#and that includes learning where to go to try looking for an answer yourself first

[jvlianbashir]

i know that others have already commented on this but most of my high school interns are so helpless when it comes to technology that doesn't completely spoonfeed the experience that it is actually terrifying

[mrsholmesreid]

EVERY FIRST, YOURS | spencer reid x reader

summary: you and spencer reid have been going out for a few weeks. he's taking things very slow, and you find his pace comforting and his awkwardness endearing. as your relationship grows more heated, you come to find that he was completely inexperienced before meeting you. you feel honored to be his first, to be the one he learns love from.

pairing: spencer reid x reader (no pronouns but reader has female anatomy)

word count: 9,05k

content warnings: fluff x smut, virgin!spencer, oral sex (reader receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, aftercare.

author's note: i tried to portray spencer's inexperience in a way that's more realistic—despite him reading a lot and knowing everything about most things—and that followed his character's personality but that was still enjoyable to read. i hope you love reading this as much as i loved writing it! let me know what you think :)

You and Spencer had been going out for a few weeks. After reaching for the same book at a bookstore, the two of you started talking—and it didn’t take very long before you planned a date. He chose a nice restaurant, picked you up, brought you flowers, and did every other gentleman attitude in the book. By the end of it, you were sure he was going to make a move—kiss you, touch you, maybe even try to get you to go home with him—but he did none of that. As he dropped you off at your place at a reasonable hour, he gave you a gentle, respectful hug, and thanked you for an amazing time with the promise of calling you back again soon. And unlike most other guys, he kept it.

You thought he was the sweetest guy you’d ever met.

It was only by your third date that he tried to kiss you. The routine remained—picking you up, taking you to a nice place (this time it had been a museum, where he risked to hold your hand—and you let him), and then, finally, driving you home.

When you reached your doorstep, it was a little later than usual because both of you wanted to stay for a short lecture they were having at the museum. His eyes glimmered under the dim lighting of your porch, and in a quiet moment that followed after a string of warm laughter about the night’s events, he asked if he could kiss you.

You’d never had anyone ask you that before. Guys would usually just take the hint and lean in all at once. But for some reason, the care in his eyes, the way he rubbed his hands ever so slightly against his slacks—as if trying to dry off a thin layer of nervous sweat without you noticing—endeared you deeply. Your heart warmed at the way his eyes stared at you. His pupils wide, taking you in and eagerly waiting for an answer.

“Please?”

The word sounded more like a whimper coming from his lips. You were so deep in your thoughts about how adorable he looked when asking you that question, that you forgot to actually agree to it. You didn’t just want to kiss him. You wanted to scream, jump in his arms, kiss him all over, invite him inside, and give yourself completely to this charming man. But you didn’t.

It was clear by how nervous he seemed that he had planned every second of every date he had taken you on—including this very moment—and you wanted to let him do it. You wanted to play along, to let him win the little game he had in his mind. You knew he had probably rehearsed that line a thousand times before actually saying it to you. “May I kiss you?” You could almost picture him saying it to the mirror. So, you allowed him to set the pace.

“Yes,” you smiled softly, taking a small step closer.

The kiss that followed wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, but in a way, it couldn’t have been better. His breath hitched, and you could see the exact moment his brain short-circuited after hearing your breathy one-worded answer. He took another step in your direction, closing the distance between you but not quite letting your bodies touch just yet. He took a deep breath, and very slowly, pressed a brush of a kiss against your lips.

It barely lasted more than three seconds, but to you, it was an eternity. You never thought such a chaste peck could make that many fireworks go off inside your head. 

You didn’t know it then, but the fireworks in his head were much brighter than yours; for that had been his first kiss ever.

After that, he simply pulled back with the biggest, silliest smile you’d ever seen. He looked like a child that had just been given a puppy. Or even the puppy itself.

His flushed cheeks said everything he couldn’t, and after exchanging goodnights, he went back to his car, leaving you just as flustered and happy as him.

What had he done to you? You felt like a teenager in love for the first time. But whatever it was, you couldn’t help but crave more of it.

For the next couple of dates, he followed that same script—but now, with a goodnight kiss at the end of it. You kept letting him set the pace, enjoying how adorable he looked whenever the time to kiss you came. Even his behavior in the moments leading up to it would change. He’d get more talkative on the drive back to your place, and you could swear you even saw him unconsciously skipping after closing the car door for you before taking you home one time. You loved his silly smiles, and they brought up a bunch of your own.

But as the dates kept going, his kisses evolved.

The first time he changed it, was after he had taken you to an amusement park. You were both exhilarated after the adrenalin-fueled evening when you reached your doorstep, and as if on instinct, he pulled you in with his hands cradling your face as he kissed you for a lot longer than three seconds. 

He hadn’t done that yet, and he seemed just as surprised as you by his own, unexpected action. The way his fingers naturally threaded through your hair to bring you closer, how his lips pressed more purposefully against yours—your heart nearly stopped.

He pulled back slowly, his hands slipping shyly from your cheeks, and he looked like the floor could swallow him whole with embarrassment.

“I-I’m sorry…” He stammered, but you could tell that, deep down, he really wasn’t.

“Don’t apologize,” you smiled and couldn’t help yourself, tentatively stealing another peck. You didn’t even try to hide how much you’d loved the fact that he had lost himself in the kiss.

His blush deepened at your stolen peck, but you didn’t press him further than that.

“So… we’re okay?” He asked timidly. 

“Yeah… we’re okay,” you replied, your grin widening.

After that night, his kisses only grew deeper.

On the following date, he allowed his lips to move ever so slightly against yours, making your entire body shiver.

By the next one, he flicked his tongue over your lower lip, hesitantly begging for entry—which you granted him in a heartbeat.

His movements were shy and almost experimental at first, but not long after, the routine chaste goodnight kisses were replaced by his hands on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as your tongues danced together. You didn’t realize it then, but you were teaching him how to kiss.

You were starting to wonder when he’d want more. Your make out sessions were becoming more heated with each date; to the point that, one night, he even pressed you lightly against the wall. The desire between you was growing undeniably evident—both figuratively and literally.

You’d been waiting for the night when he’d ask to come inside—find an excuse to actually cross the front door limit you’d been teetering over, go into your house, and take things further. But he didn’t.

You were patient, though. You could tell he was very careful with everything you did together, and not only did you respect that, but you were thankful for it. You thought you might actually benefit from having someone be a little more controlled than you in a relationship for once. Ever so used to guys jumping to conclusions and skipping important steps, Spencer’s pace was a comforting change of scenery.

But then it finally came.

You were leaving the restaurant, his hand hovering over your lower back as he guided you back to his car like he always did. Everything was going exactly the same, following the usual script perfectly. The next steps were clear: he’d drive you home, you’d make out by your doorstep, then he’d say goodnight and leave you a blushing, butterfly-filled mess.

Until things took a different turn.

“You know,” he broke the comfortable silence, sliding his hand against yours and interlocking your fingers as you walked. You could feel how warm his hand was, and the slight dampness on it indicated he was a little nervous. “I finished setting up that new shelf I was telling you about,” he mentioned, seemingly casually. 

“Oh, did you? You actually figured out where all the nails went?” You teased him lightly.

He let out a soft chuckle, “Yeah, I did. And now I’ve finally organized my books. This time I arranged them by author and theme,” he added, his tone proud.

“It must look beautiful,” you said in all honesty, not realizing the actual weight of your words until he let out:

“Do you wanna see it?” His voice trembled slightly and you could see right through him. That wasn’t an innocent invitation.

Your heart skipped a beat. He wanted you to see it? Like, actually see it, in person, alone with him in his apartment?

You raised your eyebrows, your face a mix of shock and ecstasy. The time had finally come.

“Y-you mean…?” You stuttered, not wanting to jump to conclusions despite the sheer obviousness in his gaze.

“We could go to my place—I mean, stop at my place, before I drop you home,” his nerves were evident by the way he stumbled over his words, trying to play it cool. “Would you like that?” He asked, sounding eager for your answer.

Of course you’d like that. You’d been waiting for that moment for weeks. But still, given how slow he’d been taking things, you needed to make sure that was what he wanted.

“Yes, yes I would, but… Are you sure?” You asked as the two of you stopped by his car, his hand pausing on the passenger’s seat door handle.

His gaze met yours, deep and meaningful. “I wouldn’t have offered it if I wasn’t sure.”

“Okay,” you nodded, the air between you thick with tension and understanding. “I’d love to see your new shelf, Spence.”

He smiled, a soft and genuine curve of his lips, as he opened the car door for you.

The drive to his apartment was quieter than your usual drives. It was like the both of you felt the weight of what was about to happen.

As he pulled over and guided you up to his place, you could tell he was nervous by how he constantly asked if you were feeling uncomfortable, cold, or tired. He was adorable like that, the true concern for your well-being evident in his actions.

“Make yourself at home,” he said as the two of you stepped inside. His apartment wasn’t too big, the perfect balance between having enough room and being cozy. It was warm and welcoming, the faint smell of books and coffee filling your nostrils.

“Thank you,” you replied. You watched as he carefully slipped off his shoes, so you did the same. “You have a really nice place, it’s very… you.”

“Thanks… Everybody says that,” he blushed. “Here, let me take this,” his hands gently slid over your coat, helping you remove it and hung it by the door. You gave him a soft smile, the thick atmosphere slowly fading into something more comfortable. You loved this about him, how he always felt safe, like home.

“So where’s this famous shelf?” You teased, his lips curling into a knowing smile.

“Follow me,” he said, offering you his hand—which you took without hesitation.

Spencer gently guided you further inside the apartment, showing you to the living room. The warm lighting casted soft shadows on the walls, giving the apartment a homey feel. There was a shelf filled to the brim on one side, but you could tell those weren’t all of his books, though. There were a few piled up next to the couch, which was large and comfy with pillows scattered all over it, and some more on the coffee table.

“Is this it?” You asked, pointing at the shelf as you stepped closer to it.

“The one and only,” he grinned, standing next to you with his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“You did a really good job putting this up, it seems very… sturdy,” you said, running your hands gently on the shelf, as if studying it closely.

He smiled proudly. “Yeah, it took me a while. Hey, look through whatever you want, okay? I’m just gonna go grab a glass of water, do you want some?” He offered. As you turned to face him directly, you noticed his flushed cheeks and awkward demeanor. He was clearly nervous about having you here, like he was afraid of disappointing you, desperate to impress you.

You gave him a soft, reassuring smile, before politely declining, “I’m good, thanks. I’ll be right here checking out your beautiful collection,” you said, watching him leave while wiping his hands on his slacks like he always did when he was nervous.

You let out a soft chuckle, biting your lip as you thought about how lucky you were to be the one causing those adorable reactions on that man. Ever the methodic genius, Spencer kept surprising you every time you met by how comfortable he was growing around you. Still, watching him get flustered over the smallest details warmed your heart and filled your stomach with butterflies.

Running your fingers carefully over the spines of his books, you studied the titles but could barely register any of them. Your heart stammered against your chest, the idea of being there with him, alone in his apartment, was both exhilarating and terrifying. Despite the nerves, you didn't feel too bad, because you knew he was just as nervous as you. You could almost picture him pacing the kitchen, taking deep breaths and trying to calm his racing mind. And that mere thought had you smiling like a teenager in love.

You liked Spencer—you really liked him. And you didn’t want to mess any of it up. It had been long since you’d last felt anything remotely similar to what you felt for Spencer. Despite the two of you having not yet discussed the details of your relationship, you already considered him your boyfriend, and you desperately wanted to keep him around long enough to find out if he considered himself your boyfriend as well. And tonight was going to be a big step for the both of you.

Suddenly, you felt his hands sliding across your arms, gently encircling you with his own. Your entire body shivered, your skin feeling like it was on fire.

“You’re back,” you muttered, your voice strained with the surge of desire that coursed through you.

“Mhm. Did you miss me?” He hummed and whispered against the shell of your ear, pulling you back against his chest, your soft curves fitting perfectly against him. It was an unexpected move, but not at all unwelcome. His arms trembled slightly over you, as if he was terrified of your reactions, as if his heart was doing cartwheels in his chest—just like yours.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you joked, resting back against him with a smile playing on your lips. His closeness was both intoxicating and calming, and it took every bit of your strength to keep yourself in check. “But I did. Just a little bit, though,” you whispered.

“Just a little bit, huh?” He teased softly, his breath warm against your neck, making a shiver run down your spine with each of his words. “Well, good to know, because I missed you too.” He admitted sweetly, the words going straight to your core. Even though you were both only joking, only teasing each other for fun, the idea of him thinking about you made your skin tingle.

“Just a little bit?” You asked quietly, continuing the back and forth banter as your fingers intertwined with his.

“Mhm, no, I missed you a whole lot,” he muttered, his lips pressing a trail of soft kisses on your shoulder, going all the way up to your neck. Those words alone almost had you undone. You could feel his cheeks burning as he pressed them against your skin, the mere shift in temperature enough to make you wish you could see the shade of pink coloring over them.

“You’re blushing, aren’t you?”

“No…” He lied, his cheeks feeling even warmer against you.

With a swift motion, you turned around to face him, a surge of confidence taking over you. You wanted him, and you knew he wanted you too. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders. “Liar!” You teased with a giggle, finding the redness on his cheeks absolutely endearing.

“Shut up,” he muttered, looking away with a shy smile as he pulled you closer.

“Look at me, pretty boy,” you tilted his chin with your finger so he was facing you. His eyes timidly met yours, his pupils dilating immediately at the sight. “You’re cute,” you teased, and his blush deepened.

“You’re beautiful,” he muttered, one of his hands sliding up from your waist to cup your cheek, his thumb lightly tracing patterns on your skin.

You tilted your head to the side, completely surrendered to the man before you; a soft, lovesick smile on your lips. When you noticed his eyes flickering down to your mouth, then back to your eyes, you already knew what was coming.

“M-may I kiss you?” He whispered. Even after everything, even after all the times you two made out passionately at your doorstep, he still made sure you gave permission. There was something about the tone in his voice when he asked that, the pleading shine in his eyes that betrayed the true desire in his chest. Everything about him charmed you.

“You really think I'd say no to that?” You smiled, leaning a little closer, your lips just a breath away from his.

He smiled shyly, as if he were unable to contain his own reactions. “Just checking in. I can barely believe you even let me have you like this,” he admitted, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Well, now you know,” you added. “I always want to kiss you.”

He pulled back slowly, his eyes widened with excitement meeting your gaze before he gently brought his lips to yours. The kiss was slow at first, tentative and hesitant. Like you both knew what it was forecasting.

His hands slowly cupped your face, as if he was holding the most precious thing in the world. As the kiss deepened, one of his hands slid to the back of your neck, threading through your hair to pull your mouth closer to his. Meanwhile, his free hand sneaked down your side, resting on your hip to bring you flush against him.

Your tongue slipped past his lips, tangling with his in a dance that grew hotter by the second. You could feel your heartbeat racing pressed against his chest, the rhythm mixing with his own. Your hands went from his neck to his lower back, dragging down his shirt until your fingers reached the hem, sneaking underneath the fabric to meet the warmth of his skin.

He let out a soft gasp into your mouth as your fingers trailed along the skin of his lower back, a shiver running down his spine. You smiled against his lips, enjoying how easily you could elicit reactions from him. Feeling your smile, Spencer tugged you even closer, kissing you even harder.

You turned to putty in his arms. The heat of the moment urged you on, making you slowly back him toward the couch until the back of his knees hit the soft material. Your hands went to his shoulders, gently guiding him down, your lips not leaving each other’s not even for a second. As he sat on the couch, you didn’t waste any time before climbing right on his lap.

His hands immediately met your waist, pulling your body closer until you were sitting directly on top of him. Desire shot up your body like electric shocks when you felt the evidence of his arousal nudging insistently against your clothed core. You pressed down gently, causing a spark of friction that nearly drew both of you insane.

Spencer groaned into your mouth, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours as he caught his breath. “We’ve never been this far,” he muttered, your breaths mingling in the small space between your faces.

“Do you want to stop?” You asked, trailing kisses on his jawline, all the way down to his neck. Your lips attached to the sensitive skin below his ear, unable to resist the need to suck and bite him softly.

“God, no,” he let out in a heartbeat, the earnestness in his voice enough to urge you further. You sucked a little harder on his neck, your tongue soothing the skin right after, making a soft moan escape his lips—the sound going straight to your core. “Damnit, that feels so good,” he muttered, making you smile against his skin.

You continued kissing down his neck to his collarbone, your mouth eager to find new spots that made him gasp. His hands slid down your hips to your backside, gently kneading the soft skin, the motion making you gasp and freeze on his neck for a second. You could feel your underwear grow damper, as well as his pants twitching underneath you.

“I-I’m sorry, should I have not? I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked first…” He muttered as you froze, his hands shaking as they hesitantly left your ass.

“No, no, that’s not it,” you quickly replied, guiding his hands back to where they were. “I liked it, I really did,” you smiled down at him, enjoying the sight of his slightly tousled hair and flushed skin. “You can touch wherever you want,”

“W-wherever I want?” He stammered, barely believing your words. His cheeks turned bright red. “A-are you sure?”

“Wherever you want, baby,” you whispered against his ear, drawing a satisfied sigh from him.

“E-even here?” He asked, the sound of you calling him ‘baby’ going straight to his groin as he gently spread your ass cheeks apart, kneading the flesh. Your head fell to his shoulder, your hips rolling against his as your body grew warmer with pleasure.

“Even there,” you gasped, your hands running down his chest reverently. 

“What about here?” He asked, his hands sneaking up to your ribcage, his thumbs tracing the underside of your breasts. 

“T-there too, baby,” you muttered as his palms slid further up until he was cupping your bosoms. His hands gently squeezed them, thumbs brushing against your hardened nipples over the thin fabric of your shirt and bra.

“I like that,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss your neck as he played with your breasts.

“What, touching me?” You asked, completely focused on the feel of his hands on you, his body pressed underneath yours, and his lips on your skin.

“Well, that too,” he said, squeezing your breasts a little tighter. “But I meant you calling me ‘baby’.”

“Mhm, did you now, baby?” You teased, whispering in his ear.

The soft sound that escaped his lips was almost like a whimper. “Y-yeah, yeah I like that.”

“Good,” you murmured, your tone sultry against the shell of his ear. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you further down on him. Slowly, you began grinding your hips on his, unable to ignore the hardness that pressed against you. You could notice the hitch in his breath as the friction between your bodies took over your minds.

“Is this okay?” You asked as you continued rolling your hips.

“I-It’s more than okay,” he stuttered, his eyes wide as he stared up at you, his grip tightening on your hips as he guided your deliberate movements.

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him again. He complied in a heartbeat, his lips parting to allow your tongue inside.

The heat between you grew exponentially. It was happening, it was really happening. You were grinding down, basically dry humping Spencer Reid as he kissed you like a man starved. It felt like a dream come true.

The desire between you was getting harder to ignore. It was obvious what this was leading to, the tent in his pants and how you rubbed against it were nothing near innocent. But you didn’t want to be the one to take the first step. You didn’t want to seem too eager or to make him feel like you were pushing something on him—but god only knew how badly you needed him.

Then he pulled away, gasping for air, his skin flush.

“I want you,” he admitted. “I want to take you to my bedroom.”

You could tell he was nervous, that admitting this to you was probably one of the hardest things he ever had to say. You smiled, wanting him to know it was okay and he could trust you. You wanted him to know that you wanted him too.

“I’d like that,” you said, kissing his cheek. “I’d like that a lot, actually.”

“Really?” His face brightened, his hand coming to cup your cheek.

“Yes, really,” you smiled. “Only if you’re sure about it, though.” You brought your hand to his face as well, losing yourself in the sight of him asking you this.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he nodded quickly, almost desperately. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

“Really?” You blushed.

He nodded, blushing as well. “Yeah, I've… I've actually been picturing tonight from the very beginning.”

Your entire body shivered. “Me too,” you admitted quietly.

“Really?” He asked, his eyes wide with disbelief and something warmer—desire, admiration, love…?

“Yes, really,” you chuckled softly. “I actually thought it would happen sooner,”

“Oh,” he let out. “Did you want it to have happened sooner?” You could almost feel the insecurity in his tone.

“No, no, that’s not it,” you quickly added. “It’s just… Most guys would’ve tried to do this earlier, you know? But… I’m glad you didn’t,” you smiled softly, reaching up to caress his hair.

