Tags/Warnings: Realistic crime scene work, blood, language and situation consistent with the game, no use of Y/N, gender neutral reader
Disclaimer: Inspired by a prompt list from the blog Writers Write
Word Count: 601
Summary: Prompt: Elementary (Connor “casually” hints that he’s been reading some classic novels)
Read below or on AO3
The crinkle of your hazmat suit was already starting to grate on your nerves. You were closing in on hour five of documenting a new crime scene and the sun had set, meaning you already had to stop and set up lights midway through your notes, and now you were finally finishing up your photos.
The scene was a bloodbath and the stench had nearly caused you to lose your lunch; now you were used to it. But remembering that you still needed to sketch the scene made even your bones feel heavy.
The sound of new voices caught your attention and you looked up to see a familiar face.
“Connor?” He turned at the sound of his name and smiled, making his way over to you. “I thought you were at a scene on the other side of town.”
“We were.” Hank’s gruff voice cut in before Connor could speak.
“There are no additional detectives to assist on this case,” Connor stated, matter-of-factly.
“Great. Well, welcome to the shitshow, boys. Let me get you up to speed.” Hank and Connor came closer, and you explained what was known about the victim, location, and evidence. Connor’s eyes flicked around the house, no doubt corroborating what you were saying with the database in his head. Hank was lucky that his partner was a walking stenographer, considering he didn’t take any notes of his own.
When you were done, Hank announced that he was going to go talk to the neighbors and disappeared. Connor was content to occupy himself, exploring the scene while you started taking measurements.
After a while, he returned to where you were working, eager to share his own findings.
“I think it’s safe to say that there were several blood events.” The deadpan look you fixed him with made him pause.
You gestured at the blood covering the walls and ceiling. “You don’t say? What leaps of genius led you to that conclusion?”
“It’s… elementary.” He had the gall to look proud, as if he’d been waiting to say that all day. You snorted.
“When did you start reading Sherlock Holmes?”
“I found a collection of old books in Hank’s attic and couldn’t help myself.” Now he looked a little sheepish, and you chuckled.
“Alright detective, help me take room measurements and you can tell me all of your deductions.”
He jumped into action, all the while talking you through the scene reconstructions he had calculated.
You envied how his handwriting stayed neat and clean after a day of work while yours was a sloppy, halfhearted effort as you passed your notebook between yourselves. But an extra pair of hands made the work faster and you appreciated the company.
With the last measurement noted, you allowed yourself a moment to stretch as Connor made his way back to your side.
“Okay, documentation is done. I’m going to start working on collection. You’re welcome to help if you’re confident Hank didn’t get lost during his canvassing,” you huffed. His lips twitched up into a smile.
“I’m sure we’d find him if he did.” He turned toward your kit and then paused. “If you’re interested, I was thinking we could read some Holmes together. Maybe I could read to you before bed?”
You stopped to look at him. It wasn’t like him to breach the line between work and personal life mid-crime scene. “You can read a novel in under two minutes; wouldn’t you get bored?”
He shrugged, looking almost hopeful. “I think it might be fun.”
You can’t help but smile. “Make it over dinner and you’ve got a deal.”
Fandom: House of Ashes (The Dark Pictures Anthology)
Character/Pairing: Jason Kolchek x Salim Othman
Tags/Warnings: Sexual suggestion, kissing, mild identity crisis
Disclaimer: Based on [this piece] by @stepk - please do yourself a favor and look at this art (and while you’re at it, check out part one as well! You won’t regret it!).
Word Count: 1236
Summary: Jason finds himself alone with an enemy Iraqi soldier who makes him start to question… everything.
(Alternate scene of Jason (and Nick) confronting Salim in the temple after taking him captive)
Read on AO3 or below
“We still have the east flank to cover. Eyes open. Let’s go.” Jason’s words echoed around the open space of the temple. He saw Nick nod once in acknowledgment out of the corner of his eye as they made their way to the edge of the vast room, where they had tied up the enemy Iraqi soldier.
To say Jason was uneasy was an understatement. The man they were approaching subverted everything Jason had been told about Iraqi soldiers. It had been drilled into him that they were a vicious and violent people, who would stop at nothing to kill. Yet the first thing he did was show Jason mercy, when he could have gunned him down on the spot. His words, “no more killing”, still echoed through Jason’s head.
And when they crossed paths again, and Jason had done nothing but threaten him, he had stayed calm and willingly surrendered. Did he have a bigger motive in mind? To trick the Americans and dispatch of them later? Is that why he had allied with Nick? But Nick seemed adamant this man was different, stating there were several moments where he had been unguarded and the man never took the opportunity to use that stake against him. It didn’t make any sense.
But what alarmed Jason the most was that he found the Iraqi man devastatingly attractive. He brought feelings to the surface that Jason had sworn he had buried too deep to reach. Apparently not.
With each step, Jason tried to strengthen his resolve. He was going to stay focused on the mission. They were on enemy soil with unknown combatants and Iraqi soldiers to boot. His situation wasn’t exactly going to improve by having an identity crisis as well. But as he and Nick came to stop in front of their captive, Jason suspected he had his work cut out for him.
“The demons will kill me. You have to untie me!” The man pleaded, forceful but urgent. He pulled against his restraints, grunting from the effort, and Jason had to take a moment to steady himself at the sound. This was hardly the time to get turned on.
He looked towards Nick. “It’s okay, my buddy’s here to protect you,” Jason said, patting Nick on the arm, trying to sound confident.
“Don’t worry, we’ve got this place locked down tight.” Nick did a visual sweep of the area, as if to prove his point. The Iraqi soldier looked skeptical and unimpressed. Nick turned to Jason. “We’ve got work to do. I’m heading out.”
He nodded, and eyed the man in front of him, who watched Nick leave, his face unreadable. Jason silently cursed himself for not immediately following. Now he was left all alone with this man.
When Nick was out of sight and they finally made eye contact again, Jason scrambled for something to say.
“This here’s as safe as it’s gonna get.”
The man shook his head. “I’ll feel a lot safer with a gun in my hand.” Jason scoffed.
“No way am I giving you a weapon. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna feed you to your demons.” He paused, trying to think of something reassuring to say. “Anything moves, we’ll be here before a prayer leaves your mouth.”
He regretted the words instantly, as he was now looking at said mouth, and thinking of all the things it might be capable of. The man’s lips were fairly full and looked tantalizingly soft.
Jason tried to look away, briefly making eye contact again, which was another mistake because he was met with rich brown eyes that seemed to look right into his soul. So he let his gaze drop back down.
The man parted his lips, almost mockingly, and Jason’s stomach churned. As if he were a marionette, his hand moved on its own and he watched as it cupped the man’s chin, his thumb gliding over his bottom lip. It was just as soft as it looked and Jason bit down on his own lip.
Time seemed to move in slow motion as he allowed his thumb to apply more pressure, slightly exposing the man’s teeth. As Jason relished in the feeling, his brain started catching up with his body, becoming hyper aware that he was caressing a man, an Iraqi soldier no less, that he was holding captive. A man whose name he didn’t even know; Nick had mentioned it and now Jason cursed himself for not committing it to memory.
He froze as his eyes drifted back upwards. He expected to be met with disgust but instead found intrigue and allurement. After a moment, the man spoke.
“What are you waiting for?”
Jason felt the words form under his thumb, shuddering at the warm breath on his skin. He glanced behind him, confirming that Nick was gone, and turned back to the Iraqi. He could stop now, go on like nothing had happened, and ignore the feelings stirring within him.
But he decided to throw caution to the wind; if he was going to die in this vampiric hell, he was going to die knowing the kiss of another man. So he shifted his hand to cradle the back of the Iraqi’s head, and leaned down, pressing their lips together.
It went without saying that Jason was rusty, but that didn’t seem to bother the man. Despite being the one tied up, he quickly became the more dominant of the two, and Jason couldn’t bring himself to care. Kisses bled together as tongues began to explore. Jason slowly became more entranced, reveling in the man’s taste.
The sensation of desire building in him was new and exhilarating. The thought of untying the Iraqi briefly entered his mind when his earpiece crackled to life.
“Hey man, this east flank isn’t going to cover itself.”
Jason tore himself away, whipping around to make sure Nick wasn’t actually in the room. When he confirmed Nick wasn’t, he took a few deep breaths before replying. It was like he had been electrocuted, all good feelings snapped to panic and dread, a cold chill cascading down his body.
“Yeah, I’m comin’,” he said curtly into his earpiece, relieved he didn’t sound as shaky as he felt. When he glanced back at the Iraqi, he was greeted by a cheekily raised eyebrow and Jason flushed hard at the implication of his word choice. That paired with the man’s soft panting and glistening lips left Jason scrambling for words.
“Fuck you!” He blurted, reaching up to straighten his hat and pull it low over his eyes. To his horror, the man’s mouth twitched up, the hint of a smirk, as if to say ‘Oh really?’.
He turned on his heel and made a hasty retreat before he could say anything else. Once he was out of the temple, and more importantly out of the man’s view, he leaned against a wall, desperate to get his breathing and emotions back under control. He was a first lieutenant for fucks sake, how could he be so easily seduced by an enemy soldier who did nothing but sit there and look beautiful? He clenched his teeth and took several more deep breaths. As he set off to find Nick, he took comfort in the knowledge that he wouldn’t have to spend any more alone time with the Iraqi. The last thing he needed was any more temptation.
Fandom: House of Ashes (The Dark Pictures Anthology)
Character/Pairing: Jason Kolchek x Salim Othman
Tags/Warnings: Sexual suggestion
Disclaimer: Inspired by [this piece] by @the-girl-who-flies (Required Viewing! You’ll thank me later!)
Word Count: 328
Summary: Salim learns something new about Jason
Read on AO3 or below
“Jason!”
