#will stand him on my desk to keep me company while i draw

[cedobols]

LOOK AT THIS LITTLE WOLFGANG I FOUND!!!

[babydollmarauders]

OHMAMI — QUINN HUGHES

quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which Quinn fucks his girlfriend in the backseat of his new car

warnings: NSFW!!, p in v (unprotected), semi-public sex, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), light choking, praise, dirty talk, dom!quinn, lots of use of the pet name “baby”, slight religious reference (?), pls let me know if i’m missing any.

notes: inspired by OHMAMI by Chase Atlantic (feat. Maggie Lindemann). 4.6k words.

IMPORTANT: please look up Ferrari GTC4Lusso T interior if you need a better understanding of the car layout

“you’re sure about this?” i mindlessly wander the office of the luxury dealership, my fingertips running over any surface they can touch.

“why wouldn’t i be?” Quinn peers up at me from his spot in a chair, his iphone in his hands, mid-texting his younger brother.

“i don’t know, Q. it’s just a lot of money is all.” shrugging, i shuffle my feet back over to my boyfriend, where i let my hands rest on his shoulders as i stand behind him.

Quinn lets out a chuckle, pulling one of my hands in his and raising it to his lips to press a gentle kiss against my knuckles.

“i appreciate the financial concern, baby, but i think i’ll be okay.”

i sigh, moving around to sit on his lap. “okay.”

his arm spindles around my waist as he draws me back, my back flat against his chest. my fingers unconsciously draw shapes on his forearm, near the crook of his elbow, as he continues texting Jack about the big purchase he’s about to make.

i eye his phone, watching the blue and gray bubbles pop up back and forth and hoping we’ll be done here soon.

two hours of looking at cars, Quinn asking a multitude of questions to the salesman; half an hour of paperwork, and another half hour of waiting for said salesman to run Quinn’s name through the system, checking his credit score and whatever various other things needed to buy such a high-end car. i’ve been stuck at this dealership for three hours now, unplanned, as Quinn had pulled into the establishment after our spur-of-the-moment 3pm lunch date, claiming he just wanted to take a quick look at a couple of cars.

“Quinny,” i breathe out, letting my head fall backwards on his shoulder while his hand starts mindlessly rubbing up and down my thigh. “how much longer will we have to be here?”

“i don’t know, baby. hopefully not too much longer.” he locks his phone, setting it on his thigh and using his now free hand to caress my cheek, simultaneously turning my head to look into my eyes.

“is my girl tired?” he coos at the sight of my fluttering eyelids, leaning in to brush his lips lightly over mine.

“mhm” i hum, burrowing my face in his neck. his hand moves as i do, now resting on the back of my head, holding it in its position.

it’s at this moment that the salesman decides to make his re-entrance. “alright! everything checks out, looks good!”

i immediately attempt to pry myself from my boyfriend, but he holds me in place, clearly not bothered by the new company.

“i knew it would!” Quinn smiles back at the man, putting on his usual charm.

“now all we need is that down payment and you’ll be driving out of here in your very own Ferrari!” the salesman, i haven’t bothered to learn his name, chimes. “do you have a credit card you can give me?”

“yep,” Quinn taps my butt, signaling for me to lift it so he can grab his wallet from his pocket. i do so and he unpockets his wallet before pulling me back down on his lap. “here you go.”

the man takes Quinn’s card, taking a seat at his desk and punching the information from the card before handing it back.

“alright,” he grabs a few papers from the printer behind him, stapling them together and scribbling in a few places before sliding them towards my boyfriend. “just sign here, and here.”

Quinn leans forward and his left arm tightens around my waist to keep me situated on his lap, taking the pen in his right hand and autographing his signature twice.

“congratulations!” the salesman grins, handing the new keys to Quinn and shaking his hand.

“thanks, man.” Quinn smiles crookedly, rising from the chair and bringing me up with him.

we follow behind the salesman, back out to the Ferrari that Quinn just bought; which is now parked next to Jack’s Range Rover, in which we drove here.

i take Jack’s keys from Quinn with a sigh. knowing i’m now responsible for getting such an expensive car back to the lake house is a frightening task that i didn’t expect to be doing today, but one i’m now stuck with nonetheless.

“i’ll see you back at the house, yeah?” Quinn smiles. his hand grips my waist, pulling my lower half into his as he lowers his lips onto mine in a breathless kiss.

“yeah, wish me luck. if i get even a scratch on this car, Jack will have my head on a stick.” i gnaw at my lower lip in anxiety, but his free hand comes up to my chin, his thumb pulling my lip free from my teeth.

“nah, he loves you too much. he’d have my head on a stick.” he laughs, before lightly nudging me back towards the car.

“that’s even worse!” i tease. “how am i supposed to explain to the Canucks that their star defenseman is dead because i scratched his brothers car?”

“eh, you’re smart,” he winks, rounding the Ferrari. “you’ll think of something.”

we climb into the respective cars, and Quinn is gracious enough to wait while i adjust the seat to my height before he begins leading the way to the lake house.

the drive is smooth, and when we arrive at the house, Quinn opens my door as i return the seat adjustments back to the way Jack had them.

“see?” he grins, leaning over my body to unbuckle my seatbelt for me. “the car is all good.”

“it better be. that car is my baby.” Jack pipes up from behind him, making Quinn roll his eyes. “if anything were to happen-”

“yeah, yeah.” he cuts him off. “if anything were to happen to it, you would’ve killed her.”

i feign a gasp, jokingly smacking his arm.

“you said he would kill you.” i say in mock shock.

Quinn shrugs. “i was trying to calm your nerves.”

i playfully push him away, hopping out of the car to face Jack, who’s now too busy ogling the Ferrari to pay any attention to his own vehicle.

“i’m gonna go see if your mom needs any help with dinner.” i announce, already stepping towards the house. “have fun showing off your new toy, babe!”

i pass by a horde of guys on my way into the house, bumping hips with Cole, who ends up giggling.

“going to see the new thing?” i ask, and Trevor stops dead in his tracks.

“that thing is a 2022 Ferrari GTC4Lusso.” Trevor explains, as if i understand a single thing he’s just said.

“sure. whatever it is, it cost a lot.” i shrug, carrying on into the house. “enjoy.”

i join Ellen in the kitchen, making myself busy by tossing together the salad ingredients she has on the counter.

we make small talk as we cook, letting the men have their fun gawking at the new car, and enjoying the silence that comes with it.

“do you wanna go tell them dinner is ready?” she more so tells me to do, and i fake a pout.

“do i have to? it’s so peaceful. we could easily just slip out back and eat dinner by the lake without them ever even noticing.” i wiggle my eyebrows enticingly and she laughs, shooing me off towards the front door.

“i had to try.” i giggle out, opening the front door to the gaggle of men. “boys! dinner’s ready!”

they all make their way up the porch and i stand idly by, waiting for my own man to enter the house. finally, he appears at the very back of the group, smirking as he wraps an arm around my waist, walking me to the dining room.

“i was thinking after dinner, you and i could go for a drive. just us.” he pecks a kiss to my cheek as we sit at the table, and i nod.

“sure, sounds nice.” his hand rests on my thigh now, partly covered by my sundress, and i squirm a little at his touch on my bare skin.

it’s been at least three weeks since Quinn and i have been able to do anything past PG-13, him not wanting to risk it while his parents are here, and i’m starting to feel restless.

the smallest touches from him have been causing me to get slick with need, and i squeeze my thighs together to provide myself some friction, but it never helps. like now.

i know Quinn has caught on because his grip tightens just the slightest bit, his thumb beginning to stroke my skin.

“you okay, baby?” he’s teasing me, asking his question in such a sweet tone that anyone else at the dinner table would think he’s just checking in on his girlfriend, but he and i know that isn’t the case.

“mhm” i hum, attempting to ignore his touch as i fill my plate and his.

“now y/n, Quinn is a grown man with two hands; he can make his own plate, honey.” Ellen jests, poking a dig at her eldest son.

“acts of service is her love language, ma.” Quinn pokes back before pressing another chaste kiss to my cheek, muttering his thank you as we begin to eat.

the table is filled with a generous amount of chatting as we eat; Jack telling a story about something that happened in Jersey, Luke telling everyone about how Luca Fantilli got his head stuck in stair banisters… twice, Trevor going on a long-winded rant about a missed goal; but Quinn and i are mostly silent. Quinn because he’s just almost been more of the listen rather than talk type, and me because i don’t trust my voice while my boyfriend is currently inching his hand up the bottom of my dress.

someone seems to catch onto my lack of interest though, because Alex eyes me curiously from his spot in front of me, and then chooses to speak up.

“you’re quiet tonight, y/n.” his statement draws the attention of the rest of the group, their eyes gravitating towards me.

“just tired.” i fib, my voice tight as Quinn’s hand slowly slides towards my inner thigh, now just far enough away that if he spreads his fingers, his pinky will graze against my wet panties. “who knew three hours at a car dealership could be so draining.”

Cole laughs, obviously buying my lie, which causes the rest of the table to chuckle.

“oh yeah, honey. buying a car will do that.” Ellen sympathizes. “the long process sucks the life right out of you.”

the chatter carries on around me and i return to my silence. dinner has long since been finished, and Luke proposes making s’mores for dessert, so Quinn takes that as our chance to escape.

“you guys go ahead,” he starts. his warm touch disappears from my skin as he rises from his chair. “y/n and i are gonna go for a drive. i wanna show her why this purchase was worth it.”

he holds his hand out for mine and i falter, looking between Ellen and him.

“i usually help your mom with the dishes.” i remind him, gesturing towards the table full of plates.

“oh don’t worry about it,” Ellen chimes. “Jack can help me.”

“i- what?” Jack sputters, finally looking away from the phone screen he’s been engrossed in for the past few minutes. “what about me? i was checking the Yankees score.”

Quinn rolls his eyes at his younger brother, shaking his head as he grasps my hand, pulling me up from my seat and leading me through the house.

“we’ll be back in a little bit!” he calls out as we exit through the front door.

climbing into the car, i can feel the excitement radiating off of him.

“okay, i know i’m not a car person, but what is a drive in it supposed to show me?” i ask as he starts the engine. his hand gravitates to the back of my headrest as he reverses out of the driveway, his eyes flicking between the backup camera and the back window of the car.

it should be illegal to be this hot while reversing a car.

fuck, y/n. focus.

“you’ll understand once you ride it.”

i scan his body, my eyes lingering in one specific place.

i can think of something i’d like to ride.

shit, y/n. think with your brain, not your hormones.

“okay.” i drag out, leaning back in the seat and relaxing as he drives down the street.

the car is quiet besides the soft hum of the radio, tuned into a random pop hits station that i know Quinn turned on just for me.

his left hand sits on the steering wheel, while his right reaches over to lay upon my thigh, causing my thoughts to run wild. fantasies and memories of us tangled in the sheets, his hand on my throat as he hovers above me, or better yet; his hand in between my legs, his fingers working me toward my orgasm.

i can feel my skin get red and hot, as i imagine all the ways i would be with him if we weren’t stuck in a house full of people.

… but we’re not there now.

Quinn exits onto the highway, the car speeding up as he does so, and i glance toward the back seat.

it’s small, but we could make it work.

my hand snakes up to sit on top of his and his eyes flicker towards me, a soft smile resting on his lips at the sweet gesture. and i let him believe that for a few minutes before i’m pulling his hand up my thigh, closer towards my soaking core.

“baby-” he breathes out, his words failing him when he finally feels how wet i am.

“we’re all alone.” i state, my head lolling back against the seat as his fingers start stroking me through my panties like they have a mind of their own.

“baby, i’m driving.” his voice is strained, a vein popping out on his neck as he clenches his jaw.

my hand leaves his, instead reaching over to palm him through his jeans, in which his left hand leaves the wheel to lightly swat mine away.

“i can’t drive if you do that.”

i huff but it blends into a moan as his thumb begins to circle my clit.

“so, pull over.” i suggest, ready for something more.

he’s hesitant, i can tell, so i pull out the secret weapon.

“please, daddy.” i whimper, reaching over to palm his now hard cock once more.

“fuck.” he curses, switching lanes to get off on the next exit.

he quickly finds a mostly abandoned lookout, only one other car parked on the other side of the lot, and switches into park.

his eyes are cloudy with need as he turns to look at me, his fingers still working themselves on my bundle of nerves. my breaths come out in heavy pants that mingle with moans.

“faster.” i plead, but rather than obeying my lust-hazed command, he pulls his hand away completely. i mewl at the loss of touch, but his hand winds up to the base of my neck, his grasp just light enough to remind me who’s in charge, but not tight enough to do any harm to my air supply.

“you don’t call the shots here, darling.” he whispers before pulling me by his grip into a bruising kiss.

his tongue brushes against mine and his teeth bite down on my lower lip, making me whimper. when he pulls away, i can just barely make out his features within the darkness of the Ferrari.

“get in the back.” he orders and i scramble to unbuckle my seatbelt, climbing over the center console and into the divided backseat.

rather than joining me by climbing back, Quinn exits the car, rounding the front and opening the passenger side door. he pulls the passenger seat forward, climbing in on his knees and shutting the door, the seat still pulled as far forward as it’ll go.

his arms hook around my legs, pulling me forward so that i’m slumped in the seat, my ass sitting on the edge. he looks up at me with dark eyes, placing my legs over his shoulders as he leans forward.

his hands glide up my legs, bunching my sundress up to my waist. his tongue licks a stripe over my clothed cunt and i shudder, my left hand attempting to grip at the leather of the backseat center console, as my right finds itself tangled in his hair.

he pulls away, despite my attempts to hold him in place, and his fingertips play with the waistband of my lacy yellow panties.

“beg me.” he insists, teasing me by hooking his fingers in the sides of my underwear, but not making any further moves.

“please, Quinn.” i plead, and he pulls one side away from my skin then lets it snap back into place, causing me to jolt.

“uh-uh.” he shakes his head, backing away just slightly.

“please, daddy, please.” i cry out, attempting to pull him in again. “i’ll be good, i promise.”

“yeah?” Quinn taunts, slowly pulling my panties down my legs as i lift myself just barely from the seat. he knocks my legs from his shoulders, pulling the under garment off and throwing it in the front seat.

“mhm.” i nod my head wildly, my brows raising as i do so. “i’ll be so good. just please, please, do something.”

Quinn wastes no more time, pushing one of my legs up to hook over the backseat center console as the other hooks over his shoulder. he dives down, licking up my heat like a man starved.

his tongue circles my clit and my head drops back, but he provides a swift smack to my thigh to remind me to look at him. one of his rules.

i bite my lip to try and muffle my cries of pleasure, his hand rising to pull the top of my dress down just enough for my breasts to pop out. he grips one, harshly squeezing before he pinches at my nipple.

my jaw drops open, a breathy moan escaping my lips as my back attempts to arch in the small space.

“fuck!” i cry out, tugging at his hair. “yes, daddy!”

he shifts between sucking on clit to licking in my cunt, fucking me with his tongue. my hips stutter and he holds my leg open as it tries to unhook itself from the console in order to close on his head.

i tug again at his hair, pushing his head further into me, and he moans, the vibrations flowing straight into my core. i cry out again, the familiar knot in my stomach slowly building the longer he continues.

“please!” i whine. “please, make me come!”

Quinn’s dips down to show more love to my pussy, and his nose brushes against my clit, my hips immediately beginning to grind against him. my legs begin to shake and i can feel myself getting closer and closer to release.

“right there! don’t stop!”

i’m sure anyone outside the car can probably hear my screams, but it doesn’t deter me. too busy chasing my high to care what anyone else may think.

of course, Quinn doesn’t listen, knowing my body well enough to know exactly what will set me off. his lips close around my clit, sucking and flicking his tongue, and it only takes a few moments for me to reach the edge.

“i’m gonna come! fuck, i’m gonna come!” i warn him but he only pushes deeper, flicking his tongue faster against the button of nerves, and i let out a guttural moan as i finally let go, coming on his face. he laps at my release, riding me through my orgasm, only stopping once i begin to twitch at the feeling.

“now you see why i won’t do anything at the house?” he teases, smirking as he wipes at the juices on his chin with the back of his hoodie sleeve. “you’re so vocal. i love it, but i don’t want anyone else hearing your sounds. they’re just for me.”

my hand hook around the nape of his neck and i pull him up to my face, pressing my lips against his. he moans into the kiss and i can taste myself on his lips; slightly sweet, slightly salty, and it turns me on; pushing me towards another round.

i release him from my grasp, lightly shooing him backwards and fiddling with the button on his pants.

“i want you to fuck me.” i breathe out, pulling his zipper down.

“oh yeah?” his smirk grows, clearly not expecting any more than we just did.

“yes, please.” i nod, pulling his pants down, his erection popping free and slapping against his clothed torso. “please fuck me, daddy.”

i maneuver myself onto my knees, slowly bending myself over the center console, allowing my right leg to straighten some, my foot dropping down to the floor of the car as the other leg stays bent on the backseat; allowing him a full view of my glistening pussy.

“since you asked so nicely, baby.” Quinn joins me on the seat, knelt behind me at a slightly awkward angle as he pulls his pants down some more.

i bite back a giddy smile, waiting impatiently for him to fill me up, and i’m not disappointed when i look back to find him grasping his cock. he runs it through my folds a few times, lubing himself up with my release, and i arch my back to better accommodate him.

my eyes roll back, a moan bubbling up my throat as he pushes his tip into my entrance, thrusting in just slightly before pulling back and repeating.

“daddy, please.” i whine, still frustratingly horny and awaiting his full size.

it doesn’t take any more begging than that, Quinn suddenly bottoming out inside me.

“fuck, baby, you feel so good.” he groans, but i’m too busy choking out my own cries to reply.

he begins thrusting slowly, and i nearly let out a sob of relief at the feeling.

“whadd’ya think?” he asks, his voice strained as he thrusts into me, fucking my hips into the leather of the center console. “how does my cock feel, fucking your greedy little pussy?”

“so good!” i exclaim, pushing back against him. my eyes squeeze shut as his hand wraps around my throat, the other gripping my hip. “feels so good!”

“love watching your ass bounce off me as i fuck you like this.” he groans and his dirty talk succeeds in making me clench around him, causing him to moan.

i peek back to find his head thrown back, his jaw slack and his eyes firmly shut for a moment before he looks back down, making eye contact with me.

he leans forward, his front pressing against my back as he kisses my lips, nipping at my lips before he pulls back and continues fucking into me at a faster rhythm.

my head drops forward, my hair curtaining my face, and i let out a cry of pleasure as he begins rubbing my clit.

my back arches again, and i whimper when his hand leaves my throat in order to smooth down my spine, pushing my back down further.

“taking me so well.” he praises, thrusting harder than before, and i can feel the knot that had just come undone, tangling back together. “such a good girl for me.”

”only for you, daddy.” he continues his assault on my clit and the sensation mixed with the fullness of him pushing into me makes my legs begin to shake once more.

i can feel his dick pulsating, and his strokes become sloppier, assuring me that he’s close. i clench around him, my eyes rolling back and stars dancing in my vision.

“oh god, i’m coming!” i announce.

Quinn grips my hip tight, “god isn’t in this car, baby.”

my hips begin to falter in their movements, my body locking up and my breath catching in my throat as i come for the second time tonight.

my orgasm spurs on his; his hips stuttering and his breathing falling heavy, a grunt escaping his lips as he finishes inside of me.

his thrusts stop, the car falling silent except our heavy pants as we catch our breath. the windows are fogged, the scent of sex lingering around us.

