#then getting someone bad in available space and having to wait out getting rid of them

[witch-hazels-musings]

Would it be possible to get a shy s/o sharing a bed for the first time with Diluc, Childe, and Albedo (all separate)?

^ my interpretation of this is that the reader hasn’t been with the character for very long, and they were taking things slow - so the characters are doing everything they can to keep the reader comfortable while also holding themselves back

Also, do you like the trope of getting stuck in a storm and, whoopsie, there’s only one bed at the inn?  -> I like that trope

the weather has other ideas

Warning -> hints at things, sexual tension, dangerous/bad weather (SFW*)

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Includes: Diluc(⚘), Childe, Albedo

It wasn’t ideal, but sometimes things had to happen this way. They just hoped you didn’t hate the idea. What else was there to do? There weren’t any other rooms and there wasn’t any way the two of you could make it to different accommodations, not in this weather.

Diluc

The two of you entered the inn and were drenched. The sudden downpour catching you off guard and the chilly wind making it dangerous to stay out in it for too long. Diluc knew the area well enough to remember the small inn close by and so, with urgency, he led you there.

“Excuse me, are there any rooms available?” Diluc desperately wanted to wring out his hair, but he didn’t want to be rude.

“Yes, we have one room. Would you like it for the evening?” He looked back at you and knew it would be a challenge to convince you to stay if you knew they only had one room.

“Yes, we will take it.”

“Perfect, we will make sure you have extra towels.” The attendant smiled and Diluc nodded his head.

His main concern was making you feel comfortable. If he could, he’d get rid of anything which caused you to fret - even if it meant he had to hold himself back, and honestly, he had to do that a lot

When the two of you got to the room and he saw there was only one bed … well, shit, I hope I can make it through this, he thought

“I’ll pay you back for the room. I’m sure it was expensive with the two to be…” He watched you come to the realization, the way your eyes widened and your hands stopped moving in your wet hair. “One bed.”

“That’s all they had.” He waited for your objection.

“Okay… Uhm. Do you care if I dry off first?” Your lack of protest caught him off guard and he gestured to the bathroom. When you closed the door behind you he made his way out to the covered balcony and wrung out his hair.

He cared for you more than he’s cared for anyone before, and he was so worried about doing something which would destroy you - his hands had the predisposition to take away everything he loved

He had removed his jacket and laid it out to dry in front of the fire. There wasn’t anything to change into and his soaked clothes made him uncomfortable. He heard the door to the bathroom open and watched as you stepped out with a towel wrapped around your body.

“Uh, I’m done. Thank you.” Your eyes were downcast and your arms were tightly crossed around your chest. He swallowed, I think I might be in trouble.

“I’ll be just a second.” You gave him a wide berth and while he knew it was because you were nervous, the thought that you didn’t want to be here kept playing the back of his mind.

When it was dry enough, he walked back into the shared space. His face had a tint of pink to it as he walked past you in his boxers. It was the first time he’d been so exposed in front of someone in a long time. He placed his clothes next to yours and scanned the room for you. The moment he saw you already in the bed, the sheets pulled around your chest he took in a deep breath.

The sun had set and the warmth of the room made his head heavy. When he made his way to the bed and pulled back the sheets he looked at you one final time. You were rubbing your fingers over the ends of your bangs and twisting the strands closest to your face.

“I’ll sleep in the chair.” He began to walk away when you called out to him.

“No, wait. You don’t need to do that.”

“Clearly I do. You’re not comfortable with this and I don’t want to force you …”

“I’m not ... I mean I’m okay. Please, sleep in the bed with me.” Your voice was shaky but you were giving him permission, and the fire in his chest and his want to be close to you turned all other ideas in the dust.

“I promise not to do anything.” He slid under the covers and rested his head on the pillow. You followed suit and he noticed your hands run through your drying hair before twirling it again. “You know you do that when you’re nervous.” He looked up at the ceiling.

“Do what?”

“Play with your hair.”

“I do not.”

“You’re doing it right now.” He pointed his finger at you and laughed as you slapped your hands against the comforter. “You don’t need to be nervous. I won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

“I know … but what if I wanted you to.” The warning signals in his brain sounded. There was a pressure building up in his stomach that he had to settle with a deep breath.

“That’s a dangerous thing to say.” The desire in him made his fists clench and he tried to push the words out even through his tense throat.

“Diluc … I …” He grabbed a pillow and shoved it into your face. This is not how he imagined spending his first time with you, and you weren’t ready. You had told him many times you wanted to go slow; Archons, please let me respect your wishes.

“Go to sleep.” He turned onto his side and listened for you to settle back into the bed. When your breathing slowed and your movements stopped he turned to see your sleeping face. In the quiet of the night, he slipped from the bed and went into the bathroom to alleviate the pressure.

Childe

“What is with this sudden weather?” You shouted through the storm at Childe. His strong arms gripping against you and with an extended arm pushed the two of you forward. The smell of rain was in the air but it wasn’t the problem, it was the wind. The two of you were jostled around like twigs and Childe was worried about what was coming.

“There should be something just down this hill.” He pressed onward and when the small inn lodged in the mountain came into view he felt like he could breathe again.

Hastily, he pushed the two of you inside. The door closed with a loud bang and within seconds the sound of heavy rain pounded against it.

“Hello?” A small old woman made her way toward you and after he explained the situation she quickly got a room set up and led the two of you down a long hallway. He’d never stayed at an inn inside of a mountain before.

While Childe was giddy from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, he knew this situation would be a lot for you. You had been seeing each other for only a few weeks and while he’d thought about every possible way he could take you, he wanted to do so when you were ready

After the woman left the two of you alone it was too late to call her back and ask for a different arrangement. There was only one bed ...

“Uh.” You began and he saw how apprehensively eyed the bed. It was so cute and it made the feral need in him grow. He ran his hands through his hair and tried to rid himself of those desires as best he could.

“It’s just a bed.” He stated, trying to make the whole thing into a joke, a common tactic of his. “It’s not like it’ll bite.” Walking around the room he nosed his way into every corner and opened all the drawers just to see what was inside. He admired the craftsmanship of the whole room.

“This is a really interesting inn.” You said, your hand running along the natural wall.

“Yeah, I can’t say there is anything like this in Snezhnaya.”

“I’ve never been at a place like this either. Actually, this might be the first time I’ve ever stayed at an inn with someone other than my family.” You chuckled at the comment and continued to look around the room.

This was the first time you’d stayed in a room with someone other than your family. The statement rattled around in his brain and came to rest in the place of - I got one of their firsts. The pride he felt knowing that he was able to claim something of yours, even if it was so small, was unbelievable and made him wonder what other ‘firsts’ he could take.

He tried to play it off as best as he could, but then as the questions moved from general to personal, he knew you’d start to feel embarrassed eventually

He wanted to know everything about you, every bit and piece about you, and even after he finally won your heart, there were still some things he was able to learn from you

He knew you were shy and often became flustered at the simplest of things - one reason he was so drawn to you, he wanted to see all of your reactions - even still, he didn’t want to push you away by his unbelievable desire to make you his

It was so much fun watching you get flustered as he asked you question after question, barely giving you enough time to answer.

“Have you ever dated someone before?”

“Yes, you already knew ... ”

“Did you kiss them?”

“Childe.” He smirked as you turned with your hands on your hips, the look of annoyance spreading across your face.

“I gotta know if I need to add them to my list or not.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Okay … well that depends, what else did you do with them?” Your eyes grew at his question, your mouth opening and closing as if unsure how to answer. He could tell you were flustered, and for some reason that pissed him off. He lifted himself from the bed and walked toward you.

“I mean it was so long ago.”

“What else did you do?” The thought of you with someone else was driving him mad, and even though he started the conversation he was not happy with how it was turning out. Mostly because those past relationships had taken something from him and he hated that. He grabbed your hand and pulled it up to his face. “What else?” He asked before kissing your knuckles.

“Nothing …” He liked the way your eyes fluttered and the way your chest moved as he pressured you.

“Did they kiss you?”

“Maybe.”

“On your lips?” He brushed his thumb along your bottom lip and when you nodded your head he kissed it. He loved the way your lips felt against his, soft and willing. He pulled away and admired your face before asking his next question. “Where else?” He kissed your jaw, “Where else did they kiss you?”

“No - nowhere.”

“Hmm. Did you ever sleep with them?” His eyes searched yours as you snapped them open.

“No! I’ve …” A wave of relief passed through him as he lifted you from your spot and made his way to the bed. “Ah! Childe, hold on.” He dropped you on the bed and looked down at you. When you moved to sit and threw your hands out in front of you he knew, you didn’t need to tell him. “Hold on, I don’t think …”

“I know.” He sat at the edge of the bed and began to remove his shoes. There was a devilish voice in the back of his head that whispered to him to take what he wanted, it reassured him that you would like it even if you weren’t ready and that thought he had to crush down into rubble. “I know you aren’t ready.” He turned and grabbed your hand, leaving a small peck on your fingers before returning to his shoes.

“Thank you … I just want …”

“You don’t need to explain yourself. I’ll wait.” He laid himself out on the bed and turned to face you, his head resting in his hand and elbow digging into the mattress. “Until the day you say you want me, I’ll wait.”

“Okay. Just give me a bit more time.”

“Of course, now let’s get some rest.” The two of you got comfortable under the sheets and even though he had to hold himself back from going further with you, he knew everything would work out in the end. You were perfect to him and while he wanted to take every first he could, he also wanted to be your every last.

Albedo

“A-Albedo.” He looked at your clattering teeth and saw how the tips of your fingers started to change colors. The weather on Dragonspine was incredibly unpredictable, and while he had grown accustomed to the temperature, or at least tolerable of it, he knew you hadn’t.

“We’re almost there.” He reached his hand out to you and noticed the violent shivering of your arm as you clasped your frigid hand in his. Hold on, he begged.

It was grueling pushing through the blizzard and keeping an eye out for any additional dangers while walking along the mountainside. He knew he shouldn’t have brought you up here. It was already a bad idea even during the off seasons, but there were times when the mountain's temperament shifted as if it had a life of its own.

He rounded the bend and through the sheet of snow he made out one of the many campsites he used during his expeditions.

“Just a bit further.” He called back to you and once he saw the frost begin to accumulate on your hair he picked up the pace.

His primary focus was on getting you warm and while he knew some of the actions might make you uncomfortable, or push you past what you were okay with, he had to keep you safe - that was everything

So he set to work as soon as the two of you were inside the large expedition tent. He wrapped and piled blankets around you and started the stove used to heat temporary structures like these

Once the fire blazed and he felt the heat spreading through the space, he closed off the sleeping space to lock in the heat and made his way back to you

You were still shivering when he finished tying the canvas together. He threw a couple of extra logs close to the fire and made his way to where you were. Luckily, this campsite was one of the more well-prepared ones and instead of simple cots, the gear here was much nicer.

“Y/N.” You looked up at him and he touched your face. You were still so cold and even as you smiled at him your body continued to shake. He knew the best option was to share body heat. Quickly, he took off his coat and started to remove the other layers below.

“What a-are you d-doing?”

“You need to get warm. I know it’s unpleasant, but I need you to take off your shirt.”

“What?” You pulled the blanket tighter around you and shook your head. He made his way over to you and knelt down in front of the plush cot.

“Trust me.” After a while, you nodded your head and he followed the movement of your arms as they worked the shirt out from the blanket. “Okay, now cover yourself for a second, I’m going to get behind you.”

“Alb … wait, hold on.” He didn’t wait for you to protest. He pulled the blanket out and slipped in behind you. Pushing his chest tightly against your back and snaking his arms around your stomach.

“I’ll only be here until you warm up. Please, bear with it.” He grabbed onto the blanket and pulled it closer to the two of you before resting his head on your shoulder. Even as you continued to shake he found this closeness to be comforting and his mind drifted to places they shouldn’t.

After a while, the space began to warm up and your shivering slowed until it was practically gone

Now, he just held you against him and felt the pull of sleep - something he felt very rarely, it must be because of your proximity

“Albedo?” Your voice made him open his eyes and his gaze fell on the fire. He shifted so he could add more logs to the fire. “Where … where are you going?”

He stopped, confused by your sudden neediness. “You have warmed up but the fire still needs to be tended.”

“Are you … are you coming back?” You avoided his eyes and fussed with the blanket.

“You shouldn’t need my body heat anymore, we’ve passed that trial.” He began to stoke the fire and reposition the logs in the stove, the smoke puffed out the sides and wrinkled his nose.

“Could you?”

“Could I what.”

“Come back?” After he locked the stove door he turned to you and the expression on your face moved something in him. Quietly, he stood up and made his way back to the cot. This time you repositioned the blankets for him and laid down on the cot. He slipped in next to you, the sensation of your chest against his was far more rewarding than being against your back. Once the two of you got settled and your head rested against his chest, a wave of comfort washed over him.

You shifted a few more times and he wondered if you were comfortable too, “Is this okay?” He asked and looked down at your face. Your hair tickled his chest as you moved to look back at him. The color of your skin had returned to normal and he was pleased to know you were going to be okay.

“Yes. This is perfect.” You kissed his jaw and the sensation spread from the contact until it filled up his whole body.

He moved his hand to the arm spanning his chest and the thoughts he often kept locked in the back of his mind started to drift forward. He knew this wasn’t the time but, feeling you close to him and having you touch him, was all a lot to take in.

“Albedo.”

“Yes?”

“Your heartbeat is very comforting.” You slid your fingers over his chest and he couldn’t stop himself from giving your arm a squeeze.

“Try to get some rest, once the storm passes will make our way down the mountain.”

“Okay.” Soon your breathing slowed, and with it so did his heart.

#genshin impact #genshin impact X reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #genshin diluc #diluc X reader #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact diluc #childe X reader #childe #genshin childe #albedo x reader #albedo #genshin albedo #hazelmail #hazels 18+

[curmudggeon]

Southern Hope (Arthur Morgan x Female Reader)

❝ If by any chance...in another lifetime, we happen to see each other again, I'll come and find you. And I'll make you fall in love with me, over and over again ❞

In which romance novelist, Mary-Beth under the pen name of Leslie Dupont, writes a coming of age love story based on her favourite gang members in the past, You and Arthur.

Trigger Warnings; Violence | Blood | Angst | Sexual Intentions

A/N: This is a project I've been working on for quite a while. I had the idea in mind when I had the chance to experience the musical composition of Aaron Copland's quintessential American Dream, 'Appalachian Spring' -one of my favourite pieces with such a beautiful storyline. And I wanted to retell it in the form of a book that is available on my Wattpad (ongoing) for you to enjoy from Mary-Beth's POV. I hope you show love to this book as much as I loved writing it. Have a sneak peek at the prologue!

Read on Wattpad here for more chapters to come!

PROLOGUE

Leslie Dupont; Mary-Beth Gaskill

Lemoyne, Saint Denis

November 1907

-

“Mademoiselle Dupont, we expect your next manuscript to be submitted by next summer. Now is not the time to be reminiscing.”

Here we go again

Mary-Beth sighed as her editor, Céline Laurent, had warned her once more for not meeting the deadline to her books. She was in a crucial position in her life. After her debut as a romance novelist, The Lady of The Manor was an instant best-seller across the country. It was the kind of thing she specializes in, silly ol’ romances.

“I promise you, I’ll get it done by then.” Or maybe, at least not for now. She shouldn't have promised something she couldn’t keep, especially in the meantime.

“I’ll take your word for that, if you don’t meet the deadline by then. Y’know what will happen to your contract, Leslie.” Céline stood at the door frame of Mary-Beth’s office with hands on her hips and raised eyebrows.

She knew exactly what she had meant. In fact, she knew the consequences on the back of her head when she first signed that contract with her publishing company. Two more books were requested of her. Or else she would be evicted of her apartment and be forced to live along the streets of Saint Denis for the rest of her life. A life of luxury slipping between her fingers.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mary-Beth disclaimed, the moment her editor slammed the door as she left her office. Heaving yet another exaggerated sigh, she crosses her arms on the grand rosewood desk, flopping her head on top of it. “What am I going to do now…” She murmured into the crevice of her arms.

Mary-Beth was in the middle of a major writer’s block for a few months now. She lost sight of that imaginative space of hers, consisting of the most swoon-worthy romances to the picture-perfect life she portrayed through her characters. A part of Mary-Beth that her readers absolutely adored. But, her head was now a clouded space of everlasting void. It was difficult for Mary-Beth to come into terms of writing again, but she couldn’t quite identify what had put her into this position.

Once she gathered the courage to write again, it all came crashing down like violent tidal waves when she came face to the daunting blank page of nothingness —almost drowning her.

It was as simple as that. Come to work, have a cup of tea, sit down, and a blank page.

Every. Damn. Time.

Maybe it was because she was already nearing her mid-thirties, and she hasn’t found someone to sweep her off her feet. Maybe it was when she first held Tilly’s baby that she found the need to be a mother someday. Maybe it was the overwhelming response towards her writing, she felt the need to hide away into an abyss. Or maybe she couldn’t stop thinking about the time she had come across John again after so many years that the memories just come flooding back.

Or maybe, just, maybe. It was because it’s November.

The most dreaded time of the year. November, in which the seemingly fearsome Van der Linde gang had officially broken up. Guns were fired, ties were broken and deaths were grieved. An unforgettable, painful memory.

She would often think about campfire songs, the girls and, Miss Grimshaw’s constant nagging about undone chores. Oh, how best of friends Céline and Miss Grimshaw would have been if she had heard Mary-Beth had been slacking again. It was her coping mechanism, think more about the good times to get rid of the bad ones.

Mary-Beth remembered when she took in her hands at being a matchmaker. Prancing around the camp, she would eye her two best contenders. You and Arthur.

She knew from the start when you had laid your eyes on each other for the first time, she could see through the inexplicable connection in between. You were both extremely awkward when it came to small-talk or addressing each other as you walked by across camp. However, it never stopped Arthur to come to camp as soon as he could just so he could see you, even just for a second.

The conversation would often start with Arthur while on his way to Dutch’s tent,

“Hey,”

“Hey.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Yea sure…”

—and that would be it.

At the same time, every single day, at the course of sunset.

You poor socially inept fools.

Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen would always see the interaction happen in the middle of their afternoon chores. Grinning from ear to ear. They would elbow each other whenever there was something different about the correspondence.

One time, you would walk past him, suddenly kissing him on the cheek and scurrying away.

Arthur would stop in his tracks, stunned, with a hand-over where your kiss tingled on his skin. Then he would look back at you as you laid down, smiling to yourself against a tree with a book in your hands. And Dutch would yell his name, knocking him out of his stupor before he noticed he was staring for a little too long.

The girls would start applauding for your heroic performance, it was like a groundbreaking plot twist Mary-Beth couldn’t wait to write about when the idea came into mind.

The both of you were like a walking excruciating slow, slow-burn romance novel. That was when Mary-Beth would cue in her entrance as matchmaker as soon as the interaction slowly died down. Your story had to have a happily ever after in her book.

She would pester you and Arthur separately, mentioning each other’s names and slipping in hints of romantic intentions from the other side so the both of you can address whatever this relationship was.

Mary-Beth knew it was a mission accomplished the night Sean was rescued back to Horseshoe Overlook. When she stood aside of the camp watching Dutch and Molly ballroom dancing into the moonlight, she caught a glimpse of you and Arthur behind them. Running into the woods, hand in hand, giggling to yourselves like prepubescent teenagers.

After that night, it was a considered job well done when your chance encounters slowly turned into planned ones. He would take you on dates, and you would show him affection like nobody’s business. A perfect couple, your American dream.

Until it became a nightmare.

And Arthur had passed,

your Arthur.

Ever since then, Mary-Beth wondered what had happened to you. Were you still alive after all these years? She couldn’t imagine how hard you must be coping with the news. Or what if you didn’t know at all? Even when she asked John and Tilly, they said you disappeared that night he passed.

Not even a single trace. Where were you?

Mary-Beth dismissed the thought out of her head, lifting her head away from the desk. She had to let go of these memories for her own well-being. For what seemed like yesterday were merely years ago. But it couldn’t have hurt to reminisce just a bit, for old times sake.

The story of You and Arthur was unwritten, left to collect dust from the lack of content. The perfect example of a sepia-tinted photograph, forgotten. Mary-Beth believed the both of you deserved something much more than a devastating ending. She wasn’t as ruthless as the other authors she had met that held an iron fist when killing off their characters. Mary-Beth wasn’t like that.

And the idea came to mind. She was a romance novelist for a reason; to fulfil all the possibilities for the unconditional love you shared.

And so Mary-Beth picked up her beautiful fountain pen,

She began to write on the great desk in her quiet room.

To write the most beautiful story of the century,

You and Arthur. Arthur and you.

A perfect couple. The American Dream.

A life that could have been so much more,

A life to remember…

#rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan ff #arthur fanfic #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan fic #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 tag #rdr2 community #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fandom #arthur morgan x y/n #mary beth gaskill #van der linde gang #rdr ff #arthur morgan fanfic

[ren-therose]

The Penthouse Plot

Sherlock X F!Reader (3.8k words)

Summary: Sherlock, John and Reader all go to a penthouse party to pick up some clues about their newest case. But Y/N and Sherlock are put in a compromising situation. 

Warnings: smut 18+, semi-public sex, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), creampie, squirting, after care

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

“We are going to a party”

This was an incredibly abrupt statement from the detective who was still in pajamas at four in the afternoon, slouched down into the arm chair with the news paper covering his face. I couldn’t see his emotions, but I could tell that the idea had already been formulated, and he had not quite been excited out of it. His boredom was chronic, and it would often times only be soothed by myself to get him out of it. 

The first time we met, I was sitting on a park bench in Paddington Street Gardens, not but two blocks away from his flat. As if drawn to the cigarette I was smoking, he walked up as casually as he could, coat turned up, and sat on the bench over from my left. I didn’t look, but I was aware that a tall, dark man was watching me as I tried to solve today's crossword in the paper. 

He leaned closer, trying to take in the smoke for the nicotine high. With a slight glance his way, it was all I needed to take the cigarette from my mouth in my left hand, and casually rest it on the bench next to me. I blew out the smoke to the right side of my mouth though, purposefully keeping it from him, allowing my lips to guide the smoke in a stream to dissipate into the morning air. Still looking at the crossword, I began filling in 20 across, feeling a sense of intrigue and frustration emanating from the man next to me. 

“It’s not diva, its aria,” a deep voice says. I smirk, not looking up to his face quite yet. 

“No shit, Sherlock. 18 down is ‘erie’, so why would I put down diva?” I inquire, but before he could answer, I reply myself. “I was proving my hypothesis: is the detective next to me just trying to second-hand smoke, or is he actually paying attention to me? And the answer was both.”

He stands and comes to sit on my right side, not looking at me directly. The cigarette dangling from my lip wasn’t his main concern anymore. 

“How quickly did you realize it is only an herbal cigarette Mr. Holmes?” I ask, erasing my trap from 20 across. 

“As soon as I first looked at you. You have no stains on your fingers from the smoke, as well as no burns, which tells me you don’t smoke often. If you were a smoker, you would need at least a pack a day, and these tell-tale signs would be there. You don’t need to smoke because there isn’t an addiction. I presume you do it to attract men, though possibly women too, and to fit into the culture of London, as you are not from here. But you specifically looked up this park because you were looking for something or someone. I would presume it is me, considering you recognized me through my name” he says smuggly, finally looking at me. I didn’t know it then, but he later explained that he was shocked to see the prominence of my “subtle beauty”, and the way in which I held posture in every way that symbolized I was relaxed next to him. This of course was followed by the fact that I was so comfortable that I had gained a pound within the first year of knowing him. 

“So you are as good as they say,” I reply, looking up into his clear blue eyes. Those eyes dart down to my lips where the cigarette is still being held by the moisture of my mouth. I remove it, holding out the cigarette between my fingers. “I can imagine it is worlds different from a regular cigarettes addictive effects, but the smell of smoke and the herbs inside might calm you,” I offer. He leans down and takes the cigarette in his mouth, inhaling deeply. I let go of the cigarette as he leans back and removes it. He exhales out, happy to have something other than CO2 leave his lungs. 

“You could have phoned” he said nonchalantly. I closed the newspaper and turned my body slightly more towards him. 

“No I couldn’t. This isn’t about a case or me looking for my parents or some shit. I needed you to listen. I am a doctor and I am looking for the topic of my next publication” I state. His eyes widen a bit, as he gives me a once over. I was quite young to have a doctorate, but the ambition I have was intriguing to him.

“Great, another doctor. And you must study some form of psychology right?” he implies. 

I chuckle as I brush the hair behind my ear to look at him as I explain my credentials. 

“BA in a social science and a minor in Women's Studies and Gender, just to make it easier on you. Two masters in something to do with policy and a knack for behavior trends across cultures. A PhD in…” I trail off to let him figure it out. 

“International Relations. You couldn’t let go of the need to work abroad and help other. You also study the difference in human behaviors and how it can be interpreted and persuaded. It is why you are now living in London, after living in a southern European country, and I’m going to go with Italy” he responds. 

I raise my eyebrow at him. “Italy was fun. I spent most of the time on the mainland with a friend and would visit their family in Sardinia”. 

“He was gay wan’t he?”

“Not that he himself knew.”

The detective laughed. It was the beginning of a friendship, with many late nights, bad coffee and fighting. I lived in the basement of 221 Baker Street, after coming to a bargain price with Mrs. Hudson if I agreed to get rid of the black mold and redo the space for future renters. When I asked her why she was already thinking of future renters, she just smiled and told me Sherlock's door was open and I could just walk in. 

Now, a year and a half later, I was in his flat, in my own night gown and robe, working on pot of tea to make a London foggy, one of Sherlocks favorite drinks I could make. I had told him that if he got to work in his pajamas, or just a sheet at times, then he couldn’t expect anything less of me. But his abrupt statement that we were going to a party had me do a double take. 

“A party? Are we feeling like clubbing tonight Sherlock?” I tease. 

“It is just a bit of field work. But I need you to come with as my date so that I am not bothered by lonely, sad women.”

“Ah yes. All the lonely, sad women will flock to the handsome, cocky detective for comfort and an inquisitive night,” I mock, bringing the tea to him. 

“Isn’t that what you did?” He says without looking up. 

Offended, I grab the paper from his hands and smack him on the head with it. He flinched, protecting his tea from me. 

“Haven’t you figured it out by now? I’m here for John” I say, tossing the paper into his lap. Sherlocks mouth slightly gapes before he snaps it shut, looking behind me. 

“I’m sorry, what did I just walk in on?” John says from the doorway. Sherlock turns red as I walk up to John, pulling my leg up on him, placing my hand on his cheek while giving him a lingering kiss on the other, maintaining eye contact with Sherlock. “Afternoon John,” I say with a flirtatious growl. He didn’t move since my dramatic act, and as I exited the apartment to get ready, I hear John exclaim “I could get used to that kind of welcome”. I laugh as I hear the paper get thrown at the doctor. 

Two hours later, and a lot of fighting with a curling wand, I hear a knock at my door. I do a once-over of myself in the mirror. It was a high-end party, requiring a more put together look, and I was determined to look my best. In helping Sherlock and John, I realized that I rarely dressed up-practicality and professionalism is key. 

I put my phone into my handbag, and slipped my feet into my black pointed stilettos. One more once-over in the mirror next to the door, and I unlatched the lock. As soon as I opened it, the detective couldn’t help but let his eyes wander. My hair was in loose curls around my face, and the dress, oh the dress, flattered my body in every way. It was a silk green dress, that hugged every curve. It was ruched in the sides, creating a tight draping across my abdomen. The fabric on my bust sat just below the tops of my breasts, and dropped to my off-the-shoulder sleeves. I was wearing a simple emerald necklace with matching earrings, and a ruby ring on my left hand. My legs were well accentuated, and the stilettos did wonders for my posture. Still, I was the same girl in pajamas at this now well suited man's place as I was now. 

“You’re giving yourself away Detective,” I flirt, walking by him to climb the stairs to the front of the building. I make extra care to add a little movement as I climb, knowing he would be right behind me and very distracted. It was my favorite game to tease both of the boys, but especially Sherlock. It was always a game, and he loved games. As I exited the building, John was waiting for us outside, also dressed sharply. His eyes widened as I walked towards him. 

“In the words of a great detective, ‘Your body betrays you’ John. It’s still me inside this get-up. Now where is the cab?” I ask. 

“Umm...uh, there hasn’t been an available one yet...” he forces out. 

London was busy on a Saturday night, and it could often be difficult to find a cab. Lucky for us, my dress is pretty reflective, and I was going to use that to my advantage. I stepped off the curb just slightly, jutting out my shoulder blades and putting my weight on one foot to give myself more shape. By the time I had raised my hand, two taxis pulled up. I heard a cough behind me, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson both smirking at me. 

“I’m sorry, did you have a better idea?” I shoot at them. I open the door for myself and climb into the cab. The two men clambered in after me. 

The party was at a lovely high-rise in the middle of London. It looked to be a penthouse, but one grander than I had ever seen. As the three of us exited the elevator, we looked at each other once more, setting our plan in motion. John was to walk around and mingle, while Sherlock and I were to snoop about the place, looking for context clues. I grabbed a flute of champagne from one of the trays, and Sherlock and I began our promenade. We quickly realized that I was drawing a bit too much attention in my get-up and we would need to look around before people noticed we were gone. Our arms entwined, we strolled past the main crowd into a hallway, casually chatting the weather. The detectives hand was on my waist, holding tightly, as though I might leave his side. It was different than they way he usually grabbed my arm to move me around or out of the way of harm. 