He melted into your touch, his face relaxing at your words. “I didn’t want to rush things with you. You mean a lot to me,” he smiled, his eyes wide staring up at you.

“You mean a lot to me too,” you replied, leaning down to kiss him.

His lips met yours softly, the both of you drowning in the sensations. The heat between you was still very present, so it didn’t take long before he was helping you off his lap and guiding you to his bedroom, the kiss not breaking for a second.

He kicked the door shut behind you carefully, gently backing you toward his bed. As the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, he slowly pushed you down onto it, crawling on top of you.

His body hovered above yours as you made out, hands exploring each other’s bodies with reverence. You could tell he wasn’t very used to this, his limbs trembled slightly against you as if he was overthinking his every action.

His knees gently spread your legs apart so he could fit his body between them, which you easily allowed. His hips pressed down against yours, your arms enveloping him and dragging him closer to you. His kisses grew even more heated, lips trailing down your jawline to your neck as he ground down against you. 

The way you gasped, the soft moans that spilled from your throat, everything overwhelmed him in the best way possible. He loved how responsive you were, how you showed him with every breath you let out how badly you needed him, just like he needed you.

His face left the crook of your neck to stare down at you, hands paused by the hem of your shirt. Silently asking for permission, his gaze met yours to find your desires mirrored in each other. No words were needed, his fingers gently tugging your shirt upwards until it was tossed across the room. His own shirt followed soon after.

Your chests pressed together snuggly as Spencer found his way back to your neck, his lips sucking gently on the sensitive skin below your ear. His hands sneaked down your back, fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra.

“Need any help?” You chuckled quietly, not in a mocking tone, but rather raw endearment for his gentle ministrations. 

“Yes, please,” he blushed softly. You reached behind your back undoing your bra with practiced ease. The straps fell loosely off your shoulders, the cups still covering your breasts.

“May I?” Spencer asked, his fingers stilling on the straps. You nodded, helping him as he slid off the garment.

His eyes widened noticeably at the sight of your bare chest as he tossed your bra away. “You’re breathtaking,” he muttered in complete awe of you, his fingers kneading the soft flesh with worshipping care.

Before you could respond, his face bent down to latch on one of your nipples, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as he sucked it into his mouth, a satisfied sigh escaping his throat as he felt it harden between his lips. You let out a low moan, your hands trailing down his back, tracing slow patterns that made his skin tingle.

His free hand played with your other breast, making sure he was lavishing attention to both mounds as he switched between sucking and squeezing each side. He was lost in the taste of you, nursing as if he’d been hungry for you for months.

Your chest rose and fell with your ragged breaths, pleasure overtaking you. His hips didn’t falter their grinding, the evidence of his desire causing a mindblowing friction between you. 

Your hands shyly sneaked down his back, hooking on the waistband of his pants. As your fingers trailed lightly under the fabric of his boxers, he hitched against your chest, letting go of your nipples to look up at you.

“May I take these off?” You asked quietly.

He nodded eagerly, his hands reaching down to help you as he unzipped his pants with a clumsiness that neared desperation. His pants were on the floor in no time, the thin grey fabric of his boxers doing little to conceal the hard line of his arousal.

The sight nearly drove you mad, your hands reaching down to your own pants, hips lifting off the bed to pull it off.

Spencer’s hands met your waistband in no time, helping you remove your pants. Each inch of your bare skin being revealed made his heartbeat rise a little more, the weight of the moment pounding against his chest. He needed you like he never needed anything else before in his life.

You gently pulled him back up, your lips catching his in a searing kiss. Your bare chests pressed together, the warmth of his skin seeping through yours as your kisses deepened. Spencer continued grinding against you, the only barrier left between your sexes being the thin fabric of both of your underwear.

Your sight was blinded by a haze of desire. You wanted him, you needed him to take you, you needed to feel him deep inside you. Not able to contain yourself, you reached down to hook your fingers on the waistband of his boxers—being careful not to overwhelm him, but also not wanting to wait any longer.

He let out a soft gasp into your mouth, pulling back from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours as he caught his breath.

“Sorry, too much?” You whispered, your fingers stilling around his hips.

“No, no, it’s not that, it’s just… I should probably tell you something,” he muttered, a blush creeping up his already flushed neck.

“What is it? You know you can tell me anything,” you murmured softly, your tone sweet and understanding, but laced with a tinge of concern.

“I… I haven’t exactly… I mean, I haven’t really… this is kind of my…” he stammered, struggling to put his thoughts into words, but you understood what he meant immediately.

“...Your first time?” You finished for him. He nodded shyly, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “This is your first time, Spence?” You confirmed, your hands sliding up his back, your touch filled with affection.

“Yes… I’ve never… done this with anyone before. I actually hadn’t done anything with anyone before you,” he admitted quietly.

“Wait, you mean… nothing at all?” You asked, a little bit in disbelief. He nodded, making your heartbeat quicken. “Spencer, was I… was I your first kiss?” You asked, your eyes searching his, your expression unreadable.

“Yes… you were my first kiss, my first… everything,” he whispered. “Do you think I’m pathetic? It’s okay, you can be honest, I’ll understand…”

“No,” you interrupted. “I could never think that.”

His eyes lit up, finally running back up to meet yours. “Really?” He murmured, unsure if he wanted to hear your real answer or a made up lie to avoid hurting his feelings.

“Yes, really. I think you're so sweet, Spence, I could never think anything less of you. And the fact that I was your first kiss, your first… everything, is so special to me. I couldn’t be happier that you let me be the person who showed you this side of life,” you smiled warmly, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. “The only thing I wish had gone differently is that you’d have told me earlier. If I had known, I would’ve been gentler, kinder, more understanding…”

“But you were all of those things,” he muttered, his eyes soft staring down at you. “You were the best person I could think of to do all of this. You’re the first person who’s ever made me feel like this, like… I could take all the love you can give me and still crave more.”

Your gaze softened, your chest warm at his admission. “I’m so glad you trust me. You make me feel that way too,”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss on your lips. It was chaste, but meaningful. When he pulled back, his eyes met yours with renewed desire, but this time, they were filled with something warmer, something more understanding than pure lust. None of you dared to name it then, but that single look you two exchanged was the first seed of love starting to bloom between you.

“I want you,” he muttered.

“I want you too,” you replied.

Your lips crashed together again, hungrier this time. Your tongues tangled in a sensual dance, the fire between you heating up once more as your fingers found their way back to the waistband of his boxers. But this time, he helped you tug them off.

As soon as the garment was tossed across the room, his hands reached down for your panties, fingers hooking on their sides as you lifted your hips to help him slide them off your legs. Once you were both bare, his body settled between your legs, the skin-on-skin contact bringing your connection to a whole new level of intimacy and pleasure.

Your senses were heightened by each brush of his skin on yours, the warmth between your legs growing wetter with each movement. His hands kneaded your skin—the moans that escaped both of your throats filled the room as his fingers worked on finding your sensitive spots while grinding down against you, his bare length sliding between your folds and bringing both of you to the brink of giving into the fire burning between you.

You wanted his first time to be perfect. You wanted to give him the best experience possible, to be there for him all the way—much unlike most people’s first times. You noticed how sloppy and unthought through were his actions, you could tell he was moving on pure instinct and response observation. He seemed acutely aware of each of your actions, each of the sounds you made; following the path that led to them like he was tethered to your gasps and the arching of your back.

“I want to taste you,” he whispered, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Are you sure?” You blinked up at him as he rolled his hips slowly, his erection sliding lazily against your thigh.

“I’m sure,” he nodded. “I’ve read a lot about it online—about all of this, really. I think I have a pretty good idea of how things are supposed to go,” he explained proudly.

“Well, that’s great baby, but practice is very different from theory,” you said softly, caressing the back of his neck.

“Oh trust me, I know. None of this is like anything I expected, but… I want to learn… If you’ll let me…?” He trailed off, his gaze flicking down to your core then back to your eyes.

“Of course I’ll let you,” you smiled. “I’ll guide you through it if you need me to. But please, don’t do anything you don’t want just to please me, okay? I’m here for you, I want tonight to be a good memory,” you said, your tone dropping an octave and becoming more serious.

“I know,” he nodded, nuzzling his nose on your cheek. “Trust me, I want this very much. Maybe even more than you, probably even more than you,” he admitted, making you blush.

“Suit yourself, then,” you smiled, your body already thrumming with the thought of having him between your legs.

Slowly, he began trailing hot, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down your body. He lavished attention to your breasts, ribs, stomach, then finally began moving up your inner thighs. His hands gently scooped them up, placing them over his shoulders as his lips trailed dangerously closer to where you needed them.

His fingers spread your wet folds, revealing the flush, wet skin underneath. His breath hitched, and almost as if worshipping you, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your most sensitive spot.

He hummed against you, enjoying the taste and feel of your intimacy like nothing he’d ever felt. His lips closed around the sensitive bud, sucking it into his mouth as his tongue darted out to taste you. You moaned softly, your hands threading through his hair as your thighs threatened to close around his head. His hands carefully pried your legs apart, holding you open for him to feast on you with abandon. 

You could tell the rational side of him was slowly fading away, like he was giving into the moment without overthinking things he might've read online. He carefully tried to insert his middle finger in you, missing the spot a couple times before he finally managed to slide it in. You smiled, looking down at him.

The sight of him between your legs, hair tousled between your fingers, eyes shut as he lost himself in the act of pleasuring you—all of it drew you closer to the edge. He moved his fingers sloppily, and you let him explore. Something about his eagerness to learn and the way he seemed overwhelmed by his pleasure heightened your own.

Then he slid another finger in you, making a come hither motion until he felt a rougher patch. The way your hips bucked when he rubbed it told him everything he needed to know.

He continued thrusting his fingers, trying to hit that spot every time as his tongue lapped hungrily over your clit, following the direction your hand guided his head to. 

“Fuck, that's it, Spencer… that's it, please don't stop…” You whimpered, your legs trembling on his shoulders as you felt your release building. 

He looked up at you through hooded eyes, your words urging him on. He continued eating you out, groaning against you as he found pleasure in the act of pleasuring you. As if on pure instinct, his hips began thrusting against the bed, grinding his erection on the mattress, seeking some sort of friction to relieve the pleasure he felt. It was all overwhelming to him, he never expected to feel this much pleasure by going down on someone else.

He could feel you clenching down on his fingers, your walls beginning to flutter around him. He moaned, the sound vibrating against your core, heightening the pleasure you felt.

He had to force himself to stop grinding on the mattress, or else he'd be finishing too soon. Determined to bring you over the edge, he kept going, his eyes fixed on you as he ate you out.

“Are you close?” He asked, taking a break to breathe, though his fingers didn't falter.

“Yeah… please don't stop…” You moaned, already bringing his face back down onto you, trying to hold onto the feeling for as long as possible.

He understood what you needed, bending down to continue lapping at you, set on prolonging your release as much as possible. Overtaken by the pleasure, he sped up, trying to get you there faster.

“No, no, Spence, don't speed up!” You begged, your vision blurring with the impending orgasm.

“Sorry, I'm sorry,” he muttered, going back to the former pace until he felt you shaking in his arms.

It was official: Spencer Reid had made someone come.

You moaned his name, legs spasming around his face as he lapped down your release. His fingers gently withdrew from you, his lips kissing your thighs as you came down from your high.

“Did you… did you really just…?” He asked still in disbelief, looking up at you starry eyed.

“Yeah… I did,” you breathed out, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of your release.

“I… I made you come?” He smiled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he slowly crawled back up your body.

“You sure did,” you grinned, wrapping your arms around him. “Thank you, that was… amazing,” you said, kissing his cheek.

“Was it really? I've never felt anything remotely similar to this in my entire life, it was… beautiful. I've never seen anything more beautiful than you letting go like that,” he admitted, his pupils wide and his lips tugging on a silly, lovesick grin.

“You did a really good job, baby,” you held him close, your body starting to recover from the aftermath.

“Are you sure? What about in the end when I sped up?” He asked, his tone dripping with insecurity but also curiosity to learn.

“Oh, don't worry about it, you're a fast learner,” you giggled softly. “It's just that, when I'm getting closer to release, it means you're doing something really right—so don't change it unless I ask you to,” you explained, your fingers tracing patterns on his back.

“Duly noted,” he smiled. “I'll remember that.”

Then he leaned down to kiss you, his forearms caging around your head as your lips met. You could taste yourself faintly in his mouth, and as his body lowered closer to yours, you felt a droplet of something wet fall on your stomach.

Looking down, you realized what it was, a blush creeping up your cheeks. He followed your gaze, noticing what was happening as well, his face hiding in the crook of your neck. You could see how his length throbbed, standing proudly and dripping on your stomach. 

“Uhm… I'm sorry about that, it's just that I…” he stammered, struggling to find less embarrassing words than ‘I'm so hard for you I could come from a single touch of yours.’

“It's fine,” you reassured him, cupping his cheek. “If you want to, I could return the favor or… or we could try something new…” You whispered.

His entire body shivered at your words, his eyes shutting as he tried to control his body's reactions. “As much as I'd love for you to return the favor, I don't think I can… last much longer if you do,” he blushed. “But trust me, if you let me, I'll hold you to that offer.”

You chuckled softly, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “Your call, baby. We can try whatever you want, whenever you want it,” you added, peppering light kisses down his neck.

A smile creeped up his lips as you kissed him. “I want… you. I want to take you now, if you'll let me,” he swallowed hard, nervousness battling with excitement in his chest.

“I'm all yours, sweetheart,” you murmured against the shell of his ear, making his entire body shiver.

“O-okay, then I should… I should grab a c—uhm, protection, I mean…” He stumbled over his words, quickly standing from the bed and looking through his nightstand’s drawer.

You chuckled softly from the bed, watching him nervously looking for the tiny box and pulling a wrapper from inside. “Got it,” he said, claiming his find with a satisfied smile.

“You know… We could go without it if we wanted to,” your eyes glimmered with mischief.

“A-are you serious?” He stuttered, unsure, but not appalled as he sat back on the edge of the bed.

“I mean… We're both clean, aren't we? And I'm on birth control… But it's up to you,” you blushed as the words left your lips, but you couldn't help yourself.

“Y-you’d let me? For real?” He blinked, still in disbelief.

“Yeah,” you smiled.”Would you like that?”

“Yes,” he nodded eagerly, not missing a second. He tossed the condom back in the drawer and climbed back on the bed, his body caging yours against the mattress. “Are you completely sure, though?” He asked again, his body trembling with excitement, his hands running up and down your sides.

“I'm sure, baby,” you smiled, leaning in to kiss him. 

He kissed you fiercely, his tongue delving deep into your mouth as his lips moved hungrily against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling his hips down against yours.

You moaned at the feeling of his hardness pressing down on you, your hips bucking up to meet his. The movement from your hips elicited a guttural groan from him, his length grinding desperately between your glistening folds.

“I think… I think I'm ready,” he muttered, your breaths mingling as he pulled back from the kiss.

“Do you need help, baby? I can take over,” you suggested, noticing how nervous he was.

“No, no, that's fine I… I wanna try. But I'm glad to know you're willing,” he smiled, his hand moving down to grip his base.

“Of course,” you smiled back, your eyes rolling back as he rubbed the tip of his erection across your slit. 

“Fuck, that feels so good,” he shivered, letting out a curse.

You chuckled softly. “Language,” you teased.

“Sorry,” his cheeks turned pink as he began trying to nudge himself inside you.

You let him explore a little, noticing he was trying to fit it in, but struggled. You wanted to let him try, to let him have the feeling that he had some sort of control over this situation, so you didn't interfere.

“Shit, sorry, I'm just… it's just slippery…” He mumbled more to himself as he continued pushing, unsure whether he should use more of his hand or his hips. 

“It's okay, baby, may I help?” You asked softly, not wanting to embarrass him.

“Yes, please,” he blushed, letting his hand fall to the side.

You reached between you bodies, grabbing him and positioning him right at your entrance, nudging the tip in slightly.

“There you go,” you muttered. “Now you just thrust forward,” you explained. “It might slip again, but it's normal, okay?” You told him softly.

“Yeah, okay, thanks,” he nodded, overwhelmed by the sensation of your grip on his tip. “Are you ready?”

You nodded, letting him know it was time. He leaned back down, slowly easing himself inside you with a roll of his hips, until he was entirely sheathed within your heat.

He let his forehead rest against yours, your ragged breaths mingling together as the two of you adjusted to the sensation.

“How do you feel?” You asked quietly, looking up at him.

“So… so good…” He muttered, his hips shifting slightly. “It's so tight and… warm… I love it,” he admitted, slowly beginning to move.

You watched his face closely, admiring how his features changed with each of his thrusts, betraying the pleasure he felt. His rhythm was messy, his legs struggling to find the right ways to support his body as his hips surged forward again and again. 

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his arms supporting his body above yours as he continued moving. He groaned against your ear, the sounds mixed with low moans and soft whimpers as he made love to you.

“Am I doing this right? Does this feel good to you?” He mumbled, trying to angle his moves but accidentally slipping out, quickly sliding in again. “Sorry about that,” he whispered, one of his hands coming up to fondle your breasts. 

“It feels so good, baby, don't worry…” you moaned softly, your legs wrapping around his back to bring him closer. “Keep going, just like that, fuck… You're doing so good…” 

Your words urged him on, his hips moving faster against you. You gasped, the feeling of having him inside you almost too much. You loved watching him learn, how his uneven thrusts slowly became a little less messy, how he whispered ‘sorry’ whenever he accidentally slipped out… Everything about it endeared you.

You'd never had sex like this. So messy, and yet it was perfect. You felt the emotion with every thrust, every moan, every sloppy kiss he left on your neck. 

You noticed how his thrusts became even sloppier, how his grunts grew deeper and how his body tensed.

“Baby, I'm… fuck…” He groaned, his hips faltering for a moment before they continued thrusting forward. “...I'm close. Like, very close.”

“That’s it… Don't stop, keep going…” You whispered, your hands caressing his back as you leaned in to kiss his neck. “You can let go, let yourself feel good,” you whispered to him.

No further words were needed. With a deep, guttural groan, he pushed himself as deeply as he possibly could inside you, letting the pleasure take over him as he filled you up with his release.

“Spencer!” You moaned aloud, wrapping yourself around him as your second orgasm rippled through you. Your legs trembled around his waist, his body crashing down on top of you.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I didn't pull out, I made a mess…” he mumbled against the skin of your neck.

“No, no, baby, it's okay… I don't mind it in the slightest,” you muttered to him, your hand caressing his back. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing. Beyond words can express,” he replied, rolling off you so he was on his back next to you. You turned to face him, laying on your side.

“I'm so happy to have been your first,” you whisper, snuggling against his side.

“Me too… You were perfect, absolutely… Wow…” he gasped, catching his breath as he wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you close. “Hey, did you…?” He asked, frowning slightly as he looked down at you, still soft with the aftermath.

“What? Finish?”

He nodded, a blush creeping up his cheeks. You hummed in agreement, nodding eagerly with a smile.

“Really?” He asked again, his eyes widening slightly at your response. “Again?”

“Yeah, again,” you blushed.

“Oh my—you’re amazing,” he muttered, wrapping his arms tightly around you and leaning down to kiss your forehead.

You giggled softly, burying your face on his chest. “We should probably get cleaned up,” you said, feeling his release coating your inner thighs.

“Right—yes, sorry, aftercare,” He said, quickly hopping off the bed to grab a warm washcloth in the bathroom. 

He came back, sitting at the edge of the bed as he cleaned you up reverently. You watched in complete awe of him, enchanted by the earnest care he poured in his every touch.

“There you go,” he whispered, tossing the washcloth as he climbed back on the bed to cuddle you. 

“Thank you,” you said, letting yourself be enveloped by his arms.

“That was the bare minimum,” he muttered against your hair, breathing in your scent. “You know, we should do this again sometime,” he let out quietly.

You chuckled softly, the sound vibrating in your chests that were pressed together. “Of course we're doing it again, that's what boyfriends do to their—” you stopped yourself after realizing what you'd said.

“Wait, wait. What did you call me?” He froze, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“B-boyfriend…?” You hesitated, unsure about how he'd take it.

“So I'm really your boyfriend?” His smile widened.

“Well, I know we haven't talked directly about this before, but I've kinda been thinking about it, and—”

“Of course I'm your boyfriend! Oh thank god, I was starting to worry I was reading into things…” He sighed, relieved.