Quinn pulls out of me and i slump against the center console, listening to him pull his pants back up. he pulls my sundress back down to cover my ass before he sits, gripping my hips and pulling me back and onto his lap, my back now pressed against the side of the car.

my head lolls sideways onto his shoulder, my eyes closed, and he chuckles, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. caressing my cheek, he pecks a soft kiss onto my nose and the corners of my lips twitch up in a smile.

“worth the wait?” he questions and my eyelids flutter open. i nod, craning my neck to kiss his cheek, and he smiles.

“my girl needs some sleep, huh?” he asks, and i nod again, but make no moves to get up. “let’s get you home.”

my limbs feel like jello as i climb out of the car, letting him out before i push the passenger seat back and sit back down, buckling up. Quinn rounds the car, climbing into the drivers side and starting the engine once more.

but before beginning to drive, he reaches down and pulls my panties out from under his thigh. laughing, he hands them back to me, and i giggle as i pull them back on.

the ride home is mostly quiet, my head resting against the cool glass window and our hands laced together, with his right one back in its place on the steering wheel.

“well,” i start as we pull into the driveway, my voice hoarse from my earlier cries. “we christened the car.”

Quinn lets out a hearty laugh, letting go of my hand to put the car in park and turn off the engine.

he jumps out of the car as i unbuckle, making his way around to my door and letting me out.

“what do you think the odds are that they’ll be asleep?” he grins as i pretend to ponder his question.

“your parents? one hundred percent. everyone else? maybe twenty percent.” i joke and he shrugs.

“i’ll take those odds.” we make our way up the porch and he unlocks the door, attempting to stay quiet in order to sneak past any stray boys still in the open space of the house.

but luck is officially not on our side as we open the front door to the living room full of his brothers and their friends on the couch playing video games.

Quinn quietly curses as heads turn to look at us, and Trevor is the first to put together our long drive and our disheveled appearances. he busts out in laughter, pointing between my boyfriend and i.

“oh you guys fucked.” he cackles, wheezing in amusement.

Jack and Luke’s noses scrunch for a moment before they too join in on the laughter, but luckily Alex and Cole just shake their heads at their friends.

“you guys are so immature.” Quinn scoffs, lacing his hand in mine as we head toward the stairs, up to our bedroom.

“in the new car, guys? seriously?” Jack calls out, and his older brother rolls his eyes, continuing up the stairs.

“goodnight!”

[littyhoney]

Right Person,Wrong Time (part 1)

(Part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

BIG SPOILER WARNING TO ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE!!

Earth 42 Miles Morales x Reader

Chapter summary: you have always been there for Miles,will your long time crush ever pay attention to you…or not?

Warning: Spoilers for the movie Across the Spider-verse, slight angst

Guys this is my first time writing this be gentle with me <3 enjoy!

“Alright so lets do this one more time, Hey! Im (Y/N) (L/N) and Im one of the well-known spiderman/spiderwoman of Brooklyn,New York.” you swing through the city using your web as some of the civilians took out their phone to take picture or video of you. You land on top of a rooftop before speaking into an invincible camera “But im not the only one,im with my close friend Miles Morales who is also a spiderman of Brooklyn,weird huh?”

comes another person swing by you as he parkour through the rooftop in his black and red spider suit “keep up (n/n)!” Miles laugh as he jumps and swings away. You let out a chuckle as you follow him “Yo Miles wait up!”.

For the last few months after the collider incident with Kingpin,you and miles get closer since both of you share the same responsibility to keep the city safe and life is not easy even after you wear the spider mask. Balancing your life as a student and as a hero is not..easy,at all. At one time you could be in class try to catch up to your academic and the next thing you make up an excuse to go to the rest room to go out and fight crimes, comes back with few bruises and scrathes. But both of you manage to pull through the day,together.

It is Sunday as you and Miles are hanging out in his room listening to music, you are sitting on his bed bopping your head to the song as you scroll through your phone while Miles is sitting at his desk with his sketchbook,drawing. Suddenly the silent breaks as Miles stop his drawing and ask “Hey..(n/n)” he turn his chair towards you.

“Hm? What is it coco head? Something on your mind?” you turn your attention to Miles,notice his sad demenor. You stand up from the bed and walk towards him put your hand on his shoulder.

“Do you..miss the other spiders? Like Peter..Peni and..Gwen” Miles speak,his voice is low as he look up at you. You sigh and nod your head “Yeah I do Miles, but they are in another dimension” you tilt your head slightly “They are out there living their lives,I wonder if Peter B ever have a child ya know” you chuckle,trying to lighten up his mood

Miles chuckle before he look down at his hands on his lap “I just…miss Gwen a lot actually” he sigh as he wipe his face with his palms slightly frustrated “Ya know it is hard I miss her and she is not even from here man”

you lean on the table beside him,hunch down slightly to look him in the eyes,with sympathy “Miles,you know the rules right,they cant be here nor we can be there, we can dissapear and so are they”

“I know that (y/n)…I know,if only I could just met Gwen one time” Miles lean back on his chair looking at the ceiling,in his head he is hopping maybe a portal would just pop out so he could go to Gwens dimension..

You look at your friend sadnes fill your heart to see your best friend seem so down,you know Miles have been missing the spiders ever since the first week they went back to their dimension and for the past time you have try your best to be there for Miles and keep him company listening to whatever problem he is facing. For the years you been friend with Miles you slowly start to develop feelings for the ball of sunshine. His creativity in his talent,he is smart in academics,his warm honey brown eyes that seem to always take your breath away and such a sweet smile..it would be a fool of you to not fall for the boy.

You lick your lips slightly before you stand up and face to the desk,trying to change the subject “what cha drawing Miles?” you pick up his black sketchbook and go through the pages. “Oh just some uh,sketches of..” Miles voice trail off not wanting to finish the sentence.

“Of..?” I trail my question as I keep flicking the pages before stopping on the page he was currently drawing on and look at the figure he drew with such great details, my breath hitch slightly before finish my own sentence “Gwen..” I look at the drawing..a pang of jealousy fill my heart before I shake my head slightly and close the book turn to look at Miles with a small smile “It looks awesome Miles,you really get her smile and suit on point”

Thanks man” Miles smile at you before you could say anything Rio voice muffle through the close door of Miles bedroom “Miles! Dinner is ready! Tell (y/n) she can join for dinner!” Miles turn towards the doors slightly “Okay mom! Be there in a sec!” Miles turn back to you before nudge his head slightly towards the door “You joinning (n/n)?” You shake your head slightly before move to get your jacket and phone “I have to go home Miles,il see you later okay?” Miles stand up from his chair making his way to you before giving you a hug “Thank you for being with me (n/n)”

You smile sadly knowing that Miles need your support more in this tough times of his.. you pat his back before making your way out of his room saying goodbye to mama Rio and walk out the street with both of your hands in your pocket…you cant help but though of how many times Miles have mention Gwen whenever you two are together…how many times he have drawn her in almost all the pages in his sketchbook, heck he didn’t even draw you even though you have been friends for so long..maybe you could try to be better…maybe be like Gwen..?

To be continued...

(AAAA IM SO NERVOUS LEMME KNOW IF YALL STILL WANT CHAPTER 2)

Tags:

@kissmxcheek @otaku-degenarate @matthiashelvarsgf @usernamepasswordsstuff @s41ntf4m3 @bath1lda @jared-oranges @papilioism @pinkprettyroses @marumareloer

[miss-tc-nova]

Stressful - Azul Ashengrotto x Reader

This is another discarded idea from THIS REQUEST that I enjoyed enough to write out more. Kinda enjoying the minis. Anyway, watch octo man run. Lol.

