#so I’m catching up on some downtime things I hadn’t done before

[crybaby-bkg]

I’m so sad I was so sure I was gonna get all As this semester but it’s looking like I’ll still end up with one B 😭😭😭😭😭

[rollinouttahere-writes]

could I have a dark chocolate number 7 with Nico Robin?. Thank you

I just had to get the Robin request I had done today since it's her birthday

Yandere Robin x GN!Reader

1k words

Prompt:

I’ll be right back, I have to go take care of something.

Robin adores these moments.

Being able to enjoy a quiet moment without fear is a gift in and of itself. Being able to do so in your company? Priceless. She wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The Thousand Sunny was currently docked at a new island, and you two decided to spend some precious downtime at a local cafe after checking out a bookstore. Both of you were silently enjoying each other’s company while reading your respective finds. Words weren’t necessary during times like these. 

Nothing could ruin this.

The door to the cafe chimed as a new customer walked in. Instinctively, Robin spared a glance to see who it was. Such vigilance was a force of habit at this point in her life, one she doubted would go away anytime soon, if ever. Her grip on the book tightened when she noticed who it was.

She hadn’t caught the pest’s name yet, and frankly she didn’t care to. She had encountered him at the aforementioned bookstore when he decided that you were simply the most attractive person he’d ever seen- the one thing they could agree on- and incessantly hit on you until you two were able to sneak out a side door when he wasn’t looking. 

Was it a coincidence that he came here too, or was he now adding stalking to his list of undesirable traits?

Robin’s stiff demeanor managed to catch your attention, “Is everything alright, you look- Oh.” Your eyes followed her own and spotted the problem. You abruptly lifted your book so that it was covering your face, “Maybe if we keep our heads down he won’t see us.”

“Oh hey, fancy seeing you here!”

Shit. So much for your idea.

The nuisance confidently strolled up to the table, zeroing in on you while ignoring Robin. You cringed away as he sidled right up to you; not quite invading your personal space yet, but not far off from doing so either. 

“Yeah, what a coincidence,” you said flatly, not looking away from your book.

Undeterred by your response, he keeps talking, “How about I join you? We can finish-”

“Don’t, just leave.” If you were going to be too polite to tell this prick off, then Robin would take the reins. She had no problem telling some creep that can’t take a hint to piss off. The man gawked at her, taken aback to be getting told off. Robin continued, “They couldn’t be more obviously disinterested in you, get over yourself.”

“I didn’t ask you, I don’t care what you think.” He was positively seething, a vein in his forehead throbbed out.

“She’s right.” His head whipped back to you as you spoke up. “I’m with her. I’m not interested in getting to know you.”

The pest looked so mad that Robin was readying herself to defend you in case he lashed out. After a tense pause, his arm shot out and knocked your books off the table and then he immediately turned to run away from the situation like a coward. But not before spitting out a few absolutely vile words in your direction.

Robin was not about to let that slide. She stood up so harshly that her chair almost toppled over from the force, “I’ll be right back, I have to go take care of something.” 

She started to pursue him, but was stopped by a hand pulling on her skirt. You were on the floor picking up your fallen books and gave her a pleading look, “Don’t. He isn’t worth the effort, just let it go. I’m fine, really.”

Nothing about what just happened was “fine”. Robin herself had a thick skin and didn’t let anything she deemed important get to her. This was important. No one was allowed to treat or speak to you that way. Unfortunately, it seemed you disagreed with that sentiment. Every time she put someone in their place in your honor you would try to stop her and insist that she was being too extreme.

She wanted to go after him… but she also didn’t want to upset you. With a heavy sigh to settle her nerves, she knelt down to help you pick up the rest of your books, “You’re right. He doesn’t matter.” The relief on your face was palpable, and Robin cherished the sweet smile that graced your face after.

Now that the annoying scene was done and over with, both of you settled back into your respective seats to resume as you were before. While you happily dug back into your book, Robin reopened her own. She wasn’t reading it, however.

Using her devil fruit, she spawned eyes around the building. It didn’t take long to find that piece of shit who had dared to impose upon you. He was still close to the building, kicking over some boxes in an alleyway. Robin couldn’t hear what was being said, but with how much his lips were flapping she doubted it was anything she wanted to be aware of.

It would seem his little temper tantrum wore him out. He leaned against the wall of the building, running a hand through his hair as his chest heaved from anger and exertion. A smirk tugged at Robin’s lips when the man began to panic as several arms came out of the wall and grabbed him. A hand clamped over his mouth to keep him from calling for help as two more hands gripped his head. 

A satisfying snap could be felt as she violently twisted his head to one side. He fell limp to the filthy ground of the alley like the despicable trash he was. Robin pulled a tarp over him so as to avoid you potentially spotting him on the way back to the Thousand Sunny. It would be a shame to upset you when you were having such a nice day together up to this point.

Content that the problem was taken care of, Robin dismissed her extra appendages and refocused on the present. You were casually sipping from your drink while turning the page of your book, not having an inkling as to what just transpired outside.

Robin smiled, then properly began reading her own. Today was just perfect.

[oharapussy]

“lyla, what does miguel want for his birthday?”

another spiderdads x reader fic, this time miguel’s birthday 🙏🏼🙏🏼

as always minors dni!

“lyla, what does miguel want for his birthday?” you asked, her tiny frame facing her back to you.

peter had sent you on this mission weeks before, knowing you wouldn’t crack miguel so easily. he was a private person: he wouldn’t like a party, or any big show of it. each time you asked him, he shrugged you off, as if there wasn’t time to entertain such a question. lyla was perhaps the only one who would know, and as she was constantly, silently, conspiring against him, she took great pleasure in what you had asked.

“miguel was very intentional in how i was programmed,” she pouted. “i’m not supposed to entertain those kinds of questions.”

“come on,” you pressed, curious. she rolled her eyes, screens instantly materializing around her.

“i’ll cross-reference his search history on his downtime with his online shopping carts,” she said, tapping away. “he doesn’t keep these private from m-“

oh.

you both instantly froze at what appeared on the screens, both video and text.

“guy pegged with strap-on”

“girl and guy tagteam friend”

“brunette top fucks bear stupid”

“best vibrators for beginner anal play”

oh my fucking god.

“well… there you go,” lyla said, flickering away in an instant, leaving you in the darkness of your office.

you weren’t sure what to tell peter.

—

miguel came back from the gym late at night, beads of sweat still trickling at his hairline. discarding his things at the kitchen counter, he made his way to his bedroom. a mix of curiosity and lust bubbled in his stomach: you both had been dropping hints at him all day. it had started with a pair of panties lazily hanging against his desk, building up to the new, state-of-the-art vibrator now lying on his bed, still in its packaging.

taking him by surprise, you wrapped your arms around his waist, kissing his neck. peter followed, holding his jaw and pulling him into a kiss, full and long. he whined softly against the attack, almost melting against the touch.

“happy birthday, migi,” peter said, smiling into the kiss. in a swift move, he pushed miguel against the bed, his cock already hard and twitching in his sweats. “now take your fucking pants off.”

with your help, his dick burst from his pants within a few seconds, his tip wet, desperate to fuck something.

“god, you’re pathetic, already so fucking hard for us, baby,” you teased. he twitched at the insult, hips grinding against nothing. “well, what do you say? want us to fuck you dumb, honey?”

“please,” he whined. the poor thing had been in charge for so long, he hardly knew how to be so submissive.

peter sat with his back against the bed’s headboard, legs wide to accommodate miguel’s broad shoulders. he let out soft moans as miguel reached ever-closer to the base of his cock, gasping against the new pressure in his throat. peter’s hands were in the tangle of his hair, calling him pretty names all the while. from behind, you had finally worked the strap around your hips.

“how bad do you want this dick?” you bullied, grinding it into his thigh. reaching in front, you circled the tip of his dick with his fingers, really getting him going.

“just fuck me already, mamí, please,” he cried out, pulling his mouth from peter. he bucked his hips backward, almost trying to catch your tip.

steadying his hips with your hands, you pushed into his hole, causing him to cry out with such an intensity, you feared you would wake his neighbors. kissing his wide back, you rubbed his stomach, helping him accommodate the size, before beginning to pump it inside him.

the rutting motion caused him to sink deeper onto peter, making both the men gasp and whine in a way that you had never seen before. why hadn’t you done this sooner?

“good boy, honey,” peter managed, looking at how close he was, highly-evident in his face.

blissed out of his mind, he came some moments later, cock weeping and grinding into the sheets for relief. pushing him past it, you began to hit that sweet spot inside him even harder. you didn’t think it was possible for someone to cum so much. by the end, he was a complete whimpering mess, only capable of begging to be fucked.

[chanfictions]

Shadow Clones

Part 1 - Chidori

Kakashi x Reader

Here by popular request is the sequel to Chidori.

18+ Content! Minors, DNI!

All of the fun you might imagine one would have in the bedroom with shadow clones. No spoilers this time 🙃.

"Let's play a little game. Can you figure out which of us is the real one?"

3.1k

With a yawning sigh, you stretched exaggeratedly, popping your tired back in a few places as you meandered down the hallway leading to your favorite person's apartment. After a long week of back to back missions, you were ready for some leisurely downtime and some much needed stress relief. Prior to your last mission, you had made plans to have dinner with Kakashi at his place tonight. He sounded quite excited about the idea and went on about how he was going to whip up something very special for you. Despite your best attempts at twisting the information out of him with your sexiest interrogation methods, he remained tight-lipped about it, only smirking from behind that damn mask with a coy hint of, "It's a surprise."

You finally reached his door with a wide grin spreading across your face as you flipped his key into your hand and let yourself in. Tucking the little ninja-hound keychain away in your pocket, you pulled the door shut behind you with a solid click. "Kakashi? I'm back!" You called out into the seemingly empty apartment. Confusion washed over you, as there was no delightful scent of dinner brewing in the kitchen, nor was there any sign that he was even home. Wondering if he had been sent on a last minute mission, you kicked off your shoes at the door and took a peek around the eerily quiet apartment. Your heart dropped for a moment, thinking that maybe he just forgot.

As you peered around the frame of the hallway, you yelped in surprise as a pair of arms coiled around your waist, and a familiar voice hummed in your ear, and familiar lips planted a kiss on your temple. "Hi, kitten."

Squeaking still from the shock of being startled, you whirled around and gave him a playful thump to the chest with a half closed fist as a laugh bubbled from your mouth. "Damnit, Kakashi! One of these days you're going to sneak up on me when I'm tired and you're going to end up stabbed."

He smirked down at you, taking hold of your wrist and giving your knuckles a light kiss. "It's cute that you think you're faster than I am," he teased.

"It's cute that you think I'm so delicate that I couldn't take you in a fight," you taunted back playfully, sticking your tongue out at him.

"Are you sure about that?" Kakashi’s voice chirped from behind you, breath fanning your neck as he placed a kiss just below your jaw.

For half a second, you let out a happy little sigh and melted into the touch. He knew what a sucker you were for that. Then your eyes snapped open, staring up at the far-too-smug-looking Kakashi in front of you. Your overly tired brain entirely malfunctioned. That was impossible, because he was behind you. Who was behind you?? With a high squeak, you spun around again, your back pressing firmly against Kakashi’s chest as you jumped back in surprise. It was still Kakashi’s smug mug staring back at you.

"Hi, kitten," the second said with a cool smirk.

Your eyes widened as it dawned on you that your drunken conversation with Jiraiya was about to come back and bite you for a second time. Oh, shit. He didn't forget about that. After your Chidori-fueled night of fun last week, Kakashi hadn't brought up your steamy little comment to that raunchy old smut machine regarding what else could be done with shadow clones outside the field of battle.

The Kakashi behind you curled his arms around your waist, leaning down to nibble at your neck just as the other one had. "Something the matter?" His inquiry floated so casually into your ear as those lips left nips and bites along your neck.

Caught between a nervous squeak and a moan, your brain was struggling to process that he was both kissing and staring smugly at you right now. "Uh, babe? You know I'm not a sensory type," you bit your lip to contain a breathy gasp as the one behind you ran a hand up your torso.

"Your point?" The one in front of you stepped forward, tipping your chin up to kiss you with the same lips you felt on your neck.

Your cheeks burned with a rush of heat over the embarrassing confusion surrounding your current predicament. A fluttering sensation replaced your heart beat, and a needy heat began to soak your panties. This was insane. "I, um, c-caan't -- teh-heelll which of y-you is the clone," you stammered weakly as the one in front of you grazed your inner thigh with his fingers. Hands were everywhere. It was a struggle to discern who they were attached to without looking. From what you could tell, the one kissing your neck slid warm palms up into your shirt while the other casually popped a button on the front of your pants.

"Let's play a little game, then. If you can figure out which of us is the real one, we'll give you a prize," he murmured from behind you as his rough palms slid under your bra.

"--but, there's a little catch. You see, if you can't figure it out, well, we're just going to have to punish you. That shouldn't be a problem, though. Surely a skilled shinobi like you can figure out who your boyfriend is, right?" The one standing in front of you grasped your chin softly, pointing your flushed gaze up at the tilted lips and coolly amused eyes staring back at you.

He planned this, that foxy jerk. You swallowed hard as a confused wave of arousal crashed over your body. Being the center of a Kakashi sandwich left you struggling to gather the words tangled upon your tongue. Your clothes were falling off at an alarming rate and you found yourself slowly being walked into his bedroom between the two of them. As the one behind you left you gasping with playful pulls and pinches of your nipples, the other was making swift work of the various fasteners on your clothes. "Mmm, define… punish," you breathed, biting your lip while running your hands up the solid chest in front of you, nearly losing your train of thought as a hand slid up your thigh, teasing you through your soaked panties. You felt someone's arousal pressing firmly against your ass. They were both solid. Figuring out who was who seemed impossible.

"Hmmm… maybe we won't tell you and that can be a surprise as well," the one in front of you mused, ghosting your throbbing clit through fabric.

"Who knows? It might end up being fun," the other teased, leaving hot kisses along your jaw.

A needy whine escaped your parted lips as you arched your hips into the hand teasing you through that silky material while working on undressing the Kakashi in front of you, tossing things aside as you went. Their combined efforts left you extremely distracted. Two identical pairs of hands roamed your body, caressing every inch of your skin. A little moan hissed through your teeth as one left biting brands on your neck and kneaded your breasts while the other swallowed your breathy sounds in hungry kisses while teasing you mercilessly through your silk panties, leaving your body pulsing with a lusty ache. Their respective arousals jabbed into either side of you, leaving you wiggling your hips suggestively against them to get them to elicit echoing groans. Hearing Kakashi hum in stereo like that was oddly satisfying.

You squeaked in surprise when you suddenly found yourself falling backwards, as the Kakashi behind you had maneuvered you towards the bed while they distracted you with the panty soaking flurry of hands covering your body. Still with that smug smirk plastered to his face, the one in front of you made swift work of the last article of clothing you had left. Shirts flew casually across the room, and you were flipped over to face one of the two smug, foxy bastards. Biting your lip, you slid one hand up his chest while unbuttoning his pants with the other, giving your hips a playful waggle at the Kakashi that was still on his feet.

A chuckle hummed behind you as that Kakashi shed the last of his clothes, pressing a palm on your lower back and sliding fingers through your slick folds. "Did you want something, kitten?" He inquired coolly, a smile curling at the corner of his lips.

A flush crept across your cheeks as the arousal in front of you sprung free from its cloth confines, in disbelief that you were doing something like this. "I--"

He didn't give you a chance to fully answer that and just slid two fingers into your soaking core, leaving you gasping and grinding yourself into his touch while his counterpart took a fistful of your hair, taking control of your head. "Have you figured it out yet?"

Your back arched, and you mewled as the fingers working your throbbing clit brought you ever closer to the edge. The hot knot of light in your core intensified, stealing your ability to concentrate enough to form words. "Nnnnn," you buzzed, trying to collect yourself and failing miserably.

"I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that," the voice behind you hummed, now masterfully strumming your clit to a beat that left you gasping for air, stealing your words from you. The only sound you could produce was a quivering whine as his skillful fingertips let up enough just in time to leave you hanging.

With a pathetic whimper, you rolled your hips back into him. "Nnneed more data," you choked out, licking your lips while wrapping your hand around the delicious cock staring you in the face. You swirled your tongue around the tip. Even the taste was real.

They chuckled in unison before delving into your eager body - from behind, sliding achingly slowly into your throbbing core, stretching your walls around a delicious girth, and from the front, pressing your hungry lips down around the meaty arousal that had been twitching in wait by the grip one had on your hair. You groaned loudly around the thickness competing for space in your throat with air as he simultaneously rutted into you from behind. A chorus of contented sounds chimed from all three of you. "Come on, kitten. Surely you have a guess by now," the one behind you murmured huskily as the sound of chirping birds began to echo through the room.

You squealed around the obstruction in your mouth, struggling against the hand pressing your head down as little bolts of lightning struck in thousands of hot, tiny points around your clit, putting a wild arch in your back. You fell down on one elbow, letting out a cry of ecstasy as the surprise onslaught hurled you into oblivion. Your walls clenched and fluttered around the nigh perfect cock railing you from behind. Choking and sputtering, the hand in your hair pulled you up with a lewd pop as the wails of a soul crushing orgasm rang from your chest. A thumb smeared drool across your cheek with quiet laughter vibrating through his body into yours. "Well?"

"Fuuu-huuuck, K-kakaaa-haashiiii!" All you could do was let loose your pleasure-drunk cry into the ceiling as your legs trembled uncontrollably under the electric ministrations that set every nerve in your body ablaze. Muscles contracted involuntarily, leaving you strangling the cock stuffing your soaked pussy with an impossibly tight grip. With a guttural groan, the one behind you dug fingers into your hips roughly, fucking you hard through your unintelligible screaming before abruptly sliding out of you to ease you forward into the waiting grasp of his double like a twisted game of hot potato. You were impaled again, this time by the one beneath you who stifled your surprised moan by pressing your face into his neck. You gasped and stammered at the army of hands moving across your body, still fluttering wildly from that first charged orgasm.

"Do you remember exactly what you told Jiraiya the night you spilled all of your dirty little secrets?" One of them whispered in your ear, though it was difficult to discern the source over your panting.

"Oh, fuck," you whined into the solid chest below you. Of course, you remembered what you told that pervy traitor.

"Say it," they goaded, hands exploring every inch of you while never ceasing the pounding that was sending you into orbit.

