#what an intelligent and quizzical expression...

[lotrmusical]

@notrobyn submitted: happy birthday mo!! this is not my cat unfortunately.....he belongs to my bf's family and he is the best boy - he purrs so loudly and so all of the time and he is such a friend!

__

HE IS SO GOOD what a handsome little chunk!!!! very smart whiskers!!!

[whiskeyghoul]

Coloring pages || [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A/N: This has been stuck in my mind for weeks now and I needed to put it down. This is the first fic I had proof read by someone! Enjoy and please like and reblog when you do. 

Tags: Fluff, tooth rotting fluff, just fluff, coloring pages, spencer reid x gn!reader I think.

You stood outside of the Quantico building, leaning against the side of your car. The air had the early autumn chill, it wasn't cold but your oversized sweater sure made it a lot more bearable to be outside of the car for an extended period. You were waiting for your date to be finished with his work. Boyfriend. You corrected yourself internally. Boyfriend of 6 weeks, 3 days and 5 hours to be exact. Which, with Spencer as your boyfriend you had to be.

He is handsome, kind and so incredibly intelligent it is sometimes just a tad frustrating. His rambles were interesting and you could probably listen to him for hours on end. You also wanted to spend time together just enjoying each other's company. Being together, that was your type of love. The affirming touches that the other was there. The comfortable silence you enjoyed so much where you could hear soft intakes of breaths. Glances at one another to confirm that the other was still there. You loved when Spencer had invited you over to his apartment once, he still had some work to finish so you'd picked up a book from the many shelves and made yourself comfortable on his worn couch. You had looked up from the book and over to him, seen him deep in thought as he looked at the lines of writing, jotting down notes next to it. His brow slightly furrowed, lips pursed ever so slightly as he thought particularly hard. Completely unaware of your admirations of him from the couch. That's what you liked.

People began filing out of the building as the sun set, you watched and watched to catch the first sign of Spencer. When you did see that messy brown hair bounce slightly as he walked down the steps a smile spread across his face. You mirrored his expression, every time you saw him it brought a smile to your lips. A gust of wind picked up, ruffling his hair even further as he bound over his long strides causing him to stand before you in, what felt like, mere seconds. "Hey." He said softly. His hand reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear that had been swept up by the wind. His fingertip grazed the side of your temple. "Hi." You returned just as softly. "How was work?" You asked as you looked into those big, brown eyes. They were filled with warmth as he looked into yours. "It was good, no new cases which I was hoping for since I wanted to see you." Spencer spoke his emotions as he pulled his hand away. "Good, because I have something planned." You said with a smile, turning on your heels and walking back to the driver's side.

"You have something planned?" Spencer asked as he quickly dove into the passenger seat. Tucking his bag between his feet. "I do." You say as you put the seatbelt on, feeling his eyes on your profile. "Can I know?" He asked, impatiently tapping his fingers against his thighs, an air of excitement surrounding him. "Not yet. It's a surprise." Your voice sounds melodic, sing-song-y even, on the last sentence as you turned the key and started up the car. "Tell me more about your day." You say as the music over the speakers softly filled the car and the heater worked to warm your cold tinged hands.

Spencer had talked about his day, you were intermittently interrupting him with questions before he asked about your day. You were still going on about a coworker who had annoyed you when you parked the car in front of your destination. The bookstore and café combo where you had your first date. You got out and quickly snatched the tote bag you had haphazardly laid on the backseat before turning back to Spencer. "The bookstore? Why are we here?" He looked at you quizzically. You rolled your eyes playfully and put the tote bag over your shoulder. "Because we're going for coffee." You answered and held out your hand which he took. You saw his eyes dart towards the tote bag, that soft crease between his eyebrows forming as he pictured all the possibilities of what its contents could be. “Coffee at 5 P.M.? You know that feeling unaffected by caffeine could be a sign of a genetic difference or you have built an increasingly large tolerance. This could be a problem once you start ingesting dangerous amounts of caffeine unbeknownst to you.” Spencer rambled as you entered the coffee shop. You rolled your eyes playfully, “I’ll get a tea then.” you say as you get hit by the smell of fresh brewed coffee, pastries and books. There was music softly playing in the background. The shop was warm.

Pulling Spencer along to the table where your first date had been, you sat down, shedding your fall jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair. The tote bag was placed on the table, only a slight peak of its contents spilling out. Spencer’s eyes darted to it, wanting to know what you had planned and why you were being so secretive. Quickly, your hand found its way to cover the contents, pressing the tote bag shut. “After we get our drinks.” You teased, there was a sparkle in your eyes, seeing him this interested in what you were planning made it all the more fun to keep him in the dark.

“Really? Can’t you just tell me?” Spencer questioned, giving you the most pleading eyes he could muster in that moment, you were surprised he didn’t pout at you. Just then the waitress came over, taking your coffee and tea orders before walking back behind the bar. When you had looked at her Spencer seemed to have taken his chance and snuck a peek inside of the bag, before you knew it he was pulling out a set of colored pencils. “Spencer!” You admonished playfully, snatching the colored pencils out of his hand and sticking them back in the bag. “What? I was just curious.” He played innocent, giving that sweet smile he knew made you weak. “You brought colored pencils?” He tilted his head slightly, his soft curls falling away from his face. You reached out across the table, tucking a stray curl behind his ear like he had done with you before, “I did.” Your answer came with a soft sigh before folding the tote bag slightly open and pulling out the matching set of colored pencils and a book of coloring pages. “I guess the cat is out of the bag.”

“Why did you bring coloring pages?” Spencer looked confused at the book, flipping through the blank pages filled with outlines of forest scenes and insects. An amused smile on his lips, “Aren’t we too old for that?” He asked, his tone was a slight teasing one. You know he didn’t mean it to be hurtful at that moment, but still he didn’t seem as excited about it as you were. You bit your lip, holding back the twinge of disappointment that shot through your heart.

“I thought it would be fun to do something together. It’s not a children's coloring book, but you know… I wanted to work on a page together, so we have something we both did.” Your voice had an edge to it, the disappointment you tried to hide still managed to bubble its way to the top. It felt horrible, that such a little thing could make this big of an impact. Your hands fidgeted with the end of your sweater, picking at the sleeve with a hint of defeat. Eyes cast down on the table. “Woah, hey, wait no I- I didn’t mean anything bad- I just-” Spencer stumbled over his words, quickly reaching his hand across the table to hold yours. Moving his thumb soothingly across the back of your hand. “If you want to, we will. It looks fun. Really.” He corrected himself, his eyes finding yours. You could see the hint of regret at his earlier words, his sincerity in his current ones. The disappointment still lingered, but the warmth from his hand was quickly spreading through your body to wash away any doubt. “Really?” You asked again, wanting the extra confirmation. You attempted a smile, it was half hearted still but at least it was somewhat reassuring to yourself. “Really, I just get to pick what we’re working on.” Spencer smiled back, giving your hand a soft squeeze before letting go to pick up the book again.

You watched Spencer flip through, taking a quick look at the different pages until he found one to his liking. Placing the book open on the table, a flowery field with butterflies and bumble bees. “This one.” he said, looking to you for confirmation like he could make the wrong choice. “That’s perfect.” Your voice was soft, still trying to get over the disappointment from before. It was nearly gone, leaving you with mostly warmth in your heart. You grabbed the two sets of colored pencils, opening them, and setting them out on the table. Just then your drinks were brought out, a chai latte for you after Spencer’s comment about caffeine, he still had a cappuccino which made you smile a bit. You handed a set of pencils to Spencer before picking up your chai and taking a tentative sip. It was hot but delicious. 

“Alright, so how do we start?” Spencer asked, looking at the page then back at you. “I want to color it together. You can start over on your side, I start on mine, meet in the middle?” You said, placing your cup back down. “Won’t it be mismatched? should we at least have the same color green for the stems?” He suggested, suddenly seeming a bit more into it than he had been before. “Okay, that sounds like a good idea. The same blue for the sky too?” You added, opening your own set of pencils. You picked out a blue, matching it with one from Spencer's set. He did the same with the green, handing you the matching pencil with a smile. “Let’s get coloring then.” He said before turning his attention to the paper. You followed suit, touching the colored pencil to the paper and began to fill in the white space.

You kept picking up pencils, filling in the flowers with different colors, sometimes your hand would meet with Spencer’s while drawing and he’d look up with a smile. Soft bumps and touches that affirmed you were both there. Light chuckles and laughter with your coloring interrupted by each other. Your heart fluttered at how he had thrown all his earlier judgment aside to make you happy. Looking up he was focused, smiling at the paper as he decided what colors would fit best. Sometimes asking for your opinion. Intermittently his drawing was interrupted by sips of coffee. Wiping the residue off of his lips with his sleeve before going back to the page.  The way he was focused was cute, hairs falling in front of his eyes, a grin on his face as he gave in to the childlike whimsy of doing a coloring page. It was refreshing to see him with his shoulders relaxed, focusing on anything but words. Letting the surrounding sounds of the shop take over. Slowly you felt yourself be more and more focused on Spencer rather than the drawing. Once he noticed, he looked up, the smile still plastered on his face, “What?” he laughed out the question. One of the more beautiful sounds you’ve heard, though you wouldn’t tell him that. You shook your head no, laughing softly “Nothing.” You answered with a genuine smile. “There’s something.” Spencer pushed, still smiling, holding back the laughter that bubbled up inside of him. “You looked very focused, that’s all.” You answered, shrugging nonchalantly before you finished up your drink that had gone lukewarm from the amount of time you had been sitting there. “Well, so did you. Just not on the coloring anymore.” Spencer teased, making a blush creep to your cheeks. Biting your tongue to hold back from throwing out a retort that would have been completely unnecessary. 

Your eyes cast down to the coloring page, it was almost completely filled with your combined efforts of removing every spot of white. It was beautiful to you, a bit messy but that made it perfect. Spencer looked down too, regarding the page with a certain air of pride. “I think we should frame it.” he spoke up. Your eyes darted back to his face, to see if he was joking or if it was serious. His expression was relaxed, no sign of any funny business. “Why?” You asked, a hint of confusion in your voice this time around. “It’s the first thing we made together.” His words made your heart skip a beat, the way he was so sincere had such an effect on you. “We’ll have to make another for my place then.” you answered. “Or you’ll just have to come over by my place more often to see it.” Spencer smiled, his words a thinly veiled excuse to see you in his home, to have you over, spend time together. 

You smiled, quickly leaning over the table to steal a kiss after he finished his sentence. “I’d like that a lot.”

[thatfandomslut]

Art Is Immortal

Janis Imi'ike x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Trigger Warnings: talks of dying, idiots crushing on each other and expressing their crushes through art

Request:

Valentine's / Followers Celebration; Janis Imi'ike with quote 15 and piece of chocolate number 8. Or: "Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while." w/ crushing

Valentine's / Followers Celebration requests are closed.

"You paint about death a lot," Janis commented, sitting on the stool behind (Y/n), who turned to give her a cheeky grin. There was something about the mischievous glint in (Y/n)'s eye that caused Janis's heartbeat to quicken in her chest. She had to remind herself where she was. (Y/n) didn't feel the same about her and they were just friends. Why couldn't Janis remember that? "You're work is always stunning, of course. I guess you could just color me curious as to why you're so infatuated with the idea of death so much that you would paint about it."

(Y/n) finished what she was doing in order to give Janis more of her attention. She placed the paintbrush into the water, swirling it around to rid it of the paint she had been using before wiping her hands on the smock she was wearing. "I guess because art is immortal, it outlives death. There are only two things that can outlive death, you know?" Janis quirked an eyebrow, wondering just what (Y/n) meant. "Art and love." (Y/n) commented, causing surprise to etch its way onto Janis's expression. It was missed by (Y/n), who was putting more paint into her wooden palette.

Janis took a second to process (Y/n)'s words. She didn't know that she might be a hopeless romantic. Maybe she was just reading into it too much. Maybe she was way too cynical to truly believe (Y/n)'s words. "Do you actually believe that true love can actually outlive something as permanent as death?" Janis questioned, looking (Y/n) over with a quizzical expression on her face. Her brown eyes reminded (Y/n) of chocolate and caramel as the sun hit them perfectly from the sunlight beaming out from the window.

"Do you not?" (Y/n) raised a delicate brow as she grabbed a fresh brush and began to paint again. Janis wanted to take it back, not wanting to ruin the delicate fabric that was her relationship with (Y/n). Instead, she waited for (Y/n) to peer back so she could shake her head in response, now feeling too embarrassed to say 'no.' There was a little smile that danced onto (Y/n)'s lips, tugging gently at the corners as it grew. "Death might be permanent, but that doesn't mean something can't outlive it, especially in terms of love. That's why people bury themselves next to their families and their loved ones. In fact, love can prolong life, even if death is inevitable."

There was a silent moment that passed between them as Janis thought about what (Y/n) was saying. She knew (Y/n) was intelligent, but she didn't realize just how wise she truly was. "So, what you're saying is… Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while. Then, when all is said and done, it can outlive death?" Janis repeated to the best of her understanding of (Y/n)'s words. She wanted to understand (Y/n)'s words perfectly.

(Y/n) turned around, her eyes dazzling again as they met with Janis's. Janis felt her breath catch in her throat as she forced her jaw to stay where it was. "Exactly," she said softly, leaning now on the table beside her. "I believe that true love can outlive anything. Whether it be death or hate, love conquers all. It even conquers art. That says a lot because just like love, art is immortal." (Y/n) expressed, lying her palette down, and placing her paintbrush in the water.

Janis watched her motions, smiling a bit when (Y/n) crossed the room to her. "Do you think…" She was struggling to think of her words properly as she watched (Y/n) approach her, giving her the undivided attention that she always craved. She cleared her throat as she glanced away momentarily. "Do you think you and I could outlive death?" She inquired as (Y/n) pulled a stool over to sit beside Janis. She felt herself subconsciously lean into the space (Y/n) was sitting in. (Y/n) didn't oppose or say anything about the action. Instead, she followed Janis's lead.

Their eyes almost simultaneously looked at each other's lips as they continued to lean in. "Yes, I think that what we have could outlive death." (Y/n) said before their lips finally made contact. It felt like the world stopped turning for a moment. Either that or an eternity passed. Janis forgot how time worked as they kissed for what Janis hoped would be their entire lifetime. Unfortunately, they had to breathe, causing them to slowly, almost hesitantly, pull away from each other. Neither completely moved as their foreheads gently found their place by resting against each other. Throughout the silence, the sound of Janis's rushing heartbeat throbbed into her ears.

Janis smiled a bit as they eventually parted fully, looking at each other with a strong sense of satisfaction passing between them. Everything felt right in the world. Maybe (Y/n) was right, maybe love could outlive death. Janis knew that she needed to drop her cynical thoughts, and for the first time in her life since her kiss during Spin the Bottle, she felt like love could be real. "I hope that you and I can have a love that outlives every piece of immortal art there ever was, is, and ever will be," Janis commented, realizing that whatever sap (Y/n) had was now rubbing off onto her.

A grin that caused Janis to feel her heart palpitate overtook (Y/n)'s smile as she moved to retrieve her art supplies to resume painting. "I'm sure we will, Janis." She responded, and Janis wondered how she could resume normal activities after such a powerful kiss. However, she was unaware of all the struggle (Y/n) was having as she attempted to recuperate from the kiss herself. Still, she forced herself to remain cool because, on the inside, she felt the hopeless romantic in herself screaming in joy. For now, she could express all of that joy in her art.

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

{Falsifier}

Episode 2: ♡Fibber♡

《Waking up in a body familiar, but uncanny, you unknowingly save an Idol with twins》

《Warnings: Genderbend Ai, Ai Lives Au! Possible yandere. The story is for fun, more warnings to add later.》

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《Fibber: Someone who tells fibs.》

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WAKING UP on someone's lap wasn't what you were expecting.

Gasping and gargling on your saliva, you try to form words as you sit up and back away from whoever was holding your head up.

"Oh! You're awake!"

Shaking like a leaf in autumn, you pull your hands to your throat.

The words of accusations to the strangers who brought you to a strange room wouldn't leave your throat. It was far too dry and raspy to make a word intelligible to the human ear.

The sensation of when you first woke up in a different body returned. Wanting to hurl, scream, kick, cry. Rip off the flesh that wasn't your own.

But all you could do was shake.

"[Sir/Madame] please calm down!" A young male with sparkly pink eyes with stars for pupils sat on a plain couch with two children by his side. A boy and a girl, the three of them seemed scared like you.

"Papa!" The young girl shrieks, clinging to her supposed father. "It's okay, it's okay Ruby!" He rubbed his daughter's back soothingly, his son leaning onto his side as he stared at you.

"W... w.." You force your hands to lower to your sides. Still unnerved and unable to speak properly. Breathing less erratic and heartbeat slowing down.

""W?'" The purple-haired male asked. Tilting his head quizzically as his kids followed his movements.

A man in his possible early thirties appears in the doorway.  He wore a black suit with a white shirt carelessly, adorning a pair of black shades, blonde short hair, and thin facial hair. Accompanied him was a beautiful young woman with strawberry blonde hair.