Premise: The Prefect gives Azul some stress

Words: 581

~~~~~

            Azul’s quill scritches across the paper, trying to finish this contract before he’s off to see his beloved.

            With a slight creak, the door to his office opens and Floyd pokes his head in.

            “Hey Azuuuuuuul,” he drawls.

            “What Floyd?” Azul keeps his eyes down, eager to be done.

            “Are you busy?”

            “Yes Floyd. Very.”

            The young man leans his head back out of the office and yells “He’s busy!” There’s a muffled response. “No, he’s busy!” By now, Azul’s full attention lies on the absurdity that is Floyd. “Okay fiiiiiiiine.” The eel returns. “So, shrimpy had to be taken to the infirmary and—”

            Ink spills across the desk and the chair topples as Azul stands.

            “WHAT?!”

            Without hesitation, Azul shoves past Floyd, racing through the lounge and straight out of Octavinelle. The poor octo is far from athletic, but he gives it his all as he runs all the way up to the castle and to the infirmary. Even as the door gives way, he stumbles inside, gasping so hard he’s on the verge of passing out.

            “Oh, I see Floyd delivered my message.”

            Azul ignores Jade as he stumbles towards the bed on which the prefect sits—looking perfectly fine by the way. His knees hit the floor, his iron grip on the bedrail keeping his face from meeting the same fate.

            “Azul, are you okay?!”

            He can’t even speak past his heaving. Though Jade makes another few jabs at the state of his housewarden, he excuses himself. A few moments pass, but composure eventual reaches Azul again as he stands straight. His grip on the railing is still white-knuckle tight.

            “What happened?! Are you okay?! Who do I have to ruin?! I’ll—”

            Frantic hands rise, one clearly bandaged. “Woah, calm down! I’m okay. I just cut my hand a little in the kitchen. Jade brought me to make sure I didn’t need stitches.”

            Azul’s brain is only just starting to slow down. “The—what were you doing in the kitchen?”

            Anxious fingers fidget. “I was helping out in the kitchen.”

            “Why would you need to help in the kitchen?” A gentle hand interrupts the nervous behavior, but it only continues with his fingers instead.

            “The rush was pretty crazy and the kitchen was falling behind. I didn’t want you to stress, so I thought if I cut some of the fruits and vegetables, they might be able to catch up. But I think I just made things worse…”

            The young man stares. He understood all those words, but it takes him just an extra few seconds to fully comprehend the implications of this whole ordeal. Then, soft laughter passes his lips.

            “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

            That beautiful, bashful face he could stare at for eons.

            “Azuuul…”

            “And while I appreciate the sentiment, I’d say that learning you were sent to the infirmary was far more stressful than any dinner rush.”

            “I know. I’m sorry.”

            Daring to finally release his grip on the bedrail, Azul draws in his beloved for a gentle kiss.

            “I’m just glad you’re not seriously hurt.” Noses brush together as he dons a teasing tone. “Now, shall we return the Octavinelle? I’m going to have to rewrite an entire contract, but I’d prefer to be able to keep an eye on you.” He earns himself a sharp glare. “I’m kidding. But please, I’d appreciate your company.”

            He places another kiss, this time on his darling’s hand.

            “Fine.”

[palmofafreezinghand]

twilight advent calendar day twelve: What changes did the rest of the family see in Edward as he began to fall in love with Bella? (prompts here)

Early March 2005. 

Gesso. Ochre. Cadmium red. The routine had stayed the same for over forty years. 

A professor had once written about the warmth of her — well a male pseudonym’s — art, about the expert knowledge of color theory and keen observation skills, and how she — the male pseudonym — was arguably one of the most technically skilled artists of the century. Her husband had been thrilled by the recognition of what he had claimed to know for decades. She always suspected he was thrilled by the fact his vast collection of unreleased sketches and warmup paintings skyrocketed in value overnight. It was an amusing memory, a silly little compliment that had cemented her routine in fear of never reaching such recognition again. 

“Dr. Callaghan may have been wrong about the technique, but he was not wrong about your skill. You are one of the greats,” Edward’s voice came from the doorway. 

“How long have you been spying?” Esme asked. 

“Have you ever accepted a compliment?” 

“How can I help you, Edward?” 

“I do not need anything,” Edward responded, taking a seat in the armchair tucked in the corner of the studio, placed specifically for the two members of her family who insisted on keeping her company as she worked. “I only wished to watch you paint.” 

‘This will be good,’ Esme thought to herself, failing to bite back her sigh. At one point in their lives, Edward would have sincerely spent an afternoon sitting comfortably watching her paint. It had been at least ten years since he had last done this. 

“It has not been that long,” Edward said quietly. 

She flipped through her memory like a rolodex. Dozens of times she would drift into the living room while he played the piano only for him to excuse himself a few minutes later. Hundreds of invitations to accompany her on a hunt, or errand, or in a game of chess, all politely declined. The past month or so he had scarcely been home at all. 

“I have been a lousy son.” 

“I did not say that, dear.” It had been seventeen years since he referred to himself as her son in front of her, it had only been a year since he referred to himself as such in front of others. Edward winced at this thought and she mentally apologized. 

“You did not have to say it, it is true.” 

“I was simply surprised you are here, sweetheart, that is all.” 

“I wanted to watch you paint.” 

Esme smiled, getting up to fetch a new bottle of linseed oil. 

“And,” Edward continued after a moment. 

“Here we go,” Esme laughed. 

Edward rolled his eyes with a fond smile. It was a playfulness that was once hallmark to their relationship. She had not realized how much she had mourned it. 

“You were the one painting me, I presumed you would like a live reference.” 

“I have your face memorized, you know that.” 

“It appears I have been the subject of the week,” Edward said, standing and walking over to her desk that was littered with dozens of sketches and paintings of him. His unspoken question of why hung in the air. 

She did not say the answer aloud but instead thought of the element she had been trying to capture. She walked back to her desk and saw his finger lingering on one of the drawings’ dimples. 

‘It had been a while since I had seen that smile,’ she mentally explained. If she was truthful she had not seen him smile so brightly before, before he met… her. 

“I apologize I have been so morose lately.” 

“Lately as in the past twenty years?” Esme laughed, poking his arm. He shockingly laughed along. ‘I’m happy to see you so happy.” 

“Even if it means I am never home?” 

“Of course,” she smiled. “I was probably a rotten friend when Carlisle and I first started courting.” 

“You were an awful friend,” Edward chuckled. “You kept thinking of my father without his clothes on, it was traumatizing.” 

Esme smiled, attempting to keep her mind from wandering. 

“Esme,” Edward chided, crinkling his nose in disgust.  

“You brought it up,” she smiled, taking a seat at her desk once more. He walked back over to the arm chair, slinging his legs over one arm. 

They sat in peaceful quiet as she worked on the portrait, occassionally glancing over at him as she painted the face she knew too well. 

“Will you just ask already?” Edward eventually sighed. 

“I do not wish to pry,” Esme lied. She wished to pry very much and to know every detail about the girl who brought her son’s happiness back but she knew better. 

“Her name is Bella.” 

“I know that,” Esme grinned, spinning on her stool to face him. “Tell me everything else.” 

“She’s perfect. She loves Jane Austen,” Edward said, looking at the ceiling as if he did not know where to begin. “Her middle name is Marie…” 

Esme reached for her sketchbook and pencil as he spoke, not taking her eyes off his face. She barely glanced down at the paper as began to sketch her son absolutely beaming. 

He stopped after a minute, recgonizing the faces begining to form on her page. 

“Is that what I look like?” 

‘Only when you talk about her… and Liberace.’ 

“I should not be this happy. She is a human, this is not going to end well,” Edward started, the familiar frown returning between his brows. 

“Edward,” Esme sighed. “Can you allow yourself to be happy for once?” 

“How are you not worried?” 

“I know you will worry enough for the both of us,” Esme laughed, begining to refine her linework. 

“Your eternal optimism can be cloying at times.” 

“Do you wish to tell me you do not feel hopeful when you think of her?” 

“Not solely hopeful.” 

“But there is hope?” 

“Yes,” Edward admitted reluctantly yet immediately, a soft smile on his face. 

Esme grinned. “Will you please tell me more?” 

“She was born on September 13, 1987. Her favorite color is brown…” 

He was grinning as he spoke, allowing himself a rare moment to gush without worrying about the future and all the possibilities. Esme had to flip to another page of her sketchbook, it was difficult to capture his unadulterated joy accurately but she was quite grateful she finally had the opportunity to try.

[lipglossanon]

When You’re With Me I’m Smiling

 ⁂—————✵————— ⁂

Ark Thompson x fem!reader (one shot)

Warnings: cute fluff!, kissing, flirting, cheesy banter 🤭 Ark’s just a soft boy who I wanted to write ✍️

not proofread 👌 kinda came out of nowhere and wrote this in like an hour 🫣

Title from Lady by Styx 💜

 ⁂—————✵————— ⁂

He’s quiet. Something you’ve come to appreciate the more you work with other agents. His friend Leon tends to be a smart ass on the best of days, so when Ark is the only one teaming up with you on projects (no sandy haired menace in sight), you can breathe a sigh of relief.

He works hard and keeps his head down, but also jumps into it when he needs to get his hands dirty. You tend to stick to the admin side of things, being the researcher and liaison for the missions you both take on for the agency. All in all (when you’re not able to work with Rebecca) Ark is your next choice on the roster. 

It’s how you both end up working late nights, ordering Chinese takeout and comparing which 90’s boy band had the worst hair. This particular Friday evening is the great debate between 98° and LFO on who is least remembered. 

“If it wasn’t for Nick Lachey marrying Jessica Simpson, no one would remember them,” Ark points out, spearing a piece of broccoli onto his fork and pointing it at you. 

“Exactly,” you roll your eyes, reaching for the soy sauce, “they’re more recognized because of the association. No one in hell remembers LFO.”

Ark cracks a smile at you, tossing a fortune cookie at you, “Alright, I guess I can see your point. I only know the one song by them anyways.”

You gesture with your arm while closing your empty container, “Thank you. I deserve this win after you won against Justin’s ramen hair.”

“Two words: frosted tips,” he laughs as you flip him off and grab your fortune cookie. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you scrunch your nose, “why was that even a thing in the first place?”

He shrugs easily, leaning back into his chair, “Same reason tribal tattoos around the bicep were in style.”

You both make eye contact before cracking up loudly. 

“God, I’m so happy some styles die out with time,” you giggle, standing up to toss your stuff into the trash. 

Ark follows suit, walking with you out of the conference room to the nearby break room, recycling what needs to be and throwing away the rest. 

“You doing anything this weekend?” He asks, stalling by the door until you’re finished as well. 

You fall into step with him as you head over to your desks out in the bullpen.

“Binge some brain rotting television and clean my messy house,” you grin, shouldering him before stopping at your desk to grab your jacket and purse, “what about you?”

He hums and shuffles awkwardly as you slip your jacket on, “I was, uh, going to see if you wanted to meet up tomorrow sometime?”

You frown, “To work on the case?”

You watch as a blush colors the tips of his ears before sweeping down to his cheekbones. His brown eyes dart away and then back to you. 

He clears his throat nervously, “Not exactly. I was wondering if you’d want to go out on a date?”

“Oh,” you draw up short, eyes taking in his flushed face and nervous uptic of his lips. 

Nodding, you give him a shy smile, “Y-yeah that sounds nice. You have my number, right?”

His smile broadens until you can see a flash of teeth, “Yep, I’ve got it. I’ll call you tomorrow to hammer out the details?”

You laugh, “Maybe work on the sweet talk, huh?”

He flushes harder and rubs the back of his neck, “S-sorry, kinda nervous.”

Chest fluttering with butterflies, you link your arm with his and walk over to his desk. 

“We can work on it.”

Stopping to grab some files from his work area, Ark walks with you out into the company parking garage. 

“See you tomorrow,” you press a quick kiss to his cheek, “drive safe.”

Smiling bashfully, he rubs the skin you pressed your lips against, “You too.”

By the next afternoon, Ark calls and invites you to try out a new Italian place that Leon swears is the best. Much to your surprise, it’s actually authentic and delicious. You both spend the next couple of hours chatting over pasta and bread, work being completely off the table as a topic. After learning that Ark has never been to the local malt shop (who knew they even still existed!), you convinced him to make that your next stop. 

Now, milkshakes in hand, you walk along the pavement to the nearby park, the late evening sun casting long shadows. Coaxing Ark to sit on a bench, you sit thigh to thigh, sharing bites of your cold treats until you’re both giggling and sharing sticky sweet kisses. Sitting your empty cups to the side, Ark takes your face in his calloused hands and presses the softest of kisses to your cold lips. 

“I’m glad you agreed to go out with me,” he murmurs in the small space between your mouths, “I’ve been crushing on you for months.”

Your eyes light up, giddy excitement bubbling in your chest, “Really? I never picked up on it.”

Ark grins, thumb coming up to tug your bottom lip down, “Kept it close to the chest, didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You melt into him a little, nipping his thumb before leaning in to kiss him more firmly than before. Losing track of time, the sound of cicadas alerts you to the late time when Ark finally pulls away from you, lips looking bee stung and swollen (you’re sure you don’t look much better).

“Let’s get you home,” his voice comes out rough, sending chill bumps skating across your skin. 

Holding hands from the park to his car, he only lets go to help hold open the door for you to get in before climbing into the driver's seat and taking your hand up once more. He randomly kisses your knuckles as he drives, shooting you soft little smiles that make your heart beat fast. Making it back to your apartment, Ark walks you all the way up to your door. 

“I had a really wonderful time,” you bite your bottom lip, feeling a little zing at the soreness you feel from your earlier make out.

“I did, too,” he rumbles, eyes dropping to your mouth before flicking back up to your eyes, “can I kiss you goodnight?”

“Please,” you breathe out, hands reaching around to tease the soft brown hair at the nape of his neck when he leans down into your space.

With a soft groan, he kisses you deeply, tongue licking past your swollen lips to rub against yours. You eagerly suck on the slick muscle as your nails scrape against the base of his skull. A deep hum echoes from his chest making you press the dough of your thighs together. He pulls away, resting his forehead against your temple as you both catch your breaths. 

“I’ll call you when I get home?” The last word lilts upward as in a question and you smile, stepping back to your door. 

“I’d like that,” you murmur happily. 

He grins, boyish and charming, “Alrighty. Have a goodnight.”

He dips back in for a quick kiss to your cheek and leaves back to the elevators. You quickly unlock your door and slip inside. Once you’ve shut and locked it back, you slump against the hardwood with a sigh. Feeling as giddy as a schoolgirl, you laugh out loud and press a hand to your lips. 

Seems like Ark might take the top spot as your favorite partner to work with from here on out. 

[teleiapotami]

WIP Wednesday!!

Here's a piece of a tumblr smut prompt I started a while back. <3

Prompts: No, I’m not being overdramatic! / *grumble* Some people are way too touchy. /" No, I can't be polite to them if they're treating you like you were just there to please them."

WIP Title: Corporate Benefits

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

He’d been watching them all day. Well, to be honest, he’d been watching them for several days. But today was the worst. He leaned back in his chair, neglecting his notes in favor of watching his secretary move around the conference table delivering the most pointless items to the lecherous old fucks around him. Every set of eyes followed her as she moved back to her seat at his side.

She had barely sat down when one of them spoke up. “Oh, I forgot to grab a highlighter. You don’t mind getting one for me sweetheart, do you?”

Lucy hid her grimace behind a beautiful smile, but Natsu knew better. He saw the way her shoulders tensed as she rose yet again. She placed the highlighter, which had been within the man’s reach in the first place, on his notepad. As she turned away, his hand came up and swatted her on the rear. “Thanks, Doll,” he chuckled.

Natsu slammed his hands down on the table with a growl. “That’s enough. Miss Heartfilia is not a doll or your sweetheart. She is one of the most brilliant minds this company has ever seen, and you would do well to remember that. This meeting is over. I will contact you if we decide to move forward with the partnership,” he spat, gripping the edge of the table to keep from strangling the fucker.

Most of the men stood and collected their things. Those who worked for him recognized the signs of his temper and knew it was time to get out or get burned. The two men from the other company didn’t budge.

“Now Mr. Dragneel, I know you are young,” Natsu’s eyes flashed dangerously, making the old man pause momentarily before foolishly pressing ahead. “But that is no excuse for your temper. Why don’t you sit down, and we can continue the meeting?” He turned his eyes back to Lucy, but Natsu slammed a fist onto the desk.

“GET. OUT. I won’t repeat myself.”

He watched as they huffed and made their way out, muttering under their breaths. Lucy closed the door behind them, then set about closing the blinds on the large windows that looked out into the hallway. Once they were all closed and the door was locked, she moved around the table to his side.

He was still standing with his fists planted on the table, his shoulders hunched, and his head dropped down, trying to control his temper. Tentatively she brushed her hand against his shoulder. “Thank you for the kind things you said. I understand that you were frustrated but you should still try to be—”

“No,” he growled. "No, I can't be polite to them when they treat you like you are just there to please them.” He looked up, his eyes burning into hers. “He touched you, Lucy. I wanted to rip his arm off.”

“That’s how things are between us too you know. I think you’re being a bit overdramatic Natsu. He’s not the first CEO to grab my ass Mr. Dragneel,” she teased, lifting one of his arms to slip in between them. “And I’m fairly certain he won’t be the last either.” His frown deepened.

“I am not being overdramatic! And that’s….that’s different. That’s an agreement we made together, not me just grabbing you without permission!” He knew she was trying to draw him out of his temper. Her fingers were stroking his jawline slowly and her warm, honey-colored eyes were turned up to his, shining with barely concealed amusement.

[sugarlovely]

A fashion designer and his model.

Mitsuya x reader!! <33

I haven't posted anything for a while, so I hope yall enjoy this.

The door creaked open just slightly as footsteps were approaching. He himself hadn't bat an eye, too indulged with his work in front of him. His ears, however, had noticed the sudden noise of the stairs that gave the person away.

For the door itself was quite loud. Mitsuya was staring intensely at the device in front of him, his pen gripped firmly.

He was trying to figure out or loosely free his creative ideas onto his sketch. Due to a sudden blockage with no mere motivation nor the ability to figure out what to draw.

Lost in his own thoughts, his glasses that was perfectly framed. Suiting his face very much indeed.

"This is nice." A voice called out, which broke him out of his trance. Mitsuya's eyes had soon landed upon you.

"Hm?" He let out, his right cheek sinking into the inner palm of his hand. His pen was in his other, still grasped.

Gazing at the upcoming fashion designer, Mitsuya. You chuckled lightly. "I was talking about the progress in work on this mannequin of yours."

Nodding your head slightly, you went back to look at the shirt with a nice design on it. "Merely, only that statement was quite true." Admitting with a small smile.

Mitsuya stared at you when he reluctantly perked his eye brow slightly.

"What are you trying to insist?" He questioned, quite unsure. The same calm, slightly boring expressive face expression of his.

You smiled again, gazing at him. "I was trying to say you look nice today, Mitsuya."

Merely the both of you made eye contact. Despite being a model, the atmosphere in the work shop was quite awkward now. You had broken eye contact, and Mitsuya grinned a bit.

"I try my best for I am your fashion designer." He responded, swiftly standing up.

He walked towards you. All you heard was his shoes pressing against the floor. Standing right next to you, hoping that it wasn't much of a bother.

Both of you looked at the shirt again. "Are you planning to finish this design?" You asked, curiously.

He thought for a moment before he opened his mouth. "I haven't decided yet. Might scrap it, but I dislike wasting materials." Shaking his head slightly for disapproval.

"Maybe I could give some insight? Guaranteed might not be much help, but I have a great fashioner designer next to me." Uttering to him.

Mitsuya soon looked at you, seeing a small smile forming on your lips again. He chuckled.

"I would like that." Mitsuya replied.

"Hm." You thought for a while when you touched the nice frabic. Givenly a soft feel and slightly a bit thick.

"How about we try a simple design? Turn it into a blouse, give it some buttons, and see from there?" You had offered the idea which may not have been the best.

Mitsuya stared at the shirt, which was still on the mannequin. "That could be possible, but it might not be what I'm searching for." He explained.

Nodding your head in agreement, awkwardly. The idea of yours was already shut down. Mitsuya noticed when he smiled. "It's alright, thanks for the insight. I'm pretty glad that you're offering ideas since you like fashion as much as I may do. Although, I might enjoy it a bit more than you, though." He spoke until he let out a small laugh.

You scoffed softly. "I'll leave it to the fashion designer then." Speaking to him again.

Walking past the mannequin, he watched your silhouette move farther away. "What brings you here either way?" Questioning the motives of your certain visit.

"Hm?" You perked. As the work shop was quiet again, he waited for your answer.

Soon, moving back towards his work desk. Mitsuya sat down on his comfortable chair before looking down at the device again.

"A little birdie told me to come keep you company."

"Oh, is that so?" He had said. "It was Hakkai, wasn't it?" Continuining the conversation.

Slightly tensing up when Mitsuya mentioned the other model. Reluctantly going back to touch the nice fabric on the shelves. "Darn, I guess I gave it away."

You spoke.

"Of course, though, I came here out of my free will."

Taking a few more steps to stare what was in laid the nice, comfy workshop of his.

He had progressed with his work again but was still listening. The pen of his swiftly moving and lightly tapping against the iPad's screen.

Mitsuya was now hearing your footsteps approach him again. "How long have you shunned yourself from the outside?"

