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hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds · 2 years ago

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Aaron Hotchner x Teen Daughter reader

Another oneshot for Hotch because he's my favourite at the minute and I don't know why. And yes I spent ages specifically looking for this Gif.

This is a request!

Summary: Could you make the reader like about 17 and when on a run with Hotch (Her dad) like slows down, and tells him to keep going and she will catch up, but she gets hurt or like passes out somehow

I love this idea I need to write more Hotch and Teen daughter, this is during the Marathon episode because I like how it turns out. ( set season 7 episode 16)

Third person pov...

17 year old Y/N Hotchner and her Dad were out running together, they were training for the FBI marathon together, the 17 year old had applied to the FBI academy where her Dad worked.

She wanted to be an FBI Agent and help people like the BAU do. It was early morning then the teen and Dad arrive at the park near their house, Jack was still sleeping which gave the father and daughter time to train for the big race in February.

Y/N tied her H/C hair in a pony tail while her Dad began stretching, Y/N looks up at her Dad "I will win you know" she says to him, this made Hotch look down at his Daughter and raises an eyebrow. "Oh really?" He said challenging her, Y/N smirked "you'll see old man" she said stretching.

Hotch scoffed "name calling are we now" he teased, after they finished stretching the two get ready the get into position and looked at each other. "Ready.Set.Go!" Yelled Hotch and the two were off strinting down the path trying to beat the other.

At the start they were running at the same speed, then Y/N sped up leaving her Dad behind, Hotches mouth falls open a the fast his daughter is, the smile on her face seals it, Hotch was glad they managed to do this together.

The last time they ever ran together on a Saturday morning was 3 years ago before Foyet showed up and made the Hotchners life hell, two years ago after Haleys death he couldn't even get this daughter out of bed more so on a run with him.

He is very proud of her and hie far she had come, from that 15 year old laying in her bed for days on end to the 17 year old training for a marathon with her Dad, Hotch smiled to himself before running to catch up with his daughter, the look o her face when he started to pick up speed made him laugh.

The two were neck and neck, Y/N fell behind a little as they got to thr end of the trail. "Annd finish" said Hotch stopping the timer on his watch, he breathed heavy after the run he did.

He turned to his daughter who had sprawled out on the path breathing heavy woth a bright red face, sweat dripping off her. Hotch chuckled at his Daughter and sat down next to her catching his breath.

He held his fist out to her, the 17 year old looked at him rasing an eyebrow. "Truce" he said moving his fist closer, he watched as his daughter smiles and bumps his fist with hers. The two then grab their bottles of water and begin draining them, Y/N poured half of hers down her because of how overheated she felt.

The teen Continues to lay on the floor while her Dad finds the strength in his legs to stand up. As he does a pretty brunette walks over to them. "Jeez, I hope you're training for something or do you just do sprints for fun?" She jokes making Y/N sit up and look at the woman willingly talk to her Dad.

Hotch looks down at his Daughter who gives him a smile before answering the woman. "We are trying to do this

triathlon in February, so..." when he trails off she answers.him "Oh, yeah, the FBI one" said the woman

Y/Ns and her Dads eyes widened. "How do you know he's FBI" Exclaimed Y/N standing up quickly, probably a bit to quickly as she wobbled making her Dad reach out to catch her like always. Y/N looks at the man and smiles "I'm okay Dad just tried from our race" she said reassuring him, Hotch relaxes but doesn't let go of her.

The woman watches the duo before Hotch remembers she was there. "I'm Aaron Hotchner and this is my Daughter Y/N" he said introducing his daughter, the woman smiles at them both. "Hi I'm Beth, nice to meet you Aaron and Y/N" saod Beth

Hotcb smiles at her. Beth looks at Y/N "are you doing it as well?" She asks Y/N, the girl nods her head. "Yes I am, we were racing earlier to see who was fastwr" saod Y/N smiling at Beth, Hotch had never seen his daughter smile so much until now.

Y/N smiles before looking at her Dad ans whispering. "I go grab our stuff you stay here with Beth" she said giggling when her Dad blushed when she wiggled her eyebrows, Hotch glares at his Daughter and titles her making her laugh before letting go.

Beth watches the father and daughter she could tell they were close, as Y/N left the two began tlaking more and even exchanged numbers.

Months later...

It was the day of Hotchs and Y/Ns triathlon, the team and jake were in the stands waiting for them to finish.

"Whoo! Whoo! Whoo!" Yelled Jake and everyone else. The little boy was sitting on Derek's shoudlers in his ha s help a sign he made for his Dad and Sister. Rossi was in front of the group shouting and looking out for their racers.

Next to them Reid and the girls were talking, all three women had sunglasses on and all very hungover. "A couple hours. A couple hours. You guys didn't come home till sunrise." Saod the genius mocking them as the groaned.

"Why are you yelling?" Yelled Penelope over the noise groaning in pain.

"Make him stop" Yells Emily equally hungover.

Derek had enough and leant down to talk to Penelope "Ok, hey, Jack, Jack.

Earmuffs for a minute. Earmuffs." He said to the boy, Jack understood and covered his ears with his hands.

"What did you guys drink last night?" Asked Derek

"The green fairy. You're in the FBI." She said groaning in pain, as JJ behind her moaned all three woman were regretting last night. "Could you get the entire crowd to stop cheering?" Yelled the media lesion

"By my estimates, Hotch and Y/N will be finishing any minute" Yelled the Genius looking at his watch. Jack looked down at Rossi. "Do you see them, Uncle Dave?" He asked, Rossi grinned he saw Hotch.

"I think I do, kiddo."

Hotch then ran over the finishing line Y/N closely behind him the two come to a stop hearing the crowd cheer for them. "Whoa!" Exc the team. Y/N leans on her Dad for support, ber legs felt like jelly.

"Come on, Jack. Come on, Jack. Let's go see your dad and sister Jack." Yelled Derek letting the boy down, Jack then runs over to his family.

"You did it!" Yelled Jack and he ran over to Hotch jumping around excitedly, Y/N smiles painfully as she moves over to the girls, thw three congratulate the teen. "I can't feel my legs" she said smiling at them.

The teen then drops to the floor on her bum and laying on the ground hoping the world would stop spinning. Soon the woman realsi she passed out Emily quickly kneels down and pulls her up so she was leaning against her chest.

Emily the ge tly taps her face making sure she stayed awake. "Hey N/N stay away, you need to stay awake" he said as JJ called Hotch over and Penelope gets Derek to call for an ambulance. Seeing his daughter passed out makes the man run over to her.

"Is she okay?" He yelled over the noise, Emily looks at him worry in her eyes. "Don't worry she jsut passed out Hotch, Derek's calling for an ambulance" she said, Hotch thanked her before Y/N opens her eyes, E/C eyes stare into his brown ones.

Hotch smiles at her and rubs her cheek keeping her awake. "Hey Princess you okay?" He asked her, Y/N gives her dad a tired smile. "Yeah I'm fine dad" she whispers Hotch smiles at her. "I'm glad sweetie" he said looks around him hoping the ambulance come quick.

Someone the touches his hand it was Y/N, he looks dow at her. "Yes Princess?" He said, his daughter didn't look at him as if she was embarrassed, when she did speak Hotch had to lean closer. "Do you think mum is proud of me?" She asks his ans his heart breaks a tiny bit.

Hotch smiles a watery smile at his Daughter "Yes she is, because I am so proud of you Honey" he said wiping away the tears on their faces, Jake then jumps on his Dad's back. "Is Y/N okay Dad?" He asks worried.

"Don't worry Jackie I'm fine just tired" reassured Y/N smiling.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot!

As always so sorry for the grammar and Spelling mistakes

Request are open!

Word count : 1600

#criminal minds #fanfic #behavioural analysis unit #fluff and comfort #x child reader #father daughter fluff #x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner #jack hotchner #beth #passing out #fainting #triathlon #jack hotchner x sister reader #x teen!reader #x fem child reader #family bonding #oneshot

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pizzatrocious · 7 months ago

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Never send a nobody to do a star's job. Sure, that lousy pseudo-Italian sure did pack a punch. But at the end of the day, he was nothing more than half-time entertainment for the REAL DEAL. He wouldn't be missed.

Leaning forward, he gave the other a look that truly acknowledged Peppino's complete and utter lack of an air fryer. Was he REALLY issuing a direct challenge like this!? Really!? After all his talk about not letting Noise know about his alleged STRATEGY? What a joke!

"This ISN'T like me!? WOWIE, you must NOT know me very well AT ALL! AT ALL!! And here I was thinkin' we had something SPECIAL!" He was... doing stretches as he said this. First his arms, then his legs. "Buuuuut, for bein' such a GOOD SPORT and shooting my TV ratings THROUGH THE ROOF, I'll get on over there."

And MY OH MY, how they shot up. The Fake Noise that sat in that small office beyond the crowd was currently popping a bottle of champagne as they spoke. Regardless of the viewers' stances on televised murder, why would the general masses that know nothing of Peppino's suffering pass up was was essentially becoming a real life Dragon Ball fight?

And BOY, was Peppino suffering, too! Can't believe it really took ALLLLLLLL of this just to get him finally going FOR REAL! Still no iconic scream yet, but we'll be sure to fix that. After all, his screams of rage and his screams of fear sounded all the same.

He slammed his hands down onto the ground, prepping himself to take off like a marathon runner. You could hear him revving up like an engine as his body began to tremble violently. And, with the sound of a gun being fired in the distance, he was off.

Mach 1— Mach—

Mach Eight.

He is slamming directly into you at mach eight, Peppino. Instantly, his body warped into the shape of a rocket, the shockwaves from propelling himself so violently knocking away any and all nearby debris from the earlier cooking show. The speed at which he moved was blinding, made all the worse by the fact that, upon contact, he exploded violently. His own explosion propelled him backwards on impact, landing completely unharmed.

Thankfully, the damage was cartoonish in nature, otherwise the Italian would have become a fine red mist on the Noise's very first attack. But what was the FUN in doing that!? Regardless, getting struck with the force of a wrecking ball going at such a blistering speed would be more than enough to crack a rib, comic slapstick be damned.

There was no stopping at this speed. All he could do was brace himself as he saw the other throw himself at him, completely prepared for a fight cloud at best...