The American looked up, registering the sound of crumbling rocks above him. He had no time to react before he was wrenched from his position as stone and dust came raining down on the spot he just occupied. He became hyper aware that Salim had launched himself at him and quite ceremoniously picked him clean off the ground with a strong arm around his torso, dodging the debris and pulling him to safety. As the dust settled, they both paused to steady themselves, pressed firmly against each other. Jason couldn’t stop the blush that took over his face. Salim wasn’t that much bigger than him, how did he do that? And how could Jason get him to do it again?
To his horror, Salim seemed to be picking up on Jason’s reaction and putting two and two together. A smirk spread across his face, and he began walking, forcing Jason backwards, against the nearest wall. Before Jason could do anything, a gentle but firm hand was in his hair, knocking off his hat, and pulling his head back, exposing his neck. If it were possible for Jason to blush harder, he would have.
“You like to be manhandled, don’t you?” Salim was leaning in dangerously close now, and Jason could barely choke out a few words.
“Salim, we don’t have time for this.” He tried to look annoyed but his red cheeks gave him away. Salim chuckled and Jason could feel it in the chest pressed to his.
“If we survive this, maybe we should make time,” Salim purred before releasing him and stepping away. Jason’s knees went weak and he wasn’t sure how he managed to stay upright as Salim turned and began to resume his exploration. Jason gulped, taking the time to check his gun and return his hat to his head.
He couldn’t decide if he was more eager to see the sun again or see if Salim would follow up on that proposal.
Tags/Warnings: Violence, blood, temporary character death, panic, smoking, hurt/comfort, angst
Disclaimer: Takes place an unspecified amount of time after the conclusion of House of Ashes.
All credit goes to @smolbeandrabbles - thank you for introducing me to the game, unwittingly giving me the idea for this fic, and being the best hype person. Love you ❤️
Word Count: 1460
Summary: Salim promised that he’d give up smoking but sometimes his nightmares make that hard to do.
Read on AO3 or below
Salim stared up at the sky, dark, except for the slivers of sun he could see behind the moon. In years past, he’d’ve thought it beautiful. But it was hard to appreciate as his blood drained onto the sand beneath him.
The pain had become so intense that he no longer felt anything. Not the gashes along his torso nor the feeling of the creature atop him, filling its belly with his life force. If he did feel anything, it was a great heaviness, seeping into his limbs, his body, his head, lulling him into a sleepy haze.
His eyelids began to droop, as the idea of the end settled into his mind. But it was cut short by the sound of a scream, a scream in the form of his name. He knew this voice, he had to. It was so familiar. Over and over, his name was cried out, getting louder. He willed his brain to work. Yes, he knew this voice. It had said his name before, he was certain. In annoyance, in snark, in pleasure.
Mustering the very last of his strength, Salim managed to turn his head in the direction of his lover.
Jason was barreling towards him, anguish painted on his face. Salim wanted to raise his arms up and yell. ‘No, foolish American. Why are you coming closer with no weapon? Run, run and save yourself.’ But it was no use, his energy was long gone. He could only watch helplessly as Jason continued in his trajectory and the vampire tore itself away from his entrails and honed in on the approaching target.
He couldn’t even make a sound as the monster launched itself at Jason and took him down with ease. Piercing screams filled the air as the vampire began to tear into Jason’s flesh, the man kicking up sand as he struggled.
The heaviness choked him as he watched his lover suffer the same fate as him. Now as his eyelids began to drift, there was nothing left to stop them. And as Salim drew his last breath, he closed his eyes to the sight of Jason’s soft blue shirt turning crimson.
•••
Salim jerked upright, his heavy quilt shifted off his body as consciousness returned. Air entered his lungs in ragged gasps as he looked around him. The desert was gone, replaced by the walls of his London flat. He didn’t wait for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, instead lurching to turn on the lamp atop his bedside table, knocking over a stack of books in the process.
Light flooded the room and Salim first looked down, examining himself. No wounds, no blood; he seemed entirely intact. Next he whipped around to examine the body beside him. Jason began to stir from the commotion but Salim needed to be sure he was alive.
His unsteady hands made contact with Jason’s bare chest, right over his heart. Despite his trembling, he felt Jason’s strong heartbeat as the younger man was now wide awake and moving to sit up.
“Salim, what the hell?” Jason blinked, the light blinding him after coming out of a deep sleep. Salim slid his hands upwards and came to cup Jason’s face, drawing it closer to his own. It was then that Jason seemed to register the distressed look he was receiving and reached up to grasp Salim’s forearms. “You okay?”
His first instinct was to nod, then to shake his head. From Jason’s furrowing brow, he realized he was moving his head but in no coherent direction. So he said the first word that came to his mind, a word that they were both intimately familiar with.
“Nightmare.”
He released Jason’s face from his hold and pulled away to search for the second word that came to his mind. Cigarette.
He stumbled out of bed and towards the living room, turning on every light switch within his reach. He arrived gracelessly at his desk and yanked open the top drawer, fumbling for his emergency stash. Box and lighter in hand, he tripped towards the balcony, swearing as he went, cigarettes spilling from their box as he struggled to pull one out. He stooped to pick one off the floor, abandoning the box and its contents scattered around it.
Cigarette in hand, he slid open the door and stepped out into the crisp night air.
With great effort, he managed to flip open the lighter and strained to hold both level with each other.
Flick. Flick. Flick.
His hands shook so hard that he couldn’t get a grip on the lighter wheel strong enough to ignite the flame. He cursed again, willing his hands to work, willing them to be steady.
He jumped as Jason materialized in front of him. “Gimme that.” With ease, he removed the light from Salim’s hand and wrapped his hand around his wrist, keeping the cigarette in place. With one fluid motion, Jason rolled his thumb across the lighter’s spark wheel.
Flick. Whoosh.
A small flame danced between them as Jason carefully lit the cigarette and let go of Salim’s wrist. As the first hint of smoke curled into the air, Salim turned and took several long drags. As the seconds ticked by, he felt his body begin to relax and his mind slow. His eyes darted up to the sky. Bright moon. No vampires.
Within a minute, he had burned through the first one and turned back towards the door to find a second. He was met by Jason stepping back outside, box in hand with the cigarettes tucked safely back inside, save for one that he handed to Salim.
“Thank you,” Salim managed to rasp, his voice as unsteady as the rest of him. It earned him a nod as Jason reached out with the lighter again, lighting the second one.
He moved away to take a drag, knowing Jason’s aversion to the habit, but the younger man stayed close. As Salim breathed in, he felt a gentle hand on his back and a warm body pressed against his side. He glanced over to see Jason peering down at the road below them, vacant at this hour.
As the panic slowly subsided, Salim was left with a growing sense of guilt. Guilt over waking the man beside him. Guilt for breaking his resolve to quit smoking. Each subsequent drag was both a physical relief and a mental strain.
“Hey, I can hear ya thinkin’.” He locked eyes with Jason who fixed him with a stern look. “We’ve been over this shit. A couple here and there is fine. I don’t care. We’ve been through enough.”
Salim nodded, knowing his partner was right. They had been through enough, enough for several lifetimes. And here they were, body to body, alive. Without breaking eye contact, Salim stubbed out the cigarette on the balcony railing and expressed his gratitude in the best way he knew how.
“I love you.”
It was Jason that looked away, and Salim could see his cheeks flush under the moonlight.
“Love you too.”
Salim smiled and once again took Jason’s face into his hands, pressing a long, gentle kiss to his lips. They paused to rest their foreheads together, breathing in each other's air. Then it was Jason to initiate a kiss, this one more forceful, grounding.
When they broke apart, Jason took his hand and began pulling him back inside with a soft but firm, “Come on.”
Salim let himself be led back to the bedroom, stopping only for Jason to tuck the cigarettes and lighter back into the drawer and to turn off the living room lights.
The soft glow of his lamp greeted him as Salim returned to his bedside, books back in their place, he noted, as Jason moved around to the other side to settle back in.
“Can I…?” Salim glanced from Jason to the lamp and back.
“You ain’t gotta ask.” Salim nodded his thanks and eased himself onto the mattress. Following the incident in the desert, they were used to falling asleep with a light on regularly, but Salim still felt the need to ask.
Once they were both in bed, Jason wasted no time wrapping Salim in his arms and pulling him to his chest. The older man smiled to himself, snaking his arms around Jason in return. Gentle fingers found their way into his hair and he sighed. With Jason’s heart beating steadily against his cheek, Salim allowed the sound and feeling to be his sole focus as Jason drifted back to sleep.
He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, listening to each thump, but as the light in the room shifted from artificial to natural and dawn finally broke, Salim closed his eyes and slept.
Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, female reader, female pronouns, kissing, lingo consistent with the games, appearances from Dom and Cole, Marcus is mentioned, perspective gets passed from Baird to reader, no plot
Disclaimer: Takes place between Gears 2 and 3
Word Count: 1427
Summary: Goodbyes are hard. They’re especially hard when your lover is one of the COG’s golden boys, always being sent out into danger.
(Alternative summary: Baird loves being right (what’s new?))
Read on AO3
“Yo Baird!” Damon Baird glanced up from where he was strapping his ammo pack around his thigh to where Cole was standing in the doorway of his cabin. “You know where your lady love’s at?” Baird couldn’t help rolling his eyes at Cole’s ridiculous nickname for you but he also couldn’t deny that it was fairly accurate... even if he wasn’t ready to say the “L” word yet.
“What do I look like, her nanny?” He shifted his focus back to his armor, grabbing his chest plates.
“Dom’s looking for her,” Cole said, unfazed, “He’s worried we won't be back in time for crop duty.” Baird scoffed at that. “You know how much he cares about those things.”
“They’re not going to die if they’re watered a day late. Did he even check if her squad’s here?”
“He saw the twins in the mess and they said she’s around somewhere. She ain’t in her cabin or the workshop so we figured you might know.”