He couldn't help yet chuckle from your question. "It's only been a couple of hours."

Lifting his head up slightly, his eyes gazing at you. Standing next to him, behind his desk. Clearly, you were able to see his sketch on the device.

Mitsuya really didn't mind when he heard a small shuffle. Grabbing a piece of paper on the table along with a black pen.

Moving towards the seating area quietly, he enjoyed your presence dearly. Looking back down onto the device, trying to focus on work when he heard your feet shuffling.

"Look." You had muttered, now holding the piece of paper up to his face. Mitsuya noticed some kind of figure and mostly just curvy lines. He tried his best to understand, but nothing had lit up.

"See, this is a torso then the waist." Pointing at the body parts with the black pen which the cap was firmly placed on.

Noticing how excited and eagerly you were explaining the fashion design that was created in your head that was placed onto the paper. He soon let out a small smile.

Once you were done speaking, Mitsuya decided that this was his chance. "How about I draw it out, and you describe it?" He reluctantly asked.

Staring at the fashion designer. "Are you trying to say my drawing is bad?" You questioned, perking an eyebrow up.

Making contact again, he was silent. "Uh.. well."

"You are!" Exclaiming when you pointed at him with one of your fingers.

"You got me." He smiled, letting out a small laugh.

A grin formed from ear to ear as you couldn't stay mad at Mitsuya.

"I guess I could take that offer up." You uttered.

"Oh, really? Just leave it to me then." He spoke.

"I would rather much prefer if you went on a date with me, though." Admitting to the fashion designer.

He was quite taken a back, but what I meant.

His eyes widened, but merely that was it. His usual calm demeanor until he let out a grin.

"Are you asking me out?"

Putting his pen down onto his desk, he couldn't tear his eyes off of you.

"That's exactly what I'm doing, Mitsuya."

The smile on your face didn't disappear, for it was still there. One Mitsuya enjoyed seeing. Chuckling lightly again.

"I guess I could get some fresh air for a little while." He spoke, stretching his arms slightly.

Still sat in his chair, Mitsuya got up. Making his way over to you, grabbing his keys, and wallet.

Just his mere belongings when the two of you left the work place.

Walking down the stairs, side by side.

"You can say, this is my way of showing I care for you, and it'll be my treat." You spoke with a gleeful attitude.

Walking out of the door now, quite uplifted. The atmosphere itself was extraordinary when Mitsuya himself felt some sudden rain drops land on his head.

"Your treat, you say? It's already sprinkling." He uttered.

"That's what I intend, a fun date in the rain with someone enjoyable." Swiftly grabbing his arm, the both of you were now running in the cold weather.

You laughed slightly, trying to reach the cafe that was across the street.

Mitsuya ran after you, his hand above his head trying to shelter his face from the rain.

He didn't intend on getting sick, but merely right now, he didn't mind it as much.

Both of you had moved quickly across the crosswalk. Hearing the cars rumble a few times.

A smile planted onto your face, turning back a few times to urge Mitsuya to hurry on the sidewalk. Running still, a small flutter happened within his heart when he saw your soft gaze.

Until the both of you had run past a flower store, the sweet aroma of purple lilacs that was placed outside the building.

The flower's aroma lingering into their noses, intaking the smell. Leaving a small reminisce feel. Rushing to the nice cafe for the very first date.

Purple Lilacs indicating first love.

[comatosebunny09]

Devotion [ Pt. 5 ]

Summary: You have been his faithful bodyguard for years, and a dear friend of his for much longer. Can you blame him for wanting something beyond that of a loyal subject and king?

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Drama, Angst, Slow Burn, Modern AU

Warnings: Female Reader, Profanity

Recommended Listening: See You Tomorrow & Tomorrow - Evgeny Grinko

Taglist: @marsthegoblin @genuienlytired @auraee @ah-finally @jensynkujo @nanaoise08squad @mekkencspony @coldstonecrematorium @motzgurke @simpforerensattacktitan

Sorry if I missed anyone. 😭 I hope you guys enjoy. Thank you so much for reading!

Of the many ways for a young woman to find herself enthralled...

Well, you know the lot of them thanks to a certain fiery-haired monarch.

You figure that he is the most beautiful thing to ever grace this kingdom. Watch with childlike wonderment as he looms over his desk, coarse brows furrowed, lips pulled into a taut line. He’s been like this for an hour or so, mowing through the mountains of paperwork littering his study. His Majesty releases an occasional hum, tapping his fountain pen against the lacquered wood as he flips through a binder. 

Sanemi must’ve really gotten to him today.

The royal advisor cornered you both in the king’s quarters. Muttered something about ball preparations and what-have-you’s, demanding that Kyojuro “sit his ass down somewhere to do some fucking work.” You couldn’t help the snicker that tore itself from your frame, watching the two go at it from the doorway.

Not much has changed about their dynamic since middle school, you reflected, a fond cant to your lips.

“I will take care of it, my friend,” His Majesty promised, his hands up in mock surrender. A shamefaced grin adorned his face, tiny craters forming in his cheeks.

Sanemi marched up to you, pinning you with an amethyst glare. Thrust a finger in your face, his irritation emanating off him in waves. “Make sure his ass doesn’t leave this room until half that shit’s been signed, you hear me?”

You replied with a curt nod, stepping aside to allow the tactician to leave. The heavy door slammed behind you with finality, leaving you and your king in each other’s company. Kyojuro shrugged, flashing you a disarming smile that set your heart aflutter.

You wished that Sanemi would’ve stayed longer to maintain the peace. 

“A picture would last longer,” Kyojuro mumbles, drawing you back to present. He scrutinizes the documents laid out before him.

You straighten. Tilt your head whilst clearing your throat, ignoring the heat flooding your cheeks. You realize that you have been caught staring again. It’s a regular occurrence between you and your king. Can it really be helped, though?

The man is gorgeous in every sense of the word, glowing like the cinders he was forged from.

You swallow thickly. Try to tear your eyes from the pulsing veins in Kyojuro’s sinewy forearms—he’d discarded his jacket and rolled up his sleeves a little while ago. Loosened his necktie, his waistcoat wrapped snugly around his frame.

God bless his tailor, for they have cruel impeccable taste.

The sun swaths Kyojuro’s silhouette in its ethereal glow; its rays pouring through the ceiling-high windows of the study whilst it tucks itself behind the horizon. He is much too angelic this way, untouchable even. Someone like you doesn’t deserve his affections, what with the dirt caked under your nails and the scars littering your body. His Majesty deserves to court someone as beautiful as he is. Someone who will bring honor to his kingdom.

Not a lowly bodyguard charged only with keeping him safe.

Kyojuro sighs, fetching another set of documents. Pierces through your ruminations again, asking, “how long do you plan to stand there gawking at me?” He levels his luminous optics with yours. His lips curve into an inviting smirk, chin resting on his palm. 

You stiffen, cursing your wandering eyes. “I-I’m not. I mean, I wasn’t, Majesty—”

“Sit,” Kyojuro beckons, motioning to the gold-crusted, emerald couch adjacent to him.

“I shouldn’t—”

“Sit.” His tone leaves no room for argument.

With hesitancy and a dispirited sigh, you meander over to your king’s side. Drop yourself onto the pillowy cushions, clasping your hands together in your lap. This is also routine between the pair of you.

He’s always had something against you standing guard at the door, so you’re often held captive like this while he works. It most certainly has nothing to do with him being irrevocably taken by you.

You puff out your cheeks, eyes skittering every which way but on your wayward king. You feel his eyes drilling into the side of your head. See him shamelessly staring at you through your peripheral, and it takes all of you not to shrink into yourself.

If a staring contest is what His Majesty wants…

You throw caution to the wind, fixing him with your own pointed stare. His lashes flutter closed; eyes wrinkled at the corners. He beams at you, boasting his pearly whites. Wordlessly, he reaches out to squeeze your hands settled rigidly atop your thighs. You tense, your breath lodged in your throat, heart jackhammering in the forefront of your ears.

Hot, hot. Terribly so. He always is. The action alone is enough to make you lightheaded whilst his thumb makes swift expeditions over your blanched knuckles. 

“Now I can focus,” he murmurs. Couples it with a deep chuckle as you sputter, the sound vibrating your spine. Kyojuro retracts his hand to turn back to his desk, taking up his pen with renewed vigor.

What’s that supposed to mean, you silently simmer, a quieted pout descending onto your lips. You’re bereft of the loss of contact, but what for? This is nothing new, the fleeting touches and stolen glances. So, what’s got you so out of sorts today?

You are thankful for your proximity to your king, nonetheless. From this angle, you get to see all of him. Greedily ingest the sight before you, and he is a work of art.

His Adam’s apple bobs whilst he swallows. The faint scent of citrus permeates your nostrils. Biceps ripple beneath his snug, silken dress shirt; vein in his neck pulsates enticingly. You battle with a sudden inclination to kiss it, saliva puddling in your mouth. You wonder what pretty sounds you can emit from him; if you can turn him to mush the same way he does to you each day.

Silly woman, you chastise, shaking your head. What on earth are you thinking about?

You sit like this in silent contemplation for a beat, transfixed on every twitch of his muscles. The scribbling of his pen is the only sound exchanged between you. You pick your fingernails, obligated to fill the stillness.

“Are you—”

“Do you—”

Amber eyes flit to yours. Kyojuro chuckles, rubbing his nape. It’s hard to miss the color tinging the tips of his ears. Your lips quirk the slightest, butterflies skittering about in your stomach.

How unlike His Majesty to be so bashful in your company.

“Apologies,” Kyojuro mutters, tugging his necktie free from its collar. Turns to you with undivided attention. “What were you about to say?”

“Ah, n-nothing. Um, what were you going to say, Majesty?” Suddenly, the onyx buttons of your coat are so very interesting, a flush of your own creeping its way into your skin.

“Do you have plans for the long weekend?”  

You perk up. Find it hard to meet his gaze, but you admit, “not really.”

“Really,” he hums thoughtfully.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You are off tomorrow, yes?”

You nod in confirmation. Honestly, you need it, what with you working tiring hours as a glorified babysitter. You care deeply for your king. However, keeping up with him and his indomitable spirit is taxing on its own. Couple this with your unchecked feelings for him, and you have quite the exhaustive cocktail.

Your only warning is the rustling of paper.

Suddenly, the couch dips beside you. He’s moved faster than you can process, a blur of yellows and reds. Curse his trainer for honing his cat-like movements.

He swaddles you in his overwhelming heat and commanding presence. A gasp rends itself from your throat. Your knees bump, thighs graze. He is uncomfortably close, and it’s become much too hot again. You feel restricted by your uniform. Has it always had this many layers?

Your king looks to you with delight. Drapes an arm across the back of the sofa, closing in until your noses almost touch. “Will you be accompanying me, then?”

You reel back, crashing into the chair’s arm. Swallow. “A-accompanying you? Where?” You weren’t informed of any movement going on during your weekly brief. So, what is he on about?

Uncertainty meddles with his voice. “I’d assumed Uzui had informed you of tomorrow’s excursion.”

The mere mention of your commander causes your brow to twitch. “He hasn’t told me a thing, Majesty.”

With a guilty sigh, Kyojuro scratches his temple. “Well,” he begins, leaning forward with his elbows pressed into his powerful thighs. “There is a bazaar in town. On the outskirts of the citadel, actually.” He glances at you to gauge your reaction. Searches your eyes for any opposition. You urge him forward with inquisitive brows.

“I wanted to attend so that I could find a nice gift for the prince.” Kyojuro wets his lips, suddenly averting his gaze. Of course. A gift for his dearest brother. He’d be back from the countryside soon. “Uzui was more than enthusiastic about joining me. I figured he would’ve invited you as well.”

A pang strikes your chest, searing like white lightning. And you thought you were all friends. Though you’re never too keen on the idea of His Majesty leaving the citadel alone, you also know that he prefers to travel discreetly. A ring of bodyguards and staff looming about would only draw more attention to him. Besides, it isn’t too often that he gets to leave the castle without some official business being tacked onto it. And, Tengen is more than capable of fending off any attempts on your king’s life.   

“I wouldn’t want to impede, Majesty,” you say haughtily. Since the offer had slipped Tengen’s mind, you felt it best to take it out on your king—

“I want you to come,” he declares, patting your hand, a hopeful lilt to his voice. “That is, if you would like to join us.” Irises glimmer like those of a puppy.

You sigh heavily, lips twitching into a small smile. Try as you might, you’ve never been able to resist him like this. “I would love to, Your Majesty.”

He beams at you, once again propelling himself into your personal bubble. “Might I make one final request?” ventures the king, mischief bubbling in those mirthful eyes of his.

You nod dumbly, hooked onto his every movement. “S-sure, sir.”

Suddenly, the silken strands of your hair waterfall onto your shoulders, spilling from the crude bun you had fashioned it into after your king had so graciously stolen your hairpin. You stammer, an astonished look taking up residence on your features.

He’d done it again.

Kyojuro’s expression melds into one of endearment. He beholds you with boyish fascination, engraining every spasm of your lips selfishly into his memory. “I prefer you like this,” he whispers, breath wafting across your flustered exterior. “Please wear your hair down from now on.”

You cannot help the warmth that wades over you at his request. Your heart overflows with glee. He always knows how to disorient you with his satiny, manipulative words.

You resist a faint whimper whilst Kyojuro twines one of your sleek coils about his finger. He wears that look again; the one he always dons before trying to kiss you. The sweet-talker. Maybe you will let him get away with it this time. Your tongue darts from betwixt your quivering lips to dampen them. Eyes half-slit. You glimpse down at his waiting mouth, watching with bated breath as it pans in.

To hell with it, you contemplate, feeling his fingers creep like spindly spider legs up the nape of your neck. He threads limber digits in your tresses, drawing you further into him. For a moment, you relinquish yourself to your desires. To hell with being his bodyguard. To hell with his monarchy, and with you feeling like the lowest on the totem pole. You’re hyperaware of his mouth so close, your breaths fusing together.

If not for the door being thrown open noisily behind you, you might’ve finally let your king have his way.

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[kelyon]

On the House 4

The only way for Gold to see Belle again is to go to a masquerade

Read on AO3

When Jefferson came through the door of the office, Gold cast aside the useless stack of papers in his hand. For the past quarter of an hour he hadn’t read anything or done any work whatsoever. He’d been too distracted, waiting for his secretary to come back with the morning post. 

“Well?” Gold asked by way of a greeting. Every day for the past week, he had given the same query, and every day for the past week, Jefferson had given the same answer.

“Nothing today.”

Of course not. 

Gold allowed himself a huff of irritation. 

It was a rare mission that Jefferson and his cohorts couldn’t accomplish to Gold’s satisfaction. The young man had a sharp mind and boundless energy, not to mention a certain cunning charm. He was a useful man on the street, keeping tabs on the goings-on of the city while Gold kept his hands clean in the quiet office above a pawn shop. 

Having taken off his coat, Jefferson exchanged the morning post for the bundle of papers that Gold had already read and remarked up on. One of Jefferson’s many duties was to take Gold’s brusque business decisions--loans denied, favors called in, collateral converted into cash--and pretty up the language before delivering the news to the recipient. 

“You have checked around the outside of the house, haven’t you?” Gold asked. “It’s possible she’d be hesitant to send anything by post. She might have dropped a note from a window in hopes that passers-by would pick it up.”

“That sounds like something from a cheap novel and you know it.” Jefferson shook his head. “Of course I planned for that possibility. I’ve had people skulking around every door, window and hedge of that house. It’s gotten so bad, some of them have gotten caught and had to pretend to be customers.” He sat down facing away from his small writing desk, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “There was a tight spot when young Tilly was pulled in, but apparently the house has a girl who caters to her own kind.” He chuckled. “That opened Tilly’s eyes considerably.”

Gold didn’t have time to dwell on his employee’s Sapphic epiphanies. He stood up from his desk. 

“So we’ve had our people inside the house and none of them have seen Miss French? There are no reports on her welfare?”

“None, and I have asked.” Jefferson pulled out a small notebook from his breast pocket and consulted it. “Our men--and Tilly--have enjoyed the company of a fancy blonde, a pregnant blonde, a confident girl with dark hair and brown eyes, and a timid girl with brown hair and brown eyes. Those last two were working in tandem. No one has mentioned curly brown hair and blue eyes. Not going to bed with her, nor even seeing her in the house.”

Gold gripped the handle of his cane. He had a powerful need to start smashing things. 

“What is Cora doing to her?” he muttered.

Jefferson got up to stand beside him. He leaned against the mantle of the fireplace.

“I could have someone go in and request Miss French specifically,” he offered. “Hell, I’d do it myself. Dress up like a gentleman, wave around enough of your money to match any price Cora set. My only hesitation is that such a maneuver might draw attention to the girl. Might make things worse for her.”

“We don’t know how bad things are,” Gold said mostly to himself. “How can we know how much worse they could get?” 

Jefferson looked to the side. He ran his tongue over his lips before he spoke. “Well if not me, then who? Hmm? If only there was a way to know for certain how your poor little Miss French was fairing. If only there was someone who could make Madame Cora sit up and beg. If only--”

“That’s quite enough,” Gold snapped. “As you said, we can’t draw attention to her. It will do Miss French no kindness to remind Cora of--of my involvement.” 

He did not name the specifics of what had happened between himself and Belle French. There was no name for the combination of pity and perversity the beautiful girl had stirred in him. No name for that quality which had drawn him to her--and which had upended Cora’s scheme to have him attached to one of her own daughters.

If there is any impulse of mercy in you, you won’t give Cora a reason to hate me. 

That night, while they were still entwined in her bed, Belle had begged him not to see her again. She had wanted nothing more than to live in peace with the madam who owned her home and her body, who controlled every aspect of her life. His desire had destroyed Belle’s peace, destroyed his own peace of mind along with it. For days, she had plagued his thoughts, the sweet girl who endured so much. Going to her again might ease his spirits, but it would only worsen her suffering. Cora would make sure of it.

He had written to Cora, the morning after his night with Belle. He had advised her not to take offense at his snub to her daughters and asked her to treat Miss French with kindness. After all, Cora had a rare and lovely bloom in her garden, it would be to her advantage to encourage such a blossom to flourish. He had sent a bouquet of white roses to illustrate the point, and requested her to convey his regard to Miss French. He would wait in expectation of a message.

Seven days later, no message had yet arrived. Nothing from Belle and nothing from Cora. In the many years of Gold’s association with Cora Mills, he had never been on the receiving end of her icy disdain. If this silence was a mark of her irritation toward him, he shuddered at the thought of what she was doing to someone entirely in her power.

“Have we seen her leave the house?” It was possible that Cora had secreted her away to some dank and foul prison.

“Night and day we’re watching and we haven’t seen a thing.” Jefferson checked his notebook again. “I’ve asked the neighbors and it seems Miss French has always been a homebody, even before the nature of the house changed. It’s not unusual for her to stay sequestered unless she’s going out on business. Word around town is when the daughters Mills first started attending society functions last year, they had a little shadow who would hold their belongings and quietly correct their etiquette.”

“Teaching whores to be ladies and ladies to be whores,” Gold muttered. 

“Both parties seem to have gotten the knack of their trades by now.” Jefferson closed his notebook. “Miss French hasn’t been seen with them in several months, except for larger occasions when the whole house is out in force.”

“She deserves so much better,” Gold said quietly.

He looked out the window, to the dingy street below him. Ragged children ran through the alleys and young girls sold oranges to passers-by. Weary mothers hung up washing and men took nips of gin while they waited for work to present itself. None of them were evil, but nothing in Gold’s sight had any glow of goodness either. Nothing soft or lovely or refined. This was one of the more respectable streets in the city, and it was worlds apart from the life Miss French had been promised. 

“A young lady spends her whole life sheltered from the world. She grows up knowing she’ll be cared for by her father, her husband. Then tragedy strikes and she finds herself alone. Destitute, with nothing to her name save other people’s debts…” Gold shook his head. “It isn’t right, what happened to her. It isn’t just.”

Jefferson regarded him quizzically. His head tilted at an angle, exaggerated by his signature oversized top-hat. 

“I thought I knew you,” he said soberly. “I’ve never heard you speak of justice as a desirable force in the world. Typically, I’d call you to be on the side of injustice, assuming it benefited you.”

Sinking into his chair, Gold considered that. Jefferson was correct. In his long career there had been plenty of injustices that he had turned a blind eye to, or even assisted. People came to him when they were desperate and he only bothered to help if they agreed to pay his price. There had been girls before Belle--pretty girls, sad girls, girls who had begged him for pity that he never gave.

Mr. Gold never gave anything to anyone. He had never bothered with kindness or mercy. The world was cruel, life was cruel. Success would only come to men who were every bit as heartless and unyielding.  

“Perhaps she changed me.” He shrugged off the possibility even as he named it. “Perhaps she makes me want to be a better man.”

“A good woman can do that,” Jefferson nodded. “Which makes losing them ever more the blow.” 

Gold looked at Jefferson, but said nothing. He never knew how to react when his friend broached the subject of his late wife. Losing her had been such a blow that Jefferson had almost run after her into the arms of death. 

The poor boy had lost a year or more to the madness of grief. It was only the thought of his young daughter being abandoned, raised by strangers, that had drawn him back to health and sanity. Gold had seen Jefferson through all of it, and had helped in all the meager ways he could. He couldn’t bring back the dead, but he could provide material goods. He put Jefferson to work, gave him an occupation for his time and his intellect. Young Grace was cared for and educated, and she had her father.

