#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

[pbaz7]

FINDING PEACE IN YOU: PART 2

paige x azzi

word count: 8k

A/N: I actually got a lot of positive feedback about the first chapter which I’m happy about because I’m enjoying the thought of writing them with a little more maturity. Let me know what you think please! I’d also love any REASONABLE suggestions. Last thing I edited a little differently this time so lmk if you see any mistakes lol

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It was Wednesday when Paige pulled up to Azzi’s office. The season was around the corner, so practice had been a bit exhausting, but Paige was happy to finally go on that second date. She locked her car before heading inside and taking the elevator up to Azzi’s clinic.

As Paige entered, she was met with a young lady sitting behind the desk. The young woman smiled brightly at her.

"How can I help you?"

Paige gave her a polite smile back. “Just here for Azzi…or Dr.Fudd actually I’m sorry.”

The young lady looked slightly confused, glancing at the schedule in front of her. “Do you have an appointment?”

Before Paige could answer, the door to the back office opened, and Azzi stepped out with Kyrie. When Azzi saw Paige, she smiled and raised her hand, motioning for Paige to wait.

"Hey, give me a second to grab my things," Azzi called out as she disappeared back behind the door.

Kyrie, noticing Paige, walked over and dapped her up. “How you doing, kid?”

“Man I’m good, just ready for the season,” Paige replied with a smile.

Kyrie nodded. “You started to work with Dr. Fudd?”

Paige smiled at that, shaking her head. “Nah not for real.”

Kyrie picked up on what Paige was saying and laughed. “Ahh I see you.”

Paige just chuckled. Kyrie nodded toward her office. “She’s a good one around here, don’t slip up.”

Paige laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah, she’s definitely keeping me on my toes.”

“Just don’t let her work you too hard before the season. We need another chip.” With that he clapped her on the shoulder. “Good luck, kid.”

Paige smiled, as Kyrie made his exit, heading out of the clinic.

A few moments later, the door to the back office opened, and Azzi stepped out, walking toward Paige with a warm smile on her face.

“Hi,” Azzi greeted.

Paige smirked playfully, raising an eyebrow. “Wassup?”

Azzi opened her mouth to respond with something smart, but she stopped herself, catching the playful tone in Paige’s voice. She was still in her clinic, so she refrained from saying anything too bold, opting instead to roll her eyes.

“You ready?” Azzi asked.

Paige gave a quick nod. “Yup.”

Azzi smiled at her again before turning to the girl behind the counter. “Goodnight, Kelly,” she called out.

“Night, Dr. Fudd,” Kelly replied with a friendly smile.

Azzi then turned back to Paige, their eyes meeting for a quick moment as the two of them walked out together, the door closing softly behind them.

Paige reached her car, opening the passenger door for Azzi before gently closing it. Azzi gave her a grateful smile and watched as Paige made her way to the driver's side. Paige slid into the seat, started the car, and pulled away from the curb, casting a brief glance over at Azzi.

“So, how was your day?” Paige asked, her hand casually gripping the wheel.

Azzi smiled, leaning back into her seat. “Good. Busy, but good.”

Paige eyed her curiously. “You tired?”

Azzi let out a little sigh, her shoulders dropping as she relaxed into the seat. “Exhausted.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

Azzi chuckled lightly. “I need to decompress first. Maybe later.”

Paige smiled at that, clearly understanding. “Fair enough.”

After a beat of silence, Azzi turned the question back on Paige. “How was practice today?”

Paige laughed, shaking her head. “I feel like Chris tried to kill us.”

Azzi laughed at this knowing Paige had a small tendency to be dramatic sometimes. “Really? What happened?”

Paige let out a deep sigh. “A lot of conditioning today. When we weren't running, it was just drilling plays in our heads, non-stop. Then we went straight to the weight room after.”

Azzi hummed thoughtfully, trying to picture it. “What kind of exercises did they have you doing?”

“Plyometrics, for the most part I think,” Paige replied, glancing over at Azzi briefly.

Azzi took that in, thinking about how intense that kind of training could be.

Paige shot her a quick look. “They doing me right, doc?”

Azzi grinned, laughing softly. “Just fine.”

Paige smiled at the praise before Azzi added, “But, you should probably put some heat on your knees tonight. Plyometrics can really wear them down.”

Paige chuckled. “Yes ma’am.

The comfortable silence stretched between them as Paige gave Azzi a moment to decompress after her long day at work. The hum of the city outside the car was a steady background noise, but Azzi didn’t seem to mind, relaxing into the seat.

After about 15 minutes Paige’s car slowed to a stop in front of a building, and Azzi's eyes flickered out the window, confused. She spotted a man in a suit walking toward the car, and she turned to Paige raising her eyebrow.

"Where are we?" Azzi asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

Paige just smiled, her eyes twinkling. "You'll see," she said, keeping the secret for a little longer. She then added, "Don’t move," before getting out of the car.

Azzi watched as Paige handed the man her keys. Paige then walked around to open Azzi's door, extending her hand to help her out. Azzi took it, allowing herself to be guided out of the car.

Paige pressed a gentle hand to the small of Azzi’d back leading her up a set of stairs.

When they reached the top, the door opened softly and a man smiled politely at them. He nodded in greeting before shutting the door behind them.

They walked into the building, and Paige led Azzi to a waiting elevator. The doors opened immediately, and they stepped inside. As the elevator began its ascent, the soft sound of live jazz music began to trickle through the air, instantly filling the quiet space between them.

Azzi's smile grew a little as the sound wrapped around her, setting the mood for the evening. She looked at Paige, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "A speakeasy?" she asked, her voice filled with intrigue.

Paige grinned. "Yeah, I've been here a few times. It’s pretty private. The music's good and the drinks are great."

Azzi nodded, clearly impressed. "I like the sound of that."

When the elevator doors slid open, the warm, rich tones of the jazz band flowed more freely, setting a relaxed yet intimate ambiance. The lighting was dim, but not too dark—it was just the right amount of cozy.

Paige led them toward a booth near the corner of the room. As they approached, Azzi couldn't help but notice the view—it was perfect, giving them a full view of the entire space while still feeling private and secluded. The low murmur of conversation and clinking of glasses mixed with the soothing jazz, making the atmosphere feel like a secret escape.

They settled into the booth, the cushioned seats welcoming them with a softness. Paige slid in first, then made room for Azzi to join her. As they both relaxed into their seats, Azzi couldn’t help but glance around, taking in the cozy, yet upscale vibe of the place.

Paige smiled, catching Azzi’s gaze. "I thought you might like it."

Azzi looked at her, a soft smile on her face. "I do. This is...perfect."

Paige smiled back at her, not saying anything for a moment as they simply shared a look. Paige held her gaze, her eyes soft, before she finally said, “Good.”

“How’d you find it?”

Paige leaned back slightly in her seat, folding her hands in front of her. “Arike told me about it, maybe like my second year on the team. She got all the best spots.”

Azzi hummed thoughtfully, nodding as she took in this new bit of information.

Before Azzi could respond, the waiter approached their table with a friendly smile.

Paige turned her attention to Azzi. “You prefer sweet, right?” she asked, as if it were a casual question, though she clearly already knew the answer.

Azzi nodded. Paige glanced at the menu for a brief moment before making a decision.

“I think she’ll like the frozen blue moscato margarita,” Paige said, looking at the waiter. “And can I just have a sazerac?”

The waiter smiled at Paige’s confidence. “Of course. I’ll get those right out.”

As the waiter walked away, Paige turned back toward Azzi, only to find her already watching her, her expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. Paige huffed out a small laugh, leaning back in her seat.

“What?” Paige asked, raising an eyebrow.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing slightly. “How’d you know I like sweet cocktails?”

Paige shrugged, her small smile crowing. “You mentioned it on the phone one day I think.”

Azzi quirked an eyebrow, as if considering whether or not to challenge Paige on the matter. Paige just shrugged again, nonchalantly. “What can I say? I pay attention.”

“Hm,” Azzi murmured, her lips curling up at the corners.

Paige shook her head with a laugh, not offering any immediate response. The two of them talked a little as they walked for their drinks, both of them deciding that they weren’t really in the mood for any food. A small time later the waiter set the glasses down in front of them. Azzi's margarita was a vibrant shade of blue, served with a rim of salt, while Paige's sazerac sat in front of her, the amber liquid catching the light.

Azzi took a sip and immediately her eyes widened in pleasant surprise. “Wow, this is amazing,” she said, her voice filled with genuine surprise.

Paige smirked. “I knew you’d like it.”

They both settled into a comfortable silence for a moment. Azzi’s eyes drifted toward the live band, the gentle rhythm of jazz filling the air around them. Paige, on the other hand, kept her gaze on Azzi, her eyes observant, like she was trying to figure something out.

Finally, Paige broke the silence, her voice casual but with a hint of curiosity. “How are you single?”

Azzi blinked, momentarily thrown off guard, before she met Paige’s eyes. “What?”

Paige repeated herself. “How are you single?”

Azzi laughed at the question. “Have you seen the dating scene in Dallas?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as if the answer was obvious.

Paige chuckled, the corner of her lips curling into a smirk. “Fair point. It’s not exactly the best place.”

Azzi laughed again, nodding as she took another sip of her margarita. “But honestly? It’s a combination of a lot.” She pauses a moment to think before saying, “Most people didn’t understand my schedule. They hear that I have a private clinic and think I can just show up to work whenever I want or not go in at all.”

Paige nodded, listening fully, her eyes never leaving Azzi’s as she leaned back in her seat, her arm casually thrown over the back of the booth. “That’s crazy. If anything I’d expect you to work more than the average 9-5 most days.”

Azzi’s expression softened slightly as she continued. “Yeah. I have to know these people’s bodies better than they do. That takes time. It’s not just a job I can pick up and drop whenever I feel like it. Taking on a new client is a huge commitment.”

Paige hummed in understanding, her gaze softening as she took in Azzi’s words. “I get that. It’s definitely a big part of who you are, so I’m sorry it’s been a struggle finding someone who understands that.”

Azzi nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “But, it’s not just the work. Money’s been a big thing too, unfortunately.” She paused for a beat, once again gathering her thoughts. “I don’t mind making more than who I’m seeing, but a lot of times, me making more led to them not wanting to make decisions or to not step on my toes. Which led to me being the more dominant one, and that’s just not my preference.”

Paige hummed thoughtfully, taking another sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving Azzi as she talked. “I feel you,” she said softly.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her gaze curious as she turned to Paige. “Do you?”

Paige gave a little shrug, a small smirk curling on her lips. “I mean, I’ve just noticed that you have more of a feminine energy so I’m not surprised at that being a deal breaker if you have to step outside of it.”

Azzi’s gaze softened as she took a moment before answering. “You make it happen naturally,” she said, honestly. “You have this natural masculine energy. And besides that, you naturally lead. It makes it easy to just be at ease and let you be in control. I don’t have to worry about anything.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, a slight grin tugging at her lips. “How so?”

Azzi glanced down at her drink for a moment, then back up at Paige with a slight tilt of her head. “Well, it’s not just the way you carry yourself, it’s the way you make decisions, the way you’re comfortable in your skin.” Azzi let out a soft sigh, her eyes softening. “It’s...kind of magnetic, actually.”

Paige smirked, as she licked her lips, clearly intrigued by Azzi's words. “I like that.”

Azzi’s eyes flashed with a mix of playfulness as she took a slow sip of her drink, savoring the taste before lowering the glass. Her voice became low and almost suggestive as she tilted her head, watching Paige carefully. “You like what?”

The way Azzi said it caught Paige off guard. It was different…flirtatious. A slight shift in the air, like the conversation had crossed an unspoken line. Paige froze for a second, blinking, a bit surprised.

