#and apparently you start getting grey hairs when you start keeping secrets

[thekintsugidyke]

watched a podcast with roberta today where she talks about her coming out process and the whole figuring out she was a lesbian and it was so intense. I kept thinking about how she’s mentioned that on aloto they all contributed to the creation and backstories of the characters, and kelly has also talked about all her suggestions and the 40 page doc for Jess and how some things are so similar to herself and so on.

So it got me thinking about Lupe’s backstory AGAIN. More specifically if Roberta also drew some connection to herself with the character. The religious latine background is there in full, and it must have been Something to play it. but there’s also the late-bloomeness of it that Roberta talks about in the podcast, how much she tried to overcompensate in some things even though she wasn��t fully conscious of “oh, I’m gay”. And I can see that with Lupe so much, in how she is clearly uncomfortable with the dresses and charm school and the whole femininity performance, while at the same time showing a kind of resignation towards it, like she’d done it before and had learned how to do it in an almost adequate way, a passable way.

Bottom line is I’m still so fucking hung up on Lupe’s baggage and how little we got to see of it while also having a lot of information thrown at us. And Roberta is so fucking elusive and private even in settings where she’s there to talk about those things.

[traitorleech]

taskmaster series 16 finale. it's here, guys! i am so not prepared to let the cast go. it's been a great time, though.

what the fuck has happened to sam's hair? & he's not in grey. he's finally got enough xp to unlock colour apparently.

ah. the live bit.

"fidgeting will otter a man down"

"but where are all these beavers"

untaffled.

"fair play to the boy" the live bit goes on.

"that's filthy, that's filthy, ... that's filthy" susan is me in a lot of situations.

ok, now i just think lucy's lost her fucking mind with that doughnut task. i am shocketh beyond anything. poor alex. but god damn he really ate it. i mean, i'm not surprised but gently disgusted, though as soon as i saw her in a bird's costume, i knew what was coming.

greg keeps bringing up that he and alex were to a wedding where he made him eat a pat of butter.

"i'm not the one who gobbled a beaver's anal gland" alex is on fire in this live episode.

oh my god i'm so in love with sue's doughnut task. i screamed when the doughnut hit.

julian making alex kneel. julian making alex kneel. i repeat. julian making alex kneel & then eating the doughnut & spitting it at alex.

susan is fucking insane.

"but once i'd started i knew he was gonna get it." thank you for your service, julian. i enjoyed it too much.

"let's gaffer me up real good"

THEY HAVE ALL LOST THEIR MINDS

oh are they gonna get dqed if they leave the work out mat? no. apparently not. i am gonna say missed opportunity but i think that would have made it less fun, actually.

sue beating alex up with a ball. on brand.

julian groaning. i am so sorry but i do find it quite erotic.

it was julian who's beating alex with the boxing gloves. oh my fucking god i wouldn't have believed it. my prediction was wrong.

why did they bleep what julian said. i wanna know what julian said (probably cunt or something)

alex in a leather jacket & black t-shirt is so hot. why is he stripping again?! ah. dressing gown.

"i prefer alex" a sentence that hasn't been said very often on this show. probably never.

susan dying over alex's forks and marbles.

oh my god i'm enjoying the sues way too much in the hotel task. they really should do a show where they're managing a bnb. i'd fucking watch it.

i'm cry-laughing right now. oh my god. my stomach hurts. i think the hotel task might be my favourite task of all time. hide the pineapple has been brought down (if this was my favourite before. don't know).

all three of them looking in on alex through the window. i don't know. cracks me up.

"nice legs" "i don't think that's appropriate"

oh my god. i think they annoyed each other so badly. alex didn't manage to be the difficult one. they all were. though greg was right with julian managing the lunatics & then making alex pay 300 quid.

"hello, cutie." greg throwing alex off once again via nicknames.

greg's really feeling the final task. so adorable.

"so it is possible, which is a relief" well...

they're all holding hands.

didn't think julian would win the episode. but he did pretty badly in the final task. but sam won. which was my prediction. so. yeah. and no more secret tasks. i really can't believe it's over. had so much fun watching it week to week, though i gotta admit that i know no one from the nyt line-up reveal.

[harrowharks-iliac-crest]

Day One

Regarding Nona—Hot Sauce is watchful—The City has a bad day—Nona gets a bedtime story—Five days until the Tomb opens.

Some kind of log. Some kind of countdown. The tomb will open! Is the whole plot of this book (well, Nona's part, anyway) just over five days?

Because, I assume, Alecto the Ninth would start when the tomb opens - I think it said so at the end of Harrow the Ninth.

Let's see.

1

“I like it. I like the water, I like her hands.” “Her hands?” “They’re the things around me—maybe they’re my hands.” The pencil scratched loudly on the paper. “How about the face?” “It’s the picture face.” The sketch they’d made for her, the one locked in the secret drawer where they put all the really interesting things,

Nona is recounting a dream, or a vision. The water could be water from the River, or water surrounding the Locked Tomb - the person whose hands and face she sees is the person on the picture. Whose picture?

Gideon? Harrow? Wake? Alecto?

I have nothing to go on here, so it remains open.

Being the worm with problems did not worry her. Just being able to dress herself was charming. In the bad old days she used to have to be helped even with the nightshirt, because she couldn’t be trusted not to get stuck with it halfway over her head and get all hot and upset from claustrophobia. It was incredibly important that she not get upset like that again. She had only ever had two tantrums in her life, but it would be humiliating to have a third.

They weren't wrong. I fucking love Nona already. Worm with problems? Getting stuck in clothes and having a meltdown? I relate.

But all Camilla said was, “Don’t hyperextend,” crushingly, and worse, “Go see if Pyrrha needs help with breakfast.”

Okay, so we have Camilla and Pyrrha - there were three mentioned in HtN's epilogue, and I assumed it was Camilla, Coronabeth and Judith, since those three stuck together for the duration of HtN. Apparently, I was wrong.

She hedged cunningly. “At least please can you write down, I love you, Palamedes, please, from me? At least write, I love you, Palamedes, from Nona.”

Palamedes! Is Camilla writing things down for him...? For the future?

There was thin blue light coming through the joins in the curtains, and an orange glow from the worn-out hot plate mostly blocked by the other person she lived with.

Pyrrha. "The other person"... does that mean...??

She counted up the tally marks and said, “That’s the seventh one this month. But that’s not fair when you keep making them. Palamedes will say you’re skewing the data.”

Palamedes is here referred to as an active resident...!!...

Nona ate while Pyrrha brushed out her hair in short, brisk strokes, letting its fine black sheets fall over Nona’s shoulders.

Noting the colour black here; not red, like I'd theorised from just seeing the cover. Black hair opens up a whole new other realm of possibilities. Could Nona be living in Harrow's body? Pyrrha's presence suggests this might be the case - as she was with Harrow's body at the end of the last book; or, once again, it could be someone entirely different. Perhaps they're even dyeing her hair.

Camilla said unhappily, “Eggs? Have we not invented a new protein?” which meant it wasn’t Camilla at all. The easiest way of telling who was who was in the eyes.

And there it is - confirmation of what I was suspecting! Camilla and Palamedes have achieved some form of Lyctorhood, Palamedes is alive in Camilla's body!!

Yaaaaay!! My boy is BACK and I predicted correctly! Didn't think it would have already happened at this point, but hey, I'm not complaining.

Oh, but this bit is interesting as well, right after:

Palamedes had soft cool eyes of brownish grey, like bare ground in the cold mornings when Nona had been little,

So Nona has some childhood memories - are they hers, or her body's? Does the distinction matter? Yeah of course it does - if Nona has her own life and her own memories, it shouldn't be that hard to figure out who she is - they still don't know. If she's hijacked someone else's body, doesn't know who she is and is remembering someone else's childhood, that would be a very different story altogether.

Moving on:

“Then this is our last chance to make a difference. Give us orders, Commander.” Pyrrha was audibly chewing. “Stopped being that when I died, Palamedes. It was a courtesy title, anyway, and there’s an embarrassment of commanders here if you want ’em.” “Pyrrha,” he said, “why are they running now? Why would Blood of Eden run when they have the best hand they were ever dealt? Why would they run when common sense, good tactics, and foreknowledge must tell them all that this is the best moment to make a stand? The time you’ve spent—the insights you’ve had that nobody else has been privy to—and you’re truly telling me you don’t even have an inkling?”

This is really interesting - are they with the Blood of Eden or not? They are discussing tactics, as the area they're living in is clearly being fought over. Pyrrha wants to run away, Palamedes wants to save people - a bit of a deadlock.

Pyrrha balanced a mirror on the table and shaved her face. Nona loved the clean, bright smell of shaving soap, and to see Pyrrha swiftly and expertly scrape the dark russet-brown stubble off her cheeks and from around her mouth, and the little wet red marks that appeared. When she reached over to touch one freshly smooth cheek, the marks were already wrinkling up and disappearing.

Interesting - not only the gender stuff going on here, but that Pyrrha clearly still has some Lyctoral powers despite Gideon having perished in the River. Do Camilla and Palamedes have the same?

That was the whole problem, wasn’t it? Nona wouldn’t cough even if the wind blew the smoke straight into her face, and Pyrrha wouldn’t burn any colour other than her deep cool brown.

Points for Nona being in Harrow's body, also with Lyctoral powers. Where's Gideon Nav in all this?

They have protocols for going out - hiding, waiting, code words. Camilla wants to fight - Heralds? Are the Resurrection Beasts still after them? I suppose they would be, if they hunt Lyctors, and there's three right here, even though none of them are "standard" Lyctors.

What a great chapter, a great start. I can't wait to read more.

[thehuntss]

HIGH FOR THIS 1/2

•

The BAU members are in Phoenix for a case, and get gifted some homemade cookies. Hotch and Prentiss finally share their secret. The team was definitely not ready for this.

•

Hi guys!

I was watching some Grey’s anatomy - the other show to my heart - and got very inspired. So here’s my little remix. And my first smut fic!!!

Let me know what you think about it!

Hope you’ll enjoy <3

xx

There was no way they could’ve been fooled like this. No ways, they were high ranked profilers, they could have seen it coming from planet Venus but they didn’t. And the only ones who weren’t victims from this pathetic joke were the absents, as always.

JJ had to take several mesures and that’s why they were all locked up in the conference room, with their phones and guns taken away. “It’s for your own safety, I can’t do much except saving your dignity. You’ll all stay there until you are sober. See you later.”

The blonde was expecting them to be angry at her, she was ready for them to yell at her and saying she was the worst ever because they had to work but none of that happened. They all stared at her with big wide smile, even Hotch couldn’t hide his, all looking at her with this innocent and kind of stupid sparkle in the eyes.

“You’re so…blonde. Did I ever mentioned that to you ? I mean, like a real blonde, not like Garcia when she makes hair experiences…” Derek told her with all the seriousness possible, while Garcia slowly nodded.

“Yeah, is it natural ? Like, were you born with blonde hair ? You look like an Angel.” Her voice was higher than usually, but none of them seemed to matters. “Are you an Angel JJ?”

“You’re so pretty.” Rossi added, sending her a kiss.

“Guys, listen to me, I’m not an Angel, and you are all high, remember ? I’ll go grab some water, wait here for me. And please don’t do something stupid.” She said, they were giving her the worst headache and she didn’t have a cookie.

She had brought cookies from this police officer’s wife and because she was on a diet she didn’t eat one. Luckily for her. Because 30 minutes later she noticed how weird they were all acting, and not long after the police officer bursted in the conference room, asking her to give back the cookies because his wife had made a mistake. And what a mistake, all the profilers were high on weed and none of them seemed to remember their names.

“I think they are all wrong, you’re the most gorgeous person of this planet sweetheart.”

It had been only a whisper but everyone turned to stare at their boss, who was sitting on the couch, lost in his thoughts but lovingly eyeing Emily. No one knew about their secret relationship, it had been almost a year and they had managed to keep it private. Until today. Only Reid seemed deaf to all the noises around him, staring at the door like if he was counting seconds before JJ’s return.

“What ? The ? Hell ?” Garcia broke the silence, looking in between Bossman and Peaches.

“Are you dating ?” Derek asked, standing up suddenly, his expression blank. He gave Dave a look, and the oldest agent chuckled. “Since when ?”

“Like no one knew. Don’t tell me you guys didn’t see it, it had been almost a year.”

Garcia and Derek blinked twice, unable to know if they were naturally shocked or just under marijuana’s hallucinations. “For real ? How….”

“How are babies made…” Garcia asked him, with a concerned voice, while Emily bursted into laugh, definitely very high too.

“Sex, sex is the cure. And Aaron is very good at sex, he always does this thing with his fingers and then I co….”

“Bella!” David cut her up kind of laughing, while Derek gave the couple a disgusted look.

“Yes we don’t want to know how bossman fucks you.”

“Gross.” Garcia whined, looking horrified when she apparently pictured her boss and her friend making out.

“You’re the one who asked Garcia…” Emily mumbled, standing up to sit back next to Aaron who hadn’t say a word since the start of the discussion. “But if you have to know, sex is great and it’s even better than hacking the CIA to get Prince William’s number.”

She laughed when she saw the redhead cheeks flushing, winking at her. “Yup, I know everything.”

And while Derek was trying to contain his tears from laughing, she silently kissed Aaron cheek. That is not how they had planned on telling them but they didn’t expect either to be drugged with cookies. And that’s the precise moment JJ came back with water bottles.”

“Reid are you in there ?” She snapped her fingers at him but the genius didn’t even move.

“I think…” she started until she saw Derek sniffing at the table. “Hum…reminds me had many cookies you all had ?”

“98…it’s the same number as the last one of Prince Williams phone number.” Penelope replied, still figuring out how Emily knew about the CIA hacking’s attempt.

“Maybe 3, and I still think you’re an Angel blondie.” Derek answered, sniffing this time at the files in from of him.

“I need to pee.” Emily suddenly said, looking at JJ. “Please?”

JJ rolled her eyes but agreed on letting her friend go, and as Emily left walking like a zombie, the blonde tried to convince Derek that sniffing things around him was no sense. That’s maybe why she didn’t notice Hotch sneaking out of the room, and apparently all the other had seen him but no one spoke, too high and too amused.

Emily almost passed out when she opened the cabinet room and saw Aaron standing just at the door, his eyes darker and shining with lust. “You scared the shit outta me honey! Wait..are we in mixt bathroom ? Like it used to be before?”

Aaron pushed her inside and closed the door with his foot, kissing her with passion and fierce, not letting her time to realize what was going on. Apparently drugs had a different effect on him and she would definitely not complain about it. Their kissed turned hungry, their hands being very touchy, and their moans echoing in the room but they didn’t care.

“I want you…” he whispered in between kisses, his voice low and raspy, definitely not the same as usual. And the way she felt his hardness against her tights was definitely the usual same, like every time they would make love like if it was their last time. “I’ve been thinking about this all day…”

“Take off your pants.” She instructed, her hands already unbelting him, slipping in his boxers. He was already hard and she could feel the precum leaking on the top of her fingers. “Fuck me, please Aaron.”

His hands trailed further down her body, helping her take down her pants, cupping her ass and lifting her up so that she could wrap one of her leg around his waist. “Have you been a good girl?” He teased her, kissing her neck and leaving bruises he didn’t care now but would regret later when he would realize they were very visibles.

She gasped for breath, looking at him and burying her hands in his short hair. “I’ve been…but we don’t have time honey…fuck, please…” she begged, feeling warmth grows in between her legs.

Emily licked her lips and leaned forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his heated skin. He gasped, his hands trembling slightly as he pushed her panties down her legs. She quickly pumped him, smiling deliciously. “You’re already so hard for me.”

Aaron suddenly had trouble holding back, her hand on his cock making him shiver from head to toes. “You’re so good at this baby.” He kissed her again, his fingers trailing down her collarbone, removing the long dark hair from her face. Emily’s head fell back against the wall with a thud, her eyes fluttering closed.

Drugged or not, Aaron looked forward to feeling her around his cock.

She gave him a better access, slowly moving her hip against his waist, feeling the urge to have him inside of her, he whole body burning of desire for her handsome man. She helped him guide his shaft into her hot center and they both moaned loudly as he filled her up.

“Fuck you feel so good.” He panted to her ear, letting her adjust for a second before moving his hips, loving the sound of his skin slapping against hers. It was taking all his self control not to fuck her senseless and make her come in a minute, knowing too well her sensitive spots.

“Not the…vanilla..sex…” she pleaded him, her hands on his hips, guiding him to move faster. He didn’t get right away what she was saying but seconds later he thrusted quicker into her, silencing her with a heated kiss. Even on their state he was still aware of the situation and he didn’t want the whole police station coming in the damn restroom.

He lost mention of time, slamming his hips against her, burying his face into her neck, his hand replacing his mouth over her lips. Emily knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it longer, feeling her orgasm growing faster inside. Aaron felt her fingers digs into his shoulders, leaving him scratches but he didn’t care, panting and moaning of pleasure. A second later he watched her tensed, her orgasm sending her over the edge.

With a few more thrusts he came as well, spurting his seeds inside her, his legs barely managing to hold them up with the force of his climax. 

When he felt better, Aaron then sank down to the ground, keeping this precious contact with her, kissing her softly, letting them both go down from their climax.

“We should get going sweetheart.” He whispered, lifting his pants up and buckling his belt. She did the same, grimacing when she felt him leak in her panties. “Vanilla sex?” He chuckled.

She shrugged, tilting her head on the side, kissing him one more time. “I just like your savage side.”

When they came back to the conference room they all stared at them, except Reid. JJ rolled her eyes at them and Emily couldn’t help but laugh awkwardly, still high and on her climax.

“Please…” JJ whispered, eyes shut down and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Don’t tell me they were right.”

At the confused look on Aaron and Emily’s faces, Derek added, containing his laugh with very much difficulties. “Lieutenant Bradford came in and told us there were hearing weird noises in the restroom.”

“You can’t possible have done it in a police station.” David said, both of the agents feeling like kids getting caught up by their parents. And at their non answers, Aaron being as embarrassed as Emily was amused, Derek and Garcia bursted in tears, unable to stop while JJ and Dave looked at them with desperation but a bit of amusement.

“You both are two fucking motherf….” Derek managed to say in between laugh, feeling like he was out of breathe.

“You’re all punished of cookies. All of you.” Pointed Dave, forgetting he had some too.

It was too much and they all laughed, including Reid and Hotch.

“I knew you were taking too long for a pee!” Penelope said. “Now you all owe me $20! Waiting for the money pals…” her hands were open and she waited patiently for her friends to open their wallet.

“You did not bet on that Pen?!” Emily couldn’t hold her shock, looking at her with wide eyes.

“Why not, JJ locked us in here I had to find a way to have fun!” She replied, counting the money. “And I was right, count it as a revenge for Prince William!” She winked at her, her laugh contagious as even Aaron smiled. “By the way, nice hickeys Peach.”

“I have to say you weren’t exactly quiet. That was very embarrassing.”

They all turned to Reid who had finally spoke. He didn’t look at his boss and friend, slightly embarrassed, cheeks still reddish. “I’ll never be able to forget this, and it’s going to cause me more nightmares than psychopaths does…”

“How…” Aaron started.

“Toilets are the room next door.” Dave stated, trying to be as serious as he could.

And the awkward and embarrassed look the couple shared made them all agree on one point. That was definitely the best - and worst for Reid - way to announce they were dating.

[capricornlevi]

i have a memory - kishibe x f!reader

cw: brief mention of violence and threat (not graphic), consumption of alcohol/cigarettes, explicit sexual content (oral sex f! receiving, fingering, hand jobs, vaginal sex) - NSFW, MDNI

word count: 8.9k

a/n: thinking about how young cocky annoying kishibe showed up for 3 panels and changed the trajectory of my life forever ... so here's 9k words of kinda-sorta-enemies slash annoying colleagues to lovers .... with a tiny splash of angst too for good measure? i just love this man and think he's a secret softie so here's him successfully pulling for once <3

___

“You’d really say no to a smoke?” 

Kishibe’s question sounds disbelieving as he holds out the box of cigarettes in your direction. Instead of answering, you choose to wave away his offer dismissively. Still shocked, he continues, “you’re not even a little tempted?”

You roll your eyes. You’re one of few devil hunters in the Public Safety Division that rarely, if ever, smokes; a fact that makes you somewhat of an oddity to people like Kishibe, your partner, who seems to keep the tobacco industry afloat through his wages alone.

“Nope,” you reply simply. “They taste bad.”

