes, full of a confusing mix of love and heat and edge.

He took the belt back into his right hand, running his left along my upper back and shoulders. In this position, his cock was right in front of me and my mouth watered at the sight. All I wanted to do was making him feel good. I loved all of this, every second because it meant that I was giving him something no one else could.

His free hand trailed over my shoulders, up my neck, fingers skating along my lips.

“Open up,” he demanded in a low voice. 

I did as I was told and something in me nearly melted as he pushed his fingers into my mouth. They tasted like me, sweet and a little salty, as he mimicked his movements from before - working his two fingers back and forth, in and out between my lips. It was hot - way hotter than I wanted to admit - and I sucked them eagerly, wanting to do anything to impress him, to keep making us both forget about this shitty day.

“Gods you are so beautiful,” he nearly groaned. He pulled his fingers from my mouth and tightened his grip on the belt. “Keep that pretty mouth open, Feyre darling.”

Using the belt as leverage, he pulled me toward him, pushing his cock between my lips now. At first just an inch or two, then back and forth, back and forth, a little deeper each time until he was buried in my throat. I gagged around him and he groaned, tightening the belt and pulling me that last impossible bit deeper onto him.

My jaw ached and I could feel tears starting to well up in my eyes but I could also feel that heat igniting again inside me at the sounds he was making. He started to fuck my mouth then, one hand on the belt holding me tight to him, one on the back of my head with his fingers threaded tightly in my hair. Between the sting of my scalp where he pulled my hair and his dick hitting the back of my throat with each thrust, I couldn’t even think of another thing outside of this room.

He groaned again, “Gods, fuck, Feyre. You feel so-” he cut of with a groan, “so fucking good.” I moaned around him, luxuriating in the praise. “My good, nice little wife, aren’t you? No one else gets to have you like this. Tomorrow we’ll be at breakfast with all those other High Lords and their courts and they’ll all know what we did in here tonight. They’ll all wish it was them with their cock in your throat but they’ll know that you’re. All. Mine.” 

He pulled out of my mouth and pushed me back onto the bed roughly, pulling my legs apart again and pushing inside me. I cried out at the sudden pressure and then his mouth was on mine, tongue deep in my mouth. It was a savage kiss, all impulse and I loved every second of it. Our tongues met over and over as he began to fuck me steady and so deep. 

He leaned down and kissed my neck before sinking his teeth in just above where the belt laid on my skin, hard enough I knew it would leave a mark. I cried out but the cry of pain mixed with those of pleasure until even I couldn’t tell the difference. Every stroke was bringing me closer and closer to my mind melting. I arched my back hard off the bed as Rhys took my right leg and pushed it up, hooking my knee around his arm to open me further.

I couldn’t even control the sounds I was making anymore, moaning incoherently. He felt so good, this angle was so open and let him penetrate so deep inside me that just that feeling alone road the edge of pleasure and pain.

“Just relax, Feyre. Just relax. Open your mouth.” He was breathless above me and I did as he said. I let my body go, the last bit of tension left in me surrendering, and opened my mouth. Our tongues met again, and I nearly screamed into his mouth as one of his hands found my clit, rubbing tight circles as he fucked my deep and steady.

“Look at me, Feyre. Don’t hold back, baby, I want them to hear. Let them hear you cum for me.”

I didn’t have a choice. He pulled back and I looked in his eyes as the last wall of my sanity broke and I could feel sounds escaping my throat as I came hard. I could feel my walls squeezing tight around him, my back arching off the bed as I moaned loudly.

“Ohmygodsohmygodsohmygods,” I moaned incoherently as he pushed into me over and over, hitting the perfect spot.

Rhys groaned, his movements becoming rougher and jerkier for a few moments before I felt him cum deep inside me, stilling and squeezing my leg hard as he came. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes closing for a moment. 

We caught our breath in silence before he collapsed onto the bed next to me, one hand lazily traveling over my skin.

I laughed, still panting hard and shaking all over.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, turning to face me and removing the belt from neck gently. 

“I just,” I could hardly stop laughing. “I just feel so good. And also the meeting is going to be so weird tomorrow.” 

He snorted, laughing as well despite all we’d been through that day, and lately.

“Like I said,” he started, kissing my elbow, the closest thing to him, “they’ll all wish it was them.”

---

Tagging a few of my fav feysand fic writers cus I love you guys and why not? :) (lemme know if u dont wanna be tagged tho! nbd) @separatist-apologist @tunaababee @readychilledwine @jeannineee @the-lonelybarricade @starfall-spirit

[daydreamsinrosie]

Whispers in the corridor: Harry Potter x Reader

Chapter 1: No Further Questions.

Pairing: Professor! Harry Potter x Professor! Reader

Genres:Slice of Life, Mystery, Romance, Eventual Smut

Synopsis: Four years after leaving Hogwarts and you found yourself back as a potions teaching assistant, leading research on innovative healing techniques. Settling in felt like a fresh start, until your unrequited love returns after leaving the Ministry of Magic in disgrace. How long until you find yourself tending to his wounds, in sickness and in health?

Authors note: if you’ve seen this premise from me but as a Sebastian Sallow x reader then please know that fic has died as I disappeared and couldn’t find the motivation to continue 😂, but I’m hoping recycling this plot into a Harry fic may allow for more creativity and this can get further than two chapters LOL.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The ambience of faint footsteps from the dungeon corridors emanate as I settle amongst the rolls of parchment in the empty potions classroom, ready to start marking the student assignments on the uses of Shrivelfig in elemental potions.

Taking a nursing placement at St. Mungo's with the promising of healing ailments of wizarding society's most vulnerable felt like my calling after the trauma of the Second Wizarding War, but immersing myself amongst the worst maladies left me ruminating on the pain internally that had yet to heal and sometimes during restless nights I could still hear the endless screams of grieving families.

And now I'm back in Professor Slughorn's classroom, having returned with curious looks from the faculty. I'm now a teaching assistant for potions class, leading on research into new and novel healing techniques enhanced by alchemy whilst being an open book for any curious student.

The faint glow of floating candles informs me it's now late evening and I decompress with a long stretch to ease my regular problem of poor posture whilst grading homework when I'm distracted by a familiar voice.

"Dobby would like to ask if Miss Dotty wants to request anything from the kitchens."

The house-elf, still maintaining his aura of effervescence with a multi-coloured bobby hat and mismatched boots looks up at me with eagerness.

"Of course Dobby, an Earl-Grey tea and any leftover Treacle Tart from tonight's feast please."

"And some beef-stew dear Donnie boy!"

Slughorn marks his return to the classroom with his esteemed ability to misidentify most of us.

"Donnie will return momentarily!" Quickly disapparating to appease our growing appetites.

"Dotty my dear, shouldn't you have returned to the Faculty wing by now?"

I let out a small sigh from the nickname from my school years that seems to stick.

"I didn't realise that my nickname has followed me into my adult years Professor."

The nickname Dotty, whilst adorable sounding at first, has an embarrassing backstory I still can't manage to escape.

***

It's sixth-year and the first lesson of N.E.W.T potions, and Professor Slughorn is finishing his explanation regarding the allure of Amortentia.

"Now, Amortentia doesn't create actual love, that would be impossible. But it does cause powerful infatuation or obsession and for that reason... it is probably the most dangerous potion in this room."

"Now who would like to volunteer their thoughts, ah! Y/N, care to explain what you smell?"

I'm ashamed to admit that the butterflies fluttering in my stomach led to a lapse in judgement as I happily nodded and made my way to the bubbling cauldron.

"Well sir, I smell Broom polish, Butterbeer and warm vanilla...".