We were looking for the bedroom of our hosts place, though, it did not seem there was one here. The penthouse was more of a party pad then a living space, which lends more to our profile of him. We continued to walk, and came across a study. His hand slid off my waist as he entered the room. I stood outside with my drink, while Sherlock took note of every little detail there. As he came out of the room though, I heard footprints coming round the corner. I grabbed his arm and pulled him into the bathroom next to the study. As I pushed him in, our eyes searched each other for the next move that we hadn’t initially planned. Though we were going as a date, it was never really a date. Until now. 

Grabbing the lapels of the detectives suit, I slammed my lips on his, pushing us both backwards onto the sink. Knowing that he was more recognizable. I spun him around so that my back was to the sink and his was to the door. I jumped on to the sink, hiking up my dress a little higher, so that I could hook one leg around his waist. Instinctively, his right hand went to my leg to hold it up, and his left hand was in my hair. 

His lips. I had seen them a million times before, studying his face as he rambled about a case. While he was just a colleague and possibly a friend, there were a few times when I would fall asleep thinking about those lips. And here he was, kissing me on a bathroom sink at a party, with enough force to make me melt into it. My hand went to his hair, as he began to trail kisses down my neck, hiding his face in me so that his reflection could not be seen. My other hand was gripping his waist, trying not to slip into the sink itself. My shoe was dangling on my toes as our bodies continued to crash. We heard the door click open, and my eyes opened to see the host and his assistant wide-eyed at us. 

“Occupied,” I panted, smiling with a small wave. The two quickly shut the door, their footprints receding down the hallway. As soon as it was quiet, Sherlock froze on my collarbone, neither of us moving for a moment. I removed my hand from his hair, trying to pat it back into place. He stood up, and looked down at me. My dress had ridden up further, and my black lace panties were definitely on display. So was the red in both of our faces. I glanced over his shoulder to look at the door, realizing that there was a lock on it. Sherlock didn’t look back. He kept his eyes on me. 

He knew there was a lock. He wanted the situation. He wanted to get caught.

“Lock it” I demanded.

He took a few steps back and turned the button, locking the door. His eyes didn’t leave me. I was still propped up against the sink, both hands propped up behind me. My legs had still been open, and as his eyes raked over my body looked, I grew self-conscious and went to close them. But he stepped towards me, grabbing my lower thigh. I hesitantly opened myself back up for him. His hand moved up my thigh, while the other wrapped around my waist, drawing himself closer to me. I placed a hand on his chest, running it up until it was at the nape of his neck, playing with his soft, black curls. I gently tugged him toward me, and our lips attached once more. This time, it was more more sensual. Taking the time to just allow ourselves to feel one another. As he pulled away, I let out a small gasp as I felt his growing bulge against my clothed core. 

He seized the opportunity to kiss me again, letting his tongue wander and explore my mouth, pulling me as close as I could be to him. He pushed himself against me, causing a soft moan to escape, as I involuntarily rolled against him. He smirked against my mouth, moving once more against me. I hissed, feeling myself grow wetter. 

Sherlock pulled me off the sink, wrapping both of my legs around him before pinning me against the wall. I was sitting just on top of his cock, and the friction was even more frustrating. I grinded down on him, kissing his neck, while leaving small bites in between. I needed more though. I unwrapped my legs, and he lowered me to the ground. When he placed me down, I kissed him with passion while I started to undo his trousers. He walked backwards to the sink, leaning up against it, as I palmed him through his suit. His low groan made me quiver as I licked a long stripe up his neck to his ear, wear I softly bit the lobe. This drove him crazy.

Pants still undone, he whipped us around so that I was against the sink again. He pulled my dress up enough so that he could hook his fingers in the lace of my panties and pull them down. He lifted me up on to the sink to get them off of me. He worked them past my heels, and placed both of his hands on my thighs, rubbing circles into them with his thumb. His forehead was resting on mine and we were both breathing in sync. I opened my legs for him, as he traced his way between my legs. The violinist in him was showing, and he was going to work out the tension and boredom he had been feeling all day. His fingers came in contact with me, running through my folds. He went from my clit down to my opening, just toying with me. I let out a whimper as he placed his middle finger just barely inside of me. He slowly pushed his digit inside of me, causing a guttural groan to escape. I bucked into his hand, desperate for more. He pumped it casually, as if he had done this to me a million times and knew how I would react. He then slipped a second finger into me, causing me to emit another moan. 

“Please Sherlock. No games,” was all I could manage. 

He began to pump his fingers in a come-hither motion, curling them to hit my g-spot. I gasped with every movement, keeping as quiet as I could. He was working his way to get me as wet as I could be for him. I was starting to feel the tension in my stomach build when he placed his thumb on my clit and made sharp movements with it. I cried out, gripping his shoulders for support. I was going to need him soon if he wanted to me to finish with his cock inside me. But he kept pumping and rubbing, watching as my face conveyed every emotion he had ever made me feel. My arm wrapped around his neck, as I could barely keep myself up anymore. 

“Sherlock, you-you’re gonna..m-make me..c-cum…” I stutter out. I am rocking against his hand, chasing what I can’t stop. This only urges him more, as he quickens his pace. Without warning, I cum all over his finger with a cry. But he doesn’t stop. He continues to work my pussy, until I gasp out “I’m...I’m gonna squirt”. He steps out from between my legs, his fingers not stopping. As he steps to the side, he leans in to my ear and finally says something. 

“Show me”. 

It was all it took for my orgasm to elongate itself, as I squirted on his hand. I couldn’t stop and was shaking, barely able to keep myself up. I almost crumpled backwards before he caught me. Once again, he was between my legs, his hands on my neck and waist. I reached for his painfully hard cock, pulling it from his pants. I started stroking him, causing his eyes to flutter close. I was still coming down from what he had done with just his fingers, but I needed his dick inside me. I looked up at him, and said something that I knew would only boost his ego, and he would probably use against me later. 

“Mr. Holmes, I need you inside me, now”. 

His eyes shot open, as I looked back at him with lust-blown eyes. My hand was still wrapped around his cock, slowly pumping him. He and his god-complex were completely enamoured with my new take of teasing him. I lined his cock at my entrance, but not before teasing him through my folds. Just that little movement caused goosebumps to erupt on my skin. As I put his tip in my entrance, he searched my eyes once more for the consent he needed. I pushed myself onto him a little, letting him know he could take me. He leaned in, pushing his length all the way into me. I let out a loud gasp, wrapping my arm around his neck once more, my other hand on his back. I was still throbbing from my previous orgasm, and I knew he could feel my warm pulse inside me. He slowly pulled out, and then quickly sheathed himself inside me again. Our pelvises were against each other and his gently movements drove me crazy. I let out a cry of ecstasy, letting my head roll back, exposing my neck. He kissed it gently, and then, lifted me off the counter and back against the wall. All I could do was struggle to remain quiet as he began quick thrusts deep into me, relentlessly hitting my sweet spot. He was open mouthed against my neck, breathing erratically as he continued to hold me up. 

“You feel, s-so g-good,” I moaned, urging him to continue. He loved it when I complimented him, he had always been that way. But to be inside me as I told him how much I loved his cock, it was heaven for him. The guttural sounds from his throat proved to me that he felt the same.

“Y/n, I’m not gonna last much longer” he said, as though it would deter me. As he began to remove himself, I grabbed his face to look at me. 

“I want you to cum inside, Detective,” I whisper, wrapping my legs tighter around him to prove my point. 

His eyes widened searching my face as I was in taking all of him, bouncing on his dick in a penthouse bathroom, loving everything he did. Seeing what he could do to me, looking into my eyes as I stifled my moans, he began to stutter inside of me. I was on the edge too, and when his hot rope of cum shooted inside of me, my own orgasm exploded, milking him of the rest of his cum. 

When we had both stilled, frozen with him still inside me, we could hear the party still going and the noise of London below us. He pulled his softening cock from me and as he did, our cum dripped down my thigh. My legs were incredibly weak, as he continued to hold me up. I reached for a hand towel to clean me up, but he beat me to it, wiping up and between my legs, careful not to cause pain from the sensitivity. He picked up my underwear that he had tossed on the ground somewhere, and helped me step back into it. I was still shaky if I bent my legs, but I knew he would hold me up. As we looked at each other, there was something new we both saw. Romance. The sexual chemistry that had been there was a response to the catalyst of romance. 

Before we could discuss the aftermath of our actions though, there was a loud banging on the door. Smoothing out my dress just past the door, Sherlock opened it to find John, arms crossed, waiting outside.   

“Are you shitting me Sherlock? You look like you just took a hit of something. Did you seriously lose Y/N at this party because you were trying to get hi…”

The door widened to reveal me, just behind Sherlock, makeup slightly down my fae, and both of our hair tousled. I smiled at John, knowing it wasn’t what he had expected. His jaw dropped, “Tha..you were,,,um...has this been long or...?” Dr. Watson stuttered. 

“No John, that was the first time and it won’t be the last” he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me past him. 

“Don’t be too jealous John,” I said with a wink. 

John didn’t know what to say except, “Are we done here?”

Sherlock and I walked arm in arm down the hallway, casting back a look at John as if to say “What do you think?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~

This was my first oneshot and was it trash? Yeah, maybe. So if you know me, no you don’t :)

Leave suggestions if you’d like, I’m writing smut I can’t find. 

#sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock smut #sherlock bbc #benedict cumberbatch #cumberbitches

[yinses]

meticulously

| you just needed him to do this one thing … then you wouldn’t ask for anything more | sukuna ryomen rating: 18+

a/n: we only accept au sukuna in this nandos. my second longest work to date and its sukuna.

maybe it was because you were tired of hearing it all.

about how you were such a good girl. so ambitious and focused on your studies. they made it seems so honorable that you were willing to put boys on the back burner in order to achieve your goals.

as if you had a choice.

as if you weren’t a timid little thing who incidentally teased the edges of something before falling back the recesses of your comfort zone. how many apps had you applied for only to waste the time of yourself and others. those sites were never meant to find true love- just conveniently hook ups to release pent up stress.

and you had a lot of it.

so maybe that's why you decided that it was okay to have a little more to drink tonight- to wander further from your friends into the wilderness. you could have one day to make a bad decision and face the consequences for it.

clubs were never your thing which was likely another reason why you were in this drought.

it wasn’t as easy as you thought it would be, as old habits die hard. every so often you were approached with promises of drinks and suggestive conversation. and each one you shied away from and earned a scoff before they already started in pursuit of their next challenge.

it was possible that you were doing it wrong. you lacked the confidence to just ask for what you wanted, mostly because you didn’t know.  play coy, they told you, make them do the work for you.

so you find yourself on the dance floor instead with a new strategy. lost among the masses with the bass thrumming in your veins. here there would be no room for talk.

it only takes one song for you to feel him behind you. he doesn’t whisper sweet things in your ear. instead, his hands start at your hips, just a brush of touch to see how you react. when you don’t move away, he pulls you close and moves your hips in slow circles.

you’re immediately attracted to his confidence. in the way he guides your hand upward, instead of lower, encouraging your hand to grip at the short of his hair. the angle it provides is an open invitation for him to begin placing open mouthed kisses up the length of your neck. when he reaches your ear he pauses, and you hear the dark timber of his voice.

“i saw you turning away all those little boys earlier. what are you looking for, kitten?”

kitten. you shiver at the name.  main characters in novels always turned into a giddy mess over the pet name, losing themselves to the velvety whispered promises and underlying possession. the name brought more of a thrill than anything else; to know that he had been watching you in the distance.

you fight the urge to turn, wanting to stay in the moment for as long as you could. for some reason, like this, you think you could become the person he thinks you are. someone who knows what she wants and doesn’t accept anything less. back at the bar, men asked you too many questions and allowed the opportunity for your insecurities to bleed through.

like this, you only needed to admit one thing.

“i want you.”

its stupid and reckless. he could be a list of anything dangerous yet you advanced him to the top of the list. it was too early to tell but you hope he could be the one. then all of of the little details wouldn’t matter. you were here to lose your first time, not remember it.

you don’t expect him to use the grip on your hips to turn you, the sudden shift and lingering alcohol leaving you disoriented for a moment.

he was tall, though you had judged so from the reach it took to curl your fingers into his nape. the hair you had been blindly acquainted with turned out to be an unusual pale shade of pink. but it worked for him, and the interesting accompaniment of vermillion eyes. you were just starting to account the black lines of dark ink peeking from under his sleeve when his voice drew your attention back to his face.

his grin was telling. he wanted you to take him in because he knew you’d like what you saw. he doesn’t even need to ask. it was too early to tell if he was calling your bluff or enabling it.

he brings his mouth down to hover above yours, lips brushing as he speaks,”so your place or mine?”

this is what you needed, no thoughts beyond what your bodies could offer. this was the man who would take your virginity.

the first sign of hesitance you show is when offering your home. it was close enough to the campus and your neighbors would hear your scream if your ignorance turned out to be your undoing. he agrees, naturally, because why would he turn down a willing lay?

your fingers fumble quickly and shakily as you quickly text your friends that you’re bringing someone back. the answers vary from concern, to disbelief, to excitement and back to apprehension. ultimately, your roommates agree to leave the apartment to you for the night but vow to turn up first thing in the morning.

all the while, his hand is at the small of your back as he guides you towards the entrance. the icy cold air that hits you when you step outside is unkind to the thin sheen of sweat you’d accumulated. the price paid to look good rarely came cheap. the heat radiating from behind you was less of a comfort and more of a reminder as you shift from foot to foot in wait for a taxi.

“ names’ sukuna.”

it came as a jest rather than to inform. the way your eyes widen in realization proving that you’d skimmed over that step unintentionally. the men prior had offered it up without prompting as if it as their key trait in the introductions. while you’d grinded on this man for nearly two songs and hadn’t even thought to ask.

you stumble over your own name and his grin widens further.

he leans close enough for your visible breaths to mingle.

“you’re so fucking cute, kitten. i can’t wait to unwrap you.” 

and then he was kissing you senseless.

he tastes of whiskey and menthol, a savory smokiness that would be a lingering flavor for hours to come. there was a unique sense of excitement that came from kissing a stranger. the anxiousness blurred the lines between your thoughts and emotions. his tongue met yours and swept it into a fast, claiming pace.

just when your hands rose to find purchase on his shirt, the incoming headlights fanned against your joined bodies. sukuna, the apparent level-headed one, pulled away for you.

“don’t worry, we’ll have plenty to explore soon.”

sukuna surprisingly does not encroach on your space in the back of the taxi. his arm rests comfortably along the back of your seat, but his fingers don't chase the easy access to the back of your neck there. it makes you annoyingly anxious as your knee jumps in place. you refrain from looking at him in the corner of your eye already knowing what awaits you on his lips.

the remainder of the drive is short and uneventful.it takes less than ten minutes between the club and the arrival at your front door. you impress yourself with the lack of tremors as you fit your key into the door and welcome you into your home.

the light from the kitchen highlights only what you need to make it to your bedroom without injury. too many had happened before that became habitual prior to any night out.

there is a rattle in your spine as you carefully pull one shoe off than the other. its an action that you take your time with as you gather your thoughts. when you look back at him, he hasn’t wandered a step from the entrance, though his gaze travels where the light allows. at the feel of your gaze he cocks a brow,”i’m waiting on you kitten.”

right.

this was happening.

you’d made it this far.

tilting your head, you lead him to your bedroom without another word. you’re thankful that your widow sits in view of the night sky, taking the place of any artificial light you might have to provide.

every muscle is as stiff as a board as you toss your shoes into a corner. your mouth opens to stupidly point out that this is your room.

sukuna laughs, because why wouldn’t he after learning the mysterious vixen not only had a name but was a timid little thing. still he didn’t cater to your anxiety nor did he allow it to slow his pace.

his arms flex as he reaches behind himself to pull at his shirt from the tag. you’d caught glimpses of his tattoos in the darkness of the club without really looking, but you haven't been able to connect the lines of a pseudo sleeve. the double bands circle both wrists and biceps with encompassing circles swirling around his shoulders. it was a simple yet uniform pattern. you could just see the beginning of another figure curing from behind his neck as well.

“i’m starting to think that i should just be flattered when you get quiet like that.”

his hand makes itself home again at your waist as he walks you backwards until the edge of your bed knocks against the back of your knees. sukuna keeps you from falling back while his fingers go to curl at the hem of your dress.

“it’s only fair,” he says in your ear, as if the removal of his shirt was any kind of equivalence.

he helps you along the way, or maybe makes it worse as he starts to kiss your neck. his hands slide along every new available inch of skin from your thighs to your navel. he shamelessly cups your bra, squeezing the mounds in appreciation.

sukuna pulls away to rid you of the dress entirely. before you can adjust to the loss, he leans back in to unhook your bra as an afterthought.

he grins when you immediately bring your arms over your exposed chest,”don’t be shy. this is what you wanted, right?”

you don’t miss the implied probe behind the tease. it's faint but it’s comforting to know he’s still seeking consent and it eases a bit of your anxiety.

it makes you pliant enough for him to cup the backs of your thighs and lie you back against the sheets. though the moment your bare skin comes in contact with the sheets with his broad form hovering over you, all the brief conviction shrivels up.

your hands curl into the bedding for leverage when his weight is suddenly there to ease you back down. his arms slip around you to anchor you in place, pinning you under the hard warmth of his chest. his lips meet your ear, tongue sliding along the shell,” these mixed signals are going to get old real quick, kitten. “

there is a warning there but you don’t know what exactly it alludes too. how could you when you’d invited a complete stranger into your home.

but sukuna seems to know what to look for, eyes carefully watching the way you shy away from his touch yet draw yourself back on your own. he’s attune to the push and pull, seeming to understand the paradoxical conundrum that you’d drug him into.

you can just barely catch the cut of his smile in the darkness,”are you a virgin, kitten?” he asks, voice light and cool.

the way his body is keeping you in place makes it impossible for you to curl in on yourself, your embarrassment left on display.

“oh baby, if you let me, i’ll take good care of you.”

and how could you not agree to that?

he swallows your affirmation, tongue pushing into your mouth and making you groan.

“ ‘m gonna make you feel so good.”

his hands slide between the apex of your thighs to cup you, digits gliding along your covered slit. two fingers from his other hand press against the aperture of your mouth with the single command to suck.

you only hesitate briefly, tongue flicking out to taste the salt from his fingers. his impatience grows in the moment, idly feeding you a few inches until your lips hollow to stop him before he can reach the back of your throat. it feels more like a sloppy mess than anything remotely sexy as you drool around him, sucking harder to contain the wetness.

but sukuna seems to eat up the attention, idly thrusting in and out when he can. “you’re such a good learner,” he praises with hoarseness.

a garbled squeak manages to leave you as the elastic of your panties is pulled from your hips. you can feel the stick trail connecting you to the fabric, but seeing it is a whole new wave of mortification.

sukuna is able to tug them down to your ankles before your legs can lock up. “don’t be shy. i love filthy girls like you.“ your nerves jump to attention when he presses his thumb against your throbbing clit. “i can work with this.”

you gasp, lips losing their grip on his fingers, as you press your head back against the pillow. heat rises in the low of your stomach, a sensation that you’d never been able to achieve on your own. he starts with a single digit, easily making its way through your passage with the slick provided. his fingers crook in search of an ideal angle, making a sound of encouraging praise when you keen and rock your hips down for more.

your lashes flutter with the effort of keeping them open as he manipulates friction against your sex.without warning, he adds a second finger in alongside the first,”kitten you have no idea how happy i am that you grinded back against me on that dance floor.” the introduction allows for a scissoring action as he tests the stretch of your walls.

you’re happy to have the flat to yourself as the next whimper shatters your coherency, snapping any restraint that you had on your volume. sukuna chuckles at your cry, flexing his touch to reach new depths.

“i really wanted to see what you could do with your mouth but i don’t think i can wait.”

he gives one last swipe against the tackly mess before he fumbles with his belt. you don’t get offended when he only drops his pants far enough to free his cock. its distracting enough watching him stroke himself idly to fullness. sukuna harbors no shame as he cants his hips, fucking into the tight circle of his fist.

he pulls his wet fingers from your lips and you swallow around the absence.

you’re immediately grateful when he pulls out a condom, uncaring when the empty foil packet gets lost on your floor.

sukuna can feel the tightness as he palms your hip and positions himself at the stretch of your entrance.

“don’t go getting all nervous on me. i went through such a great deal to prepare you for this.”

his hand slides past your naval to grip your breast, rolling the hardening peak with his thumb. the lack of attention they’d received thus far acts as enticing interference.

he still doesn’t go for the unanticipated approach, keeping you vaguely aware by running the head of his cock up and down your dripping cunt.

it’s still easier said than done as all the reddit and gossip forums come reeling back the the forefront. you hadn’t even thought to get a towel, what if there was a lot of blood- too much? should you have gotten painkillers ?

above you sukuna tsks and you jolt from the sharp pain of him cruelly pinching your nipple. when you go to protest, he merely gives you a look, holding your gaze while his head drops take the abused bud into his mouth.

when he gives a particularly hard suck you know what’s coming as his hips roll up against you.

he’s big. of course he’s big given that he’s your first and all that you’ve had prior to your own fingers are his. sukuna expresses a show of kindness that you weren’t expecting with the initial push, as he uses his grip to ease himself in slowly.

it still burns; the uncomfortable stretch as he drags the friction of his cock past the slick barrier. but its not thee sharp punch you were expecting even before the base meets your pelvis. your hand darts up to smack against the hard flat of his stomach to stop him there but the centimeters separating you were barely negligible.

his mouth pops off of your breast with a wet sound as you pant, squeezing experimentally around the width of him. it was more manageable than you were anticipating, and you adjust your hips in another trial. the movement pulls a sharp hiss from his lips and his fingers clamp down tighter at the curve of your waist.

his vermillion eyes are no longer slits of concentration, now blown wide to contain the depth of lust simmering there. there is a shudder a he holds himself back from fucking into you. “if you’re done playing, i’d like to fuck you now.”

instinct drives you to reach around him, nails gripping traction around his shoulder blades as he grates his hips. the motion starts the first thrusts of many as sukuna introduces you to the truest definition of fucking.

its gradual, the way he picks up speed, introducing each part of you to himself before overpowering the nerves with a firmer touch.you should be embarrassed by the broken sounds leaving your mouth, but you can hardly remember your own name let alone decency.

sukuna on the other hand, relishes in the way he fucks you stupid, taking each bite of your nail and shattered speech with pride. “you have the prettiest fucking mouth for a virgin.”

it was impossible to accept the praise with the way he was knocking the sense from you with each thrust. he made it feel so good. all of it. from the inclination to the way he filled you up.

he continues to slam inside, breathing barely affected by the effort of pulling you apart at the seams. god he just doesn’t shut up. and you don’t want him too. they way he can make you hang from each word. 

you don’t know how he can handle words with all the smugness oozing from is lips, “i know you wouldn’t know the difference. but they’re typically so quiet- biting their lip and shit as if they’d scare away their own orgasm.”

“but not you baby. you fucking speak to me.” its not the kind of praise you were expecting but you latch on to it anyway. his arm comes around your waist and brings you forward to pin against his frame.

you don't know what possesses you to do so, mayve its the new proximity,  but your hands cup his face and bring his lips to meet yours. sukuna doesn't fight the action but his attention is elsewhere as your head bobs with the effort of keeping your mouths attached. ultimately it's the sharpness of your teeth against his bottom lip that prompts him to participate.

his tongue shoves past your lips to twist with yours. then he angles his hips just so and you sob. its an epiphany for you but its exactly what sukuna was looking for as he aims there again, and again, abusing that little patch of tissue that makes you witness nirvana.

sukuna drops a hand between your bodies to pass a thumb over your clit. he smirks when you jolt, still managing a perfect enunciation of your name even as his hips lose rhythm.

“all i need you to do tonight is come. can you do that for me, kitten?”

and you can, even without his instruction as your legs come up to squeeze around him despite the tremors. hot pleasure radiates up your spine from the source, washing over you in waves as you spill around him. it feels incredible to finally be able to let go. fuck, you don’t know if anything else will be like this first time. but you’re damn sure not going to forget it anytime soon.

even as your body falls pliant, sukuna keeps the pace as he chases his own release. the beginnings of bruises protest at your hips as he pounds a fragment tempo until he stills. the groan he lets out nearly brings you to a second orgasm as the sound shakes your body.

you’re thankful that he has enough energy to unhinge your legs from his hips, laughing to himself at the little trembles they give off. the act of him leaving you is a strange sensation to describe. despite the beating it took, your cunt still tries to hold him in.

it naturally earns you a crass comment as he uses the edge of your comforter to wipe himself down,”kitten, i don’t think you could handle another round of me.” you don't want to think about where he tossed the condom, just hoping that it was within the vicinity of the trashcan. but that was something future you would have to worry about.

you don’t offer him a place to stay and he doesn’t give you the opportunity to do so.

present you was starting to learn a new type of soreness as you gathered your legs against your chest and bring the blankets around your body. there wasn’t much of a delay as sukuna got dressed, tracing back his steps easily to his discarded shirt and tucking himself away long the way.

when he looks back at you, you must look like a child snuggled away for the night.

his looks at you with silent consideration. it was finally time to conduct the awkward ‘thank yous’ before the two of you parted ways forever. but at least it wasn’t you taking the walk of shame. though you don’t think it will be sukuna either with the swagger still linger in his step. 

it’s the blatant admission that you weren’t expecting, “ i like you. so i’ll leave my number for another time.”

that is not how a one night stand should end.

sukuna assumes you can’t handle the basic technological skill of adding his contact to your phone and proceeds to write it instead on the planner board posted by the door. it’s written so big you can just make out the numbers from the bed.

“be sure to call when you think you can handle me at my best.”

you wait, listening for the front door to click shut in his departure before you fall back against your bed. you should really be changing the sheets but you cant bring yourself to do more than roll onto your side.

you did it.

finally experienced all the gossip and jazz everyone talked out. 

and now you could focus and get back on track.

without prompt, your gaze drifted over to the dry erase board. sukuna had completely disregarded the individual squares dedicated to different days and messily scrawled his information between two weeks. it was a direct representation of the chaotic energy he gave off.

you would just clean it up in the morning along with any other remnants of this night.

...

or perhaps you could save as a sort of emergency contact.

you’d just discovered a new source of therapy after all. 

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna sins #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

[annoyingloverbear]

ASANO GAKUSHUU X READER HEADCANNONS

Before you ask......don't ask. Yes I like assassination classroom too.

This is a HC about Y/n and Gakushuu attending the same high school.

Ohh boy do I tell you this boi fell hard for you.

And by 'fell' I mean literally fell.

It was one of those rare occasions his father being the disciplined father he is made Gakushuu walk home from school just because he didn't eat his roasted asparagus in dinner last night.

He didn't really mind tho. His home wasn't that far and he liked to see what's going on in the outside peasant world sometimes.

As he was passing a convenient store, he heard some commotion in the alley behind it.

He ignored it and started to walk his way, but he saw a glimpse of a grey uniform skirt and snapped his head towards you.

He saw you, clad in Kunigioka's grey uniform and surrounded by three tattooed bulk men.

"Come on little girl, just keep us company for some karaoke. You see my friends and I we all are really bad singers and would love some help."______"What makes you think I'm good at singing?"________" Oh I can tell you are naturally good at it little bird! Your angelic voice is like as sweet as honey to my ears."________"Back off."_________"What?"________"I said back off you pathetic excuse of a human being before I break your willy and shove it down your throats."________"YOU STUPID BITCH!!!"

He raised his hand, but before he could even swing you neck sliced him in the throat and kicked him down there. He clutched himself as you once again kicked him in his ribs and hope that the blow was enough to keep him down for a bit. You grabbed your heavy aluminium water bottle (those things hurt guys😭 not that I've been hit by one but I accidentally hit myself. it's a great, heavy yet non-obvious self defense tool so carry one around👍) and swung it towards one of his friends. A sickening clang could be audibly heard as you hit him in the head and Congratulations!! You eliminated one more player.

You turned around and swung it towards yet another person who skillfully twisted and yanked your aluminium bottle away from you. This person was similar to your build and was standing in a defensive position, so you kicked the only thing available to you, his shin.

You were surprised as you heard a rather boyish yelp as your victim fell to the ground and grabbed his aching leg. Only then you realized......

Shit it's the previous headmaster's son.

"Oh no!! I didn't mean to kick you are you okay?"_________"I'm fine thank you."

You moved your hand towards the part of his leg which was sprained and saw that he flinched. Clearly he was in pain and seeing that he took care of one of the guys who was hitting on you felt bad so you took him to your house to treat his injury no matter how much he refused.

That was it. That's how he fell for you.

He expected himself to fall for someone who was at the same level of genius as him, but apparently he was wrong.

Why you ask he fell for you? Because you were the only one who can kick his ass purple and speak sweet words to him at the same time.

Seeing that you were an average student, not too good not too bad, he didn't really have a problem with sharing his feelings for you with someone.

The first one to notice it was not Ren, but Karma. Or you could say that Karma found his theory to be correct as he eavesdropped on Gakushuu telling Ren about how he felt for you.

Ren, knowing his manipulating skills encouraged Gakushuu to manipulate one of the teachers to transfer you from class C to class A.

And so you did.

Gakushuu, Ren along with Karma and you. This was a particularly chaotic classroom.

You weren't really complaining, as your grades got better the day you stepped in the class. But you can't shake the feeling that ten pairs of eyes were watching your every movement.

(And lol that was so true😂)

Gakushuu only respectfully watched you and your subtle movements. The way you'd chew on your pencil or nails when you were stuck, the way your eyes turned big round and innocent every time you didn't understand a concept, the way you'd pick on your peach fuzz on your face when you were anxious. Every single habit, every little thing he loved about you, he would have it memorized. Heck when he was feeling stressed out about his future company finances (yes he's planning big) he would pick on his own peach fuzz and smile like an idiot as his heart relaxes and flutters at the same time.