...Only to confusedly and gradually stop when he wasn't exactly harmed in a way that he thought he'd be-- Disorientated, at worst. Peppino is quick look back at Shadough as he barely manages to stop in his tracks to stare at his clone as he gave that thumbs up and manages those words. He couldn't even respond. He couldn't. Peppino could only watch as the other was gone. Just like that. In front of his eyes. There was nothing he could do about it, at least in that moment.

The vaguest pangs of grief. Followed by

hatred.

As the wretched thing opened his mouth again, Peppino looked right at him. Not at his audience, him. He visibly pauses for a moment, as if expecting Noise to suddenly miraculously be next to him to help him out, but no. Just the deafening laughter. The dozens and dozens of stares that was technically only one beast. That energy from Shadough? No, it was still here. And it was rising, moment by moment.

It kept going. He feels a violent, loud scream bubbling in the back of his throat, but he holds it back. He needs to hold onto it and not let this burn out. If he does so now, he can't feel that catharsis. The other won't go through the hell he's put others through. And Peppino doesn't want that.

A glance into the camera. His attention returned back to Fake Noise, a finger slowly drawing across his throat to only emphasize his very obvious intentions.

"Get over here." It comes out as a dull growl. "This isn't like you, Noise. You would've fought me yourself, by-a now."

Initially, he didn't want to genuinely pull the 'this isn't like you' card during the stalling out of fear of pissing the other off. But rage makes you do extremely irrational things, sometimes. Most of the time-- Actually, rage makes you act pretty dumb in most scenarios. He hasn't made peace with fighting this thing alone, but if he has to, he has to.

Fake Noise could see it from literal states away. That look, those grinding teeth. Peppino wants him dead. Not a sight that folks see often. What a high honor!

#fake noise 🎙️📺#emptyzone

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justice4canyonmoon · 3 years ago

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Omg the last request was so good. Could you maybe write something about Harry getting fucked by a vibrator?

I absolutely can!! Like I said before, sub! Harry is my favorite!! This could be seen as a continuation of this ask, but can also definitely be seen as a standalone!! Hope you all enjoy this one!!

Warnings: smut!! 18+ only!! anal fingering, using a vibrator, a singular spank, sub! harry

WC: 1.2k

Normally, your vibrator was exclusively used on you. On nights when Harry was on tour and he couldn’t take care of you, you would take matters into your own hands, fucking yourself with the purple object with his name on your lips and his body on your mind. And when Harry was home, it laid in the back of your drawer, untouched, since you and Harry were quite...active when he was around. But now, you had different plans for its use.

The two of you had established that Harry enjoyed when you took control, and he also ended up enjoying when your fingers were in his hole. While fingering him was fun, you wanted to move on to bigger and better things, and Harry did, too. So, you figured that you’d drag that vibrator out of storage and use it on him instead. When you propositioned the idea to him while having yet another Lord of the Rings marathon, a deep pink blush spread across his cheeks as he enthusiastically nodded his consent.

That’s how you ended up here on one of his days off, with him on his hands and knees on the bed and you behind him, using one hand to steady his hips and the other to push two lube-coated fingers into him. The vibrator and the lube were laying behind you, still there from when he had just used it on you (he insisted on making you cum first, since he had a feeling he’d be too tired to do it afterwards), now poised and ready for use on him. Soft whimpers and moans were falling from his lips as he pushed back on your fingers, meeting their every thrust.

“Feel good, baby?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

He nodded, “Y-yeah. S’ good, love. More, p-please.”

It was always hard for you to refuse him, especially when he begged so sweetly. You gave one of his cheeks a little squeeze with your free hand as you added a third finger, stretching him out even further in preparation for what was to come. He whined desperately and arched his back, and you knew if you looked at his face, it would be bright red, and his untamed curls would be sticking to his forehead. You took your time stretching him open, until you were absolutely sure he was ready to take more.

Once you thought he was sufficiently prepared, you told him, “Gonna pull out now, okay?”

He nodded again, finding it difficult to find his voice. But he whined out his dissatisfaction with being empty, his hole clenching around nothing as you lubed up the vibrator.

“Patience, Harry,” you chastised, “good things come to those who wait, not to those who complain.”

He swallowed hard, “‘M sorry, honey. Jus’ a bit worked up. Promise I’ll be good.”

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to the small of his back, “There’s my good boy.”

You saw his body flush from the praise, making you smirk as you finished prepping the vibrator. You drizzled a bit more lube on his hole, making him hiss at the feeling of the cold liquid.

“Gonna just put it in you first and see how you like it before I make it vibrate. Sound good?” you questioned.

“Yeah. Sounds perfect,” he replied, sticking his ass out a bit.

You smirked, giving one of his cheeks a little smack before grasping the vibartor and bringing it to his hole. You slowly pushed it in, looking for any signs of discomfort from your lover. But your search, thankfully, came up fruitless. Like the first time you pushed your fingers inside of him, a guttural moan sounded from deep in his chest, and his body was actually fairly relaxed, telling you that he was comfortable. You worked it in until about half of it was inside of him.

“Still good?” you checked.

He nodded vigorously, “D-definintely. It’s amazin’ b-baby.”

“Good,” you cooed, pulling it out before thrusting it back in slowly, “only want you to feel good, sweet boy.”

He moaned loudly as you thrusted the object in and out of him, pushing back on the vibrator like he was with your fingers. The sight in front of you was so fucking hot. Watching your boyfriend thoroughly enjoy getting fucked by your vibrator was incredibly erotic, and if he hadn’t made you cum twice already, you knew there would be a waterfall between your thighs.

“Ready for me to turn it on?”

“Yeah. N-need it s’ b-bad, please,” he begged.

You obliged, turning the vibrator onto its lowest setting to start off. Harry cried out in response, his arms giving out and his torso collapsing onto the bed, sticking his ass up in the air.

You smirked smugly, “So it’s good, then?”

All you got was a whine in response as he did his best to meet the thrusts of the vibrator. Well, if he was so far gone that he couldn’t even speak, he definitely liked it. You flicked it up to its medium setting, and he thrashed against the sheets, incoherent sentences spilling from his lips. You increased the speed of your thrusts, smirking when he completely collapsed, not even able to fuck himself against it anymore. Suddenly, the noises he was making were punctuated by a particularly loud cry.

“Right there?” you murmured, jabbing the vibrator into the spot.

He sobbed out a “fuck” as you hit that spot over and over, knowing that you found his prostate. And he practically screamed when the vibrator turned to its highest setting. That, in combination with your hand tugging his cock, had him seeing stars. He came harder than he thought he ever had, seemingly unending ropes of the liquid spilling from his cock. You pumped him through it and continued to lazily thrust the vibrator in him as his orgasm took over him.

When it finally ended, Harry slumped into the sheets, barely even able to move. You dotted sweet kisses down his spine and on his neck, murmuring soft praises into his skin. After taking a few moments to breathe, Harry flipped over so he was facing you. He looked like a beautiful mess. As predicted, his face was fire-engine red and his curls were sticking to his forehead from the sweat. His eyes were slightly glossy, and his pink lips were curved up in a shy smile.

You leaned down and kissed his forehead, “Was that good for you, Harry?”

“It was s’ good. Thank y’,” he replied, leaning forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss.

You smiled into the kiss, loving the soft contact after the sensuality of the previous moments.

“Be right back, love,” you said, before heading to your bathroom.

You returned with a cloth, wiping all of the sweat and cum off of him before directing him to get off of the bed. You changed the now ruined sheets as he stared up at you with moony eyes from his spot on the floor. When you had finished, you guided him back onto the sheets. You laid on your back and he rested his head on your chest. You ran your fingers through his hair, and he melted into the contact.

“I love you, Harry,” you whispered.

“I love y’, too, honey,” he replied softly.

Soon, you felt his breathing even out, signaling that he had fallen deep in the clutches of sleep. You gently kissed his forehead once more, before allowing yourself to do the same, both of you succumbing to the exhaustion that your previous activities set in your bones.

#harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine

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autumnalwalker · 2 years ago

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Continuing this weekly interview of a tag game for the Empty Names crew. Pulling the team's resident powerhouse, Eris, this time.

Relationship Status: Single. It's just not something that's been a priority for me. 'Sides, I do dangerous work. Maybe I'll do something about that one day, but eh.

Favourite Colour: The general cyan-through-teal section of the spectrum. Wearing red all the time's just a practicality thing for dealing with bloodstains, and when you've already got a bunch of red clothes the laundry's easier to just double down on that and fill your wardrobe with it.

Favourite Food: I like to think I've gotten to be something of a connoisseur for burgers. I used to do a lot of cross-country driving and wound up eating at a lot of local places. Just about everyone's got their own hometown special with its own personality.

Song stuck in their head: Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major

Last thing they searched on a BBS: Before my time.

Time: Wait, what time is it right now? Morning, I think?

Last Thing They Read: I had been idly reading the recycling label on my coffee cup when I got pulled into... Where are we right now anyway? "This isn't canon?" What's that supposed to - Oh, I see. I hate pataphysics.

Last Book They Enjoyed Reading: Do audio books count? Lately I've been making my way through Pride and Prejudice during workout sessions. It's a bit of a shift from my usual science and history content, but it's good to revisit the humanities from time to time.

Favourite thing to cook/bake: Brownies, although everyone tells me I put too much pepper in them.

Favourite thing to do in their free time: Lacuna and I have had a weekly movie night going for a while now. Close enough to weekly anyway. It's been... nice... spending time with someone who's not infected with the particular strain of dumbassery that makes people throw themselves into dangerous situations on the regular. Calming's a good word for it. Normal even. Even if she does end up pulling me into marathoning the first several episodes of some anime or another instead of actually picking a movie half the time when it's her turn. To be fair, I usually end up paying her back with a romcom the next week when she pulls that.

Most niche dislike: I'm only saying this because I know that no one I know is going to hear it, but: The fact that the fact some of the things I've been called in the past still get to me at times. Not the things themselves so much as my reaction to them. I mean, I'm proud of my body, I've worked and trained hard for it. And sure, autogenesis played a big part, but that phenomenon can only take you so far on its own and cultivating it to go in the direction you want is a skill in its own right. I know who I am and I'm happy with, and if anyone has a issue with that, that's their problem. ... But you get called a guy, or a druggie, or even a monster enough times and it takes its toll, you know? These days most idiots that would say something like that are too intimidated by me to say it to my face and on the rare occasions idiocy and malice overcomes fear I can laugh it off no problem. But every now and then something someone said years ago gets stuck in my head and I hate that I can't just laugh that off so well. ... Oh, you meant like a funny, quirky thing. In that case, people setting their cruise control slower than the average ambient traffic speed.

