#oh and yeah' that art theft is happening... again

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 6, In Which You Try To Look Away (It's Harder Than You Thought)

AO3

by the way, I saw today an art on twitter which is extremely Raul-coded

I am not a murderer, you thought as you ordered the ATM to give you another two hundred euros.

Even if I am, that guy deserved it, you thought as you re-inserted the card to give you two hundred more (damn those limits per withdrawal).

Even if he didn’t (and he did), nobody is going to miss him, and his fiancee will move on to the next lawyer in Oliver Peoples glasses soon enough, and besides, people die in freak accidents all the time. 

Even if they don’t, well, if every death wish resulted in an actual death, humanity would be long extinct and that wouldn't be your fault, would it now?

With that comforting thought, you pocketed the last of your ten thousand euro goal, tired from having to repeat the same task for almost an entire hour. Anything can happen, Raphael could cut off access to his account on a whim, but cold hard cash was something you could hold onto even if you fell from his grace.

"Ms. Berger," came a voice on your phone with a strong French accent the moment you picked up. It was Raphael’s banker, Francois-something, who gave you the PIN in the first place. “Would it be easier if we delivered cash directly to you? Your withdrawals keep triggering our petty theft alerts."

"Oh no, thank you," you replied, trying your best not to sound like a petty thief. "I have enough for now... I think."

“As you wish,” came his slow reply.

"But uh... could you help me make two bank transfers?" You asked after a pause. "One to my mother, Franziska Berger… (how much how much how much?) ten thousand euro, I’ll send you the details… and one for the stray cats shelter... (how much how much how much?)… five thousand euro?"

Too much? How do you quantify the cost of accidentally-on-purpose getting some useless yuppie run over by a bus in terms of absolving your sins? 

Five thousand felt somewhat stingy.

“The stray cats?” The banker repeated back at you as though questioning whether this was some sort of coded drug deal.

“Yes,” You replied firmly. “They do incredible work. Ah! The kids cancer foundation, too. Five thousand. No, ten".

That seemed about right for the guy’s life.

"Ah, you meant charity. Of course," Francois replied, relief and amusement in his tone. "Lovely, great for the ESG rating. Make sure to get an invoice for the tax refund."

It didn’t quite sit well with you to use stray cats and kids for tax refunds, but you still said yes and stashed the money deep down the rucksack. You got a bit of cash for now (soon you will go for more, because who knows), but it’s still not an income source. 

What could be? Should you ask Raphael to buy an apartment in your name, or two? You could rent it. Or a company? Tenebris, for instance. Just imagine their gobsmacked faces - especially after they gave you the boot without even a severance package.

That was a delicious thought.

You let it simmer as you sat down in an tourist-trappy Italian restaurant in the city centre, just about to order an Aperol Spritz when your phone began to ring again. You are in high demand these days.

"Anya!" Your mum gasped on the other end of the line. “I saw you on TV!"

Sure, the accident was all over the news channels. Some blurred out the dead body better than others did. You would bet your last cent that the unedited version got more views.

"Yeah, gruesome," you grimaced.

"Gruesome? Why? Ah, you mean the guy. Well, that happens all the time; they really give driving licences to anyone these days. I do hope the driver rots in prison for what he did to this poor young man. Anyway, no. I called to say, I saw you and Raul on the news”.

She managed to infuse an uncanny amount of innuendo into the last sentence.

“Raul is such a handsome man, Anya”, she sighed wistfully. “Quite the catch you got there, huh?”

There we go again. 

“What, way out of my league?”, you joked dryly. “I’ve been told that”.

“Oh, no, what nonsense! You are such a pretty girl!” Your mother protested. “More importantly, a good-hearted girl raised right; I am glad there still are decent men who still appreciate that. Did you meet Raul for a lunch?”

“Oh no,” You replied nonchalantly. "We actually… ah, we actually went to a church. He introduced me to his pastor."

Your mother sucked in an audible gasp like she'd won some kind of maternal lottery.

“His pastor, already? I am so happy for you, sweetie.”, she finally managed to say. “This is like a fairy tale come true”.

Yeah, a Grimm one.

“Sort of”, you chuckled. '“By the way, you will receive a bank transfer soon, ten thousand euro, don’t be afraid. It’s… well, take care of your health, okay? Get a decent dentist this time, a private one”.

“Where do you have the money from? Is it his?”, your mum suddenly sobered up. “Anya, what on earth is he paying you money for? I hope you are not doing anything… anything…”

"No," you cut her off and licked your lips, recalling the last thing that passed between them. “Mom, please! It's not his money, it's my company’s – long story.”

One that you haven't come up with yet.

Besides, if Raphael was giving you ten thousand dollars (thirty-five thousand in total with your other expenses for the day) for one blowjob, then you definitely had a successful career, just not in the field you had planned on.

“Okay,” your mum replied. “But still...you don’t need to...why don’t you buy some nice dresses instead? What on earth was that t-shirt you were wearing to a church?"

“I am hanging up”, You threatened half-heartedly.

You didn’t. You listened in the background to the story of how your mum’s school friend called her to say she saw “her Anya” with a very handsome man on the TV, nonplussed by the fact there was a scattered corpse in the background. 

In the meanwhile, you opened Google on your phone. 

You didn’t fancy doing that before - annoyed by that fake persona Raphael had created. But since he obviously put that much effort in it, it’s worth looking up what he had been up to and for how long.

Nothing good, for sure.

"…Raul D'Avergni, managing partner of an international law firm, inherited the private equity conglomerate, Avernus Capital. This transition was precipitated by the unexpected and tragic passing of his father..."

"…By December 2024, D'Avergni's high-profile liaison with Isabelle Arnaud, actress and socialite, had unceremoniously ended..."

No. Who? No. You didn’t need any ex-girlfriends.

"…Ms. Arnaud levied abuse accusations against Mr. D'Avergni…”

Oh, no…

“…she retracted her claims within a mere twenty hours and ensued a public apology for any harm inflicted upon D’Avergni’s reputation..."

Hmm.

"…her psychiatrist intervened on her behalf. Evidently, Arnaud was grappling with severe mental health issues that led her to make unfounded allegations..."

Raul likes them crazy, they said? Or makes them crazy?

"…Ms. Arnaud now resides in a high-end medical institution in Monaco, focusing on her mental health issues..."

What did Isabelle look like, you wondered, as your mum finished her talk and wished you a good day. You typed her name into the search bar, holding your breath in anticipation as you half-expected to see Hope's face staring back at you.

The woman clinging to Raphael's arm at some fancy film premiere bore no resemblance.

Your stomach sank as if it had plunged into the depths of hell.

She was exactly the type of woman Raphael should have on his elbow; a timeless beauty, but something more Renaissance like, the kind of faces humankind seemed to have stopped producing. She was in her mid-twenties, as well, but… hell, you could not hold a candle to that. Few could. 

Not even the Tavs. She resembled her namesake, Isabelle Adjani, in her youth, maybe even better.

The pictures showed her laughing and looking deeply in love while gazing up at Raphael, while he offered only a very formal smile to the camera. So not Hope then. Nothing like their story. She was in love, he wasn’t. 

Good.

Later snaps by paparazzi painted a different picture: a gaunt woman hidden behind oversized sunglasses and swallowed up by her hoodie, clutching to her coffee cup. 

With a swift click, you banished Isabelle from your screen and plunged further into Raphael's (Raul’s) life story.

You found a photo of Raphael in his twenties (yes, just like the Tumblr post you hated, and no, you wouldn't have fucked him at that age), caught up in a minor scandal in Sankt Moritz (apparently his fraternity brother had pissed on the Swiss flag), more gossip, his philanthropic affairs for local theatres and art galleries, numerous articles praising his professional achievements, and interviews with Lawyer and WSJ and the like. There was mention of a brief marriage and divorce in his early thirties, but when you tried to Google the woman's name, nothing came up.

The whole thing left a sour taste in your mouth. This was someone's real life story, not a fictional character. Raphael wasn't just some wealthy corporate jerk; he was a half-devil from Avernus, which was infinitely better and more sympathetic.

You were well aware that Raphael wasn't exactly a good guy. But he had his rules; he had to have his rules. As for the whole thing with Hope though... What exactly was she? An idea? A person? The fandom barely discussed her, and what little they did, you didn't like; all horrible takes, every single one.

The whole plot felt half-baked.

Anyway, what seeing Isabelle did motivate you to do was to take a real stroll down the city's most expensive boutique street.

Now, the first thing you bought was not because you wanted or needed anything, but because Raphael expected you to. You were not much of a materialist anyway; you were ideologically opposed to consumerism. These things were overpriced, generally not worth it and, on a larger scale, represented everything that was wrong with society.

You decided to enter a Valentino store out of curiosity, as you had never been inside one before. The saleswoman's disdainful look at your T-shirt motivates you to buy a black dress with a white collar, not necessarily because you liked it, but because you want to prove that you can afford it, despite the price tag of two thousand euros. 

Well, you liked it a little. The wool and silk blend was great to touch.

The details of the rest of the shopping trip became a bit hazy. You had your reasons; the consort of an Archdevil Supreme had to look really nice. If you couldn't be as pretty as Isabelle, you could at least dress as well as she did. So you started with some nice blouses and trousers, and a (just one) jacket. With that, you needed shoes. With shoes, of course, you needed a bag. Now that you had a bag (you closed your eyes as the price flashed at the till), you needed some jewellery (you needed to see what all the fuss about Tiffany's was about). And, of course, you needed make-up. 

At each shop, the sales assistants smiled wider and wider as you piled more and more bags onto your arms. By the seventh stop, it felt like their smiles were entering uncanny valley territory. 

Eventually, the banker would call you, right? But when exactly would that be? You tried to find out, but failed. It had to be over forty thousand.

The thought made you dizzy. In one day you had spent your entire year's salary. Now all you could do was hope that Raphael wouldn't make you work off the debt somehow. Unless it was the kind of work your mother suspected you were already doing for him.

You came out of the last shop with five bags and the feeling that you were a very shitty socialist. Since you couldn't carry any more, the shopping concierge (apparently it's a real job) offered to store the bags until your driver picked you up, and just as you were about to say which bloody driver, whom do you take me for, you remembered that you actually had one.

"Mrs Berger," the receptionist said cheerfully the moment she saw you in the door. "Nice to see you again! How can I help you? Oh, yes. The driver, of course. Yes, of course, let me put you through to Mr D'Avergni's personal assistant".

Oh, it's Mrs Berger and my pleasure? They were wondering if the rumours about you wanting the guy to be run over by a bus were already out there. The personal assistant's name was Camilla, her voice was the embodiment of professionalism, and she was the one who could take you to the driver, who was there in no time.

His name was Yuri and he was more talkative than you would have liked. Gruff, huge, way too big for the car he was driving (any vehicle known to man would be too small for him), with a deep booming voice and the face of someone who had spent half his life behind bars.

"Have you seen that poor bastard? All over the main road," he remarked as he passed the street cleaners. "Probably too busy fiddling with his phone to keep an eye out."

"Mghgm," you offered. 

"So, are we stopping by your place first, Miss Berger? Boss said you wanted to get some things first. Are you moving in?"

"Am I?" You ask, surprised by the news yourself, and then think to yourself: "Why not?”

Why the hell not.

****

You didn't waste any time. With a tidy suitcase in tow, you were out the door of your apartment before Yuri could get too bored. You packed the essentials - toothbrush, laptop, documents - and a few other things that suddenly felt crucial to your life.

Out the car window you watched the cityscape change from urban jungle to manicured suburbia and finally to a small gated community. The driver talked politics (he had exactly the kind of convictions you'd expect), then about how amazing Raul was (and how extremely open-minded he was to give an ex-con a job), before returning to politics. 

You didn't ask what crime Yuri did his time for. 

You knew it was Raphael's house the moment you saw it through the car window. Who else would live in such a place? Not a house, that's too boring a term; a villa, all intricate stonework, marble and terracotta, such a flamboyant display of wealth that it should have been taxed just to exist. 

Only a devil or a mafia don would call such grandeur home. So much, too much, theatrical to the point of grotesqueness; no real person could possibly live like this. You couldn't help but wonder if Raphael had been influenced by the films he had seen - perhaps he had developed a taste for modern cinema.

He must have liked The Godfather.

This place. The fountains, the statues (classical, Roman, as if sculpted by the ghost of Michelangelo), the gardens. You wondered how many souls it took to keep this whole thing running.

The gates opened and the car drove you into an underground car park that was already very busy and very Italian: Ferraris, Maseratis, Lamborghinis. You counted; eight. Who needed eight cars? Not even one for each day of the week. 

The lift took you up; Yuri left your shopping bags and suitcase in the foyer and said goodbye.

You'd never set foot in such a house before; the closest you'd ever come was drooling over Sotheby's property listings.

Why would anyone need all this space? For just one person? It was at least six hundred square metres; and the guest and service house looked like another two hundred. The kitchen and dining area was three times the size of your apartment.

You could play golf here.

For what it's worth, the villa didn't remind you of the House of Hope. Firstly, it was completely empty; the servants, if they were in there, managed to make themselves invisible. Second, it lacked the baroque, replaced by the dolce vita and flair of a Lake Como residence. Thirdly, there were no self-portraits, not even pictures, nothing to suggest that the man who lived here had a face, a history, let alone a family.

The first floor was devoted to entertaining guests: the kitchen, the dining room, the library, the ballroom (you guessed this kind of rooms used to be called ballrooms, he even had a piano in it). The second floor was half-locked, except for the master bedroom (the bed easily could accommodate two orthons and a cambion sandwiched between them) and the dressing room. 

There was also a basement - the entrance blocked by a number lock. You considered trying the PIN combination, but decided you didn't want to snoop down there... well, you wanted to snoop very badly, but you didn't want to face the possible consequences. Unless they resembled those in his private club.

So you roamed both floors twice before staking claim to your new sleeping quarters in the master bedroom by putting your suitcase down there. You checked everything else in the room: Raphael's bedside glasses, his choice of books (predictably, Machiavelli, but not The Prince, another book you had never heard of called Mandragola), even his dark silk pyjamas, which lay on the chaise awaiting their owner's return. You open his drawer: hand lotion, velvet sleeping mask, lubricant, two opera tickets (Götterdammerung) from about a month ago... 

Then curiosity led you to look under his bed, where he indeed had something stored: a large black storage box.

Oh, you just had to have a look. 

Just to get an idea of what’s on the evening programme.

Handcuffs, the real kind, the police kind, metal ones. The thought of all the women (and men) who might have been bound with them, as jealous as it made you feel, was titillating. A whip and a crop. Yes, that works for you. And what's this? Butt plugs? Only if they were still sealed in their original packaging (you were not into that kind of hand-me-downs) and way smaller. A chastity belt? Well, that's... intriguing, but probably not in your first month together. A hook? That can stay where it is.

At least nothing too extreme like needles or enemas or any of the other disgusting things you sometimes saw on weird porn sites.

Underneath all that, toys and accessories, lay another plain black box. Oh, a box in a box. Something was written on it.. 

GOOD EVENING CURIOUS LITTLE MOUSE

"Good evening," you said as you opened the lid.

Then promptly closed it again.

"No," you said. "No, no, no. It was just a fic I read and liked, I was very horny, but it's not really my thing. No, thank you. Just because I didn't have a father doesn't mean I have daddy issues. I don't care about the guy, he never cared about me, end of story".

You took a deep breath before opening the box again, hoping that the items inside had disappeared. 

But to your dismay, they were still there: a velvet collar adorned with "Daddy's Little Mouse" in shimmering gold thread, a headband with mouse ears, red lace cobweb-thin lingerie and a tail-butt plug (thankfully still in its original packaging and on the smaller side). The tail was furry and tipped with white, so you must have been a dormouse.

All of the toys were top quality, handmade, and incredibly vulgar. Well, no surprise, having seen what Haarlep was wearing in his house.

You closed the box shut again.

"I'd rather cook us something to eat," you suggested, getting up. "Some pasta. I bet you like pasta?"

You definitely liked pasta and hoped that Raul (Raphael, Raphael) would not have you hanged on the hooks and tortured for your very non-Italian interpretation. You hoped in vain, because he chimed in and tried to stop you from committing a crime:

"Working late. Don't bother with dinner. Take some time to relax and enjoy yourself. R".

As you descended the stairs, ignoring his text, you wondered - did he ever cook? Or was his kitchen just for show, with the real work done in the servants' quarters (do they still call them quarters?).

You forgot that question the moment you saw what was lying on the marble kitchen counter.

The same box you had left upstairs, still with 

GOOD EVENING DISOBEDIENT LITTLE MOUSE 

on it. 

You blinked and took two large steps back. 

The box seemed to crawl forward in response.

You shrieked; this was a bit too much. Raphael's presence, the supernaturality of it, had been subtle before; now it was becoming a bit performative.

"I got your hint," you said, your voice a shaky laugh. "Don't scare me, please. Please."

The box stayed where it was, but it radiated an energy of impatience, as if it might jump at you if you neglected it any longer.

“Fine,” you conceded, coming a bit closer. “A little romance would’ve been nice but…”

"Setting romantic atmosphere," a cheerful female voice said.

who the fuck who the fuck who the fuck

Alexa. 

Fucking smart home systems. The lights dimmed to a soft orange glow, the heavy curtains closed with a soft whoosh and a familiar tune echoed off the walls, the ballroom piano playing in the distance:

I put a spell on you

Because you're mine

The melody was familiar and so was the voice behind it - smooth, silky and oh so captivating (the adjectives you would use to describe it could fill many romance novels). A deep, rich baritone. You chuckled - had Raphael discovered blues? It suited him. 

You know I cannot stand it

You running around

You loved his interpretation of the song. It felt so intimate, him singing to you, so... very, very special. Your fear vanished in an instant; you poured yourself a glass of wine and took a luxurious sip.

"I'll put these on for you," you laughed, putting all the flirt you ever had in this laugh. "But don't expect me to call you 'Daddy'."

There was no protest; Raphael was too busy singing, pouring his entire soul into it. You made yourself busy too; stripping. You weren't very skilled (any skilled), but the thrill of being watched by him awakened something in you. You caught your reflection in the mirror and damn, you were hot. 

Shrugging off your shirt and sliding down your plain black briefs, you swayed your hips at your reflection as the wine worked its magic on your mind. For once in your life, you felt genuinely attractive; he made you feel genuinely attractive. The sexiest you'd ever been. 

Slipping into the silky red lace lingerie he had chosen for you (splurged on, because it was a La Perla) - you fastened the collar around your neck. A long golden chain dangled from it, wrapped twice around the hook and cascaded down your back. Then you put the mouse ears - not cartoonish, not Minnie Mouse ones, but real fur and incredibly lifelike - on your head like a headband. 

You looked like...well, precisely what your mother suspected you were doing to pay the bills. But at least high-end. Very high-end. The only thing worse than being an escort is being a cheap one.

But there was one more item left in the box.

"Ehh," you said at the sight of the mouse tail, especially the part that was meant to be inserted. "I'm going to need... I'm going to the bedroom."

It had been ages since your last foray into such play; back when you were with that boyfriend who constantly pestered you about anal and found it somehow arousing to "accidentally" (sure, mate) poke you and mumble an insincere "oops, wrong hole". 

You didn't stick around much longer after that.

Stretched out on Raphael's sumptuous bed, you slicked up everything - the plug, your pussy, your arse - with copious amounts of lube. First, some warming. So you began to rub yourself, two fingers finding their familiar way to your clit. You couldn't shake the crawling feeling of being watched, every inch of your body scrutinised by unseen eyes.

"Raphael," you called out into the empty room, desperate for some form of interaction or response. "I would love it if you would join me... or say something pleasant”.

Now would be the perfect time to call me a good girl.

But there was no response, just an eerie silence in the room. Feeling too naked and too slutty, you pulled the blanket over you, a makeshift barrier between you and his eyes. Under the fortification, tucking the tail in seemed less daunting.

Before you could get down to business, there was a jerk at the blanket, which fell to the cold floor, leaving you bare again. Then another tug on the chain attached to your collar, pulling you closer to the bedpost.

"I'm sorry," you gasped breathlessly, both hands instinctively reaching for your collar. "I won't hide."

The chain didn’t let go, making a point out of a slight pressure around your neck. Taking a deep breath, you focused on the task at hand, stroking your clit as you guided the plug inside you. 

You told yourself to relax and take it slow; just imagine it's Haarlep. How many times had you dreamed of being squeezed and stretched between the two of them? It was always Haarlep who took you from behind; it just seemed more their style.