You mewled softly, biting your lip to stifle your embarrassment. Heat flushed your cheeks and melded with the broiling sweat that began to slick your body. You wanted to feel both of them inside of your little vice of a pussy. That's what they wanted to hear. They wanted you to tell them that you loved his cock so much that you wanted to be stuffed with it twice. Your face flamed as you struggled to arrange a sentence in your head, but the little tag team duo was making that task incredibly difficult. Hands climbed your front and back, grasping your ass and tangling in your hair. Mouths on your neck, their breathing echoed in surround sound. The cock buried within you left you hungry for more, though you could hardly wrap your preoccupied mind around the logistics. "Please," you breathed against his neck, grinding your hips against his. "I… I want you both -- n-need you both," you whimpered pathetically.

The movements slowed to a halt, leaving you aching for friction as a quiet complaint breezed from your lips. "Such a good girl for us," a voice hummed from behind as you felt another tip sliding through your folds, teasing your already stuffed pussy. The skin strained against the second dribbling tip that was slowly making room for itself as you let out a pained little cry into the solid chest below you. They crooned to and praised you in unison as the second cock slowly worked its way into you. A rush of comforting hands moved across your neck, cradling and kissing your face. Another warm body pressed against you from behind. The beating of their hearts through their chests almost seemed synchronized as the second fully sheathed himself, leaving you moaning and clawing at the chest beneath you, overwhelmed and speechless at the absolute feeling of fullness that was the center of your existence.

"Please," you begged desperately, rolling your hips and hissing a lewd groan into their ears, nipping and biting the shoulder below you, urging them into action. A hand from behind you smothered your own, lacing his fingers around yours as the roller coaster ride of your life began that left you screaming into the abyss.

Two cocks. Two Kakashis. You could barely handle one of him. Seeing double left you drunk on your own cries of ecstasy as they pounded your sopping pussy, threatening to make the bed punch holes in the wall behind the headboard, leaving the frame groaning in protest under the songs of your wails. Your ears rang as the world around you vanished, leaving just you with your game of Guess Who: Kakashi Edition. You had all but thrown that idea out the window as you were now convinced that there had been two of him all along and this was just an elaborate setup. Teeth gnashing, you tangled your fingers into tufts of thick, silver hair as your body shuddered in time with their thrusts. A heat unlike you had ever felt before mounted rapidly in your core, leaving your jaw trembling and toes curling as a raspy hellcry readied itself in your chest. Your walls clenched almost painfully around the pair of cocks fucking the sense out of you. Your clit throbbed. Your thighs ached. That boiling heat built until you unleashed a banshee wail that had to be stifled by one of the four hands climbing your body to spare the neighborhood of the details. You creamed on their cocks, soaking them in your essence as your eyes rolled back into your head, as if your soul just left your body.

"Fuck--" they growled in unison, their grips on your sweat-soaked body tightening as your wrecked little pussy pulsed around them in intense waves. One stifled the chaotic sounds of your release, pressing your face into the neck of his counterpart.

Overstimulated and gasping for air, your hips bucked between them, almost unable to handle the onslaught of pleasure tearing you apart. Your face tingled as every muscle in your body contracted in sync with their motion, leaving you breathless and teetering on the edge of passing out. The sounds of their groaning and hissing your name in stereo filled your head. Lips and teeth grazed your neck as the frenzied pace quickened. You were deaf to the sounds of your own screaming as you flew off into space with them. Two final, wild thrusts tossed your body about like you were nothing but a doll. The moaning cry of overwhelming pleasure that escaped your throat came in unison with the intense heat that filled you as they delved into you to a seemingly impossible depth and painted your insides white.

Time slowed as you struggled to make sense of what your name even was as they rolled to the side with you, murmuring soft hums of praise as they slid carefully from your spent pussy and their collective essence seeped from you. Arms encircled you from both sides, pressing your incredible fatigued body between theirs in a mirrored tangle of limbs as you fought to catch your breath. The panting devolved into little bouts of giggling as you nestled yourself firmly into the delightful embrace of your Kakashi sandwich.

"Well?" They hummed in unison, smirking at you while brushing sweaty hair from your face and rubbing soothing lines up your arms.

"I have noooo idea," you giggled in tired defeat, rolling back slightly to gaze between their mirrored, amused expressions.

A voice from the door cut through the sounds of your panting and giggling gasps of fatigue. "Hi, kitten."

You squeaked in surprise, sitting up abruptly from in between the pair lounging smugly on either side of you. "B-babe?"

With a sly smirk, he unfolded his arms and strode into the room. "So, you started without me, I see."

Your eyes widened and your voice rapidly climbed into a shrill new register. "S-started?" You stammered, eyes rapidly darting between the three of them.

Chuckling in that soft, cool tone, his eyes locked onto yours as he casually unbuttoned his shirt and walked toward you. "That is what I said. You still haven't figured out which of us is the real one, am I correct?"

With wide eyes and another squeaky whine, you swallowed hard and bit your lip in excitement.

You were in for a long night.

[missymurphy1985]

The Dressing Room (Cillian Murphy one shot)

Warning - smut

A/N - Cillian is performing onstage in Grief is the Thing With Feathers.. He has no wife or children here, he's just a carefree bachelor 😉

Request? Yes

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni @heidimoreton

It was 9pm by the time you'd arrived at the back doors of the Gaiety in Dublin, hoping to catch a glimpse of him as he left the theatre and hopefully get your copy of Grief signed. You had tickets to see the play the following night - opening night - tonights show was just a warm up. You knew he normally left the theatre after the curtain call, avoiding the crowd at the front and never having a drink after a show with the crew. Tonight however, seemed to be the one night he didn't leave on schedule...

You checked your watch - 9:30pm. It was the middle of October and my god you were freezing, but you knew if you left now he'd come out... Just another ten minutes...

9:55pm.

10:15pm.

Your fingers were so cold, you couldn't feel them anymore. Your feet were like blocks of ice at the end of your legs. Looking around, you could hear the throng of people at the front of the building start to quieten - they were clearly moving on too. Your bladder was screaming at you - you knew that last cup of coffee on the train was a bad idea....

You were regretting your decision massively. The only reason you came tonight was because it would be quieter than tomorrow - just a warm up show for close friends and family. Obviously he had decided to stay behind for a while, or maybe he'd left through the main entrance... Fuck it. Wrapping your coat around you, you turned to leave before you finally heard the back door open. Turning, you saw him. Wrapped up in a long tan coloured scarf and beanie hat, but it was undoubtedly him. He spotted you with your book and pen and you definitely saw him sigh and roll his eyes.

"Cillian, I'm sorry I just - "

"Come back tomorrow night and I'll sign whatever you want me to sign," he huffed, turning his back on you and walking towards the car park.

"Are you fucking serious?" You almost laughed, looking to the night sky.

"What did you say?" Shit, you said that louder than you thought...

"I said - are you serious... I've been stood here for nearly two hours waiting for you, desperate for a wee, freezing my fucking arse off, and all you can tell me is to come back tomorrow? The self-proclaimed nice guy of Hollywood huh, not so nice are you? All I wanted was a fucking autograph.." You turned on your heel shaking your head and walked away.

"Hey! I never said I wouldn't sign it, I said I'd sign it tomorrow! Jesus... Some sense of fucking entitlement huh?"

"Fuck you, Cillian." Your angry eyes met his stunned ones for a moment, before you turned around and walked away.

**************************************************************

The following evening, after a lot of angry discussions with yourself in your head, scolding yourself for acting like a spoilt, entitled brat, you finally decided that the train ride and hotel booking was worth more than your pride. You'd arrived at the theatre with your tail between your legs, hoping he hadn't prewarned the staff about the psycho girl with red hair and banned you from the theatre....

Fortunately nothing happened. You watched the show in awe, his performance was utterly mesmerising... And it was easy to understand why he looked so exhausted the night before - my god the man barely stopped to take a breath!! You felt so guilty.. the thought of asking him to sign anything right now was absolutely terrifying, so you decided not to bother... Picking up your bag after curtain call, you made your way back into the foyer when there was a sudden tap on your shoulder. Turning around, one of the stewards was smiling at you.

"Miss? Were you at the stage door behind the building around 11pm last night?"

"Um... Yes... I know I wasn't supposed to be there and it won't happen again -"

"Could you come with me please?"

You panicked - you knew it was trespassing... He led you back into the theatre and up through the stage into the backstage area. Your hands were so shaky, the panic coursing through you, when your eyes suddenly made sense of where you were - the large door in front of you with Dressing Room clearly emblazoned across it...

The steward knocked, and a thick Irish brogue called him in. He opened the door and ushered you inside before you could protest. Sat on the couch was Cillian, his makeup freshly removed and he was back in his normal clothes again. On the table in front of him was a bottle of rum.

"I owe you an apology... What's your name?" he looked up at you and smiled, offering you a glass.

"I'm sorry, what the fuck?" You asked, looking at him like he'd grown an extra head.

"I was an ass last night - figured one drink with me and an autograph might soften the blow a little?"

He offered you the glass again and you took it. He clinked his glass against yours and knocked the rum back in one, you did the same. Rum wasn't your normal beverage of choice but it'd do for now. He poured a second glass each for you and you sipped this one.

"Haven't eaten since lunchtime - this is gonna go straight to my head," you laughed.

The two of you chatted - over an hour had gone by before either of you noticing. You were sat on the couch side by side as he continued to top your glass up. Now and again your hands would meet, or legs brush up against each other, and you swore you saw him bite his lip and smile every single time... Was he flirting with you?

"Don't you have somewhere you need to be?" You asked after a short pause.

"Everyone thinks I've already gone, only the steward knows I'm here. This is where I was last night - hiding. Pretty sad huh?" His words were definitely slower now the rum had kicked in.

"Not really - it's an intense show, needing some downtime on your own isn't a bad thing?" You were definitely slurring your words a little, trying hard not to be a complete lightweight and failing miserably.

"I owe you an autograph..." His blue eyes met yours, another lip bite... You felt your stomach knot...

"Yes you do..." You had to squeeze your thighs together to suppress the sudden ache you felt between them, his eyes were seeing into your soul, you could feel them burning into you.

"And where would you like me to sign?" You reached into your bag and groaned - you hadn't brought the book... You hadn't brought anything... A thought entered your head... And you'd had just about enough rum to ask for it...

"Ever had a tattoo of your autograph done before?" You asked him. He shook his head.

"Nope. So you want me to sign your arm?" You shook your head.

"Leg?"

"No."

"Back?"

"No..."

"Then where?" You unbuttoned your blouse from the neck down, his eyes widening with each loosened button. You stopped unbuttoning once you reached your cleavage, pulling the shirt off one shoulder to hang by your elbow. You tapped on your collarbone.

"Maybe a quote from the okay, written across here, and your autograph underneath?" His eyes covered your chest, following your finger as you traced a line over your collarbone.

"Uh... Yeah, yeah I can do that... Let me grab a pen..." He grabbed one from the desk, and came back, kneeling on the floor between your legs as he tried to figure out the best angle to get at your skin without smudging it... Or touching something inappropriate...

"This is tricky... Can you lay down?" He asked, and you lay on the couch - your blouse hanging further down now exposing the black lace bra underneath. He cleared his throat and focussed on your future tattoo. It was impossible to write it without laying his right arm directly on top of your breast, and his left hand holding the skin on the right side of your chest tight, just above your right breast. Once he'd decided the right quote, he set to work, his right arm brushing across your nipple as it moved, sending vibrations and shockwaves through you. You couldn't help but feel the dampness between your thighs, and you had no control over how deep your breathing suddenly became and your eyes fluttering closed at the sensations.

"Enjoying yourself?" He asked, watching your thighs clenching.

"Mhmm.."

"What is it you're enjoying, exactly?" He moved his arm again, brushing over your breast.

"Mm... That... Do it again.."

"This?" His fingers traced over your left breast at the tip, circling the skin softly, tracing slightly under the material of your bra.

"Yes..."

"I can't get all the way across your collarbone... Your bra strap's in my way.." he whispered, and you arched your back as he reached a hand underneath your blouse, pinging the clasp skilfully. You pulled your arm out of the sleeve and he pulled the bra strap down over your hand, lifting it off your chest. Your left breast fully exposed now, and your left hand resting on your abdomen, scraping your nails over it, so tempted to run it down over your core that was now desperately throbbing, aching for attention. He looked down at your hand, and smiled.

You bit your lip as he stretched the skin again, setting back to work. He knelt closer to you, he was hovering over your chest now and you felt something digging into your right arm. Shifting slightly, his obvious erection was directly underneath your forearm. You bit your lip, and moved your arm so it was rubbing against it, making his hand slip, a deep groan emitting from his lips.

"I need your name..." He moved his mouth to your ear, the pen gone and his hand cupping your left breast, "Need to know what name I'm calling as I bend you over this sofa..." You gasped as his lips met your earlobe, his fingers squeezed your breast, moving down over your abdomen and under your jeans. His eyes met yours, looking for permission. You nodded, telling him your name.

"Y/n... If you don't tell me to stop now, there's no going back..."

"Don't you fucking dare." That was all he needed to hear. He stood, moving to the door and locking it, turning back to find you also standing. His body met yours, lips crashing together as your hands raked through his hair, tugging at the strands. He lifted you off the floor, your legs wrapping round his waist as he carried you to the wall, pinning you against it. You could feel his erection pressing into you through your clothes, which he soon began to remove quickly. You stood bare in front of him, as his fingers moved between your legs, tapping the inside of your thigh to open them. You lifted one leg in the air, hooked under your elbow, as his fingers teased you.

"No playing... Need you inside me now, please..." You gasped, as he unzipped his jeans allowing them to fall to the ground. Your hand quickly slipped inside his boxer shorts, gripping the shaft of his erection and moving your hand up and down making his hips buck. You removed your hand, only to pull the shorts down to meet his jeans on the floor around his ankles. Lifting your body, he wrapped your legs around his waist and lined himself against your slick opening, pushing inside you slowly as you both let out primal, deep groans.

"Holy shit.. so deep, Cillian fuck..." Your breath caught in your throat as he bottomed out, his lips quickly capturing yours in a heated exchange, you hands digging into his shoulders as he began to thrust up into you. You rotated your hips as much as you could to meet his thrusts, soon stopping when his desire took over and he increased the force and pace of them.

"You feel so good.. clamping that hot little pussy around me... You gonna cum for me y/n?"

"You're gonna have to do better than that Murphy..." You smirked, biting your lip, hoping he was about to make good his threat of the sofa...

Within seconds he had you there. Your upper body bent over the back of the couch as he pounded into you from behind.

"Harder... Harder!!" You begged, your orgasm so close it was almost painful. You could hear him panting behind you, his cock pulsing and throbbing deep within you and you knew he was as close as you were.

His hand reached over your back, and gripped your long red hair - pulling it back, setting you on fire. The coil in your abdomen exploded, your core erupting with the most powerful orgasm you'd ever had.

"Fuck yes... Fuck.. yes... Y/n, fuck..." He grunted behind you feeling your walls contracting around him, before releasing his load deep into you, your name on repeat as he came.

He skilfully turned you whilst remaining inside, hoisting you up so your legs were round his waist again. You rested your head against his shoulder as he carried you to the couch, sitting down with you still in his arms, his cock still inside softening.

"That was something else..." He panted, stroking your back and neck.

"That was amazing..."

"Am I forgiven?"

"Hmm... More work needed." He pulled you back and grinned.

"So what do I have to do to earn your full forgiveness?" You grinded your hips against him and nudged his nose with yours. He bit his lip and felt himself hardening again inside you. Your hips rotated on him, squeezing your walls around him, edging him back to full erection deep within you.

"You gonna ride me?"

"I'm gonna ride you so fucking hard..." You moved his hands to your breasts, leaning back to give him full access to them and bounced like your life depended on it. He squeezed your nipples under his fingers, watching your soaked core devour his cock, bouncing on it.

"That's it... That's it..." You gasped as he moved his hand down to rub your clit under his thumb as your hips rocked against him, your hands resting on his knees behind you.

"You like that? My fingers rubbing your clit while you ride me?" His voice was like velvet against your ears, his words edging you closer. He pressed your clit with his thumb harder, his other hand rolling your breast under his palm, squeezing the flesh.

"Please... Oh fuck I'm gonna cum Cillian..."

"Let it go, I've got you baby.." your core throbbed as your orgasm swamped you, taking him with you as he threw his head back against the sofa, filling you up a second time. Both of you panting against each other again as you came down from your climaxes.

"Fuck me... I have to be forgiven now..."

"Getting there," you smiled, pulling your body off his and grabbing your clothes off the floor. You pulled out a notepad and pen, writing something down and stuffing it in his jeans pocket on the floor. You dressed quickly, his eyes watching your every move.

"Leaving already?"

"My phone number is in your jeans pocket. Call me if you're in town again?" He smiled and nodded, promising to take you up on the offer. You leaned over him, stealing one more kiss, before heading out the door.

**************************************************************

Your phone buzzing on your bedside table woke you the following morning. A number you didn't recognise calling you. Answering it groggily, the voice suddenly woke you up with a start.

"I still owe you an autograph."

[kakashiswilloffire]

hey friend! i saw you are taking requests and would love to submit one if you're up for it!

would love something fluffy and sweet for kakashi. maybe some lazy day off shenanigans with his s/o and his ninken? bonus points if snuggling in a dog pile is involved at some point. reader can be gender neutral.

thanks and congrats on 100!

thank you so much!! i'm not really a dog person so i struggled a bit but i hope you enjoy!!

ao3

words: 2.4k

warnings: none!

It was the first day off you had both had in nearly a month. Team 7 kept Kakashi busy, if not with missions, then with training all day. On top of that, he was still in the on-call rotation all jonin were required to keep their names in, though his shifts were less frequent due to his status as a sensei. You had recently been promoted, and with that, your responsibilities were upped and you had been asked to step in for one of your colleagues who had recently run into some unexpected health issues. The time you had been able to share at home together had been limited to early mornings and late evenings, and frequently, there had been nights where the apartment you shared had remained empty entirely. Your fiancé had been counting down the days until your schedules finally overlapped, and you had exactly twenty-six hours in which you both had no obligation to the outside world.

You were awoken by the fire alarm screeching and a handful of swear words, followed by a crunching of plastic and sudden silence. Gaze flickering to the side, you noted Kakashi’s two-thirds of the bed empty and grinned, holding back a chuckle.

“Everything alright, babe?” you called out.

The reply came with an air of resignment. “Did I wake you up?”

You brought your arms over your head, feeling your joints re-align and pop lightly as you stretched.

“Not necessarily, unless you need help cleaning up?”