Baird grunted as he secured his plates and looked around for his gloves. “I don’t know. She’s probably on the deck somewhere.”
“Alright. I’ll go find her so you can confess your undying love before we ship out.” Cole gave a cheeky laugh but was gone by the time Baird turned back to make a smartass retort. Instead, he scowled to himself and pulled on his gloves. You couldn’t have gone far, he thought to himself. Sovereign was a big ship but not that big.
As he attached his gnasher and lancer to his holster pack, the ship speakers crackled to life, announcing their raven was prepped and ready. But he couldn’t go to the landing pad just yet; no, the seed of curiosity had been planted. His deep-seated need to know everything extended to figuring out where you were and whether you were safe. So with one last cursory glance around his cabin, ensuring he had everything, he sealed the door and set out to find you, not noticing Dom and Cole trailing him from a distance.
The deck was crowded: some people were tending to the large crop beds while others were running through training exercises. There were also a couple of lookouts along the railings, scouting for stalks or other ships. Littered all around them were small groups of gears, out socializing and enjoying the sun.
Baird scanned the faces of the off-duty gears in the gardens with no success. He knew it wasn’t your week to work but you were known for picking up shifts. He doubted you were in one of the rec areas below deck, given the time of day - you had some projects to work on; he had been there the other day when some gears had come into the workshop and asked if you could paint their plates and weapons. And considering how quickly and enthusiastically you had jumped on the opportunity, he figured that’s what you’d be doing. But if you weren’t in the workshop…
His eyes landed on two areas of storage crates: one by the gardens, one by the training area. He set off towards the gardens; you were like him, preferring a quieter, secluded place to work. Peering around boxes and crates, he quickly found you amongst them, sealant spray can in hand, kneeling in front of a set of propped up weapons. He smirked: he loved being right.
You must have heard his approach because you looked over your shoulder and smiled at him, setting down the can and rising to your feet. As you did, his face softened into the half smirk, half smile you were used to seeing from him. Coming to a stop next to you, he eyed your handiwork, weapons still recognizable despite your tape and coverings to protect the essential components: a hammerburst with a stylized omen, a gnasher with sleek, colorful lines, and a snub with someone’s initials in a bold font. They were impressive and he once again considered asking you to paint his own weapons. Maybe blue... with some yellow accents.
You shifted so you could playfully bump your hip into his, as was your usual greeting for him, and like clockwork, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against his side. You leaned into him while your eyes flicked down his body, taking note of the full armor, before meeting his waiting gaze.
“Where to?” You asked.
His nose scrunched. “Sounds like command’s sending us to check on one of the camps they’ve been getting radio silence from. The lambent probably wiped them out and the parasites will have pillaged the place by the time we get there. I don’t see the point in sending a whole squad when a pass over would suffice.” There was certainly no love lost between him and the civilians nor the stranded. But before you could reply, you’re interrupted by an all too familiar voice.
“See, baby? I told you he’d find her!” You both turned around to see Cole and Dom making their way towards you, and Baird scowled at Dom.
“Wait a minute, you told me you couldn’t find her just so you could follow me when I went looking?! Let me guess: you couldn’t be bothered to get off your ass and actually look for her yourself.”
“I looked, dickhead, but when the usual spots came up empty, we figured your pompous ass would know,” Dom snapped back.
You reached out and gave Baird’s wrist a squeeze before he could argue any further. “So whatcha need me for?”
“I was hoping you could water my crops if we’re not back tomorrow. We have no idea what we’re gonna find today so it might be a long call.”
“Of course,” you smiled, “I’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”
“Thanks,” Dom said, returning your smile before pressing a finger to his earpiece. You were close enough to Baird to hear some chatter in his own piece, far too quiet to make out but you imagined it was an impatient Marcus telling them to get their asses to the raven. “We’re on our way,” Dom replied to the call.
“Alright ladies, can’t keep the boss waiting,” Cole declared and you chuckled, suspicions confirmed.
“Good luck Delta. And keep an eye on this one for me,” you tipped your head towards Baird, “Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” The man in question snorted.
“Hey, Cole’s the reckless one, not me.”
“Yeah but I’m still around, baby!” Cole grinned and he and Dom turned to head out, leaving you and Baird alone.
Turning back towards each other, you stood there for a moment, staring. You had learned long ago that goodbyes were hard, not knowing which might be the last. Then, you took his face in your hands and drew him in for a kiss. He in turn wound his arms around you, pulling you against him, or at least as close as his armor would allow.
“Alright Damon, you know the speech.”
“‘Don’t get your ass shot and use your vast intellect to save the day’ - that one?” You chuckled and shook your head.
“Close enough,” you murmured, reaching up to hook a finger into the elastic band of his goggles and pulling it back just enough to give him a gentle snap. He rolled his eyes before leaning in for another kiss, which quickly escalated into several more.
You couldn’t help but indulge in the moment, wrapping your arms around his neck. The flick of his tongue made you grip him tighter and you could feel him smirk against your lips.
This time when his earpiece goes off, you could make out the faint “Baird, now” from Marcus and had to try and bite back a laugh.
“Alright, I’m coming, don’t get your panties twisted,” Baird replied with a huff.
“I’ll see you later,” You said, before giving him one last kiss.
His lips curled into a small smirk before he turned and jogged off. You watched him disappear before returning to your project, your stomach beginning to tighten. You had no way of knowing if what you said was entirely true, but you liked to hope it was. The nerves you felt every time he headed out on a new mission was the price you paid for dating a fellow gear. But you took comfort in knowing he was in a good squad - you both were. Delta was a small army in and of itself. If anyone had a chance of making it home safe, it was them.
Disclaimer: This is best understood if you’re familiar with Ilse in Attack on Titan: Junior High.
Word Count: 977
Summary: Ilse publishes her riskiest article yet, where she asks her best friend and crush to the school dance.
Read on AO3
Ilse clutched that day's copy of the school newspaper to her chest, eyes darting from side to side. She was nervous. She had published plenty of risky pieces in the past but this one was the riskiest yet.
At first glance, it was simply an article about the upcoming school dance. But a keen eye would notice that every first letter of the first word on each new line in the article was capitalized, spelling out a hidden message. She peeked down at the paper, just to remind herself of what she had done. Yep, still there.
Those capital letters could make or break her relationship with you. She had met you during your first years in the newspaper club and since then, she’d been falling for you a little more every day. You were a strong editor and a stronger friend, pushing her writing to new heights while always having her back. You both had spent long hours pouring over spreads and coming up with new articles, with her writing and you editing while occasionally lending her your photography skills.
But this was one article she had kept secret, because as your friendship grew, so did her crush. And everyone knew that the best way to tell your crush you liked them was to ask them to the dance.
It was a huge risk; if you rejected her proposal, she might be out of an editor and best friend. But if you accepted… well, it was that hope that urged her towards homeroom.
But her pace faltered when she spied some students who already had copies of today’s paper. She had planned on giving you a copy before the rest were distributed; what if you had already seen it - or worse, what if someone asked you about it and ruined the surprise?!
It was enough to make her break into a sprint, not caring if the hall monitor yelled at her.
It was only outside of homeroom that she truly second-guessed herself. But there’s no taking it back now: not with the paper published and her stumbling into the classroom, catching everyone’s attention.
There you sat, in the second row, watching her. You had paused while taking your pencil case out of your backpack to witness her dramatic entrance and slowly placed it on your desk, never taking your eyes off her.
Ilse gulped and stiffly made her way over to you, painfully aware that all eyes in the room were trained on her. You had no newspaper on your desk so you must have opted to forgo one today, which at least reassured her that you hadn’t read it yourself yet.
The concern painted all over your face is a familiar sight for her, as she’s reminded of all the lectures you’ve given her about being safe while investigating. It’s another reason she liked you so much: you looked out for her.
As if on cue, your mouth opened, no doubt to ask if she’s okay, but Ilse spoke first.
“I need your opinion on the new article I wrote,” she blurted, as she shoved the newspaper at you. Concern melted into confusion as you took the paper from her.
“O-okay.” You murmured, glancing between her and the newspaper.
You scanned the title and saw what seemed to be a short article about the upcoming school dance. Glancing down at the text, it seemed to address the who, what, when, and where.
Honestly, you had felt a little hurt, finding out that Ilse hadn’t told you about an article she had written; it was the reason you hadn’t gotten a paper today. You’d never tell her but you saved every article she wrote. But now seeing what it was, you could understand why she wouldn’t need to run something so simple by you to edit. In fact, you’re not sure why Ilse seems insistent on you reading this. But then you see it.
Down the text of the article is a column of capitalized letters, and reading them top to bottom spells your name and the word ‘d-a-n-c-e,’ complete with a question mark since she concluded the article with a perfectly formatted: “send any / ?’s to the student council.”
Your eyes widened as the meaning settled in: Ilse was asking you to the school dance. No wonder she was acting so strange. You couldn’t help but stare at the letters descending the page. It was finally happening!
You met her eyes and she looked awfully pale as she waited for your answer.
“Ilse, I-” You’re cut off as your teacher swooped into the room.
“Sorry I’m late, everyone, please take your seats and let’s get started!”
Ilse ducked her head and took her seat next to yours, stomach twisting in knots. She ruined everything - she just knew it. All you had done was stared at it in shock. She didn’t know what to say to you now, other than apologize profusely and beg you to forget what she’d done.
As she numbly pulled her supplies out of her bag, she saw you digging around in your pencil case from the corner of her eye. Pulling out a marker, you then scribbled something onto the newspaper.
Ilse opened her book as the newspaper was deposited onto her desk. She couldn’t bear to look at you as her eyes slowly drifted down the page. But instead of a sad “no, I’m sorry”, she found a big, bold “YES!” Now it’s her turn to stare in shock. Could it be…?