Opinion on circuses: Don't even get me started. And to make it even worse, did you know that some are actually demonically haunted? That was one pain of a hunt. Felt good burning the place down after though.

Do they have any sense of direction: Good enough to not die to a harlequin from Hell in a literal magic mirror fun house maze.

GET TO KNOW A CHARACTER FROM MY WIP (A Tag Game)

Thank you for the tag, @cljordan-imperium.

I'll pass on the tag to: @fearofahumanplanet, @ryns-ramblings, and @tc-doherty. And the usual open tag.

The first character that came to mind for this was The Archivist, but our eponymous narrator is having a bad time right now, so I'll be grabbing someone from Empty Names instead. Ashan, you don't talk much; get over here.

Relationship Status: Single. I have never understood the driving need to pair up that most seem to experience.

Favourite Colour: White. Pearl white, if you wish for a more specific shade.

Favourite Food: While I try to keep my diet strictly healthy, I will admit to the occasional nostalgic indulgence with churros.

Song stuck in their head: Something Lacuna had playing the other day. She said she was not sure of the song's title, but it clearly said "Lisa Frank 420 / Modern Computing" on the screen. Odd. Both that she did not know the title and the sound of the music itself.

Last thing they searched on a BBS: What is a BBS?

Time: I suppose I ought to acquire a watch now that I am back on this world. Such preoccupation with precise measurements of a fluid concept here.

Last Thing They Read: A tome out of Bridgewood's private library whose name I fear I lack the mouthparts to pronounce, even with a translation charm on my person.

Last Book They Enjoyed Reading: "Melisandre's Musings on Multiversal Magic Mechanics." An interesting and useful text if one does not mind sifting through meandering personal anecdotes to decipher the author's theories on spellcraft.

Favourite thing to cook/bake: The aforementioned churros. They do not have that dish on Orthon, and teaching my teacher how to make them the way I had seen my real mother do on a number of occasions was an adventure in and of itself.

Favourite thing to do in their free time: Meditation in less-touched natural areas. The density of urbanization on this world still gets to me at times now that I am back.

Most niche dislike: Slugs. Silly I know, but somehow early in my training they just kept showing up in unexpected places at unexpected times with unexpected size. I do not care for their presence.

Opinion on circuses: I went to one once as a child and found it wonderful, but now that I know more about them they mostly make me sad.

Do they have any sense of direction: Alas, it is not as acute a sense as it had been on Orthon. The lack of ambient background magic here outside of isolated pockets is disorienting. Funny to think I did not even possess that sense as a child when now I feel its lack like the loss of an eye. Or perhaps the loss of my nose might be more accurate.

#tag game #but not really at this point #responding in character #Empty Names #my OCs

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side-writes-fanfics · 4 years ago

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Late-night talks || One-shot

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x fem!reader

Word count: ≈2000

Genre: it was supposed to be angst but it's really just fluff

Tw: Sukuna is kinda ooc, ngl

Summary: usually, you'd talk to Yuuji during the nights you felt restless but today, it was very much different. One night started a habit that definitely shouldn't have started.

Feel free to leave a or two or more request in my asks!

Masterpost | Asks/Requests

ꕥ ꕥ ꕥ

(Y/N) walked down the long dormitory halls, her insomniac brain refused to allow her to rest after the hard day she’d had. On one hand, it was fantastic, filled with thrill and learning opportunities! On the other, however, the girl had gone through so much intense training and failure that she wanted nothing more than a good night's sleep. And yet, the thoughts in her head flew and a high speed and there was no way in hell that they would stop any time soon. So, as any sane person would do, instead of reading a book or being productive and taking the time to practise some techniques that wouldn’t blow the entire room up, (Y/N) decided to knock on Itadori’s room door and mess his sleep up as well.

Her hands made contact with the wood once. Then quickly twice. Then three times before the door opened to reveal the figure she had been anticipating. Only something seemed a little off. While she wasn’t thinking Itadori would be wearing a shirt as it is the middle of the damn night, the markings on his entire body suggested that it wasn’t Itadori who stood in front of her. Rather, Sukuna had taken over his body for the night and wasn’t planning on leaving the boy alone.

“You really want him to be dead tomorrow, huh?” (Y/N) whispered to the curse, chuckling at the thought of Yuuji not being able to hold his eyes open for long enough to get out of bed, let alone all the “fun” activities Gojo said he had planned for us. Now, you might be wondering why the absolute fuck were you not shaking in your boots at that very moment? I mean, you’re talking to the King of Curses, the man himself. This guy could probably snap you in half with one movement if he wanted to. Well, for one, you had no boots to shake in as you were walking in the stupidest pair of slippers money could buy. Secondly, Sukuna was well aware that if he hurt you, or any of the students of Jujutsu High for that matter, his life would be cut much shorter by the president of the school without any hesitation. Even Gojo couldn’t do anything about it because he cared for you just as much as Itadori. He cared for all of the students the same, no matter how much others thought Yuuji was the only one who got his love. (Y/N), of course, knew this and took advantage of it as much as she could, without pushing the limits and getting herself into danger.

“You’re the one talking, pipsqueak,” Sukuna said, shooting the girl an unamused glare. “Coming in the middle of the night to wake up this brat isn’t much better than what I’m doing.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, walking past the curse and into Itadori’s room. Sukuna stared at her confused but before he could continue further, (Y/N) cut him off.

“Get in the room and close the door. If Gojo catches me out of my room at this ungodly hour of the night, I’m gonna be dead and if you get caught with me, it isn’t going to be taken lightly by the higher-ups.” The girl made her way over to the bed, making herself comfortable while Sukuna listened to her orders, even though he didn’t want to.

“That sounds like you’re the one who causes all the trouble here and not me.”

(Y/N) smirked, letting out a little chuckle. “And yet, I don’t care about that much.” She propped herself up, now in a sitting position. Sukuna rolled his eyes at her, sitting on the opposite side of the bed.

The two stared at each other in silence. What were you even expecting? Neither of them was used to being in each other’s presence. They barely interacted due to reasons outside of their control. (Y/N) went on missions a lot, barely spending any time in the presence of Itadori. When she did have time to hang out, Sukuna never actually spoke or came out and showed his presence. Sukuna didn’t want to talk because he did enjoy the company and anything he wanted to say at first would have just made her leave. (Y/N) didn’t want to speak up because of her poor social skills. Everything she knew about socialisation, which wasn’t that much, had been thrown out the window by the lack of contact she had with other people. To be frank, even if they sat in silence (Y/N) would have sat there until the moment she was tired. It was better than being alone in her room staring at the ceiling.

“Why’d you even come here in the middle of the night?” Sukuna spoke up, not wanting to leave the room silent. Unlike (Y/N), he hated the silence. He could not take it. When the curse was on his own, whether it be in the form of Itadori or inside of his domain, Sukuna didn’t mind it. He was left alone to his own devices and was able to do as he pleased, but being around another person in complete silence drove him crazy.

“Uh… I couldn’t sleep.” her body positioned herself in a sitting fetal position, resting her head on the top of her knees. “Yuuji lets me come to his room when that happens and we just chat about random things until I feel tired.” Both of them stared at each other, waiting for who was going to speak next. It was hard to keep the conversation going as of now, both of the participants carefully thought about their words as to not upset the other. Still, (Y/N) said something to fill the silence: “What about you? Why are you in control of Yuuji’s body?”

“I felt like it.”

(Y/N) blinked at him, not believing her ears. “That’s… that’s it?” she said in disbelief.

“Are you not satisfied with that answer, pipsqueak?” The man crossed his arms and lifted a brow. The girl crossed her arms as well, pushing her back against the wall behind her. She contemplated once more all the choices she could make at this moment, though, to an outside view, (Y/N) looked as if she was scared to say anything at all. Sukuna’s chuckle broke her out of her contemplative daze. “It’s boring inside of where I am for days upon days upon days. Sometimes I need to feel alive, even if it’s just switching with this brat and walking around his room.”

The girl let out a ‘hm’ sound, nodding to indicate she understood his reasons. Slowly, the two began having normal...ish conversations without the awkward pauses between topic and sentences. They began to slow as if they’ve been long term friends with natural progression. And as all natural progression goes, this became a regular thing. (Y/N) couldn’t sleep more often, Sukuna wanted to walk around the world more often, them talking happened more often. Though, these little meetings in the middle of the night that consisted of senseless trains of thought being put into words stayed secret between just the two of them. Not even Itadori knew that (Y/N) snuck into his room as often as she did. Yuuji knew and welcomed her coming to his room to speak to him when she needed company. There were times where she snuck in and Itadori was in his own body. The girl hated to admit it but she felt sad when she couldn’t speak to the curse inside his body. Indeed, she should have felt ashamed but something just didn’t let her. (Y/N) liked Sukuna’s company. Even with the… talks about not so good things he’s done that were bound to come up at some points in time.

There came a day where (Y/N) realised it. Realised that she, as a jujutsu sorcerer, shouldn’t feel the way she feels about him. He's done so much wrong. Why does it not bother her that much? She stared at the ceiling. Her thoughts haunted her throughout the day, not letting a moment pass without her thinking about it. It was obvious she wasn’t going to sleep tonight. Leaving to go talk to the curse, however, seemed to be a tiny bit paradoxical. Her worries were caused by him. She didn’t want to end the friendship they had built. Then again, was this really for the best? Were the talks really a smart idea? Was continuing to see him and forming an emotional bond going to bring anything but pain and sorrow?

Knock, knock, knock.

‘Who could be knocking on her door at 3 in the bloody morning?’ the girl thought to herself, getting up to answer the door. As soon as she opened it, she mentally slapped herself for being stupid. I mean who else could have it been other than the curse himself.

“I see you’re awake,” he said, “though, you decided not to come and talk to me.” A brow lifted on (Y/N)’s face.

“And you decided to come to me instead, huh?” she smirked at the man, moving to give him space to enter the room. “Have you started caring about me? Have you softened up to little old me?” she poked and teased him, trying to forget what she’d been thinking about moments before. Sukuna entered, only to stop in the middle of the room.