“No!” He replied quickly, and you heard the broom skitter across the tiles, dragging the remains of the smoke detector with it. “Go ahead and go back to sleep, I’ll come wake you later.”

Not one to deny the opportunity to rest after how late you’d gotten in last night, you snuggled back into your pillow with a small smile. It only took a moment before you were drifting off again, although not as deeply as you had been. You were dimly aware of the sound of teapot being filled, the burnt toast smell wafting through the open door, and your fiance’s graceful footsteps as he danced through the kitchen.

Wait.

Danced?

You raised your head up slightly, freeing both ears to focus on the sound of the Copy Ninja’s footsteps. His weight wasn’t distributing evenly on each step and the pattern of his footfalls was irregular. Bringing yourself to a sitting position, you suddenly realized that he was humming absentmindedly in the small kitchen.

Kakashi was not known for his stoicism, but the level of professionalism he established outside of the copy of Icha Icha attached to his palm was carefully maintained even in his downtime. When you went out together for dinner or drinks with friends, he told few jokes and mostly at Genma or Asuma’s expense. Gai’s repeated challenges to karaoke contests, both in locations with and without a karaoke machine, had always been flatly denied in favor of watching you and Kurenai choose the heartbreaker duet of the week to belt out. When you found yourself at the rare club, it only took light coaxing to bring him onto the dance floor with you, but anything more than swaying to the beat was out of the question. As long as he was having fun, you didn’t mind him not joining in the way the others teased him to do, but you had wished that he would be able to let go of his responsibilities long enough to really enjoy himself one day.

You slinked out of bed, keeping your movements as fluid as possible as you wrapped the comforter over your shoulders. As silently as you could move, you travelled into the hallway and through the living room, the smell of something acrid and burnt slowly getting stronger. You flattened yourself parallel to the wall, though not touching it to prevent the noise of the comforter dragging along, once you approached the doorway to the kitchen. He was certainly humming, and you couldn’t repress a grin, realizing he must be nearly skipping from the counter to the pantry from the way he moved. As slowly as you could, despite your excitement, you leaned around the corner to check on the man in the kitchen.

Kakashi was wearing boxers and a binder, his most comfortable outfit when secure inside your shared home. To your delight, he had chosen one of the binders without a mask attached, and you had a clear view of the slightly silly grin plastering his face as he shifted intermittently from humming to light, mumbled singing, punctuated by murmuring the ingredients he was using as he reached for them. He was stationed at the stove, stirring a medium pot and tasting from it in between verses of his song, reaching for more salt or minced garlic to adjust. He closed his eyes, bobbing his head side to side at a line he took a particular interest in, the morning sunlight catching glints of silver in his messy hair.

Taking advantage of his eyes being shut, you whipped back around the doorway into the living room, quickly tiptoeing away. You were so in love, and so happy to see him carefree, your mouth fell open in a silent scream and your hands, corners of the comforter still held in each, flew to your face.

You had to tell someone. No one would ever believe that Kakashi Hatake, master of a thousand jutsu, could be so sweet and cute behind the former ANBU exterior. Quickly, you crouched to the floor, abandoned the comforter, and made the required handsigns, pausing for a moment to remember if it was hitsuji or uma that came after saru, then gently pressed your palm against a squishy couch cushion. With a puff of smoke that evaporated almost as quickly as it was created, Pakkun sat before you.

You brought your finger up to your lips in a shushing gesture immediately. The tiny dog squinted, but nodded his agreement after a beat. This was your third or fourth time summoning him, and the first time you had done with without Kakashi. Animal summons were not your strong suit, and you had never particularly been a dog person, a fact that Pakkun had keyed in to almost instantaneously upon meeting you when you had no more than polite “my boyfriend’s pet” level interest in his paw pads. They were as soft and supple as he claimed, but you didn’t quite understand the appeal of man’s best friend.

You made the simple gestures required to convey that there was something to see and led Pakkun quietly toward the entryway to the kitchen where you could hear the rice cooker being sealed and started. Kakashi had switched to a different song and was now vocalizing the instrumentals softly, occasionally pausing to mime playing the instruments he was mimicking. Your hand found its way over your mouth, your heart melting with the gentle domesticity. Then you jerked away, feeling a soft scratch at your feet.

The pocket-sized grizzled dog glared at you until you bent down, when he pointed upwards toward a mess of hair. You felt a pang of guilt as you realized from this angle, all you could see was the shinobi’s calloused hand pushing silver strands out of his face, the black engagement band glinting dully on his finger. For the wedding in four months, you had managed to arrange custom bands for you both with the Hatake crest engraved into the matte surface. Kakashi didn’t know yet, and you knew that with how mission work was, he wouldn’t get to wear it often, but he would have a piece of his clan’s legacy with him whenever he did wear it.

The feeling of disappointment radiated off of the dog with the headband as you absorbed the fact you hadn’t considered him not being able to see over the counter. After a moment, you held out both your hands cupped together, fingertips resting on the floorboards. Pakkun regarded this, looking from your hands to your face, which you tried to humble appropriately. He sniffed at your exposed palms, then delicately stepped into your arms.

Bringing him up to your chest as you stood back up, you felt him stiffen. Had you moved him too quickly? Were you holding him too tightly? You ran two fingers down the back of his head instinctively and were surprised to find him relax. Kakashi tasted the cloudy liquid from the pot again and nodded firmly, turning toward the doorway. You whipped around, placing your back against the living room wall and clutching Pakkun tightly to your chest. You both held your breath, waiting to see if you’d been caught.

He sang to himself, “almost ready!” and you released your breath. Quickly, you snagged the blanket off the floor and made your way back to the bedroom.

“What’s the occasion?” Pakkun demanded as soon as you had the door shut behind you, jumping onto the bed.

“There is none! It’s just our first day off in a while, and he thinks I’m still asleep!”

Pakkun considered that quietly. “His pa, Sakumo, used to do the same thing. If he thought no one was around, he’d put on a whole concert for himself. Kakashi used to join him, up until his death. Then I didn’t catch him humming again till about a year after Minato’s death. Life had been rough for the poor pup up till about then. But he’s been in there all morning singing to himself?”

You nodded, pulling the gray comforter tighter around your shoulders. You knew your fiancé had been through more than most people should ever have to go through, but to think he might be making a breakthrough with his depression and trauma—to start singing again?

Pakkun made an odd noise that reminded you of a sneeze, then pawed at his eye and seemed to clear his throat. “I gotta tell the others. They’re gonna lose it.”

“Yeah, you should definitely head back and let them know the good news. I’m supposed to be asleep after all, he’ll probably come wake me up in a minute or two.”

The sly dog hesitated, then a wicked glimmer flashed across his eyes. “Or…”

Before you could react, you were engulfed a thin cloud of smoke that smelled vaguely of grass, and your bed began to creak. You jumped up, gasping at the number of variously sized dogs that had appeared in the room.

Pakkun addressed the crew before anyone could ask any questions. “Stay quiet. We’ve got a stealth mission ahead of us. Everyone, this is Kakashi’s partner, the one he’s marrying soon.” He then turned to you and pointed out the pack members in a line. “Bull, Urushi, Shiba, Bisuke, Akino, Uhei, and Guruko.” They were all undeniably adorable, and you’d have to ask your fiancé when he had the time to commission them all matching vests and headbands, but you were still shocked to see so many dogs. Did he really have eight summons? When most shinobi had one, if any?

“Name of the game is observe without being detected. Target: Kakashi. Location: kitchen. Standard formation. Questions?”

With no questions being posed, Pakkun lept up onto Bull’s head and led the way. You marveled in how quietly such a massive dog could move and trailed the pack as they made their way through your apartment.

You heard the timer on the rice cooker ding, then the seal breaking and relished the scent of the steam drifting through the air. There must be a stick of lemongrass in the rice this morning. You could see that Kakashi was beginning to set the table, gathering everything for a cozy breakfast for two.

He was also singing, audibly, with some degree of confidence.

One by one, the dogs all stopped and froze in awe. Akino and Uhei stepped around to the other side of you, and Shiba—or maybe it was Urushi?—popped their head between your knees to try to see. You were surrounded on all sides by the ninken, and you started to feel comforted by their warmth. Together, you all listened to your man serenade chopsticks and bowls as he spun to the small table, breaking into a mock tap routine as the china hit the wooden surface. You felt your head tilt to the right as you let the waves of love rush over you as you watched him carefully adjust the oily, burnt pan in the sink so he could wash his hands.

“Alright, love—breakfast is ready!”

For just a moment, you forgot that you were supposed to be in bed. You didn’t move as Kakashi rounded the corner, freezing when he saw nine sets of puppy-dog eyes gazing wistfully back at him from the middle of the living room, all heads tilted to the right and dreamy smiles plastered on each face.

“Ah! Uh, how long have you, uh…?”

Together, you moved as a pack toward your loved one, tackling him in a ten person hug. When you wormed your way past Uhei, you cupped Kakashi’s face and brought him in for a deep kiss, feeling butterflies in your stomach. He blushed slightly, tracing his thumb along your jawline.

“I love you, and I’m so glad that you feel safe and happy and loved with me,” you whispered fiercely, trying to beam the intensity of your emotion at him without being too aggressive.

He smiled, Sharingan deliberately taking the whole scene in as he lay on the floor with you, pulling you into his arms. Pakkun trotted over to sit on his chest while he brought you in for a firm, tight hug.

“Me too. And I’m glad you got to meet the rest of the clan.” He let the Sharingan fall shut, relaxing against you.

“Would’ve made more miso soup if I’d known everyone was coming over. Have you seen the dog bowls around anywhere?”

[an-anticlimactic-bass-drop]

Tall Part 2/?

Prompt: Tech is too tall for his own good. Constantly hitting his head on objects and desks as he works on projects. The other bad batchers make fun of him for this but you find it endearing.

Tech X Reader

Slow Burn/ Angst

Warnings: Mild 1.11 Spoilers, Deviates from canon

Word Count: 1.5K

Part 2/?

partly inspired by this gif 

(it won’t let me put it in but its the one of tech catching omega)

Omega nudges you awake from where you are napping in the pilot’s seat. The small girl’s blonde head peeks over the arm of the chair as she looks out the window. 

“Look!”

The sounds of explosions and blaster fire are erupting from the city center a few klicks away. You quickly lean forward and start firing up the takeoff controls for the Marauder. You are sure your boys are the ones behind the explosions and you smile gently as you imagine Wrecker’s gleeful expression as you see a cloud of smoke rise into the air in the distance.  They can’t be too far off if the nearing sounds of blaster fire are any indicators. Omega rushes to the landing ramp as Hunter’s voice crackles in through the comms. 

“Omega! Get ready to bring the senator aboard!” Hunter sounds a little winded and Wrecker cackles in the background as another explosion rocks the tunnel they were in. You remember the new security system Tech put in place and shake the last cobwebs of your nap out of your mind as you recall the specifications that he had told you about before leaving. Your hands fly across the panels as you disarm the system and lower the landing ramp. You head to the ramp as Omega jumps up and down waving at the men as they trek towards the ship. 

“Ladies! Meet the newest passenger of the Havoc Marauder, Senator Avi Singh.” Hunter introduced you to the senator and you looked him up and down. The senator doesn’t look like he’s all that happy to be leaving his planet in the hands of the Imperials. Singh is wringing his hands and has a look of worry on his face. 

“I should not leave my people. They need me here!” The senator says quietly. Echo leans in with a hand on the senator’s shoulder. 

“If you stay here you will be hunted down and murdered. It is better to live to fight another day than to die unnecessarily.” The clone looks almost defeated as he tells the senator this. Singh’s shoulders slump forward as he takes one last look around his planet before boarding the ship, nodding in agreement at Echo’s words. 

The trip back to Cid’s bar was uneventful to say the least. The senator and his droid are quietly sitting in the cargo hold. You offered him a cup of caf earlier but he graciously declined. The men are scattered around the ship as hyperspace speeds by. Echo and Hunter are attempting to sleep in the bunks while Wrecker and Omega are playing Saabac on the box that functions as a makeshift table. You just poured yourself a piping hot cup of the precious brown liquid that keeps you going through bouts of insomnia caused by the nightmares and the general lifestyle of the Bad Batch. Wandering up towards the cockpit, you aren’t expecting to trip over Tech’s long legs that are stretched out into the aisle. 

“Kriff!” Tech curses as your cup spills slightly onto the top of his blacks. He slides out from the wall he was buried in and starts looking around for a towel to wipe the hot caf off of his shirt. 

“Sorry! I didn’t see you there!” You frantically bend down to help him. You grab one of his grease rags from the toolbox you notice off to the side and dab at the stain on his shirt. 

“No worries. I will be fine.” Tech strips off his shirt and you swear you can feel the temperature of the air heat up several degrees as you realize just how close you are to the taller clone. “There. No harm done. Would you mind putting this in the laundry for me? I need to finish this last bit of wiring before heading back to check on the flightpath.” You flush as you tear your eyes away from the bare chest of the man in front of you. 

“Hm? Sorry! I’ll just get right on that.” You hurry away with the stained shirt and a blush on your face. You left your cup of caf on the floor near where Tech was working. He let out a small chuckle as he steals your drink. Not his fault if you left it in your hurry. 

The ship lands back at Cid’s bar without incident. The senator thanks you all graciously and departs into Cid’s office to discuss payment. Wrecker and Omega not so sneakily sneak off to get Mantell mix and Echo follows them at a distance to make sure they stay out of trouble. Tech goes to the bar to get a drink and you sit beside him to discuss the mission. You flush as you think about the previous night on the ship and you clench your jaw to avoid licking your lips at the thought of the bare chest of the taller clone next to you. You aren’t ashamed to say you dreamed of the expanse of skin and what it might taste like while you were in your bunk after that episode last night. 

“Am I boring you? I can stop if you would like.” Tech looks concerned as you zone back into reality and realize you have been watching him with a blank expression for a beat too long. You blink in surprise as you shake away the untamed thoughts that have been plaguing your mind. You really can’t be anymore obvious in your crush can you? At this point you might as well have a giant sign that follows you around that says “This person has a crush on the tall nerdy one!” 

“No!” You exclaim a little too loudly and get some irritated looks from the other patrons of the bar. “Sorry I'm just distracted today. The mission has me a little rattled. I am not used to being that deep into enemy space.” You say in a quieter tone.

“We are also not used to it. I always knew we would make it to Raxus someday however I never thought about it being to save the seperatist leader. Echo was most displeased about the idea and protested greatly. I tried to convince him that it was just a job and we need to pay off our debt to Cid but he does not see it this way.” Tech seems saddened at his brother’s inability to see the mission without the politics. You can see Echo’s point of view and point out to Tech that Echo’s trauma probably makes it hard for him to trust the separatists seeing as they had kidnapped and tortured him for 2 years before he was rescued. 

“The Techno Union treated him like a computer! An algorithm! Barely even human! I really don’t blame Echo for not trusting the separatists. He has barely recovered from the trauma of being in that machine for so long. He is still really pale and frail and you haven’t finished working on his new limbs yet so he still has the prosthetics they forced on him. Speaking of which, if you need help working on those I am always available. He has every reason to be upset about this mission.” 

You are fully involved in the discussion and don’t hear Echo and the others enter the bar as they make their way over to you and Tech. Echo catches the tail end of the conversation and tries to announce their presence with a small cough that turned into a hacking one that left Omega looking concerned. Her big round eyes are full of unspoken worry as she gazes up at him. Echo glances down at the young girl and forces a smile, patting her head. 

“I am fine little one. Don’t worry about me.” He says reassuringly.

Hunter leaves Cid’s office with her and the Senator. He comes over to where the group has gathered and steals Tech’s abandoned drink. He chugs the rest of it and gestures for the group to follow as he heads back to the ship.  Tech stands up and offers his hand to you to help you off of the bar stool. He has a habit of making sure none of the Bad Batchers fall over, a habit he has picked up from their upbringing on Kamino where the other 3 clones were not the best balanced due to their enhanced abilities. Your face flushes again as you become uncomfortably aware of how close you two have gotten during the conversation. He leans away from your touch as if he also hadn’t realized how close you two had gotten. Tech turns to follow Hunter out the door and has to stoop a little to avoid hitting the door frame, Echo cracking a quiet joke about not having to worry about hitting the top of door frames since he lost a few inches. Only Omega and you caught the joke and you give a chuckle as Omega just looks confused. 

“The legs you see? Lost a few inches? Oh well.” Echo gave up on explaining the joke to the kid and followed Wrecker out the door towards the ship. 

Once back on the ship Hunter announces that they have been given a few days off courtesy of Cid since the mission went so smoothly. The other bad batchers glance at each other, not sure of what to do with their new time off.  You were pretty sure they have never had free time in their entire life.

“We could visit Cut and Suu? See how they are settling in!” Suggests Omega. 

“Too dangerous for them. We attract too much attention. The last thing they need is to be recognized as republic sympathizers.” reasons Tech. 

“I think we deserve a few days of downtime! We can take a well deserved vacation and rest up before the next mission.” you say as you pour a cup of caf from the pot Tech started when you arrived back at the ship. “We can get some repairs done on the ship and maybe even explore the city! I know Omega has been dying to go to the museums in the city center since we got here and I'm sure you boys would enjoy it too.” 

Hunter thinks for a moment and nods in agreement. 

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

Taglist: @haloangel391 @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s

[saphirered]

The Lovers

Spoilers for Campaign 2 Ep141

Man oh man oh man. I've had this one written since the day after the last episode but I've been soooooo hesitant to post it at all 🙈. Anyway... I'm just gonna regardless because it's just sitting there staring at me to either delete or post it 🤭. I hope you enjoy because I'm still so conflicted about his piece of writing 😅. Unless people actually like it I might just end up deleting it after all.

---

Jester had asked you to come along on another journey of the Nein Heroez. She needed your expertise for something but couldn’t get across what for within the twenty-five word limit. Regardless, the opportunity to see and travel with your friends is not one you’re just going to pass on so of course you happily made your way to Nicodranas. Maybe the ocean would do you some good. It’s been a while after all.

In the first few days of your journey Jester had been keeping a close eye on you, watching your responses and reactions. Specifically your reactions to any and all interactions with a certain lavender tiefling. When she was certain your responses to the tiefling in question were not in any way negative and cordial if not friendly you found yourself being paired with him more often than not. Watch, hoisting the sails or dropping them, food shifts and even at the helm a few times.