The embarrassment didn't reach my cheeks until the classroom door swung open to showcase a dishevelled Harry and Ron entering the classroom, clearly showcasing their confusion if they should have even been there or not.

But that wasn't enough to stop the slight giggles of a few Gryffindors, namely Hermione and Seamus Finnigan who clearly knew who I was referring to. Hermioned commented on my aloof nature in the moment and called me dotty, and it's stuck ever since.

***

"Well there is much to take from the moments we enjoy wandering in our imagination. Now where did I leave those blasted leaping toadstools..."

I return back to grading homework, trying to ignore the warmth I feel on my cheeks.

Slughorn is still trawling through the store room when Dobby reappears with our dinner for the evening, alongside a copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Miss Dotty! Dobby thinks Miss Dotty will be interested in this news!"

The house-elf quickly yet gently holds his arm out to hand me the newspaper whilst I hear a faint "ah!", from the store room.

"Of course Dobby, thank you. Now why don't you head back and persuade Winky to take a short break from her evening shift for me."

"Yes Miss Dotty, Dobby loves to encourage a work-life balance!", followed by a poof of air.

The steaming mug of tea feels inviting as I reach for it and take a sip, looking towards the crumpled newspaper to reach today's headline:

"Fallen Angels? Elite Auror Wing at the Ministry fall foul of Dark Magic use."

Knowing the history of the Ministry of Magic, even in a post-war world many of its employees would prefer to swallow a spider fang than admit to any shortcomings. You would presume a desire for greater transparency if it weren't for the bags of galleons still making their way to prominent columnists.

"It can be confirmed by an inside source that a group of 5 elite aurors referred to under the codename 'Fallen Angels' have found themselves at the centre of a dispute regarding the use of unregulated dark magic.

Witnesses across the southern coast of the Scottish Highlands acknowledged lingering effects of an unforgivable curse amongst an innocent bystander alongside a dazed Troll who wreaked havoc and ultimately was stunned and handed a heft dose of a potion for dreamless sleep by trained ministry professionals. 

The Ministry of Magic have confirmed a 'regrettable' breach of the code of Magical conduct amongst the accused, led by none other than the former 'Chosen One' Harry Potter, who was once labelled an auror prodigy given his story and eventual triumph against the Dark Lord. While the extent of their behaviour remains under seal, all five have been fired with immediate effect."

A small bout of butterflies fill my stomach as I read over the brief statement again. We all expected to hear about Harry's rapid ascent through the Ministry, but it wasn't supposed to be this.

***

Three years ago.

"I can't think of what the world is going to look like after this. Me, going through the ministry ladder like a regular wizard and simply not being known as the Chosen One?"

I can't tell whether it's contempt or sadness affecting him at the moment, as we sit amongst the winding staircase of Ravenclaw Tower the day before we were due home at the end of our sixth year. It was the last time I got to see him before the battle.

"Normality is something I'm looking forward to honestly, maybe I can be relieved of my parents' expectations and being a pureblood doesn't control my future decisions anymore."

It was always the sticking point in my friendship with Harry. Not necessarily being an incredibly shy Gryffindor who regularly competed with Hermione for top grades, and not competing as a chaser in the same team that ignited a professional and personal friendship. And not even a close connection with Harry that was independent of the Golden Trio and their inner circle that straddled the lines between friendship and something more. 

But my status as a pureblood, and having parents sympathetic to Voldemort's ideology. Granted they were too cowardly to join the ranks of Death Eaters, but the pressure of controlling my ability to experience the world lead to a strain that I was too exhausted to repair once Voldemort was defeated.

"A husband, kids and a home to call yours, Dotty?"

I didn't know what to say knowing he knew of my nickname, but I couldn't help but giggle at it despite pleading inside that he wasn't aware of the context behind it.

"Maybe. I'd want something to call mine, be it a career, a home or someone. Just something beyond this."

It was a small moment of vulnerability and I couldn't help but feel meek as I grasped onto the piece of silver jewellery in the palm of my hand with the knowledge that I couldn't do more to support him in the moment, and that his future plans likely wouldn't include me.

"One day after everything, we'll have something to hold on to. It's a feeling Dumbledore clearly never let go of, and it's something he wanted me to continue in a way."

I could tell he was exasperated saying that given the pressure in having to find a sliver of light in dark times, but there was a glimmer of peace in his green eyes as he looked directly at me.

A moment passed by in silence, and before the clock struck midnight and I had to return to the common room I had to do one last thing.

"Harry."

I force myself to look at him as I whisper his name, not knowing how my emotions were going to control me in the moment.

"I, uhm, I have something for you."

"Oh?" His expression softened a little as I relaxed the strain in my right hand, opening to showcase a pendant with a golden snitch charm crafted in Sterling Silver. My nerves lessened slightly as I glanced at his questioning look, knowing that if it's from me then it must have a practical use.

"It's charmed. If you find yourself taking on any more cursed professors or you're stuck in battle, you can press down on the Snitch to release a small dose of dittany leaves to help heal any pain or minor injuries.

If anything, I hope it's a reminder of me and a reminder that our friendship wasn't in vain. You'll always have a piece of me regardless of where you go."

I took a breath to let out the rest of my nerves as I waited for a response. Did it mean anything to be so vulnerable at that point?

I could feel tears welling in my eyes and felt like I needed the last say, so I stood up and let Harry know:

"Goodbye Harry. You'll always have a supporter in me."

***

The Next Day.

There is a certain buzz within the staff corridor as I wait by the main staircase for an urgent announcement. A typically quiet morning has now been replaced with owls flying in every direction and questioning looks from myself and others who only know of an affair of the 'utmost importance'. 

"If I'm honest, I think I would be relaxed sitting amongst the new patch of Mandrake seedlings I've laid in the Greenhouse."

The character development of Neville, now Professor Longbottom brings a small laugh out of me. Normally we aim to be an example for students by maintaining a sense of calm but this is one of the rare times where the uncertainty of the outside world could be felt within the castle's walls.

There's a little more idle chatter before Headmistress McGonnagall makes her stance known at the top of the staircase, a look of rigid determination on her face. A couple of clearly overwhelmed house-elves follow behind, hidden by leaning towers of parchment that almost shield the looks of distress on their faces whilst they almost try to address queries of the large audience as McGonnagall walks a few steps forward and announces:

"Good morning everyone. I'm sure you all have heard of the recent news regarding the one of the Ministry's most esteemed auror divisions being dismantled due to unlawful conduct. Whilst this school has an established and courteous relationship with the Ministry, I am also of the belief there are moments where we need to stand up for our own students, especially those who guided us through momentous periods of upheaval.

And there it was. Four years after attempting to let go of an underlying heartache and it's already back.

Invoking the chivalry and rebellious nature of Godric Gryffindor specifically, this decision has been made in the context of this transitionary period our society is currently in."

The atmosphere was beginning to feel tense, and as I briefly look around I have a feeling some of the other faculty members have immediately caught on to what the Headmistress is alluding to. I can feel my heart beat start to pick up and just need McGonnagall to say it out loud.

"With the current vacancy of a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, I'm pleased to announce that one of our recent graduates, Harry Potter will be taking the position and is due to start within the coming week. I will take no questions regarding this, and I expect you all to provide a courteous welcome.

I will be taking no further questions on this matter. Meeting dismissed."

[book-of-baba-fett]

Illicit Affairs - Chapter 22

Captain Rex x OC

Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary: In the final chapter, Talia reflects on how she's grown once receiving positive news from the war front that gives hope to the future.