Ren however, watched for your responses to guys. Every time the handsome professor walked in, (admit it, we all have one at some point in our life😏) you would sit up straight, your spine rid of any slouchiness from studying. The way you would cross your legs so your skirt rides up just a bit, and the way your gaze turned sly and your smirk naughty, yes this boy is serious about helping his best friend. Heck he would even come up to you and talk to you to get some type of reaction towards him, but figures out you didn't really like him (ouch!😢)

But Karma stared. And by stared I literally mean stared. Bore holes in the back of your head by staring at you too much. He didn't understand that a guy as corrupt as Gakushuu would fall for a disheveled angel like you. It's not that you weren't beautiful, but the combination of scary principal's son and a smol fluffy bean didn't seem very safe. At times you would even find Karma behaving as an older brother to you. And you weren't one to complain but rather happy that someone in here truly cares for you than judge you for your grades.

Add 7 other girls who were suspicious of you and that's all the people who keep staring at you during the time you're in class.

Every morning you hand in your homework, it was always Gakushuu. You would hand in your homework, he would scan it once and turn around to check others'.

But you knew better than that.

After school was over, you would make your way to the hallway but a strong grip held you back.

"We need to work on your Social Studies. You suck at it."______"But shuu!!!"_______"No buts. Get in the library and wait for me there."

He would drag you to the library and make you study your worst subject (which isn't fun at all🤢) but he would make it a LOT easier for you to understand.

Of course Ren gave him some tips to flirting. Hold her pinky, look in her eyes, compliment her and yada yada yada yada yada......

He did try one of them, but he almost had a heart attack from his heart beating so fast that he decided not to listen to his minio- I mean friend anymore and do it his way.

And honestly he loves his way!!

He loved the cute nicknames you made for him while you whined for him to release you. He loved it the way your face lightens up when he explains there was an easier way to solve an equation.

All the nervousness is his system had vanished.

He also got to the point where when you got an obviously easy question wrong, he would pinch your cheeks while grinning wide.

This made study time a lot easier for you.

You weren't aware that he was like that for and with you only. Only you made him feel that way.

But you found out soon when he got TOO comfortable one day and let it slip out.

"Y/n I think I have a crush on you."

As soon as he said it, blood rushed to your cheeks and drained from his.

Both of you were staring at each other for a hot minute before you broke the silence.

"You're kidding aren't you? I'm not even that smart or that much of a genius in anything. I- but-"

"Y/n I know that. But it's just something about you that I love. I- I can't express in words how much I adore you."

You were starstruck.

Asano Gakushuu. THE Asano Gakushuu likes you!!!!

But you still refused to believe yourself AND his words. Wondering if he was turning into a playboy like Ren.

All you could say was "Then show me."

The library was quiet and you two specifically picked up a spot away from other students, the librarian and surveillance cameras so both of you can goof off. Who knew that this was also the perfect place to kiss?

He gently took your hand as he first stared at your eyes and shifted his gaze to your lips. You acted confident as if you knew how to kiss but god knows you kicked the ass of your first boyfriend before he could even hold your hand.

His gaze stayed on your lips as he licked his and visibly gulped. You wanted to throw a snarky remark but seeing the boy was as edged as a cat you wouldn't dare.

Bringing one of his hands up to your cheek he slightly tilted his head as he came near you before stopping right where your lips weren't touching his but you could feel his minty breath. Obviously waiting for you if you were okay with this, you decided to close that painful space between the two of you.

As soon as your lips touched his, he was in charge. This wasn't a particularly deep or fast kiss. You weren't digging your tongues in each other's mouth but rather just moving your lips to each other, as if giving silent yet intimate messages to each other. His lips slightly glided over yours, and you definitely knew that the way he was kissing you, he was an expert hidden within an amateur. The kiss wasn't heated or passionate in any way, but it was sinfully sweet.

It lasted for about a minute, but felt like an eternity.

Pulling away he stared at you again softly before saying "Thank You" and intertwining your fingers with his.

You were too shocked to react to anything. You were an average student. You got into fights. Your mom always yells at you to behave. Your dad keeps telling you to improve your temper. Why the hell does this boy like you?

He noticed you were staring at him the same way you stared at the blackboard during class when the professor was teaching the quantum theory for the first time.

Now that this boy had finally kissed you, he was bold enough to reach out his thumb and running it over your lower lip before popping it in his mouth.

"Pineapple flavoured lip balm, huh? I thought strawberry was the preferred choice when it came to anything for girls. Including......" his eyes lowered to your legs which felt like they were bare naked in the tiny skirt.

"Shuu!!!! Don't stare at me!!" You shoved him away as he laughed and you covered your face with your sweater paws.

"I'm sorry dear. You are just so adorable I couldn't help myself." He said while stroking your hair.

Little did they know a certain playboy on the other side of the library was paying attention to them the whole time and a redhead was poking his head from above one of the bookshelves.

#gakushu asano x reader #asano gakushuu #asano gakuho #assassination classroom #assassination classroom headcannons #Gakushuu x reader #Gakushuu x y/n #asano Gakushuu headcannons #karma akabane #ren sakakibara

[elsewhereuniversity]

We Need Backup

So… this is a tough one. 

My room-mates and I are in kind of a bind. We have this rental, see? It’s nice enough, for student digs - modern(ish) furniture, climate control, decent (not great, but decent) wifi connection. 

The only real downside is it’s kind of not exactly real. Or not always real. Something about N-phase space and the quantum uncertainty principle, idk.

There’s an overgrown path in one of those school gardens the horticulture club set up a few years back - you know, with all the willow trees and roses? It’s made of weird amber-ish stones laid out in pentagons.

If you follow it the right way,  it goes to a little valley on the border (so far as we can tell) of Summer territory. The grass is green, the air is warm, the ring of oaks and maples growing around the rim are always in rich, vivid color; it’s full of thick wildflowers that line the slope, and our house is right at the bottom. 

 If you follow it the wrong way, though, you wind up stuck in either the 3rd back-up spare props room or a life-sized mural on the wall of the Art building’s atrium. And most people follow it the wrong way. 

So, as you might imagine, we don’t get a lot of visitors. Like I said, we rent, and the 4 of us - including me - have never even seen our landlord. There’s a powder-blue ceramic bowl on the mail table: it’s due 3 gold drachmas on the 11th of every month, which always disappear by sunrise. It’s a little odd, yeah. We *do* certainly have questions. But, overall, we like to think we’re lucky. 

See, none of us can live in a dorm. Believe me, we’ve tried. Euclid’s closing in on a Phd in Irrational Geometry and Applied Mathemagics, so zher homework assignments keep warping the fabric of reality; rearranging furniture, tearing holes in the walls, and adding extra space where it really shouldn’t be. Molybdos was the only survivor of a questing party gone very, very wrong. She has wicked PTSD, which manifests itself mostly in violent screaming and semi-corporeal night terrors. Silphium’s sick; I’m not sure what’s wrong with him, quite frankly, but being in the dorm rooms made it worse. The medicine that helps him can’t be brewed Ironside; there’s a good chance he’ll never be able to leave. 

Me? I had a stalker issue. Someone in a few of my classes heard about a particular family heirloom I’m quite loathe to part with, and they got interested. Very interested. Dangerously interested. 

But that’s not the point. The point is, we’re really not used to company. 

So , as you might imagine, it was somewhat of a shock to wake up one morning and find a Gentry man on our living room couch. 

Unconscious. 

Oh, Archivist, he’s in bad shape. There are thick ropes of scars around his neck and wrists. 

We had to scrub a while to get rid of all the ingrained filth - there was lots of it, dirt and dried gore and other crap - but it turns out his skin is pale. Not normal Fair Folk pale, either; the kind you get from spending too long underground. 

He’s got a blade of a nose, eyes a pure gold color, and bright red hair that seems to smoke if you look at it too long. Three fingers on his left hand are fused together by what look like old, pink scars, and his right arm is tattooed with all these crazy woad designs. You can tell that he used to be powerfully built; the guy’s almost seven feet tall, and his clothes (or what’s left of them) hung from his body. 

Well, we cut the damn things off. Then we did our best to clean him up. There were 12 open wounds that needed stitches, and lots of raw areas oozing this pale, watery gold stuff. Not to mention all the aforementioned filth. 

Anyway, long story short: something must’ve gone wrong. He’s been here for 3 days , gripped by delirium, caught in the throes of a hellish fever. He keeps moaning and thrashing around, raving in some kind of language none of us speak. 

Meanwhile, the wifi’s shot. Our phone lines put out nothing but a ‘drone’ noise, like huge clouds of flies in the speaker. Once everyone got home again the next day, the house won’t let us leave. it seems kind of…protective? I guess? The windows won’t open, and none of the doorknobs turn anymore. 

Euclid’s busy with zher chalk, drawing out bizarre patterns on the walls that zhe claims are wards. Silph’s working overtime trying to keep our ‘guest’ alive, and Moly…

Moly hasn’t slept. She’s… erratic. She keeps pacing around, staring out the windows, and clinging to her kukri while she mutters about how ‘they’re coming.’ 

Meanwhile, there’s a bad wind on the rise. The view outside grows darker every hour. Things have taken to lurking about; black and twisted, they hide in the wild grass and wait beneath the trees. Every time someone looks, there’s more of them: biding their time, in no kind of rush at all. They’ve got us where they want us, and they damn well know it. 

Since I can fly sometimes (thanks to that heirloom I mentioned) the others sent me for help. Thankfully, my other form is just smart enough to fit up the chimney flue. It was a tight, painful squeeze, and I lost a few feathers, but I made it. 

I’m sorry, Archivist, I didn’t know where else to go. Hopefully the goshawk rapping at your window didn’t freak you out too much.

 Do you know who our 'guest’ is? Is there someone - anyone - who can take him to safety? Are any Knights available - and, if so, can they please come drive off the intruders before my friends all get killed? I’d be more than happy to guide anyone who needs assistance.

In return, I brought a charm Euclid made. It was zher semester project junior year, and we thought you might have some use for it: 

A crystal lense etched with a Pythagoras tree. Perfect, of course. Those bronze rims around the edge are how you set the thing: they move independently, see? The biggest, outer one is for years, the middle for months, and the tiny inner one for days. Pick a date, work them around so the little notches all line up, then wave your hand over the clear part. It will show 13 minutes of an event you were involved in. 

Please hurry.

-Hamaliel

___

Congratulations: the heir apparent of the Autumn Court is dying on your futon, most likely from some manner of assassination attempt. You can officially consider yourself Embroiled In Intrigue. 

I will reach out to the Knights, but delicately - a good number of them would view your guest as not much better than whatever is coming for him. But there are always a handful more oriented towards protecting the helpless - any helpless - than they are towards eradicating the things that lurk in the dark woods.

I will also try to send word to a handful of Autumn changelings. If you are lucky they will pass on the news of their lost and found prince to someone powerful enough to come to his aid, and do so in time for it to change anything.

In the meantime, for the good it does: a dull knife of iron with a hilt of scorched bone, which will in your time of need become blindingly bright and razor-sharp. A caltrop tipped with iron, and in the same vein, small tangles of rusty nails, twisted into the shape of apples: guard your windows and doorways and hearth. You are not the only creature that can fly.

#Hamaliel #stories #long post #we need backup #euclid #Molybdos #Silphium #charms #the autumn court #the knights #submission

[spencerscoven]

— idle hands

about ; Spencer looks back on to the months before at the events that pulled him under, all of them starting and ending with you.

gif by sarahmichellesgellar

WARNINGS: unedited— fem!reader unsub, unsub!spencer, handjobs, smut, mentions of drugs&addiction, mentions of depression, mentions of torture, mentions of death

“Is it really so hard to believe I wanted to do it?”

A small smile played on Spencer’s features, his eyes on Hotch’s, unmoving. His eyes were bright honey, within them holding something that had been foreign to him for much too long. Happiness. Euphoria.

He sat in the same seat as you once did, letting himself soak up the aura of the interrogation room. The metal jingle of his handcuffs paired with the rough floors that were once waxed allowed him to be brought back to half a year ago, to a Wednesday in September, where the sun rose south on the horizon in Quantico, where nothing would be the same again. 

Spencer’s brought back to the day he first met you, the memory so vivid he could stick his tongue out and imagine he tasted your perfume in the air. It only takes a little longer before he’s also taken back to the moments before, when he leaned against the hallway walls of the BAU with an unsettled stomach and weak knees.

“I just can’t.” Spencer had said. Begged, even.

“You can’t? Or you won’t?” Spencer knew it wasn’t a question, no matter how Hotch had phrased it. He shook his head obediently, heart heavy and guts threatening to spill onto the brown leather of his shoes. It was even worse with every step, his fingers feeble on the cool handle of the door. And he hated himself for knowing where he’d go after, the image of a small seringe behind his lids each time he blinked.

The temperature inside was only cooler, making the claminess of his hands more evident, his jaw clenched. He inspected over you for as long as he could before it turned into staring, observing just who you were in the flesh. The woman behind the profile.

Soft hair.

Established at work.

Calm.

Smart.

Perfectly hidden in everyone’s good graces, leaving you out of suspicion.

He examined you so long that he was able to see you do the same to him, gazing up and down, the corner of your lips turned up. Twenty four men within the last eight months— erratic at first, until the murders gained a special flair, your signature. The photos sat infront of you already, their tongues cut skillfully out of their mouths as you paid the snapshots no attention.

“This one,” You pointed to the photo to the farthest left, your nose scrunched up in slight disgust, “To me he looks very proud, doesn’t he? I’m sure somebody wanted to shut him up.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed, watching the game you were getting at, moving your chess piece three spaces over and looking him in the eye, daring him to join.

“Is that what you wanted? To shut him up?”

“Couldn’t say. I only read about it in the papers,” You retracted his accusation as if you’d been looking forword to the chase, crossing your legs and watching as his eyes followed them. “I read that he was a man with wandering hands, and much too many secrets. Maybe he deserved it.”

He watched you lean forward, embracing the space of the table as you placed your elbows upon it, holding your chin in the palm of your hand. You were the exact opposite of what uncomfortable was. You were eager. Excited.

“Do you agree that he deserved it?”

“I couldn’t possibly agree with you.” Spencer appealed.

Your painted nails motioned him to come closer, his jaw going slack at what was a demand, not a request. His body acted first, the scent of you nearly lifting him off the floors as it hit him. It made him sick as if he was on a rocking boat— shipwrecked. And to feel something felt good.

“I mean, there’s really no proof of who the killer is anyway.” You sighed, collecting your things without much regard for the bloody mess of the images below you.

Spencer glanced at the two way glass to the left as if he could see the figures behind it watching him crumble, letting you go because you were right in all the ways that were wrong. He’d hear about another thing he had done wrong as soon as he exited the doors.

You dismantled the space between the two of you, stopping close to look into the bronze gold of his irises, holding his energy alongside yours. Spencer tried to justify the way he didn’t step back— the soft soul of your breath against his ear just barely.

“I just wanted to see you up close...” You lead off without finishing, implying you wanted his name.

“Doctor.” He tutted, his arms held defensively by his side as if it would get him out of this newly dug hole that already contained multiple sprouting seeds inside of it.

“Doctor, you seem unsettled...” You let out a little hum at the title, nodding as you swiped your hand on the shoulder of his jacket. It was your only excuse to touch him. “Some people do bad things for all the right reasons, and sometimes, they do far too well at it.”

You struggled at your last statement, as if you were passing it onto him to consider. He couldn’t help himself from looking over his shoulder, watching the sway of your hips fade into the distance, leaving the door open only to reveal the figure of the black haired man, as if he was ready to stop what everyone else could see happening.

Hotch watched from the open door as Spencer stepped closer to the table, eyes burning through the print that you once referenced to before he took it between his thumbs, tearing it apart.

In the beginning of October, he let himself come to true terms. Sure, his team acted like they cared. They never ratted him out in fear he would lose his job— in fact, they never even uttered the words of it out loud, instead preferring looks of empathy. And as time went on, their empathy switched to looks of pity that soon became dehumanizing as they pressed and prodded at him like a cell below a microscope.

So he told them what they had already known when he was finally able to come to terms with it himself, droplets falling to the floor from his eyes as he quietly announced “I’m an addict”. And he listened as they said completely nothing, looking up to only see them watch anything in the room but him, averting their eyes to something that was somehow more important than what he had to confess.

And it dawned on him that very moment that they didn’t care when they only spoke to accept his apology for the sudden slip of the tongue. To them, he ceased to exist beyond the ways his brain benefited them.

Spencer realized they didn’t care to talk about the trackmarks that riddled his arm, or the noise of the glass vials that they heard from his pockets. He was becoming increasingly uncaring and disorganized, becoming less and less sterile each time he pumped his viens and chased his impending doom in the form of a sweet high. They just wanted to go to sleep at night without guilt sitting on their chests.

They wanted him to suffer in the shadows, swaying against the side of the bathroom stall as he rolled up his sleeves. They wanted to get off scot free and go on with their lives if they were to ever find him slumped against the cold floors, barely conscious.

It made Spencer’s skin crawl.

During an evening in mid October his fingers shook on the bottom half of his old cellphone, eagerly inching towards the final number— the one that had been burned into the front of his head right from the manila folder.

187...The one he promised he wouldn’t call.

187-654...The one that smelt like vanilla graced with casablanca lillies, and something else he just could not sniff out.

187-654-337... Was it so bad that he thought of you in a way he wasn’t supposed to?

“Hello?”

Spencer’s breath hitched against the receiver, keeping his voice in his chest while he nuzzled against his phone, taking you in as if you were right beside him.

“It’s you, isn’t it, Spencer?”

He worried his lips at your tone, patience and humility just waiting for him to speak up. Spencer counted the seconds over as several minutes passed, your tolerance never wearing down.

“Why do you know that?” Spencer asked, running his slim fingers through his head of hair at the sound of his first name, one he had never given you. Was he that fucking obvious to you?

“You were easy to find, I googled you. You’re quite remarkable, aren’t you? Besides, I’ve been expecting this call,” You admitted.

He could hear you shuffling around the room, discarding something metal and turning on the pipe, washing your hands clean. He could see your image now, phone held between your cheek and shoulder, hair falling infront of your eyes as you rinsed. He wondered what you were ridding your hands of, or if it even mattered now that he had crossed this line.

“You’ve been expecting me?”

“It’s a pity you didn’t call sooner, Spencer... I’ve been thinking about the things we could discuss. Is that what you want? To talk?”

He swallowed around the lump in his throat to stop himself from reciting his uttermost single thought: You’re no good for me.

“Yeah, I’d like to talk.”

He’d forgotten what it felt like when someone listened.

On the ripe night of December 31, he sat upon your couch, his elbows on his knees as he covered his face in shame. Hours before he stumbled onto your porch, rambling about you and him, him and you. You’d only chuckled at it, calling him admirable and sickingly sweet. His pulse began to beat harder as you told him that he reminded you of your mother, a woman who stood pure and good. He didn’t have the heart to just let you blindly say so, spoiling the image of her. Not when he wouldn’t do that to his own mother, either.

After the new person he’d become the past year, he wasn’t so sure he was deserving of such a thing. He played with the band of his watch, nothing that in just two more hours it’d be the new year. He couldn’t stop himself from spilling his truth, the one he had implied to you for months.

“What did you used to take?”

“Dilaudad, when it was available. But Morphine mostly,” Spencer’s voice was no louder than a whisper, “It was easier to get.”

He sat without saying much else, digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand, expecting you to dismiss him like so many others had before.

“How long has it been?”

“A few months.” Spencer pierced his lips, ignoring the look you gave him that implied you knew, like he did, that he wasn’t ready to admit exactly just how long he had been at it.

“Did they care?” You asked, your body leaning closer into him, waiting for a reply that never came from his mouth. You paid attention to the slight tremble of his body and the glossiness of his eyes.

He never told you the specifics about himself, and you wondered if it was because he kept you at arm’s length or because he truly thought there wasn’t anything to tell. But sometimes he’d talk about them; a woman called Emily, and one by the name of Garcia. You already knew who Hotch was from the moments he tried to shake a confession out of you before. You had assumed they were the only ones he had because he never said much else. His silence only pinged as an answer.

“Spencer, you deserve better, you do.” Your hands glided along his jaw, tilting his head to look at you. With the pads of your thumb you wiped the few tears that cascaded down his cheeks, his eyes shut tight in protest. “I care. Did you ever know that?”

Spencer stood with limp arms, his head nodding as he brought his cheek closer to your hand and laid a gentle kiss on your finger, dropping his whole world into yours.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why would you need to apologize, Spencer?”

You didn’t look at him through a lense that demonized him, reducing him to just another case who had let his addiction eat his life up from the inside out. He knew that to you he was someone like he had never been before. He was just himself, not an obstacle. And you were unreal, ready and willing to protect him.

“Can I touch you?” Spencer croaked, looking down at you with wide eyes. You didn’t answer verbally, instead opting to bring his face closer to yours, steering his lips into a kiss. It became clear as to who was in control as he submitted, hands delicately wavering above your hips without the permission to do much else.

You threw your thighs over his, straddling his hips and beginning to grind slowly, only to see that he was already showcasing a hard bludge in his pinstripe trousers. At the speed of it you pondered on the thought that he hadn’t been touched in a long time— or ever.

“Yes, you can touch me.” You assured him, a ginger grin appearing in response to his nervous eyes and hands that grasped your tits above your shirt, so eager to touch. “I meant what I said. If they can’t help give you what you need, what can they do for you?”

You palmed Spencer through his pants, admiring the little sounds that poured out of his mouth, each a bit louder than the one before. The button of his pants came off easy enough, allowing his cock to spring out, the rosy tip already leaking and sensitive. His hips jerked up to your touch, breath caught up against your neck. Your hand worked between the two of you, traveling up and down his dick repeatedly. At the perfect pace, your thumb ran across the tip, coaxing swears from his mouth as you brought your lips back to his.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Spencer. You don’t always have to stand so strong...”

Spencer’s hips moved underneath you to meet your hands, his orgasm coating your hands as he continued to whine well after he had cum, a sound that ensured the happy death of you. Through hooded eyes, he taped you licking his finishes off the back of your hand and your fingers, a keen look of contentment placed upon your face.

“You’re not alone anymore, are you?”

Spencer nodded ‘no’, embarking on how you resembled Eris, spirit dripping of discord and nasty twists, yet headstrong enough to hold the both of you up. It was an infatuation; a dangerous one.

He rubbed circles into your thigh, the after effects of his orgasm making his head hazy, head stuck in the clouds. His long fingers inched closer to the waistband of your jeans, face confused when you gently directed them away.

“I just want to please you,” he mewled, pout evident.

“You already have.”

Spencer nodded, following your lead to drop it, a long sigh drawn out his peachy lips. His head tilted, almost as a puppy’s would, an epiphany settling in. His eyes became earnest, unable to tiptoe around the dark reality surrounding the two of you. To him it didn’t matter anyway, not anymore.

“You killed those men, didn’t you?”

“Who’s to say?” You raised your eyebrows, feigning innocence like a code, meant for Spencer to see right through.

“Right,” His shoulders dropped, body no longer tense. “My team... they’re wondering if you’re worth all the trouble.”

“Am I?”

Spencer’s lips rose north, resembling something that he hadn’t done for months. You watched, a bit hypnotized, lips swollen and skin sensitive to the touch.

“You are.”

When it became March, it was too late.

“The victim is male, mid 50s, his identity yet to be verified,”

Hotch watched the scene infront of him eerily silent.

“Body has several struggle adhesions, the tongue was severed from the mouth, as well as both hands. They’ve yet to be found— I’d say the body is about five days old.”

He’d last seen Spencer six days ago after he entered the passenger side of the familiar black car, windows just a bit tinted as he saw his torso reach across the center console, kissing who had been in the driver’s seat. He hadn’t asked where he planned to go.

Idle hands ; the devil’s workshop. Nothing good came from hurt.

masterlist

#spencerscoven #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid smut #unsub!reader #spencer reid angst #unsub!spencer #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #reid #angst #bau #mgg #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic

[atths--twice]

Wednesday Night at the Fluff and Fold

Had an idea for a little “on the run” story the other day. Thus this little story was born. Hope you enjoy! ❤️

Late on a hot summer night, while on the run, Scully and Mulder spend some time in a small town laundromat.

September 2003

Juliette, Georgia

10:00 p.m.

There was an odd feeling of calm to pairing socks, seeing them piling up beside the other clothes, everything organized into neat stacks.

Scully smiled as she remembered helping her mother fold clothes when she was younger, loving the feel of them when they were warm from the dryer, or even helping to take them from a clothesline. Sheets were always her favorite, lifting her side up as high as she could, her mother smiling as she held tight to the other end. The sound of the snap of the fabric, the perfect fold, meeting in the middle to hand it off to her mother… she loved it all.

Socks were saved for her to do on her own, large piles of them from the whole family, left to her to sort like a puzzle. She liked being able to differentiate between them, giving the right socks to the right people, proud that she never got it wrong.

As an adult, she found that same pride in the tidiness of her own home; the dishes always washed and put away in their place, the pictures hung to her taste, her clothes always organized, going through them often and getting rid of any taking up unwanted space.

Space, she thought with a snort. That’s definitely something we are lacking these days.

Folding one of Mulder’s t-shirts, she placed it on top of his pile. One of her shirts was next and she placed it on her own pile with a sigh. Turning around, she looked at the dryer in front of her and saw it still had twenty minutes left before the cycle would be complete. Looking around at the empty laundromat, she sighed again.

Fanning herself, she lifted her long hair off of her sweaty neck. The weight of it made her think again of cutting it short like she’d had it in the past. Instead, she took the rubber band from her wrist and tied it up into a messy bun, a few pieces falling down and brushing her face. As it did, she sighed at the dark brown, nearly black color of it.

She’d had it dyed for months now, but she was still taken aback by it when her thoughts were elsewhere and it suddenly fell into her view. She did not mind it, but it was a drastic difference from her normal red.

The door to the laundromat opened and Mulder walked in with a plastic bag in each hand.. Even in khaki shorts, a black tank top, and flip flops, she could see he was just as warm as she was, beads of perspiration dotting his forehead.

“God, it’s like walking through numerous layers of warm wet paper towels. I’m sweating like crazy.”

“It’s not much cooler in here,” she said with a gesture toward the dryers. “Thankfully it’s the last load.”

“Should I get the bags from the car?” he asked, setting the plastic bags down on the counter beside the piles of folded clothes.

“Nah. Might as well wait until those are done and folded.” He nodded and jumped up to sit next to the bags, smiling at her as he did. She let out a deep breath as she glanced at the dryer timer again.

Eighteen minutes until they would pack up and head away from this small town, all of their clothes clean, for a while at least.

It had been nearly a year and a half since they had been on the run, staying in countless motels, trailers, tents, the car itself, and even once a teepee, which they had both found highly offensive, especially after seeing the decor. But it had been cold and the place warm, so they had stayed for a night before leaving the next morning

In that time, a system had been created. They had bought large plastic totes and kept everything they needed inside of them: sleeping bags, pillows, extra blankets, two tents, tarps, camping cooking supplies, some food- but not much as they did not want to attract any unwanted animals.

They also had two duffel bags which held all of the clothes they owned, rotating them by need and season.

As it was the tailend of a very warm summer, the warmer clothes had been stored in one of the totes, not needed for a few more months. The two duffel bags were now full of shorts, tank tops, shirts, and even a few sundresses, the breeze welcome as it cooled her everywhere.

The bags also held their simple toiletries inside plastic zippered bags. It was organized and fit just so in the car, allowing them to grab whatever was needed quickly. Every item was replaceable and held no sentimental value, easily able to be left behind if the situation called for it.

Clothes were worn until only one outfit remained, the dirty clothes placed in trash bags. All laundry was done at one time, visiting laundromats late at night, or any motel with on-site laundry service. The clean clothes were then put back into the duffel bags, the trash bags slipped into the totes, ready to be refilled.

It was a system that worked well, keeping them away from crowds of people, Mulder remaining safe and relatively unseen.

Sighing again, she shook her head and glanced at the bags he had brought in with him.

“So, what have you got there?” she asked with a smile, one of the bags smelling of something delicious and causing her stomach to growl.

“Well,” he said, opening the bag and removing take out containers, handing one to her. “The Whistle Stop Café is open late tonight for a summer barbecue-”

“Is it?” she said, looking at her food cautiously and he laughed.

“Pork, not human,” he assured her with another chuckle. “Someone in front of me made that joke and the woman serving food gave him such a look, I knew better than to make the same mistake.”

“Can’t really blame people when it’s heavily implied in the Fried Green Tomatoes movie and in the book… well…” She raised her eyebrows and opened the container, sniffing the delicious aroma of barbecued pork, her mouth watering.

“I also got mashed potatoes and biscuits. Homemade biscuits that I ate one of on the way over here because they had only just cooled enough to be served when I ordered them. Try one of those first.” He handed her one and he nodded encouragingly.

Taking it from him, she took a bite and then moaned as the sweet taste of butter hit her tongue. He nodded again with a smile as she took another bite and he took out utensils and napkins. She pushed herself up to sit beside him, her legs swinging as they ate, the dryer continuing to tumble the last of their clothes, both of them hot, sweaty, and sticky.

As they finished eating, the dryer stopped and while he cleaned up their food and trash, she took out the clothes, walking them to the counter to be folded. He came back in with the duffel bags, setting them on the empty counter, and began helping her fold the clothes.

In no time, they were filling the duffel bags, everything once more arranged and in order. She threw out the dryer sheets she had used and picked up the now empty trash bags, ready to put them back into the totes in the car.