Where the hell are you!?

"Oi! Ai, why didn't you tell us they were awake?" The young woman scolded, rushing off to what you assumed was a kitchen.

"Sorry..." The male rubbed the back of his neck, flustered beyond belief. "Relax kid, your safe now." The blonde gentleman states, holding out a hand for you.

Taking the stranger's hand, you ignore the people on the couch and try standing up properly.

The woman from before ushers you to the couch where the person called "Ai" sat with his kids. The strawberry-blonde lady hands you a cup of water.

Greedily gulping it down without a care, you finish the cup in one gulp.

The blonde man laughed at you, while the woman shot him a disapproving look.

"Someone..." You start, looking down at the bottom of your glass.

"Someone, please, tell me what's going on..?" You said pathetically.

The kids look at you in awe as the older adults shoot uneasy glances at one another.

"Uhmm, (Y/N). Correct?" The young woman says towards you. You nodded, that did sound like the name you knew in your past life. Was it the same for this person's body?

"How do you know my name?"

"Your I.D. The thing slipped out of your bag when you attacked that stalker." The young woman nods with the man with shades.

"That's what Ai said, they saw you, euh- ahem, puke, on the stalker. They were about to hurt Ai- or worse if it weren't for you interfering."

The two of them lower their heads and kneel in front of you.

"Thank you." "Thank you..."

The two said in sync.

The young woman started shaking, a quiet sob leaving her mouth. Yet when she raised her head, she simply wiped her eyes. A certain gleam took over the sadness.

"You saved Ai's life, we can't thank you enough."

"You guys..." Ai mumbled. He held his kids closer, hiding his expression as his kids cuddle closer to him.

You on the other hand felt a weird warm sensation on your back. You thought it would be your embarrassment, but no, it was the two kids.

Their eyes were so big and thankful towards you, but you honestly thought they were glaring at you.

"It-its no problem! Really... I didn't even know it was a stalker..." You said truthfully, "I thought they were my neighbor. I wanted to thank them for the cookies- THE COOKIES!" You get up from your spot on the couch but fall back down.

"Auh... Never doing that again. Phew.."

You said to yourself, holding your head as you try to recall your surroundings. Ai gently pats your back as you shoot them a thankful look. Causing them to quickly bring their hand back to his lap. You would have thought he was surprised at his actions.

"BUT- The cookies! I wanted to thank you, they looked really tasty and made my day... There probably destroyed right?" You smiled sadly at the thought of wasted pastries.

"No!" Ai exclaimed, pausing when he sees the startled expressions on everyone's faces.

"We still have some! No worries." Ai plays off the slip-up, and his kids cheer at the idea of more cookies. Unaware of their agreeing nods of a silent conversation between his twins.

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Tags: @yandere-city @col1fl0r @ghost-nevous @merurishi @channelinglament @lifes0cks @raginggoose06 @majestymadness @vieweryeet @shira222

[Ta-da! Another chapter?! Yes indeed! You honestly don't know how happy you guys made me when you commented on the first part! I'm glad you guys are liking the story so far! I'll keep doing my best!]

[Also! This series is on my Qoutev! If you wish to submit fan art reblog or send it to me! Thank you so much!]

[fkmarrycill]

One Shot: Pre-Gaming

(Pic added after the original post because it totally fits the vibe of the story. 😌)

1191 words, 🔞 for that smut

Notes:

Can you tell I'm really, really concerned about how our man will survive awards season? ☺️ I'm not sure if he'll attend any of the shows (really hope he does), or if he has any rituals for situations like this, but this is where my imagination took me. 😈

This is pure fiction, and in this scenario, Cillian is in a relationship, but not married and no kids. I read Cillian as an intelligent, decent, sometimes awkward guy who is also capable of being spicy when needed or desired. 😌

It's M/F dynamic, and I often keep the lady leads generic in description so more people can imagine along. 😉

Thanks for reading! ❤️

Cillian had gone silent. His arms were crossed, and he was staring out the window. Maybe he saw the city cruise by, or maybe he was too lost in thought to notice; she couldn't tell. All she knew was that he was relaxed at the hotel, but as soon as the limo door shut, his mood had changed.

She'd had her hand on his thigh for the whole ride so far. That subtle reminder of her support wasn't enough for him, she realized, but she knew what would be.

“Cill?” She addressed him gently.

“Mmm?” He responded absentmindedly.

Definitely lost in thought. “You need to relax. I'm going to make you feel better before we get there. Would you like head, or a quickie? Neither is not an answer.”

“That obvious that I'm fucking nervous, eh?” He chuckled in spite of himself. “Of course, I would’ve rather stayed home, but…” He trailed off and watched her kneel before him and begin to unzip and lower his tuxedo pants.

“What?” She said in response to his quizzical expression. “I thought maybe this would help you decide.” She looked up at him and winked. At this moment, she was glad she'd chosen the little black lace number instead of the gown with the train. She'd be able to move more freely for him, and it would be harder to mess up the dress.

“Now, what’ll you have, Mr. Murphy?” She placed her hands on his thighs and caressed them softly.

He glanced at the closed partition between them and the driver, checked his watch, and a mischievous grin bloomed on his face. He leaned forward. “Looks like we have plenty of time. Hmmm… Film award nominees tend to get special treatment, isn't that right? Give me both, love. Your mouth first, then that irresistible cunt.”

“Spoken with the confidence of a winner, whether it's tonight or another night. It's coming, either way.”

“Just like me, in a matter of moments, thanks to you.” He tried and failed to stifle a laugh. “Christ, we sound like some dreadfully unimaginative 70s porn! Let's stop talking, before we turn each other off.”

“Excellent idea.”

Both of them laughed, partners in crime with the same sense of humor.

She gave him one last affectionate smile, then began to caress his thighs with long, soft strokes that made him shift on his seat. She traced the same path with her lips, on one thigh, then the other, nuzzling the expanses of skin.

He turned the volume up on the music, in anticipation of giving in to wherever she led him. She stretched herself higher and loomed over his lap, then tugged at his underwear. He shifted on the seat to help her efforts in removing her last barrier. He placed his hands on her head and squeezed softly, a gentle request for the warmth of her lips on his hardened, eager cock.

He groaned softly as her lips surrounded his girth and her hands connected with him, and he hissed, eyes shut tightly, when she teased the sensitive underside of his dick with her tongue.

His million-dollar face contorted–jaw clenched, brow furrowed, nostrils flared, full lips parted–as he savored her work. By then, she had taken more of him in, feasting on his length with her enthusiastic licking and sucking.

He began to grind his hips, arching into her mouth to feel her deeper and more intensely.

She loved seeing him like that, focused on the sensations, thoughts as far away as possible from cameras, paparazzi, and all the sequined and bow-tied cogs in the Hollywood machine–everyone they'd be unable to escape for hours once they left their mobile love nest. Giving him release was the least she could do for him. She was well aware of all the effort and sacrifice he put into his celebrated performance as Oppenheimer, and she thought he deserved to be in the right mood to enjoy his moment of recognition, win or lose.

She knew she was wet already, from the way her body throbbed in excitement. She had one more ace to play, one more thing to share that would push him past the point of no return. “I was going to surprise you later,” she murmured conspiratorially, “but this will give you something else to think about in your seat…”

He watched her through glazed, darkened eyes as she climbed into his lap, hiked her dress, and sank down on him, inch by inch.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped. “No fucking panties… Are you trying to kill me?”

“No, babe, I'm just trying to fill your head with good thoughts before we get there.” She rolled her body at a brisk pace and kissed him deeply.

He grasped her hips and overtook the pace of her thrusts, writhing against her in a controlled manner that made both of them wail. She rocked into him and edged closer to being completely undone.

One of his hands crept up to the small of her back, while the other meandered down her leg to find her clit, which he massaged the way she loved, ratcheting up her cries in the process.

Their rhythm quickened some more. A lock of his hair fell down, toward his eyes, and she brushed it back into place. She desperately wanted to clutch her hands in his hair, like she normally did, but quickly nixed the idea, remembering the effort that had gone into his sophisticated look. There'd be plenty of time later for reckless behavior, she thought–on the ride back to the hotel, or in the bed, regardless of whether they were celebrating or preparing to return to their usual pace of life.

“Oh, fuckkkk…” His breathing was shallow, and his face flushed as his eyes rolled back. “I'm gonna…”

“Me, too, baby,” she said, equally breathless. The tightness that had built up at her core gave way to waves of bliss, and moments later, Cillian tensed as his own climax tore through his body.

He held her in a tight hug and kissed the top of her head while they caught their breath.

After a while, she moaned contentedly and looked up at him. “Feeling better, Cill?”

“You have no idea, lass. Thank you.”

“Anytime, my dear, beautiful boyfriend.”

He kissed her softly, then looked at his watch. “We should be there soon, better get ourselves back together as best as we can.”

They scrambled to straighten up and return to their initial positions in the car.

“You know,” started Cillian, as they rounded the corner to the venue, “At some point tonight, when I can't stand it anymore, I'd love to steal away with you to a bathroom or somewhere else that we can be alone…”

“I like the way you think! But what if we get caught?” She gathered her purse and prepared to exit the limo.

“I think ecstatic award winner caught fucking his girlfriend will be much better for my brand,” he said with air quotes, “than those pics of me pissing on the side of the pub, don't you think?” He winked and kissed her passionately.

Before she could respond, he opened the car door and they emerged. They were quickly besieged by camera flashes, and the huge smiles on both their faces were real.

[writing-positivelyexisting]

Talk Too Much

The Bad Batch. Tech/Reader. | writing-positivelyexisting🫧

He could be defined as a… chatterbox. Someone who talks… on and on and on… it definitely could be seen as annoying, but to you? No way.

You loved hearing that man talk. It brought a sense of tranquility to you. From talking about the differences in droids and ships to simple astronomy — how stars can collapse and become novas.

And Tech? Oh, how he loved to talk with you! You were one of the few who could actually keep up with what he was saying. Before meeting you, he’d keep his words concise so that any one of his brothers could understand him, and normally he wouldn’t be able to talk about what interested him to his brothers because at some point their minds would wander away. (Except for maybe Echo and Omega).

Now that you were a part of his life, it’s like everything he’d been wanting to say is finally being spoken. And comprehended! That’s the best quality about you for him. You care to understand what he’s talking about, asking questions and putting your own opinions in and even correcting him!

Never in his life would he find being corrected a turn on. It is now.

And in the back of his constantly thinking mind, he wondered if you too would grow bored of his voice and his wonder. He hoped not. That would quite literally be the death of him.

Perhaps you already had and have been playing an act? Pretending to be interested in what he was saying? If you were, you were an incredible actress.

No, that couldn’t be possible… could it? An… experiment would be able to give him the answer.

While Tech enjoyed the occasional experiment, he wasn’t so sure about this one. What if he finds out what he doesn’t want to believe is true? His too curious mind drives him forward, no matter the result.

“The biggest difference between the TIE fighters and the first order SF TIE fighters are—,” he stopped himself, looking at you and seeing your eyes, waiting for him to continue, “well, I’m sure you already know this.”

It was strange for Tech to suddenly stop talking, but you did know the difference. “Yes, I do, but—,”

“Apologies for over explaining. If you’ll excuse me, I have some ship repairs still to do.”

He left the bar and you watched him leave with confusion. He’d never done anything like that before, so what was up?

Over the course of the next few rotations, Tech has been slowly limiting his time speaking with you. Stopping himself just before he got too invested in the conversation and leaving to work on the ship or head into town for rations. He also started interrupting you more which was strange.

It was beginning to piss you off.

You wanted to know why he was being such a jerk, but you were also stubborn. You started avoiding Tech, refusing to be interrupted or have the conversation be cut short with some stupid excuse.

You weren’t subtle about it either, not that you really could be. You lived in Cid’s parlor which they frequented very often because they work for her. You’d talk more with his brothers instead, refusing eye contact if Tech was with them.

He noticed your change in attitude and it definitely hurt more than he expected. You didn’t even glance at him while he couldn’t take his eyes off you. He noticed that your smile would fade when he joined the conversation or completely disappear when he got a minute alone with you.

This situation made everything tense and uncomfortable. Even for Wrecker, who’s usually pretty good at lifting the mood. Everyone grew a little worried about the two of you.

While working on his holopad, giving instruction to Echo, the former reg clone asked, “So… what’s been going on with you and YN?”

Tech’s eyes peered over the holopad quickly, seeing Echo’s quizzical expression. “I believe she’s no longer enthusiastic to talk with me.”

“Why’s that?”

“Judging on her behavior of avoiding me, I can only guess that she thinks I’m boring.”

Echo sat up and looked up at the intelligent man. “Seriously? You ‘guess’?”

“Well, I did a small experiment where I tried to limit myself to see if she was pretending to be interested.”

The look on Echo’s face made Tech feel… embarrassed. Another first.

“Go apologize. Right now.”

“What?”

Echo stood up and grabbed the holopad from Tech, “You’re honestly so dumb for someone with enhanced intelligence. Apologize and tell her the truth. YN loves talking with you, no wonder she’s in a bad mood!”

“I still don’t understand—,”

Echo shoved Tech out of the Marauder and shouted he couldn’t be let in until he’s explained everything to you.

Knowing he’s left with no choice, Tech went to find you.

>|<

You were sat at the bar, chatting idly with Omega and Hunter.

“I don’t get why he would stop talking to me… I don’t think I said something wrong, did I?”

Omega frowned, “No, I’m sure he’s just…” Omega looked to Hunter for help, not sure how to explain her brother to you.

“He’s very smart, but he is still human. He makes mistakes, rarely, but they happen.” Hunter offered you a kind smile and you sighed, deciding that their words were the best hope you had.

You felt a presence behind you and you looked back to see Tech walking towards you. Hunter took Omega and left the two of you alone.

“YN, I want to apologize. I’ve experimented on you without your knowledge. You’ve noticed I’ve distanced myself from you and stopped our lengthy conversations because I feared you were pretending to be interested.”

Woah. That’s a lot. You opened your mouth to speak but was cut off.

“I really enjoy your attention, not just to details of our discussions, but on me. I find your company to be special because you always soak in the knowledge I explain and you don’t seem bored of me ever. You even correct me and I never realized how admiring it is to be corrected. It means you were paying attention and to me that’s extremely important. I don’t want to lose that, I don’t want to lose you or your attention or —,”

At some point you realized you weren’t ever going to get a word in. So, you kissed him. Simple problems require simple solutions.

The kiss was meant to be short, but Tech instinctively held you close to him. Your hands cupped his face, thumbs softly touching his cheekbones.

When you pulled back to breathe, you chuckled. “You talk too much.” His eyes blinked with such innocent curiosity it made your cheeks burn. “I enjoy all that you have to say. Don’t ever stop, Tech.”

“Once again, you’ve proven me wrong.” He smiled as he kissed you once more, both of you quietly laughing in between kisses.

word count: 1,158

p.s. I love this intelligent man so much, I honestly could listen to him talk forever. This was heavily inspired by the song Talk Too Much by COIN. Me and my boyfriend have caught up to the newest episode of season 2 and agghhh 🥺 I felt so bad for him when his leg got crushed but he was so badass!

[tsuki-xoxo]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐲𝐦𝐢𝐚

⚘. playlist: Creep by Radiohead (acoustic version)

"A wave of heat rose through her chest. It spread across her cheeks, burning her with the shame and disgust she felt. Heroes don't need to be controlled. Yet, here she was, stained by darkness."

cw | emotional and psychological distress, Thanatos being hell on Earth, Minori's inability to trust (even herself) | 2.6k

M.LIST | ᗢᘏᓚ | TAGLIST | ᓚᘏᗢ. III

Minori tugged at the hem of her blue U.A. gym uniform. Its fabric dimmed against the vibrant and elaborate hero costumes surrounding her. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. Her eyes darted to the ground as her classmates adjusted their gear. Their excited chatter and bursts of laughter felt distant, as if she was an intruder in this realm of heroes. She took a deep breath and glanced down at her sneakers. It was her first day, and she already wanted to run out of the door.

"All right, let the Battle Trials begin!" All Might appeared in his glory, towering over every single person in the room. Minori’s eyes widened at the number one hero. His hair was much brighter than it appeared on the TV they provided in the rec room at Thanatos. "Most of the time, fighting villains takes place outside. But if you look at the total numbers, atrocious villains appear indoors at a higher rate. Imprisonment and house arrest are common. There are also backroom deals. Heroes fill this society. But, truly intelligent villains hide in the shadows! For this class, you will be divided into villains and heroes and engage in 2-on-2 indoor battles.”

Minori scanned the room, her eyes flickering from one aspiring hero to another. Amidst the sea of faces, she finally found a familiar pair of deep blue eyes that belonged to Sora. She stood beside Aizawa across the room with a smile and sent Minori a double thumbs-up. They were close enough to keep an eye on her but far enough for All Might to lead the class.

“Now, listen here,” All Might announced. "The villains have hidden a nuclear weapon in their hideout. The heroes are trying to dispose of it. They need to catch the villains or get the nuclear weapon back within the allowed time. The villains need to protect the nuclear weapon for the whole time or catch the heroes."