The plug slid in deeper. It didn't hurt, and the little discomfort it caused added to the excitement. 

Damn, this is so dirty. 

"It's in," you said as the plug settled inside you. "All the way in. What's next?"

The words were barely out of your mouth when the golden chain, suddenly a snake-like lasso, wrapped tightly around your wrists.

Pulled them towards the bedpost, stretched out and bound tightly to either side. Fear gripped you and you clenched around the plug, pulling your knees tight together.

Tightly. Very tight. A little too tight. You tried to wriggle, the metal biting your skin; you could move your hips a little, but no more. 

You couldn't get out yourself, which was not good news when you were alone (well, almost) in a very big house. Your mind immediately thought of that girl in Gerald's Game.

"Raphael?" you asked. “It’s not that kind of game, is it? It’s a nice game? Can we play a nice game?”

He did not answer, but you heard footsteps. Footsteps coming down the long corridor. Confident, quick and very purposeful.

Stay calm, stay calm, it's him, it's him, who else could it be? Haarlep? The orthon? The driver? 

The door swung open.

It was Raphael, and he was visibly surprised to see you in this state, which was absolute bullshit considering he was responsible for tying you to this very bed. 

"Well, I'll be damned," he said, covering the distance to the bed in two strides. "What a welcome home surprise, piccola." 

Raphael gave you a lecherous, wet-lipped smile and knelt on the bed between your legs. There was something boyish about it, an expression you'd never seen in the game, as if he'd just found his first bike under the Christmas tree.

You searched for “piccola” earlier today: “baby” or “little girl” in Italian. 

"I'm not going to call you Daddy," you repeated, and Raphael shook his head and laughed, not seeming at all horrified at the thought (and he should be).

"I have some compelling evidence to the contrary, Daddy's little mouse," he teased, his fingers playing with your collar. 

"Anything but Daddy," you pleaded. "That's just... demeaning."

Weirdly incestual, too. You haven’t even seen the guy, not a photo, not a… (don’t think of him why the fuck would you think of the old bastard now).

“This is the whole appeal of it, is it not?”, he said. “How would you prefer to address me then?"

Raphael? Something told you that telling him that would make him very angry, and you weren't exactly in a position to want an angry man on top of you. Raul? No, that name just felt completely wrong and made you feel like you were in a Spanish soap opera. 

Raphael began to unbutton his shirt one button at a time, revealing a white undershirt, which he then took off. 

His physique was impressive for a man of his age; not those bodybuilder abs from bg3 but a well-toned body shaped by workouts and diets, which seemed to be very much at odds with his indulgent ways. Rough brown hair spread across his chest and lower abdomen against honey-tanned skin. Every inch of him seemed so put together, so perfectly groomed.

"Master," you finally decided (there was this one fanfic…) as you spread your legs wider in an invitation. 

"Master?" Raphael seemed amused, his fingers tracing the lace of your bra, teasing your hardened nipples through the fabric. "Such flattery. So this makes you my slave girl? Tied up and ready for me to use as I please?"

Reading Raphael say such things was one thing, but hearing him actually say them in real life made you feel embarrassed. It was a bit, ugh... 

“You get flustered easily for someone who waited for me dressed like this, little mouse,” Raphael raised an eyebrow at your see-through lace. “Topolina." 

He wrinkled his nose and laughed, as if the word was funnier in Italian, and poked the tips of your mouse ears. You wanted him so badly that your lips caught his as he came closer and you pushed your tongue into his mouth. He kissed your back, his hands moving up and down your body. 

"How the hell did you manage..." he mused aloud as he studied your bound wrists.

His fingers ventured between your legs, and the moment he stumbled upon your tail, his whole body twitched with excitement, his breath catching in his throat as he traced the soft fur to reach the base of the plug. 

The playful gleam in his eyes was replaced by an intense, wild desire.

"Merda," he breathed out. "Look at that. Aren't you a dirty little girl?"

You cringed at how pornographic the line sounded (his suddenly much thicker Italian accent didn't help), but Raphael seemed to find it excruciatingly erotic.

In one swift motion, he lunged forward and forced your legs apart, his hands pulling your knees towards your chest, folding you in until your muscles screamed in protest at the stretch. 

Without warning, he thrust deep inside of you. You gasped in surprise; no preliminaries, no foreplay, no taking it slowly, just raging, explosive lust.

Fortunately, your own fingers had done their job earlier, so despite the brutal force of his first thrust, pleasure surged through you, along with a sharp twinge of friction as his cock rubbed against the toy lodged inside you.

He seemed to relish the sensation and so did you. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as your body arched beneath him; stretched and pinned by his weight, trapped, surrendering to the relentless pounding that followed - raw and invasive and yet so fulfilling.

You were so looking forward to coming again from his penetration alone. The mere thought made you pull harder on your restraints, craving the delicious pain of being bound. The furry tail must have tickled his balls because he tucked it under you so that it would tease you instead. 

"Cross your ankles behind my back," Raphael rasped into your shoulder as he grazed it with his stubbled chin. "Yes, just like that... now tilt your hips."

You responded with your most submissive “yes, master”, making his cock twitch inside you, and then sifted your hips to better accommodate his pleasure. Wrapped your legs tightly around him, pulling him in deeper, pain-pleasure soaring through you. You sniffed his hair. 

His cologne (worn leather, cherry liqueur, bitter almonds) smelled so good oh so good.

He slid his arms underneath your arse, lifting you towards him at every thrust. 

Raphael said few words after that, grunting and thrusting and thrusting. Something about him was different this time - something very human - from how his sweat-soaked hair stuck to his forehead to his expressions of sheer lust that bordered on comical at times. 

One thing remained the same - the pleasure his pounding brought you, the familiar hooks of approaching orgasm - not any orgasm, the orgasm of being with him, his sharp talons - sinking inches deep into your flesh again. 

fuck does he feel good

rough or tender it just feels so good

his cock his tongue his breath on your neck

You screamed "fuck me", then once again, louder, not caring how obscene you sounded, and bit his shoulder without a second thought. 

The scream that escaped you was higher pitched than you had intended.

do whatever whatever you want whatever you want with me

Raphael's face creased with annoyance as his strong finger pressed into your cheek. "Easy…easy… piccola... I appreciate…. a good performance… not …overacting," he scolded as he went at you harder, pushing you to the point of pain.

hurt me

fuck me fuck me harder

You would have protested at the implication that you were pretending, but you were too busy coming under him, his hand clamped over your mouth before your temporal insanity could drive you to actually call him ‘daddy’.

If he wanted you to why wouldn’t you he is so sweet to you oh so sweet to you

The scream was swallowed by his palm as an orgasm, brutal in its intensity and lightning-fast, ripped through you, whip-snaked it. You greeted your release with a wail, biting into his hand. Raphael paused mid-thrust, apprehensive of how your pussy convulsed around him and your leg spasmed uncontrollably - if this was a performance, you deserved an award.

"You weren't pretending," he panted, awe-struck. "My apologies. You were not".

The realisation frenzied him; he spilled within a minute after, rutting into you with intensity belying his age. Utterly spent, he collapsed on top of you, his breath, cherries and tobacco, warming your throat as his cock softened within you.

"I may have gotten a little carried away," he said, sounding embarrassed and slightly apologetic as he lay down beside you. "But it seems you're more than content."

You eagerly and quickly nodded.

"Are you that... passionate with every man?" He asked as he helped you free your wrists - jealousy creeping into his voice at the mention of that mysterious 'every man'.

You couldn't help but laugh at the question. "No," you replied. "Far from it. You are not just any man. You are anything but."

Raphael let out a sigh of relief and kissed you, making no effort to hide how much your compliment pleased him. 

When you parted, you hopped awkwardly off the bed - the odd gait one adopts when they have a plug in them (no way were you going to remove it in his presence, no way) and cum was trickling down your thighs. 

Shit, the condom. Now you forgot to ask him to wear it.

Would he have?..

Ah, screw it. Google says Plan B is effective for up to 72 hours after unprotected sex, so you'll take it tomorrow - for tonight and last night. You'd never been this careless before, but hell, you'd never murdered people with a mere thought or slept with an Archdevil of Hell.

Raphael was still lying there, basking in the afterglow, when you returned.

"I have to admit, Anya... I'm seriously thinking of proposing," he murmured with such tenderness as you snuggled against him that you wondered if Raphael really was incapable of love.

"That would be quick," you replied, but made it sound like you wouldn't mind at all.

"Quick?" he scoffed. "A man knows what he wants in a woman the moment he sets eyes on her. Unfortunately, there are very few left in your generation."

You smiled, already dreaming of being the Archduchess of Hell, and half-dreaming in general from sheer exhaustion and satisfaction. 

"They lied about you being bad in bed," you murmured as sleep began to take over. "I knew it was all bullshit."

"They?" He asked, his face contorting into a scowl at your sentence. "Who are they? Anya, for God's sake, stop reading those trashy tabloids."

You closed your eyes for a moment. When you half-opened them, you saw him on the balcony outside, in a black silk robe, AirPods in his ears and a cigarette in his mouth. Behind him you could see the smoke and fire of the Avernus mountain ridge, the fireballs cascading down from the sky. Beautiful. 

Raphael gestured with his free hand, aggressively, and you listened a little closer; fortunately he was more than loud.

"...we will bleed them dry if they dare to break our agreement..."

"...they knowingly and willingly accepted our terms, they will choke on the consequences..."

"...all must pay their dues, sooner or later..."

"...an army? We have our own army..."

A yawn escaped your lips as you snuggled deeper into the plush pillows of the massive bed. Everything, except the AirPods, fit perfectly into the image of Archdevil Supreme.

You felt so chosen, so alive, so gloriously alive, and your life had just begun.

"Are you coming soon?" you called out as you tried to think of an appropriate nickname for him - something intimate, but not too cheesy. Darling? Baby? Sweetheart? Love? My favourite devil?

But he beat you to it before you could decide.

"Soon, my love. Rest," he blew you a kiss. With a loud click, he shut the glass door and cut you off from hearing the rest of their conversation. You let out a contented sigh and rolled over onto your side, drifting into a peaceful slumber.

"My love," you said in your sleep. "Raphael called me his love”.

****

The urgent need to go to pee woke you. The time was a mystery, but it must have been late enough for Raphael to have gone to bed too.

He was pressed close to you, his hand cupping your breast. You looked over your shoulder; asleep, peaceful, in buttoned pyjamas, and it was the one moment when he did not look threatening at all; vulnerable, if anything. You kissed him on the cheek and he smiled in his sleep and held you close. 

When you came back from your short (not really, a good thirty metres to the toilet) trip to the bathroom, you snuggled closer to him, preparing to doze off again, and then you heard something.

You listened closer, thinking you had dreamed it first.

Soft, gentle whimpers. You recognised the voice. You didn't know how, but you did. Something childishly cheerful and slightly mad about it.

Oh, no. No. You were happy, spooning with Raphael, and you didn't need this shit right now, especially when things were finally going so well.

Hope, please, you begged.

You got all your happy endings, so many of them, wonderful endings where Raphael was killed by the player and you got to live and your revenge and whatnot. Can I have one too, please? Without you whining and making me feel guilty for something I didn't even do?

"My love," you asked Raphael softly, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his side. "Can you let her go?"

"Mmm," Raphael murmured in his sleep, "Sure, piccola. Whatever you wish for."

You waited for him to act, but he only tightened his grip on the blanket and shifted slightly.

"You have all the hells and the crown and everything (and me). You don't need her anymore," you tried again. 

"Anya, let me sleep," Raphael mumbled into his pillow, away from your voice. You tried to hide from her voice under your pillow as well, but you could still hear the soft, painful moans. 

Ugh. 

They were very, very far away, but still there.

"She's still wailing," you complained, taking him by the shoulder and shaking him a little. "Raphael? Raphael?"

 "Who is wailing?” he groaned in pure frustration, and then made a half-hearted attempt at listening. “Ah, merda, not that bloody bitch again! I swear, I will plug that hole myself!"

You tried to make sense of that sentence and couldn't, but what you did get was that it promised Hope nothing good and sounded vaguely vulgar, which was even worse. 

"Don't hurt Hope," you begged, appalled by his threat. "She doesn't deserve it!"

"I don't deserve it either," Raphael retorted before turning away from you. "Please be quiet."

He should direct this request to his prisoner. 

What had really happened between them? You didn't think his obsession with Hope was sexual because, well, because, for example, he fucked you and you both enjoyed it, so he was definitely into consent, and Hope was more like a metaphor, a concept, a point to be made, and some shitty fucking rushed Act 3 writing.

"You... you didn't hurt her like that, did you? There was some talk... With that boudoir line... It was misinterpreted... right?"

Right. He may be evil, but he is lawful evil. He believed in consent and seduction, not violence. 

"I haven't hurt anyone, what in damnation are you talking about?" he growled through gritted teeth, and you let out a small sigh of relief.  "But if I don't get some rest, I might."

He hadn't hurt Hope. He wouldn't lie. He cannot; devils can deceive, but not outright lie. You read it somewhere.

Okay, he's not going to let her go and he's not going to help you and Hope was certainly not going to shut up. You have to go to her. And say what? Say what? Sorry for your predicament and the centuries of torture, Hope, but could you please be a bit quieter, me and Raphael just had sex and are trying to sleep? 

Let her go? And lose his favour, his credit card and the place next to him in his bed?

Yes, come on. It would be the right thing to do and you would do it. 

Where was she anyway, you wondered as you walked down the stairs. In the cellar? Hanging from the ceiling? You still don't have the key to the cellar. When you reached the ground floor, the kitchen, you realised that the noises were not coming from the cellar - they were coming from outside.

Outside? Did he hang her on a tree on this cold April night? 

You put on his trench coat and slipped into your sneakers. This was so unnecessarily evil, you thought, suddenly feeling much less happy about everything, especially as the pained whimpering got closer. Hardly human, you thought, more like a creature trapped and desperately trying to free itself. 

Yes, definitely more of a creature.

In fact, it reminded you of a dog. You searched the darkness of the night, determined to find it, and there it was: a dachshund wedged between the ground and a large, weathered fence, whimpering into the still night. 

The poor thing must have thought it was quite the burglar, trying to burrow under a hole in the fence to pull through. But it only managed to get itself stuck.

"Oh, poor baby," you said as you approached the dog. "Let's see if we can get you out."

You pulled on the fence to widen the opening and the cub was free.

It licked your hand in gratitude. Dogs love you. All animals do, and it's quite mutual. You had a harder time with people.

There were distant, panicked cries for Steffie somewhere in the distance; the owner was out on a rescue mission. You took the dachshund in your lap and went to meet her.

The woman was in her sixties, dark brown hair, a very aged beauty, and she looked a bit funny in her fur coat and slippers. She had tears in her eyes. Steffie ran to her as soon as she saw her.

"You silly little girl," she scolded the whining, complaining dog in her arms. She had a thick American drawl. "Why do you keep going back to his house? What's so special about him? I told you he was bad news!"

"Is he?" You asked the question when you knew the answer.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she stammered, forcing a smile to her lips. "I didn't mean it like that. You're Raul's new girl, aren't you? Samantha. I live down the road. Sorry about Steffie, she's very... adventurous."

There were exactly three houses on the street, a mile apart each.

"You meant it like that," you said. "If it's about Isabelle, she's apologised and withdrawn her accusations".

There was a pause, and Samantha's perfectly friendly smile cracked a little.

"Well, in that case," she said, before adding with forced cheerfulness, "thank you for looking after Steffie, sweetheart! You take care now."

She tried to walk away, but turned back; she was as curious as her little dog.

"I was walking Steffie when that French girl ran out of his house," she said, unable to resist the urge to gossip. "She was naked and babbling like a lunatic. She had blood on her, too".

"Did she scream something about the devil?" you asked after a pause.

"Devil? No. Not that I speak French," said the woman, making a last attempt to walk away, but failing. "Listen, I have a daughter about your age. And if some guy - ANY guy - tried to put that kind of crap around her neck, I would chop his arms off".

What did she mean? 

The collar. 

She meant the "Daddy's little mouse" collar you still have around your neck. 

Oh, don't kink shame me, you were going to say, but that kind of talk sounds ridiculous in real life. She managed to shame you very badly, so you hid the collar under your trench coat and mumbled, "I put it on myself".

That actually made her look at you again. Steffie looked at you with the same expression. 

Everybody's out to guilt trip you - Hope, the dog (the dog you saved!), the neighbour, the guy who got thrown under the bus, and you've done nothing but enjoy some devil sex.

The woman finally decided it was time to go, muttering "You need Jesus, sweetheart" before she left.

That's your God who kept women in collars and on leashes for centuries, not the Devil, you thought bitterly, and unlike the Devil, he didn't even fuck them. 

Well, only once.

***

You were back in the en-suite bathroom, washing your face in the marble sink.

Who the fuck was this man, really? What the fuck was happening? 

Your hand shot out, yanking open a cabinet door. An array of men's grooming products stared back at you - cologne, razor, facial moisturiser and scrub, deodorant, shaving gel, sleek, expensive bottles. A man took care of his looks.

Another cabinet creaked open under your touch. 

Your eyes darted to the label on the bottle - Risperidon. You had no idea what it was, but you memorised it for a future Google search, repeating it under your breath like a mantra. 

"Are you rummaging through my belongings, nosy little mouse?”

He was dead asleep last time you checked!

You jerked, closing the cupboard and stumbling back to the bathroom sink, gasping for breath. "No," you stammered, turning to find him standing in the doorway. "I mean... yes. I can't sleep. I thought you might have some pills."

His eyes were canny; he didn't swallow your lie and made no pretence of doing so. He bridged the gap and hugged you from behind - frighteningly strong and wanting every ounce of that power to seep into your bones. His strength made you realise just how much of a level 1 human NPC you were.

"You don't have to violate my privacy when I'm not around, Anya," he whispered against your skin as he began to trail soft kisses down your neck. "If there's anything that's bothering you, just ask me directly. I want us to be honest with each other."

What was in the cellar? What kind of work does he do for you? Did he rape Hope? Or was it Haarlep? Where is Haarlep, by the way? Why does Raphael want to play Raul? 

"What happened to Isabelle?" you asked. 

"Ah, I see. Is that why you asked me if I had hurt anyone?" he said. "Is that what the tabloids told you?"

You nodded.

"Isabelle had an addiction," he admitted, the crow’s feet showing themselves. "It spiralled out of control. She had… a bout of psychosis, a mental breakdown. Made false accusations to the press. She's now getting the help she needs, poor girl”.

"Why was she covered in blood?" you pressed, looking at his reflection in the mirror as an infernal light danced in his orange eyes.

For all the fire in them, they seemed icy, impossibly cold for a man who had called you my love less than an hour ago. "How did you come by this information? You seem to know more than one would expect of you, Anya. There are things about you that make me... wonder. I have been giving you the benefit of the doubt, perhaps foolishly."

Your breath caught in your throat. “The neighbour”, you said. “Your neighbour told me”.

The truth you’d spilled slaked him, but only a little. He looked at you, jaw hardened.

"Samantha? I’ll have a word with her. Very well, we were making love when Isabelle had a psychotic episode."

Making love? Really? He did not make love to you.

"She lashed out at me," he continued. "It was my blood, Anya. I would never hurt her or any other woman. Without their consent, that is."

But that couldn't be true, because there was Hope - and many others who owed him, and Raphael might have been many things, but not a liar, and yet here he was, lying right to your face.

He did hurt people. Whether they deserved it, whether they brought onto themselves, that was a different matter, but he did hurt them.

"If you need proof, you can take a look at the psychiatrist's report," he offered coldly. "The authorities got involved... unfortunately."

"I believe you," came your shaky reply. 

You desperately wanted to. 

Raphael’s eyes flickered.

"Trust goes both ways, Anya," he whispered in your ear, running a finger along your collar. "If you do not trust me, then I will be forced to ask some very unpleasant questions myself. Do we understand each other?"

Which questions? He knows everything there is to know about you. He knows your browser history.

“We do”, you said, still looking in the mirror. “Of course we do, my love”.

"Is that so?” he smiled. "I suggest we go to our bed and put that theory to the test."

[joelwindows7]

Cardiac Extract

Pixiv 78405 (it.)

Nerplex blocked me, here's the bean. Reblogs of blogger who nerplex didn't block

What did I do wrong? Telling you to sauce URL offends you?

Man, I'm gonna be canceled here. I guess this shall be the time we act now. Love you all, gamers, who still with me of course.

Wait!