“Really? Oh good, I was so afraid too, you were being so careful with everything,” you sighed as well.

“You had nothing to be afraid of, did you really think I'd ask to have sex with you if I wasn't in love?” He let out as if it were obvious, barely realizing what he'd just said before you interrupted:

“You're in love with me?”

“Oh my—I mean, well, it's not that I'm…” He stammered, unable to cover up his slipup.

“Spencer, shut up,” you said, silencing him with a searing kiss. Startled, he kissed you back, his hands finding the back of your neck to pull you closer. “I'm in love with you too,” you whispered as you broke the kiss. 

The silly smile that spread across his face almost had you undone again. “Should I take that as a yes?” He murmured.

“A yes to what?”

“A yes to us doing this again?” He nudged you playfully.

You let out a warm chuckle, “Yes, Spencer. We're definitely doing this again.”

“Yes!” He celebrated, pulling you in even closer as he buried his face in your hair, your bare bodies tangled together impossibly under the covers. “I love being in love with you,” he whispered softly.

“I love being in love with you too,” you whispered back.

author's note 2: thank you for reading this all the way!! let me know what you think of this, and tell me if you'd like a part 2!! i may have ideas 👀

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[wandanatsgf]

Inappropriate Feelings Part 2

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Wanda and Natasha learn that before you got together you had heard them having sex. They proceed to tease you about it before they reenact what you heard, this time with you included

Warning this contains: strap on use, teasing, mommy kink, daddy kink, praise kink, oral sex, degradation, spanking, orgasm control, Wanda is a switch, Natasha is a dom, Reader is a sub

Authors Note: this can be read as a standalone. this is just scraped content from Inappropriate Feeling that I wrote but ultimately cut because I felt like it didn’t work in the story. I had so much cut material I figured I might as well rework it into a second part!

Part 1

"How'd you even know about my daddy kink detka?" Natasha asks one night, referencing the first time the three of you slept together. The three of you are lying in bed after a long night of fucking, everyone’s body completely spent.

Everyone is covered in a thin layer of sweat, skin sticky but none of you care. You’re lying on your side on Natasha’s chest, her hand playing with your hair. Wanda is on the other side of you, holding you from behind.

The question had been on her mind for a while. Were you just that in tune to the two of them that you knew what she liked? Did Wanda tell you telepathically? Natasha is truly curious.

It takes you a second to realize what Natasha just asked you. Your face instantly flushes.

"I might have heard you and Wanda going at it before," you say, burying your face in the crook of Natasha's neck, a blush covering your face.

"Dirty girl," Natasha teases.

"I can't help it, you two were loud," you try to explain, your blush an even deeper shade. But Wanda, ever the mind reader, can see your thoughts. See how you had touched yourself to the thought of them. See how you felt guilty afterwards, and she wants to change that. She projects her thoughts to Natasha, who nods in agreement.

"Aww its okay baby. You just wanted to be a little perv and hear us huh?” It’s Wanda who speaks that time, joining in on the teasing. She pulls your head out of Natasha’s neck and forces you to look at her. She readjusts you so that you’re facing her now, laying on your side.

“You wanna tell us what else you heard?” Wanda’s right hand brushes down your side. Your breath hitches as she gets close to where you want her before she pulls her hand back.

“Wanda,” you whine.

“That’s not my name baby,” she says correcting you.

“Mommy.”

“Good girl,” she praises. Her words go to your core, reigniting your need.

“You gonna answer mommy’s question? What else did you hear?” It’s Natasha who speaks this time. She’s behind you, hand around your throat.

“I heard daddy fucking mommy,” you manage to say in your lustful state.

“Yeah? Did you like it baby?”

“Yea Daddy I loved it,” you admit which is the truth. After you had accidentally heard them you had to go take a cold shower. And then when that didn’t work you touched yourself to the thought of them. Sure you had felt gross about it afterwards, but it felt good in the moment.

Wanda’s hand moves towards your core, hands slowly moving down your body while Natasha talks.

“You wanna see it this time, not just hear it?”

“Please,” you beg.

“She means it Natty. She’s soaking wet,” Wanda says, swiping two fingers through your folds and then bringing them up to Natasha’s face, who licks them clean, savoring your taste.

“Lay back on the bed by the headboard detka,” Natasha says. You reposition yourself while Natasha walks to the closet. Wanda positions herself so she’s in between your legs, face down and ass up.

She’s so close you can feel her breath against your bare heat. You try to move closer to her, but she takes both hands and holds you down.

“No baby. Not yet,” she reprimands.

“Mommy,” you whine out, which leads to Wanda pinching your thigh in warning. You don’t push your luck anymore, you just sit there and wait for Nat.

Natasha walks back out, a pitch black strap on attached to her hips.

“You wanna show our pretty girl how much of a slut you are for me?” Natasha asks Wanda. Nat’s shocks you, you’ve never seen Wanda bottom before, but it turns you on all the same.

“Yes daddy,” Wanda says. She wiggles her hips, wanting Natasha closer. Natasha responds with a slap on Wanda’s butt cheek.

“Stay still and eat our pretty girl out,” Natasha commands. Wanda obeys and dives into your pussy making you squeal. Your hand wraps itself into her hair, pulling her closer.

“Mommy,” you moan out. Your legs clamp around Wanda’s head, smushing her between your thighs.

While Wanda devours you, her lips suctioning around your clit, Natasha leans down, standing behind Wanda. She runs a finger through the younger woman’s wet pussy.

“Fuck you’re soaked,” Natasha murmurs. She lines her strap up with Wanda’s entrance and pushes in. As she pushes in a wet squelching sound fills the room. Wanda moans into your pussy, sending vibrations through you.

“Please,” you beg. Your head tilts back and your eyes shut, you’re so close. You just need a couple more licks and you’d fall over the edge.

“You don’t get to cum yet baby. You wanted to watch daddy fuck mommy so watch us,” Natasha commands. Wanda pulls her head back from your core, letting you calm down.

“Fuck daddy,” Wanda yells out when Natasha hits that spot inside of her.

“You like that my little slut?” Natasha asks, relentlessly pounding into Wanda. You had never seen Wanda be this submissive before, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

Wanda moves her head back to your pussy, tongue running and teasing through your folds. But your eyes stay glued to the scene in front of you. Natasha thrusting into Wanda, Wanda moaning into your pussy with every thrust.

You can tell she’s close, and you are too.

Your thighs clench around Wanda’s head while Wanda’s pussy clenches around Nat’s strap.

“Cum for me darlings. Soak my strap like a good little slut. Cum all over mommy’s face,” she says. Wanda cums immediately, body shaking and toes curling. Her moans vibrating though you send you into an orgasm, your body thrashing as the pleasure courses through you.

Once Wanda settles down Natasha slides out and takes the strap off, throwing it off to the side to be cleaned latter.

She goes to the bathroom while Wanda gets up and adjusts the two of you so that you are holding each other. Your heads are lying against the pillows while you wait for Tasha.

The two of you make small talk while waiting, whispering sweet nothings to each other.

“Spread your legs darlings,” Nat says when she walks back in, cloth and water in hands. Both of you spread your legs and Natasha cleans you up. She’s gentle, wiping up any sticky mess. She throws the cloths into the hamper and then hands the two of you water, which you both take big gulps of.

“Good girls,” Natasha praises. She sits down in between the two of you, holding you both with one arm.

The three of you lay in each others arms, content to hold each other when you have a thought.

“You two knew I was there that day, didn’t you?” The realization strikes you suddenly. No one has ever heard the three of you before and you had never heard them after that day. They had to have done it on purpose you realize.

“Of course we knew baby. Why do you think we were so loud?” It’s Natasha who speaks, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“I hate you two,” turning your face away from Nat to burrow your face into your pillow.

“No you don’t, you love us,” Wanda says, leaning over Nat to leave a kiss on your exposed cheek.

“That I do.” Your voice comes out weirdly, your face smushed against the pillow.

“We love you too,” they both say at the same time. Your heart fills with affection for the two women. It’s not the first time they have said those words to you. But each time they say it, it fills with you with a soft, fuzzy feeling.

The three of you hold each other, spending hours talking until the three of you fall asleep in each others arms.

[yzzart]

"𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞."

pairing: peacekeeper!Coriolanus x reader.

word count: 2.411!

summary: you would never think you would be brought to a filthy place by Coriolanus.

warnings: +18!, p in v, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, biting, mention of blood, possessiveness, pet names, dirty talk, explicit words, explicit content.

Lucy Gray's enthusiastic voice, used to captivating and enchanting the attention of anyone in the surroundings, was completely muffled and a little inaudible, but impossible to be silenced; the lyrics, which told stories she lived and told, remained understandable. — They were always understandable and manifested.

So, like the citizens, workers and survivors of District 12 who were present in the environment and sang, danced and got in sync with the girl. — Some were drinking, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere, without worrying about their lives and listening to singing.

Perhaps, you would be included at some table, drinking, or not, trying to put something reasonable in your unbearable mind or letting your pride, your envy for, respectively, the winner of district 12 and sing along with her. — And then forget what happened the next day.

Well, that is if Coriolanus hadn't dragged your hand and taken you to an empty, dirty and, terribly, poorly lit corridor with such an inappropriate and filthy intention. — Dirtier than that environment.

"Look at you." — His voice mixed in the song and against its pure poison, the one you were used to delighting in, and a false softness; pretending to care about your sly whining. — "Such a dirty girl, huh?" — A question you wouldn't dare answer, you wouldn't give him that taste.

You knew, he knew, that he was right. — Coriolanus was never wrong; not even when he wanted to be. — The delightful situation you allowed yourself to commit to was indecent, unworthy; risking all the good and distinguished manners he learned at home in the Capital. — And something that, clearly, your parents would be disappointed in their naive daughter.

Coriolanus held and pressed your delicate, vulnerable body on his lap, pinning your back to the old-fashioned, rusty, unfamiliar wall and imposing your legs around his waist. — With the peculiar fact that his cock is buried and so concentrated in your pussy; warming and enveloping him insanely. — The feeling of his clothing fabric caused distress and burned your skin a little, it didn't bother you at all. — His hands grabbed your thighs with determination, forcing, in the future, marks from his fingers in the region.

The young and current peacekeeper was marking every part of your body; even those spots that were not visible and so hidden with clothes.

But who are you kidding when it's a guy you sacrificed your exquisite life for? Even with him severely violating the rules imposed in the game and knowing the risks involved, what would he, in fact, lose in his life. — A proof of love like this was not seen or witnessed in times like these. — And you did it for Coriolanus.

Your conscience was against the fallacies uttered from the melancholic and questioning lips of your parents, who did not assimilate the reason for your decision and request to be transported to where Coriolanus was destined. — They denied it, at first, but they agreed in distress and begged for you to be okay; and even bribing some captain to pay attention and protection to you. — Honestly, you didn't need a miserable captain because you knew who you could count on and who could protect you.

These were the words of Coriolanus, upon learning the story, your first report and confession upon meeting him. — God, you remember every word.

"Did a bird bite your tongue out, my dear?" — He gasped against your sweaty and nibbled neck, and that, for sure, in the next few hours marks would appear on your sensitive area and you didn't know how you were going to hide them. — "Tell me, hm?" — Coriolanus, not satisfied with the previous and present marks, left a long and intense suck and lick on the marked spot.

"Coryo…" — You moaned in a drawn out, almost silent way, running one of your hands through his rough, cut hair; you missed your beautiful and soft curls, that change was terrible and so painful for your eyes. — "Can anyone…" — Taking a deep breath, you tried to find words. — "…appear here."

And you were right, at least there was a reasonable streak of awareness in your mind. — Coriolanus didn't matter, he didn't care, and he wouldn't listen to his words; This was, incredibly, unbearable.

It was a corridor that led to some rooms and, probably, small and mediocre rooms that held drinks and small, ordinary portions of food; therefore, someone could pass by there. — A drunk, a person looking for a calmer environment, a peacemaker or even sweet Lucy Gray looking for you. — Anyone could conceptualize that moment.

"Oh, but it would be quite a spectacle, wouldn't it?" — Coriolanus deepened, even more, his body against your; causing a more sudden and surprising contact of his cock against your pussy. — You two moaned together. — "And deep down in that silly little head of yours, you'd love it." — He took a deep breath, licking the bite he left on his neck. — "I know that, my dear."

Coriolanus deeply hated the attempt to be deceived; the dishonest and undignified way people believe they could lie to him or at least hide what is truly going on in their skin. — He committed such an act, it became too ironic for his tongue. — Snow felt disgusted.

However, he found your attempt to pretend to believe in a certain concern funny; he was delightful, exciting.

Coriolanus's reddened lips, mixed with the taste of your sweat, distributed wet and quick kisses to your lips, which were nibbled and had some rather discreet marks of blood; if he weren't so busy, your lover would scold you for hurting your bold and beautiful mouth. — Before deepening a contact between your lips, Coriolanus curved a sharp smile, as evil as his true thoughts, and releasing a brief laugh that vibrated his chest.

Coriolanus had you in the palm of his hand.

Wasting no time, Coriolanus joined your lips against his, crushing and sucking them; forming such an obscene and inappropriate kiss accompanied by wet noises and whimpers. — Coriolanus's poisonous tongue moved, abruptly and rudely, through your mouth, as if he didn't know it, and fought for space, a domination that had no conditions to exist. — There were quick and anxious contacts between teeth, but nothing that could interrupt you.

Your hand remained in his coarse hair, while the other rested on his clothed shoulder. — You wanted, more than anything, to mark that arrogant man; and you wanted until the end to be able to leave at least a simple scratch.

When disconnecting his lips from yours, Coriolanus runs his teeth across your lower lip, biting and pulling, not exaggeratedly, at it. — Your mouth is shining, his too, from the mixing and distribution of saliva. — And the deep, vigorous, petulant blue eyes of Coriolanus looked at them with insatiable desire; as if he truly wanted to devour them. — As if a serpent saw its fragile and naive prey.

That man, for whom you would destroy your life for, was the very plumbing and aspect of one of the worst things that world could fear and observe. — And Coriolanus will do everything to ensure that your exquisite presence is at his side.

"When i'm done…" — Coriolanus cursed, shaking his head, moving his hips and returning to continuing the slow, silent thrusts. — "…when i'm fucking done with all this shit." — He tried to form a concrete sentence, finding words, but not using them in an appropriate and understandable way. — "I will make you the first lady of Panem."

Coriolanus groaned, so loud and noisy, and without any kind of shame; feeling your greedy and delicious pussy squeeze his cock with pleasure, even in a somewhat compromising position. — His voice sounded so vulnerable, a little miserable, and feeling corrupted by the spasms you attributed to him. — For the satisfaction you gave with this, in the future, title.

A title so promising, prestigious and respectable that it would quickly become his alone; fitting your name, as if it were created just for you. — Perfect.

"My first lady." — Another thrust, this time, deep and sudden; you felt, insanely, the veins and pulsations of Coriolanus's cock, you felt him completely. — "Just mine." — Your lover's possessiveness exclaimed in your ears, releasing whimpers and moans so needy and tremulous from your lips.

The noise of clothes clashing with little noise between the movements of Coriolanus's hips against your didn't bother either of your, just a mediocre desire to feel your flesh struggle against each other, freely. — Oh, but this wish can still be fulfilled during the late night or early morning. — Your body was so pressed, dominated by the young peacekeeper; your needy little hole was crushing against his dick.

You were accepting of him so well, you always did. — Coriolanus did not hold back or hide his groans and grunts, and your name was hummed from his lips like a snowflake at his introduction; even he couldn't contain himself and it was, ridiculously, contradictory. — He felt sensitive, completely, enchanted by you, even though he didn't believe in such beliefs.

"Coryo…" — Your lips were half-open, so red and irresistible, it seemed like they had the intention and objective of driving that young man crazy, calling out his name. — "My love…" — Your head was dizzy, a pure mess.

Normally, Snow felt a deep, burning and bitter disgust at hearing those last words coming from other people's lips; hard to disbelieve that it was worth listening to or being called that way. — So much affection, passion and destruction at the same time. — But, hearing and witnessing your genuine and admirable voice calling him that? In such an erotic, promiscuous and libertine tone. — Coriolanus mentally desired more; like always.

A trembling sensation, almost a contraction in your stomach accompanied by a somewhat bearable and pleasurable tingling began to form; and your lungs found it difficult to breathe, turning you into a panting mess. — And your eyes, completely, heavy and almost closing.

Coriolanus recognized this. — First than you.

"Coryo, i…" — You paused, trying to breathe. — "…i'm so close." — It was stupid to warn him, or guide him, about this because that damned young man knew it; and he knew your body better than you did.

Coriolanus didn't utter a word, and preferred to remain still trapped and focused on you, feeling you. — The blue eyes contemplated your image, which remained majestic even in such an impure situation; wanting to engrave it in his mind forever. — Soon, he sank your lips in a wet and captivating kiss against his, swallowing your loud moans; this time, Coriolanus kissed gently, a little gentle with a touch of fervor.

The peacekeeper pressed your body even more against the wall, squeezing your thighs tighter, as if he was looking for firmer support; Coriolanus was also close to cumming. — The thrusts became more sloppy and dedicated to releasing your orgasm and you moaned uncontrollably against the man's lips. — No one cared anymore about the fact that someone appeared in the region. — Your body burned, and it wasn't just from the unmistakable and unbearable heat.

Your walls spasmed through your body and pulsed against Coriolanus' cock, and the feeling of relief formed in your stomach; the feeling of liberation. — Your eyes closed, tightly and forcefully, along with a small crushed scream that was released through your lips; you reached your peak, cumming on Coriolanus's cock. — Giving yourself completely to him; reveling in your pleasure and passion for Snow.

You would be the death of him, and at risk, Coriolanus would never admit it out loud, never could confess; but, he was sure that you were the point of his weakness, of his instability. — Coriolanus would risk arresting, preserving you so that nothing wrong could happen to you and, above all, to him. — And when he admires your pleasure dripping down his mediocre pants, that the only thing that came out of your mouth was his name, Coriolanus feels his blood heat, somewhat ironically.

He feels like he's in a place he's never been, never had the opportunity to be; if it was paradise, then you were his. — The only one that mattered. — Coriolanus' mind begins to weaken and weigh down, feeling increasingly tired; wanting to bury himself deeper into your pussy.

Feeling your fingers on the back of his neck, you lightly run your nails over the area covered in sweat and hot, bringing a shiver to the young man's body. — Your still dazed and confused eyes watched Coriolanus swallow hard, so tense and almost collapsing. — Soon, falling apart inside you.

Your walls were filled with Coriolanus' warm seeds, such a pleasant sensation, feeling so full and yet so safe in his arms. — Making you actually forget where you were. — And you choke when you feel another movement of Coriolanus's hips, he was pushing his cum into you even more.

The young peacekeeper still felt tense, basking in you, and not wanting to leave the position he was in; still, completely, grabbed and pressed against your body. — Feeling the spasms of your body that gave him.

"Your first lady?" — You whispered, a little breathless but regaining normality in your breathing, still so tired as you ran a hand over Coriolanus's red and bright face. — He grunted, sucking his teeth and swallowing once again.

"My first lady." — He confirmed, determined, with his deep and still rough voice, trying to compose himself and pretend a completely non-existent naturalness and that at some point, during dawn, he will have to return to his filthy and reckless work.

The music continued, but the voice was unfamiliar and a little out of tune and the instrumentals were much noisier and out of control. — Lucy Gray ended her performance, it seemed, and gave entrance to another voice; perhaps, it was someone from the Covey singing in her place for a short period of time. — Sometimes they did that. — It wasn't strange, however, the house was full and so welcoming and she was a special attraction; the only.

Something wasn't right, or it was just an intrusive thought wanting to run through your heavy head. — Where had that girl gone, then?

Until, at a certain and coincidental moment, footsteps were made and echoed through the corridor, causing an unconditional and alarming noise from the shoes; which, in fact, were heels, probably worn out and so well used. — Everything indicated that the person had left, leaving the place but with witnesses of her shoes. — And this caused an acceleration in your heartbeat.

Perhaps, that would have answered your question.

[justpeaxchy]

A/n: this.

Beautiful, intricate, delicate, and stunning. So close, and yet so out of bounds for him. Perfect in every way, including the flaws. Desiring, so desperately, that even one hour would be given to him with you.

Your relationship with Hiccup would've been considered "normal" to most people. He obviously didn't want it like that. Even he wanted to prove himself wrong and try to build your friendship into something more. Was he doing it to try and make a point? To them, or for himself? Was it even for you? At first he didn't know, but the answer came swiftly.