Your replies are clipped and borderline rude but you can’t bring yourself to care - not when he’s dragged you to this place yet again, at this godforsaken hour of the morning, to “look over your case files” even though he never seems to actually care enough to read them. 

The place in question is a dingy old café on the outskirts of town, one that Kishibe insists on coming to even though there’s a fancy new artisanal coffee shop just down the road. His loyalty to this dump baffles you. 

In theory, you don’t object to meeting up this early - you usually prefer to grab a hot drink at this time anyway, just to keep your hands warm, and Kishibe always needs to take a smoke break, so better to get it out of the way before the day kicks off - but you hate how he never seems to take these meetings seriously. It feels like wasted hours you could have spent sleeping. 

Adding to your resentment is the fact that you have to sit outside in the freezing cold just so he can grab a smoke. He doesn’t like walking and smoking at the same time; it distracts him too much, apparently. 

You hate it out here. As grim as it is on the inside of the café, the exterior is far worse; grey, miserable concrete floors and walls, no decoration of any sort, and just one solitary table for outdoor dining. 

And at that lonely table, there is only one chair - the chair which you’re currently sitting on. Thankfully, Kishibe knew better than to fight you for it since it’s his smoking habit that’s keeping you outside.

He’s leaning against the wall next to you, peering down curiously as you sip your drink with a poorly-concealed grimace. 

“You really sure you don’t want one?” he asks again. 

“Shut up and smoke the damn cigarette. It’s fucking freezing.” 

Kishibe lets out a short huff of amusement, finally fishing a cigarette out of the box and bringing it to his lips. He slips the box back into his shirt pocket and then pulls out his rusty old lighter, soft strands of black hair falling into his eyes as he lights the cigarette. His lips purse around the tightly-rolled tobacco, his cheekbones stained pink from the cold. 

You don’t know why your eyes linger on the sight. To distract yourself, you open up a copy of the report sitting on the table in front of you. 

Kishibe takes a long drag before exhaling with a pleasured sigh, eyes closed with bliss. 

“Doesn’t taste too bad to me.”

“Well, that’s you,” you mutter, scanning over the paper on the table. You’ve just picked it up from the captain of your division - he left it a little late to brief you both, considering the mission starts today - and you want to have at least a passable knowledge of what you’re up against before setting out. 

You’ve worked a few jobs with Kishibe since being assigned as his partner and generally, you tolerate him fine. He doesn’t try to ruin your day (you don’t think, anyway). You even share a few laughs every now and then, once you grew to understand his strange and overconfident sense of humour. He’s manageable. 

But at times like this, times when you should be focusing on the job that’s been assigned to you instead of just fucking around, smoking cigarettes and taunting each other …

At times like this, he can really get on your nerves.

He’s far from a bad hunter, you know that. His strength and skill have given him quite the reputation even though he’s still in the early stages of his career, and he approaches every fight with the sort of stoic level-headedness you could only aspire to.

He’s good. Too good, almost, and it scares you how he manages it all without even breaking a sweat.

That’s the real reason he gets under your skin so often. It's all too easy for him, and it’s a humbling reminder of your own mortality. He may not need to do this much preparation and research in order to stay alive, but you certainly do. You can’t take any chances. 

That, coupled with the fact that you can’t even enjoy your morning cup of coffee indoors anymore … 

“You sure it’s just the taste you don’t like?” he pipes up as if on cue, prompting you to give him a withering look over the top of the report. “You’re not scared of them, are ya? Cos we’re not gonna live long enough to worry about the side effects of smoking, if that’s what’s actually bothering you.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t smoke,” you reply, unimpressed. “I’d rather spend what little time I have left doing things that I actually enjoy.” You gesture dismissively at the cigarette dangling between his lips. “And those things taste like shit, so I don’t bother wasting my time or money on them.”

He raises his eyebrows when he takes his next drag, whisps of grey smoke spilling out into the frosty air as he exhales. “I could get offended here, y’know?”

“Why would you be offended?” you say disinterestedly, your eyes lingering on the part of the report that details the previous fatalities of the devil in question. 

“Are you saying that I taste like shit, then?”

“Maybe you do,” you say, setting the paper back down in front of you with a yawn. “I don’t care.”

Kishibe’s grinning down at you now. He has that kind of smile that always reaches his eyes, and you’d almost find it charming were it not always associated with him trying to tease you. 

You’ve read enough of the report at this point - it sounds awful, but all the death and destruction and suffering starts to blur together after enough time - and so fold the paper in half and slip it into your jacket pocket, trying as best as you can to ignore the grin spreading across Kishibe’s face.

“I don’t taste like shit, y’know,” he elaborates, even though you didn’t ask him to. 

“You’re a freak.”

Your comment does nothing to halt his attempt at conversation. 

“Well, I have these breath mints, y’know - y’know those ones you can pick up at the counter in drug stores? They’re pretty good, cancels out the taste. So I make sure I don’t taste bad.” 

He finishes his sentence by stubbing his cigarette out on the ashtray and opening the little tin of mints that he keeps in the same pocket as his lighter. He pops a mint into his mouth and stays looking smug, so smug you could slap the expression right off his face.

You are in no mood to entertain him any further, so just fire off an agreement in the hope of shutting him up. 

“Fine. I’ll take your word for it.”

But you should have known it wouldn’t be that easy, because not a second later he asks, practically beaming …

“Do you wanna find out?” 

You get up from your chair abruptly, shoving him with your shoulder as you pass him on the way out of the café. He gasps in feigned indignation and is just about to speak up again before you call out a question of your own. 

“Has a line like that ever worked on anyone?”

He laughs, though it ends in a cough. You turn to leave but still hear his answer from over your shoulder. 

“Nope.”

______

The job is a tough one, even by the standards of devil hunters. 

Kishibe has your back and you have his, but it’s not enough to save the many casualties who you had hoped to keep out of harm’s way. Collateral damage is a given in your line of work, but this … this was a particularly bad day.

You and Kishibe travel home in silence. He doesn’t say anything to draw a reaction out of you, and in turn, you don’t make a comment when he pulls his box of cigarettes from his now blood-stained shirt pocket. 

It’s a mutual understanding, and you’re grateful for it. 

_____

The next day, once you’ve had the closest thing to a full night’s sleep you could hope for given your line of work, you’re awoken by the sound of Kishibe knocking on your door. 

You know the sound all too well. He gives three loud raps against the doorframe, all in quick succession; he might pretend otherwise, but he’s a creature of habit. You don’t even have to look through the peephole to know that it’s him. 

“I have a question,” he announces the moment you open the door, without so much as a greeting. “Just a quick one.”

“... go ahead.”

You’ve worked with him for long enough to know that it’s better to let him tell his piece first, and then you can ask for elaboration later. You don’t try to slow him down with a ‘good morning’. It wouldn’t be helpful for either of you. 

“A few friends in another division are going out for drinks tonight. Same place as usual. Shitty beer, but it’s cheap and the other division’s buying a few rounds, so they’ll get us drunk as hell. Wanna go?”

“You couldn’t have just called me with this question?” you ask, head still a little groggy. It’s well into the afternoon, but had Kishibe not come for this unexpected visit, you’d likely still be in bed. 

“Nope, because then it’d be easier for you to come up with an excuse to blow us off,” he replies quickly - too quickly, almost as if he’d prepared this little speech beforehand. “So if you really don’t wanna go, that’s fine, no complaints here. All I ask is that you don’t say no out of instinct. I think it’d be good, y’know, to get some space? Perspective, and shit like that? You’ll get to see a few people from other divisions, too. I know you’re probably tired of looking at my face every day, handsome as it may be.”

He’s looking at you directly, presenting his case in such a typically Kishibe way; straightforward, reasoned, calm, logical. And still just a little bit annoying.

Part of you is still a little resentful as to how he can bounce back so quickly and appear so unaffected by all of this. He’s still so unperturbed by it all.

But a bigger part of you appreciates that he gives enough of a damn to come out here and check up on you after a particularly difficult mission. You know of plenty of hunters who get stuck with partners who couldn’t care less whether they lived or died, let alone bothered to check on their mental well-being.

For all his faults, he’s a good guy. Irritating at times and a bit too sure of himself, but a good guy nonetheless. He’s trying to cheer you up and, try as you might, you can’t think of a valid reason to turn down his request. 

“Fine, I’ll go.”

His shoulders relax ever-so-slightly. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s almost relieved.

“See you there at around eight o clock, so?” he inquires, though it’s more of a statement than a question.

“Sure thing.”

His smile turns mischievous, a transformation you see far too often. 

“Want me to wear something nice? I have a nice red lacy number you might like-” 

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence before you close the door in his face. 

“See you later!” he calls out, voice muffled on the other side of the door. You hear his footsteps as they traipse down the hallway of your apartment building, and then he’s gone. 

This is fine. You can stomach a few short hours of socialising with the other divisions. It couldn’t be that difficult, could it? You know a few of them already and you have Kishibe there to back you up if any of them get too messy. Your partner is a big drinker, but he can hold it well. Better than most people, actually (yet another frustrating thing about him).

As you start to walk back to your kitchen to make the first of many coffees, you start to notice something. It’s subtle, and you can’t quite place what it is until you’ve finished preparing your drink. 

You groan out loud once you realise what you've noticed.

Even with the earthy aroma of the freshly-ground coffee beans filling your kitchen, you can still smell Kishibe’s aftershave. 

It feels like … like it’s on you, or something. It feels like it’s all over your body.

You’re not complaining about the aftershave itself, obviously. It actually smells pretty nice - you’d never say it to his face, but the man has good taste. 

You’re just annoyed because it’s yet another reminder that Kishibe is everywhere. 

Whether it’s through these impromptu visits, through his frequent texts and emails, or just in the course of your work, he’s absolutely everywhere. He’s there when you wake up, he’s there while you work, he’s even there whenever you try to get some peace and quiet at the café or in bars after work. 

And after last night, he seems to be in your dreams, too, but you won’t dwell on that any further. Not if you have any hope of catching a break from him. 

You don't let yourself panic. You reason that dreams are just the mind’s way of processing what it experiences throughout the day. It means nothing. Having a dream involving a colleague, of him taking you in his arms, holding you close, touching you where you need to be touched … 

… it’s just a sign that you spend way too much time together. 

You clutch your favourite mug in your hands, feeling the heat warm your palms. It’s a standard mug, plain white porcelain with “World’s Best Boss” printed on the side; a gift from your former partner.

You think about what happened to her, and feel a lump form in your throat. 

No. Can’t get too close. 

___

When you arrive at the bar later that night, you find it to be so packed with hunters that the place is flooded with cigarette smoke. The air is so dense it’s almost a fog, the haze of it obscuring your vision slightly. You can see where you’re going but it’s difficult to make out faces. 

You can only hope that you don’t walk up to someone, mistake them for Kishibe, and call them a fucking idiot out of instinct. He’d never let you live it down if he found out. 

You cough to clear your throat as you make your way to the booths in search of your partner, trying to dodge the people pushing past with arms full of beer glasses. 

It’s not long before you spot him - or rather, hear him. 

“Hey!” he shouts to you from over your shoulder, and you spin around to see him standing right behind you. His speech is muffled by the cigarette between his lips, his tie is loose and the top buttons of his shirt are undone, and you see the pale-pink border of scar decorating his chest that would usually be hidden by his jacket. He’s holding a beer in one hand and so places the other on your shoulder with uncharacteristic gentleness, guiding you over to the booth on the furthest left-hand side of the room. “You’re an honorary smoker now!”

Any other day you’d slap his hand away, interpreting the gesture as being just typical Kishibe trying to irritate you with overfamiliarity. However, after the mission the two of you just had, you choose to let it slide. 

It might be time to start giving him the benefit of the doubt. 

Maybe, if you tried, you could even grow to like him. 

… but that thought doesn’t seem right. No, not right at all; because you didn’t have to try. Maybe you already do like him, and it happened without you even realising. 

You take a sip from the glass of whiskey that someone’s just shoved into your hand and you feel the warmth spread down your throat and through your chest. 

God, need to be careful. 

The realisation hits you like a brick wall; you absolutely and unequivocally must not get too attached to Kishibe. You can’t. You won’t. 

Getting personally involved with someone in your line of work is one of the most reckless things a person can do. If luck is on his side and he isn’t killed or seriously injured at some point in the near future, then you definitely will be the one to die instead. Your chances of passing away from natural causes are slim to none.

There’s no real hope for a nice, happy, white-picket-fence future; you gave that up long ago. To indulge in the new and silly feelings you’re experiencing for the man whose hand is still clasped on your shoulder … it would be foolish. 

Your best hope at happiness is to be fond of Kishibe from a distance. To tolerate him as a partner and respect him as a colleague, and leave it at that. No more, no less.

Once you’ve arrived at the booth - his touch still so noticeable on the exposed skin near your neck - he introduces you to three devil hunters. You greet the two men who you recognise as being from another division, along with a woman with an eye patch and striking white hair. From word of mouth, you’d assume this is Quanxi, the famous former partner Kishibe had worked with for a couple of years before being reassigned. 

You take a seat next to her while your partner sits across from you next to the two men, and even as you settle into conversation with the rest of the group, it takes a surprising amount of effort to try and ignore that you miss having him within touching distance.

You need a distraction and, thankfully, you grow to like Quanxi very quickly. She’s blunt and straightforward but makes good conversation. She tells you enough embarrassing stories about Kishibe to last you a lifetime and has a similar outlook on life as you do; she’s practical but not emotionless, reserved but still dedicated to her work. 

Unfortunately for you, she’s also very observant.

“You don’t drink much?” she asks out of the blue as Kishibe gets up to fetch another round. “Kishibe told me you don’t smoke, but from the look of your glass … you’re still on your first beer, whereas those two,” she adds, pointing dismissively at the other two hunters, “are nearly finished with their fourth.”

“ ... I had a whiskey before I sat down.”

“Even still,” Quanxi counters, holding up her empty whiskey glass for emphasis - she must have finished the bottle by now. 

You shrug, unsure as to what your answer would even be. “Tonight’s just an off night for me, I guess.”

“Why?”

“I just have a lot on my mind,” you admit. It’s uncharacteristically candid of you considering you’ve only just met, but Quanxi seems trustworthy. “I’m scared that drinking will make it … a bit harder to deal with.”

Luckily, Quanxi doesn’t seem too eager to push the topic. “Fair enough. As long as it’s not because you think it  … tastes bad, or something.”

You see her glance over to Kishibe for a split second, so quick it’s almost not noticeable. She grins, then, and you know for sure that he’s been talking about you. 

Kishibe, you swear to yourself. If the devils don’t kill him then you will. 

___

A couple of hours pass before you excuse yourself to step outside for some fresh air. It’s not an excuse - you really do need some air, as even the heaviest smokers in the bar have started to complain about how stuffy it’s become. You don’t feel too guilty about needing a break.

The night air is cold but fresh and crisp and so you welcome it, inhaling deeply into your lungs as you round the corner to the quiet alley next to the bar. Once there, you rest your back against the cool stone of the wall. You’re wearing only a skirt and a silk blouse, your jacket hanging up inside the bar, but you don’t shiver. 

You look up to the sky to try and see some stars, only to find them shielded by a thick covering of dark clouds. 

It could rain at any moment, you think to yourself. You really hope it doesn’t. 

“Quanxi scare you off?” a familiar voice calls out from the corner, attracting your attention. “Anything she told you about me is a lie, promise. Unless it’s good, then it’s extremely true.”

You chuckle softly. “No, just needed some air.”

“Same here,” Kishibe says cordially, walking over to you with his hands in his pockets. “Too warm in there.”

You watch him approach you with a soft smile and see that his walk is steady. He’s either not drunk at all or he’s very good at hiding it. 

Your curiosity gets the better of you and so you point it out.

“Kishibe, you’re not drinking as much as usual.” 

He chuckles. He’s reached where you’re standing and decides to follow your lead, resting his back against the wall and tilting his head upwards to see what you were looking at before. The two of you stay there, looking at the blank night sky. 

He clears his throat, voice still conversational and relaxed when he starts speaking. 

“Between the drinking and the smoking … you’re awful concerned about my health recently, aren’t ya?”

“Just being nosy, I guess,” you say, writing it off as plain old curiosity. You can’t think of any other reason for noticing it. 

“But you’re right, I’m taking it easy tonight,” he continues. “Not in the mood.”

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to come here to get shitfaced?” 

He shrugs. “No fun getting shitfaced by yourself, though, is it?”

“Ouch,” you chuckle, clutching your chest for dramatic effect. “I know I’m kinda quiet tonight, but-“

“Nah, I didn’t mean it like that,” he grins with a roll of his eyes. “I just don’t know the guys in there all that well, and the ones that I do know are fucking idiots when they’re wasted. Quanxi holds her liquor too well to even get tipsy, and you’re barely drinking, so I’m following your lead.”

Now it’s your turn to feel surprised. You thought you were the more observant of the two of you, but it turns out Kishibe notices the same things.

“I’m a good influence, then.”

Kishibe snorts at that, but somehow the sound is endearing. “Don’t go that far. We’re both still in this shitty job, so you can’t be all that sensible.”

“Oh, I’m not,” you agree, laughing too. “I’m good enough at wasting our pitiful little paycheck.”

“On what?”

He’s still grinning but looks genuinely curious, and huh, you have to stop and think on that one. You don’t really have any major vices (that you can think of), and you’re not a compulsive shopper, but you still manage to spend your money every month.

It’s not worth feeling guilty over, though; you just like surrounding yourself with little pleasures to distract from the grim nature of your work. 

You like getting nice furniture for your apartment, and this certain fancy brand of coffee. You like going to a local gallery and being able to buy any painting you want … 

… and, as you said earlier, you like things that taste good.

“I spend a lot of money on coffee,” you start. “Too much money. More than you spend on cigarettes, probably.”

“That’s-”

“A lot, I know,” you roll your eyes before continuing. “I also buy paint, canvases, brushes … things like that.”

“You paint?”

“A little. When I get the chance.”

He raises his eyebrows thoughtfully. Seems you’ve genuinely surprised him for once.

You keep going - now that you’ve remembered your little shopping list, it’s hard to stop the thoughts from flowing out. 

“And I got this green couch for my apartment. Ridiculously expensive, but I’ve wanted it for ages. I sometimes buy old books, too, and I always get this overpriced lip balm that tastes like apples.”

You pause then, to show you’re finished recalling your expenses. You have to laugh at the bemused expression on Kishibe’s face. 

“That it?” he asks, but he sounds suitably impressed. Like you’ve finally opened up to him in a way he can appreciate.

“That’s it, I think.”

He’s so close to you now that you’re practically shoulder-to-shoulder. You’re both just resting against the wall having a friendly chat, but the closeness feels … it feels both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. You’re used to having him always there, but never within touching distance. Never so casual and easy and enjoyable.

He clears his throat.

“So all that … that’s what you’re wasting all your money on? I’ll remember that next time I foot the bill for lunch.”

”I forgot my wallet one time,” you answer, shoving his shoulder with yours, “one time ever. Surely you’ve financially recovered by now.”

You’re not sure what possesses you, but as you’re still standing side-by-side, you lean your head down to rest it against his shoulder. It feels natural, like something you don't even have to think about. Kishibe was close, he was right there, and you wanted him closer.

His voice doesn’t betray any surprise at your actions, but the way the muscles in his arm tense as you nestle against him shows that he wasn’t expecting it.

But the fact that he doesn’t give you any shit for it or shrug you off means that he doesn’t object.

“I guess we can go to yours for coffee from now on,” he points out. “Since you’re apparently a coffee snob, and I’m clearly torturing you with the shit excuse for a beverage they serve at the café.”

“True,” you agree, “though maybe we can try to have a cup indoors for once. Just for the novelty of it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d like to see if it tastes any better when I’m not freezing my ass off while you have a smoke.”

“We could go now, if you want?” he asks then, and you feel everything slow down around you. 

You’re grateful to be resting against his shoulder because it means he misses your perplexed expression, your eyes widening as he finishes his question.

What does he mean by ‘go now’? Go where? The café closes just after lunch. You never go there unless you’re on a case. It’s the middle of the night, there are no other cafes even open nearby … 

As if reading your mind, he elaborates. 

“No, not go to the café,” he says, voice lower than you’ve ever heard it. It’s deep now, almost gravelly, instead of that usual ‘so smug it’s almost chirpy’ tone he utilises when he’s trying to annoy you on missions. His voice sounds nice - so nice that an inconvenient tingle spreads in your chest as you hear it. “I meant we could go back to yours. For some of that ridiculously expensive coffee, I mean.”