It, gamers, if you're here, pls don't angry just yet. Actually, the story is funny. Uhh a blogger, nerplex yes, said your name and others, but without sauce URL. Plus that person blocked me and of course no reason given.

Look, I'm trying to save your clout... I mean make you popular! Idk what's the say here, point is, I want to be the good example of how to credit properly, when I am really lazy. Well very easy! As possible, attribute sauce URL! That's it at least.

Again, above picture's not mine, there's your sauce who drew this. You're welcome. You must act too, don't stay there! Spread that sauce to other friends!! I beg you. Artists deserves respect, and thefts (same reuploader but did not sauce URL) deserves.. You got the idea.

Here, my subsidiary are making changes, and they're in the process of spilling the bean. Actually this subsidiary was the outlying connector to one my division, Archive Division. Not to be confused with Archive.org, that's different story.

So from now on, if you see your art reuploaded here (even it's still live on the sauce), pls don't cancel me, I beg you. Look I promise I attach the sauce URL of it. even my own art, all has URLs to source SVG, Blend, etc. We are the company of Sauce, we want gamers to know where did you downloaded this file.

Okay, to disrespectful gamers. You. You block me, you left no choice. I wanted to reblog and that's it. I never wanted to talk to you, unless you asked for it, or whatever neverary. I just commented your post, And tried my best to not offend you in assumption of universal ethic settings as far as I know. If you had it here, we'll it's your fault. I wanted to reblog but [tumblr] says it's gone, and you're not deactivated. Peck you. I can't fathom why did you do that, when you could've only & exclusively block scam spam bots instead. Want to me stop? Just unblock me, and the trouble is over. That's all I want.

I don't know and I cannot know why I'm blocked coz that happens to be the social media common ethics (that's really flawed). So want it or not, blocking, ................ means provocation. Right?.. I.. Won't see why!! HUH?! If I was making social media, I make sure they tell the reason why. Oh, this account is scammer, so I may a look at it to confirm. Oh, I just hate this guy, and I can take a look at it and then... No, not ban. Maybe send that person to class idk. This is just concept, more need to design.

Ok back to you again. Yeah. I'm sorry. I lost all my sanity. Everyday, the world.. derails my mental condition, through this. Idk if they got hacked.. or just.. hate me?

yeah. idk anymore. what do you think?

Huh, Yeah?

isn't queen gambit method may cause trouble to yourself?

.. Who said I'm gonna often post that [tumblr] url here? Well.. perhaps I don't have to, instead. Scroll down. Ctrl + F keyword of "block". You'll see. Okay you may not see it now. Soon. and more soon.

.

That's all for today. I'm sorry if there is mistake or whatever wrong here. Got comment, let us know, idk.

Edit:

Being resolved

Update soon

Edit 2:

Failed

Pls do not bad against

[faelingdraws]

"because all the stuff with akupara"

i didn't really follow dp's development very closely since i joined rw right as dp was gonna come out, so whats up with akupara?

OH LORD. strap in

while i've moved on from it and am way more forgiving of what happened, communication with me wasn't clear at all and a lot of my criticisms during playtesting were ignored. being a developer and going into playtesting was stressful bc its stressful to see your passion project be in a messy state

i also got underpaid in comparison to other artists which stung a lot (which is why they offered me playtesting, which was super kind of them and i do appreciate it.) however they tried to delay paying me until the very last day of the contract and kept telling me the payment was 'processing', but when i went to the producer i was paid in literal hours of emailing them, which felt super shitty being lied to.

however the big painful thing for me was they stole my dating sim mod. the art assets and concept were all taken from my original mod without my consent, i had no involvement in the new dating sim. i knew it existed, but i was told i would be able to have control over it if akupara approved it (and then got never contacted about it again.) giving up my dating sim or the assets relating to it weren't related to my contract at all, so it was just theft. thats why the dating sim art assets were all changed and a disclaimer was made saying that the new dating sim has no affiliation with the old mod

so yeah, that's a summary of my akupara experience. i don't really care now, but in the moment it was very stressful and i felt pretty upset and alienated from the rw community - i actually felt really embarrassed and stupid when i came out about things in the past lol...

[ficbrish]

Tiny Scene Tuesday

[22Aug2023]

Today's three little words: Theft, Lump, Youth

[Create a short piece (art or fic) that encompasses those 3 words]

Thank you @mallaidhsomo for the prompt!

Any stray Shenkos out there, come join the Big Place Shenko Discord for weekly art/fic prompts! ✨

"Her Father Was Not a Good Man"

[[tw/cw: Implied domestic violence, childhood PTSD, beheading]]

Ever since she learned about the duct rats, they broke her heart. Youths living in the bowels of buildings and space stations. Spilled out from the womb and into filth, surviving on crime and the hope that nothing bad happens when they’re inevitably caught; breadcrumb to breadcrumb.

She also envied their freedom.

Or maybe it was just a different fear that adorned their shoulders. A different kind of monster in the cave.

No, don’t think of him.

His eyes contained a poison that rotted just under her skin since birth. Powerful eyes. Gnashing eyes. They looked so weak falling to the floor, filled with shock and her mother’s scream.

His body took a moment to collapse. His head still had his face on it, his expression.

“One terrible, horrible, disgustingly unhealthy, waste of my life’s work, wake up potion for you, and a nice, normal, healthy water for me.”

Shepard swallowed the lump sitting on the back of her tongue, “It’s coffee, Miranda.”

“I don’t think you can still call it coffee. There’s enough caffeine to give a Krogan a heart attack. In both hearts!”

She took a sip despite Miranda’s glare.

“See? I’m okay. Don’t feel anything different.”

“It doesn’t work that fast!”

“Can you figure out how to make it work that fast?”

“No!” Miranda sat down next to Shepard in a huff.

“You brought me back from the dead.”

“It’s not a question of whether I can. I refuse!”

Shepard wiped away a tear.

“Oh no! No, you don’t. Those big, baby blues aren’t gonna work on me.”

She shook her head and sunk back into the plush couch in Miranda’s room. It made her body remember the hard, Alliance-standard chairs in the SR-1, and her heart took a moment to ache for it.

“If you could change things, would you ever choose to grow up like Mouse?”

It took Miranda a moment, “Wait. Thane’s duct rat?”

Shepard cringed, “Don’t… Don’t say it like that.”

“What?”

“It just…” she started to laugh, “It sounds really bad coming out of your mouth. Thane’s duct rat?!”

Miranda laughed too, “I did not say it like that!”

“You did! You so did!” When the laughter stopped, she asked, “So would you?”

“Why are you asking this?”

Shepard shrugged her shoulders, looking into her cup of ���coffee”.

“I mean… That’s basically what I chose in the end, right? Getting away from my father. Giving up everything.”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“I mean… come on. You traded one for the other,” she gestured vaguely about the room, “You never actually pulled away.”

“I’m sorry,” Miranda said with unabashed snark, “I guess I didn’t get the memo that we were being a bitch today.”

“I’m not judging. I’m just saying.”

She rolled her eyes, “It’s both, Shepard.”

“No, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

Miranda took a sip and threw Shepard’s question back to her as a peace offering, “So… What would you do?”

A chuckle that was more like a huff left her lips, then she answered, “My father or no home at all?”

“Yeah.”

She sighed, “I don’t know.”

Miranda wasn’t sure whether a hug was warranted, so she took a big gulp of her water instead.

Shepard spoke again, “Imagine who we’d be without all that.”

“I really think we’d be too powerful,” she quipped.

“Oh! For sure! I mean us without our shitty fathers?”

“Jacob might’ve been my only ex.”

That broke them into a fit of laughter.

“We were sabotaged by fate, or the goddess, or whatever.”

“Theft, that’s what it is,” Miranda joked darkly.

[Read more snippets on AO3 🥰]

[enigmakiwi]

As someone who plays and loves palworld, I wanna say some things. One of my special interests (autism) is pokemon, and I absolutely loved pokemon scarlet/violet despite its technical flaws, if that helps demonstrate where I'm coming from.

Like the previous reblog says, the model thing has been debunked, and the arsox accusation isn't substantial. The mega delphox is a bit more concerning, but it's still not necessarily a ripoff. It's extremely possible for people to come up with similar ideas independently; it happens all the time, especially with things like pokemon/fakemon/similar monsters.

But anyways, I'm not about to defend pocketpair as a company. I just think it's important to stick to criticisms that can be... proven. I'd call them lacking in creativity for sure, though. I'd even call them hacks, honestly. Case in point, the hollow knight ripoff op mentioned. But they did manage to create one game that's... fun. At least, it's fun to me.

The reason I got it is because it seemed like an open world pokemon game in which the pokemon are treated like actual animals and creatures instead of these mythical beings that you can't hurt without using another pokemon, that can't die, that don't really feel as alive. And that's still how I'd describe it. They're animals. They're mortal. You can interact with them, and they help you. And that's something I appreciate, because it makes your relationships with them more meaningful than the third undying and infinitely powerful pidgey you've caught that sits in the box forever, or the Sceptile you only get to see when you're in a fight. At least, to me. And that says something, because I get damn attached to my pokemon.

I'm terrible at survival games. I don't like them, either. But I like this one. The one thing I feel comfortable commending them on is the combination of the mechanics they were inspired by. Life in the game doesn't feel tedious like it does in other survival games for me. It's full of creatures that, while not at all revolutionary in design, are still fun to see and interact with, and it doesn't make me do chores. I truly believe the game has some merits. The game is not finished. There's certain elements that need to be fleshed out. But even in its current state, I still find it fun. However, for the same reasons I find it fun, a lot of people will probably find it boring or bad. A lot of people were disappointed, and not all of them because of the unfinished aspects of it. That doesn't mean the game is objectively bad, that means the game isn't fun for you, nor for players like you.

But yes, the pals are unoriginal. You can often spot exactly which pokemon a pal is ripping off for the ones that are blatant ripoffs. And I find the observation in the previous reblog rather astute: people are more upset over ripped off visuals than ripped off mechanics. I think we are very rightly very concerned over visual art theft right now, with art thieves running basically unrestrained and AI trained on stolen works being extremely popular and advanced. These are things we SHOULD be concerned about. And it's something to rightly be upset with pocketpair over (the hollow knight ripoff. Seriously. Oh my god. I think everyone should be pissed off about that.).

But palworld on its own is not a serious offender. As I said, claims of stolen fakemon (at least the ones I've seen) aren't substantial, and the ripping off of pokemon is not the same as, and I'm sorry to bring it up again, the ripping off of hollow knight. I understand the argument that it incentivizes the company to rip off other smaller creators and/or indicates they're already willing to do that (...hollow knight), but palworld itself is not the offender, and if it were made by someone else, someone who isn't already following that pattern, I'd argue it isn't inherently indicative of anything specifically because of the enormity of pokemon/game freak/nintendo. Some people went a bit too far with the idea, but yeah, ripping off one of the biggest franchises in the world doesn't hurt anyone. I'm mad about the hollow knight ripoff because that's very different— that's an indie game by just a few people that became popular, something that could actually be hurt by a ripoff. It's a shame that pocketpair seem to be concerned with what they can get away with rather than what they should.

So yeah, if you don't wanna give your money to pocketpair, don't! If you don't wanna play the game, don't! That's fair! But the people conflating enjoyment of the game with moral bankruptcy are going too far— and yes, I have seen people do that. Passing around unsubstantiated claims of theft is not helpful for anyone. There's much bigger and worse things to be upset or worried over right now without having to make false accusations.

If I could do it all again, I'd probably pirate it, because yeah, I'm not sure how comfortable I am giving money to a company like pocketpair, who are making a ripoff of an indie game (and I didn't know they were doing this until today) and who lack in artistic integrity, but that's a personal choice for everyone. No ethical consumption under capitalism and all that, if that's something you ascribe to. But if you don't ascribe to that or feel it doesn't apply here, don't buy it, that's totally fair and valid and your choice. I never want to antagonize anyone, and that's certainly not what I'm trying to do here.

And my last topic: some people in the notes have brought up that you can enslave people. This is technically true. It's an aspect of the game that makes me uncomfortable. I'm almost certain the ability to capture humans was put in the game as a way to acknowledge that pals and humans aren't so different; they're all creatures, and there's nothing mystical separating them like there is with pokemon. (Also, I think they probably thought it would be funny.) This is also something the game doesn't tell you about and doesn't encourage.

When you prepare to throw a sphere at a pal, it shows you the percent chance of you successfully catching it. But if you aim at a human, nothing comes up. It heavily implies that you can't catch people. You'd only discover that they can indeed go inside the spheres if in some bizarre and horrible accident, you miss a pal and it hits a hostile npc instead, or if you intentionally throw the sphere at someone despite it giving no indication whatsoever that people can be captured.

I've never done this intentionally. I did have one bizarre and horrible accident where I accidentally hit the "throw pal sphere" button instead of throwing out my pal at a hostile npc. It did not capture him. The different percent chance of success that comes up after the thing is already in the ball came up, and it was shockingly low compared to even extremely strong pals. But this taught me something: trying to intentionally catch people is clearly a huge waste of resources if the odds of success are so terrible.

BUT. Despite all this, the fact remains that you can indeed capture people. That's something the game allows you to do. That's something they built in. And I kinda get why, but it's still immensely uncomfortable to think about people doing. It's an aspect you can ignore entirely or even more likely never find out about at all unless you see some weird post online going "WOAH you can catch PEOPLE!!!!! Awesome!!!!" or a post like this, telling you it's possible but not flaunted. Just because you can doesn't mean you should... But it's there. Again, I don't think enjoying the game makes one morally bankrupt just because of this, but it's a perfectly good reason to not play the game. I truly believe the intention behind it was not super nefarious, but that doesn't mean it's totally fine and chill for that function to be there. But some people make it out to be something that's obvious or that's encouraged when that's distinctly not the case, so I wanted to clarify. I'm not saying that you shouldn't care or be upset, but I think everyone should be able to have the full picture.

has everyone gotten their knee-jerk reactions to palworld out. can i throw my two cents in

[deviantartdramahub]

Status by EvieJulia on DeviantArt

Evie: Is this considered stalking? Take into consideration the fact that some of the people who utilise this blog have legit threatened to kill me, dox me, still use my irl name in the hashtags of their blog (even though they said they deleted those posts), claim that they're going to post my selfies on porn websites, and have actually used my selfies as their icons on other sites, and one of my old usernames on another website too, and they still visit my profile frequently,

No one has actually threatened to kill you or expose your personal information, or even confirmed that the posts mentioning your real name will be deleted. Oh, and by the way, you're the one responsible for the selfies that someone mentioned might end up on a porn website. So, it seems like you have no issue with uploading them, and you're also interested in discussing how to use them as an icon? Oh, I remember when you used your own selfie as your profile picture on DeviantArt. It wasn't that long ago! And just so you know, it's not different at all. You're basically saying that someone else was using it, and then you started using it yourself before, from what I can see, changing it to something else. I don't understand the last part of the first half of your post. It doesn't make any sense to me. Well, unless you have their IP Address or some sort of tracking mechanism to identify people and their locations, there's no way to know for sure who is "frequently visiting your profile."

Evie: They archive my posts that they find offensive, and what have you. Oh and they make up bullshit about how I robbed a bank, and how me and another user are the same people on different alts. Oh and a couple have made fake screenshots of me saying shit I didn't say too, with the alibi that it was "an April Fool's prank". I live in their heads rent free and it really shows. I don't blame them, to be honest with you. I'm awesome.

Yes, we do keep a record of your posts that we find offensive, just like you save certain comments we've made that you consider "offensive" even though they're not! We don't stoop down to your level and make up stories or accusations about you and the others on DeviantArtDramaNow, also known as the terrorist cult blog. Oh, and by the way, it seems like you used two accounts at one point. It was pretty obvious that you were pretending to be someone else. When Pro confronted you about it, you didn't exactly deny it. Hey, just wanted to clarify that the screenshots we shared with you, from DeviantArt, Discord, and other websites, were completely genuine and unaltered. We didn't manipulate them to make it seem like you said something you didn't. And then you go on to say, "You really live in our heads rent-free and it's so obvious." But the reason you're saying that is because you know we've caught you once again.

Status by EvieJulia on DeviantArt

You're definitely breaking the rules with that one, and it's also risky to share people's bio pics and real names. It could put their lives in danger. Yeah, it's even worse because, you know, there was a child in the picture too! I saw the comments and it just made the whole situation even more disturbing. You're also a hypocrite for posting that after everything you said.

DeviantArt - Discover The Largest Online Art Gallery and Community

"I'm fine" ? No, clearly you're not fine. Also on evidence to support anybody uploading your picture to any website, other wise, you wouldn't be sitting there like a snob, and claimnig you're "fine".

Theft is still theft, that much I might agree with someone with, but the rest she says as if DeviantArt has no rules and as if other things haven’t happened, all things not unbecoming of a child star.

[triptripletrolls]

Yall are wild. Though, I didnt expect any less from the community lmao.

[shysneeze]

i solemnly swear i am up to no good (george weasley x reader)

request:  what if one night the golden trio is look at the marauders map that the twins gave Harry and they see the reader and George sneaking around hogwarts and they ask George about it the next day? ~ anon

warnings: yo i don’t even think i swear in this one it’s a miracle, can’t think of anything else but Fred’s dramatics

authors note: this is the best porcastination I have ever tasted (fuck chemistry uno?) anyway, I hope this is what you were looking for anon and thank you for the request <3 

...

It's a carefully constructed routine, one that George has perfected by now. He's worked out that Lee is always the last to fall asleep, and so the coast is always clear when he begins to snore, that he's safe to slip from his covers and creep down the stairs, by which point the common room is always empty and he's free to leave completely undetected.

He knows the corridors to avoid, the ones with the gossiping portraits and regular prefect patrols.  He knows that McGonagall keeps her classroom lit through the night to discourage snooping students and that the ghost will turn a blind eye at most things, unless they're in a particularly bad mood.

He's thought it through perfectly, even if he does say so himself. In fact, he's not had an incident since the first night they met up, when Peeves decided to draw the attention of every sleeping painting in the vicinity, who awoke rather grouchy, and ready to take their complaints straight to Dumbledore until George convinced them he wouldn't let it happen to again.

Now, though, he's sure he's considered everything and he's rather smug with himself when he arrives at the kitchens. (Y/N) smiles at him when he arrives, already perched on one of the counter tops beside two mugs of hot chocolate.

"Still beat ya, Georgie." She grins.

"Right you." He teases. "You have no idea the expedition it is to get here without getting caught."

"Excuses, excus-"

He's kissing her before she can finish, her laughter vibrating against his lips until she recovers from the abruptness of it and is gathering a handful of his jumper and pulling him closer as she does every time.

They've thought of everything to keep it their own, their sacred routine and their special secret. They've eliminated every possible hiccup that could occur, they're sure of it. Everything always goes as plan and their relationship is kept protected in it's own little bubble, the way they like it. 

.

"You're not still obsessing over that map."

The boys by the fireplace jumps at the sound of Hermione's voice, staring wide-eyed as she stands on the bottom of the girl's dorm's staircase with a disappointed frown. Harry clutches the map against his chest, as if it will anyway hide it from her.

"'Mione." Ron exhales. "You gave me a bloody heart attack!"

"What are you doing up?" Harry asks.

"I left my textbook down here." She informs. "You?"

"We're uh, checking to see if Flitwick is still in the hospital wing with the flu." Harry admits shamefully. "So we don't need to the do the homework..."

"Of course you are."

She comes forward with a sigh, dropping into the seat beside them. She can't help but be slightly curious on the matter, even with her already completed homework upstairs. The map is characteristically empty for the time of night, most people's names stationary in their dorms except from the occasional pacing teacher, still up marking, or the prefects on their rounds.

It's what makes the set of footsteps tiptoeing down an empty corridor so noticeable, George Weasley's name so stark on the otherwise empty stretch of enchanted parchment. Hermione frowns at it curiously and points.

"What is George doing?"

"Who knows." Ron shrugs. "Probably just setting up some sort of prank."

 Hermione gives him an unconvinced look and drags her finger up to the Gryffindor tower, halting at the boys dorms, where Fred's name lies still where he is sleeping. Ron takes a minute to catch onto the implication.

"Then why is Fred not there either?"

"Maybe he's gone rogue?" Harry suggests.

"I doubt that."

They return to George as his inky footsteps lead further through the castle, looping through hidden corridors and secret passage ways methodically before arriving at the kitchen, where upon realisation, Hermione lets out a chuckle.

"Oh."

"What?" Ron frowns.

"Look who already in the kitchens." She explains.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)." Ron exhales. "What's he meeting up with her for?"