Paige adjusted in the booth slightly, leaning in just a little closer as she met Azzi's gaze. Her voice dropped. “There’s a lot I like about you, Azzi.”

The way Paige said it made Azzi’s breath hitch in her chest. She knew Paige would match her energy but she wasn’t prepared when she felt her heart flutter in a way she hadn’t felt in...a long time.

Her eyes dropped as she reached for her drink again, trying to hide the small, shy smile that crept onto her lips.

Paige noticed. And it made her smile too— that soft, amused smile she always seemed to give Azzi when she caught her slipping.

“What?” Azzi asked, feeling Paige's eyes still on her.

Paige shook her head. “Nothing. You’re just cute when you act all shy like that.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stop the smile that was still on her face. “I’m not shy.”

Paige smirked, leaning back against the booth, her arm stretched along the back as her eyes lazily traced over Azzi. “Mhm. Sure you’re not.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes slightly, biting back a smile as she tilted her head toward Paige. “Are you seeing anyone else?”

Paige’s smirk softened into a smile as she shook her head. “No.” Her gaze lingered on Azzi as she asked, “You?”

Azzi shook her head. “No.”

Paige hummed at her response, letting the moment settle between them.

Azzi watched her for a moment before asking, “Why not?”

Paige let out a soft chuckle, running her tongue over her bottom lip as she glanced down briefly. “Never really had plans to be in the dating scene in the first place.”

Azzi raised a brow. “So...what do you call this?”

Paige’s eyes flicked back up to meet hers, her smile growing a little wider. “We’re dating,” she said simply. “I’m just saying I’m not interested in dating anyone else.”

Azzi felt her chest tighten at the words, her eyes lingering on Paige a little longer than she meant to.

“Why is that?” Azzi asked softly.

Paige held her gaze for a moment before exhaling. “You want the laundry list... or the short text version?”

“Whichever you prefer,” Azzi replied simply.

Paige chuckled lightly, shaking her head. “I haven't dated in like... a year and a half, honestly.” She paused for a second, as she thought about how she was going to explain. “After I got sole custody of Lukas early on, I didn’t even think about dating for that first year. I tried again when he was probably around 18 months—mostly because my friends wouldn’t stop bugging me about it. And.. it was,” Paige let out a laugh, “I don’t even know.”

Azzi smiled, resting her chin on her hand as she leaned into the conversation. “What do you mean?”

Paige shook her head. “A lot of gold diggers... a lot of crazy folks.”

Azzi laughed at that, shaking her head. “Dallas is full of them.”

Paige smiled at her reaction but then exhaled, her tone softening. “But honestly...having Lukas just made it harder. I didn’t want to bring just anybody around him. And with my schedule...a lot of people thought they’d get whatever free time I had. They’d get offended when I wouldn’t let them meet him. Shit like that.”

Azzi nodded slowly, taking in her words. “That makes sense. You're protecting him.”

“Yeah,” Paige said simply. She leaned back a little, fingers running over the edge of her glass. “It’s not really just about finding someone I’m interested in or attracted to. I gotta be okay with them being around him.”

Azzi hummed at that, mulling over her response before shifting gears. “Second question.”

Paige smiled, tilting her head slightly. “Go ahead.”

Azzi took a small sip of her drink before setting it back down. “What have you been doing since then?”

Paige chuckled. “I think you know the answer to that Azzi.”

Azzi gave a small shrug. “I was taught to hear things straight from the horse’s mouth.”

Paige let out a laugh at Azzi’s persistence. “I’ve slept around here and there.” She paused, swirling the last bit of her drink in the glass. “Mostly during the season, when I’m traveling, in hotels, and Lukas isn’t with me.”

Azzi hummed at this, her expression unreadable.

“I can tell you have questions.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, as she mulled over her words. “I just want to know the quantity.”

“I promise it’s not as much as you think.” She met Azzi’s gaze her lips still curved in amusement. “I’ve slept with maybe seven people in the last year.”

Azzi arched an eyebrow, nodding as she processed that answer. “Hm.”

Paige grinned. “That a good ‘hm’ or a bad ‘hm’?”

Azzi tilted her head side to side. “It’s more of a…‘that’s not the vibe you give off’ hm.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her smile deepening. “And what vibe do I give off?”

Azzi, knowing they were both the type to prefer blunt honesty over sugar coating said, “That you used to sleep with a new girl every week.”

Paige didn’t even flinch. If anything, the accusation amused her. She exhaled a small laugh, tilting her glass slightly as she looked at Azzi. “I think that just means you think I’m charming. I actually think I remember you saying that last week.”

Azzi let out another soft hum, but this time, a smirk tugged at her lips. Her eyes held a glint as she took another sip of her drink before adding, “I’m surprised you haven’t made a move.”

Paige just grinned at that, her gaze steady on Azzi. Her voice was smooth as she said, “I’m respectful.”

Azzi rolled her eyes at Paige’s comment. “Alright, last question about other women I promise.”

Paige nodded, tilting her glass toward Azzi in a silent go-ahead.

Azzi studied her for a moment before asking, “Were you married to Lukas’s other mom?”

Paige let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Funny enough, no.”

That caught Azzi a little off guard. “Really?”

“Yeah. She refused to sign a prenup.”

Azzi’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Oh.”

“Right,” Paige said knowingly, swirling the drink in her hand.

Azzi hesitated before asking, “So…how did Lukas come about?”

Paige leaned back, resting her arm along the back of the booth again. “I wanted a kid,” she said simply. “I was going through a lot and felt like something was missing in my life, and I’m a big family person.”

Azzi hesitated again, and before she could even voice her next question, Paige answered it for her. “We were planning on getting married before she gave birth, but she wouldn’t sign the prenup, which fucked shit up. She accused me of not trusting her and listening to my family over her and it pissed me off when I saw just how adamant she was about not signing it. Made me second guess a lot.” Paige exhaled, shaking her head slightly before continuing. “So maybe two months after she gave birth and realized she wasn’t gonna have full access to my money, the idea of having a newborn didn’t sound all that appealing I guess. One day my family and I went out with him, she said she was tired and wanted to stay back to rest. When I got back she was just gone and half my shit was gone with her. Few weeks later I got a letter in the mail saying she voluntarily relinquished her rights to Lukas and that was that.”

“Paige I—I’m so sorry.”

Paige just shrugged, seemingly completely unfazed by the whole thing now. “It is what it is.”

“Does he ask about her at all?”

Paige shook her head, her expression relaxed. “Nah. Like I said, she left when he was only a few months old.” She took another sip of her drink before setting it down with a soft laugh. “All that kid cares about is that his mom’s the best basketball player in the world in his mind and that everyone says we look just alike.” A fond smile crossed her lips as she added, “He points it out every time I call him funny looking.”

Azzi laughed, the warmth in her eyes clear as Paige talked. “He isn’t wrong.”

Paige groaned playfully. “Don’t tell him that. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Azzi smiled at her, the sincerity in her voice evident as she said, “You’ve done a great job with him.”

The words caught Paige off guard, touching something deep within her chest. She glanced down for a moment, a small smile forming as she tried to hide the faint redness creeping onto her cheeks. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Azzi, noticing the slight flush, grinned as she angled her head to get a better look. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “There’s no way you just blushed.”

Paige rolled her eyes, shaking her head, but the smile stayed on her lips. “Shut up.”

There’s a small silence before Paige looks up saying, “You?”

Azzi looks confused so Paige adds “What you been doing if not dating?”

Azzi’s laugh was soft as she leaned back slightly. “Nothing. I don’t just sleep with people if I don’t see it going somewhere..”

Paige wasn’t surprised. She had already gotten the sense that Azzi was intentional about most things in her life, and this area would be no different.

Azzi continued, wanting to give an explanation. “I think the kind of intimacy you have when it comes to sex and who you have it with has a lot of implications—for your psyche, your emotional state, just your overall well-being. So, I’m particular, to say the least.”

Paige nodded in understanding. “I get that.”

Azzi raised a brow. “You do?”

Paige hummed in confirmation, taking a sip of her drink.

Azzi studied her for a moment before pressing further. “So if I didn’t want to sleep with you for a few months, you’d be perfectly fine with that?”

Paige’s fingers twitched slightly against her glass, a reaction Azzi didn’t miss.

Still, Paige smirked, keeping her composure. “Yup. Sure would.”

Azzi leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper, her breath warm near Paige’s ear. “I have a hard time believing that.”

Paige’s jaw tightened just slightly, her smirk faltering for only a second before she recovered. She exhaled a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “You’re a tease,” she murmured.

Azzi didn’t move back. If anything, she leaned in just a fraction closer, the air between them thinning. “I seem like a tease?”

Paige didn’t turn to look at her. Instead, she kept her gaze forward, taking another long sip of her drink. “Mhm,” she hummed, casual, like this wasn’t affecting her in the slightest.

Azzi, of course, saw right through that.

With an almost lazy elegance, she reached out and brushed an invisible speck of lint from Paige’s sleeve, the touch light—barely there—but enough to make Paige’s fingers twitch again against her glass again. Azzi smiled to herself.

“I think you’re a little off there,” she murmured. Azzi let her fingers trail just a little longer than necessary before pulling back, picking up her drink again. “I’m not a tease, Paige.”

Paige let out a slow breath, finally turning to face her, one brow raised in skepticism. “No?”

Azzi tilted her head, eyes flickering to Paige’s lips before meeting her gaze again. “No,” she confirmed.

Paige smiled at Azzi and shook her head just a little as she finished off her drink. Then, rising gracefully from the booth, she extended her hand. “Let’s dance.”

Azzi accepted Paige’s hand, and with a gentle tug, Paige effortlessly pulled her up.

Azzi let herself be pulled up, the warmth of Paige’s hand firm against hers. The slight tug brought her just a little closer than expected, her body brushing against Paige’s for the briefest moment before they settled into place. Paige’s arm wrapped around her waist and Azzi let her own hand rest lightly on the back of Paige’s neck, fingers grazing the soft hair at her nape.

Their other hands remained joined, held slightly off to the side as they began to sway in time with the smooth jazz playing in the background.

Paige’s touch was steady, as she effortlessly led without force, and Azzi followed easily. It was natural—like they had danced together a hundred times before. Paige’s thumb brushed over the back of Azzi’s hand absentmindedly, and Azzi smiled, her eyes flicking up to meet Paige’s.

“You dance like you do everything else,” Azzi murmured, voice just loud enough for Paige to hear.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Azzi’s smile grew, her fingers trailing just slightly at the back of Paige’s neck. “Confident. In control.” She tilted her head slightly. “Intentional.”

Paige smirked at this. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Azzi leaned her head down to rest on Paige’s shoulder, and Paige could feel the small smile that Azzi tried to hide. “It’s not,” Azzi murmured, her fingers tracing absent patterns at the nape of Paige’s neck.

They swayed in comfortable silence, the soft jazz wrapping around them, the world outside their little bubble fading into the background.

Eventually, Azzi shifted slightly, tilting her head to rest fully against Paige’s shoulder, her breath warm against Paige’s collarbone. “This is nice,” she whispered.

Paige’s hold on her tightened slightly, her thumb brushing slow circles against Azzi’s back. “Yeah?” she murmured, glancing down at her.

Azzi hummed in confirmation, her eyes fluttering shut for just a moment as she let herself fall into a calm that she hadn’t felt all day.

Neither of them knew how long they stayed like that, just swaying to the music, lost in their respective thoughts. The warmth between them, the slow rhythm of their movements—it all felt so natural, so easy.

Eventually, Azzi shifted, pulling back slightly to look at Paige.

Paige met her gaze. “Wassup?”

Azzi hesitated for just a second, searching Paige’s face before speaking. “Do you wanna go back to mine?”