“I need to talk to you about something…” her heart stopped. ‘Shit shit shit and shit.’ her thoughts became quicker and her heart raced as if it were running a marathon she was not ready for. Why would she have said what she said? Was it that she got too comfortable around him. “What you said… about me caring about you…” he paused, trying to find the words to say. (Y/N) looked at him turned away from her, anticipating his next words. “It’s true… I am softer towards you than anyone else. In these past two months you... You’ve made your way to my heart. You make me feel. You make me feel,” he said quietly, fiercely, making (Y/N)’s heart skip a beat or two. He turned towards her, his face more serious than you’d want it to be in this moment. “and I don’t like it. I want it to stop. Now.”

(Y/N) blinked. Absolutely taken aback at his words. “I’m sorry, what?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He confessed that he cared about her. That she made him feel a certain way. And yet somehow he’s rejecting her? Nothing makes sense. She didn’t even confess to him and she feels hurt. “I… don’t-”

“Why do I feel like this?” Sukuna cut her off and stared at her, hoping she would solve the problem with a few simple words.

“I- I don’t know why you feel like you do!” she squeaked out, still unsure what was happening, “I mean I don’t even know how you feel.”

“I don’t know either.” (Y/N) paused, lifting her hand towards his. Her eyes flicked towards his, silently asking permission to hold his hand. He squinted at her. For a man who claims to be a genius and has years and years of life experience, his social skills seemed to be lacking when we’re talking about kindness. The girl kept quiet, putting her hand closer. It gently touched his, sending a clearer message of what it was she wanted. Sukuna let out a slight ‘oh’, before embracing her hand into his. Her heart skipped a beat again. She cursed herself silently, understanding that she was feeling the same way as he was.

“What are we going to do, pipsqueak?” Sukuna asked her, confused out of his mind. It was rare that anyone saw him as bewildered as he was right now.

“We’ll… figure it out I guess…” a smile tugged at (Y/N)’s lips. It was terrifying, there’s a lot in their way and a lot of things they have to set straight, but for now, this seemed to be the most they could do.

ꕥ ꕥ ꕥ

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk ryomen #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x fem!reader #x reader #one shot #imagine #drabble #was supposed to be angst but i cannot bring myself to write anything but fluff rn #fanfic #fanfiction

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chipper-smol · 4 years ago

Photo

*cracks my writing knuckles bc my artistic patience isn’t enough to fill the ambiance and tone properly*

2K WORDS. JUST FOR YOU GUYS

Was their ire and spiteful nature exclusively directed at the Pale King? Some retainers of the palace would say yes. Others would object and say it extended to the Five Great Knights as well since Ogrim had yet to hold onto his charm for longer than a day and Hegemol continued to wield a pole instead of a mighty hammer.

Well if you asked the source, they would simply stare at you silently, but you might get the impression that they had strong opinions (a wild thing for a vessel to have) on a few individuals other than the King.

Which is why the Feral Vessel is currently running for their life with the Great Nailmaster Sly hot on their back.

“Give it back you impetuous brat!” Sly roars behind them as he bounces off the walls at unfathomable speeds. Ghost, now going by Feral, is only surviving thanks to their knowledge of Sly’s moves from the Godseeker’s Pantheons. Sly’s jumps are still wildly unpredictable to them, but their now longer legs help them meet the speed needed to dodge the flea’s grabs.

Why are they doing this in the first place?

Well because when a rule is made that the Feral Vessel isn’t allowed a nail in the palace, or in any location in Hollownest, the only reasonable way to follow that rule, if you are said Feral Vessel, is to obtain nails of increasing ridiculous sizes. They first took their sibling’s old nail after the Pure Vessel grew out of it, and then they continued from there. They thought of borrowing Sheo’s nail for a day, but they quickly realized after finding the three Nailmasters that they were still the three Nailstudents. They were adorable but small and didn’t have their nails.

So Sly was there and Feral had some lingering rage left over from the Pantheons and well, the decision wasn’t hard to make. Two aspids with one stone. Now they were finding out that conceptualizing that plan and executing that plan were completely different things.

How do they get him off their back!? They already tried losing him through the maze that is the White Palace but they could not build any distance between them and Sly to make the endless corners and hallways useful. They need something- anything-

A-HA! One of Hornet’s web traps! (ingenious sticky things that clung ruthlessly to the clothing of the royals that walked this palace.)

Feral musters up their soul to push themself into one last burst of speed. They dash over the top of the trap just as they hear Sly zooming right at their back. With a twist of their leg and a firm grip on the oversized nail they spin at the last moment and swat the flea with his own nail into the poorly hidden nest of sticky silk.

The indignant yell of rage made that whole marathon worth it.

Not wanting to squander their momentary freedom from Sly’s wrath, they quickly turn and hightail it out of there.

Left. Straight. Left. Right. Straight. Straight. Up. Up. Right. Left-

That should be enough, right? Feral slows down and leans against a wall to catch their breath. Great Pale Beings they have not felt that much adrenaline since the first time they danced with Grimm. They were safe, for now. Feral straightens up, adjusts the greatnail onto their back and looks around.

...

They glance back from where they came.

Where... is this? They know the palace like the back of their hand, even without the buzzsaws. This corridor isn’t familiar. There is only one open doorway with a shining pale light gently leaking into the tiled hallway. Curious yet cautious they approach. They had a sharp greatnail after all.

They step into the light and freeze as they see the towering form of the Queen leaning like a drifting tree over a lush bush. Her back was turned to them, maybe they could-

“Vessel,” her voice, even though a whisper is loud enough to seem like she’s speaking at normal volume. Feral had noticed that with all of the higher and pale beings they’ve known. They all whisper.

Still, they had conflicting feelings toward their mother that they hadn’t yet put into words. They were avoiding her. They still want to avoid her.

“Come, garden with me,” she says, not lifting her head an inch from her work. Feral itches to disobey, but the urge feels wrong. It doesn’t carry the same gleeful note that comes with directly ignoring the King’s orders. They don’t have a solid reason to dislike their mother and it doesn’t feel right to force one either.

It’s not often they feel hesitant, but the Queen has a fae-like air about her. She could hide cruel remarks in what seem to be compliments. They had seen her pick apart arguments to the letter until her opponent had nothing else to say. She wields her words like she would a nail, and a battlefield of diction is an area Feral is massively lacking in. Hopefully she doesn’t want much. Hopefully she wants them to retrieve some confusing herb or something.

Carefully, they enter the room— a green house— and slowly make their way over to the White Lady’s side. They peer over at what she’s tending to. It looks like a bundle of dozens of little blue buds. Her hands glow underneath and the flowers respond by drifting up gradually and opening their delicate petals.

Feral watches quietly.

“They are not what they make themself appear to be,” she says after a long pause. Feral tenses. She reaches to her side where a basket of tools hangs from a kingsmould that Feral didn’t realize was there and picks up a humorously small pair of scissors compared to her massive hands. She carefully begins to snip the bases of those small flowers, collecting them in one hand as they fall, “My senses may be fading as things do with time, but I am not yet so blind to see that they know things that they should not.”

Feral never tried to hide their emotions and personality when they emerged from the Abyss, but they found themself smothering their nervousness before it could leak out of them.

“… they are nervous?” The Queen finally turns to look at Feral with her slightly glassy blue eyes, “I did not intend my words to be a threat, but their reaction proves my thoughts correct.”

Feral maintains as much eye contact as they can before turning their gaze to the floor. The full force of a pale being’s attention wasn’t a thing most bugs could endure. She watches them. Silent. Considering.

“It is odd. I have wanted children of my own for so long, yet what I have received from this world is curious,” she turns back to the blue flowers and snips two more into her hand, “one offspring that is meant to be empty, yet wishes to be a child, and one offspring that acts like a child, yet has experienced more than a child should have.”

Feral feels an odd twisting in their gut. They want to leave, yet they now also want to stay. The Queen is perceptive, that was never a doubt and perhaps another reason why they avoided her. The fear of being known. Yet… now they are known and it’s more of a relief than anything. They slowly look back to her as she places the scissors back in the basket.

“I have wondered why, but I cannot come to a conclusion that satisfies me,” she places three flowers in her spare hand and begins to braid the stems, adding flowers as the braids start becoming short.

“Why do they hold their branch as if it were the familiar handle of a nail? Even though they are forbidden from holding their own?” More flowers are added into the craft she is making. It’s beginning to look circular. Feral watches quietly.

“How do they know to get charms and spells on their own?” She glances over at them, but doesn’t meet their eyes. They sense her gaze on their horns. She looks back down at the flowers and makes some sort of adjustment.

"Why do they stare at things that are not there?” Feral’s throat tightens with that question- or observation?

The Queen finally finishes whatever is in her hands and takes a step over to the Feral Vessel and leans down with an alien-like grace. Feral blinks as she threads the circle of flowers over their horns to then rest right at the base of their horns. They do not know why she is doing this, but they would not dare fight it. They have no desire to.

Her hands drift down from their horns to their face to gently cup and hold. Their eyes gently flutter. The warmth from her root palms seep into their mask as if they were sitting in a hot spring. With the warmth comes a feeling of peace. Understanding. Their eyes close and before they can catch themself they lean into her touch. They miss how her eyes soften as she rubs one of her thumbs against their temple.

“I thought I had been mistaken before, but I have noticed that their pranks on my beloved Wyrm have grown half hearted,” Feral’s chest sags in a mock-sigh and, not knowing why, they nod.

“Has the novelty of his frustrated yells gone stale?” They shake their head, shoulders lightly quivering as if laughing. They crack their eyes open to catch the end of a smile from their mother.

“Why is it then? Why have they lost their fire?”

Feral stays silent as that was all they can do, but the tightening of their brow and the way they pull away from the warm comfort of their mother’s hands speaks hundreds of unspoken words. They glance at their hands, clenching and unclenching them.

When they re-awoke at the bottom of the Abyss surrounded by the thousands of masks of their dead siblings they thought they had dream nailed the black egg at the bottom of the Abyss again, though they did not know how. Soon they realized after getting to the top alongside their sibling that it was not a dream, but reality. To their delight, they could act on their spans of anger and spite they had toward the Pale King.

They thought that once they had their fun they would go and defeat the Radiance by finding the Godseeker in the trash pit. They would scale the pantheons and destroy the infection before the Pure Vessel was sentenced to waste away in the Temple of the Black Egg. It was simple so they didn’t think hard about it.