Chapter Rating: M

Warnings: MAJOR angst, death, grief, alcohol,

A/N: Y'all it's finally here. More notes to come at the end, but thank you for your support in this wild ride. Firs though, a shoutout to @cyarbika for letting me use Kork in this fic, tbh defining how I view 79s, and for holding this plot in for what, a year now lol?? and the biggest love to @galacticgraffiti - you have been my guide for this entire fic, I wouldn't have made it here without your beta reads. ilysm 💜. also thanks for letting me borrow your OC, Eya!

Ao3 Link

Series Masterlist

21 BBY – Coruscant 

Talia had been in bars probably from too young an age; her early missions with her Master often brought them to the seedy corners of the galaxy in search of information. What she lacked was the experience of going out and enjoying a bar, and 79’s was a much different atmosphere than the bars she had been in before. When the doors opened, she was slammed by the bright lights, the loud music, and the thrum of relief and energetic comradery bouncing off every surface.

There were holoscreens illuminating half the walls, clones engaging in drinking games or other friendly bets, beautiful men and women dressed in revealing outfits in the hopes of finding a partner for a night. It was a lot for Talia to take in: the lights, the noise, the energy a near concussive assault on her senses. But once she settled in the booth with the men she had only known a short amount of time yet had already grown to care for so much, it all calmed down somewhat.

         Talia was surprised by how easily they welcomed her, but then again it had beenChurch’s insistence that had brought her out in the first place and Storm’s assurance that had swayed her. She didn’t want to be in the way, thinking that going out with the men she commanded would just burden their night off. But as she sat with them, and they tossed around jokes from the recent campaign, she saw it for what it was: a need to debrief and decompress after the stress. She felt honored that they included her, and even realized how much she needed something like this instead of going to the Temple or even hanging out with her civilian friends who just wouldn’t get it. Talia was still getting used to the title of General, still felt weirdly empty when her hands ran through her hair and she no longer felt her Padawan braid. So, it was nice to have a night where she didn’t have to think about any of it.

The downside to her inexperience in bars was she had no idea what to drink. She followed the boys lead and drank the awful free beer they were served, but decided she couldn’t stomach the stuff. When Storm noticed her displeasure he did her the favor of ordering her a gin and tonic, which he informed her was his usual drink. After she downed it and was already sporting a light buzz, she decided to treat her men to something a bit better than the standard beer, and ordered a round for all of them. She excused herself to a round of cheers, her cheeks warming in a flush from the alcohol. The bartender was more than happy to give her a recommendation for a better ale and recommended a cocktail for Talia to try.

        The feeling of being out of place inched back in as she patiently waited for her round of drinks, tapping her fingers on the counter and trying to blend into the crowd when she was bumped from the side.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry ma’am, the crowd pushed a lot more than-“ a clone’s voice sincerely apologized, only to cut off as Talia turned to see Captain Rex’s face darkening from a flush as he recognized the Jedi next to him. “Oh, General Riva! I’m so sorry I didn’t see you there. And I’m sorry again for knocking into you-“

Talia chuckled at his flustered words, but shook her head, “It’s ok, Captain. It’s crowded in here; I had to fight my way to the bar.”

Rex’s face relaxed at that, a small grin even toying at his lips, “Well, you could just use the Force to part the crowd, be more efficient.”

Talia snorted, then blushed from the embarrassing noise that had escaped her, but Rex didn’t seem to notice. “The men already seem intimidated by a Jedi being here, I don’t need to draw more attention to it.”

“That reminds me, I should probably make sure my boys are on best behavior tonight then,” Rex grumbled, tossing a look over his shoulder at a booth filled with clones in the 501st blue armor. Talia hadn’t worked with them enough to know all their names yet, but she recognized a few from a recent mission. They seemed to be having fun, or maybe having an argument by the way some of them were pointing and shouting at each other. Maybe a bit of both, Talia supposed.

“Don’t dampen their fun on my account,” Talia said, “We all need a break.”

Rex huffed out a laugh and nodded at that, “You can say that again. And you wouldn’t dampen their fun at all; in fact, I’m worried it would be the other way around.”

“What do you mean?” Talia asked confusedly.

“Oh, nothing,” Rex answered quickly, as if he had gotten too close to admitting something he didn’t want to say. “Just that...I think my men wouldn’t leave you alone, that you wouldn’t be able to enjoy your night without them bothering you.”

“Oh, they wouldn’t bother me!” Talia insisted. “I liked working with you all on Taanab; Fives and Echo had me cracking up.”

Rex shrugged. “Echo can control himself, Fives on the other hand…”

“Oh yeah, he’s a flirt,” Talia cut in. Rex looked at her wide eyed then laughed. “You think I didn’t catch any of that? I can’t imagine what he’d be like with the influence of alcohol.”

“Again, why I hope they don’t bother you.” Rex muttered, once again casting a glance back at the booth, only to see some of the brothers, including the one in question, watching them at the bar.

Rex sighed and murmured something under his breath then glanced back at Talia. He straightened himself up, facing the bar again, “What are you drinking? Can I get you a round?”

“I already ordered,” Talia explained, nodding her head in the direction of the bartender,  “and I wouldn’t let you get me a drink anyway. In fact, I’m getting you one.”

Rex shook his head, “I can’t let you do that.”

“I insist. You serve under Anakin; I know you must be in dire need of alcohol,” Talia said.

Rex laughed again, still shaking his head, “I’m fine with just the Kork.”

“Wow, you are a horrible liar,” Talia observed, smirking as the Captain attempted to deny it. She wasn’t even using the Force, but after experiencing the stuff herself she assumed you had to lack taste buds to enjoy it. “I don’t see how you guys can swallow the stuff.”

“The fact that it’s free helps,” Rex admitted, “But really General; I’m fine.”

“Nonsense,” Talia waved off as the bartender came back around with Talia’s drinks. She glanced at Rex, ready to take his order when Talia cut in, “Could you get another one of these ales for the Captain? And put it on my tab?”

The bartender was off before Rex could argue, “Thank you, but you don’t have to.”

“I know, but I want to,” Talia insisted. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Well, usually it’s the clone buying the girl a drink in here,” Rex offered, a slight smirk on his face. Talia’s face felt warm – a weird reaction, she thought.

“Guess you’ll just owe me a round the next time, Captain,” Talia replied. “I have to say it’s nice to see you on a night out, you seem a lot less... stressed.”

“In truth, this isn’t my usual thing. I was convinced to join,” Rex explained.

“Same here,” Talia added, “Sometimes, our men know what we need more than we ourselves do, I guess.”

“But we can’t admit that to them.” There was that smirk again. Talia tried to ignore the way it lit up his face, how it enhanced how handsome he was. It had to be the alcohol in her, making her warm and encouraging her eyes to linger on his face. 

“And for what it’s worth, it’s “You kind of have,” Talia said, earning a confused look from Rex. “Naboo? The Gala?”

“Oh well… I don’t think that’s fair to count because I didn’t know you were a Jedi.” Rex offered, his hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck. “And you weren’t exactly off duty.”

“Fair, fair,” Talia shrugged.  “But then I was much better dressed for a night out.”

“You look perfect,” Rex said it so simply but stopped himself suddenly, the skin on his neck and cheeks darkening slightly. Talia’s own cheeks burned once more, but she didn’t know what to say in return. Rex also seemed speechless at his own admission, and for a moment they lingered on it, silent but surrounded by the loud music and conversations echoing around them. Talia searched for a witty response, or even hoped some words of thanks would leave her tongue, but instead found herself horrendously lacking any reply. Not from embarrassment or discomfort, but almost because Rex’s words had caught her off guard. Talia felt she should say something to ease the blush creeping in on the Captain as he obviously seemed as surprised by the compliment he had paid her.  She supposed she could offer the same reply back, but felt lame and she didn’t even know why she was at a rare loss for words, but she didn’t get a chance to salvage her own lapse.