Drawing lots determined all the teams. Minori's team included her and Koda Koji. He was a tall, peach-colored boy with an uneven, rock-shaped head. Their opponents were Aoyama Yuga, a blonde boy with a sparkly cape, and Ashido Mina, the pink alien girl.

"The first battle is between teams A and D. A will be the heroes, and D will be the villains. Everyone else heads into the monitoring room," All Might said.

Along with her class, Minori watched the battle unfold in front of her eyes from screens. Each fight had a fifteen-minute time limit. The spiky-haired, ash-blonde started with a surprise attack from the start. A collection of smoke had appeared from the blonde's preemptive strike. He clawed at the air to make himself visible. His sharp, crimson eyes glared ruthlessly down at the boy in the bunny-eared hero suit.

Even from where Minori stood, she could see the vein on the blonde's forehead. It was ready to burst from their yelling match. Although no one could hear what they were saying, the emotions between them were palpable. With bated breath, Minori watched as the blonde lunged toward the greenette. It felt almost intrusive to witness such an intense brawl between the two boys. It was clear to tell that the blonde's intention was to blow the other into dust. His talent and obvious distraught kept propelling his merciless attacks.

"This really doesn't feel manly, guys. It feels like Bakugou's gonna kill Midoriya!" someone whispered. Minori turned toward the redhead who spoke out with a quizzical look. So that's what their names are. Her mind still lingered on the scene of Bakugou's ferocity.

"Ribbit. He has a villainous expression."

"His personality is like the furthest thing from a hero I can think of..."

Minori frowned as her class criticized Bakugou’s actions. Her eyes never left the screen as she watched the battle. The blonde was a mystery to her, but he was definitely an intriguing character. She had never seen anyone fight with such ferocity. It didn't seem fair to dismiss him like the rest of the class did. Sure, his tactics were overzealous, but to label him as a villain struck a chord deep within her.

Their battle trial ended in the heroes' victory. The building smoldered from their fight, and a giant hole writhed with smoke billowing out of it. Midoriya's attack nearly ripped the building in half and shattered all the windows. He directed a full swing through the roof, allowing his teammate the opportunity to retrieve the weapon.

Bakugou walked with the rest of the group back into the observation room. Once back, he sat in the very back, not raising his head to look at anyone. His head slumped forward, his eyes trailing listlessly across the ground. Minori observed his shallow, uneven breaths. His crimson eyes were so subdued and vacant that they didn't look like his own. He looked so completely and utterly broken.

His haunted expression mirrored the way she had felt at Thanatos. After the Hecate Massacre, teachers, guards, and students all bullied her. She could never forget the way they looked at her—like she was a monster—the same look Bakugou was getting now.

Minori tore her gaze away. Her battle trial was up next, and she needed to focus. Forced out the door with Koda, Aoyama, and Ashido, Minori spared one last glance toward Bakugou. She tilted her head as a redhead offered Bakugou a curt nod and sat next to him.

A snicker broke out nearby. "Isn't it ironic that Ki is playing a villain," someone remarked. Minori huffed in annoyance. Her heart was racing from the nerves, and she tried to push the snarky comments out of her mind. She had never used her Quirk in front of others before—let alone in a fight. It was frightening enough. But the thought of hurting another human being was even more terrifying.

The objective was simple. The role of villains was assigned to Minori and Koda. The heroes, Aoyama and Mina, had to either defeat them or save the nuclear weapon. Koda was chewing at his fingernails and she wondered if he had similar fears. He didn't seem like the fighting type. His Quirk, Anivoice, allowed him to speak to animals, but that was hardly an offensive power.

The two entered Ground Beta. All Might announced the beginning of the battle trial. The two had five minutes to prepare before the heroes entered the building.

"We have to defend the bomb, right? Do you have a plan?" Minori asked.

Koda turned toward her with wide, frightened eyes. He looked like a deer in the headlights, and Minori almost pitied him.

"You're not the fighting type, are you?"

He shook his head, his face growing paler by the second.

"Okay," Minori nodded to herself. She didn't have the best understanding of her Quirk, especially since it was strictly prohibited to use in Thanatos. If authorities caught anyone using their Quirk, they would face severe consequences. Before Sora arrived in Thanatos as a troubled youth counselor, Minori never even considered using her Quirk. It was dangerous. She was dangerous. She could cause chaos and destruction as her mother did. That thought alone sent shivers down her spine. But Sora convinced her that there was a chance for her in society. A chance to rewrite her own story and be a hero, unlike her mother. She was in a reformation school after all; she was meant to have a second chance at life.

At Thanatos, she practiced her Quirk in secret. She did so in her cell at night or outside during recreation time. Fortunately, she could discreetly use her Quirk because air always surrounded her. She trained herself to feel the molecules in her environment, the movement of the wind, and the density of the air. Now, at 17, she had developed a heightened sensitivity within her Quirk, allowing her to perceive subtle shifts in her surroundings.

"Alright then, Koda, here's the plan: you cover the weapon while I cover you, okay? All we have to do is hold them off for fifteen minutes."

Koda gave her a nervous thumbs-up. They got into position as they waited for their enemies. They both covered the weapon and watched the door where the two would come in from.

Minori got low to the ground, feeling every particle around her lighten as she relaxed her limbs. The air around her started to shift, and the particles grew heavier. She felt the pressure in the room begin to fluctuate. Minori took a deep breath.

They're near.

Particles around her quivered; her hair stood on end. Footsteps thudded unevenly outside the door.

They were here.

"Here comes the sparkles!" Aoyama barged into the room with a shot from his large, blue, sparkly laser belt. It only lasted a second, though, before he stopped and grabbed his stomach. Ashido followed behind.

"We made it!" Ashido pumped her fists. Aoyama's cape swished behind him dramatically. He carefully avoided his partner's acidic trail. Minori's mouth hung open at the comic-like appearance. Then, she noticed Ashido's acid was slowly eating the floor. 

That wasn't good. They'd have to finish this soon before the whole floor collapsed.

"Stop Villain! We've come to—" Minori's eyes widened, and moved her hands out of reflex. She waved her arms in a circular motion and threw a gust of wind toward Aoyama, cutting him off. Aoyama staggered and fell backward onto the acidic floor that Mina had created. "Oh no, my sparkles!" Aoyama whined as his cape disintegrated before them.

"Sorry!" Ashido apologized, rubbing her hands together.

Minori repeated her last motion and threw another gust of air in the direction of the distracted two heroes. The heroes lost their footing and fell into an acid-induced hole in the ground, ending the battle.

"Villain Team Wins!" All Might announced. Minori let her body relax, and the tension in the air dissipated. "Good work, everyone. We didn't have any major injuries, other than young Midoriya, either! You all did a good job for your first training."

All Might escorted everyone outside to the observation room. He congratulated the winning teams on their victories, but he also acknowledged the losers for their efforts.

"There is a lot of merit in each of your performances today," All Might praised. "You can't always expect a clear-cut win, especially when your opponents have skills or abilities that you didn't expect. That's why these training exercises are so important. They help you learn how to react to your opponent and use your strengths against them."

Minori's attention waned as the hero lectured her classmates about the importance of being prepared. She didn't mean to tune him out, but she couldn't stop thinking about her battle trial. When Aoyama shot his laser, her reaction was instantaneous. It was like her body had taken over her mind. She protected the weapon. She won. She was a successful villain.

Minori bit her lip. Her trembling fingers brushed the scar under her elbow. She had played the "villain" with such ease. Her actions gnawed at her conscience. They were like creeping vines in her soul. Was this her destiny, to become a mirror image of the darkness that enveloped her mother?

She peered down at her arm. The violet mark left by Sora's Quirk seemed larger. The ragged edges and sickly hue deepened, spreading like an ugly bruise across her skin. A wave of heat rose through her chest. It spread across her cheeks, burning her with the shame and disgust she felt. Heroes don't need to be controlled. Yet, here she was, stained by darkness. Minori scoffed to herself. How could she even think she was worthy of being a hero? She wasn't a hero. She was the villain everyone expected her to be. It was only a matter of time before Sora would have to stop her. Like mother like daughter.

"That was incredible, Ki!" Minori's heart leapt to her throat, and her shoulders jerked. She whipped around, and met the bright yellow eyes of the alien girl. The pink skin of her cheeks stretched to her earlobes as her toothy grin widened. Her smile was like a ray of sunshine beaming from a cloudless sky. "Your Quirk is so cool! I mean, we were so surprised when you made that gust of wind, and then you went all boom, pow!" Ashido's hands waved wildly in front of her as she attempted to describe her powers. "So awesome!"

Minori blinked and took a step back, her eyes wide with confusion. This didn't make sense. No one at Thanatos had ever praised her Quirk. Why was this girl—someone she had defeated as a villain—complimenting her monstrous Quirk? Minori frowned and furrowed her brows. It had to be a trick, a cruel prank.

She glared at Ashido. Yes, that was it. She should have seen through it sooner. This was a familiar tactic, one she had endured countless times at Thanatos. Lure her in with false kindness and so-called friendship, only to shatter her trust in the end.

Minori remembered the times when her fellow inmates at Thanatos had feigned friendship. They would invite her into secluded areas under the guise of friendship. But, then they would turn on her viciously. Locked rooms became traps. She found herself surrounded and cornered by mocking faces and cruel laughter. They mocked her Quirk, her heritage, and her dreams of redemption, and left her with bruises that would never fully heal.

Ashido's smile faltered. "Hey, did I say something wrong?"

"Are you playing a joke on me?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"My Quirk." Ashido’s brow wrinkled, and her face scrunched up. She snapped before she could stop herself. "What are you trying to say? That I'm just a freak with a dangerous Quirk?" She let out a dry laugh, "Or is it 'cause the world's shittiest fucking person ever is in the same class as you heroes?”

Ashido’s jaw dropped. "No! I wasn't, I just... I thought you were really strong—"

"Stop it," Minori spat. Her fingers dug into her arms, and she gritted her teeth. "You're lying! That's the way it is, isn't it? You're just like everyone else. That's why you're trying to mess with my head, right?"

"No, Ki..." Ashido reached out her hand.

"Don't touch me," Minori snarled. Ashido's lips quivered and pressed into a tight line. The image burned into Minori's mind. She squeezed her eyes shut. She was better off alone. No one would want her around. They all feared her. That was her fate. That was who she was. A monster.

“Just leave me alone. I don't need you speaking to me. I don't need any of you guys."

"Minori?" Sora asked, looking between the two girls with a slight frown. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing,” Minori bit out. “Everything’s fine.” Sora's shoulders slumped, and she exhaled a slow, heavy sigh. Minori spun on her heel and stalked away, her heart pounding against her ribcage. The weight of Sora’s disappointment and Ashido’s pained eyes bore down on her. Her steps quickened. She felt her classmates' stares. Their eyes dug into her back as she left the Beta Grounds and went toward the locker rooms. It was suffocating. She clenched her jaw and pressed her nails into her palm. The sharp sting a welcome distraction from the ache in her chest. She had to get out of there. She couldn't afford to let it in. Not now. Not ever. She couldn't trust anyone. Her mind replayed every betrayal, every false promise of friendship that had led to locked rooms and cruel ambushes. Her pulse raced. She forced herself to focus on the rhythm of her steps. Each one a mantra: don't trust them, you can't even trust yourself. She was better off alone. Safer.

M.LIST | ᗢᘏᓚ | TAGLIST | ᓚᘏᗢ. III

♡tagged♡ @yogurtsdayout

[hottpinkpenguin]

Hi, lovely! I'd like to request a one-shot if that's okay! I was thinking accidental kiss with Bucky x fem!reader, very fluffy <3 Thank youuuuuuuu

A/n: yayyyy my second Bucky fic of the weekend! having a lot of fun writing for him right now. hope it's fluffy enough for you anon! <3

Heights: Bucky Barnes X Fem!Reader

Warnings: none (not proofread) Word Count: 3434

You took a sip of the champagne the waiter handed you, immediately noting how expensive it tasted. 

“Really, Tony?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him and gesturing emphatically with your champagne flute. He gave you a comically sarcastic expression, feigning offense.

“What, like you’d expect anything less,” he jibed back, giving you an infuriating wink. You slapped him on the arm, but you weren’t able to keep from chuckling. He was right: it was exactly what you expected for a Tony Stark New Year’s Eve party. Decadent, lavish, effortlessly classy, and with the most star-studded guest list you could imagine. 

“Play nice with my guests, y/n/n. Miss Potts seems to need my assistance at the bar.” Your eyes followed Tony’s across the room to where his assistant, Pepper, stood behind the bar, pouring a generous glass of whiskey for Thor as he shamelessly flirted with her. Pepper certainly didn’t seem to need any form of assistance, but you knew Tony was a jealous man, and you couldn’t blame him. Thor had traded his normally out-of-place Asgardian armor for a handsomely tailored gray suit. Even though he still didn’t quite pass as human, he wasn’t as godly-looking, and you didn’t doubt that Pepper was enjoying the view, much like you. 

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” you replied playfully as you watched Tony vanish into the celebrating crowd, weaving through the admirers straight towards Pepper. You smiled softly as a surge of happiness for your friends flooded your body. You’d grown up with Tony, literally: your parents had babysat Tony whenever his parents were out of town, which, given their lavish lifestyle and Tony’s dad’s work for S.H.I.E.L.D., was quite often. And you were the one who had insisted that Tony hire Pepper. You saw in her the right combination of grounded, spunky, and bitingly intelligent that would tame Tony. And, you thought with a bit of smugness, you’d been right. Tony was saddled up and tamed, and Pepper hadn’t even broken a sweat doing it. She was an incredible woman and the perfect partner for your best friend.

“That champagne must be good,” a familiar voice said from behind you. Startled out of your daydream, you turned, smiling demurely when your eyes locked with Bucky’s. His hair, which was normally deliciously unkempt, had been smoothed somewhat for the occasion. Similar to Thor, you weren’t used to seeing Bucky without his fighting armor. He’d opted for a more understated look compared to the Asgardian, donning a dark blue suit jacket over a crisp white button down and jeans. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and your mouth went dry as you caught sight of the notch at the top of his sternum. 

Desperate to distract yourself, you furrowed a brow quizzically at Bucky. “What?” you replied, sounding somewhat dumb. He chuckled as he came to stand next to you, clinking his own flute with yours. 

“Haven’t seen you smile like that in a long time,” he explained, any note of teasing dropped from his voice as his brown eyes drank you in. You felt a blush spread over your cheeks and down your neck. You dropped your eyes from his, unable to take the heat you felt from his gaze. 

“You watch me smile a lot, do you then, Bucky?” you replied, your words a lot bolder than you felt. You took another generous sip of your champagne, grateful that Tony had shelled out for top-of-the-line booze. Seemed you would need all the liquid courage you could get. 

“Not nearly as much as I’d like to,” Bucky replied, his voice dropping low and taking on a note of tenderness that made your toes curl. You tried to hold his gaze, but that damn blush was deepening, embarrassment pulling your eyes away. You began running a finger absentmindedly around the edge of your flute. 

Sensing your nervousness, Bucky cocked his head somewhat, dipping down to meet your eyes. 

“It’s warm in here, don’t you think?” he asked seriously. You nodded, swallowing thickly. He gave you a reassuring half-smile, jerking his head in the direction of Tony Stark’s penthouse balcony. “Let’s get some fresh air.” 

Your heart tied up in knots at his suggestion. You were terrified of heights and you made it a point not to find yourself high up. Standing on a glass-bottomed balcony almost fifty floors above the New York City streets certainly wasn’t going to do anything but send you into a panic attack. You opened your mouth to say as much, but then you caught Bucky’s expression. He was gazing at you like you were the only person in the room, his eyes alight with happiness and hope. You’d had a soft spot for Bucky ever since you’d first met, and the feeling had only deepened the more time you spent with him. You suspected the feeling was mutual based on how often Steve Rogers casually tried to arrange alone time for the two of you, although there was almost always some sort of unexpected obstacle that prevented you and Bucky from being able to address your feelings head on. But now, you could see a forceful determination in Bucky’s expression that told you there wouldn’t be anymore running. How could you say no?

You nodded, your eyes wide in a mix of terror and nerves. Bucky’s face broke into a wide smile as he reached out and took your free hand, turning away from you and leading you towards the large, open windows that overlooked Tony’s balcony. 

It was an unseasonably warm evening for December in New York, although the air still had a chill to it. When you stepped into the darkness, the sounds of the party dying behind you, your bare arms immediately puckered into goose pimples. 

Bucky noticed immediately, stripping off his dark blue suit jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders as he led you closer to the edge of the balcony. You let him tuck the warm fabric over your bare shoulders, trying to force yourself to keep breathing and not look down. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears, your chest tightening slowly. 

“Beautiful view, don’t you think?” Bucky asked aimlessly, although his eyes never left your face. You couldn’t bring yourself to look out towards the city, so you turned your gaze back towards the party. You were beginning to feel faint as your terror was increasing. You wished you had just told Bucky you were afraid of heights. Now that you were out here on the balcony, you didn’t know if you’d be able to get back inside. Your legs were beginning to lock up underneath you. All you could focus on - aside from the handsome man in front of you, completely unaware of your panic - was the feel of your high heels against the glass floor of Tony’s balcony. 