You were a puzzle waiting to be solved by any willing hand and brain ready to be put to work; it seemed as though everyone passed by the unsolved pieces and wandered off into something more "interesting." Hiccup noticed, though. He noticed the pieces that still lay on the uneven ground, waiting for someone to come and at least direct you to where the delicate trinkets would go.

You were intriguing, yet so distant. Bold, and yet gentle. Strong, and yet so weak when you thought no one was looking. Hiccup looked, though.

He always seemed to be looking, which displeased you the most. You didn't need to have the flutter in your heart - you needed to situate yourself first and figure out what your role would be in Berk. You didn't need the desire to spend more time with the person who insisted on giving you his.

Perhaps it was more training you needed. Your dragon could learn a few more tricks anyway. The Edge was where it started and where it was supposed to finish. He wasn't supposed to keep on invading your time, even if you wanted him to. He wasn't supposed to walk you home, even if you wanted him to. He wasn't supposed to check on you before you went to bed, even if you wanted him to.

You figured, especially after Stoick's death, when Astrid had tried her best to comfort him, he wouldn't need you as much anymore. You knew that the shield maiden had a solid friendship with the future chief of Berk, even moreso on the Edge, but he couldn't find it in himself to feel the same way as he did when he was only 15. So, once again, he was looking for you in the midst of the crowd.

You had enough common sense not to push him away when he was still in a time of grieving his only father while trying to rebuild the island he grew up on, even when you hinted at the fact that he could always go to someone else for the type of 'help' you were bringing, which was only, most of the time, a few words shared in his presence. Perhaps with one or two hugs if you really felt the need to - or when his eyes practically screamed at you for one.

Hiccup had barely found his mother, was handling the new role as chief, still saving dragons, and yet somehow managed to find you when you tried your best to hide from him. It got even more difficult trying to hide the feelings that threatened to bubble up and show themselves to Hiccup, who seemed to have no problem in showing you his - even unknowingly.

You tried to play it all off, the fluttering in your chest, the gazes that lasted longer on him when he surprisingly wasn't looking, the desire to hug him more when he found you, the feeling of being in the air with him on Toothless, and just about everything he would bring to your table of the unsolved puzzle. You thought it was bothersome that he would bring extra pieces. He, however, viewed it necessary as he put the ones you were already struggling with together in a way that left you speechless.

Sooner or later, you couldn't ignore the statements of your heart towards him and found yourself willingly going to him more often. The giddiness Hiccup felt made him visualize himself as 15 again whenever you were the one to knock on his door. He would show you his map, ideas for inventions, ramble about the duties of being a chief, and listen to whatever you wanted to say. When your words came in short sentences his attention would still be drawn to you.

You no longer hated it. You even remember reaching out your hand to his for the pencil he had to correct a mistake on the map. In your eyes, that one pair of mountains could be drawn a little better. Hiccup hadn't noticed he was staring until you spoke up. It startled you both, but he didn't mind - of course. He had found the answer to his questions a short while after his father had passed, ironically. He knew that he had fallen in love with you.

You thought no one on Berk would be that much invested in you. Hiccup was, though.

This time, you didn't mind it.

[charliemwrites]

Part 2 of charmed serial killer Simon. (Part 1 is here.)

This part is heavily inspired by this particular Badjhur audio “Surviving the Slasher” from, like, a long time ago. Where he’s a killer. Easier to find than expected, thank you masterlist. It permanently has a room in my pea brain, no rent, utilities included.

You’re out with your little friends again. Simon scoffs to even call them that. You give them so much more than they even try to give you - support, encouragement, time, energy.

One of them has a shitty deadbeat boyfriend that’s throwing a flat party, so they’ve dragged you along per usual. You’re still swearing off alcohol after the last time you went out - when you got a ride home with him. So you’re totally sober when the rest of the idiots suggest “investigating” the abandoned hospital on the other end of the block.

You go with them as the only fully-sober one, but spend the whole, stumbling trip trying to convince them to go somewhere, anywhere, else.

Apparently the boyfriend fancies himself something of an urban explorer because he knows just how to get in, bragging that he’s going to start some stupid internet show looking for ghosts there. You end up getting knocked into a half dozen times just trying to keep your woozy friends from getting tetanus.

It doesn’t take long at all for someone to suggest hide and seek. You try adamantly to put your cute little foot down - reminding them that it’s dirty and structurally unstable and there could be people just trying to camp out in peace in here. You’re adamantly ignored and your friends scatter.

And Simon starts to hunt.

Oh, he wishes he could have seen your face when the screams first started. If you recognized the shriek of Addy, the one who yanked you away from a proper apology when you first bumped into him at the bar. Wonders if you felt anything when Simon stabbed her boyfriend in the stomach and sent him stumbling away to incite more terror.

Of course you did. His pretty little chatterbox, coming to the rescue as soon as you heard their cries.

You get yourself lost trying to find someone, anyone. He picks off your group one. By. One. He finds you trying to triage a nasty slice to Heather’s thigh. She was talking shit about you just two days ago to Addy.

And oh, how brave you are, trying to stick with her to the very end. All it takes is one well-placed throw and you’re scrambling back as Heather burbles blood.

He takes a single, loud step towards you - and you bolt. Such a smart thing, you don’t even glance back to see if he’s following. He’s not; there’s still trash to take care of.

You find one more friend - one he doesn’t mind so much, mostly because you just met tonight. She’s crying, making a fuss and you’re trying to soothe her while still focused on escape, letting her cling to your arm.

Simon starts herding you both towards an easy exit. A few well placed foot falls here, a jaunty whistle there. He loves watching your big eyes dart toward the noises, how you get low like a bunny hiding in brush. Always put yourself between your new friend and wherever you think he could come from.

Your friends’ blood is beginning to dry when he decides it’s time to wrap things up.

He appears in a doorway, and you shove at your fellow survivor, make her squeeze through the rusty door first. You’re just starting to follow when he snags you around the middle. You yelp, feet kicking at air, tugging at his soaked hoodie sleeve.

He shoves your back against a wall and presses close, the flat of his knife against your pretty cheek.

“What did we learn tonight, hm?” he mocks.

You’re flinching away, but know better than to struggle or scream. So clever.

“W-why are you doing this?” you ask.

How sweet, that you can’t understand the motivations of monsters like him. He indulges you.

“To teach you a lesson,” he answers. “Get better friends.”

You look furious, even as tears well in your eyes. He coos over them, tugs the bottom of his mask up enough to lick them as they fall down your cheek.

“S-Stop, that’s - that’s so gross,” you hiccup, pancaking yourself to the wall.

He snorts in amusement and tugs his mask down again.

“Now, I know you’re a good girl with good manners, so let’s see them.”

You blink at him, eyes soooo big. Don’t understand what he means.

He tuts. “Say: thank you, ghost, for teaching me a valuable lesson.”

You press your lips together in a tight, pouty line. He wants to bite them. Instead, taps the point of the knife against your jaw. A silent threat that’s he’s still debating if he means.

But you manage to get the sentence out, stuttering, voice breaking halfway through. Mm, he’s missed hearing your gratitude. It’s almost sweeter this way than all the times you said it in his car.

“You’re very welcome, sunshine. Now, off you go, before I decide to teach you something else.”

You don’t hesitate when he steps back. Peel yourself off the wall and wriggle out to freedom.

Simon chuckles. What a fun little playdate, he’s so glad he let you go that first time. He’ll have to arrange another one soon.

Previous | Next

Masterlist

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sweet Treat

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You bake one of your favourite fall treats for your coworkers but one of them takes it to mean more than it does.

Characters: Tony Stark

Note: this is the fourth of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The leaves feel more vibrant as you walk along the autumnal street. Clusters sit at the base of street poles and the brisk wind nips at your cheek and nose. You tuck your chin into your woolly scarf and hug the container of treats closer. 

You stifle a yawn. Your exhaustion is well worth the output. You spent most of the night baking. It’s a hobby for you and now that you have your first steady job, you have the funds and the space to do it. And as the newbie in the office, it felt right to add a bit of warmth to the office culture. 

To be honest, you’re trying to fit in. Since you started your desk job, you’ve felt that pressure. It’s all new to you and you feel like every day is a learning experience. Everyone else seems so settled and sure. It’s not like a retail gig where you’re all just trying to get through another day. 

As you get to the front door of the building, your met with a familiar face. Rhodey flicks two fingers in a half-wave and drawls out ‘morning’ as he opens the door for you. You thank him and enter the lobby. 

He trails you along the polished tile and you both stop before the metallic doors of the elevator. He taps the button as you tap one heel impatiently. He takes a deep breath and lets it out. 

“What’s all that?” He asks. 

“Oh, it’s a surprise.” 

“A surprise?” He wonders. 

He’s always nice. He interviewed you and helped you on your first day. He’s too busy for you to run into each other very much, but he’s always pleasant. 

“Yes, you have to wait until you get upstairs to find out.” 

“Oh, maybe I should see if I can beat the elevator,” he kids and looks at the door to the stairs. You chuckle. The doors ahead of you slide apart. “Ah, nevermind, seems like fate is on my side.” 

He gestures you in ahead of him. The ascent is smooth enough. You’re never a fan of the rising sensation that makes you woozy. You step off thankfully, clutching the container firmly to your stomach. 

“Well, I should find my desk,” you say. 

“Hey wait, what about the surprise?” He asks. 

“Oh, yeah, fine,” you face him and slide your arm under the container. You peel the corner of the lid back with your other hand and smile, “apple pastries. Hope you like ‘em.” 

“Homemade?” He asks as he reaches for one. 

“Sure are,” you chime. “I have napkins in my bag but my hands are kinda full.” 

“Nah, I don’t mind a mess,” he sniffs the dessert, “think this will go well with my coffee.” 

“Let me know if you like it,” you smile. 

“Oh, you will know. I might just try to sneak a second,” he says and turns to head off towards the executive offices. 

You shut the container and wade through the desks to your own. You put the container down and strip off the layers of your scarf, gloves, hat, and coat. You finally get yourself set as Marissa shows up. 

“Do you smell cinnamon?” She asks as she wiggles her nose and plunks her insulated cup down. 

“Yes, I do,” you take the lid off and gesture to the container. “Want one?” 

“Hm, apple?” She asks and you nod. “What’s this all about?” 

“I don’t know. I made them so I thought I’d share.” 

“Huh, that’s sweet,” she remarks dryly as you offer her a napkin. “Enjoy that optimism while it lasts.” 

Your cheek twitches. You notice that about the people here. Even if something good happens, they’re suspicious about it. They want to know why or the expect something horrible to follow. 

As more people shuffle in, you offer them a pastry. Everyone seems to like them so far. Yet, you still have lots to go around. 

You get up and Marissa glances over, “any more?” 

“Well, yeah, I was going to go offer them to the managers.” 

“Oh,” she darts her eyes way. “Good luck.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Nothing, just... interrupting for a pastry... kinda... non-productive.” 

“Oh, right,” you pout, “maybe I could just leave them in the breakroom.” 

“Probably a better idea.” 

You’re disappointed. You know the execs rarely go that far. Still, she’s right and she would know better than you. 

You take the container and pass between the other desk. As you pass the hallway to the exec spaces, you nearly collide with someone else. He barely seems to notice until you squeak and save the desserts from spilling. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you eke out as the man struts by only to scuff to a halt.  

He turns back to you, a pinch between his brows and a tick in his cheek. You clamp your mouth shut as his dark eyes penetrate you. It’s him, Mr. Stark, the big boss. You’ve never seen him this close-up. You panic and look around as a hush falls across the office. 

“Would you like one?” You ask out of sheer helplessness. You offer up the container and his eyes slowly descend. His expression doesn’t change. 

To your surprise, he steps closer. He reaches into the container and takes one of the pastries. He examines it then turns away without a word. You stare after him in fear of your livelihood. 

You wait until he’s gone and scurry into the breakroom. You put the container on the counter and catch your breath. Oh gosh. You just blew it, didn’t you? Over something as stupid as desserts. You shouldn’t be handing out treats like Santa Claus, you should be working! 

You put your head down and march out. You go directly back to your desk and sit. You feel eyes on you. Marissa wheels closer. “Told you. Don’t bother the big guys.” 

🍏

The windows are dark as you finally log off. It’s no coincidence that you’re the only one left in the office. It might be futile but you hope the extra work might save you from the fallout of your unfortunate run-in earlier. 

You cross the office floor and dip into the breakroom. You claim the empty container from the counter. You’re happy that your hard work didn’t go to waste, at least. 

You return to your desk and snap the lid on. You gather up your coat and pull on your hat and scarf, leaving your gloves in your pocket. You pack up your bag and sling it on your arm, clutching the container against your hip.  

You push your chair in and turn. You nearly shriek, instead swallowing it to a squeal, as you find someone else standing across the space. You put your hand to your chest and gasp. 

“Sorry, sir, I didn’t hear you,” you gulp. It’s Mr. Stark. Great, you don’t think you’ve done enough to stop the inevitable. 

He comes closer, sliding his hands into his pockets as he approaches. He’s silent as he measures you with a long gaze. The silver at his temples twinkles against the darker strands. He stops at the corner of your desk. 

“You all out?” He nods to the container. 

You flinch, “um, yes, sir.” 

“Too bad. Tasty,” he says. “And that little heart in the pastry... nice touch.” 

“Oh,” you’re surprised by his praise, expecting a full remonstrance. “Thank you. I... I just thought it was cute but, er, sorry, I don’t mean to chatter. I should go.” 

“Yeah, me too,” he says, “another late night.” He clucks and glances around the empty office. “You know, that really... made my day. Not much to look forward around here.” 

Your brows rise and you smile, unsure how to respond. 

“Feel like I owe ya more than a thanks,” his forehead lines as he tilts his head, “and I gotta grab something to eat,” he checks his watch and sighs, “all my meetings went long so could I pay you back?” 

“Uh, sir,” you wonder. 

“You like shawarma?” He intonses. 

“Shawarma?” You repeat, surprised. 

“I know, I know, a guy like me is supposed to live off caviar and fine steaks. You ever just get the craving for something....” he pauses and pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Nasty?” 

You chuckle, “um, sure. I sometimes order fast food.” 

“So? Unless...” he hesitates, “you’re busy? Looks like you’re running behind too.” 

“No, sir, that’s very generous. Um, I... yeah, I could... I could go for shawarma,” you agree, relief flowing over you. You don’t think he’s going to fire you unless it’s a trick. 

“Great, let me just grab my jacket.” 

🍏

Dinner is delicious, though a bit awkward. Your guilt isn’t lessened as Mr. Stark insists on paying for it. You tell him you can handle it but you don’t argue that much. He’s still your boss. 

You pull on your jacket as you leave the restaurant. He holds the door for you. You’re already mentally preparing to tuck into bed. 

“That was nice. If I don’t have some business lunch or dinner, I usually eat alone,” he scoffs as he comes up beside you. 

“Oh? Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” 

“Just as much as that special treat you made me,” he says. 

“Uh, yeah, well, I like baking--” 

“You know, no one ever offers me stuff like that. They all just get quiet when they see me. Can’t even look at me,” he grumbles. “But you smiled at me.” 

“I’m sorry, sir, that’s... they’re just intimidated, I’m sure. Because you’re so smart,” you say. 

“What about you? You’re not?” He asks as you stop next to his sleek red car. 

“No, I am,” you admit. “I’m the newest person in the office, everyone intimidates me.” 

He looks at you long and hard, “really?” 

“Well, yeah, I’m still learning how to do everything.” 

“Who?” He asks. 

“Who?” 

“Who’s being mean?” He growls. 

“What? No, sir. It’s not—no one’s mean. I didn’t say that.” 

“Because if someone’s messing with you, I’ll happily have a special meeting with them,” his expression darkens. 

“No one,” you avow. “Sorry, I must’ve said it the wrong way.” 

“You did nothing wrong,” he counters. 

“Right, er...” you peer over your shoulder, “I should go catch a bus--” 

“A bus?” He echoes. 

“Sure, it’s almost nine o’clock,” you look at your fitbit. 

“My car’s right here, get in,” he says. 

It’s a command and you’ve pressed your luck far enough. You nod and thank him as he opens the door. You sit in the low seat and hug your bag atop the empty container. He shuts you in and strolls around to the other side. 

As he sits in front of the steering wheel, his cologne clogs your nose. It’s definitely expensive. You squirm in the seat. You’re tired and a bit impatient to be home. You still have to go to the office early tomorrow. 

“Well, thanks for the ride,” you stifle a yawn and rub your eyes instead. 

“Lease I can do,” he says. “Where do ya live, sweetheart?” 

Sweetheart? The epithet tweaks your ear but you try not react. You worked in retail, a lot of men love that word. You give him your address. 

“Really? All the way over there?” He asks. “Girl like you shouldn’t be done there,” he tuts. 

“It’s not that bad,” you assure him. 

You drag your hand up your cheek, trying to wake yourself up. You’re exhausted. You’re so used to the 9-5 that you’re ready to flop into bed. 

You zone out at the engine hums. The soft motion of the turns lulls you and it isn’t until you’re halfway in the other direction to your apartment that your instinct kicks in. You sit up and look around. 

“Where are you going?” You ask in a panic. 

“I live closer, sweetheart. You can crash at mine,” he says. 

“Your-- no, Mr. Stark, I can’t do that. If you don’t want to drive me, I can get an uber.” You pull on the zipper of your purse and he hits the brakes. You lurch forward as he reaches over and clasps onto your hand. 

“You don’t need to do that,” he says. 

“Mr. Stark?” You babble. “What’s going on?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Why won’t you take me home?” 

He’s quiet. His eyes fall to his hand and he lets you go. He grips the wheel again but doesn’t go. He sighs and tilts his head back. 

“You gave me that pastry. With the little heart.” 

“I gave them to everyone--” 

“No, but you gave one to me.” He insists. 

“Sir,” you sniff. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong. Please don’t fire me.” 

“Fire you--” He turns to look at you, “no, no, no.” 

He fixes his gaze straight ahead and presses on the gas again. He rolls forward and turns down another street. You unzip your purse and once more, he stomps on the brake. You lurch forward and the seat belt digs into your chest as your bag falls onto your feet. 

“Don’t touch that phone,” he snarls. 

“Sir,” you sit back, rubbing where the belt bit into you, “sorry.” 

“It’s just... I can’t see where I’m going with the glare,” he exhales shakily. 

“Okay,” you whimper. 

He drives on. You don’t move. Your heart is racing. You don’t understand what’s going on. 

He enters the nicer neighbourhoods. Where the houses have that modern boxy feel, tall glass windows for walls, and iron gates around trimmed hedges. Their residents spends as much time there as their vacation homes on the next continent. 

He hits a button and steers toward one of the gates as it slides open on a motor. He rolls through as you sink into yourself. This must be his house. You’re still spinning with the suddenness of it all. From the office to dinner to this. One moment stoic and silent, the next smiling and kind, and now... 

As you look at him, his eyes are so dark that the swallow the glow from the dash and the security lights mounted on the house. He shifts into park and kills the engine. You twiddle your fingers and watch him. He reaches over and presses the button on your seat belt. 

You wince and look away as he trails his touch up your arm and to your shoulder. He walks his fingers up over your collar and along you neck. He traces the curve of your jaw as you shiver. 

“You gave me something sweet, baby,” he grabs your chin and makes you look at him again. “I just wanna return the favour.”  

He leans across the space between your seats and pushes his lips to yours. You murmur and grab onto his wrist. You feel the tendons tense as he squeezes you tighter. His mouth parts from yours and he presses his forehead to yours. You’re locked in his hold, paralysed.  

He hums and licks his lips, “You taste just as good.” 

[irisintheafterglow]

hii i would like to request the premise of a feral gojo over reader getting hurt or in danger 🤤 please don't feel obligated to write tho only if u feel like it :3

cross them, cross me (gojo x you)

wc: 1.29k

cw/tags: brief but explicit violence including descriptions of blood (satoru beats the shit out of a curse lmao), swearing, angst/fluff with a happy ending, established-ish relationship with pet names baby and sweetheart

note: ah feral gojo my beloved. i think i got a little carried away with writing the violence aspect but what can i say! he really did go feral when you got hurt! anyways, hope you like this anon and thank you for the sweet ask <3

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated :))

The sound of bones crunching between his fingers is euphoric.