Is he trying to mess with you? It almost feels like a game, like he’s trying to trick you into saying something that will only make life more inconvenient for the both of you.

“You want coffee at midnight?” you ask, slowly.

“Sure do,” he answers without hesitation. “If you’ll be so kind as to host.”

You draw your head back and look at him quizzically. You know exactly how he acts when he’s messing with you and this isn’t it. He’s not smirking when he speaks; instead, he’s looking at you with an uncharacteristic softness in his eyes. It throws you off in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant, and so you say,

“Sure, let’s head back to mine.”

___

You grab your jacket from inside the bar as Kishibe hails a cab, and before you know it, the two of you are standing at your doorstep, just as you were earlier today when he invited you out. You feel different now, though; adrenaline coursing through your veins for no discernable reason. 

This all feels surreal. You and Kishibe here, alone, after hours, without the convenience of a mission to keep you distracted. And yet, you don’t dwell on it.

You’re moving as if possessed, desperately avoiding any overthinking of your actions as you take him by the hand and guide him through the door to your hallway, through to the kitchen then. Neither of you says anything as you walk. You only let go of his hand when you arrive at the countertop where you keep the coffee, resting a hand against the surface to ground yourself.

The kitchen is dark since you didn't bother the turn on the lights. Only the glow of the streetlamps illuminates the room, casting a glow over the two of you.

You blink up at him. He stays looking at you pensively. 

You’re still not sure how literally he was speaking when he mentioned wanting coffee. Would he laugh at you if you started to brew some? You want to touch him again, want to feel him ever closer than he was before, but … have you misinterpreted the situation entirely?

Kishibe clears things up for you. He steps in your direction, shoulders set and expression difficult to place. He’s not touching you yet but he’s so gotten so close now …  closer than colleagues or partners or even friends tend to go, only inches away from your body.

He’s so close you can feel whisps of his hair tickling your forehead, you can see the crinkles in his shirt and the outline of the lighter in his jacket pocket.

He stop then, hesitating, eyes scanning your face. 

“You okay?” he asks, smiling at you - a kind smile, not brass or cocky. 

You nod, the movement shallow and jerky and perhaps a bit too quick. 

“Yeah, just … my head’s all over the place.”

“Nothing has to happen,” he replies quietly. “We can just have coffee, if you’d prefer.”

“So you really want coffee?” you ask, eyebrow raised. “We’re sticking with that story?”

“Doesn’t have to be coffee,” he counters. “Tea, water, I don’t care. I just … I like spending time with you.”

You return his smile just as genuinely. “You’re being so … nice.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Well, I am,” you say emphatically. “Did I accidentally bring someone else’s partner home?”

He laughs, a nice sound, and your heart hammers against your ribcage. 

“Nope. Stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

His answer is conversational and friendly, but the look in his eyes betrays him. You know he means it. 

You know it’s stupid. It doesn’t make sense, because he’s your partner, and you’re supposed to be objective, and it goes against every rational thought in your brain. 

But the idea of being stuck with him sounds so appealing ... you can’t pay much attention to your rational side.

It’s not Kishibe who closes the distance between the two of you; instead, you step closer, fisting your hands into the fabric of his shirt, and then press your lips to his. 

It’s not a slow kiss. It starts intense and it only builds from there, teeth almost clacking together as you tangle your hands in his hair. It’s clumsy, almost; he’s pawing your thighs, lower back, waist, as if he can’t decide where he wants to touch first. You take a gentle grip on his hair, marvelling at how soft it feels in your hands, the silky tresses just so tuggable.

You’ll park that thought for later.

Kishibe deepens the kiss, running his tongue against your lips and then pushing into your mouth, not letting go of your body the whole time. 

It’s funny; a part of you thought that he would be as confident and dominant in these circumstances as he is in his professional life -

(Yes, you’ve thought about it before … it’s not as though the thought of sleeping with him has never crossed your mind. You’re stubborn, but not blind.)

- but he’s taking as much as he’s giving, getting as much satisfaction from your reaction as he does from anything else. He moves with you, noting what you like as the moments pass, gauging your reaction from your whimpers and moans and the way you’re not-so-subtly rubbing against his thigh.

He kisses your neck, lingering on your pulse point, leaving a mark that you’re sure will be visible tomorrow. The thought is strangely thrilling; the idea of you and Kishibe working a case together, with marks all over your skin just begging to be noticed. Marks that show he wanted you all to himself and needed everyone to know it. 

When you push your hips into his, feeling the bulge in his suit pants pressing against you, you tighten your grip on his hair. He notices and responds eagerly, grabbing your ass over the thin fabric of your skirt and pressing you flush against him. The heat of his body makes your mind go numb. 

You can smell his aftershave again, all over your body as he kisses and rubs and touches, but you have no complaints this time. 

He leans in as if to kiss you again but stops just short, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. 

“You have no idea how badly I want this,” he murmurs. “How badly I’ve wanted it. But … it might make things just a little bit complicated.”

“I’m okay with it if you are,” you whisper, looking into his eyes to show your confidence in your answer. You’re too far gone to back out now. You haven’t felt touch like this in so long, having kept yourself so guarded and withdrawn for years. Kishibe understands; he knows the risks of this job, and he knows how lonely it gets. He knows you so well. Knows what you need. 

“I’m okay with it,” he says, lips quirked upwards. He’s still pressed against you, his thigh spreading your legs open slightly. “Want me to show you how much?”

His eyes flicker down your body past your chest, and you know exactly what he’s thinking about doing. Every inch of your skin feels hot. Your clit pulses at the very idea of what he’s suggesting - it seems like his confidence might pay off. 

“I want you,” you reply. You think about finishing the sentence with something a bit more articulate, but Kishibe’s eyes darken at your earnest response, pupils blown out and expression ravenous. 

He places a large hand on your thigh, the exposed skin tingling under his touch. He slides it up slowly, so slowly, grazing up to the seam of your underwear. He runs a finger over your clothed core and you gasp, hips almost bucking into his touch. His thumb circles your clit then returns to stroking the damp fabric between your legs, so impossibly close to where you need him. 

He’s so close to it. So close - if he just angled his fingers a little more, he could plunge two inside you, wringing orgasm after orgasm from you as you melt underneath him. 

“Please-“ you choke, the pleasure almost becoming an ache. “I … I need-“

“What do you need, baby?” he whispers into the shell of your ear, teeth giving a gentle tug on your lobe when he finishes his question. “What do you need from me?”

“More, please. More.“

He doesn’t ask you to elaborate any further. Instead, he guides you to the countertop, pressing you against it at first, unable to keep from connecting his mouth to some part of you for too long (this time, it’s the swell of your breasts over the neckline of your blouse). 

Once he pulls back, lips leaving your cleavage with a wet ‘pop’,  he helps you up onto the countertop. Once you’re sitting comfortably on the edge, he slides his hands up your thighs again. You feel the cool marble on the underside of your legs, pleasantly contrasting the heat of his hands. 

He tugs at the waistband of your underwear and you lift your hips to allow him to pull them down, feeling the cold air against your exposed skin as he does so. You’re so wet and he notices immediately. His tongue swipes over his lower lip, a pink flush having settled across his cheekbones. 

He’s annoyingly pretty like this, looking up at you from between your legs. 

You want to make him feel good with your mouth too. The thought of it makes your head swim; between the tenting in his pants and the look on his face … 

He cuts off your thoughts with a brush of his lips over your inner thigh. He kisses you again, leaving no inch of skin untouched as he gets closer and closer to your core. 

When he reaches the divot at the very top of your thighs, he loses his control just a bit, pressing wet and sloppy kisses, the obscene sound of which would make you embarrassed in any other circumstances.

You let out a desperate, uncharacteristic mewl, but you don’t feel any embarrassment. This side of Kishibe - whose only aim is to make you come undone - you know that he won’t make fun of you. The only reaction he’s trying to get from you now is one of pure and mindless pleasure. 

You gasp out loud as you finally get the contact you have been seeking; Kishibe presses a gentle closed-mouth kiss to your clit that makes your entire body shudder. With barely any contact he already has you quivering, goosebumps forming all over. The press of his mouth against your pussy is careful, explorative; lips and tongue tracing all over your slick flesh. 

The first proper lick stokes a fire in your core, burning hot and desperate as you tighten your thighs around his face. His hands grip your legs and pull them apart further, allowing better access for what he wants to do. 

Long, slow strokes up your folds and circles around your clit, all combining to make you feel pliant and boneless. 

“Please … please … please …” you beg over and over, though you don’t want him to change anything, you just don’t want him to stop. You feel like crying at the thought of it being taken away for even a second, for him to stop the perfect movement of his tongue against your aching cunt. “Please keep going.”

He hums his approval and moves to start suckling your clit with just enough pressure to make your vision go white behind your now-shut eyes. You feel the slightest pressure against your entrance as he presses a finger hesitantly - you throw your head back with a desperate cry of “yes!”, and he pushes it in in one fluid motion.  

You feel a bit conflicted about closing your eyes because the image in front of you is so enticing; a few strands of his dark hair are stuck to his forehead with the faint sheen of sweat that’s building as he fucks you with his fingers, his eyes looking up at you beseechingly through dark lashes with a particularly firm flick of his tongue … 

You want to keep looking at him, you do, but you can’t. It’s too much. The sensation is building quicker than you can react to it, and so you lay back on the counter, your back arching as he keeps up his perfect pace. 

The pleasure is low and warm and unending, deep inside you, and for a brief moment, it scares you that Kishibe is the one doing this to you. 

Kishibe, your annoying coworker who you’re supposed to be keeping at arm’s length - he's the one making you scream and cry out his name as if it’s the only word you can remember.

Kishibe is the one who’s making your eyes roll back into your head, the one who’s taking you apart with just his mouth and fingers (now, two of them). 

You’re surrendering yourself to him, and yet, you don’t have the slightest urge to halt any of it. 

Heat starts collecting in your core, a ball of warm pleasure starting to grow and grow until you couldn’t contain it even if you wanted to. He can feel you tighten around his fingers and speeds up without altering the pressure, just giving you more of what you need. Your incoherent babbling only spurs him on. 

When you tip over the edge and quiver desperately underneath him, coming apart entirely, it takes you by surprise; there was no build-up because it was all too overwhelming, too blinding, to be able to determine at what point exactly your pleasure started to crest.

It just takes over.

When you come down from it, you decide to take just a minute to collect yourself as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. You close your eyes again, blinking back the tears that collected against your waterline. 

It’s a little strange. You haven’t had a sexual experience like that since … well, ever. 

Thinking about things rationally, you come up with a few reasons for your very enthusiastic response. First and foremost, you haven’t had sex in a long time, not since joining the agency, not since dating became too messy. You’ve been a bit stressed, too, a bit pent up. You needed some relief. You haven’t had any … alone time in a while, either. 

But as you noted earlier, you’re not listening to the rational part of your brain tonight. Not one of those reasons explains the effect Kishibe just had on you.

And the most confusing part is that even after making you come harder than you have in years, you want him even more intensely now. 

Sitting up on the counter, you drag him in for another kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. You run your hands up his chest, fingers grazing off the tell-tale outline of the cigarette box in his pocket. You move to rest your hands against his nape, feeling the prickliness of his undercut against your fingertips. 

His pants are still on but you can feel he’s painfully hard, straining against his zipper as he clings to you. 

He starts unbuttoning your shirt and you do the same to his, taking in the view of his sharply-cut torso as he sheds his clothes. 

It’s all lean muscle, thin white-lined scars covering his chest, a few freckles here and there. A painful-looking blue-black bruise sits above his hip and you frown upon noticing it. He pries your hand away from his shirt buttons, bringing your index finger to his lips and kissing it softly. 

“I’m fine,” he reassures you. “Don’t worry about it.”

You want to press further but relent at the last moment, going back to finish your task of unbuttoning his shirt. You can be concerned later; now, he needs you as much as you need him. 

“Where do you want to -?” he asks, trailing off at the end. 

You widen your eyes suggestively, glancing down at the countertop beneath you. 

He scoffs. “... here?” 

You shrug, smirking coyly. “Why not? Curtains are shut. And even if they weren't, it's not like we haven't disgraced ourselves enough already.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he says with a grin, eyes flicking down to catch a glimpse of your chest. 

You hop down from the counter and kiss him again, hastily unzipping his pants and taking him out of his underwear. Thick and heavy in your hand - the overconfidence comes from somewhere, obviously - you feel him throb against your touch. 

A few gentle strokes and he’s groaning, eyes shut and head tilted back, beads of precum gathering at the tip. Your mouth waters at the sight; Kishibe, having just opened his eyes, snaps when he sees the effect this is having on you. He spins you around and bends you over the counter, tugging your skirt up above your hips. You’re standing here so exposed - no shirt, no underwear, only the thin fabric of your skirt shielding your naked form - but you trust him now, just as much as you do when your life is in his hands. 

He drags the tip of his cock against your pussy and you gasp. 

You’re not sure how, but you feel empty without him inside, even though you haven’t even felt it yet.

You spread your legs for him, wet and stretched enough to take whatever he has to give you. 

As the head of his cock pushes inside you, Kishibe is the one to moan then, deep and low. 

“Oh baby,” he breathes. “Oh, sweetheart, you feel so good already, my love. You’re squeezing right around me, fuck,” he stills against you, hands on your hips preventing you from sliding back against him. “I … I need a second.”

“Done already?” you tease, looking back at him over your shoulder, your shaking legs barely supporting you. You grip the countertop more firmly to steady yourself. “Surely not?”

“Can you wait a few minutes to give me shit?” he retorts, and you feel his smile as he presses a kiss between your shoulder blades. “Usually I’d say you’d have every right, but I don’t think you want to get into that right now.” He pushes in further then, inch by inch. “Or do you?”

“You’re right,” you laugh airily, “you’re right, just … keep doing that, please.”

He slides in further, almost to the hilt now. He grips your hips with both hands as he seats himself fully inside you. 

You knew it would be a stretch, but this - the feeling of being so impossibly and blissfully full - takes you by surprise nonetheless. He stays there for just another moment as you adjust to him and you feel his thumb stroke slow, soothing circles along your lower back as you inhale slow and deep. 

You push back against him when you’re ready for him to start moving, and he doesn’t hesitate. Pulling his hips back, he thrusts back inside you with a groan, the slap of skin against skin echoing around the kitchen. He sets a strong, steady pace; hips snapping against yours as you rest your forehead on the counter, chest bouncing as he fucks into you as though he’s thought about doing this for years.

Kishibe reaches over and grabs your hands from the counter, crossing them behind your back and holding them in place with his own. This position means you arch further, allowing him to thrust deeper inside you, reaching spots you never thought anyone could hit. 

His grip on your wrists is tight but it never hurts; he’s handling you with such care, far more thoughtfully than you would have expected. That being said, he’s not treating you like you’re fragile or breakable - you wouldn’t like it if he did - rather, he’s touching you like your enjoyment is by far the most important aspect of this. He’s treating you like a partner. 

You turn your head so your cheek is resting on the surface. You just want to angle yourself so you can look back and see him. You need to see him, you need to know if he’s as fucked out as you are, reduced to utter desperation, unable to focus on anything other than the fact that you’re so tight and drenched and messy around him. 

When you see him, your breath hitches. Your guess wasn’t too far off.

Kishibe’s flushed now, pink tinting his face and neck, and his chest rises with short, shallow, primal pants. He’s biting down hard on his lower lip, so much so you think it might bleed, and he’s looking right at you, meeting your gaze head-on. His brows are knit tightly together, jaw pulled tight as he keeps his focus on you. He looks to be as close as you are.

When neither of you look away, unable to tear your eyes off eachother, he speeds up his thrusts. He’s chasing his end now; his pace is frenetic, and he lets out a throaty groan when his cock slips out at one point, the speed of his movements and the wetness between your legs making everything a messy, perfect blur. 

“You’re so beautiful, I can’t fucking stand it,” he says, punctuating his sentence with a disbelieving chuckle, “I should have said it sooner. Fuck, you’re so, so beautiful, it drives me insane.”

He lets go of one of your hands, keeping the other pinned behind your back, and you quickly bring it between your legs and trace circles around your clit with your fingers. You’re so wet - both from his mouth and from the way he’s fucking into you now - that you can hear your fingers moving, which means Kishibe can too. 

He leans down and moves his free hand to join yours, collecting some of the wetness between your legs and rubbing your clit in tandem with your movements. You shift your position to allow him to touch you as he wants to, the weight of him against your back and the warmth of his breaths hitting your damp skin wringing a carnal moan from you. 

“So pretty for me, aren’t you?” he says, almost reverent. “So pretty like this. I could do this for hours - could hear you make those noises for the rest of my life, fuck, you’re doing so, so well, my love.”

 You feel it build so quickly that you gasp his name in surprise, the word almost sounding like a question. He understands, keeping the pace of both his thrusts and the circling of his fingers consistent. 

It washes over you like a tidal wave; pulses of explosive pleasure rippling through your muscles, making your legs shake and your eyes squeeze shut. Your breath catches in your chest, only a shaky, weak-sounding moan escaping your lips - you can’t even think of any words right now, let alone speak them. 

“Baby, baby, baby,” Kishibe mutters repeatedly, “oh, fuck, that’s it.”

You feel his cock pulse inside you, his hand releasing the arm that’s still behind your back as he grips your hips instead, grinding into you as deeply as he can. A few more shallow thrusts follow, aftershocks making your cunt flutter around him, and then he stills again, the sound of both your heavy breathing filling the room. 

He doesn’t pull out right away. He straightens you up a little, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your neck and rubbing up and down your arm. It feels nice; you feel so serenely calm at that point, you could almost fall asleep resting against him.

He straightens up fully once both of your heart-rates return to normal and the sweat on your skin starts to cool, and then he pulls out, grabbing a tissue from the counter to clean for you. 

You fumble with your skirt to pull it further down your thighs - not to hide anything from him, but to provide the tiniest bit of warmth now that Kishibe’s body heat is no longer distracting from the cold.

He picks up his jacket from the floor and walks behind you to rest it on your shoulders. You smile gratefully, letting silence settle between you. He stays there, wrapping an arm around you from behind.

“Do you want me to head away?” he asks, and you can tell from his tone that he wouldn’t be upset if you did. 

You shake your head.

You don’t want him to go yet. Not just yet, not when you’re still processing all that’s just happened. 

“I know it could get complicated,” you begin, trying to reason with him and yourself. “But ... no. I don't want you to go. I ... you can stay over. If that's something you'd like to do.”

“I would."

You let out a short chuckle, half-relief and half-bemusement. “Then I think we shouldn’t talk about complications anymore. For a while, anyway."

“I agree completely,” he mumbles against the crook of your neck.

“First time for everything.”

“You wound me,” he whispers, feigning offence but kissing your hairline anyway. “So does this mean I get a tour of your apartment now?”

Taking the hand that’s wrapped out you, you tug him in the direction of your bedroom. He makes a few characteristic comments on your furniture choices and you elbow him without any malice, pointing out some of your favourite pieces as you make your way through your apartment. 

It feels strangely normal; you crossed this boundary together, but the world hasn’t fallen down around you. 

He’s still the same, you’re still the same … mostly.

You know there’ll be a conversation tomorrow. It can’t go unaddressed considering you spend your working day together, but there’s no use spoiling the serene temporary escape the two of you have carved out for yourselves. 

You reach your bedroom and he follows you into bed wordlessly, draping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest. You interlock his fingers with yours.

Nestled in the sheets with him, you fall asleep more quickly that you have done in recent memory. 

After your entire adult life spent on death’s door, you allow yourself to feel an emotion you barely even recognise anymore.

You feel safe.

[aquanova99]

Secrets (Druig x Reader)

💛💛💛💛

Summary: druig is surprised when you run into some of your very powerful friends. Apparently you both have been keeping things from eachother

A/N: I know it’s taken forever to get something out. And yes I know these timelines don’t match up with the movies. Don’t come for me 😂

A/N: I hope I wrote Druig okay, I’m still trying to figure out how to write more marvel without repeating the same stories over and over again.

A/N: thank you so much for reading! As always requests are open and reblogs are super appreciated 💛

“I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”

 “My beautiful y/n, as if I could stay away.”

 Y/n laughed as you spun her around and kissed her. Gods, how you had missed her. You, Makkari, and Thena had gone of to find more eternals, but you had grown restless knowing you had left behind y/n. The fact that she was human weighed heavily on your mind. Over the past few years, you had tried to convince her to come live with you. Once she had been in a wreck and you tried to force her to come with you, for whatever reason your powers didn’t work on her.