“What’s in this bag?” she asked and he nodded at her to open it. When she did, she smiled, finding it full of paperbacks.

“I found a used bookstore and came back to the car, taking out the ones you’d wanted to swap if we found one. I could only find up to “O,” but maybe we’ll get lucky at the next place and find “P” and “Q.””

“There’s a “Q”? I didn’t know,” she murmured and he nodded as she looked down at the books.

They had stayed at a cabin in March and the sparse amount of books available had led to her reading ones she would normally have passed over. Particularly, a series of detective novels, the titles of each one beginning with a different letter of the alphabet.

Finding that she enjoyed them, when they had been in another town, she had popped into a used bookstore, finding the next in the “alphabet series” by Sue Grafton. She had loved them all, a distraction from their own lives for a little while. It had been some time since she had finished, and even reread the last few, holding onto them to trade in for new ones, and she was happy he had found them.

“Thank you,” she said softly, looking at “L” is for Lawless and “M” is for Malice. “I know it’s not my usual reading material…”

“Scully, there isn’t much that is usual right now.” He smiled at her and shrugged. “You enjoy them. I do too. Especially when you read them aloud and we try to figure out the ending.” She nodded with a smile and ran her fingers across the titles.

“Thank you,” she said again, lifting her head to look at him. He smiled with a nod and picked up one of the duffel bags, kissing her as he did.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered against her lips, reaching for the next duffel bag.

She put the books back inside the plastic bag and picked up their black canvas backpack. Everything else could be left behind and abandoned at a moment's notice, but not the backpack. It held everything of importance inside of it and was never far from sight.

One last look around, making sure they had everything, they walked out into the muggy and sticky Georgia night. Bags were placed back into the car and then bottles of water were taken from the totes and carried to the front seat.

Mulder turned on the car, blasting the air conditioning as they both sat, the warm air gradually becoming cooler. She closed her eyes as she twisted her head and leaned forward, letting the cool air hit the back of her neck.

“What were we thinking, huh? Coming to the south in the summer? Should have stayed up north,” Mulder said with a deep sigh and she smiled.

“It’s summer, Mulder. It’s hot everywhere.”

“Hmm. Not moist hot though. I feel… well… it’s not the best situation in my southern region either.” She laughed and opened her eyes, looking at him as he raised his eyebrows with a shake of his head.

“How does a cold shower sound?”

“Make it lukewarm, and not a solo one, and you’ve got yourself a deal,” he said with a smile and she tilted her head.

“You’re asking me to join you even after you’ve so eloquently divulged a bad case of swamp ass?” She raised her eyebrows at him, a half smile on her face, and he nodded enthusiastically.

“Absolutely. I’m sure you could do with a…”

“Yes?” she asked, her eyebrows raising higher, waiting to see how big of a hole he would dig himself into.

“Well…” He shrugged and smiled, the one that made her heart race. Innocent and sweet, with an air of mischief hiding behind it. “A nice refreshing shower after standing in that warm laundromat for so long.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, licking her lips and his eyes followed its path across them.

“And if it leads to some sex… well…” He shrugged again and put the car in gear, looking around before he backed up and out of the parking spot, continuing out of the parking lot. “At least we’ll get clean as we’re being dirty.” She laughed and nodded, already anticipating the feel of the water cooling and cleansing her sweaty body, his hands on her wet and slippery skin making her ache with need.

He grinned at her as they pulled up to a stop sign by the Whistle Stop Café. People were still there enjoying the barbecue, music playing and laughter ringing out into the night. They drove past the now closed used bookstore and she smiled, remembering the books waiting to be read. Looking at him, she smiled and he winked as he caught her eye.

“A refreshing shower sounds wonderful.”

“And the sex?” he asked, stopping at a light and staring at her, waggling his eyebrows.

“Sounds orgasmic,” she said in a low voice and he growled, stepping on the gas as soon as the light was green, hurrying out of town as she laughed happily.

#The X Files #xf fanfic #msr #memories #on the run #doing laundry #hot weather #gifts of surprise #happy

[nbrook29]

Hey!! 108. “I could do that, but could doesn’t mean would.” for the dialogue prompt? 💞✨

Hi there! 😇

Another anon: 7, 8 😇

Another anon: 120, 127 ✨

Another anon: Okayyy so for the prompts :3) “You are not going without me.” and 8) “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”I already know it will be so good!! Thank YOU

So to sum up:

108. “I could do that, but could doesn’t mean would.” for the dialogue prompt?

7. “I’m not jealous.”

8. “ You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

127. “You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like this…”

120. “Your hair is so soft…” -> already done here

* * *

Heaven. He’s in heaven. Every single muscle in his body is completely relaxed, body bathing in the scorching heat of the sun above him as he stretches his calves, toes digging in the sand, joints popping in a satisfying way, and yes, this is something Robbe could get used to.

He can’t believe merely six days ago he was a bundle of nerves. Nail-biting, snapping, whining, zombie-like mess, overly stressed about his finals and revising like a crazy person. It’s short of a miracle, he ponders, that Sander didn’t dump his ass after being barked at for two weeks straight. Instead, he gave him his space, would just kiss the top of his head everytime Robbe snapped at him for breathing too loud and quietly leave the room so Robbe could focus. 

Robbe would then be so overtaken by guilt that he couldn’t focus anyway and he’d walk to the kitchen, head hanging low, biting his lip, afraid that this time Sander finally had enough and went home, only to find him in his kitchen; making them dinner and swaying his butt to his newest playlist oblivious to the torment in Robbe’s conscience.

He’d walk over to him, quietly, slinking across the tiled floor in his socks the last few steps, and he would wrap his arms around his waist, holding on tight, head buried in between his shoulder blades as he’d mouth sorry after sorry into his t-shirt, sealing each one with a kiss. 

And Sander would be so fucking sweet about the whole thing. More understanding that Robbe could have ever asked for. He'd feed him croques or any other delicious food, smoothing out the frown lines between Robbe's eyebrows with his other hand and Robbe's contrite face would soon be all smiles, cuddling up to his side for a ten minute makeout session before going back to his studying with a long-suffering sigh. Not without a pat on the butt for, as Sander claimed, good luck. The cheeky bastard.

He smiles to himself now when he opens one eye to peak at the person lying next to him, but Sander is not there. Confused, he lifts his head with a groan, squinting against the sun. It only takes him a few seconds to locate his boyfriend, zeroing in on his tanned back, muscles shifting as he hits the ball across the net.

Robbe must have nodded off for a while because he remembers everyone chilling on their towels and now half of their squad is in the water while the other half is goofing off pretending to be good at volleyball, HIS other half included. He recognizes Jens, Jana, Moyo, Senne, and Sander of course, but there’s an additional person from outside of their group, playing for Senne and Sander’s team.

Huh.

She’s a long-legged olive skin beauty, tossing her long dark hair left and right, and Robbe snorts when he notices Moyo and Jens on the other side of the net, following her every move, hearts in their eyes. 

Grinning to himself, he starts thinking about the teasing material they’re providing him right now, and he’s about to turn his head to the other side to catch some sun rays on his right cheek as well when his eyes stop at the girl’s fingers as they wrap themselves around Sander’s arm, traveling to his bicep as she inches closer. There’s a private smile on her face, teeth biting coyly on her bottom lip, and Robbe cocks his eyebrow at the scene.

He rests his weight on his elbow, trying to find a position that doesn’t look too obvious as he keeps shooting furtive glances in their direction.

It’s not that he’s jealous or something. It’s just. She’s standing a teeny tiny too close and is a bit too touchy-feely. 

In his humble opinion.

There’s a pause in the game as one of the boys go to retreat the ball from the water and Robbe watches her hand slip sideways, now grazing Sander’s lean abs, and she’s saying something, but they’re too far for him to figure it out. There’s an unpleasant feeling rising in his stomach and he tries to squish it down but to no avail.

Fuck. He IS jealous. In fact, he’d really appreciate it if some random person wasn’t groping his boyfriend, pawing at him like he’s theirs to touch. 

Just as the realization hits, Sander takes a step back, gently pushing the girl’s hand away and saying something back, making her beaming face morph into a sad frown. Before Robbe can drop his gaze and pretend he hadn’t been watching the scene unfold like a hawk, Sander turns around and looks straight at him. Robbe curses under his breath when he sees the smirk growing on his lips when Sander realizes he caught him in the act. He shakes his head with amusement, chuckling a little as he winks and blows him a kiss before turning back to the boys and Jana and quitting the game, leaving the girl looking after him forlornly.

Robbe closes his eyes as the squinting becomes too much just as Sander jogs over to their spot, flopping on the towel next to him with a groan. 

“I think I’ve done enough sports for a whole year,” he complains, stretching his arms and legs like he’d just run a marathon. Robbe scoots closer, Sander’s body blocking the sun and giving his poor eyes a much needed break.

“Did you win?” he mouths the question against his side, tasting the salty skin as he brushes a small kiss on his hip bone as an afterthought, making Sander squirm at the tickling sensation. He lets out a short giggle, fingers finding their way into Robbe long curls, combing through them as he pulls his own body back a little.

“They’re still playing so it’s hard to say.”

“Mkay.”

Sander chuckles at his slurred answer. “You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like that, all rosy cheeks and puffy lips,” he murmurs, leaning down for a quick kiss that pulls an involuntary smile out of Robbe. He traces a delicate finger down his nose, "You're gonna be all freckly tomorrow."

"You love my freckles."

"I do." 

He waits until Sander makes himself comfortable on the sand before swinging his arm over his belly possessively and asking the question that's been on the tip of his tongue.

"So who was that?"

He opens his eyes and regards him from his half-closed lids, groaning internally when he notices the smirk dancing on Sander’s lips as he watches him, expression a little too gleeful for Robbe’s liking.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Robbe huffs in indignance like he hadn’t just been watching the girl touching Sander, grumpy and disturbed.

“I’m not jealous.”

Sander shoots a pointed look at the placement of his arm, eyes sceptical. 

"Pff, whatever," Robbe goes to move it, but Sander is quicker, catching it and pressing it back down, entwining their fingers on his belly in the process.

“Her name’s Leah, she wanted to play with us.”

"Did she make a move on you?" it slips out before Robbe can swallow the words down, and great, now he doesn't sound jealous at all.

Sander seems to be as surprised with the question as Robbe is.

"She did," he replies, turning on his side to look at him, head propped by his hand, "but I told her a have a scorching hot boyfriend who's currently sunbathing his perky butt and being insecure for some reason."

Robbe gets a bit defensive. "I'm not insecure," he mumbles back. "I just don't appreciate it," he waves his hand vaguely trying to find words, "when someone gets too close."

Sander is quiet for a few seconds and just when Robbe starts to regret opening his mouth, he finds himself being dragged across their towels and onto Sander’s chest. He’s not that light though so he essentially ends up with his upper body resting on Sander while his legs are now lying askew on his own towel still. It seems to be good enough for Sander though because he loops his arms around his back, effectively trapping him in case Robbe wanted to get away, eyes crinkling with that smug smile of his.

“You’re jealous of me,” he says it with such fondness in his voice that Robbe does a double take.

“Ugh, you’re enjoying this way too much,” he grunts, pulling back as far as Sander’s hold allows to get rid of the unpleasant twinge in his back.

Sander delicately thumbs at his pouty lower lip, expression still amused.

Robbe glares at him half-heartedly. “Could you stop?”

“I could, but could doesn’t mean would. Let me bask in this unexpected turn of events, babe.”

“Sandeeeeer,” he drags out his name in a whiny voice, first poking at his cheeks and then squeezing his lips with his fingers to put his satisfied smile to rest, but it only makes Sander laugh more. “Don’t be mean to me.”

“Admit you were jealous.”

“Oh my god, okay! I was jealous! She was touching you up and pawing at you with her tanned arms and I hated it, happy now?

Sander squeezes his lips to keep his grin at bay, but a small giggle escapes his mouth anyway.

“You’re the worst.”

“Aww, baby, I promise you’re the only one I want to be pawing at me. And touching me up.”

“Well I hope so.”

Robbe can’t resist giving him a kiss that is a bit too lingering and messy for a sunny noon at the beach, but he feels like staking his claim. Sue him. Sander is all for it, the exhibitionist in him couldn’t care less about random bystanders so when Robbe finally comes up for air he whines and tries to bring him back down, already looking dazed.

Robbe peaks on his left to see if the girl maybe was looking in their direction those few seconds ago, when he hears Sander’s scandalized gasp.

“Was that you claiming your territory?!”

Robbe fires him a smug wink, shutting up his “such a bad boy, mr IJzermans” with another kiss.

#wtfock #my fics

[hange-zone]

Hello!!! Could I please request eremin where they talk after a big fight because it’s getting harder to ignore?

tw language! and spoilers for season 4!

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.

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Armin comes back to the shared bedroom to find Eren waiting for him. It’s dark out, but the boy has lit candles and he’s sitting in their orange glow. His long hair is tousled and a finger lingers in the corners in his mouth, a remnant of an old, bad habit Armin and Mikasa had tried desperately to break - first reminding him, then dipping his fingers in bitter juice, even blatantly pushing his wrist away from his face - but to no avail. He was anxious and stubborn like that. 

At the creak of the door Eren takes his chewed thumb out of his mouth and regards him, feigning indifference. The only give-away is his leg, which shakes up and down as he taps his foot against the floor. 

“Where’d you come from?” He asks, trying to keep his voice even. It’s an innocent enough question, but from the way his brows furrow Armin’s not quite sure he’d like his answer.

Armin doesn’t say anything. He moves to shut the door behind him - trapping himself, he realises too late, as the lock clicks into place - and moves away from the other boy, focusing his attention on packing up his corner of the room. Sorting through papers, making a deal of arranging his books, not looking at Eren. When he chances a glance in his direction Eren is still looking at him. He has his chin jutted out, waiting for an answer. His leg is still going, faster now. It sounds impatient. Tap tap tapping, expecting a response.

“I was busy,” Armin lies - though it’s not really an untruth, he was - but this seemed to irk the other boy even more, because he snorts derisively.  Armin’s head snaps up instinctively, but he forces himself to look directly at him. 

“You’re doing it again,” Eren says. He doesn’t specify what it is, but Armin flushes at his words. His eyes glint and Armin can’t tell if it’s just the reflection of the dancing flames that surround him. The other boy blinks hard, and then that feral spark is gone and it’s just him, sitting at the desk, leg rapidly bouncing off the floor, waiting. The rhythmic sound echoes around the silent room. Like a heartbeat, Armin thinks. Like a pounding heart. 

“Hitch saw you,” Eren continues coolly. The sole of his foot is drumming the wood faster now. “Why do you do it?”

He knows, Armin thinks suddenly. He knows, he knows, everyone knows - 

“I -" he starts, flustered. He runs his tongue around his teeth uselessly, feeling the wetness of his mouth and the pinkness of his gums, the sliminess of his flesh. He doesn’t attempt to say anything more. 

“Why her?” Eren spits, suddenly.  Armin’s answers had offered little purchase and he realises that the other boy been stewing and it was just a matter of time before the simmering anger broke the surface. “Why Annie? She’s a ruthless, heartless killer -”

“Shut up,” Armin says, before he can stop himself. “As if that makes her different - worse - from anyone else.” 

He pauses. His heart is thudding in his chest. “From you.” 

It's a whisper, but Eren hears. It sends a shock through his system because he stands up, shoving the chair violently backward. It falls backward with a heavy thud . In a single motion he steps close to Armin, squaring his shoulders. His face is uncomfortably close and he can see his flared nostrils and dilated pupils, features twisted with a deep, visceral fury. By the flickering light he looks grotesque, his boyish features ugly and contorted. And as he moves closer Armin can't help but notice that he’s taller than him, he’s always been, but for once he saw how intimidating it could be rather than comforting. How, with his energies turned outside and against him, how fearsome Eren could be. And it wasn’t mere anger that was wrought across his features; it was wrath - amidst the shifting shadows, that he was certain. 

“She’s not a good person,” he declares, breath hot on his face. “She- don’t you remember? We fought- I nearly died - Mikasa-"

He’s choking out the words now, stumbling on them in his impatience to force them into the space between them. But he keeps circling back, hammering out a question each time: 

“Why?” He repeats uselessly, and it’s little daggers with each sharp syllable spilling from his mouth. Armin can’t tell if they’re a plea or a demand. 

“You don’t understand,” he says quietly. His hands rifle through the files in the drawer and sharp edge paper catches the soft pad of his thumb, slicing it. He hisses as the tip of the paper turns crimson.

“And you do?” Eren’s chest is heaving and his eyes are wet and he looks halfway between punching the wall and trying not to cry. “What’s so special about you and her?”

Armin takes a step back from him and moves to the bed. Eren follows, glowering behind him. Armin tries to fluff a pillow but his hands are shaking and useless. The soft sheets blur underneath him and he wills himself not to cry, not to cry first. In that moment he hates Eren, hates how he’s hounding him, hates how difficult this all is. In the moment he doesn’t feel fear - no, he wants to hurt him, he really really does. Anything to make him stop, make this go away. So he says: “Maybe she understands. Maybe I like her -“

“But you’re mine,” Eren blurts out. 

His face crumples and something deep inside Armin wrenches. And as he said those words, confessed, something ugly and dark had flashed over the other boy’s face, but Armin thinks he had seen it for what it really was - he was scared. And he recognised it because it was the same panic that he felt when thinking about him sometimes, the walls closing it, the drowning which kept him up at nights and in and out of fitful dreams when he thought about the future, their future. His breath catches and he feels tears well up, matching the other boy’s watery eyes. He can hear Eren panting, chest shaking, see the red spreading across his neck and cheeks and temples, and he thinks that the other boy might explode. 

But you’re mine. 

The words echo around his head and he keeps thinking of what Eren said after the basement so many months ago, something which had plagued him quietly but he’d never told anyone except Annie because he was afraid of their answer.

That night Eren had come back clutching his father’s journal. He’d rested his head gently on Armin’s lap and admitted, hesitantly, as if confessing to a terrible secret, a dark innermost thought - which, maybe it was - that he was disappointed that there were people out there beyond the walls.

He’d lain on his lap and looked aimlessly at the ceiling, talking slowly, rolling the words around in his mouth and considering them before he spoke. And there was a stillness that came upon him and it was eerie to see him so thoughtful, so considered as he said these things. 

He’d said that he thought the world was theirs for the taking. Except that he was wrong and it wasn’t - it already had kings and countries and systems and rules. It had people who’d travelled across those lands of ice and fire, claiming them for their own. Someone had already plundered the ocean’s depths and there was not, as Armin’s book had depicted, an endless blue dream of sky. Nowhere would they be truly free, and Eren hated that. He hated all these faceless, unknown people who milled about living their lives. They were taking up space in his world and he wanted them gone.

Armin hadn’t said anything then, just run his fingers through the boy’s hair and tried to think about the green of his eyes and the softness of his mouth and that hadn’t changed, had it? It was still the two of them. And they still had all the others: Mikasa and Jean and Connie and Sasha and even Levi and Hange, those stayed the same, didn’t they? 

And then Eren had got up and shook his head vigorously like he was trying to rid himself of these thoughts. They’d gone to bed in silence. 

Armin makes a sound in his throat and the boy looks at him again and it’s those eyes, emerald and shimmering in the candlelight. 

But you’re mine. 

And that was exactly the problem. 

Armin takes a deep breath. He opens his mouth slowly. Eren was watching him, his reddened face shaking and hands clenched into fists. Fighting back sobs. 

Mine. A possessive pronoun: Armin and Mikasa and the entire world belonged to him, and they to each other, and it was wrong - it was unfair - for other people to want them or have them too. 

Armin takes another slow, shuddering breath. 

How do you tell someone this is exactly what you were afraid of? How do you say, I’m scared of you - you’re not the person I love and trust and I’m losing you too and I don’t know how to make it stop?

And how do you tell him that each time with someone else, with the girl, it’s not anything - it’s about him anyway, it’s about them - 

He again says nothing of this because it is all too much at once and the words seem to want to collapse under the weight of themselves. Instead he turns to play with his bedspread. Instead he says, “Leave it, Eren. We’ll talk another time, okay?”

When he meets the boy's gaze, Eren's back to that seething anger again, because it’s easy and keeps him safe, because then he didn’t have to think, he didn’t have to feel.  With a pang Armin realises where he’s seen that look before - once when his parents were still alive, they’d chanced upon a stray dog cornered by boys, a snarling, wounded animal, lashing out for fear of getting hurt. Eren is baring his teeth now, cornered and tail between his legs, even if he looked ready to fight.

“That’s rich coming from you - we don’t talk - we haven’t spoken - or do you only talk to her now? And you like her -” 

“Stop it,” Armin says. His face burns and his voice wavers and he turns to glare at the boy who’s radiating anger as he stands, arms crossed, behind him. He can see all that and yet he wants to shake him violently and to make him see sense. “Stop it - do you realise what a big dick you’re being right now? Just shut up-”

“I hate you,” Eren shoots back. His eyes are large and wild and he’s suddenly right in Armin’s face, voice almost a roar. “I hate you, I hate you - I wish it were Erwin, I wish that Levi had chosen him and then we wouldn’t be like this and I would be alone. And honestly? It wouldn’t made a fucking difference. Except I would be happy, because you won’t be too busy fucking around with some girl. And someone would give a fuck about keeping us alive. I wish it wasn’t you. I wish you’d died.”

Then he steps back, face red with the realisation of what he’d just said washing over him. Armin is struck by the notion that one day he’d go too far - and perhaps this was it. Maybe the other boy is thinking that too, because almost immediately he begins to cry, ugly, ungainly, choked sobs, holding his hands to his face, hands pulling at his hair. It's like watching him burn in slow motion - the guilt and anger eating at his edges till he collapses, sinking to his knees.

Armin looks upon him wordlessly, but he comes close and begins to rub his hand soothingly across his shaking back, feeling his body hot and trembling.

“I’m sorry,” the other boy says, breathlessly. “I’m sorry.”

As he lets Eren rest his sweaty forehead against his knees, curling his arms uselessly behind his shins he’s reminded, suddenly, of being six again:  angry with Eren, fighting with him over something so small and inconsequential that he didn’t even remember what it was, just that Eren had come to him and said simply, sincerely, “I’m sorry.”

And Armin had said, “Me too, me too,” because an afternoon with the knowledge that they weren’t alright with each other was too much. He wondered when that had changed.  And back then the other boy had ventured softly, “Can we still be friends?” He’d nodded - of course, of course - and they’d hugged it out. What a crude, cruel rendering this was now, Eren clutching at whatever part of him he could still hold and Armin running his hands over him in the only way he knew how. 

And he didn’t know if they could ask that question as easily now. Mostly he didn’t know what his answer would be. Still he rubs his palms slowly on Eren’s warm back and waits for his breathing to calm and his tears to stop. 

But he kept thinking, too, that Eren had said sorry, but he didn’t say that he hadn’t meant it. 

And he kept thinking too about what else the other boy had said out loud: but you’re mine. 

--

here you go anon! but also really sorry if you wanted something nice….because this is definitely not it. it is though in a loose sense a big fight and it kinda is their talk afterward and emotions coming to a head? (& in my head it goes with this song)

I just saw this prompt and was wrangling with it and was thinking so hard about that scene in marriage story and then got obsessed with the blocking and the dialogue...so here’s me channeling it very crudely… ugh…sorry anon I have no idea if this is what you wanted at all but i promise i’ll make it up with fluff! just drop me a cute prompt in my inbox:”) 

and happy to take more requests!

#eren jaeger #armin arlet #eremin #snk #aot #snk season 4 spoilers #askbox prompts

[itsclydebitches]

Hello, everyone! Can you believe this is the third time I've started the recap for this chapter? Between a dying computer and a mass edit during my monthly state of, "Oh my god get rid of everything we can't let people know that we wRITE!" this project is cursed. This is the version though, I can feel it. Be positive!

Now, where were we? It's been some months (RIP) since I last posted, so I wouldn't be surprised if everyone's forgotten what's going on in this insane novel. A quick recap before the recap then: new teams have formed, no one is happy about it, Sun and Velvet went off to a shady club run by The Crown and — shock shock, surprise surprise — got themselves into a heap of trouble. That's the long and the short of it. We have to wait a while to find out what happens to them though because this chapter is focused on Coco.

We learn that Professor Rumpole has sent Coco and her new team — Team ROSC — out into the desert to take care of the grimm around the city's borders. To say that Coco is disappointed in this assignment is an understatement. We learn that they've been at this for a week straight and have gone without showering or a change of clothes that entire time (no one packed a bag?), so for a second I was hugely sympathetic. You know this vine? 

I feel this vine in my soul. Give me hot water and hot coco or give me death. Besides, work is work and dangerous, physical work without a break or basic comforts is incredibly taxing. Toss in the extreme heat of a desert and I'd be pissed at everything too, no matter how important my work was. That's human.

Yet instead of humanizing Coco like this, it turns out she doesn't care at all about the hardship involved. It's fighting grimm that she's annoyed by. She thinks that "Searching for the person or persons kidnapping innocent people for some unknown but dark purpose was way more useful than fighting Grimm far from the city" and I'm just like, Coco, honey...

Do you know what your career path is?

IT'S TO KILL GRIMM.

Okay, there's admittedly a justification here, but it's a stupid one. Coco goes on to say that "This area was called the Wastelands for a reason." She's snarky about it, saying that it wastes “her time, her talent, and her patience," but the real takeaway is that it's, you know, a wasteland. Deserted of grimm and of people. What's the point of defending an area that doesn't need defending? A huntress' job might normally be to fight grimm, but when those grimm aren't around and kidnappers are, that's a whole new set of priorities.

The problem with all this is that the Wastelands is definitely not deserted and it's definitely not as far from the city as Coco would like to imply. In just a few paragraphs an alarm is going to trip and Coco will find six grimm roaming in a pack. Then she finds a person. Then that person says she needs to get back to see someone in the city within half an hour. So there are grimm, there are people about, and this area is apparently close enough to the border that you can get back to the city proper, on foot, and then get wherever it is you’re going in a bustling metropolis... all within half an hour. By that logic these grimm aren't out in the boonies, they're right outside everyone's door.

Yet Coco isn't convinced, saying that "Post Beacon [killing grimm] had been for a noble cause, but this just felt like … busywork." I cannot possibly emphasize enough that this is the job she signed up for. Not to be a detective specializing in missing people, not a war hero always on the front lines of a battle, but one of many huntsmen who perform the daily, routine, very necessary task of protecting the people from grimm. With "protecting" covering both immediate threats and preparatory work that ensures more threats don't come about — like taking care of grimm outside before they become a larger threat. You know what would have happened if Beacon had a daily chore of students killing grimm within a few miles radius of the school? There would have been far less grimm charging a mass of unprotected students when negativity unexpectedly skyrocketed.

And, as always, I am aware that Rumpole is the likely villain here. From a writing perspective, this is very much presented as her getting Coco out of the way so that she can go about her nefarious deeds in peace... but that doesn't erase the fact that the task itself is a sound one. Rumpole's motivations don't matter here, only Coco's annoyance that she... has to do her job?

I mean yeah, everyone complains about their job to one extent or another, but can you imagine if you stumbled across a firefighter complaining about all the kitchen fires they've had to put out lately? "It's so boring! There are much better things I could be spending my time and talent on. I mean, that inferno that took out a city block last year? Putting that out was noble. But routine fires? House fires? Giving lectures on how to prevent fires in the future? Ugh, I can't believe the department expects me to do this grunt work." Meanwhile, you're sneaking off, hoping that this firefighter is never called to your house, nursing mild worries about how much they're romanticizing the recent tragedy that took so many lives...

Complaints about the job turn into complaints about the teams, which makes far more sense for Coco's character. Anyone's, really. Despite my insistence that it's a good thing they're learning to fight with people other than their three besties, that was absolutely a sudden and rather traumatizing change, just given how attached the teams already are. I'm not at all surprised that Coco is struggling to cope.

She says she misses her friends, obviously, but also "surprisingly, Coco missed being in charge."

...That's supposed to be surprising? Coco, you love being in charge! How is this in any way a revelation?

Apparently it is though, stemming from how bad Reese is as their leader. As with so many things in RWBY, I find myself disagreeing with a perspective that's presented as a fact: "She liked to lead by group vote, which wasn’t leading at all." Yes... it is? We could go down a rabbit hole of literal definitions — to lead is to direct, to direct is to regulate, to regulate is to direct again — but ultimately our understanding of a word does not adhere to the dictionary alone. It's a knowledge built on experience and I would hope that everyone's experience with the term "leader" includes that person considering multiple perspectives before making a decision. A leader doesn't impose their view on a group without due consideration of their preferences and needs — that's a dictator — a leader guides the group based on feedback and their personal knowledge. If that feedback and knowledge results in a standstill, or if their knowledge outweighs preferences, they are the deciding vote because the people have previously said, "We trust your decisions" through the act of making them leader in the first place. 