"Think about it, Ronald." Hermione smiles knowingly.

Ron's brows scrunch in confusion, looking expectantly to Harry, who seems to have already clued himself in and is grinning knowingly. Then his eyes begin to widen with realisation and Hermione nods.

"He can't be- with (Y/N)?" Ron gasps. "No..."

"Seems that way." Harry gives an amused smile.

"That smug git." Ron breathes. "I knew he was hiding something!"

Hermione lets out a soft laugh, soon followed by Harry. Thoughts of Flitwick's whereabouts long forgotten at this new information and it's implications. In the kitchens the pair's names have stilled together, oblivious to the secrets they've spilled.

.

George sips slowly at his coffee, willing it to make up for his late night with a burst of energy. Even through his tiredness, he's grinning to himself at the memories of the night before. His eyes search for (Y/N)'s across the room, finding them quickly, well practiced in the art of doing so. She’s nursing a cup of coffee in a similar way, and gives a knowing smile before dropping her gaze with a slight shake of her head.

Across the table, Ron watches the exchange with insider knowledge and scowls at his elder brother, a mixture of perplexed and impressed. Harry nudges him warningly, but wears a knowing sort of smirk that George catches from the corner of his eyes and causes him to grow slightly uneasy from.

"What?" He asks.

"Nothing." Harry assures, coughing out a laugh. "Nothing, George."

"Alright..."

He attempts to return to his breakfast when he hears Ron snigger, rounding back on them with a frown. Hermione lifts her glass to her lips to hide her smile, only adding to George confusion. Fred's picked up on it too now, watching their little brother and his friends curiously.

"What are you lot so smug about?" Fred asks.

"That's what I'd like to know." George agrees with a frown.

George watches as Ron's eyes drift across the room towards same place as his had a moment ago, to (Y/N). George's jaw slackens ever so slightly, alerting Fred to this new development, also glancing over at the girl. (Y/N) isn't blind to this new attention, lifting her eyes to meet theirs and frowning in concern.

"Shut up." George tells Ron sternly. "Don't say anything."

"What?" Fred frowns. "What are you on about, George?"

George fixes Ron with a glare whilst also trying to figure out how he's come to know this information. He's so sure he'd considered everything, yet his brother is grinning at him like he's just won the lottery for best blackmail material possible.

Then, from the corner of Harry's robes, he recognises the aged parchment that he and Fred gave the boy themselves. He finds himself gulping and his cheeks growing warmer by the second as Harry chuckles at him.

"What the hell is going on?" Fred ask sharply, growing agitated at being left out of the loop. "What has (Y/L/N) got to do with it?"

Ron last two seconds before he's blurting it out despite George's pleading look.

"George met up with (Y/N) in the kitchen's last night."

"Merlin..." George groans.

"What!?" Fred bursts loudly. "You what?"

George groans and drops his head into his hands as Fred stares wide-eyed and betrayed. George should have considered the map, the most damning piece of evidence there could be, that no perfect timing and strategic route planning could save them from.

"You absolute git!" Fred exclaims, punching his twins arms. "You've got yourself a girlfriend and didn't tell me!"

"Ah!" George exclaims, sitting up to rub his arm soothingly. "No need for violence!"

"Uh, yeah there is!" Fred argues. "How long has this been going on?"

"I don't know- a few weeks?" George offers.  

"A few week-" Fred gasps. "And Ron knew before me?"

"I didn't exactly plan that." George defends. "Harry's got the bloody map."

"Wow." Fred folds his arms. "You think you know someone."

"Oh come off it, Fred." George groans. "I would've told you eventually."

"Eventually." Fred scoffs. "I'm your brother- your twin! I should have been told the minute it started!"

George runs his finger through his hair with a sigh and gives Fred a sheepish look, although it does nothing to appease his twin's sour look. He's nice enough to feel somewhat guilty for it, even with his brother's dramatics.

"Are you ashamed of your family George?"

That's when George clocks that he's just being a dramatic git. He rolls his eyes at his brother as he starts up with a rant on loyalty and brotherhood, hand on his heart like he's quoting Shakespeare. 

"You'll get over it soon enough." George decides flippantly. "We just liked sneaking around."

"That's possibly the most goddamn boring excuse you could come up with." Fred announces disappointedly. "You just ruined my whole thing- I was hoping for something like she thought you were me the whole time and this was actually a case of identity theft."

"Sorry to disappoint." George smirks with a shrug. "But she thinks I'm the better looking twin."

"She's clearly blind."

"Listen, I'm sorry I didn't tell you all." George sighs. "It started as an accident and then we just kind of got used to it."

"Wow, romantic." Fred jokes.

"Shut up." George scoffs. "It's not everyone's idea of a nice date but it's ours and we like it."

Fred smiles quite genuinely at this, the defensiveness in his brother's tone.

"You really like her." He observes. "Huh?"

George's eyes drift unsubtly towards the girl in question, where his smile widens at seeing her with that smile he's so used to feeling on his lips when they kiss. He chuckles to himself before turning back to his brother.

"Yeah, yeah I do."

"Then I'm happy for you." Fred decides, clapping his brother's shoulder. "But ever keep anything like this from me again and your twin status is revoked."

"Noted." George grins. "Oh, and Ron?"

Ron gulps at the change in his brother's tone.

"Yeah?"

"I'd be checking your shoes for spiders for a while mate."

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Odd Hours//Getting Even

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Warnings: Cursing; Fluff; slow burn but not nearly as slow as my usual slow burns. Notes: This is uh... I don’t know, I’ve had the idea kicking around in my head for a while. Also please excuse the film trivia. I will take any excuse to talk about The Man Who Came to Dinner. I couldn’t decide on which title would suit better so I named it both. Not beta-read. Summary: You’d never spoken to the your new neighbor before, just traded friendly waves… At the oddest times. 

Your new neighbor looked very put together all of the time. Well… The couple of times that you’d seen him in passing. He was always in a suit, his tie was always straight, and his hair was always coiffed so neatly. You just assumed that he looked that good all the time. You’d seen him with a beard once, and then the next time you’d seen him, he was clean-shaven. He was gorgeous both ways, but that beard… Fuck, it had looked good. You’d never spoken to the guy before, just traded friendly waves… At the oddest times.

-- The first time you spoke to him was evidence of that. It was almost three in the morning. You’d just gotten off of work at one of your jobs at a bar. You stifled a yawn as you stepped off of the elevator and fished into your pocket for your keys. You managed to dislodge something on your way, but you didn’t notice. At least, not until you heard: “You dropped this.” You turned to see your neighbor holding out the foldable reusable bag you tended to keep in your pocket. “Oh!” You reached out, smiling, “Thank you-- I didn’t even notice.” “Sure,” He nodded, “We haven’t met, I’m in 5B.” “5A,” You jerked your thumb over your shoulder to your door. “Marcus Pike,” He held his hand out to you, and you shook it, giving him your name. “Long night?” You asked, and he chuckled, nodding. “Very.” The two of you linger for a moment longer before you nod over your shoulder, “I’ve got a couple of hungry cats to get to, so.” “Right,” Marcus nodded. “Nice to meet you.” “You, too.” You ducked into your apartment, shutting and locking the door behind yourself. You flicked the living room light on and tossed your keys into the bowl beside the door. You stepped further inside, smiling at the sight of your two Siamese cats, Princess and Pyewacket. They lifted their heads from where they were both lounging on the couch. “I met our neighbor,” You told them. Pyewacket got up, stretching before jumping off of the couch and following you into the kitchen. “Yes, he seemed very nice,” You answered the cat’s unasked question as you reached down, scratching his chin above the black moon and star patterned collar he had on. Princess slinked into the kitchen behind him, a matching pink collar around her neck. “And hello to you, too,” You murmured, “Let’s get you fed.” -- The next run-in was almost two weeks later. It was nearly noon, and you were coming off of your other job at a bookstore nearby. You ran into Marcus as he was leaving his apartment, and your brows rose. “Hi there,” he greeted, smiling. “Hey,” You shift your bag on your shoulder as you twirl your keys around your finger. “How are the cats?” You laughed a little, nodding, “They’re good. I won’t say they were happy to see me, but I fed them, so they tolerated my existence for another day.” You eyed his pristine-as-usual-suit. “Heading to work?” “Yeah, just came off of a late night. I actually just kinda...Came back to shower and change,” He absently swept his hand over his tie. “Oh, yikes,” Your brow furrowed, “What do you do?” “I work for the FBI, International Art Theft.” Your brows rose. “Wow.” “Surprised?”

“A little,” You admitted as you walked to your door, “I had my money on your being a lawyer.”

“Really?”

You lean back against your door, waving at him, “It was the suits.” 

He chuckled, “I should get going-- as long as you don’t have any stolen art in there.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you, now would I?” You teased, shooting him a wink, “Have a good day, Agent, and uh-- try to get some sleep at some point.”

--

It wasn’t every day that you got a knock on your door at two in the morning. Your hackles were immediately up, and you were quiet and careful as you crept toward your door. You peered through the peephole, frowning at the sight of Agent Pike-- And one of your cats. You hurriedly flicked your light on and opened the door. “Is, uh, this one of yours?”

“Pye,” You groaned, reaching out to take Pyewacket out of Marcus’ arms, “I’m sorry-- sometimes he slips out when I come in, and-- He’s such a weirdo, he always waits right out here.” You cuddled him close to your chest, smiling a little as Pyewacket pushed his head up against your chin. “Thank you,” You added, scratching Pye under the chin, “I hope he didn’t bug you.” “No, he was pretty friendly.” Your brows rose. That was rather unlike Pyewacket. “I’ll be honest, I was a little surprised to see you holding him-- Though that was more because, you know.” “It’s like two in the morning?” Marcus asked. You laughed, nodding. “Another late night for you, Agent?” “Slightly,” Marcus admitted before reaching out and scratching Pyewacket under the chin, “But I appreciated the welcoming committee.” You smiled, glancing down at the cat as Marcus’ fingers brushed yours. “Well, I’m glad Pye could be of assistance.” “‘Pye’?” Marcus repeated, leaning in your doorway, “Like the food?” “Oh, no. It’s short for Pyewacket,” You explained, shifting the cat in your arms. “Like in Bell, Book and Candle with uh-- Kim Novak and Jimmy Stewart?” He asked. You blinked up at Marcus in surprise. “Uh… Yeah,” You nodded, and laughed, “Sorry, just-- Most people don’t know that.” “I’m a fan of classic movies. --Who’s this?” Marcus looked down.

You followed his gaze, laughing, “Someone that was feeling left out. That’s Princess,” You smiled. You took a little bit of a step back as Marcus crouched down to pet her. You were suddenly acutely aware that you were in your pajamas and Marcus was still very...very suited. You couldn’t help but grin as he cooed over Princess, though. “I’m not gonna lie, you strike me as a dog guy,” You admitted. “Oh,” Marcus scooped Princess up, cradling her against his chest, “I do like dogs, don’t get me wrong, but my grandmother had a cat-- big fluffy Persian named Chester.” You were quiet for a moment, watching Marcus and Princess before you glanced into your apartment. “Do um--” You hesitated, “Do you wanna come in for a drink or something?” Frankly, standing across from a cute guy as you each held one of your cats had to be the weirdest way you had ever asked a man into your place. But it wound up with you and Marcus on your couch with a beer each having a shockingly nice conversation. You didn’t keep him long - you could tell it had been a long night for him and you didn’t want to keep him late - not to mention you had come off of a shift at the bar and you were pretty tired yourself.

Pike was out of there by 2:45 (though you’d gotten his number in your phone and yours in his by 2:42). Pyewacket trotted after him to the door. Marcus gave him one last scratch under his chin, one last look at you before he murmured, “Goodnight.”

--

Smitten was not the word you would use.  It was what you were, but you wouldn’t admit it. Hell, you barely knew the guy, had only met him a couple of times. But he seemed sweet-- and your cats liked him, that was a good sign. 

You tried not to reflect on the fact that that thought made you sound like your Great-Aunt Cecily.

You held off on using Pike’s phone number for about two weeks. Then one night, around 10:30, in the middle of a William Powell marathon on TCM, Pyewacket jumped off of your couch and trotted over to the front door. You frowned, watching him and muttering, “What the fuck, dude?” before you heard the jingling of keys. You smiled when you realized why he’d gotten up - and went out on a limb as you pulled your phone out and texted Pike:

-Either you just got home or the ghosts in the hallway are bothering my cat again

You raised your phone, snapping a quick picture of Pyewacket at the door before sending it off. You glanced down at the lone messages in the chat before you closed it, tossing your phone onto the couch cushion beside you. It didn’t stay there long, though-- it buzzed a moment later.

5B: You’ve got a great alarm cat

5B: Just how often do the ghosts in the hallway bother Pyewacket?

5B: And how many ghosts are we talking?

-Like once a week, they’re very mean to him.

-And at least two ghosts, I’m convinced

You put your phone down, figuring that that would be the end of it. You were wrong. 5B: They bug Princess, too?

-Nope, they don’t dare. No one fucks with Princess

-How’s work?

5B: Busy.  -Long day?

5B: Excruciatingly

-Sorry 😞

You winced, resting your head on your hand and considering.  Why did you use an emoji? You raised your phone and snapped a picture of Princess where she was curled up on your lap.

-You could take Princess with you next time if it’ll help?

5B: Might take you up on that. I’d prefer not to be fucked with tomorrow

You smiled. -I’ll see what I can do about a leash

5B: Very kind of you

-Anytime

--

5B: Okay, I don’t wanna be weird, but I feel like almost every time I come in around dinner time, whatever you get or are making smells delicious

You looked down at your phone as it buzzed and chuckled, picking it up from where you’d left it on the counter. 

-Not weird. Not to brag but I’m kinda the slow-cooker queen

You glanced at the slow-cooker, and the timer reading fifteen minutes left on the food you were making. It was a large batch - you’d wanted to have enough so that you could bring lunch to work at the bookstore. But there was enough to spare. You hesitated before texting,

-Hungry? 

--

Marcus brought wine, and stayed for three hours. The two of you ate dinner, did the washing up, and wound up on your couch watching It Happened One Night. Conversation flowed over most of it - you’d both seen it several times. The movie gave the two of you the chance to watch and weave in and out of conversation and film trivia without pressure. Pye and Princess curled up on the couch between you like sleepy little chaperones.

By the time he left, the bottle of wine that he’d brought was empty, and he had cat hair all over his pant legs.

“Thanks for dinner,” He turned around to face you as he stopped in the hall.

“Sure,” You leaned in your doorway, tucking your hands into the pockets of your sweatpants.

“I’ll have to have you over sometime, make us even.”

Your stomach flipped at the offer and you nodded, “I’d like that.”

--

“What’s got you out so late?”

“Work.”

“I’m guessing it’s the bar and not the bookshop?” Marcus asked as he watched you slouch against the wall of the elevator. You smiled a little tiredly. “I see those sharp skills aren’t just reserved for art thieves, Agent Pike.” He chuckled as the two of you stepped off at your floor. “What about you?” You asked. “Grabbed drinks with the team after work. We closed a case.” “Congratulations,” You smiled, “What happened?”

“It’s a slightly long story,” Marcus shrugged, “...Would you like to come in and hear about it?” “Gimme half an hour to shower and feed the babies and I’ll be right over.” --  “...Shit.” “What?” You lifted your head from his shoulder. Considering the last two times Marcus had been to yours, you hadn’t had any reservations about going over to Marcus’ in your comfy clothes. You’d shuffled over in your slippers, and when Marcus had opened the door, you’d held up a bottle of white wine. He’d grinned and told you it would pair well with the grilled cheese he was planning on making for the two of you. Without the cats between you, you and Marcus had settled close together on the couch. As the late night wore into early morning, you’d wound up tucked into his side as you talked. “It’s almost four,” He chuckled, looking away from his watch. “Oh,” You yawned widely, “I should let you get to bed.” “I’m the boss, I can get in a little late.” You smiled, tipping your head up and finding him watching you. “You don’t seem the type to abuse that power,” You teased. “Long as it doesn’t become a habit.” “Mm-mm,” You shook your head a little bit and sat up, “I don’t wanna be a bad influence. I save that for Pye and Princess.” “Can I walk you home?” You laughed and nodded as you and Marcus got up from the couch. You missed the warmth of him as soon as you were up, and you were so tempted to turn back toward him and cuddle into his chest-- if only to warm back up. You chatted a little more on your way to the door, and you tried not to overthink the way Marcus put his hand on your lower back as he opened the door for you. -- “Can you recommend a good book?” You didn’t look away from what you’re shelving, but you couldn’t help the slight flurry of butterflies in your stomach at the question. “That depends on what you’re looking for.” “Oh...Maybe something on classic film.” “That’s gonna be two aisles that way,” You nodded over your shoulder, “Back wall.” “Could you show me?” “You really don’t have anything better to do today, Agent Pike?” You teased. There was a pause before you heard him drifting closer to you. He peered over your shoulder, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear as he murmured, “Well, I was hoping I could take you to lunch, if you’ve got time.” “You trying to even out our meal score?”

You glanced up as he leaned against the shelf beside you and met your eyes. “I’m trying to spend more time with you,” He admitted, “If you’re interested.” You lowered your eyes to the books you were shelving, unable to help the smile that grew on your lips at his bluntness. “I’m interested.” 

-- 

Lunch ended with plans for Marcus to come over after your shift at the bar the following night. He dropped you back off at the bookstore and left you with a kiss on the corner of your mouth that you thought about for the rest of your shift. --

TCM was airing a Bette Davis marathon. By the time you got home, it was nearly 10:30. You showered, neatened up the apartment, cleaned as much cat hair off of the couch as you possibly could, and told Princess and Pyewacket to behave themselves. Princess blinked at you; Pyewacket flicked his tail. You texted Marcus that he could come over whenever he was ready, and there was a knock on the door ten minutes later. Marcus looked cozy in a way you hadn’t seen before - sweatpants and a t-shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and strong arms. You stepped back and nodded him in, and grinned as he crouched down, immediately scooping up Pyewacket as he came over. --

“You know, Bette Davis wanted John Barrymore to play Whiteside,” You were cuddled against Marcus’ chest; his arm was curled around your shoulders, fingers skimming along the strap of your tank top, “But he was drinking so heavily he couldn’t remember his lines. They wound up going with Monty Wooley-- he played Whiteside on Broadway, too.” “Really?” Marcus’ question was mumbled against your temple. You nodded a little. “Mhm. Cary Grant was set to play the role at one point, but Davis was so against it that he withdrew.” “Something tells me you like this movie.” You laughed, reaching out and absently picking off a piece of cat hair off of his sweatpants. When you’d disposed of it, you rested your hand on his knee lightly, giving him a chance to shake it off. Marcus just gave your shoulder a squeeze, and you gave his knee one in turn.

-- 

The two of you watched The Man Who Came to Dinner and All About Eve. “I’m worried that I’m setting a dangerous precedent for your sleep pattern,” You sighed as the credits rolled. It was almost half past three. “Mm, don’t worry about me,” He murmured, nuzzling into your neck. You closed your eyes, shivering a little bit. “...Do you wanna stay over?” You offered, raising your hand and lightly running your fingers along Marcus’ arm. “I’d like that.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “C’mon,” You urged, patting his thigh and standing. “Should we clean up?” Marcus stood with you, looking at the empty popcorn bowl and discarded cans of beer on the coffee table. “Nah, we can deal with it in the morning,” You took hold of his hand, leading him back to your room. Marcus glanced back toward your cats, to where Princess and Pyewacket were still settled on the couch. “Do the cats sleep with you?” He asked. “Sometimes.” “They gonna be mad if I shut your door?” “They’ll get over it.”