Paige’s lips curled into a soft smile. “I’d like that.”

Azzi nodded and without another word, Paige pulled a few bills from her wallet and tossed them on the table before reaching for Azzi’s hand and the two of them made their way toward the elevator.

Once the valet pulled up with Paige's car, like clockwork, Paige stepped forward and opened the passenger door for Azzi.

Azzi slid into the seat offering a quiet, “Thank you,” before settling in. Paige shut the door behind her before making her way to the driver’s side.

When she got in, she noticed Azzi messing with the cord. Paige raised an eyebrow as she fastened her seatbelt. “What are you doing?”

“I’m putting on music.”

Paige scoffed. “You’re putting on music? In my car?”

Azzi didn’t even look up from her phone. “Yes.”

Paige couldn't help but smile. “You know how I feel about music.”

“I’m aware.” Azzi continued scrolling through her playlist before finally selecting one.

Paige sighed, shaking her head as she pulled away from the curb. “Better not be trash.”

The drive to Azzi’s house was quiet, the only sounds filling the car being the music Azzi had chosen. Paige, surprisingly, didn’t complain about a single song, which Azzi took note of with a small, satisfied smile.

When they pulled up to Azzi’s house, rain was still coming down steadily. So Azzi tapped the button to open the garage, allowing Paige to pull in next to her car.

As soon as Paige shut off the engine and caught sight of Azzi’s car, her eyes widened. She turned to Azzi with a look of pure offense. “It’s a crime that you never drive this.”

Azzi let out a laugh, unbothered. “Maybe you can drive me around in it since you like it so much.”

Paige smirked at this, her gaze lingering on Azzi for just a second longer before she unbuckled her seatbelt. “I might just take you up on that.”

Azzi only shook her head before leading the way inside, Paige following closely behind.

As they walked into Azzi’s place, the soft click of the lights flicking on illuminated the interior. Paige took a moment to scan the large space, taking in the unfamiliar setting. She turned to Azzi, offering a smile. “It’s nice,” she said, genuinely impressed.

Azzi gave a small, nod. “Thanks,” she replied, walking toward the kitchen with ease, her movements fluid and comfortable in her space. She began browsing through the wine selection, taking a moment to consider. After a second, she picked one and turned it toward Paige, silently asking for her opinion.

Paige glanced at the label, her gaze briefly lingering on it before nodding. “Yeah, that looks good.”

Azzi then walked over to her cabinet, opening it to pull out two wine glasses. Paige, following closely behind, made her way into the living room with her. The air between them felt lighter now, less charged.

As they settled onto Azzi’s couch, Paige reached for the bottle, pouring wine into both of their glasses. Azzi, meanwhile, grabbed the remote, aimlessly flipping through options.

"So," Azzi started, glancing at Paige, "what are you watching these days?"

Paige let out a small laugh, shaking her head. "If it’s not basketball or some obnoxious toddler show like bluey, I don’t watch TV."

Azzi laughed and nodded in understanding before turning back to the screen. "Well, what do you wanna watch now?"

Paige leaned back into the couch. "Just put on whatever you’ve been watching."

Azzi hesitated before laughing softly. "I don’t really watch anything either."

Paige turned her head to look at her. "So we both just sit around with the TV on for no reason?"

Azzi lifting her wine glass. "Apparently." She took a small sip before adding, "So what now?"

Paige shrugged, stretching her arm over the back of the couch. The motion was casual, but Azzi still took note of how close Paige's hand was behind her. She glanced at it briefly before taking a long sip of her wine.

Azzi decided to bypass the TV altogether, using the Apple TV remote to play some music in the background instead. The soft hum of a familiar R&B track filled the room, settling into the space between them.

Paige took a sip of her wine before glancing at Azzi. "So you wanna tell me about work now?"

Azzi leaned back against the couch, tucking one leg beneath her as she swirled her glass. "It wasn’t bad. A couple of my regular clients are making progress, which is always nice to see. And I’m starting new programs for some of them, tailoring things a little differently this time."

Paige nodded, her attention locked on Azzi in that way that always made Azzi feel seen. "That’s wassup. Tell me about some of em?"

Azzi went on, explaining a bit about her clients—what they needed, what adjustments she was making. It wasn’t anything overly exciting, just the kind of day-to-day she never really thought twice about. But with Paige, it felt different. Maybe it was the way Paige unmistakably listened, fully engaged, or the way she chimed in at just the right moments, adding to the conversation instead of just filling space. Whatever it was, every time it happened it sent warmth spreading through Azzi, settling deep in her chest.

Paige was mid-question, asking Azzi about the mental aspect of recovery, when she noticed the way Azzi was looking at her. Her words trailed off as she caught the intensity in Azzi’s gaze, her brown eyes studying Paige like she was seeing something she hadn’t fully processed before.

Paige tilted her head slightly. "Wassup?"

Azzi swallowed, her fingers tightening slightly around her wine glass. "Nothing," she murmured.

Paige raised an eyebrow. "Nah, wassup?"

Azzi shook her head, a small, almost bashful smile tugging at her lips as she looked down for a second before meeting Paige’s eyes again. She exhaled, as if weighing whether to say it out loud.

"It’s just…" Azzi started, her voice quieter than before. "Intelligence. The way you actually listen, not just hear, but really listen—ask the right questions, care about what I do. It’s just…really attractive."

Paige blinked, caught off guard for a second, before a slow, smirk spread across her lips. "Yeah?"

Azzi huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head as she took another sip of her wine. "Yeah."

Paige studied her for a moment before she said, “I think everything you do is attractive.”

Azzi arched a brow. “Yeah?”

Paige hummed in confirmation, shifting just a little in her seat, her arm still stretched over the back of the couch. "The way you talk, the way you move, the way you stare at me like you're doing right now…”

“And here I was thinking you liked me for my mind.”

Paige grinned, tilting her head. “I do. But the rest of you is pretty distracting.”

Azzi bit her lip, pretending to consider this. “So what I’m hearing is I’m the whole package?”

Paige scoffed. “That’s what I been tryna to tell you for like two weeks.”

Azzi exhaled a quiet laugh. The music played on in the background, blending seamlessly into the moment as she let her body lean just slightly toward Paige, closing a bit of the space between them.

Their conversation had flowed effortlessly through the night, carrying them through topics ranging from lighthearted to deep. Now, with the empty wine bottle resting on the table, they had unconsciously shifted closer—Azzi’s legs still tucked beneath her, and Paige sat in a relaxed sprawl, her arm slung over the back of the couch behind Azzi.

Azzi absentmindedly played with the short hairs at the nape of Paige’s neck, and Paige, instead of pulling away, let her.

“I gotta ask,” Azzi said suddenly. “How do you function with your sleep schedule? Or, like…lack of one.”

Paige scoffed. “Whatchu you mean?”

“I mean, I’ll text you at 11 p.m. if I had a late day at the office and you’re awake. Then I’ll wake up at 5 a.m. for my workout, and you’re still awake.”

Paige smiled. “Maybe I just like to be available for you.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at her lips. “Or maybe you’re just terrible at taking care of yourself.”

Paige feigning offense. “Wow. You really know how to flatter a girl.”

Azzi laughed. “I’m just saying. Do you ever sleep?”

“Of course,” Paige said smoothly. “Just…not at normal hours.”

Azzi squinted at her. “So, when exactly?”

Paige shrugged, looking unbothered. “Whenever I crash.”

Azzi sighed dramatically. “You’re a lost cause.”

Paige smirked. “Nah, maybe I just need a little guidance.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly. “What kind of guidance?”

Paige’s smirk deepened. “The kind that only a private sports physician can give me.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, immediately catching onto what Paige was doing. “Well, I do have a few associates I could refer you to if you’re interested .”

Paige shifted a little closer, her voice lower now. “M’not interested in hearing from them.”

Azzi’s eyes flickered to Paige’s lips before returning to her gaze. “Oh? And why’s that?”

Paige’s fingers lightly traced Azzis shoulder as she leaned in just a little more. “Cause I prefer a more…hands-on approach.”

Azzi let her fingers ghost along the back of Paige’s neck again. “Lucky for you, I specialize in hands-on treatment.”

Paige licked her lips, her gaze locked onto Azzi’s. “Yeah? How’s your patient satisfaction rating?”

Azzi smirked, matching Paige’s energy. “Off the charts.”

Paige’s whispered. “Guess I’ll have to see for myself.”

Azzi hummed. “You sure you can handle it?”

Paige inched even closer, their noses nearly brushing. “You’d be surprised at what I can handle.”

Azzi’s breath hitched slightly, her fingers pausing for a second before resuming their movements at the back of Paige’s neck. “I don’t know…I wouldn’t want you overexerting yourself.”

Paige let out a soft chuckle. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

Azzi’s voice was barely above a whisper now, her lips dangerously close to Paige’s. “Mmm. Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Paige swallowed, her voice barely audible as she whispered, “I’m tryna kiss you. That’s ok with you?”

Azzi instinctively licked her lips before whispering, “Go ahead.”

In the next second, Paige closed the distance, her lips pressing softly against Azzi’s. The kiss started slow. There was no rush, no urgency. Just the two of them, exploring the unfamiliar territory between them.

Azzi’s hand slid up to cup Paige’s jaw, her thumb brushing over her cheek as she leaned in further. Paige’s fingers ghosted over Azzi’s waist before settling there, pulling her just a little closer.

Paige’s grip on Azzi’s waist tightened just slightly as she pressed in, deepening the kiss. Azzi sighed softly against her lips, her fingers threading into the hair at the nape of Paige’s neck, anchoring her there.

The shift in intensity was gradual, a natural progression from gentle exploration to something more certain. Paige’s hand moved up, fingertips tracing the curve of Azzi’s spine before settling between her shoulder blades. Azzi melted into her touch, her own body instinctively responding as she leaned further into Paige, matching her pace.

The music playing in the background faded into nothing, their focus locked solely on each other. Paige tilted her head, deepening the kiss, savoring the warmth of Azzi’s lips. Azzi responded in kind, her breathing slightly heavier now.

Paige tried to tug Azzi toward her and barely had time to register the shift before she was being pulled down by Azzi, their lips never breaking apart. A quiet hum of surprise left her, quickly swallowed by Azzi as she tightened her arms around Paige’s shoulders, keeping her close.

With this new position, Paige braced herself with one hand against the couch while the other settled against Azzi’s waist again, her thumb brushing against the bare skin exposed between her shirt and pants. The kiss deepened naturally again, the slow exploration giving way to something more urgent.

Azzi sighed into Paige’s mouth, fingers threading deeper into her hair, nails scratching lightly against her scalp. The small sound sent a rush through Paige, her body instinctively pressing further into Azzi’s, closing any remaining space between them. The warmth of Azzi beneath her, the way she moved with her—it was intoxicating.

Neither of them realized how much time passed, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of each other. Their lips moved in sync, tongues, exploring—learning. Paige felt like she could kiss Azzi forever, and from the way Azzi kept pulling her closer, she figured the feeling was mutual.

Eventually, Paige’s lips began to wander, trailing soft, wet kisses down Azzi’s jaw and onto her neck. She felt the way Azzi’s breath hitched, how her fingers tightened their grip in Paige’s hair. Encouraged, Paige continued, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the warm skin, reveling in the little sighs Azzi let slip. She her lips and tongue map out every inch of Azzi’s neck, trailing lower to the parts of her chest that were exposed. She felt the way Azzi shivered beneath her, the way her breathing grew uneven with every kiss. Paige smirked against her skin, pressing one more lingering kiss just above her collarbone before her fingers toyed with the hem of Azzi’s shirt.