She, at least, would be spared the fate Belle suffered. If Gold did nothing else in his life, at least he had done that.

With a sigh, Gold turned to his correspondence. He opened the envelopes, read pleas for funds or for extensions on rent payments. He wrote brief notes for how Jefferson was to answer each. 

“I thought I had you decline the invitation to Cruella’s masquerade?”

Jefferson turned in his chair. “You did, and I did. Why?”

Between two fingers, Gold held up a small postal card. It reeked of cigarette smoke and gin. “She sent a note reminding me to attend tonight.”

The other man shrugged. “It’s not every day a widow comes out of mourning.”

“It is when you’re Cruella de Vil Reitherman Luske Geronimi Fineberg.” 

“Perhaps that’s why she wants you to come: She’s searching for husband number five.”

Gold scoffed. As if he didn’t have enough problems in that regard. He tossed the note into the rubbish bin and picked up his next letter. 

That match would never work. Cruella liked her men stupid, and Gold knew where too many of her bodies were buried--both figuratively and literally. If he knew Cruella’s parties, there would be plenty of men there who would suit her better. Those events attracted all types: Landed gentry, cash-rich businessmen, foreign dilettantes. Plenty of men for bloodthirsty women to get their claws into.

Gold dropped his pen. 

“Jefferson,” he said. “Did you mention that for certain events Cora’s whole house will go out to do business?” 

He grinned. He seemed to know what Gold was thinking. “I surely did.”

Hastily, he scrawled out a note. When the ink was dry, he sealed it and handed it to Jefferson. “Deliver this to Cruella yourself,” he instructed. “And while you’re out, you’d better see about getting me a mask.”

****

The costume was, Gold thought, a bit garish for his taste. Jefferson had stopped by a theater company and picked up a frock coat that appeared to be made of crocodile leather. Ridges down the spine and spikes around the neck added to the reptilian appearance. The inside was lined with cloth patterned to look like golden scales and there was painted gold lace at the sleeves. The coat was cut closer to the body than Gold usually wore, though not so tight as to prohibit movement. Jefferson hinted that there were leather trousers that completed the costume, but Gold insisted on wearing his regular suit underneath the coat and mask.

The mask was more or less a dragon, with horns and fangs and frilled ears. It seemed fashioned from the same brown, scaled leather as the coat, but decorated with glass beads strung on golden thread. The mask had a long, pointed nose with the upper lip curled into an impish grin. The lower half of the mouth and jaw were exposed. Nothing impeded the eyes from view once another person was close enough for conversation.

How effective a disguise would this actually be? How effective did it need to be? The goal was to see Miss French again, without rousing Cora’s ire. As his carriage made its way through the streets, Gold contemplated his own intentions. Would it be enough to merely see Miss French? Would he be able to determine her welfare from sight alone? Would he know from a simple conversation? Did he dare to ask her for more?

He licked his lips as his mind went back to the night he had spent with her. That closet of a room, cluttered with broken furniture and lit with candle-stubs. Her body like a delicate flame, pale and lovely and wavering as he touched her--as he brought her pleasure she had never sought before. Belle was a light, flickering in an ocean of darkness. She drew him in like a lure, a beacon. Her goodness, her sincerity--the honesty of her nature. Belle alone felt real, in a house that was built on artifice. 

Could he possibly leave her alone, after the rapture of being in her presence? Could a man in the desert walk away from an oasis?

The carriage stopped in front of Cruella’s mansion. Gold put his questions aside and tied a mask over his true face.

****  

In celebration of her fourth time coming out of widow’s mourning, Cruella de Vil had pulled out all the stops. Music poured out onto the street, along with excess revelers. Wine flowed and platters of food towered on sturdy tables. The city house she had inherited from her second husband was packed with masked faces and costumed bodies.

 Normally in a society occasion, it was a parlor trick to look at a person’s clothes and determine their status and station. This was how a discerning lady or gentleman knew who it was to their advantage to speak to, or who they could safely snub.

A masquerade upended such normalities. At an event like this, a king could be disguised as a beggar or a paid musician look like a bishop. This was a world of glass gems and painted gold, of wool tufts decorated to look like ermine fur. Monsters and goddesses walked freely among barbarians and milk maids, all of them drinking and dancing and making merry together.

In the midst of this riot of color and noise, Gold had to find a girl whose greatest skill seemed to be going unnoticed. 

He scanned the walls as he walked through the mansion, looking for anyone too timid to join in the fray. What would she be dressed as? How would he know her? He had no promise that she would even attend the ball, only a hunch that Cora wouldn’t let anyone in her employ pass up the opportunities of connections and coin that this event would bring to her enterprise.

It didn’t help that most of the women here had taken the masquerade as license to dress in a manner that made them indistinguishable from prostitutes. Cruella’s friends were known for being free-spirited under the best of circumstances. With inhibitions lowered even more, there was no telling if a woman was a married mother or a renowned courtesan. 

Certainly there was no telling if the men who leered down ladies’ necklines were suitors or customers. Did the men know what they were doing? Would they be stunned when the women they’d been having such ease flirting with insisted on coin before they allowed themselves to be charmed any further? All the flesh on display here was for sale, but respectable women didn’t demand payment until after marriage.

Under his mask, Gold frowned. He was having no luck wandering the halls. He should have brought Jefferson along with him. Jefferson and Tilly and all the others he’d had scouting Cora’s house for news of Miss French. Lacking any of those resources, he was reduced to asking for assistance from the least reliable source.

****

“Rochester, darling!”

Cruella held court on a balcony overlooking the main ballroom. She could see everything from up there and--more importantly--everyone could see her. Out of some kind of skewed respect for her supposed mourning, her gown was half-black and half-while. The bodice and long sleeves were white silk, with onyx--or black beads--sewn in as spots. The voluminous black skirt had pearls--or white beads--in the same pattern. She wore a red domino mask and a wig that split down the middle with black hair on one side and white on the other. There were red stones at her neck--certainly not rubies--and red opera gloves that went up into her sleeves. As was her custom, she smoked tobacco from a long cigarette holder and waved the thing animatedly as she shouted instead of spoke. 

“Darling, I was so thrilled to get your note that you were coming to my little soiree. It’s been ages since we’ve had a chance to chat!”

Gold gave Cruella a performative kiss on both cheeks. “You haven’t needed anything from me lately.”

She gave him a wide, red-lipped smile and led him to a couch where they could sit. A uniformed servant handed Cruella a small glass of gin. Gold smirked at that. Out of the gutter for years, yet Cruella had never lost the taste for her first love.

“Yes, I’ve done quite well for myself,” she said as she looked out at her party. “But you’re here anyway, aren’t you, darling? Is it possible this time you need something from me?” 

He took a moment to adjust his mask. “It might be possible,” he said. “Do you know if Cora is expected to attend tonight?”

Cruella’s lip curled at the mention of Cora’s name. “Oh yes, that bitch is here somewhere, with her pimped-out daughters and her flock of frightened geese.” She drank down her gin in one gulp. “I wouldn’t have invited her if she hadn’t promised to bring her whole house. She’s so stuck-up, even though she came from nothing, same as all of us. Where does that cunt get off thinking she’s better than me? I have ten times the wealth she does! Marriage made me an actual lady, not just a grasping snob.”

“It’s because you’re rich enough that the upper classes don’t mind you acting like a guttersnipe,” Gold explained coolly. “You break the rules Cora has to follow and you break them with style. And you do the work she thinks she’s too good for: You seduce your husbands, you marry them and you do your wifely duties.”

“With some of them I even enjoyed it, for a while.” Cruella took a long drag of her cigarette.

“I’m sure Cora thinks enjoyment is a waste of effort. She makes her money off of men’s pleasure, not her own.”

“What man ever could pleasure her?”

He didn’t answer that. 

“I suppose that’s why she out-sources now. She sees herself as a manager of her employees’ labor, and she sees you as little better than them.”

Cruella snorted. “Like I said, a complete bitch.”

“Do you know where she is?”

She rose from the couch, looked out over the balcony onto her party. After a moment Cruella gave a languid wave of her hand. 

“Looks like she’s set up shop in the eastern corridor. She’s got all her girls dressed up like flowers and she’s the Queen of Hearts.” She snorted again, then gave in to a full-throated laugh. “The Queen of Hearts! What a disguise for someone who has no heart at all!”

Pushing himself up with his cane, Gold rose and looked down at where Cruella had gestured. Now that he knew what to look for, it was easy to spot the little garden of flowers for rent. A full-figured woman dressed as a royal purple clematis twisted and climbed around a man clearly identifiable as Leopold, Duke of Neigebury. A red tulip seemed caught between two men--a serpent in a turban and the Knave of Hearts. There was a blue cornflower who kept her arms folded over her stomach, as though such a posture might conceal her pregnancy instead of emphasizing it. A pink aster flitted about the area, under the watchful eye of a dark-haired poppy. Presiding in the center of them all was a woman in a crown, with a red and white dress and a heart-shaped mask.

And close to her side--a white rose.      

He didn’t think. His legs seemed to move of their own accord, taking his body where he needed to go without once stopping to confer with his head. It was her, he knew it was her, and he needed to see her more than he needed air. 

Pushing his way through the crowd, Gold dimly noticed the high population of men in this area. Old and young and in-between, alone or in close groups. Some talking to the women clustered around the marble columns, some hanging back and watching, envy combining with the lust in their eyes.  

Cora’s girls were not the only ones working tonight. There was no confusing the women in this corridor for what they were. From their costumes to their cosmetics to their bold, direct stares, they advertised what they had to offer any man who could pay for it. Their brash voices may have spoken the words of flirtation, but they held the clear tone of trade. 

“We could walk in the garden, sir. It’s so quiet and dark out there, we’re sure to be alone.”

“Tell me more of your estate, my lord. Is it very large?”

“It’s always so thrilling to meet a man who knows how to handle his weapon!” 

“They’re not my rules, but Madame Cora’s: If you come to the house it’s two guineas. For me to go home with you is five. Or, for just one shiny gold coin, you can have me here and now, sir.”

There was an edge to these conversations, a raw steel of desperation. After all, any man could be behind these masks. A girl might make herself the mistress of the prime minister if she offered her charms to the right disguise. The ravenous desire--the need these women had for security, for success, for another night of food in their bellies--was matched only by the hunger their clients had for their bodies. All of them--the buyers and the sellers--were garish and grasping, as heated as dogs in rut.

The only relief came from the white rose. She alone was serene in her beauty, as lovely as the moon. Modestly gowned in alabaster satin, she seemed to float above the animalistic throng. She was peace in the chaos, light in the darkness. 

Gold went to her. Brushing past Cora, he took the hand of the white rose. It was longer than he remembered, but perhaps that was due to her gloves. The heat of her crept into his skin--into his hands as he held her, then his lips as he pressed them to her fingers.

He opened his mouth to speak, unsure of what to say. His eyes traveled slowly up her body, taking in every inch of her graceful form. Why did he remember Belle being short? The woman in front of him was tall and strong-featured. The mask of white rose petals did little to disguise her sharp jaw and--

Gold dropped the hand he was holding.

Under the mask of the white rose, poison-green eyes looked out at him with triumph.

“Why Mr. Gold!” The voice had a well-taught accent, a practiced imitation of natural class and sophistication. “What a pleasure it is to see you again!”

Straightening, Gold gave a tight bow. “Zelena,” he said curtly.

Shamelessly brazen, Zelena Mills wrapped her arm around his, trapping him. Gold took a moment to be grateful for the thick hide of crocodile leather that separated his flesh from hers. She began to pull him towards the central ballroom, away from the other girls.

“Do you dance, Mr. Gold?”

With his free hand, he stomped his cane into the ground and wrested out of Zelena’s grasp. His blood boiled, but he fought to keep his composure. This wasn’t her fault.  Zelena Mills was just a pawn in this game. Her costume had been bait but it was his stupidity that had sprung the trap.

“I do not.” 

His teeth clicked against each other as he let out the clipped words. It was an effort not to snarl at the girl. He held up his cane as evidence of his inability to go with her. 

“I’m sure you will find another partner,” he said politely. “Quite soon.”

He had barely turned away from Zelena when Cora was in front of him. Her mask was on a stick and she had set it down to speak with him.

She was smiling. The warm, effortless smile was just as much a false face as every other mask on display tonight.

“I hoped Zelena’s disguise would tempt you to come out of hiding, Mr. Gold. If I had known of your affinity for white roses, I would have offered them to you years ago.”

He took a step forward. “Where is she? She is here, isn’t she?”

“Of course she’s here,” Cora said airily. “Little chit has to earn her keep, doesn’t she? And the cost of keeping her has gone sky-high in the past week or so. Poor thing has had to keep so busy--”

“Where?” Gold growled. “Where is Miss French?”

Cora raised her eyebrows in an expression that conveyed both surprise and amusement, but she allowed his passion to go otherwise unremarked. 

“Unless she’s closed the deal much more quickly than normal, the girl is behind the column there, speaking with Monsieur de Chasse. He seems quite smitten with her, though that may be because she’s the only woman here who can speak French. Or at least,” Cora smiled, “the cheapest woman here who can speak French.”

Without another word, Gold stalked again through the crowd.

****

This time, he was not fooled. This time, he saw what was in front of him, instead of what he wanted to see. This time, he looked at the shape of the woman he sought, at her small feet in red slippers, at the tumble of chestnut curls and the pert, pink lips that peeked out from under her red mask. He listened, and he knew her voice, even if he didn’t understand the language.  He was finally close enough to see her beautiful blue eyes.

For a moment, all Gold could feel was relief. He had found her at last. She was alive, she was well. Whatever horrors Miss French may have suffered, at least she was standing. His actions had not taken everything from her. The possibility existed that they could be together again.

Then Gold’s perception widened and his relief soured. Belle’s costume of a red rose was scandalous even for this company. All of Cora’s flowers wore green stockings, but Belle was the only one who displayed where the stockings ended--in garters halfway up her thighs, baring a full inch of creamy flesh before the hemline of her skirt. Some diabolism of corsetry hoisted her breasts so far up over her neckline that such a line might as well not exist. 

Two small rose petals clung to her skin in a desperate attempt to conceal her nipples. There were more petals, haphazardly glued over her bare arms and across her chest. A thorn vine wrapped around her neck and suddenly the petals looked like drops of blood.

Her skirt was circles of scarlet fabric, overlapping to resemble larger petals. The fabric gapped directly in front of her womanly places. It had to be deliberate, someone had done this to her. The scraps of material opened like curtains, inviting themselves to be parted and entered. The only gesture at decency was to affix a cloth rosette at the apex of the area--the shape of which only advertised the part of Belle’s body that it was supposed to be hiding. Glass beads were sewn onto the blooming flower, giving the impression of dew on the crimson petals--or wetness on a woman’s flesh.

Gold gripped the handle of his cane so hard it dented the silver. 

This was obscene. 

The man in front of Belle was dressed as Orion, the hunter of Greek myth. His costume left him bare-chested and bare-legged, displaying a physique suitable for a mighty god. Coarse, black hair covered every last inch of his muscled body. He loomed over Belle, who had backed herself into the column and seemed to want to make herself one with the stone. 

The brute had a club, a thick thing the size of his forearm. As he spoke, he kept using the club to part Belle’s cloth petals and play with her rosette. The club was so large it threatened to crush the flower if he pressed too hard. And this man seemed the sort to press hard.

“...dans mon château à Lyon…”

Gold’s French was best suited for business dealings, but he understood that the man was boasting about his country house and all the fine hunting that could be had there. Something about la lance piquer poulette. 

Belle nodded her understanding, but her smile was tight. Her naked shoulders shook, ever so slightly. When she brought a coupe of champagne up to her lips, her grip was so stiff Gold saw the tendons in her ungloved hand. He felt how badly she wanted to break the glass over this Orion’s face.

A single tear rolled out from under her mask.

That snapped Gold into action. He crossed the short distance that separated them and thrust himself bodily between Belle and the hunter. 

She gasped. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. 

Gold ripped off his mask, revealing himself to her. “Cora or no Cora, you’re not staying here another minute.”

Then he grabbed Belle by the wrist and pulled her away. He didn’t turn when the Frenchman started shouting, “Attendez! Arretez! Elle est à moi!” He only paused for a moment when they passed by Cora.

She didn’t speak. Her expression was as emotionless as stone. She was furious. 

Gold reached into his pocket and picked out five golden coins. With an exaggerated bow, he scattered them on the ground at Cora’s feet.

Then he turned on his heel and all but dragged Belle to his carriage. 

[alastgoodnight]

A few days had passed since Naomi received the strange letter. It almost seemed like a strange once-off event, until a second envelope was found. This time, the blocky writing was addressed to her, written as neatly as possible. There was a stamp in the top-right corner depicting a vivid, albeit slightly cartoonish, butterfly. The envelope felt bulkier than before. Not only was there the letter, there was also a heavier paper folded to fit in the envelope.

-

"Dear Miss Naomi,

It is very nice to meet you. Thank you for finding my letter and sending one back. It was very exciting to get a letter that was new. I like your drawing. I've put your letter on my corkboard so I can say 'good morning' and 'good night' to you, just like I do all my Neighbors.

It must be very exciting to live in a library. My friend Frank has a lot of books, and he is very clever. I'd bet you're very clever too if you have to take care of the books and your library. Was it sad to be alone for so long? It must be lonely to not be able to go anywhere. That's why I try to include Home in something every day. It likes to feel part of the Neighborhood.

Do Willa and Rags help you fix the library? Will they help you paint it?

I like fairy tales too. I thought about what was my favourite, so I asked my friend Sally. She's a star and an actor and has written lots of stories. She reminded me of the story of 'Jack and the Beanstalk'. I wish I could meet a giant. I'd like to be their friend. I wouldn't be scared of how big it is. Everyone is taller than me, ha ha ha.

Sally told me to tell you that she knows you can't come visit, but you need to know about her shows. We drew a picture of her version of the story called 'Sally and the Beanstalk'."

(Sure enough, the second folded picture was of a brightly coloured, star-headed figure standing beside the base of a beanstalk that grew off the page.)

"I also like stories about friendships. I think everyone should have a friend. Wouldn't that be the most? I'm glad you have friends with you, Miss Naomi. It makes every day a happy one to know you can spend it with people that you like.

Wally."

(heythereneighbor)

The letter arrives in the evening, after a day's work cleaning the patio and moving planter boxes around. Naomi finds it just as she emerges from the walk-in closet, tying the bow on her sailor-collar pyjamas, and smiles to herself.

She opens it the next morning over breakfast, and is careful not to get any fried egg yolk on it as she eats. It takes her some time to formulate her answer - and those planter boxes aren't quite how she likes them - so she doesn't sit down to answer until that afternoon, and even then, it takes a while to collect her thoughts.

So it won't be until about three days pass that her letter to Wally appears in what must be a very confused Eddie's mail bag. For now, she takes her time:

"Dear Wally, Thank you for your response! It was also very nice to get a surprise letter. I don't have a cork board yet, so I'm keeping it on my desk until I get one. I don't think "exciting" is the word I'd use, but it's quite pleasant here. Lullaby Lane is a very quiet road, so I have plenty of peace and quiet when Willa and Rags are resting or busy."

She stops and ponders the question that comes next, and hums to herself.

"Hey, Library, were you lonely before I got here?" A long, slow breeze blows outside the window, and she hums.

"I asked the Library if it was lonely before I got here. It can't talk with words, but it uses its doors and floorboards and the wind to communicate with me. I think its answer was yes, but these days it seems quite playful. It had Dust Bunnies (they're very small), but nobody else came or went for... I don't know how long, actually." Willa helps me with the library, but Rags mostly keeps me company. He's a very silly monster from under my bed, and likes to run around in the tall grass outside and play hide-and-seek. I'll draw a picture of him and Willa on the back today."

She smiles at the description of Jack and the Beanstalk, and is charmed by the sight of the artwork.

"Speaking of drawings, thank you for the artwork! I bet your friend Sally is very talented. When you get the time, please tell her I said thanks for sharing her vision. I've never acted, but I do like to read stories aloud. Maybe one day I could narrate one of hers? That's probably a long time from now, though."

And the last part. She smiles.

...She does have friends now, doesn't she? Fancy that.

"I agree, Wally, having friends every day would be the most. I'm very lucky to have met all of them, and I seem to meet more every day! This library may have been lonely once, but I don't think that will be a problem again for a very long time. It sounds like you have many friends, too! You've mentioned Eddie and Home, and now Frank and Sally. Is your neighborhood very big? Once again, thank you for writing me. Sincerely, Miss Naomi.

Once again it's sealed and addressed in a blue envelope, but this one is sealed with a goldfish sticker and a matching stamp. She drops it in the slot on the letterbox, and smiles when she doesn't hear it fall.