 “Captain!” They were interrupted as Fives pushed his way in beside Rex, wrapping his arm over Rex’s shoulder and admonishing his brother teasingly, “Stop flirting with Talia so we can get on with the game!”

Talia didn’t think it was possible, but Rex’s face darkened further as his jaw dropped. His eyes darted back to Talia as he sputtered out “I wasn’t-“

“Sure sure,” Fives waved off, his voice slurring a bit, “you’ll just deny it again. General, looking great as always, but I’m going to steal our captain for a bit.”

“Sorry for holding him up for so long,” Talia answered, her cheeks still aflame. She directed a small smile back at Rex, who looked torn between dying of embarrassment and like he had the temptation to kill his brother. “Have a fun night, hope to see more of you soon.”

“Thanks, you too, Talia,” Rex said as Fives dragged him off. Talia watched them go, her cheeks aching from the smile stuck on her face. It was weird, he had only ever referred to her as General. She liked the way her name sounded coming off his lips.

19 BBY – Coruscant

79’s hadn’t visibly changed much in the time since Talia had first walked through its doors, yet the way she knew it had evolved entirely. It wasn’t an unknown space; it was filled with memories. Its walls echoed with the joy of time spent away from war with friends who she would never forget, some who had grown to be like family… and Rex, who was so much more. Talia knew the workers, had collected bits and pieces of their lives through conversation and they felt as ingrained to the place as the clones who it was built for. As she walked in, Talia smiled in greeting at the large Nautolan bouncer, Eya.  Those who didn’t know them would see them as imposing from their size, the tattoos decorating their violet skin, the spikes protruding from their knuckles and the cybernetic eye that contrasted to the deep black of their organic one, but Talia recognized there was a strange, comforting softness underneath the façade. They were also friends with Storm, who Talia had come to 79’s with that night, and he stayed back to chat with Eya while Talia grabbed a booth, seeking a private space for the conversation she wanted to have. 

The 412th’s last campaign had been relatively easy work, but they had missed the battle on Coruscant, something that seemed to bother the men as they wanted the chance to defend the center of the Republic themselves, but sometimes other duties called first. They were granted leave as soon as the campaign had ended, and Talia felt relief when they approached the planet and she didn’t see much damage on the surface. Coruscant had been her home for as long as she could remember, the whole planet and the temple especially had always seemed so untouchable before the war. The bombing of the temple was a stark reminder of how war could always hit unexpectedly, and she was grateful the siege of the planet hadn’t lasted long.

As the Venator approached Coruscant, they received the news that was the cause for her and Storm’s meeting tonight. Master Kenobi had engaged Grievous in battle on the Utapau system. With Count Dooku dead, the Separatist leadership was fractured, and if Obi-Wan could defeat Grievous, they would crumble and the war would be over. It was strange to hope, considering how many times the General had evaded defeat before, but something felt different this time. He didn’t have Dooku to crawl back to for support, and Grievous didn’t garner the same level of following that the charismatic Sith had. Without Grievous and Dooku, there was no one to step in, no way the Separatists could still fight. 

In other news from the war front, Talia had received word from Rex. Ahsoka’s mission on Mandalore had been a success, and they had captured Maul. Talia had never been more afraid for Rex than she was when she heard what his mission was; Maul had haunted her dreams for too long. She had taken that as a warning that something would happen to Rex on Mandalore, fighting against the former Sith. It would have been too cruel for Talia to lose Rex to Maul, to someone who had caused so much pain and suffering for her already. Especially when they were finally at the cusp of victory, on the brink of what they were fighting for.

Things with Rex weren’t fully back to what they had been, but that was what they had agreed upon. They needed to focus, be on their best without the distraction that they brought to each other. But it was better than the weeks they had spent apart, trying to act as if the other didn’t exist. They still sent each other messages, updating with what was going on in their respective corners of the galaxy, chatting if they had a free moment but truth be told, those were rare to come by. It wasn’t much, and it left a craving for more, but it also gave a promise for what they could have when this was all over. Somehow, Talia knew they would come out of this stronger than they had been before, that Rex and she could build something new off the foundation they had. And it felt like the will of the Force was suddenly on their side, like something would finally move to end this war, to end all the pain that had been inflicted on the galaxy. But to Talia, it would be a new beginning.

Storm joined her, with two gin and tonics in hand, and slowly slid into the booth. They had come here together a few times one on one. Sometimes they said a lot, like in the early days of the war when they took time to learn more about each other in ways they couldn’t just by being in proximity commanding together. Other times, they sat in silence, too weighed down by exhaustion or grief to thread words together. Storm had even confided some of his personal life to Talia, some nice stories about a handsome Pantoran man he would see sometimes on shore leave. Talia had never been able to divulge the same level of information – until today.

“Everything alright, General?” Storm asked as he watched Talia staring thoughtfully across the table, her mind distracted as she tried to ignore the apprehensive twist of her gut.

“Everything’s fine,” Talia said in a half truth. “And how many times do I have to tell you, when I’m here you can call me Talia.”

“Just as many times as I’ll have to remind you: as long as you’re my general, that’s what I’ll call you,” he said as simply as always.

Talia’s gut twisted further, “That’s actually why I wanted to come here today.”

Storm nodded but didn’t probe. Storm wasn’t the type to pry or push people beyond what they were ready to talk about. But he could always tell when someone needed to talk or would be there if they asked. Talia took a sip of her drink and took a deep breath before addressing what she invited him here to say.

“I’m going to be leaving the Jedi Order,” Talia blurted out, a bit more bluntly than she would have liked, but it felt easier to expel the news rather than to linger on it. “This campaign was my last with the 412th, unless something goes wrong with Grievous on Utapau and we still have a war to fight, but I don’t see that happening; all the signs are saying this is about to end.”

Storm’s face was unreadable, but he nodded. “Does the Council know? Does Master Plo know?”

Talia’s gut twisted again at the mention of Plo’s name, in all her thoughts of how this would go, she still had a hard time picturing how her master’s master would react to her defecting from The Order. “I wanted you to know first, I felt like I owed you that after all we’ve been through together.”

Storm nodded once again, but this time, his demeanor shifted. He seemed less tense, like the meaning behind Talia’s words struck a chord with him in a sentimental way. There was also a flicker of mourning in him, or maybe it was just the echoes of Talia’s own feelings for him – how she would miss working with him. Storm settled back in the booth, his eyes meeting Talia’s again as the curve of a rare, teasing smile toyed on his lips.

“Does this have anything to do with a certain blond captain of the 501st?”

Talia’s jaw dropped as her cheeks burned – there was no way… ”How long have you known?”

“Had my suspicions for a while; I knew you had a crush on him,” Storm teased as Talia sat mortified. “And it was obvious he had a soft spot for you. Then I saw him sneak into your tent on Turia, and that confirmed it.”

Talia shook her head in disbelief, “But you never said anything-“

“What would I say? It’s not my business what you do in your personal life,” Storm said simply. “I figured if you wanted to tell me, you would. Which is what you’re doing now. So I assume I’m right then, you’re leaving the Order for him?”

“Yes, well, partially,” Talia admitted. “The truth is, the path of the Jedi isn’t one I see myself walking anymore. At least, not in the confines of the Order. I want more, I need more from my life. And Rex gives me that.”

 “What will you do? Without the Order?” Storm asked.