-- It was your alarm that woke you up. You leaned across Marcus, mumbling your ‘sorry’s and shutting it off. Once you did, you leaned back down, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes again. You smiled as his arm curled around your waist. “You need to go?” He mumbled. “No, just-- Forgot I had it set.” “Good.” You smiled, turning your head and nuzzling against his shoulder. “You sleep okay?” “Mhm,” He hummed, sliding his thumb along the hem of your shirt, “You should stay over at mine next time.” “So we’re even?” You blinked up at him as his fingers curled under your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. “Things aren’t always about getting even,” He smiled sleepily down at you. “What’s it about then?” “...Why’d you ask me to stay over?” You hesitated before you pushed yourself up to lean over him, “I thought you’d look good in my bed. And whaddaya know? I was right.” Marcus laughed, using the arm wrapped around you to draw you against his chest. “You know what I’ve been thinking about?” He asked. “Mm?” “Kissing you.” Heat curls in your stomach, tingling and pleasant. “Something stopping you?” You asked. The hand on your jaw slipped down to rest on the back of your neck. His eyes darted between your eyes and your lips for a few moments before he leaned up, brushing his lips against yours. You felt that spark grow in your stomach, and you dipped your head a little closer, chasing the chaste touch. You shifted, leaning more heavily against him and resting your hand on his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, hooking in his collar. When he pulled you closer and turned, settling you down on your back, you went easily, letting your thighs splay so that he could lay between them. You moaned quietly as your kisses became warmer, more insistent. You wrapped an arm around Marcus’ shoulders, sighing as he slipped a hand under your shirt. And then you heard a yowl at your door. You groaned quietly, dropping your head back as Marcus laughed, resting his forehead against your neck. “I told them to behave,” You whined. “Don't blame them, this is on me. I should’ve kissed you last night,” Marcus murmured against your throat. You shivered, chuckling a little. “I should feed them before they do something rude like continue to yell... or throw up in your shoes.” “Would they do that?” “Oh, god yeah. I love Princess, but she’s an asshole.” --

You reached down, setting Pye’s food dish down for him and scratching him behind the ears as he began to eat. Princess was already halfway through her food. You glanced over at your phone as it buzzed on the counter and grinned when you saw who it was.

❤️5B: How’s unpacking?

-Nearly finished. A couple of boxes left. Pye was sleeping on a stack, so I couldn’t touch it.

❤️5B: No worries, baby. On my way home. Need anything?

-Cat food and popcorn. Humphrey Boggart marathon starts at 8

❤️5B: Takeout?

-Nope, got dinner covered. ❤️5B: You’re my favorite. -Don’t let Pyewacket hear you saying that. ❤️5B: Favorite human.

-Better. Btw some couple moved in across the hall. I think they have a dog?

❤️5B: I’ll make sure Pye doesn’t get out when I come in

Tag list: @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo; @fantasticcopeaglepasta; @paintballkid711

[diaco1968]

Teeth

Hawks x reader

Warnings! Nsfw/lemon/smut, biting, hairpulling, oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex no pull outs... He has exogenous zone between his wings...he can go feral... can't convince me otherwise... reader quirk works by getting saliva/venom on the victim. Long

~fight so dirty but you love so sweet~

When a hawk hunts it's first ever viper, sweeping in, catching the clueless creature and taking it back to the sky, it can go any of 3 ways. He's either succesful in incapacitating the viper and can feast on his prey later. Or the viper manages to land a venomous bite on him, in which case they fall to their doom. Now if they don't die from the fall, the viper is the one feasting on the paralyzed young hawk. Nature is a wild thing indeed with how fast the hunter can turn into the prey.

The first time he met you he was on his way somewhere else and he spotted you in a dead end , the only thing running through his mind was 'what a hassle.' His wings shuddering in agitation, the feathers ruffling noisily when he landed behind you in the dead end where you were toying with your paralyzed victim. A middle aged man whom you just mugged and was now making fun of as he could do nothing but watch you, standing there like a stone statue.

"That is not really fair is it, kid?" You turned around slowly and gracefully locking eyes with him "can't be any less fair than following and harassing an innocent little girl in a dead end. He picked the wrong person. Now he pays little price than he deserves, Birdie." You mocked back crossing your arms and taking a nonchalant pose. Though he could tell just how tense and ready to jump you were under that posture. Like a coiled snake. So that was the problem, now he knew why his nerves were on fire when he spotted you. He raised an eyebrow "you don't strike me as an innocent little girl though." You smiled sweetly as you freed the guy from your paralysis who stumbled and scrambled away and out of sight apologizing. "So what? That's what you're into, hero? Innocent little girls? Please." You emptied the content of the man's wallet right in front of Hawks and put it in your back pocket before throwing the wallet to the side. Looking up at his annoyed expression playfully keeping your smile. "Alright! That's it. You're coming with me for theft." You raised your hands in front of you submissively as if ready to get cuffed "oh no, he gonna chain me up." He wasn't amused as he stepped forward grabbing your shoulder to turn you around. That's when in a heartbeat you striked, pushing him off towards the wall and stepped back from him. You were fast, but so was he blocking your way when you tried to make a run for it "nice try. That all you got?" He said casually squeezing his shoulder where you hit but you could tell he was slightly distressed by your speed. "Oh you should not have said that." You grinned raising your hand that was holding one of his crimson feathers between your thumb and forefinger firmly but delicately. "It's okay, I can grow more of those, don't worry about it." He smirked walking back towards you. His smirk was easy to like. It was not like yours, it was calming. You ignored his comment as you brought the feather up to your lips, his steps faltered and came to a halt watching you intently. Your tongue darted out and licked up the side of it, sucking it into your mouth and pulling it out, making a show of it for the winged hero, loving the way his feathers fluttered and shuddered in response "oh, and that's what you are into, huh?" He said trying to sound sarcastic but as intrigued as he was it sounded like a genuine question. He wanted to know what the hell you were doing. You chuckled dropping the feather and stalking towards him. The feather fell limp to the floor much to his surprise. But he was in for a much bigger surprise. When you were only inches away from him, he went to grab you. And he couldn't. He couldn't move a single muscle below his neck. "What the... how did you-" he fell quiet inspecting you as you let your hands wander under his coat and ran your fingers up over his abs, over muscles that were prominent through his skin tight suit before reaching up and grabbing his shoulders to use as leverage and pull yourself up to his ear. "You're lucky I like you, cause if not, this is still not 'all I've got'." You repeated his phrase from earlier your tongue lightly brushing over the shell of his ear, enjoying the way he tensed up even more under your touch. "Okay... I really should not have said that I guess..." he scoffed and You moved your lips to his shoulder sliding his coat off only a little "too late." You sunk your teeth in his shoulder through suit and all making a loud hiss escape his lips. His smart mouth wasn't going to quit it though "ow, that's definitely going to leave a mark. what a kinky little thing you are." You chuckled fixing his coat up and stepping back, turning on your heels to leave "you can move again soon, see you around hero." And with that you were gone."Damnit..."

~call me in the morning to apologise, every little lie gives me butterflies~

It was truly a hassle explaining to the nurse who patched him up that it was just a cat that bit him, right on the shoulder, clean and no bleeding. Only a little less bothersome than admitting his embarassing defeat. He hadn't seen you since, and it's been two weeks. During which the clear set of teeth marks on his shoulder remained, unchanged, as if only just bitten into his skin moments ago. He couldn't dig up anything about you, and damn he tried, knowing his resolve and resources it was saying something. No one had heard of you. Were you even a villain? "Tsk." He traced his fingers over the mark as he craned his neck to look at it in the mirror before sticking the bandage back over it, covering it up with his shirt. Not a moment of his days went by without having you in somewhere in his mind, taunting him, haunting him... and what annoyed him was that it did not ALL relate to his embarassing paralysis in that dead end. He imagined and thought about you way more than just that. He headed out on his day off, to the bar, definitely for gathering info. Of course.

He stepped off into the cold night air and looked up at the sky, stiffening ever so slightly, invisible to the untrained eye. "Speak of the devil, ey?"

You pushed yourself off the wall where you were leaning against and approached him as he turned his head towards you, hands still in your pockets. "Aw, were you thinking about me? Do you happen to do it often?" You smirked, eyes trailing over his face to his shoulder where you've put your little art piece then back to his eyes. His eyes narrowed immediately, turning towards you and getting in your face "you did something to me didn't you?! I knew it!" He growled under his breath glaring at you realizing he had put his hand instinctively over his wounded shoulder to cover it. You put your hands up in the air as if surrendering and looked up at him sincerely, his wound started throbbing for some reason. "Yeah I did. But... I decided you probably don't deserve it. I mean... you were just doing your job. So. I've come to help you remove it." He blinked a few times looking at you unamused "riiight." You rolled your eyes "right!" He frowned and tilted his head to the side "...right? Really?" You groaned pushing him towards the door "ugh you're even more annoying than I remember. Let's go inside." He raised an eyebrow with a hand on the knob still uncertain of your intentions "do you usually invite yourself in people's house like that? Cause I'm not sure you're the type of gal I want to pick up and take home with me..." 'well ouch' He was right not to trust you but you didn't have all night "listen jerk, do you want to get rid of this or not?!" you hissed at him, and as you expected his feathers ruffled at the sound before you could even touch his shoulder. It was in his nature to find it threatening after all. It was kinda cute. He braced himself for you to be nasty and squeez his wound or something but your hand just lightly brushed over his coat, he barely even felt it "okay okay! Sheesh." He opened the door and stepped aside for you to get inside.

~talk so pretty but your heart got teeth~

"So what were you thinking about?" He was taken aback by the sudden question as he closed the door behind him turning to find you make yourself comfortable on the couch. Your question was out of the blue, yes, but it shouldn't have made his so distressed. "Nothing...?." He lied. You sighed "I can't help you like that." Silence filled the room as the two of you stared each other down before you decided to relent "look. The venom in the bite-" he gasped at the words "venom?!" You looked at him unfazed making him feel embarrassed by his own outbursts "sorry, do go on." He gestured for you to continue. "... the venome will eventually make you hallucinate. And it will remain there till you do as it tells you. So I need to know what you've been thinking about most. By the little time that has passed I don't think you are at the point of hallucination yet, yeah?" He was now more anxious about his thoughts by the things you just told him. "I don't hallucinate... do I just start hallucinating random things?... are you some kind of mobile LSD fairy or something?" He frowned at you for real this time making you sigh. "You hallucinate what you want and desire at the moment of the bite, I don't have control over it. So... yea I guess I am." You looked down and he immediately felt terrible "I didn't mean it like that... I just...sorry..." he had no idea why he was apologizing. You were the one who bit him. And he didn't recall you apologising even once so far. "It's fine, I understand." You looked back up at him and cocked an eyebrow "now that that's out the way, much like yourself I don't want to be here anymore than I need to. You can probably take care of the matter on your own from now on. Goodbye birdie." You got on your feet and walked for the door but just as you were going to pull it open his hand shot up from behind you and pushed it back closed. It was your turn to get anxious heart sinking and the hair on the back of your neck standing on end, he was looming over you from behind and you could feel his hot breath on the back of your neck and see the shadow of his wings spreading intimidatingly behind you both. "Actually, in that case, YOU are so not done here."

~Late night devil put your hands on me

And never never never ever let go~

"Uh..." you slowly turned around pushing yourself back against the wall and looking up at him to see the easy smirk from before back on his face, eyes half lidded, dripping with confidence "I don't... um... what do you m-mean?" He raised a hand and brushed a finger on the side of your jaw, stroking it lightly as he leaned in closer "it's you I was thinking about the whole god damned time. The way you'll look, they way you'll sound. The way you'll taste. You said you will help me fulfill my hallucinations." He looked down over your form taking his time as he did so before his eyes landed back on yours "do you still want to help me?" He was actually asking. Despite the way his voice faltered at the thought of getting rejected there was a choice in his question. You could refuse. But why would you? He was hot. Annoying. But still hot. "So you got to be on LSD to take girls like me home?" You scoffed crossing your arms over your chest, the way the shadow of his wings covered you making you uneasy. He smiled apologetically "in my defense, last time we met you assaulted me in a dead end, gal." You huffed "(y/n)." His smile brightened as he watched you intently "Keigo. So (y/n), what do you say?" You hummed looking thoughtfully, almost shamelessly down his form, raising a hand and barely brushed your fingers against his crotch before pressing them firmly to his abs and chest. His chest tightened in anticipation as he felt his stomach drop. Maybe it was just for now and how you were touching him, maybe it was for the way his wounded shoulder throbbed, knowing this was almost exactly what happened before he got bitten last time. "I don't know Keigo, I kinda get the feeling you actually like the bite. A lot." Your hand traced his shoulder now leaning up to kiss it softly from over his clothes, him inhaling in sharply "oh to hell with it, you make me want to give you more, birdie."

~don't know if you love me or you want me dead~

He walked you back towards the bed, hands cupping your cheeks on both sides, his lips locked on yours. His hands moved down the sides of your neck, slipping your shirt off to expose your shoulders and pushing you down so you sit on the bed, loving the way you were already panting breathlessly from his kiss, flushed. He pulled his shirt off still standing over you with his signature confident smirk, throwing it to the side. You smirked back as you leaned in pecking his abs before dragging your lips over them, looking at his eyes through your lashes as you moved down and mouthed over his crotch, making him shudder, watching as those same abs rippled ever so slightly. He ran his fingers through your hair letting out a shaky breath "I'm sorry if I don't trust those teeth anywhere around that area, baby girl. Plus you already know how I taste. It's my turn." You rolled your eyes leaning back on your arms behind you as he leaned in and pulled your pants off along with your panties "fine, birdie." Your blush darkening as it creeped to the tips of your ears. He huffed kicking off his jeans and kneeling in between your legs grabbing your thighs "it's Keigo." He gripped your legs and pulled you to the edge of the bed before you could retort, only managing to let out a gasp. He smirked releasing your legs when over his shoulders running his hands up over them, kissing your inner thighs, his stubble scratching lightly over your sensitive skin making you wriggle a bit. His hands grabbed your hips tightly pressing you firmly to the bed "oh no you don't." You looked down at him to whine quietly. A choice you immediately regretted. Holding eye contact he buried his face between your legs and plunged his tongue right in. You gasped arching your back, hands shooting up to grip his hair. He hummed delighted by your rich reaction, moving his face closer, nudging his nose against the sensitive bud, as his tongue switched between lapping up your juices and thrusting in through your soft, fluttering folds. You a whimpering writhing mess under him. The soles of your feet not too gently brushing against the base of his wings on his back, where they were connected through his skin, along with your fingers tangling and tugging his hair had him groaning and moaning deeply into you. He removed his tongue only to lick up a wet hot line up to your bud latching onto it and sucking just as two of his fingers pushed inside at once giving you no time in curling up and rubbing against the spot you wanted them to. "Shit! Kei-go!" You moaned loudly, your toes curled and your thighs squeezed his head as he chuckled pushing your hips down further on the bed with an arm over your belly, nails digging in your hip where they rested. The pleasure had you seeing white and Right as you were about to get tipped over the edge of your climax he stopped. His fingers and lips, all gone. "Pay back is a bitch, huh?" He wiped off his glistening wet face with his hand as You whined desperately and squeezed your legs shut when he removed them from his shoulders grinning at you "you jerk!"

He leaned over you grabbing your loose sweatshirt and pulling it over your head reaching behind you to unclip your bra as he kissed your neck "let's free these lovely things first." You huffed still annoyed but soon it started into contented sighs and quiet moans as his kisses and nips moved down to your chest. His teeth grabbed your nipple in a sharp nip and you mewled grabbing the back of his neck, your other hand moving lower between his wings. As your nails dug right in the spot between the two giant heaps of crimson feathers, he let out a loud breathy gasp freeing your abused nipple from his surprisingly sharp teeth. Evil flashed in your eyes as you smirked down at him when he gulped and looked up at you "...no." his voice was shaky "oh yeah." You replied raking your fingers on the same spot. His giant wings shook, the feathers rustling as he hissed through his teeth, grabbing your breast harshly in one hand and pulling you closer with the other fisted in your hair, crashing his lips onto yours with a feverish hunger. You were shocked, moaning into his mouth. His reaction was thrilling and you wanted to see more, tightly grabbing onto the base of his wings this time digging your nails there. He sneered and growled loudly in your mouth, sounding feral. You whimpered at the sound the reaction you got more than you bargained for. "On your hands and knees, (y/n)." He barked urging you up by his hand, still tightly fisted in your hair pulling you up. You gasped scrambling up to turn around and do as he had told you. His fingers dug in your hips and he pulled you back onto himself, in one fluid thrust, your pussy already gushing around him from his earlier change of tone. You cried out as you gripped the sheets in front of you. His wings were distracting as they spread once, engulfing you in their shadow. It felt safe, but extremely dominating. Or rather quite deliciously. He tucked them back behind himself when he leaned down over you, one hand still on your hip and the other running up your spine gripping the back of your neck tightly. He pulled back out right to the crown of his cock, before snapping his hips back inside all the way, at the same time his teeth sinking in your skin over your shoulder blade, drawing another loud cry from your throat. He set a brutal pace as his teeth worked on littering your back with bites and nips. "F-fuck!... Kei... shi-... Keigo!" Your breath coming out in short moans and gulped in with high pitched gasps. His fingers creeped from around the back of your neck towards your throat, squeezing it tight and firm, your breath and voice hitching as the thrill ran down your spine straight to your core, folds fluttering around his rock hard cock. He pulled you back up by your throat so your back was flush against his chest, your hand reaching up to claw at his wrist, squealing. His hold was not suffocating, just restricting the amount of air you were allowed. The new angle made his cock poke and drag over your walls, sending you right into your much desired orgasm eyes rolling to the back of your head. He was panting heavily and movements faltering and sloppy from holding you and himself up like that. Your cunt clenching around him, milked him dry, him moaning and biting your shoulder one last time. He remained inside you as you both came down from your highs, removing his hand from your throat to your shoulder, stroking one of his own bite marks lightly. He pulled out and let you drop on your belly with a tired sigh turning into a heavy strained "oof!" As he fell over you playfully, barely careful not to crush you. "Fuck, (y/n). Looks like I did all the biting this time." He laughed as he held himself up on his forearms gently kissing and soothing your sensitive skin. "Shut up...damn... I'm gonna bite you again if this is what I'm gonna get every time." You muttered tiredly. "I was right. You are a kinky little thing." He smirked laying down next to you this time, draping an arm over your waist and nuzzling your neck "you can bite me whenever you want, baby girl. I'm in."

~push me away, push me away

Then beg me to stay, beg me to stay~

Hey hey hey @queensynderella

[monstersandmaw]

Male vampire x male character - Part Three (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This is going to be a four-parter, folks! And here's 3866 words of Part Three for you. Angst ahoy, but you know me, ok, so trust me. Here we meet Alec's little brother, and you'll find out why Sebastien was so jumpy and weird about the Twayblade name.

Part One, Part Two

Alec’s ‘one night stand’ with Sebastien turned into a whole month of of ‘one-night-stands’, and culminated in Sebastien asking him to dinner the following weekend - a pattern which repeated itself every weekend after that.

Sure, the sex was probably the most incredible sex that Alec had ever experienced in his entire life, but what he came to enjoy even more was the time they spent over meals and cups of tea in the intervening time, talking about everything from history to politics to video games and books and everything else besides. Sebastien talked about literature a lot, and Alec sketched him and illustrated his conversations while he spoke.

“You could really make something of yourself with talent like that,” Sebastien had murmured once as Alec had doodled a quick rendition of the Victory of Samothrace on the back of a coffee shop receipt one afternoon in the park.

“Meh,” he shrugged without looking up. “I’d like to, but I’ve got a steady job now, you know? I’m not going to throw it all away just because some gallery might take my work and I might make something of a name for myself, you know?”

Sebastien sighed. “Talent is such an overused word, and great art is rarely based on raw talent alone, but with your dedication over the years, you’ve really honed what natural abilities you have into something exceptional, Alec. I think you should make a go of it at least.”

Alec had flushed, and Sebastien had been distracted by the rising colour his cheeks long enough to abandon that train of thought in favour of kissing him silly on a park bench, and Alec hadn’t much minded.

At an Iranian restaurant near Alec’s place one Friday, four weeks after Halloween, Sebastien leaned on his elbow and popped a fragrant and decadent zoolbia into his mouth, and Alec watched, oddly fixated by the way his fingers held the little fried treat. His eyes, dark and warm and inviting, blinked slowly and he offered Alec a slow-dawning smile that stole his breath.

“We should go to the museum again,” Alec he blurted, thinking back three days when they’d spent their lunchtime meandering around the Italian Renaissance gallery together.

“Mmm?” he asked, licking his fingers in a way that made Alec’s jeans tighten and his throat close.

“Yeah,” he croaked. “I mean, I know you’re not sick of me waxing endlessly about quattrocento art just yet…” he said, sipping his delicious cup of tea and trying not to choke on it as Sebastien’s ankle skimmed up his leg beneath the table.

“No,” Sebastien admitted. “You’re right. I’m not.”

With the bill paid by Sebastien this time, after Alec had bought them lunch the previous day, the two of them left the cosy warmth of the restaurant and stepped out into a bitter November night. “Oh fuck it’s cold,” Alec swore immediately, drawing up the collar of his coat.

“You want to head home?” Sebastien asked, a hand on the small of his back.