You caught an argument between Fjord and Jester a few weeks later. Fjord was defending you and telling Jester she couldn’t just play matchmaker after everything that had happened between the previous inhabiter of Kingsley’s body and you and how it might still be a painful subject of not once but twice being faced with someone that’s not the person you loved and lost.

Jester seeing reason in Fjord’s arguments put aside the love story she’d been trying to unfold with you and the poor tiefling as her main characters. The shifts you shared with Kingsley came to a close and would be no more often than any shifts shared with anyone else on the crew.

One day the Nein Heroez made port to stock up on some supplies after being hit by a storm and running short on food. The crew was given some downtime to enjoy the many pleasures port has to offer but you decided to stay back at the ship. You asked Jester for the cards.

You’re sitting crosslegged on the docks watching the sunset as the crew leaves in groups bidding you goodbye while they go. Once the majority of them have left you take out the cards and begin laying them in certain patterns starting with simple ‘yes/no’s onto the past present future and more complicated readings. You’re not paying attention to any particular results but instead study the drawings fondly.

“You’d call me a sentimental fool.” You snicker as the fool card is revealed in front of you.

“Sentimental? Yes. A fool? I’ve yet to decide.” You turn around at the familiar voice seeing the tails of the black sleeveless coat you’ve grown accustomed to seeing around. You pick up the cards and put them back in their order stacking them.

“Oh really? You’d think a few weeks of being not so inconspicuously paired together on any task possible would give you enough time to form an opinion on that?” You tease beginning a new read.

“Maybe that makes me the fool then.” You can almost hear the smirk in his words.

“Care to find out?” You put down card by card face down. You know how to push for certain results. A trick you’d picked up from your former lover. It feels right to use it against him in a strange twisted way like this. Not really him but close enough.

Kingsley sits down to the side, not trusting you to not push him off the docks if he were to make an offensive (in jest of course) remark. Gathering the cards back up you start over. Time for a bit of fun. You push for the first card setting it down face up in front of him.

“The owl and the bear. Some might say the most deadly combination when put together. Be watchful of the owl’s words or you might find yourself at the ends of the bear’s claws.”

“So it was a good idea to sit on this side and avoid meeting my waterlogged demise.”

“Are you doubting my capabilities, Kingsley?” You smirk and watch the tiefling gulp. You move on to the next card making a show of pulling it from the deck and displaying it.

“Look at that! What did I say. The fool has appeared. The cards have spoken. my fool.” You take a bow as if addressing the most pretentious royalty around limited only by your crosslegged position on the docks. Kingsley can’t help but let out a chuckle at your theatrics.

“The cards have spoken indeed! A fool I must be.” He plays along. You begin picking up the two cards and restack the deck.

“Hey hey hey, isn’t there supposed to be three cards for this one? Not two?” You stop. He’s not wrong technically. You raise an eyebrow at him, fan out the cards and allow him to pull one from the deck as per the variant of this reading, putting the fate in the hands of the drawer. Not really of course. Usually you’d still be able to push for a card for them to draw but for this one you’d leave it up to the divines. You’ve had your fun.

And fun it was until Kingsley kept the card for himself, studying it closely. You were curious to see which one he pulled but you hadn’t exactly paid attention to that like you’d otherwise done. You wait for him to either give it back or tell you what it is but he takes a long time.

“So what is it?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. It still takes a good few seconds before he lowers the card so you can see it too.

“Oh.” Is all you manage to vocalise upon seeing the card. The Lovers. The familiar drawing of a lavender tiefling looking at another figure arm outstretched and love in their eyes. The image of the tiefling reaches for the outstretched hand of the other figure; your figure. You’re staring back at your own face and the expression Mollymauk had claimed to have plenty of visual references for to know he could properly draw you but would always ask for one more just to remind him.

“I’m so sorry.” Kingsley hands the card back to you and you keep staring at it. He stays for a little bit to make sure you’re alright as you’re hit with a whirlwind of emotions. Once he’s sure you’re alright he begins to get up.

“I’ll leave you to the rest of your evening. Someone’s gotta make sure these fools drink just enough and start a brawl or two.” You snap out of it putting the card back into the deck.

“Kingsley. It’s alright. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” The whirlwind subsides and you return back to a peaceful state of mind. You offer the tiefling a kind smile and he halts himself sitting back down still somewhat tense. He opens his mouth to say something but is quick to close it again. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you as you shuffle the cards absentmindedly. You catch onto the conflict and hesitation in Kingsley’s features.

“If there’s something you wish to say please do say it.”

“When you said you loved him… I think it never registered it was anything other than the love the others held for him. Strongly yes but I always assumed it was akin to Yasha’s. Why didn’t you say anything?” Kingsley states piecing things together watching you closely.

“It’s not a burden for you to bear.” You pull the Lovers card back up to the top and study it closely.

“I might not know much but I don’t think being faced with your dead lover’s body inhabited by someone not him doesn’t bother anyone. That’s just cruel.”

“It doesn’t bother me. Not anymore. I’ve grieved Molly when he died. I grieved him again when Lucien returned. I’ve gone through it all and accepted he’s not coming back and that’s okay. Everything comes to an end at some point. I don’t think it’s cruelty. I think everything is as it should be.” You speak honestly stroking your thumb over the card.

“I have so many questions.” Kingsley states. You get it. He woke up one day, recovering from death not knowing who he is or was before that moment beyond emotions and flashes of a past that didn’t feel like his. That’s exactly why you wanted to spare him another previous relation to figure out. Yes it might make things slightly more difficult for you but that’s not his fault. That’s no one’s fault.

“And I believe Beau gave you her notebook so you can read back about your predecessors. But you’re not ready for that yet, are you? That’s okay. Don’t read it until you feel ready.” Kingsley’s head shoots up to look at you. Why do you understand him? Maybe you’re wiser than he gives you credit for but he thinks you’re already pretty wise.

“Expectations. Everyone expected something of me but I didn’t live up to it. I’m not who he used to be and that disappoints people. But from you, you never expected anything from me. Why?” He’s piecing it together bit by bit. You never slipped up. Never asked him to put on a coat that wasn’t his or asked him if he remembered something. You never even asked him if he recalled anything about you or sought to involve yourself in his life without his permission.

“It’s unfair to expect someone to be or become someone they’re not and never will be. You get to be your own person free of the constraints of the past.” The answer is simple. There’s no deceit or doubt. No hidden message or intent behind it.

“How is it you of all people can say that without pain or regret or wishing it were different?” You turn the card back around and put it back in the deck in its place and put the cards away. You take a second before answering trying to formulate a proper answer as Kingsley waits studying every micro expression.

“Bear with me for this one.” You start and he nods. “Lucien was born lonely forced to fend for himself and make friends out of the need to survive. Molly rose from a grave alone and scared. He was taken in by friends but he had to find a home his home with them. He found that home and got kindness and love. You awoke surrounded by friends, no family you didn’t even know but would still love you regardless. No matter what, you’d always have a home with them. You’d be neither alone nor lonely unless you choose to be.” You explain and take breath before you continue.

“You plant random seeds in the ground it’s very unlikely you’re going to receive the same flower twice. The only similarity they have is that they are seeds and will grow as long as they have the right foundations to do so. When I look upon you I see Kingsley Tealeaf, a man that became a sailor after we brought him back from the Astral Sea. There may be similarities, your roots may even be the same but you are not the same. You are separate.”

Kingsley takes in your words very carefully with a sense of understanding and something with in him he couldn't quite pinpoint until now. Acceptance and content. Whatever might have been holding him back before, he’ll have to come to terms with that. That’s the past and if the past comes searching for him one day, so be it. Until then, Kingsley Tealeaf has a life of his own to live and to enjoy. Enjoy all life has to offer, to its fullest and don’t hold back.

Let the sailor become captain of his own ship knowing he has a home and a family that will welcome him with open arms to return to. Let the eight be nine despite the expectations of others. Be free and be happy. Live content.

[aewhore]

Sour candy kisses~ Nick Jackson x reader (NSFW)

You and Hangman are childhood best friends and you talk/text every day and your boyfriend Nick thought he was okay with it but his jealous side does come out to play slightly however you put his mind to rest and assure him nothing is going on in the only way you know how.  (Sexy time ensues) 

Hanging out backstage at AEW dynamite was always the highlight of your weeks, seeing your coworkers who became friends and your friends who became family made your Wednesdays just a little brighter. You were sitting in the EVP dressing room, joking and chatting with Matt and your boyfriend of 3 years, Nick. You loved having some downtime with Matt and Nick when you all weren’t running around booking the shows. You sat on the large comfy couch in the dressing room when your phone went off. Your brows furrow slightly at the unexpected interference.  

Hangy: 

Hey Y/N! You free?  

You can’t help but smile at your phone when you see a text from your favourite lone cowboy Adam Page. You and Adam had been best friends for what felt like your entire life, You had met on the first day back in preschool and You were both the only wrestling fans in your school so you stuck to each other like glue. Your fingers raced across your phone screen as you replied. 

Y/N: 

Oh hell yeah I am! Meet ya in the café in 5! 

You locked your phone and slipped it into your hoodie pocket before beginning to stand from the couch, shimmying out of Nick’s arms. “Hey, where ya going?” Nick pips up, You rolled your eyes at Nick’s protest at the loss of your body heat. “I’m going to meet up with Adam in the cafeteria, do you want me to bring you back anything?” You turn towards Nick in time to catch his face sour slightly. “Oh ok, nope I’m good”  The bitterness towards Adam seeped into Nick’s voice. You shoot him a glare before you shake your head and leave. Not even wanting to justify his harshness towards the lone cowboy. “tell him we say hi” You hear Matt yell as the door closes behind you. As you walk from the EVP dressing room to the cafeteria you can’t help but grin at seeing your best friend.  You don’t make it to the cafeteria when you hear Adam call out your name. You twist around to see Adam jogging towards you with a fast-food bag and two drink cups which you can only assume are milkshakes. “Took you long enough, come on let’s go find a table, I got something real funny to show you”  

Fast forward an hour and you and Adam are still in the cafeteria, empty food containers stuffed back in the fast-food bag as you and Adam huddle around his phone to watch what felt like the 200th funny dog video he showed you today. “Look, look the dog is in the driver’s seat of the truck, why is he there? He can’t drive!” Adam could barely get a sentence out because you were both wheezing so hard. “Man, where do you find this stuff? This is the greatest thing ever!” Ever since Adam was kicked out of the elite, you were thankful whenever you got to see him be carefree and laugh like he used to. You pulled your phone out and nearly gasped at the time, Dynamite would be over at any moment so you had been in the cafeteria for nearly an hour. You see a text notification pop up from Nick. 

Pretty Nicki: 

Me and Matt gonna go with good brothers to grab a bite to eat, I’ll meet you back at the hotel. xx 

Your brows furrow slightly at the bluntness of Nick’s message. Normally if he goes for food after dynamite, he brings you but you dismiss those thoughts and reassure yourself that it isn’t that deep. You reply to him, telling him you’ll get a ride with Adam and that you’ll see him back at the hotel later on. “Is everything okay?” You hadn’t noticed Adam stopped laughing and was looking very concerned at the suddenly sad look in your eyes. “Oh nothing, Nick is just going to get food with Matt and the good brothers.” You explained as you tucked your phone back into your jeans. “Without you?” Adam inquires,  You’re slightly confused at Adam’s question. “I mean yeah, we don’t have to do everything together.” You turn to look him in the eye. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it, just a question. Do you need a ride back to the hotel then?” Adam was quick to change the subject away from Nick. “Oh yeah, do you mind? I hate to spring this on you” You felt guilty but Adam’s quick response helped put you to rest. “Y/N don’t be like that, you know you ain’t a bother to me. Go grab your stuff and I’ll meet you by the truck out front” You smile at Adam before grabbing the rubbish in front of you and standing to go throw it away on your way to get your things from the locker room. 

There was a comfortable silence between you and Adam as he drove you both back to the hotel. One of Adam’s many country music playlists was softly playing in the background. As you rounded the corner into the Hotel car park you take your phone out to check if Nick text you back and he had read the message. You’re pulled from your thoughts by Adam cutting off the engine and hopping out of the truck. You follow suit and round the back to the bed of the truck to grab your bags when you see Adam handing them to you. “Oh thanks, hangy” you take the bags from him and he leads the way towards the hotel lobby. “Anytime darling, do you need to check-in?” He asks when you fall into step with him. “Oh No, Nick checked in earlier so I already have the key.” You pull your key card out of your purse and wave it towards him. “I see, I ain’t that organised so I gotta check-in, Talk to ya later then.” You and Adam stop in the centre of the lobby to bid your goodnight’s. “Alright, Adam I’ll text ya tomorrow morning.” You pull him into a hug and you give him a tight squeeze before releasing him so you could start walking towards the elevator towards the back of the lobby. 

Slotting your key into the key card reader, you were happy to see that tiny green light flash allowing you into the room. You see the lights in the room are already on indicating that Nick has returned to the room before you. “Hey, baby I’m back” You give out a soft shout as you dump your bags and jacket on the floor beside Nick's luggage. You enter the room to see Nick sitting on the bed on his phone with his back towards you. Before you can say anything he stands and swiftly walks into the bathroom nearly slamming the door after him. “Jeez someone has an attitude all of a sudden.” You roll your eyes at your boyfriend’s attitude before you walk back to open your luggage to grab your nighties to get ready for bed. After you’ve changed Nick exits the bathroom, in his usual bed attire a pair of old basketball shorts and a black tank top. He stops to plug in his phone as you walk around him to enter the bathroom, leaving the door open behind you. “How was the dinner with the good bro’s?” You ask before beginning to brush your teeth. “Oh, you know the usual, Doc messing around, Anderson hyping him up and Matt being an idiot. Normal stuff.” You laugh at the understatements in Nick’s recollection of the night out. You spit out and rinse your mouth out before leaving the bathroom and walking to your side of the bed to plug in your phone and prepare for sleep. 

“So how was your dinner date with Adam?” Nick pipes up as he sits with his back against the bed’s headboard lazily flicking through the channels on the TV. You eye him up before responding “Nick we’ve been over this, Adam is my best friend and that’s it.” He turns his full attention towards you before speaking again. “Oh really, is that why you were cuddling in the middle of the cafeteria?” You could tell he was getting irritated but so were you. “We were not cuddling in the cafeteria, Jesus Christ It’s like you don’t trust me at all sometimes.” You were tired and annoyed at having to defend your friendship to Nick. “I do trust you Y/N, I just don’t trust him” You roll your eyes at his lame excuse. “What’re you rolling your eyes for? It's the truth, I don’t trust him!” It took everything in you not to laugh at that. “Come on Nick it shouldn’t matter if you trust Adam or not if you trust me! You’re just being mean to him because you’re jealous!” 

Nick let out a shocked breath before smiling. “I am not jealous of that idiot” You ignored his petty attempts to get you to defend Adam. you saw through his mind games. “I think you are” You’re getting giddy now, you’re under the younger Jackson brother’s skin. “Am not” He childishly quips back. “Oh you’re so jealous of my big strong cowboy” You stoked the flames in Nick’s eyes as you sat facing him on your knees. “Why would I be jealous of that bumbling drunk?” You were still smiling at Nick as he glared daggers back at you. “Hmm, that’s a good question why would you be jealous of that tall, muscular southern boy who was one half still the longest-reigning tag champs in AEW history, with golden hair and-” You’re inputted from your mocking when Nick grabs your knees to pull you towards him before you fall back so you’re now on your back with Nick towering over you. Your hips trapped under his with your legs spread to either side of his waist. He’s replying most of his body weight on his forearms which frame your head. His face mere inches from your own. “Are you done?” He leans down to growl into your ear. 

You grin to yourself knowing you’ve won. You let out a small shaky breath before nodding into his shoulder. “Good, now as I was saying, I could never and will never be jealous of that dumbass cowboy because he could never make you feel the things I do.” He has your hips locked against the mattress and you can’t help but try to grind up against him. He smirks at your attempt at more friction. “I know what you want baby girl, but I ain’t gonna give it to you” You whine at this unfair denial of your pleasure. “Why not?” you demanded to know. “I need to hear you say it”  You were confused at Nick’s request. “Hear me say what?” Nick raises himself so that he’s looming over you, his icy Atlantic ocean blue eyes staring into your own. “I need to hear you say that I am far better than that idiot in every single way, I have a better body than him, I’m a better tag wrestler than he could ever dream of being, I got the greatest damn hot tag in the business and I have far superior hair than him.” Seeing Nick’s arrogant in bed was intoxicating, he had never gotten like this with you before but now you knew you would be pushing his buttons more often. “Baby Do I have to? I mean I bet I could call up Adam and he’d give me whatever I wanted” You were being bratty but you loved it. “Oh baby girl don’t lie to yourself like that, he could never give you what I give you, he could never make you feel as good as I do.” 

The passion in Nick’s eyes took your breath away. Nick shifted his weight onto one forearm as he moved his other hand down to roam the side of your ribs and to ghost your breast, arching your back towards his hand did nothing as he’d move before you could get the touch you carved  “Nick I need you, I need you to make me feel good” You wanted Nick so bad at this point. “Hmm, I think I need some more convincing. Beg me for it.” Nick’s arrogant smirk was driving you crazy. “Please Nick, please you know you’re the only one that can make me feel this good” Nick was trailing kisses along your jawline as you pleaded with him. “How could I possibly turn away my needy little slut? I’m gonna make you feel so good you forget how to say your own name.” small moans and whimpers were escaping your lips as Nick nipped and sucked your neck slowly making his way down your body. “You’re wearing too many clothes, off, now” Nick demands as he stands up to tower over you as he strips himself. You rush to strip as quick as you can, throwing your clothes aimlessly off the bed. 