Until they realized they didn’t have the dream nail. They stressed for a bit, but then thought they could go find the seer and ask for it again! When they made their way to the Resting Grounds however, her little burrow was nowhere to be seen. They truly panicked then, scouring Hollownest for any moths they could find, but the few ones they found were not the Seer. When they held up their, admittedly, crude drawings of the dream nail they were met with confused stares.

They felt scared, frustrated, anger, desperation and then numbness.

They had been trying to run away from these thoughts, but now they were back and plainly showing on their face for the Queen to read like a tablet. There is a long silence between them before her melody-like voice whispers once more.

“Do they know how to write?” She asks.

They shake their head. No. They barely knew how to read and that was from noticing patterns in the tablets and signs they stumbled across in Hollownest. The Queen stands up and with her Feral’s eyes follow.

“I will teach you my child. Come, and perhaps while you learn you may give me your name. Feral is such a harsh word to be called by.”

Feral watches the White Lady as she walks deeper into the greenhouse. Did she just… say she was going to teach them how to write? They would never have a voice to speak on their own with, but to have the power of script in their grasp…

Excitement sparks their step as they quickly run back to her side, looking up at her with such strong wonder that she can’t believe she ever doubted her offspring weren’t hollow. The crown of flowers bounce on their head with each eager step.

“Now it will take some time for us to get the right writing utensils, but perhaps the first thing you could tell me when you can write is how you got that massive nail on your back.”

#hollowknight #hollow knight #hk #shitlordAU #feral vessel #ghost #the white lady #myart #fanart #writingwords #asks #sly #WOOOF #i am worded out #i also didn't want to draw WL over and over

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sluttbuttsstuff · 3 years ago

Note

Not to spam you but…

Yandere la squada and a darling that’s a little pant-y mess on the occasion that she masturbates and knows a member of the team is home, but upon thinking she’s alone (unaware of her stalker) is masturbating REALLY FUCKING LOUD 🥺 👉👈 sorry if it’s too filthy but this thought will not let me know peace

I do NOT know how to write short pieces; sorry, but that's just not the kind of writer i am. That being said, i had a lot of fun with this, so thanks for the request!

WARNINGS: afab femme reader, Not sfw, dub/con, but reader strongly implied to be okay with everything, voyeurism, sex toys, fingering, blow jobs, intercourse, etc.

Why is it so hard to get some alone time?!...okay, when you’re living with 9 other men, it shouldn’t really come as a surprise to you, but STILL! Well, at least you were able to release some tension, late at night when everyone was too asleep to barge into your room to ask you for something, but you had to stay quiet. God forbid anyone hear the noises you make, so you had to get yourself off quickly and efficiently, without getting to really enjoy yourself. So when this week’s meeting left you free for a day at the base ALONE (even Risotto himself had to be out for a mission, which was rare) you intended to take advantage of it to the fullest.

First: You sang all your favorite songs at the top of your lungs, without fear of anyone hearing you go out of key, or judging you for your taste in music. Then, You took an extra long shower AND bubble bath, effectively using up all the hot water and pampering your skin and hair-which you never had time to when you had to share the bathroom with all the other members. You ate a ton of junk food and ordered delivery all for yourself, and watched all the shows and movies you didn't have the time to before because Formaggio would watch sports games all day.

Finally, you figured now was as good a time as any to....”relax your body”. You were so excited, it had been so long since you’d taken the time to really explore your body while you rubbed one out. You got undresses, rubbing your smooth, moisturized legs together while you turned on one of your favorite pornos on your laptop. You mimicked the motions onscreen, rubbing your neck, your chest, stomach, and finally the lower lips of your pussy. You were already warm and tingling with anticipation, and it didn’t take long for you to get into it. You let yourself moan freely, not saying anything in particular as you clenched around your fingers, lubing yourself up for your toys that were waiting to be used again.

Eventually, the porn ended, but you were just getting started, rocking yourself on your favorite dildo, circling a vibe around your clit and pinching your nipples. It was intense but slow, pleasure raising and declining like gentle hills you rode out. Still, you held off your orgasm for as long as possible, you were having so much fun you didn’t want it to end. You were so invested in the pleasure you were feeling, the rest of the world went away, you didn't even notice the crash of your laptop off the bed.

You were close now, like it or not, so you pushed your body faster and harder than you had in ages, despite the cramps in your wrist and hips. You couldn’t stop your body now, wailing out, tears streaming down your face as you begged yourself for release. Almost there, almost-!!!!

Formaggio: Of course Formaggio was able to finish his hit early- he’s good at his job and doesn’t like carrying things out needlessly! Besides, his favorite team’s playing tonight, he has to hurry home before Prosciutto claims the TV again for an old movie marathon, ughhh. He calls out to you when he arrives home, since he knows you were off this week, but didn’t hear you greet him. You must now have heard him, either, or you wouldn’t be making noises like that. Formaggio cackles to himself-of course you’re getting off, he does the same when he gets the day off too. He likes to do something more exciting than usual though, like leave his door open, or do it in someone else’s room. Yours, for example.

Stifling his own laughter, he uses his stealth skills to sneak into your room. You’re so out of it, you don’t even notice when he opens the door, or your overturned laptop at the foot of your bed. It’s pretty hot, actually, you’re usually more tight-lipped than this, refusing his advances and keeping to yourself when not at work. He likes this side of you a lot more; hair messy, gleaming with sweat, and moaning like a porn star. Yeah baby, let it all out! Formaggio knows he probably shouldn’t, that you’ll kill him afterwards, but Formaggio isn’t exactly a good guy per se so he forces himself on you and grabs the dildo from your hands. You gasp and make an odd, half-choking noise, shocked at Formaggio’s presence and trying to stop moaning in front of him while he fucks you on your toy at double speed.

“Yo, y/n, had a good day today without the guys around? IT’s about to be a lot better, now that I'm here~ why don’t you let me have a turn making you feel good? I’m sure you’re tired from doing this all yourself.” Formaggio teases you, as you struggle to find the words and hide the noises. Finally, you roll your eyes and give up; if Formaggio really wants to help you out so badly, then you’re gonna put him to work. The two of you end up fucking for the rest of the aftenoon and evening, until Proscuitto bangs on your door to keep it down, and even then you have another round or two while giggling.

The two of you are exhausted, but sated, afterwards, and you convince Formaggio to make a run to the fridge to pull out your leftovers, on the condition you share them with him. You spend the rest of the night eating in bed, watching Formaggio’s beloved game on your laptop, and falling asleep. It's an almost perfect end to your day, except for the fact that Formaggio snores louder than a chainsaw.

Illusio: unfortunately, this is not the first time Illusio’s heard (or seen) you masturbate, try as you might to hide it. With a stand like his, you know he not only has the means, but desire to snoop on others. Hell, half the time he doesn’t even mean to spy on others, he just forgets about other’s privacy when he’s in his mirror world. This is, however, the first time you’ve been so vocal, presumably because everyone’s supposed to be out right now. Poor girl, it must be hard to take care of your needs when you’ve got to stare at him all day. He’d be pretty flustered too, with his long chocolate locks and well-toned muscles. Illusio pities you, so he decides he’ll give you the help you clearly need. Jumping from the mirror in the hallway to the one in your bedroom (See? You don’t even cover it up, of course you want him to ravish you!) he watches and listens for a minute at the raunchy display before him. Despite you clearly doing this for quite awhile, judging from the sheen of sweat and heavy breathing, your movements were steady and rhythmic, almost like you’d been edging yourself for a long time. How cute. You must have wanted him to finish the job for you. You’re being very loud however, which Illusio likes, but you’re not saying what he wants to hear. So, he slinks over to you like a ghost, and puts his hand over your mouth to stop you from screaming.

“As much as I love coming home to hear you pleasuring yourself, I think we can do a little better than this. And also-” He kisses the side of your shocked face, “If you’re going to scream something, scream my name.” He picks up where you left off, edging you again and again until you’re so desperate that you beg him to fuck you, and say all the pretty words he wants you to. He fucks you so good you squirt when you come, and makes you come again after he finishes inside of you. It takes you a minute or two to recover, but when you do, and Illusio is bragging about what he did to you, you chase him out of your room with a pillow for being an annoying cocky bastard.

Prosciutto:

Hmmm, well, this is a bit awkward. He knows what the noises mean the minute he first hears them, but isn’t sure how to approach this without embarrassing both of them. If it had been one of the other men, he’d have just slammed their door until they shut up so he didn’t have to listen to their tug session, but Prosciutto prided himself on being a gentleman, and didn’t want to embarrass a lady if he didn’t have to.

He waited about 5 or so minutes, hoping you would wrap up, but when you only got louder and louder he decided enough was enough. After all, god forbid one of the other men hear you-like Illusio or Formaggio. So, steeling himself, he coughed loudly and knocked on your door. You must not have heard him, as your moaning didn’t stop, you were clearly enjoying yourself too much to notice or care about the other men in the base.

Prosciutto huffed, almost offended. Is this what he gets for trying to be polite? Jerking off loudly like a common whore where anyone could walk into you? He tried the doorknob, and was almost disappointed you were careless enough to leave it unlocked. Really, this was all your fault, so when your noises of pleasure turned to shock and embarrassment, he merely chided you for your carelessness, forcing his tongue into your mouth to shut you up while he took over. He took control and instructed you how to properly touch yourself, as well as jerk him off in appreciation for the self-love lesson. He decides to leave it there for the night, as motivation for a reward the next time you’re home alone. So you better work hard on your next missions if you want him to properly fuck you, got it?

Pesci:

Pesci was grateful Prosciutto was willing to finish up the job for him, since it meant he got to go home early. Heck, maybe he could even get a chance to watch one of his documentaries before Formaggio came home and the game started. However, he was growing increasingly concerned about the noises coming from your room. He didn’t want to pry or anything, but you sounded...almost in pain. Sometimes you worked out or did yoga though, and Pesci thought that’s what you were working on, so he decided to leave you be.

However, upon hearing a loud crash, followed by a particularly pained groan, he thought it was best to check in on you. He knocked on your door frantically, but you were unable to answer it. Oh no, maybe you’d hurt yourself so badly you couldn’t even move! Determined to help you, he opened the door, only to see you writhing on the bed, nude and in the midst of an intense self-love session.