“Didn’t you say you had very important business to take care of and you didn’t know if you could even come back?”

“I know. Like I said I can’t seem to stay away.”God you were so desperate to let her in. Sersi had her second chance, and now Sprite did too. And here you were biding for time.

“You know one day I’m going to convince you to run away with me.”

 “You know I want but I—”

“Can’t. I’ve heard it before. What I don’t know is why you won’t tell me why you cant come with.”

 “Why won’t you tell me how it seems you never age?”

 “You act as if I should have grey hairs already.”

 “Im acting as if nothing about you has changed for the past however long I’ve known you.” She kissed your cheek and began cooking food for the both of you.

 “Fair enough. I am still older than you though, if that helps.”

 “It doesn’t, you never tell me your age. You could at least lie about it and make less suspicious. It just seems weird that your appearance always seems to stay the same. What are you going to do when I get all old and wrinkly.” You chuckled at her but it was honestly something you’d been dreading. You didn’t even want to imagine a world without her in it. Which was why the battle with Ikaris had been so important. Not that she could know about that. The two of you settled into a comfortable silence after that until she was done cooking the two of you.

 “You know we could always go out.”

 “I like cooking for us anyway.” She smiled sweetly at you.

 Afterwards the two of you took a walk around the park. It had taken a lot of goading from you but you had finally convinced her to enjoy some time outside. The sun was beginning to set before she suddenly froze.

“Hey, lets go back to my place so we can watch a movie, yeah?”

“Is everything okay?”

 You looked to see a group of people staring at you. Avengers. You recognized them. Another group of people you wished you had been allowed to help. You saw Captain America and Tony Stark start heading in your direction.

 “Babe, we need to go. Now.” She tried tugging at your hand.

 “They aren’t going to do anything to you my love Im sure of it.”

 You heard her sigh, “That’s not what I mean—”

 “Well, well, look who it is cap.”

 You were thrown off guard. For a split second you thought they had figured out who you were but now it was very clear their focus was all on y/n.

 “Y/n we’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

 “I’m sure you have.” You were shocked. Apparently y/n had met the avengers at one point and even more surprising was her immediate distaste for them. You’d never seen her turn away anyone. She had her arms crossed and her whole demeanor changed. Your little ray of sunshine suddenly turned ice cold. You reached around their minds to see how they knew her. You saw glimpses of her fighting along side the avengers in the original battle against thanos. Small glimpses in the second battle. You saw her shielding people, disappearing in and out of battle. You looked back over at her, finally understanding why she tried to stay away from the general public. She finally seemed to remember you were there and sighed.

 She turned back to face the group of heroes. “I told you I was done. What do you guys want?”

 “Look we know we messed up but we’re trying to get as many of us back together. Without Vision we could really use you.”

 “Yeah well I could have used you when that building collapsed.” You literally couldn’t speak. You glanced back over and saw a mission going haywire, y/n getting stuck inside a building. Comms were down, the rest of the group assumed she was gone. You saw red, you felt yourself begin moving towards the group but y/n’s hand reached out.

“I don’t think so. You guys can figure it out yourselves.”

 She began pulling you away from the group that had formed. You saw Soteve Rogers ask a question as if you were both still there. Stark reached his arm out and just threw his head back. You looked over at her.

“Just keep quiet. Please.” She whispered to you. “Look at the windows.”

 To be honest you were still in shock that y/n had taken part in these huge battles and you had no idea. From what you saw her ability to shield you began to understand why you couldn’t read her like everyone else. You looked past the cars you were walking by. You came to a stop. Y/n had a good grip on you and almost tripped over you. You couldn’t help walking closer to the car window. You couldn’t see anything. The two of you were completely invisible. She tugged on your hand and the two of you walked in silence until you got near her apartment. She went to the side of the building and finally released you.

 “So now I see why you always want to stay nearby.”

 “Yeah, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you about it before.” You saw her look down and bite her lip, “Do—do you still want to come in.”

 You chuckled, “Oh my love, theres some things I think I need to tell you as well. Come on."

 The two of you settled into the couch, she had gone back to her usual cheerful self. She crossed her legs and waited for you to continue. You began showing her the things you could create, explaining your powers. How you saw what she could do by reading the minds of Stark and Rogers. She was quiet for a bit.

 “Are you able to read my mind?” She asked quietly

 “My dear, if I could I would have done so a long time ago. I tried to convince you to come live with me when you got in that accident, which I am now realizing wasn’t from a car.”

 She shook her head, “nope. Sorry. Some people came to check out the destruction afterwards and they found me super out of it and got me to the hospital. Then I yelled at the avengers and shortly after you found me.” She looked down at her hands

“So you really aren’t aging, what are gonna do about that?”

 “We need to find Sersi. She can make me human.”

 “Wish she could make me immortal. Then I could make up for all this time hiding. Enjoy life some more.” She threw her head back on the couch. You scootched closer to her and brought her into your chest. That was actually brilliant. You didn’t know if it worked both ways, but you wanted to try. You wanted to Sersi more than ever.

 “Well we can always try that too.”

Her head snapped up to look at you “And if that doesn’t work?”

 “Then I will change for you. I’ve been around forever anyways.” You said as you kissed her forehead

 “Hmm maybe I shouldn’t be with such an old man. People might thinks it’s weird.”

 “Whatever,” you said as you shoved her off you, “you love me.”

 She laughed and placed a soft kiss on your lips “Yeah, I do.”

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @artaxerxesthegreat @aunt-pipie @avyannadawn @imtoanonymousforyou @lacychick @minghao3o @quarthly @ajeff855 @user13cabs @vxidnik @nenchiro

[tnott]

luminescenc1e​:

“ Terry Boot? Do you mean that complete waste of space that is attached at the hip with Corner and Goldstein? ” She appeared to have struggled with pronouncing their names, not due to difficulty but due to disdain. She had no idea that this Ravenclaw had insulted her, she had not told her, and while that did not seem to cross Theo’s mind, it rang quite clearly in Pansy’s. They were friends, yes. More so than most in their year or even house. But Theo tended to keep to herself, in a way that had nothing to do with being secretive or not revealing one’s cards. 

And Pansy had no idea why, she wanted to ask, obviously, if it were up to her, she would prod and prod until she got to the issue, but that would not work on Theo, she knew that already, so she let it go. She wouldn’t forget it, keep it in the back of her mind, maybe when they were at the Nott estate, to ask. A part of that was due to Pansy’s own insecurities. But she did not need or want to dwell on those. 

“ If that is the case, then they can come, if not for any other reason than Greg did do something useful, and that should be celebrated. ” Her last comments hovered there in the air like annoying pixies, pulling at your hair. Her parents would never change, she had made peace with that. But she had not yet made peace with what she would do with her future, whether she would be brave or stupid enough to go against them when the time came, or if she should just follow in the path that had been carved out for her. 

Neither option allowed her a piece of mind, so she didn’t like to think of it, THE FUTURE. It was so out there, hard to imagine, anything seemed possible, but then also nothing. “ I know Theo, I will give you something modest, but I will make sure to get something more…just more. " 

The Christmas holiday arrived, and Theo and Pansy were met at Platform 9 & 3/4s by Theo’s father. Leontius was rather grey and stooped, but his eyes were bright and alert as he greeted his daughter with a hug and shook Pansy warmly by the hand. “I’ve heard so much about you,” he said with a smile. “Come along; we’ll be taking the Floo network from the Leaky Cauldron. Our elf was just preparing to start working on lunch when I left, so you girls should have half an hour or so to settle in before we eat.”

Nott House, as became apparent when they arrived, was both older than Malfoy Manor and rather less imposing -- fewer high, echoing halls and far more windows to let in the light. Theo’s room and the guest room were up the stairs on the second floor, and Theo took only a moment to drop her trunk in her own room before ushering Pansy into the bedroom across the hall. It was a cheery room, decorated in shades of gold and dusky pink, with a comfortable bed stacked with pillows, a padded window seat, its own en suite bathroom, and a pleasant view of the back garden, parts of which were still in bloom despite the winter chill. While he might not seem the type upon first meeting, Leontius was an avid gardener, and he was justly proud of his prize ever-blooming roses.

“I’m right across the hall, as you saw,” Theo said, bending down to help Pansy unpack her trunk. As the girls carefully transferred Pansy’s clothes into the empty dresser, a rather shaggy golden retriever padded in, his collar jingling, and sniffed Pansy a few times before nudging her hand in an effort to receive some petting from this new stranger.

Theo smiled and rubbed the dog’s ears. “This is Hal,” she said. “He’s a soppy old thing. Just scratch him under the chin and he’ll be your friend for life. If you don’t want him in the room, you can just close the door. He’s well trained; he knows not to scratch. He sleeps in my room, anyway.”

[gingeraleluke]

𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘀

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: tom holland x fem!reader

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: your boyfriend got home just in time to watch his most recent interview on tv with you.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: swearing, nothing just fluff! :)

𝗔/𝗡: this is my first time writing for tom so i hope you guys like it!! <3

this is based on the spider-man: far from home interview with jimmy kimmel!

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

the young girls heart was silent for the first nineteen years of her life. nothing but a faint heartbeat and some clouded thoughts of little to nothing inconsistencies. from the moment she first opened her eyes as a baby, separating her fingers and spreading her toes while her newly polished eyes tried making sense of her surroundings, to the ripe summer when her mother insisted she become a camp counselor to succumb enough money to buy her very own long-overdue car. the girl felt nothing.

the teens she longed to be alike were a mere hourglass, y/n a shadow. portraying their success and growth without mirroring any of her own, she felt like a weak duckling surrounded by marvelous swans. she would spend her youth watching blondes fall for brunettes on television, plopping popcorn into her mouth while pressing rewind on her favorite romantics, watching the way they would look at eachother and move with one another. she never thought she could be able to experience that. everything inside her was too quiet, too plain.

and then she met tom. it became loud, too loud, and she loved it. everything she thought she could never achieve, she achieved with him. her colorless days no longer existed and she fell deeper and deeper in love with him everyday.

switching the tv from some medical soap opera, y/n sat on her couch. she wore nothing but a plain bra and a pair of baby blue satin shorts. normally, she’d cover up more, especially if she had company over, but tom was a different kind of company and a comfortable one at that.

“THOMAS HURRY UP!” she could hear her boyfriend yell a faint, “i’m coming,” through the noise of the water running. shortly after, the shower stopped as y/n scrolled mindlessly through her phone, impatient.

she expected to see her boyfriend walk out of the bathroom, a trail of steam behind him, but instead she heard the loud roar of a hairdryer.

“for fucks sake-“ her mouth was lacking the salty and buttery flavor she craved so she took the opportunity to use her time by putting some popcorn in the microwave while her boyfriend blowed out his hair.

as she watched the minutes on the timer go down, the machine dinged as she grabbed a bowl and poured the snack inside it. she made her way back to the bench sofa and extended her legs out on the grey island cushions. the lace on the trim of her shorts tickled her feet as she folded her legs. “TOM HURRY THE FUCK UP, ITS ALMOST STARTING!”

the girls mouth was full as she yelled, losing patience with the boy. “IM SORRY, IM COMING!”

minutes later, a shirtless tom holland, wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist, appeared in their shared living room. the girls eyes grew big, his doing the same as he took in her taboo and exposed form.

“what- tom! you haven’t even gotten dressed yet?!”

“well, neither have you, apparently! plus, this is pretty comfortable, is it not?”

“tom-“ she warned.

“i got it, i got it..” his bare feet slapped against the hardwood floors as he quickly ran into their bedroom and retrieved his clothes. he came back out wearing a black t shirt and a pair of light blue sweatpants.

“KIMMEL IS STARTING!” she pointed at the tv and looked over to see tom bounce down onto the couch next to her, sprawling his legs out like she had done earlier.

“baby, that’s just the intro, i’m not there yet.” she peered over at him.

“who said i’m watching this for you?” he turned his head and made a sarcastic face.

“yeah, sure..” he mocked.

“WAIT, i need my blanket! go, get it, i don’t want to miss this!”

“y/n, it hasn’t even started yet-“

“now tom!”

“but what if i miss it!”

“you were there, you already know what happens-“ you lightly shoved his clothed knee and he sprung to his feet, so fast that tessa jolted up and ran after him.

“tessa! calm down!” the dog didn’t listen and continued following her dad, panting the whole way back.

once they were settled, jimmy announced his upcoming guests before a quick commercial break.

“quick, my ass..” she muttered.

tom stifled a chuckle. “why are you so bent up about this? you’ve seen my interviews before!”

“yeah, but i’ve never been able to actually watch one with you! it’s like… an entirely different experience!”

he didn’t believe her. “are you sure that’s the real reason? or is it because you just want me to give you secret info on the film, because love, you know i can’t do that, not after last time.”

she placed a hand on her chest playfully, “tom! i would never, how could you think of me like that?! as if i would ever do such a thing!”

“mmhmm..”

the commercials came to an end and y/n looked up to see jimmy start announcing the cast.

“shit, oh my god, it’s happening.”

“shhh, calm down!” tom laughed, placing a hand on your shoulder, his other arm sprawled out behind the frame of the sofa.

“how can i keep calm!? my fucking BOYFRIEND is about to be on tv! you know how many people can say that they are dating spider-man? like, no one!” her knee was bouncing and she couldn’t contain the excitement. watching someone on television while sitting in the same room with them was a rush she had never felt before.

she was loud as hell inside.

“please welcome, tom hol-“

“WHOOOOO, YEAH!!” she started clapping dramatically and stood up for a quick second, her eyes glued to the tv as she watched her boyfriend appear, while her actual boyfriend sat there laughing at her excitement.

they did a stupid elevator bit, before him and everyone else walked up to their chairs.

“really, tom?” his dark eyes flickered to hers. “what?! i thought you would like it, it’s funny!” she rolled her eyes and smiled, thinking to herself: my boyfriend is a dork, even on national television.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“oh my god, you all look so good.”

“i know, right?”

“look at jake!”

“yeah-“

“look at zendaya!”

“i know-“

“OH MY GOD LOOK A-“

“OKAY Y/N, i get it, everyone but me is attractive, thanks. you’ve made it pretty clear.” he frowned as you gushed over how good his coworkers looked.

“yes, tom! i think you look awful, that’s why i’ve been dating you for the past four years, because i think you are ugly.”

he looked at his girlfriend, uncertainty in his eyes.

“oh, come on, i’m joking! you’re beautiful, come here.” she grabbed the side of his head and pulled him over so his head was laying on her chest. she began to play with his hair while watching.

“so the trailer came out, the trailer got like 135 million views within the first hour-“

“yeah it did!” she exclaimed, her fingers busy in his hair.

“see, i didn’t know that then.” he muttered, his brows furrowing together as tessa looked up at him from y/n’s lap.

“well it’s no secret, i’m not very good at instagram.”

y/n bursted out laughing. it wasn’t even that funny, but all of her emotions where heightened in this moment.

“oh god, i know where this is going.. this is the zendaya story isn’t it?” you smirk down at him and he lifts his head to nod at you.

“i knew it..”

“i basically.. forgot to post the trailer.”

“that’s bad.”

“yes jimmy, yes it is.” she couldn’t contain the snickers leaving her mouth and tom protested against it.

“listen, it’s difficult for some people, okay!”

“mmhmm, whatever you say baby.” she remembers distinctly, waking up and asking her boyfriend why he never posted the trailer, which caused him to wind up into a frenzy and immediately contact zendaya for assistance.

“well, you wouldn’t tell me how to!”

“tom, you’re a grown man! you should be able to figure that out yourself, peter parker.” she leaned over and kissed his cheek, his arm wrapped around her.

“so you’re IT for the team?”

“yeah, y/n, making poor zendaya the it for the team-“

“oh, shush, it was funny as fuck. but not as funny as the time you spoi-“

he placed his finger on her lips to quiet her, “oh, stop it!” she giggled in response.

she watched as zendaya recalled the moment she had to screen record how to delete an instagram story for him, which was another thing y/n refused to help him with. sure, she loves him and all, but watching the panic on his face as he realizes that he messed up, always cracked her up. especially since he brags about how ‘tech savvy’ he is for his age.

“it’s not my fault you’re a grampa!”

“yeah, we’ll, you’re dating a grampa!”

“true, i am.”

her hands reached towards her blanket as she put her popcorn bowl down and laid the covering over her and her boyfriend. the grey weighted blanket matching the couch perfectly.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“okay, wait…why are you guys still in highschool?!” y/n had paused the program to engage in a very serious and heated discussion about the aftermath of endgame which led up to the beginning of his new movie, far from home, which had yet to come out.

“i mean.. it’s five years! i’m so confused.” tom sighed, placing his hands on his knees, he sat up straight. “like i said in the interview, y/n, i don’t know.”

“well… ask the russo brothers! i mean, jacob is right, that’s a huge plothole!”

toms eyes sparkled as he looked at his lover trying to make sense of the whole thing.

“i… i don’t even know what to say right now. my whole life is a lie!”

“okay, let’s not get too dramatic here-“

“NO, tom! as an avengers fanatic, i need to know!” she gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged, his body jolting forwards.

“tell me!” she shook him as he laughed and tessa barked.

“i don’t know, baby!” she frowned slightly and looked at her boyfriends amused face.

“i’m dating spider-man, you’d think i’d get the inside scoop.” she rolled her eyes and placed her legs back up on the cushions. tom leaned over and looked her up and down, flickering from her bare chest and her eyes. he leaned into her neck and started planting kisses. “i’m sorry, i will be sure to ask someone at marvel for you.” she smiled sweetly before thanking him.

“has everyone seen avengers: endgame?”

the girl rose to her feet, the blanket stuck to her bare legs. “yes, jimmy, i have! i saw my boyfriend get dusted right before my fucking eyes!”

tom remembered the first time he watched the film with her. it was hard for him to keep it under wraps and while he did end up telling her some spoilers, he kept out the whole ‘death by thanos’ part.

“okay, calm down little one.” he reached his arm out to pull her down, back to the couch.

“tom, baby, i know you like.. could get in trouble for it but-“

“y/n… not this conversation again.” he put his hand up to his forehead, two fingers on the bridge of his nose. she knew that if she prodded and poked in all the right spots, that her boyfriend would give in. that it just took a little push for him to confess all the dirty details of his new blockbuster.

“come on! i am begging, tom- i have so many questions, can you blame me? i mean… mysterio, like.. what’s that guy all about?! he’s a villian right?”

“well…”

“a hero?”

“definitely not.”

“antihero?”

“not exactly-“

“UGH, tom! you are killing me here.” she whined, putting her hands on his chest as the paused tv shined upon his features. “please give me something… anything.” she trailed her fingers down his chest, tauntingly.

“anything?” he smirked at her.

“yup. like… maybe just exactly what jakes character is? i mean, i remember him telling us at dinner that time, but that was barely enough, i mean.. there’s gotta be more right?”

“go on.”

“and mj, i mean.. is peter finally going to ask her out? baby, so many questions, i just have so many.”

“well… i guess i could tell you one thing..” he tempted her. her lips twitched upwards as she pressed her forehead against his.

“mmhmm?”

“i could tell you that… the ending of the movie?”

“yeah..”

“is fucking fantastic. really, it’s brilliant babes.”

“because?”

“you will just have to see-“ he was cut off by his girlfriend hitting him in the face with a pillow.

“FOR FUCKS SAKE TOM-“

“quiet down! you are going to get tessa all going..”

“sorry…”

a moment of silence passed as tom squealed, “for fucks sake tom!” in his best high pitched, y/n impression possible.

“shut up!”

the two laughed before she clicked play.

“you look so good here, tom. it’s so weird like- i’m sitting next to you-“ she pointed at tom, “but, there you are on tv!”

“you are just realizing this?”

“well, it’s like inception!”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“i was told, it was a wedding!”

her chest boiled with anger as she quickly hit pause. “NO BECAUSE, fuck you for that! i remember being all excited, thinking tony and pepper were gonna have a beautiful wedding, only to see hes fucking DEAD.”

tom couldn’t hold in his laughs. “i’m sorry, i didn’t know!”

“well it’s pretty obvious, tom! everyone’s sad and in black, baby, you really are an airhead.”

“hey-“ she cut him off with a kiss to his lips.

the two cuddled up while watching the interview, small laughs leaving their bodies.

“like, zendaya! when did you find out how endgame ended?”

“oh, i remember. me, jacob, and zendaya were all in a facetime call freaking the fuck out, while my boyfriend over here, was chilling like nothing was wrong.”