“Y/n, are alright?” The note of concern in Bucky’s question told you that he’d caught on to your rising fear. 

He squeezed your hand to mirror the question he’d asked you, the smile melting off his face as flirtatious happiness turned to worry. 

“Bucky… I’m sorry, I think- I need to go… back inside,” you managed to pant out as your vision started to blur. In the next instant, your legs went to jelly and you felt yourself crumple. Your mind went blank halfway down, your consciousness hovering somewhere between awake and asleep for a few moments…

…

The first thing that came back to you was the feel of warm, strong hands running along your forehead and your cheeks. Next came the sound of concerned whispers all around you. Then, a voice you knew well, distant but growing louder: “Y/n? Y/n, talk to me. Are you ok?” There was a note of fear in that voice that ran through your body like a jolt.

Your consciousness fell back into your body quickly, your mind coming out of the fog of fainting. Your eyes flew open as your head jerked up instinctively. Had your reflexes been faster, you would have registered that Bucky’s face was mere inches above yours as he brushed your mussed hair away from your face. But in the confusion of surfacing from passing out, your instincts took over. As your head lifted up from the couch you’d found yourself on, your face almost collided with Bucky’s. You were barely a hair’s width from slamming teeth with him when your jittery body gained control of itself and you froze.

In the next instant, you felt one of Bucky’s hands gently cup the base of your head, closing the distance between the two of you and connecting your lips. 

Still flustered and fuzzy from passing out, you didn’t know how to react. Your heart felt like it was about to climb out of your chest, and you couldn’t tell if the adrenaline surge in your blood was the lingering effects of the panic that had taken you over on the balcony or the result of Bucky’s kiss. 

His lips were soft and warm against yours, but you didn’t notice that fast enough. He held his lips against yours for a little more than a heartbeat, as if testing you. With your mind moving in a million directions, you didn’t register the question in his gesture fast enough. He pulled back from you, your lips separating and his eyes ducking down in embarrassment as you heard Tony’s voice break the crowd. 

“Where is she? Y/n, are you alright? What happened?” You were on the edge of reaching out to grab Bucky and pull him back towards you when Tony jostled Bucky out of the way. Tony was like a bull in a china shop, and you doubted that he even noticed what had just transpired between you and the Winter Soldier. He barreled in between you, Bucky’s hands sliding off of you and leaving you yearning for his touch as he slipped into the crowd. Tony ran a hand over your forehead, mussing over you like a protective mother.

“You’re clammy, Y/n. What the hell happened?” The all-consuming nature of Tony’s presence tore your mind reluctantly away from Bucky as your focus settled on Tony’s question. 

“The balcony… I went out on the balcony,” you mumbled sheepishly as Tony waved away the onlookers with frustration. From across the room, you heard the four piece band Tony had hired for the occasion strike up. With the music beckoning people back to their merriment, the crowd of worried bystanders began to dissolve around you, the sound of idle chatter and tinkling glasses rising back to a comfortable volume. 

“The balcony?” Tony was looking at you incredulously. He knew of your fear of heights. He’d been there the day you’d first developed your fear at the age of 6, stuck high up in a tree with a quaking, cracking branch threatening to give out under your weight. 

“What on earth brought you out there…” Tony’s question trailed off as his eyes snapped to the jacket still wrapped around your shoulders. Bucky’s jacket.

Tony’s face went dark in an instant, the protective best friend contorting his features as his eyes combed the crowd, looking for the Winter Soldier. Ever since Tony had learned of Bucky’s role in his parents’ death, his normal goodwill had dissolved into raw, vengeful rage. It had only been for your and Steve’s sake that Tony had made a very tenuous, strained peace with Bucky. 

“Tony, please don’t,” you begged, putting a hand on his arm and squeezing, forcing Tony’s eyes back to you. “He didn’t know, Tony. And I didn’t tell him.”

Tony looked at you intensely, his nostrils flaring as he tried to regain control of his anger.

“Tony, please don’t do this,” you continued, your voice growing stronger as your mind came back to clarity. The last remnants of your panic-induced pass out were fading, and now all you were left with was burning humiliation and a dying desire to find Bucky. But first, you had to talk Tony off the edge.

“For me.” You winked at Tony as you said it, shooting him a knowing smile. 

Most people who knew Tony Stark wouldn’t dare tease him when he was in a rage, but you and Pepper were the only ones who knew exactly how to pierce his defenses. It was the comfort that comes with a lifelong friendship that emboldened you to turn an otherwise serious moment into a jest. Part of you wondered if it would backfire on you, but when Tony snorted and let his shoulders relax, shaking his head softly, you knew your comment had hit its mark. 

“You’re a lovesick puppy, you know that,” he replied, the edges of his words still hot with fading anger but the danger passed. 

“I know,” you agreed, relieved that you hadn’t unintentionally incited a fight at Tony’s party. 

“You better go track him down,” Tony instructed as he stood up, holding out a hand for you. You took it gratefully, letting Tony help you up off the couch that Bucky must have put you down on. As you considered how you’d wound up moving from the balcony to the couch towards the back of Tony’s penthouse, you realized that Bucky must have carried you there. The thought increased your restless need to find him. 

You nodded in vague agreement with Tony as your eyes ran over the crowd, trying to find Bucky in the sea of faces. 

“He went that way,” Tony mumbled, pointing towards a dimly lit hallway that led back to Tony’s lab. Bruce and Natalie were leaning against the wall next to the hallway, serving as casual guards who would intercept any unwitting guests who tried to stumble in that direction. They’d let you pass, just like they’d let Bucky pass, since you were both members of the Avengers. 

Without a second thought, you let your feet carry you towards the hall. Behind you, you heard Tony scoff slightly and say something smart, but your mind was too focused to let his comment stick. You waved vaguely behind you as if to swipe his retort aside, earning a louder “Thank me later!” from your friend. 

As you marched past Bruce and Natalie, you caught the former’s eye as you quirked an eyebrow at him. Bruce nodded, already sensing your question. You breezed past him and Natalie, idly noting how close they stood together, their heads bowed together as they whispered conspiratorially and with a hint of flirtatiousness. The sight made you happy for Nat and Bruce, and it increased your itch to find Bucky. 

The party noise faded behind you as you walked down the hallway. 

“Bucky?” you called out hesitantly as you entered Tony’s lab, closing the door quietly behind you. With the door shut, you were enveloped in quiet. You hadn’t noticed how loud the party was until you noted the faint buzzing in your ears. 

Tony’s lab was dim, but you could see a faint glow from the floor below towards where the guest rooms were. Many of the Avengers called Tony’s penthouse home from time to time, thanks to a well-appointed guest wing, complete with a spacious sitting room. Tony’s lab opened onto that sitting room from the second floor. You let your feet carry you towards the light, conscious of how noisy your steps were.

“Bucky?” you called out again, wondering for the first time since you’d decided to try and find him if maybe he didn’t want to be found. 

“Here.” Bucky’s reply was neutral; neither warm and inviting nor irritable and defensive. 

“Are you alright?” you asked cautiously as you climbed down the small set of stairs that connected Tony’s lab to the common area. Bucky was sitting on a couch, a reading lamp turned on beside him, his back to you. His hair looked messier than it had at the party: he’d been running his hands through it, you realized, a tic you’d noticed in him when he was nervous. 

In reply, he scoffed, almost bitterly. “Am I alright? Y/n, I should be the one asking you that.” He turned to face you, rising from the couch as he did. The relaxed, happy smile he’d worn at the party had vanished, leaving his face contorted into something that looked almost like pain. 

You were so distracted by his expression that you barely processed his words. 

“I’m fine, it’s no big thing,” you reassured him quickly, faltering now that you were within reach of him. You wanted to rush to him, bury yourself in his arms, and let him kiss you for real this time, not the accidental mess that had happened a few minutes prior. But you couldn’t get a read on how he’d respond, his body tense and his lips pursed. 

“I should have remembered you’re afraid of heights, I never should have asked you to go out on the balcony, that was incredibly selfish and stupid of me.” His words started coming fast and furious, each syllable seeming to screw him up into a tighter state of discomfort. It took you a moment to read his emotions, but when you realized he was angry at himself, you reacted on instinct. 

Letting out a shaky exhale, you stepped towards him, grasping his hands in yours and running your thumbs on the back of his palms. 

Bucky’s words died on his lips as your eyes met. You smiled gently at him, hoping he could read in your expression that you weren’t interested in an apology. 

“We kissed. Back there,” you managed to stammer out. It wasn’t very graceful, and you felt a little childish saying it, but between the smell of Bucky’s cologne and the way the lamplight cast half his handsome face in mysterious shadow, it was the best you could manage. 

“Well… yeah, I guess we did,” he admitted sheepishly. Your smile deepened when you heard the same nervousness in his voice that you felt. You shouldn’t have been so surprised to see confirmation of his feelings for you, but it felt good and calmed your fears of rejection nonetheless. For the first time since you two had started this dance, you were about to name everything that had gone unsaid between you.

“It’s not exactly what I’d dreamed of for our first kiss, but at least it’s a good story.” You waited for Bucky to respond, wondering if he’d take the bait. He seemed frozen, chewing on his lower lip and trying to hold your gaze. Both of you breathed a little harder in the silence that followed. You moved a half step closer to him, close enough now to feel his breath on your cheeks. He was watching you, wide eyed, as if trying to pinch himself awake from a dream.

“Why don’t we try it again, Mr. Barnes?” you asked quietly, using a pet name you’d taken to calling him when you two were alone. 

Something about the nickname broke whatever dam had been holding him back. Bucky’s hands tangled in your hair quickly and needily, his mouth closing the space between you. This time, when his lips met yours, you were ready. You returned his kiss, matching the rhythm and pressure easily, you two falling into a well-choreographed embrace as if you’d done this a thousand times before. 

You couldn’t say how long you stayed like that, lips connected, enjoying the moment that both of you had skirted around for so many months. You let your hands roam up his arms and twine around his shoulders as he gripped your lower back, pulling your bodies flush against one another while his tongue teased at your lips. There was a deeper heat beginning to take root in both your minds, but for the moment, the kiss was enough. There would be plenty of time for the rest later. 

You were certain that neither of you were prepared to stop, but the sound of someone clearing their throat from the lab broke your moment. You pulled your faces away just enough to turn towards the sound, neither of you willing to break apart from how your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. 

Steve was leaning against the wall framing Tony’s lab, a smug, self-gratified smile on his lips. 

“I told you the balcony was a good idea,” Steve said, winking at his friend before he turned back towards the party, leaving you and Bucky to ring in the New Year by yourselves…

[lady-morrigen]

Could I perhaps request Cassian Andor fluff with reader going through a particularly difficult bout of winter depression and him having the patience of a saint? Much love ❤️

Daylily

pairing: cassian andor x gn!reader (it was accidentally gn, so let me know if i missed anything)

a/n: so first, i'm sorry i take a million years to fill requests! idk what drew me to this one, but i guess because i'm army crawling towards the end of winter myself. i'm not sure if this is what you were going for, but my current work stress sorta worked its way in here... my apologies lol i can write something fluffier when i don't feel endless rage

rating: g

warnings: seasonal depression angst, job stress, brief mention of parental death (nothing graphic)

You’ve always hated it, the way the sun dropped beyond the horizon before you had a chance to feel it thaw the frozen contours of your face. It hardly seemed fair. A hint of a cotton candy sky peeking through the slats of the window over your bunk was as close as you came to seeing the sun all day. 

Day in and day out, you were surrounded by the damp, clay walls of the base, working yourself to the exhaustion to ensure data collected by the Rebellion’s Intelligence Officers was properly decoded. Lukewarm cups of caf and nutrition bars weren’t exactly a balanced or healthy diet, but they got you through more often than not. Each passing day, as your vitamin D stores depleted and the hunger pains grew stronger, your irritability wedged itself permanently at the front of your personality. 

When the doors of the tech bay slid open with a hiss, you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. The man headed toward you was a particular thorn in your side, always one to meet your icy tone with an edge of his own, taunting you, pushing you, like a thumb to a bruise. Captain Andor had never met a spat he didn’t absolutely savor and you seemed to be the most recent object of his ire. 

He approached the desk, smug smile in place as he braced his arms on the top, crossing over the desktop, crowding your space to an annoying degree. With a huff, you sat down your data pad, steeling your gaze and facing him head-on.

“Captain Andor,” you said plainly, disdain evident in your tone. 

“Always so happy to see me, Lieutenant.” His smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. Truthfully, he looked just as exhausted as you felt. His brown eyes no longer held the sparkle, the hope that you were sure once shone in them.  

He could have been lovely once, you thought. Before the Empire crushed our spirits and the cold leeched out what little happiness we had left.

“What can I do for you, Captain?” 

Your already thin patience was waning, desperate to move the conversation along so you could get back to work. He tapped a finger against the screen of your data pad insistently. 

“Did you decrypt those Coruscant messages yet?” His lips set into a thin line, his features twisting into something much more serious, all traces of playfulness drained from his expression. 

You scrubbed a hand over your face, the feeling of being impossibly overwhelmed bubbled up in your chest, creeping up your throat and threatening to suffocate you. You fought back against the tears welling in your eyes. You knew well that Captain Andor wasn’t one to miss things like that, no matter how well controlled, and showing him any sign of weakness was out of the question. 

“Like I told you yesterday, Sir, we are very behind. It’s going to take me at least two more days.” 

You turned to the table behind you, taking a deep breath to regulate yourself, looking anywhere but at the disappointment on the face of the man behind you. When you turned to him again, his arms were crossed over his chest, and he was eyeing you quizzically, as if trying to figure out your deepest secret. A few silent moments passed when you suddenly realized he was waiting for you to continue.

“I’m sorry,” you started to speak, the sound breaking in your throat in traitorous defiance to your control. You felt your shoulders droop, the fight leaving your body in place of defeat. “I’m doing the best I can.”

The energy in the room changed then. Captain Andor’s body softened, his eyes held a kindness and understanding that hadn’t been there before. He looked almost sad for you, as if he could empathize with you. And you supposed maybe he could. 

“Hey,” he said, leaning forward once more. “How much of the key have you completed?”

“Captain Andor, I sai-” He held up a hand to cut you off. 

“I was only wondering if there was enough for me to try the decryption on my own. I want to help you.”

The look on your face must have been a comical mixture of confusion and shock because the corners of his eyes crinkled and he chuckled, throwing his mask of confidence back on and leaning into an elbow. 

“Don’t look so surprised.” In any other situation, the way he grinned at you would have made you weak in the knees. “I can be a nice guy when the situation calls for it. I am a spy, afterall.”

You nodded, dumbly, grabbing the data pad and bringing up the partially completed decryption key, handing it to him. 

“So far, this is all I could make out. If you could apply what we have to the messages, maybe we can get a headstart on figuring out what it all means.” 

His brows knit together in concentration as he poured over the symbols, picking up on the pattern, analyzing your skill. He moved around to the back of the console, pulling a stool up beside you and got to work. As you focused on a special project for General Draven, the two of you began to work in relative silence, punctuated every now and then by Captain Andor asking questions about specific sequential symbols.

It was comfortable, you thought, working with him like that. You never knew that he could be anything other than the ornery man you’ve always met, worn down by the weight of the responsibility resting on his shoulders. As if reading your mind, he spoke, pulling you out of your thoughts with a jolt. 

“You weren’t always like this,” he said. You whipped your head toward him, shooting him a glare as deadly as blaster fire. “When you first got here, I mean.”

“What exactly am I like?” You groused, setting down your data pad to face him fully. He shrugged noncommittally. 

“Stressed. Angry. Argumentative.”

You laughed, something humorless and cruel. How dare he?

“That’s rich coming from you, Captain Andor. This very well may be the first time we’ve spent more than two minutes in a room together and I haven’t wanted to rip your head off. If I’m any of those things, I am only mirroring your own temperament.”

For a long moment, he stared, his dark eyes flitting back and forth over your own, searching for… something. With a sigh, he relented. 

“You’re right.”

“I’m… what?” The fight drained from you all at once. You could tell he was sincere, and maybe even slightly remorseful. 

“You’re right. I am all of those things and I have been for a very long time. That’s why it bothers me to see them in you. I wanted better for you.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Before, you had kindness in your eyes. You believed in what we’re doing here. You knew it was something good. You had hope.” 

“I still believe in what we’re doing, I just…”

“Thought it would be easier than this? That we would have won by now? Me too.” 

He turned his attention back to his data pad and the weight of his words lay heavy between you. 

“Captain Andor, I’m so-”

“Cassian.”

“What?”

“That’s my name. ‘Captain Andor’ is so formal. You can call me Cassian.”

“Cassian Andor… it’s nice.” And it was nice. Knowing his full name made the miles of distance between you feel like feet. Made this intimidating man feel more like a tangible person. Someone you could grow to understand, maybe even like. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Go for it.”

“Why did Mothma decide to build a base on the coldest planet in the galaxy?” That earned you a chuckle, low and warm. 