She tugged at it gently, a silent question passing between them. But instead of lifting her arms, Azzi grabbed Paige’s jaw and pulled her back up, reconnecting their lips. Paige got the message. She didn’t question it . Instead, she melted right back into the kiss, letting Azzi set the pace.

Azzi pulled back just slightly, her breath warm against Paige’s lips as she whispered, “Is just this okay with you?”

Paige gazed down at her, eyes soft. She smiled, brushing her thumb gently over Azzi’s cheek. “Of course,” she whispered, her voice filled with reassurance.

Azzi nodded before she guided Paige back down, their lips finding each other again, sinking back into the moment.

Once again, they stayed with their lips lost in one another, time slipping away as if it didn’t exist. Their breathing was heavy, blending into the soft music playing in the background, neither of them in a rush to pull away.

Eventually after who knows how long, Paige let out a light laugh against Azzi’s lips before resting her forehead against Azzi’s chest.

Azzi, still catching her own breath, looked down at her. “What?” she asked, amusement flickering in her tone.

Paige shook her head, her voice slightly muffled as she spoke. “I gotta stop or Imma die.”

Azzi let out a full laugh this time, her fingers absentmindedly playing with a few strands of Paige’s hair. “You’re dramatic.”

Paige finally lifted her head, her eyes still dark with lingering desire but now tinged with something softer. “M’for real,” she murmured.

Azzi rolled her eyes, still grinning. “Whatever you say.”

Paige let out a low chuckle, reaching up to gently push a stray strand of hair out of Azzi’s face. Her fingers lingered for a moment, tucking it behind Azzi’s ear before she murmured, “You’re gorgeous you know what?”

Azzi immediately looked away, mumbling, “Stop.”

Paige’s smile grew. “Why?”

Azzi exhaled, shaking her head before admitting, “Because every time you open your mouth, it gets harder to keep on my pants.”

Paige smirked, her fingers lightly tracing Azzi’s arm. “I tend to have that effect.”

Azzi let out a laugh, rolling her eyes as she playfully shoved Paige off of her. Paige let herself fall back against the couch with an exaggerated grunt, grinning up at Azzi as she stood.

“You’re ridiculous,” Azzi said, running a hand through her hair as she tried to shake off the heat Paige had stirred in her.

Paige propped herself up on her elbows, smirk still intact. “Ridiculously charming, ridiculously good-looking…list goes on.”

“Ridiculously cocky.”

Paige winked. “You like it.”

Azzi shook her head but couldn’t fight the smile on her lips. “I need a second,” she muttered, turning toward the kitchen.

Paige sat up fully, watching her go with amusement. “Need to cool off, huh?”

Azzi shot her a look over her shoulder. “No thanks to you.”

Paige bit her lip, laughing. “I meann, I could help with that if you let me.”

Azzi pointed at her. “Sit there. Be quiet. Don’t move.”

Paige held her hands up in surrender but still grinned. Two seconds later even though Azzi told her to stay still Paige gets up and follows Azzi into her kitchen

Azzi handed Paige a cup of water, watching as she took a sip before leaning against the counter. “I thought I told you not to move,” Azzi said, crossing her arms.

Paige shrugged, setting the cup down. “I’ve never been someone who listens.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to realize that.”

Paige smirked. “Besides, if I stayed put, I wouldn’t be able to keep bothering you.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, so that’s the goal?”

Paige tilted her head side to side. “Eh one of em.”

Azzi filled a cup of water for herself and took a sip, watching as Paige’s smirk lingered. “You’re way too happy with yourself.”

Paige leaned in slightly. “Can you blame me?”

Azzi scoffed. “I really should.”

They stood there for a moment, the playful energy between them settling into something softer. Paige glanced at the time on the microwave and sighed. “I should probably get home.”

Azzi pressed her lips together, nodding. “Yeah…probably.”

But neither of them moved, both hesitating trying to stretch the night just a little longer.

Paige smirked as she tugged Azzi closer, their bodies pressing together as she leaned back against the counter and pulled her into a kiss. The kiss was slower this time, unrushed but still filled with the energy that had been building between them all night. Paige’s hands slid up the sides of Azzi’s shirt, her fingertips grazing the skin before she tilted her head and bit down lightly on Azzi’s bottom lip.

Azzi moaned softly at this, a sudden rush of heat pooling low in her stomach. But just as quickly as the feeling overwhelmed her, she snapped herself out of it, pulling back abruptly.

“Nope,” Azzi said, shaking her head as she stepped away. “Get out.”

Paige blinked, still leaning against the counter, her lips slightly parted. “What?”

Azzi pointed toward the door. “Out. Now.”

A slow grin spread across Paige’s face as she straightened up. “Did I just—”

“Out.” Azzi repeated, her voice firm, but the way she avoided Paige’s gaze only made her more amused.

Paige chuckled, grabbing her keys off the counter. “Alright, alright. I’m going.” She started toward the garage door but paused, glancing over her shoulder. “For the record, I still think you could show me around. You know lemme see your room and allat.”

Azzi scoffed, arms crossed as she leaned against the kitchen island. “I’m good.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. “You gonna at least come say bye?”

Azzi exhaled, resisting the urge to roll her eyes into the back of her head. Still, she pushed off the counter and walked over, allowing herself to be pulled into a hug. Paige’s arms wrapped around her tightly, lingering just enough to make Azzi’s feel warm before she pulled back slightly.

“Text me when you make it home,” Azzi murmured.

“I will,” Paige promised.

They shared a quiet look before murmuring soft goodnights. Paige finally stepped out, heading to her car as Azzi trailed behind, opening the garage for her. As Paige backed out she shot Azzi a wink before driving off.

Azzi shook her head, fighting a smile as she pressed the button to shut the garage.

She let out a slow breath as she closed the door, leaning against it for a moment before pushing off and making her way back into the kitchen. She braced her hands against the counter, her thoughts still swirling—Paige’s touch, her teasing smirk, the way her lips felt, the heat still lingering in Azzi’s stomach. Most of all how Paige made her feel. Like her presence was something Azzi had been missing her entire life.

With a sigh, she ran a hand down her face, shaking the thoughts away as best she could. She reached up, gathering her hair into a messy bun before turning off the music and lights. The house felt quieter now, too still compared to the energy Paige had left behind.

Exhaling, Azzi made her way upstairs, ready to put some space between herself and the thoughts Paige had stirred up—though she already knew they’d follow her to bed.

[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.

[celestialgallaghers]

Modern Day Apollo [18+]

hello hello I hope this makes up for my absence. I can't stick to a schedule i guess lol. Anyways, i literally screamed when i saw this request in my inbox and i've been dying to get it out since. i 🤍noel nose.

Summary: In which Noel can’t understand why anyone would want to ride his nose. It’s just a nose really (It’s really not.)

Word count: 6.7k

You’d just come home from a day out with some girlfriends. It was late afternoon, and the flat was quiet save for the gentle strumming of a guitar. You followed the sound until you found yourself leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, silently watching Noel as he played and hummed a tune he was working on.

You loved watching him like this. When he was lost in the music, it was like he drifted into some dreamlike trance. Half here, half somewhere else entirely. It was your favorite version of him. The way he could pluck melodies out of thin air and shape them into something tangible never failed to fascinate you. You could watch him all day if he weren’t so adamant about needing solitude to write. The one time you’d lingered too long, he’d grumbled that he wrote nothing but shit songs that day because his mind had been elsewhere. So now you stuck to sneaking quiet glances whenever you could. Until he inevitably caught you.

He also looked so beautiful when he was creating. His brows pulled together in deep concentration. An expression that always seemed tinged with sadness even though you knew he wasn’t upset. This was his happy place. It was just how he looked when everything was pouring out of him and into the chords. 

It took him a few minutes before he noticed you standing there. 

“Hullo,” he mumbled, eyes still half distracted. “Didn’t think you’d be back till later.”

You shrugged and walked into the room, flopping down beside him on the couch.

“Wanted a little time to breathe before we head back out tonight,” you said.

His face was still scrunched up, his thoughts clearly still lingering elsewhere, but you reached up and gently smoothed the furrow between his brows with your thumb. His eyes fluttered closed, sighing deeply as the tension melted from his features. He often needed help coming back from that headspace, and you were more than happy to be the one to pull him out.

You let your hand fall away and reached for his. His writing hand. The one worn down by years of playing. Your head came to rest on his shoulder as you gingerly smoothed out the mottled tips. You were taken with the most mundane parts of him. His fingers. His adams apple. The faint streak of grey in his hair. All of it.

He set his guitar aside, slipping his hand from yours only to wrap his arm around your waist and tug you closer. You curled up against him, tucking your body into the space beside his and looped one arm around his middle in a lazy hug.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You let him decompress. His hand stroked your arm absentmindedly, thumb drawing soft circles on your skin.

“Working on something new?” you asked eventually, lifting your head just enough to look at him.

“Mm,” he hummed, noncommittally. His eyes met yours. “Nothin’ really. Bit of a block, I think.”

“Well,” you said, a sly smile tugging at your lips, “I could help give you some inspiration.”

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw.

He huffed a quiet laugh, his hand still resting on your side as you cupped his face, your fingers light on his cheek.

“Yeah?” he said, a hint of playfulness returning to his voice. “I’m very open to suggestions.”

Your thumb drifted from his cheek to his nose, slowly tracing the slope of it up and down. He stilled under your touch, eyes quietly watching you.

“You’ve got a weird fascination with my nose, y’know,” he said after a beat.

You paused, your thumb drifting away with a soft laugh. “No I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” he said, grinning now. “You should’ve seen yourself just now. Staring at me like you’re about two seconds away from pushin’ me down to mount it.”

Your cheeks flared with heat. That was exactly something you’d fantasized about. More than once. How he’d figured it out, you had no clue. Maybe you weren’t as subtle as you thought.

The longer you stayed quiet, the wider his grin grew.

“That’s it, innit?” he said, voice low and smug. “It turns you on.”

The smug bastard. Your heart pounded like you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to and he was taunting you. 

“Maybe,” you mumbled, gaze flicking up to meet his. “Maybe I’ve got a thing for big noses.”

He blinked, something flickering behind his eyes, and then burst into a soft laugh.

“Nah, you’re just takin’ the piss now.”

“M’not,” you said, sitting up a little straighter. “It’s sexy.”

“C’mon, no bird I’ve ever met has found my nose attractive,” he said, the grin softening into something more self deprecating. “They just… tolerate it. One of my flaws.”

“It is not a flaw,” you said, your tone shifting into something more serious. “I think it’s one of the most beautiful things about you.”

His expression faltered, and you watched as a faint pink spread across his cheeks. That subtle flush always caught you off guard. There were still moments, rare ones, when he seemed surprised by your affection. Like he still couldn’t quite believe you meant it.

You reached out, your fingers brushing his cheek, watching him quietly struggle with the compliment. He didn’t look away, but something in his gaze had shifted.

Your hand drifted again, thumb brushing just beneath his eye before trailing back to the bridge of his nose again. He let you. There was something reverent in the way you touched him now. A deep admiration.

“You’re kind of ridiculous,” you whispered, smiling gently. “You’ve got no idea of just how fit you actually are.”

He gave a low chuckle, his eyes flicking away for just a second. “I just don’t get it,” he muttered, trying to shake off the weight of the moment.

You shrugged, still smiling. “You’re a man. Haven’t you ever looked at something and thought, God, I want to fuck that even when it makes no sense?”

He blinked, caught off guard, then let out a surprised bark of laughter. “S’pose I have.”

“Yeah, well, it’s like that,” you said, leaning in a little closer, your voice dipping low. “Except I’m the one looking. And it’s your nose.”

His smile faded slowly as your words settled between you. Something flickered in his eyes. First amusement, then dawning realization. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but no words came.

“Oh,” he said finally.