One by one, he takes the Curse’s limbs in his free hand, the other effortlessly holding it by the neck against a wall. Its desperate wriggles and squirms are futile and pathetic. With a tightened grip, the wretched body parts in Satoru’s palm wither and become a limp slug of skin. He’d tuned out the Curse’s howls of agony minutes ago, the world around him falling silent as he focused all of his energy into making the Curse beg for death. The phrase “seeing red” was familiar to him, sure, but the hue tinting his vision now was a deep shade of crimson. Whether that was from the blood or his own concentration, he didn’t know and he didn’t care. 

“What, did you give up?” His taunting smile turns into a snarl when the Curse fails to answer him the first time. It slumped itself against the wall, but he woke it up with a firm slap across its face. It wasn’t allowed to die, not yet. Not until he’d had his fill of its cries. “Learn your lesson yet?” It coughs out a plea for mercy, but he isn’t satisfied. Times like these were the only time his power truly went directly to his head. 

“Gojo.” Nanami’s voice temporarily breaks him from his trance, but Satoru doesn’t bother glancing his colleague’s way. His hand still remains around the neck of the Curse, scathing blue eyes burning holes into its face. “It’s time to depart.”

“I’m not done yet,” he hisses, embedding the Curse’s face further into the wall. The suit of his coworker is pristine and unscathed; his own uniform, on the other hand, was soaked in blood that wasn’t his own. No, he wasn’t done yet. Not until every Curse within a ten mile vicinity knew exactly what would happen to them if they attempted to harm you again.

“They’re asking about you,” Nanami states impatiently with a quick look at his watch. “And I’m working overtime.”

“Five more minutes,” Satoru commands and Nanami has no choice but to obey, releasing an exhausted sigh and leaving his superior to his crusade. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath, realizing that the Curse must have died while he wasn’t looking. He examines the lifeless creature with pure disgust, flinging it so intensely at the wall behind him that its innards splatter like wet paint. “You are below me,” he says to no one in particular, but he can sense the frightened energy of the weaker Curses inhabiting the building. “Touch them and you will meet the same fate.” 

Once he’s exited the abandoned hospital, taken down the Curtain, and found the alley corner where he’d instructed Nanami to watch you, all remaining malicious intent in his body disappears. You’re scowling at him, your default expression when in his presence, and it reassures him that you’ll be okay. 

“What took you so long?” You wince and try to adjust yourself against the wall, swatting his hand away when he crouches and tries to help you. “I thought Nanami said there was only one Curse in the building.” He shrugs and you give him a skeptical look, slightly less potent than usual due to your injured state. “Toying with a Curse while I’m bleeding out? That’s a new low, even for you.” He knows you mean it in a joking matter, but the darkness that passes over his face after he laughs doesn’t escape you. It unnerves you, a little bit, trying to imagine what he was doing to the Curses when you weren’t there.

“What can I say? I was just trying to make you miss me,” he replies with only the tiniest hint of hesitation. He’s put his blindfold back on, you notice, but the subtle dip in his eyebrows tells you that he’s not revealing the whole truth. “I’m gonna lift you now–”

“I can walk on my own,” you protest, rooting a hand on the concrete and trying to push yourself up to no avail. You fall back against the wall and glare at his silently patronizing expression. “I just need a second.” 

“We don’t have a second. We need to clear out before the police get here,” he reminds you and you wave him off. “C’mon, just let me help you.”

“I can do this on my own,” you reiterate while simultaneously failing to stand. “It’s because you’re watching me. Just turn around.”

“If you wanna see my butt, just say so,” he grins and you roll your eyes. “But, really. I’m gonna lift you now, so try not to wiggle.” His arms extend to cradle beneath your legs and lower back and you’re surprised to feel the fabric of his uniform, not Infinity, when your hands try to push him away. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” you stammer in panic. He pulls away immediately and his teasing expression softens. You let him brush the dirt from your cheeks with one of his hands, the other coming to cover yours on his chest. His heartbeat is unwaveringly steady, his body warm beneath your fingers. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. We’re okay,” he reassures you. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you now.”

“It’s gonna hurt when I get up,” you whisper back. “A lot.” 

“I know it will, but it’ll only hurt for a few seconds.” Your exhales are too uneven. He had to get you back to the school if he didn’t want you to continue losing blood. 

“Seconds? What about the car ride back?”

“Oh no, baby. We’re not taking the car.” He shakes his head and gently laces his fingers with yours. “I’m warping us back so we can get that wound taken care of faster.” His grip on your fingers tightens, a crack in his composure revealing a glimpse of his own anxiety. “I just need you to let me help you.” After a few more moments, you nod and he doesn’t hesitate, scooping you into his arms before you can even register the searing pain in your side. The world goes white for a few seconds, just as he said, but then your head finds his shoulder and the pulse in your ears quiets. 

You wake later in the day to the sun casting an orange glow through your bedroom window. As you sit up, the pain in your side is still present but significantly dulled. When your eyes adjust to the light, you finally notice the figure slumped in your desk chair, a respectful distance away from your bed. 

“Satoru.” His eyes fly open and he’s in front of you within seconds, searching your face with concern and running his thumb over your knuckles. You give him the smallest smile you can muster and he reciprocates with a blinding grin. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, adjusting his position so that your legs can swing off the side of your bed. He rests on one knee in front of you, holding one hand in his, the other continuing to caress your face. “How are you feeling?”

“A little shitty,” you admit. “But, not nearly as shitty as earlier.”

“I’m glad,” he smiles. “Need me to get you anything? A snack? Two snacks?” Your laugh feels warmer than the setting sun and you shake your head, lightly tugging him to stand up and crawl under the covers with you. “I guess this works too,” he mumbles against the top of your head, pulling you close until you’re snug against his body. 

“What were you doing in the time you were killing that last remaining Curse?” He hums thoughtfully and you swear his muscles flex protectively around your body. 

“I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. For now, we both need rest.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[a99jazzybean]

Why do we Keep Playing These Games?

Chapter 2: The Bet

Masterlist/ Prev. Ch/ Next Ch

synop: College TA au

Jayce Talis... He's your unrequited sworn enemy. You are the object of his obsessive affections. After discovering your disdain toward him, He decides to win your heart... Through playing games. Winner gets to make the loser do whatever they want. You'll take him up on the bet, but what will happen if he wins?

words: 2.6K

includes: jaycexfem!reader, sexual implications, sexual tension, enemies to lovers

A chessboard sat on the table in front of you. You stared at it with a puzzled look. In the chair across from you Jayce watched your reaction, a teasing gleam in his eyes. After a moment you looked up at him.

“Did you want to play chess?” You asked. 

Jayce had texted you to meet him at the office to discuss things before the first week of school. The two of you were in the small space provided for Heimerdinger’s TAs. A desk was pushed against one wall with a small lamp on top. In front of it sat a small table reserved to help students one-on-one. Along the walls were mostly empty bookshelves, with the occasional textbook placed in random spaces. 

You gave him a questioning look, waiting for him to answer. He stood up from the chair, stretching up and cracking his back. Then he walked up to you, a smug smile on his face. 

“Yes, I do. But I have conditions…”

“Conditions? For chess?” You were confused.

“Yes, conditions. Extra rules if you will…” The smile on his face grew as you continued to grow more confused.

“Talis, explain. I don’t like this vagueness.” You waved around your face to emphasize your annoyance with the “air of mystery.” 

“You know, patience is a virtue.”

“And one I do not have, spit it out.” Your eyes narrowed at him.

“You’re no fun.” He pouted. “But I’ll spill.”

Jayce had been plotting out ways to get closer to you, trying to work with all of his knowledge he had learned. He spent the weekend relaying his ideas to an exasperated Viktor. The man growing tired of hearing Jayce’s plans, hoping he would either give up or come to a final conclusion to end the incessant talking. 

Viktor had been shuffling a deck of cards to keep his hands busy while Jayce blathered on. The motion caught the taller man’s attention, making him pause. Then a lightbulb went off. 

“You said y/n has a thing about betting, right? I remember you had talked about teasing her about how she always was taking bets.”

Viktor looked up from his hands, an eyebrow quirked.

“Yes… but where is this going?” 

It was true, you were a sucker for taking bets. Many ended up with Mel holding your hair back as you chucked up some grotesque concoction into the toilet. But dammit, fifty dollars is fifty dollars. You had made somewhat a name for yourself taking bets, even if you were sure you couldn’t do it, you would at least try. Some odd part of you that you pretended you didn’t have. It desperately craved attention. And it somehow endeared you to your peers. So when someone was challenging you, you always took it up. Even one time risking arrest as you streaked on every floor of a dorm hall, but again, it was nice to have some extra change sitting around. 

“Well, maybe I can use that to my advantage. Considering she can’t seem to say ‘no’ to a bet.” 

“I don’t know Jayce…” Viktor gave the man a stern look. “I feel like taking advantage of that flaw might not work out the way you want it to.”

“What if I added my own stakes to it?” Jayce could feel the desperation in his voice. He needed something.

Viktor hummed thoughtfully, continuing to shuffle the cards. 

“I could see her taking it up if both of you added equal stakes” Viktor chuckled. “I’m sure she’d love to see you grovel.”

“What? I’m planning on winning here.” Jayce said with his cheery confidence. 

“Right. So what exactly would you be betting on?”

Jayce realized he hadn’t thought that far ahead. He glanced around the duo’s apartment. Eyes landing on their shelf stuffed with board games.

“What about games? She likes games, right?”

“Almost everyone likes games, Jayce.” Viktor sighed, but decided to aid his friend. “But she does have a proclivity for Uno. Oddly enough, really good at that one.” 

Jayce placed a hand on his chin as he thought.

“Then I’ll make bets over games.”

“What exactly will these bets entail?” Viktor was growing curious. His friend often had wild ideas, he wondered where this one was going.

“Oh, you’ll find out.” Jayce gave him a smirk.

Now you found yourself in your shared office space with Jayce. He explained how he wished to make bets with you over games. It was odd… but you had to admit you were interested. 

“What would the stakes be?” You weren’t going to do it if the payout wasn’t sufficient. 

“The loser has to do anything the winner wants them to.” Jayce said.

That had your eyes widening. The implications of what that could mean were loaded.

“With parameters, of course.” He gave you a smile.

“Those parameters being…?” 

“Whatever we collectively choose them to be.” 

You didn’t like that he hadn’t given you an example. What was he suggesting? He looked too smug. It would be easy to decline participation in this activity. Yet, you found yourself greatly intrigued. Surely accepting this little deal wouldn’t hurt. What’s the worst he could do? Besides, you could definitely beat him at these games.

“What would you wish for them to be?” You stepped closer to him. Watching his pupils dilate at the closer proximity. 

“Well, um… no public humiliation for one.”

“Okay.” You motioned for him to continue.

“Nothing to harm ourselves unwillingly.” 

“We could be harming ourselves willingly?” What could he mean by that phrasing?

“Yes. Like if you told me to get a dumb tattoo, I wouldn’t accept the bet. But if you bet me to eat like…I don’t know… a super spicy sandwich, then I would be willing to.” He deflected, he knew what he was trying to imply, but didn’t know how to reach that conclusion without turning you off of the idea.

“Right, okay. What else?” You were waiting for a certain answer, especially based on the implications of the original bet.

“Nothing to hurt our relationships with others, nothing that could hurt career prospects. We can opt out of betting, but that will put an official end to the games.” 

“You have this all planned out, don’t you?” It had you wondering what the catch would be. 

“So outside of the parameters we have, the winner gets to make the loser do whatever they want?” You were pushing him to admit what you both were thinking. 

The man had already revealed his affections for you. So what was he really wanting out of this?

Jayce felt hot. Should he admit what he truly wants from this? 

“Yeah, the winner gets to choose anything they wish.” He left it at that. Again, not wishing to push his luck. 

You pondered on it. Would allowing him to do what he wished really be so bad? You looked over the man. Even though you had your one-sided feud with him, you knew he was objectively attractive. That wasn’t something you could really argue against. Who knows, this arrangement might be beneficial for you. Lord knows you haven't really gotten around much, your studies taking up too much of your time. This could work in your favor. 

“Fine.” The man visibly lit up at your acceptance. You put up a finger. “But we’re making a contract. With witnesses to sign it.” Sure, it wouldn’t be legally binding, but at least the two of you would have some sort of accountability. 

“And we should have a contingency plan. If we don’t want to stop the games, but don’t want to do a bet, the loser pays up in cash. A decent amount to avoid too many cop-outs.” 

Jayce nodded, he would accept almost anything if you would agree to this. 

“I’ll be sure to have it in the paperwork.” 

“Good.” 

You looked over to the chessboard on the table.

“So will this be our first game?” You asked. 

“Yes. Every week we’ll switch up who gets to choose the next game.” Jayce was giddy.

“And these games, can they be any kind? Card, board, video games?”

“As long as they only require two players, yes.” 

“Alright Mr. Talis, bring me paperwork and your witness, and I’ll bring mine.”

“Of course, Miss l/n.” He gave you a bright smile, offering his hand.

With feigned confidence you grasped his with a hard grip. His hand dwarfed yours in comparison. Warm, soft, yet slightly calloused. You gave it a hearty shake. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That doesn’t seem like many parameters…” Mel said, emphasizing her point by swirling the wine in her glass harshly.

“Yeah… but it’s kinda exciting. I think.” You said sheepishly.

“You think?” The woman sighed. “Darling, you and I both know how he’s going to use his wins.” 

After speaking with Jayce you set up an emergency girls night with Mel. First of all, you needed her as a witness, and second, you needed to tell someone about this immediately. Now the two of you were lounging on her couch, already having downed a bottle of rosé. 

“You’re making it sound like he’s going to win something.” You looked at her offended.

She raised a brow at you.

“Don’t underestimate Jayce. When he sets his sights on something he will continue his pursuit of whatever it is.” 

“Whatever. I know I can beat him. That man won’t be getting anything from me.” 

“Darling.” She placed her glass down and reached for your hands. “I’m going to hold your hand when I say this; “Jayce Talis will not back down. Especially not when you’ve basically offered yourself up on a silver platter for him.”

“You’re just over exaggerating.” Your confidence was waning. Mel knew what she was talking about, you just didn’t want to believe her. 

“Look, I’m just trying to warn you. He’s VERY persistent. And I’m sure you know now, has had his eyes set on you for quite some time. He will not be letting this opportunity go to waste.”

You bit your lip nervously. No, you couldn’t concede. There was no way you were going to let the golden boy win. He might have drive, but so do you. 

“I’m accepting being your witness for this odd contract because I’m your friend.” She grabbed her glass to take a deep drink. “But don’t think for a second I’m helping you get out of any of the bets you two place.” 

“It won’t be that bad. Even if he wins, I’ll take everything like a champ.” You took a drink from your own glass of wine.

“Even if it’s a sexual favor?” Mel said pointedly.

You choked on your wine, punching at your chest to catch your breath. 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…” You lied.

“From what you told me none of your exceptions included that, meaning that Jayce very well could ask you to do anything of that nature for him.”

“And I’ll take it like a champ.” You said nervously, visibly cringing. “I’m no pussy.”

“Right.” She gave you a knowing look, a smirk dancing on her lips.

“What’s that look for?”

“Oh nothing.” She chuckled. “I’m sure that your lack of adding that to parameters was merely an oversight. We can easily add it before you sign that contract tomorrow.” 

“Well, we don’t necessarily have to do that…” You tried to play cool. 

Fine, the thought of you and Jayce doing anything sexual in nature didn’t turn you off per say…

“And why not, surely you wouldn’t want Jayce Talis, your sworn enemy to take advantage of you like that.” She teased. 

“I can make those same requests too, you know?” You jabbed back. Red bloomed on your face as you realized what you said. 

Mel laughed at your embarrassed state. 

“You’re too easy to read. Though I can’t say I blame you, Jayce is very nice to look at. Even if you have one-sided bad blood with the man.”

You grumbled. No, you would not admit it out loud. How maybe the thought of Jayce having his way with you was kind of hot. 

Sure, you didn’t like the man personally. That didn’t mean you hadn’t had certain types of thoughts about him. Thoughts that kept you up at night with your hand between your thighs and shame painting your cheeks red. God, you wished you didn’t have dumb base human instincts to copulate. 

“Whatever Mel. It doesn’t even matter if he can take advantage, because he’s not going to win.”

“Again I say; “do not underestimate Jayce Talis.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day had arrived. You stood in the small office with Jayce, Viktor, and Mel. Jayce was buzzing with excitement as he laid out a printed contract on the table before you. Viktor and Mel both rolled their eyes at the dramatics. While this was a bit much, they did find it quite amusing. How you were tiptoeing around your attraction to the man, and he was fully ready to take advantage of the situation you agreed to. You argued that it was all for the bet. For the glory of the win, and nothing else. Still, something primal stirred inside you. Something you did your best to swallow down as you read through the contract. 

Your eyes trailed down the rules and regulations the two of you had placed, then stopped and widened. There, towards the end of the page it was explicitly laid out.

. Sexual favors are allowed with EXPLICIT consent between participants. Consent is the agreement to an activity with a spoken “yes.” Consent must be given before the start of all activities. Consent may be revoked at any time. When this occurs the bet can either be:

Rescinded entirely by the winner

Changed by the winner to a more acceptable activity

Require a monetary exchange to pass over the bet

Jayce could tell you had reached that part of the contract. He nervously shuffled as he watched you reread the part multiple times. Spotting a blush on your face as you continued to read the rest of the contract. He breathed out a sigh of relief when you placed the pages down with a nod. 

“It’s acceptable to me.” You said, avoiding Jayce’s gaze.

A bright, gap-toothed smile appeared on his face. He clapped and reached for the pages. 

“Wonderful. Now we sign.” He said, pulling out a pen from his pocket. 

He leaned over the table and signed his name above the line listing him as “Player One”. Then he slid the sheet over to you. Warm fingers brushed against your own as you reached for the pen from him. The connection sending a shiver up your spine. 

With a huff you quickly signed the page.

“Alright, witnesses, your turn.” Jayce passed the page to Viktor. 

Concern was laced in his golden eyes as he looked at you. He wondered if you knew what you were getting yourself into. Quickly, he signed his name on the designated line before passing it to Mel who did the same. 

Jayce grabbed the pages.

“I’ll make photocopies of this for your files, then we can let the games begin!” The smile had yet to leave his face. 

You gulped nervously.

“Right. So chess is first, correct?” 

“Yup.” 

“And what are we betting on?” You asked, voice wavering slightly.

“I’m not telling.” He said. 

“What! That’s not fair!” You exclaimed desperately. 

Jayce tsked you. A teasing glint in his eyes. He opened the second page of the contract and pointed.

“If you remember correctly, in section 5 part a, bets do not have to be announced before the game is played.” He said smugly.

You grumbled, of course you skimmed over that. 

“Fine.” 

Jayce offered his hand to you. You grasped it harshly and shook. 

“I can’t wait to play with you.” He said with a wink.

[ejoym]

Continuing on the last ask about learning to start drawing OCs, do you have any tips on developing styles? I find it really difficult to “let go” of the need for things to be proportional or physically accurate, but I really want to start developing a more cartoon style.

Hi! In reference to this last post. I'm going to site a lot of stuff from a book called Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art by Scott McCloud. It's a great resource for anyone interested in cartooning, visual art, and comics as a unique storytelling art form.

Cartooning, whether it’s for comics or animation, is a very utilitarian art form. Cartooning skills and an artist's style are often forged in the hellfire of a deadline. For example, what my art style looks like when I've drawn an 80-panel comic in one week looks very different from a single illustration I’ve done in that same time frame.

Cartoonists simplify for the function of needing to draw everything by hand over and over and over again. But we also simplify for the emotional universality of the cartoon image! As stated by McCloud in the following three images.

Technically all 2D art is a form of caricature because we are reducing our 3D reality onto a 2D plane - which inherently abstracts form. Anytime someone sits down to draw (or write), they're engaging with a level of representation within pictorial space.

As an artist, we inevitably work in all modes at some point or another. But I think most artists will show a preference towards different corners of this diagram and that influences their style!

Ask yourself: where would you place the style you're seeking to achieve on this triangle? There's a more detailed version below with many cartoonists and styles for more examples.

I like this diagram especially because it shows the wide variety of cartoonist's styles. That's why this ask has been particularly tricky for me to answer. It's hard to give advice on becoming more cartoony without knowing what that specifically means for you, anon!