Unconsciously, Alec leaned into it and smiled up at him. They’d not yet been to Alec’s apartment, and he found himself more and more reluctant to let Sebastien in now that he’d seen the stunning penthouse that he called home. “If you’re sure? I think your wardrobe has more square footage than my entire place though…”

“Alec,” he purred, taking Alec’s hand in his and squeezing his fingers. “I —”

“—You’re freezing,” he commented, interrupting whatever Sebastien had been about to say.

“I don't tend to run hot,” he conceded, “But neither do I feel the cold much. I’d like to see your home, and you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

He leaned in close and kissed the junction of Alec’s jaw and neck for a moment, his lips lingering, tongue just lapping at his skin and sending shivers down Alec’s whole body, shorting out his brain for a heartbeat or six. Sebastien raked his teeth over Alec’s pounding pulse point and he went still, frozen in a paroxysm of pleasure and, oddly, a strange thrill of fear he couldn’t quite place. Instead of pulling away when he recovered himself, however, he tilted his head further to one side, offering himself to Sebastien’s mouth, and the other man moaned decadently, deepening his attentions.

Sebastien’s hands found Alec’s belt and he tugged him sharply closer so that their hips met. Alec tried not to grind himself against Sebastien — they were still on a public street for goodness’ sake — but desire was washing through him in pulsing waves and it was becoming harder and harder to think rationally. That wasn’t the only thing that was becoming hard either, and he let out a harsh grunt before forcing himself to step back with a sheepish grin.

When he looked up at Sebastien, he found that the slightly taller man had frozen and was breathing hard, eyes closed, lips pursed together as though restraining himself from something.

“You ok?”

“Fine,” Sebastien hissed, still not opening his eyes.

Alec frowned. Sebastien looked like he was in pain of all things. “You sure? You look —”

“I’m fine!” he snapped through a clenched jaw. “Let’s go. You’re right. It is cold.”

The short walk to Alec’s apartment passed in tense silence, with Sebastien keeping his eyes locked downwards on the pavement, though he did deign to hold Alec’s hand. He couldn’t help wondering if perhaps he’d pushed things too far in public, given how proper Sebastien tended to be, but then again, Sebastien was the one who had deepened the gesture by practically mauling at his neck for three minutes straight back then.

Alec’s apartment building wasn’t fancy at all, and it certainly didn’t have a doorman, and once they’d stumbled in through the hallway with the busted light fitting in the ceiling, Alec smashed the elevator call button only to find it dull and non-responsive. “Damn,” he cursed. “Out of order again. Stairs?”

“If needs be,” Sebastien said with a gracious smile.

“This would never happen over at Buckingham Palace,” he quipped back, and Sebastien cracked a smile at Alec’s silly nickname for his apartment block.

“Exercise will shake all that dinner down,” he conceded.

Alec twitched his eyebrows in agreement and held the door open to the stairwell for him. As he passed by in the confined space, Sebastien stopped and leaned in, taking Alec’s jaw in his cool hands and kissing him gently, reverently, on the lips.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I was rude back then.”

Alec shrugged, feeling awkward at the sheer, heartfelt tenderness in the gesture.

“I got carried away. It won’t happen again.”

“I like it when you’re rougher with me,” he smirked. “You should know that after a month of fucking me senseless.”

As if Alec’s words had hit him like a sledgehammer to the nuts, Sebastien rolled his eyes and grimaced, but he did laugh. “You do seem to like a firm hand, granted,” he said. “Let’s get upstairs shall we? Before I take you right here, and I’m not sure how sanitary this situation is…”

Alec needed no more encouragement, and he didn’t even get to give Sebastien the fleeting, one-minute tour of his tiny flat before the man was on him, kissing him blind and backing him into a wall hard enough to knock the wind from him. Sebastien came alive in moments like that, when he could kiss him and lavish attention on Alec, and the latter was not about to stop him.

It wasn’t long before Sebastien’s wandering lips found Alec’s neck again, and as Alec gasped, fists balled into Sebastien’s shirt collar, he felt the sharp prick of teeth quickly followed by the generous suck of a love bite in the making. His knees went weak and he nearly staggered as a huge rush of endorphins swam through his mind, leaving him limp and wobbly all over. Well, almost everywhere.

“I want you,” he gasped, and Sebastien lost no time in locating the tiny bedroom and tossing him onto the bed, stripping them both with startlingly attractive efficiency. Alec barely managed to yank a bottle of lube and a box of condoms from his top drawer before Sebastien was spreading his legs and laving his tongue up over the curve of his balls.

“Oh fuck me,” Alec exclaimed as Sebastien’s slick finger slid into him and he hissed at the intrusion. A moment later, he was lying with his head flung back into the pillows while Sebastien slid a second inside him and began to do just that with his fingers until Alec was finally ready — and more than desperate — for Sebastien’s cock.

Sebastien had a beautiful body, all lean, corded muscle and slender lines, and as he got more and more aroused, his deep olive skin seemed to glow almost supernaturally. He was perfection incarnate. Bernini couldn’t have carved him, even if he’d been given a lifetime to try. Alec was no Bernini but he’d still love to sculpt him.

Sebastien chuckled sweetly and crooked his finger, sending a jolt of searing pleasure through Alec so hard his vision whited out for a moment and his back arched. “I’m flattered,” Sebastien murmured, placing open-mouthed, messy kisses down Alec’s leg as he spontaneously bent that knee up.

“Shit, I said that out loud…” he laughed, still vague and giddy with the sensations sparking under his skin.

“Mmm,” he smiled, lowering his face to Alec’s inner thigh and kissing fervently all up his leg to the crease of his thigh and hips before smoothing his leg back down onto the bed. His breath fanned out across Alec’s sensitive skin and he quivered and bucked, causing Sebastien’s curled finger to brush his prostate again and he yelled.

“Please…”

Moments later, Sebastien entered him at last and stilled, allowing him to adjust to the new intrusion.

When he fucked him like this, Sebastien seemed to take on a new energy, becoming something almost more primal, and Alec lived for it. The expression on his face as he closed his eyes and simply enjoyed the heat of Alec’s body closing around him, taking him, drawing him in, was something he would never get used to, no matter how many times it happened. He was certain of it.

“You’re so tight,” Sebastien grunted, easily shifting Alec’s hips up a degree or two and adjusting his own angle so that he could thrust into his prostrate with every stroke.

Alec’s words failed him as immense pleasure ripped through him, building and building. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep that up,” he barely managed to grunt as Sebastien somehow picked up the pace and began to pound into him with renewed vigour. The man seemed utterly devoted to Alec’s pleasure, as if it was the only thing driving him.

With an utterly inhuman snarl, Sebastien opened his mouth and whispered, “Come for me.”

The sheer weight of command in his voice tore through Alec and he came instantly, untouched, painting his torso with ropes of his release and wrenching Sebastien’s own orgasm from him by sheer force a second after.

Sebastien curled forwards with a hiss, hips spasming as he released, and his lips found Alec’s neck again, and then his collarbone. In the daze of his own peak, Alec thought he saw a flash of red in Sebastien’s eyes again, but he was out of sight too quickly for him to believe what he’d seen. Instead, he found Sebastien kissing his hammering pulse while he finished. Finally going still, Sebastien slumped atop him, breathing hard, his white-blond hair spilling everywhere and tickling Alec’s stubble. He was too tired to care though.

When he woke, hours later, he realised groggily that it must be the middle of the night. Sebastien was curled up beside him, obviously having found the tiny bathroom to clean up, and he was now spread out beside him on his small, lumpy mattress as if this were a palace and he a prince, not some tiny, shitty apartment in the rough bit of town.

Something about the way Sebastien slept still freaked Alec the fuck out. He didn’t seem to be breathing, and when he had laid his palm on Sebastien’s chest on their first night together, the man had gasped and jolted awake like the living dead, sucking in air like he’d been underwater for hours. This time, he refrained from touching him, and instead stared at his inhuman beauty. There wasn’t a mark or scar or freckle on him, and his darkly tanned body spread out over the white sheets like a bronze sculpture arranged in a gallery for the adoration of thousands. And yet he chose Alec to be his only supplicant. Something lurched in his chest and he smiled bashfully, blushing, although there was no one to witness it.

Awake, Sebastien looked maybe thirty, thirty five years old, but asleep, he looked far younger; closer to eighteen or nineteen perhaps, with an innocence around his white-lashed eyes and the natural downward curl of his beautiful lips.

Unable to resist touching him completely, Alec kissed him and rolled over, drawing the duvet up around his ears and sinking back into a deep, dreamless sleep. His whole body felt heavy and satiated in a way he’d never experienced before with anyone. Something clenched in his heart; this felt right somehow.

But nothing is fated to last forever, is it?

Alec stirred groggily, unwillingly, the next morning, becoming aware of a rapid-fire knocking on the apartment door. Grunting, he kicked back the covers and fished for a pair of boxers and a shirt from the floor beside the bed. Sebastien slept on, apparently not having moved at all since the previous evening. Did he have sleep apnoea or something? It was something he’d have to bring up after he’d sorted whatever this was. It wasn’t natural for a man to sleep like that.

Like the dead.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” he grumbled, stumbling across the apartment and peering though the peephole in the door. Twitching back in surprise, he opened it. “Theo?”

His little brother’s bright, sunny grin beamed back at him. “Hey bro,” he chuckled jovially, stepping in as if he owned the place and shooting him a cheeky look back over his shoulder. “Brunch?”

“Brunch?” Alec frowned. “Since when do you do ‘brunch’? And since when is it brunchtime anyway?” He glanced at the clock in the kitchen and his eyebrows rose. It was well past eleven o’clock.

“Late night, I see,” Theo snickered, eyeing Sebastien’s shirt which was still on the floor outside the bedroom door, currently ajar from Alec’s hasty exit.

“Shut up.”

Theo’s grin doubled and his blue eyes glittered. Like Alec, he had the unusual combination of dark hair and blue eyes, and like Alec he could be described as ‘roguish’ at times. Now though, it bordered on downright Puckish. Looking not his actual twenty-one years but somewhere closer to sixteen, Theo shook his head.

“Brother mine, when will you —” he snorted but then stopped and his expression fell, shattering from playful to horrified in a heartbeat before he rapidly attempted to cover it by turning towards the bedroom. “Is he still here?” he whispered.

“Yeah, so keep the jokes to a minimum, would you?” Alec snarled. “What did you want anyway?”

But Theo had changed completely. Gone was the ebullient Labrador puppy and instead a tense, alert, wary young man stood before him.

“What the fuck’s wrong?” Alec hissed, heartbeat ticking faster like an over-wound clock.

And Theo spun and then froze as the door to the bedroom opened and Sebastien appeared on the threshold.

Theo’s lip curled into an ugly snarl and Sebastien regraded him steadily, apparently unfazed by the unexpected hostility.

“The younger Twayblade, I assume,” he said with such ice in his usually warm tone that it shook Alec into stunned silence. “Well, this is unexpected.”

“You’re shitting me,” Theo whispered, horror thickening his tone.

Alec blinked and looked from Sebastien to his little brother and back again. Never in all his years of dating men had he felt so uneasy around a family member. “What’s going on…?” he finally croaked.

“That’s what — who — you’re sleeping with?” Theo practically spat out.

Cold, defensive vitriol bubbled up inside him and he might actually have lunged for his brother had Sebastien not crossed the room in three rapid strides and laid a gentle hand on his forearm. “I take my leave,” he said quickly.

“Not so fast, fang-face,” Theo sneered and Sebastien froze. “Get away from my brother.”

“Or what?” Sebastien said in the quietest and steadiest of voices.

“What the fuck is going on!” Alec blurted into the tense silence that followed Sebastien’s taunt.

The other two blinked, and Sebastien sighed. He met Alec’s eye as he asked, “You really didn’t know at all, did you?”

“Know what?” Alec snapped, rage rolling through him. “Do you two know each other or something? What am I missing here?”

“I think this is a family matter that you need to work out between you,” Sebastien said, voice still tinged with frost. “Alec, you know where to reach me if you decide to continue what we’ve shared this past month.” And with that, he turned and walked from the apartment.

“Wait, stop!” Alec yelled after him, but he was gone down the stairwell and Theo was at his side, tugging him back into the apartment. “Fucking explain yourself!” he snapped, rounding on his brother.

“You’d… better sit down.”

“No. Tell me what’s going on. Right now.”

Theo stared him down, meeting blazing sapphire stare with blazing sapphire stare. “Sit. Down.”

The tone of his voice shocked Alec into doing exactly that, and he sank numbly down onto the saggy old couch in the living room without a word.

What followed next was like something from a movie.

“The Twayblades are an ancient family of monster hunters,” Theo said gently. “Father’s not in the military. Well, he is, but it’s not a normal unit or anything. That’s just a cover.”

“And mother?” he asked mechanically, the information-dump that Theo had just heaped upon him not sinking in, but floating like scum on the surface of his churning mind.

“She’s one too. And Ellie.”

“Ellie hunts… monsters?” he asked. “Like… what… the Boogeyman? Bigfoot?” Incredulity made his tone flippant, but something in the calm sincerity of his brother’s eyes told him it was true, no matter how stupid it sounded.

“Dracula…?” Theo added darkly.

“Dracula.” And then the penny dropped. “Wait. ‘Fang-face’. You’re saying you think my boyfriend is a vampire?”

Theo levelled him with a look from where he was leaning against the windowsill, arms folded over his chest in a manner eerily reminiscent of his big brother.

Now as Alec regarded him, he saw the harsh young man that this little kid had become. The puppy fat had melted into a steel jaw and a hard gaze, and his body seemed coiled for action at any moment. He had the body of a soldier, Alec realised with plunging horror. He knew Theo worked out — he was apparently a personal trainer and nutritional coach for celebrities in London, but even that seemed to have been a lie after what he’d just learned. Apparently the Twayblades actually hunted monsters — he and their parents and their older sister Ellie. Alec and Angie had been left out because they were apparently not ‘hunter material’ whatever that meant. Maybe it meant he was a monster fucker instead. He almost laughed.

“Theo, come on… I can’t believe any of this,” Alec said, leaning back into the sofa and pressing the heels of his palms to his aching eyeballs. All he’d wanted to do this morning was to wake up and maybe have Sebastien fuck him into the mattress a few times before breakfast until he was wrung out and softly buzzing like they had every weekend for the last month.

Now he was having some bizarre fairytale forced at him and he was supposed to believe it like it was some kind of sick joke. But he did believe it, and that was what scared him most of all. It wasn’t a joke. Theo showed him videos his father and he had captured on some of their ‘hunts’, exterminating a poltergeist here and eradicating a revenant there, and in the end Theo phoned their father on speaker, opening without preamble, “Dad, Alec’s dating a vampire.”

“Do you have proof?” was their father’s instant, chilling response. No ‘I'm sorry, what did you say, son?’ or ‘What’s all this nonsense?’. No. He went straight to the heart of it. With a stake.

“Just walked past the sucker leaving the flat.”

“Ancient?”

“No, thank goodness. Maybe just a century at most?”

“Can you eliminate him without alerting Alec?” their father asked, at which point Alec’s heart cracked.

He leapt to his feet and blurted, “Fucking what?”

After a heartbeat of silence, their father sighed. “Unfortunate. I had hoped to keep you and Angela out of this.”

“You’re telling me it’s all real?”  he asked, goggling at Theo who held the phone out on speaker between them like it was a live grenade. “You’re all insane!”

“Tell me something, son,” his father said flatly. “Have his eyes ever flared red during a moment of passion? Does he seem to fixate on your neck? Do you find yourself willing to do as he wishes without question?”

Theo interjected quickly, “He’s not compelled. His eyes are clear.”

“Well, that’s something at least,” their father scoffed. “Theo, you know what you have to do. Kill it.”

“‘It’?” Alec shot, eyes bulging, and Theo did have the grace to cringe. “Kill it? You’re going to kill him? He’s a lecturer at the university, Theo. You can’t just fucking kill him?!”

“He might be under the guild rules…” Theo said. “He might be a blood bank user, not a live-feeder… I’ll look into it first.”

Alec’s knees turned to water but he kept himself upright through sheer force of will.

“Fine. But don’t hesitate. And don’t make concessions just because Alec might be compromised.”

Theo nodded and hung up without farewell. “Look, Alec,” he grimaced. “I’m… I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t come here to —”

“— to kill my boyfriend?” he growled, taking a step towards his little brother. To his credit, Theo did actually take half a step back in the face of Alec’s confused, hurt, betrayed ire, holding his hand palm-up.

“No. I came here to see if you wanted to grab lunch, but —”

“—Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out!” he roared, jabbing his index finger at the door and pulling out his phone.

Theo surprised him by nodding and leaving, shutting the door behind him with a click and leaving Alec standing in the centre of the living room, chest heaving, phone in hand, ears ringing.

As his brother’s footsteps disappeared down the stairwell, he unlocked his phone and dialled Sebastien’s number.

Three rings in, Sebastien answered.

“It it true?” Alec asked without preamble.

After a long inhale, Sebastien answered. “…Yes.”

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Sorry for the cliffie!! More soon, but it’ll hit Patreon first, then Tumblr. Don’t let me forget, either!

Part Four

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I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me  know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

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[miraculouswolf99]

Miraculous Lemonade (Song Fic)

I love the movie Lemonade Mouth and thought that the favoritism shown to the athletes over everyone else on the movie was similar to the favoritism shown to those with high-ranking parents in Miraculous Ladybug. So, an idea instantly formed in my mind. Includes my original characters Lyon and Vallia Garden.

*****

Adrien sat in the park outside of the Dupain-Cheng Bakery, eating with is two friends from Greece, Lyon and Vallia Garden. The two were doing an exchange program that helped students from other countries experience other cultures. They spoke fluent French, so they came to Paris. Adrien met them years ago when his family went to a charity fashion show that was held at the animal and nature sanctuary that Lyon and Vallia’s family owned.

The three may be a “little” annoyed with what had just happened at school. Lila “Liar” Rossi had framed Marinette for cheating, assault, and theft. Adrien made, what he called, a “deal with the devil” to get Marinette back in school. But it seemed that after her first few days back, Marinette’s parents decided it was better for her to go to an arts school instead of Dupont. 

What infuriated the trio the most was that the school made no effort to investigate any of Lila’s accusations. There was no checking the security footage, no dusting for fingerprints, not even any hearing of Marinette’s side of the story. They simply took Lila at her word and some easily framed evidence to expel the best student at Dupont. It made them all furious.

“You know the favoritism shown at your school is appalling, right,” Vallia raised an eyebrow as she looked at her friend.

Adrien sighed. “I know, I know. But what could I do about it? I’m the son of a fashion designer, not a politician like Chloe.”

“That brat’s a part of the problem, anyway,” Lyon scoffed. “The entire school was punished and she is the only one that gets out of it? I’ve seen less corrupt politicians in Gotham, and that says something.”

“I know people criticize me for being Chloe’s friend, but would you two give up a friend that you’ve had since you were a kid,” Adrien asked them.

“Honestly, no,” Vallia said. “We get how you feel, Adrien, but one day Chloe will do something unforgivable and you will have to choose between her and your other friends.”

“I think I chose a while ago but just didn’t want to admit it,” Adrien says. “Chloe had her chance to be a better person when she was Queen Bee. But even after getting to be a hero, she still got her father, Sabrina, and Aurore akumatized.”

“Is there anyone she hasn’t akumatized,” Lyon crossed his arms.

“Out of all our class, only Marinette and I have not been akumatized,” Adrien says. “And for everyone that has, only Max, Nino, and Lila were not akumatized by her.”

“Well, Lila being akumatized was probably her own fault anyway,” Lyon shrugged. “She lies with every breath she takes and one of them probably bit her in the butt at one time or another.”

“Oh, I didn’t tell you guys yet, have I,” Adrien thought he had told them already.

“Told us what,” Vallia asked.

“You two were not here when she had her real first day,” Adrien tells them. “Lila lied on Alya’s blog about being Ladybug’s best friend. She had met me after school and tried to lie about not only being the descendant of a hero but also being the holder of the fox miraculous.”

“Seriously,” Lyon raised an eyebrow. “She was actually that stupid? Why not just put up a giant light-up sign that says ‘Hawkmoth, come and attack me,’ with her address written in neon.”

“If she hasn’t been targeted, Hawkmoth probably knows that she’s a liar,” Vallia said.

Adrien nodded. “During our conversation, Ladybug herself showed up. She probably saw Lila’s interview because she immediately called Lila out for her lies. Ladybug obviously hates liars as much as Marinette. Lila ran away and the next thing I know, she is breaking into my house while akumatized as Volpina and once again claiming to be a hero.”