It's on its way.

@heythereneighbor

[imaginedreamwrite]

@iamfandomwasted You inspired me 😊

Ari watched you flit around the office, putting files away mindlessly while he was supposed to be listening on a teleconference. It was far easier to watch you stand on your tippy toes to reach a basket that had been moved from its usual place, and Ari smirked when he heard you huff.

You were unaware that he had moved the basket, unaware that he had woefully placed it out of your reach so he could see his cute little omega mate and secretary stretch. It wasn’t just to hear your adorable sounds and marvel in your frustration, Ari also wholeheartedly enjoyed the way your skirt rose around your ass and hips.

“Sweetheart,” Ari swiftly hung up the phone and cleared his throat, drawing your attention toward him, “care to make copies of these files?”

Ari had turned his chair and watched you sink back to your proper height and turn, a small stack of files already in your arms, your hair falling around your face in wisps.

“Ari?” You questioned and walked toward him as he set the files down on the edge of the desk. “These files?”

“Yes, honey.” He crooned, already noticing your flustered state through the bond.

“I can make copies.” You had just reached for the files when Ari shot out and placed his hand on yours, stilling you.

“When you bring the files back, omega,” Ari crooned seductively, his voice heady and deep, “I’m going to need you to do something for me.”

“Ari?” You questioned, your eyes growing in size as he had dropped his gaze to the curve of your breasts and the cleavage peeking out from the V-neckline.

“I have a meeting I’m not looking forward to. I need you to keep me and my cock company.” Ari had squeezed your hand and released, a laugh bubbling in his throat as your hand hit the files and it had fallen to the ground.

You squeaked and bent down to scoop it into your arms, your eyes wide and your legs quaking with expectations. You had carted yourself and the files toward the door, nearly stumbling into the frame as your hand and mind were discombobulated in between you turning the handle and you fleeing.

When the door had closed once more, Ari had studied the place you were once in and smiled to himself. He would one day confess how he was messing with his office, and one day he would tell you how adorable he found your clumsiness. For now he was content watching you, and waiting for you to come keep him company.

[2dmenenthusiast]

“I’m not even sure if that’s a real species.”

(Ryan Lucan x GN!Reader)

this didn't turn out as great as I wanted it to cuz I'm absolute shit at writing fluff but I already have another Ryan fic in the works to make up for it (that break shit was apparently a lie) I hope ya'll enjoy anyway.

Reblogs are always appreciated!

Summary: Between shitty drawings of birds and struggling with your feelings for your best friend, Ryan is determined to make your birthday one to remember

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings/other info: major spoilers for LIS: True Colors, swearing, shitty pacing, my mediocre attempt at writing fluff

“Are you done yet?”

Your feet skidded against the floor, the rubber soles of your shoes creating a loud squeak as you stopped the chair from rolling forward. Spinning to face Ryan, you give him a wide grin.

“Nope.”

He shakes his head and leans forward in his seat, looking over his work as he lets you continue your antics.

It was a beautiful day in Haven Springs, the sun shining in the bright blue sky, a comfortable breeze shaking the leaves. Most people in town were probably going hiking along the trails. You? Well, you couldn’t think of a more perfect time to bother your dear friend, Ryan, at his place of work. He wasn’t surprised to see you walk into the ranger station with two cups of coffee and a box of takeout from the bar, used to your random visits. But he told you with a guilty expression and those familiar puppy dog eyes that he had too much work to take a break with you. You had waved him off, letting him know that it was okay and you could just hang around to keep him company. Though, he didn’t think agreeing would mean you acting like an absolute menace around him.

Rolling over to the other desk, you began looking through the drawers for something to fidget with when you found a walkie, smiling to yourself as you clicked it on and held down the button.

“... Lookin’ good over there, mountain man.”

Ryan let out a soft curse and flinched when he heard his own walkie go off next to him, grabbing it before turning towards you with a narrowed gaze. “Really?”

“Ah ah! You have to talk into the walkie. Over”

“I’m not speaking into the-”

“I’m sorry, I think I’m getting a little static, can you repeat that? Over.”

Letting out a sigh, he couldn’t help but smile as he brought the walkie closer to his face. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m what? Over.”

“You’re ridiculous! Over.”

A wide smile broke out on your face as Ryan let out a soft chuckle, and you placed the walkie back inside the desk drawer before rolling over to him and lightly nudging him with your chair.

“What’s got you all stressed out? You’re usually more easy going than this,” you asked, taking a glance at what was on his desk.

He shrugged. “Just- you know, new regulations and things to go over. It’s no big deal. Just not the most fun part of my job, I guess.”

You nodded, spotting a yellow notepad and sliding it towards yourself before grabbing a pen. He watched as you drew a quick doodle of a bird, and you propped it against the lamp on the corner of the desk.

“There, now you have a feathered friend to keep you company while you're inside.”

Ryan tilted his head, examining the drawing. “I’m not even sure if that’s a real species.”

You scoffed, smacking his shoulder as he laughed. “Oh, whatever. Next time draw your own damn bird.” Standing up, you fished your phone out of your pocket to check the time. “Oh shit, I’m gonna be late. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah, and don’t forget to meet me at the Lantern tonight.”

Nodding, you gave Ryan a quick hug before racing out the door and driving to work. Ever since Riley left, you quickly took over her position at the flower shop so Eleanor wouldn’t be managing the store alone. You could tell she needed the help, no matter how often she told you she was fine. Luckily, she was getting more used to accepting your help as time went on.

You stepped into the flower shop with minutes to spare, letting out a breath as you walked into the back office. Grabbing your apron, you tied it around yourself before clocking in, and as you stepped out of the room, Eleanor came out of the greenhouse with a bundle of flowers in her hand.

“Oh! Dear, what are you doing here?”

“Uh, working my shift?”

“Oh. I was sure I had you scheduled off for today,” Eleanor said, walking into the office to check your schedule.

You looked at her with your eyebrows drawn up in confusion. “But, I usually work today, don’t I?”

“Well, yes, but I assumed you didn’t want to spend your birthday working.”

Your eyes slightly widened before your expression fell and you let out a sigh. “Shit. I’m sorry, Eleanor. I’ve been so busy, I guess I just forgot.”

“Oh, I understand, dear. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t forget important things, too. Do you wanna go home?”

You shook your head. “No. No, it’s fine. I’m already here, so, might as well get some work done.”

Eleanor nodded, handing you the bundle of flowers before walking back into the greenhouse. A quiet sigh left you as you walked behind the counter and wrapped up the bundle of lilies, taking them over to the case of flowers. It didn’t surprise you that you forgot. In the past, your birthday had never been something you made a big deal about, so why should you now? The most you ever did was watch movies and have a few drinks with Ryan, Steph, and Alex, and there was nothing you enjoyed more than hanging out with them.

Steph and Ryan had been your best friends ever since you could remember, along with Gabe. When Alex came to Haven, she fit right in with all of you. And when Gabe died… well, safe to say it was hard on all of you. Like a piece had been ripped out and replaced with a giant hole. You made sure to be there for each other, especially when all the drama went down with Typhon and Jed. And when Ryan found out about his father, you could only imagine how he felt.

You remember countless nights staying up with him as he yelled and cried and questioned how his father could do such a terrible thing. There was nothing more you wanted to do than take his pain away, but all you could do was be there for him, and let him know that the people around him loved him.

You felt your face heat up when you recalled the nights he fell asleep on your shoulder after staying up late and filling up on takeout, and you shook your head as you walked back behind the counter. You knew your feelings for Ryan went way above platonic. The way he smiled, his laugh, that puppy dog look he gave you when he was confused or flustered. Everything about him made your heart flutter. And the way he would light up when he talked about his job or listed off random facts about the birds he saw when you two went on hikes, it all just made you fall for him even more.

Though, there was something nagging at the back of your head. If it was your birthday, why didn’t Ryan say anything to you earlier? You glanced up when you heard the bell above the door ring, and Alex greeted you with a small smile and a wave.

“Hey! How’ve you been, Alex?” you asked as she walked up, placing her hands on the counter. She shrugged her shoulders.

“Just came to pick up some flowers.”

You nodded and gestured over to the cooler, and she took her time as she looked over them, seeming to look for something specific. She finally reached in and pulled out a bouquet of roses, and you raised your eyebrows with a small smirk as she placed them in front of you.

“Ah. Special night with Steph?”

She shifted her gaze for a moment and let out a small laugh, reaching a hand up to rub the back of her neck. “You could say that. Oh, happy birthday, by the way.”

You smiled as you rang her up. “Thank you. Seems like everyone’s remembered except me. Well, and Ryan.”

Alex tilted her head as her brows furrowed. “Did he not say anything?” she asked, able to pick up the disappointment in your voice.

“No. But he was busy and seemed distracted when I saw him, so I don’t blame him.”

“I’m sure he’ll make it up to you.”

You nodded, and she gave you a reassuring look before grabbing the flowers and leaving, the jingling of the bell ringing loudly in the empty room. Fingers gripping the counter, you let out a shaky breath and dropped your head, trying to calm down the rapid beating of your heart. You felt pathetic. The mere mention or thought of Ryan seemed to make your heart race these days. It was a miracle you could even keep your composure around him. After being friends with him for so many years, you guess your conscience just couldn’t take it anymore.

But how could you ever confess to him? No, you couldn’t ruin your friendship like that. Ryan was one of the best things in your life, and you wouldn’t risk it for anything. Even if it meant keeping your feelings hidden.

“Hon, are you okay?”

You jumped when you heard Eleanor’s voice, looking up to meet her concerned gaze. You gave her a tight lipped smile and nodded.

“Yeah. Guess I’m just in my own head today.”

She hesitated before nodding and leaving you alone again, and you huffed as you placed your elbows against the counter. Today was going to be long.

***

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay a little longer? I know there’s more to be done.”

“Oh stop it, you. I can take care of it. Go enjoy the rest of your night,” Eleanor said, practically pushing you out the door.

You sighed and reluctantly walked out of the shop, waving at her through the window before adjusting your bag on your shoulder and walking to your car. You were about to get in when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, and you took it out to see that Ryan texted you.

-6:11 Ryan:

Remember. Black Lantern after your shift.

You chuckled to yourself, quickly typing up a response.

-6:12 You:

Yes, Mister Park Ranger, sir

Har har. Just get your butt here.

-6:14 Ryan:

But not the rest of me? Idk if that’s possible, Ry.

-6:14 You:

You’re ridiculous.

-6:15 Ryan:

So you’ve told me. Be there in a few.

-6:16 You:

Pocketing your phone, you locked your car before walking down the main road towards the bar, wondering what Ryan’s urgency was. If it was to try another experimental drink, you were going to kick his ass. Last time that happened, you ended up throwing up your lunch. You arrived at the Black Lantern in just a few minutes, but when you opened the door and all the lights were off, you wondered if Ryan made a mistake.

“What the hell-”

“SURPRISE!”

The lights suddenly flickered on as people jumped up from where they were hiding, and Steph walked over with the biggest grin on her face as she blew into a noisemaker and threw paper confetti into the air.

“Happy birthday, loser.”

You scoffed, still reeling from the surprise before reaching up to pull a few pieces of confetti out of your hair. “You’re helping me get all this out later.”

She just laughed and threw an arm around your shoulders, leading you further into the bar. Everyone that you passed wished you a happy birthday, and you smiled and thanked them all, even accepting the hug Duckie gave you before you could walk past him.

“You guys really didn’t have to do this, you know,” you muttered, stopping at the bar when Steph went to grab a few beers.

“Nonsense! You never let us do anything special for your birthday. At least let us spoil you a bit this year.”

You sighed, shaking your head with a smile before looking down when you felt someone poke your arm. “Ethan! See, I knew the life of the party was here somewhere.”

He gave you a toothy grin before reaching behind him and pulling out one of his comics, nervously holding it out to you. “I uh, I wanted to give you something for your birthday. It’s an early copy of the newest volume I’m working on. I wanted you to get the first look at it.”

Your eyes slightly widened as you looked at the beautifully drawn cover, gently running your fingers over it. You had to admit, Ethan was crazy talented for a kid his age.

“Thank you, Ethan. I’m sure I’ll love it,” you said, and the boy nodded excitedly.

Hearing someone call your name, you looked up and saw Steph waving you over, Alex sitting with her in the booth. Taking a seat across from them, you narrowed your eyes as your gaze shifted between them.

“Alright, whose bright idea was this?”

They gave each other a look, trying to hold back their smiles as you heard someone behind you clear their throat.

“That would be me, actually.”

Turning in your seat, your eyes landed on Ryan standing behind you, a nervous smile on his face and his hands behind his back. Of course.

“Why am I not surprised?”

His grin widened for a split second before suddenly dropping, looking down at his shoes for a moment. “Um, can we talk outside for a sec?”

Nodding, you stood up from your seat to follow him, but you didn’t miss the giggles and quiet hushes coming from the two girls. You only got to glance back at them for a second before Ryan was placing a hand on your back and leading you out of the Lantern. The sun was almost finished setting, barely peeking out from the mountains in the distance as the water reflected beautiful oranges and yellows. No matter how long you lived in Haven Springs, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to how beautiful the sky was.

You and Ryan walked to the end of the dock, looking out at the water and mountains before you stole a glance at him. The way the light shone on his face, accentuating the curves and sharp lines of his features and reflected off his blue eyes- god, how could a man be so fucking pretty?

You quickly looked away before he could catch you staring, swallowing down the lump in your throat before you eventually turned your body towards him.

“Y’know, you didn’t have to-”

You could barely get your sentence out when Ryan was suddenly holding a bouquet of roses towards you, and you looked between his anxious expression and the red flowers for a moment before something in your head clicked.

Oh. Oh.

And then you were laughing. Ryan released the breath he seemed to be holding, his expression morphing into one of confusion before he let out a quiet chuckle of his own. “What’s- What’s so funny?”

Reaching out, your fist lightly punched his chest before you carefully took the flowers out of his hand, your laughter dying down into sporadic giggles.

“Nothing, just- wow. You’ve really outdone yourself, Lucan. Sending Alex to do your dirty work?”

A look of realization flashed across his features before he smiled and reached up to rub the back of his neck, face becoming flushed. “Uh, yeah. I didn’t want you finding out before the surprise, so…”

“Find out what?”

You could tell he was trying to come up with a proper response before he gestured towards the bouquet, and you took your time as you looked down at the beautiful arrangement. Roses. Red Roses. Flowers that made a very specific statement. And Ryan was giving them to… you. Disbelief filled you as you felt your heart suddenly jump up into your throat, and you looked up at Ryan with wide eyes.

“Ryan. I…”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just…” Taking the flowers from you, he carefully set them down and hesitantly reached out to grab your hands, the rough pads of his fingers brushing over your palms before your hands were entirely enveloped in his. “I… I don’t know if I can keep this a secret from you anymore.”

The way he was touching you was sending pulses up your arms, and you felt like you could barely breathe with how fast your heart was beating. “Ryan-”

“Please, just let me get this out. Then you can do whatever, walk away and never talk to me again if you want. I just need you to hear this.” You nodded, and he let out a breath as his grip on your hands tightened. “We’ve been friends ever since I can remember. Doing everything together, telling each other our deepest secrets and our greatest fears. I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone before… And, I can’t exactly pinpoint in all that time where I fell in love with you, but I know it’s been a while since then.”

It was like the ground had just been taken out from under you, Ryan the only thing keeping you from falling as his confession slowly sunk in. He… loves you?

Holy fuck. Ryan loves you??

“I guess I just wanted today to be special for you, to show you how special you are to me. You’ve been with me through everything, seen every side there is to me. And the only person I can imagine having any type of future with… is you.”

The chirping of the crickets quickly filled the gaps of silence, the noise almost getting louder after Ryan stopped talking, and you could barely think about what he said when you had so many thoughts racing in your head. Shit, what were you supposed to say?

“Um, if you want me to leave-”

“No! No, um, I just need a second to process-”

“Oh! Yeah, no, totally. Uh, go ahead,” he said, letting go of your hands.

God, you were both fucking wrecks of human beings. You could mark off Getting a confession of love from your childhood best friend from your Shit I Never Expected to Happen list. Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer to Ryan and took one of his hands in both of yours, giving him a small smile.

“Listen, Ryan. I don’t need flowers or a surprise birthday party to feel special. I… I always feel special when I’m around you.”

“Sooo that means?”

You rolled your eyes, your smile growing. “It means kiss me, you dork.”

He didn’t waste any time as he carefully held your face in his hands before connecting your lips to his, and you smiled into the kiss as you wrapped your arms around him. You could mark kissing Ryan off that list, too. His hands moved from your face to wrap his arms around you, holding you close to his front as your hands came up to weave your fingers through his hair. As you leaned further into him, you heard a soft crinkling of paper, and momentarily broke the kiss so you could reach into the pocket of his flannel. Pulling out a piece of yellow paper, you unfolded it to reveal- Oh, jesus.

“Oh, my fucking god. Are you kidding me, Ry?” you laughed, turning the shitty sketch of the bird you’d drawn earlier towards him.

He just smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “I thought it could be a good luck charm, you know? Maybe while I’m out, I’ll actually find a rare species or something that looks like that. Could make you famous one day.”

You just shook your head as Ryan laughed, the sound causing a warm, fuzzy feeling to bloom in your chest.

“Who’s the ridiculous one now?”

“Oh, I think we tie for that one.”

Ryan cut your laugh off with another kiss, and you practically melted into him as that warm feeling spread throughout your body. It goes without saying, this was the best birthday ever.

[oikadori]

VAL VAL VAL VAL pls can u maybe do more of the zoom call thing w leaving the camera on w oikawa, atsumu & bokuto ILL ADAGHAAJAK I LOVE IT <3

LEAVING THEIR CAMERA ON WHILE BEING SOFT WITH THEIR S/O PART III

⇢ includes: oikawa, atsumu, bokuto| PART I | PART II

⇢ genre// cw: fluff , f!reader // suggestive, atsumu is more teasing than soft sksksksk

⇢ wc~ 1K

a/n : YESS YESS I’LL DO ANYTHING FOR YOU BBY sksksks i’m glad you like them I have so much fun writing them to be honest!

reblogs are v v cute 

“You look so pretty like that.”

Oikawa’s voice comes from the corridor that leads to your room. He is carrying his sport bag as he shoots a cheeky smile in your direction.

“You mean, when I’m clueless about what is the lecture about?” you scoff after you had deactivated your mic and camera. Rising an eyebrow and pointing at your laptop’s screen where is your teacher talking, you lock eyes with the setter.

“Yeah, exactly when you are completely clueless―”, he chuckles, dropping his bag on the floor with a soft thud before walking towards you, “―it makes me feel smart”

You roll your eyes before he wraps his arms around your shoulders, nuzzling his nose against your cheek and leaving a trail of kisses over your skin, his fluffy hair tickling your neck, drawing giggles out of you.

“I’m still in class, Tooru” you say in between giggles as he covers your face in sloppy kisses.

“But I’ve missed you!”

“We saw each other an hour ago!”

“And your point is?”, he quirks an eyebrow before burying his face in your neck, making you chuckle even harder than before.

“You are an adorable couple, but class is not over yet!”

Your boyfriend freezes, chocolate orbits opening wide, mouth still latched at your skin as he lifts his gaze to face your teacher.

“Shit”, you choke out before desperately searching for the buttons that truly deactivated your mic and camera. Oikawa’s cheeks are a light pink as he lets out a nervous chuckle, straightening up before rubbing his nape.

“Sorry!”

“Oikawa-san~”, A bunch of female voices come out of the speakers and you automatically roll your eyes.

Regaining his confident self, he shows them his charm, smiling as he makes his trademark peace sign, causing the girls to sigh dreamily. But before they can admire your boyfriend any longer, you finally press the right button.

Oikawa immediately pouts, making you frown as he clings again onto your neck, whining.

“What?!”

“You could have showed me off a little more!”

“Doll I need ya!”

Atsumu whines, sitting in front of his desk, dropping his head back on the chair as he looks at your figure across the room.            

“I’m busy” you say not even sparing him a glance, putting a frown on his dark brows. You keep reading your book on his bed as the setter squints his eyes at you, “You are in class anyways.”

“But I have my camera off, we aren’t doing much!”, you lift your gaze, finding his hazel orbits begging at you. You sigh, standing up and taking long steps in his direction.

“What do you want ‘Tsumu?”

“Make me company! Sit on my lap, doll”, he pats his thigh with a sneaky smirk that had you frowning.

You try to gaze at the laptop to make sure there are no unexpected viewers but Atsumu quickly grips your waist pulling you onto his lap, making you grunt.

“There we go, god, you are very prickly!”

“What did you say?” you shriek, pushing his arms away to stand up when a cute laugh slips past his mouth as he tightens the grip on your waist, leaning closer to your face.

“Sorry, sorry,but you look so cute when you are angry”, a teasing grin swirls on the corner of his lips as he erases the distance between you, eyes softening as you pout.