There’s a splitting grin across your face when Ilse finally looks over at you, and she could feel a matching one begin to spread across her own. Neither of you were focusing on the lecture, too busy sending each other giddy sideways glances.
Maybe an apology was unnecessary after all. Maybe… it was time to go dress shopping!
Tags/Warnings: Playing with hair, spontaneous hair cutting, kissing
Disclaimer: 1) I saw that sketch of what adult Marco would look like in 854 and I wrote this at 2am a month ago. 2) I have not read any of the manga; I’ve only watched the anime for the first time recently. 3) There is no set timeline of when this would happen other than it’s before Jean grew out his hair. I will leave the rest up to you!
Word Count: 770
Summary: Marco thinks he’d look ridiculous with shaved hair. Jean thinks otherwise, taking matters into his own hands.
Read on AO3
Jean tensed at the feeling of a hand on the back of his neck, fingers spread, slowing carding themselves through his hair. The gesture was gentle, making him pause any thought of a counterattack. People were usually wise enough not to bother him but he could never be too sure. But the hand did not grab or strike; it ruffled his hair before its owner came into his view and sat next to him. His eyes locked with the soft, smiling pair that belonged to Marco. He was glad he hadn’t done anything rash.
He could feel his face grow warm so he quickly turned back to cleaning his gear. No matter how long they had been together, Jean felt that he’d never get used to Marco’s affection. And if that meant every touch still feeling as special as the first, he decided that wasn’t a bad thing. If only he would stop blushing every time…
“Has anyone ever told you you have lovely hair?” Jean looked back at Marco, taken aback.
“Well, no one’s ever touched it as much as you have.” It came out much more snarky than he intended but Marco smiled, unfazed.
“I guess I’m very lucky then.” His hand was back, gently scratching the hair that was cut close to his scalp. Jean couldn’t help but lean back into the touch, trying not to shudder. “Sometimes I wish I had shaved hair like you do.”
“What’s the hold-up? Just do it.” Jean peered at Marco from the corner of his eye, careful not to make any movements that would make him pull his hand away.
“Oh no, I couldn’t. I’d look ridiculous.” At this, Jean jerked away to look at his lover incredulously, unable to stop himself. Marco’s eyes widened and his mouth softly fell open, startled.
“It’s been a while since I’ve heard bullshit like that. You can’t possibly be serious.” Now it was Marco’s turn to blush and look away.
“I don’t know… I just don’t think I’d look as good as you.”
“You’d probably look better.” The words slipped from Jean’s lips, as was customary with most of his compliments. But even though he wasn’t the best with controlling his mouth, he meant it all. Marco seemed to flush an even darker shade of red in return. “You should just do it. We should do it!” Jean shoved his gear to one side and stood, then grabbed Marco’s hand and pulled him to his feet.
“Wait, right now?!”
“Why not? Let’s go!” Jean was nothing if not slightly reckless and spontaneous, taking off in a sprint, pulling his partner with him.
*****
It was only when he had the tools spread out in front of him that Jean had to accept that he really didn’t know much about cutting hair and that his recklessness was about to bite him in the ass if he mutilated his lover’s dark locks. He’d seen it done plenty but seeing and doing were two completely different things.
Marco looked nervous but excited and Jean did his best to swallow his own nerves, which came out as a gulp. Marco laughed quietly at the sound.
“I trust you.”
“I don’t know if I trust me though,” Jean muttered. Marco smiled, the tender one that always made him want to melt.
“That’s okay, I’ll trust you enough for the both of us.”
With that approval, Jean set off, carefully cutting, clipping, and snipping hair. The process was painfully slow, since he was determined to make it look decent, and he occasionally marveled at Marco’s seemingly unending patience in him.
But by the end, he really was quite proud of himself. He even slicked back Marco’s hair which complimented the shaved section more than his usual part did. Now for the real test…
He handed Marco a mirror and took a step back, letting him inspect his new look. Jean’s stomach twisted a little; what if he hated it? All of that would have been for nothing - and it all would be his fault.
But when Marco looked up, he seemed starstruck, eyes sparkling. He launched up from his chair, wrenching Jean forward by his jacket lapels to deliver a searing kiss. Jean grinned.
“I take it you like it?”
“It’s perfect! I never imagined it would look so good. We… we match.” Jean wasn’t expecting that but the revelation seemed to make Marco even happier.
“Does this mean you're going to stop playing with my hair?” It came out much more nervous than Jean hoped for. Marco grinned and pulled him in for another kiss.
Happy Birthday, Linzi <3 I hope you have an incredible day! I also hope that I did you justice with this piece and that you enjoy my own little take on your amazing story!
Fandom: Ready Player One
Character/Pairing: Nolan Sorrento x Female Reader
Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, angst, love triangle, unrequited love, love confession, female reader
Disclaimer: This piece is inspired by “Gluttony: Sugar” by @olderguysandcutiepies that you can find here
You must read that piece if you are to understand this one.
Word Count: 3122
Summary: Nolan Sorrento is full of surprises once you let your true feelings for him slip. Suddenly you’re thrust into a foreign world with plenty of questions and few answers.
Read on AO3
Tears stream down your face as you watch clamps being tightened around your shaking wrists. The scratchy jumpsuit is a far cry from the soft, silky dresses you’ve become accustomed to in the company of Nolan Sorrento. Thinking about him makes you struggle to choke back a pathetic sob and it draws an annoyed growl from the woman in front of you. You peer up at her through your lashes and are met with the steely, cold gaze of F’Nale Zandor. There’s no remorse or sympathy in her face - only determination as she continues strapping you in.
“Enough of your blubbering. He has no interest in you; you’re just another thing for him to play with until the next best thing comes along. Besides…” her voice turns from snappy to sadistic, “this is where you belong.”
Your jaw gently falls open and begins to quiver at her statement. You’ve never done anything to this woman to warrant such a statement, but you’ve always known she didn’t like you. You figured it had to do with the way she stole lustful glances at Nolan that he never returned. But in a way… you figured she was right. Nolan had spared you from the Loyalty Center and he could put you right back in it, and apparently, he was. This time the sob can’t be held back, and new tears pour down your face.
F’Nale’s face twists into one of disgust as she grabs your visor and forces it onto your head, strapping you in painfully tight. Your vision swims as the Oasis program boots up and you struggle to concentrate on your instructions as the life you’d grown accustomed to crumbles before you.
***** The Previous Day *****
“Because I love you.”
It had come spilling out, unintended. But there it was. A cheeky reply to the banter that was so natural in your relationship that you wouldn’t even remember what it was about later.
What you did remember was the way Nolan’s face fell into one of shock, fear, and dare you say… dread? Like he had hoped that this would never happen, and suddenly it was and he was powerless to stop it.
“What did you say?” His voice was shaky as his eyes searched your face for the truth and found only horror at your admission.
“I-I’m sorry… I didn’t…”
“Didn’t mean it?” Your eyes were locked together and right now, you had to make one of the most complex decisions you’ve ever faced; nothing like the choice he gave you on whether to become a sixer or his eye candy. But you had become much more than that. And now you were faced with the precarious chance to take it to the next level or watch it fall apart.
You could lie. Say ‘yes’, you hadn’t meant it, that it was just a bit of teasing that went too far and then hope he wouldn’t be offended by it and things could go back to how they were.
Or you could tell him the truth. Say ‘no’, you had meant it, that your feelings for him ran deeper than the affection he was paying you to shower him in; that you would continue to do so whether you were paid to or not. That every word, every glance, every sound he pulled from you was genuine and had nothing to do with the money or gifts. Then hope he returned your feelings, granting you both the chance at something more.
Otherwise… you didn’t want to think about the devastation you’d feel upon finding out he didn’t return your feelings. Nor how that would compromise this perfect little situation you found yourself in. Because maybe he didn’t want you around if you had feelings for him. Maybe he wanted a no-strings-attached affair that wouldn’t get messy.
And things were certainly messy now. You bit your lip, trying to choose your words wisely. It was now or never.
“No. I meant what I said. I just… I didn’t mean for this to be the way to tell you.”
Unfortunately, he didn’t seem elated by the confession; if anything, he looked even more conflicted. He stood from where he was sitting next to you on the couch and backed away. He wore an expression you’d never seen on him - like a deer in headlights - and you hated it.
“Nolan, I-”
“I have to go.” With that, he sprung to action, grabbing his phone and keys then making a beeline to grab his coat, the beautiful navy one you liked so much. But you liked seeing him take it off, not put it on.
“Nolan, wait!” You stumbled off the couch to try and stop him but he was too far ahead of you.
“I’m sorry…” with a final sad, scared look, he closed the front door of his apartment.
You reached the door, hand on the handle, in time for you to hear the lock click into place. Your stomach dropped. You could easily unlock it and run after him. But that lock meant he really was running away. This wasn’t a short walk to get some fresh air; he needed much longer than that. And that was why you didn’t go after him.
He could have sent you away, kicked you out even. But he hadn’t. Although you had never expected him to run, it did present a small glimmer of hope. Maybe he just needed to sort out his feelings and then he’d be back.
So with that semblance of hope, you returned to the couch on shaky feet, hoping he’d be back soon.
***** Present Day *****
Nolan Sorrento takes a deep breath before unlocking his apartment and tentatively stepping inside. It’s been three days since he left you here and he’s nervous to see you. Maybe throwing himself into his work and staying at a hotel had been the cowardly thing to do, as was running away from the situation in the first place. Yet, the sudden confrontation of your feelings, in the face of his own long-held doubts and fears, had scared him.
He had spent hours reasoning with himself over what to do. Had you really meant it? Or was it a way to secure his money for good? Based on your reaction to your slip-up, he figured you had been genuine. Which left him with a harder question: did he deserve it? You were one of the best things that had happened to him. You knew just how to tease him, how to thrill him, how to make him forget a long day of work. But you also knew how to listen, how to make him feel special and loved. Many days he didn’t believe it, didn’t think he deserved it. But maybe he did.