“Yeah,” you said, your smirk growing as your tone dipped into teasing. “So I’m not some weirdo. You’ve just got a perfect nose for sitting on.”

You reached out again, your thumb drifting toward it with exaggerated reverence. But before you could touch him, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

Your breath caught.

His grip wasn’t rough, but it was firm. Decisive. The kind of grip that said stay there. That something inside him had tipped.

Your pulse stuttered at the shift. His eyes were locked on yours now, darker. He stared at you like he was seeing something new. Like he was deciding something in real time.

“Noel—” you started, the word barely out before he was on you. Surging forward to kiss you like he couldn’t hold it back another second.

You gasped softly into the kiss, momentarily caught off guard, but your body responded instantly. Your free hand slid behind his neck, fingers threading through his hair as you kissed him back. His grip on your wrist tightened just slightly, as if squeezing it would convey his sudden need.

His tongue brushed yours and the kiss turned messier, more urgent. He guided you back until you were sinking into the couch cushions. His body hovered over yours, weight pressing you down just enough to make your head spin. Your wrist remained pinned, now stretched above you.

He pulled back slightly, forehead resting against yours, both of you panting.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “You can’t just say things like that and expect no reaction.”

“Why not?” you whispered, smiling against his lips. “You clearly love it.”

A low, broken sound escaped him, and then his mouth was on yours again. His teeth caught your bottom lip and when you whimpered, he soothed the sting with his tongue.

You tried to shift your pinned hand, needing to touch him, but he only pressed it further into the cushion, his grip unrelenting. That restraint, the quiet dominance of it, only stoked the fire in your gut. 

You hooked your leg around his waist and pulled him flush against you, desperate for friction, for pressure, for him. He groaned into your mouth, grinding down against you in return. The rough drag of his jeans against yours made your whole body spark.

His mouth dropped to your neck, stubble scraping your skin in the most delicious way. He found the spot just beneath your ear and bit down, then soothed the sting with his tongue, sending a violent shiver racing down your spine.

The sounds falling from both of you were raw now. Unfiltered, desperate, and real.

His lips found yours again and his hips rolled into yours with slow, devastating pressure. You were already pulsing with need, aching for him.

And then he pulled back suddenly, like he’d remembered something too late.

“Christ,” he gasped. “We’re gettin’ carried away.”

“What’s wrong with that?” you asked, voice rough. Your legs were still around him and you didn’t want to let go anytime soon.

He let out a strained laugh, dropping his head to the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“Nothin’ wrong with it,” he said hoarsely. “Just… if we really start, I won’t be able to stop. And we’ve gotta be somewhere in an hour.”

“I can be quick,” you offered.

“I can’t,” he said, and it came out low. Honest.

You groaned, head falling back against the couch, frustration simmering just beneath your skin.

“Fine,” you said, exhaling hard and dropping your legs. “But you owe me.”

His grip on your wrist finally eased, and your hand shot straight to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft mess at the nape of his neck.

“Oh, trust me,” he said, that glint of mischief returning despite the tightness in his voice. “If I had it my way, I’d throw you over my shoulder and toss you onto the bed. But I’m trying to be a responsible adult here and it’s a bit hard.”

“Yeah it is,” you said suggestively, your hips shifting slightly against him.

He froze and groaned low in his throat, his whole body tensing. “Don’t,” he warned, voice strained. “M’ serious.”

A shiver ran up your spine at the rough edge in his voice. You could feel him trying to reel himself back in, every inch of him buzzing with restraint. And something about the way he was holding himself back for you, for this night, for the promise of later, made your breath catch. 

“Just… gimme a minute,” he murmured, and let his full weight sink onto you.

His forehead dropped to your shoulder, eyes shut, breath hot against your collarbone. His chest heaved against yours, his heart still racing under the thin fabric of his shirt.

You bit the inside of your cheek, doing your best to stay still and not squirm beneath him. God, the weight of him, solid and warm, was a comfort. You tried to focus on that instead of how the heat was making your already aching body throb harder.

He was right, you supposed. Showing up to a high profile event radiating “we just fucked on the couch” energy wasn’t exactly the smartest idea.

Your hand drifted from his hair to his back, fingertips trailing mindless patterns across the fabric of his shirt. You listened to the steadying rhythm of his heart, matching your breath to his. 

Neither of you spoke for a long time.

When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were clearer, but still tinged with lust. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, lingering longer than necessary, like it was hard to pull away.

“You’re such a tease,” he whispered against your mouth, voice thick with amusement and longing.

“I didn’t do anything,” you said, raising your brows.

He looked at you, skeptical and still breathless. “You knew exactly what saying that would do to me.”

You smiled innocently. “Just answering your question.”

He groaned, rolling off you with a heavy exhale and a muttered curse. You heard the shower turn on and stayed there for a little longer, basking in the warmth of the moment.

Eventually, you peeled yourself off the couch and wandered into the bedroom, still feeling the phantom weight of him pressed against you. You stood in front of the closet for a moment before settling on a backless dress with a slit up the side. It wasn’t like you were deliberately trying to make him regret his decision, but you sure as hell weren’t going to make it easy either.

When you stepped out, Noel looked up and froze.

His gaze dragged over you slowly, jaw visibly tightening. His eyes dropped to the open curve of your back, lingered, then flicked up to your face. There was something wild and barely contained swimming in his eyes. He looked like he was two seconds away from tearing the dress off and saying fuck it to the rest of the night.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “You tryin’ to kill me?”

You tilted your head, giving him your most innocent look. “This? I just wanted to look nice.”

His nostrils flared. He was trying to stay composed, but you could see the effort it took. After a long pause, he dragged a hand down his face, muttering to himself as he grabbed his jacket.

“You’re pushin’ it,” he said, voice rough.

Flashes of cameras greeted you the moment you arrived. You posed together, his hand resting low on your back, fingers brushing bare skin. Every lazy pass of his thumb felt like a tease, igniting sparks just beneath the surface. 

And to make matters worse, he looked good. The black suit hugged him just right, his spicy, woody cologne clinging to the heat of his neck. Top button undone, chest just visible.

It wasn’t fair.

“Stop it,” you muttered under your breath, trying to keep your expression pleasant as your body reacted to his touch.

“You started this the moment you put on that dress,” he replied easily, voice low and infuriatingly smug.

You flashed a smile for another photo, even as warmth pooled between your thighs. Great. Fantastic.

Eventually you made it to your table, surrounded by the usual buzz of conversation and clinking glasses. Noel sat beside you, arm draped casually around the back of your chair, acting like the brushes of his fingers against the nape of your neck were natural. Like he didn’t know what he was doing.

But he knew.

You tried to focus. Really, you did. But the fancy wine didn’t help. Sweet, rich, and far too smooth, it warmed your throat and slid straight to your core. You crossed your legs tightly beneath the table, pressing your thighs together in a weak attempt to soothe the ache growing there.

Noel noticed instantly. Because of course he did.

He gave your shoulder a brief, knowing squeeze, then slid his arm away. You exhaled slowly, grateful for a moment of reprieve. 

Or so you thought.

Later in the evening, you turned toward him, pretending to be engaged in the conversation. He was mid story, gesturing animatedly, his voice magnetic as always. Everyone was drawn in. So were you, but not by his words.

He’d shaved before you left. And while you usually liked the stubble, the clean lines tonight only emphasized the sharp cut of his jaw, the strong column of his neck. You watched the way the veins and tendons moved when he spoke, the bob of his Adam’s apple when he laughed. Your brain, unhelpfully, supplied an image of you biting down beneath his collarbone. Marking him somewhere only you’d see.

And then there was his nose. The damn thing that had landed you in this state. That sharp arch, the beautiful angle of it. You were staring again, thinking about where you wanted to sit, wondering if he’d even let you, when he turned.

“Right?” he said, eyes locking onto yours.

You blinked. The conversation had clearly looped back to you. There were several pairs of eyes on you, waiting for a reply.

“Uh—yeah. Definitely,” you said quickly, nodding and smiling a bit too brightly.

Your cheeks, already flushed, burned hotter as you realized you'd been caught. Noel’s eyes lingered on you, his gaze heavy, before he looked away and continued like nothing had happened.

You sat up straighter, trying to pull yourself together. Be normal. Be composed.

But then you felt it. His hand, sliding onto your knee beneath the table.

You froze.

His palm was hot against your bare skin, fingers splayed wide. His thumb started moving in slow, lazy circles, like he had all the time in the world. Your breath hitched slightly as you tried to shift your leg out of reach.

But he didn’t let you.

He simply adjusted with you. Kept his hand firm. Then, with unbearable slowness, he started uncrossing your legs inch by inch. 

There was no urgency in it. No breaking of the rhythm in his voice. Never so much as blinking. He remained infuriatingly calm, still laughing, acting like he wasn’t setting your entire body on fire.

By the time your knees were parted completely, his hand had crept higher. Just barely. Hot and heavy at the top of your thigh, fingertips featherlight. He knew how sensitive you were there. He just wanted to remind you of it without ever fully touching you.

You inhaled sharply and tried, weakly, to cross your legs again. But he simply pulled it right back with a gentle squeeze.

It was a warning. Like he was trying to make you regret your decision of wearing this dress with such easy access.

Your whole body tensed, breath gone shallow. You stared down at your plate, trying to hold it together, to not flinch at every brush of his thumb. He hadn’t even looked at you. He just kept talking, kept smiling like he wasn’t unraveling you in front of an audience.

Then, like he could sense you’d just barely caught your breath, his thumb started to move again.

Higher.

Slow, deliberate strokes against the inside of your thigh, each one drifting a little closer to where you were aching the most. Barely there, maddening in their softness. You clenched your jaw, trying to focus on a conversation you weren’t a part of anymore. Not really. Not with the way your body had gone tight and hot, your breath stuck somewhere between your lungs and throat.

And still his thumb kept moving. Up. Then down again. Then back up, just a little farther.

You shifted slightly in your seat, thighs twitching beneath the table. It was instinct. But he took it as an invitation.

His thumb brushed higher again, this time grazing just above where the slit of your dress stopped. Skin that hadn’t been touched yet now felt like it was sparking. He stayed there. Not moving. Just resting there.

You finally glanced over at him. He wasn’t even looking at you, but the smirk curling on the edge of his mouth told you everything you needed to know.

By the time you were finally leaving, the dull throb between your legs had become a steady, insistent ache—slick, swollen, and unbearable. You could barely walk straight in your heels, your thighs brushing just right, or perhaps wrong, with every step. It was almost humiliating how desperate you felt.

The second you stepped through the front door, you kicked your heels off. You made your way to the bedroom in a daze, hands reaching up to remove your earrings on instinct. You paused in front of the mirror, catching your own reflection. Cheeks flushed, eyes glassy, lips parted. You looked like you’d already been fucked

You didn’t hear him come in, but you felt him. His presence was palpable. And then there he was behind you in the mirror, silent and already smirking. His arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you firmly against him. He dipped his head to your shoulder, sweeping your hair aside before pressing a slow kiss to the exposed skin of your neck.

“You looked absolutely stunning tonight, love,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. His lips lingered, barely grazing your pulse, sending goosebumps down your arms.

You leaned back against his chest, letting out a long sigh. “You looked even better,” you whispered. “Even if you were being a menace. Couldn’t focus on anything.”

A soft laugh ghosted against your neck. “Just payback for this dress,” he muttered, his fingers tugging at the fabric. “Wanted to throw you down on that table and fuck you right there.”

A bolt of heat hit you low, and your thighs clenched automatically. You felt almost dizzy.

You swallowed hard. “Well… that’d be quite the headline, wouldn’t it?”