You lay back on the bed on your bed as Nick stands naked between your spread legs. Nick’s hands roam your thighs before bends down to lay open mouth kisses along your inner thigh travelling from your left knee up to your crotch purposefully skipping your pussy as he travels back up your right leg leaving a trail of hickeys in his wake. Your attempt to buck your hips towards Nick is stopped by one of Nick’s muscular arms resting on your pelvis keeping you pressed against the mattress. Nick’s teasing streak continues as he delivers a long swipe of his tongue to your pussy just stopping before your clit. Before You can whine at his negligence of your clit he pulls back slightly only to spit on you before he begins to give gentle kitten licks to your clit, causing your moans to slowly build in volume. He gives more general attention to your pussy before he suddenly latches onto your clit causing you to scream his name. The onslaught of a rhythm he builds, long swipes of his tongue on your pussy before teasing your hole that was clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled before he focused his attention onto you pulsing clit,  has the coil in your pelvis tightening by the second. You didn’t care if the entire hotel knew you were screaming Nick’s name at this point. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as the coil in your pelvis snaps and you cum onto Nick’s face. You don’t get rest as Nick continues to tongue fuck you through your orgasm. Once you’ve slightly caught your breath you look down to Nick still kneeling between your thighs with a sly smile on his face, before you can ask his plans you feel one of his calloused, long fingers tease your quivering hole. Your head falls back against the mattress as you feel his finger plunge onto you. He shallowly thrusts his finger in and out of you. You can feel him brush against your G spot and you are begging him for more before you even think about it. He grants your wish by sliding a second finger into you. You feel him resume his pace, thrusting his two fingers into you, the pressure against your g spot building and building. You felt him slip a third finger into you and your hand moves down to grab onto his head as the feeling of fullness makes your head spin. With the pace of Nick’s fingers being thrust into you, You can feel your second orgasm approaching. Suddenly he leans down and begins to suck on your clit and your vision goes completely white as your second orgasm of the night hits you. 

He continues to thrust into you through your orgasm before he slides his fingers out of you. You whine at the loss. He climbs back up your body before he settles above you. He raises the fingers that were in you to his lips before they disappear into his mouth as he licks off your cum from his fingers. You moan at the sight of him licking your essence off his fingers before he takes them out and he lowers himself onto you to capture your mouth in a breathtakingly passionate kiss. Feeling his body weight pressing you into the mattress with his arms around you and his lips locked onto your own provided you with a level of comfort that only he could give you. Your hands rise from your sides to tangle in his long luxurious hair. You feel his hard erection against your inner thigh and you raise your hips slightly off the bed to grind against it. You hear a groan from Nick as his hand settles on your neck, holding your face in place as he moves back slightly to stare into your eyes. You feel Nick move his other hand down to his dick as he holds the shaft of it to tease you by sliding through your folds before he begins to slowly slip the tip into your hole. You can feel yourself trying to tighten around Nick, you feel the need to have Nick inside of you build and build.  

Before you can beg, Nick grants your wish by thrusting into you. From the get-go, he sets a mind-numbing pace. Fucking you so hard and deeply that you feel like he’s fucking the breath out of your lungs. Nick moves both of his hands underneath your thighs to pin your knees up to your chest in an agonisingly good position. The coil in your pelvis was tightening with every thrust Nick delivers to you. Your moans were mixing with Nicks and you can feel his thrusts start to stutter as his own orgasm was fast approaching. You feel one of Nick’s hands move around your thigh so he could rub tight quick circles onto your clit. The sudden spike of pleasure causing your third orgasm of the night to hit you out of nowhere. Your pelvic muscles tighten and pulse around Nick causing his thrusts to stutter, he thrusts into you a few more times before he paints your walls with his cum. He releases your thighs before he collapses on top of you causing your break out into a smile. You raise your hands to rub his back and comb through his hair. He raises his head slightly to gaze into your eyes. “Did I make you feel good princess?” Nick smiles as you both break into giggles. “Oh yeah Nick, You made me feel real good” You lay gentle kisses on Nick’s face. You loved having Nick in your arms like this, his head nuzzled into your neck. You can feel the gentle smile on his face as he gives your neck lazy kisses. “I love you Nicki” You mumble “I love you too baby.” You hear Nick grumble into your neck as you feel yourself lull into sleep.

[justmaybee]

The Phantom’s New Clothes

(Alternatively: ‘I Like Ya Fit, G!’)

A/N: Yes, the spam is gonna end in a dumb fic. No, I’m not confident in posting it. But honestly? I don’t think I’ll ever be when it comes to Fling Posse. So I’m doing it anyways! Because Gen looks like a whole prince, and if I don’t start somewhere I’ll never be able to write them!

Summary: Fling Posse photo shoot time! ~ ☆ and Dice has taken a special interest in Gentaro’s outfit for the day….

Of the many things required by divisions during battle season, one ‘checkpoint’—so to speak—is the creation of promotional materials. A Chuohku-designated event, ‘asked’ of the representative teams from each district.

This is Fling Posse’s second time representing Shibuya, so Gentaro is more or less acquainted with the roadmap ahead of them. And as a group member—and friend—of one Ramuda Amemura, he’s quite used to the mild discomfort of modeling clothes far outside his comfort zone.

Though it had at first been a point of contention in the group—due to some very polarized creative decisions—Gentaro has grown into his role, just a bit. He may never go so far as to call himself a ‘model,’ but he’s done much stranger tasks for the sake of his posse.

Thankfully, this shoot leans decidedly into Gentaro’s style of choice. Unlike Ramuda’s last artistic venture, which had involved a bright yellow top in an aquarium of all settings, this outfit could be described as almost tame in comparison.

The blouse is a loose and flowing white number, tucked into a similar style of black pants. A little tighter to his waist than he’d prefer, but the fabric is soft and stretches down to his ankle—for the most part—so it’ll do. The addition of some colored cords to secure an ash grey cape around his shoulders finishes the look, and Gentaro hums an appreciative note when Ramuda shows him the full look in a mirror.

Ramuda seemed pleased, smoothing out Gentaro’s cape and tucking stubborn hairs back into place before flashing him a grin and bouncing off to help Dice finish dressing.

It’s comfortable, fashionable, and well-suited to his tastes. Gentaro must say, it’s one of his favorite designs from Ramuda so far.

That being said—there’s…one small thing he could recommend be changed.

It doesn’t occur to him until the picture taking is about to begin.

———

“Ya think Ramuda will let me keep it?” Dice asks, impish grin flashing his canine. He pops the collar, striking small poses as the dressing room around them clears out. Gentaro humors him.

He takes his time, stepping forward from behind Dice, peering over his shoulder at their shared reflection. His hand comes to rest on his chin, scrutinizing the tropical pattern with a deliberate trail of the eyes. He continues until Dice’s gaze lowers, until his hands start fidgeting in front of him.

Gentaro finally breaks with a smile, resting his chin on Dice’s shoulder. He can feel the way Dice sags with relief.

“It’s very likely that he will,” Gentaro muses. “This outfit was made specifically for you, and I’m not sure anyone else would wear it willingly.”

Dice nods in a small repetitive motion, absentmindedly checking his reflection in the mirror. The moment he comes to recognize Gentaro’s backhanded confirmation is both visible and audible. His body jolting upright with a pitchy ‘hey!’ tossed back over his shoulder. Gentaro hides a smile behind his hand.

“Oh, Dice. There’s no need to be insecure,” He coos. “From what I’ve heard, sustainable fashion is on the rise! This set may have been a curtain at some point, but your confidence in it is very admirable.”

Dice has that tight-lipped smile on, the one that pushes his cheeks up and makes his squinty faux-glare even more endearing. It says, ‘I know I’m being made fun of,’ but he continues to endure it anyways. Because it makes Gentaro smile.

Still, he’s come a long way since the early days of Fling Posse, and he won’t take things lying down if he can help it. So he sneaks his hand behind him, aiming a light pinch to Gentaro’s side; his comeback of choice since learning of Gentaro’s…sensitivity.

Unlike those recent times, Gentaro quickly back steps, pulling his head off Dice’s shoulder to smother a gasp behind a well-timed fist. Dice blinks, hand still hovering behind him in the empty air where Gentaro once stood.

Then he spins around; the biggest, toothy grin on his face.

Gentaro can feel the butterflies slowly flutter to life in his stomach. His free arm moves subconsciously, to wrap around his front and hide his torso. The longer they hold eye contact, the more his face begins to burn.

And then the photographer can be heard, calling Dice for photos.

They stay in place, gazes locked for a moment longer; then Dice shoots him a wink and jogs off.

Gentaro breathes a shaky sigh, rubbing away the phantom touch.

———

So yes, while it was obvious the outfit had less layers than Gentaro was accustomed to, he hadn’t realized just how much thinner the layers he wore were.

Photo shoots don’t have a lot of downtime, in his experience. There’s always group shots, touch ups, individual shots. While it’s undoubtedly ‘Posse Time’—as Ramuda would put it—he doesn’t get more than a passing word to either of his group mates at any one time.

Which make the times he runs into Dice all the more memorable.

Slipping past one another in the hallway when it’s Gentaro’s turn for solo shots. Gentaro feels a distinct skittering of nails over his flank. It has him stumbling, tripping on his own feet. He can hear Dice laugh as he straightens up and continues walking.

Getting his hair touched up, making sure his pesky bangs stay out of his face. Dice comes to watch for a while, leaving Gentaro with a quick pinch either side of his waist. He jolts so hard, the hair on his left side falls out of place. He mumbles an apology to the poor stylist, eyeing Dice’s retreating smile in the mirror.

In a moment to himself, Gentaro tries to retuck his blouse, smooth out the uneven bunching of ruffles. He doesn’t notice when Dice slips behind him, when he grips onto Gentaro’s hips—too easily accessible through these pants—and squeezes. Gentaro yelps, drops to a crouch to dislodge the ticklish pulses. When he turns with narrowed-eyes, he finds himself alone.

Although Dice has been able to startle a reaction out of him several times today, calling these occurrences ‘uncommon’ would be nothing short of a lie. In his extended stay at Gentaro’s apartment, Dice has been very — thorough in his exploits of Gentaro’s unending sensitivity. One could say that once he got a reaction, he couldn’t will himself to stop.

Also a lie. Well, a half-truth to be more precise.

While it had been Dice’s curiosity and willingness to take a chance that led to the discovery, he didn’t act on his newfound information much at all. While a very physically affectionate lover, he would never go so far as to touch Gentaro in a way that caused discomfort or distress.

No, absolutely not. And so despite many implicit hints and invitations, Gentaro found himself having to get very explicit.

He didn’t dislike Dice’s teasing touch.

No, quite the opposite actually.

It was flustering to a degree Gentaro couldn’t imagine, but…Dice got the message.

He got it loud and clear, and now here they are.

In a game of cat and mouse; Gentaro’s eyes darting toward every movement, hands enveloping his torso at the slightest noise. The fabric on his skin is light, breathable, and silky to the touch; impossible to ignore. His stomach swoops nervously, broiling with anticipation—borderline excitement.

Oh, the monster he’s created.

———

After two hours of lights, cameras, make up, hair, and such; things are finally starting to wrap up.

Gentaro can see the end’s approach easily due to experience. It always comes in the form of Ramuda’s name. Called out by a weary photographer and followed in turn by their leader’s sing-song reply, skipping happily out of the dressing room and into the limelight.

Ramuda’s solo shots are always saved for the end. One must save the best for last, of course.

That being so, it would be a good idea to begin making preparations to leave.

Gentaro can feel the pinpricks in his legs as he slides them off the dressing room couch, uncurling from his seated position. He kicks out, pointing his toes in a stretch, arching his back and spine. The relief pushes a quiet sigh from his lips, leaves him sagging back into the cushions for a moment, suddenly drained.

Time spent in the presence of others can already be tiring, but the looming eyes of Chuohku make things far more intense. Gentaro can find peace in having his posse with him, but the sooner he can get these clothes folded, the sooner he gets his regular attire back—the sooner he’ll be home and out from under the Party’s prying gaze.

It takes Gentaro a few attempts to rise to his feet. His center of balance equals out as Dice makes his way into the room. The timing is very lucky, Gentaro gets barely a greeting out before his arm is in Dice’s hold. Before he’s swung around, in a blur of cobalt blue and floral print.

His back hits the wall with a dull thud. Not hard enough to hurt—Dice would never—but enough to have his breath catch in his throat. The way Dice leans into Gentaro’s personal space—hand still firmly gripped around his wrist, pinning it to the wall beside his head—makes getting air back a bit difficult.

“Hey Gen,” Dice breathes, a soft smile on his lips that completely contradicts the situation, and makes Gentaro melt all the more for it.

“Hello, Dice.” Gentaro’s hesitation is hardly noticeable.

“Whatcha up to?”

It’s so casual — the way Dice speaks, despite their position which has Gentaro’s brain buzzing like radio static. Strangely, it’s somewhat placating, in a way.

“Well — I’d intended on tidying up while Ramuda’s away…” Gentaro musters up a teasing smile, a lighthearted jab. “If you’re attempting to have me fold your clothes for you, I’m afraid I’ll have to stop you right there—”

Dice laughs. The sound does strange things to Gentaro’s heartbeat. Difficult to miss while it thrums so vividly in his ears.

“No, not that.” Dice smiles. Gentaro can’t help but return it.

“But could I—uh—do one thing? Before you go?”

Gentaro can take a fairly good guess at what Dice is referring to.

He shuffles, wrist rotating the smallest bit in Dice’s hold. His grip is strong, warm, and noticeably firm. Dice hasn’t moved, not an inch from his close lean over Gentaro, but he’s suddenly all that Gentaro can see, smell, feel.

He’s trapped.

It’s invigorating.

Gentaro is somewhat proud of the light, careless hum he gets out. A flippant roll of the eyes before his gaze meets Dice’s.

“Oh fine, if you must.”

Dice laughs again. Gentaro feels that familiar swooping sensation.

“I’ve been dyin’ to do this all day.”

Despite the unaffected air Gentaro puts off, his body is already tensed up in wait. Free hand poised to the side, ready to fend off Dice’s experienced fingers. His waist, hips, stomach; they’re all compromised in this outfit, leaving him more vulnerable than even his home loungewear would allow. It’s anyone’s guess as to where Dice may strike.

Which makes it extra shocking when Dice suddenly drops Gentaro’s wrist. When he slips both hands, with a pre-planned speed, into the gaps of Gentaro’s billowing sleeves and under his outstretched arms.

Gentaro is able to clamp his lips together before Dice’s fingers make contact. It makes muffling his surprised shout marginally easier. The same can’t be said for his limbs.

Before he can even think about it, Dice has found his rhythm, spidering feather-light strokes beneath his arms. His fingertips are gentle, calloused, and so very effective in their unpredictable movements.

Gentaro’s shoulders lock up. He chokes back the bubbling wave of laughter, then clamps his arms down in attempted self-defense.

Immediately after, his spine snaps off the wall. Thrusting his torso flush against Dice, leaning in to cover him. He tosses his head back, a squeaky cry pathetically stifled as the feelings grow exponentially.

It takes all of Gentaro’s remaining brainpower to lessen the pressure of his arms against his sides, to bring his elbows a centimeter out from his waist. Because when he tries blocking Dice’s fingers—

Gentaro bites his lip against a particularly loud squeal; Dice using one finger on each hand to vibrate into the center of each hollow. Oh, please.

—when he tries to guard himself, he just pushes Dice’s fingers deeper.

“Mph! D-Dice!”

It’s debilitating. Dice rarely has access to his bare skin in most situations, but this may very well be a first for both of them. The skittering touch under his arms has Gentaro squirming, shaking. Every time his arms twitch down to stop it, he’s stuck muffling louder laughter at the added pressure he’s made for himself.

It’s all Gentaro can do to hold as still as possible; minimize the jerky, impulsive movements. But it’s so hard, and he’s quickly losing the battle with his volume as well.

What were once small, nondescript sounds are now squeaking—almost whining—noises. As Dice continues his careful track, sweeping soft fingers around and around and around each twitching hollow.

It takes Dice vocalizing aloud to get Gentaro to lift his head from the wall, blink one teary eye open and get a look at him.

Dice is smiling sweetly—no doubt a much nicer look than the hot flush and wobbly smile Gentaro’s trying to control—with his head tilted to the side. It leaves his neck and shoulder open, right at Gentaro’s head level.

He takes the invitation for what it is.

Gentaro quickly buries his face into the side of Dice’s neck. If he had the mind to think and the hindsight to see, he might have considered if this was well-meant aid or a well-sprung trap. It really depends how much credit Gentaro decides to give Dice. His scheming side is somewhat lacking.

Either way, it makes things much more manageable, and far less embarrassing when Dice’s fingertips turn to nails and Gentaro finally breaks, spilling surprised giggles into the other’s skin.

“Dihihice! What—whahat are you—ahahahaha! Wait! Th-that isn’t fahahahahahair!”

Dice had never kept his nails long before, not for so long as Gentaro has known him. He had no use for them, and it was much easier to keep clean with nails as short as can be. But he’s taken to growing them out, just a tad, for…special situations.

Situations where Gentaro is foolish, careless. Usually in the comfort of his own home, in clothes that make it too easy for Dice. To touch, caress. Warm hands over soft skin that finds another’s touch one part foreign to ten parts addictive.

Situations where the small scratch of a nail can amp the feeling of a tingle to a spark.

“Dihice, pl-plehease. I—aha! Oh no, oh pleheheHEHEHEASE!”

It’s so much easier to hide; in the warm, familiar grip of Dice’s embrace. Where he can smother his keening laughter and sudden gasps. No care in the world for his pink cheeks and ruffled hair, so embarrassingly genuine after the painstaking process of making him ‘modelesque.’

Where all he has to focus on is the rippling movement, scratching up and down the dips beneath his arms. A constant, offset graze on hypersensitive skin; gentle as can be but more than enough to drive Gentaro past the point of composure.

All too quickly, Gentaro feels his knees go weak. His back slips down the wall a fraction, hands gripping onto Dice reflexively.

Dice responds in kind, keeping him stable, then going the extra step forward. Literally.

He steps until there’s no space between them. Until Gentaro can be held up with no need for his own legs; just the cool, sturdy wall behind him and Dice’s chest against his own. He’s surrounded by Dice’s warmth, by his scent. It’s been only minutes, but Gentaro is panting for breath.

“Hey,” Dice mutters, softly, once Gentaro can focus on him. He tugs his hand free, chuckling along to the author’s stray giggle, before reaching up to cup his cheek. His thumb strokes habitually, eyes staring deep into Gentaro’s — searching. Always searching. Making sure he’s okay.

And he is. Better than okay. That’s not a lie, it can’t be, and the way Gentaro narrows his eyes, sends a challenging smirk Dice’s way — makes that abundantly clear. Dice drops his gaze, laughing to himself. Then he straightens up, thumbs the moisture from the side of Gentaro’s face.

“As I was saying…” Dice trails, locking eyes with Gentaro as he speaks. Watching the way they widen, lips pressing together, when his remaining hand flexes.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

[ahopelessromantic]

Florence ➳ S. Reid

Pairing: Spencer x Reader (It’s mostly neutral except for one mention of a dress)

Word count: 2k

Warnings: None, Hotch is awesome

Your job isn’t exactly the easiest and you always knew that sometimes, it was going to interfere with your personal life. But when you and Spencer slowly start turning into strangers, you begin to worry.