That said, I can still give some general good practice tips that hopefully anyone can utilize in their cartooning journey!

Figure drawing. Short poses (1-5 minutes). Figure drawing from life is ideal because life very rarely sits still. If you don't have any figure drawing studios in your area then go to libraries and coffee shops. You can also ask friends or family to sit for you. And finally there are figure drawing resources online that often include timers. Tip: Try drawing only with ink so you can’t erase. You won't have to do this forever but it's a great way to live with the "happy accidents" and then move on to the next drawing!

2. Gesture lines and S-curves. The gesture line captures the initial motion of the pose and will often follow the direction of the spine! S-curves are the alternating "S" shaped curves that represent the distribution of weight across the body. Exaggerating the S-curves is how cartoonists and animators often push the expressive form of the figure. When drawing the figure try to find the gesture line first and then build the weight of the pose on top of that!

3. Give yourself a deadline. Set a timer. Stick to it! Even if all you manage is a quick line gesture. Just move on to the next pose!

Finally, I really recommend reading Understanding Comics by Scott McCloud! It's a wonderful resource that anyone interested in the visual arts could benefit from reading. I first read it 17 years ago, back in my high school film class.

Phew! That's a long one. Hopefully, there's some useful info in there for you. But do feel free to ask any follow-up questions. And good luck on your cartooning journey! 🖤

(There's also another ask in my inbox about drawing cartoonish expressions. I'm working on a response but it may take a little bit. But don't worry, I'll have a detailed answer to that in the coming weeks!)

[rosescarlette]

- Gentlemen. -

Zhongli is the type of person who's often described as a gentleman. Trust me this guy has a lot of fame but even he doesn't know how. He just uses his knowledge and skills and boom! He's famous.

Zhongli is the type of person to absolutely spoil you. He just wants you to be happy. Of course grandpa sometimes goes overboard. You see something? You complement it? Congrats! It's yours now.

Zhongli is also the type to be very reserved during the first time of the relationship. Not like the people who just ask him something completely about, "Hey have you-" where he just goes.. "Sorry I have a girlfriend." No. He isn't. He would completely let the person finish their question and then answer them appropriately. If some one were to indeed ask him out. He'd politely decline and just return to his work what he was doing before.

Zhongli also would be quite strict with himself. But hey.. can you really blame him?.. he has no experience during the first moments. But however do expect him to be completely perfect at the dinning matters and etc. He has learned these habits himself when he used to disguise himself as a human to mingle among his people.

He also has immense strength. Trust me no human could ever compare to his strength because he's the archon who dominates over the element geo. So he obviously has no trouble carrying your bags even yourself. No matter how heavy you are.. you're just a feather to him. There would always be arguments like: "Zhongli let me carry my bags myself!!" "Pardon but I will carry these." Yep. Expect him to be formal even when arguing. You raised yourself as an independent woman and he's the gentleman. So.. yep arguments on who's gonna pay for the dinner. Of course he ends up winning. He pays the bill regarding the price. Heck does he even look at it? No. Because his wallet (childe) will always pay for it regardless of the price.

If zhongli sees you overworking yourself to the point where you sleep on the desk itself. He will not hesitate at all to pick you up and place you in bed and tuck you in. He has no problems doing that.

You and zhongli would RARELY get into arguments. Trust me, the only times you'd argue is who is going to pay the bills and all. He always wins somehow.

He is also the type to be the first one to wish you a happy birthday or happy anniversary to you. Because he wakes up quite early and you? Nah you're gonna sleep almost to the point where people would mistakenly arrange a funeral for you thinking you died... /j . This guy has photographic memory so.. he captured every emotion on your face with immense detail. He never gets bored looking at those eyes.

He is also the type of person who'd comfort you very well. If your day is bad you can always go chat to him. He will always and ALWAYS try to make you smile. Your smile is something he would pay anything to see.

You overthink? He's the one to comfort you. You have social anxiety? He's the one to do the talking. You're short to reach? He helps you with it. Any problem you bring up he brings up the solution.

Zhongli wants everything to be perfect. My guy's a rich person. (But somehow broke) He wants everything to be absolutely perfect and no detail should be missed. So expect your birthdays and special occasions and all to be amazingly perfect. Including his proposal is something that has so many hidden meanings that many people have forgotten. Yet it's perfect. In a way where everything is according to you. Which represents you and him.

In the end.. your relationship was perfect with him. It was only date to marry. Trust me. He will only choose you.

Zhongli knows eventually one day he will outlive you. He always had. So he tries his best to always stay near you and capture every emotion of yours. And eventually when you aren't there anymore.. he will forever be lonely. He wouldn't want another person. He himself had set a contract to himself. It's either you or no one. And he follows it. Until it's the end of him.

Your grave is something that can't be found easily. I mean.. he wouldn't let it be known so easily to people. He would try to hide it as much as possible. The area would be secluded. And your grave will the one that has your favorite flowers. However to him. He visits to be with you. Only to be reminded of the fact.. you're gone too.

Despite living so long. He'd always learn talents so who knows if he learns art. Not for anything but other than painting you so you wouldn't be forgotten in his memory so easily. Even with his photographic memory he fears that he would forget. The tea cups on the table will always be the pair where one is empty and the other has cold tea. A remainder again you're gone. He heavily uses muscle memory so it's hard for him to get accustomed easily.

Despite the bittersweet ending. He always loved and always will continue to love you. And if it's his end. He would want to be next to you. And after always hold you in his arms. No matter where he would always find you. Even without his memory. His soul knows you and will continue to find you. So expect many lives of yours to be with him.

In the end he has no regrets. He always wanted to be with you. So it's always you no matter what.

[dragolord19delta]

@sonic-fankid-showdown

Harlo slipped through the back hallways of the arena, trying to map the layout in his head. He pulled up the digital schematic on his wrist computer and adjusted his notes accordingly.

"This place is a mess, though. So many sections unfinished and under construction. Maybe I could…?" Harlo glanced down the hall. No cameras, and no one around. He began to open his laptop and plugged into an outlet. After a few minutes of coding, he'd managed to be bounced out of the network three times. Still, he'd learned something each attempt: that the Arena's firewall was formidable but had holes he could use.

After a few more side steps, he was in and rooting around the security feeds… nothing unusual. Looking at the actual interior schematics instead of the publicly available ones gave him a better idea of what was actually inside and outside of the facility's walls… but some information was missing. Including what looked like a storage room. That piqued his interest. What would be something hidden away where everyone could see, yet be invisible to most?

Well, he'd need to figure out how to get in there… Harlo was about to unplugged his laptop when a security alert went off. He could see it: A Fankid's number was on the screen, flagged as 'Issue Detected'. Number 23, Starlis Maria Hedgehog. He remembered her, shorter then him (Which didn't make him feel better about being so tiny for a goat, nope!), Metalhead hedgehog.

"Well, now, what's going…" He clicks the camera outside her dressing ro-It looked more like a bomb had gone off.

"Wh-?" Harlo felt his jaw drop in shock. Where there was a door now said door was embedded in the wall across from her room. As smoke poured out he could only wonder what had gone wrong. Or if he was witnessing a kidnapping?

Either way, he had a front-row seat to whatever this was going to be.

+++

Starlis panted, the stun pistol in her hand slick as the stun rounds bounced off the wall.

"Just give us the princess girl!" The jackal's smugness graded on her nerves. Her eyes flicked towards Zia, who was clutching where the shrapnel had torn through her stomach and chest. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She muttered as her mind raced, adrenaline fueling her thoughts and movement. 'Okay, Star, you got this, there's just… four of them and one of you, and you aren't a medic. This is… bad. Very, very bad. Oh, Gaia, Zia, please be okay. Okay, think Star, think. How can you deal with this?'

"You're good girl," the smug voice called again, "Shouldn't be surprised from the daughter of Shadow the Hedgehog." They were good, well trained or at least well prepared. They'd managed to take Bitsy out by separating her from them when the bomb went off.

"But we have a job to do, and unfortunately, that requires the girl with you," 'No, no, no, not Zia!'"Now, we know she's hurt but I'm willing to bet that if she dies you'd never forgive yourself."

"Fuck you, stay back." Starlis snapped a shot off, leaving her with 6 rounds left as the stun round impacted the jackal's chest, making him flinch before he smirked. "Electrical resistance on our suits, you're going to have to try better than that."

Starlis could only stare at Zia, who looked back and winced at the pain as she murmured, "I'm sorry, Starry, I'm sorry. I'm so-"

"No, no, don't say that. Don't worry, we'll be okay, everything will be fine, you'll be okay. I promise, we'll make it through this." Starlis couldn't help but plead with Zia, eyes desperately searching her face as if to find the answer somewhere in those fiery purple pools. "…Zia, please," She whispered.

The pink Mobian could only offer a weak smile before her eyes shut from the pain. Starlis didn't realize she had started crying, didn't feel them as they fell. Not at first anyway, just noticing that her cheeks were damp. With that realization, though, it was as though a switch flipped and they wouldn't stop.

That was when one of the attackers stepped around the corner, a grenade lobbed before Starlis could react.

With a hissing thoom Starlis's world became nothing but pain, her ears ringing and her sight dimming from agony… she couldn't hear her own screams.

The jackals rushed forward, hoping to grab the two before Starlis could recover. They'd taken a huge risk attacking like this, and the window they had to work was limited.

Starlis's senses were thrown into chaos. Her body felt numb, her limbs unresponsive as the world blurred around her and the sounds echoed inside her skull.

The pain in her body felt distant, detached as she watched them round the corner she had placed herself in front of. The blurred figure turned and walked toward her as if nothing was wrong and everything was fine. But she had one last play, a stupid, crazy thing. Her Baba would say she was letting her daddy show through by doing this.

Pushing herself upright, Starlis lunged for Zia's purse… and the Emerald within.

'It's just like a Chaos gem, focus, draw through the gem and…' "SOL-

+++

30 minutes earlier

Zia was wandering around the main lobby after arriving at the Arena. There was a few days until the actual fight so she and Bitsy could wander the Arena. It reminded her of stories that Mr Sonic told of a Smash Arena he had competed in.

There were several other families waiting, including… Zia gaped.

"Uncle Sonic, Uncle Shadow?! What are you doing here?" The duo turned to the princess and Sonic grinned.

"Hey Zia, good to see you. We're here to cheer on Starlis!" he explained, smiling at her warmly before wrapping his arms around Zia in a hug. His usual affable nature shining through. "It's been too long." he said after releasing Zia and taking a step back to admire how much she had grown since the last time they saw each other, which was only a few months ago, after… everything that happened.

Bitsy bowed. "Lord Sonic, Sir Shadow, a pleasure to see you both. How are you?"

"We're doing well. How about yourselves? I can imagine you've been busy." Shadow replied coolly, his finger tapping the case next to him. "What do you have there Uncle Shadow?" Zia asked, curious about the black case at her 'Uncle's' side. Shadow chuckled at that and patted the case.

"This? Why this is a transportable booth. Last night on the phone Starlis told me about how… despicable some of my alternative counterparts have acted to their children. Do you remember that pride parade I took you a few years back?"

Zia nodded, smiling fondly at the memory.

Shadow opened his leather jacket, revealing a shirt that said 'Free Shadow Hugs' in big bold letters. "Well, I decided to help with that particular problem. When I am not cheering on Starlis, I plan on running a booth where any fan kid that wants, can come and get a hug from a Shadow and a cookie."

"…Or a Sonic!" Sonic added cheekily, pulling his own jacket aside and revealing a similar shirt that said 'Free Sonic Hugs.'

"Wow, you two really are great." Zia said, grinning. "That's just awesome. And we've got a few days until the actual fights." She giggled as she watched them walk away, calling out, "Good luck Uncle Shadow and Sonic!"

As the Zone Cops started unlocking the proper entrances Zia decided to pick up coffees for the two barbarians she knew and a kettle for tea for the one civilized member (she meant herself, duh.)

+++

Wanted to get this out before the sleep demons take me, planning more but the bed demands its due...

Harlo Robotnik (by @xinnamonbun and @halastar05) Don't worry, Harlo has more coming, Just wanted to post what I had.

[menaceanon]

The scuba trip sounds so cool, and your posts about it are incredibly moving! Do you have any advice for someone curious about diving? What kinds of classes or instructors to look for? How did you get started?

My very best diving advice is to figure out what you want to see most underwater. Let that guide you in the kind of learning you do and let it drive you when you get frustrated. Then grab the wonder of it all with both fucking hands and don’t let go. Getting certified can be a stressful process. There’s a learning curve, and you might find it steep. Also, every single diver has had a shitty, stressful dive, and the less experience you have the more likely that is to happen. So you have to be ready to take all of that in stride. Remind yourself you want to see a goddamn shark, and then go see a shark because you can totally do that now holy shit.

As for how to get started…

The extremely short answer is to google dive shops near you, walk in the front door, and tell them you want to learn to dive.

Personally, I happened to be very fortunate that my mom is a diver. Some of my oldest memories are of her in a wetsuit with a giant knife strapped to her thigh, looking like a fucking superhero as she bundled off to dive ship wrecks in the chilly North Atlantic. I’ve been obsessed with this since before I could talk. Unfortunately, about the time I was old enough to get certified I discovered a had ✨anxiety✨ and it turns out that you don’t really want to put a 12-year-old prone to panic attacks underwater. So… it took a while.

But I did come back to it, and when I did I was lucky to have my mom’s guidance. So I’ll walk you through what she told me.

(Note: I apologize that this will be US-centric. That’s what I know, but hopefully I can give you a broad enough idea of how things work that it will be applicable elsewhere. Also like. Obviously do not consider anything I say here to qualify as training in any way at all.)

A Quick-Start Guide To SCUBA Diving

Generally, getting certified involves three main steps:

Bookwork - You purchase a training book from a dive organization (more on that later), study independently, and then review the bookwork in a classroom setting with a dive instructor.

Confined water training - This is just a fancy term for learning in a swimming pool. You will spend a few days diving here while your instructor drills you in safety exercises, buoyancy, gear, etc.

Open water training - “open water” essentially just means “not a swimming pool.” Lakes, oceans, quarries, that sort of thing. You will do a handful of dives here with an instructor in which you review what you learned in the pool and show you’re capable of performing your safety drills in a bigger, more intimidating environment. You can travel somewhere to do this part. If your only local open water option is Spooky Cold Lake, where the fun thing to do is hide fake skeletons for the next diver to find, then, provided you’ve got the budget, it’s totally kosher to go someplace like the Florida Keys instead. Especially if that’s the only sort of place you really want to dive.

So how do you find a trustworthy instructor? What the hell is a dive organization? Can you try out diving without going all-in on a certification? Are you doomed if you jump in the water and immediately hate it (oh god I just spent all this money)?

A Not-So-Quick-Start Guide To SCUBA Diving aka YOU HAVE ACTIVATED MY TRAP CARD

DIVE SHOPS

Like I said, the best first step is to track down a local dive shop, go there, and ask them about learning to dive. Internet competition has unfortunately made dive shops a bit less common, but generally you can find them all over, including in deeply landlocked areas.

Here’s why this is your best first step:

1) dive shops are where you find knowledgeable teachers and certification classes. The infrastructure is there: people who can help you decide what classes to take, instructors, gear for rent, agreements with local pools to allow diving and dive instruction, guidance on the best local place to do open water training, etc.

2) they are a built-in community. You will never be underwater alone, so it really helps to find a dive buddy/buddies who you like and trust (and who you would be willing to split dive trip expenses with)!

3) shops put together really cool dive trips, and it’s generally way cheaper to go through them than to sort it out yourself. You’ll also be with people from your area who have a common interest, so it’s a good way to make friends!

4) you’re going to need some gear, and for SCUBA equipment it is wayyy better and safer and easier to try something on in person than it is to order it online and hope. You also get the benefit of the shop’s experience with the equipment—what they like about it, what they don’t like, whether it’s what you’re looking for, if there’s something comparable but less expensive, where they suggest you spend money vs where you don’t really need to—etc etc.

5) maintenance! If you end up buying gear like a reg, BCD, tanks, etc., then having a local technician who can inspect and repair your gear is the way to go.

A note: The people at the shop should make you feel comfortable and welcome. Most divers are absolutely jazzed at the idea of bringing someone new into the fold, which is good because it’s critical that you’re comfortable with and trust the people who teach you and dive with you. Unfortunately, this means that if you don’t like the people at your shop you might need to try elsewhere. (Or, go back on a different day and see if there’s some else to talk to lol.)

If there’s no shop near you, you CAN do your bookwork online, and I believe some dive companies have directories of people who are certified as instructors and who may be local to you. But this isn’t ideal, and I’m not familiar with the process so you’ll have to do some very careful research.

CERTIFICATION (NAUI vs PADI vs SSI, etc etc)

So here’s how it works:

While you could, conceivably, grab a tank and a hose and jump in, A) don’t fucking do that, and B) assuming you don’t die doing that, you’re still not really going to be able to go places and dive without a certification. Broadly, you can sorta think of a certification as working like a driver’s license. You need to show it at resorts/dive shops/dive boats/etc before anyone will let you in the water.

Unlike a driver’s license, though, it’s not issued through a government, but through a company, and each company has their own way of doing things. When you sign up to get a certification, you will be signing up with a specific company, and taking their specific classes.

PADI is probably the biggest company, which is good because it means it’s accepted most places around the world. They’re reliable and going to get you in the water relatively quickly. But my god are they going to try to sell you shit along the way.

NAUI is old school and more hardcore, with stricter standards. Some places still do their full 10-week course, though not many. If you’re NAUI certified, you know what the fuck you’re doing.

I don’t really know much about SSI. I’ve heard on the grapevine that they teach divers to rely VERY heavily on their computers, though, which I personally don’t think is a great idea—understanding why the computer does what it does is what keeps you safe.

There are other companies, especially once you get out of the States, but hopefully this gives you an idea of what they are and how they work.

There are also different levels of certifications, starting with the most basic and gradually getting more advanced. Your certification level will determine things like how deep you can go, what environments you can dive in, if you can dive at night, etc. You will have to pay for each new certification.

DISCOVER SCUBA DIVING (DSD)

If you’ve ever been to a resort where they offer to teach you to dive, they probably call that program “discover scuba.” It does NOT count as a full certification, but DOES count to your total number of dives, and can be a great, relatively low-cost way to both find out if this is something you actually want to do AND get some real experience under your belt. Except in extremely rare circumstances, however, that cost almost never comes out of the price of your certification, so keep that in mind.

A big downside is that you’re not going to be particularly well-trained beyond extremely basic safety steps. If you’re like me, that might make you anxious underwater. It’s also going to make the experience a little less comfortable overall because you just don’t know how to get comfortable.

This is actually how I started on my path to certification, though, and I don’t think I’d have done it any other way. While learning in a pool first may have helped with some of my anxiety, getting to see what it was all about right from the beginning is probably what convinced me to keep going.

IT IS CRITICAL that you research the organization offering the discover scuba dive program, though. Some of these groups will throw you in the water without a care.

NEVER EVER EVER EVER do those full-face plastic helmet things where they pump air down. NEVER. They’re so insanely dangerous.

GETTING IN THE WATER

Odds are pretty good that you’re not going to enjoy your first dive. Or your second or third. So I think it’s really important to know that that first impression does NOT mean you’re going to hate it forever, nor is it a good indicator of whether you’re capable of diving at all. All those first dives indicate is that you got yourself in the water, and that’s fucking impressive. A lot of people never make it that far.

Here are the main reasons why that first dive will probably suck. I find that knowing what to expect helps me prepare. I also think it’s significant that every single one of these things goes away with experience:

Claustrophobia. This is pretty common. There’s water all around you and you’re wearing a mask, which, if that’s not something you’ve done before, can restrict your field of vision and feel strange against your face. You’ve also got a vest and weights on, and you’re mouth-breathing through a regulator. It’s all very close-up. This absolutely goes away once you’re more comfortable and accustomed, but it’s not a minor hurdle. This can also be helped a lot by diving somewhere warm with good visibility.

Breathing. The regulator is weird. It just is. It sounds weird, it feels weird, the air is cold, you can’t fully close your mouth, the dry-mouth can suck—it’s a whole thing.

Buoyancy. There’s a reason they train astronauts by taking them scuba diving: floating around is not something humans do a whole lot of, and it can feel like you don’t have any control over where your body is now or where it’s going next. Even if you’re a strong swimmer, this is not the same thing. Best advice I can give you here is to literally just cross your arms and hold still. If you’re still tilting all over the place it means your weights are distributed wrong, and the dive instructor can help with that. It’s still going to take some getting used to.