“Hoth is the coldest planet in the galaxy. We’ll soon have a base there too. We’re headed there once we’re done here.”

“How convenient,” you rolled your eyes. “But you know what I mean. Is this not a better fit for the soulless many of the Empire? I swear, I can feel it leeching the happiness from my body the longer we stay here.”

“Is that what the problem is?” He looked at you, curiosity once again twisting his brow. “Where are you from?” 

“Alderaan. My father was a farmer.” 

“Was?”

“The Empire’s destruction extends far beyond Coruscant. They wanted to use our land to build a base and they were… unhappy with him when he refused. My older brother and I were able to escape, but just barely. My mother was a childhood friend of the Organas. They provided us with shelter and sent us to Mon Mothma when we refused to sit on our hands and watch the chaos unfold.” He was staring at you. Taking in every word with silent contemplation. You nervously rubbed your palms against the rough fabric of your uniformed thighs. “And yeah so anyway… Now I’m here.”

“I’m sorry.” He was quiet for a moment. “Do you think you’ll go back? When we win?”

“I like to think so. I have so much to thank the Organas for. They saved us. If it weren’t for them…” 

“I get it. I’ve been there.” You didn’t pry. You got the feeling he wasn’t particularly happy to speak of his past.

“Yeah,” you said. “It would all feel worth it if I could just see the sunshine again, feel the warmth of it on my face. Something other than constant, dreadful cold and blank walls.”

Cassian glanced back to the data pad, making note of the time. 

“Hey, we’ve been at this for a while,” he said. “It’s almost morning. You should get some rest.”

“Morning is the only time I get to see the sun shine all day. I’d just end up sleeping through it if I went to bed now.”

“I see,” he said. “I have an idea.”

He took the data pad from your hand, setting onto the console beside his and grabbing you gently by the wrist, pulling you toward the door. He grabbed your coat from a nearby stool and handed it to you. 

“You’ll need this.”

As you followed him through the hallways, your curiosity continued to grow. You stopped by his workstation so that he could grab his own coat, a long, navy parka with a furry hood. When he slipped it on, he seemed to transform into a different person. He looked soft, small in comparison to the bulk of the coat, and incredibly warm. 

He tossed a pair of gloves to you, slipping on a pair of his own, before extending his hand. Hesitantly, you grabbed it, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Where are we going?” You asked. 

“First, we’re going to get some caf,” he pulled you toward the mezzanine impatiently, as if he was racing against an imaginary clock. “The second part is a surprise.”

“Cassian, I really don’t like surprises.” You tried to stop, to pull your hand from his, but he held tight. He turned, placing a cup of caf in your free hand and you could have cried from the warmth as it slowly seeped through your glove.

“You’ll like this one,” he said, a smile threatening to crack at the corners of his mouth. He tugged your joined hands again, impatiently, leading you toward the exit. 

“Please, Cassian, it’s freezing.” You were whining, you knew it, but you were already so cold and the thought of going outside, into the frosted darkness of Tokmia, was enough to make you want to throw a full-blown tantrum. 

He said nothing as he led you through the forest, making his way to a steep hill and motioning for you to walk ahead of him. You glared at him once more for dramatic effect, huffing as you made your way up the steep embankment. When you reached the top, you stopped short, gasping in surprise. 

The hill overlooked a pristine snow field, sparkling in the waning moonlight, breathtakingly beautiful in its serenity. You turned to face Cassian, huffing slightly as he crested the hill. He offered up a shy smile, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked toward you. 

“It’s nice, right?” He took a sip of his caf, an effort to disguise a smile, you thought. “I found it once when I needed to escape K’s blabbering. I come here when I need a reminder of what we’re fighting for.”

“It’s beautiful." Your voice was barely more than a whisper, breathless as you noticed the pinky blue light of the sunrise begin to peek through the darkness. You inhaled sharply, the sound getting caught in your throat as you realized why he had been in such a rush.

“Looks like we made it just in time,” he said, taking another sip of caf. 

You closed your eyes as the sun crested over the horizon, reveling in the way the light pushed past your eyelids. When you were younger, you caught as many Alderaanean sunrises as you could. There was some kind of magic tied to being the first person to catch sight of the sun as she rose from her slumber. You hadn’t realized how much you missed that feeling. 

You glanced at Cassian, interested to see if he was enjoying the sunrise as well and found that he was already looking at you. His smile was genuine, satisfied, and dazzling. 

Maybe he is lovely afterall, you thought. He just needed a little warmth.

[rexxdjarin]

something I’ll probably never get to write bc Captain’s Log likely won’t explore this much:

“Rex’ika.” The raspy little voice called out behind him.

Rex whipped around quickly to stare in surprise at his little one smirking up at him. “Where did you…?” He began to ask, raising his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “Don’t call me that.” He sighed exasperatedly.

“Why not?” The little one retorted playfully, fiddling with the edges of his tunic. “Uncle Wolffe said he calls you that all the time.”

Rex rolled his eyes exactly the way his older brother always did when he was irritated too. Of course this would come from him. “Yes, but I’m your Father. He’s my brother. It’s different.”

“How?” He asked quizzically, looking up at his Father with his Mother’s dark eyes and that cute little thinking expression of hers. “What does …’ika…adding -ika, mean, Dad?”

Rex eyed his own ad’ika where he stood, bold and intelligent and wide-eyed in waiting for his question’s answer. “‘ika means little. So when Uncle Wolffe calls me Rex’ika…it means little brother. Even though I’m not little.” He finished with an amused huff. “To you, I am not little. I’m your big ole Dad, right little bug?”

He giggled, “I…I guess not, Dad. You are big. Am I gonna be big like you someday?” He walked forward, reaching his little arms up in a silent request to be picked up. Rex obliged, scooping up his son in his arms and resting their foreheads together.

“Yeah, buddy, you will. But all on your own. And you can take your time growing old, ok? Promise me?” He asked, proud of him for being so self aware at such a young age and more than a little sad that even natural growth seems to work too fast. Rex didn’t know how many years he had left, if the chip had altered how he fast he’d age for the rest of those years or if he’d ever get to see his little miracle boy become who he knew the universe had destined him to be.

His son’s tiny yet capable little hands rested on the height of his cheekbones, so like his Mother’s do, and he smiled. “I promise, Dad. I’m gonna be strong like you. And then I can call you Rex’ika. Because I’ll be big!”

Rex let out a deep laugh and settled his son in his arms. “Wolffe? Get over here! What are you teaching him?”

[torreshalstead]

It Seemed Like a Good Idea - Chapter 3

Summary - Hailey’s US visa was due to expire, which normally wouldn’t be an issue as the CPD would get it renewed but due to a backlog of paperwork, this wasn’t possible. This meant Hailey was faced with the real possibility of having to leave the country, her job and everything she held dear. That was until Jay offered up a solution which would allow her to stay in Chicago, in Intelligence, with him - they could get married. Getting married was a good idea, right?

Chapters - 3/18

Chapter Title - The Truth

Notes - thanks for the support on this story so far, I hope you like this one with some Halstead Brother time! AO3 Link

‘You proposed to Hailey!’ Will exclaimed loudly, his expression one of both surprise and something else Jay couldn’t quite read, perhaps a hint of smugness.

‘I didn't propose exactly, I just offered to marry her,’ Jay said with a shrug, reaching down to pick up his takeout box. Maybe if he concentrated on his noodles then Will wouldn’t question him further.

‘When you offer to marry someone, that’s a proposal little brother,’ Will scoffed.

Whilst Hailey was spending the evening looking up apartment listings, Jay had invited Will over to his for dinner, deciding it was best to tell his brother about their slightly crazy plan on a full stomach. A couple of beers wasn’t going to go a miss either. He had thought about the best way to approach it all day but in the end he had just blurted it out.

‘So, let me get this straight for a second. Hailey was about to be deported so you, in your infinite wisdom, decided to break the law and marry her so she can stay in the country. You’re also lying to all of your friends, your boss, everyone. You’re moving into an apartment together and getting your old friend, who is pretty much a felon by the way, to hack into your phones and ensure that everything is in order so when you are questioned, it’ll all line up. That about cover it?’

‘Umm, yeah that’s about the size of it,’ Jay said, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. It did all sound a little crazy when Will said it outloud.

‘And you’re doing all of this because you don’t want to lose her as a partner?’ Will shot Jay a quizzical look.

‘I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do. Hailey’s a great cop and she’s built a life for herself here in Chicago, she doesn’t deserve to lose that,’ Jay said firmly, taking another swig of his beer.

‘And you’re doing it because of your feelings for Hailey,’ Will said nonchalantly, raising an eyebrow at his brother as he relaxed into the back of the couch, throwing his legs up on the coffee table.

Jay spluttered on his beer. ‘What! I do not have feelings for Hailey!’ He blurted out loudly. Potentially a little too loudly.

‘Because we all fake propose to girls we don’t have feelings for,’ Will said off handedly.

‘I don’t have feelings for Hailey,’ Jay repeated, but the finality to his words had dissipated since his previous statement.

Will watched his brother intently, when Jay spoke the sentence again, quieter this time, his demeanour had changed. His shoulders slumped, he began to focus his attention on the label of his beer bottle - his usual air of confidence had vanished.

‘So when you're fake married and Hailey meets someone, or someone flirts with her on the job or down at Molly’s, that’ll be okay? You’ll be fine with that?’ Will asked, hoping to push his brother into the realisation that he had known about for months, longer possibly.

‘Yeah, that’s fine,’ Jay mumbled.

‘You, my brother, are a liar’, Will said as he took a swig from his bottle.

‘It’s not like that Will. She’s my friend. Hailey is my best friend,’ Jay turned to look at his brother, his eyes trying to convey a message but one that Will wasn’t sure matched the feeling in his heart.

‘But you wish it was something more,’ Will spoke quietly, not wanting to scare his brother into retreat.

Jay took a moment, did he wish it was something more?

When he had met Hailey three years ago, to be honest, he hadn’t been in a great place. The girl he thought he was ready to spend the rest of his life with had walked out of his life without a backwards glance. He had started to go off the rails at work, disobeying orders, drinking more than he should, and when Voight had assigned him a new partner, he was not in a place to be accepting of such a change and Hailey had paid the price.

The first few weeks had been rough. Hailey had been keen and eager to learn but Jay was anything but the mentor or partner she needed, or deserved. He would snap at her, belittle her in front of suspects and victims and would take credit for any breaks she had in the case.

It all came to a head when they had gone to check out the last known for a murder suspect they were chasing. They had little to no evidence on the guy so the plan was to just sit, wait and keep watch as they didn’t have a warrant to enter the building. When Jay decided to let himself in through the back door, Hailey had no choice but to follow him. However when they were met with the suspect, armed with a .42, he knew he may have crossed a line. When faced with two armed cops, thankfully the suspect had realised that winning a shootout was unlikely so lowered his weapon and they were able to take him into custody without any issue.

Luckily they were able to justify the entry to the higher ups as there were additional guns in plain sight on the kitchen table that could have been spotted through the window if Jay had taken the effort to do a walk-around before trying the door. When they were walking back to the car, Hailey stopped him and the words ‘never put me in that position again’ had stuck with him ever since, the anger obviously laced through her tone.

Without a second thought, Jay had not only put himself in danger, but he had put Hailey in danger as well. The look on her face when they returned to the district was one he never wanted to see again. She was hurt, angry and upset. And he couldn’t blame her for any of it. When she pulled him into the locker room, he would have understood if she had wanted to slap him upside the head, he deserved it. But instead, she had given him an ultimatum; go to therapy and get some help or she was going to Voight to request a new partner.

That was the day that everything started to change. He went home, cleared out the fridge and his kitchen from all the remaining beer that had been sitting there, he didn’t want to count the empty bottles in the trash but he knew it was more than he should have been drinking alone. He called up Dr Charles, the psychologist from Med to get a recommendation for someone to talk to, and set up his first appointment for two days' time.

When he went into the district the next day, he was laden with coffee and apology doughnuts.

‘Morning,’ he said cheerily when he approached Hailey’s desk. The young detective was usually the first in and the last to leave, Jay knew she still felt like she had to prove she had earned her spot in Intelligence.

‘Someone’s cheerful this morning,’ she said with a hint of sarcasm. ‘I hope one of those is for me,’ she said, gesturing to the take out cups in his grasp.

‘Of course,’ he responded with a smile, handing one over and offering her the box of doughnuts. She picked out a jelly filled one with a grin. ‘I just wanted you to know, I’ve got my first session tomorrow after work. Therapy session I mean,’ he said, slightly quieter, not wanting to be overheard in case one of their colleagues entered the room. ‘I know it’s just the start but I wanted you to know that I heard you’.

‘I’m proud of you Jay,’ she said, ‘but please don’t do this for me, you’ll never stick at it unless you do it for yourself’.

‘That’s exactly what Dr Charles said.’

‘Great minds,’ Hailey winked as she took a bite from the doughnut, the sugar coating her lips as she smiled into it. ‘But I’ll never turn down apology doughnuts,’ she said with a grin.

As he stood there, leaning against the desk looking at her, it was the first time he had realised how beautiful she actually was. He had always known she was pretty, he wasn’t blind. But as she sat there, her blonde hair cascading down the side of her face, the light catching it just right, her blue eyes sparkling, a smudge of jelly on her upper lip, sugar coating her fingers and cheeks, it struck him. She was gorgeous. He stood staring for a second too long, long enough for Hailey to shoot him a perplexed look.

‘What?’ she asked, ‘do I have something on my face?’

‘Oh, urr, yeah just a bit of jelly,’ he said gesturing to his lip to mirror where the offending condiment marred her complexion. ‘Yeah, you got it,’ he said quietly when she had swiped her finger across her lips, ignoring the clenching in his gut when her tongue reached out to quickly lick the remnants of her fingers. You’re at work Halstead, pull it together, he thought.

When she went undercover on a case as a server called Candy, he thought he might spontaneously combust. Her hair was straightened and pulled back from her face, lips painted red and the black dress she was wearing was leaving very little to the imagination.

Hailey was usually a jeans and a flannel type of girl, at least whilst she was working, the pair not having spent that much time out of the district together at this point. Not that she didn’t look good in her jeans and flannel but seeing her dressed like this, well it was something else. And he clearly was not the only one who thought that.

‘Damn we should always let Upton go undercover,’ Adam said as they were sitting in the van monitoring Hailey’s wire feed.

‘Shut it Ruze,’ Kevin warned loudly, smacking his friend across the shoulder.

‘I’m just saying,’ Adam continued with a shrug.

‘Well don’t Ruzek. No one wants to hear your commentary. Upton’s a better cop than you’ll ever be,’ Jay said sternly, shooting the younger cop a disgusted look, ignoring the fact his own thoughts weren’t exactly PG themselves.

‘I never said she wasn’t but she looks a hell of a lot better in that dress than any of us would!’ Adam chimed.

‘Speak for yourself,’ Kevin said proudly, tugging at his collar with a smirk.

‘I’m surrounded by idiots,’ Jay muttered, returning his attention to the video feed to ensure everything was going smoothly and his partner wasn’t in any danger.

The next shift to their friendship had occurred when Jay saw a new side to Hailey - the vulnerable side. Throughout the duration of their partnership she had been a rock, always strong by his side like nothing could penetrate her armour. This case however had thrown her completely off her axis.

Ronald Booth was someone she had come across before in her position in Toronto, a notorious drug dealer who they suspected was involved in something more sinister. It was a longer case, with Hailey having to go undercover - something Jay wasn’t too pleased with as he could tell this case was getting to her more than usual and he wasn’t able to have her back constantly. It culminated with them cornering Booth and his nephew in a parking structure and he and Hailey got separated.

Finding Hailey with her gun pointing at an unarmed Booth sent a chill down Jay’s spine, he managed to calm her down with a hand on her shoulder but he didn’t stop her when she gave Booth a parting kick. The dirtbag deserved it after all.

That evening, ignoring Hailey’s minor protests, they did their thing for the first time. She opened up to him, through tears and over a drink, about what had occurred between her and her previous partner when they had come across Booth the last time. Seeing Hailey so raw and so open had hurt Jay’s heart. He cared about his partner, he would have checked on anyone in the team if they’d had a case like that, he thought. But when he fell asleep on her couch in case she needed him in the night, he’s not sure he would have. He couldn’t imagine sleeping on Kevin or Adam’s couch if they had had a difficult day.

Physically they got a lot closer on a case where they were needed to go undercover as a couple. Adam and Kim had been the obvious pick, considering the fact they were actually a couple, however when it came to light that Kim had arrested the right hand man back in her patrol days, it was time for plan B. And plan B was Hailey and Jay.

Luckily the physical contact was limited to holding hands or an arm slung around her waist. When she kissed him on the cheek as she excused herself to allow a chance for the suspect to approach Jay, his cheek burned from where her lips had made contact. He had to stop himself from raising his hand to his face in an effort to keep the heat in.

It all seemed to be coming so easy to her, her body naturally drawing itself closer to him, her hand always finding contact with his own, his arm or resting on his thigh. Every time she touched him however, the warmth would spread through him and he would desperately try to keep the colour from rising in his cheeks. He was supposed to be an elite detective, a trained sniper, not a boy who blushed when a pretty girl held his hand.