„You know, if you take a picture it might last longer. “ Your head whipped around just in time to see Emily throw her head back in a cackle. Feeling the slightest bit ashamed you lowered your head to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks. “I can’t help it he’s gorgeous, okay?” You mumbled with a pout. Your gaze had been fixated on Spencer all day or, to be precise, on certain… features of his. Emily rolled her desk chair closer to yours, a teasing grin still on her lips. “What’s got you so interested in your boyfriend though? You’re not normally this… tense.”

You were about to snap back that you weren’t tense at all when Spencer clenched his jaw in concentration and your breath quite literally hitched in your throat. “Is it really that obvious?” You sighed; you gaze once again following the movement of his hands. Prentiss patted your shoulder in the sisterly manner she always displayed around you. “Honey, at this point I think even Hotch noticed. Your eyes have been lusting after Spencer all week as if you hadn’t been dating for a year already. Has it, uh… been long?” You almost choked on nothing but thin air. “Shit, it really is that obvious.” You coughed out once you had remotely recovered. “It’s not easy, you know? Whenever I’m done with my paperwork, he has a geographical profile to get to, and whenever he’s free I’m out kicking down doors with Morgan. And then, in the little downtime we have anyway, we’re either catching up on sleep or interrupted by another emergency. I think it’s been weeks since I’ve even seen his bellybutton.” Emily grimaced. “Okay, weird picture in my head right there. But I get what you mean.” You smiled weakly. “Somehow it felt easier when we had just started dating. We were always so afraid of accidentally losing each other that we didn’t really care about anything else besides ourselves, but now that we’re an established couple it’s like we’ve got these roles to fulfil. Especially since we’re also constantly afraid that Hotch might make a full one-eighty after all and forbid us from being together or something.” “What about the downtime on the jet though? There shouldn’t be any disturbances there?” You gasped. “What the hell Emily?!” There it was again, that devilish grin on her face. “You know what?!” You hissed, trying to fight the smile on your lips. “Forget I ever talked to you about this. You know nothing, Emily Prentiss.” With that, you returned your full attention back to your boyfriend’s hands writing down coordinates on a whiteboard. But of course, now you were watching him with the hint of a grin.

“I miss you, you know that?” You whispered into the darkness of the room, leaning your head against the wall behind you to give Spencer more access to your neck. “Honey, I miss you more. God, has your perfume always driven me that crazy?” You grinned and pulled him against you to capture his lips in a scalding kiss. But of course, like always recently, fate wasn’t kind to the two of you. Your little make-out-session was interrupted by Morgan hammering against the door of the BAU’s bathroom. “We’ve got a case, you two. Wheels up in thirty and please, for the love of God, get your stares under control at least for tonight, okay?” You looked at Spencer, who had a sheepish smile on his face. “Morgan’s been on my case all week because he keeps on noticing me staring at you.” You groaned and buried your head in your hands. “Prentiss has been on mine. She keeps on having to pull me back into reality because I keep getting distracted by you.” For a moment a proud grin hushed across his features at the prospect of being the reason for your distraction, but then he visibly deflated. “I feel like we really need a break from all this.” You nodded sadly. “We really do. I fear what’s going to happen to us otherwise. Am I going to faint at the sight of your ankles like a Victorian lady?” He breathed out a laugh, but the sombre mood remained. “I’ll ask Hotch if we can have a few days off.”

It had all sounded so amazing. You, Spencer, a remote cabin in the mountains and all the time and space to reconnect again. You had both prepared by packing your favourite books, to read to each other, card games, to cheat on each other with, and oversized sweaters, to borrow to each other. You had even already gone grocery shopping to get that out of the way for the short trip into the mountains. But two children had been abducted, and the BAU needed its Team’s full capacities to handle the case. So the reservation had been cancelled, the groceries stored away and the comfortable sweaters exchanged for work-appropriate clothes in your weekender bags.

“I’m exhausted.” Spencer sighed while leaning against you on the jet. The circles underneath his eyes ran deeper than ever before and you couldn’t help the gnawing feeling of worry in your chest. You didn’t just need a break to give your relationship some of its old life back, you needed a break to really recuperate and finally sleep again. “I know, honey.” You murmured and played with his hair. He was knocked out in a matter of minutes, your heavy gaze never lifting from your lover’s tired face. “I’m sorry again, you two.” Hotch quietly spoke after sitting down across from you. You smiled weakly and shrugged. “It wasn’t your fault, please don’t feel like it is. This is just… how our lives are, right?” His ever so worried look wandered from you to a sleeping Spencer leaned against your shoulders. “I used to make excuses that this was just how things were going to be sometimes. But it helped neither me nor Haley nor our marriage. Don’t… let this become your lives’ sole content, okay?” You looked at him a bit helplessly. “But how, Hotch? At this point, I feel like I don’t even know what private time is anymore. The most intimate moment I’ve had with Spencer this month was when he saved me from a bullet. Literally. How are we ever going to balance that?” The smallest of smiles fleeted across his lips. “You can start trying to tomorrow.” You frowned in confusion. “Tomorrow?” “Starting tomorrow, if I see either of you in the BAU, I’ll have to fire you. Sorry. Don’t come back before the week is over.” You were about to protest, but he was already getting up from his seat and you couldn’t move due to your boyfriend being asleep on you. Aaron Hotchner was either the worst or the best boss in the world, you just couldn’t really decide yet.

Aaron Hotchner was the best boss in the world. With a smile you rolled your shoulders, revelling in the warmth that hovered in the air. Spencer was dozing off on the balcony, his hands still clutching a copy of A Room with a View in them, a cup of honey tea standing long forgotten on a little table next to him. He had an innocent, serene look on his face, the slight tan of the Italian sun doing wonders for his complexion. “Amore.”, you whispered carefully not to shock him. He sleepily opened his eyes, the sun painting their colour a molten gold. “Hmm?” He hummed, placing his book next to the mug and pulling you onto his lap. “We have to get going if we want to make it to our tour through the Galleria Degli Uffizi on time.” He closed his eyes again and leaned further into his chair, pulling you with him. “Five more minutes, love. Let me enjoy the view.” You grinned. “You’ve got your eyes closed, Spence.” “Yeah.”, he smiled. “I’m thinking of you in the dress you wore to dinner yesterday.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the heat rising to your cheeks. “Before or after I got scampi all over it?” “After it laid on the floor of our room.” You laughed and slapped his shoulder. “Pervertito.”, you hummed. His eyes were watching you now, a lazy grin on his lips. You had missed talking to him like this, without a rush or worry that your shared moment was going to be stolen any minute. As soon as you had realised that Hotch was fully intending on going through with his threat of firing you two if you showed up at work you had booked a short trip to Florence, something Spencer and you had been wanting to do for ages but never got around to do. You didn’t want to lose any more time stealing moments with him, you wanted the time to be yours again. So not even one whole day after the finished case you had already sat on the plane, ready to leave your work behind you for at least a week. And it had been one of your best ideas so far, if not ever. Florence was absolutely stunning. It had enough museums to keep you and your genius boyfriend entertained for months, enough amazing food for you to never get bored of it and a beautiful enough apartment for the two of you to never want to leave again. “What’s your plan?” You asked Spencer at dinner that night. He frowned, putting down his fork for the moment. “My plan?” “About what’s next.”, you elaborated. “I love this, us, here in Italy. And we really needed it. I want to know where we’ll go next, so I have something to look forward to. I thought taking it easy and living into the day was the best way to go for a while, but that way we’ll always allow work to get in the way. We need established times off like this.” He smiled and took your hand across the table. “Okay. Well then, let me see. I’ve always wanted to go to Russia, especially St. Petersburg for the Eremitage. Then Munich, probably. From there we could make a trip to go see Neuschwanstein Castle. Seoul and Busan, to try out all the amazing food markets. Now that I think of it, there are actually tons of places I want to visit with you.” You smiled, a warm feeling bubbling in your chest. “That all sounds amazing. Looks like we still have a lot to see.”

“There they are.” Morgan greeted you with a grin, enveloping you in a tight hug. The Team had all been waiting for your arrival in the bullpen, ready to be complete again. “How was it?”, JJ asked with a wide smile. “Amazing.”, you sighed, leaning back against Spencer who out his arm around you. “We saw Michelangelo’s David, and I’m still not over how gigantic that statue is. And the food, you guys, the food was incredible.” Spencer turned to look at you, and the way his attention was still on you in a room full of people made your spine tingle. “(Y/N) picked a fight with an Italian about wine, though.” You giggled. “I think it was a relative of yours, Rossi.” Rossi rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Probably. Did you bring me my truffle oil though?” “We brought something for everyone, actually.”, you said proudly. “I’ll go get it.” Spencer hummed and pressed a kiss against your temple before disappearing down the hallway. Emily grimaced. “Somehow it was funnier when you were still losing your minds over each other. I had forgotten how lovey-dovey you normally are.” You just grinned at her. “You’ll stop complaining once you see what I got for you.” The banter continued like that, the whole Team just glad to have its old dynamics back, Spencer and yours included. That night you all sat in the conference room and drank the wine you had brought with you, Henry and Jack fast asleep on the sofa with their new toys. Your trip to Florence had been short, but looking around you, you weren’t worried about you and Spencer getting to that point of craziness again. This had been your wake-up call, and you were going to seize it. Italy had been the first of your trips together, but certainly not the last. Soon, the BAU would have a whole wall of postcards from all over the world.

[iliumheightnights]

Learning | Cal Kestis x Male Reader

Fandom: Star Wars Jedi Fallen Order

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Male Reader

Summary: Cal teaches reader the ways of the force and while harboring a crush.

A/N: This was co-written with @inhumanshadows​ and I ABSOLUTELY loved doing this! They’re so amazing! Go check them out!

...

Cal had met you while on a mission. You had helped him evade imperial forces and in return asked to join him on his adventures.

At first Cal wasn't so sure about bringing you along. He hadn't really known you and wasn't sure if it was a good idea.

He ended up bringing you along and it was the best decision he ever made.

As they continued on their travels, Cal found himself getting closer and closer to you as time passed on. It really made him question things as Jedi shouldn't have attachments but the order was gone and he had to find happiness wherever he could.

Cal was happy that you seemed to get along with Cire and Greez pretty well.

You helped tend to the mantis and often listened to Cal and Cire tell tales of the order.

Cal would often catch you watching him working on his lightsaber and offered to show you how to work with one.

He eventually start to train you in a long stretch of downtime while Greez repairs the ship while on Boganno

You were working on the mantis when something happened and it caused some boxes to fall towards you.

Instead of getting out of the way you instinctively threw up your hands and waited for impact.

However you never felt the boxes hit you and when you opened your eyes you saw the boxes were floating above you.

You were using the force!

Cal was already teaching you things about the force but now you'd be able to do them yourself!

You instantly ran off to find him and tell him what happened.

“CAL!! You won’t believe what happened!!”

“whoa whao! Calm down Y/N... What happened”

You preceded to recount the events of your ship repairs.

Cal looks at you confused, you can see the wheels turning in his head.

“you used the force? Like legitimately?”

“I would be dead or at least injured if I didn’t.”

 He would be curious and starts to get excited.

 "Really? Like really really? Because that would be so amazing!"

 He would ask you to use the force again but you wouldn't really know how to do it.

 The two of you would go to Cere and ask her.

 "Well it's not impossible for someone older to show signs of the force. Normally it's just easier to detect at a young age. You should keep showing him techniques and train him Cal."

There seemed to also be a hint of an undertone there and a wicked smirk. She had another plan in mind besides Cal training you.

“Well Cere has a point. And the empire thinks Boganno is desserted so I’ll train you here.”

“Does that mean I get a lightsaber??”

“Calm down Padawan. Baby steps.”

Yes Master Kestis...” you say in an exaggerated voice.

 You couldn't help but smile as you saw Cal blush after you said that.

 "Never call me that again."

 "But isn't that what you were going to have the younglings call you?"

 "I don't want YOU calling me that."

.

He would start you out by basic prepping and conditioning.

 He'd also want you to do meditation.

 You were ready to learn but you also had a big crush on him and it was getting more difficult to focus.

you guys were on a hike and well...

Cal looks even hotter sweaty.

Cal: “hello? Earth to Y/N?? Sun in your eyes or something?”

“or something” you mutter

 Cal smirks at that.

 Not too long later Cal takes off his top and you can't help but stare at his sweaty chest.

 "oh by the force."

"What?"

"Nothing!"

 Eventually the two of you came up to a nice watering hole with a waterfall.

"AH! Sweet sweet water!"

"Want to go for a swim (M/N)?"

You look back up at him and feel your face warm up as he slips out of his pants and dives in.

“Come on! The waters great! Just what we need after that crazy hike!” Cal calls out to you.

he has a point... You think to yourself.

You take a deep breath before stripping your shirt and pants, folding them before wading into the water.

 At first you just tred water and enjoy the coolness of it.

 Then you felt someone swim closer to you.

"This is nice. We should do this more often."

You love the feeling of Cal being close to you and you love hearing how close he is.

 "I would like that. I love spending time with you."

 You then realize what you said.

"I mean...like..."

 Cal stops you there.

 "I know what you mean. I love spending time with you too."

 It's then you realize he's moved closer to you and it isn't long before his hands are on you.

 "(M/N) there's something I've been wanting to tell you. I just hadn't figured out how."

 He seems to still be nervous.

 "I really like you (M/N). Would you please be my boyfriend?"

 You feel your breath hitch. You never expected this to happen today.

You notice how Cal was looking nervously for your answer.

You Don’t know what to do... so you just did the first thing that popped into your head.

You pulled him close and slammed your lips on him.

Cal makes as sound of surprise, but slowly melts into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist.

When you break apart you lay your forehead on his.

 "So was that a yes?"

You shake your head with a laugh.

 "Yes that was a yes you womp rat."

 You two decide to stay in the water a bit longer just enjoying each others company.

 When you DO get out you see you've accidentally drenched your clothes.

 "Why do I feel like you planned this?" You said to Cal.

Cal feigns hurt, placing a hand on his heart.

 “I am insulted that you would imply that! But... seeing as how our clothes are soaked... we can drape them on a rock and dry off ourselves in the sun.

After you deemed your clothes dry enough you got dressed and started the hike back down.

“Well there you two are! Thought I would have to send Greez looking for the two if you.

~"We're more than capable of protecting ourselves. Thank you." Cal said.

 "Cal messed up and we got stuck. It's all good now though."

 You didn't wait around but went right back into the mantis.

You smirked as you heard Cal calling you a liar.

You were in your room when Cal entered.

"You're so mean to me. What have I ever done to you?"

“Distracting me when I’m trying to work.” You say.

“How do I do that?”

“you’re so cute and hot!! And badass!”

Cal smirks and get's closer pulling you into him.

 "I can say the same about you."

He kisses you again and it's a feeling you don't think you'll ever get over.

From there on training got a little easier with all your feelings on the table.

Cal made sure to give EXTRA special attention to you and praise you for a good job.

You loved it when he praised you.

What you didn’t see was Greez handing Cere credits.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Captain.”

“yeah yeah...”

From then on the mission didn’t change. You just fought with Cal more on the front as he taught you how to use the force as well as lightsaber combat.

You two were unstoppable.

[c-r-ash-crash]

Keep The Faith Chapter 5: A Sleepless Night

Joey mounted the steps to the treehouse, hand tracing along the trunk. It was nice, grounding. It was the most normal thing he had done in a while. When was the last time he’d been in a treehouse? Definitely not since he was a little kid.

Joey reached the top step, and sat down rather heavily. Come to think of it, when was the last time he had had some downtime? There had been that month between The Twenties and the Victorian era, but if he was honest, he didn’t remember much of it. Stupid sorceress with her stupid spells.

And then of course, there had been the whole thing with the vampires. Then he’d had a week between making the deal with The Society Against Evil and his mission in Everlock, but he had spent most of that time doing research on the town. He supposed the three weeks before his mission to the museum might count, but he had been so anxious to rescue everyone, and The Society hadn’t even let him go home. It really hadn’t felt much like downtime.

He leaned his head against the wooden floor of the treehouse, and sprawled out completely. The jungle here was so peaceful, so quiet. No psychos out to get him, no alarms, no sounds of danger, no screams as his friends breathed their last. It was nice.

Distantly, he could hear the sounds of animals prowling through the underbrush, but he knew he was safe, somehow. The jungle would protect him, like it protected all its children. He was safe here as long as he respected it.

Suddenly, Joey sat up. How did he know that? This world was a complete stranger to him. Why did he know it so intimately?

Was that just wind through the leaves, or was it a whisper? Was that a stream flowing over rocks, or was it laughter. Was that a bird or a cackle? Joey tensed, ready for anything. This jungle was alive.

“Who’s there?” he demanded. Soft laughter bubbled up from the trees, and a gentle wind blew through the clearing, picking up leaves and swirling them into a thick column.

Joey watched as the leaves fell to the ground, and a young girl appeared in the middle of the clearing. She was dressed in a bright green dress, and had all kinds of tropical flowers woven into her hair. She was laughing happily, face filled with delight. Joey stared, mouth agape at the sudden appearance.

Finally, he managed to gather his wits about him, and waved. “Hi,” he said. The girl giggled softly and waved back at him. “What’s your name?” Joey asked.

“Kin’kátzu,” the girl said brightly. Then, she giggled again. “Did I surprise you by showing up? Most people don’t know I’m there, but you noticed me almost right away!”

“I guess you did kind of catch me off guard,” Joey said with a small laugh. Man, that girl’s giggle was infectious. “But...um, why are you here.?”

“Oh, Sovereign Shubble sent me!” Kin’kátzu said lightly. “She heard the new rulers had moved in! Wanted me to see who was in charge of our neighbors.”

Joey’s brow furrowed. “Who’s Sovereign Shubble?” But the girl was already gone, dissolved into a flurry of leaves.

Silence filled the air. “Well, that was strange,” Joey muttered to himself. He stretched, and pulled himself reluctantly to his feet. He really ought to explore his treehouse. At least, he was pretty sure it was his. Maybe he was just borrowing it from someone. Weren’t emperors supposed to have palaces? He’d have to ask Hade about that later. He turned, and made his way into the actual treehouse.

The floor was made of a light colored wood, and, surprisingly, didn’t look particularly weathered. Joey wondered how recently the place had been built. Stairs continued to curve around the trunk of the tree leading to a completely enclosed second story. He figured that was where the bedroom and stuff must have been, given that this first story was littered with nothing but chests and barrels of all sizes.