Asking for a group vote isn't avoiding leadership, it's an act of leadership. Reese decided that these situations warranted a majority rule. She further decided that whatever they settled on was indeed an appropriate course of action. Leadership skills are required to assess a situation and determine whether it's appropriate to vote on in the first place. If I announce to a group that we're voting on whether we go to the movies or the museum, I've done the work to determine that both of these choices are of roughly equal value and roughly equal availability. I haven't hit on any snags like, "The only movies playing are mindless blockbusters and I want this to be an educational outing" or "The museum is too far away. We'll never make it to dinner on time." Figuring out that a group can vote is its own kind of work. This avenue is particularly useful when the group is of roughly equal standing. With a few exceptions (like Ruby and Jaune) huntsmen classmates are all the same age, underwent the same training, and have had the same combat experiences. This isn't a case of one elite huntsmen lending their knowledge to an otherwise green party, it's a school randomly pointing at a somewhat outgoing individual during orientation and saying, "You. You're leader material, I guess, even though you've done little differently than the person standing beside you." Someone has to lead and Vacuo's switcheroo proves that anyone can be the leader if they're just put in that position. Coco claims a group vote is just "passing the responsibility off to your team" and yes! You want to share the responsibility because you are a team. They are a group of four equals working together with one person to guide them, they are not a boss with three subordinates. Why wouldn't Reese utilize the skills and ideas of those teammates? When making a decision, why wouldn't she see if everyone believes it's a good idea to do Thing A as opposed to Thing B? Unless Reese is outright ignoring her own ideas, beliefs, or gut feelings to cater to the others — which there's no reference of — this is good leadership. She's assisting her team in making decisions as a whole, rather than arbitrarily imposing her view on three others of similar skill and experience.

Yet Coco acts like because Reese doesn't go, "We're doing Thing A! End of discussion!" it's not leadership. Which, frankly, says a lot about how the RWBY-verse sees leadership as a whole.

I realize I'm rambling a great deal, so let me quickly provide a different media example. I'm currently immersed in Star Trek: Voyager and in season two, episode 14 "Alliances," Captain Janeway is faced with a difficult choice: align herself with a violent and so far untrustworthy species, or risk traveling through this quadrant of space without any allies. At first she's entirely against the idea of an alliance, going so far as to say that this isn't a democracy. She's the captain, dammit, she makes the decisions! But her first officer begs her to reconsider. Then the crew express disappointment — even disgust — that she won't consider this alternative. Then her chief of security, being a Vulcan, provides a persuasively logical argument for why an alliance is worth the risk... Long story short, Janeway finds herself in the minority and changes her decision accordingly. She attempts to garner an alliance and the fact that she was right — the species wasn't trustworthy and the alliance fails — is entirely beside the point. She realized that the majority voice matters. As far as we know, Reese is already practicing what Janeway learned.

ANYWAY the point is none of it matters because these characterizations are a mess. Coco also throws out that Reese "dressed like she was a twelve-year-old hanging out at the mall" and supposedly acts like one too. We're not given any examples of what that behavior looks like and, sorry, but I'm not personally inclined to judge someone based on their fashion sense. It would be great if this story actually engaged with some of the flaws the characters demonstrated, rather than just throwing them out to exist in this unacknowledged void.

Not that Coco's fashion-focused personality is really that important. Truly, the best thing about all this is how contradictory Coco's own thoughts are. She also listens to her teammates... except when she doesn't. She know when to go with their ideas and when to dismiss them for her own... except when she gets it totally wrong. As with so much in RWBY, this doesn't feel like the author giving Coco deliberate flaws that the story will grapple with down the line, it just comes across as a nonsense philosophy about leadership we're not meant to examine too closely. Coco gets to make references to the fact that her own, supposedly superior leadership is filled with holes, but heaven forbid she engage with that. 

She ends all this with the thought that no matter what she might decide, she trusted her team to "do what she demanded of them” and is now extending that courtesy to Reese. This I'm inclined to praise Coco for. No matter what she might be thinking, it doesn't appear as if she's tried to undermine Reese (well, not yet. More on that at the chapter’s end), and she doesn’t appear to be refusing to listen to that leadership, even if she doesn't like how it comes about. As we're about to see, Coco has her team's best interests at heart, no matter the challenges they're facing.

Her thoughts turn back to her old team and we get... this.

Velvet was with a team that didn’t recognize her awesome capabilities. Fox was withdrawing, having lost his family for the second time. Yatsuhashi was going mad with worry about Velvet and his teammates, knowing that he couldn’t be there to protect them, and worrying he would accidentally hurt someone on his new team.

This is so unnecessarily dramatic. First, how does Coco even know any of this? Because it's been heavily implied that the old teams are barely in contact with one another. See: Velvet refusing to loop anyone in about the club and Coco stuck in the desert for a week. Second, why aren't they in contact, at least those who aren't on away missions? The entire group is acting as if changing teams means they're no longer allowed to be friends — family, as Coco puts it — when the relationship between Team RWBY and Team JNPR creates the opposite expectation right at the start of the series. Clearly, people from different teams can be close. Yatsu's worry that he might stumble using his semblance with new people is the only conflict that holds up here. Everything else has fairly straightforward solutions. Velvet needs to prove herself to new people. Yatsu needs to text Velvet if he's that worried about her. And Fox "having lost his family for a second time" is a pretty ridiculous exaggeration. You're attending the same school! Your family is still living down the hall if Vacuo has dorms like Beacon! In what world are these students unable to interact largely as they did before? They're acting as if the school has outright barred them from hanging out, rather than doing what will no doubt occur the moment they graduate: force them to work with different people. Just catch up with Fox over dinner! 

Honestly, this chapter is pretty short, I'm just continually bewildered by this story.

To get back to the actual plot, something trips a sensor the group has set up and Coco responds to the situation in what I think is both a smart and empathetic manner. Previous experience has taught her that it's likely just a lizard, so she doesn't want to wake up her team for no reason. Disagreements aside, she cares enough to let them rest — "They’d probably appreciate the extra sleep." However, if it's a "rare case of something she couldn’t handle alone" she'd immediately call for help. Great plan! It's not often in this novel that I feel like I enjoy the characters, but this little moment actually had me liking Coco. Which, yes, I realize is a complicated claim. Characters should test the reader to a certain degree, mirroring all the personalities we see in real life, including biased, mean, or contradictory people. It's often a good thing to write a character that your reader is frustrated with. That can be the point! The problem with Myers' writing is that it isn't the point. Coco, as the former leader of our heroes in this tale, should be someone we enjoy spending time with and her flaws should be the basis for growth, or an acknowledgement that she is an imperfect, but well-rounded person. As it stands, flaws in this novel just sort of... exist? They bop around in the RWBY universe with almost no acknowledgement from the narrative or other characters, leaving the reader with little to nothing to take away from the text. Is Coco correct in her judgement? Is this a bias she needs to work on? Is she putting on a facade and her natural instinct to care for her team is the real Coco hidden underneath? Who knows! She’s just frustrating to read about most of the time and nothing comes of that. 

Regardless, she heads out into the desert, using the night vision glasses Velvet made her. 

Now see, this would have been the perfect thing to introduce before Velvet was fixing relay towers after the expert was injured. Remember how I said the novel didn't do enough to establish Velvet's own expertise? Not that a pair of goggles is really comparable to fixing a communications issue, but it still would have gone some way towards convincing me that Velvet is this super impressive tech gal, capable of handling any and all situations that might come her way.

But no, we get this impressive display of skill after Velvet's knowledge was needed in a pinch. 

The glasses help Coco navigate the terrain, allowing her to both see in the dark and zoom in on things in the distance. This allows her to spot the six jackalopes that tripped the sensor, as well as the woman currently fighting them: Carmine, a villain from After the Fall that I know nothing about. Ah well. Note though what I said at the start, that Coco's dismissal of this assignment is based entirely in its supposed uselessness. Yet now here we have a pack of dangerous grimm and an enemy to content with.

Also, this is where Coco moves from kindly teammate to overconfident fool. She said she'd call for backup if she needed it... and she clearly needs it! From what I can gather, all of Team CFVY lost to Carmine last time they met up. But now she wants to risk fighting Carmine alone? Go get the others!

She doesn't, of course. Carmine doesn't notice Coco at first. She's talking about how she has to get back into the city. "He’s going to kill me if I’m not back to the Mirage in thirty."

As said, this also implies that Coco isn't nearly as far out as she initially suggested. If Carmine can feasibly finish this fight, cross the desert, navigate who knows how much of the city, and meet up with the mysterious "he" all in under half an hour, then Coco is patrolling pretty much right at the walls. AKA, the area that absolutely needs to be grimm free.

Luckily for those of us who are reading the books out of order, Myers gives a quick recap of Carmine's significance. Last book she had kidnapped Gus and "held off the combined might of Team CFVY in the desert” (oh hey, I was right), presumably escaping afterwards. Now here she is again, likely up to some new, nefarious deed. 

Our of curiosity, I googled to see what she looks like and... 

WHAT IS THAT OUTFIT? 

Coco watches as she works to keep on top of the six grimm, debating whether she should help or walk away, but when Carmine is taken unawares, Coco acts without thinking, throwing herself into the fray.

Sometimes decisions were like that—your body already knew what to do while your brain was still processing the situation. Only in this case, Coco’s body wasn’t necessarily the clearest judge of character. Her brain would have said that Carmine didn’t deserve her help.

Now see, this is a scene I can get behind. The entire RWBY-verse is based around a type of superheroism: people with unnatural abilities, fantasy weapons, and extensive training devote themselves to protecting the people from various threats. Yet too often RWBY fails to convince me that these people are actually heroic, taking the standard flaws of a character and unknowingly exacerbating them to the point where I think, "Is this meant to be a commentary on the anti-hero? Or a critical look at these fantasy formulas? Because we've got the elements of that here, but no indication that the authors realize they're writing something other than that standard story." But this? This works for me. Coco, as a huntress, is so conditioned to help others that her body responds instinctively to someone being in danger, regardless of who that someone is. She outright admits that if she'd had the chance to think about it she would have decided against helping Carmine. The fact that she recognizes this and move anyway says a lot of good about her. Well done, Coco!

We see later that Carmine probably didn't need the help, but between the two of them the grimm really don't stand a chance. What's interesting though is how chummy the two are while defending themselves. Coco comments on Carmine's tendency to talk to grimm (like she does) and Carmine freely offers information about her movements, the fact that she lost her other sword, and that her partner, Bertilak, needs to "recharge a little" before getting back in the game. Carmine asks Coco if she'd like to team up with her instead (she does not) and the two have a number of flirty exchanges to top things off:

“I’ve been dreaming of a rematch with you,” Coco said.

“You’ve been dreaming about me? I’m flattered.” Carmine winked.

***

“Hot date with the Crown?” Coco asked.

“Don’t be jealous, darling.”

I bring all this up not as a criticism of the buddy-enemy dynamic (it's a favorite of mine), but simply because of something that happens next. Before we get to that though, I admit that I am on the fence about the flirting. Given that I haven't read After the Fall (assuming this characterization exists there), I know that Coco is a lesbian mostly via RWBY cultural osmosis, rather than through the text. This is one of the few (the only?) times that I've gotten a hint at her sexuality, yet it's associated with predatory behavior. Carmine, her enemy, is the one who turns an angry dream into a flattering one, the hot date with the bad guy into something to be jealous of. I'm honestly struggling to remember what, if anything, Coco has had to say about women in this book — this is what comes of such slow recapping and I acknowledge that this is entirely my fault — but I'm nevertheless discomforted by knowing Coco's canonical status, knowing RWBY's struggles with queer rep, and then reading a scene where the most overt representation thus far is the bad guy twisting Coco's words into something sexual.

I'm no purist. Give me a good enemies-to-lovers fic any day of the week, but that doesn't mean that kind of dynamic is the best to pull from in a franchise already facing heavy criticism for its queer rep.

Especially since the moment the grimm are gone Carmine turns her sai on Coco.

This is the "something that happens next" that I referenced above. It's weird to have them attacking one another after a whole scene of pretty genuine companionship. Coco doesn't help Carmine as a consequence of defending herself, she willingly gets involved. They tease one another. Carmine appears to answer her questions honestly. There's both implied and overt references to how well they work as a team. Then, suddenly, Carmine is outright trying to kill Coco, not just with her sai but by burying her alive. It's not the sort of banter that Ruby and Roman used to engage in, trading fake compliments and, in Roman's case before his death, legitimate feelings while attacking one another. Nor is Coco prepared for an attack the moment the grimm are gone, and she's not surprised by it. It’s just this sudden change that feels rather jarring. 

Though it's far from the first time BTD has failed to convey the emotion of a scene. Here's another example rnow. As said, Carmine is attempting to bury Coco alive by moving the sand with her semblance. That's horrifying enough on its own, but remember that Coco is claustrophobic. Yet none of that panic shines through here. She comes across as indifferent throughout the attack, thinking back to summers when her brother tried to bury her while she sunbathed, amazed that she could ever consider this fun. You know who Coco sounds like in this scene?

At no point during this attack did I get the sense that Coco believes she’s in serious danger, let alone that she's struggling against a long-term phobia. The only time I even remembered that claustrophobia is meant to be a challenge for her is when she throws out the oh-so casual line, "One of her worst nightmares was being buried alive." Oh really? Because it doesn't seem like it! Coco is calm enough to remember that she used to be able to hold her breath for exactly three minutes and forty-two seconds. That doesn't feel like a character fighting against her worst nightmare.

So this scene isn't exactly compelling. Which is too bad because, as said, Coco as some other nice moments in this chapter.

However, during all this we do learn a little more about Carmine. Prior to getting trapped in the sand, Coco comments on how shockingly strong she is. "Carmine should have been at least a little bit worn down from fighting Grimm," but she's not, "She seemed nearly unstoppable now." Coco hits her full in the face, but she doesn't seem fazed. Earlier in the chapter there was that comment about how she previously took on Team CFVY alone and at the end of the battle Coco observes that Carmine "still seemed as fresh as she had at the beginning of the fight. How was she even doing that?" My basic reading comprehension skills tell me that this is setup for something, likely some change enacted by the Crown. Surely the text wouldn't put so much emphasis on Carmine's strength — have Coco questioning it to this extent, framing it as unnatural — unless we were going to get an answer, right?

But this is RWBY, so I'm not inclined to count my chickens before they hatch.

The rest of Coco's team arrives and it's then that she decides to pull the super dangerous stunt to free herself. Yeah, yeah, I get that she's suffocating and needs to do something now, can't wait to be dug out I suppose, but the timing is pretty ridiculous. The cavalry has arrived, yay! Time to blow myself up.

Seriously. She blows herself up. Using her own semblance, Coco focuses on one of her gravity dust bullets and detonates it, causing all the others in her arsenal to detonate too. It gets her out of the hole and "knocked her Aura down to a dangerously low level."

So... let’s see. Coco can literally detonate a bunch of explosives on her person, after suffocating under stand, after fighting Carmine, after fighting grimm, after a week long mission, and her aura doesn't break... but Yang's does from a single Neo slash?

Okay, RWBY.

Reese and Olive try to attack Carmine together, but end up eliminating one another's attacks. I like that a team actually has some realistic difficulties for once. Coco, however, is internally an asshole, calling them "idiots" and saying that they need to learn to coordinate their attacks. Thing is, she apparently hasn't done anything over the last week to help with that. She's been too busy complaining about Reese's clothes.

Carmine runs off as more grimm show up, drawn by Coco's non-existent panic. To her credit she does thank the others for saving her... but then immediately tries to downplay that. “It wasn’t a fair fight,” Coco spat when Reese (correctly) points out that she's the one who was ambushed. She also starts giving orders and when Reese (again, correctly!) goes to point out that she's the leader, Coco talks over her, saying they can't waste any more time out here because she has reason to believe that Shade has been compromised. She needs them only because she's out of bullets and low on aura, but they definitely need her because "let’s face it, I’m the best strategist around for miles."

Coco's a strategist?

And why does she sound like a villain trying to convince the heroes to work with her? She’s already part of the team!

Putting all that aside for the moment, we're back to this prideful characterization. I liked the well-rounded Coco from a few pages ago who balanced caring for her team with the likelihood of needing backup. Now she's flinching from the idea that she'd ever need help (hello, Sun characterization too) and snatching Reese's role the moment she's given the chance. So much for respecting her position. If the book wants me to believe that Reese is unfit to be leader and this is a golden opportunity for Coco to right a wrong... how about we actually show Reese being a bad leader?

Regardless, yay working together? The chapter ends with them presumably taking out the grimm before heading back to Shade, along with an important revelation. Prior to leaving, Carmine asked Coco why Yatsuhashi and Fox weren't rushing to her aid. It's only now that Coco realizes she didn't mention Velvet. Why? Perhaps because Carmine already knows where Velvet is, which obviously doesn't imply anything good.

And that's the end of Chapter Ten! Can you tell I never know how to finish these recaps? Describing cliffhangers doesn't have quite the same punch as, you know, actual cliffhangers. You all just have to suffer through my mediocre endings with me.

But would you look at that! Turns out the third attempt at writing this was the charm! :D

See you for Chapter Eleven! 💜

#rwby #BTD #Before the Dawn #BTD Recaps #mymetas

[stratossphere]

bodyguard | a. hotchner

summary: reader needs someone to spend the night with them while an escaped convict is stalking them, and they choose aaron hotchner, thinking he won’t even come.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral (m. recieving), fem! reader, dirty talk, language

a/n: this is my first fic so go easy on me lol

——

"Okay. This is ridiculous." You scoffed, staring at Morgan. You did not need a bodyguard. You were 25!

"Ridiculous or cautious?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. You silently wondered if he got them plucked and waxed to make them look that good. At your annoyed look, he sighed. "Well, how about this? I'll let you pick who guards you."

"That's stupid." You paused for a moment, mulling it over. "Okay, let me think about it." You sighed. You were on the brink of coming up with a plan, but you needed time to think. The man you had arrested had been released, and had promised in a letter to kidnap and torture you to his best ability. Comforting.

You sat at your desk for a while, mindlessly sorting through case files JJ had dropped on your desk, trying to think of some way to get out of being babysat by someone on the team. At first you were going to pick Derek because you liked his sense of humor, but then rationalized that he would probably make you sit in a corner.

Then you thought Reid, by Morgan would probably also say no. Reid was dealing with issues of his own, and the last time he had been a bodyguard for someone, they had ended up making out in a pool. And that was not happening.

Prentiss was unavailable because of a case in another state she was working with Rossi, and you knew JJ had Henry. Suddenly, it dawned on you. Ask for Hotch, and he would 100% say no. That left Garcia, and Morgan would most likely say no to that because she was unarmed. So you made your decision.

"Morgan!" You walked back up to his desk, a proud look on your face. You may not have been the smartest profiler, but you were definitely the best at getting your way.

"What's up, sweetheart?" He asked, turning in his chair and grinning at you. "You picked me, right?" Ooh, so confident. You shook your head.

"Hotch."

"Ooh, nicely played. No way he's going to say yes." He chuckled. "Go up and tell him."

"What? I have to tell him?" You complained, pouting. You didn't want to have to deal with his seemingly never ending temper. But alas, you marched your happy ass up to his office, and knocked on his door. He was on the phone but he motioned you in, telling whoever was on the phone he would need to call them back. He set down his phone, turning his attention to you. He looked exhausted, and if you weren't afraid of him, you would've told him he needed to go home.

"What?" He snapped impatiently, making you want to back out of that office as fast as you could. Hotch in a bad mood wasn’t exactly your favorite thing. You scoffed. Attitude much?

"Well, good evening to you, too."

"What can I do for you? I was kind of busy." He said a little softer, huffing and reaching again for his phone. You chewed on your lip. You hated asking people things. Even more so when they were apparently in a pissy mood.

"Morgan needs you to be my bodyguard for the night." You blurted, staring at your feet and then back up at him. He sighed deeply, staring at you for a second. Heck yeah, he's going to say no. You knew that look, seeing as he literally said no to you at least 5 times a day.

"Uh, okay. I'll get my stuff and take you home." He said, standing up. Your jaw dropped. No fucking way. He raised an eyebrow at your reaction to his words. Shit. Now you had to back your way out.

"What? No! You were supposed to say no!" You whined, throwing your hands in the air. Essentially throwing a fit in his office. In front of your boss. "You're obviously busy. See you later."

"I didn't ask what you wanted me to do, Agent. Get your stuff and we'll head to my car." He reprimanded, heading towards the door. "Let's go. And I don't want to hear any complaining." Well that was unexpected. You understood that he was overworked, but did he really need to yell at you?

"You're already acting like my drill sergeant and we aren't even home yet. Are you going to be this way the whole time?" You ignored his request, moping as you followed him. Morgan gave you a surprised/empathetic look as you passed by, and you pretended to throw up. He turned to look at you, clenching his jaw. You stopped as soon as his eyes met yours, straightening your posture. Force of habit, being around your straight-laced boss all the time.

"I can see you. You're right next to me." He muttered, giving you an annoyed look. You stifled a groan at his stone stature. This was going to be a long ride.

The drive home was silent, the only words spoken were "don't touch that" when you turned on the radio. He let The Beatles play, though, which you found interesting seeing as it was playing off the CD in his car already. Hotch likes Lennon. When you got home, you led him into your apartment, only after he'd cleared it for you. This was all so stupid.

"You should just go home. It's not like I'm going to die." You said as you watched him walk through the house with his shoes on. Who knew what kind of shit he had walked through in his work shoes?! Part of you was too afraid to see what his socks looked like anyways, so you let it go. You collapsed on the couch as you watched him look through stuff, that serious 'boss face' set even deeper than usual. It was exhausting, watching him frown so much. You always tried to make him laugh or smile, but to no avail. He was a stone cold bitch.

"No. You can't just be here by yourself." He said, stopping his pacing in front of you. His frown deepened (if that was even possible) at the amused look on your face, and he crossed his arms, pausing where he was standing in the kitchen. "What?"

"How do you just frown? All day? Like, I don't think I've ever seen you smile. Ever." You asked, giving him a curious look. He chuckled, shaking his head. But he didn't smile. How do you manage to laugh without smiling? Maybe he was soulless. That would make a lot of sense, honestly.

"You should go to bed."

"I'm not tired. You just want to get rid of me." You scoffed, shaking your head. He pinched his nose, sighing heavily. You were starting to seriously annoy him. Personally, you thought it was very funny.

"If I say yes, will you shut up and go to bed?" He asked dryly. You put up your hands in defense, getting up and rolling your eyes. You didn't need that kind of disrespect in your own home.

"You can't be my boss when we're in my house." You pointed out, turning on the living room light. "Hotch. Take off your shoes. Stay a while. Jesus Christ." Him pacing like that was starting to seriously stress you out.

"My job isn't to 'stay awhile.' I'm watching you, not hanging out with you." But he did kick of his shoes, and low and behold, he was wearing plain black. Boring. He could've at least done some colored diamonds. "Why are you staring at my feet."

His voice startled you, and you glanced back up at his face. He had a questioning look on his face, and he looked annoyed. But then again, he always looked annoyed.

"Sorry. I was just noticing how boring your socks are." You mumbled. He really needed to get some fashion tips from Reid and Penelope when it came to socks. He would've yelled at you if you were back at the BAU, but all he did this time was laugh.

There! A smile. A small one, but still a smile.

"Stop profiling me. All my socks are the same." He said curtly, crossing his arms. You faked a disappointed sigh, shaking your head.

"You shouldn't have said that if you didn't want me to profile. You like order." You offered, sitting back down. He looked unfazed by this, and shrugged. Just slightly.

"You already knew that, though. You've spent a lot of time in my office." He pointed out. He took off his jacket, hanging it on your barstool. Okay. Making progress. You nodded, giving him a grim look. Well, he wasn't wrong. That man spent more time reprimanding you than he did actually talking to you.

"You also like yelling." You grumbled, grinding your teeth momentarily to show that it pissed you off.

"And apparently, you like being yelled at." He said with raised eyebrows. You watched him, hiding the small smile on your face behind your palm. He wasn't so scary when he looked like that. Face relaxed.

"You don't want to be here." It was very obvious. He wouldn't sit down, and he was seconds away from starting to pace again. Plus, he kept looking through the open window. He was watching. Waiting. It was making you just as restless as him. Who knew SSA Hotchner was so squirrelly?

"I could be home with my son right now." He admitted, raising an eyebrow at you as if to say and? so what? you chose to come here in the first place.

"Then go home." You stated simply.

"No." Ugh. So stubborn. You decided to make light of his attitude.

"Well, at least I know someone enjoys my company." You joked, patting the space next to you on the couch. "You should really sit down. You can't just stand there all night." You'd think after so much walking and standing at work, he'd want to sit down and relax.

To your surprise, he did sit down, crossing his arms. This was the most calmly dressed you had ever seen him, and yet he was dressed more formal than anyone who had ever taken you on a date. Your eyes lingered on the top button of his shirt. He had unbuttoned it at some point. The way his shirt fit snugly on his arms, his hands...

"Do you know anyone who seems to linger around your apartment too long? Seems to always be there when you leave?" He was trying to divert your attention back to the case, but you didn't feel like talking about it. At least he had stopped your staring. You hoped he hadn't seen it.

"You know, the good thing about this is that you left at a normal time today." You pointed out. When he could get away with it, you weren't sure he even left his office overnight. He was there later than you and always there earlier the next morning, so you couldn't be sure. If he didn't annoy you so much, you'd worry about his wellbeing.

"I don't appreciate you judging my work schedule. What I do after you leave is not under your jurisdiction." He stated tensely, clenching his jaw. You groaned, leaning your head back dramatically. He was starting to give you a headache.

"Hotch. Loosen up. Seriously. You could eat something, watch something on TV, go to bed, get a drink, talk to me without that glare on your face-" you tsked, "-I could go on forever."

"How about you go to bed and I'll watch something? You still have work tomorrow." He said, reaching for the remote. You sighed, getting up and giving up at the same time. He also had to work tomorrow but WHATEVER.

"Fine. But if you're going to watch The Bachelor, don't tell me what happens. I'm recording it." You warned, pointing at him aggressively. He shook his head disapprovingly as you walked away and into your room. It was weird, knowing Aaron Hotchner was sitting in your living room, and you were going to bed. Very weird. But you couldn't erase the stupid smile he had caused from your face.

All jokes aside, once you were in your room (and you could hear the news in the living room, you should've guessed), the reality of the situation was starting to set in. Someone was watching you. Waiting to murder you in any way they could. Most likely torture and mutilation as he had his original victims. And yet, they hadn't had enough evidence to prosecute. You were alone now, and there was no one to distract your stalker.

You checked out the windows a couple of times, hiding behind the curtain. You couldn't tell if it was the dark or your imagination, but you saw people everywhere. Shadows in the alley outside your window, someone standing across the street, you began to feel increasingly jittery. Okay. You gave up. You were not about to be murdered in your sleep when you had your made-of-steel boss basically waiting for your call. You weren't just going to waste your resources.

"Hotch?" You called, unable to hide the quiver in your voice. You heard footsteps, and a second later he was in your doorway, looking panicked. You were already starting to regret your decision. You didn't need him in here. You didn't. You didn't.

"What? What's going on?" He asked, halting to a stop and looking around frantically. You grimaced, shaking your head.  You needed him in here.

"Nothing. Sorry. I was just going to ask you if you could look around one more time. Just to make sure." You said sheepishly, looking at him hopefully. He sighed in relief, relaxing. You had obviously worried him.

"Of course. Stay with me, just in case." He waited for you to follow him before walking out of the room. His demeanor was relaxed, and you could tell he was sure there was nothing to worry about, but he was looking anyway, which was nice. You did a full sweep of the apartment and obviously came up with nothing. You couldn't ignore the fact that you had immediately felt at ease when you had seen his face.

"Clear." He said as he closed your closet door. Part of you wanted to laugh at the obscurity of the situation you had just witnessed. Your boss checking your closet for monsters. Ridiculous. But the other part was focused out the window. Maybe you weren't hallucinating.

"Hotch." You whispered, moving to the side so you weren't in full view. When he looked your way you pointed out the window to the person who actually was standing across the street. So you weren't crazy. Hotch looked out the window from where he was standing and immediately reached for his gun, not taking it out but not taking his hand off of it. He watched for a while, then removed his hand.

"He's walking a dog." He realized, slowly closing the curtain. You sat down on the bed, pulling your knees to your chest. You sighed in relief. You were being so stupid.

"Okay. This is a lot." You mumbled, watching him glance out the window one more time. He turned back to you, a concerned (or something like that) look on his face.

"I can sit in here until you fall asleep." He said quietly, nodding to the chair next to your bed. You raised your eyebrows in surprise, the offer not one you would expect from your boss.

"Uh, yeah. That would be great, actually." You climbed under your covers as you watched him sit down and dial a number. You didn't know how you were supposed to sleep with him talking on the phone, but you went along with it and laid down.

"Hey, Garcia. I know it's late. I need you to arrange tighter security around y/n's apartment. There's only so much I can do from here." He paused for a second, listening to whatever Penelope was saying on the other end. "Thank you. And please, stop calling me that." He hung up, and then dialed another number. You stared at the ceiling as you listened to him talk endlessly with like 6 different people about six different things, and thought: who knew hotch was such a loudmouth?

"What are you, a teenage girl?" You groaned, sitting up. He looked startled, but he stopped dialing.

"Excuse me?" He must've thought you were sleeping.

"I have never met someone who spends so much time on the phone. Do you ever sleep?" You complained, turning your head to look at him. He turned off his phone and set it in his lap, giving you an annoyed look.

"I thought you were sleeping."

"It's impossible to sleep when you're talking." You weren't about to tell him that his voice was comforting. More when he wasn't using his Unit Chief voice. But you had yet to hear much of that.

"Not true. Jack falls asleep every night to Harry Potter." He objected. You rolled your eyes, pulling the covers further up towards your chin.

"I'd rather you read then talk about case files." You muttered.

"I don't have a book." He argued. You couldn't tell if he was joking or not, so you opened your nightstand drawer and pulled out some stupid mystery book you had never read. You didn't really have a lot of time for reading with your job.

"Profile and solve before the book ends." You suggested. "I'm sure you'll figure it out by the 3rd chapter or so. Probably the butler." For some reason, you were feeling pretty drowsy as soon as he had stopped talking, and it was getting hard to keep your eyes open. He gave you a gentle smile, opening the book and looking it over.