Since that case, it was like the dam to them getting closer had broken, it wasn’t a cascade of physical contact but there was definitely a noticeable shift. If they were looking at something on the same screen, she would rest her hand on his shoulder and pull closer. If they were at the bar after shift, they would always stand slightly closer to each other than to others. He would keep his hand on her back slightly longer when they were clearing a building, just a reminder to her that he had her back.

They also began spending more time together outside of the district, but also outside of time spent as an entire group. They loved their friends and nights at Molly’s were sometimes exactly what the doctor ordered, especially if the doctor was his brother and he was footing the bill. But sometimes, a quieter evening spent at Cork and Kerry was called for. These were the nights when they grew closer, their partnership flourishing to something more.

It wasn’t long before Jay thought of Hailey as his best friend and he was sure the feeling was mutual. The pair became almost inseparable. Since they had been partners, neither had dated anyone and family contact for both, outside of Will, was pretty much nonexistent. So instead they spent their time together, spending holidays together at either apartment, inviting Will along if he wasn’t on shift. It was nice, it was comfortable.

And now, they are going to get married. Sure it wasn’t a marriage in anything but the legal sense but still, it meant something. It wasn’t something Jay had particularly considered in much detail before. Sure he had always thought he probably would end up married, if not then married to the job, but the specifics of the day were not something that entered his mind. Now however, it’s all he could see. Himself in a suit, standing at the top of the aisle, waiting patiently. Hailey dressed in white, gliding down the aisle towards him. Her smile stretched from ear to ear, shining as bright as the stars. She looked like an angel. His angel.

‘Earth to Jay’, Will said loudly, waving his hand wildly in front of Jay’s face to get him to focus. His brother had been zoned out for a good few minutes.

‘Oh sorry, I was-,’ Jay mumbled as he shook his head, trying to rid it of the images of Hailey in a white dress that were currently swirling around it.

‘Yeah, I know,’ Will said with a knowing expression. ‘So what happens in the end?’ He asked and when he was met by a confused look on his brother's face, continued, ‘when her visa is approved, what happens then?’

‘We get the marriage annulled and we move on with our lives,’ Jay said flatly.

‘And you’ll be able to just let her go?’ Will asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

‘Of course,’ Jay said firmly, ‘she was never mine to start with,’ he added under his breath.

‘This is a recipe for heartbreak,’ Will said dramatically, downing the remains of his beer.

‘I don’t care about me, Will, as long as she gets to live the life she always wanted. That’s what’s important,’

‘You’ve got it bad, brother,’ Will snorted.

‘Shut it,’ Jay murmured, thinking that his brother might be right about that point.

[semilucidity]

Under A Rest: Part IV

mcstories | literotica

Two Months Later

“About time! How was your day?”

A freshly-showered Doctor Angelos tightly embraced the man holding a large bag of Thai takeout on her front porch. He rested his chin atop her damp head, inhaling the scent of her cherry almond shampoo and grinning contentedly.

His day actually hadn’t been so bad. Incidentally, it marked exactly two months since he'd convinced his captain to shelve that elusive Walter case--at least, until they found more compelling intelligence.

His colleagues were somewhat confused at first. Detective Berman was one of their best men, and he’d gotten off to such a strong start. In fact, cases like that, he usually wrapped up within weeks, sometimes days if he was on a roll. But the leads fizzled out, as they sometimes did. The victim left no next of kin to beat down their doors or pester them with phone calls. There were more pressing cases.

And the woman whom he’d once considered a primary suspect had given him very strong and very compelling evidence to the contrary.

Talking to her for so long made him realize that letting the Walter case fall by the wayside and grow cold was actually quite logical, really, even inevitable. There were facts to consider. There was the fact that Doctor Angelos hadn’t had any traceable contact with James Walter for months; the detective had checked on that. The fact that his newest manuscript had been rejected by several publishing companies. The fact that he’d already had a well-documented history of suicidal episodes, ideations, even attempts long before he became her patient.

The fact that every time the case's leading investigator thought about the doctor’s potential involvement, he was overwhelmed with that familiar, intoxicating warmth, and his sharp thoughts would blunt; his mind’s eye would illuminate with her bright, dancing gaze, her melodic voice, her soft touch, and at some point something would snap out of his daydream, minutes of his life lost to the sands of time simply sitting there blissfully blank and empty, a shrine to her loveliness incarnate.

Not the worst deal in the world.

“Fantastic now that I'm here, Madam. And you?” he said.

“Better already,” she replied, retrieving the fragrant dinner from his grasp and setting it on the coffee table for later. Doffing his coat and boots, he followed her into the living room; when she turned around to face him, he surprised her with a tender kiss.

"Hungry?" he whispered into her lips.

"Starved," she breathed back, taking his hand and leading him into her candlelit bedroom. Their pad see ew and spring rolls could wait.

The doctor was very pleased with how far her subject had come. Though the battles had been tricky, she was, dare she say, winning the war. Thanks to her expertise, she’d gotten his number early on. The detective was one whose intense focus allowed him to slip into trances with ease, even on his own, but whose mind worked too hard and too well to fully disengage for long periods. She would work on him for an entire weekend, use her entire arsenal to get him utterly blank and blithering, then send him to work Monday morning as normal.

But by the following weekend, that mind of his would march right through her door again, picking up pieces, putting them together, and asking her what on earth he was to make of the result.

So it was necessary for her to vigorously shake away the connections he’d drawn over the course of the week like an Etch-a-Sketch. And though it was work, the doctor took pride and joy in tearing down his walls every time, each new wall of his built just a little bit shorter, a little bit weaker. Each time, he fell deeper, quicker, and before long she'd find herself once again delighting in the expressions of quizzical frustration on his face trying to make the cacophony of cognitive dissonance make sense in that pretty little head of his.

Then, to her delight, the Walter case was finally shelved, and so went with it the whole investigatory charade. Yet still every Friday night, like clockwork, Detective Berman found himself on her front porch, ringing her doorbell, his mind quieter and more forgetful each time, his gut for some reason aching from an entire week of vague, lusty hunger. And still each time she would open the door, and each time she would rain kisses upon his brow, each smooch vacating another thought from his head. By Sunday evening, he was left slinking up what he presumed to be his driveway in a tranquil daze, blithely hoping he was at the right house this time.

Tonight, that case hadn't even occurred to him. He wasn’t at her house to ask her questions. There were none left to ask. He was at her house because he wanted to be, because he was told to be, and good boys did as they were told.

And it felt so good to do as he was told.

Doctor Angelos carefully removed Detective Berman’s glasses and gazed into his warm brown eyes, so much more naked and intense without their barrier. At long last, she'd successfully worn him down, and all in good time, too--she was about to burst just looking at him.

Before he could blink, he felt the firm clasp of a heavy black leather collar around his neck, his eyes unfocusing and limbs loosening. Tranquil daze, indeed. He’d awoken with it encircled around his neck a couple of weeks ago, and did think it somewhat strange at first. But now he longed to hear its satisfying snap, its snug embrace silencing his thoughts and worries, comfort enveloping him.

“Be a good boy and kneel for me.”

Wordlessly, he dropped to his knees for her on the plush carpet of her bedroom floor. She approached him and stood with her legs stanced apart, the short hem of her white lace nightie at that angle leaving little to his imagination.

“Good boy,” she cooed, wrapping her arms around his head. He shivered. How he adored hearing those words from her mouth. Automatically, his hands found her pale, supple, rounded thighs and squeezed them. He kissed them with starved abandon, tightening his grip and burying his face between them.

His eyes closed as he laid his head against her soft stomach, his hands climbing up her thighs towards her bottom, squeezing her large, firm glutes. God, she had a fantastic rear. He trailed ravenous kisses down to her groin, continuing to lay kisses on her neatly-trimmed lips until his kisses turned more and more lax, his tongue joining the fray, his desire to taste her insatiable as he felt her grow wetter and wetter while he worked. Gently, he began sucking her clitoris, prompting a firm, uncoordinated hand in his hair, pressing his head against her pelvis. The doctor arched her back against the wall and sighed, shivering at his sudden increase in speed and intensity, her skin breaking into goosebumps.

She had discovered weeks ago that as a man so out of practice with any sort of sexual encounter, the poor detective had little clue with regard to navigating this specific type of pleasure. But that was alright; he was a fast learner, especially in this state. And with a little time and careful instruction, the award for most improved most certainly went to the man lapping at her with haste, his senses overwhelmed with her juices. Her head lolled heavily against the wall, and though she tried, really tried to stay silent, her own lips betrayed her, soft moans escaping them, growing more feral; more desperate. She felt his throaty growls underneath her as he worked, driving her over the edge, the sensation building, building, and then seizing her, pounding, boiling over, gripping her entire being as she felt a slick of warm fluid run down her legs.

Quivering, her knees buckled, sending her to the floor and into his sturdy, waiting arms. In his embrace, her heavy, erratic breathing began to calm. They parted and locked eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. She exhaled and tousled his hair.

“Thank you,” she sighed, shaking her head. “God, thank you.”

“most welcome, Madam,” he said, wearing a small, proud smile.

“I’m going to show you how thankful I am. Strip and lay on your stomach, please,” she exhaled, motioning to the bed, still out of breath. After helping her up, he obliged with haste; the mere anticipation leaving him hard as a post.

She left and came back with towels and some other things, things he couldn’t quite make out in the candle-lit dimness. Suddenly, he felt warm oil on his muscled lower back, then her small yet strong hands kneading away, radiating sorely-needed heat and pressure. As the tension released from his muscles, he closed his eyes and sighed silently into his pillow.

“You hold so much stress."

“yes, Madam,” he uttered, muffled by the pillow.

“That’s alright. You’re in my hands now.”

It was her turn to move those hands down toward his gluteal and upper thigh muscles, working them slowly but purposefully, relaxing him further still.

God, he had a fantastic rear.

His sigh grew into a deep moan, feeling himself sinking further into bliss under her touch. Suddenly, he detected something warm and wet near his rectum, caressing circles around its rim, teasing him before entering. At first startled, unsure of how to interpret the sensation, his body decided for him, sending tingles up his spine, awakening cravings for more.

Her finger withdrew, and a moment later, something a bit larger knocked on his back door. Very carefully, she slid the well-lubricated toy inside him and allowed him to acclimate, then pumped at a most leisurely pace. His eyes slammed shut at the first spark of pain, but this initial throb was gradually replaced with a pleasant feeling of fullness, which in turn grew into more. The man’s breath quickened, blood rushing to his ears, his entire body gripped with a sensation he could hardly believe he was capable of feeling. Never before had his body responded in such a way, not even during what he thought were the most intense sexual experiences of his life. Every nerve in his body writhed under her touch, lively static permeating his body with each thrust.

Time swelled into a delirious blur, immaterial as constant ecstasy rippled through him, wave after wave of delight sending him melting into the mattress, every movement sending him into shivering fits of gratified spasms. As she thrust further, massaging his prostate, suddenly a vibration sparked to life. Flashing stars filled his vision, the intense rushes of pleasure making his ears ring, every cell of his body trembling. Not one to vocalize loudly, a particularly rapturous thrust pushed a loud wail from his throat, breath ragged.

“Am I hurting you?” Doctor Angelos asked.

“haah.…nn-nnh…” Detective Berman whimpered, barely able to contain himself. His bothered cock pressed painfully against the bed beneath him.

“Good. Aw, what a good boy,” she murmured. “What a gooood boy. Good Pet. But don’t come for me yet. It hasn't even been ten minutes.”

“please,” he breathed, sore and on the brink of rupture.

“I don’t know,” she replied, smile evident in her voice. She’d never seen him quite this desperate. “Sure you’re ready?”

“please,” he begged more insistently between breaths, voice creeping higher in pitch. His pillow was damp with a trifecta of sweat, tears, and drool. “please, ohh please please please oh pleeease…”

“Hm…Alright. Well, actually--”

“please!” he cried, breath ragged.

“Oh, very well. C--on second thought--"

Detective Berman bellowed savagely.

"Come for me,” she ordered coolly.

In a dim effort to avoid messing the bed, the detective tensed and aimed to the side, his thick stream darting halfway across the room straight onto the wall. His vision darkened and he collapsed against the bed, regaining consciousness a few moments after, feeling his mistress carefully removing the toy and gently shaking him as he groaned.

“Hey. Sorry. Must’ve overwhelmed you, nailed your vagus nerve or something. It can cause a bit of fainting, nothing to worry about. You alright?”

“mm,” he mm’d.

“Good. Impressive shot,” she snickered, staring at the wall sporting several healthy splats of his thick, dripping seed. His tired head turned, and dazed, unfocused eyes followed hers. Upon seeing his handiwork, he groaned again and rolled over on his back, wheezing.

“ugh, sorry, i’ll…i’ll…” he whispered hoarsely, still out of breath. Nothing had ever left his body quite like that. He attempted to sit up, but the room was spinning, and his legs were jelly, and his head was pounding so much that all he could manage was a roll onto his side.

“That’s alright,” she said, pleased with his performance. “I’ll get it.”

Normally, Doctor Angelos made her playthings clean up their own messes, but this one was truly as special as she thought he’d be. She’d done the unthinkable and thoroughly decommissioned all of her other toys in the interim--she’d have no use for them with such a good and pliant prize just for her.

Or…well. Perhaps she was going a bit soft. She had, after all, pledged not to grow too attached in her noble pursuit of the mind of every person who caught her eye. After what happened with James Walter, the rule seemed more necessary than ever. Some semblance of rhyme and reason had to remain amid an inherently irrational playing field.

But this particular pet hadn’t even been cultivated for sheer self-satisfaction, merely for the express purpose of protecting herself from the long arm of the law. Despite her best intentions, this soft, beautiful toy exuded something that well and truly began to make him seem less like a toy, something that began to make her feel like she’d never quite felt before. He’d forced her hand from the get-go, and though she was awfully slow to admit it, over the past several months she had grown to care deeply for him.

She supposed it was that he was different from the others. He pushed back, presented her with challenges. She genuinely enjoyed his waking company, and he seemed to enjoy her in the same vein--more than she could say for other playthings of hers, many of whom were like her: motivated by validation, power, greed, and/or their own narcissism. Even James was motivated by his own pride, his own ego, his own personal success, and little more.

Indeed, as she’d gleaned in the past few months, Michael Berman was really, truly different. She could tell clearly from this case alone, and the way he gushed to her about his work over nighttime walks or Saturday night takeout, that the man wasn’t moved much by political ambition. He could’ve been chief if he wanted. He wasn’t; he was exactly where he wanted to be, motivated by his sense of ethics, zeal to provide justice for those who’d had their lives taken. It was what made an already tantalizing and highly rewarding conquest even more so when she’d finally managed to sink her claws into his mind and bend his will in her favor.

So…why was she still so unsettled? She supposed it worried her, the thought that one of these days something was going to trigger him, and he would break through her masterful layers of conditioning, and he would realize that she was not like him; she was not good, she was not moral, she was motivated neither by that which was ethical nor just. Given the framework through which she understood the control of human behavior, that outcome was unlikely, but entirely possible. It could be tomorrow. It could be in thirty years. But one day, at long last, he just might recognize her wickedness.

A cold shiver went down her spine. For the first time in her life, she feared such a thing.

Wiping the detective’s target practice off the wall with a paper towel, she gazed upon her perfect pet--admiring his slumbering, defenseless form, limbs splayed, countenance loose and unguarded, curves and musculature playing with the flickering shadows, the sweat and hair on his body glittering in the dim, orange candlelight.

Without warning, her chin involuntarily crinkled. Praying he wouldn’t wake, she allowed despairing guilt to overwhelm her features, tears gathering in her eyes for the first time in…she couldn’t remember how long.

Of all the messes to get herself into. She never even thought James particularly deserved death in the first place. It was unfortunate that she had to put him out of his misery that way. Honestly, she wasn't thrilled at the prospect; it wasn't as though she’d sought to make a habit out of murdering. But when he’d started grabbing her, shaking her, telling her he planned on exposing her and bringing down the practice she’d spent years building, her way of life, her way of pleasure, outright threatening her, well…that was all just terribly inconvenient. And when he insisted on continuing despite her protests, it naturally followed that she simply had to do what needed to be done.

Some bugs needed to be squished.

Then, by some act of divine providence--she couldn’t tell if it was punishment or reward--that pesky, adorable detective plopped himself down in her chair, started sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, starting connecting dots. That wouldn't do either. But killing him would've been such a hassle, not to mention rude when he was simply doing his job.

Some bugs needed to be captured. Kept.

So he was asking for it, really. A man who hadn't been asking for it would not be drowsing peacefully, nude body prettily aglow in leisurely repose atop her bed. He had asked for it.

Unfortunately, so had she.

Gazing tenderly upon his placid visage, her eyes shining, Maria Angelos realized that she’d finally fallen prey to the force to which she’d for so long considered herself immune. This was more than just a game now, and there was nothing she could do about it. The feeling was made no less real by knowing, just knowing, that he felt at least equally strongly towards her, even outside of the confines of her ever-expanding influence on his mind. She'd studied, toyed with, hand-molded the minds of enough people to know what was what. Never before had she seen looks so soft, so adoring, so utterly full of reverence--not even from her most fervently dedicated toys.