“you guys were in a facetime call?” he questioned.

“yes! i was heartbroken and i had gotten a call from z who was clearly also upset!”

“well, he’s fine clearly! i mean, i wouldn’t be in far from home if peter was dead, right?”

she looked up at him, his heartbeat still lingering on her skin. “so you can tell me that you are still alive, but you can’t tell me about jake gyllenhaals character?”

“well, it’s a given! obviously peter is alive!”

y/n groaned, her head now resting on his chest.

“dating a superhero is difficult.”

“aww, poor darling, i’m sure it is.” he peppered kisses along her forehead.

“hey! you ate all of the popcorn?!” tom was flabbergasted, his voice heightening a few octaves.

“yep, and what about it?” her tone dripping in sass.

“i wanted some, for one!”

“too bad, maybe if you would spill the deets on far from home, you’d get some of my popcorn. hell, tom, if you confess right now, i’ll make you a whole bowl!”

“no.”

“well it was worth a try!”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“i can’t believe it’s over.” the house was completely silent, the only thing audible being tessa’s light snores.

“i’m gonna miss that guy..”

“baby, i’m right here.” he placed his hand at the small of her back, looking at her lovingly.

“i’m talking about mysterio.”

“oh, yeah, great!” she giggled at his response. “he’s just so hot, tom! way hotter than peter-“

“yeah, maybe if you think manipulation is hot!”

her mouth fell agape at his words.

“what?” he said, oblivious to the screw up he just made. she smiled widely at him as he slowly was hit with realization.

“oh, fucking damn it!”

[zuppizup]

so you have any more headcannons about tio and rayllum?

I have some, childhood and into the teen years mostly.

Callum and Rayla want Tio to have a “normal” up-brining so they have a secret cottage near the restored border where they go when they want to relax and just be a family. Neither Callum nor Rayla are particularly good cooks when they start this tradition, so the desire for decent food is what brings them back to the castle until they skill up.

After a few years Callum goes back to the village where they found Tio to see if he can track down her family. He doesn’t have much luck though. Her biological parents arrived in the village form elsewhere, and didn’t share where they came from.

Tio loves spicy food, which is a Skywing thing, apparently. As she gets older, she gets into spicy food eating competitions with Soren’s son, Fionn. Fionn has yet to win.

Tio isn’t naturally athletic, but she’s stubborn. She insists on training until she’s almost as quick and agile as her Mum. She’s damn near fearless when it comes to proving herself. Rayla is proud of her drive, even if she wishes she didn’t push herself quite so hard. Callum gains his first grey hairs around this time.

Her stubborn nature come back to haunt them when she decides she wants to go train in Lux Aurea for a summer. Rayla thinks she too young and needs to wait a year or two, but Tio’s mind is made up. It makes for a tense few weeks until Rayla and Callum come to the conclusion that they trekked across the continent at Tio’s age. Janai and Amaya promising to keep them up-to-date helps a little too, even if Rayla catches the subtle wink Amaya directs at Tio.

(Tio is an OC of mine. Callum and Rayla’s daughter from the series Life Is What Happens, first appearing in the oneshot Found Family)

[jordanstrophe]

War of Royalty, the Rivertons

I’m going to stop spoonfeeding fractions of hidden lore, here’s Eden’s tragic backstory(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

[Masterlist] CW: Medeival whump, slavery, sold whumpee, overprotective caretaker, implied killing of the whumper

Godfrey stood between the king and the physician. They had been arguing back and forth since he arrived to the point they never even noticed his entrance. He crossed his arms behind his back and gleefully listened in. 

“Tell me you looked into that boy’s eyes and didn’t recognize him!” King Arvend shouted, slamming his fist on the desk. “My lord, please, every year it’s some new conspiracy of what happened to the child, it’s impossible to tell if it’s him or not!” The physician groaned and crossed his legs. 

He blinked when the king glared at him.

“The Riverton's.”

“Okay! Yes, he shares extravagant futures with your wife... rest her soul... But don’t get your hopes up only to have them shattered once more-”

"Tell him what you told me.” King Arvend’s head snapped towards Godfrey, who jolted to attention. “My lord, I spoke with Eden’s former slave owner. Took a few bloody hits, but he finally choked out the name of who sold Eden.” 

“See? I told you this was a wild goose chase. That's not the same couple!”

Arvend snapped his fingers, waving for Godfrey to continue. 

“-He said they were desperate to get rid of a young boy. They changed their names recently, as was their excuse to not have the right paperwork."

Arvend scoffed before pouring another drink. “My lord, forgive my curiosity, but all this is encircling Eden like vultures... Is the slave in trouble again?” Godfrey spoke. 

The cup in Arvend’s hand shook. He took a long, deep, regretful inhale. 

“I-... Have reason to believe Eden is my missing heir.” 

“What!? You ha- had an heir!?... a s-son-” “-Godfrey, before you scream everything down the halls, I had my reasons to keep him hidden!” Arvend snapped. Godfrey took a seat and stared at the floor long and hard, folding his hands together.  

The king, his best friend, had a son? After all these years he’s served him, he never knew. He was never told. No one was. 

... except the physician, apparently. 

“He was born when the war started. Ravenhill began to abolish kingdoms through the assassination of royalty. It was the queen's idea to keep her pregnancy a secret, and we paid caregivers to raise him until the war calmed and it was safe for him to return home to us.” 

“But the war never calmed.” Godfrey sighed, his head falling into his palm. Arvend sadly nodded. “And soon, the couple went missing... My son, went missing. It was like the three of them fell from the face of the earth.” He scraped a dagger along the windowsill and flicked a lint of wood out the window. 

“My friend, I know I ask too much of you already...” King Arvend stood and faced him, the dagger's hilt creaking in his grasp and his eyes darkened. 

“The Riverton’s. I want you to find them. I want you to choke out any information they have about Eden. I don’t care how you do it, I don’t care the lengths you take. Find what they did to my son!” He cried, slammed the dagger on it’s side against Godfrey’s armor. 

They both fell silent. Godfrey grasped the king’s shoulder and took the blade from his hand. 

“It will be done. My lord.”

----

An old woman sat in front of the fading fireplace. She rocked back and forth in her rocking chair, her frizzled grey hair pinned into a bun. Her eyes opened when she heard footsteps behind her. “About time, Alf! Quickly now, the fire’s dying.” She croaked. A heavy sword slumped onto the table next to her as she abruptly stopped rocking. 

“You’re not my husband...” 

“I’m afraid not.” The man spoke, sitting at the table. 

“Who are you, why are you in my home!?” She barked, twisting her head around. She froze when a dark armored man seated behind her, she sighed and slumped back into the chair. 

“Ugh... I knew someone would come one day.” She groaned. 

“Then you know why I’m here.”

“Don’t remind me! I thought we had finally rid ourselves of that boy, it was paradise!” She spat, digging her yellowed nails into the wooden armrests. 

“The slave, we know you sold him, but what we don’t know is how you got him in the first place. He wasn’t yours, was he?”

The old woman gritted her tooth, practically writhing in the chair. She suddenly stopped, slumping down further.  

“... That’s not why you’re here?” She quietly rasped. 

Godfrey’s chest struck with unsettlement. It couldn’t be true, could it? Eden couldn’t actually be-...

“We were given money like royalty to raise the boy! Strictly told that ‘allll of the money must be spent on the baby's well-being and care,’ ”  She recited sarcastically. “Too much money to be spent on the likes of a child who spends their days playing in the dirt anyway, if you ask me! What was a child supposed to do with it?!” She cried with hysterical laughter. 

Her head twisted around, her grey dim eyes staring at Godfrey like she could see his face. “I did what any sane person would do in this age; we kept the money! We sold the boy for a few extra pieces and retired out here in peace and quiet. My husband and I have been living out our days happily ever since.” She mumbled, twisting her head back and continued rocking.

Godfrey slammed his fist on the table and abruptly rose, the chair behind him hitting the ground. “You’re horrible! You have no idea how much suffering and pain you sewed onto that boy! The grief and horror you brought to his family, who eventually had came to the conclusion he was dead!-”  

“-I thought it couldn't be true, that there was no way Eden was the same boy... but you just confirmed what we’ve all been scrabbling about.” Godfrey collected his sword, circling the woman until he was standing in front of her. He unsheathed it, the blade hovered at her neck. 

“Awww, what are you going to do, turn me and my old husband in?” She mocked with a coo. 

“I’m afraid I already have my orders, if the rumor had turned out to be the truth.”

“What truth? I told you all that happened, boy.”

“Oh no, you only have half the story. I have the first piece, you have the second. They connect to tell the true tale.” Godfrey spoke. 

“You’re spitting fiddling nonsense! The boy belonged to a noble!” She accused. 

“-They lied to you.” Godfrey smiled and tilted his head to the side.

“The child you sold, was the King’s first born son.”

----

Alf returned home with an armful of freshly chopped wood. “Darling, I’m home!” He sang, setting it down on the floor by the door. “... Dear?” He calls again, seeing her chair unmoving and her arm slumped to the side. The man jolted when the door slammed shut behind him, hearing a splat of dense liquid dripping to the floor. 

He turned around and his face paled from all color when he stared up at the man looming behind him with his glistening red hand slowly locking the door.-

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ Thank you for reading!~ @tears-and-lilies  @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @starnight-whump  @bumpthumpwhump @whumpcreations @myst-in-the-mirror @heathenville @grizzlie70 @castielamigos-whump-side-blog  @thegreathowdini @kim-poce @digitalart-dwa @princessofonward @andwhump @sunflower1000 @kim-poce  @lonesome--hunter   @cupcakes-and-pain @as-a-matter-of-whump  @nicolepascaline @neverthelass  @octopus-reactivated @jadeocean46910

[allthingsarmin]

fckboy armin? + degredation is always a good combination <3

I was so excited to write this dose of Armin brainrot, omg 😩

If it’s alright with you, anon, I did this request in more of a headcanon format, but the ending is more of a fanfiction format. I’m also sorry I took so long to write this omg.

MINORS DNI!

Fem!Reader, FemBodied!Reader

TW: Mentions of NSFW topics + degradation, mean!armin, manipulation, fuckboy topics

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin whose style resembles that of the horny, manipulative, ghost-y men on campus yet is just too hot for you to handle. The way he wears dark silver rings on his left thumb, middle, and pointer fingers that accentuate his slender, pale fingers and clean-cut nails. The way the small, dark tattoos on his knuckles, right forearm, and collarbone add an aura of mystery and aggression to his being that just exudes sex. The way he wears a gold chain necklace with distressed jeans and a plain t-shirt that’s just a little too tight and shows off his pecks. Or the way he wears long black joggers and an oversized long-sleeve black shirt that makes him look taller. The way he doesn’t wear his mask correctly, always hanging on one of his ears which compliment his stud earrings and devilish smirk. The way he is broke because he’s always spending money on the newest, trendy shoes. The way he always uses way too much cologne… One look at him, and you can sense his ‘asshole attitude,’ but you can’t deny it makes your lower regions pulsate.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who’s body is so perfectly sculpted and toned that it leaves you thinking dirty thoughts in class. The way he sits in class with his sleeves rolled up, laying back relaxed in the chair, right leg bouncing out of boredom as his hard cock becomes noticeable in his grey sweatpants makes you want to run to your dorm and touch yourself. The way his abs call out to you to graze your fingertips against them when he lifts his shirt up to wipe away the sweat after walking home from the gym. The way his beautifully slender fingers hold his phone or push his hair back when he’s frustrated makes you think about how good they would feel inside you. The way his accentuated collarbone peaks through his thin t-shirts, allowing you to see the hickeys and imprints of love bites from god knows how many women makes you jealous. The way his skin is so pale and so soft that his blonde leg hair becomes barely noticeable. The way his golden hair brings out a plethora of the shades of blue in his eyes, and oh how his haircut suits him perfectly, shaping his jawline very well. How his beautiful blue eyes dangerously lure you into him, the soft but manipulative stares he gives you. How he can’t seem to maintain eye contact with you for more than three seconds because he looks at your breasts. The sinister yet sexy smiles he has plastered upon his face when talking with his friends about ‘some other whore’ he fucked the other day… Armin is attractive, and he knows he is attractive. Though you hate how arrogant his looks have made him, his suggestive stares and lip bites from such a handsome man make your heart flutter and mind only focused on one thing.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who is always posting thirst traps on instagram. You know… The pictures with the squinted eyes and the bitten lower bottom lip, either showing off his money or new shoes, pictures beside a nice car, suggestive pictures with the new girls he’s been fucking recently, biting his chain necklaces because he thinks it’s sexy. Only follows ‘successful’ men and offensive meme accounts but mostly follows half-naked women and supermodels. Leaves nasty comments on ugly womens’ pictures, calling them whores while he’s in hot girls’ DMs sending unsolicited dick pics and asking for nudes. Has thousands of followers, mostly from the party girls and rude men who go to his college. Won’t let you tag him in a photo unless he ‘looks hot.’

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who takes slutty gym pictures with his shirt off, abs out, shorts low enough to see his V line, hands in his hair, and a wink. Sends it to every girl in his snapchat contacts and posts it on his story with the ‘slide up’ text.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who hits you with the “you up?” at 2am on snapchat after ghosting you for two months. Tells you how much he misses your lewd moans and sloppy cunt, and then after pressuring you to give him nudes, he saves them and then doesn’t talk to you for at least a week.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who is so intelligent and dangerously manipulative. Who is so smart that he doesn’t need or want to pay attention in class, who convinces you to let him keep the nudes you sent him on snapchat, who reels you right back in when you try to move on from him.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who was nice to you at first, befriending you when you looked so alone, shy, and innocent, who only chose you because you looked so easy to take advantage of when he finally closes in on you.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who says he doesn’t want ‘any of that relationship stuff’ because all of his exes were crazy and that he only wants to date hot chicks.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who only texts you at ungodly hours during the weekdays and plays games like ‘20 questions’ with you so he can ask you if you’re either a virgin or a whore, if you like oral, if you’ve thought about him in dirty ways before… or truth or dare, asking you if you if you want to be his slut or daring you to send him lewd pictures of yourself.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who takes every chance he can get to turn anything sexual: the way your skirt is just a little too short that makes him suddenly grab your upper thighs, the way you innocently lick your ice cream cone on a hot summer day - he tells you to put your tongue on his cock instead, how you put your hair up in a high ponytail just makes him want to pull on it and kiss the crook of your neck… it all leaves him clouded with dirty thoughts.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who calls you ‘babe’ and refers to you as his ‘girl’ even though he has a million bitches on the side.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who makes you feel like shit about yourself because he’s constantly sending you womens’ profiles on Instagram, saying you should look more like them and ‘get a nicer ass.’

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who becomes more controlling as your sexual relationship continues, basically forcing you to let him check your phone in case you're messaging other dudes and being naughty for men besides him but gets defensive when you want to see his phone.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who refuses to eat you out but expects you to praise his cock with your slutty mouth and wet tongue.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who doesn’t really care about your personal problems or pain, and whenever you tell him you’re hurting on the inside, he offers to let you come over to his house so that he can fuck you: “once my cock is inside you again, you’ll forget all about your sadness.”

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who doesn’t use condoms because he ‘can’t feel anything’ when he wears them, so he just assumes that you’re on birth control when he cums inside you.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who violates your privacy when he’s online gaming with his closest friends, Eren and Jean, as he tells them through the microphone about how tight and wet your pussy is and how much you enjoy being treated like a slut, your mouth full of his cock and pussy dripping with his cum… going as far as sending secretive videos he took of you to them where you’re whimpering and begging for Armin’s cock.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who pressures you to do risky things you don’t want to do, but you just can’t find the courage to say no to him when he stares at you with his intense blue eyes… like when he asks you to sit next to him in the back of the class then without your approval, sneaks his slender fingers into your panties and starts harshly playing with your clit. He devilishly smirks as you try to suppress your cries of disapproval. Or like when he convinces you to let him take videos of you when you’re in a position that exposes your slick cunt to him so well. Or even how he manipulates you into trying something new that you’ve never been comfortable with, like swallowing his thick cum, letting him put you in a full-nelson, maybe letting him choke you while he spits in your mouth.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who finally closes in on you, begging you to help him study for the upcoming test since he wasn’t paying attention in class because ‘you’re just so distracting’ to him, acting so smart and innocent and respectably in front of the teacher when Armin really knows that your slutty outfits and wet pussy says otherwise… so you excitedly go over to his dorm, thankful that finally it will be a normal get-together where you could actually find out more about Armin instead of finding out more about how he likes his cock sucked. Upon entering his dorm, it is apparent that he never planned on studying with you as his textbooks are nowhere to be found, and he is sitting on the couch half-naked with Netflix on the TV.

ᵔᴥᵔ “Oh hey, y/n, didn’t expect to see you here so soon,” he says nonchalantly. You unknowingly stare at his broad shoulders, his strong chest, and of course his V-line that is not hard to miss as he carelessly talks shit about his teachers. “See something you like?” arrogance seething from his teeth as he brushes back his blond hair. You don’t say anything as your face grows red. He takes your hand and leads you to the couch. “Come on, let’s watch something.”

ᵔᴥᵔ The sound of skin slapping drowns out the voices on the TV. You don’t even know how Armin managed to get you into this position again where you’re so submissive under him, giving into him yet again. He flips you over on your back, and he props himself up, looking over your figure that’s so pathetically displayed below him. You can see his angelic hair stick to his forehead as the sweat drips down his soft but sharp cheeks. The look in his eyes has gone dark, and his smile is sinister as if he was a predator about to devour a prey. He wickedly laughs as you grind your needy cunt against his hard cock. This is where he really gets mean.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin loves to degrade you like the whore you are, constantly reminding you just how easy you are to take advantage of, how easy you are to win over with just some dick, how easy it is to make your sloppy cunt squirt and tingle from multiple orgasms, how easy it is to make you whimper and beg for his thick cock to make a complete mess of your pussy.

ᵔᴥᵔ “You really didn’t think I invited you over just to study, did you?” he snickers as he cruelly and slowly thrusts into your aching cunt, making eye contact with you and grinning as your face turns red. He grabs your throat, choking you, and begins to thrust faster which pulls shaky moans from under your breath. He inches close to your ear and whispers, “you even came over here without wearing underwear under that short skirt of yours…” he switches to the other ear, “and when I started touching your dirty cunt during the movie, you were already so wet,” you shiver at his words. He pulls back and gives you a gentle slap with his left hand, his rings stinging your face, and uses his right hand to twist your perky nipples. He begins to laugh, “but I’m not surprised that a filthy slut like you - my filthy slut - would think of such impure thoughts during something as innocent as watching a movie.” Armin leans closer to your face again, still thrusting into you at a quick pace. His warm breath raises goosebumps on your skin. He harshly grabs your mouth and tells you to open, which you submissively comply with, and he spits into your mouth which causes you to whimper. He smacks the side of your thigh. “You like being treated like some depraved slut don’t you?” You don’t reply, but the fluttering in your tight pussy says otherwise. He flips you onto your stomach, your breasts mushing into the couch, and without warning, he forces his girthy cock into your tight pussy. He is thrusting into you at an ungodly pace, making you scream and moan incoherent words. “What’s my little slut saying? Use your words, baby,” he teases. At this point, you can only call out his name. “A-armin…” He begins to torturously thrust into that one spot, and within seconds, you're bucking your hips, intensely squirting onto his couch and leaving a sopping wet dark spot. “Fucking whore, gonna have to buy a new couch because you can’t control your filthy cunt,” he growls into your ear. He quickly flips you over onto your back again, wanting to see your face. Your face is contorted with such pleasure; your eyes are rolled to the back of your head, and your mouth is wide open with drool dripping down your jaw. Armin shudders, his cock getting even harder in your tight pussy. “So hot… such a lewd slut.” He immediately brings out his phone, taking a picture. “Want me to show my friends what a cock-hungry whore you are?” You quickly nod. “So fucking pathetic,” he snarls. “I’m going to destroy your cunt, slut.” He shoves his warm tongue in your mouth, gently grabbing the hair on your foggy head. “I’m gonna break you in so bad,” he mumbles, wiping the tears from your face.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who maybe in fact does want to have that ‘relationship shit’ with you ~

__________________________

Requests are open, and feedback is appreciated <3

[newtonsheffield]

Hi! Hope you’re having a nice weekend. I was curious if you would ever consider exploring a “What if” AU for Royals where Anthony does call Kate after that first night? I know it probably wouldn’t be as dramatic, but there was a line in there about how Anthony knows if he hadn’t done what he had done, then everyone probably would have thought he was perfect for Kate, and it made me wonder what that would have been like for them.