You seemed to have fallen for him as he had fallen for you. You willingly chose to love him; you could have kept it a secret and let things go on as normal. But you had been honest, and he admired that. Your absence over the last few days had made him realize how much of an important fixture you were to his daily life. Without you there, he had felt a loneliness he hadn’t experienced since before you had met, a feeling he never wanted to feel again.
It was time that he accept your feelings and allow himself the security of a more conventional relationship with you. He was ready to face you, to be open with you, and ask forgiveness for his panicked retreat.
But as he looks around the space, it feels… empty. There aren’t any sounds of activity that he could hear, making his stomach drop. Had you run away? He calls out your name, moving from room to room, hoping to find you sleeping somewhere but the apartment is truly empty. His mind races, trying to figure out where you could be.
He whips out his phone and calls you. A wave of nausea hits him as he hears your ringer go off in another room: you had left your phone behind. He begins to pace. Figuring he has nothing to lose, he dials his head assistant, cutting her off before she could even greet him.
“Shaunda, I need you to confirm that Y/N isn’t there at the plaza.”
“I’ll make sure the place gets a thorough sweep for her but the last time I saw her was when you called her in two days ago.” Nolan stumbles mid-step. Two days ago?! That was impossible...
“What?!” He snarls.
“Ms. Zandor met her upon arrival - said you had called her in and that she’d be her escort so I could focus on updating your rig.” He remembers Shaunda working on his rig, but he had never called you in, much less asked F’Nale to escort you.
“Check every inch of that plaza. I want her found.”
“Yes, sir.” He ends the call without another word. Next, he plugs in F’Nale’s number and waits impatiently for her to pick up. But with each unanswered ring, ring, ring, his stomach grows tighter, tighter, tighter. He growls when it finally goes to voicemail and quickly ends the call, texting her instead: “Call me. NOW.”
Turning on his heel, he makes his way back to his car, a scowl plastered on his face. F’Nale had some answering to do.
*****
Everyone knew better than to get in Nolan Sorrento’s way when he stormed the halls of the IOI headquarters and now was no exception. Crowds part when they see him coming, on a mission to find the head of the Loyalty division. He catches sight of her on the upper levels, near his office, looking like she’s trying to make a quick getaway.
“F’NALE!” He roars and she freezes in place. He takes the stairs two at a time and she turns as he approaches, looking unbothered under his glare. Grabbing her suit lapels, he drags her into his office and shoves her against the nearest wall. This was uncharacteristic of him, but you were one of the few things that caused him to be irrational. And now with you missing… it seems a fitting time to do something out of character.
“Where. Is. She?” He emphasizes every word, leaning in so that his face is mere inches from hers.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Nolan.”
“You damn well what I’m talking about!”
“Oh, your little pet? She’s unavailable. After your spat a few days ago, it seemed like you two were over.” His head spun. He had only mentioned in passing that something had happened between the two of you and that he was taking some time to clear his head. How had she jumped to the conclusion that you were over?
“Where, F’Nale. Where is she?”
“Why do you care so much? All she is is a pretty face! You deserve someone better! She’ll never be good enough for you! She’s not the one you go to when you need something important done, it’s me!” She flushes at her admission but remains resolute. Nolan leans back in shock. “Who’s the one who always has your back?! It’s me! Not her! I do your dirty work; I defend you when the board comes after you. What does she have that I don’t?!” His anger is gone, replaced with dread. He knows damn well of F’Nale’s talents in taking care of problems. His stomach churns. He suspected she might have feelings for him, but he had simply brushed it aside. Now he knows it’s true and suddenly those talents he’s relied on terrify him.
“What did you do to her?”
“She’s where she belongs.” It takes him a moment. He blinks twice before tearing away and dashing out of the room. He flies down the stairs, F’Nale’s shouts for him to stop falling on deaf ears. (She curses her impulsiveness of throwing you in the Loyalty Center connected to the headquarters. If she hadn’t let her vengeful emotions get the best of her, if she had been more calculating, she should have shipped you off to one across the country. But her eagerness to get you into a pod as soon as possible and strap you in herself was too delightful an opportunity to pass up. She had reveled in the joy of watching you struggle being locked up for the past few days. But she’s paying for it now as the man she wants sprints off to unravel her work.)
*****
With every movement, the clamps on your wrists dig against the angry red marks that had been left when F’Nale first strapped you in a couple of days earlier. Since then, you’ve been unplugged to eat, sleep, and take breaks - although you knew you weren’t getting the number of breaks you should be, most likely compliments of the Loyalty Director herself.
You want to hate her, and you could when you let yourself think about your current condition long enough. You want to hate Nolan too, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that, no matter how hard you tried. You’re numb when it comes to him. This doesn’t seem like something he would do to you, especially after his hasty getaway. Had all your time together really meant nothing? The way he looked at you made you think no, but the six-by-six pod said otherwise.
Thankfully, your tasks in the Oasis are distracting enough that you don’t have a lot of time or energy to mull it over.
Since the time you had been strapped in, you can sometimes make out a figure beyond your headset, just outside your door. You can only assume it’s F’Nale, enjoying the sight of you caged. So, when a shadow appears at your door, you think it could be her again, or a passing monitor making sure you’re working.
What you don’t see coming is the door being wrenched open and fingers undoing the stamp of your headset. The smell of familiar cologne hits you, making you gasp before the headset is pulled off you. You blink as your eyes adjust to the face in front of you, one you had memorized long ago.
Nolan Sorrento looks panicked and out of breath as you take in each other. Questions race through your mind but as your lips part to speak, you can’t find the words. You don’t need to though; he speaks instead.
“I’m so sorry… I had no idea…”
Of all the things he could have said, this is the least expected. This brings more questions than answers and you still don’t know what to say.
He quickly turns his attention to undoing the clamps on your wrists as you begin to tremble. He had no idea?! So he wasn’t the reason you were in here?! The emotions you feel make your head spin; confusion, shock, relief, ...hope?
Tears spill down your cheeks as he kneels to undo the clamps around your ankles. And when he straightens to his full height again, you find matching tears on his face. He reaches out to touch your face, but you can’t help leaning away. He looks hurt by the rejection but also gives a tiny nod as if he understands why.
“I’m so sorry… if I had known sooner… I swear to you, I thought you’ve been at the apartment this whole time. I never would have sent you here. Yes, I shouldn’t have run away; it was a cowardly thing to do, but what you said scared me and I didn’t know if…” he closes his eyes and shakes his head, looking for the right words to say. You’re transfixed by the raw core of him before you. He’s never been so vulnerable with you before, cementing the fact in your mind that he truly wasn’t responsible for you being here. “I didn’t know if you meant it. And when I knew you did… I didn’t think I deserved it.”
He can’t meet your eyes, instead keeping his gaze low. You reach out your hands for him to take, as was customary to the boundaries you had set long before in this relationship: seeking the permission to touch. He quickly takes them and his face falters at the sight of your wrists rubbed raw from your restraints. You squeeze his hands and finally, he looks back up at you.
“You do deserve it, and I don’t ever want you to forget that. But… I think there’s a lot left to say… and I don’t think this is the place to do that…” His eyes widen as he remembers you’re both standing in the middle of the Loyalty Center, and he nods.
“Let’s go home.” You give him a small smile. Home. Not his apartment. But your home. That sounds like a good start.
*****
You glide confidently into Nolan’s office and you’re filled with warmth as he looks up at you and smiles. You’ve been visiting the IOI headquarters much more frequently, now that you were the girlfriend of the charming CEO. It was a title you wore proudly; as proudly as you wore the gifts he continued to lavish you with.
It had taken time to heal what had happened and reestablish the trust in him that F’Nale had shaken. But it had been worth it. Every day you saw more of his authentic self, not the facade he put on as the head of IOI. And every day you fell more and more in love.
Today had been another long day for him and he was too impatient to wait until he got home to see you. So he had called you in and you eagerly came.
But as you approach his desk, something catches your eye. A wine bottle is sitting off to one side. He follows your gaze.
“I thought you’d like to see the newest addition before it gets put in the case. Maybe you’d like to do the honors yourself.” You quirk your eyebrow before carefully picking up the bottle. It was new; the year on the bottle was the current year. You look up at him, inquisitively.
“‘Important years’,” you murmur, repeating what he had told you when you first learned of the collection. He smiles, soft and maybe sheepish.
“Loving you is important.” Your eyes well up with tears and you bite your lip to keep from crying. You set the bottle back down and rush around his desk to embrace him, carding your fingers through his hair to pull him in for a kiss. He hums, content, and you melt into him. And when you finally pull back, you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face.
For @olderguysandcutiepies as a mini sequel to her fic “Nolan, Baby” - Thank you for the go-ahead to post this <3
Fandom: Ready Player One
Character/Pairing: Nolan Sorrento x Female Reader
Tags/Warnings: Female pronouns, kissing, established relationship, mention of a daughter (of the main pairing), non-religious christmas time setting, Santa Claus appearance
Disclaimer: 1) Read the fic that inspired this one to fully understand the significance. 2) Title is taken from the holiday song with the same name
Word Count: 528
Summary: Christmas Eve brings a special moment with your husband...
You sway to the Christmas carols coming from your sound system, playing oh so softly as to not disturb your daughter sleeping upstairs. It was late Christmas Eve and the little one had been tucked away into bed an hour ago and now was the time to bring out the presents to slip under the tree. You sneak goodies, sweets, and nicknacks into the stockings hanging on the wall, waiting for your husband to bring out the gifts that had been hidden in his office. He was taking longer than necessary so you figured he was wrapping a last-minute gift. He certainly loved to spoil his girls.