Pesci’s mouth opened, and closed, but unlike you, he couldn’t make a sound at the sight before him. It’s true, he harbored a small crush on you, but he had hope he would see you like this under better circumstances. He wasn’t sure what to do, he knew the right thing was to close the door and pretend like this never happened, but you seemed desperately in need of help, not to mention Pesci’s pants were tented with his own sudden but no less intense arousal.

Thinking back to advice Prosciutto had given him about manning up and taking what he wanted from life, he creeps up to your still unaware body, crouching onto your bed with a squeak of the bed springs. This is enough to break you from your trance, and you jolt up, looking at Pesci in shock and embarrassment. Pesci shushes you before you can say a word, pushing a trembling, clammy finger to your lips.

“Please...Let me help you y/n,” He begs you, looking you in the eyes with more courage and bravery than you’d seen from the man since you first met him. Still wet and horny, and body growing tired, you lick his finger, earning an adorable squeak from Pesci; this is going much better than he thought it would. You pull him on top of you, and show him what to do.

What Pesci lacks in experience he makes up for in quick-learning and a massive cock with a short refractory period. You move his hands for him across your body, bringing yourself to climax finally, and return the favor with a blowjob. Pesci doesn’t last long, but he’s hard again very quickly, which you decide to use to your advantage. You ride him again and again, Pesci doing everything you tell him to, and making sure you come as many times as he does. He comes everywhere, inside you and out and on your chest, and makes quite the mess of you.

IT doesn’t stop him from pulling you into a passionate kiss and spooning when you’re both sated, mumbling his thanks and sweet compliments about you. You end up sleeping together that night, and in the morning the men tease him half to death about it, but you can tell Prosciutto's proud of him.

Melone:

Oh, he’s been WAITING for this day since you first joined the team, and now that it’s finally happening he can hardly believe it’s real. First he Manages to reactivate the babyface from today’s mission to grab his camera and record everything. Then, he grabs his chest of toys from his room to help you out. He has a hard time not just jumping in and screwing you into your mattress, but like everything in Melone’s life, he has a plan for this, and he intends to follow through with it. After getting a minute or two of just your moans recorded (just in case his “mission” is unsuccessful, at least he’ll have fap material for later, he decides to make himself known.

“You know, y/n, your arm’s are going to get worn out like that before you’re able to climax if you keep this up.” Melone chided you, sitting on your vanity stool, head in his hands like he wasn’t just watching you touch yourself. You scream, out of shock and anger this time, trying to cover yourself and yell at him to get out. Melone’s incredibly stubborn however, and the tongue of a snake, and is able to persuade you into letting him stay, be it from charm, blackmail, or perhaps tapping into your own dark desires.

He starts by merely watching you, taking pictures with his phone and directing babyface on angles to take video. He instructs you on how to touch yourself, and gives you free range on his collection of toys. It all feels good, and you are able to come, but you’re still unsatisfied, to your disappointment. As if knowing this would be the result all along, Melone plays dumb and makes YOU beg him to touch and fuck you.

Once you finally give in, though, he’s much nicer to you, and to no one’s surprise is an excellent lover. He licks your pussy until you come again, and then finger fucks you once more for good measure, before pulling out his copy of the Kama Sutra. He lets you pick out your favorite positions, as well as a few he thinks will give you the most pleasure, and you tire yourself out.

Ghiaccio:

Ghiacchio does NOT want to deal with your loud noises right now, and he ESPECIALLY doesn’t want to deal with the “problem” it’s caused him personally. He breaks your door down, fully intending to chew you out for being so….”distracting” but ironically enough, Ghiacchio freezes when he sees you. He doesn’t have the most experience with dating, especially not with women (I imagine what limited experience he has was with other passione members *cough* Melone *cough*) so seeing you fully bare in front of him is a lot.

The noises you made haven’t helped either, halfway pained and desperate, it makes Ghiaccio oddly jealous; he wants to be the one that makes you make those noises. So before you can chase him out, or cover yourself, he tackles you on the bed, sloppily kissing and touching you. He’s rough, as you could have probably guessed, but also weirdly shy and gentle? For example, he fingers you so roughly and quickly you cum squirting within minutes, but he’s looking you in the eyes the entire time and gaging your expressions/reactions. He’s got a giant blush on his face, almost like he’s ashamed of doing this, but then bites your shoulder while he spears himself inside of you with a snarl.

Good news: you are no longer the loudest one in the house, Ghiacchio progressively growling then shouting the closer he is to climax. He jackhammers you with incredible speed, and bends your body in half to suit his own purposes. It takes him a couple rounds until he’s fully sated, but then he gets really soft afterwards. He likes to spoon you from behind so you don’t see his face, but he holds you gently, rubbing your shoulders where he nipped you, and soothing your sore muscles.

Risotto:

Let’s be honest: this isn’t his first time hearing you masterbate, he’s heard everyone in the base do it at least once. Hell, he’s even walked in on Melone a dozen times, once with Ghiacchio, so that’s not the issue. What is the issue, however, is that you’re being so loud and obvious he can’t ignore it. Even putting aside his personal feelings for you (which he isn’t necessarily willing to do) it would be bad if you were keeping yourself pent up like this around the others. You could be distracted on missions and hurt yourself or mess up your hit. Or worse- you could go to the others for sexual relief.

Clearly, you needed help, and it was your capo’s responsibility to help you take care of it, and only him. He turns invisible and sneaks into your room, but he needn’t have tried so hard to be stealthy. You were clearly in your own little world, fucking yourself on your fingers, crying out over the wet squelching of your aching pussy. He touches you lightly, so lightly you barely notice, while he’s still invisible. Sure, Risotto’s more than happy to do this, and he doesn’t care if you or the others know about his feelings, but he’s still a little shy, and unsure how you’ll react.

He’s worried for nothing, however, when you unconsciously rock into his touch, palming your breasts and licking the sweat off your brow. You’re confused about the phantom touches lingering on your body and invisible force rubbing your clit, but too aroused to do anything about it. You merely relax your tired body, letting yourself be finger-fucked into climax, crying out in pleasure-pain from the large, rough hands raking orgasm after orgasm out of your body.

After Risotto’s able to finger you enough to (he hopes) sufficiently stretch you out, he repositions your limp body, fluffing pillows under your head and placing you to face his still invisible body. He rubs the head of his cock against your clit and entrance, collecting as much lubrication onto his cock as he can. At the last minute, Risotto turns himself invisible, and watches the look of surprise and embarrassment turn into red hot need as he bottoms out into your aching, tender pussy.

He doesn’t go easy on you, each thrust hitting the deepest parts of you, forcing squeals out of you every time. You wrap your arms around him, trying to take some sort of control of the situation, but Risotto doesn’t give you an inch as he fucks the daylights out of you. Your moans spur him on, having gone from non-specific mewling to begging for Risotto to go deeper, harder, “more, more, more!” Risotto likes this side of you best, completely under his control and telling him exactly what he’s doing to you.

Far too soon, you orgasm again, already sensitive from your previous orgasms. Risotto isn’t done though, and doesn’t finish for several hours. Even when the others go home, and are tempted to say something, they hear who’s name you’re calling, and think twice before interrupting their capo’s “alone time.” Finally, after finishing, You pass out almost immediately, too exhausted to even clean yourself off. So, Risotto takes care of you, cleaning up your mess, putting some comfy pjs on you, and fetching some water and painkillers (just in case).

When he walks out of your room, the Squad is silent, no one daring to say anything (Ghiacchio and Formaggio are physically restraining Melone from talking). Risotto sees no need to say anything to them either, merely gives them all an unreadable look, before smiling to himself and returning to your room. Tomorrow, he’s going to need to rearrange the schedule; you’ll need some time off to recover.

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patriciahaefeli · 2 years ago

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The Whole Truth (And Other Lies We Tell Ourselves)

A few years ago I was telling a friend about how truly frenzied I had been. I was taking classes to earn a graduate degree while working a full-time job and two part-time jobs. I was also training for a half-marathon. “There’s something else,” I sort of whispered in a confessional tone, “I’ve developed a strange obsession with cooking and freezing dinners for my family - like, dozens of them. Like the world’s going to end if I don’t have a month’s worth of dinners in the freezer.” She looked at me, tilted her head to the side and considered me, and what I was saying. “I don’t know why,” I concluded, shaking my head and averting my eyes. When I looked back at her she was still looking at me. She cocked her head back to the other side and smiled compassionately, knowingly. “Yes you do,” she said softly. When I began to protest she held up a finger to stop me and repeated her declaration more firmly, “You DO.”

What I hadn’t told her was that I was also having panic attacks virtually every single night. In the daylight, I could keep busy. So, so, busy. At night, however, there was little respite, and the minute I turned off the light on the bedside table I’d find myself gasping for air in the darkness, unable to find an acceptable thought, one that would quiet my heartbeat and allow air into my lungs. I’d begun to imagine myself a fly in a web: being pulled under, flipped over, a muted version of myself all wrapped up in the soft, suffocating silk of lies - and the ones that strangled the most were my own. Who is this cowardly woman I wondered, who pretends that it’s okay? That it’s acceptable - that it’s normal? Because at night, when I could no longer “do” and had to just “be,” she looked a helluva lot like me. But that was all before.

Fun fact: Having a New England summer home meant that long car rides were a regular occurrence for us. He liked to tailgate people on the highway. For the longest time, I’d thought it was because he was often angry and impatient, and because he tended to drive a great deal faster than the speed limit. Eventually, however, I began to notice something. While in the fast lane, he would tailgate the car in front of him until they moved over and let him drive through. Then he’d speed up to the next car and tailgate them until they moved over. Then the next, and the next. When he had finally succeeded in moving everyone over, and there was a clear stretch of highway in front of him, he’d sort of casually drift back into one of the other lanes. It was a game, I realized. He just liked to get them to move. Because he could. Ticking them off like errands on a “To Do” list, racking up points in some contest of wills.

I run in circles where there is a lot of talk about what it means to be “a woman of integrity.” It is the highest praise I can think of, and at times, I think I have no idea what it means. But as I write that I hear my friend’s voice in my head again, yes, you do. Still, I’d like a nice neat definition, a list of criteria, a rubric where these things could be quantified and - oh hell, that’s not it either. “Strength” is another word bandied about. That one I’m more familiar with. It’s no secret that I was relentlessly harassed for nearly two years. Some days, being under siege like that wears you down, others it makes you angry. I’m aware that I often do a good impersonation of inner strength while feeling like I consist of nothing but soft tissue; a defenseless mass of gooey nerve endings trying to survive an arsenal of arrows coming from every direction. It didn’t help to know that I had used up so much of my compassion on the person responsible for the onslaught, that I seemed to have left little for me. I beat myself up a lot.