He chuckled, dark and low, the sound vibrating through your back and settling deep in your spine. He pressed his hips into you then, just enough to feel him, already straining through his trousers. Your body responded immediately, pressing back to meet him, and the sound he made was wrecked.

Then his voice dropped, spilling directly into your ear.

“Did you really mean what you said earlier?”

You knew exactly what he meant, but you played dumb anyway. “About?”

“Fucking yourself,” he said, hips rolling against you, “with my nose.”

Your whole body tensed, breath catching. He sounded like he’d been torturing himself with the image all night, every word dragging against his throat like it hurt to say out loud.

You felt him throb against you, solid and needy. “Yeah,” you said finally, your voice just a whisper. “Was thinking about it all night.”

His response was immediate, a sharp, low groan that punched from his chest. He spun you around, hands gripping your waist as he lifted you onto the vanity in one swift, urgent motion. His mouth was on yours in the next breath, desperate and unrestrained.

His hands pushed your dress up your hips roughly, spreading your thighs and slotting himself against you. His tongue sliding against yours hotly as he ground against you.

You locked your legs around him, heels digging into the small of his back. The friction hit perfectly, and a moan slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, finally getting some friction after hours of teasing. Your body was so ready, so soaked it almost hurt. You pulled him closer, biting at his bottom lip, and the way he jerked his hips in response made the mirror behind you rattle in its frame.

He pulled back just enough to breathe, forehead resting against yours, panting.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Need you so bad.”

His grip on your hips tightened, and he lifted you, tossing you down onto the bed. You landed with a gasp, chest heaving as you looked up at him.

He just stood there for a moment, devouring you with his eyes. His shirt was rumpled, his hair a mess from your hands. He looked wild.

“Take it off,” he said, nodding to your dress.

You pushed yourself up slowly, eyes locked on his. “Why don’t you take it off for me?”

You stood, turning around. He stepped forward, hands gliding up your back, fingers dancing along your spine. He reached the nape of your neck, gently moved your hair aside again, and slipped the dress off your shoulders. The fabric fell to the floor, pooling at your feet, leaving you topless in just your underwear.

You turned your head slightly over your shoulder. “Your turn.”

You backed up and sat on the edge of the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows. Slowly, you parted your legs, letting him see just how soaked you were through the last bit of fabric on your body.

Noel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, eyes locked between your legs. You smirked, the power shift making your pulse pound. Slowly, you brought one hand up and rolled your nipple between your fingers, your gaze fixed on him.

The broken sound that escaped him was pure filth. He stripped in seconds, fast and clumsy, like he couldn’t get his clothes off fast enough. 

And then he was on you.

He crawled over you, mouth capturing yours instantly. You pulled him closer with greedy fingers tangled in his hair, moaning into his mouth and arching into his body. One of his hands slid down between you, into your underwear, and you gasped when his fingers found you.

“Christ,” he groaned into your mouth. “You’re fucking soaked.”

He teased you for a few maddening seconds, just enough to make your hips buck up into his hand, before dragging your underwear down in one rough motion. Then he pressed himself against you, grinding his cock against your core through the thin barrier of his boxers. The heat, the pressure. It was almost too much.

You let your head fall back, overwhelmed. “So good,” you babbled, leg wrapping around his waist to keep him close. “Feels so fucking good.”

He moaned into your neck, his voice barely a whisper. “I know what’s better.” His teeth scraped your skin. Then he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes heavy with need.

“Ride my face.”

You froze.

Every nerve in your body lit up. Your breath caught in your throat, skin suddenly prickling all over.

“I want it so bad,” he whispered, kissing a path down your chest. “Wanna feel your thighs around my face. Want you to use me to get yourself off.”

Your heart thudded against your ribs. You could feel how hard he was, straining against you, but he didn’t care. This wasn’t about him. This was for you.

“Please,” he whispered again, almost begging. “Can’t stop thinking about it. Please, darling…”

You sat up slowly, pushing at his shoulders until you were both upright. Now face to face, you could see it all. The wreckage in his expression, the raw hunger. He looked devastated with want.

You nodded breathlessly.

He didn’t waste a second. He peeled away from you and moved to the head of the bed, yanking pillows into place. He laid back, flushed and panting, eyes wild with anticipation.

You sat back on your heels, just watching him. He was a vision. Beautifully undone. Then your eyes dropped lower. He adjusted himself in his boxers, tugging the waistband down just enough to let his cock spring free, hard and glistening, leaking against his stomach.

Fuck.

You crawled toward him slowly, the air heavy between you. It felt like you were entering new territory, Uncharted and dangerous. 

When you hovered above him, your knees on either side of his head, you paused. Just for a moment. Because he looked like a dream laid out, mouth parted and waiting.

“Come on,” he said, voice thick. “I’m dyin’ to taste you.”

Your whole body clenched.

You braced your hands on the wall above the bed, thighs trembling as you slowly lowered yourself toward his face. Noel’s hands shot up immediately, grabbing at the backs of your thighs, fingers digging in.

Then his mouth met you and you cried out.

His tongue slid through your folds, slow and filthy, and he groaned the second he tasted you, the sound vibrating right through your core. His grip tightened, holding you steady as his tongue worked deeper, wetter, more desperate.

He pulled back for just a second, lips slick and red. “Taste so fuckin’ good,” he muttered, almost reverent.

Your thighs shook around his head. “Noel—”

He groaned at the sounds of his name leaving your lips and dove back in. His tongue flattened against your clit then wrapped his lips around it, sucking gently. Your breath hitched. A whimper escaped. You rocked forward instinctively, trying to chase the pressure, the friction.

“I—fuck—Noel, can I—” you gasped, hips twitching.

He nodded frantically, pulling back just enough to rasp out, “Yeah. Do it, love. Use my face. I want it. Want you—fuckin’ need you.”

His pupils were huge, his face flushed and glistening, his mouth open and hungry. He looked ruined.

You hesitated, heart pounding. Then you shifted your hips forward and slowly sank down, pressing yourself onto the bridge of his nose.

The pressure. The way his mouth and nose slotted perfectly against you, your clit grinding against the slope of his face. It sent shockwaves through your body.

You worried for half a second that you might actually suffocate him. But then he groaned and pushed up into you, burying his face deeper.

“S’posed to ride me, love,” he mumbled, voice muffled beneath you. “Come on.”

You lost the last of your breath.

You braced against the wall and gave in completely, hips rolling forward. Slowly at first, testing the rhythm, grinding down over his mouth and nose. And when you hit just the right spot, a moan tore from your throat, deep and raw.

Noel hummed beneath you in satisfaction. Licking and sucking as you rode him, your thighs trembling against his cheeks. The sensation was intense. His nose pressing perfectly against your clit, sending sparks up your spine every time your hips rocked forward.

You braced against the wall and rode him in earnest now, moaning openly. Your thighs trembled around his head, pleasure blooming white hot in your gut. 

“Fuck—you feel so good,” you gasped out, eyes squeezed shut. “Knew it—knew you’d feel like this fucking knew it.”

He moaned into you again, that beautiful, broken sound, and you looked down at him, just to see.

It nearly finished you.

His eyes were shut, brows drawn tight in concentration, face soaked with you. Lips swollen, chin dripping, jaw flexing with the effort of holding still while you used him. He looked fucked out. Completely lost in it, in you.

You cried out as the heat built fast, bright and sharp and impossible. Your whole body buzzed with it, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter.

“Fuck—so close—” you whimpered, hips stuttering.

But he knew exactly what you needed.

He tilted his head just right, lips sealing around your clit, sucking hard. Tongue flicking fast, precise, perfect.

That was it.

Your scream punched the air out of your lungs as your orgasm ripped through you, brutal and white hot. Your entire body spasmed, jerking against his mouth, the stars behind your eyelids exploding. You moaned his name over and over, thighs quaking around his head, hips grinding down instinctively, desperate for every last wave.

As you finally stilled, you barely managed to lift yourself off him. You collapsed beside him in a boneless heap, chest heaving, legs shaking uncontrollably.

Your muscles sagged with relief, your limbs tingling in the aftermath, your body still trembling with the echoes of your orgasm. Every nerve ending felt singed, vibrating. Your back ached faintly from how long you'd held yourself up, but even that felt good. Earned. Like a reminder of what you'd just given and taken.

Your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as you finally opened your eyes.

Noel was watching you.

His face was wrecked. Lips swollen and red, cheeks flushed, eyes half lidded and dazed. And he was absolutely glistening, slick with you, his mouth and chin shining with the evidence of how thoroughly he’d devoured you. The sight of it made a shiver race through your spine. 

He blinked slowly, like he was still catching up to what had just happened, his brain fogged by lust and awe.

You gave him a lazy, satisfied smile, the best you could manage in your fucked out haze. Just that tiny expression made his jaw clench.

Then he shifted.

Your gaze followed the motion and there it was. His cock, still rock hard and angry with neglect, the tip still peaking out his boxers. His hand had moved down, fingers grasping around the base but not stroking.

Your stomach twisted with hunger all over again. You were exhausted, legs still trembling, but if you had one more ounce of more energy, you’d have already climbed back on top of him and let him fuck the soul out of you.

“Take those off,” you said slowly.

He exhaled shakily before moving. His hands scrambled, fumbling in his urgency. He shoved his boxers down and kicked them off in one frantic motion.

And then fuck.

You nearly moaned just looking at him.

His cock stood thick and flushed, the head dark and glistening, twitching with every beat of his heart. Precome smeared across his length, and the way his fingers curled around the base again, tight and needy, made your breath hitch. He looked like he was about to fall apart.

“Please,” he whispered, voice wrecked, hips twitching forward ever so slightly. “Please, love… I need you—need to be inside you, need you so fucking bad, please—”

You licked your lips, already spiraling again. But then an idea hit you.

“Nuh uh,” you murmured. “Wanna watch you. Wanna see you get yourself off. Want you to come on my face like I just did on yours.”

A strangled moan left him. Like your words physically hit him.

He nodded fast and moved without hesitation, rising to his knees over you. His thighs bracketed your stomach, the heat of him radiating down on you. His cock loomed above you, swollen and heavy, so close you could taste it in the air.

You were getting the front row seat to something sacred.

Noel’s hand wrapped around his length again, a shudder running down his spine as he started to move. He wiped the wetness from his face, your wetness, and used it to slick himself up, groaning at the contact. He started slow. Languid strokes that made his stomach tighten and his jaw slack with pleasure. His head tipped back, eyes squeezing shut, mouth open in a soundless moan.

Your breath caught in your throat, heart already pounding again. He was gorgeous like this. Completely uninhibited, letting himself unravel for you, because of you.

His hand sped up, desperate now. His hips began to thrust subtly into his fist, chasing friction. The only sounds in the room were his ragged breathing, the slick sound of his fist moving over his cock, and the occasional, broken curse.

You knew he was close. He was shaking.

Your mouth parted, gaze locked on his flushed face. “That’s it,” you breathed. “Come on my face, Noel. I need it need to taste you. Want it so bad.”

His eyes snapped open.

That look, undone and wild with lust, was the last thing you saw before he shattered.

He cried out, a high pitched sound pulled from somewhere deep. His cock twitched in his grip and then he came, hot and heavy, thick ropes of it painting your face, your mouth, your chin.

You moaned, tongue out, catching as much of him as you could.

When he finally slowed, he looked down at the mess he’d made. His breath caught in his throat. Awe flickered across his face. 

You stuck your tongue out, showing him what had landed inside your mouth, and then swallowed.

His cock twitched again.

Noel reached out with a shaking hand, dragging two fingers through the come on your cheek, watching you closely as you licked it clean. You sucked his fingers into your mouth without breaking eye contact, moaning softly around them.

He flinched, breath catching in his throat. You just smiled, releasing his fingers with a wet pop.