And before you can say something else, he captures your lips, silencing any of your further complains. Your hands travel to his neck, instinctively caressing the back of his head.

“Miya―”

“SO, THIS IS THE REASON WHY I CAN’T BE IN MY OWN ROOM?!”, Osamu interrupts the teacher, his brows bowing up in surprise across the screen as the kitchen counter acts as background. You tense up as Atsumu’s chuckles resonate against your lips.

“You wanted to get caught, don’t you?”

Atsumu’s eyes blink for a moment, staring at your warm face before cupping your chin as his free hand squeezes your hip.

“Not really, but it’s a bonus they got to see how lucky I am”

“Kou, I can feel you staring, you know?”

Bokuto jumps from the small gap he left while opening the door, attempting to sneak silently into your room. You press the keyboard mindlessly, too tired to make sure your camera is actually off as you turn to face Fukorodani’s captain.

“I wanted to surprise you!”, he confesses, thick eyebrows falling but just as quick his eyes shine as he moves his hands excitedly, “I found this cool movie and―

“Kou, I’m sorry but I have to finish this group project first” you point at your laptop where your classmates are yelling at each other before smiling faintly at him,

Bokuto’s face contorts as he sees the way you squeeze your nose bridge with closed  eyes. He moves behind you before leaning down to plant a soft kiss on top of your head,

“Babe, you need to rest too”

“But―”

His big hands travel to your shoulders, putting some pressure on your muscles, giving you a so needed massage that had you letting out quite sighs.

“Feels good?”, he coos, smiling as he hears your cute sounds with each movement of his thumbs over your skin. You lean your head to the side, so your cheek rubs the outside of his palm, making Bokuto blush as he laughs softly.

“Hey, Y/N, are you falling asleep?!!”

One guy says from the laptop, smirking teasingly at the ace, causing your eyes to flutter open and your cheeks to burn realizing you’ve been observed all this time.

“She was finally relaxing, dude!” Bokuto says, frowning, as the other one chuckles in the background. He stands by your side before spinning your chair, so you face him.

“Kou?”

Without a word, he carries you Koala style, completely ignoring your classmates complains from your laptop. His face turns to the side, kissing your cheek as his strong arms hold you tightly against his bulky body.

“Sorry gorgeous but you are taking a nap right now!”

TAGLIST:  @oikadiors @sazunari @hajiswife  @arrogantsonofabiscuit @lemillieon @kenmaki @wak4tosh1 @tobiosbbyghorl l @mjoork @ilovecheese08 @milktyama @putmeinyourdeathnote  @itsmeauedrieee @realityisabitch-blr  @devilgirlcrybabiey @catb6y  @hiyo-its-iyo  @sharkbb @akkeyomi @milkbreadforlife @alina3419 @kg3yama @kenmasonlyhoe @xobabyalina @i-need-entertainment @leconfuseddemon 

[burnedbyshoto]

for want of a bento box

– It’s plain and simple, you see, someone is stealing your bento boxes and you will find your lunch thief! Or, in which Todoroki Shouto keeps taking your bento box and you declare war. 

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing, shouto is a bad chef, I believe I made reader pretty gender neutral but I whipped this out in two hours and I can no longer remember if I used any fem!pronouns but im pretty sure I didn’t

word count: 3,060

a/n: this is for the wonder coworker bnharem collab! I had intended on writing a completely different theme and storyline but was very overwhelmed by how much time it actually needed to be written compared to the amount of time I actually had. that version will be out another time! but for now, enjoy some pure flufffffff!!!!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Having a normal, functioning, well-paying job was probably the most desirable thing to you. It wasn’t to say that you were slacking or that you were homeless, broke, and never to be seen again because you were that in debt. But it was nice having a job!

When you entered the prestigious Toshinori Company, you joined not as an entry-level job employee but as a senior representative. You thought it was crazy.

It had to be crazy.

You had no prior experience, and now you were going to be in charge and the lead in certain areas?!

“And that was the entire layout of the office!” Mina chirped happily, throwing herself onto the desk chair across from yours with a big smile. “Any questions?”

“I don’t think so,” you mutter, brows creased as you look around the room again. 

The office space was ample, sleek, open. Each desk has its own grand computer that you currently could not afford with your own money, comfortable chairs, and beautiful wood desks. It was elegant, far superiorly fancy, and yet, you didn’t feel out of place. Strange.

“Oh!” you say with a roll of your eyes as you reach below your desk to bring up your packed lunch. “Where was the break room again? I need to refrigerate my food!”

“Omg, of course, come this way!” Mina grins, standing up and motioning you to follow her. You smile gratefully and do. 

The entire way to the office, Mina takes the time to point at the many different people on the floor and give them names. Everyone so far had sort of acknowledged you earlier as Mina was giving you the official tour. Some were much more open and friendly, and some had sneers or blank stares that left you dumbstruck. 

Definitely a personable group.

“Hm, well, I guess Todoroki-kun isn’t here today?” Mina mutters as you enter the break room that has couches and comfortable-looking chairs. “Such a shame! You would have loved to see the office hottie!”

You snort at that, lips curled into a granulous smile as you place your plastic container with food into the fridge. “I’m sure I’ll live,” you brush off the fact that there was an absent person on your floor today.

“That’s the thing, though,” Mina points a finger at you, a lone eyebrow raised and a confident smirk on her face. “You won’t be thinking that again the moment you see him!”

You laugh, eyes crinkling as Mina joins your laughter. Eventually, she motions for the both of you to leave, and you nod in understanding. And with a weird sense of comfort and belonging, you realized that this job was going to be good. 

.

.

Eventually, you had been working at Toshinori Company for two months.

Sixty-two days to be precise, and in all that time, you had only met Todoroki Shouto once. Even then, you had only seen the man walking through the office with a blank face, fingers in his pockets as two other men were walking in front of him, bickering lightly.

Had Mina not quite literally thrown herself across the table and gripped the collar of your shirt and twisted your head to look at him, you would have never caught a glimpse at the man with red and white hair. The three of them walked into the break room and came back out with their own lunches before leaving.

And that was it.

You had learned that the three of them (Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku, and Bakugou Katsuki) were within your department but worked very closely with the very high up members within the company. Many rumors pointed at one of the three taking over the company when the current CEO stepped down. They were, however, on the roster for your floor; they just never appeared except to pick up their lunches. Something they seemed to come to grab whenever you were a) way too fucking busy or b) not in the room.

You weren’t too bothered, though.

It wasn’t like you were trying to date one of them! You had only wanted to say hi.

.

.

.

Now, at ninety days, you had your first and probably most crucial evaluation. 

Toshinori Yagi, the man who founded and currently ran this company, sat before you, looking at papers within a folder with tired but kind blue eyes. He nodded, impressed (hopefully), making small comments about the work you had been able to accomplish, a smile becoming a warming grin as he looked up.

“I’m impressed by the performance you’ve managed to attend to despite the short while you’ve been here, y/l/n-shojo,” Toshinori spoke, his fingers threading together and placing them onto the table. “I knew it was an excellent decision to put you in that position, and you exceeded my entire expectation!”

You flushed at that, lips twitching as you attempted to suppress that smile of yours. 

“Thank you, Toshinori-san,” you practically wheeze as he waves off your thanks.

“No need to thank me, you’ve done all this work!” he laughs, tired eyes closing with a glorious supply of crow's feet blooming at the corner of his eyes. “Typically, at these evaluations, I ask a bunch of questions because there isn’t too much anyone can do in their first ninety days, I must admit.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm, but because I am curious, is there anything that has been happening as of late that you feel needs to be addressed with me?”

You felt yourself stiffen but knew your one and only complaint was not something to bring up in this setting.

“No, nothing,” you shrug, and Toshinori beams.

“I’m glad!”

Now, the problem.

The big, fat, stinky, hooligan, wanting to throttle someone problem.

For the past sixty of your ninety days, someone has been stealing your lunch.

Yes, you heard that correctly; someone was stealing your damn lunch! Every morning you woke up and prepared a delicious bento box for yourself. Some days you went as far as cutting shapes into your fruits and veggies just to make yourself grin. You weren’t the best chef in the world, but your bento boxes were pretty enough to make up for it, in your opinion. But the thing is, every day when you went into the communal fridge, you noticed two things.

One, your bento box was no longer in the same place, and two, the bento box was not yours at all.

The food was disastrously organized. Rice and lettuce spilling out in every partition in the box. The fruit and veggies often packed in this box had multiple cuts in them, implying that whoever did this was less than ideal with a knife. The meat was often oversalted, the sushi never sitting together, and everything was just… not it.

The first time you had sighed and eaten it, grumbling about how your precious lunch was stolen. But you had quickly figured out that it was inedible, and Mina, Uraraka, and Yaoyorozu thank god, offered to share their meals. 

Seeing that you were distressed about how someone stole your egg and octopus sausages one day, Mina declared that they would watch the break room for whoever was stealing your light blue bento box. The first day you staked out, you had done it with Mina. But ten minutes into waiting around, you needed to pee. So you stood up and left in a hurry, leaving Mina alone.

But when you returned, Mina was gone, instead standing by Kirishima’s desk with a bright grin and a stance that screamed that she heard something she liked (gossip, possible in-office romance, a love confession?). Her jaw dropped as she noticed you and Kirishima had turned and waved in your direction as you raced into the break room to open the fridge, and sure enough, your bento was gone.

The next time, you staked out with Uraraka. Your arms were folded, your bladder cleared, and your lips twisted into a pout as you glared and stared down every single member who entered the room. Uraraka whispered to you her guesses about just who might be the thief, every other person rating an 8/10 likelihood of stealing your lunch.

But as the both of you sat there, your eyes narrowed at each passerby, no one came to collect your bento today.

“Deku-kun, no packed lunch today?” Uraraka asked as the green, curly-haired man you had only met once previously raced into the break room, grabbing the extra chopsticks meticulously hidden in the third bottom draw.

“Ah, Uraraka-san, y/l/n-san! Uh, no,” Midoriya greeted you both, who apparently responds to the nickname Deku, laughs off as he grabs a handful of napkins. “Todoroki-kun left all our lunches in his car by accident, and well… they spoiled… Kacchan’s pissed, so I ran off to get lunch for us today!”

Uraraka laughed, shaking her head, “Leave it to Todoroki-kun to act that way.”

Midoriya laughed, bright and clearly in agreement, “You should have seen his face when Kacchan asked for his lunch! I swear–”

“HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO GRAB FUCKING CHOPSTICKS, SHIT-KU! I’M FUCKING STARVING!” a voice roared from nowhere near the entrance of the break room. You did, however, jump a bit, eyes turning toward the break room entrance to see the blond man (Bakugou? Kacchan? You had no idea which was correct) near the entrance of the floor. 

“It’s only been a minute, Kacchan, relax!” Midoriya laughs, completely unaffected by the startling shout as he waves goodbye to both you and Uraraka before leaving, joining Bakugou as the both of them seem to talk comfortably… well, maybe more like bickering.

“Why are they–”

“Childhood friends, apparently,” Uraraka sighed, but the smile on her face betrays her exasperation.

No one stole your bento that day.

Yaoyorozu took up the third stake out, the two of you idly chatting about tea. You honestly had no idea what to talk about with Yaomomo; she was often just so elegant and mature despite being your age. When you learned that her family was in charge of the Yaoyorozu Corp, it had been strangely easy to accept that. 

It made sense.

So as the two of you stood at the kitchen sink, boiling water for tea Yaomomo swore would be the best matchup for your packed nigiri, the both of you missed the man who walked into the room, opened the fridge, and took your lunch.

“I… I am so sorry,” Yaomomo apologized, head bowed dangerously low as the both of you looked at the sloppily cut salmon in your not actual bento. “Please eat my food in reparation.”

“No, it’s okay,” you sigh, chewing on the somehow still warm salmon. “I deserved this loss.”

Luck was just on this man's side, it seemed. No matter what you did, you could never catch the man in action, and you were ready to give up.

But this was the last attempt you said to yourself as you returned to your office floor, the evaluation done, and the rest of your life coming to light. You could do this. No! You WOULD do this!

.

.

“Why don’t you just put your name on your bento box?” Bakugou asked, a lone eyebrow raised in what you could only assume was judgment and pity. The explosive man was standing in the doorway of the breakroom, watching as you and Mina were trying to climb up the counters of the breakroom to grab the camera you had previously planted. “Obviously, it doesn’t have your name on it.”

“Um,” you squeak, having been obviously caught by someone who intimidated you just the slightest bit. “That’s a good idea, thank you, Bakugou-san.”

“Tch, whatever, just clean up the damn counters, fucking nasty standing up on there. Some people prepare their food there.”

“We would never forget to do that!” you argue, desperate to not leave a bad impression on this man.

“I don’t know much about you, but I know raccoon eyes over there would.”

“MY NAME IS MINA!”

“Like I care.”

He left without so much as a wave but did seem to nod with his departure. You sighed as you hopped off the counter, Mina grabbing the cleaning supplies as she cursed out the long-gone man under her breath. 

But you were looking at the fridge with your missing bento box.

“I can’t believe I never put my name on it.”

“It’s okay! Not even Yaomomo thought of it, so I say we are still smart!”

.

.

.

It was the next day, you were at your desk, anxious as hell as you did your work, trying not to focus on the fact that it was lunchtime and you were actively avoiding the break room. You wondered if they wouldn’t come and collect it today. If somehow they were an asshole and wouldn’t care if your name was on it! What would happen then? What if it was someone like Bakugou who was taking your lunch? What then? You were sure you would cave in slight fear and major intimidation if he said that your lunch was his now.

“Want a cutie while we wait, cutie?” Mina asked, waving the small tangerine in her fingers as she grins.

“Please,” you say in gratitude for the food because you were starving. “Thank you.”

Eventually, you lost track of what was happening, becoming all too invested in the conversation that Mina was telling you about that involved Kaminari, Kirishima, Bakugou, Midoriya, twenty-seven Red Bulls, fifteen Monsters, and five shots of sake. It seemed that the former two were quite big instigators when they wanted to be, and the latter two were unable to back away from challenges, especially when the other was involved.

“Y/l/n?” an unfamiliar voice called from behind you, and you turned partially in your chair as you looked behind you.

Standing behind you was a tall man with red and white hair, and from this distance, you noticed immediately that his eyes were a deep grey and brilliant blue.

Todoroki Shouto.

“T-Todoroki-san!” you greet him back, voice unable to keep from trembling as your nerves shot up. What was going on? You two had never interacted before! He was always gone, never present, and whenever he was in the office, it seemed that you weren’t there.

He cleared his throat and raised up two identical bento boxes.

“It seems… I have apparently been stealing your bento boxes,” he concludes, pressing the blue bento box with your name written on it into your hands.

Your jaw drops as your fingers curve around the cool plastic, eyes blinking up a storm as you try to abstain from laughing high pitched and ugly like. 

“It was you?!”

A pink color blooms onto his cheeks as he averts his eye contact with you and nods slowly, “I am so sorry.”

“I just… how?!” you exclaim, exasperated, this man obviously being a bit dense if he had no idea he was taking your bento box!

“I prepare my bento boxes the night before, and I don’t really remember what I put into them….” Todoroki explains slowly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, his tongue clicking the roof of his tongue. “I just thought that my cooking was improving and that I was somehow doing an amazing job.”

The grin that overcomes your face is one of subtle, strange fondness and soft warmth. “I can tell you that you probably haven’t improved much,” you tease, opening your bento box to see your prepared meal for the day. 

Cucumber salad, bulgogi beef, rice, and some fruit.

It was packed exactly how you remembered.

“I can’t believe I finally get to eat a meal I prepared,” you continue to tease, your eyes moving up to meet Todoroki, who was also looking at your bento previously. “Thank you for returning my meals and apologizing.”

“It was nothing,” Todoroki waved off with a single hand before opening up his own disastrously assembled bento box. It looked worse than usual today. Everything was just thrown in, it seemed. You saw egg and rice, but everything else in there was indescribable. He smiles at you before sighing at his bento. “This looks more like my stuff.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You want to share my bento box? I’m sure you probably don’t want to return to that.”

“No, it’s okay,” Todoroki gently declined, although he looked at your bento with great want. He cleared his throat, gaze moving to lock on yours, and you swore his cheeks were still pink but no longer from embarrassment. “I just wanted to come and apologize for stealing your lunch for so long and to thank you for the meals; they were all delicious. Especially the soba you had made.”

“It’s all good; it’s in the past now,” you say gently, somehow finding yourself falling for a man you’ve barely just begun to talk with. The both of you stare at each other, and your skin feels warm. You chuckle, gaze averting for a moment before returning as you tease him. “Although, if you steal from me again, I’m not so sure if I’ll be so lenient.”

“It won’t happen again, promise,” Todoroki smiles, and you feel your spine melt. “But I would love to make it up to you somehow. I can make you dinner one night or something?”

You laugh, head shaking, “No, absolutely not; I don’t trust your cooking skills just yet. But you can definitely take me out to dinner.”

“Yeah, I can definitely do that,” Todoroki agrees, and the both of you fall silent as the shy stares continue. “Does, um… is Friday at seven okay with you?”

“That works,” you say, and Todoroki smiles.

“Good, I’ll uh, see you then?”

“See you,” you agree with a sweet smile before turning around, your fingers raised in a small wave. 

You turn to see Mina, Uraraka, and Yaomomo staring at you, eyes comically wide and so very intrigued.

“Oh… my… GOD!” Mina shrieked as Todoroki walks away, and you shriek as she jumps across the table and shakes you, screaming about office romances and meet-cutes being entirely too underrated. “PROMISE ME I’LL BE INVITED TO THE WEDDING!!!!”

“MINA!”

.

.

.

.

.

It would take about three years of dating, several months of teaching Shouto how to cook, which resulted in a few bellyaches. Still, eventually yes, Mina would be invited to your wedding.

[boldlyvoid]

Eclipse the Secrets

Aaron Hotchner x Penelope Garcia

Summary: keeping their relationship a secret was easy before she moved into the BAU for protection.

warnings: hitmen arc, canon typical violence, protective Aaron, smut, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, office sex, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 5.3K

a/n: part 1 of how they got together is here

From the second he heard she was in trouble, he hasn’t been able to think straight. Penelope Garcia was the absolute love of his life, he wasn’t going to lose her too, so he started planning and preparing. He called the director, they pulled some strings. It was between living at the bureau in a spare office or bringing her home with him, and potentially risking Jack's safety again.

“For how long?” Penelope stares at him, bottom lip wobbling as she thinks about being ripped from her home a second time.

“Until we can provide a viable lead,” Aaron’s voice comes out quiet and soft, “you’ll be here and an agent will be assigned to you until further notice.”

“This is horrible,” she can’t even look at him anymore, the anxious worry drawing her attention elsewhere and thus her eyes follow.

“Witness protection wanted to move you to another state,” he shows her how much worse it could have been, “I convinced them that you’d be safer here. Jess even agreed to spend more nights with Jack, JJ said she’ll take him some nights as well. I’ll be here to keep you company.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she shakes her head lightly, “I can’t take you away from Jack, you rarely see him as it is.”

“That just gives me more incentive to work faster, I’m going to fix this, Penelope, I promise,” he reaches his hand over the desk, if the blinds weren’t open he’d hug her, but all he can do is hold her hand. “I love you.”

“We’re going to have to tell them soon, they’re going to know something's up with you,” she manages to smile at him. “I’m surprised you were able to bring in a box of my things without them knowing?”

“No one was here when I got here,” Aaron smiles back, “but the box is in your office, it’s everything you left at my apartment and I’ll get anything else you need from yours when the case is over.”

“Okay, let’s get to work,” she’s still holding his hand as she stands up, bringing him to his feet and leading him out the door.

“We’re not telling them now,” Aaron whispers, pulling his hand away, “I can’t yet.”

“I hold everyone's hand, it’s not weird,” she takes it again and drags him out the door. “Plus, you’re my bodyguard now.”

“That I am,” Hotch followed her with a half-smile, not wanting to give away how truly happy it made him, being with Penelope.

They ran through the case with the team, he said his typical catchphrase before heading back to his office for his go-bag. He could hear her heels trotting behind him as she attempted to run, catching up with him only because he stops and waits. “Thank you, sir,” she catches her breath and walks at a regular pace, “I just have a few more questions about staying here.”

“Of course you do,” he teases her, extending an arm so she can enter his office first before him.

Closing the blinds while he shuts the door, he just stands there and smiles, “you wanted a kiss before I leave?”

“Duh,” she rushes to his side and wraps her arms around his middle. Rocking him back as she smiles up at him, “come home to me in one piece?”

He laughs, “don’t worry about me. Just stay safe yourself, okay? Stay away from the windows, don’t go anywhere without your agent, if something seems off, follow your gut…”

“I’ll be okay,” she assures him, leaning up and pursing her lips until he leans in and kisses her.

His hands trail her hips and sides, holding her closer as he breathes her in. His hands spread lower to her ass, cupping as much as he can in his hands while she smiles into the kiss.

“Sir,” Anderson opens the door and starts to walk in when he’s startled by the scene in front of him, “oop, never mind.”

They pull away from each other quickly, “get in here.” Hotch pulls him back in and closes the door.