A paranoid mind, she’d even considered the possibility that his subconscious, in a feat of unprecedented craftiness, only said what it had in that grocery store in a bizarre attempt to manipulate her into treating him well. Again unlikely, but to her chagrin, whatever it was, it had worked a treat. Though perhaps she needed to hear it. Perhaps, for once in her life, she needed to be good. At least, as close to it as she could manage.

Having finished cleaning up the impressive mess on the wall, Doctor Angelos did something she never dared do with any of the others. She climbed into bed and wrapped her arms around the man, holding him simply to hold him, nuzzling her face in between his shoulder blades. He mumbled something, words entirely unintelligible, then was quieted by the kisses she trailed over his neck, shoulder, and back. There, the two simply laid there together; skin to skin, beat to beat, breath to breath.

In this warm, steady rhythm, she felt alive.

“Hey, wake up,” she whispered after an amount of time of which she’d lost track, wondering if she too had dozed off while embracing him. She ran her hand down his limp arm and entwined her hand in his. “You could use a bath after such a long day, hm? Then we’ll eat. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

His wispy snores grew into guttural grunts of affirmation, and with her help he rose from the bed and followed her into her equally candlelit ensuite bathroom, where she helped him into her spacious sunken bathtub. Feeling a few of his faculties returning with a sudden gush of hot water splashing him, Detective Berman sat and became distantly cognizant that his mind had reached a level of blank and goopy around her that he would’ve found disconcerting not too long ago. Around her, his mind became wet newspaper falling apart into mush, the ink of his thoughts bleeding into illegibility. So consistent was this effect that resisting her will felt like facing gale force headwinds. And though he no longer felt swells of panic at letting those winds carry him instead, he was left with an odd and unplaceable sense of heartache.

This incongruous pang startled him. He supposed it was the bittersweetness inherent to the gifts she’d given him: real warmth, affection, and care so late in an adulthood that had proved very rewarding but largely lonesome. A doorstep on which he could abandon all his woes, a way to empty his head and not keep himself up all night fretting, waking up in cold sweats plagued by faces of the dead. Someone to make sure he was well-fed, well-watered, well-cared for when ill--which, admittedly, had become less often as his body grew healthier with newfound habits.

Truthfully, he hadn't felt better in years. His job remained tough, and he remained stubborn, but he was beginning to change, even thrive, and on some evenings even came home both at a reasonable time and with energy to spare. His moods were sometimes so much brighter than his usual baseline of tired terseness that he elicited raised eyebrows from his associates. Always a dominant force in his division, his performance had improved to such a degree that he was being considered for a raise. And though that mystifying Walter case around which he never could quite wrap his head bothered him at first, it was really beginning to grow alright with him. It all felt so far away now, anyway, and after all, a case was destined to go cold every now and again. Nobody could succeed all the time. He had so many other things to work on. More important things. So many more important things…

But all he had to do now was sit in the rising, steaming water, and dissolve like a little sugar cube in hot, hazy tea, in this hot, hazy space.

He’d grown rather accustomed to that space. His eyes blinked open and gazed right up at her, who, kneeling above him, now lathered his hairy body with musk-scented soap. She gave him a kind smile. Shyly, he returned it.

He’d grown rather accustomed to her face too, he supposed, wondering as of late why every time he looked straight into her eyes his heart swelled several sizes. Perhaps it was sheer awe, admiration, respect for her ability and talent. It was most certainly that. It had to be.

Anything further frightened him too much to contemplate.

A dollop of fragrant tea tree oil shampoo she lathered into his wet, tangled hair, her fingertips scrubbing, massaging, washing his tired brain, his train of thought once again disintegrating wet newspaper as he sank deeper into the sudsy water.

“Not so fast. I’m not done with you, yet.”

“never are,” he murmured. She laughed.

“That’s right.”

That laugh. She was heaven, utter heaven. Just being around her, hearing the sound of her voice. Her quips, her gait, her scent. It was odd, then, that a knot had begun to form in his stomach, that his eyes had begun to sting, that his chest had begun to tighten.

“Hey, hey…relax…rest…there, there,” Doctor Angelos said gently, sensing his tension, her hands caressing his ears and eliciting from him a quiet moan. Like magic, the feeling of discontent diminished as soon as it came, replaced with bubbly, lightheaded warmth. The detective blinked heavily, exhaling as he felt a blush rising to his face. Feeling faint, he wondered whether it was from the high heat of the water, or the collar around his neck, or the woman behind him, humming charming, soothing little tunes, murmuring things to him as she often did, things he couldn't quite make out but would certainly still absorb in his subconscious. He leaned his head back into her hands and closed his eyes while she rinsed his hair with the handheld shower head. His skin tingled, any remnants of his discontent rinsing away with the shampoo from his scalp as he embraced the clean, serene blankness that now encompassed his consciousness.

She worked a buttery conditioner into his locks as intoxicating swirls of heady aromas drew him down, melting him as his heart slowed, his shallow breaths becoming deeper, more even, relaxed to the point where they were barely there. His limbs laid suspended in cushions of hot, soapy water, clouds of bubbles surrounding him, protecting him from the outside world. His thoughts began to unravel, growing slower, softer, and more strange, waxing abstract. His grip on the physical dimension weakened as he felt the realm of dreams entreating him, tugging his eyelids closed. He fought its pull, struggling desperately to savor this sublimity just a little while longer.

Alas, his waning strength gave way and into a wilting sleep he was pulled, head adroop, long lashes fluttering and coming to a rest against his flushed cheeks as sweet release pulsed through him. She smiled, noticing his surrender and gently drawing his head towards the towel draped on the side of the tub, continuing to run her fingertips along his scalp as he drifted inwards. Before long, even her hands, his last tethers to reality, faded away into dreams.

He shivered suddenly, prying his bleary eyes open. He still sat in the tub, but a large, fluffy, yellow towel now surrounded him, a smaller one delicately drying his hair. The aromas from earlier still hung in the air, now much cooler with the hot water drained. She helped him out of the tub and onto the plush bath mat, continuing to dry him. His arousal was obvious, but she paid it with no more mind than a knowing smile.

The detective thought that he ought to insist this courtesy was unnecessary, he could dry himself off just fine, and exactly how long was he in that bath, anyway? But he felt her hand on his cheek, and his mind was sapped, lips parted, words caught in his throat.

“Wonderful. Time to eat?”

He gave a small, half-lidded smile and a hum of affirmation.

“That’s a good boy. Enough thought for tonight.”

He nodded slowly. Enough thought for tonight.

[maskspurpose]

anon asked: for the ficlet thing... watahokke... pls pls pls i am nothing and I love your writting so much... to specify a bit, maybe during war era? No need for it to be sad or smth like that (or yes if you want?), they can just go to watch a play or smth. Thank you very muuuch :))

//tysm anon!! idt you're nothing!! this is definitely war era but idk where it falls in terms of sad or not. but it sure is war era// 

Hokuto-kun is restlessly pacing the empty floorspace of the theater club, brows furrowed and hands curled into tight fists, muttering under his breath.

"Are you practicing your lines, Hokuto-kun? How admirable, I have not even given you your script yet!"

The sound of Wataru's voice makes him flinch and stop in his tracks, staring at them, eyes wide, before something else settles on his expression yet again. He doesn't even react to their utterly mundane entrance into the room! What a disappointment! "I just saw the announcement for the next DreFes." 

Sadly, today Wataru is not given time to express their disappointment with their junior. "Ah, the next head that will roll in the name of revolution, yes." Undisturbed, Wataru moves to their throne, the multicolored couch at the end of the room.

"Aren't you worried at all?" 

They give him a quizzical look. It's strange for Hokuto-kun to become this heated. "Why should I worry? There is a new stage to prepare, Hokuto-kun, and that is much more important." 

"A new script?" 

"Ah! I should give it to you. Give me a moment." They dig into their jacket, first pulling out a long string of colorful fabric, then a handful of bird feathers, then, finally, the proposal.

 Hokuto-kun, stone-faced as ever, simply stares at it. "Buchou, we can't prepare a new performance now, the next performance against *fine*--"

"Will you read the proposal, Hokuto-kun?" Wataru holds the script out to him. "An intelligent young man like you should understand why we need a script now more than ever!" 

Hesitation visible in his expression, Hokuto reaches for the proposal, the script, whatever it is. "Thirteenth Day?" 

Wataru leans back against the cushions of the sofa. "One day, if we get enough members, we should perform Twelfth Night with the Theater Club. It's one of Shakespeare's great comedies." And not one where two people will be enough, even if Wataru plays multiple parts. "You'd make a good Cesario, one day." They tilt their head, furrowing their brows further as they watch Hokuto-kuns eyes follow the text on the pages. "Perhaps even a good Viola." 

"Why?" 

"Your skill, which I will begrudgingly acknowledge has improved from a mere 1 point out of 100 has improved somewhat, and your dogged pursuit of theater despite it's futility is not unlike Cesario's pursuit of Olivia in the name of--"

"No, buchou, why *this*?" Hokuto-kun waves the papers and gestures at them with his other hand, as if Wataru would miss the obvious like that. 

They smile. "If I performed alone, it would be a loss by default, Hokuto-kun. A terrible, boring conclusion to this story, don't you think? 'And so, the final Eccentric was slain, as they arrived to the duel unarmed!'" They make a disdainful noise. "I'm an entertainer, not a sacrificial lamb." "So you're going to fight them?" 

There's a spark of *something* in Hokuto-kun's eyes, the same eagerness that accompanies even his most lackluster performances. Passion. Good. Wataru grins. 

"Only if you'll join me, Hokuto-kun. So, what do you say?" 

[Smile or comment on the answer here]

[schmergo]

Just got this secondhand copy of Pride and Prejudice (1980 Franklin Library edition) and found that it has PORTRAITS of the characters inside! I am rating them based on how well I think the portraits suit them. Feel free to give your ratings!

Mrs. Bennet. 5/10. She doesn’t look nearly frazzled and bonkers enough. I know Mr. Bennet married her for her beauty and then was disappointed by her General Personality, but i feel like this one’s all beauty and no personality. The portrait looks shrewd and calculating, but Mrs. Bennet’s shrewd plans are about as subtle as a stampede of elephants.

Mr. Collins: 9/10. He appears to be played by Harvey Guillen, which seems right. He’s got the perfect self-important expression and tilt to the head. The only thing lacking is that he looks a touch too intelligent and charismatic to be Collins. His eyes have a spark of life in them. In my mind, Collins has the beady senseless eyes of a squirrel.

Jane Bennet: 3/10. She’s appropriately beautiful, but this look is egregiously 1980’s. Also she has RBF. My sweet Jane would NEVER.

Elizabeth Bennet: 7/10. This is an interesting one. I was pleasantly surprised they didn’t make her excessively pretty. She loses points for her hairstyle, which appears to be from Mount Olympus by way of the Roaring Twenties, and the fact that the profile view means you can’t see her Fine Eyes.

I am assuming Elizabeth may be a self-insert portrait because I figured everyone pictures Elizabeth to either look like oneself, Keira Knightley, or Jennifer Ehle, and this book was published before the latter two played the role.

Mr. Darcy: 8.5/10. This is so close to perfection, but the cute button nose spoils it. It’s hard to come off as truly brooding and grand with a cute little button nose. He also seems kinda young, like he’s the resident “dreamy guy” in the college student theatre troupe who got cast as Mr. Darcy, rather than the character himself. He looks like Billy from Stranger Things put on a black wig and went out for a Jane Austen period drama to avoid getting typecast. He looks like the guy you hire when you can’t get Timothee Chalamet.

He gets an extra half point for the quizzical brow.

Mr. Wickham: 8/10. That expression tells me everything I need to know. He has the face of a cad and a scoundrel. But I maintain that Wickham never would have gotten away with his nefarious schemes without a full and luscious head of hair, or at least a nice wig. The hair does the heavy lifting of hiding the holes in his stories. This is not the hairline of a serial liar and rapscallion. This is the hairline of an honest man with nothing to hide.

Lady Catherine: 9/10. She’s somehow nothing like what I expected yet also perfect because she bears a startling resemblance to the wonderful Dame Harriet Walter, who’s required to be in every period piece ever made. Has she played Lady Catherine? She should play Lady Catherine. She loses a point for not wearing anything ostentatious in her hair.

[bakuliwrites]

His Worth- Julian Devorak x Reader

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

Fandom: The Arcana

Relationship: Julian Devorak x Reader

Summary: Julian struggles to see his worth, so you try to find a way to express how much he means to you, since he doesn't always seem to listen to your words.

Read here in this post or over on my AO3

“You know, I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve you,” Julian begins as soon as you enter your shop that evening, his voice melancholy and distant. Your hunt for any information about the night of Count Lucio’s murder hasn’t been going especially well. Multiple times throughout the week, Julian has tried to dismiss you, to “spare you from the waste of time this all will inevitably turn out to be,” he claims. But you’ve been stubborn, refusing to give up in the middle of your search. From the moment you’d met Julian all those weeks ago, you’ve had a distinct feeling that he's innocent, despite his pessimism about the whole situation. You are absolutely determined to prove it.

“What do you mean?” you question as you flit from candle to candle around the room, attempting to illuminate the small space just a bit more. It is dreadfully dark outside, a moonless night looming overhead, weighty and ominous. You feel much safer with the lights on. And having Julian there, of course. 

“You’ve done so much for me,” he goes on, slumping against a bookshelf near the door, his gaze downturned and solemn, “I’m not sure how much worth I’ve had to you throughout this whole process. I’ve not felt like I’ve done much in the way of helping you out.” 

You pause in your candle-lighting, glancing across the room at Julian’s lanky frame leaning against the bookshelf.

“You’ve been a lot of help to me, Julian,” you try, though you know it won't get through to him, “This whole process has been helping me gain my own memories back. Besides, you’ve been- excellent company.” This last part you add with a blush, reflecting on all the (welcome) trouble the good Dr. Devorak hass gotten the two of you in the last few weeks. Your time in the library comes quickly to mind: your body pinned between him and the bookshelves, the feeling of his hands ghosting along your curves, the sweet taste of his lips on yours. The thought alone brings heat to your cheeks. 

“Well, be that as it may,” Julian returns with the quirk of one of his eyebrows and a flirtatious grin, “You’ve been all of that and more. I’ve not been able to offer you more than companionship. And honestly, it’s probably not even good company. I’ve been more of a hazard than anything else.” He flashes a pitying smile, appreciative of your effort to make him feel better, unable to accept the truth behind your words. 

Julian is always so hard on himself, so eager to please and unwilling to accept his own value. You want him to know how much you appreciate him, how much you love him, but it feels like words alone don't quite do justice to his worth. You’ve tried that tactic before, but he dismisses your compliments as mere formalities, even though you genuinely mean them. Julian is kind, he's funny, confident, intelligent. Dramatic and ridiculous, indeed, but endearingly so. You’ve never met someone as captivating and real as him. But every attempt to tell him so is passed off by him as admiration he is undeserving of. Your appreciation of him is body and soul, and he needs to know that.

A sudden idea comes to mind, one that makes your stomach flutter. If he isn’t going to listen to your words, maybe there's another way to get him to understand. No, you think to yourself, that would be awfully brash. But Julian deserves to know how wonderful he is. He deserves to be taken care of, too. And he's usually the one trying so hard to take care of others.  

“It’s difficult, sometimes, to express in words how much you mean to me,” you begin, striding slowly towards Julian’s silhouette, outlined by the flickering candlelight. You splay your hands against his broad chest, smoothing them over the fabric of his overcoat, garnering a quizzical look from him.

“I can try,” you continue, wide-eyes gazing up at him towering above you, trailing one hand up his shoulder and settling it on the back of his neck. You gently draw him down to you, laying your lips softly against his. Immediately, you feel the tension in his muscles melt away, his lips parting, eagerly accepting your kiss. Your lips linger briefly on his, before you draw back to look up into his dusky, gray eye once again.

“But it might be easier if I show you. If that’s alright with you?” you offer. A faint blush dances across his cheekbones, his lips still parted, before he wordlessly nods. Gently taking his gloved hand in yours, you lead Julian through the curtain separating your shop from your living quarters. His silence doesn’t last long as you ascend the stairs up to your room, his footsteps heavy with each thud of his boots on the steps.

“You know, you can be quite suave, sometimes,” he teases. You glance back briefly to catch him waggling his eyebrows at you, a devilish smirk spreading across his face. You roll your eyes in response, not sure that's quite true, but willing to take the compliment anyway. Even in the midst of his melodrama, Julian manages to be as coy as ever. You’ll have to make sure to mention that to him as something you appreciate. 

In your room, you take little time in stripping both of yourselves of your outer garments, throwing them haphazardly across the floor. Your lips crash hungrily against his as you push him back onto the bed, your mind temporarily foggy with the sensation of his fingers digging into your thighs and the warm scent of his musky cologne. You swiftly draw back from your kiss, eliciting a soft whimper from Julian, his gaze trailing longingly along your form above him. He tries to close the distance between you, rising up from where he lies to capture your lips again before you shove him back down onto the bed. 