You grin as the song “Santa, Baby” shuffles up next in your holiday playlist and you hum along. You glance at your engagement ring that’s now fused with your wedding band; the significance of this song made it your favorite song around this time of year.
The sound of the office door opening comes as you slip the last present into your husband’s stocking. You turn to tease him for his slowness.
“Took you long eno-“ You can’t finish your sentence as you gasp. Nolan Sorrento walks in carrying a stack of presents, completely decked out in a Santa costume, fake beard and all. You slap your hands over your mouth to contain your screeching laughter. You double over, shaking from the effort to keep quiet. You can hear him chuckle, clearly amused by your reaction. By the time he’s gone over and set the gifts under the tree, you’ve recovered enough to stand up straight; you have tears in your eyes from laughing so hard and you’re gasping for breath.
“Oh Santa—!” You dissolve into a fit of giggles as you move towards him. “Look how handsome you are in person!” He places his hands on your waist and you rest yours on his arms. Blue eyes glitter at you from under the white fluff of his hat, crinkled from such a large grin that’s hidden by the wispy beard.
“Why thank you; you’re quite stunning yourself.”
“Watch yourself, Santa, I’m a married woman!”
“Your husband must be a very lucky man then.” You can’t help but giggle again, burying your face into the soft red velvet of his shoulder. “Although I don’t think he’ll mind if I steal just one kiss from you.” One of his hands leaves your waist and fishes something out of his pocket. When you pull back, you see that he’s holding a little bundle of mistletoe above you both.
Your cheeks are beginning to hurt from the amount you’re smiling but you can’t help it. Sliding your hands up his arms to encircle his shoulders, you lean in till you can feel his breath on your face.
“Yes, I do believe that would be alright.” You close the gap, doing your best to kiss him around the fake beard.
As he backs up the music so you can slow dance to “Santa, Baby” together, neither of you notice your daughter scamper back to her bedroom from her perch at the top of the staircase, grinning ear to ear.
This is set in the same universe as my first Danny fic, “What’s Cookin’ Good Lookin’?” - this can be read alone but if you would like more of this dynamic, you can read it here.
Fandom: Bloodline (Netflix)
Character/Pairing: Danny Rayburn x Reader
Disclaimer: Unlike “What’s Cookin’ Good Lookin’?”, the reader in this is not gender neutral. Female pronouns will be used to describe them.
Tags/Warnings: Female reader, established relationship, kissing
Word Count: 494
Summary: Baking? Cooking? Those things might be an intimate part of your lives but so is love (and love is timeless).
Read on AO3
“Do you ever get tired of baking?”
You don’t bother looking up at the man in question, too busy switching pans in and out of the oven. For a man who’s just come home to the smell of freshly baked cookies, Danny Rayburn has a funny way of showing his appreciation. Then again… he just finished a shift at your bakery, so maybe he has a point.
“Do you ever get tired of cooking?” You call back. You take every chance you can to tease him about his culinary background, finding endless amusement in the fact that you are both dating, and employing, a chef. You are even more amused not to get some sassy remark back from him. You can imagine what he’s thinking: touché. “Besides! I have to test this new recipe on someone!”
You toss your oven mitts onto the counter and turn to see him entering the kitchen. Holding your arms out to him, he melts into your embrace. You tangle your fingers in his coarse locks and he hums, burying his face in your neck. You stay like this for a while until he pulls back just enough to kiss you.
You’re interrupted by the oven timer, forcing you to pull away to retrieve the last pan of cookies.
“How was work, baby?”
You catch sight of him grinning as you put your mitts away.
“My boss is a bitch and works me to the bone.” You snort, knowing full well you scheduled him to be in the back today, making the dough for tomorrow’s bread - his favorite thing to do. “But she pays me well so I can’t complain… too much.” His hands are immediately on your hips, tugging you back into his arms the moment you’re done turning off the oven.
“She sounds terrible, how can you stand her?” You murmur, pressing another kiss to his lips.
“I think if I seduce her, she might finally give me a break.” You can’t help but laugh.
“Sounds like it could get messy. I hope that works out for you.” He grins.
“I have a good feeling it will.” You shake your head and give him one last kiss before pulling away again.
“Well Mr. Rayburn, that *bitch* wants help making dinner, and since you never tire of cooking, you’re just the candidate to assist me.” He chuckles and moves to wash his hands as you grab some pots and pans.
“For the record,” he says, glancing at you over his shoulder, “I think I would get tired of cooking far sooner than I would get tired of you.”
You can’t help but pause, your heart aching at his words. He’s drying his hands when you come up behind him and hug him, kissing between his shoulder blades. You don’t know it yet, but you’ll both say something just like that in your wedding vows. For now, though, it’s one of the sweetest “I love you’s” you've ever heard.
@olderguysandcutiepies Surprise! Happy birthday! It’s late but it’s still the 23rd so it counts ;) I love you lots and I hope you’ve had an amazing day!
This is prompt #23 from @hellsdemonictrinity‘s Angst/fluff prompt list
This fic was inspired by the beautiful cookie decorating done by (@)the.graceful.baker on Instagram
Fandom: Bloodline (Netflix)
Character/Pairing: Danny Rayburn x Reader
Tags/Warnings: Gender neutral reader, nonbinary secondary character (OC)
Disclaimer: I have only watched most of the first season of Bloodline so this is based on that and discussion I’ve read and had.
Word Count: 1330
Summary: One of the pros of working with your boyfriend is teasing him all day. One of the cons is him teasing you all day.
Readable on AO3
Your keys jingle as you open the back door of your bakery, the sunshine entering into the cool kitchen with you.
Your business partner, Jordan, looks up from where they’re shaping bread loaves and smiles when they see you step inside. You exchange greetings as you tuck your bag into one of the staff lockers and they bring you up to speed on the day's happenings. The morning rush had ended and the shop was in its usual afternoon lull. And although you liked the occasional adrenaline rush of a busy shift, it was quiet hours like these where you excelled.
As Jordan disappears into the cooler with the now covered loaves, you poke your head out of the kitchen door to check on the shop. Sitting at the counter was one of your cashiers, a college student, with a textbook open in front of her, taking advantage of the quiet to do one of her readings.
Only three tables are occupied: a businesswoman on her laptop, a couple reading silently in the corner, and a study group made up of what looked like high schoolers. Amongst them is your boyfriend, wiping down the empty tables. As he moves on to the next one, he catches you looking and smirks, giving you a small wave. You roll your eyes but smile and wave back.
Content they don’t need any help, you duck back into the kitchen and make your way over to where Jordan’s standing at the main counter. They glance at your approach and hold up a hand as if to ward you off.
“Before you come to scold me about working overtime, I’m almost done cleaning; then I’m gone.” You can’t help but laugh.
“Smartass. I wouldn’t have to yell at you if you actually paid yourself overtime”
“Yeah, yeah, okay mom.” They grin at you as they finish tucking ingredients back onto their respective shelves.
“Get out of here before I ground you.” They snicker before stepping into your shared office and you shake your head, pulling out the tub of powdered sugar and bottle of vanilla extract.
You give Jordan a goodbye hug before heading to the cooler, grabbing a couple of eggs and the container of sugar cookies you had made the day before.
Decorating cookies was your favorite thing to do. It was calming, repeating the same couple of designs over and over, but having to concentrate to make sure the design was consistent. You loved coming up with new patterns, and for this spring week, you decided rain clouds, rainbows, and suns were a fitting trio.
You start with the clouds first, grabbing some food coloring and decorating sugar, and set about whipping up some light gray and blue icing.
Pouring the icing into piping bags, you find some music to listen to on your phone and take a deep breath before launching into your work. You pipe the clouds big and fluffy, then quickly cover them with the clear sugar crystals. As the icing sets, you go to the previous cookie and add a multitude of raindrops; then you repeat.
You’re so focused that you don’t realize you’re halfway done with the clouds - so focused in fact that you also don’t hear the footsteps behind you until there’s a pair of hands on your waist and a voice in your ear.
“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” You gasp, and in your shock, squeeze the piping bag too hard, making a rain puddle rather than a raindrop. You know that voice, all too well.
“Daniel Rayburn!” You can’t help but yell (hoping the patrons in the shop don’t hear your outburst beyond the closed kitchen door) as the man in question makes a quick getaway, giggling. You look around and lunge to grab a fistful of powdered sugar to chuck in his direction. It floats down onto him like a mist, making him laugh even harder. He’s put the island counter in between you two and his laughter has dissolved into a coughing fit, but even then he can’t wipe the grin off his face.
You stand with your arms crossed, scowling at him as he recovers, still smiling.
“Danny, you ruined that cookie!”
“Ah ah ah, I believe you ruined that cookie. I just helped.”
“One of these days you’re going to make me ruin someone’s order and then you’ll be in big trouble.” He snorts in response.
“Give me a little more credit than that; I know the best times to sneak up on you.”
“Is that so?”
“Mhmmm. But I’m not going to tell you - then you’d know my secrets.” You shake your head as he begins to make his way back around the counter towards you. You uncross your arms and reach out to dust the powdered sugar from his face once he gets close enough.
“Tryina sweeten me up?” Now it’s your turn to snort as you ruffle the powder from his hair and brush off his shirt until he’s clean. His hands move to your waist and pull you closer as you quirk an eyebrow.
“This isn’t very professional behavior, Mr. Rayburn.”
“Nor is throwing sugar at your employee.”
“Okay, you got me there.” You lean in and give him a quick kiss. There was a mutual understanding that at work you would behave professionally. After hours were free reign but the bakery was off-limits. Although the occasional kiss would sneak its way in. “That was a terrible line, by the way.” He grins.
“I don’t know… as a chef, I thought it was pretty good!”
“We’re not in your kitchen, chef, we’re in mine. And I say it was bad.”
“One day you’ll see that cooking is superior and you’ll leave this baking nonsense behind,” he teases.