Hello!

I am having a good weekend! It's a four day weekend leading into a two day work week courtesy of this trash team building day so you know!

Anyway! I think that had it not been for the coup of it all, The palace would have been glad of the idea of Anthony as Kate's companion. He's young, and handsome, and a viscount, she could definitely do worse. So let's take a little look at how this would have gne.

“Did you have a run in with some sort of animal last night, Kate?”

And in her sleep deprived state Kate hadn’t seemed to think the better of sharing this with her seventeen year old sister, “Something like that.”

Edwina had made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat, “Sophie’s on her way in, and you might want to dig out some high necklines to cover that mess.”

Sophie’s eyes had flickered over her appearance in that non judgmental way she had tutting a little and saying “I’ll send the make up girls in. I hope it was at least good.”

And something deep within her had burned when she saw the little patchwork quilt of bruises and nips he’d left along her collarbone, her neck, possessively done almost, a smirk coming to her face when she thought that at least she wouldn’t have to have the stylists cover the marks his stubble had left between her thighs.

“Oh it was good enough.”

“You’re foul.” Edwina had said primly, though her lips were ticking upwards in a smirk. “Will we be seeing this, I hesitate to use the word gentleman, again?”

Kate’s heart had done an odd little flutter as she thought about the note she’d left him, forcing herself to shrug. “I don’t know.”

She sat in the make up chair while her team chatted around her, working quickly before she had to meet Mary. Kate's mind kept slipping back to last night, the way Anthony had grinned down at her in his kitchen as he'd searched for something for them to eat, his hips between hers as he hoisted her onto his kitchen counter his voice hot in her ear Oh look, I've found something for me to eat.

It had been nice despite how filthy parts of it had been, and not just to escape, but to feel some kind of connection.

"Kate, your phone is ringing." Sophie said a little exasperatedly, not looking up from her own phone as she typed furiously.

Kate stared down at it, the unknown number making her heart beat quickly Surely it couldn't be him. She'd only left him a few hours ago... Surely it wasn't him, her hand hesitated over it.

"Oh for God's sake." Edwina snatched the phone from her lap from her chair beside Kate's. And before Kate could stop her she'd answered it. "Hi, Kate's phone?"

Edwina's eyebrows shot up, ignoring Kate's insistently holding out her hand. "Anthony?"

Kate's heart stopped, her mouth falling open, "Eddie give me the phone."

"Anthony, Kate's just in make up right now, Can I-?"

"Give me the phone!"

"Oh! She's done apparently! Well Done Anthony, you got her out of her chair." Edwina was grinning manically now as Kate snatched the phone from her, sweeping from the room her make up barely done, her heart pounding.

"Um Hi? Anthony?"

Silence stretched over the other end of the phone for half a second before a deep voice rumbled through it "Now, I don't know about wanting to escape again, but do you want to get dinner tonight?"

Kate felt her mouth fall open, the answer on her lips immediately, but there was just a tiny problem, last night she'd been Kate, and this morning she had responsibilities and appearances and a make up team and Christ.

"It's kind of... complicated for me." Kate said awkwardly, casting around the hallway, blanching a little as she saw Mary striding this way.

A laugh echoed through the phone "Oh you mean because you're the Princess?"

Kate's stomach sunk, So he had known, she knew he had to have but to hear him say it was different. "Yeah, that complicates my life a lot actually."

Anthony hummed, "I wasn't really honest about myself last night either, but come to dinner with me, and I'll explain. This is going to sound a little insane but... Kate, I'm really glad we met last night and it's been a long time since I met someone that I felt like this with so I'm not really ready to let that go yet."

She could feel her heart pounding, He hadn't been honest about himself? What did that mean? Was he some sort of criminal? No, that didn't seem right, he'd seemed a lot like her, looking for something you shouldn't have been able to find in a dive bar. But it had felt like she'd found it anyway.

And she knew she really shouldn't but she couldn't help herself "Um... yeah okay. But just as a warning... I have to bring a guard with me this time, last night was... unusual for me."

"As long as you're there I don't care." She almost thought he might mean it.

"Can I at least know your last name before tonight?" She should at least know that much if she was going to sell this.

"Well, That seems fair. I'm Anthony Bridgerton."

_______

"Um... Mary?"

Mary looked up at her curiously at the end of their meeting with the Spanish Ambassador. "What's wrong?"

Kate blanched, "Um... nothing's wrong."

Mary raised her eyebrow, "Am I about to find out where you spent last night? Or with whom it was spent?"

"How do you-?"

"Darling, Sophie's a very good liar, but did you really think if I knew you were unwell I wouldn't have checked on you." Kate opened her mouth to give some excuse, to tell her that she hadn't spent the night being bent every which way, but Mary cut her off. "You're an adult, Kate. You can sleep with whoever you like. Do you need the morning after-?"

"Mary!" Kate hissed, looking around at Steve, politely looking in the other direction, obviously wishing he was anywhere but there. "We used protec- I'm not talking about this with you!"

Mary looked fairly unruffled, "Well Why did you bring it up then?"

"I didn't bring that up! I'm going out with him, tonight."

Mary frowned. "And his name is?"

Kate sighed, "Anthony Bridgerton."

Mary's mouth dropped open, "Viscount Anthony Bridgerton?"

Both of them stared at each other, surprised, Steve cleared his throat.

"I am not confirming that the address you were collected from this morning-" Kate avoided Mary's slightly impressed look "is the official residence of Viscount Bridgerton."

Well... Fuck.

__________

Kate could see him, through the window of the restaurant, no other patrons around, even more handsome than he had been last night. He was dressed a little more formally tonight, so was she she supposed, the dark grey plaid of his suit perfectly tailored, the purple of his waistcoat bright against it, the similar to her dress she realised with a small smile.

"We don't have to go in." Steve hummed quietly at her hesitation.

Kate smiled, "I think I will, You could take him right?"

He scoffed, "Please."

Kate swung the door open, watching as Anthony fumbled to his feet, his hand in his hair, adjusting his glasses.

"Kate, sorry... Your Royal Highness?" He seemed nervous here, so different than he'd been last night. Kate rolled her eyes, leaning in to kiss his cheek, a little thrilled at the way his breath caught.

"Kate's fine. Your royal Highness is a little formal for a date. I usually save it for the bedroom." Anthony choked as he pulled out her chair, sliding it in for her to sit.

She watched as he slid back around the table taking his own seat, "And you? Do you prefer Anthony or Lord Bridgerton?"

His eyes widened a little, "So you figured out my secret."

"I don't think it's much of a secret if my mother knows your mother."

His handsome smirk was back, "Did you tell your mum about me?"

Her lips twitched, "Did you tell your mum about me?"

He stared back at her, his eyes dancing in the low light. "I'd like to tell everyone about you, but for now I think I'll keep you to myself."

"There might not be anything to tell, if you don't feed me this time."

"Well, we wouldn't want that now would we?"

Kate groaned when she woke up the next morning, cushioned against Anthony's chest, his hands tangling in her hair, to three missed calls from sophie and a text that said Am I stopping this or not?

A picture of her and Anthony at Dinner, him whispering in her ear, his hand on her thigh, the headline Princess Kate on Steamy Date With Dishy Viscount

Kate hummed showing the article to Anthony a little embarrassedly, "Um... my team wants to know if this is something they should keep quiet for now. Like if this isn't going anywhere, or you don't want this to be-?"

Anthony cut her ff with a kiss, his tongue tangling with hers, his eyes soft. "I think that you should let it come out because... I don't really want to hide this, but if you'd rather not-"

Kate turned back to her phone typing out Let it go, and maybe start preparing to introduce the country to my new boyfriend.

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 9

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 9

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language.

Words: ~2000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8

Part 9

The smile on your face was stiff and insincere as Marcus Boyd walked you back to your car. As much as you loathed the asshole, you needed him and that meant paying him a personal visit in his home in Connecticut. He was a very successful defense lawyer, on his way to becoming a managing partner in a prestigious New York law firm in a few years. Because of his career, he had access to many seedy characters which is what you were here to leverage. You needed an unregistered gun, and he had connections who could provide you one. If that meant putting up with him for an hour, you were willing to do it.

“Y/N,” he said with a slick smile, standing next to you as you unlocked your car door. “It was wonderful to see you again.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you replied. “It never is. But we do what we have to, right?”

His eyes narrowed, shifting to something menacing. “I forgot how tactless you can be.”

You gave him a mocking smile. “Here’s hoping you won’t have to see me again soon.”

“Next time you need something, don’t come to me,” he warned.

“Same goes for you.” You leveled him with a cold look. “When can I expect a call?”

“A few days.”

“Fine.” You got into your car and shut the door, feeling relieved at no longer being around the slimy bastard.

Marcus was someone you met at college in your first year. He was a rich entitled sophomore, about to flunk out. You were good at hacking into things, and had managed to get your hands on a few exams Marcus desperately needed to pass. That was the beginning of your partnership with him. You helped him graduate and he paid you a lot of money in return. Thanks to him and his friends, you were able to get your degree with minimal student loans. Although the two of you despised each other, the threat of mutual destruction meant you trusted him to keep your search for a registered gun to himself and he trusted you not to spill his secrets.

You started driving back into the city, your mind focused on the road ahead when your phone pinged. You glanced down. An unknown number was calling you. If it was like the other anonymous calls you received, they would call you a fucking bitch as soon as you picked up and hang up on you. You had no doubt that it was Adam calling, considering the calls started after he was released, which only proved how unhinged he was. A smarter man would have been on his best behaviour when out on bail but he was so filled with rage he didn’t even bother to temper his actions. You had already reached out to the prosecutor and informed them of the calls, but you doubted it would lead to anything. Most likely Adam was using disposable phones, which meant there was no direct proof he was the one making the calls. You were scared, of course you were, which was why you’d reached out to Marcus even though you didn’t like the prick. It’s not like you could rely on Trevor, the bodyguard Roger had assigned to keep you safe. He was lazy and not very bright, and even if he was good at what he did Valiant wouldn’t be paying for your protection indefinitely. All of that meant you had to take this matter into your own hands. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was the only way for you to feel safe again.

Your thoughts turned to Billy, something you actively tried to avoid, but there wasn’t anything else to distract your mind away from him. It had been a week since you blocked him, and as much as you hated to admit it, you missed him. He’d been a part of your life for almost a year and you really enjoyed his company before things got messy between you two. If you hadn’t developed feelings for him and then caught him on a date with Dinah Madani, you guys would probably still be sleeping together – but you did, and seeing him with someone like her made it crystal clear his lack of feelings for you. The truth hurt like hell, but you’d get over it. You were a realist after all. You knew he was out of your league and there was nothing you could do to make Billy want you.

The speaker on your car piped up with a message notification. It was a text from Davina, reminding you of the girls night out planned for tomorrow night. It was a mutual friend’s birthday and the plan was for all of you to go to a new club that recently opened. You were looking forward to it, mostly as it would keep your mind off Adam but also because you were hoping to go out and meet someone new. No doubt Billy had already found someone else to fill your spot on his weekly rotation but you weren’t built like him and needed time to process your lingering feelings. You still weren’t over him, but you were ready to move on.

Now you just needed to get back home and come up with a reason as to how you lost your bodyguard in case Roger asked. Somehow, though, you doubted Trevor would willingly tell Roger about you disappearing for a few hours so you weren’t too worried. No one knew about your connection with Marcus and you intended to keep it that way.

***

The next evening you, Davina, and a few others were at Pravda, a new club downtown, to celebrate your friend Kiran’s birthday. You were wearing a low-cut black jumpsuit paired with silver stilettos, while your lips were painted maroon. Choosing to keep focus on the lips, you had ensured the rest of your make-up was light and dewy which went well with your straightened hair. It had taken a lot of double-sided tape to make sure your breasts were in check in your outfit but it was worth the effort. You felt like a proper goddess tonight, surrounded by your beautiful friends at a private table in the VIP lounge.

An hour later you were buzzed, giggling and laughing as you and a few others headed back to the private booth from the dance floor. After dancing up a storm, you guys were all parched and desperate for a drink. Davina was holding your hand as she led you through the crowds but you knew something was wrong when she stopped unexpectedly. You thought you heard her swear but you couldn’t be sure due to the loud music.

“What’s-” The words died in your mouth when you realized what Davina was staring at. Billy fucking Russo, sitting at your table, chatting it up with Kiran who was sitting next to him. The moment you saw them, you felt red-hot anger flood over you. While Kiran was a good friend, she wasn’t someone you confided in. She had no idea you’d been sleeping with Billy so you didn’t blame her for flirting with him. But Billy, god you hated him! There was no way his showing up at the same club as you was a co-incidence, which meant he was purposely here to flirt with your friends. To hurt you.

“Want to leave?” Davina asked, looking at you with concern.

“No, it’s fine,” you replied in a clipped tone.

“Are you sure?”

“He’s here because he wants to piss me off.”

“I thought you said he was cool about the break-up.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Thought he was.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

You didn’t answer, instead taking the lead to walk past her. You returned to your seat across from where he and Kiran were sitting. Davina came to sit beside you. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as his molten eyes trailed down to your breasts, lingering on you. Dressed in a simple grey t-shirt, designer no doubt, and a pair of black trousers and open leather jacket, he looked absolutely beautiful with his perfectly styled hair and trimmed beard.

“Hey guys, this is Billy,” Kiran greeted, eyeing him appreciatively. “He ordered us more champagne. Isn’t that so nice of him?”

On the table in front of you was an expensive bottle, chilling in ice. You quirked your eyebrow. Apparently Billy was in the mood to splurge on your friends. “That’s nice of him,” you remarked noncommittally.

“Billy, this is Davina and Y/N,” Kiran said.

His eyes were locked with yours, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, I know Y/N very well.”

Kiran turned to look at you. “You do?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Through work.”

Billy leaned forward, his smoldering gaze holding you hostage. “Y/N and I are very good friends.”

“Acquaintances,” you corrected.

As if sensing the tension in the air, Kiran pulled away from Billy. Meanwhile, he picked up the bottle of champagne and started pouring the liquid in the empty glasses in front of him. “You’re giving Kiran the wrong idea about us, Y/N. She might think you don’t like me very much.”

“She’d be right,” you snarked, ignoring the glass of champagne he held out for you.

“I’ll take that,” Davina replied, snatching the glass from his hands.

Your friends were suddenly talking all at once but all you could focus on was Billy’s heated gaze on you. With every second that passed his eyes on you seemed to grow more wanton and lustful, and desire coursed through your blood at how he looked at you. You wanted him so badly you cold feel yourself getting wet, and you realized you needed to get out of there right away.

“I’m going to get a drink,” you whispered in Davina’s ear, making sure Billy didn’t hear you.

“Want me to come with you?”

“No. I’ll be fine.” You stood up quickly and made your way out of there, keenly aware of Billy’s eyes boring into your back.

Few minutes later you were sitting at one of the corner bar downstairs. This floor had a different ambience than the club upstairs, which you appreciated. The music wasn’t as loud and you found yourself enjoying the lounge vibe. It wasn’t long before someone crept up next to you at the bar and you turned to find a familiar face smiling back at you.

His name was Avi and you’d run into him a few times at the conferences you’d gone to. Broad-shouldered and husky, you’d always found him attractive in an adorable way.

“You just look…” he gave you a shy smile. “Wow.”

Seeing his reaction to you, you smiled. “Thank you.”

“I’ve always wanted to approach you but I didn’t want to come across as a creep, you know?” he explained. “You can also be very intimidating.”

That made you laugh. “I doubt that.”

As Avi and you continued to talk, you couldn’t help but enjoy how he was gawking at you. You didn’t fit society’s mould for what was considered beautiful, so all of your past flings were a result of the guys getting to know you and finding you hot because of your personality. It was rare when a guy you were attracted to was also into you right away but that seemed to be the case with Avi. You didn’t have to charm or work for him to find you hot. Instead, he was genuinely enamored with how you looked which was refreshing.

His phone rang with a text notification. Scanning through the message, he flashed you an apologetic glance. “Shit. I have to go.”

Disappointed, you pouted your lips. “That’s too bad.”

“Would you want to go out sometime?” he asked shyly.

“I’d like that.” You reached for your phone and scrolled through to the contacts app to add his name before handing the phone to him. “Add your number.”

After you said your goodbyes, you ordered your third gin and tonic and were enjoying your drink at the bar when someone grazed up against you. Seated on a high bar stool, you were expecting Davina to have come looking for you. Instead, you found Billy sidling up to you. He looked pissed off and angrier than you’d ever seen him.  

“Give me your phone,” he barked.

“Go to hell.”

Unexpectedly he gripped your stool and pulled you closer, throwing you off so you were forced to hold on to him for regain your balance. He perched his foot up on the bottom ledge of the stool, closing you in fully. “Unblock me now.”

‘Go fuck yourself.”

His dark eyes seemed to suddenly grow even darker, more monster than human. “Who was that guy you were talking to?”

“My future boyfriend.”

Billy’s lips curved into a sneer. “Not if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Why don’t you go back to flirting with my friend and leave me the fuck alone?”

“She was flirting. I wasn’t.”

“I don’t care. Go sleep with whoever you want, and I’ll do the same.”

Billy simply stared at you for a beat, his jaw clenched. “You’re not fucking anyone else.”

Sitting up straight, you leveled him with a hostile look. “I just met someone who was nice, sweet, and really fucking cute. And he wasn’t an asshole like you. Trust me, I will fuck him. I might even suck him off here tonight if he plays his cards right. And there isn’t a single thing you can do to stop that.”

He dipped his head towards you, leaning in closer so you were the only one who could hear him. His voice may have been flat, but his words were laced with cold fury when he spoke next. “If he touches you, he’s dead. I’ll start with his hands. I’ll break his fingers one by one for daring to touch you. Next I’ll cut off his dick, his balls, other parts of him slowly, carefully, so he feels every inch of the excruciating pain I’ll put him through. I’ll fill him with adrenaline so he doesn’t pass out from the pain. I’ll gouge out his eyes last because he needs to see that I’m the one who turned him into a mutilated lump of flesh. And then maybe, if I’m feeling nice, I might slit his throat to end his suffering.” His eyes never leaving yours, he reached for your drink at the bar and chugged it.

“You’re a fucking psychopath,” you said, your throat suddenly parched. Your heart was beating rapidly, your stomach coiled into knots. Fear should have flooded over you -  it didn’t. Instead, you were aroused.

“No one takes what’s mine.”

“I’m not your fucking possession. You don’t own me.” You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths as your emotions – and the walls – started to all swirl together. Like always, just when you thought he might have cared enough to admit he was jealous, he showed his true colours. Billy’s anger had nothing to do with his feelings for you. Rather, it was about his ego. Shit. You felt dizzy, the drinks had started to hit you. “Why don’t you go bother Dinah and her new man? Didn’t you say she was seeing someone else? Go pull your psychopath routine on them.”

He tucked his finger under your chin, lifting your face up to meet his gaze again. The emotions in his eyes played havoc with your senses as he pressed in closer, so close you could feel his warm breath on your skin.

“I don’t care who Dinah dates or fucks.”

The air was thick with tension.  It felt as if there was no one else in the bar but you and Billy, his one hand under your chin, the other pressed against the small of your back. You felt heady and light-headed with anticipation and desire, but you were also angry. Angry that you still wanted him, that he wouldn’t give you space to get over him. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

His fingers gripped the side of your face, and you exhaled a sharp breath when he grazed your forehead with his. Temples touching, his eyes held you transfixed in place.  “Because you’re mine.” The possessiveness in his voice was unsettling, but it was the way he was staring at you – as if he could see right through to your core – that made your stomach flip-flop. “Mine.” His thumb swiped along your bottom lip, as if marking you as his. “And I’m yours.”

Billy was a player, an asshole, and there was comfort in that because it meant you knew where you stood with him, but now he was defying expectations, crossing the boundaries you’d carefully set for yourself, and you weren’t ready for that. None of that mattered, however, because you were suddenly feeling really, really sick.  “I have to go,” you mumbled. The room was spinning as you tried to jump off the chair but your knees almost gave way. Billy was there to catch you in his arms, holding you up.

“Woah, you okay?”

You pushed him off and ran.

Part 10

A/N - As always, thank you for the support, the feedback, the likes/reblogs, and the asks. I’m stoked to keep writing this because of you guys. Please let me know your thoughts on the chapter!

If you’d like to be added/removed from the tag list, drop me a note.

Tag List.