“So that’s how you know she’s a liar,” Vallia understood now. “But why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Because at the time she was only lying to get attention and friends,” Adrien said. “Have you seen my class, we’re all special in a lot of ways. Alya runs the most popular blog in Paris. Nino gets a lot of attention as a DJ. Juleka, Rose, and Ivan are members of a band that has been getting a lot of attention lately. Rose is friends with Prince Ali. Chloe is the mayor’s daughter. I am a model and the face of my dad’s brand. Even Marinette knows Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and has impressed my father and Chloe’s Style Queen of a mother with her designs. Compared to all of us, Lila’s lies are not that unbelievable.”

Vallia and Lyon actually see where he was coming from. Being surrounded by people her own age and yet they have accomplished so much, it made sense why Lila would want to lie about herself like that.

“But then she took things too far, right,” Lyon asked his friend.

Adrien nodded. “Once she came back from her, so called, trip to Achu, she started using her lies to manipulate the class, which you guys have seen. She lied about having tinnitus so she could sit next to me, lied about having a sprained wrist to get Kim to carry her lunch tray, she even lied about having an allergy to tomatoes to make Rose take them out of her salad for her.”

“Isn’t that why she was akumatized into Chameleon,” Vallia remembered Adrien telling them. “You told her to stop lying.”

“Yeah,” Adrien said. “When she suddenly left for her ‘trip,’ I saw no reason to humiliate her by telling people about Ladybug calling her out. Plus, it’s not like they had any reason to believe me since none of them ever believed Marinette when she told them that Lila is a liar.”

“And it does not help that no one in school ever tries to actually fact-check her stories,” Lyon rolled his eyes.

“It’s not like it’s hard, either,” Vallia agreed with her brother. “Jagged Stone published his autobiography three months ago. There is no mention of a cat, a plane crash, or anyone named Lila in the entire book. It even specifically says that he had Fang, his crocodile, since he was twenty. That is fifteen years that he has had him.”

“I know, I know, my school is full of the most gullible people in Paris,” Adrien sighed. “And now that Marinette is gone, it seems like Chloe and Lila have teamed up and are ruling the school with iron fists. I can barely get a minute without one of them hanging off my arm.”

“And it’s not like any of the teachers or Damocles are doing anything,” Lyon says. “I’ve seen you, ask, request, and even demand for them to let go of you and they never do. You’ve even done it in front if some teachers and none of them ever did anything.”

“It’s the daughter of the mayor and the daughter of a diplomat,” Vallia sighed. “They will, most likely, never do anything. Even if it involves the son of a rich fashion designer.”

“It’s not like we can do anything about it,” Adrien sounded defeated. “Damocles is too afraid of losing money from the mayor and it’s not like Chloe and Lila are ever going to change.”

He was rubbing his very sore and bruised upper right arm, which Lila had been holding onto very tightly for most of the school day. And he knew that he would also probably have to deal with more of her harassment at the next photoshoot that he has with her.

“But... can even Damocles deny change when the entire school is rallied against him and those like him,” Lyon smirked.

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking, Lyon, and I am in total agreement,” Vallia brightly smiled.

“Uh... mind cluing me in, guys,” Adrien was completely lost.

“Well, you know that Lyon and I are friends with Clara Nightingale,” Vallia started.

Adrien nodded. When the pop star had come to Paris to shoot her “Miraculous��� music video, she had basically tackled the twins when she saw them. Apparently, she had met them years ago when she did a charity concert at their family sanctuary and even now treated the two like they were younger siblings to her.

“Clara had told us the reason why she started performing in the first place,” Lyon continued for his sister. “When she was our age, she attended a high school that focused entirely on athletics and nothing else. To the point where all other extracurriculars were pushed into the basement with no budget for any of them. So she used her music to spread the massage of what was happening. She wound up getting a sponsor for the music program that built an entire auditorium for her school even when the principal tried to deny it.”

“So, she basically started a music revolution,” Adrien summed up.

“Exactly,” Vallia says. “We can do the same here. Use music to show that not everyone tolerates the favoritism. It should prove more of a problem since all three of us are rich but also see it as a problem.”

“We should probably also add those that are not like us,” Adrien says. “Kitty Section could help, plus Luka and Juleka are not under Lila’s spell.”

“But Rose and Ivan are,” Lyon reminded. “Without them, we would not have a drummer or a singer. Vallia and I can sing, but neither of us play the drums. I’m classically trained on the violin and Vallia doesn’t play any instrument.”

“Kim plays the drums,” Vallia said. “And when Lila got Marinette expelled, he snapped out of her spell.”

“Guess we have our plan,” Adrien says. 

“We’ll talk with Nathaniel and Marc,” Lyon said. “They can spread it to the rest of the school and we will soon have as much support as we will need before we perform and get the Board of Education involved.”

“But what about your father, Adrien,” Vallia was worried about her friend’s ‘stick-in-the-mud’ of a parent. “He would never agree with you being a part of any type of revolution.”

“Well, my father will just have to deal with it,” Adrien shrugged. “Plus, I can always spin it to make it look good for the brand when my fans see it as me trying to help those that are neglected because they are not rich.”

The twins smirked as they walked off to get their friends in on their plan.

*****

Luka and Juleka were more than happy to use music to change Dupont for the better. Luka went to an arts school, but Juleka wanted a normal school and she was currently regretting her choice. Kim was also very glad to finally be able to show that he was more than just a jock and that he was about more than just dares and jokes. Seeing the bruises that Lila and Chloe had been leaving on Adrien’s arms just motivated them even more.

They decided to give their performance at a school dance that was coming soon. The entire school would be there. And when they talked to Marc, his class’s president Aurore contacted the Board of Education and they were going to send a few members to check out the problem.

“You guys ready,” Luka asked them as he picked up his guitar. 

“Ready as we will ever be,” Juleka answers.

“I’m just glad to finally be able to stick it to the man,” Kim grins brightly.

“The song you guys chose is certainly a good one,” Adrien looks at Lyon and Vallia.

“What can we say, we love American Disney movies,” Vallia smirked. “Makes us glad that we’re fluent in english.”

The dance got dark, allowing them to get onto the stage that was set up for them. They had convinced Damocles to let them perform, saying they had an important message to give out with their music. Since three of the performers were rich, he let them. It did not go unnoticed how he had rejected Kitty Section when they had wanted to perform at the last dance even when they had told him the same thing.

Adrien stood behind the keyboard as Kim sat at the drums while Juleka picked up her bass and Luka stood with his guitar. Lyon was taking the lead singing position while Vallia was back-up vocals and running their “special” effects. They all had their own mics for them they took turns singing their verses. They were going to get their message out whether people at Dupont wanted it to or not.

Adrien was just glad he managed to avoid both Lila and Chloe since there was no way either of them would have let go of him and let him perform. But after this, he hoped to never have to deal with either of them ever again.

The music started, the spotlights shining down on them. Lyon took the lead and began.

Lyon- “Hear it getting louder, a call for revolution Yeah, we came for what was ours, it's time for restitution We'll protect our own, take back the stone No, human nature cannot hold us down.” Luka- “Stranded at the bottom, but we're more than a whisper No, we'll never be forgotten, our blood's thicker than silver, yeah When worlds collide, it's do or die So tell me, is it wrong to stand your ground?” Lyon+ Luka- “Hear us howl, all or nothing Fangs are out, we ain't running Hear us howl, it's all or nothing.” All six- “Oh oh oh oh This is a declaration Oh oh oh oh Of a new generation It's now or never, we're in this together We'll fight through the highs and the lows No, we won't break, we're more than flesh and bone.”

Lyon gave a wink to his sister and she started the real part of the show. With members of the board in the audience, this was going to force some changes to be made. 

She pressed a button, images and videos started showing on the giant screen behind them. If they could see the board members, they would have seen some very furious faces.

All of the images were of destroyed property, bruises or scratches on people, and even of old things like the destroyed make-up bag that Chloe took a marker to. Then was the clear message when pictures of Lila and Chloe were shown with GUILTY under their pictures then with pictures of the school staff with DOES NOTHING under them.

Lila, Chloe, and Damocles were all white as ghosts.

Vallia- “The world has gone crazy and no one seems to listen Gotta step in, no more maybes, and stop the demolition Is it hope or fear? Look in the mirror Everything we built is coming down.” Juleka- “No more hesitation, it's time we start to realize With all this separation, silence is still taking sides So use your voice, make a choice And tell me, are you standing with the crowd?” All six- “Oh oh oh oh This is a declaration Oh oh oh oh Of a new generation It's now or never, we're in this together We'll fight through the highs and the lows No, we won't break, we're more than flesh and bone.” Then videos were played on the screen. The first were from the day that Marinette was expelled. It was footage from the school security cameras that they got when Markov, the ever helpful AI, hacked into them when the group asked for his help. He was more than happy to help slap some sense into Max.

It clearly showed Lila taking the test answers and putting them in Marinette’s bag. It also showed her fake falling down the stairs and placing her necklace into Marinette’s locker. The video moved on to showing all the times that her or Chloe would grab onto Adrien and would never let go no matter how many times he told them to. The video also showed it happening in front of teachers and they never did anything.

More videos showed Chloe bullying, destroying other art projects that were not her own, and even all the things she did that got most of the class akumatized when it happened on school grounds. They also got videos from Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and every other celebrity that Lila lied about. All of them saying they had never met Lila in their lives. All six- “Ayy, ayy, ayy ayy We say no more bad blood, no more bad blood Ayy, ayy, ayy ayy No way, they can't stop us, no, they can't stop us Ayy, ayy, ayy ayy We say no more bad blood, no more bad blood Ayy, ayy, ayy ayy No way, they can't stop us, no, they can't stop us.”

More videos and photos identified every bully in the school. Each and every single one of them being rich, or have influential parents that Damocles was afraid of, or both. The other students all gathered near the stage, showing their support to the band and hardly anyone supporting the staff or the bullies. Alya was still speechless over Lila’s lies being revealed and what she had said to Marinette in “defense” of Lila. Sabrina was also pale as she remembered everything that Chloe ever made her do, like stealing Marinette’s diary and locking Juleka in the bathroom. Adrien- “History changes, but we lost the pages we wrote When you lose direction, can't see the reflection you know We came from the bottom then became the problem Now everything's out of control So hey, are you with me? Let's go!”

The students cheered and danced as the band all sang. They all knew that they were now going to finally be free of the bullies and liars that have been plaguing their lives for years. All six- “Oh oh oh oh This is a declaration Oh oh oh oh Of a new generation It's now or never, we're in this together We'll fight through the highs and the lows No, we won't break, we're more than flesh and bone.”

The band finished with a bang, staring down the staff with cold eyes that said that they regretted nothing. Everyone they stared as were about as pale as a person could be.

After the dance, the Board of Education members brought everything that they had learned and seen to the rest of the board. Actions were immediately taken over the weekend. There was an intense investigation into the school and every member of the staff. Not that surprising, but Mendeleiev was the only staff member that never did anything wrong but was constantly blocked from doing anything by the other staff members.

Damocles was revealed to have been using money granted to the school for things like locker upgrades and new textbooks for his Owl gear instead. Plus he was also found out to be taking many bribes from parents of the bullies to not only keep them from being punished but to also increase their grades if they were low. He was fired immediately.

Bustier also faces a lot of consequences. When the investigation was made known, dozens of her old students came forward. It was revealed that her methods have caused all of them pain. She had spent years coddling the bullies and punishing the victims. Many ended up in therapy while the bullies usually ended up in jail for mostly violent crimes. She had her teaching license revoked and was blacklisted from ever teaching again.

The rest of the staff were all suspended until they finished courses about how to deal with bullies, how to properly run a classroom, as well as all of them having to pay finds.

All of the bullies were either expelled or suspended, depending on how horrible they were. A lot of them were having to repeat the grade because of how much their parents had spent to keep their grades up while they did hardly any work. 

Alya, while being sued for the lies she posted on her blog, did not do anything else beyond cyber bullying of Marinette. But that did get her another lawsuit from her former best friend’s parents as well as being suspended from school for a week. Her parents forced her to delete the Ladyblog.

Chloe and Lila were, of course, the worst of them all.

Chloe ended up expelled and it was found out that she was also banded from every private school in the city because of how well her bullying habits were known. Her father was also facing multiple accusations of abuse of power because of how he handled problems that his daughter caused. Chloe could also hardly ever leave the hotel without being sneered or yelled at by literally everyone in Paris.

Lila was not only expelled, but also had giant finds placed on her after she was arrested for her months of truancy. Every celebrity she had ever lied about was also suing her for slander, defamation, and libel. It was also revealed that her mother had taken away her diplomatic immunity once she had learned about all the lies that her daughter told her and everyone around her. Her reputation as a liar has spread all throughout France and she will never be able to use her schemes ever again. Her mother makes sure to inform all her future teachers and principals about her lying and bullying habits.

All while this is happening, the new band clinks their glasses together as they cheers for a job well done. And if Adrien also happens to be kissed by a certain Greek lead singer, that is just a bonus for him.

[avengerscompound]

It’s You and Me - Chapter 10

It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x  F!Reader

Word Count:  1758

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Mentions of past abuse, some kinda sexual stuff (though it���s light and probably pg movie worthy), some of this is canon comic stuff - so you may have already read it.

Synopsis: You and Clint Barton go way back.  Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you.  For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.

When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.

Fifteen years later he tracks you down.  Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father.  Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?

A series told in flashbacks and current day.

Chapter 10: Then

Clint ran through the circus looking for Eden.  He’d been in town getting some things when he’d spotted the paper.  The words ‘Art Dealer Murdered’ were splashed over the front page, with a photograph of the man Clint recognized from when he’d had the meeting with Tiboldt and a picture of some of the missing art.  He knew it had to do with the circus.  That someone from here had killed him when they’d tried to steal the art.  After what you had said about Eden potentially being involved, he was terrified that someone was her.

“Anyone seen Eden?”  He called as he ran through the carnies setting up the tents for the show tonight.

He spotted Bruto the Strong Man hammering in some of the larger poles and rushed over to him.  “Bruto,” he said, slightly breathless.  “You seen Eden around?”

Bruto thrust his thumb over his shoulder.  “Check Tiboldt’s trailer.”

Clint nodded and ran towards the orange trailer that had the large banner advertising the circus on the side.  “Eden,” he called.  “Tiboldt - you guys in there?”

The door opened a crack and the thin weasley face peered around the corner.  “What do you want, Barton?”

“Where’s Eden?”  Clint asked.

Tiboldt narrowed his eyes.  “What… do … you… want?”

Clint thrust the paper forward, right into the Ringmaster’s face so he could see the headline.  “This is the guy you were talking to a few days ago!”

“Really?”  Tiboldt said, playing coy.  “I talk to so many people when we do our shows…”

“He was the museum guy - we were gonna do some children’s charity gig for him?”  Clint questioned.

Tiboldt chuckled drily and handed the paper back to Clint.  “Apparently, we won’t be now.”

Clint scowled, taking it.  “Where’s Eden?”

Tiboldt pushed the door open so that Clint could see inside.  Eden was sitting at the dressing table, naked except for a small towel wrapped around her waist.  She turned, obviously startled that the Ringmaster would give her away.  “Clint!”  She yelped.  “I…”

Clint fumed.  He wanted to yell.  To fight Tiboldt.  To do something to express how angry and hurt he was right now.  Tiboldt was the boss though and he was stuck.  He’d been sleeping with Eden and they’d gone and murdered someone together and Clint was just some dumb sucker.

He spun on his heel and stormed off.

He’d made it halfway down the big top before Eden came chasing after him, the towel only barely wrapped around her.  “Clint!  Wait!” She called.  “It’s not what you think!”

“Yeah?”  He snapped, tossing the paper into the air.  “‘Cause I’m thinkin’ you’re with him when you said you were my girl -” he loosed an arrow at it and shot past Eden’s head, pinning the paper to the wall of the trailer she was standing next to, the arrowhead piercing the picture of the murder victim through the head.  “- and you helped him commit murder!”

“You…” Eden stammered.  “You really think I would murder someone?”

Clint faltered.  He didn’t know what he believed.  He loved Eden and had loved her for a while now.  But seeing her naked in that trailer only days after you had warned him about what was going on, he wasn’t sure if he could trust her.  “I - no… no, I don’t…”

She approached him running her hand up into the back of his head and leaning into him.  “As for Tiboldt and me - please - I was posing for a new trailer poster.”  She looked into his eyes and tilted her head.  “No one touches me - you know that.  No one but you.”

She opened her towel, and wrapped it around him, bringing her naked body to his right out in the open in front of everyone.  Heat flushed Clint’s skin and every coherent thought left his head.  He kissed Eden deeply and hungrily the only thing even remotely resembling a coherent thought was the deep animalistic hunger he felt for her.

That night as you and Clint got ready for the show, he’d all but forgotten the incident from earlier and the murder of the art dealer.  You were fussing with the horses as he checked his equipment.

“Five minutes ‘til showtime!”  Tiboldt called.  Clint flexed his bowstring and the bow snapped.  “Ah, nuts!”  He cursed and looked around, while Tidbolt called out the run list.  “Anyone got a soldering iron?”

You shook your head while the other performers ignored him.  “Hurry, Clint,” you said.  “We’re first.”

“I’ll be quick,” he agreed and ran out the back of the tent.  Eden was coming in from outside.  She was wearing a bikini that would match her flesh if it wasn’t covered from neck to toe in intricate tattoos.  “Eden, baby, I need a soldering iron,” he said.

“Oh, I got one, Clint,” she teased.

“You do?” He said, completely missing the teasing in his desperation to fix the bow before curtains up.

“You wanna know where I’m keeping it?”  She smirked

Realization dawned on him.  Of course, the woman who was basically naked didn’t have a soldering iron on her.  “Oh,” he said.

“Try one of the storage chests, you big dope - the purple one, I think,” she said.

He rushed down to where the storage chests were but instead of one, there were three purple chests, each identical to the other.  “Aw, man…” he whined.  “Eden… three of them are purple!”

“Two minutes!”  Tiboldt called.

“C’mon…” Clint muttered, opening one of the trunks.  Sitting on top of the chest was the painting from the paper.  It had been Tiboldt, just like he’d thought.  Which meant it was probably Eden too.

His heart sunk.  He didn’t know what to do.  It was one thing when it was just stealing - but murder?  How could he stay with the Circus knowing they were doing that?

“Ladies and Gentleman -”  Tiboldt called, his voice amplified over the big top.  Clint cursed again and began digging for the soldering iron in the other trunks.

He’d well and truly missed his queue when he reached you.  Eden was out on the floor working her contortionist routine.  “Where have you been?”  You asked.  “You missed your queue.”

“I’m sorry!”  He said and came over close to you.  “I was fixing my bow and I found a painting… one of the missing ones.  They killed that art guy.”

You frowned.  “Shit.”

“Did you have anything to do with it?”  He asked.

You held up your hands.  “I swear I didn’t, Clint.  I thought about it, but I knew if they had that over me, then they’d have control of me.”

“You think Eden did?”  Clint muttered.

You looked around and pulled Clint behind the horses more.  He tried to see what had got you spooked and noticed Tiboldt watching you both.  “I don’t know.  Maybe,” you whispered.  “You should ask her that.”

Clint’s shoulders sagged.  “I might get us a motel room.  Maybe if she’s away from the circus she’ll tell me.”

You shrugged.  “Maybe.”

“Hawkeye, Sugar.  You already missed on queue, you better get this one,” Tiboldt snapped, appearing around the front of the horses.

“Yes, sir!” You said, getting on your horse.

Clint did the same and waited for his queue.  You leaned over to him.  “Clint, what are you gonna do if she did do it?”

Clint shrugged.  “I dunno.  I dunno if I can stay here.  Would you come with me?”

“Where would we go?”  You asked.   “We ran away to the circus, what’s after that?”

“Welcome to the ring, the man who can’t miss, Hawkeye!”  Tiboldt announced, interrupting Clint’s train of thought.  He spurred his horse on through the curtains.  Not that he was sure what he was going to do, but if he turned everyone in, there was no way that the answer could be this anymore.

You sat next to Clint by the payphone in the street.  He’d done what he’d said.  He’d taken Eden to a motel.  They’d gotten dirty and then clean again, and while they showered he’d asked her about the murder.  She denied the murder but not the theft and then got mad at him for not trusting her.  Clint had gone to bed feeling sick to his stomach and the next morning he woke well before Eden, come back to the circus, and got you.

“You really gonna do this, Clint?”  You asked.