“Ha! You’re not very convincing given that you’re working in my bakery.”
“I’m a Trojan horse, here to take you out from the inside.”
“So dating me is part of this grand scheme of yours?” That earns you a sheepish grin.
“The enemy is very charming…” You dissolve into laughter and he quickly follows. Taking his face in your hands, you press a long kiss to his lips.
“Alright troublemaker, if distracting me is also part of your plan, you’re doing a good job. Come over here and help me.” You pull away and return to where you were working, piping a couple of lines onto the ruined cookie, relieved to find that the royal icing hasn’t hardened and is still workable. You break the cookie in two and hand him half as he pulls over a stool to sit next to you.
Putting him in charge of adding the decorating sugar, you quickly fall back into an easy rhythm. You turn off your music and talk, asking how each other’s day has been. As you move onto the next design, you work together like a well-oiled machine, with him making you new batches of icing or putting away the finished cookies. When he doesn’t have something to do, he sits down next to you and watches you with a childlike fascination.
As much as he loves to tease about your dynamic as a chef and baker, you know full well he supports what you do. And considering he doesn’t receive that same support from his family, you’re grateful.
You pause after finishing a rainbow and turn to him: “You know I love you, right?” He looks taken aback by the sudden proclamation and can only nod. “Good,” you say with a smile. It takes him a moment to recover but he does.
“I love you too.” You lean over and kiss his cheek, marveling at his blush. Turning back to your cookies, you vow to make sure he never forgets how much he means to you. And as the evening goes on and you close up the shop, you part ways only to drive home in your separate vehicles, determined to spend the rest of the evening reminding him.
I was inspired by this post from @benmendo to write this snippet before the series premiered. Now, as we wait for the finale (after that brutal cliffhanger no less!), I decided to post this as we all need a little pick-me-up. Please enjoy!
Fandom: The Outsider (HBO mini-series)
Character/Pairing: Ralph Anderson x Reader
Tags/Warnings: Gender neutral reader, Established relationship, Mentions of blood
Disclaimer: AU where the reader replaces Jeannie Anderson (if you know anything about me, you’ll know this is the greatest sin because I love her fiercely so this almost didn’t exist)
Word Count: 570
Summary: After a long day on the job, Ralph is lucky to have a loving partner who takes care of him.
Read on AO3
The feeling of a warm washcloth on his face brings Detective Ralph Anderson back to full consciousness. He blinks rapidly, realizing he’s drifted off at the kitchen table. The sound of tranquil humming dissolves into quiet laughter as his eyes slowly focus on your face.
You know he’s had a rough day, evident by the blood you’re carefully scrubbing from his face, but you can’t help your amusement at seeing him doze off in the short time it had taken you to walk to the sink and rinse out the cloth (sitting upright no less!).
“I’m almost done, darling, just a little bit more.”
He makes a noble attempt at nodding and closes his eyes again. You turn your focus to his forehead, the worry lines there lessening as he relaxes. Making your way down his prominent nose, you pay extra close attention to around his eyes, not wanting to be too rough but still needing to get the dried blood off.
After a few minutes, you take his chin in your hand and slowly move his head side to side, satisfied that he’s finally clean. There would be time for him to shower tomorrow; right now what he really needs is rest. Turning, you toss the washcloth across the kitchen to where it lands in the sink with a ‘plop.’ The sound makes him jump, now on high alert. His eyes dart around the room, so wide that you can see how bloodshot they are.
“It was me, Ralph, it’s okay! You’re safe!” You quickly take his face in your hands and press a long kiss to his forehead, trying to calm him down. He sighs, shoulders slumping, and leans forward to rest his head on your chest as you move to wind your arms around him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” you murmur while rubbing soothing circles into his back. You stay that way until you feel him begin to drift off again and then slowly step back. “Okay baby, let's get you into bed.”
You take his hands and gently pull him up from the chair, his movements sluggish and stiff. Wrapping an arm around his waist, you make your way upstairs to your bedroom. He damn near collapses onto the bed after you help him change into a soft shirt and sweatpants. A soft smile spreads across your face as you pull back the blankets and tuck him in, leaning down to give him a kiss.
As you turn away, his hand reaches out and grabs your wrist.
“Will you stay with me?”
“Of course,” You murmur, smile growing. You flick off the light as you make your way around the bed and join him under the covers. His strong arms immediately reach out and pull you to his side, rolling so he can bury his face into your neck. You, in turn, wrap your arms around him and card your fingers through his coarse hair. In no time at all, you can hear his breathing deepen, soon followed by quiet snoring.
For a second you consider sneaking away but you quickly banish the idea, deciding to enjoy the time with your partner instead. Cleaning the kitchen could wait; taking a nap with the gentle detective sounded far more appealing. So you snuggle into the pillows with a sigh of contentment and drift off, relieved that he once again made it home safe.
I Don’t Wanna Be Your Friend (I Wanna Kiss Your Lips)
It came to my attention recently that there are no Iden Versio x Reader fics. So here’s my little attempt to rectify that because as cute as she is with Del, sometimes I want this badass lady all to myself.
Fandom: Star Wars, Battlefront II
Character/Pairing: Iden Versio (Imperial) x Reader
Disclaimer: 1) Title is lyrics from the song “i wanna be your girlfriend” by girl in red. 2) I have not read “Battlefront II: Inferno Squad” yet. This is based solely on the campaign of “Star Wars: Battlefront II”
Word Count: 1551
Summary: No one can get you to melt like Iden Versio. Being around her in the presence of others is hard enough but alone? It’s even worse. And then she does something unexpected...
Readable on AO3 here
“Officer!”
You look up to see a black helmet hurtling at you. You gasp and squeeze your eyes shut, your arms instinctually flying up to lessen the blow. There’s a ‘thump’ but no impact and after a moment, you peer around your hands to find the helmet has stopped mere inches from hitting you. Your stomach drops to see that it was caught by none other than Commander Iden Versio, the very woman you’ve been crushing on for months now. She’s glaring in the direction of Agent Hask who pays no notice to what he’s done, quickly stripping off his armor and throwing it on your work table.
“I’ll be back to pick these up later,” he says offhandedly, not even bothering to look in your direction. You reach out and take the helmet from Iden’s hand as you both watch Hask retreat.
“Thank you, Commander,” you murmur, glancing at her.
She gives you a curt nod. “You’re welcome.” Turning away, she walks over to one of your cabinets and pulls out your polishing equipment as Agent Meeko joins you.
Occupying a small room off the ship's armory, you’re part of the uniform and armor division, tasked with making sure the officers are presentable and the troopers are ready for battle. However, your acute attention to detail meant you had been promoted to the status of a specialist, focusing on the uniforms and armor of the elite. And some of those elite are the Inferno Squad.
Troopers almost always polished their own armor, very particular about how it was done. Unfortunately, when you had offered to polish Iden’s armor after a particularly brutal mission where she had broken her arm, Agent Hask had been in earshot and decided it was a generalized, long term offer. Now, every time they returned from a mission, Hask dumped his armor on you to repair and polish, not to be bothered to do it himself. So what had started as trying to do a favor for the woman you liked had turned into an unnecessary chore.
It wasn’t too bad though. Agent Meeko had been around a couple of times when Hask dropped his armor off and began sticking around to polish his armor while you worked on his squadmate’s. You hadn’t realized how lonely your work could be until you befriended Del. It was nice to have someone to talk to. Whether it was venting, joking, or gossiping, you and Del had spent several hours bonding over swapped stories. And then Iden began to join you. Apparently, Del had mentioned you enough times that she was curious to see who he was spending time with.
Now you were almost never alone when tasked with after-mission polishing and repairs. Del was a comforting presence but Iden… she could put your stomach in knots with the mere sound of her voice. She wasn’t much to talk but when she did, you hung onto every word. Her tone deep and rich, sending shivers down your spine. You may have been captured by her attractiveness at first but learning how persistent, brave, and intelligent she was had you swooning even harder.
You were absolutely certain that the entire damn Empire knew about your crush, especially the commander herself (which was mortifying in itself), due to the way you frequently stumbled over your words or blushed vibrant red in her presence. It got even worse when it was just the two of you, and it looked like that’s how today was going to be.
Del is somber as he enters, barely able to meet your eyes; it’s a sure sign that he needs to process the latest mission alone. You give him a gentle smile that he tries to return. He trudges over to where Iden is, grabs a couple of things, and gives a small wave as he too exits.
And so you’re left alone with Iden. You watch as she finishes grabbing equipment. It’s hard to decipher what’s going on in her head; her stoicism made her hard to read but something seems off about her too. You know you aren’t going to get much conversation out of her today.
She settles on the opposite side of your work table and you both begin to work in silence. Awkwardness hangs in the air like a thick smog but you didn’t know what to say without embarrassing yourself. When you’re wiping down the helmet’s visor, Iden sets her own helmet down with a ‘thud’ and looks up at you. Your stomach twists as you meet her piercing gaze. She looks almost... vulnerable... as you take her in up close.
“Can you talk about something? Anything.”
You nod and after a fair bit of stuttering, you decide to tell her how Ensign Roe had completely mixed up an order of rank insignia plaques and now you have the painstaking job of trying to sort it out. And how you need to make Director Krennic a new cape because he insisted he couldn’t go another rotation in a cape that was beginning to fray. After that, you catch her up on the newest gossip circulating, especially the latest scandal where Lieutenant Inji’s two girlfriends had not only found out about each other and dumped him but then started dating each other.
All the while she listens intently; buffing, painting, sealing her armor. Then you tell her how some of the officers thought it would be funny to send a poor new transfer down a garbage chute and you’re seriously considering just launching the uniform out of an airlock if you aren’t able to get the smell out.