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gif-credit: @the-darkling

[specialagentsergio]

baby kiss it better

summary: When D.C. implements a lockdown order, you and Spencer decide to quarantine together. There’s just one problem—he’s working from home, and his coworkers don’t know about you.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: a few swear words, but otherwise it’s just fluff

a/n: ahh, the secret partner trope. how i love it. this is set in 2020, but with the season 5 cast! i was feeling particularly self-indulgent, so i made reader a night shift worker. this is for you, fellow night owls. stay safe out there everyone, and wear a mask!

a/n 2: i don’t actually know what a doctor or physical therapist would recommend for spencer’s knee injury. this is just going on my basic understanding of anatomy (i took a class in it this fall!) and what i've seen on grey’s anatomy lol.

word count: 2.2k

masterlist

Spencer tries not to grimace as he shifts in his chair. Working from home during the lockdown had initially seemed like it came at a great time, starting just a month after his knee injury. Sure, he wasn’t thrilled about having to do almost everything digitally, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about being mobile.

Unfortunately, that had turned out to be a downside. Tethered to his seat by headphones, he hasn’t been able to get up and stretch his leg properly, and as a result, is experiencing more pain.

It’s only 8:30, but he can already feel it flaring up. It’s been happening earlier every day, likely due to the existing irritation from the day before. Today is Thursday, and he’s miserable—he dreads to think of what tomorrow will be like.

He’s wondering if there’s some way he could get out of work tomorrow when he hears the sound of the front door being unlocked. He looks up to see you pushing the door open with your shoulder, carrying far too many grocery bags than is reasonable.

“Be careful!” he exclaims, watching as you teeter to the side a little. You just wave him off and close the door with your heel.

Working from home may not have been the positive he was expecting it to be, but you’ve more than made up for it. The two of you had decided to quarantine together, and he’s really loved having you around. Granted, you’ve only been here since Sunday, but he’s starting to think that this is going to end with him asking you to move in with him for good.

He hears a thunk as you dump all the groceries on the kitchen table. Then you’re back in the living room, taking off your mask as you walk by so you can blow him a kiss. He presses his knuckles to his mouth to hide his smile.

Usually you give him a proper cheek or forehead kiss when you get home, but the team doesn’t know about you yet. It’s not that he’s necessarily keeping you a secret, he just... likes having you to himself, and he doesn’t really want it to change just yet.

He’s also not looking forward to the pitch Garcia’s voice is going to hit when she finds out he’s been dating someone for over a year without telling her.

“Are you listening, Reid?” Hotch’s voice makes Spencer focus back in on the screen.

“Oh, y-yeah. Yeah, of course. Um, I was just thinking that this choice of rope to bind the victims is interesting.” He doles out a few facts about it, which seems to do an adequate job of convincing everyone that he’s paying attention.

They take a break when the main briefing is over—Jack needs something from Hotch and Sergio has apparently knocked something breakable off of Emily’s kitchen counter. He slides his headphones off and mutes his mic. Apparently that’s a cue you’ve been waiting for, because only a few moments later you’re placing a mug of tea on his desk.

“Green tea,” you say. “Might help reduce the inflammation in your knee.” Then you’re lifting his foot off the small stool it’s resting on and sliding another pillow under it so his leg is more elevated.

“Wh—“ he starts, but you’re already hurrying back into the kitchen. You come back with a baggie of ice wrapped in a dishtowel in your hands, which you place it gently on top of his knee.

“Twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off,” you say. “Then repeat with heat instead, like your physical therapist said. I’ll get the heating pad from the bedroom.”

“Hey, wait.” Spencer snags your wrists before you can walk away again. “How’d you know it was hurting?”

“Oh, I always know,” you reply. “You should have realized that by now.”

He thinks on that as you leave to get the heating pad, sipping his tea. You do always seem to just know, whether he’s in physical pain, a bad case is bothering him, or even if he’s just in a bad mood and doesn’t know why himself.

Not a day goes by where he doesn’t feel incredibly lucky to have you in his life.

“I’m leaving it by this outlet behind you. Have you been doing your stretches?”

He bites his lip, hesitating because he knows you won’t like the answer. But he doesn’t have to say it; you can tell from his expression.

“Spencer. You know you need to be doing them.”

“I know, I do,” he insists. “I just... can’t really get up and do them with these headphones.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Okay, so take them off. Your laptop has speakers.”

“But I don’t want to disturb you,” he protests. Since you work the night shift, you sleep during the day, usually heading to bed around 11 AM. He doesn’t want the noise from the Zoom calls to keep you up. Much like the bullpen in the FBI building, the calls can get rowdy.

“You won’t,” you assure. “I’ll just shut the bedroom door.”

“I guess that works,” he relents. “But I feel weird getting up and stretching in front of everyone. Like, wouldn’t that be disruptive?”

You sigh. “Spencer, I understand it’ll make you self-conscious, but you want full mobility in your knee again, right?”

“Yeah, I do, I get it,” he says sullenly, looking down into his mug. “I need to do the stretches if I want it to heal well.”

“Hey.” You take one of his hands and squeeze it. “I’m not trying to annoy you. I just want you to get better and be in less pain. I don’t like to see you hurting.”

“You’re not annoying me. I guess I’m just... not really used to being taken care of,” he admits quietly.

“Well, I’m gonna fix that.”

The confidence in your voice makes him unable to hold back a smile. “Alright.”

You smile back. “Is there anything else I can do?”

Spencer’s about to tell you that you’ve done plenty when an idea strikes him. He tilts his head to the side. “Well, there is something.”

“Yes?”

“There’s some research—nothing too substantial, but still some—that says kisses can help relieve pain,” he says.

You laugh, but it’s not unkind. “Oh, so you want me to kiss it better?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, glancing away shyly.

“Okay, then.” You tuck his hair behind his ear and press a kiss to his forehead. “Better?” you ask softly.

He hums. “Better.”

“Good.” You stand back up and stretch. “Well, I’ll be awake for a few more hours, so let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Spencer puts his headphones back on—he wants to wait to unplug them until you go to bed to spare you from hearing anything gruesome—and looks back at the screen to find Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Garcia staring him down. Rather hesitantly, he unmutes his mic and asks, “What?”

Emily is grinning—she looks the more awake than she has all morning. “Is there anything you wanna tell us?” she asks.

“Yeah, Spence,” JJ chimes in, “any new developments in your life?”

“I don’t—” he starts, then it hits him like a truck. He remembered to mute his mic, but the camera was still on. Clearly, they all saw you kiss his forehead. He barely stops himself from hitting his head against the table; he covers his face with his hands instead and groans.

“Isn’t the whole point of all this that we stay away from other people?” Morgan asks, and Spencer doesn’t have to look up to know that Derek has a shit-eating grin on his face.

“People outside of your household,” he corrects without thinking.

“Oh my god!” Garcia shrieks and he winces, pulling the headphones off out of instinct. He’s not the only one—JJ jumps and yanks her earbuds out, and Derek lifts one side of his headphones away from his ear. Spencer hesitantly copies him, putting one half of his headphones back on.

“Jesus, Pen, you scared the shit out of Sergio,” Emily’s saying.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” she says, then turns her attention completely to Spencer. “Boy wonder. You’re living with someone and I’m just now hearing about it?”

“I mean, you never asked,” he points out.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d have to!” she huffs. “You usually tell your friends if you’re seeing someone new, let alone living with them!”

“You do, maybe. Emily and I don’t,” he says.

Emily herself shrugs. “Good point. Fair enough, Reid.”

“Besides, we’re not living together,” he continues, “We’re quarantining together.”

“Right, because that’s such a big difference,” JJ teases. He glares at her in return.

Rossi returns to his desk before Penelope can start bombarding Spencer with questions. But there’s no reprieve for him—the man takes one look around and knows something’s up. “Okay, what’s going on?” he asks.

“We just found out pretty boy has a partner,” Morgan sing-songs before Spencer can say anything.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“And he didn’t tell any of us!” Garcia adds.

Spencer groans again and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “This is exactly why I didn’t say anything,” he mutters.

A knocking sound draws his attention away from the call. You’re standing in the bedroom doorway, your hand resting on the doorframe. “You okay?” you ask. “I just heard you groan.”

Spencer mutes his mic again and then leans over so he’s out of the camera’s frame. “They found out,” he sighs.

“Found out what?”

“Found out about... you.”

Realization crosses your face. “They saw me kissing you better?”

“Yeah. I forgot the camera was still on,” he says sheepishly.

“Well, it was bound to happen eventually.” You make your way over to him and take the ice off his knee. “It’s been twenty minutes, by the way.”

“Thanks. So, um...” He picks up the fidget toy you bought him when he was going stir-crazy in the hospital and starts messing with it. “What do you wanna do about this?”

“Whatever you’re most comfortable with,” you reply immediately.

“Okay, good answer,” he says. “But I actually want to know how you feel about this.”

“Well, I’m fine with meeting them, even if it’s just over Zoom. But if you’d rather wait, I’m fine with that, too. Really,” you add when he raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, well.” Spencer looks back at the screen. Hotch has returned now, and even though he can’t hear anything, it’s clear they’re all waiting on him. Best to just do this now, he thinks, otherwise I’ll be hearing about it all day. “How would you feel about meeting them right now?”

You blink. “Um, okay. So long as you don’t mind me looking like I was up all night, because, you know... I was.”

“You look fine,” he reassures. “Uh, just stay put for a second. Let me ask if this is okay.”

He readjusts to sit in his chair properly. He starts to put his headphones back on, but you unplug them so you can hear what’s happening.

“You ready to continue, Reid?” Hotch asks. It’s business as usual with him—if he was told what happened earlier, Spencer can’t tell.

“Well, actually,” he starts, and nervousness bubbles up in his chest. He glances up and you give him a reassuring smile. “Actually, I was wondering if I could introduce you guys to someone first?”

Garcia squeals. “Ooh, sir, please say yes!”

“Just keep it quick,” Hotch says. He didn’t even hesitate—they totally told him.

Spencer takes a deep breath, then gestures for you to come over. You seem a little nervous as well, but you handle it well, walking around the desk and into the frame. “Oh, we should have gotten you something to sit on,” he laments when you lean over the back of his chair.

“It’s fine.” You drape your arms around his shoulders and adjust so your head is on the same level as his. It’s silent for a moment, then you say, “Well, introduce me, silly.”

“Oh!” He clears his throat, trying to ignore the heat he feels in his cheeks. “Um, this is (Y/N). My... my partner.”

The call explodes with greetings, everyone talking over each other. “Slow down, slow down,” Spencer pleads. This is all overwhelming enough—he doesn’t need any excess stimuli.

Once it settles, everyone takes their turn introducing themselves (you already know who they all are, though, as he’s told you so much about them). Then you field a few questions—what you do for work, how you met, what your favorite food is (that was Rossi—Spencer suspects that he wants to know for the first dinner party he can hold after quarantine is over).

It’s going well. Everyone seems to like you, and you’re getting by just fine. Until Garcia asks her question, that is.

“So, (Y/N), how long has boy wonder been keeping you a secret from us?”

Both of you tense. “Uh, you know what, I’ll let him answer that,” you say quickly. “It’s just about time for me to go to bed.”

“Wha—no. No, it’s not. It’s just barley past nine,” Spencer protests.

“Yeah, I’m really tired. I’m gonna try and get some extra sleep today.” You give a little wave. “It was nice meeting you all.”

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers desperately. “Not with that question.”

You feign a yawn. “Sorry, I’m just too tired.”

He watches you go back to the bedroom with a pout.

“Well?” Garcia insists when he looks back at her.

Spencer cringes and preemptively lowers his computer volume.

---------------

tell me what you thought here!

[diamaker-moon]

Moving Forward - Chapter 2

Chapter Two

First steps!

—————

It was more than what she had bargained. But she was lucky. Really lucky!

'Looks like lady luck finally gave me a good amount of luck!'

— previous chapter... —

Boxes. Boxes were everywhere!

Marinette admits that she'll miss her room. Her very pink room, her roof balcony, her loft bed, everything! But she chose this. She wanted to be far from Dupont from now. She didn't want to be reminded every day about what she has gone through in that school.

She was heavily guarding her 'sewing equipment' which was the disguise for the new shape of the Chinese Miracle Box, and a backpack that has Grimoire and tablet.

After her application for a scholarship was accepted, they got to move, her parents rented a moving van for all the heavy stuff. They decided to get her settled in during the weekend. The only thing she isn't bringing to the dorm was her vanity, desk and loft bed. It was a miracle that her chaise was approved to be moved into the dorm.

"Ready to go?" Tom asked.

He was emotional since his daughter grew up in front of him, but after hearing what she had to suffer from those people, he was supportive of her moving away temporarily. 

Marinette nodded. They both went down, where Sabine was waiting. Before Marinette entered the van, she glanced at her old school and smiled bitterly. All the memories she had created with the people she thought she trusted were being tarnished. All because of a lying vixen who has nothing else to do in her life and can't keep her mouth shut.

She missed the people she knew before. But that was before, this was now.

She entered the van, placed the pink carry-on and backpack. While Tom drives the van she was humming while thinking of the past.

Alya Césaire, the person Marinette thought that will always stay by her side. Her ex-best friend. Sure the girl has her faults, but Marinette treated her like a sister. They shared every secret (except her secret identity). When the liar came to Dupont, it felt like there was a spell casted in the school, Alya forgot the most basic rule in journalism. Fact-checking. It was a pity how the Ladyblog was now being slandered on how it became a tabloid. No one trusted it anymore. She felt a bit of guilt that when Alya finally finds out that the girl she claims as her 'new bff' is a liar, her credibility is already in the sewers.

Nino Lahiffe, Lê Chiến Kim, Max Kanté, Ivan Bruel, Mylène Haprèle, Alix Kubdel, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine and Nathaniel Kurtzberg, her classmates that knew her for years. The people she helped all the time. They knew her, but they also turned their backs against her. Marinette always went out of her way to help them, even when Ivan was the first Akuma victim she felt bad, so she wanted to help— and it got her to become the superheroine of Paris, France; Ladybug.

Lastly, Adrien Agreste, the person who said that was on her side, the only other person who knew about the liar but chose to be silent. Looking back, she was ashamed that she put the boy on a pedestal, but what irked her is his slight manipulation without even knowing. When they celebrated about Chloé leaving for New York, he unknowingly made Marinette guilty, even though he knew about Chloé's tormenting. And after finding out that he was Chat Noir, it angered her that the boy she trusted while in and out of the suit was the same boy who left her in the wolf's den.

"—ette? Marinette?"

That made Marinette snap out of her thoughts. She looked around then outside of the window and noticed that they were in a parking lot. Her father was nowhere to be found and her mother was calling her.

"Your father just went to get a luggage trolley for your boxes. Are you ready to meet your dormmates?"

Ah, yes. Apparently, she had dormmates, but she will still be getting a separate room inside the dorm. Marinette can only hope that the people here are not easily blinded by pretty words.

"Yes, Maman. I'm ready..."

This was part of her first step to a new beginning.

—————

The principal of Jeanne d'Arc l'Académie was a lovely woman.

She guided Marinette and her family towards the dorm building. She informed Marinette about her dormmates. There were a total of four other students in her dorm, she said they were friendly and hopes that they'll get along.

On the third floor of the second dorm building, she walked towards a door that has 'B315' on it, she knocked and we waited.

When the door opened, a tanned girl with blonde hair that was braided and had blue eyes opened it, she had a shocked look on her face when she saw the Principal, but when she looked around her mouth went 'oh'.

"Hi! Please come in, the other two went outside for a while, Fé is in his room reading." She said.

"This is Allegra Croix, the room representative. Here's a room card, keep it safe, but in case you lose it, file a report in the front desk."

The principal said before letting the other guy who had joined them at the school steps earlier help Tom to move her belongings, before leaving.

"Hi, I-I'm Marinette." She introduced herself while smiling, the girl smiled at her then waved.

"Come, I'll direct you to your bedroom."

They entered a room and Marinette felt herself freeze. It was almost identical to her bedroom at home. Keyword: almost.

The room had soft baby pink painted walls with gold designs, a twin loft bed (with a higher railing on one side), a huge L-shaped desk underneath, near it is a tall bookshelf, a vanity, a sliding door on the right with curtains, a bathroom on the left that is also connected to a small walk-in-closet.

Tom and a guy slowly moved Marinette's boxes and her chaise. While her mother was busy talking with Allegra, she made her way towards the sliding door and opened it, to see a small balcony. She was still carrying the disguised miracle box and wore the backpack on her back.

Tikki peaked out of the purse and was awed by the view. When she looked at her holder, she can see a small smile on her face.

"Guess this is it. A new beginning for Marinette Dupain-Cheng..." The girl said while looking at the scenery before looking at her kwami.

—————

After all the boxes, her parents bid a tearful goodbye for the temporary separation between them. Allegra also informed her about dorm curfews and toured her around the dorm. She also mentioned the soundproof feature inside the bedroom and the whole dorm, which shocked Marinette.

It was convenient for her. A balcony inside her room for sneaking in and out and soundproofed for the kwamis, was the best she could get.

She spent her time inside her room and organized everything, she already mentioned to Allegra that she might be stuck inside her bedroom for a while to get settled in. Closing the door and locking it, before turning the soundproofing feature on then letting the kwamis out of the box.

They helped her move stuff and get organized.

"Soundproof? What is that?" Kaalki asked.

"It's a feature that makes all noises inside this room stay here and will not be heard outside."

She looked around and smiled. Her computer has been set up, her sewing machine and other miscellaneous stuff were on top of the L-shaped desk underneath the loft bed.

The chaise was placed near the bookshelf and placed at an angle.

It felt home-y for her. As if she was back in her own room.

Meanwhile, outside Marinette's room, two boys entered the room.

"Hey, Al! Did the new student arrived yet?"

"Yeah, she did! She's been cooped up in her room, and getting settled in. Let's have dinner all together!"

The guy named Allan nodded and carried the grocery bags that were filled with both meal ingredients and snacks towards the kitchen.

When Marinette was done showering and changing to a comfortable but decent outfit, she heard a knock on her door. She opened it and saw Allegra.

"Hey, mind joining us for dinner?" Allegra asked to which Marinette nodded.

They went towards a small dining table next to the kitchen, where she saw three other guys. One was busy reading a book, while the other two were bantering. The girls sat down and that attracted the boys' attention.

"Hi...?"

"Hello! Nice to meet you! I'm Claude D'lleardo, at your service fair maiden!" The guy wearing a white and blue striped shirt said then playfully winking at Marinette, which made her giggle.

"I'm Allan Montgometry, Claude's functioning brain cell." A guy with dark skin and was wearing a green sweater, in Marinette's eyes, the guy reminded her of Nino Lahiffe.

"Félix Culpa, evening." The guy who was reading a book said that he had familiar blonde-coloured hair with blue-grey eyes.

"Nice to meet you all, I'm Marinette, hope we can all get along!" She said with a smile.

While eating she looked around the table and smiled.

Sure it was painful for her that the people she knew as 'friends' had abandoned her, she was also glad that there was an opportunity given to her to start a new page in her life.

She was leaning on the balcony railings feeling the cold night winds, not noticing a certain someone who went out on their own balcony.

Marinette smiled bitterly when she remembered the times when she and Alya spent the entire night on her home's balcony chatting through the night. All the slumber parties, either with the girls or only a few, she missed it.

It was an emotional day for her, moving away from her own home even when it was temporary still hurt her, to transfer out of Dupont due to incompetent educators, bullies and enablers, being abandoned and isolated by the people she used to trust.

She had her faults, especially when she became the Guardian, most of her schedule has been occupied but people in her class haven't been inviting her lately. Things will change, she didn't care anymore. She gave her all in the friendships she had built with that class only for it to be discarded like trash. If they don't want friendship with her anymore, then she doesn't need to give it to them.

She went inside for a brief moment only to come back with her diary in one hand, then a pen in the other. She sat down and started writing.

Dear Diary,

A lot has changed in a span of a week. Sorry if I haven't wrote in you lately, I... I've been quite busy lately, not only with that responsibility, but I recently transfered to a new school. Jeanne d'Arc l'Académie is a promising school! They prioritize the students talents and give them opportunities, I'm glad I had the chance to attend in this kind of school.

Part of my transfer, is me moving to a dorm. Since the school is quite far from the bakery, Maman and Papa asked me if I wanted to move into a dorm inside the school campus. They said it will be convenient for me and I'll be far from that class for a while. At first, I was hesitant, but now, looking back, I'm glad I did accept. My bedroom here in the dorm is amazing! Sure it's not an attic like the one I had back home, but it resembles my room, as if I never moved.