He shrugged.  “I dunno.  They killed someone.  That guy has a family.  Friends.  They deserve some kind of closure.”

You nodded.  “The circus will be done.  What will we do?”

“Go on the road together,” Clint suggested.  “The act won’t be quite as good without the horses and the clowns, but we could do a pretty good routine.  Maybe some solo work too.”

“Maybe if you do it anonymously they won’t know it was you,” you suggested.

“Eden will know,” he said.  “So will Tiboldt. This is gonna burn us.  I already got my leg busted because I threatened to turn them in once.”

“I guess… make the call, and we go back and … pack our things?”  You said.  “If we can get as much of our stuff as we can, we won’t need to start from scratch.”

“You’re really going to come with me?”  Clint asked.

“Clint,” you said softly, lowering your eyes.  “I know you don’t know exactly what happened to me before I joined the circus, but when I joined, and Jacques said I needed to take those pictures - he said that he wouldn’t touch me.  That it’d just be some naked pictures and that’d pay for my upkeep.  I didn’t like it, but … it was like levels, you know?  When someone keeps breaking your bones, and then a different person says, come here I’ll bruise you, but I won’t break your bones, you go because compared to the broken bones, the bruising feels like heaven.  And you… you said you’d protect me from anyone hurting me at all.  And you did.  You kept Jacques away from me and you gave me a way to protect myself.  And you’ve never expected anything from me.  I kept expecting that one day you’d be like ‘well look what I did, now you owe me so open up those pretty legs of yours’ but you didn’t.  So yeah, Clint.  I’ll go with you because it’s you and me.  You’ve always got my back, it’s only fair I have yours too.”

Clint looked at you and smiled sadly.  “You and me,” he said and patted your thigh.  “Okay.  I’m gonna do this.”

// NEXT

[pertinax--loculos]

Absent That Night -- Excerpt

In which Nox has called Agent Latrell to a crime scene, and Latrell discovers something which will change the direction of the case... and, quite possibly, his life. Wordcount: 1129 CW: death (this is a murder), quite a few mentions of blood/bloodstains *** Nox made his way unerringly through the nonsensical layout, through a door that led to a six-by-eight foot attempt at a hallway, up a narrow set of stairs, past the impractically sharp edge formed by the acute angle outside. By necessity the walls narrowed to a tiny hallway past that bit; just beyond it, they opened up into a room that appear to take up most of the second floor.

Window to his left, on the front of the building. Paintings to his right, covering every square inch of wall. Wet bar against the opposite wall, pale marble with dark metal stools.

Dead body in the centre of the room.

Nox stopped just in front of the window. The rising sun cast him mostly into silhouette.

“Usually, I don’t return to a job site.” His voice was even, measured, but far from casual. “But I thought doing so might be prudent given what happened last time.”

The body was male. That’d give the Headees a bit of a thrill, changing up of the victim profile. No doubt they’d find some way to spin it, even if they currently were leaning pretty heavily on the idea that Carrie had somehow surprised Nox during the last theft. From the doorway, Latrell couldn’t glean any more details.

“How long were you away for?” he said, taking a couple of steps forward.

Nox shifted with him; when Latrell glanced at the movement, he realised it was in order to keep his face hidden in shadow. “About three hours.”

“Huh.” The word did nothing to encompass the thoughts spinning around Latrell’s head, or perhaps it was the only word that would. Three hours was not enough time. Whoever had done this had to get the victim here, get in, kill him, get out, all without leaving a scrap of forensic evidence. And that wasn’t even accounting for finding out that Nox was supposed to be doing something tonight, and then finding out the actual location.

“Yeah.” The gravity in Nox’s tone suggested he’d had similar thoughts. “Professional.”

“Association?”

“No,” Nox said, with such confidence that Latrell didn’t even bother to question him. Even if he disagreed, Nox clearly wasn’t going to discuss it.

Latrell walked the perimeter of the room first, trying to get a broader view before he closed in. Like Carrie, the man had been left facedown, one arm stretched in front of him, feet towards the door. Didn’t look like a gunshot this time, though; not enough trauma. Stabbing? That would make more sense, given that Nox was prone to leaving his signatures with a knife.

He stopped in front of the wall of paintings, trying to make out an obvious gap. They were so haphazardly placed it was impossible. Latrell glanced back over his shoulder. “What is it you took?”

Nox lifted one shoulder, let it drop. “Few gemstones. There’s a safe behind the Clarkeson in the centre.”

The only reason Latrell was able to identify the Clarkeson was because Nox had stolen one before. He stepped closer, peered around the frame, getting as close to the wall as he could without touching it. The safe was well-concealed, likely state-of-the-art.

“‘A few gemstones’?” he repeated, stepping back and swivelling to see both Nox and the body.

This time there was the hint of a smirk in Nox’s voice. “About three carats of untreated gem-quality tanzanite.”

Latrell huffed. Again, his gemstone knowledge came exclusively from Absens Nox, but that was enough to tell him the value of the stones. “Unbelievable.”

“I am very good at what I do, lawman.”

Perhaps too good. Having memorised his zoomed out view of the crime scene, Latrell moved forward for a closer look.

Something about the body niggled at him as he did. He wasn’t sure what it was at first; maybe some forgotten cop sense telling him something was off, that perhaps the body had been moved into position afterwards, or that it didn’t have the marks of a professional killing. But there was an extended bloodstain beneath the body, just like there’d been below Carrie’s, and for a victim to have been killed in this room without any obvious signs of struggle, the murderer had to at least be proficient. No, it was something else, something twinging his memory as he got closer and closer.

It was the precise moment he stopped at the edge of the bloodstain that he saw it.

The tattoo, darker lines stretching down the dark skin of the man’s forearm. A fluid, wavelike pattern that Latrell had admired for the way it evoked the sea.

The world tilted sharply on its axis. Latrell felt the ground move beneath him, shifting and heaving, and he knew he was gonna end up on his knees. Straight down and into the pool of blood, still soaking into the off-white carpet, forming an inexorable admission that he’d been there, that the Headees would use, on top of this, to prove that he wasn’t the accomplice he was the fucking prime suspect—

“Whoa, agent.” Nox’s voice, from very close and yet very far away. Something grabbed his arms, pulled him backwards, away from the pool of blood and the tattoo and the body.

The body.

Kelly.

Nausea clawed its way up the back of Latrell’s throat and he forced it back down, savagely, swallowing again and again and again. He couldn’t throw up, not here, not now, not in this room with the young man he’d argued with only a week ago lying bloody and cold and dead directly in front of him.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

“Lawman? Agent Latrell? You with me?”

Latrell decidedly wasn’t, but Nox’s voice pulled him out of the quagmire of his mind, just enough to process that he was, indeed, on his knees, one hand pressed to the ground in front of him, the other covering his mouth. Nox was near enough that Latrell could see him out of the corner of his eye, though he didn’t lift his head.

“Thought you’d seen your share of dead bodies,” Nox said, casual.

Latrell was pretty sure the comment was intended to rile him. He didn’t really care, because it worked. He shoved off the floor with his hand, bringing himself up onto his haunches. He wasn’t quite ready to try standing.

“Not many of them have been people overtly threatened in public,” he said.

Nox’s face flickered. Too many emotions for Latrell to parse. Likely he didn’t know him well enough to do so even if there weren’t. This man was a stranger. This man was a criminal.

And he was the only ally Latrell currently had.

“That’s… not ideal,” Nox said, slow, cautious.

Latrell laughed, the sound bursting out of him, too close to hysteria. “You think?”

[ot3-watch]

Episode 5: The Mile High Job

WHY IS THIS EPISODE 8

FUCK THE NETWORK I’M VERY TIRED

So we’re starting on a client testimony. Which is sad because I kind of like the context establishing scenes

Sophie being French is hilarious

I’m not saying Hardison shouldn’t be able to take off when he needs to. I am saying that MAYBE THEY SHOULD PLAN HEISTS FOR DAYS WHEN THEY ARE A MEMBER SHORT?

Also, why does Hardison not put his food on a plate before he puts it in the microwave. That spinning plate does not get washed nearly enough for that to be sanitary

OK wait did Hardison just flake out? THEN WHY DID THEY NOT POSTPONE?

THEY SHOULD HAVE PLANNED THIS MUCH BETTER

I love Parker being magic and teleporting

The security guards always seem like idiots and tbh, working where I work with the security guards being who they are, I feel like it’s all bullshit and a disservice to security guards.

I love the Doctor WHo references. TOM AND SARAH JANE BAKER YES MA’AM

But also did no one make a Doctor Who comment? Like really. I know Tom Baker is probably a common name but I really want to know what happens when they get a whovian checking their IDs

THe poor flight attendant. That sucks. Can you imagine getting a COMPLETELY fake call that your cat might be put down? I’m sorry, I can’t. Completely innocent people get screwed by them sometimes and I feel bad

Eliot remembers everyone he’s slept with I love him.

THIS POOR FLIGHT ATTENDANT? WHat happens when she comes back and everyone is side eyeing her and being bitchy?

I hate the trope of girlfriends or love interests being overly sensitive about people remembering tiny details. Especially when they aren’t actually together. Especially when it happened years ago. Especially when they hold it against them for the whole episode.

SOME PEOPLE HAVE TERRIBLE MEMORIES OK

Also, this is Nate. It’s a shock he has any brain cells left with how drunk he is 99% of the time. Get OVER yourself Sophie.

PLACE YOUR MASK OVER YOUR MOUTH AND NOSE ok Leverage predicting the future…

Parker being a terrible flight attendant is hilarious

Did I like her in this episode? I think I liked her in this episode

Eliot suffering through economy I can’t

I feel bad for the woman, but like… stop pushing? I know she’s nervous but the flight attendant is trying to do her job. I mean, it’s Parker, but in any normal situation…

Hardison pulls the same “You’re such a racist” bit every time he gets in a sticky situation, and it always works? Can you imagine if he tried to pull that on an actual racist?

Do planes have bars like that? I’ve been on plenty of planes and i’ve never seen a bar like that

Im never in first class though so whatever

OKAY GUYS THE IN-FLIGHT MOVIE IS ONE OF THE LIBRARIANS MOVIES

Which means noah wyle exists in the leverage universe.

HOW IS THAT GOING TO WORK WITH THE REBOOT THOUGH?

Unless they just… expected no one to notice? To be fair, it’s not like they focused on it

They probably just needed a movie they could use without securing rights first or running into copyright issues

But still… paradoxes

Eliot just going through a bunch of random people's bags…

HE AND PARKER MOVING AROUND EACH OTHER SO COMFORTABLY THOUGH

THIS IS SEASON ONE WHY ARE THEY SO GOOD TOGETHER ALREADY

I LOVE THEM GUYS

Parker. That’s not reassuring Parker. Parker that’s just terrifying. WHY WOULD YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT PARKER?? pARKER?? i’M CONCERNED PARKER!

I really hate Sophie getting mad at nate for this shit. It’s not funny. It’s not cute. It just makes Sophie seem unreasonable and bitchy

OK BUT Hardison and the woman bonding IMMEDIATELY over nerdy gaming is so great

Also i like that they made the other nerd a woman is great

OK but he is not talking nearly silently enough for the ONLY other person in the room to just stop listening to him?

Could you imagine the person you were talking to randomly stops talking, looks upset, and then sticks his head in the cabinet? And starts muttering to himself?

LIKE EITHER HE CAN’T TELL REALITY FROM FANTASY OR HES A SPY

WHY ARE YOU NOT SUSPICIOUS??

He really does pull this shit off really well.

The amount of men in that conference room is oppressive and very realistic ina very sad way

Parker must be in a thief’s paradise

OKAY I REMEMBER NOW AND I DID LIKE PARKER IN THIS EPISODE

“Nobody tells me anything”

THAT’S SUCH A MOOD

Literally the job I’m working in right now is exactly like that

My job is literally to know things and help people and provide them with the information they need

AND STILL I’M ONE OF THE LAST TO FIND THINGS OUT

IT’S VERY FRUSTRATING OK

WHy can I not remember why they’re going after genegrow? Someone died I think? But i cannot remember

“The guy in 1D wants to kill you. Ginger Ale?”

Why is it that all i can think about right now is harry styles and niall horan

I mean I KNOW why but like… why

I LOVE them but why?

WHAT IS THIS OFFICE WOMAN’S NAME I LOVE HER

How does no one question Hardison showing up out of nowhere though?

Im just saying… supposedly it’s “Dave’s” birthday, and they think they should have already known about it? He just started that job on that day?

Unless he’s pretending to have been there forever but even then…

This makes no sense? I’m so confused?

Eliot beating a guy up in an airport bathroom is fantastic

But also you can’t fit one person in a airport bathroom, let alone two

THe view from the top is much smaller than the shots from the side

Parker: the guy we just took out? Eliot: -_- Parker: The guy Eliot just took out?

Sophie always seems so shocked by the inhumanity of some of these people they interact with. Nate’s like “Yeah, people are awful” and Eliot’s like “I see worse all the time” and Parker’s like “Is this meant to be weird or something?” but Sophie’s like “WHAt? Someone wants people DEAD? And might KILL US IN THE PROCESS?”

Is the art theft world just not so violent?

Even hardison doesn’t seem shocked, just upset and offended. Sophie’s always like OoO though and it gets weird?

Now both Eliot AND Nate are fitting in the bathroom? With an already unconscious guy? I’VE BEEN IN AIRPLANE BATHROOMS. THEY AREN’T BIG ENOUGH FOR THAT.

Unless i’m just fat. Which is an option.

Why do people have random wires in their luggage? Who travels with a giant bundle of wires in their luggage?

Oh look. The red head was right. There is a tailwind

OK But THE OXYGEN MASKS CAME DOWN AND NO ONE IS TRYING TO PUT ONE ON?

I know they’re panicking but still

Nate really does just throw things at hardison and then Hardison goes like WHAT I CAN’T DO THIS and then he does it.

HOW is Hardison THAT talented it’s ridiculous

WE all talk about Eliot being hyper-competent in everything when Hardison is literally right there

Not to say that eliot doesn’t deserve attention because he does and I love him

I LOVE ELIOT OKAY

I’m just saying Hardison deserves more credit

HOW DID THEY NOT HIT ANY CARS WHEN THEY WERE LANDING? THERE ARE CARS RIGHT THERE? ANd then there’s suddenly no cars in font of them when they land ? It’s all deserted?

HARDISON IS SO GOOD THOUGH

How did they set up a party for “Dave” so quickly?

WHY DOES NO ONE LOOK TO SEE WHO DAVE WAS YELLING AT?

Everyone is so done with Hardison and honestly? Fair. He might’ve saved them, but he also screwed them over earlier. It came in handy, but still.

I really could not give less of a shit about the Nate Sophie storyline in this episode. In most of season one really. It’s all shitty and annoying

FINAL THOUGHTS: 8/10. Points off for people not acting like people. Points off for the shitty Sophie/Nate stuff. Extra points for Eliot being Eliot. (There will always be extra points for Eliot being Eliot). Extra points for Hardison’s badassery. Extra points because I liked Parker in this episode. Extra points for nerd girl. You go nerd girl. Points off because I literally remember nothing about this episode except for Hardison being awesome, the office scenes, and the fact that there was a plane crash. Why were they on the plane? No idea. Can’t remember.

Sam count: 3/5

IYS count: 2/5 (Am I remembering this wrong? I felt like there were more? Then again, I’m only 5 episodes in)

[multifandomfanfiction]

You Are My Sunshine Chapter 8

TITLE: You Are My Sunshine Chapter 8 PAIRING: Marcus/OC RATING: T CHAPTER: 8/? SUMMARY: The FBI is setting up a task force to deal with international art theft and they’re in need of an analyst. Willow Reid, younger sister of the BAU’s resident genius, applies for the job and gets it. She and her new boss, Agent Marcus Pike, get off on the wrong foot due to her overly friendly personality. What will the BAU do when they realize that he’s taken their sunshine away?

[A/N - What’s this? Do I spy some flirting?]

Willow returned from lunch when she saw a familiar head of white hair talking to Marcus. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” She walked up to the two men. “Rossi! What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“Well I was looking for, but Marcus said you were out for lunch.”

“There’s this thing called a cell phone or are you too old school for that?”

Rossi placed a hand on his chest. “You wound me Principessa.”

“Rossi invited us to dinner,” Marcus said.

“Wait. Us?” Willow asked.

“The team wants to meet him,” Rossi explained, “We’ve heard so much about him from you and Penelope.”

Willow made a mental note to kill Penelope later. “You should probably get back upstairs before Spencer, Prentiss, and Morgan burn down the building.” Willow walked Rossi to the elevator and pressed the button. “Penelope is the reason behind this, isn’t she?”

“She only said that you two seem to be friends now. We’re just looking out for you. Besides, who knows? Maybe he’ll be something more in the future.”

Willow blushed. “Rossi! He is my boss! And you know the rules.”

“Principessa, I’m the reason those rules exist.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “We all know that, Rossi.”

“Willow, you wouldn’t be the first person to fall for your boss. It may not even happen and even if it does, there are plenty of other departments looking for an analyst.”

The elevator doors opened and Rossi kissed her forehead. “Just think about it.” He entered the elevator and the doors closed.

Willow approached Marcus. “I am so sorry about that. You don’t have to go with me if you don’t want to.”

“Willow, it’s fine. I want to. They’re your family and we work in the same building. Besides, it would be nice to be able to put faces with names.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A few days later, Willow was pulling up to Rossi’s mansion.

Marcus’ mouth dropped open. “How the hell did he get so much money? We make nothing.”

Willow laughed. “He wrote books after he left the BAU the first time. He’s a best-selling author, but he’s honestly just a normal person.”

“Yeah, a normal person who lives in fucking mansion outside DC.”

They got out of the car and Willow smoothed her sundress. She tried telling herself she had no reason to be nervous.

Marcus was dressed the most casual she’d ever seen him in a white t-shirt and leather jacket. Marcus put a hand on her lower back as they walked up the steps.

Willow turned the knob and they walked in.

Everyone was in the kitchen talking as Rossi was cooking.

“Sunshine! And…Marcus,” Penelope said.

“Marcus? The asshole who made Willow cry?” Morgan asked, sizing the other man up.

Marcus nervously rubbed the back of his neck. He still felt bad about how he had treated Willow.

“Oh Morgan. Stop being an asshole. They’re friends now!”

“Fine.”

“I’m JJ. Willow tells me you majored in Art History,” JJ said, trying to lighten the mood.

Marcus’ eyes lit up and he started to open his mouth when Willow put a hand on his chest and said, “Don’t get him started, please.”

Everyone laughed.

When Rossi was done, everyone grabbed a plate of food and went into the living room.

Marcus sat on an ottoman, while Willow started to sit on the floor. “Here, you’re wearing a dress,” Marcus said, getting up.

Willow blushed and took a seat on the ottoman while Marcus sat at her feet with his shoulder pressed up against her knee.

Rossi immediately noticed the interaction and how close Marcus was sitting to her. But neither of them seemed to notice. He also noticed how Willow hadn’t asked where her brother was. If she noticed his absence, she didn’t say anything. Normally, the two were inseparable but since she’d taken the job in the art theft department, everyone had noticed how she kept her distance from him. But it didn’t seem like the siblings were in a fight or anything. It was odd.

While they ate, the BAU asked Marcus and Willow various questions about cases they’d been on.

Willow jumped when she felt Marcus’ warm hand on her ankle, rubbing circles on her ankle bone. She snuck a look at him and it seemed like he didn’t realize he was actually doing it. Willow stood up to take her plate to the kitchen, but Marcus beat her to it.

“Oh, I got it,” he said, taking it from her, “Do you want anything while I’m up?”

“Another glass of wine would be great.” He gave her a wink and took the glass from her hands. “Coming right up.”

Once he left the room, Willow felt like she could breathe again. Willow looked around and noticed Rossi was gone (probably getting dessert), leaving her with JJ, Penelope, Morgan, and Prentiss.

“That man is in love with you,” Prentiss said.

“He’s just being nice,” Willow denied.

“He got up and let you have his seat and then proceeded to sit at your feet like an obedient dog,” Morgan told her, “Either you have him trained or he’s in love with you.”

Marcus and Rossi returned with dessert.

Marcus handed Willow her glass of wine and a bowl of Gelato. “Don’t you want any?” Willow asked.

Marcus gave her a soft smile. “I’m fine, swe…Willow.”

Willow knew what words were on the tip of his tongue. Her cheeks burned as she sipped her wine.

Taglist: @bxnnywriting @sugarontherims​