She rewards you with a laugh and you beam. By then you’re both finished and Iden doesn’t look as wary as she had before. You simultaneously push back your chairs and begin to pack up the kits in a silence that’s much more comfortable than it was before. It’s a routine you’re both familiar with, taking only a couple moments to clear the table. When a couple bottles remain on the table, you break the quiet air.
“I can handle the rest from here, Commander; why don’t you go rest while you have some time off? I’m sure they’ll be assigning you to a new mission soon enough.” She gives you a half-smile and nods, turning back to her armor. Grabbing the last few polish bottles, you walk over to the cabinets and tuck them into their spots. You hear shuffling behind you and assume Iden’s grabbed her gear and snuck out. But when you turn around, she’s right there, inches away.
You gasp and take a step back, directly into the cabinets. You back presses into cool metal, heart pounding. Before you get a chance to wonder if she’s a threat to you, she takes a slow step into your space and places her hands on either side of your head.
“C-commander?” She leans in close, a smirk playing across her lips. Her eyes are locked with yours until they slowly drift downwards. She tilts her head and it feels like your fantasies are becoming reality as Iden Versio kisses you.
You’re shocked, unable to move as a deep blush sets in. She pulls away, brown eyes gauging your reaction.
“Iden…” you breathe her name and surge forward, capturing her lips with yours.
She hesitates, as if to collect herself, then quickly regains control over you (which you’re more than happy to allow). She moves her hands to grip your waist and pulls your body into hers as your kisses grow in enthusiasm. You grab fistfuls of her flight suit sleeves, trying not to shake under her touch.
You had often wondered what kissing Iden would be like; would she be aggressive or gentle? Every stroke of her tongue erases the word ‘gentle’ from your mind. Forcing her knee between your thighs, you gasp and she takes the opportunity to kiss down your jaw, pulling an involuntary whimper from you.
It’s when she moves her attention to your neck that you hear the steady thump of approaching boots and you tear yourselves apart. She bolts towards her armor and you whip open a cabinet behind you to try and look busy.
Agent Hask walks in, oblivious to what he’s just interrupted.
“These good to go?” He asks, gesturing to his armor. You’re doing your best to hide behind the cabinet door so you’re mostly obscured, quite sure you’re once again completely red in the face.
“Yep, it’s all ready!” You manage to choke out. He raises an eyebrow at your strained response but says nothing as he collects his things and begins to walk away. Stopping in the doorway, he turns back momentarily.
“Oh, Iden; the Admiral wants to do a mission recap with you ASAP.”
“Understood.” She begins to gather her own armor and you’re left watching them leave, still reeling from what just happened. How can she be so composed after that?! You suppose that’s why she’s special forces and you’re not, especially since your legs now feel like they’re made of gelatin.
Before she leaves your sight, Iden looks over her shoulder and flashes you with a smirk, leaving you to wonder what the hell the future is going to hold the next time she pays you a visit...
Hi All! Welcome to ground zero! This is fic number one and I’m excited to share it with you. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please don't be alarmed by changes in the formatting/description; I’m still figuring this out.
But first I want to thank @olderguysandcutiepies and @3134045126 - Ladies, you know how much I love and adore you both. Thank you for your encouragement; this wouldn’t exist without you! Linzi, thank you for bringing us all together. It’s been one of the best things to ever happen to me! Jax, you're responsible for this one! Thank you for the inspiration and in general just letting me ramble to you!
Fandom: Star Wars, Rogue One
Character/Pairing: Orson Krennic x Reader
Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, Secret relationship, Implied sexual content, Swearing, Gender Neutral Reader
Word Count: 1404
Summary: Keeping your relationship a secret was difficult on the best of days. So, of course, Krennic makes it even more difficult with his unceasing lustful gaze that makes your best friend more alarmed by the minute. But little does he know, two can play at this game...
Readable on AO3 here
“He won’t stop staring at you…”
You sigh and glance at your friend, Nylah, sitting at the terminal next to you and then to the main bridge where Director Orson Krennic was indeed staring at you. You’re not sure if he’s taking in anything being said by the officer standing next to him but he’s certainly looking at you and not them.
You let yourself stare back for a moment to take him in. He cuts an impressive figure in his spotless uniform, standing boldly with his arms crossed over his chest. His crisp white cape frames his body nicely and while you had first thought it ridiculous when you transferred into his division, it had certainly grown on you since then (especially when it flared out behind him as he stormed down a hallway or when he walked close enough to you that you could feel it brush against your leg).
His face is neutral but he does nothing to hide the outright look of lust in his eyes. And they’ve barely left you all day.
You don’t mind in the slightest. You've come to learn that that look would only lead to him damn near worshipping you in bed come nightfall, which you enjoy every second of.
But for now, you get to enjoy his desperate stares and your friend’s mounting concerns. Krennic didn’t hide his attraction for you (whether he couldn’t or didn’t care, you’re not sure) nor did he hide his aggression when he was even slightly irritated. In fact, Orson Krennic was a goddamn open book with his emotions (and maybe that’s why you liked him; you never had trouble getting a read on him).
But Nylah worried he’d eventually direct that volatile behavior towards you, especially since for all she knew, you continually rejected his advances. Her constant concern was irritating at times but you were also grateful to have a friend who looked out for you, even though you’d been sleeping with the man in question for months now.
“Just stop looking at him,” you murmur, turning to face her. She shakes her head.
“What about when staring isn’t enough anymore?”
“Oh come on.”
“I’m serious! The way he looks at you? You’re something he wants to… I don’t know... Consume! Devour!”
You can’t help the snort that escapes you. Oh, he’s definitely devoured you before…
“What?! Don’t try to deny it, it’s plain as day on his face! He doesn’t even try to be subtle. Doesn’t it bother you?”
You’re not sure what to say so you only shrug.
“Come on, you’re not put off by the fact that he stares at you like you’re a piece of meat? Like you’re just someone else to fuck and discard?”
Your eyes drop to your lap. That stung. He certainly has a history of doing just that and it was something you worried about at times. When would he tire of you and move on to the hottest new thing? You weren’t the newest face in the division anymore and there were several officers who were just as open with their desire for him as he was for you. You took a slow breath in and out with another glance at him and his sinful gaze, reminding yourself that it was you he stared at and your bed that he returned to.
You look back at your friend. “So what if that’s true? Then I’d get one good fuck, he’ll move on to someone else, and then you wouldn’t have to worry anymore.” It came out harsher than you had wanted but your face showed no anger, only exhaustion; you’ve had this conversation so many times before and you’d probably have it again. With a sigh, you stand and detach your datapad from the console.
“Where are you going?!” She hisses.
“While you were so busy worrying about him staring, I finished my reports. So I’m going to turn them in and enjoy my lunch break. Come find me when you’re done with yours.” With a gentle squeeze to her shoulder, you turn on your heels and make your way over to the bridge.
The officer Krennic’s been ‘listening to’ shows no sign of stopping and he growls a brief dismissal as you approach. Their eyes flick to you before scurrying off, leaving the bridge empty save for the two of you.
“Good afternoon, Director”
“It certainly is now,” he purrs, leaning close. He looks delighted in the near seductive tone you use when saying his title. You can only imagine he’s recalling of all the times you’ve said it that way during sex.
Your lips pull up into a smirk when you hand him the datapad and he makes a point to brush his hands against yours, cool leather on warm skin.
“The reports you requested. About the targeting system? Everything looks to be in order.” He’s hanging on to your every word, eyes drinking in all your features now that they’re inches away rather than across the room. The lust in his eyes is nearly tangible and you won’t deny that some days, like today, you have a very difficult time staying professional.
“Impeccable work, Lieutenant. If only everyone was as… efficient… as you.”
You quirk an eyebrow but make no reply. He’s leaning in closer, far closer than you’d prefer while in a work environment but you're determined to hold your ground. “And the defense modules? Where are the reports on those?”
You fix him with a glare. “Director Krennic, would you like those reports done well and on time or rushed and sloppy? Clearly I’m not as efficient as you say I am if I haven’t slaved away over reports that are due two days from now.” It dawns on you too late that he’s teasing to get a rise out of you (and it seems he has succeeded), probably to use as an excuse to… punish you later. But you’re too proud to back down now, vowing to make him put that smirking mouth to good use later. “You’ll get those reports on the day they’re due. Not a day earlier, not a day later.”
”Very well, Lieutenant.” He looks quite pleased with himself and you give him an eye roll, turning to leave. One gloved hand darts out and grabs your arm, pulling you back so that you’re standing flush against him. You turn to lock eyes with your lover. Oh, he was definitely in trouble now; he knew better than to pull something like this in front of everyone. You were standing alone on the bridge for fuck's sake… might as well be under a spotlight. You can only imagine that Nylah was about to jump out of her chair as you were sure she was watching closely.
“I expect you in my quarters when your shift ends,” he murmurs in your ear. You snort and turn so you can whisper in his, close enough that your lips graze his skin. Fuck professional.
“And I expect you on your knees when I get there, Orson. With how you’ve been acting today, you’re in need of a little discipline.”
He’s so focused on processing what you’ve just said that he doesn’t notice your hand brush past his cape until it’s on his ass and you give him a good squeeze. He sharply inhales through his nose while his grip on your arm tightens, eyes as big as the battle station he’s constructing. That’s another reason to like his cape, you decide; you can cop a feel and no one’s any the wiser.
You pull back far enough to see his face and the look of shock and arousal you find there brings a devilish grin to your lips. After a moment you school your features, give him a wink, and pull out of his grasp, leaving him to watch you walk away.
As you stride past Nylah she stares at you with a look of utter confusion, confirming that she had been watching and would now want to know what you did to Orson Krennic to have him make an expression like… that. You just give her a shrug and keep going. You can’t help but grin again as you make your way to the mess hall. You might have to make up an excuse to keep Nylah at bay but at least you had a delicious night to look forward to.