“I don’t know,” Talia answered, and for once those three words weren’t laced with fear or anxiety. They felt oddly freeing. “There’s so much out there. I could go to school, I could volunteer with shelters like the one we found on Turia. I could visit planets without having to fight a war on them. Hells, I could get a job here at 79’s if I felt like it. I could also just do nothing for a while. I’m not sure what I’ll wind up doing, but I feel like that’s a good thing.”

That seemed to be all Storm needed to hear, because he softly smiled at her in that reassuring way. “Then I’m happy for you, even if I’ll miss working with you, General.”

“I just said I’m leaving – you can say my name!” Talia laughed. Storm only shook his head.

“Technically you haven’t told the Council, so you haven’t relieved yourself of duty. Therefore, you’re still my General.” Storm took a sip of his drink, his eyes flashing as he teased.

“You have to be so literal?” Talia rolled her eyes but still giggled.

“Rex knows if he ever hurts you, he’s a dead man, right?” Storm said seriously, though a crack of a smirk lingered on his lips as he continued, “Though I guess I should give you a similar threat since he is my brother.”

“I can bet a few members of the 501st will beat you to it, maybe even Commander Cody,” Talia shrugged, earning a chuckle from Storm.

The doors to 79’s slid open, and a group of shock troopers marched in, heavily armed. Talia frowned; she didn’t recognize the patterns on their armor as being any of the Corrie Guard members she knew. She glanced a curious glance at Storm, and saw her look of inquisitiveness mirrored in his face. 

She began to ask him what he thought was going on, when a sharp pain pierced her head.

It was an ache that seemed to shake her entire body, drenching her in a cold sweat. Images flashed in her mind of barrages of blaster fire, flashes of clone armor, piercing blue lightning, a Jedi fighter falling from the sky, and a menacing laughter mixed with cries of pain. She couldn’t focus on any of it, feeling too much and nothing all at once. She was vaguely aware of Storm attempting to check on her, his voice muffled by the others that echoed in her head crying out. A comm was going off, its shrill beep adding to the pain in her head. Every hair on her body stood on end, she was overwhelmed by the cold that had seeped into her, chilling her straight to the bone. She couldn’t make out anything, her visions were too blurred, but through all the chaos she could tell something was horribly wrong.She had to push through it, numb the visions and try and warn Storm that something had happened, even though she couldn’t make sense of it. Catching her breath, she looked up to Storm to explain what she had felt.

All she saw was his blaster pointed at her.

It was a beautiful night on Naboo, with the stars shining brightly over the navy sky. The full moon cast a glow over the gorge their spaceship was hidden in, its light reflecting over the river as it flowed through. Rex could see the outline of the palace in the distance, illuminated by lights in its windows and balconies, a symbol of the culture and beauty of the planet. It didn’t seem right that a place of such beauty was the setting for such mourning.

Everything seemed to be in a haze still. Rex couldn’t easily place how much time had passed in Galactic Standard time since the Order. Nothing felt real as he tried to process all that had happened, all that had changed. He never would have thought it possible that the Republic would fall, yet it happened in a matter of minutes with work completed by his own men. He still had blood and dirt caked on his armor from burying his brothers on the moon. He still winced when he moved from the shots that had hit him in his escape, his head still ached in the spot his chip had been removed. The chip that had been a part of him since he was created, the one Fives had discovered, exposed and tried to warn them about but instead was shot over. He had tried to look into it more after Fives died, but he could accomplish little without arousing suspicion. He knew Kix had his own questions too, then Kix disappeared. Rex should have questioned that more too, but he was too numb, too in denial over losing another brother. The idea of it all being connected was too much. Now he cursed himself for his own idiocy, seeing what should have been obvious. If Rex had pushed harder, if he had fought alongside Fives or continued the search after his death, would that have been enough to prevent this madness?

After their escape, finding out news while evading any attention had proved difficult. They knew the fighter they had would be flagged at any Imperial  controlled port, but they needed fuel and to confirm how widespread the Order was. Ahsoka had held on to some small semblance of hope that it wasn’t as bad as she feared, but Rex knew better than to hope. He knew what it was like, to lose control of his mind and identity at a simple phrase. He saw how it instantly changed the brothers he was with and he knew there was no chance any clone could fight it.  Once they had finally landed on some asteroid fueling station, the news was so much worse than they had feared.

Rex had never seen Ahsoka so broken as she was when they saw the news about Senator Amidala’s death. Ahsoka had been muted when they were burying the dead from the Venator, devoid of emotion in a stoicness that fit what Rex knew of the Jedi and how they dealt with grief. But when the report about Padmé played, it seemed to break the thread that had been holding Ahsoka together. She burst into tears, a wracking sob  shaking her entire body, and Rex knew it was more than just from her closeness with the Senator, for he knew that if Padmé didn’t survive, that meant Anakin was gone too.

The final blow was the news broadcast they caught of the Jedi Temple, with smoke billowing from its great towers as the reports broke about the Jedi’s treason. Ahsoka had to watch her old home burn, and Rex watched in muted terror, keeping himself together so it wouldn’t be worse for the kid, but the only thing on his mind was Talia and praying to things he didn’t believe in that she had somehow made it out. 

When Ahsoka asked if they could go to Naboo so she could see Padme’s funeral procession, he couldn’t find it in his heart to tell her no, even if every bit of reason in him was screaming that it could only be a bad choice. He cursed himself even more for letting her go alone, but as a clone he couldn’t blend in. So instead, he kept watch, left alone with his own thoughts as he tried to avoid glancing back up at the palace too often, because it reminded him of a night a lifetime ago, and the woman he met there.

Half the reason Rex was in such a haze was because his thoughts were filled with Talia. When he had been under control of the chip, he had not been Rex anymore - he was CT-7567. But there had been a small portion of his sense that tried to force its way through, a dull nagging in his head. He couldn’t make it out, it was like a rustle in the wind on the back of his mind.  Through the haze of trying to accomplish his mission, to follow the order to execute the Jedi, images of Talia kept entering his mind. The second he woke up after Ahsoka had removed his chip, and he realized the implications of what had happened, those images were brought to the forefront as he feared for Talia. But he couldn’t dwell on it then, he had to focus on surviving. But she was in the back of his mind the whole time, that fear plaguing him whether she was fighting in the same way he was that very moment. Or had it been quick, had she not even noticed before anything happened?

No, he couldn’t think like that. Rex shoved those thoughts deep inside him, because if he dwelt on them too long then the air was too thick and he wouldn’t think of anything else. He would think of the images of the Temple burning, of the Emperor’s speech about how all Jedi would be hunted down, and he would think about how all the messages Rex had tried to send her had gone unanswered.

Ahsoka’s figure appeared out of the darkness, slowly walking back towards Rex and the ship. She didn’t say anything, and he wouldn’t probe her and  ask about it. They had agreed it would be safer for the both of them if they separated soon, rather than risk attention by traveling together. Rex didn’t like thinking about the kid on her own in the Galaxy, but he already had plans in the works that he knew she didn’t want to be a part of and he didn’t blame her. She had fought enough. He had agreed to take her to Naboo, just to make sure she was OK on an Imperial controlled planet. He would drop her off after, but before he did, they had one more stop.

Waves crashing filled Rex’s ears, the thick smell of salt water lingering in his nose. It was hotter, more humid than when they had been here, something that would have been unbearable when they were stranded. In all honesty, at first it was hard to tell if this was the same island; Rex had charted the planet after they had been rescued, but its surface was littered with many similar atolls and sandbars that disappeared as they were covered by the tide. But as the fighter approached, Rex could see the shuttle still crashed on the shore, only in a further state of disrepair than what they had left.