Sensory overload. There is so much going on, and on top of it all you’re probably trying to remember all the things you have to do/not do in order to not die.

Give yourself the gift of patience and perseverance and you can learn how to dive. A lot of people give up at this first step, thinking it will always feel this way. It won’t.

THE BAD NEWS

So, there are some significant hurtles.

1) for how zen it usually is, SCUBA still very much qualifies as an extreme sport. There are a lot of ways to get very badly hurt, so taking your training seriously is critical.

2) there are certain health issues that make it impossible to dive. One of the best resources for medical information related to diving is the Divers Alert Network, or DAN. Your dive shop should also be able to help you get answers about things. That said, a lot of people with disabilities are fully capable of diving, and there are absolutely accommodations that can be made, so check before you count yourself out!

3) last but definitely worst: SCUBA is not a cheap sport, or a particularly accessible one. In addition to the significant cost of training and equipment, there’s the very real possibility that, in order to dive at all, you will need to travel. I live on the east coast of the US, which means that, if I want to dive “locally,” my options are pretty limited to quarries, lakes, and the North Atlantic, and those are challenging environments with conditions I don’t particularly enjoy. If I want warm waters with good visibility then I have to travel.

THE GOOD NEWS

Everything I described in my other post about sharks and octopuses and barracudas and glowing green night dives? It’s yours once you’re certified. You can see archaeological sites that have been submerged for centuries, dive between two continental shelves, navigate kelp forests, or float in places where the world shears away into something vast and blue.

Did you know that reefs are noisy like a forest? They crackle with noises from fish and shrimp and other critters going about their business.

Go hear the fish sing.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Partners in Crime 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Lee Bodecker

Summary: you’re left reeling after your divorce but the chaos has only begun. (short!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You walk with the officer through the mall. He takes you towards Entrance #6, opposite the one you came through. You’ll be lost trying to find your way back. 

He slows so he’s slightly behind you as you approach the doors then steps ahead to open one for you. You hesitate and clutch your hands together. You dip your head down and try to smile. Your ex-husbands words ring in your head; don’t forget your manners. 

“Ladies first,” the sheriff waves you through first. 

“Thank you, sir,” you hurry past him to the next door. 

He’s quick. Especially for his size. He follows and brushes by to get the outer door as well. You thank him again with a shy glance in his direction. You’re used to being polite but it’s rare for anyone to have the same grace for you. 

He comes out behind you and you stop short of the dip in the curb that lines the front of the facade. He’s close as he points across the lot to his cruiser. It’s hard to miss as it’s the only vehicle in the part of the lot. You twist to look back at the mall. It feels eerily desolate out here. 

“Just a few minutes and you’re free to go,” he assures you. 

“Okay... yes, sir,” you answer. 

He leads you across the tarmac and you stop by the hood of his car. He goes to the driver’s side and opens it, bending inside and pulling out a pen from above the visor. He backs out and leans on the door as he slides out a small notebook from the inside of his jacket. 

“Ahem,” he clears his throat and takes a casual stance, one foot hooked over the other, his toe dug into the ground, and arm bent on the top of the cruiser. He scribbles onto the pad then hovers the nib as he looks at you, “you okay, darlin’? Not meaning to scare you.” 

“I’m good, just...” you glance back at the mall, “I got a lot to do.” 

It’s a lie. You really don’t want to be there. You only wanted to come to the mall, find a gift, and be gone. It’s all sideways now. Even if he lets you go in the next few minutes, you won’t be catching any bus before noon. 

“Sorry to keep ya,” he grins, “I’ll be quick, how about that?” 

“Sure, uh, officer,” your eyes flick to the star on his chest, “sheriff.” 

“Not at all. Sheriff Bodecker, that is. And yourself, darlin’?”  

He looks at your expectantly. You provide your name in a mutter. He repeats it with grit. 

“Now this man, can you walk me through where you saw him?” 

You take a breath. It’s really not that big a deal. It’s easier than resisting. You learned that with your ex and your previous run in with the law. 

“I was in Swarovski,” you point back to the mall, “just looking and he was there. I only saw him for a few seconds.” 

He writes as you talk, nodding and humming to prompt you along, “that it?” 

“No, I went... to Hallmark and he showed up there. I was looking at cards for my grandma and... that doesn’t really matter, does it?” 

“That’s sweet,” he says, “so Swarovski, Hallmark...” 

“Um, the TV store. The one with the informercial stuff. I left when I saw him,” you twiddle your fingers nervously over your chest as you hold your elbow tight to your body. 

“Mmm,” he nods, “sounds like he was followin’ ya, don’t it?” 

“I don’t know. I tried... not to notice, I guess.” 

“Good thing I found ya,” he wiggles the pen in your direction, “a dangerous man like him, you make an easy target.” 

You frown. Are you that pathetic? 

“What I mean is...” he flattens his hand next to your head, hovering it parallel to the top, “you’re a bit on the smaller side, ya know?” 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you rock. That’s a fair point. 

“Unfortunately, you got some sickos out there who see it as an advantage, even an invitation,” he taps the nibs as he tuts. “Give what you told me, well, us law men, we know better than to believe in coincidences.” 

“You...you said he’s dangerous?” You murmur and clasp your hands together. 

“Not to scare ya or nothing,” he unclicks the pen and presses it to the notebook as he clutches it in one of his large hands. “I’m just doin’ my job. Serve and protect and all.” 

You can’t help the pout you give across the lot to the mall. You knew it too. That man was definitely following you. It’s easy enough to do in a half-empty mall. Your stomach flips as you imagine what could have happened. If the sheriff hadn’t come along and you wandered off to the bathroom. Could that man have found you there? 

“Oh, I guess I should probably just leave,” you say and hug yourself. “I can come back...” 

“Now, I can’t let ya do that,” the sheriff insists as he slides his notebook into his interior pocket. “Not alone. I’ll be more than happy to be your chauffeur, darlin’.” 

“Uh, that’s nice but--” 

“I’m afraid I have to insist. For your own safety.” 

“Sheriff, I think...” you begin. You swallow your protest and shrug, “okay, thank you, sir.” 

“You got really nice manners,” he smirks, “you don’t gotta thank me now. It’s my duty.” 

“Right, er,” you bounce on your feet.  

You’re going to have to find something somewhere else. You’re too freaked out to stay or even think about the present now. You failed again. No big surprise. You can even screw up something as simple as a shopping trip. It would be impressive if it wasn’t miserable. 

“Now you get on in,” the sheriff brings you back to reality as he gently brushes your arm with his hand and urges you along. He seems even bigger as he looms so closely. He opens the back door. “Protocol, sorry ‘bout that.” 

“Oh,” you stare into the backseat. You’ll be sat back there like a criminal. “Even a sheriff can’t have company up front.” 

“Sure,” you accept meekly and duck through into the back. You just want to go home. No sense dragging your feet. 

You get in and he girds you to buckle up. You do so, crossing your arms as you sit back against the leather, and he shuts the door. There’s no handle to let yourself out. Only he can free you. That thought makes you shiver. 

He gets in the front, the car moving with his weight, and he jostles in his seat. 

“You okay back there?” He asks as he pulls his seat belt forward. 

“Fine,” you answer as you cross your legs, jiggling your foot. 

He turns the engine and the car rumbles to life. You definitely didn’t expect the day to go this way. Leaving in a police car? Even for you, it’s a bit too much. 

He shifts into gear and rolls lazily through the lot. You’re quiet as you watch the mall until he turns onto the main road. Maybe it’s only that that man had been following but you’re uneasy. And who wouldn’t be unsettled? 

You watch traffic flow and it’s only a block away from the mall that you realise you’re going in the wrong direction. Another epiphany follows. He never even asked your address. The chatter of his scanner makes your ears hurt. You lean forward as much as you can. 

“Sheriff,” you call through the cage. “Did you need my address?” 

He doesn’t answer right away. Your heart squeezes painfully. He reaches to flick off the scanner. 

“What did ya say, darlin’?” He asks. 

“My address?” You repeat. 

“Ah, yeah,” he chortles, “silly me, headed back to the station outta habit.” 

You give your address and he approaches the next four-way, flipping his signal, “gonna have to retrace my steps,” he clucks. “Don’t worry, I'll get ya where you need to be.” 

[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Twenty

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : PG13

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] There's some potentially triggering stuff in one including; mentions of sibling death by drowning, death of a child, relationship with an inappropriate age gap, gaslighting/abusive relationship, attempted murder, car crash/DUI, and the drug trade. I don't go into a lot of detail with any of them but please avoid if you find these things triggering. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~4.9k

A/N : Please check the warnings on this one, it covers a lot of readers past and some of Billy's!

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN | CHAPTER FIFTEEN | CHAPTER SIXTEEN | CHAPTER SEVENTEEN | CHAPTER EIGHTEEN | CHAPTER NINETEEN

Chapter Twenty

There was a sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach the moment you opened your eyes and remembered the events of the previous evening and the fact that you’d agreed to meet Billy at midday. Not even the news that several of your photographs had sold last night was enough to make you feel any better. All you could think about was Billy on the fire escape as you’d walked away from him.

The morning was spent flitting about the apartment, unable to sit still, which eventually led you to decide to go to the coffee shop early and try and gather your nerves for what would be your last goodbye to Billy.

You arrived ten minutes early, but found that Billy had had the same idea; he was sitting there, at the same table where you’d shared your first coffee together. A weak smile tugged at his lips when he noticed you and, as you approached, you felt your heart sink. He looked awful and you could tell that he hadn’t slept a wink last night. He looked sickly pale which only accentuated the dark circles below his bloodshot eyes. Just the sight of him made you want to hold him and look after him.

“I already ordered, I hope you don’t mind,” he said as you sat opposite him.

There were two mugs on the table, hot chocolates with whipped cream, just like you’d made him as those weeks ago. He’d even gotten one of your favourite muffins.

“Thank you,” you uttered softly, eyes fixed on your drink, not really sure how to say any of the things that you needed to say to him. Luckily Billy knew where he wanted to start things.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he sighed.

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about that,” because fucking him on the fire escape was the least of your worries, and thinking about it made you feel too many things that you couldn’t deal with. “Are you okay? I mean, after last night, you were -”

“I’m fine,” the words left his lips automatically, just like the last time you’d tried to ask him about it.

“You’re not fine, Billy.” You knew he didn’t want to talk about it and, normally, you wouldn’t want to push him to, but if things were really over between you now, it didn’t really matter if he got annoyed about it. Besides, your shit had been laid bare for him and you didn’t like him hiding behind that empty lie. “The first time, you said it was because you thought I’d left you, and last night -”

“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupted with a sharp but jagged edge to his tone.

“You can’t tear yourself apart over me like that. It’s not worth it,” you tried to tell him, wanting to at least make some part of this more bearable for him. “I’m not worth it.”

“Yes you are. Don’t ever say that to me.” He answered without hesitation, despite everything he’d learned about you from the PI’s file. If the circumstance between you had been a little different, it would have made you love him even more but, unfortunately for both of you, Billy still didn’t know the whole story.

The only way you could change his mind and, hopefully, give him some peace was to tell him the whole story. You took a slow breath and steeled yourself for what you had to do.

“The file doesn’t tell the whole story,” you admitted quietly. Billy didn’t say anything, he just waited for you to continue. “I started dating Scott a couple of months after I turned sixteen, but I’d known him most of my life. His dad was Sheriff and his brothers were both cops, so everyone knew their family one way or another.”

You paused to take a breath, knowing that the story only got worse from there and, as much as you wanted to be honest with Billy, you didn’t want to recount things in any great detail for both of your sakes.

“He was older. Twenty-two. I thought he was amazing and I thought I was so mature because an older guy wanted to date me.” You let out a bitter huff of laughter at the ridiculous thought, while Billy’s knuckles started to turn white as he gripped his mug tighter and tighter. “We kept it secret; I knew my parents wouldn’t approve and he didn’t want to embarrass his dad. I thought I was ready for a grown up relationship, but I wasn’t...”

“You were just a child,” his voice was low, barely audible. It was clear that he didn’t want to interrupt but he felt like he had to say something. You just shrugged before continuing.

“I was a lonely kid; Sam joined the Army as soon as he turned eighteen, and my parents were always so busy that I spent most of my time looking after Lilly. She was half my age, so it wasn’t like we had much in common but...” a shaky hand listed your mug to your lips and you took a drink, trying to avoid the next part of the story.

“The file said she drowned?” Billy prompted gently, trying to help you along.

“I was supposed to be watching her, she wasn’t supposed to swim by the dock unless someone was with her, but Scott turned up. He’d been drinking and he wanted to see me, and I -” you stopped again, gaze dropping as you tried to blink back tears, “- I told him I was watching Lilly, and he started arguing with me; he told me I didn’t love him enough and maybe I was just a kid after all.”

You took another drink and broke off a piece of muffin - everything you could do to avoid looking at Billy and letting him see the shame written all over your face. It took around thirty seconds before you could force yourself to continue.

“I didn’t want to lose him, so I went with him. I told him I couldn’t be gone for more than a couple of minutes, but every time I tried to go back to Lilly, he’d start up again. And when he finally let me go an hour later, it was too late. She - she must’ve gotten bored waiting for me...”

Billy glared at you and you could see everything you’d feared written all over his face. Now he knew the truth, he knew just how worthless you were, how selfish and wretched you were. You’d never wanted to see him look at you that way, with such disgust and anger on his face, and it hurt even worse than you’d ever imagined it would.

“Told you I’m not worth it,” you shrugged weakly.

“What?” Seeming to snap out of whatever dark thought he’d been stuck in, he looked at you for a moment, expression shifting from anger to confusion in an instant. “Sweetheart, you made a mistake, but you weren’t the adult in the situation. The only one that’s not worth anything in this situation is that fucker. He shouldn’t’ve ever gone near you. He used your age against you to get what he wanted and ‘cause of that, you made a tragic mistake. No one should blame you for that.”

“Everyone did blame me.” You looked back down at your mug again.

“How could they when -”

“No one knew he was there,” you confessed, “he called his brother and - I dunno, everything just happened. They told me I’d get in trouble if I told anyone Scott was there.” Billy let out an irritated huff and you could tell he was getting angry, but not at you like you’d expected. “My parents were devastated, they couldn’t believe I’d be so reckless and I - I didn’t know what to tell them.”

“But that wasn’t the end of things with Scott, was it?” Billy tried to nudge you back towards the story, not letting you linger on something that was clearly causing you pain.

“No, we stayed together. He made me think he was the only person who could accept me after what I did. He told me everyone else thought I killed her. And, I believed him. I let him convince me that he was the only person who could accept me.” A hint of anger slipped into your voice, even now, years later, you were still so angry that you’d let him manipulate you. You knew Billy wanted to say something but he bit his tongue and let you carry on. “We moved in together when I turned eighteen and made things official. I was going to go to college but he -” you trailed into another sigh.

“Fuck,” Billy muttered under his breath before taking a drink.

“I was with him for years, eventually I felt stuck, like I had nowhere to go. He made it so he seemed like the only stable thing in my life by starting shit with my parents, so I couldn’t go to them for help. He made me feel like no one trusted me...” you stopped again, taking another drink and eating a little bit more of the muffin.

“You don’t have to keep going,” Billy told you suddenly, like he’d made up his mind.

“How can you say that?” You looked at him, confused.

“Because I can see how much this is hurting you and -” he shook his head, not wanting to finish the thought. But you could see something else in his expression; worry. Something about you telling him all of this was worrying him.

For a moment you considered his offer; he was giving you a way out, a way to save yourself from the pain. But, after everything, didn’t he deserve to know the real you?

“When he proposed, I knew I had to get away from him,” you decided to continue, “by then, my parents had both passed, and Sam was the only family I had left. I just - I knew I couldn’t marry him or have his kids. I tried to get Sam’s, but Scott caught up with me. And I - I knew that he’d been drinking, and I knew how stupid I was to get in the car, but -”

“The accident,” Billy tried to fill in the gaps, “the one that left you scarred?”

“It wasn’t an accident. He told me that, if he couldn’t have me, no one could,” you shook your head, trying not to think about it too much. “He was arrested and got five years.”

“Five years for attempted murder?”

“No, just for the DUI. I didn’t report it. I just wanted to get as far away as I could.” You took another drink and finished the last of the muffin, even though your stomach felt upside down. “I told Sam everything and he gave me some money to leave Florida and start a new life. And, eventually, I ended up in New York.”

You gave a little shrug, gaze dropping and feeling far too vulnerable to look at Billy now that the story was done. He reached across the table without warning and you tense a little as he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. But his act of comfort was short lived, only lasting a few seconds before he pulled away again. And, when you finally looked at him again, you found only resignation on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he offered again, “I understand why trust is so important to you now, and I hate that I couldn’t give you that.”

“I wish things could’ve worked out differently,” you told him softly, sadly.

“I take it there’s no point trying to convince you that I can do better, is there? You’ve made up your mind that this is the end.” His voice was a quagmire of emotions; hurt, anger, sadness. All things that made your heart ache. Now his worry made sense. He knew that once this was done, everything would be over between you.

You shook your head, trying to swallow the lump in your throat, knowing that you didn’t have the strength left to actually say the words. Instead you went with; “I’m leaving New York for a while.”

“What?” The pain he’d been barely suppressing finally filled his voice.

“I’m going to stay with Sam in Connecticut for a while. I don’t have the money to stay in New York anymore.”

“I could -”

“Billy, no...” you stopped him before he could make the offer and he quickly fell silent for a few seconds.

“I’ve still got your stuff at the penthouse. I could drop it off for you?”

“No, I’ll come get it,” you answered quickly, though you weren’t sure why. You wanted to see it one last time, you supposed, you wanted a proper goodbye. “I can come by tomorrow evening?”

“Yeah, okay.”

And, just like that, everything was over. Your mug and plate were both empty, and you’d told him everything you’d come to say. You sat for a few moments before managing to say goodbye to him. He gave you back the file and walked out of the coffee shop with you, looking nothing short of defeated, watching you as you walked away from him. Somehow, you kept your head up high and didn’t turn back, silently telling yourself that you were strong enough to walk away from him, despite the pain.

The next twenty-four hours passed in something of a daze; you were still working so that took up a good chunk of your day but, no matter what you were doing, you couldn’t stop thinking about Billy, about how that night would be the last time you ever saw him. Even though you knew it was for the best, the part of you that loved him - the part that would always love him - refused to stay silent on the matter, trying to convince you that you should stay, that you shouldn’t give up on your only chance of happiness.

When the evening rolled around and you found yourself outside his building, it took fifteen minutes to work up the nerve to walk inside. Marvin the doorman gave you a fond smile and as you passed and made your way to the elevator, your fingers gripping the key to the penthouse floor - another thing you were going to have to give up.

The whole elevator ride up, you held your breath, counting the seconds until the doors opened.

A pang of disappointment filled you when you stepped into the penthouse and Billy wasn’t waiting for you, ready to pull you into his arms and press you back against the wall. Instead nothing but silence greeted you. 

It felt strange setting foot in the penthouse knowing it was the last time you’d ever be there. As you stepped off the elevators, you couldn’t help but look around, noticing all the little changes that had happened since Billy first brought you home the night of the gala. You could remember how cold and empty it had seemed, but now there were little reminders everywhere of changes Billy had made to make sure that you would be comfortable there; a couple of fleece blankets draped over the back of the sofa for when you got cold and cushions so you could sprawl out whenever you were watching movies together, lamps dotted around in all the places where you liked to sit and read, he’d even gone as far as getting a Cookie Monster cookie jar for the kitchen that he kept full of your favourite cookies.

You’d barely noticed it at the time, but Billy had gone out of his way to make space for you in his home, and now it made your heart ache thinking about how he’d probably give up on all the colour and warmth he’d let into his life because you were gone.

“Hey,” his voice startled you, pulling you out of your thoughts as he emerged from the bedroom.

“Hi,” you offered quietly, suddenly feeling like a stranger in his home.

Billy approached you but stopped a few feet away, keeping his distance. You could tell that he still hadn’t slept and, honestly, he looked awful. Even his clothes gave him away; wrinkled pants, tie pulled loose, and the top couple of buttons of his shirt hanging open.

Neither of you spoke for almost a minute, until Billy finally let out a soft sigh.

“Everything’s where you left it,” and he gave a wave, indicating that you should go and gather your things. 