Joey began pawing through the barrels, looking for anything useful, or even of mild interest. They were almost completely empty, except for a small barrel sitting by the stairs that was filled with strips of jerky and dried orange berries.

“What are these?” Joey muttered to himself. Then, his stomach rumbled , and with a shrug, he popped a handful of the berries into his mouth.

They tasted like oranges, but much more earthy. They were really good. Joey scooped up another handful. Then, he tried a slice of jerky. It was heavily salted, but he supposed that made sense. It probably had to sit out here for a while. Either way, it was food. Now, if only he had bread, he could make a full sandwich.

He made his way up the staircase and onto the second level. It was indeed a bedroom. A small cot was shoved in the corner, a small basket next to it. Windows were interspersed throughout the walls, allowing small amounts of light to flood in. Otherwise, there was nothing of note about the room. Joey moved over to the bed, and sat on the very edge of it. It was surprisingly comfortable, and before he could stop himself, he had laid all the way down. His eyelids grew heavy, and slowly, his eyes slipped closed. Well, a bit of rest couldn’t hurt, could it?

⸎

He was running, sprinting through the darkened jungle. Roots and vines wrapped around his ankles, slowing him down and dragging him back into the trees. “Stay,” they whispered. Joey ran faster.

He crashed through the river, ignoring the freezing cold that pierced through his bones. He had to run, had to flee, had to escape. He made it halfway across when a loud crack filled the air, and the river turned to ice around him, trapping him.

Frost climbed up his legs, only stopping at his waist. Joey strained against the ice, but it was useless. He was trapped.

The air filled with whispers, and wind swirled around him. Dark figures began to emerge from the trees and surrounded him. One of them stepped out of the crowd. They were tall, and lines of gold ran over them. Large antlers protruded from the side of their head, but otherwise, they were just as much of a shadow as the others.

Panic filled Joey, and he clawed desperately at the ice. His mind was screaming, yelling at him to get away. Then, the figure looked him directly in the eye, and smiled.

The ice began forming again, swallowing Joey, cocooning him in a prison of frost. He watched, helpless, as the ice crept over his face, and trapped him in darkness.

The silence pressed in on him from all sides, swallowing even the sound of his own heartbeat.

“I’m going to die here,” Joey thought to himself, as the cold began seeping into his bones. “I wonder if I can make another deal?”

Then, suddenly, the ice began cracking. Pieces began to fall to the ground, and Joey drew in a grateful breath. Then, the ice fell away all at once. Before it could hit the ground however, steam filled the air, melting it completely. Joey whirled around, but the darkness stretched on forever.

There was a soft hiss, and flames erupted all around him. The light blinded him, but he was glad for the warmth. From the flames emerged a dark figure. He had horns, much like the other one, but this figure was marked with lines of dark, crimson red.

They held out a hand, and after a moment, Joey took it. The figure pulled him closer, resting his hand on Joey’s back. The two of them began to waltz despite the fact that there was no music playing. The figure led Joey, gently guiding him. He leaned into the figure’s grip, and pulled back to twirl.

Suddenly, the demon let go of Joey, and he was falling. Falling, falling, falling. He was lost, with no direction. There was no one to guide him. Gone was the steady assurance. Gone was the ease.

Joey crashed to the ground, slamming onto a hard surface and losing all the air in his lungs. He lay there, trying to regain his bearings. Finally, he managed to re-orient himself, and he sat up.

From behind him came the sound of metal scraping against glass. Joey wanted to turn around, wanted to face the threat, but he simply sat there frozen. “Soon,” a voice whispered, filling the air and worming its way into Joey’s skull. “You will meet my champion very soon. Are you ready?”

Laughter echoed off the walls. It was loud, deafeningly so. Joey scrambled to cover his ears, but the sound still pierced through his skull, infecting every part of his being. He was fading away. There were whispers infesting him. Gentle hands ran over his own, but it felt wrong. Pillars of red rose around him, trapping him. The end was coming.

⸎

Joey woke with a gasp. Before he could even fully process what had happened, he was on his feet, fists raised. He waited in the silence, ready for an attack. Finally, he realized there wouldn’t be one.

“Oh,” he whispered to himself. Then, a little more forcefully: “Oh. It was a dream.”

[perksofhs]

‘So... the weather?’

This is a little AU piece that was requested! The prompt: Hey could you do a one shot where harry and famous reader are in a talk show and he has a crush on her. Maybe he accidentally hurts her while playing a game and he feels awful about it orrr maybe the host put a video where harry says that the reader is his crush and he gets nervous and embarrassed.

Promoting a movie was all but glamourous. It was a constant string of 14 hour days, 5am wake up calls and repetitive questions about working with this person or that person with very little time spent discussing the actual plot of the film. The savior of press tours was any interview where you werent alone, whether it was a joint interview with cast mates or a full couch talk show.

You’d been on the Late Late Show once in the past and you had to be honest, it was so much fun. Your first appearance included a 7 minute long musical medley involving fifteen quick changes and you very nearly faceplanting the floor.

By this point you were sitting in the dressing room, your hair being tugged one way or another by David your hairdresser, with your make up artist Cam working his magic on your noticabley exhausted face. “Who am I on with tonight Maggie?” you ask your manager, realising no one had actually told you. Maggie looked up from her laptop, a smirk on her lips. “James told me not to tell you so you’ll have to wait!” she said smugly. You rolled your eyes, “Of course he said that, that man has to stop trying to set me up”. James was a good friend, the two of you having met a number of times through industry parties award shows. He’d always try and find the mosyty eligible bachelor in the room and push you towards them just to shit you. Suffice to say none of them worked out.

Once your hair and makeup were done and you were dressed in a cute but entirely impractical and kind of uncortable outfit, a crew member came to get you and walk you down to the stage. “Ok so once we get to the stage, you’ll hear James announce your name, walk down the steps through the audience, wave or high five whatever you feel like. Then greet James and take a seat, then he’ll then announce the next guest”. You nodded along politely, already knowing the drill. “By chance, do you know who the other guest is?” you say shooting Maggie a smug look. “Yeah its Harry Styles” with that your heart skipped a beat, you’d always found him attractive and incredibly charming which is something you had stupidly mentioned to James once or twice. “That bastard” you say under your breath, you didnt have much time to think about it though because not even 30 seconds later you rounded a corner and there he was.

He was a gorgeous as ever, wearing what you could only assume with a gucci knitted jumper with a delicate lacy collared shirt beneath it, his signature pearls hanging perfectly around his neck, and a pair of cream flared pants. The outfit was quintessentially Harry. He was chatting to another random crew member who seemed to be giving him the same speech. You could hear James wrapping up whatever he was talking about, you were too distracted to follow it, you couldnt look away from the man 8 feet away from you. “You good?” Maggie says, pulls you from your bewildered state, Maggie’s words also caught the attention of Harry who finally looked in your direction.

Harry’s eyes landed on you and unbeknownst to you he was just as taken by the sight of you. Realising his gaze was lingering, Harry snapped himself out of it “Hey i’m Harry, nice to meet you” he said, taking a few steps towards you, his hand awkwardly out for a hand shake, something Harry was already kicking himself for doing. You took his ring clad hand in yours briefly “Hey I’m-” before you could finish you could hear James announce your name, you let out a laugh “that’s my queue”. It was probably a good thing that James has inadvertently introduced you, who knows whether you could have actually remebered your own name in that moment.

You descend the stairs, meeting James at the bottom with a friendly hug before taking your place on the couch. “Can you also put your hands together for the incredible Harry Styles!” James proclaims, the audience erupting once more, you watch Harry interact with the audience effortlessly as he makes his way down the stairs, having a bromance moment with James before he plops down next to you, sitting closer than you had expected him to. “So have you guys met before?” James says, knowing full well the answer is “No we haven’t, we met briefly backstage” Harry says. He couldnt stop thinking about how awkward he’d made the initial encounter but he couldnt help it.

Throughout the interview it was all too clear that sparks were flying bewteen the two of you. Harry had talked about his new music, you’d talked about your new film, an anecdote or two thrown in from the both of you. all was going smoothly until about 15 minutes in when James began to look very smug. “Now Harry, I know you two hadn’t met before but from what I hear you have quite the crush huh?” Harry’s cheek went bright red knowing exactly what was about to happen. You on the other hand had zero idea what was going on. “And how would you know that James?” Harry says trying to pretend he has no clue what James was referring to. “Funny you should ask my friend, this clip might just answer that for you!”

Your eyes darted to the nearest screen as the clip rolled, it was an interview from the press tour of the movie Harry had been in last year. The interviewer had asked the cast who they’d love to work with on future projects and to your surprise, Harry’s pick was you. The interviewer then asked why you were his choice, Harry’s response was “she’s just so talented, every time I watch her in something I’m just profoundly captivated. Her on screen presence is incredible.” One of his castmates laughed, playfully poking Harry in the shoulder adding "If it wasn’t already obvious he’s got quite the crush! He made us watch like 4 of her films during our set downtime” before the clip ended.

Harry dramtically buried his head in his hands out of sheer embarrassment as the audience let out a series of ‘oooohs’ and whistles and James burst out laughing. You let out an laugh as you awkwardly fiddled with your fingers, not entirely sure what you were menat to say or do in that moment. "Well then Harold, go on, ask her out. Nows your chance!” James goaded. Harry was utterly mortified but wasnt the least bit surprised. “So... the weather?” the audience laughed at Harry’s miserable attempt at changing the subject. “Alright alright i’l drop it but you can’t say I didnt try! Just remember this moment when you get married ok?” James said, throwing his hands up in defeat as he got in one last playful jab.

The rest of the interview went awkwardly by, although you were a little distracted. Did he really have a crush on you? How could he have a crush on you? You’re the one who had the crush on him, surely he didn’t feel the same?  James wrapped up the interview and once the cameras had cut both you and Harry made your way backstage.

“Well that was sufficiently awkward and I apologise for how uncomfortable I’m sure that made you. I’m honestly gonna fucking kill James for that” Harry said, you could only giggle in response. “He has no idea what’s coming the next time we catch up. In all fairness, despite how uncomfortable that whole ordeal was, it was lovely to meet you” the two of you smiled at each other. “It was lovely meeting you too Harry, no need to apologise, I bloody knew he was up to something. anyway, I have to head back to my dressing room, I’ll see you around” you say before starting to walk away. You only make it a few steps before Harry stops you “Hey wait! What are you doing this afternoon? This was my last interview for the day and I was gonna head from here to get some food. Wanna come along?” You pause for a moment to think about what the rest your day looked like before smiling back at him “Well, I had planned to go home and eat some left over chinese in front of a film... but I like your idea better. Swing by my dressing room on your way out?” Harry could conseal his happiness with your response, a giddy grin now plastered on his face “It’s a date, but we have to make a deal that neither of us tell James ok? You know how smug he’d be. Deal?” Harry said with a wink, reaching his hand out to seal the deal. You laughed as you shook his hand once more, this time a little less awkard than the first encounter. “My lips are sealed. Now you better not take too long, I’m starving!” you say as you walk away with a smirk and as they say, the rest was history.

Hey lovelies, I hope you enjoyed this one! And I hope the anon who requested it thinks I did an ok job! I havent done many request pieces. Also I know its not super long but I still think its pretty adorable.  Requests are open, just shoot me a message and I’ll see what I can do! xx

[fallenfurther]

Homecoming - Earthbound

Chapter 2 of Homecoming. John and Jeff.

Thank you for the response to my first chapter and Josie will return later on as the story develops.. The next few chapters are set  within the last episode of the series  , between Jeff returning to the island and stepping out Thunderbird Two and him sitting down to take the rescue call. There is no way Jeff is fit and health after eight years alone in space, so these chapters fill in that recovery and continues as he finds his place within the family and organisation again. 

This chapter is an emotional one, so trigger warnings for trauma, death, last wishes. 

*********

Jeff placed his cutlery down on the empty plate, before leaning back into the cushioned back of the chair. The food was excellent, though anything was better than what he'd survived on for the past eight years. It helped that he knew there was no expense spared for his stay. It felt so strange but comfortable to feel full again and his body was feeling better for it. The nurse popped her head around the door and smiled.

"Want me to take the tray from you?"

"Yes please."

Lauren swished her way over to him, picked up the tray and left him alone. Jeff had various therapy sessions and doctors checking in on him and he welcomed the breaks from them. He just had to keep looking forward, knowing that the light at the other end was to spend the rest of his life with his sons. How he'd missed them. Each one imprinted in his mind, clear as day, spurring him on. They visited him when they could, though it depended entirely upon the number of callouts and if someone was fit enough to fly. International Rescue seemed much busier now than eight years ago. Eight years away from everything. So much had stayed the same and yet the important stuff had grown and changed. Particularly his little Alan. He was the smallest, just, but he'd matured, become more confident and was an amazing astronaut. Normally he would have been angry at Scott and the boys for letting someone so young fly Thunderbird Three. He'd always known the dangers of space. A teenager doesn't. But having seen Alan pilot Thunderbird Three, making her dance elegantly between asteroids, he understood. Alan had flown the Zero-XL to save him. The talent that boy had was incredible. How could Jeff deny the boy who followed so much in his own footsteps, who shared his passion for space? It pained him to know he hadn't been around to help nurture it.

Jeff forced himself out of his chair, joints complaining from his physiotherapy session that morning. The gravity in the Oort cloud had been variable but being back on Earth it had an intensity he could get no reprieve from. John had suggested a skint on Thunderbird 5, but the doctors insisted he have no Zero-G exposure until he was medically fit, insisting his body needed to adjust to gravity first. They also ruled out a trip in Thunderbird Three as the forces that would be applied to his still healing body would be too intense. Jeff was itching to witness Alan fly the Thunderbird first hand. Jeff opened the patio door and stepped out into the warm breeze and sunshine. He still had moments of panic when he realised he didn't have a helmet on, or when he realised it wasn't close by, but the fresh air transported him back to the time before he was stranded. Even now it didn't always feel real, being on Earth. Almost two months and he still had to pinch himself sometimes, still shed tears at the sight of his boys visiting. The small private garden attached to his room was a small haven where he could get used to the world again. He followed the path to the plant-laced wooden gazebo beneath which a table and chairs stood waiting. He took a stroll down the small path circling it, not quite ready to sit yet, the wind chimes tickling above him as he brushed his hand through the purple flowers, sending a wave of lavender in the air.

Eventually he had to sit down. His tablet was on the table where he'd left it that morning. Flicking it on, he pressed his thumb to the corner, activating International Rescue's secure network. John had willingly let him have access, walking him through the new filing system before letting him loose on it. Jeff was sure John or that little AI of his was monitoring every document he saw. He opened up yet another mission report, he'd started making a timeline of rescues, only for it to be completed by EOS, listing the main statistics such as time, craft used, and which sons were involved. The timeline was worrying. International Rescue had started off slow, only going to major rescues, however nowadays barely two days went by without a need to be called out. International Rescue had response times and equipment that outmatched local agencies, but it meant his boys were often being pushed to the limits. There were meant to be fail-safes in place and compulsory downtime to stop back to back working, but all that had been side-lined so lives could be saved. He'd started with the older reports and with each one his sons got better and more efficient at writing them, but he was starting to see their exhaustion. International Rescue hadn't been designed for the workload it was taking on and something was going to snap. Jeff feared it would be his boys. He'd just got them back and now he feared he'd lose one of them.

It was never meant to be this way. Jeff had expected a little increase in workload, but nothing like this. The GDF had tried to help, as he'd found out from the last report about their robots, but that had proved unsuccessful. He didn't want to raise it with them, not yet at least. Jeff planned to finish catching up with the reports, machine specifications and chat with Brains to see what had happened and what could be done. An idea was already forming, but he knew he had to be careful, and knew he couldn't step on anyone's toes. He could see his place in International Rescue wasn't where it used to be, though it had been suggested that he take over the comms so John could rest or do other work. However, this wouldn't solve the problem. They all loved him, were so happy he was back and yet it was exhausted men that visited him. They came often in ones or twos, often with bags under their eyes, sometimes even straight from a rescue in Virgil and Gordon's case, showering on Thunderbird Two which would be parked on the green behind the facility. They would come in trying to hide how tired they were to see him, sometimes a guilty look if they hadn't come sooner. Jeff understood now, he would complain if he didn't want to see them so badly. He should send them home with a clip around the ear and set his mother on them. Instead he opened his arms and embraced them, forever thankful that he still could.

He turned back to the reports, chimes filling the air with each light gust. He only looked up when some light footsteps came along the path, and a smile crossed his face. John, still in his uniform, settled into the chair before him.

"Afternoon Dad."

The smile on his son's face reached his tired eyes. John's inconsistent sleep was something Scott had mentioned. Getting John to sleep properly or to get him out of orbit was a challenge. Though he would often find time to pop down using the space elevator and would get Mum to help EOS with monitoring the world.

"Afternoon John, I'm guessing everything is going well? Will your brothers be joining us?"

"It is and no, they won't," John yawned, "it was a nineteen hour rescue so they are all catching up on sleep."

"Like you should be."

John rolled his eyes bringing a smile to Jeff's face. How many times had the boy done that as a teenager? Memories flooded back of John curled up with a book, Gordon, Alan or both on the living room floor, only for him to roll his eyes at something one of them had said. It was mainly Gordon, informing Alan of things that weren't quite true.

"I couldn't sleep."

"How about we go sit on the bench in the corner, the cushions make it extremely comfortable."

John nodded. Jeff brought the tablet with him and got up, his pace slower than his son's. John already had the cushions out the base and was on the seat when Jeff got to him. They sat down side-by-side, Jeff placing his arm over John's shoulder and pulling him close. His son didn't resist, laying his head against Jeff’s chest. This was the contact Jeff craved. Devoid of it for so many years, he still needed to be reminded that this was real.

"People died."

Jeff sat still, not saying the many things he could, knowing John needed time. John needed to work himself through it, needed to speak and be heard. So Jeff waited.

"It was a mudslide following an earthquake. Collapsed buildings and mud. That's what they had to deal with this time."

"Mud is like snow, it takes and rarely gives back. Hundreds of people are still missing, many bodies that may never be recovered, or will have to be DNA matched to be identified. We can do earthquakes and mudslides, we're efficient, but it takes its toll."

"They are all exhausted, physically and mentally. Grandma's enforced downtime but I don't know how long it'll last. Another rescue and they'll all be up and away before she can stop them. I would ground the craft for her but that would only cause suppressed anger to rise."