Its durasteel floor creaked under Rex’s footsteps, the hull was weakened by rust and damaged from their original crash, plus the repeated bashing of waves. Barnacles and other traces of ocean life had left their mark in the shuttle, with a coat of sand and grime lingering over what was once a well-engineered shuttle in the Separatist army. Rex approached the cockpit, stopping as he examined the scorch marks still visible from when he had to cut the door open. The cockpit was in equal ruin to the rest of the shuttle, its controls long lifeless and stripped for the communicator they had made to call for help. He glanced at the wall where he and Talia had first kissed, where he had first lost control and plummeted headfirst into their reckless, beautiful, tragic love affair.

Rex exited the shuttle, trudging through the ankle-deep water back to shore. Ahsoka stood in the distance, giving Rex his moment. For what, he didn’t even know. He had avoided her gaze when they first arrived, and just like he didn’t probe her after the funeral, she asked no questions now. Rex supposed she had a feeling there was more to this visit than pure sentimentality, and he guessed a part of her had always known that his and Talia’s relationship went beyond a soldier and a general. 

The beach held no signs of the camp they had set up, it had been washed away by weather and the sea, no memory of what had been. As Rex stood alone, he wondered if he was the only person left in the galaxy who this insignificant spot held any memory for.

As his vision fogged, he wondered why he had bothered to come here, as if he was expecting Talia to be waiting along the shoreline, ready to meet him like they had promised the last time they were together. But that was a promise for a different outcome, a different galaxy. He had hoped being here he could somehow feel her presence, and know she was out there, but he felt more blind than he ever had in his life. And the words ran through his thoughts, words he didn’t want to think but were becoming more and more real by the minute.

Was she gone? Was Talia dead?

He didn’t know whether to scream or cry. He kicked the sand at his feet, a fruitless attempt to get out the rage and frustration festering in him. He fell to his knees, eyes locked on the horizon as he watched the sea, swallowing thickly as he failed to hold in the tears that cascaded down his cheeks. He had done well, holding it all in through everything, but coming to the one place he associated so heavily with Talia, where the memory of her took over his mind, broke him. Half of him wanted to take on Palpatine himself, to seek revenge for Talia, his brothers and all the Jedi. But then another part of him wanted it all to be over, for his fighting to be done. He had done enough of it, and what good had come of it?

Rex wiped his face, and breathed in and out, placing his palm on the ground and clenching his fist around the sand. He had come all this way, for what? To be with the ghosts of his past, of Fives, Jesse and Talia, all whose deaths could have been prevented had he been a stronger man?

He reached into his belt, dug in the pocket of his pouch and pulled out the thin silver chain with the coin-like pendant, his thumb gliding over the raised bumps and lines etched into it. In his hand was the last thing left of her, the only tangible proof that she had been real. Rex considered burying it in the sand, the only memorial that she would get. But he couldn’t find the strength to let it go.

 Should he wait? Spend the rest of his days on this beach, motionless as the galaxy spun on, just for the chance that she might arrive one day? Rex almost chuckled as he imagined how frustrated Talia would be at him if he did that, that she would roll her eyes and make a comment about his stubbornness. Then she would flash him that teasing smile, with that steely glint in her eye and say, “You can’t give up on me that easily, can you?”

The sound of the waves was rushing over him, a faint line of pink tinting the sky as the sun began to set. They had been so close to having it all, so close to finally starting a new life without the war and a hope for what they could really be without all the obstacles around them. Instead it was the end of everything. But as much as his muscles ached and urged him to rest and to grieve, that wasn’t in his nature. As Talia always liked to remind him, he was too stubborn for that. 

Rex collected himself and pushed up from the ground, clasping the chain around his neck; now it wouldn’t matter if anyone saw him wearing it. Sitting in his grief wouldn’t bring back the brothers he had lost, but he could do something for those still out there. And Talia…the harshness of reality had already settled in his mind, but he had to still fight for her, had to believe she was out there. She had survived more hells than anyone should, but he knew she had more fight in her. If anyone could have made it out, it was her. That’s what Rex told himself as he approached the fighter.  Rex still had some fight in him, and he would fight till the last breath to take back what the Empire had stolen from him.

--

Author's note - so how much do you hate me lol.

I know what you're probably thinking - 'wtf iris where's the rest of it' 'how dare you'' 'WHAT ABOUT THE MAUL SUBPLOT??" and to which I say - all will be answered in time. But I really wanted to thank you - because anyone reading this note is someone I basically owe my life to. When I was a kid, I used to write little flipbook pages and had a mini dream of being an author one day. That dream got kicked out of me quickly just through my own insecurities because I would try and write in middle school and hated every word. Then during covid, I was binge watching the clone wars and rebels and reading fic and thought "hey, what the hell why don't I give this a shot" and the ideas of Talia and Rex were the first I had, even before I was publishing any other fics. I posted other ones as a test, just to see if anyone would even bother to read and I was always so lucky from the beginning to have such fantastic support. Some of you have been here from the beginning, some have joined along the way, and you've all been so patient and understanding as I've dealt with blocks. It's cliche but I could not have finished it without having y'all around. I've cried reading some of your comments, and have been so touched when some of you have messaged talking about how much you've connected with Talia. She's so personal to me, I really have a part of my soul in her and I was terrfiied that people would hate her but the responses to her have been so positive and I can't express how much that means to me. I also got so much more love for Storm than I was expecting (but I guess I shouldn't be surprised because who doesn't love a good clone captain) but I also am so sorry to y'all. I won't leave y'all hanging long, in fact things have been in the works for awhile (in fact I was more hyperfixated on those things and that's why finishing this felt so long).

Taglist: @djarrex @justanothersadperson93 @paige6768 @saltywintersoldat @clonecyare @dinner-djarin @whore4rex @swlover2187 @collectoroffics @pinkiemme @twistedstitcher27 @frietiemeloen @a-c-lee @ashotofspotchka @galacticgraffiti @itsagrimm @rexandechosandwich @immortalhdx @queen--kenobi @stankferrik @aquaamethyst96 @mavendeb @alwayssnivellus @rain-on-kamino @staryskyforever @amyroswell @lucyysthings @manqoz @ilikemymendarkandfictional @punkpirate82 @paperplanes221 @saturnsokas @starstofillmydream @wild-karrde @purgetrooperfox @sleepingsun501 @burningfieldof-clover @seriowan @samspenandsword @sunshinesdaydream @ariadnes-red-thread @babygirlrex0504 @arctrooper69 @cw80831 @dhawerdaverd

[possibilistfanfiction]

for surgeons AU could we get some early days, maybe first date or something? obsessed with your work as always

[s/o to everyone who asked for their first date, love u, crossposting this au to ao3 now too i guess lol!]

//

‘don’t laugh.’

‘i’m not.’ 

you glare. 

‘i swear, i’m not,’ she lies.

‘cam, you’re actively laughing. physically. audibly. at me.’

camila takes a deep breath and forces herself to frown. ‘okay. sorry. continue.’

‘bea is just — hot.’

you can tell that camila fights a grimace, which is fair, maybe, because she’s known beatrice for years through medical school. ‘she’s also very kind and understanding, if you wanted to, like, do something that would actually be fun for the both of you.’

‘hiking sounds fun.’

‘ava.’

it’s not all that often you feel the tightness in your chest that you remember from childhood: things are far less limited to you now. you have care you need, and your physical therapy and surgeries and medications are usually effective at letting you do whatever you want day-to-day. ‘just — don’t.’

camila sighs. ‘okay. but i promise bea wouldn’t think any less of you.’

you flop back on her sofa. ‘i know that, i really do. but it’s just so not sexy. and you know what is sexy? beatrice without a shirt on hiking ten miles, all sweaty and —‘

‘— it’s november, i’m pretty sure she’ll be wearing a shirt and a jacket —‘

‘— that’s not the point.’

camila loses her battle and does outright laugh at you now. ‘okay. well, to answer your question, you can borrow whatever of my gear you need, and i won’t tell bea.’