Then you reached up, grabbed his arm, and dragged him down beside you, needing to feel his skin. He came willingly, boneless and trembling, collapsing into your arms. You curled around him instantly, greedy for the contact, peppering hot, open mouthed kisses across his chest.

His heart thundered beneath your cheek.

You could still taste him on your tongue. Feel the heat of his come drying on your skin. Your bodies tangled, sticky and pulsing with aftershocks.

“That was so fucking hot,” you whispered into his skin, voice still a little breathless.

He let out a shaky laugh, a soft shiver rippling through him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer, your skin flush with his. He hummed against your skin, face hiding in your hair. 

“Yeah?” he murmured, voice still frayed with the remnants of arousal. “You like watching me hm?”

“Mmm,” you hummed, kissing the center of his chest, right over his racing heart. “I think you like me watching you. It’s the whole performer thing. You’ve gotta be a bit of an exhibitionist, don’t you?”

“Don’t try and pathologize me,” he said, but his tone was amused, fond.

You tipped your head up, brushing your nose lightly against his jaw. “I’m just sayin’. You love the spotlight. You’ve no idea how sexy you are to watch.”

He chuckled, his expression full of warmth. “You just like to stroke my ego, don’t you, love?”

You grinned against his skin. “Don’t pretend you don’t love it too.”

“Yeah, yeah. ’Course I do,” he muttered, brushing his lips against your temple. “Just… feels different when it’s you saying it.”

Your chest fluttered, something warm blooming, shifting the energy. You curled closer, one leg sliding over his, arm draped across his stomach. Your fingers found the soft hair on his chest and started tracing slow, lazy circles, grounding yourself in the rhythm of his heartbeat.

There was a peaceful quiet between you, broken only by the soft sounds of your breaths mingling. 

After a beat, he spoke again, voice low and puzzled, like he was still mulling over what had just happened.

“I’m not complainin’,” he started, “but I still don’t really get it. It’s just… a nose.”

You laughed softly against his skin. “You don’t have to get it. Just accept it.”

Then you tilted your head up until your eyes found his. His gaze was heavy lidded and soft, that teasing spark still tucked just behind the warmth.

“In Roman times,” you said, brushing a fingertip down the bridge of his nose, “you weren’t considered beautiful unless you had a big nose. It’s all over their art. That’s what you remind me of. One of those statues.”

“Sappy little git, you are,” he murmured, but his voice was thick with affection. “You should kneel for me. Worship me like the Romans did.”

You wiggled your eyebrows. “Already do.” Then you took his hand in yours and pressed a slow kiss to his knuckles.

He smiled and ran his fingers gently down your spine, then back up again in a soothing motion. Your body still pulsed faintly with residual pleasure, but it had softened now, melted into warmth. The kind of heat you could fall asleep in.

You let out a quiet sigh and closed your eyes. “Gonna fall asleep like this.”

“Yeah?” he murmured. “Lyin’ here with my come still drying on your face?”

You snorted and nudged him weakly in the ribs. “Shut up.”

He laughed, the sound rumbling warm and full from his chest. “I’m just sayin’. It’s romantic, innit?”

Then he rolled away, taking the warmth with him. You made a small sound of protest, watching the curve of his back as he crossed the room. Even like this, hair a mess from your fingers, skin slick with sweat and flushed from you, he looked like something carved from marble. A statue with attitude. And a massive cock.

You bit your lip, admiring the view like it was art.

He grabbed a towel and gave his face a quick wipe, then padded back over, climbing into bed without a word. You half expected another filthy joke, but instead, he reached out, carefully dabbing at your cheek. When he finished, he tossed it aside and pulled you back into him.

You curled back into his chest, pressing your face to the curve of his throat, your leg tangling with his again. He was still a little damp, still radiating heat. He smelled like sex and sweat and him. You breathed it in deep, your whole body sighing in contentment.

“Right,” he murmured, his lips brushing your hair, “so which body part are you obsessing over next?”

[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.”

[minkdelovely]

kinktober — day XXVII

prompt: sex pollen

the pollination of angel dust

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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

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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.

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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.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

banner by @synamartia

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmiccandydreamer, @hyperfixations-keep-me-going, @cherry-cola-100, @wonderlandangelsposts, @catticora, @velvette3, @sailorsmouth, @reath-solia, @junieshohoho, @cxrsedwxrlds, @littlebluefishtail, @nxcxllxsevens, @swagkittybear

[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.

[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."

[splinteredmercies]

hold for trauma

read on ao3 ⋆ masterlist ⋆ navigation

pairing: samira mohan/original female character (eva viteri)

contains: latina original character. home-cooked meals as love language. queerplatonic vibes that might not stay platonic (it won't). no bench scene; this is my sandbox, and i dicate what goes.

word count: 2,156

author's note: almost the same note as ao3 but -- eva has been living in my drafts since february 12. i told myself to wait until the entire season was out, and lo and behold: season one of the pitt is over. / this feels really niche, but i hope some people will see the vision, lol.

After PittFest, Eva takes one look at Dr. Mohan and decides the R3 in a dire need of a home-cooked meal and a place to decompress. It’s no big deal; attendings are supposed to look after residents during perilous times, right?

“Fuck,” Eva hisses, limping into the hospital.

Rolling her ankle while walking to the hospital isn’t what she wanted to happen. Not at all. But her nose was buried in a copy of The September House, and really, what else did she expect?

She limps past Central, aiming for the lockers and staff lounge, and catches Perlah’s attention. “You alright there, Dr. Viteri?”

“Oh, sure. I’m having an amazing morning. Peachy, really.” Eva looks up at the board. It seems the night shift had a rough night. “I guess that won’t last long.”

Still, Perlah lingers, and her eyes pointedly travel down to the leg Eva isn’t holding weight on. Eva smiles and jokingly says, “Don’t walk and read at the same time.”

“Again, Eva?” Dana’s voice comes from behind her, and Eva tilts her head toward the charge nurse.

“Jesus, that was like my first month here, Dana.”

A lingering sense of shame zips down Eva’s spine, and the reminder unwillingly enters her mind. Eva would have been okay with falling, perfectly capable of getting up and brushing off her clothes as if nothing had happened. But Abbot had been the one to haul her off the ground and make her his first patient of the night despite her protests. Eva remembers that she hadn’t even worked a shift with the night staff yet, which is mortifying.

“Did I make that much of an impression on y’all?”

The contraction of “you all” falls from Eva’s tongue, sweet and slow like the honey she religiously swallows every morning. But no one says anything; Eva has been here a year, and most of the staff is accustomed to the way her voice dips into Southern tones with certain words and phrases.

“We called you Dr. Bookworm for the rest of the rotation.”

“You, what?”

Dana laughs and bumps her shoulder to hers. “If it’s any consolation, only Langdon will call you that nowadays.”

Eva’s nose wrinkles. It isn’t a surprise that Langdon still has the gall to do so. “Add him to today’s shit list.”

“It’s not even 7 am yet! You usually wait ‘til noon to add him.” Dana breezes past the point, circling back to Eva’s ankle. “Wanna start with ibuprofen or acetaminophen, hon?”

“Probably ibuprofen. I think I’ll be fine in a couple of hours. It was more a scare than anything else—the kraken is still here?” Dana confirms his presence, still waiting for a bed in psych, and Eva breathes out, “Jesus. Hasn’t it been a week already?”

“Yeah. He’s on Zyprexa. That’ll have him down for a bit.”

“Until all hell breaks loose. And then we’ll have to say our prayers.” Dana and Eva share an amused look, and Eva motions to her backpack with a twirl of her fingers. “I’ll be right back. I packed only one Celsius today! I hope you’re proud of me, Dana.”

“When you’re voluntarily reducing your caffeine consumption? Always!”

Eva restrains herself from turning around and sticking out her tongue. She’s getting far too old for those impulses. Eva drops her things in the lockers and her lunchbag in the staff lounge’s fridge; there’s some masking tape on it, hastily labeled “VITERI” with a marker from her junk drawer.

Eva returns to Central with the aforementioned Celsius in one hand and an oversized water bottle in the other. The bottle bounces loosely across her thigh as she carries it limply while walking.

“No more needles!”

Even with how busy the ER is, the shout echoes, and Eva’s eyes are drawn to the sources. She steps to the side, watching as Princess sprints behind the naked man. Perlah and a security guard quickly follow her. Eva sighs loudly and falls beside Langdon. “It is officially twenty minutes into our shift, and we’ve seen a naked man afraid of needles.”

“We’ve only got twelve hours ahead of us.” Langdon cracks open his Red Bull. “What are your thoughts on dogs?”

“Oh, I am not doing this today, Langdon. You’re already on my shit list. Bother the med students about it.” Eva ignores his astonished “Already?” and watches the board again. “Abbot’s UGI bleed is still waiting on that surgical consult. I’ll see if I can sweet-talk them to come down here sooner rather than later.”

“Better you than me,” Langdon scrolls through something, and his fingers fly over the keyboard. “I don’t know how you get the consults down here so fast. What’s your secret?”

“I pay homage to my ancestors and Mother Earth everyday, asking for abundance and good luck.”

Langdon pauses typing; his eyes narrow at her in confusion. “I thought you were Catholic.”

“I am a woman of many multitudes, Dr. Langdon.” She grabs the phone and dials the surgical department’s extension. “Which is why you should listen to me when I say that your wife doesn’t need another thing to take care of.”

“I’m going to ask Dana—”

“—She will say the same thing!”

Eva and Langdon squabble until Robby arrives with a group of fresh faces. She watches them, cataloging faces and names, as she finally gets a surgical consult to come down for the UGI bleed.

With a rolled ankle and an ensemble of medical students and residents, Eva hopes the shift will be productive, even with Robby’s personal history with this date.

Popping up from her position, Eva does not take any of the new faces to update on the UGI bleed from her successful mission of obtaining the surgical consult. There will be plenty of opportunities for them to learn today, just not at this moment.

She can’t wait to get home and knock out, preferably with Connie around her legs. Eva has never worked a shift of this magnitude before; her legs feel like jelly, even though the pain in her ankle has subsided, and she smells of sweat and antiseptics. Despite wearing her favorite clip, it tugs oddly at her hair, and with her adrenaline wearing off, a headache begins to set in by the time Eva ambles past Mohan.

“Dr. Mohan.” Eva watches as the younger doctor whirls around to look at her. Mohan is on her own special dosage of adrenaline, and Eva barely contains a sigh.

“Dr. Viteri! Where do you need me?”

“I need you to go home, Dr. Mohan, preferably before you keel over.” Mohan opens her mouth to protest, and Eva wonders when Mohan has last ate a full meal. She questions Mohan lightly, “Do you like lasagna?”

“Lasagna?”

“Yeah, like the Italian dish. I left it prepped this morning; all it will need is an hour in the oven.” Eva pauses. Mohan is still wound up, limbs drawn tightly; the R3 almost looks like a scared animal preparing for defense. “I have a cat. He’s an attention whore, if you’re interested in animal-assisted therapy.”

“I—” Mohan’s limbs sag minutely, and her eyes trail over Eva’s face. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t offer it if I weren’t. We should leave before Gloria comes down to yell at Robby about having to pay us overtime.” Mohan laughs hesitantly and seems confused at their interaction. Eva continues, “We’ll eat dinner, and I’ll take you home. You are still taking the bus, right?”

Mohan falters minutely. “You noticed?”

“You’re my resident, Dr. Mohan. What sort of attending would I be if I don’t keep an eye on you all? And I don’t think anyone should be alone after tonight.”

Briefly, the last few hours flash by Eva’s mind. So many people, crying out in pain; Eva has felt their heartbeats in her hand, felt their blood flow through her fingers. She watched how life drained from their eyes, one after the other, and can still feel the way one patient clutched her disposable white gown, begging for someone to call their mother.