"Butler? It's usually the ex-boyfriend." He countered. You laughed weakly, closing your eyes and humming a small agreement.

"You can read it out loud, if you want." You mumbled. He paused for a second, and then he started reading. The book was about a dead son, and all the family were suspects. His voice has quieted down considerably, and as he turned the pages, his tone was barely audible. You fell asleep before he could get any farther than that.

——

You jolted out of a bad dream of someone breaking in when you opened your eyes. You were leaning on your arm, but your arm wasn't on your mattress. It was in Hotch's lap. You looked up to see that he was asleep, head leaning back with his mouth slightly open. You got up, stretching your arm seeing as it was asleep. This woke him, and he jolted into awareness. You rubbed your eyes, trying to bring the room into focus.

"Calm down." You mumbled, falling back against your pillows. You tried to calm your heartbeat, but for some reason panic had set in and wouldn't leave.

"You were thrashing in your sleep. I couldn't get you to sit still unless I held you down like that." He said, explaining the way you had woken up. You closed your eyes again, taking deep breaths. "Are you okay?"

"Not at the moment, no." You huffed. You reached out your hand, finding his and squeezing it tightly. "This is kind of scary. What does it tell you about me that I'm an FBI agent scared of an invisible man?"

"Tells me that you're sane. I would be worried if you weren't scared." He held my hand in both of his, giving me a sympathetic look. "You're not even fully awake." His skin on your skin was making you feel a certain way, even if it was just his hands.

"Can you sit with me?" You mumbled, squeezing his hand tighter. His hands on yours were calming the panic a little bit, but not enough. He chuckled.

"I'm already sitting with you. You probably won't even remember this conversation in the morning."

"No, like, in bed with me. Just sit with me. Please?" You begged. You knew he was going to say no, but it never hurt to ask. He sighed.

"Fine. But just this once." He got up and walked over to the other side of your bed, crawling in slowly. You leaned up against his side and wrapped your arms around him, his arm coming to rest on your shoulders. His cologne smelled expensive, and it was comforting. He had taken off his button up shirt at some point, and all he was wearing was the white t-shirt he had been wearing underneath it. It was soft against your fingers, and it smelled of laundry detergent. You could feel his heartbeat with your head on his chest like that.

You fell asleep like that, and part of you wondered if maybe, just maybe, you had a soft spot for Aaron Hotchner. Not long after that, you regretted the thought as he woke you for the millionth time. The man wouldn't sit still. He kept shifting around, shoulder hitting your side or a kick to the leg. Only once did he mutter a gravelly sorry and still for about ten seconds. Finally, you had had enough, and you jolted into sitting position, looking at your alarm clock. 3:28.

"What is wrong with you?" You groaned, turning to look at him, a desperate look on your face. You couldn't sleep if he was going to keep doing that, and you had had enough. You startled him considerably, and his head whipped around to look over at you. He had resorted to a lying down position, his pillow shoved under his arm and his hair tousled. He looked pretty good like that.

"I didn't know you were awake." He muttered, resting his head on his hand. You mimicked his position, quirking an eyebrow at him. You had no idea if he could even see it in the dark. He sighed uncomfortably. "Nothing is wrong with me."

"You sure? Because you've shifted in your sleep more times tonight than I think I have in my entire life." You pointed out, lying back down on your side and keeping your eyes on him. "What's bothering you?"

"Well, it's just..." he trailed off, trying to find the right words. "I'm in a bed with my coworker, and then I had a nightmare-" Aw, poor baby. Wait what? Split second decisions were made.

"Come here." You said gently, opening your arms to him. He hesitated for a second before letting his head fall to your chest, sighing softly as your fingers found his hair. Yeah, you definitely had a soft spot for your boss. You did that for a while, just running your fingers through the dark strands and making it stick up all over the place. "You want me to help you relax a little bit?" It was a stretch, and there was a chance that he was going to shut down and go sit in the living room, but the haze of waking up in the middle of the night had brought you some welcomed confidence.

"You already did it! What's the harm in continuing to do it?" You pressed another kiss to his lips, inhaling the scent of his cologne. "Plus, I don't kiss and tell." His hands slipped under your shirt, his fingers coming in contact with the warm skin of your back. A low chuckle against your lips and he seemed to be okay with it.

"Oh you don't?" He complied as you started to unbutton his shirt, gasping for breath as he sucked harsh marks on your neck, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. Any bit of hesitation he had been displaying previously was gone, and now all you could see was animalistic hunger in his eyes. His skin against yours was intoxicating, and even though it wasn't physically possible, you wanted to press yourself closer to him. Your fingers found his belt buckle, blindly fumbling with the silver piece.

"You want to know a secret?" He breathed as he broke the kiss, helping you get his belt undone and sliding out of his work pants. You couldn't help but laugh, his words completely unexpected. "What's so funny?"

"A secret? My big bad boss wants to tell me a secret?" You rested your elbows on his shoulders, waiting for his answer. You were secretly curious to know what this secret of his was. He pressed another kiss to your lips before motioning to the black socks he was still wearing.

"These socks are reversible." He whispered. A small smile spread onto your face, your hand reaching down to his feet and peeling back his sock to see if he was bullshitting you. He wasn't. The socks may have been plain, boring black on the side he had chosen to wear outside, but on the inside, they had little Santas all over them. You started giggling again, pulling him back into a kiss.

"I love them, but I wanna see you naked." You sang, your hand slowly trailing its way down his stomach. He sucked in a harsh breath, quickly stopping your hand.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked, tipping your chin so that your eyes looked into his. There was worry in his eyes, but at the same time, there was undeniable lust. You nodded eagerly, lips parting slightly in a way you hoped would get him all hot and bothered. He shook his head, sighing.

"I need to hear you say it."

"I want you. I need you, Hotch." You whined, opening your mouth again as his thumb dragged across your lips. He pressed his thumb into your mouth, watching you with hungry eyes.

"You can call me Aaron." He chewed on his lip as he watched you suck on his thumb, looking up at him with faux innocent eyes. Your fingers found the waistband of his boxers again, starting to pull them down slowly. This time he didn't stop you, groaning slightly as your fingers brushed his hard on and pushed his boxers off as he accommodated the movement. He had pulled his socks off after showing you, so now he was completely bare in front of you.

God, you wanted this man to rail you.

You released his finger, instead attatching your lips to his neck and kissing your way down his chest. He was heaving for breath, and you felt a small pang of pride at how worked up you had him without even touching him where you knew he wanted you to. His fingers made their way into your hair, pulling slightly. You wasted no time, and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. He gasped audibly, pulling a little harder and bucking his lips toward your mouth. You swiped your tongue over the slit, earning a filthy moan from his lips. He pressed deeper into your mouth, and he started to thrust heavily, fucking your face. You hollowed out your cheeks, the moans coming from his lips going straight to your cunt.

"Oh, fuck. J-just like that." He groaned, his nails digging into your scalp. Who knew Aaron Hotchner was so vocal?

You bobbed your head feverishly in turn of his thrusts, groaning as he pulled at your hair. Suddenly, he pulled you off, wiping your lips with his thumb before pulling you back to his lips for a brushing kiss. He started to aggressively pull of the remainder of your clothes, throwing them haphazardly across the room. He pushed you back on the bed, slotting a knee between your legs.

"You know, there's something that I like to think about a lot." He mumbled, his hand drifting down your stomach. The way your body reacted to his touch, back arching and breath quickening, was making him so hard his cock was aching for you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding against him.

"Yeah? What's that?" You asked, gasping as he started running slow, lazy circles over your clit. "God, I need you inside me, Aaron."

"I think about fucking you until you scream. Watching you come on my cock while I pound into you. Feeling your skin against mine. Wondering how you would taste." He whispered into your ear, chuckling as you reached between you to line him up with your entrance.

"You and me both, sweetheart." You bit his lip, trying to push forward to get him inside you. He put a hand on your stomach, keeping you still and at the same time stopping his movements on your clit. He raked his hands through your hair as he slowly pushed into you, pausing to let you get adjusted to his size.

"Don't call me sweetheart." He groaned, pressing his forehead to yours as you jerked your hips up towards his. His cologne had filled your senses and clouded your brain, and you knew that in the future every time you smelled it, you were going to associate it with the feeling of being stuffed with your boss's cock.

"More. Please." You whined, gripping his shoulders and grinding your hips in hope of getting some friction to soothe the unbearable arousal that was begging to be quenched. You needed him. You couldn't handle any more. He chuckled, starting to slowly move his hips, starting a teasing pace that he knew wasn't even close to being enough. You let out a sound that was a mix of a moan and a whine, loving the feeling of him buried to the hilt inside of you.

"So needy, aren't you?" He lifted one of your legs so that it was up against his chest, effectively thrusting into a different position. You cried out as he hit your g-spot, putting your hand over his where it was gripping your breast.

"Fuck! Fuck yeah, right there!" You cried, feeling your orgasm starting to build in your lower stomach. He let out a groan as his thrusts became sloppier, signaling that his climax was close behind. Your moans became more sporadic and his name fell from your lips over and over again as your high approached. "Oh god, m'gonna cum." You were breathless, and barely able to get the words out.

"Don't." He leaned onto you, pulling you so that your chests were pressed together, you in his lap and his hands on your hips pulling you down onto him. You shook your head, gripping his hair and pulling. You couldn't hold it. Every part of your body was on fire, and your walls fluttered around him as you held on with everything you had. Finally, he moaned into your neck, and you felt his cock twitch inside of you.

"Cum. Cum all over my cock." He groaned, kissing you with teeth and tongue as you both came together, the feeling of his cum inside you causing you to moan on top of the euphoria from your orgasm. You both rode out your highs before holding that position, both trying to catch your breath. He then slowly pulled out of you, eliciting a whimper from you as he brushed your sensitive clit. You laid back on your bed, so blissed out you barely felt him lie down next to you.

He pulled you against his chest, his chin resting on your head and his arm wrapped loosely around your waist. After a while, you felt his cum start to leave you, so you got up to go to the bathroom, cleaning yourself up and peeing before going back into the bedroom, admiring the sight in front of you. Aaron, spread out on the bed, sweaty and disheveled. He looked gorgeous. You just stood there for a second, locking the sight into your memory. You had no idea if you would be able to do this again. The thought hadn't even crossed your mind that he might not want to see you again after tonight. He was, in fact, just supposed to be babysitting you. Not fucking you. Maybe he was sitting there thinking about how much he regretted having sex with you.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" His voice interrupted your intrusive thoughts, bringing you back to earth. You sent him a small smile, padding back to the bed and getting in next to him, sliding back under his arm.

"You're just so handsome. I can't believe Aaron Hotchner is naked in my bed." You mused, running your forefinger over the grooves and lines on the palm of his hand. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his free hand drawing lazy circles on your lower back. The thought of someone stalking you outside your window had definitely escaped your mind, and the anxiety that had plagued you earlier about your situation was no longer a thought as you laid in Aaron's arms.

"Get used to it, sweetheart. I can't imagine being anywhere else." He purred, giving you a chaste kiss. He smelled so good. Everything about him was just so amazing. You wanted him to hold you forever. You haphazardly ran your fingers through his soft dark locks, relishing the reaction you received from him when you did so. Eventually, the both of you drifted off, holding each other like that. That was certainly not how you thought the night was going to end.

——

Your alarm for work the next morning woke you, and for a second you freaked out. Shit! Someone was in your bed! Then you remembered, and sighed in relief as you sat up. He opened his eyes slowly, groaning and trying to keep you from getting up.

"We have to leave in 30 minutes." You mumbled, getting up and stretching your arms over your head. You knew he was a very routine-oriented person, so you thought it would be fair to at least warn him that you woke up and hour and a half after he did. It was common knowledge that he woke up way before he needed to be at work. Everyone at work poked fun at him for it. He shot up like a bullet, his eyes wide.

"30 minutes? Are you kidding me?" He rushed out of bed, frantically fixing his sex hair in the mirror. You laughed, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his torso.

"Calm down, Agent Hotchner. I'll make sure you get to work on time. You might have to skip the shower though." In all honesty, you had set your alarm for 30 minutes later than usual after last night's endeavors so that you could enjoy him in your bed for a little while longer. He turned around and kissed you, his hands roaming over your still naked body. "Easy, lover. Keep doing that and we will definitely be late for work." You warned. He had put on his boxers at some point, and after he broke the kiss, he was digging around for his clothes. You watched him work, pulling on clothes frantically and at the same time checking texts/emails on his phone. You leisurely got dressed, barely giving the time a thought. You couldn't get yelled at by your boss for being late if your boss was late with you.

"You're something else, you know that?" He huffed, adjusting his watch on his wrist as you sat in his lap while putting on mascara. You ignored him, concentrating on not poking yourself in the eye. Since he had to get ready at your house (which included him using your toothbrush and letting you brush out his hair) he didn't have his hair gel, so his hair fell on his forehead softly, which made him look so cute. You vocalized this thought to him as you got up and led him into the kitchen to grab your shoes.

"I'm not cute." He muttered, grumbling to himself as he tied the laces on his dress shoes. You brushed your thumb over his cheek, grinning.

"Uh huh. Whatever you say." You left after that, and guess what? You weren't even late. As you rode to Quantico, you silently wondered what he did in the two hours before he had to leave for work. Crosswords? The news? Working out? Changing outfits? Well, that last one seemed improbable seeing as he wore the same thing every day, but you never know. You honestly had no idea. When you walked into the bullpen and separated from Hotch, Morgan was immediately in your face, bombarding you with questions.

"So? How was it?"

"Did he sleep there?"

"Does he snore?"

"Did anything interesting happen?"

"Did he say anything about your apartment?"

"Slow down, Morgan. Jesus. It was...interesting." You sighed, sitting down on his desk so that he would sit down in his chair and calm down a little bit. He raised a perfect eyebrow, evidently wanting more.

"Did he sleep there?"

"Well duh, Derek. Unsubs don't just decide they can't stalk at night because it's dark outside and the monsters are going to get them. He had to stay there, according to him." You explained. You were stepping on thin ice, and you were hoping he wouldn't assume what had actually happened.

"Where did he sleep?" He pried, wiggling his eyebrows and giving you a suggestive look. You rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance with is antics.

"In a chair." You lied. Well, technically you weren't lying, he had fell asleep in the chair next to your bed for a couple of hours. But that wasn't the full truth. And as a knowing look crossed his face, you realized with fear that he seemed to know the same thing.

"You seem to be looking everywhere but me, mama. Come on, tell me the dirty details." He dragged the word way too long, a wide smirk on his face. I glanced up at Aaron's office, only to see him leaning against the railing out of Derek's eyesight, his look mirroring Derek's. You sighed, leaning in closer and sending Aaron an annoyed look.

"This stays between us, understand?" You asked, giving him a serious look. You didn't need him gossiping about your sex life with Garcia. Of course you were going right over to her room after this, but you wanted her to hear the real story, not Derek's no doubt over-dramatized version. He nodded eagerly, leaning in with you. You explained how last night went, and as soon as you got to the part about how you had sex, he couldn't contain himself.

"Oh my god. You did what?"

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #derek morgan #bodyguard fic

[drunkserval]

A Fresh Canvas: Incomplete Preview

Quite some time ago I did a silly little thread on Twitter, and I’ve always wanted to take that and actually make something out of it. Well it was a little harder than expected, but it’s coming along!

When I have the entire thing done I will be uploading it to AO3, but for now it seemed seasonally appropriate to at least drop this.

I wanted to have this posted yesterday but festivities kept me busier than expected! Story is below the cut. Keep in mind that this is still technically a rough draft, and will receive its final beta pass before the full story hits AO3.

(Tentative) Title: A Fresh Canvas Fandom: Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System by MXTX Rating: G, No Warnings Apply Summary: Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan are neighbors in the same modern apartment complex who, despite looking similar enough to be mistaken for each other, couldn’t be any more different. Or so they think.

----------------

Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan were neighbors in the same apartment complex. They lived on the same floor, in the same hall, and were often mistaken for one another due to this proximity combined with how similar their appearances were.

But there were key differences, as both would readily point out to their neighbors. Shen Jiu’s hair hung shy of his shoulders while Shen Yuan’s was shorter and lighter in tone. 

And still the mix-ups kept happening, particularly if they were at some distance or facing away. The misunderstanding would very rarely last past the first glance since Shen Jiu would snap and take immediate offense, and Shen Yuan would just sigh and say, "Sorry, wrong one."

Shen Yuan had no idea why Shen Jiu got so offended over it. Surely he didn’t look that bad, come on!

The neighbors eventually started learning to look at the clothes first--or to at least look for Shen Yuan’s thick-rimmed glasses. 

Both men carried and dressed themselves so differently. Shen Yuan dressed in hoodies and jeans--well, if he was planning on going any further than the mailbox, that was. Otherwise why bother changing out of pajamas or sweatpants?

On the other hand, Shen Jiu didn’t touch anything that wasn’t from a known designer. 

Shen Jiu spent proudly--and why shouldn’t he? Because he at least earned his money!

That Shen Yuan kid down the hall? Rumor was that his parents were paying his rent and he'd never had a real job in his life.

But because he never went out, Shen Yuan was one of the only people still hanging around the apartment complex when Shen Jiu went around knocking during a major holiday. 

In Shen Jiu’s arms was a box containing two fluffy black pups.

Shen Yuan’s eyes widened at the sight of them and he completely forgot to greet his neighbor until Shen Jiu cleared his throat. The dogs were like little storm clouds with feet and stubby tails, staring back at him with big black eyes. One started wagging its tail with such vigor that its whole back end wiggled about.

It took Shen Jiu a moment to find his voice as he followed, such was the state that his neighbor had chosen to answer the door in. Hideous cucumber-print pajama pants, a tacky anime shirt covered in snack crumbs, and unkempt hair had greeted him. But the continuous movement of the box in his arms reminded him of his mission. 

“I found... ” Shen Jiu shifted the box in indication as Shen Yuan shut the door behind them, “these, out by the garbage.”

Shen Yuan blinked as the other passed by him, “Have you tried calling any nearby shelters?”

“Of course I have,” Shen Jiu scoffed at the implication that he was so simple. “You try getting a real person on the phone today, though. It’s impossible. I could only leave messages.”

Shen Yuan put a finger to his lips, “Oh, right. Today is…” Glancing at a wall calendar almost as ugly as his shirt he nodded, “Right. Right.”

Did this kid ever so much as leave the building? Shen Jiu was starting to wonder. Shen Yuan dressed like he’d just rolled out of bed in the latter part of the daytime. And he hadn’t realized it was a major holiday. And then there were the countless odorous takeout boxes covering every available surface in his apartment.

Shen Jiu wrinkled his nose but still asked in spite of his rapidly growing doubts, “You don’t know anyone who can take these little mutts in for a day or two, do you?”

Shen Yuan shook his head and heard Shen Jiu sigh. His neighbor set the box down to give his arms a rest… but Shen Yuan couldn’t seem to rip his attention away from one of the pups. It hadn’t stopped staring at him, or shaking its fluffy little behind, for a moment.

“What if we take them in?”

Shen Jiu’s tone was flat, “What.”

Shen Yuan picked up the excited little pup and it immediately started wiggling in his grasp. Not struggling, however--just trying to get closer to his face, paws waving in the air and its little pink tongue darting out to reach for him even though it was still well outside of range. He had to fight back the urge to laugh at the silly little storm cloud. 

“The building allows us to have one animal per unit, right?” Shen Yuan shrugged, “so what if we each took one, even just long enough to find them new homes?”

Shen Jiu frowned. Taking in a dog, or really any animal, had never been on his agenda. He liked his nice clean apartment and intact furniture unlike a certain someone. Plus he was more partial to cats. He moved his gaze from the overexcited animal back to the box. Though the pups looked identical on the surface this one was clearly the calmer one. It looked up at his scowling face but put forth no such ridiculous display… thank goodness.

Who knew? Maybe Shen Yuan’s idea wasn’t so bad. And if it was, it was only a temporary arrangement, in the end. He might be able to get rid of the animal as soon as tomorrow if it was truly intolerable.

Tentatively, Shen Jiu reached out to pick up the dog…

And felt tiny teeth close around his fingers.

Jerking his hand backwards, Shen Jiu sneered down at the animal. “What, you ungrateful little beast!” 

Shen Yuan finally stopped cooing at his own pup to look over and said, “Maybe he doesn’t like your cologne?”

“And what’s wrong with my cologne?” Shen Jiu snapped, voice raising.

Stepping back, “Nothing, nothing!”

“It was a gift, you know!”

Shen Yuan barely avoided tripping over a haphazard stack of game cases as he kept moving away. “P-perhaps it’s just too strong for a dog’s nose, that’s all!”

This time Shen Jiu moved quickly, snatching up the dog by its middle before it could get its ridiculously tiny muzzle around anything, and he stared directly into the animal’s eyes.

“Do that again, and I’ll put you back out in the cold where I found you. Understood?”

The dog stared back at him, placid and indifferent… until its tongue darted out and licked the end of his nose.

“...good enough.”

----------------------

It was a few days before the two of them crossed paths again. 

It’d seem they both had decided to keep their newfound pets and they were both out that day to take the dogs for walks.

The air in the park was warm, so they sat themselves on a bench to enjoy it for a bit longer and soak up some of the sunlight that was so rare that time of year. Shen Jiu’s pup sat like a sentry at his feet while Shen Yuan’s pup curled up on his lap the moment he sat down. 

It was through the ensuing conversation they realized they both gave their dog the same name by sheer coincidence.

One was too lazy and the other was too stubborn, so neither changed it. At least they’d bought different-colored collars. But this brought to light a new revelation, and Shen Yuan just had to ask…

“How did you come up with it?”

“It was just the first thing to come to mind,” Shen Jiu had explained, “from something I’ve been reading, probably.”

"Wait, you read that too!?"

As he suspected! That name was from one of the top-rated web novels that year, from its stallion protagonist: Luo Binghe!

Shen Yuan couldn’t imagine someone as outwardly prim as Shen Jiu reading trashy webnovels, but it turned out to be true. It was just a quick, easy way for him to kill a few minutes of downtime at work, Shen Jiu reasoned in his defense.

Whenever they met up from that point forward, Shen Yuan talked his ear off about his various grievances with Proud Immortal Demon Way.

‘Villains that dig their own graves but don’t bother finishing! Women that lead the protagonist on a three-chapter long subplot just to get to their lewd scenes, only to never see them again! And every single character lost all of their intelligence when the protagonist came around!’ 

And yet he had nothing but praise for said protagonist… almost excessive praise. 

Shen Jiu is annoyed at first but he starts enjoying the company. Which is good because the dog turns out to be a menace.

Well, both dogs could be counted as menaces, just in different ways.

Bing-mei (as they come to call him) would start whining so pitifully when Shen Yuan shut the door between them, thus he often just gave up and took the dog with him whenever it was feasible.

Bing-ge, on the other hand, broke his toys within days, climbed around on furniture he wasn’t allowed on--sometimes when Shen Jiu was looking right at him, too--he barked, he scratched furniture, he tore up pillows.

Despite all the trouble he was causing for his master, Shen Jiu would no longer entertain the idea of giving him up. Not after Bing-ge tore up three separate muggers on three separate occasions and growled at the person who kept taking his parking space until it never happened again.

But the biggest takeaway from their conversations, for Shen Jiu, wasn’t webnovels or dogs. It made him start to realize how lonely he'd been. 

The only other person he really spoke to was halfway around the world for their work and they only spoke a couple of times a month. Now that Shen Yuan was around, Shen Jiu actually started to have things to look forward to besides the monotony of work--knocks on the door, long walks with the dogs, the occasional cup of tea afterward on colder days...

Shen Jiu was never the sort to be up-front with his feelings, so he found a way to show his gratitude by helping Shen Yuan with his confidence issues. He started encouraging him to go out more, and to put a little more effort into his looks when he did. This morphed into helping clean up his squalid apartment since Shen Jiu could barely stand to look at it when he came over. 

Months later, Shen Jiu’s recommendation had helped Shen Yuan to land an entry-level job. That, and a steady habit of going out once a week, gave them something else to do and talk about.

Progress was slow, but visible. Shen Yuan seemed a little less awkward in public with each passing week.

One night they were leaning on Shen Yuan’s balcony. It was a night of celebration, for he’d just earned his very first promotion, and Shen Jiu had brought over wine for the occasion.

He found himself leaning closer to Shen Jiu, telling himself it was just to get a better look at him in the dim light of the city night. His focus wasn’t the best even when he was sober after all. Yet Shen Yuan didn’t stop. And when Shen Jiu turned to look at him in confusion, and their lips met, he didn’t withdraw for several seconds.

Neither did Shen Jiu.

Shen Yuan tried to flee as soon as he realized what he’d done only for Shen Jiu to pull him back saying:

"Don't run, take responsibility. We talked about this."

#svsss #svsss fic #mxtx #modern au #bingpup #shen jiu #shen yuan #jiuyuan

[itsuki-minamy]

“K - THE FIRST STORY”

CHAPTER 9: PRISON BREAK (Complete)

* K - The First Story (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

"In the following, I would like to report on the contact accident between the Himmelreich airship owned by the wealthy international Adolf K. Weissmann and the helicopter of the Metropolitan Police Department. According to the police announcement immediately after the accident..."

The day before the school festival, Kukuri, who went to school early in the morning, was glancing sideways at the morning news on television in the student council room while she did the paperwork.

"Last night the distant sky glowed, maybe that's why."

When Kukuri said that, Asama opened her eyes.

"Hey, Yukizome senpai, did you see the airship explode?"

"No. It just looked like the western sky was glowing, and I didn't know if it was an explosion."

"But it's a shock. The whale in the sky has fallen."

"Whale in the sky?"

"It's one of the nicknames for that airship. That airship has been flying over Tokyo for a long time... it has been said that it has been flying over Tokyo since the end of the war, so there are various rumors and urban legends. Look."

On the television reported by Asama, there was a comment from the people of the city about the fall of the airship.

"Oh, that airship... wasn't it related to some new religion?" The clerk-like man didn't seem very interested.

"I heard that the man up there was like a living god, Ah, thank you, thank you." Said an old woman with a mysterious atmosphere, praying with her hands and holding some prayer beads.

"Well when he broke his heart, he got fluffy." "Nyahaha, it's impossible! It just crashed!" A flashy duo of high school girls giggled playfully.

Oh, this, Asama looks at the last high school girls in the picture and says.

"The urban legend of asking a blimp for help when it is sad or difficult is quite famous, and surprisingly many people believe it. There is an app for that... huh. I wonder if it was called 'Candle'. It seems to be one app that only lights a red light like a candle on the screen, but for some reason that light seems to be visible even from a very long distance, and targeting the blimp is the SOS signal somehow."

It was an interesting story, but purely questionable, and Kukuri bowed her head.

"What do you do after the blimp picks you up?"

"There are several theories about it. The simplest is that the foreign on board will listen to you."

"Hey, it's a flying counseling room for problems."

"After that, it can give you a mysterious power."

"Oh, the story is about to begin."

"It can take you to another world where everyone can be happy."

"Hm, isn't that scary?"

"It's a bit scary, isn't it? The official name of the airship, Himmelreich, seems to mean heaven."

"I wonder if it's romantic or scary."

After getting excited, Kukuri shook her head, remembering that that was the subject of the accident.

"I wonder if the person who was traveling there died..."

"Oh, by the way, it hasn't been reported for some reason. But this is an accident..."

"You guys…"

She hears a loud voice from the side. Student council president Hyuga Chiho, who was quietly processing the work, stopped and looked at Kukuri and her friends.

"It's nice to talk, but can you take your job seriously? The school festival is tomorrow."

It's scary when a beautiful woman silently gets mad. From the back of her glasses, she kept staring intently, Kukuri shrugged. Asama was holding her request for some reason.

Kukuri changed her mind and went back to paperwork. As Hyuga says, the school festival will finally be tomorrow. They have to prepare everything to finish on time.

Asama, who had returned to work to check the necessary items that day, said, "What?"

"Yukizome senpai, what is going on with the purchase of the missing fireworks?"

"What? What happened...? I'm sure I asked someone to buy them the day before yesterday..."

Surprised that she couldn't remember, Kukuri rolled her eyes in black and white. It was strange. Although she was busy, she Kukuri is not a person with a bad memory, and it is not something to forget who she asked for.

"Um... the day before yesterday someone went to buy them... who... but that person... hasn't come back yet...?"

Hyuga frowned suspiciously as she rolled her eyes.

"Yukizome? What's wrong, are you tired?"

"Well, is that so...?"

When she couldn't understand herself and made a pitying face, Hyuga looked a bit worried and sighed a little.

"Well, I'll fix it here. Originally, it was mainly to replenish the fireworks that were missing due to the statement that young man made to Yukizome. Yukizome, it sure was difficult to stand up to those people."

Kukuri turned red when she was mentioned about the case of Mishina's confession.

However, a few days ago she asked someone to buy the fireworks because she didn't have enough. But he couldn't buy them at the time, or there was something that disappeared because of some trouble along the way. That was the day before yesterday, she should have asked him to buy it again, and also asked for some other necessary items.

Kukuri puts her hand on her head and struggles to remember. However, the contrast between the strangely clear and the important that she couldn't remember was strange and terribly confusing.

"Yukizome? If you're not feeling well, you can rest..."

Hyuga was worried, Kukuri quickly smiled.

"Oh, no! Ok! I'll check the progress."

Kukuri fluttered out of the student council room before it bothered her further.

When she was busy touring the school, she was able to forget the unclear haze.