So no, “strong” is not the word I would use to describe my response to that period of time. What is more accurate, I think, is that I often had to shut down; deliberately turn the emotional volume down to “low,” and pretend that it wasn’t there at all. I like to go on long walks, and during that time I can tell you that the irony was not lost on me that when I went outdoors, I felt safest under the cover of the predawn darkness, or deep in the forest - alone. Then, of course, there’s humor. Laughing at the abhorrent is kind of my specialty. All of which to say that I’m not all that tough, and no matter how you cope (read “avoid”), it’s temporary - the feelings will eventually win. What is also true is that it will change you.

Approximately two months into this hell I got a call from a friend who said, “I just can’t believe this is still going on!” And yet, a year and a half later, I continued to be the focus of a great deal of vitriol being spewed by someone who, at one time, I would have not thought capable of this kind of assault. At least not on me, but that is just another lesson in humility. In the words of Maya Angelou, “When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.”

Somewhere along the way, while walking on some root strewn trail in the forest, I had an epiphany. Suddenly, the notion of my own victimhood seemed almost obscene, and the only way to free myself of its foulness was to engage in a kind of ruthless quest for the “truth.” This newly acquired bullshit detector sent up outraged alarms at statements like the one in the previous paragraph . Oh stop it, she said, the only difference between before and after was that the “before” was mostly private, the “after” public. But get real, you knew what they were “capable” of. Besides, isn’t this what you were threatened with for years? Isn’t this what you were afraid of after all? You called it a “delicate balance,” (God, a euphemism for walking on eggshells if I’ve ever heard one) right? Knowing that at any moment, it could turn on you too. And hell, as long as we’re drinking the truth serum here, isn’t that the very thing that made you feel special initially? Didn’t you, in fact, like to imagine that you were the single exemption, an island paradise in a vast sea of rage? Didn’t you convince yourself time and time again that you could “manage” this, that you were able to forgive because in reality, you were the stronger one?

And still, that’s not the whole story. The whole truth. I began to acknowledge that the truth of before was incredibly complex and deeply personal. If the after was stressful, it doesn’t even compare to the before, or to the last few months where just turning off the light on the bedside table could catapult me into that truth - and a full blown anxiety attack.

There had been many dress rehearsals for the ending. Once I’d get the courage to say the words out loud; to voice the intention, it was like stepping on a landmine. I’d end up barricading myself in the spare bedroom and blasting loud music into my airpods in an effort to drown out the rage-fueled litany of names too horrific to detail, and threats of personal and financial ruin.

And yet in time, I began to think of even that as the easy part.

The next two stages wove a web of manipulation that was far more insidious: First, there’d be a kind of highly charged, eerie calmness. A resigned acceptance of my character flaws: I was never anything more than a perpetual flight risk; selfish and incapable of sustaining something pure and enduring. I was the family wrecking ball, gouging irreparable holes in something built to last. I lacked some essential sense of loyalty. Everyone had told him so, warned him. He should have known.

And finally, just when I’d be jittery from exhaustion and stress, there would come a sort of collapse. Some invisible valve would be suddenly wrenched open and the enormous tension and pressure of the previous stages would abruptly stop. There would be tears and self-loathing, remorse and promises of change - of dedicating his entire life to this change! Nothing was more important than me during this phase, nothing more valuable than me - just watch and wait and see. I’d get followed around with just cringe-worthy adoration. Can I get you something? Just let me be near you...Most of all, I was told over and over, no one would ever love me this way again. It was terrible and confusing and stifling and yet the relief of this last phase was powerful. Surely this time he really meant it. No one could fake this. I could stay.

Another fun fact: After many, many cycles of this, the thing he taught me most was that the sooner I seemed as though I was “getting over it,” the sooner the fawning would stop. And I needed it to STOP. So I’d pretend that I was fine, that we were fine, that it was all good. And while my own self-loathing was a little greater every time, doing so would guarantee some measure of external peace, because then he’d go back to being who he was and leave me be.

He was just moving the car over in the fast lane again.

And I was pretending that it was okay. Pretending that I didn’t know exactly what I was doing, why I was doing it and what the result would be. Pretending that I wasn’t a critical part of the cycle, that my pretending wasn’t a manipulation all its own. That I hadn’t participated. Over and over and over. Learning my part and teaching him that I’d play it. Until I didn’t. I spent years building one type of expectation, and then I went rogue. And all hell broke loose.

There are truths that weigh so heavily and struggle so hard to be acknowledged that until I can hold them up to the light, turn them this way and that, say them out loud or write them down, they kind of hunker down in the dark and set up barriers to love. Not romantic love necessarily, just all the love; the love I associate with feeling happy and free and unfettered. The love that it makes it possible to write honestly and to see the humor of some things and the the humanity of others and the gifts of simplicity. The love that it takes to finally, once and for all, forgive. Because maybe, the person I needed to forgive most of all was myself.

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thefinalcinderella · 3 years ago

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Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 9 - To Beyond (Part 2)

Full list of translations here

Previous | Next

There was a huge upheaval in the Leg 2 of Flowers.

Rikudou and Bousou were in the lead. Those two schools were being furiously pursued by Manaka University, which relayed their sash in ninth place at the Tsurumi relay station. Yokohama University, which had been in second place at Tsurumi, had dropped significantly in the rankings in the opposite direction.

The lead group, which had become a three-way struggle, was in a dead heat clash of willpower and spirit. But even in the lower-ranked group, there were developments one couldn’t take their eyes off.

Jounan Bunka University, which had been in eighteenth place at the Tsurumi relay station, was running at a pace that was close to the leg record. Naturally, the schools running in front of and behind Jounan Bunka were also maintaining a high pace in order to not be overtaken or lag behind.

Musa, who had left Tsurumi at the tail end of the race, was hot on the heels of Doujidou and Jounan Bunka and on the verge of running side-by-side with them. A student staff member was standing on the roadside, holding up a placard that read “one kilometer.” Musa checked his watch; he had completed the first kilometer in two minutes and forty-eight seconds.

It would be impossible to run the entire twenty-three kilometer leg at this pace. It was obvious that the second half would be difficult, but there was no way he could improve his ranking if he faltered here. Musa overtook Teitou University and was a little behind Doujidou and Jounan Bunka. The gap between Musa and Teitou, which had been seventy meters at Tsurumi, was reduced in an instant.

The roadside was crowded with people. So this is what “a mountain of people” is, Musa thought. People holding the small flags distributed by the co-sponsoring newspapers lined the sidewalks in every direction. Everyone had cheerful expressions on their faces as they cheered on the runners who passed by in a flash. The excitement of the qualifiers and the Ageo City Half Marathon were incomparable to this.

This was the Hakone Ekiden. Furthermore, he was running in the ace’s leg.

Musa was happy. He wasn’t born in this country, and there were people who didn’t welcome him. He knew that. But, at this moment, what a free and equal place I am in! I'm sharing the same time and space as the runners running alongside me and the leaders so far ahead I cannot even see them.

They had been practicing and practicing, transforming their bodies into bodies for running, and now they felt the same wind on their skins.

What Fujioka had said was correct—as a foreign student in the Faculty of Science and Engineering, he would never have been able to experience such excitement and unity. Only those who had faced running in earnest could feel the buzz of boiling blood.

The cheers became noticeably louder, and Musa finally realized that he had passed in front of Yokohama Station. It was the 8.3 kilometer point. When had he run this far? The elevated tracks of the Third Keihin Line curved away to his right overhead. Pale sunlight descended from the cleared sky. Musa continued to run with Jounan Bunka and Doujidou on the road surface that was beginning to dry.

As Musa got into the rhythm of the race, both the fact that the landlord had told him “slow your pace” at the five kilometer point and that the tough spot of the second leg—Gontazaka—was ahead of him completely slipped from his mind.

---

“He’s going too fast.”

Kiyose pulled the radio earphones out of his ears and called the landlord.

“Yes, this is the coach car.”

“Did you make sure to tell Musa at five kilometers?”

“Don’t sound so scary, Haiji. I told him, I told him. But he didn’t listen, so what can I do?”

“At the ten-kilometer mark, call out to him to hold himself back again.”

After hanging up the phone, Kiyose rested his head against the hard back of his seat. He furrowed his brow, closed his eyes tightly, and sighed.

“He's been completely swallowed up by the atmosphere.”

Kakeru put his hand on the back of the seat and stooped a little to take in the scenery passing by outside the window.

“It’s a good thing there’s no wind today. I still can’t see the sea.”

He saw Kiyose open his eyes and look up at him as though to say, “What are you being so carefree about?”

“I’m sure Musa-san will notice before it’s too late. Let’s believe in him,” Kakeru said, still looking out the window. Kiyose put an earphone into his ear again.

“We can only hope so,” he muttered.

---

Of the ten legs of the Hakone Ekiden, the second leg, which ran from Tsurumi to Totsuka, was the longest at twenty-three kilometers.

Moreover, after fourteen kilometers, there was a 1.5 kilometer uphill slope, Gontazaka, ahead. There were small ups and downs even after overcoming the slope, and in the last three kilometers after the twenty-kilometer mark, there was another uphill.

With a distance of twenty-three kilometers and plenty of ups and downs towards the end, the course was both difficult and flashy enough to be described as the “leg of flowers.” In addition to overall running ability, runners were required to have strong mental strength and persistence to overcome pressure and pain, and they also needed to have a clever mind to read the race development and the dexterity to change their running style according to the ups and downs of the course.

Musa ran in a steady rhythm on the relatively flat road to Yokohama Station. He charged onto Gontazaka with that momentum and four seconds into the ascent, he realized, “Oh, it’s Gontazaka.” His legs no longer moved forward, as though weights had been attached to them.

The gap between him and the Jounan Bunka and Doujidou runners, who he had been running alongside, was getting wider and wider. Musa rushed to keep up with them, but realized it was impossible.

What was I doing? Musa finally became aware of the cold wind hitting his face. The tight-fitting arm covers had absorbed his sweat and were now damp.