Eva hasn’t left the hospital grounds yet, but she knows she will schedule a meeting with her therapist as soon as possible, even if it means paying out of pocket.

“Right…” Mohan observes her; her pretty doe eyes inquisitively travel over Eva’s face. Eva isn’t sure how to categorize Mohan’s reactions and hopes that the younger doctor isn’t taking offense to something.

“I live in Shadyside, though. Are you sure?”

It’s not an immediate “no,” and Eva smiles reassuringly. “I’m sure, Dr. Mohan. I’m going to check on one more thing. Meet me in Central when you’re ready.”

It’s odd to lead Mohan into her home.

Eva doesn’t regret her decision, nor will she, but very few people have seen her home, breathed in the air, and cohabited in the same rooms.

Valeria has been here for a night or two to attend concerts, as some of her favorite artists are seemingly opposed to playing anywhere near their family home. Ava and Logan are familiar with the cozy little corner of her living room through the lenses of Zoom, although they probably know the place just as well because it was their mother’s childhood home.

But they don’t count; Valeria is her youngest sibling, and Ava and Logan have been part of Eva’s life for years since ole’ Professor Nardi took her on as a mentee.

This is entirely different. Mohan is a coworker and her resident, but Mohan also needs a home-cooked meal more than Eva does. She needs comfort, for a willing ear to listen for an hour or two. Eva can practically hear Valeria ranting about “eldest daughter parentification in Latinx families,” but she ignores the thought and helps Mohan hang her bag on the hooks by the door.

Eva serves Mohan a calming blend of chamomile tea and makes small talk while the lasagna is being baked. It’s a lot of superficial talk; the sort of questions and answers they’ve done hundreds of times when the ebb and flow of patients slows down enough to allow it.

“Connie should be around here,” Eva tells Mohan, sliding the honey pot and dipper toward the younger doctor. “He’s a Maine Coon, so he’s very hard to miss when he’s walking around.”

“Maine Coon—aren’t those rare?”

“Yeah, I got lucky finding him—ah, there he is!” Connie emerges from the darkened hallway, and Eva coos and scoops him up in her arms with practiced ease. “Connie, this Dr. Samira Mohan, the smartest doctor we have at the Pitt.”

Mohan smiles at Connie as Eva slides him into her lap, handing her a treat to bribe him to stay. Eva turns away and begins to prepare a quick salad. They are in a quiet and comfortable ambiance until Mohan interrupts with a hesitant question: “You really think I’m the smartest?”

“Of course, I do.” Eva blinks, wondering where this question comes from. Had she not emphasized her admiration for Mohan before? Mohan is silent, and Eva peeks at her through her eyelashes. “Have I not said it before?”

“No—you—” Mohan seems to struggle for a moment, eyes focused on Connie instead of her. “You do in your own way. You don’t really single anyone out. Dr. Collins says you’re too busy trying to be fair with everyone to have a favorite.”

That’s… that’s a funny thought. Eva’s lips quirk and she busies herself with chopping cilantro.

“You know? I got a job after high school, to put myself through undergrad. I worked with a lot of younger girls who were still in high school, and more than once they said I was tough nut to crack.” She drizzles olive oil and lemon juice into the salad bowl, adding salt and freshly cracked pepper to taste. Eva continues speaking, “So, you’re not the first to say that they’re unsure of what I think of them, and you won’t be the last.”

Mohan seems to digest the information, her fingers deftly petting Connie’s forehead. “Dr. Robby told me to be more like you today.”

“He said that? To you? You have nearly perfect patient scores!”

“He was telling me I take too long with patients.” A million things enter Eva’s mind, namely complaints about capitalism and the nature of American healthcare, but she keeps her mouth shut and lets Mohan speak. “Almost everyone calls me Slo-Mo, but you don’t.”

“You never call me Dr. Bookworm,” Eva shoots back, and then sighs quietly. “Names have power, and you don’t seem like the type of person to appreciate a nickname like that. And you’re not slow; you’re careful. That’s not the same thing.”

A beat, and Mohan says, “Thank you.”

They share a smile ladened with mutual understanding.

Eva turns away and begins preparing the kitchen island for their meal. She sets the dinnerware on it, which clinks against the granite. “Since we are breaking bread together, I think you can call me Eva instead of Dr. Viteri. Outside of work, of course.”

“And you can call me Samira.” There’s a small quirk to Samira’s lips now, and she sips her tea carefully. “Outside of work, of course.”

[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!)

[attendsquoi]

Thea's Quest ~ Ch. 5

Chapter 5: Downtime

Summary: Thea and Kaldur have a heart to heart after a long mission.

Warnings: No warnings for this one. 

A/N: Short chapter bc this episode is so Kaldur-centric, but I already have the next chapter written, so I'll be updating soon. So sorry for the delay in posting this, I’m so happy that people are actually reading lol!

Word count: 1.3k

~~~

Thea preferred living in the cave to Diana’s apartment. It’s not that the apartment was a negative space, but it had been a long time since Thea had left camp, and as much as she relished the privacy of having her own room, the quiet was often too much. As a result, she moved many of her things into a room in the cave. Living with M’gann and Connor was still a far cry from Camp Half Blood, but it was better.

After the team’s unfortunate mission with Clayface, M’gann and Connor had retreated into their rooms. Everyone needed time to decompress and clean off from the fight. Thea had taken a long shower, working to rid her body and hair of any possible remnants of clay, but afterward she quickly found herself restless and bored. She didn’t have to meet Diana to attend to other hero duties until that evening. Searching for something therapeutic to do, Thea decided to bake some brownies as a treat for the team.

The demigod got to work, pulling together the supplies she needed and climbing on stools to reach ingredients in the high counters.

“Damn martian telekinesis, putting the flour on the top shelf.” She muttered to herself with a chuckle.

As she worked – mixing the batter, lining the pan, putting it in the oven – Thea’s mind wandered to Kaldur. He was clearly off his game, making hasty decisions and appearing distracted. Thea had only been with the team for about a month, but she and Kaldur were friends, and she worried for his well being. Not to mention whatever lecture he got from Batman after the rest of the team hit the showers. 

“What are you doing?” 

Thea jumped. 

Speak of the devil… She thought to herself.

“Making brownies.” She replied as calmly as she could to the Dark Knight. 

Thea couldn’t help but notice how out of place he looked in the cave’s small kitchen. Batman nodded but said nothing as he walked through the room and into the mission area.

Thea let out a breath, checking the timer and seeing just a couple minutes left. Just then, a zeta tube in the other room announced Aqualad’s arrival. Thea busied herself by wiping down the counters, working hard not to eavesdrop. Even so, she heard them discussing Kaldur’s alliance to the team. When she heard the zeta tube signifying Batman’s departure, she paused, then walked over to the doorway to the mission room. Kaldur was standing in the room by himself, eyes closed, taking a deep breath.

The kitchen timer went off with a shrill ringing, startling Kaldur and Thea out of their thoughts. Thea smiled at him sheepishly.

“Would you like a brownie?” Thea asked.

She didn’t wait for a response as she turned around and beckoned him into the kitchen.

As Kaldur walked into the kitchen, Thea had pulled the brownies out of the oven and was grabbing two bowls. She spooned some just-too-warm, melty brownie into each, setting Kaldur’s down in front of a stool by the kitchen island, then leaning on it from the other side. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. Then Thea stood up to fill a glass of water.

“So, you’re staying with the team?” She asked, breaking the silence.

Kaldur looked up at her.

“Yes,” He said after a beat, “I am.”

Thea felt relieved.

“I’m glad.” She responded, moving to rest her elbows against the island.

“If it’s okay, can I ask why you were considering leaving?” Thea asked.

The question hung in the air for a few moments, but Thea knew Kaldur wasn’t ignoring her. He was deep in thought, and Thea let him be.

“There are multiple reasons, I suppose.” He began, looking down.

“Stress from leading the team, and a lack of confidence in my ability to do so –”

“You are a great leader, Kaldur’ahm.” Thea interrupted.

“I may be new to the whole “superhero” world, but the Greek warriors of history are far from lacking in both positive and negative examples of leadership. You’re doing a good job.” She concluded.

“I am grateful for your kindness, and your approval,” Kaldur responded. “But it wasn’t just that.”

Thea said nothing, but raised her eyebrows warmly.

“I won’t push. But you are my friend, Kaldur. And I’m here if you want to talk.” Thea said.

There was a peaceful lull in the conversation and Thea moved to refill her glass of water. Kaldur stood up, walking to grab his own glass from the cabinet and filling it as Thea stepped back from the sink. He leaned his back against the island and Thea hopped up to sit on the counter across from him.

“When I came to the surface, I left behind my family as well as my friends.” Kaldur said, still deep in thought.

Thea smiled knowingly. She knew that look.

“As well as your more-than-friends.” She guessed.

Kaldur ducked his head and chuckled; Thea grinned as he blushed.

“I suppose that too. Her name is Tula.” He admitted.

Kaldur told Thea the story from the very beginning – studies of sorcery at the conservatory, a growing crush on his classmate, saving Atlantis with Garth, becoming Aqualad, leaving everyone behind, returning only to find his two friends had gotten into a relationship without him knowing. Clearly, the pain was still raw, but Thea could tell he was at peace with his decision to stay with the team.

“That’s hard.” She acknowledged first. Then she paused. “I can relate – in some ways at least. Complicated relationships with childhood friends, secrets getting in the way.” She summed up vaguely.

“Your offer extends from me as well.” Kaldur said.

“What do you mean?”

“I won’t push, but I am here if you want a friend to talk to.” Kaldur echoed her words from earlier. 

Thea’s face softened.

“It’s a long story.” She warned.

“My schedule is free.” He replied, not missing a beat.

A moment passed.

“When I was 12, I ran away from home. That’s when I met Luke.” Thea began, looking down at her feet. 

She proceeded to tell Kaldur her story – many parts of it which she had never said aloud before. Meeting Luke in the alley, traveling to camp together, fighting monsters and protecting each other, losing Thalia, their quest battling the aurae, their first kiss during capture the flag, running the Hermes cabin – an unstoppable duo. Then things changed. First it was Luke’s failed quest, then the nightmares which he refused to talk about, the lies he started telling, the way Thea felt she was going insane – losing her closest friend and unable to do anything to stop it. She told Kaldur about the breakup a year prior, and finally the fight that made her leave camp. 

“It’s going to sound dramatic, but it feels like he pushed me out of my home.” Thea concluded, glassy eyed.

Kaldur had been listening attentively, nodding along to her account, humming to let her know he was listening. Now, he didn’t say anything. He set his glass down gently and stepped closer to the other counter where Thea sat atop it. Kaldur rested a hand on her knee. Thea slid off the counter to stand, still looking down at the ground. As soon as her feet touched the floor, Kaldur pulled his arms around her shoulders, wrapping the girl in a hug. No tears were shed, but the two clung to each other, each an outcast in their own way. They stayed like that for some time, just resting in the solidarity and gentleness of the moment. Finally, they pulled away, Kaldur’s hands still tracing circles over Thea’s back. 

“Thank you.” She whispered.

“Thank you.” He whispered back.

Thea fully stepped back, rolling her shoulders and standing straight. Glancing at the time her eyes widened. 

“I need to go meet Diana.” She said regretfully.

Kaldur looked over his shoulder at the clock, equally taken aback.

“I will see you tomorrow.” He said quickly, turning around to observe Thea gathering her things.

She glanced up at him and waved as she walked toward the zeta tubes. 

“Thea!” Kaldur called, causing the girl to turn back in surprise.

“Thank you for the brownies.”

Thea smiled.

“You’re welcome.” 

[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).

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