She asks the people who were practicing the final stage of the work if there were any problems or shortages, she toured the food stores to verify the handling of the ingredients and verified if there were any deficiencies, and if everything was ready for tomorrow. She looked around her to see if there was anything that seemed unlikely, and if there was a danger, she turned around to the staff that was ready and had free time, and confirmed the assembly of the costume parade, which was the event main of the school festival.

"Hello! Is the costume okay?"

When she went to the group that was making costumes in the room, they said, "Kukuri, it's perfect!"

They said they had all the costumes, but the warehouse room was full and they had problems with storage space and left them in the classroom. "I'll be using this classroom tomorrow, so I have to get rid of this. I don't have a place to put them." Kukuri hit her chest, in front of the student who had a worried face.

"Ok, I'll do something about it soon."

Kukuri headed towards the Dorm Manager's room. When she discusses the situation and negotiate if she could use the empty room, she immediately agreed. It would be convenient to put the costumes of the dormitory students there.

However, it seems that the room was empty for a long time, so it might be tiring for her to clean it by herself, so Kukuri headed to the central plaza first.

"Hello everyone, thank you for your hard work! This is the student council. Is there anyone who does not have equipment, needs to turn in a document, or is available to do extra work?"

In the central square, there were Mishina and Inaba who finished making portable shrines. Inaba turned to Kukuri and smiled bitterly.

"Ah, everyone is busy on this street!"

"Are you looking for him again? He must be somewhere around here."

Mishina spoke of "Him" with a friendly feeling.

"Ahhhhhhh!"

Kukuri responds with a smile that is a good idea and it solidifies.

"Are you okay?"

Certainly, Kukuri's head must have had the same "someone" that Mishina had in mind. However, that "someone" disappeared from Kukuri's head in an instant. In the student council room, Kukuri had the same feeling of not being able to remember "someone" that he should have gone shopping the day before yesterday.

"Who was he…?"

Mishina opens his mouth with a laugh, wondering how she forgot. Kukuri waited for the name that should come out of Mishina's mouth, but Mishina also turned his head with his mouth open.

"Mishina, we are fine here. You can go with her."

A student who was finishing the portable shrine with Mishina told him that, and Mishina turned his eyes towards Kukuri, who looked a bit confused.

Since the confession case, Mishina and Kukuri have been feeling a bit uneasy. However, even though Kukuri had no romantic feelings, she would like to continue associating with Mishina as her friend. She smiled awkwardly and bowed slightly.

"Ah… well, thank you very much."

"Oh, yeah..."

Inaba laughed a mocking face when they were both embarrassed.

She put an excuse in her heart that it wasn't because she was awkward, but because she needed a little more manpower, and personal recruitment, saying, "Well, a few more people."

In the end, Inaba and another boy went as well, and Kukuri told them that she would like them to help her clean the empty room as she walked to the bedroom.

"Bedroom?"

"If you put the finished costume in its place, they can change clothes directly that day."

Upon Kukuri's explanation, Inaba says, "Oh, I see."

Kukuri was confused with her busy schedule, and the haze had returned. She felt as if she had forgotten something important.

Suddenly, she saw a vending machine. She thought she bought some juice here the other day, so what happened to that juice? She feels like she gave it to someone, but to whom...

"What are you doing?"

When Inaba called her, Kukuri suddenly returned to her.

"Oh, sorry, nothing."

She now she had nothing to do with it.

Kukuri quickly caught up with Inaba and her friends, who had gone a bit ahead, and entered the bedroom.

"So we have to clean the bedroom before we put our things inside. They told me we could throw everything away."

Kukuri laughed and opened the door to the empty room.

The room was filled with strangely unoccupied air. Cleaning is done by a large number of "Tsukumo 99" cleaning robots in the school, so even if it is not dusty, it does not have the taste of "a room that was left unattended until now".

"This feeling of life, I mean..."

Perhaps Inaba thought the same, she looked around the room and turned her head. Mishina thought so too.

"Looks like someone lived here."

"Well, I guess he was taking a nap without permission. See, that guy?"

At Inaba's words, Mishina and his friends laughed at each other. When they talk about "Him", everyone just smiles.

Inaba smiled too and said, "That boy…", and then she probably tried to say the name. Suddenly, she changed her expression.

"Huh, that boy?"

Gently away from Inaba and her friends, who were staring at each other mysteriously, Kukuri quietly walked over to the kitchen and took the rice cooker.

She was frustrating and lonely.

Such feelings arise in Kukuri.

Someone was cooking rice with this rice cooker. A vague but sure impression remains on Kukuri. Shiro, happily helping himself to another rice, and that's it.

Kukuri looked around the room as she held the rice cooker.

She doesn't know why, but the feeling of throwing things from this room into the trash has disappeared from Kukuri.

++++++++++

As the Himmelreich, which exploded and burned up close, approached, Kuro's swift decision saved the lives of all three.

Facing the flame of the red lotus that stained the night sky, alongside the boy and Neko who had hardened with his eyes wide open, Kuro quickly swooped down from the helicopter to avoid the direct hit of the blast. In a violently shaking helicopter, Kuro held Neko's body with his left arm and said to the boy, "Hold on!" The boy quickly understood and grabbed onto Kuro's neck, and he grabbed onto a distant place with the force of his right hand, distorting the space, and he jumped out of the helicopter that crashed into the blimp like a bullet.

Although they were safe, both the boy and Kuro were exhausted and confused, and after wandering through the night to find a place to rest for the moment, they arrived at a motel at the end of the field.

It is a place where you can calm down without revealing your identity, which is why it is an embarrassing place, which is why Kuro entered with a bitter decision.

The boy, who was more tired, was lying on a heart-shaped double bed and fell asleep. Having been a disaster both mentally and physically, now, he was thinking that he should take a break and recover even a little bit.

And Neko.

"You... you seem fine..."

Neko was fine.

The motel she first walked into seems to be a weird place to Neko, and instead of being unpleasant, she enjoys the interior of the room filled with things like an amusement park and juice in the bubble bath with a strange mechanism. So when she came out of the bathroom, she sneaked out next to the sleeping boy, with her bath towel and no clothes on, and when Kuro stopped her, she started a fight against Kuro again.

When he was frightened by Neko's naked body, she intentionally showed her nakedness, and when he tried to dress her, she jumped across the room and ran away from him, after working together they were exhausted and sat on the floor.

"Hmm... I'm always fine like this."

"I'm afraid of that inexhaustible physical strength, but please calm down a bit." After a long battle, Neko was half finished, but he managed to put her clothes on. During the process, Kuro sighed for a long time and looked at the boy on the bed, who was still sleeping without any sign of waking up even though he was very noisy.

"If you're depressed you go crazy, well, I don't care if you're okay. However, you should reflect on it properly."

"Reflect? Oh, Kurosuke, Wagahai moved the helicopter, are you still angry?"

"Oh, yeah, think about that too! Thanks to your irrationality, the three of us were almost caught in an explosion and charred!"

With Kuro's scolding face not working, Neko sharpens her mouth. Kuro changed his expression with raised eyebrows, took a small breath and then lowered the tone of his voice.

"But that's not what I'm talking about now. It's Shiro."

"Shiro?"

Kuro lowered his gaze lightly.

It was a short time for Kuro, but he felt comfortable when he was in Gakuenjima and got involved with Kukuri and the others. It was the same for the boy. The boy believed that Gakuenjima was his place, and that Kukuri and the students in Gakuenjima were his friends. Considering how he felt when he found out that he was a ghost, he had an indescribable feeling.

"Hey, Neko."

Kuro turned to Neko. Neko held back for a moment as if the fight had continued, but when she saw that Kuro's eyes were serious, she lowered her hand.

"Shiro won't get mad at you, but your power is terribly powerful. If you feel like him, you can make someone else's life your own."

Neko shook her shoulders at Kuro's words. She seemed like she was afraid to remember something.

"But if you wield that power, you could destroy something important to others. If you force him to do what you want, it is false. The reward will come soon."

"Hey..."

What should he do?

As he said that, Neko turned around and shrugged.

Kuro put his hand on Neko's head.

"Isn't it just a matter of saying you want to stay with Shiro without doing that?"

Neko opened her eyes and looked at Kuro. Her beautiful strange eyes shone with surprising color, as if they had just dropped the scales.

For a brief moment, Neko looked at Kuro with a respected look, but she soon returned to her and turned around.

"Hmm! You're trying to cut Shiro with your power though, Kurosuke!"

It hurts when they hit him there and Kuro got stuck on words.

Kuro has an important mission. If the boy is bad, Kuro must kill the boy for that "reason".

The feeling of not wanting to cut it was already welling up clearly in Kuro. Kuro believes in the current boy. And he hoped the last boy wasn't bad.

"If Shiro isn't evil, I won't cut it. When all this mess was cleared up, I would cook rice again. We would go to Gakuenjima and this time there would be no lies. Shiro will greet Kukuri and the others, they will be friends again and we will eat together."

It is a story when everything is done the way you want. However, he felt that fantasy gave him the power to face the things that he had in front of him.

"Will I have fish?"

"That's right. The fish may be the horse mackerel you liked, and the horse mackerel is delicious this season. The shiny teriyaki and horse mackerel simmered with radish are good too."

When he thought of the food he wanted to prepare for them to eat happily, several things occurred to him. Cooked rice with salmon and mushrooms will surely please them. Pork soup with abundant tuber and juicy fried tofu with fried eggplant. Which is better, omelette rolls or sweetly roasted eggs?

He saw Neko drooling. Kuro secretly loosened his expression.

Looking forward to a delicious meal, they will face off today. It is simple, but he believes that it is something important that forms the basis of human beings.

The uncertain boy who was built on illusion is also a flesh human who eats well, sleeps, laughs and cries.

Kuro closed his eyes.

When the boy wakes up, they will talk about the future. Aiming for the future they want, but fighting without running away, no matter what reality gets in the way.

With her determination on her chest, Neko leaned slightly against his back. Feeling a bit forgiven for the stray cat, Kuro giggled a bit.

++++++++++

Munakata stood in front of the Mihashira Tower.

The skyscraper tower, which stands out in the seven areas of Kamado where Japan's central institutions are concentrated, is the residence of the "Golden King" Kokujoji Daikaku, and a huge institution that divides the political economy of this country from behind.

Looking up at the majesty of the tower, which added a Japanese design to the modern and functional construction, Munakata silently pulled up his glasses.

Last night, the Himmelreich, surrounded by helicopters from "Scepter 4", suddenly exploded and burned, involving a helicopter and crashing.

"Scepter 4" immediately cooperated with the police and fire department to extinguish the fire at the scene of the accident, evacuate and rescue the general public, they searched for Adolf K. Weismann, the "Silver King", who should have been to aboard, and members of "Scepter 4" who were aboard the seventh helicopter involved.

The helicopter that had crashed into the river was immediately identified, but the interior was unmanned and no bodies or injuries were found. At first, a desperate search was carried out as if they had been dumped, but in the end they were found intact in a completely different location. None of the three crew members of the crashed No. 7 helicopter boarded the helicopter. They were found passed out in the warehouse and had no recollection of what happened just before boarding.

In other words, there were other people in the helicopter who made suspicious movements just before the Himmelreich explosion, and they were probably alive and on the run. Munakata laughed when he heard the report that he was the man he couldn't catch.

On the other hand, Adolf K. Weismann was stepping on the line that suddenly disappeared and was the thickest, but to his surprise, the body was found.

The immortal "King". The First King is said to be immortal, but he easily died that way.

However, Munakata did not see it with his own eyes, because the "Rabbits" had arrived.

The men of the Golden clan "Tokijikuin", and guard of Kokujoji Daikaku. They are a group like a shikigami who hide their faces in the form of a rabbit, wear a kimono as a bandage, erase their individual characteristics and quickly carry out the orders of Kokujoji Daikaku.

Rabbits. Their moving was nothing more than Kokujoji Daikaku's order. The police, who were in charge of the scene, immediately said: "I accepted the offer of the rabbit and handed over the scene.", And the media they were interviewing also said: "The rabbits, we can no longer get new information from here."

"Scepter 4" is also formally like a subordinate organization of that system. At the site's discretion, "the rabbits could not go against their will, and Weismann's body found was recovered by the Rabbits without explanation."

But this time, he couldn't get it out if it was his intention.

Weismann is an important reference in the case, and if the "Golden King" was able to hide it in his own way, it cannot be overlooked, even if it is too big.

That is why Munakata Reisi went to the Mihashira Tower in person.

"Wait here."

He ordered the companions, Kamo and Goto, at the entrance of the tower, and when he removed the saber from his waist and entered the place leaving it to Kamo, the "Rabbit" immediately greeted him and led Munakata.

The room where the Dresden Slate is embedded is the top floor of the tower, which is high enough to pierce the sky. The closer he was to the Slate, the more the power of the "King" in his body felt like a buzz.

"The Fourth King, Reisi Munakata, will initiate the interview."

The "Rabbit's" voice echoed, and the door like a shoji opened automatically.

In the center of the great hall, which had a glass floor, he saw a tall and strong old man over six feet tall.

The Second King, "Golden King" Kokujoji Daikaku. Next to the old man, who was 95 years old but did not show the shadow of decline, was a capsule large enough for a person to lie down. He thought there was something he wanted in front of him, but Munakata walked slowly over the Slate without showing his expression.

As he got one step closer, the pressure released by Kokujoji increased. Even though they were both kings, the aura of Kokujoji, who had been a "King" for almost 70 years, was exceptional. It seemed that the universe revolved around him.

Munakata has met and exchanged words with Kokujoji several times in the past. However, the pressure from Kokujoji that he felt now was stronger than at any other time in the past. Munakata inwardly understood that this was evidence that Kokujoji was disturbed.

He didn't know if it was out of anger or sadness, but Kokujoji's energy was rippling now. The wave turned into a pressure as if trying to eliminate Munakata from that universe, and attacked Munakata.

However, Munakata was also a "King", even though he was only two years old from Kokujoji's perspective. Munakata also has a Munakata universe, and there is providence.

Munakata walked to the correct position without losing his temper.

"King who has come to the Slate, I ask you, are you here to fight or speak?"

Kokujoji Daikaku said.

"I come without my sword. I am here to speak."

Munakata replied.

The meeting place between the "kings" was a form-oriented way of fighting, confirming that it was a meeting, not a war.

"It's been a long time, Excellency."

"Let's skip the introduction."

It was a terrible reaction, but Munakata kept smiling without caring about it.

“First of all, let me thank you. Thank you for interceding in the recent Royal Blue situation. All information obtained through extralegal measures will be used for the public good."

"I'm telling you to get to the point."

A heavy voice blocked Munakata's mouth. His roughly carved face didn't move, and it was hard to tell from the facial expression what kind of emotions were building up in his chest.

Munakata said clearly, forgiving the intimidating feeling emanating from Kokujoji.

"Bluntly then. I believe that the body obtained by your men from the Himmelreich is of the First King, Adolf K. Weismann."

"That's right."

Munakata stared at the capsule placed next to Kokujoji. Content cannot be viewed from distance and angle from where Munakata is.

"Weismann, the 'Silver King', was the origin. His attributes are immutable, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"The sudden death of the 'Immortal King' that kept his youth and power at its peak for over half a century. There are many mysteries in this situation. Please allow me to inspect the body."

Munakata's words changed Kokujoji's attitude. He placed his palm on the capsule as he looked at Munakata. He could see that his hands were clenched and trembling slightly.

The air moved gently. The pressure emanating from Kokujoji increased dramatically. He became almost a physical force, swelled and spread throughout the Slate.

His skin prickled. The Rabbit, who was standing next to him, backed away as if frightened. Munakata did not step against the pressure and stood up straight. He floated but stood with a smile on his face.

"It's fine."

Suddenly, the pressure of the road disappeared and he broke free.

Kokujoji removes his hand from the capsule and steps back to make way for Munakata.

Munakata bowed slightly to thank him and approached the capsule.

He saw a white man with long silver hair, stretched out through the lid of a transparent capsule. Appearance appears to be twenty years old. He was a beautiful man who seemed to be a gentle person with his eyes closed.

"The capsule that holds it is not a coffin to cry on. How can I open this capsule, which looks like it is meant to preserve the body?"

"If you feel like it, just do it. However, if you are a 'King', you will understand even in this state. This body is not alive."

The power of the "King" could not be felt from Weismann's body. The heart doesn't move either. He wasn't breathing. He can't see dilated pupils, he has all three signs of death.

Munakata looked at Kokujoji's face. After all, emotions cannot be seen. He wondered what it would be like to find an old friend who had fallen silent for the first time in decades.

In the vague imagination, the "Silver King" was more like a monster, and was a person with the same intimidation and dignity as Kokujoji, but the figure lying in this way was only a young man of the same generation as Munakata. Rather, he made him imagine that Kokujoji was once a young man and once aligned himself with this young man as an equal existence.

A man who stopped time almost 70 years ago. A man who could have lived forever is now cold again, stopping in front of him.

(Is the "Silver King" really dead? The "King" with immutable attributes was killed simply by the crash of his airship. Why? What was that explosion in the first place? Situationally, it's hard to imagine anything other than the "Silver King" exploding, but if so, is this suicide?)

The questions were endless, but it was certainly useless to ask the body.

++++++++++

After cleaning the empty room in the dorm, Kukuri and her friends left the room once to bring their costumes.

In the end, she does not throw or take out the luggage in the room, but simply clean and tidy it up, putting the leftover items back. The rice cooker, bowls, and other dishes in the room also showed signs of being used with care, and she felt that she couldn't bear to dispose of them or pick them up.

"I think I can put my costume on with this."

"Yes. Thanks to everyone's help, we ordered in no time. Thanks!"

As she walked down the hall while laughing with Mishina and the others, a student from the same class came from the front.

"Hello."

"Ah..."

He exchanged a relaxed greeting with Mishina and they crossed paths. Kukuri also raised her hand slightly with a smile.

"Oh, that boy, is he a residency student?"

A few seconds after crossing each other, Mishina suddenly tilted his head. Kukuri also remembers "that?" His shoulders were stiff. The student was standing at the end of the hall, fox-faced. Before Kukuri made a voice, the fox-faced boy opened a room door and entered.

"Eh?"

The fox-faced boy walked into the empty room that Kukuri and her colleagues had just cleaned.

"Kukuri? What's wrong? Let's go early."

Looking back at Kukuri who has stopped, Inaba called out to her.

"No."

She thought it was probably due to her mind. She doesn't think he has anything to do in the empty room, and she was sure that he visited those in the next room. She was shocked for a moment because the fox face was a bit creepy, but now there are many people who are preparing for the school festival and they are dressed strangely. Maybe it's part of the costume parade tomorrow or something.

Kukuri regained her temper and quickly followed the others who were worried.

++++++++++

How many days have passed since then? He was getting tired of sitting still.

Suoh sat on the bed in the "Scepter 4" underground detention center and closed his eyes.

All he repeated was a bad dream. However, in this place, he was thankful that his conscience wasn't so blamed even if something happened, and he thought that if he came across the glasses guy, he would hit him.

He does not know the outside situation. Munakata did not show his face except when he came to give him unscrupulous advice, and he spent his time eating the prisoner food they gave him and lying down without knowing if the situation had progressed.

Suoh wondered how long he should wait. If things change a lot, Kusanagi will probably try to inform him through Anna's responsiveness. He thinks the news comes first, or the other party comes first, but Suoh is not a suffering person.

As he calmly watched the flames waving and swirling inside his body, he thought about going to find answers with his own feet if he had to wait too long, then he heard something fall with a slight noise.

When he opened his eyes, a red dial-type telephone was lying randomly on the floor of the dimly lit cell. The phone was made of cheap materials and looked like a toy. It was lying on its side, the headset went off and rolled, and the phone line was broken and not connected to anything.

A phone that was not connected to anywhere began to ring.

Suoh looked at the phone, which kept ringing with a toy-like sound, without expression.

Apparently, he was hallucinating from someone's mental interference. To the extent that he received something like this, his spirit seemed to be exhausted.

There was a small click and the handset lifted by itself.

"Hello? Hello? Do you have a minute?"

From the raised handset, he heard a frivolous voice with a sign of insanity.

"Who am I, are you wondering? I am the man you are looking for. If I remember correctly his name was… Totsuka?"

Laughter can be heard from the other side of the receiver. As if the jarring laughter was embodied, something like white smoke came out of the phone.

"I'm the one who murdered him!"

The smoke from the phone formed the face of a creepy fox and presented itself to Suoh.

"No, I'm sorry for him. He probably sits alone in the other world, so I'm going to kill everyone from Kusanagi to Yata as well. Should I? Eh?"

The smoke fox revolves around the Suoh like a play. Suoh silently lowered her eyes as he fought against his voice.

"What's your reaction? Maybe next time, I'll entertain myself with that young woman. You know, the one who is always with you. Anna-chan. I'm sure it will be fun, right? I like young girls."

He opened his eyes downward. The smoke fox was in front of him and cheerfully raised the edge of his mouth.

"Oh, I got you!"

When the fox focused on the smoke body finely and turned into a needle, it jumped into Suoh's eyes. The inside of his head swayed. The fox's laugh echoed through his head and body.

"Hahahahaha! Hahahahaha! You did it! If you come here, this! You'll catch me!"

There was a feeling that Suoh's flames were sucked into something that had entered his body.

Suoh's expression twisted into a smile even though he didn't want to laugh, and the edge of his mouth sharpened. A laugh escaped his mouth.

Suoh thought and said.

"I see. This is how you do it."

The distorted smile recedes and Suoh returns to his original expression. He found out that "that guy" in Suoh was upset. Suoh's heart screamed as "that guy" swayed.

If he wanted so much to eat the flames on Suoh, he felt that he could feed him, but the cause of "that guy's" death was that Suoh's drinking did not diminish.

Suoh closed his eyes again and focused his attention on the flames within him.

The boiling flame was always there. A sea of ​​flames that propels and inflames Suoh.

He has lived holding it and screwing it so it doesn't get rough and overflow Suoh and swallow the things around it.

He temporarily entrusted the image to the sea of ​​flames.

The image that naturally arises is a ferocious beast made of flames. The beast repels the "boy" who has entered Suoh and raises its fangs. He found out that "that guy" was scared and ran away from Suoh.

Still, Suoh didn't let go of the fangs he had put on "that guy". A beast that is a mass of Suoh's power chases "that guy" who was trying to escape.

It was a bit like the feeling he had when he was sensitive to Anna. The contents of him and the others were intertwined. Someone's soul and part of Suoh's power flew in sync. He went through the "Scepter 4" camp, through the city, across the sea, dived on an island in the bay, and headed for a room in a building.

A fox-faced person was seen through the flames in the room. The body covered with a fox face is the host of "that guy".

"There?"

The fire beast barked without hesitation or adaptation. He attacked the fox-faced person and Suoh's power exploded.

Suoh slowly opened his eyes. Suoh's consciousness returned from a short trip to the dark cell of "Scepter 4."

He found it. However, he could not be stopped by a remote flame. Of course, he doesn't think it's that easy to get rid of Suoh.

Seeing where he went, Suoh stood up in a refreshing mood. He plucked the magnificent willow with a chain that was holding his hands. The shackles, which appears to have been an extraordinary suppressor, were shattered.

He released the flames a little from his body. The flames that surged from Suoh's body lightly knocked on the prison door and melted the surroundings with the excess heat. Suoh came out of the hole and started walking.

An alarm sounded and several bulkheads closed one after the other, trying to prevent Suoh from walking, but the flames that erupted without caring about everything pierced it. The bright red molten iron wet his feet like a puddle. Suoh continued as he stepped on it.

Right now, perhaps with the glow of running a part of the flame in search of the "Colorless King", the power increased and he wanted to start running again. Suoh did not suppress him by force, but instead he let the flames he wanted to overflow and proceeded while he burned the area.

He felt pretty good even though he had a rage that overwhelmed him.

Maybe it's because he wasn't against the raging flames and trusted himself.

Maybe it's because he decided to walk the way he wanted without being tied to anything.

Suoh literally walked with the heart of the beast released from prison.

++++++++++

Fushimi clicked his tongue as if he had finally arrived.

He knew that he would not be quiet in prison forever, but more than that, he frowned at the bad time Munakata was absent.

Fushimi had come out in front of the main building of "Scepter 4" after ordering a nearby member to evacuate. It is the monster's escape progress route.

The moment he felt that the temperature of the atmosphere had risen, the entrance to the main building turned red and exploded. A blast of intense heat puffed. Even Fushimi, who was far away, felt that the aftermath of the heat would likely burn his skin.

The shadow of a man appeared swaying through the dust and heat haze. A bright red flame rose from the man's body. Man himself is an extremely hot source of heat and the residual heat that melts into the air is visualized as a flame. He looked like this.

Suoh Mikoto. With fiery red hair, sharp eyes that press on people with just the eyes, and a boxer body covered in taut muscles in a short-sleeved shirt, standing in a winter look, even repainting the seasons warms the winter air.

"Fushimi-san!"

A member called out to Fushimi with a voice asking for instructions.

"Even if he does something, don't do anything. Those were our orders."

"But…!"

He hears footsteps approaching. When he looks, Awashima was with a special task force behind the front door. Fushimi shrugged. Now that Munakata is absent, Awashima is in charge of this occasion. Her eyes shone with the will not to retreat even in front of the "King".

"Third King, Mikoto Suoh! You are under the control of "Scepter 4". You are not allowed to leave."

Whether or not he listened to Awashima's recommendation, Suoh didn't stop walking, but he didn't move his facial expression and walked towards her with a relaxed step as if he was taking a walk.

Awashima bit her teeth and drew her sword.

"Stop!"

Awashima concentrated the blue power in the hand that held the sword and launched the attack from him. It is Awashima's great ability that specializes in long distances, in which she uses her power to cut from a distance.

The slashes turned into a grid and attacked Suoh from the front. Suoh refused to avoid or receive it. He just kept walking down the path that he decided to go at the same pace. Before touching Suoh's body, the cut of the blue lattice flew as if the glass had been shattered due to the heat.

Awashima took a deep breath and withdrew.

Suoh stopped once with a face that he had just noticed his way was blocked.

Suoh took a breath. Just with that, the flame that enveloped Suoh grew larger, just like a flame that received oxygen and gained momentum.

Suoh exhale. The scorching power is exhaled with the breath, Suoh's feet make an ominous noise and collapse into a crater, and a small tile is rolled up.

Suoh gently spread both arms. A flame was held on his arm. The gesture seemed gentler, but the tornado of fire that appeared on his arm was fierce.

Fushimi clicked his tongue and ran away. Slipping in front of Awashima, who was still standing, he stabbed blue-powered knives into the ground and raised a shield to protect them.

The twister of flame released by Suoh scraped the stone pavement and burned the surroundings to destroy them.

Fushimi's barrier extinguished like a paper shield in the face of Suoh's flames, but it still helped kill the momentum. Fushimi didn't fall down just kneeling, even though he was hit by the flames that broke through the barrier and the heat dampened him. Awashima who was behind was not dead.

Fragile on the ground that had turned into a pile of tiled stones, Fushimi repeated heavy breathing at best. It looked like air.

He heard footsteps in the sound of flames. Mikoto Suoh was coming.

Fushimi touched his sword.

Suoh walked through the flames and dust.

++++++++++

Kusanagi greeted the boss who came out of "Scepter 4" in a striking way, as if he was erasing what was blocking his way, with a bitter smile.

"Yes, good work."

His friends bow deeply, saying, "Hello!", Like a younger brother welcoming the boss who was released after finishing his duties.

"Mikoto-san..."

Yata was impressed by Suoh's appearance, which he saw for the first time in a few days.

Anna ran to Suoh silently and grabbed his hand. Suoh looked at Anna without saying anything.

It was Anna who felt that Suoh would come out. At the same time that Anna's responsiveness caught Suoh's growing flames, Kusanagi summoned all the members of "Homura". Only the men from the bar rushed here, but soon all the members of "Homura" will join in at the end.

"Boss. Did you finally find his location?"

When Kusanagi said that, Suoh looked at his friends and raised the edge of his mouth a little.

"It's a school island."

An edifying air boiled among the friends. "Kah! Just like I thought!" Yata was excited and clenched his fist.

After all, Anna was right. Kusanagi was also studying the search in Gakuenjima.

Gakuenjima is a very original school that is physically and informationally isolated from the outside world. If they really want to search for it, they either have to put in the time and effort, or they have to go through a lot of hard work.

And now that Suoh has left, the option to dedicate time has already disappeared.

When he looked towards the "Scepter 4" headquarters, Fushimi was behind the destroyed main gate. With a tattered appearance, he was looking at Suoh in a position to stop other members who were about to get up with his hand.

Guilty Fushimi's eyes seemed to be directed at what was ahead of Suoh, not at the destructive action he had just taken.

"Come on."

Suoh said softly and started walking. Yata and other members of "Homura" cheered loudly and followed Suoh.

From his position, Kusanagi could see that Anna was holding Suoh's hand tightly.

#K #k project #k the first story #k novel

[throwing-roses-into-the-abyss]

I saw (part of) a video compilation of plant tiktok yesterday and I got annoyed so here are ACTUAL basic plant care tips & also some mythbusting:

-misting plants does absolutely nothing for increasing humidity, and can in fact be incredibly counterproductive since constantly wet leaves massively increases chances of pests & diseases like mold & gnats & lice. If you have a plant that does best in humidity, put it on a pebble tray with water or keep it in a terrarium of some sort. If you have a couple, group them closely together, since that will increase humidity too. (That said, most commonly available plants that like humidity will do fine without it too. They might not thrive as much, but most of them will be okay.)