“I’m so sorry, I should have knocked,” Anderson panics, turning to Penelope before his eyes pop out of his head, “but what the fuck?”

“I’ll tell you later but you can’t tell anyone!” Penelope whisper shouts.

“What did you need, Anderson,” Hotch takes control of the conversation.

“Uh, there’s developing news on the hitmen, Axelrod has requested to talk to you,” he informs him. “I can tell the team to leave without you, Rossi and Morgan can handle this one.”

He sighs, “okay, can you tell the team?”

“Yes sir,” Anderson nods. “I’ll keep everything else to myself… can I just say I like this?” He points between them. “You’re really good together.”

“Thank you,” Hotch shoots him a simple smile. “Where am I meeting him?”

“There’s a car waiting for you downstairs,” Anderson says before moving to open the door. “And Penelope’s guards just changed shifts, Agent Michaels is here.”

“I’ll head back to the bat cave now,” she reaches out to hold Aarons's hand quickly, “be safe.”

“You too.”

—

1 week turns to 2, and even after a very stressful case with Axelrod, the NSA, DEA and the darknet, Penelope still can't go home. But at least she’s safe, he’s with her and the team is on their way home and can’t bother them for the next few hours.

“Daves bringing you back a gift,” he says from the doorway of her new room. “As a housewarming gift.”

She sighs as she tucks the silk sheet into her couch mattress. “If it’s a king-size memory foam mattress, I’ll gladly take it.”

He laughs, “come here,” he opens his arms and waits for her to hug him. “I’ll find a way to make it more comfortable for you in here,” he explains as he holds her. “I promise.”

“Stay with me tonight?” She whispers.

He kisses the top of her head, “of course, sweetheart.”

“Do you want an omelet for dinner?” She pulls back with a sniffle, switching gears so she doesn’t go into shutdown mode.

“Do you have jalapeños?” He teases.

She scoffs, “do I?”

He smiles, leaning in and stealing a quick kiss, “I figured you did.”

“I have had a love affair with all things hot and spicy since I was like, 12,” Garcia explains as she sets up her chopping station, with a little cutting board and bowl of jalapeños, handing it to Aaron to chop.

“I’m sure you have,” he teases her.

“I’ve been into all things Hotch and sexy since I was like, 27,” she teases him right back.

Aaron actually laughs, smiling so hard his cheeks start to hurt.

“Oh my gosh,” she giggles to herself as she gets the eggs and a mug, “we’re making dinner together at the office… this is so fun!”

“We have dinner here all the time?” He laughs back.

“Yeah, but the cafeteria food and ordering in doesn’t count,” she explains. “We’ve never made dinner together… I never thought the first time we made dinner together would be in my office safe room.”

She doesn’t intend it as a diss, she’s trying to make light of the situation and yet it breaks his heart. He never wanted this to happen again, he never wanted a woman he loved to have to hide for her life.

“I know,” he sighs, “I really hate that you’re in here, you know that right? I would have brought you home with me but that’s still just as dangerous.”

“I know—

“No, you don’t,” he turns to her with a teary look in his eyes. “I peeled you away from your friends and family in California and made you work for us, selfishly. I never considered how hard it would be for you to settle here and make a life when you didn't know anyone here. And now I’m doing it again, I never wanted you to have to leave your safe place again.”

“Oh, honey,” she walks over to him and cups his face with her hands, “don’t wipe your eyes you’ve been cutting jalapeños, that would be really dumb.” She wipes his eyes for him as he laughs slightly.

“I love you,” she whispers once he’s okay again, “you’re my family and you’re right here. You didn’t take me from my safe place, you are my safe place.”

“I love you, too,” he whispers up at her with a sweet smile. “It makes me unbelievably happy to know that you feel safe with me.”

“Did you know that’s why I said okay?” She asks.

He shakes his head, having no idea that the Penelope he met back then liked him at all. “You did?”

“Yeah,” she chuckles thinking back to it, “this big strong handsome man offered me a job where I could continue to fight for people and not go to jail. I knew we’d be a good team, I knew something special would come from following you to Virginia.”

He stands and wraps her up in his arms, holding her close to his heart with a hand on the back of her head as she presses her face into his chest. He loves her so much he’s lost the ability to explain it, he’s transcended the normal amount of love for her and entered the unspeakable. He’d do anything for her.

—

The couch is a lot more comfortable than she expected it to be. With her silk sheets and extra pillows, and Aaron Hotchner snuggled into her… it was easy to sleep like that. The two of them fell asleep on the tiny couch, somehow more comfortable like this than ever before, barely clothed and carefully covered by the sheets.

“Good morning baby girl!” Derek cheers as he keys into her room and pushes the door open, “oh my god!”

He startles both of them, making Hotch jump from where he was spooning into Penelope and cover his bare butt with the sheets again.

“OH!” Derek points at him, horrified, “no! This isn’t happening. This is a nightmare.”

“What are you doing in here?” She pulls the blankets up over her boobs and looks over at Derek, holding a mostly spilled tray of coffee and a bag of breakfast sandwiches.

“I brought breakfast…” he’s so shocked, more upset that she didn’t tell him, and she can see that on his face. “How long has this been going on?”

“A few months,” Aaron answers for them. “She wanted to tell you, I wasn’t ready.”

Derek takes a deep breath and sets everything down on her table, “uh, I’d stay and clean up this mess but I think I’ve done enough…”

“Derek,” Penelope calls after him as he leaves the room in a hurry. “fuck… you shouldn’t have stayed.”

“I know,” he agrees. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

She shakes her head, “no…” she just wants to cry. “We always work it out, he needs his Derek time to adjust to the information. He’ll be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, “can I have a kiss before I go?”

She nods, leaning in and kissing him softly and pushing him back against the mattress. Tossing a leg over him, she kisses the side of his mouth as he begins to protest, kissing the pulse point on his neck to make him shut up.

“Really?”

“Yes,” she grinds down on him. “If I'm getting caught in the bed with you, completely naked, I’m going to get something out of it.”

“Fair enough,” Aaron flips them over without a second thought, disappearing under the sheets and making up for his mistake of falling asleep.

He’s admitted time and time again how much she turns him on, but she never believed it until they had sex. When he slipped between her legs and covered her thighs in love bites and praise, making her feel more beautiful than ever before.

It was difficult to be quiet with him, biting her lip as she writhed in the sheets, gripping his hair as he went on. Suddenly, she arches her back as her orgasm builds, “Aaron,” she chants his name in a whisper.

He pulls back, rubbing her clit with the flat of his fingers, fucking her through it and gathering her wetness with his hand, sitting up and taking the blanket off with him. He coats his cock as he gets in closer, “can I?”

She wraps her legs around his hips and pulls him in closer, “please?”

He always, always, taps her clit with the head of his cock a few times before dragging through her folds and slipping in. It’s a glorious feeling, she can’t help the moan she releases as he bottoms out and lays chest to chest with her. Feeling the weight of him against her as he fucks her was always her favourite. Being trapped between his strong arms, his lips on her neck as he thrusts into her with force. The pullout couch squeaks and hits the wall and she hopes to god no one is in the room on the other side. It was obvious what was happening in there, and just her luck, the rumour would be she fucked Morgan. No one expected it to be their unit chief who’s railing her into next week.

“Shh,” he shushes her before placing his lips on hers, letting her moan into the kisses and muffle the sound. She holds him close, right at the edge of orgasm once again, gripping his back in anticipation for the big release.

She feels him start to tremble, holding back enough to finish with her, she lets herself go. Moaning into his mouth, her nails dig into his back and no doubt leave etchings on his skin. He fucks her through it, pulling out just in time to jerk himself off over her stomach. She watches in awe as his cum gathers and glistens on her skin, but the groan he makes when he finishes is the sexiest part. It's deep and grumbly, like a rumble from deep inside, a monster becoming free. It was heavenly.

He plops back down on the mattress beside her, “fuck…”

She lets out a deep breath before smiling to herself, staring up at the ceiling with her chest still heaving, “yeah.”

“I love you,” he reminds her, smiling right back as he turns to his side, propping his head on his hand so he can look down at her.

Penelope lets out a deep sigh, “how do I tell him…”

“Tell him how it started,” he whispers. “Tell him how I picked you up after your breakup, admitted I love you and took you to a hotel. Tell him we had ice cream and wine and fell madly in love with each other.”

She shakes her head fondly at the memory, “I would have never thought you were into big girls.”

“Unless I got drunk and told you how I’d let you suffocate me with your thighs,” Aaron teases her. “You’re everything to me, make sure he knows that. I’m never going to hurt you if that’s what he’s worried about?”

“I think he’s more worried for the team dynamic if this doesn’t work out,” she admits. “Cause he knows you’re a good man, he’s said before that there’s no one better for me than you. You’re a wonderful man, Aaron.”

“Thank you,” he accepts it genuinely.

It’s always been her number one priority to make him smile, ever since she met him she’s been trying to get on his good side. The longer she’s known him the harder it was to make him smile, turns out making him fall in love was the ultimate way to make him smile.

—

He gets dressed using things from his go bag, passing Derek who doesn’t even look him in the eye as he makes his way back to his office a lot later than he should have. His hair is a mess, he’s a little sore from the night before and Derek knows why.

“What’s his problem today?” Dave gestures towards Morgan as he walks into his office. He’s sitting on the edge of Tara’s desk when he’s normally off with Penelope.

“He walked in on me and Garcia this morning…”

“No way,” Dave shuts the door so they can really gossip. “How many people know now?”

“You, Anderson and Derek,” he sighs. “I think we’re going to have to tell everyone, but I think we should wait for Spencer to come back.”

“Speaking of, have you heard from him?” Dave worries. “He was really upset before he left, I remember when my mom died, I was out for a week…”

“I think if he loses his mom we’re going to lose him,” Aaron admits. “After Gideon, I don’t think he can take losing her as well.”

Dave taps his chest in the shape of a cross, “here’s hoping she lives a very long, very healthy life.”

Aaron smiles, “but, yes I did hear from him. He’s good, he’s coming back tomorrow and he thinks he has a plan for catching the hitmen.”

“Of course he does,” Dave smiles. “Do we have a case today?”

“Not yet, but it’s early,” he sighs. “I’ve quite liked having the last 2 weeks in the office with her.”

“I’m sure,” Dave gives him a knowing smile. “Have you been home at all?”

He nods, “I see Jack as much as I can, but Jess knows how much I love Penelope, she understands why I’m staying more.”

He looks out the window of his office to see her standing beside Derek, trying to convince him to talk to her in her office. Derek shakes his head, making Tara look at them with knowing eyes, trying to figure out the secret they’re keeping.

“We’ll get them, she’s not going to be in trouble forever,” Dave says but Aaron isn’t listening.

“Tara’s going to know,” he gestures with his head towards them at their desk.

“On it,” Dave exists his office quickly. “Lewis, I need a consult.”

“Now can you come with me?” Penelope begs Derek.

“Somethings going on,” Tara doesn’t move. “What’s happening?”

“I’m dating Hotch,” she whisper-mumbles.

“What?”

“I’m dating Hotch,” she says a bit louder. “Derek walked in on us sleeping this morning and now he’s mad at me for not telling him when the only reason I didn’t is because I knew he’d do this.”

“Do what?” He snaps at her. “I’m allowed to be worried, you’re my best friend?”

“Yes, you can be worried, but you act like no one is good enough for me and you never take into account if I’m happy,” she snaps back. “Like with Kevin. You knew he couldn’t hurt me, he was a loser, and you never considered the fact that being with him made me unhappy all you cared about was that he wasn't a threat to me. I don’t care if there’s a risk dating my boss, he makes me happy.”

“Okay,” Derek's posture drops as he gives in. “You’re right. I don’t think anyone is good enough for you, and never in a million years did I think you’d get with him…”

“Then you don’t know me at all,” Penelope stares him down.

Hotch stands in his doorway, listening to the whole thing as the rest of the office does too. Hearing all their secrets and no longer keeping it just between the two of them. She looks up at him, realizing she messed up, but he smiles at her.

“I love her,” Hotch announces, loud enough for all the attention in the room to switch to him. “And I’d appreciate it if this stayed here. If the hitmen know that we’re together, then my family could be at risk again.”

Everyone nods silently, a few mumble “yes sir,” while Derek just stares at him.

Penelope sighs, “this is such a relief.”

He smirks to himself, “back to work.”

They all break apart, hustling around the office the way they usually would as they go about their business. Tara has questions, Penelope has no problem answering as Derek climbs the stairs to Hotch’s office.

Aaron sits back down at his desk, watching as Derek closed the door and quietly sat in a chair across from him. “I’m sorry she didn’t tell you.”

“You need to promise me you won’t hurt her,” Dereks never been so stern with him. “I think you’re a great guy, I know that you’re serious about loving her and you’d never do it intentionally… but if she gets hurt because of you, I will never be able to look at you the same way again.”

“I know,” he can’t make eye contact with him. Nodding along as Derek talks. “If she gets hurt because of me, it’s me you have to worry about hurting myself. I can’t live without her, Derek. She’s the love of my life.”

“Wow,” Derek’s really shocked. “Really?”

He feels a bit emotional, nodding softly. “She’s safe with me, I promise.”

“I believe you,” Derek reaches his hand across the desk to hold Aarons, making eye contact and smiling. He really did.

—

“Garcia,” he startled her as she reached for something in the fridge, “we have to go.”

“Now? But, Aaron I’m barely dressed?” She mentioned the robe and skimpy pj’s on underneath.

“There’s been a major break in the case, we have to go, I’ll have someone get you some clothes, we have to go,” he takes her hand and continues to explain as he drags her out of the bullpen towards the elevators.

“Honey, you’re scaring me,” she whispers towards him.

“Cochran talked, Reid’s on his way back, we have a few days to plan but we can potentially have them all in custody by the end of the week,” he explains softly, pulling her in close, “you might get to go home soon.”

“Oh my god,” her eyes widen, she’s been so stressed the mere idea of sleeping in her own bed is enough to make her cry.

“We have a video meeting with Cochran in solitary. He snapped sooner than we predicted,” Aaron doesn’t let go of her as he explains. “He’s going to tell us about the hitmen, we’re going to profile them and I have a backdoor into the dark web from Axelrod.”

She pulls him into a quick kiss, “you really are my night in shining armour.”

He nods, “that makes you a princess.”

She hums against his lips as she steals another kiss, “I like how that sounds.”

They pull away just in time for the elevator to ding, taking them to the boardroom with the projector, talking to Cochran in his bright orange jumpsuit and taking notes about it all. 4 hitmen and their computer guy, a sniper, bomber, black widow assassin and a chemist.

“At least my death would have been interesting,” Penelope jokes, “never a dull moment here.”

“Don’t joke, please,” Aaron whispers to her, paler than normal. It’s really taking a toll on him, “I can’t even stomach the idea of them being successful.”

She takes his hand over the table, rubbing her thumb over his skin softly. “I’m never leaving you.”

She stayed by his side after that. Sitting together in the briefings, he stayed in her office as they looked into the darknet and they held hands as often as they could. She knew his love language was touch, she left a hand on his leg when she could, she kissed the top of his head every time she passed him when he was sitting, she brushed shoulders and took lint off his shirt… she was all over him and not even trying to hide it anymore.

And she got touchier as she got closer to being able to go home. After the sniper and the chemist were taken out, the snowman was taken care of, Reid had a plan for the black widow, all they had left was the bomber.

“When did you and Hotch start sleeping together?” Spencer asks as he riffles through his go-bag. Picking a nice outfit for his date with a hitman.

“What?” She never expected him to be the one to flat-out ask.

“You’re not even this touchy with Derek, even with Kevin you weren’t all over him,” Spencer’s always been very observant. “And he’s not normally one to like being touched so it’s just confusing to me that you’re all over each other and I’ve only been gone 3 weeks.”

“Uh, you remember Josh, right?”

He nods, “you broke up last year?”

She nods, “I called Aaron because Josh hit me.”

“What?” Spencer’s face fills with rage. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because I didn’t want to make big deal out of it, I felt stupid and I knew he’d just hug me and make me feel safe… and then I fell in love with him,” she shrugs. “I can’t really explain it, Spencer, I’ve always felt safe with him and I think this is how it was supposed to be.”

“I’m just glad you’re happy,” he places his hand on her shoulder with a smile, “and after tonight you’re going to be happy in your own home.”

“I’m probably going to Aarons,” she smirks. “Jess has Jack for the night and hopefully tomorrow we can take him to breakfast and tell him that we’re dating.”

Spencer smiles, shaking his head, astonished by the information. “wow… okay.”

“What?” She can’t help but giggle back, she loved that Spencer smile. The one he only had when things were really good.

“I’m happy for you, what am I not allowed to be speechless?” Spencer laughs.

“I guess I just don’t find it that weird like you guys do,” she shrugs. “We’ve been together for months, I’ve known him almost as long as I’ve known you. It feels right…”

“I think you’re good for each other,” Spencer agrees. “It makes sense why you get along so well—

“because I’m a Taurus and he’s a Scorpio?”

“No,” Spencer laughs again. “Because he’s so stoic and closed off and you’re bubbly and bright, it’s the perfect mix.”

She nods with a smile, “he’s the moon, I’m the sun, we’ve had that discussion before.”

“The sun loves the moon so much that he dies every night to let her breathe, and in return, she reflects his love,” Spencer quotes something she hasn’t ever heard before.

“That’s beautiful,” she lets the feelings sink in, giving her butterflies as she thinks about Aaron’s love for her. “What’s that from?”

“Jeffrey Fry, Distilled Thoughts,” he shrugs. “You said moon and my brain opened the moon labelled filing cabinet and picked a quote.”

“I love your filing cabinet brain,” Penelope reminds him. “And I love that it’s the reason I get to go home soon.”

“I really hope this works,” he takes a deep breath. “What if she sees right through it?”

“I actually had a few ideas about that, come with me,” she takes his hand and drags him to Aaron's office. “Honey, is your ring still here?”

“Honey?” Spencer questions at the same time Hotch asks for clarity. “Ring?”

“If he’s going to pretend to be married, he needs a ring that matches however long he would have been wearing it. You wore yours for 6 years, it will have enough wear and tear to convince her that he isn’t lying,” Penelope explained. “Believe me, she’s a woman, she’s going to notice these things.”

“Yeah,” Aaron gives in with a sigh, opening his side drawer in his desk and pulling out a little box. “Here, just be careful, bring it back to me.”

“I promise,” Spencer takes it carefully and slides it onto his ring finger. “It fits okay.”

“Good,” Hotch manages to smile. “This is going to work. I believe in you, I hope you know that.”

“I do,” Spencer nods softly, smiling with his lips pressed together.

“Okay, let’s get you to that date!”

—

The bomber showing up too was not part of the plan. Cat managed to find out more about Reid than they thought she could. She had a gun, there were C4 charges lining the building, it was overly stressful.

Aaron runs around her room like a chicken with his head cut off, moving maps and plans of the city and figuring out how much damage could be done if Reid didn’t pull this off. He was under her skin, he was in her mind, he was able to convince her that he knew her father and Hotch could swear Cat was interested in Reid for more than just what he could give her. She liked him, which brought her guards down and allowed Spencer to do what he did best.

Talk.

He talked and talked until she was tired of listening. “You’re going to let me go or I’m blowing this whole place up.”

“Reid, let her go,” Hotch announces over the speaker. “Everyone is pulling back outside, you need to let her leave.”

“You can go,” Spencer sighs reluctantly. “But you won’t… I bet you double or nothing you’ll sit right back down and listen to the rest of what I have to say.”

“No,” they heard Cat through the speaker as she goes to stand and leave. “You have to tell me now, or—

“What? You’ll detonate the bomb?” Reid pushes her buttons. “You’re not going to do that, because then you won’t learn anything. You won’t know what I figured out or who I brought with me.”

She sits right back down, “you have 10 minutes. talk.”

“Cathrine Adams, daughter of Daniel Adams, who did, in fact, leave the county in 1987 but he returned in 2012,” Reid explains. “Based on confidential records, he was living in rehabs and sober living houses right here in DC.”

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?” Spencer stares her down. “Or did you just not look hard enough? Because I found him on the street, hugging a bottle of whisky asking me when supper was going to be ready. He didn’t even know his own name, much less yours.”

She shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes, “I looked everywhere.”

“He’s here,” Spencer puts on a soft smile so she’ll believe him. “He’s in a cop car around back, there isn’t a statute of limitations on murder. You can get revenge for your mother, you can finally rest knowing the man who hurt you isn’t out there anymore.”

“All I have t do is hand over my gun and go to jail,” she fills in the rest of his deal. “You really thought it all through? I’ll give you that one Doctor Reid.”

“So what do you say? Are you going to blow up the place or are you going to let me cuff you and take you to him?” He asks carefully.

“She’s at the bar, with the cellphone,” Cat gives him. Placing her gun on the table and putting her hands out.

Derek and Tara are with the bomber before he can even lookup, disarming her and the bomb and clearing out the rest of the civilians.

“I can’t believe you got this to work,” Cat shakes her head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe you fell for it,” Spencer chuckles to himself as soon as the cuffs are on her, handing her to the cops and taking back his gun, and Hotch’s ring.

“What?” She struggles in the policeman's grip, “you lied?”

He nods, “your dad died on the streets back in 2012. He’s in an unmarked grave somewhere in Virginia. You lost your chance to make things right a long time ago, now you have to suffer the consequences.”

Penelope watches in shock through the monitors as it all ends. Taking her glasses off, she covers her face with her hands and sobs. Aaron’s quick to wrap his arms around her and hold her close, “it’s okay, you’re completely safe now.”

She turns in her chair, standing and holding him tight with her face against his chest. “We’re safe now.”

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