‘you’re a saint.’

/

to be fair, beatrice picks you up in her extremely clean subaru — you refrain from saying anything; it’s way too easy for it to actually be fun anyway — and offers you a breakfast sandwich and a coffee from, apparently, her favorite place near her house. it’s a cool, cloudy morning, typical november fair, and it’s still dark out, but you’re used to being up early or really at any time of day or night at this point. you’d done every spine decompression stretch you’ve ever learned in physical therapy, taken some ibuprofen, and truly have no plan other than hoping camila’s trekking poles — a very serious name for very fancy walking sticks — are enough to see you through.

beatrice, for her part, is clearly nervous, and it’s charming: she spends at least twenty minutes talking to you about all of the features of the hike and why it’s an ideal one for the two of you — ‘it’s moderate elevation gain up to the crest, about 2.5 miles, and, since it has southern exposure, we won’t get too much wind today.’ and, ‘if you want to keep going, it’s beautiful along the ridge, and there’s two mild peaks we could summit.’ and, ‘i’ve packed enough food and water for essentially however long we want to go; you can carry some if you’d like, if you didn’t pack much yourself.’ and, ‘anyway, the entire thing is wonderful and, in my experience, fairly empty, especially as it grows colder. but, just our luck: not much rain forecast for today.’ — and then asks, almost painfully awkward, about your last shift.

‘it was fine,’ you say, finishing your sandwich and making sure your trash is neatly packed up in the bag, with hers too. ‘but enough shop talk. i want to know about you.’

she blushes and you see, not for the first time but maybe in a way that’s more obvious than you have before, that beatrice is just a person after all, even if she’s unflappable at work. 

‘it’s okay,’ you say, so she doesn’t shut down or feel embarrassed. ‘i don’t mind shop talk, but i’m just — i’m glad to spend the time with you, away from work. plus you’re like a total enigma. very mysterious. it’s kind of hot.’

you haven’t said explicitly this is a first date, but you’ve been on lots of first dates and you’re fairly certain this is one. you’re definitely certain when she laughs, her shoulders loosening down her spine, away from her ears, and says, ‘only kind of?’

‘well, i wasn’t sure if we were just colleagues or just friends or whatever.’ 

‘or whatever?’

you groan. ‘you’re extremely hot, are you kidding? i think it’s affecting my residency, actually. i get distracted by your hands and then i lose the plot.’

she takes that in, maybe more than you had meant to say but who cares at this point; you’d gotten up at 5 am for her on your day off, so it’s fairly clear how you feel. ‘you’re quite distracting yourself, dr. silva.’

‘in a good or bad way? like, sexy or annoying?’

she rolls her eyes; you can tell, even if she’s still watching the road. ‘it depends. often both.’

you grin, lean back in the seat. ‘i contain multitudes, what can i say. triple threat.’

‘sexy, annoying, and… ?’

‘brilliant, obviously.’

‘oh yes, obviously.’ you pull into a deserted parking lot amidst a lush green forest and a heavy early morning fog; it’s beautiful, and you don’t ever regret that you ended up here, but you feel particularly grateful for it now. ‘you are brilliant, ava.’ it’s serious, the way she says it and the way she squeezes your hand, just once, before she gets out of the car with a soft smile. 

you watch her as subtly as you can as she puts on her gear, following suit as closely as you can without being too obvious about it. you know this is, objectively, really stupid and unnecessary, and jillian is probably spidey-senses yelling at you from somewhere in the world, but you have never wanted to impress someone so badly in your entire life. once beatrice is all ready to go, in her warm fleece quarterzip underneath a waterproof shell, a similar setup for her pants, her boots tied securely and her pack neatly zipped, poles ready at the correct height — so your elbows are at 90 degrees, camila had explained yesterday — and a beanie pulled down securely over her buzzed hair and ears.

‘the most important part for me,’ she says.

it takes you a second, but then you laugh. ‘you’re being funny.’

she makes sure her car is locked, zips the keys in a pocket inside her jacket, and then takes off down the trail. ‘i’ve been known to have a sense of humor from time to time.’

she’s not even walking that fast but it’s cold and jillian is mad at you all the time for how much you have to stand just for work, definitely without the however-many-long mile hike you’re about to go on. ‘the other interns are terrified of you, you know.’

beatrice turns toward you with a smirk. ‘and you’re not?’

‘well, i’ve seen you cry, once not even about a patient but about the fact that the coffee cart was out of earl grey tea.’

‘i hadn’t slept in thirty hours.’

you shrug — that’s probably true, but still — and bump her in the shoulder. ‘i like you,’ you tell her, honest, finally, amongst the moss and the ferns, the sun barely up, no one around to hear you. there’s a different kind of fear you feel when it comes to beatrice: not as dr. choi, indomitably talented and ruthlessly efficient resident, but as someone whose cologne you recognize, as someone who you want to make your grandma’s vatapáfor. ‘you’re kind to me.’

beatrice slows down for a moment — thank fucking god — and takes you in. you feel out of place often, and especially here, but the best thing about her is that, even if she senses it, she never faults you. ’that’s what you deserve.’ and then, ‘i hope i am. i want to be.’

you don’t know much about her, really: you know that she went to boarding school at 14 and had been at the top of her class at the best schools and programs in the world ever since; that she loves to be in nature and has known lilith for forever; that her accent loosens, just slightly, when she’s especially excited or especially exhausted. she likes otters, you’ve gathered, from a little pin on her coat, and she wants to go into cardio because it’s endlessly fascinating to her, and impossible, and miraculous. she runs so much admin for the free gender affirming surgery clinic even though it’s not her speciality and she certainly doesn’t have to; she learned asl last year, in addition to a host of other languages she speaks, to better communicate with patients and colleagues. you think, of anyone in your program, maybe of anyone at the hospital entirely, she’s chief superion’s favorite.

there are so many things you want to learn about her: what makes her scared and who she let take care of her after she had top surgery and what her favorite song is and what book made her cry as a child and if she likes comedies or is more of a drama kind of girl. you want, you can admit to yourself, to know everything about her in a way you’ve never quite wanted anything before.

‘you’re the best person i know.’ you’re worried it’s too much before she smiles — not at you, too shy, but you catch it anyway before she looks away.

‘that’s generous.’ 

‘still, true.’

she worries her lip before saying, ‘i am, technically, your boss.’

‘barely.’

‘ava.’

‘hmm. not dr. silva? doesn’t sound very position of power to me.’

‘i — i like you too.’ you watch her push her poles into the soft ground a little harder, like her whole body is fighting — to say what she means, or to not say it, you’re not sure. 

you’ve had crossroads in your life before, most of them really fucking horrible — until they weren’t, until the world stretched out before you and opened up before you. you’ve talked over and over about this with jillian and the therapist she made sure you went to before you consented to any truly dangerous and experimental procedures or injections: disability was limiting, sure, but the real harm was done by the lack of care afforded you, not your lack of movement. you work so, so hard to believe it on good days; it’s nearly impossible on the worst.

but this is the best day, you decide. camila is right: beatrice is kind and caring and brave in ways you know; in ways you have yet to find out. 

you’ve made it maybe half a mile into the hike but your back is aching, left foot going numb already, your right hand clenched too tight around the handle of the pole, so much so that even the soft cork of it hurts. so, instead of moving and moving and moving like you always do, like you have since the moment you could close your hands into fists so tight you swore you’d never let the world go: you stop.

bea takes a few more steps and then notices; she turns around and looks at you curiously.