There were so many things that you wanted to say but you knew that there was nothing that would fix this, nothing that would make either of you feel any better. So, you decided to treat the situation like ripping off a band-aid, and get it over and done with as quickly as possible.

Billy retreated into the kitchen as you moved to the bedroom and started gathering your things. There was more than you expected, more than you remembered but, soon enough, you’d formed two piles; things they you’d brought with you, and things that Billy had bought for you.

After ten minutes, you noticed him in the doorway, watching you.

“It wouldn’t be right of me to keep these,” you told him and his eyes followed you to the second pile, the gifts he’d given you. There was the camera equipment, several books, a pair of winter boots, a coat, and a teddy bear he’d bought you because you’d joked that it looked like him.

“I want you to keep them,” he told you with a dismissive shake of his head, like they didn’t matter, like he hadn’t spent thousands of dollars on you.

“Billy, I -”

“They’re yours. Anything you leave, I’m gonna burn,” he snapped suddenly, his voice breaking, betraying him. He waited a beat before turning and walking out of the room, leaving you at a complete loss.

Reluctantly, you packed everything up, knowing that you couldn’t let Billy burn any of it, thinking maybe you could sell them and send him the money.

Once you were done, you took a breath and looked around the bedroom one last time, remembering all the fun times you’d had there and how much you were going to miss waking up beside him every morning. Then, you picked up your case and left the room.

Billy was in the kitchen again, sipping a coffee, he didn’t even look at you as you started to move towards the elevator.

“Frank almost died because of me,” his words broke the silence but you didn’t understand their purpose. They weren’t a plea for you to stay, and they didn’t sound like some confession of feelings. In fact, they seemed completely unrelated to anything that was happening. 

As much as you didn’t want to be dragged into a conversation, you couldn’t let the comment go unanswered, you couldn’t ignore his broken tone. 

“What?” Stopping and putting the case down, turning to face him.

“You asked why I don’t trust people, and that’s why. I almost got the man who’s the closest thing to family I have, killed.” There was anger in his words, something dark and painful that seemed to run deep.

“What are you trying to tell me?” You dared to ask, though you were scared of how he might answer.

“When we were Marines, we got selected for a special, off-the-books unit, and the shit we did -” he shook his head and you knew better than to ask him to fill in the blanks, “- when I’d had enough, I requested a transfer back to Force, but Frankie - he stayed.” His gaze dropped to his mug. “There was this CIA Agent - Rawlins - he offered me a deal; an early honourable discharge and a shit-ton of money if I help the CIA run drugs from Afghanistan.”

He fell silent, letting you take in what he’d told you and, in that silence you found yourself edging close to him, trying to wrap your head around it all.

“Someone tried to leak it to Homeland - they thought it was Frankie, so they put out a kill order on him and his family.” There was a noticeable tremor in his voice and your stomach started to tie itself in knots. “I couldn’t let them hurt him. I took a bullet for him, then I told Homeland everything in exchange for immunity.” 

He didn’t need to look at you for you to see just how ashamed he was of himself.

“I did all that, because I wanted a life like this. I wanted to have more than I grew up with. I didn’t want to be that poor kid no one wanted anymore.” He let out a heavy sigh. “That’s why I don’t trust anyone, because I can’t even trust myself not to make stupid fucking choices. And that’s why it was easy for me to believe that you’d use me and hurt me, because I’d probably do the same thing in your position. And, I think some of it was just because I was scared...”

“Scared of what?”

“That I’d hurt you and let you down, like I let Frank down. It was easier to see you as the bad guy because, if I hurt you -”

“You did hurt me though,” you interrupted, not interested in where his pity spiral was taking him. It wouldn’t change anything.

“You’re right and I’m so fucking sorry,” he finally looked at you again, “this isn’t an excuse - there are no excuses for what I did. I fucked things up and you got hurt, and I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Billy,” you hesitated, considering and reconsidering what you wanted to say. As much as he’d hurt you and as much as he’d fucked things up, you didn’t want him to go on hating himself. “You didn’t do anything to Frank except save his life. You weren’t the one that pulled the trigger or made the decision to try to kill him. You protected your friend and you shouldn’t use any of that as a reason not to trust -”

“I should have protected you. I should’ve been there, I should have dealt with the PI and your prick ex-boyfriend. I should’ve protected you instead of thinking you’d betray me.”

“You can’t protect me from that.”

“Yes I can. And I will. No one is going to ruin your new life in Connecticut.”

“Billy -” you sighed but didn’t bother to finish, you knew you’d never change his mind and that the longer you drew this out, the worse it was going to get. But there was one last thing you needed to know before this was finally over. Still, you hesitated for a second, not sure how to ask. “The PI - he told me to ask you where your mother is...”

What little colour there was in his face seemed to drain completely, and the way he leaned on the counter was enough to tell you that you’d caught him completely off-guard.

“She’s taken care of.” An awful mixture of pain, anger and sorrow in his voice caused your stomach to knot.

“You know where she is?” You realised that you’d never even bothered to ask him.

He let out a heavy sigh and you almost wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter, but you kept thinking about how adamant the PI was, like he believed knowing would change things completely between you and Billy.

“She’s in a nursing home - has been for the last five years.”

“I thought -” but you quickly realised that you hadn’t thought, you’d assumed, “- I didn’t think you knew where she was.”

“I tracked her down but, after years of using, she’s not exactly all there anymore.” His voice turned cold and detached, like he was trying to mask the pain.

“I don’t understand; why would the PI tell me to ask?”

“Probably because he knows I could afford to have her in the nicest clinic in the state but, instead I’ve put her in some shitty home where she gets the bare minimum.” He shrugged. “Maybe he figured out that I’m keeping her in a shitty nursing home as revenge for how I grew up.”

“Yes, well, maybe that’s what she deserves,” you muttered before you could even think to stop yourself.

It was a cruel thing to say about a woman who’d obviously had her struggles in life, but having seen the damage she’d caused Billy, you didn’t care. If anything, you were shocked that he was willing to look after her at all.

Another silence fell and it felt like it was time to go; you’d both bared your souls and cleared the air as best you could, now it was time to leave. Billy seemed to realise that too as his gaze quickly dropped back to his coffee, not wanting to watch you finally walk out of his life.

You took a breath, gave him one last look, and started towards the elevator with your case. Pushing the call button made it all seem real and your mind raced as you thought over everything that had been said and done and, as you did, a sickening feeling started to fill your stomach.

Not once had he tried to excuse his behaviour or blame you. All he’d ever done was try to explain it, but he’d always taken full responsibility. He’d never tried to shift accountability or gaslight you into taking any of the blame, even though you knew now that there were other ways you could have dealt with things. All Billy had done was show remorse, he hadn’t tried to change your mind or tell you how you felt was wrong, he’d simply accepted the way you had reacted as part of who you were.

And that thought led you to realise something; he’d accepted who you were and the things you struggled with.

But had you ever done the same for him?

He’d never asked about your past because you’d told him not to, but why hadn’t you bothered to ask about his?

All this time, you’d been so focused on yourself and your problems that you’d never really stopped to consider Billy��s issues, and that wasn’t fair. He’d hurt you, yes, but you were starting to realise that you’d hurt him too - that you were hurting him right now.

“I think -” you stopped, though it took a moment before you could bring yourself to look back, “- I think we both fucked up.”

Billy stared at you, confused, head shaking. “No - no, sweetheart, you didn’t fuck up anything.”

Even now, at the end of things, he was still trying to protect you, still trying to keep you from hurting. But it wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair to leave him thinking that he was the only one to blame in all of this. You weren’t going to let him shoulder that burden anymore.

“I should’ve asked; about how you got hurt, about your mom, and about the panic attacks...” Without thinking, you put your case down again and took a step away from the elevator. “The truth is, I think it was easier for me to pretend that everything in your life was perfect and simple, but that wasn’t fair on you, Billy.”

“That’s not -” he started but fell silent the moment you held up your hand.

“I acted like I was the only one with baggage and I let you help me feel better, but I never tried to help you.”

“You did, you -” his voice caught and you could tell he was struggling, and that the normally confident man didn’t want a spotlight on his perceived flaws.

You shook your head. “Krista was wrong about you, Billy. You’re not broken, you don’t need to be fixed. You just need someone to see you the way you saw me, and I should have tried harder to be that person for you.”

“No, you -” he shook his head, stepping out of the kitchen and towards you, “- you never needed to -”

He couldn’t find the words and, honestly neither could you. Just the look on his face was enough; that awkward pain that you knew so well because it was the same pain you’d been living with for years. It was selfish of you not to notice it before now, to pretend it wasn’t there and wallow in your own problems. 

Billy stopped in front of you, still obviously struggling to find the words, so you found them for him.

“Ask me to stay,” you whispered.

“I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“I think that maybe what love is, Billy, it’s fucking things up and hurting each other, and coming back stronger from it. You hurt me but you didn’t break me.” You dared to take a little step closer to him. “I spent so long believing that no one could love me after everything that happened to me, after everything I did. I was so scared of how you’d react, but even when you did find out, you kept fighting for me.”

“Of course I did, because I -” he tried to find the words, but you didn’t blame him when they didn’t come; you knew now that love was a terrifying thing for Billy, but three little words would never say more than the look in his eyes. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I - I don’t want to leave.” you confessed.

A sound of absolute relief slipped from his lips but before you could think to question it, Billy had cleared the distance between you and was pulling you against him, kissing you softly. Your arms wrapped around him and held him tight, never wanting to let him go again.

Chapter Twenty-One

END NOTES :  So, finally, there it is; readers past. This is something else I've been a little bit nervous about, so I hope you like! And I hope you like what I've changed for Billy's past too because this has always been sort of my exploration into how Billy might have been if he'd saved Frank and his family, instead of helping Rawlings.

Anyway! As always thank you so much for reading! Don't worry, there's still more to come!

If you want adding/removing from the tag list let me know (I know it’s not working for everyone - if it’s not working and you don’t want to miss a chapter, I post every Friday around 7:30pm gmt)

TAG LIST

@lincerad @sweetserendipity65 @rafaelakelley   @slayerofthevampire @rensolodriver @lovelydoveval   @doloreschanal @damagelove @danzer8705   @unlikelystarlightcowboy @schlotzshewrote @bisexualbith   @uncontainedsmiles  @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes  @lilliesofmay  @billyrussoslut @readingabouthim @arwensloanebarnes  @scarlettrikstr @daughterofautumn @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations

[bluejayblueskies]

Do you have any advice/suggestions for getting into bookbinding? What is the process like if you don't mind sharing?

Hello! Very happy to share bookbinding advice/resources 💜 it's a wonderful and delightfully rewarding hobby, and while it can be complicated and easy to get stuck in the weeds with it, you can also get started with some really simple binds with materials you may already have around your living space.

Info below the cut:

First off, there are a lot of instructional videos and guides out there for bookbinding. My favorite YouTube channel for those just starting out bookbinding is Sea Lemon, who has a ton of instructional videos for various styles of bookbinding. Her method of explaining things is clear and concise, and she tends to work with simpler tools and materials that don't cost much and that you may already have on hand. She is not a professional bookbinder with professional tools (afaik) but in my opinion, that's perfect for a beginner because it's not as overwhelming and has a much lower barrier to entry. Perusing her channel and watching a bunch of videos was where I started before even picking up tools to start my first bind.

Another guide I highly recommend is How to Make A Book, by ArmoredSuperHeavy. This is a wonderful step-by-step guide for taking a fic from AO3 and turning it into a book. The most helpful part of this guide, for me, was the typesetting instructions. Typesetting is the act of taking a piece of text (eg. a fic on AO3) and formatting it in the correct way for printing and binding into a book. Note that this guide is specifically for MS Word, though you can also typeset in Google Docs, Libre Office, Affinity Publisher, InDesign, and other programs (even LaTex!).

(Pro tip: save yourself the headache of trying to use Word's bookfold option and just set your document page size to the page size of your finished book (if you're printing on letter paper, this is 5.5" x 8.5") and then use this software to put your pages in the correct order: https://momijizukamori.github.io/bookbinder-js/)

A final resource that I recommend, but that can also get a bit overwhelming, is the Renegade Guild Bookbinding Discord. It's a space specifically for people doing fanbinding, and there are a ton of resources within it, including typesetting guides for various softwares, guides for where to get the tools you need and which tools are best, and people who can answer any questions you may have along the way. It's gotten quite big since I joined, and it can be overwhelming since there's so much information available and so many people who have been binding for a while and thus often offer up solutions or advice that's hard for beginners to understand, but it has never failed me when I've had a tricky question that I needed answered that I couldn't find information on anywhere else.

All that said, here's some more advice from me when just starting out!

Start with a simple bind. A single-section pamphlet bind is easy, cheap, and quick. Here's a Sea Lemon video for how to put together a pamphlet bind.

If typesetting seems intimidating, you can bind blank notebooks. This is also a good way to practice new binding styles if you don't want to go through the hassle of typesetting, imposing, and printing for something you worry you might mess up.

A good word count range for fics when you're learning how to bind case-bound books (ie, the typical hardcover books you see in stores) is 25-50k. Shorter than that, and your books will be thin and a bit fiddly to work with. Longer than that is probably fine, but it will be a quicker process for a thinner book, which is nice when you're just starting out. (And then you don't have to worry about rounding and/or backing, which can be complicated.)

There are very, very few tools that you absolutely need to make a book. There are quite a few tools that will make your life easier, or that will make your book look nicer, or that will make your book last longer, but when you're just starting out (especially if you're trying to minimize cost or deal with space constraints), you can forgo a lot of "required" tools. I'll include a list below of the general bookbinding tools you'll want and some substitutions for them.

You might hear talk about the grain direction of paper or bookboard. When you're just getting started, don't worry about this. Once you get more comfortable with the bookbinding process, then you can start ensuring that your bookboard has the correct grain direction (parallel to the spine) to reduce the warping of your covers. The grain direction of your textblock paper matters the least, and I didn't start using "proper" textblock paper (ie short grain) until about 2.5 years after I started binding.

Bind something you like! Pick one of your favorite fics and bind it, even if it's your first bind and you're worried about it turning out ugly. The excited feeling of having bound your first book will be that much more exhilarating when you're able to put a story that you love on your shelf for the first time.

So you're ready to bind a hardcover book! Here are the tools you will want/need:

An awl, for punching holes in your signatures (groups of paper). You can use a thumbtack for this, or even a strong needle if you have something to cushion the end of it that you'll be holding, like an eraser. Awls are typically pretty cheap, though. You'll want a thinner one so you don't make huge holes in your paper. I have this one and it's worked just fine for me.

A bone folder, for creasing the pages. Historically, these are made out of actual bone, and the reason for using one is to get sharp creases in your paper without tearing or damaging it. You can also use basically anything else in your house that can accomplish this task. When I'm feeling lazy and just need to crease one piece of paper, I use my thumbnail. Bone folders are also cheap, though--I have this one. (As a tangent--when you're making your signatures for your book, you're going to be folding and slotting together usually between 4-6 sheets of paper. Fold the paper normally without creasing with the bone folder, slot them together, and then use the bone folder to sharply crease them all together. Trust me on this--the pages will fit together much better if you crease after putting the signature together.)

PVA glue, for all aspects of gluing involved when making the book. You can, I've heard, use Elmer’s glue for this in a pinch, but I've never tried it. PVA will dry flexible, which is what you need for your book, especially when gluing the spine. For things like attaching decorative paper to your covers, this is less important. If you're making a book that doesn't require gluing the spine (like a pamphlet or coptic stitch book), you may not need PVA. There are also lots of other glue mixtures you can use when bookbinding (paste is a popular one) but I've been a straight PVA guy for over three years now and I can't offer any advice when it comes to other types of adhesives. One note about PVA is it dries quick, so once you've stuck something to it, that's that. Prepare yourself for some crooked books until you get the hang of it.

Gluebrush/paintbrush, for applying glue. I recommend something with bristles; the foam brushes technically work but will absorb most of the glue and will probably cause you a headache. Silicone brushes are wonderful, as you can just wait for the PVA to dry and then peel it off, but a regular glue brush will also work; just be sure to put it in water immediately once you're done with it, otherwise the PVA will dry on it and ruin your brush.

Ruler + pencil, for measuring. Any kind of ruler will do, but if you have access to a quilting square or something similar, this will help you get nice and even right angles.

Needle and thread, for sewing the signatures together. You can use regular sewing needles and sewing thread (doubled up for more strength) if you don't want to buy anything specific for this. An easy step up from this that I recommend is buying a block of beeswax (I got mine for like $4 from a farmer's market) and waxing your thread (running the thread along the block a few times). This will keep your thread from tangling and make it easier to work with. You can also use embroidery thread, especially if you're doing a pamphlet or coptic stitch bind and want some color. I recently upgraded to linen thread (thread weight 35/3), which is the standard for archival-quality books, but you absolutely can use cotton thread and it will be fine.

Paper, for the textblock. You can use your standard white copy paper for this and all will be well. Or, if you want to get a bit fancier, you can use cream-colored paper; 8.5 x 11 hammermill 20lb cream colored paper is easy to find and relatively cheap and will make your books look better, as plain white paper can look almost blue in a book. (That said, I also have some actual published books that use white paper, and I've never noticed anything off about them.) If you decide you want to get really into the proper grain direction, I get my short-grain cream-colored paper from Church Paper. They have both 20lb (typical copy paper weight) and 24lb (slightly heavier) weight. I have both and I actually really like the 24lb; it has a luxurious feel to it, with less bleed from my inkjet printer. If you feel like springing for nice paper, check out their site!

Book press, for pressing your book while it dries and pressing your folded pages before sewing. There are a lot of different kinds of book presses out there, many of which are very very expensive. You can usually make do with some heavy books to weigh down your book while it dries, or thin boards and C-clamps if you have those on hand. If you have access to basic power tools, it's also super easy to make your own press with carriage bolts and cutting boards (this is what I did). There's a lot of videos out there with instructions; here's one from Sea Lemon.

Printer and ink, or a printing service/print shop like Staples. Print shops can get expensive in the long run, and it's nice to have your own printer so you can do test prints of your typesets. If you're going out and buying a printer, I highly recommend either a black and white laser printer (if you're not planning on printing in color; Brother is a good brand) or a tank inkjet printer (like the Epson Ecotank). Do NOT get a new HP if you can help it; their ink subscriptions are brutal. I'm upgrading to a black and white laser this year, but I've been using a very old, cheap HP inkjet that I got off Facebook marketplace for the past few years and it's been reliable (if a bit restrictive). If you do have an inkjet currently that takes cartridges, I highly recommend looking up how to refill your own cartridges. Buying one set of genuine HP cartridges and then refilling them with generic brand ink until they die has saved me probably hundreds of dollars by this point.

Book board, for the covers. Otherwise known as chipboard, which is easy to find on Amazon or at craft stores. This is NOT the same as corrugated cardboard; that will not work. You can cannibalize old three-ring folders, which have chipboard inside them, or even old hardcover books/textbooks. Don't bother with genuine bookbinding chipboard; imo, it's overpriced and unnecessary. You can find chipboard on Amazon for relatively cheap; I recommend the 12x12, as you can get a front and back cover out of one sheet with the correct grain direction. You can use chipboard for your book spine, if you're making a flatback, or you can use a thinner material that you can bend if you're making a rounded book (or for flatbacks as well). For this, thin cardboard (eg. old cereal boxes) or thicker cardstock will work just fine; you don't have to go out and buy genuine bristol board, and I've never bothered with it.

Exacto knife, for cutting things. You could also use a boxcutter, but a craft knife will be easier to handle. You will probably need to frequently change the blade, as cutting chipboard will dull it quickly, so get one that comes with a bunch of replacement blades.

Bookcloth and/or decorative paper, for covering your book board. Bookcloth is basically fabric with a paper backing on it. You can make your own using heat and bond, tissue paper (I use white tissue paper), and fabric; iron the fabric so it doesn't have any wrinkles in it, then iron the heat and bond onto the fabric, then iron the tissue paper onto the heat and bond. There are other methods out there that you may find easier/better, but this is the one I use. The purpose of the paper backing is to prevent glue from striking through the fabric; if you use a thicker fabric or paper, this is not necessary. For your first books, you may find it easiest to just use paper, or to go out and buy some premade bookcloth.

That's a lot of information, but I hope it was helpful! I'm more than happy to answer any more questions you (or anybody else) might have, and happy binding!