“Ah, ah,” you tut, flashing a mischievous smile at him as you settle yourself on his lap, “Be patient, my love.” A wry grin dances across his face as you teasingly roll your hips against his. The fabric of the undergarments separating you from him, though little, is positively unbearable. But you have a plan in mind.

“So eager, my love?” you taunt, feeling his erection pressing into your thigh. You don't have much room to tease, feeling how slick your own folds are. Julian growls as you palm his bulge and languorously massage it.

“Mmmm, my Julian?” you hum as you continue to stroke him, your breath catching in your throat as you meet his loving gaze with yours.

“Yes? Yes, my darling?” he breathlessly returns, his pale skin flushed and lovely.

“Will you be a good boy for me tonight?” you coo, coquettishly biting your lip and running one hand through your hair, the other still attending to his bulge.

 “Yes,” he breathes, his good eye wide and sparkling, chest heaving with each strained exhale, “I’ll be a good boy for you. Just tell me what you want from me.” 

“Good,” you confirm, reaching forwards and tenderly raking your fingers through his wavy, auburn locks. He shivers with the tickle of each gentle pass your nails make against his skin.

“My only request for you tonight,” you start slowly, Julian’s head nodding in a pre-emptive agreement, “is to relax, let me do the work, and allow me to tell you all the things I adore about you.” 

Julian’s thick brows furrow with confusion, his face once flushed with arousal now crimson with sheepish stupefaction. You can't help but laugh a little at his humility. He might be boisterous and loud, but Julian is as humble as they came.

“That- that hardly seems fair,” he protests, but you hush him with a kiss.

“Just let me do this for you,” you argue, “You’re always making sure I’m taken care of. It’s time someone does the same for you.” He swallows, uncomfortably it seems, but when he sees how serious you are, his look of worry softens. 

“Alright, then,” he acquiesces, before hastily adding, “But only if I can return the favor sometime.” You dismiss the idea that somehow this was a “favor” for him, reassuring that everything you are about to say is the truth. 

“Not another word out of you, Julian,” you command, eliciting a contented hum from him. You return your fingers to the mess of curls on his head, combing them through the fiery strands.

“I love the way your hair sparks like fire in the sunlight,” you begin, watching as Julian closes his eye and purrs in satisfaction. After a moment, you move to cup his face in your hands, admiring aloud the angles of his high-cheekbones, the sharp curve of his cupid’s bow, and the aquiline hook of his nose. 

“May I?” you question, gesturing to his eyepatch. Julian shoots you a perplexed look, but nods in agreement.

“You’re quite adorable when you’re confused,” you giggle, pulling off his eyepatch and setting it on your bedside table. 

“Your eyes are silver, like moonlight on the surface of the sea,” you admire, watching as his face shifts from confused to bashful. In the beginning, he’d been so worried about showing you the red sclera of his covered eye, as if somehow you’d be repulsed by it. But you aren't, and can’t imagine a world where you would be.  

“You’re far too kind to me, y/n,” Julian tries.

“Hush, Julian. You promised you’d be a good boy,” you scold, smirking as you lean down to pepper kisses behind his ear. He moans, leaning his head to the side to allow you better access to the sensitive spot at the base of his ear. 

“I love the soft little moans you make when I do this,” you go on between kisses, smiling against his neck. You feel his chest rumble with a chuckle, before he sucks in a startled breath as you nip at his ear lobe. His hands grip your thighs tighter, fingernails delightfully digging into your skin, Julian’s hips grinding desperately against yours. You can feel how ready he is for you, but you aren’t quite ready to give him the pleasure just yet. You take one of his hands in yours, sitting up again, feeling his gaze wander over the curves of your hips and your breasts. You press a gentle kiss against the palm of his hand and then one by one on each of the pads of his fingertips.

“I love how kind you are. How intelligent, how funny, how confident,” you list, looking him in the eye. He still wears a perplexed expression, but his aroused flush returns in full force, pink from his cheeks to his chest, when you add, “I love what an absolute rogue and a scoundrel you can be.”

“You don’t have to say all these nice things, just to be nice-” he protests, but you cut him off by giving him a quick peck, just to hush him. When you’d requested his silence, you knew you’d been asking for a lot.

“I love your hands,” you purr, flashing a coy smile at him which he meets with an even more sinful one, “How they feel roaming along my body.” You take his hand and bring it to your breast, moaning sinfully as Julian massages it in his warm palm. His grin grows even more devilish as he takes the hard bud of your nipple between his fingertips and pinches, eliciting a whimper from you. 

“I love the way your elegant fingers seem to find the right spot every single time,” you emphasize, your voice strained as Julian circles your sensitive bud. Your own face must be just as red as his, if not more, feeling heat radiating off your body, your panties practically soaked now. You lead his other hand down the curves of your hips, past the hem of your undergarments, and down to your heat, where you direct him to slowly circle your clit with his index finger. 

“I love how wet you make me, Julian,” you whine, tossing your head back in pleasure as he picks up his pace, not able to look at the stupid cocky grin he’s suddenly acquired. He knows full well how much you want him, it's hardly a secret. You feel the coil in you growing tighter, your body taut with wanton desire.

You can't take it any longer, leaning swiftly down and capturing his lips in yours. He gives a muffled whimper before melting into you, his chest flush against yours, heart thrumming behind his ribcage, your breasts pressed firmly against his pecs. His large hands rove your body, trying to bring you even closer to him, as if he wants to merge the two of you into one. You feel his tongue hungrily slip past your lips, desperate and warm.

“I adore your sharp tongue,” you breathe, drawing back for but a moment before crashing back into him. Your kisses are sloppy, hurried, and in each moment you draw back to take a breath you speak, “I love what this tongue of yours does to me,” and, “One moment quick, and the other cloyingly languid. ” You turn your attention to the rest of his body. Your lips leave open-mouthed kisses trailing along his jawline and down his neck, suckling as you go, drawing constrained groans from Julian, who is quickly unraveling beneath you. 

“I love how your skin wears my marks, for the whole world to see,” you croon, sinking lower and lower down his body. You take one of his nipples in your mouth, flicking it with your tongue and nipping at it.

“Ah, you’re so good to me, y/n,” he groans, as you move over to give some much needed attention to his other nipple.

“My dearest Julian,” you sigh, “You are so good to me.” Further down Julian’s body you go, raking your fingernails along his stomach, the music of Julian’s sighs and whimpers pleasant in your ears.

“Your voice, it’s like velvet,” you go on, hooking your fingers into the hem of his underwear, pulling them down painfully slow, all the while complimenting his lithe, slender body. You cast his underwear aside, his cock finally springing free, throbbing and erect. You purposefully avoid it, turning your attention to his legs, which you lift slightly just to pull him closer to you, drawing a giggly yelp from Julian as you drag him down the bed. You nestle yourself between his thighs, biting and kissing the insides of them, basking in the mewls and moans of your name falling from Julian’s lips. 

“I love your long legs, how strong they are, how lovely,” you continue, moving further up his thigh until Julian is practically weeping for you to stop being such a tease. Now it's your turn to flash a devilish grin. 

“Please, y/n,” he begs, propping himself up on his elbows so he can shoot an anguished look down at you. You consider him for a moment, cruelly perhaps, but seeing him become a simpering mess beneath your touch is too exciting not to enjoy. 

“I suppose you’ve been a good boy,” you concede. Swiftly, you take his cock in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. Julian’s head falls back, a husky groan falling from his lips before he whips his hooded gaze back to you. His hands tangle in your hair as your head bobs up and down along his shaft. You press his hips firmly to the mattress, preventing them from bucking into you, his impatience with your teasing growing. But the mewls and lilting cries of your name tell you Julian is enjoying your ministrations. You can feel he's close, but you aren’t quite ready for him to come yet. Drawing back from him, your mouth sliding off his cock with a wet, sordid sound, you hover your hips above his again. 

“I love the way you taste on my tongue,” you speak as you toss aside your underwear. Julian brings a hand up to cover his eyes, feigning an affected, demure look, as if he is the most tortured, humiliated man alive.

“My darling, y/n, please,” he pants, peeking at you through his fingers, the heavy rise and fall of his chest filling you with absolute delight. You love how completely undone he looks.  

“What is it that you want me to do, my love?” you drawl, tracing a finger along his hip. 

“I want you-” his breath hitching as you plant another kiss along his inner thigh, “Ta- take me.”

“Is that how good boys ask for things?” you coo wickedly. He groans in frustration, though he wears a grin that betrays his enjoyment.

“Please take me,” he emphasizes, casting the hand that was covering his face dramatically aside, “Please let me come inside you.” 

“Good boy, Julian. That’s just what you’ll have then.” With this, you lower yourself onto Julian, his erection slipping easily into your wet folds. He inhales sharply between his teeth, before letting out a loud, sultry groan as you begin to bounce up and down on his cock. His hips snap against yours, the lewd sounds of your bodies slamming against one another intermingling with your soft sighs and Julian’s needy moans. 

“You’re such a good boy, Julian,” you cry, his hips pounding mercilessly into you, drawing you closer and closer to orgasm, “So amazing. You’re so wonderful to me.” You can feel Julian’s imminent release, pulsing inside you as a string of incoherent babbling falls from his mouth.

“Love you- so much,” he grunts, his fingers finding their way back to your heat and rubbing quick circles around your clit. 

“Love you, too,” you pant, leaning down and smashing your lips against his. It isn't the most comfortable angle, but you feel like you need him nearer, pressed up against you as close as he can be. His breath fans across your lips as you break the kiss, leaning back a bit for some air, before diving back in to capture his mouth in yours. With each thrust, Julian sinks deeper into you, his tip relentlessly hitting the exact right spot. The pressure in your core builds, a white-hot fire bursting inside you.

“S-so close, Julian,” you practically whisper through shallow breaths, your head dizzy with pleasure, “So good to me.” Julian cries out beneath you, finally brought over the edge, his warmth spilling inside you, filling you and threatening to trickle down your inner thighs. In tandem, your walls begin to shudder around his member, contracting tightly until an overwhelming wave of ecstasy rocks your body. Your lips sing out his name, “Julian,” like a sacred hymn, stars dotting your vision with each ripple of pleasure surging through you. 

You give each other a few more languid pumps before settling on his lap, trying to calm your ragged breaths. Through the strands of your mussed up hair, you see Julian’s flushed, contented face gazing lovingly back at you, a twinkle in his gray eyes. He quirks a smile before gently guiding you off of him and settling you down beside him, entwining his body with yours. You are a tangle of limbs now, silent and fulfilled, your shared heartbeats a quiet lullaby.

“I think you’re going to have to tell me all the things you love about me more often,” Julian teases, kissing your temple and drawing you into him. You softly press your lips to his, soaking up his warmth. 

“I hope you realize I mean all of it,” you return, pulling back to look him in the eye, “All of it and more. You are worth more to me than words could ever express, Julian. Even if you don’t see it yourself.” He closes his eyes and smiles, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Thank you for showing me,” he whispers.

“You don’t have to thank me, my love,” you speak, feeling your eyes begin to fall shut with exhaustion, “Just remember how much I love you.” He lets out a pleasant sigh, about to say something else when you remember a thought you had before.

“By the way,” you begin, a smirk tugging at your lips, “I meant to tell you another thing I like about you.” He leans back a bit to meet your gaze, one brow shooting up in curiosity.

“Oh? And what is that?” he questions, a roguish glint in his eye. 

“Even in the midst of all your melodrama and bellyaching,” you start, “You still manage to shamelessly flirt and canoodle and carry on.” A guffaw from the good doctor, which you meet with a playful swat to his arm.

“Now, would I really be me if I didn’t do that?” he reasons, his long arms seizing you and pressing you close. You giggle, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, luxuriating in the comfort of his embrace. It is these quiet moments with him that mean more to you than anything else in the world.

[ratyts]

what a darling (zeke x reader)

masterlist

*1920s au *no pronouns but reader is implied to be fem

tumblr user ratyts is a zeke enthusiast. maybe i'll add a part 2

warnings: none i think this is normal romance content

word count: 1073

you had run into zeke. again. lately zeke had somehow been lingering around every place you went. you went shopping with your sister? guess who just happened to be right around the block. the library? well, there’s one seat left– leaving you shoulder to shoulder with the man himself. even sneaking around your own home, zeke always managed to stay right on your tail.

he was a businessman, an associate of your father, who had recently come into town. your father had excitedly explained something or other about “expanding markets” when he announced that the apparently revered zeke jaeger would be staying with your family for the coming months. although your mother and sisters whispered about his status as a very very eligible bachelor, and his very very vast fortune– you weren't exactly interested. you wanted to see the man who garnered so much adoration, of course, but the youngest of four, you knew you shouldn’t bother fantasizing before your eldest sister was engaged.

when he arrived, he was as stunning and intelligent as people had said. charming, yes, but zeke jaeger was nothing if not a nuisance.  

this time it was in the study. on an ordinary tuesday morning, zeke sat on the sofa with his back to the door flipping through one of your mother’s magazines. you sigh loud enough for him to hear, but he doesn’t budge. heat rushes to your face and the soft tapping of your heel against the wood and the flipping of glossed pages ring in your ears as you make your way to the front of him– standing with your arms crossed and head tilted.  

“alright mr. jaeger–”

“do women really like these things?” zeke interrupts, finally raising his head, a smirk plastered on his face. “young women, i mean,” you sigh again, louder this time, as he chuckles and places the magazine beside him.

“mr. jaeger,” you tap your foot, making the most stern face you can manage. this time you had made up your mind to confront zeke. you wouldn’t be distracted, or swayed, and you absolutely would not be teased into submission.

“mr. jaeger? are you mad at me again?” zeke feigned a pout, a playful tone to his voice.

“i’m not upset,” you roll your eyes, relaxing your face as you plop into the seat beside him, “how else am i supposed to grab your attention? otherwise you’ll distract me from what i mean to say.”

zeke shrugged, shifting to face you more comfortably, “you’ve had my attention since you barged in.”

“the door was open. i didn’t barge in.”

“you have heavy feet. i could hear you coming a mile away”

you scoffed, opening your mouth to retaliate before shutting it completely with a huff. your arms folded back into your chest, you open your mouth again, “i came here to talk to you, zeke.”

zeke nods, as if he’s truly interested. you can see the condescending twitch of his lip turn into a sweet smile, “i’m on the edge of my seat here, darling.”

it was adorable, really, the furrow of your brow and the heat spreading across your face. you rolled your eyes. “darling,” he said, as if the man had no idea what he was doing. he was surely smart enough to pick up on your feelings. that was the most embarrassing part of it all. still, even knowing this, you couldn't part with him just yet.

“which of them is it that you like?” you crossed your legs, knees pointed towards him, “which of my sisters?”

you lowered your gaze, stoning your face in preparation, determined to hide any disappointment. it had been a fun game, the two of you played– with the teasing and joking and the light touches, but you had enough. you knew your mother wanted him for your sister, and they were closer in age anyway. your delusion had to come to an end at some point.

zeke coughed, sputtering, and you raised your head with a quizzical expression. it was a rare occasion to render zeke silent. you always knew him to be impossibly annoying with his quick remarks and constant quips.

“which one of you…?” he coughs a final time, adjusting his tie.

“you can tell me, really,” you nod knowingly, “you need my help, right?”

“your help?” zeke shakes his shead, chuckling as his surprised expression fades to his usual smug one, “you think i need your help?”

“you’re still single aren’t you?” you smile, learning back into the sofa.

“and you want to help me with that,” his smile widens, almost mischievously.

“well sir,” you begin, “since it’s you, i’m sure my father would approve if it’s not the eldest you want.” zeke nods along with you, smiling still. you lean in, lowering your voice, “i can’t imagine any of them objecting to a marriage with you either.”

at that zeke laughs louder, swaying back before he leans in and grabs your shoulder, “and why is that, dear?”

you huff, twisting away from him, “don’t be daft, zeke.” he rolls his eyes and you poke his chest, “you’ve heard their whispers.”

“i’m not one to eavesdrop,” he shrugs, the liar.

“we all know lots of women want to be mrs. jaeger.”

“i’ll be honest,” he stretches his arm, extending it behind your back, “it’s not your sisters who i’m interested in.”

you quirk a brow, “i thought you would marry into the family?” he chuckles, shaking his head and your eyes widen at the thought of zeke moving away from you. “and you never said a thing to me,” you scoff, unable to hide the frown your lips contort into.

“i’m not going anywhere, calm down,” he snorts, “and i won’t marry any of your sisters.”

“i don’t understand you men.”

zeke laughs again, standing up as he dusts himself off, adjusting his suit while responding, “among other things.” he ruffles your hair before grabbing the magazine, placing it on your lap and walking toward the entrance.

you turn around on the sofa, your garments twisting around as you maneuvered to watch him leave, “zeke, where are you going?” he doesn’t answer, whistling away. you knew the most probable answer, he was going to smoke and he’d “be back in a jiffy, so stay where he could find you.” you wouldn’t listen, weaseling your way into another strange corner of the townhouse, but he would find you anyway.