John's gaze was aimed at the ground, his whole body was unearthly still except for the rise and fall of his ribcage. Jeff knew John was thinking, debating what to say next. As the minutes passed and John remained silent Jeff knew it was time to coax it out.

"What about you? What weight are you carrying?"

John's fingers flexed, a hesitation, debating whether to share what was weighing him down more than gravity. It was the reason John was here, Jeff knew John saw and heard things the others didn't think about. Or if they did, they were helpless to do anything about it. John needed someone he could trust. He needed his father. Jeff's thumb started to rub the man's shoulder, offering more comfort.

"I…there were just so many people. They all had phones, all calling in. Some were petrified, others screamed, children and adults all with the same fear in their voices. All asking for help, to be rescued. Some were fine but it was a friend or family member in trouble. I talked to one young man through first aid, he had to tourniquet his younger brother's leg. His brother had already lost a lot of blood and was unconscious. I got Gordon to go there but when he found them it turns out the young man was in shock. He hadn't wanted to believe his brother was dead and he had done the first aid on the body. He had refused to leave his brother. It took Gordon five minutes to drag him away."

"I went straight from that to a child who was hurt and her mother wasn't responding. She cried; cried so much. She screamed when Virgil unpinned her arm and again when she realised he was leaving her mother behind."

A tear skipped down John's cheek. Jeff kept quiet, knowing too well what the screams of a child for a dead parent were like; how much they pierce your heart and tear into your soul. No matter whose child it was always painful.

"I heard so many last words. I've a document of names and last requests. Things they wanted to say. They are mainly 'I love you' to various family members and spouses. So many people wish they had said it more. I heard so many phone lines go quiet."

Another tear.

"I was working flat out, Grandma was taking calls from the island, but I still want to have done more. I wanted to save more. Maybe if I had directed Scott here and Virgil there or if I could have kept her calmer her rescue wouldn't have taken so long. So many lives were lost. So many we couldn't save. It's our job to save people. We should have saved them."

Jeff reached his right arm up and hugged John, tears silently falling. He knew there would always be rescues like this, where no matter what they did, many people would still die. There was nothing that could be said or done to fix it. The pain would always be felt. Holding his son, he let John cry it out in a safe place. It was his job, as a father, to be there when his sons needed him. He knew from the reports that he wouldn't be going out on rescues, his body too old and damaged to keep up with his boys. But just as his mother had, Jeff knew he would find his place again. He was still needed, even if it was just to answer the odd call, to help as Mum had all this time, to shoulder that burden and still be there at the end of the day, to help them process it all.

His eyes fell onto the mop of ginger hair, messed up by the position they'd been in, and smiled. It was the result of a hidden gene that had popped up and Lucille had adored it. It shone in direct sunlight and would give John an angelic glow. He’d been their quiet angel. Hardworking, often out of sight, but always there. The man's eyes were closed and he had become a dead weight against Jeff. It'd been more than eight years since a son had fallen asleep in his arms. There would be no complaint from Jeff. He would sit here for as long as John needed. Jeff peered down at his boy, heart full of love and pride for the quiet reserved man.

"I love you son."

[pedros-mustache-main]

like the movies

summary: he’s the writer; you’re the muse. there’s a cup of coffee somewhere in there, too.

word count: 3.3k+

warnings: fluff & pining—so, a change of pace from my usual angst. :) also: a serious lack of dialogue because i am feeling verbose. 

a/n: this is entirely @joemazzmatazz‘s fault. it was her idea (albeit given to me actual ages ago), but she said “do it” and who am i to say no? anywho, i’m relatively uncertain about how this turned out, but have it regardless!

your latte is hot, almost too hot. it burns your tongue on the first sip.

but you welcome the heat and the momentary burst of pain. the weather swirling outside borders on atrocious: freezing rain mixed with snow flurries, bloated, gray clouds, and a thin layer of ice on all surfaces. though the tip of your tongue stings upon that first sip, the heat that rushes to your chest pushes away the dreary weather you’d slogged through to get to the coffee shop.

you’re a regular here. not a regular regular, but regular enough that the interchangeable baristas recognize you and you recognize them. you exchange tight-lipped smiles and nods of greeting when you approach the counter, but nothing more than simple pleasantries. you don’t know their names, and they never ask for yours, but they remember your order: frosted blueberry latte with extra foam. it’s gotten to the point where you can simply walk up to the counter, money in hand, and the barista can repeat your order before you open your mouth.

it’s the little things, you suppose. in this little corner of the world, you feel seen.

today, you have your laptop open, latte pushed to the side, and a cherry and almond scone on a bright blue plate. you resist the urge to pull your foot up on the chair and rest your chin on your knee. though you’re here more often than you’re at home, this isn’t your living room. you settle for sliding your ankle beneath your opposite thigh.

being a paralegal is decidedly unglamorous. sure, it sounds highfalutin to the person sitting beside you on the airplane, but damn, if it isn’t stressful. you feel like a glorified secretary most of the time. pushing papers and getting signatures and making tens of phone calls to people and places that are not interested in speaking to a lawyer isn’t really what you signed up for. at least, it’s not what you ultimately want. it pays the bills for now, though; a partnership… that’ll come later.

you’re lucky enough that you can work remotely, hence your sturdy corner of the café. from where you sit, you watch customers enter and exit the shop. each time the door opens and the little bell tinkles above, a blast of cold air rushes into the cramped space. you enjoy watching the reaction of newcomer­—the way they stamp their snow-covered shoes on the wood floor and shiver, turn to their companions with a smile, hurry to the counter to order something sweet and warm. in those moments, you grow wistful, your heart lurching with loneliness. it’s been a long time since you’ve had anyone to meet for an afternoon coffee date, friend or otherwise. your job doesn’t afford much downtime, and what downtime you do have is devoted to menial life responsibilities. 

your phone buzzes, and you glance down. a text from your boss. time to refocus.

you work for a while longer, nibbling on your scone, sipping from your latte. the emails pile up, and your phone buzzes incessantly. a headache forms at the base of your skull as you struggle to keep up with the constant flurry of communication.

after receiving a terse email from your boss’s legal partner in relation to something that is no fault of your own, you shut your laptop. a five-minute break; you deserve that much. rubbing a hand down your weary face, you grab your purse, slide out from behind the table, and head for the restroom. in the poorly lit bathroom, you splash some cool water on your cheeks and sigh at your reflection in the mirror. you look tired, feel it too. the dark bags under your eyes bely how little sleep you’ve gotten in the last week, and your shoulders droop under the weight of the world. maybe by christmas…

who are you kidding? christmas is just as busy as any other time of the year. people don’t stop needing lawyers just ‘cause it’s the holidays.

when you return to your makeshift workspace, you immediately frown. you freeze several paces from the corner of the table and glance over your shoulder, tightening your grip on the strap of your purse.

someone had been at the table in the five minutes it took to freshen up.

nothing is gone, thank god. (in retrospect, you probably shouldn’t have left your laptop and phone sitting in plain sight. call it naivety, but you like to think the best of people. however, your line of work consistently reminds you that the bad in people often outweighs the good.) your laptop, though, has been nudged to the side, the movement causing the charging cord to fall out. several drops of dark liquid—spilled latte—dampen the corner of your yellow legal pad.

what truly catches you eye is the square piece of paper resting on your laptop’s keyboard like a discarded feather.

you look over your shoulder again, but the shop is largely empty save for the baristas and an older couple in the far corner. the weather is certainly a deterrent from lingering. perhaps someone had come in while you were in the bathroom and left you a note. had your car been hit? you hope not. you don’t have the extra funds for vehicular maintenance right now and even less time to fix whatever damage had been done.

leaning forward, you lift the piece of paper, and your chest tightens.

it’s a drawing—a drawing of you. blue ink scattered across the page in swirling lines forms the hazy outline of your profile. your chin rests in your hand, and the artist made certain note to emphasize your eyelashes, which are not that long in actuality. at the bottom of the page, a message in curling script: when you are old ­— yeats

your mouth runs dry, your palms moist with nerves. returning to your chair, you quickly type the words into the search bar of your browser. you remember enough from high-school english to know yeats is a poet, but when the poem loads and you read the words, you feel like you might fall over.

your neck snaps up, cracks at the sudden movement. someone had been here in the café long enough to watch you, to sketch you, and to think of the yeats poem in relation to you.

how decidedly… romantic. like something out of a chick-flick.

despite the warmth in your chest, you shut your laptop, fold the sketch, and shove it in your coat pocket, willing yourself to forget the random happenstance. things like that—serendipitous moments of romance—only happen in the movies. they certainly don’t happen to you.

whomever had left the note, well—at least they’d brightened your day. your mother would call it a gift from the heavens, an angel smiling down on you.

shaking your head, you gather your things and hurry out into the cold, wintery weather. you refuse to allow yourself to go home and daydream. you could use the note as a bookmark, sure, but there was no use in dreaming about the artist. no use whatsoever when you would likely never cross paths again.

except you do go home and daydream. why you ever thought you could keep yourself from mulling over a moment rife with potential is ridiculous.

all throughout the evening—as you make your stir-fry dinner, as you draw your bath, as you change the sheets on your bed, and fold the laundry—you consider the possibilities:

you’d been at the café for a handful of hours, but how much had you truly paid attention to the patrons coming and going? barely, if you’re honest with yourself. you had noticed the older couple when they came in; you’d wondered how they’d managed to get from the parking lot to the warmth of the coffee shop without slipping on the icy sidewalks. you’d noticed, too, a man who looked a lot like how you imagine paul bunyan: massive height, plaid shirt stuffed in worn jeans, impressive beard. no one else of note sticks out in your mind hours later.

what had you been doing all afternoon? hopefully you hadn’t done anything embarrassing. god, sometimes you have this habit of resting your fingers over your mouth in such a way that it pushes up your nose to resemble a pig’s snout. had you done that? sometimes you fiddle with your hair too much and bounce your knees and hum to yourself. you want to sink below the suds of your bathwater when you recall your propensity for talking to yourself.

your thoughts turn fanciful when you finally slip beneath your covers.

maybe the artist is like tom hanks in “you’ve got mail.” only instead of emails, you could exchange notes in a coffee shop and forgo the business rivalry part.

maybe the artist is like tom hanks in “sleepless in seattle”: soft and sweet and really good with kids.

maybe you just have a thing for tom hanks.

you turn your head with a girlish grin, tucking your lower lip between your teeth.

you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t daydream, but how could you not? yeats’s poem filters through your mind like the moon filtering through your curtains: how many loved your moments of glad grace, and loved your beauty with love false or true, but one man loved the pilgrim soul in you and loved the sorrows of your changing face.

with a muffled squeal, you allow yourself a moment to thrash in delight—like a schoolgirl with a crush and a note checked yes i like you tucked beneath her pillow. the idea that someone somewhere notices you, of all people, is simply too much to bear. you feel like your heart will explode and sunbeams will burst from beneath your skin. you feel warm and happy and drunk on possibility.

you settle, then, and sigh, smoothing your hands over the rumpled comforter. you’re a professional, though. a paralegal, for god’s sake. you’ll go back to the café. maybe not tomorrow, but you’ll go back. just maybe—maybe, maybe, maybe—you’ll run into your artist again.

you return to the coffee shop in two days, lugging your over-stuffed bag with you, earbuds snug in your ears. when you cross the threshold, you can’t help the way your eyes immediately scan the customers who have parked themselves in the various sitting areas. you’re looking for your artist, obviously, but you have nothing to go on other than the note tucked away in your jewelry box at home. a few words, a carefully drawn profile—that’s not enough to determine who had created the note from a simple glance.

begrudgingly, you remind yourself once again that life isn’t a movie. there’s no tom hanks waiting for you on the other end of the note. it’s silly to dwell on it any longer, really. you’ll get too wrapped up, too attached, and that wouldn’t bode well for the upcoming holidays.

the table you usually occupy is already taken by a man in a red sweater. his head is bent over his laptop, glasses slipping down his strong nose. you try not to take it to heart; the table was never explicitly yours. with a soft grunt of effort, you drop your belongings in an orange armchair across the room before meandering to the counter. julie (at least, you think that’s her name?) smiles when you approach, and she rings up your order, asking about the weather and plans for the holidays.

once your coffee is in hand, you return to your new seat and relax in the accommodating plush armchair. maybe the man in the red sweater had done you a favor after all. you glance up to look at him. if he stays as long as you often do, his ass will ache by the time he leaves. the wood chairs offer zilch in the way of comfort.

you quickly lose yourself in work, but the idea that your artist could be in the same room as you never truly leaves your mind. you find yourself glancing about the room from time to time, studying those who come and go, wondering if perhaps they were the one who saw something worthwhile in you. no one catches you eye; everyone is too busy with their own affairs, and you don’t blame them.

by the end of the afternoon, you find your latte completely and utterly forgotten. it’s cold when you take a tentative sip, and you sigh. maybe not five dollars wasted, but five dollars you had meant for a hot drink, especially considering the cold weather. rising from your seat, you take the latte to the counter and ask the barista to pour your drink in a to-go cup with some ice. might as well make the best of it, and you don’t like things to go to waste.

when you return to your chair, you nearly drop the plastic cup.

another note.

“holy shit,” you breathe. instinctively, your palm tightens around your cup, and the plastic gives a small crack. you wince and double-check to make sure no leaks have sprung before picking up the folded piece of paper on your messenger bag.

your fingers tremble as you flip open the folded note.

the same blue ink, same hurried penmanship. no drawing this time; only words.

she sat, much as i did, working fervently. i couldn’t help but watch, and maybe that made me a creep, but i’d been called worse. she sat with an heir of regality, her chin held firm, eyes dancing about the room like she owned the place. not haughty or self-possessed. just sure of herself. what did that make me then? alone in my corner? i didn’t like to dwell too long, so i—

the words stop in time with the seize of your heart.

you can’t seem to look away, to look around the room again in search of your artist, your writer. your heart pounds in your chest, flush rising on your cheeks. eyes—you feel eyes on you whether they are present or not. you feel dizzy. never have you felt so… seen, so noticed. not even in past relationships have your boyfriends took such care to notice the minute details of your being.

the strange urge to vomit rises in your throat. you aren’t afraid; you aren’t creeped out.

you’re just… overwhelmed.

so, you tuck the note in your pocket and leave, careful to keep your gaze on the floor as you exit. just in case your writer is still there, still watching.

you’re nothing special, nothing like the paragraph they penned. they should get that through their thick skull before they find themselves disappointed.

you don’t return to the coffee shop until after the holidays.

it’s not that hard to stay away. the hustle and bustle of work combined with the hustle and bustle of family gatherings keeps you from finding the time for an afternoon of solace anywhere, let alone the café.

you must admit that you think of your author often, try as you might to forget them.

by now, you have the cadence of the yeats poem memorized and the prose of the paragraph tattooed on the front of your mind. each time you pass a couple in a warm embrace, you wonder what became of your writer. you wonder if they think of you as much as you think of them; if they ruminate over the possibility of a life that cannot be.

if this were a movie, you would run into your author by random happenstance. you’d bump into them at the market, spill your legumes on the floor, touch hands in your haste to right the mistake, and—boom—as you look up, it would all fall into place.

if this were a movie, you would see them in the library or the post office or the deli or—

—or the coffee shop.

you sigh as you enter the café, wishing for your author to be there, knowing they won’t be. it is enough that you’ve experienced two mysterious love notes; things like that don’t come in threes.

that’s only in the movies.

the café still has its holiday decorations up. twinkle lights hang draped across the ceiling, and music filters over the sparsely filled tables and chairs. in the post-holiday haze, you didn’t expect the café to be crowded. in all truth, the sight of few patrons eases your mind.

less of a chance to run into your author. less of a chance to reveal yourself as the decidedly uninteresting person you are.

you set your belongings down at a side table, and as you reach for your wallet, a presence hovers over your shoulder. frowning slightly, you straighten, prepared to ask the person to kindly give you some space. when you do turn, your heart leaps to your throat, and the wallet in your hand clatters to the table.

it’s your author. you just know it.

there’s something vaguely familiar about the man, about his strong nose and groomed facial hair and crystal eyes. he’s tall, warm looking, like a hot drink on a cold day or a crackling fire. his eyes scan your face as though he is worried, as though he’s uncertain of what he should do now that you’ve actually faced him.

you speak before your thoughts catch up with your heart. “you wrote those notes, didn’t you?”

he nods, and the movement—so gentle, so reminiscent of a small boy on the verge of a scolding—makes you love him all the more. “yeah.” he sighs, lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck. “yeah, sorry about that. i wanted to apologize. wasn’t sure i’d get the chance, if you’d come back again.”

you shake your head. “no, don’t apologize. please don’t apologize.”

it’s his turn to frown, and he looks up from the table. you lose your breath momentarily. god, his eyes are blue. “when you left last time i thought… well, i thought i’d scared you off.” with a rueful chuckle, he shoves his hands in his pockets. “would serve me right, too.”

“why do you say that?”

“i mean, notes on your laptop when you aren’t looking? intently watching you? kinda stalkerish, huh?”

you can’t help but smile—smile at him, at the nervous twitch of his mouth, at the way he avoids your gaze. “i guess.” on a daring move, you reach out and touch his elbow. when you touch him, he feels like home. “but i don’t want you to apologize. i like the notes. i haven’t thought about anything else since you gave me the first one.”

“really?” there’s a hopeful tone in his voice; it sets your heart on fire.

“yeah.”

“i’m writing a book—a novel, really. i saw you so often that any time i got stuck, i just wrote about you instead.”

you could kiss him then and there. instead, you tell him your name, and he grins.

“i’m gwilym.”

“tell me, gwilym.” you pull out your chair and motion to the café counter. “how would you feel if i bought you a coffee? i want to hear more about that novel.”

“i’d—i’d like that.”

he follows you to the counter, his hand brushing the small of your back.

the barista—matt, you think—looks up from the register and laughs. “holy shit, i won!” he looks over his shoulder. “hey, julie! you owe me a fifty.”

you glance at gwilym, but he’s already looking at you. you smile.

matt continues. “we had a pool to see how long it would take for you two to get together. you were always looking at each other but never at the same time. you knew that, right?” still laughing, he rings up your orders without be asked. “coffee is on us today, guys.”

as you wait for your latte to be steamed and gwilym’s chia to be poured, you tuck your lip between your teeth to stem your widening grin. gwilym is strong by your side, the perfect height for you to rest your head on his shoulder. you look up at him, at the noble planes of his face, and your chest squeezes. when he looks at you again, your chest squeezes even tighter.

maybe life is like a movie after all.