‘sorry,’ you say, impulse and fear and habit, then shake your head. ‘actually, uh. i’m not? yeah, i’m not.’

she stands steady, unfazed by that. ‘okay.’

‘uh, well. i like you too. i already said that, but i really like you. i don’t — god, this sounds so stupid. but i don’t want to be your intern.’

the small, amused smile on beatrice’s face makes you feel better. ‘am i not a good teacher?’

‘i think there are lots of other things i would enjoy you teaching me.’ you close your eyes for a moment as she laughs, trying to regroup. ‘okay, i am sorry for that one.’

‘don’t be. i quite enjoyed it.’

‘before — before we tell chief superion anything, if you wanted to try, just — you should know that i shouldn’t have said yes to going on this hike.’

beatrice’s brow knits together, so immediately concerned you reach for her hand. 

‘not because — it’s beautiful,’ you say. ‘you’re beautiful, and i’m so happy you asked me.’

she doesn’t look any less worried, which is fair.

‘i have a spinal cord injury,’ you say, and her face softens into something you’re terrified of for a moment, until you realize it’s only patience, only an opening for understanding — not pity, and certainly not anything close to contempt.

‘okay,’ she says, calmly and as kind as ever.

stupid, annoying tears burn at your eyes. ‘i just — you love hiking, and you asked and planned so nicely, and you wanted to share this special thing with me, and —‘

‘ava,’ she says, then brings her thumbs to wipe your cheeks with a gentle smile. ‘i just wanted to spend time with you. you’re right, i enjoy hiking, but i also enjoy lots of other things. things that i would also want to share with you.’

‘i should be using a cane at work,’ you admit, in the middle of this beautiful forest where no one but her can hear you. ‘i haven’t been because i didn’t, i don’t —‘

‘— while i think it’s wise you’re moved off my service,’ she says, ‘i will burn down that entire hospital if anyone looks down on you for that.’

‘that seems counterintuitive to do no harm.’ the way you say it is wobbly and your nose is full of snot and it’s kind of all so terrible, but then you catch up: ‘you don’t want me on your service?’

beatrice steadies herself. ‘i want to kiss you.’

‘even after —‘

‘ava, listen. i want to kiss you.’

‘yeah,’ you say, and lean forward.

it feels like your entire body lights up, even though it aches in the damp cold — golden light everywhere. 

/

you laugh a little afterward, then beatrice smiles and takes off back toward her car without any complaints. 

‘it’s still rather early,’ she says as you go on your way, ‘and we’re only about twenty minutes from the car.’

you grimace. ‘yeah, sorry.’

she shakes her head. ‘there are undoubtedly so many things you need to apologize for daily, ava —‘

‘— hey —‘

‘— but this is not one of them.’

‘fine,’ you huff.

she’s unfazed. ‘i was going to ask if perhaps you wanted to come over to my place. among other things i like in addition to hiking, i do like to catch up on rest as well. and then perhaps lunch? there’s a spot near me that has wonderful oysters.’

‘a nap? in your sexy house? lunch? with your sexy face?’

she ignores most of it: ‘it’s a rather normal house.’

‘i bet it’s sexy. lilith told me you were rich.’

beatrice grimaces.

‘it’s okay. like, really. i just bet you’re, like, the kind of person who has bespoke everything, aren’t you?’

‘no,’ she says, but she’s blushing and looking away from you.

‘you know, you’ve got a terrible poker face.’

‘only when it comes to you, i’m afraid.’

‘ah, what a terrible fate.’

‘the worst,’ she agrees, shaking her head with a smile. ‘it’s got a good view, i will say.’

‘well, lead the way then.’

‘ava, we’re just walking back to the car.’

you roll your eyes. ‘you know what i mean.’

/

beatrice’s house is beautiful, perched on a hill with giant windows overlooking the sound and the olympics. she laughs — not unkindly — when you admit that all of your hiking gear is actually camila’s, says, ‘i thought that pack looked familiar,’ and then lends you a hoodie and some comfortable running shorts to change into. you don’t ask her so many things brimming inside of you; she doesn’t ask you either, although you’re sure she — as bea and as dr. choi — has a billion questions. you’ll ask and answer everything in due time. 

for today, you bully her — with far too little bullying involved to make her argument of i’ve never seen it before and i don’t waste my time on shows like this — to start binging season 4 of real housewives of salt lake city; even less convincing when she knows all about jen’s escapades last season and then clamps her mouth shut when you laugh into her shoulder.

‘it’s compelling, fine,’ she says with a very dramatic pout, and you’re kissing it off her face before you can think twice.

she smiles into it, your nerves dissipating, and it’s good, and right, and safe. you eventually kiss her cheek and run a hand over the soft bristles of her hair — which you’ve been dying to do — while she smiles and then settle into her side. 

‘thank you.’

she lets out a big breath, peaceful under the blanket, thick socks on your feet, cold rain outside but only warmth in this house with you in it. ‘no, ava. thank you.’

[slaaverin]

Morning! Watching Jimin embrace and feel safe/protected/confident to live his truth over the past couple of years; but now seeing his military pics that come from other Soldiers, and his sad (subjective) face, do you think it will take long for him to decompress in June and find his light again? I wonder if this serving time doesn’t take a piece of their souls. SJ seems to be fine from outward appearances, but we may never know internal turmoil. Also (and sheesh this is a huge non sequitur, but I’m here, in the asking place LOL), in the Suchwita episodes, the members expressed how they couldn’t wait to be together in 2025, except RM. He was a bit vague and non-commital. Did you interpret it that way? Thoughts Thanks.

Hey anon,

Thank you for sharing your thoughts.

I think it's true that Jimin's face in the pic could be interpreted as sad, but not necessarily. We know Jimin has always been very responsible so he could be "in military mode" and decided to make a more serious face, it doesn't mean he feels sad.

But anyone would feel uncomfortable with constraints such as military. I don't think - any of the members - are really having a good time either.

I think Jimin like everything he does will do his maximum to fulfill his duties. But yeah it doesn't mean he must happy about it lol

The positive thing is that he is now with Jungkook, his anchor, so while he may not be having the time of his life he still has support with him that in my opinion will help him keep his sanity.

I think unlike Jin both Jimin&Jungkook will disappear for a while when they are discharged. Idk how long, but a while.

They need to get back to their lives, to their selves as they want to show it to the world, also to their relationship. It will be a lot.

But I think they both will bounce back, after some time-off when they return.

I can even imagine them doing another are you sure trip, possibly. Not right away, but some time after. I think they loved the first season so far.

As for Namjoon, since a long time, the running "gag" in my GC is "Can someone check on Namjoon?" God this man is not doing well. It started a long time before military.

I think he had a sort of identity crisis, a creativity crisis? You know how much Namjoon thinks A LOT.

I think Namjoon got burned out by BTS.

So maybe before military he really couldn't tell how this would go after they return.

Of course they will all be back together, because they said so, because they WANT TO WANT TO. But the truth is, for how long?

Military can surely change a person. Some of the members will go through it better than others. Maybe some will gain inspiration from it. When you are away from your craft for a long time, you tend to miss it, the spark might come back (that's what I hope for Namjoon)

But truth is they might get back together for a while but then maybe several of them will want to do other stuff, separately or simultaneously. No way to know for now.

I think the opinions they had before about reuniting, could certainly change with military.

They will do it - because they have a duty to us.

But maybe their hearts will want other things too.

(And that's also good?)

I hope people will be here to support their choices even if new.

Ahhh I wish for the best. Fingers crossed.

Thx for sharing your thoughts on this.

I think worry is valid - and should be discussed.

Take care 💜