I also met new people today!

Allegra Croix, she was so kind! Allegra was the one who let me know all about the dorm, she toured me and mentioned the cool feature in this dorm and every bedroom, which is: soundproofing! Can you believe it, Diary?!

Claude D'lleardo, was a funny guy, he kind of reminds me of the old Chat Noir, who made me laugh. Then there was Allan Montgometry, he was also fun to be with! When he introduced himself, I giggled when he said he was Claude's brain cell! but he also reminds me of a certain someone from my old school...

And then there's Félix Culpa. At first, I thought I was hallucinating since he resembles him quite a lot, but when I looked at his eyes, I knew there that he wasn't him. He likes reading (I think? Since he kept reading during dinner).

I hope We all get along! Moving to a new environment is breathtaking for me. I can finally relax, without being on edge. I'm far away from that vixen.

You know, Diary... I kinda thank her... is that weird?

She may have threathend me about stealing my friends and ruining me, but she also showed me how people in that school see me. A tool. The vixen showed me how my old class used me to get free pastries from the bakery, I didn't even know that they were getting some and making excuses to my parents. They kept asking me to make things for them, without even paying me, even though they say "can I commision you?". And then all the babysitting duties from those two! I couldn't even say a word, next thing I know she was already running away! The vixen also showed me his pacified attitude in dealing bullies. I think he may be in a delusional state, that all things will resolve itself and it will all be back to normal.

They were all worst than Chloé!

I hope that me moving past that school will give me a new beginning, Diary! I promise to myself, I'll take care of myself this time, no more bending backwards just to appease people. I want to be accepted for who I am, not because of what I can give.

Oops! It's gotten so late, I didn't even notice!

Goodbye for now, Diary!

Marinette closed her diary and sighed, but she had a smile on her face.

She stood up and went inside her room, then locked the balcony. She looked around and saw Tikki eating a cookie on her desk. Marinette put her diary back in its box and claimed the loft.

"Goodnight, Tikki." Marinette said, her eyes beginning to get tired and get droopy.

Tikki stopped eating and zipped towards her chosen, then put a paw on her chosen's cheek.

"Goodnight, Marinette!"

—————

Félix Culpa was more of an introvert in the group. He liked to be alone most of the time. When Allegra, Claude and Allan, leeched onto him, he found it annoying especially with Claude, but soon he got used to it.

And now that they had a new dormmate, he observed her. She was reserved. It was as if she was holding herself back.

Standing outside on the balcony during the night was a leisure time for him. He enjoyed the quiet dark sky and the cold wind of the night. When he went out that night, he saw his new dormmate— Marinette was also outside. When he looked at her, she was staring blankly at the view. She then entered her room then went back out a few minutes after, with a pen and a notebook.

She sat down on the balcony floor since the railings are glass, he can see her writing down on her notebook. 

Marinette was pretty, her black silky hair that had blue reflections, she had those attractive bluebell coloured eyes, he also noticed a few freckles on both sides and bridge of her nose during dinner and her rose coloured lipstick with gloss.

He didn't know how long he was staring at her, the next he knew was she was already going back inside her room. So he did the same. He went on his computer and tried to find any social media accounts of his new dormmate, only to find a lot of articles about her.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a young and budding designer that had made commisions for various celebrities, including Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, XY, and etc."

"Fashion critique, Audrey Bourgeois, has been impressed by a certain Marinette Dupain-Cheng!"

"Adrien Agreste modeling a derby hat won by Marinette Dupain-Cheng in a Gabriel competition."

"Kitty Section's debut outfits made by Marinette Dupain-Cheng awed the crowed!"

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng, an aspring fashion designer is making waves in the world of fashion, can she overrule Paris' resident designer— Gabriel Agreste?"

 Those are only a few articles he had seen and read.

'So Marinette was an aspiring designer?'

He thought. Félix was impressed that at such a young age, she has already been featured and had worked with famous celebrities. Looks like he had underestimated the young teenager.

The last thought that ran in his mind before he drifted to sleep was, why did she transfer? Was she unsatisfied with her progress in her old school? Or maybe something happened?

'Who really are you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng?'

Chapter 1 — Moving Forward: Masterlist — Chapter 3

[sunnysviolin]

Omotober Day Three- Picnics

If you want to read it on ao3 (now as one singular fic because I am a dum dum) you can do that here

When Hero suggested that the five of them get together and have a picnic, Basil was nervous, but excited. There was a part of him that would always be afraid, but more than anything he wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. A picnic could be the start of that.

But Basil should have known that things could never go back to the way they used to be.

“Forgiveness, reader, is, I think, something very much like hope and love - a powerful, wonderful thing.

And a ridiculous thing, too.”- Kate DiCamillo

Basil wasn’t really sure what to expect when their group decided to get together for a picnic again like they used to, but his first inclination wouldn’t have been that there would be a fist fight about to break out.

After the fight, and the hospital, and everything that came after, things had gotten surprisingly calm and quiet. The guilt that had eaten his insides for all those years was gone, and in its place was peace. Yes, he still felt awful about what they had done, but the secret was over, and he no longer had to hold all of that pain by himself.

Their friends had accepted the truth at varied rates, and Basil was sure it would take a long time before they ever even came close to forgiving him or Sunny. Aubrey was still quick to anger, Hero was still avoidant of the pain, but things had changed. Something about those last few days Sunny had spent with them in Faraway had changed them all, made everyone more open to trying with each other again. Even after they learned everything.

It felt good to be friends again, to be able to look at their faces without the self loathing threatening to crush him. He would take whatever halted measures of friendship they would give, if it only meant not being alone again. So when Hero suggested a picnic, Basil eagerly agreed without thinking twice.

He should have thought twice.

The planning had gone perfectly fine. Kel was a hundred percent on board, and he had even offered to help with making the food. The other boy seemed most pleased that it was Hero specifically who was extending the branch out. Basil knew that, of all of them, Hero was probably going to have the most mixed emotions about what he and Sunny had done. Still, Hero was Hero. Even if he hated them both, he would never reveal it.

Aubrey had seemed unsure, but Kel’s enthusiasm and the promise of getting Sunny back to join them had her agreeing. Basil knew she and Sunny talked on the phone pretty often, maybe even more than Sunny and himself. Aubrey was trying hard to make up for the last four years, and she spent most of her time with Basil or by herself. She said it was to ‘figure things out’ and he didn’t pry. He knew how hard it was to accept things in your past that you didn’t want to think about or the parts of yourself that you didn’t like all that much.

Then there was Sunny. They had all crowded together around Kel’s home phone to talk to Sunny about their idea. He had agreed to come and made plans to sleep at Kel and Hero’s house the night of their picnic. Logically it would have made more sense for him to stay with Basil, there was more room at Basil’s house, but it went unspoken between them why Kel and Hero had extended the offer instead. He would catch the train in and out and be back by dinner the next day, it wasn’t a far journey. None of them had seen Sunny since the hospital, at least not in person, and Basil wondered what it might be like to lay eyes on the other boy now.

The day came and they had split into natural groups. Most of the preparations were already done, but there were a few things to finish up on the morning of. Hero would take care of finishing the food, Aubrey would set up in their spot in the park, and Basil and Kel were going to go pick up Sunny from the train station.

Everything was good. The day was bright and warm with not a single cloud in the sky, Sunny’s train had arrived right on time, and Sunny had even greeted them both with quick but tight hugs and a small smile. He was still wearing an eyepatch (and apparently would always be from now on) but he looked a lot better. The bags under his eyes were gone, and the greying pallor of his skin had vanished. He held himself a little straighter, spoke a little more, and the air of fear that seemed to surround Sunny had dissipated into nothing.

Kel had grabbed both of their hands and swung them through the air as they walked towards the park, chattering about what he and Hero had planned for that day. Basil was content to let Kel do most of the talking and shared a secret amused look behind his back with Sunny. This was something that had happened all the time when they were kids, and the nostalgia of it was easy to fall into.

When they got to the park and saw Aubrey, things were awkward for all of two seconds before she punched Sunny gently on the arm and ruffled his hair, bringing them over to the set up she had created. The picnic blanket was a checkered blue, not red, but it was soft. There was the scent of flowers in the air from the bushes nearby in bloom, and a breeze twirled the pinwheels clustered in the distance. It felt so blissfully...normal. Like they could just fall right back into step where they left off all those years ago.

Basil should have hit himself over the head for thinking that.

It started so innocently. They were waiting for Hero to arrive and sighing about how nice their little corner of the world was, when Aubrey made an offhand comment about her friends potentially joining them next time. Before Basil could even really process what her words, Kel had said no. He hadn’t said it in a joking way or to tease her. Kel had snapped, and the tension in his shoulder and the hardness of his eyes told them all that he was deadly serious.

It was jarring. Of all of them, Kel had always been the friendliest. Hero may have been the most popular, but Kel wasn’t far behind his brother in natural charm. He was sweet and sincere, and almost always willing to get to know people. It wasn’t like him to shut down so quickly or with such force. Kel’s face was stormy and he was avoiding eye contact with all of them, keeping those hard eyes locked with the ground. Aubrey seemed livid, but she sat stony and silent, waiting for more of an explanation. The one that came only made things worse.

“I just don’t see why you would even wanna be around them anymore,”

Aubrey, loyal beyond words, had swooped in to defend the rest of her gang, claiming that they were good people who were great friends. This had only made Kel scoff, which infuriated her even more. Basil was used to Aubrey and Kel getting into arguments, he was even okay with the escalated fight that had happened at the dock (seeing as he blamed himself for causing it), but this was unlike any of those.

Normally it was Kel who kept fairly cool during these things, and Aubrey that went ballistic. Yes, Kel fought right back with her and gave as good as he got, but he had always seemed calm and collected, mostly joking around and poking fun at how red Aubrey’s face would get.

Now it was his cheeks that were tinged, and his throat that was raw from screaming, in a way that Basil had never seen before. He stayed silent and tried to keep himself small, hands clasping together over his chest as he tried to remember the deep breathing techniques Polly had been teaching him. They didn’t seem to be working. A quick glance to the side showed Sunny in a similar state of distress, watching their friends argue with a wide eye and clear panic etched into his features.

Aubrey and Kel’s argument devolved fast, going from something that held worth to just being insults hurled back and forth. They began to advance on each other, clearly done with words and moving past to blows, but a voice cut through, breaking the intensity that had caught them all firmly in its grip.

“What’s going on?”

The four of them turned around simultaneously, varying stages of guilt evident on everyone’s faces. Hero emerged from the brush, carrying a large wooden picnic basket on one arm, his mouth turned downwards.

He surveyed the moment and sighed, a tired sound that betrayed a weight that they all knew Hero carried but refused to let them bear with him. The eldest walked over and gently placed the basket down on the blanket, glancing at each of them in turn.

“You okay, Sunny?” Hero asked, and Sunny nodded. He seemed calmer now that someone was intervening, but fear was still there. Hero patted him once on the top of his head and peered around the youngest. “Basil?”

Basil nodded too, his own words caught in his throat. It wasn’t the same as when Something had been squeezing him too tight to breathe, it wasn’t that bad yet, but it was still pretty bad. Nothing he couldn’t handle though, and Basil knew that Hero needed to be focusing on the other two right now. With both of them checked on, Hero stood at his full height and stared at the others.

“Explain,”

Both teens burst into words, voices raising as they tried to shout over each other and interject to disprove what the other had just claimed. Hero listened to the cacophony for a moment and then raised his hands, yelling over them to quiet down. Once it was settled again, Hero turned to Aubrey.

“Aubrey, you go first. You can talk with no interruptions. Then Kel is going to talk with no interruptions, and we’re all going to listen to each other. I want each of you to explain to me why you’re fighting, okay?” Both teens nodded, and Hero sat down, gesturing for the other two to sit back down as well. They did, and then Aubrey began to talk.

“Out of nowhere Kel starts going off about my friends and talking bad about them for no reason,” Kel made a noise here and Hero looked at him. The younger brother rolled his eyes but stayed silent, and Hero waved a hand at Aubrey to continue, “I don’t get why he’s so angry, but I don’t care. He had no right to say all of those things. That’s why they don’t like you, you just assume the worst of them.”

Kel shot a harsh glare towards the girl, something fiery and fueled with a deep rage that was completely out of character for him. Then when he spoke, the oddities only continued.

“I didn’t start ‘out of nowhere’. You started this by saying you wanted us all to hang out with them. Like we’re all pals. Did you forget that the only thing you did when you spent time with them was bully people and act like none of us mattered to you? You keep talking about how you wanna change, but you don’t. You just want to act like nothing you did mattered. They bullied m- Basil for years! If you’re really our- his friend I don’t know why you don’t want to protect Basil from those guys,” Kel finished his speech with a huff, crossing his arms and curling in on himself.

“I apologized to Basil plenty already!” Aubrey replied, a glance to Hero when she began. When he didn’t interrupt her, she kept going, “He forgave me, and now we’re trying to get past it. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Maybe we should listen to what Basil thinks?” Hero suggested, trying to keep the conversation from riding off the rails as it had before, “If you’re both so worried about him, it seems like his opinion would be the most important thing here,”

Then all eyes were on him, waiting to hear what he had to say. Basil twisted his fingers in his lap and laughed nervously, his mouth filling with cotton as both sides of the argument clearly looked for his backing.

“I-I don’t know?” He finally replied, the words sounding small and useless, only making everyone madder, “I wouldn’t mind trying I guess. Seeing if if it works out, ya know?”

Hero perked up here, shooting Basil a grateful smile. Aubrey seemed vindicated and her anger began to melt. The tension eased out of the air, and Basil breathed out. It was all going to be okay now. It was just a regular Kel and Aubrey fight. They would hug the way Hero always forced them to at the end of their arguments, and then the five of them could enjoy the afternoon together.

“Kel, if Basil is okay with it then it’s fine. Why don’t you two hug and make up and then-”

“What if I’m not okay with it, Hero?!” Kel exploded, cutting his brother off, “What about that?!”

Stunned silence coupled with an even stronger tension surrounding the group. Kel and Aubrey fighting he could understand, even Kel and Aubrey dragging Hero in to play referee he could understand, but never before had Basil seen Kel yell at Hero. Kel worshipped the ground Hero walked on, his big brother could do no wrong, and Basil had never seen any evidence that he ever had.

But Kel wasn’t done yet, and he continued his yelling. It was like something had cut into him with those words, and now that something, dark and black, was finally getting a chance to leak out of Kel. Basil knew all about Somethings. About how painful it was to live with them, about how they always eventually burst out and demanded to be seen. He just had never thought Kel might have a Something too.

“It isn’t fair that they get to spend years being terrible people. and then just act like they never did any of it. It isn’t fair that I have to just pretend like they weren’t awful to me. Like I didn’t spend most afternoons crying on my walk home because of them. Like I didn’t have to second guess everything single thing I did because they made me think that I was a bully.”

Basil had remembered hearing them calling Kel that before, and it had confused him then too. Kel had never done anything like bullying to anyone, but Basil had dismissed it. It seemed so ridiculous to him, he thought Kel would have just let it go too. Apparently not

“All I’ve ever done is try to help. I smiled and laughed and pretended like nothing bothered me because that’s what everyone else needed. And what did that get me? A bat to the face and being told by my own bullies that I was the one messing with them. They’re the bullies. Mean, angry bullies who I never did anything to. Except try to be friends with you.” Kel finally pulled his eyes to Aubrey with this final word, cutting his furious ranting off with a half laugh half sob. He brought his knees up to his chest and put his arms on top of them. He wasn’t crying, but the pain in his eyes was enough to make Basil’s own chest ache in sympathy.

“And then you let them call me a bully. When I didn’t do anything except try to help.”

Kel dropped his head against his knees, hiding and breathing harshly. His shoulders rose and fell. Up and down and up and down as he panted with exertion from his outburst of emotion. None of them made a sound. Basil wouldn’t have known what to say after that, and he was sure no one else did either. They also couldn’t have been prepared for the final blow that was about to be dealt.

“You all just wanna pretend like none of it ever happened...like all that time didn’t matter.” Kel’s voice was muffled, but the words hit all of them like a punch to the gut.

It wasn’t just about this one fight, it wasn’t even just about Aubrey’s friends. It was bigger, stretching out for years and years of suffering that had never been addressed. Basil’s breath caught in his throat, and he could see the others were in a similar state of shock. He looked down at his interlocked fingers, his stomach twisting up in knots.

It was so easy to forget with Kel. It was so simple to just get lost in his happy go lucky personality and his endless bounds of optimism. He always had time for them all, always willing to go that extra mile to help out his friends when they needed him.

He hadn’t given up on them. He hadn’t stopped knocking on Sunny’s door, even when he never answered. He hadn’t stopped saying hi to Basil, even when he didn’t say hi back. He hadn’t stopped encouraging Hero, even when Hero had no encouragement left to offer in return. He had even still looked for the good in Aubrey, when she had nothing good to say about him. That was just who Kel was, someone who kept trying.

But Basil knew better than any of them that a person could only be pushed so far before there was a part of them that was cracked and bleeding and needed others to heal it. Kel was a nice person, a happy person, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his moments of doubt. The times where he needed to rely on them instead of the other way around. He never pushed, so no one ever was forced to notice all the bad thoughts and emotions piling up under that sweet sunshine smile. It was just easy to forget that those things existed behind his joy and his upbeat attitude.

They were the people who should have remembered to look. They were the ones who should have known. They had all wanted things to go back to the way they were, but the truth was they couldn’t.

There was no way to erase four years, no way to let go of what had happened to Mari. It existed, it was real, and all of them had tried to ignore it. All except for Kel, who had done everything he could to hold them all together without so much as a complaint. He was right, instead of acknowledging his sacrifices, they had acted like none of it had ever happened. That was what was unchallenging, that was what took no effort. But that was also what was killing Kel inside.

He didn’t know what they could say that would even start to mend four years of their friend trying and failing and continuing to try against all hope. What could a person say to that kind of dedication? What kind of thanks could be given to someone who took on that burden without a word until it had nearly crushed him?

It turned out that Basil didn’t need to know the answer. There was someone else who did.

Aubrey rose up from her spot across from Kel on the picnic blanket and plopped down next to him, turning her head away from the other boy. Her hand moved to his, settling on his elbow and grabbing his attention. Kel raised his head, staring silently at her as she looked at him from the side.

Basil didn’t know what conversation the two of them had without words, but he suspected he would never know. Things like that were only ever meant for two people, and even asking about it was treading on something sacred. Whatever it was, it was enough for Kel to uncurl from the position he had put himself in. He sat on his knees facing Aubrey, and she turned to do the same. She took a deep breath and raised her head, meeting his gaze fully.

“I’m sorry,”

It wasn’t much, when it came down to it. It wasn’t a long speech filled with tears and impassioned pleas. Aubrey wasn’t on her knees begging for forgiveness, or making promises to be better. She hadn’t even said it in a special tone or in a whisper meant just for the two of them. It was an apology, nothing more, nothing less.

It wasn't really much, but it felt so big. They were all touched by her words, all impacted by the enormity of such a small but profound statement. Sunny edged closer and leaned against Basil, and the weight against his side was warm and grounding. He looked down at the top of Sunny’s head, and the vines looping around his spine eased away once more.

When he turned back, Aubrey and Kel were hugging, sitting up on their knees and clutching hard to one another. He wasn’t sure which one of them moved first, but it wasn’t something he had ever seen. Basil has only ever seen them giving each other quick little hugs, or the awkward side squeezes Hero demanded after their fights. But this wasn’t either of those. It was genuine and real, and they both seemed a little reluctant when they pulled apart.

Hero, ever the older brother, beamed and pulled the basket to the center of their group, changing the subject to the food that he and Kel made. To anyone outside of their group, it might have seemed like a callous way to change the subject, but the other four were grateful for something to switch their minds to.

With the moment over, Aubrey went back to her usual brusque, digging into the basket and pulling out a sandwich and bottle of water. She grabbed the food and Sunny’s hand, dragging him over to one of the corners and demanding to hear about his new house. Sunny obliged her, talking about his room and the renovation plans his mother had begun.

Kel drifted over to Hero, falling against his brother’s side and leaning his head against Hero’s shoulder. Basil didn’t interrupt, but he watched Hero wrap Kel in his arms and whisper in his ear, something that had to be comforting given how Kel nodded and snuggled closer to his brother. Hero squeezed Kel and turned to Basil.

“How’s the new garden coming along?”