-that said, do clean off leaves every now and then, and either rinsing them off in the shower/sink/bathtub or putting them out in the rain in summer (my preferred method) ocassionally does wonders for them. Plants need clean leaves for good photosynthesis, and rainwater has lots of good nutrition for them (plus it’s free water!). there’s some debate going in plant world right now about using wax shine and other products on leaves. I personally just grab either a damp cloth, some dry tissues, or a small paintbrush, depending on the plant and how much effort I want to put in that day.

-things you need as a beginner in my opinion:

a plant you like and that’s easy to take care of

a pot to put it in (get an inner pot with holes in the bottom for drainage, and an outer pot to catch the water that drains out)

a place to put it

(if you get a cactus or anything with spikes/poisonous juice: gardening gloves)

that’s it. I saw someone say you need ph-level kits and hygrometers and different kinds of soil and all kinds of products, and I seriously wonder if that person was sponsored or actually an employee at some company because that’s some bullshit right there. I do absolutely recommend researching plants before you go to the store, to make sure you’re getting one you can actually take care of in the long run, and also so you don’t get overwhelmed by all the choice. but you don’t need all kinds of fancy equipment unless you’re not a beginner and you’re maybe specializing or going pro in some way. Honestly, I don’t even have a proper watering can??? I use old drinking bottles that I stopped using because I didn’t like them lmao. I use 2, because I have 2, and now I can keep different fertilizers separate, but honestly if necessary you can even just pick up your plant and put it in the sink for a bit. we do that all the time in this household.

-before you bring a plant home, check it - IN the store - for visible pests/diseases. A lot of lice will be on the stems/on the bottom of leaves. don’t get that one. (I very often forget to do this, don’t be like me.). If you have the space, I recommend quarantining plants in a separate space for a week or two after you bought them, just to see if anything shows up you couldn’t see in the store. you’d be surprised at how often you accidentally bring home lice with your cool new plant.

-instead of getting a hygrometer, if you need to know if your plants need water, just stick a finger into the soil about one or two knuckles deep. is the soil dry? water it. is it a bit moist? wait with watering. tadaaaaa done. and for free!

-contrary to popular belief, cacti & succulents DO need water fairly regularly. aside from the part where there are succulents native to almost every environment on the planet, it does rain in deserts sometimes too. Don’t spray them with a mister, just put some water on the soil around them/on their roots. Mine get almost no water in winter because a lot of plants go into a dormant phase then, about once a month in spring, and weekly and sometimes more in summer. A lot of succulents will actually show when they need water, because they’ll get all wrinkly and thin and sad instead of full and plump. don’t overdo it, because they tend to be prone to rootrot, but definitely do give them water and even some fertilizer every now and then.

-speaking of dormant phases: a lot of plants go dormant in winter. look up if this is the case for your plant too, and adjust how you take care of it. some might look like they’re dead but come back in spring, some might need to be cut back a bit, some want less or even no water. depending on what kind of plant you got and where you live, you might also want to move your plant to a different spot temporarily (windowsills get much colder than the room, and cold climates can completely kill a tropical plant that was doing fine all summer)

-you WILL have to deal with pests & diseases and you WILL lose plants at some point. doesn’t matter how experienced you are, these things just happen. best to just accept it, you literally can’t save every plant, try as you might. learn to identify what’s going on quickly, and by all means experiment! but if it’s not going to work or your other plants (or you yourself) are in danger somehow: chuck it out. losing a plant doesn’t make you a bad plant parent, it just makes you a normal plant parent like the rest of us.

-EDIT BECAUSE I FORGOT: sometimes you will get a bit of fungus/mold on the top layer of the soil. this is generally fine and completely harmless, though maybe a sign you’re overwatering. if you want to get rid of it, try putting some cinnamon on the soil. it’s worked for me so far, though I won’t make any promises it works for everyone and every plant. (also, coffee grounds can help against lice, but I do recommend just leaving it in spoons or smth and putting those near/on the soil and not putting the grounds themselves directly on the soil. coffee is toxic to a lot of living things, including some plants.)

#plants #plant care #this is long sorry I got ranty flkhflkdsjflkd #the whole 'cacti & succulents don't need water' thing is a major pet peeve for me #they need good drainage yes #put them in a pot with holes in the bottom #and feel absolutely free to let the soil completely dry out in between waterings #but do water them!!!!!!!!!!! #anyway #this has been a psa #now back to watching the gay series of the moment #(I'm watching papa&daddy) #(its v v cute so far)

[lightneverfades]

That Damned Gazebo

Frostiron Holiday Wishes Challenge ❆ 🎅🎄 Prompt by @snarkyship Fic written by @worstloki Note: AH! So sorry this is a late post, tumblr messed up and I didn’t receive this on Xmas day! Ah! Thank you @worstloki for resending! TwT <3333

Wish (Prompt/Idea): Human/no powers AU. Sort-of-enemies to friends to lovers.Tony rents this house/bungalow by the sea for the summer, with a kind of private beach where there is also a cute gazebo. Only that the gazebo is exactly halfway with the other property (by some mistake?). And the tenant of the neighbour bungalow is Loki, who's not so keen on sharing. So Loki&Tony will start a "war" to gain possession of the gazebo, doing their worst using the excuse of "this is my half, I can use it as I want". ((Optional: there is a table right in the middle, so at the beginning they sit at their own side glaring at each other, before starting deploying more convoluted tactics)).Mischief after mischief, they will start to know each other and of course everything will end with one of them inviting the other to their half for a romantic dinner and they'll end up sharing more than the gazebo <3((I hope it's enough clear and but also not too detailed??)) 

Stupid cute bungalow. Stupid cute gazebo. Stupid cute neighbour.

All Tony wanted was a vacation; a break from running a business and having to argue for his ideas to get accepted by the marketing teams and just some time to lay low and relax.

All Loki wanted was a break from being upstaged in his section of the family business by his brother; some time off to cool down and de-stress and lay low and relax.

But instead only half their regular favourite beach house was available no matter how much cash they offered to throw at the real estate company renting it out. Could they have picked a different place to stay? Maybe. But none of the other decent rentables this far west have a gazebo, and they would have nowhere to sit alone and admire the waves from afar if they took a place without one.

And, of course, that’s where it all started— that gazebo.

That damned gazebo.

———

Day 1

Tony Stark, genius, entrepreneur, philanthropist, makes his way unsteadily down the sandy-grassy slope from the bungalow to the beach, arms filled with an excessive amount of floating supplies, a personalized towel, sunglasses only half on, a fun-sized bottle of the finest sun lotion, a laptop because he may leave the stock market but the stock market may not leave him, a black Prada shirt over khaki Hawaiian shorts, a speaker for music, hot-rod red flip flops, a bag of snacks, a thin multipurpose blanket, and a polaroid.

He almost slips a few times on his way down, and he thinks he sees a crab and swears, but he does make it down to the brilliant white-sand beach of Malibu unharmed.

His plan is simple: spend the day in the shade of the wooden gazebo, sneak a peek at how his business is holding up, check his emails, play some Tetris, sunbathe around noon when the sun is highest, back under the shelter till the sun starts going down, into the water for some splashing, drying off as the sun sets, listen to some tunes while laying under the stars for a while.

Just a regular day off at his favourite beach.

He walks to the shaded gazebo area and draws the curtain to enter, and dumps the entire contents within his arms over the table in the center. He turns to open up the curtains on all sides but is interrupted by an ahem.

Tony turns, and, in the curtained darkness, makes out the figure of a person.

He must be the one who booked out the other half of the house, Tony thinks, eying the stranger sitting at the opposite end of the table with only a book and bottle of water. Show-off minimalists, Tony thinks, saltily.

“I would prefer if you didn’t open those,” he says, and Tony doesn’t recognize the accent, but there definitely is one. Maybe it’s a blend?

“But what’s the point of sitting under a gazebo on a beach if you can’t see the view?” Tony asks, pulling one open, letting in some light.

The man practically hisses at Tony for doing it, which, okay, weird, but that’s normal when you’re assaulted with bright light and have been sitting in the dark.

“How were you reading in the dark anyway? Don’t you know it’s bad for your eyes?”

“I assure you I was able to read just fine.”

“Yeah… I’m opening the rest of these too…” Tony says, reaching for the curtain by the other side.

“Not if you wish to share this table, you won’t,” the man threatens.

“Are you… trying to bribe me?” Tony asks, shocked, because who does this guy think he is?

“Compromise with,” the man has the gall to say. “And with table space, yes,” and Tony sputters. What can he even say to this. He’s here for a vacation, not to argue with strangers who are taking up half the gazebo space that should be his!

“Half,” Tony suggests, because he will not sit in the dark all day and miss out on his beach-view just so he gets to use the table. “You get half of this space, and I get the other half, and we can do whatever we want on our sides.”

The man sighs. “Fine. That sounds fair.”

The two of them spend the entire rest of the day sitting at opposite sides of the table pretending they’re not intentionally glaring and making crazy faces and trying to telepathically get rid of the other when they’re not looking.

Tony doesn’t comment on how the man barely gets any reading done and the man in turn doesn’t comment on how much equipment Tony brought down that he doesn’t use at any point in favour of using the laptop to retain his spot under the gazebo.

Schedule be damned, Tony is going to enjoy his vacation, and that means enjoying his duplex bungalow, even if someone else is renting half, and enjoying his gazebo that may be in-between the properties and they both may be paying for but is 100% actually his.

They wait each other out, and both head up to their houses at the same time; around midnight.

———

Day 2

Loki wakes at his usual time, showers, pointedly gets dressed into anything but the black shirt he has that matches what the man had on yesterday, and grabs his book before he heads down to the beach.

Having to share the same table was, simply put, incredibly awkward, but Loki has faith in it not happening again. He’s just going to make his way down to the gazebo and spend the day relaxing and rereading his favourite series without a pretentious-bearded neighbour showing up and making things weird.

“YOU!” Loki hears, and turns to find the same man from yesterday rushing down the slope towards him, “WHY ARE YOU UP AT THIS TIME?!”

Loki takes in the sight of the man dressed in a half-buttoned-up hawaiian shirt and pajama pants, with only a laptop and towel in hand, hair clearly fresh from bed, and, before he thinks better of it, counters eloquently with, “why are you half dressed?”

The man waves his arms in frustration, “I was tired! And in a rush! You don’t get to judge me, you’re the other f*ck who woke up this early!”

“I… normally get up this early…” Loki informs him, backing away slowly.

He can’t believe he’s going to have to deal with this guy again.

At least his sweatshirt has a green hood so he can block the guy out of his sight, right? He won’t spend the entire day rereading paragraphs because the man at the other end of the table is making him feel anxious, right? Surely the man is bringing the towel to lay in the sand which means he won’t be needing the gazebo, right?

Loki literally booked this bungalow because it’s in Malibu, and no one pays for a place like this in Malibu when you can rent a lower quality place and spend the money on beach parties and drinks. The fact that it’s far enough from home to make him feel safer was a bonus, but he really just wanted to be alone for a few days.

Loki takes a seat, and crosses one leg over the other, getting comfy so he can lean the book on the table. He tries not to get annoyed that the curtains are still parted halfway. He wouldn’t mind if the ones on his side were open too, but at this point he’s not acquiescing a point to the stranger.

The man pulls the wooden chair out and sits down opposite him.

Of course he does.

Why wouldn’t he.

“So you’re really going to keep reading in the dark?” he says, flipping open his laptop.

“Yep, and that suits me just fine, thank you,” Loki answers neutrally.

“Does my no-light-reading-neighbour have a name?”

“Do you?”

“Tony.”

“Loki.”

“Nice to meet you, Loki,”

“Thank you.”

Loki uses his bookmark to flip to his page, and starts reading. He will not get distracted by this Tony. It’s totally normal to share this table. It’s not huge, but it’s built for at least six, so there’s space. Maybe not enough to lay on, but it’s enough distance to ignore the clicking of Tony’s keyboard as he frantically presses keys.

Loki is two hours into enjoying his reading time, and he thinks he was doing well.

He’d smiled every time Tony yawned because with eye-rubbing and deep sighs that man was not used to getting up early, but he’d actually gotten through nearly three chapters without incident.

Then, the infuriating man had plunked a speaker onto the table and started playing AC/DC.

Now he’s reread this one line at least fourteen times and still doesn’t know what the red-head was doing with Jon.

“Why?” Loki asks, “Why must you do this? You can see me reading, you’re blocking out the distant sound of waves hitting the shore, it’s not even at a decent volume, so, why?!”

“Sorry, what was that?” Tony answers, “Did you say something? Because I couldn’t hear you over the music, but it sounded like you had an issue with what I was doing on my side.”

“Your music is not staying on your side!” Loki argues, but only receives a shrug and an increase in volume.

He presses his lips together.

Fine. If you’re going to be petty about this, then I can too.

Under the table, Loki kicks Tony.

He hasn’t got shoes on, but he’s always had a knack for aiming very well, and Tony’s whimper (?) (it’s hard to tell with the music so loud) assures him he hit the shin bone well enough.

By the time Tony is done cradling his leg and looks up at Loki with a mix of anger/betrayal, Loki is already reading again, the perfect image of serenity.

Loki tries not to laugh as Tony discovers his legs are not long enough to kick back.

———

Day 3

Tony didn’t bother trying to wake up before Loki this time.

He went at his own pace, and remembered to change out of the pajamas, brushed his hair, had coffee, and took the time to make himself a few sandwiches to enjoy through the day.

Yesterday he even went for a quick swim around ten at night and headed straight back up to his side of the bungalow, because he’s a responsible adult who doesn’t need to out-do a stranger’s sleep-schedule. Or leg-length. Or laugh.

It isn’t a competition or anything.

By the time he makes it down to the beach, he finds Loki sitting under the gazebo, alone, with all the curtains tied open.  

He’s also... wearing a black Prada shirt which matches the one Tony threw on this morning?? What?! Taking up half the space on his side of the table with 1 (one) bottle of water wasn’t enough, he also has to taunt him by wearing the exact same thing?!

He storms to his side of the gazebo and slams his palms down, taking satisfaction in the fact that Loki was startled and drops his book onto the table. Tony hopes he’s lost the page he was on.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Hello, neighbour,” Loki greets, gingerly picking up his book again and giving a hesitant smile. “I didn’t realise you would be wearing the same shirt again, but I was hoping we could get off on a different foot today?”

Huh, well, would ya look at that, Tony thinks, I actually won. The sucker is gonna admit I’m too much and wave the white flag.

“That... actually sounds great,” Tony answers with his award-winning client-smile, sitting down opposite him. “This whole thing with splitting the table and curtains in half was a bit ridiculou—”

Tony yelps and stands up and starts frantically rubbing his hand over his butt which is stinging— he looks down at his seat and sees the culprit —a crab, menacing in all it’s crabby glory.

“Are you... okay?” Loki asks, far too confused, far too innocently, far too worried for it to be genuine, “what’s wrong?”

Tony, outraged, yells at Loki, “DID YOU FRICKIN PUT A CRAB IN MY SEAT?!”

“I— what?”

“WHO THE F*CK CALLS A PARLEY AND CRABS SOMEONE?!”

“No! I didn’t— are you okay??” Loki says, and he’s gotten up and rushing over and...okay, MAYBE he didn’t mastermind the crab.

“NO, I AM NOT, BUT THANK YOU FOR ASKING,” Tony screams, backing away from Loki, and running towards his bungalow.

Running in sand is hard, but Tony discovers it’s much harder when your butt is stinging.

———

Loki… did not put a crab on Tony’s seat.

He’d honestly wanted to draw up a truce, maybe have an actual conversation with Tony, and he even brought a towel and wore a change of clothes underneath in the event that the man wanted to go for a swim and wouldn’t mind if Loki joined.

He’d even brought snacks to share.

But now he feels bad.

Had kicking him under the table every time Tony had put the volume too loud or managed to slide low enough to kick him back or played We're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard been bad? Had it been too much? Why else would Tony assume he’d actually try and hurt him?

The glare-offs had just been fun, faces when they thought the other couldn’t see wasn’t bad-intentioned, the kicking hadn’t meant to injure. Loki had thought they were getting along. Perhaps he had misunderstood? Perhaps the other had not felt they were fun little pranks?

He owes Tony an apology.

———

Tony has been icing his butt for an hour. If he had any duct tape, he would’ve duct taped the peas to his butt.

Tony is thinking about how if he had any duct tape he would’ve duct taped the peas to his butt by now when someone bangs at his door.

Gee, I wonder who it could be, Tony thinks, as he goes to answer the door. Just so many people who visit this private beach residence. In all honesty it’s kind of sweet that Loki would turn up to check on him at all really.

Tony leaves the pea packet on the nearest counter and goes to answer the door. Good thing about this bungalow: it has many spare counters for things like dumping peas. An excessive amount of counters, even, and he questions what the designer had been thinking.

Tony swings the door open, “Hey there, crab-man.”

“I’m sorry,” Loki blurts.

“Hey, it’s okay, it doesn’t even hurt that much anymore, but at least you’re owning to it.”

“I didn’t set that up! I wouldn’t actually try to cause any lasting damage,” Loki explains.

Tony sighs.

“Yeah, I figured, I was just caught up in the moment and shouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Would’ve been a very Shakespearean betrayal too…” Loki muses.

“So… anything else you came to say?” Tony asks. Although he’s not sure why.

“Would you be feeling up to sharing the table like normal people?”

“Oh, come on, where would be the fun in that?” Tony jokes.

“You… weren’t hurt or offended when I kicked you or said your music taste is dumb?”

“Course not. We’ve all had wild college nights out, believe me, kick to the shins was nothing.”

“Crab grabs though…”

“If you want to share the table like normal people we will not be mentioning the crab grab.”

“Deal,” Loki says, and he’s beaming as if he’s won a prize. Which is really cute. Which is why Tony doesn’t regret slamming the door in his face.

Stupid cute neighbour.

He needs to change anyway.

———

Loki and Tony hang out under the gazebo, and they share the table.

Every so often Loki will read a line or two aloud and Tony will find himself snickering in response to Loki’s comments on the lines if not the lines themselves. Every now and then Tony tells Loki to look over at his screen as he invests in either the stock market or a round of Tetris.

Around noon Tony asks if Loki would like to sunbathe with him and Loki sees no reason not to join in. He doesn’t have any sunscreen of his own but Tony has plenty and is happy to share.

They talk about their work, and what they’re avoiding (family) in their little getaways from home, just things about life generally.

The sun is going to set soon when Loki asks if Tony would like to spend some time by the water with him.

The two of them spend a good thirty minutes hitting each other with floaties when they aren't sitting around in them, and, despite wading in till their knees, and flinging water at each other, they manage not to get too wet.

They sit in the sand watching the sun set in beautiful streaks of purples and orange as they dry off their feet.

Loki brought two towels in case of such a scenario (which Tony finds very endearing and sweet) and they lay on them as they watch the sky darken to reveal the stars. Loki tries to point out some constellations but Tony is convinced he’s making them up. Maybe he is.

The two of them share sandwiches and chips and chocolates and decide to head up early at around nine.

Tony invites Loki over for a movie, and how can Loki say no? He only just met him, but he’d rather be stuck sharing this bungalow and beach and gazebo with him than have to return home in a few days.

The house is huge, and there is plenty of room on the couch for them to be spaced out, but they choose to share a blanket and stay close because they want to.

Loki hadn’t planned on sleeping over, but he stays late and falls asleep in the middle of a movie and Tony doesn’t mind at all. It’s hard for him to mind when he’s also fallen asleep.

———

Day 4

Tony wakes early.

Not Loki-early, but earlier than usual, because he’s looking forward to spending time with Loki.

Hmm. Maybe it is technicallyyy still Loki-early. Whatever.

Except, Tony wakes up alone and walks down the slope to the gazebo, and finds it empty. A quick scan of the beach also yields no results. Which is concerning, but not overly so. Maybe he just has something else to do today?

Tony gets through a few hours by rotating through Tetris, League of Legends, and Galaga, before he gives in and walks up to Loki’s half of the duplex bungalow.

He bangs his fist on the door and waits.

About a minute later, Loki answers, in green-plaid pants and a vintagey AC/DC band shirt, hair looking only half brushed.

“Are you seriously wearing that kind of shirt as pajamas?”

“Yes. And good... morning?”

“Morning!” Tony cheerily greets in return, before his expression gets less so, “why aren’t you out today?”

“Good afternoon? I... just wasn’t feeling too well, a bad day I guess,” Loki explains, which Tony understands. “And I already over-lived my stay with you yesterday, so I thought you could have the gazebo all to yourself today, since I’m not really in a beach mood anyway.”

And that’s a big no in Tony’s book because no he didn’t go too far or over-stay anything and no he doesn’t owe him anything and no in general because Tony liked spending time with him! He’s fun and caring and Tony’s wondering where this guy was for every other vacation he spent here because Tony considers him a friend!

“That’s sweet,” Tony lies, “I’m not really in a beach mood either.”

“Ah. Would you… like to come in?” Loki asks, hesitant.

“Of course buddy, if my friend wants to stay home I’m sticking with him.”

Loki stands aside, letting Tony into the bungalow that he’s used to owning on his own, but, shockingly enough, doesn’t mind sharing anymore.

“Would it be bad to ask what kind of bad mood?” Tony questions, taking a seat by the TV. It’s off and he doesn’t see a remote.

“A bit, yes, but I value the thought,” Loki answers, checking the kitchen cupboards.

“So what were you doing in here all alone without me, beach buddy?”

“Reading.”

Hmm. Tony considers. They did do what he had wanted yesterday.

“Can I join?” Tony inquires, “if you have any spare books, that is.”

“I didn’t know you could read.” Loki says with half-hearted disgust, walking behind the couch to a small bookshelf.

“Harry Potter, you got me,” Tony states in the driest tone, “Ha ha.”

“I’ve got the second Game of Thrones—“

“There’s a book?!”

“And the series hasn’t updated in years.”

“Bummer, hate when they do that, but at least the show ended?”

“Yeah, badly,” Loki points out. “I’ve got the Lord of the Rings trilogy.”

“I thought you didn’t like the hobbits being taken to Isengard,” Tony pouts.

“Not when it’s on loop and happening the sixth time in a row,” Loki says, dropping the book into Tony’s lap roughly.

Yeah, okay, the man isn’t feeling well, maybe he should leave? But Tony doesn’t want to leave him alone if he’s feeling bad either!

Tony opens the book, skipping through the contents and prologue-y pages. He will enjoy the book and he’ll do it while sitting on the opposite side of the couch because if Loki doesn’t want to lay across and tangle their legs under a blanket that’s up to him. Besides, that’s more an afternoon activity, and Tony isn’t tired at all, so he’s sitting up properly. Which contrasts with Loki’s slouchy leaning-into-the-couch.

“You know, if it’s too quiet, or the book doesn’t interest you, you can just watch something, I won’t be offended.”

“Not so fast, crab-man, I’m doing this to have fun and try something you enjoy, because I like spending time with you, and think that’s fair,” Tony states, and oh sh*t Loki looks devastated. Quick, something fun, something fun, “So I will definitely be trying to read it... at least a bit, before I do anything else… because I may vehemently not-like reading, but I do enjoy your company.”

“Okay,” Loki verbosely replies.

Tony tries to figure out what he’s done wrong but Loki’s opened his book up already.

Tony manages to get through the book in about two hours. Which means he didn’t actually read through it, he just tried, and kept skipping to pages further along that looked more interesting. To be fair, there is a lot of exposition and world building that he knows doesn’t matter because it’s not in the movies.

Loki’s been shifting how he’s sitting at twenty minute intervals, but Tony hasn’t moved lest he come off as restless and not loving the book.

“You can put something on,” Loki suggests, having noticed that Tony is done.

“It won’t disturb you?”

“Not if you don’t have it unreasonably high.”

Tony looks around for the remote, and doesn’t see it. “Any idea where the remote is?”

“Eh, it’ll be lying around somewhere. Maybe check the kitchen?”

And so, Tony sets out on a quest to find the remote.

He doesn’t find it.

He looks through every inch of the couch and in every kitchen cupboard but all he finds are pop tarts and pennies.

At some point Loki puts his book aside and decides to watch him look. He’s even smiling a tiny bit which Tony takes for a good sign.

“Hey, so, I couldn’t find the remote.”

“That’s a shame,” Loki says, and he’s definitely smiling, “would be horrible if someone knows where it is.”

“YOU!” Tony says, rounding in on him, depression be damned, he’s been looking everywhere for an hour now! “Where is it?!”

“Wh— why do you think I would know?” Loki says, turning his face away, his arms crossed pretentiously.

“You’re laughing!” Tony says, pointing a finger at him. “I spend ages looking for this legendary remote and find out you’ve been playing me the entire time” —Tony pokes a finger in the center of his chest for emphasis— “and you’re laughing!”

And okay, it’s a little funny, and Loki’s having fun, so Tony huffs a laugh too.

“I’m not laughing,” Loki tries to say flatly, face turned away, as he clearly tries not to laugh.

Tony being Tony does the only respectable thing in this kind of scenario and jumps onto the couch, straddling Loki, so he can turn his face back towards him.

“Where’s the remote!” Tony yells, to no avail, not even a reaction to having sat on his legs. Is Loki even breathing? His smile is clearly becoming harder to hold…

“Tell me where the remote is” — Tony grabs the thick novel Loki had been reading — “or I’ll take out your bookmark!”

“No!!!” Loki says, trying to grab hold of his book. “Not the bookmark!!! That’s my one weakness! Please, no! Anything but the bookmark!!!”

“Don’t make me do it!! Because I will!!”

Loki chuckles.

“Fine, you win, here” —Loki reaches a hand under the pillow behind him, and holds up the remote.  

Tony snatches it immediately, and gives Loki a peck on the cheek thanks before getting off and going back to his side of the couch.

If Loki looks a little confused about the quick kiss, it’s gone by the time Tony is done flicking through the channels and decides a nature documentary is something they could both enjoy. When Mr Attenborough mentions otters holding hands when they’re happy and Loki asks if he can hold Tony’s hand of course Tony says yes.

Later, when Loki insists on cooking for the two of them he throws together some instant noodles and adds in carrots and peas and egg and mushrooms, and he asks if Tony would like to share the meal down by the beach, he agrees.

“You sure you’re up for this? I don’t mind eating back in the bungalow, and if you’re feeling uncomfortable I’d rather just go back,” Tony makes clear.

“I don’t actually know why I thought staying home would make me feel any better,” Loki says lightly.

“Hey man, sometimes you’ve just gotta stay home, it happens, don’t worry about it,” Tony consoles, carefully going down the sandy grassy slope to the beach, his huge bowl of noodles held in both hands. It smells great. “Besides, focus on the date for now.”

“This isn’t a date, I just asked you out to the beach to eat some comfort food with me.”

“The very definition of my ideal date,” Tony says, listing, “I was invited, there’s comfort food, we’re both already in our sexy pjs, there’s a beach, I think you’re a great friend and we could be more if you wanted, I’ve got my speaker in case we want some romantic classical music, the sunset will happen soon, what more could I want?”

“We also held hands for ages earlier and you kissed my cheek.” Loki winces, “this is totally a date.”

“Sure is.”

“How did I miss that?”

“If it’s any consolation, I was kidding, but you seem on-board, so… it’s a date?”

“It’s a date,” Loki confirms.

“Noodles on a beach is actually one of my secret fantasies,” Tony says, deadpan.

“Well,” Loki suggests, also deadpan, “there’s plenty of space under the gazebo.”

“Table is kinda obstructive,” Tony points out.

“Only if you’re not creative,” Loki counters.

Tony wriggles his eyebrows, and they both laugh.

———

Loki twists the last of his noodles and stabs his last carrot on his fork and puts it in his mouth. He looks into Tony’s bowl, and finds he’s actually finished first.

“You’re an even slower eater than me,” Loki notes aloud.

“Am not!” Tony blubbers out through a mouthful of noodles, “I’m just taking my time to savour it.”

Loki hums, and puts an elbow on the table to watch him finish up.

“So, what do you want to do now?”

Tony slurps up the rest of his food. “Well, now that I’m done, kiss?”

“I was thinking we could stand by the shoreline and get our feet wet, maybe walk up and down the beach a bit…”

“I mean, I’d rather walk up and down you,” Tony says, making a show of looking over Loki, who in turn snickers.

“I’m sorry, that was terrible,” Tony laughs, “it’s just, walk on the beach, that’s so freakin romantic, yeah I’m up for that.”

And it’s nice knowing that they can still hang out as friends, even if Loki is admittedly also intent on the kissing part.

They leave their bowls and flip flops in a pile in the sand and walk to the shore together.

Tony’s hand is warm in his as they swing their arms gently and just take in the salty air and talk about things; just facts about themselves and stories about life and things they like.

Loki’s not sure how much time has passed but it’s dark and only the night sky and it’s reflection on the water provide any light when he presses a hand under Tony’s chin to tip his face up so he can kiss him. It’s slow and sweet, and Tony— even though Loki finds it hard to believe in the moment —kisses back.

They pull apart, and everything is irrelevant in the face of the happiness they feel in having found each other, even by chance.

They kiss again; slower, deeper, and with an urgency ill-befitting of the time and space they have available.

———

Day 5

All records of the final entry have been [REDACTED] until further notice to maintain the rating of this fic.

It can be recalled that the [REDACTED] information featured notable involvement of local gazebo space not limited to below, above, and/or against the table, various uses of the excessive counters both halves of the rented space, more than banging on doors, and future plans for the continued entanglement of [REDACTED] leg distribution underneath blankets.

The reader is warned not to attempt searching for and/or to develop any interest in a desire to search for [REDACTED] records in future placements.

(The End.)

#frostiron holiday wishes challenge #frostiron #OMGGGGGGAWD #SO CUTE #SOOOO CUTEEEEEEEE #prompt #fill