It seems like the blood was rushing to my head. Musa’s surroundings flowed into his eyes and ears, like the wind blowing through a room and shaking the curtains through an open window. Small stores lined up one after another along Route 1; loud cheers from the spectators forming an uninterrupted wall; it was a peaceful New Year’s scene in the suburbs.

Didn’t I watch the TV with Kakeru at the Tsurumi relay station? Eleven of the runners in the second leg have a time of about twenty-eight minutes for ten-thousand meters, and the same goes for Jounan Bunka and Doujidou. Even if I tried to keep up with those two outright, I would only destroy myself.

What’s the fun in a competition where it’s easy to guess the outcome based on the athletes’ times, the twins had said. But that’s not true, Musa thought. Even if the difference in ability can be easily clarified by the simple numerical value of time, this isn’t a track event; it’s an ekiden. I’m running now because I was handed the sash and I need to pass it off to the next person. It’s not like the ten-thousand meter where we all start running on a flat track—this undulating twenty-three kilometers is only a tenth of the distance from Tokyo to Hakone. It’s only a small part of the huge race that’s put together by ten people.

The second leg is just the prologue, something from which one can derive the unknown development of the race in the future. I should not be overwhelmed, but rather run in a way that’s appropriate for the prologue; in other words, I should run calmly and steadily to improve our ranking as much as possible. Even if I cannot match their speed, I should read the race carefully and look for an opportunity.

First of all, let’s get some water at the fifteen-kilometer point, Musa thought. He had expected it to be chilly, but he had been running at a fast pace and sweating quite a bit. And then…that’s right. Musa remembered the warning Kiyose had given him.

“On the descent of Gontazaka, be careful. On the way up, if you’ve been running well up to that point, you should be able to keep the rhythm going, but that doesn’t mean you should rush down the slope, because you’ll definitely fall down. On the descent, you need to hold back a little to conserve your stamina. The real battleground of the second leg is the uphill slope in the last three kilometers. Control yourself and keep chasing until that point.”

Understood, Haiji-san. Musa nodded to himself and silently ascended Gontazaka. The highest point of Gontazaka was fifty-six meters above sea level. In front of Yokohama Station, it was 2.5 meters, so they would have to run up more than fifty meters in one go.

Just before the highest point was the fifteen-kilometer mark. A member of the short-distance team, wearing a Kansei jersey and a water supply bib, held out a drink bottle provided by the tournament to Musa.

“You’re in eighteenth right now. There are seven people huddled together in front of you. You can make it.”

In the short time they were running together, he was able to convey the information quickly and efficiently. Musa nodded and slowly rehydrated himself, holding the water in his mouth. He drank just enough to keep his stomach from getting too heavy and then tossed the bottle to the side of the road.

He was in eighteenth, which meant that he had already passed another team besides Teitou while he had lost himself in running. The water supplier said there were seven people in a huddle, but two of them were probably Jounan Bunka and Doujidou—those two would probably go further ahead. He wondered which teams the other five were from.

Taking advantage of the gentle descent of Gontazaka, Musa looked ahead. A broadcast van was following the Doujidou runner, who was spurting ahead, in order to capture him on camera. The coach cars for each school were also hurrying ahead to give instructions at the fifteen-kilometer mark. The cars were in the way, so he couldn’t get a good look, but it seemed that several people were competing with each other.

Musa moved a little closer to the center line and took an angle. From the other side of the cars, he could see the green and white vertically-striped uniform of Eurasia University.

Eurasia? I believe they left the Tsurumi relay station in fourth place.

It was only then that Musa realized that there had been a major upheaval in the rankings.

The fact that Eurasia's runner was so far back was a sign that he wasn’t in a comfortable position. Maybe he was sick, maybe he wasn’t feeling well, or maybe he couldn’t get into a rhythm.

The broadcast van was getting further and further away; Doujidou and Jounan Bunka must have broken away from the group. Musa decided that it was possible to catch up with the remaining five. It was possible to overtake them. Let’s not rush and close the distance little by little.

From the coach’s car behind him, he could hear the hoarse voice of the landlord.

“Musa! I hope you’re not snorting and shrivelling up your balls like an excited racehorse!”

The voice over the speaker stopped for a while—it seemed that he had been given a warning by the watchman in the car. With a cough, the landlord spoke again.

“You remember what Haiji warned you about, Musa-kun! If you do, do three somersaults on the spot!”

How is such a haphazard person our coach? Musa laughed. He felt his shoulders relax as he laughed, and his brain became calmer and clearer.

Musa lightly raised his right hand and sent an OK sign to the coach car.

---

At the Totsuka relay station, Jouta and King were sitting on a plastic sheet, talking as they watched a portable TV.

“They barely show the lower ranked teams. I wonder if Musa’s doing okay.”

“It can’t be helped, there’s so much competition at the top.”

On the screen, Manaka University was finally starting to gain a wide lead on Rikudou and Bousou.

“But I’m sure Musa-san will be fine.”

Just then, the rankings at the fifteen-kilometer mark appeared on the screen; Kansei was in eighteenth place. Excluding the selection team, they were in seventeenth place. The camera switched to show the offense and defense of the lower teams. Musa was rapidly approaching the five runners ahead of him.

“There he goes!”

“Yes!”

Jouta and King happily shook hands.

“There’s no time to sit around, Jouta. Musa might be here pretty soon.”

“I think I should sit still before I run.” Jouta, who had finished his jog a long time ago, was doing stretches as he sat. “Anyways, King-senpai, how’s your job hunt going?”

“Why are you asking about that now?”

“If we don’t talk about something else, I’ll get nervous.”

“You know I get sweaty when it comes to this topic.” King got sulky, but his mission now was to keep Jouta’s mind at peace before he ran the third leg. He reluctantly answered, “I’m not doing anything. I don’t have time to look for a job with this life.”

“Huh, so what are you gonna do? You’re gonna be a jobless graduate?”

“I guess I have no choice but to stay another year.” King hugged his knees, sighed, and looked up at the sky. The blue winter sky was covered with thin white clouds. “I wonder if my parents will forgive me.”

His sighs spilled out and drifted slightly, melting into the air with the same texture as the clouds.

“Stay a year, stay a year.” Jouta sat grasping his knees as he rocked his upper body back and forth with his bottom as the fulcrum. “Then, let’s go to Hakone again next year.”

“Idiot, the year just started and you’re already talking about next year. I’m not doing it. I won’t be able to go look for a job again,” King dismissed Jouta’s suggestion at high speed and then suddenly shut his mouth. “…Are you going to participate next year too?”

“I am.” Jouta stood. “Of course I’m going to participate.”

Jouta’s eyes had a seriousness in them that had never been there before. He’s motivated. Feeling Jouta’s fighting spirit right before his turn, King was also inspired.

“Alright.” King also sat up from the plastic sheet and stretched out his knees. “Let’s do some dashes one last time.”

Jouta and King began to run back and forth through the crowded Totsuka relay station.

Musa was running the last three kilometers of the hellish ascent with nothing but his willpower.

He had overtaken Eurasia before the slope. Running alongside him was Tokyo Gakuin University, Akebono University, Kita Kantou University, and the runner from the selection team. He couldn’t catch sight of the runners ahead of him; he couldn’t tell if the distance was great or if he just couldn’t see them because of the competition vehicles and terrain.

For now, he had his hands full just watching the movements of the four running with him. They couldn’t afford to fall behind here. If possible, they wanted to put on a spurt, pull ahead of this group, and hand over the sash to the runner of the third leg; Musa could feel everyone thinking the same thing and planning their moves.

No one wanted to come this far and be the first to drop out of the group.

His physical and mental strength were at their limits, but his tenacity was enough to keep him going without dropping his speed.

The Totsuka relay station was midway up the slope. Five hundred more meters. The view to the left was blocked by a soundproof wall, but the crowd on the sidewalks told him that the relay station was close. Musa saw that the selection team runner, who was right in front of him, was sweating more than he was. All the runners were breathing hard. Of course, Musa was too.

He had to go right now. Musa passed the selection team runner and got to the front of the group. It was his final spurt, which he put on with all his might.

As long as I can get this sash to Jouta at the Totsuka relay station. I don’t care if I collapse and can't get up; my time was far from the record for this leg, but I’m running with all my strength. I’ll show this running to everyone, without crashing in the last few hundred meters.

His chin was up and his form was unbecoming of a long-distance runner, but he couldn’t care about his appearance. He could see the relay station. He could see Jouta slowly raising his arm. Musa bent forward and dashed. He wasn’t sure when he took it off, but the fist he held out to Jouta had Kansei’s sash in it.

“That was an ace’s run.”

Jouta slapped Musa’s arm twice with the hand that had received the sash. Musa could hear Jouta’s light footsteps as he ran off coming directly from the asphalt he had fainted on.

The next thing Musa knew, he was lying on top of a plastic sheet in what appeared to be the parking lot of a ramen shop and a used car dealership. The whole place was filled with the buzz of the race officials, the runners who had finished running, and their attendants. It seemed that he had only lost consciousness for a short time.

“Are you awake?” King’s tearful face filled his vision. “You’ve done well, Musa.”

Musa received his explanation and then took stock of the situation: Musa had won the final battle and arrived at the Totsuka relay station in thirteenth place. He overtook seven teams and ran twenty-three kilometers in one hour ten minutes and fourteen seconds. That was the twelfth fastest time among the twenty runners of the second leg.

Even though they had moved up to thirteenth place, they were twenty-seven seconds behind Shinsei University in twelfth place and only had a six second difference with Tokyo Gakuin University in fourteenth place. It was still a tricky position to be in, but thanks to Musa’s tenacity, there was still hope for Kansei.

“Jouta was so enthusiastic seeing you run.” King rubbed his nose, which was red from being outside all day.

I’m glad. I was able to run well.

Musa’s lips trembled and he nodded silently. If he said anything, the tears would overflow, pouring out of him along with the words.

---

After arriving at JR Odawara Station, Kakeru and Kiyose walked through the station to transfer to the Hakone Tozan Railway.

“I see, understood. Good work.” Kiyose finished his conversation with King and snapped his phone shut. “He said Musa woke up immediately. The two of them will be heading to a hotel in Fujisawa.”

“Is that so.”

Kakeru was relieved. He had been worried ever since seeing Musa collapse at the Totsuka relay station on TV. King had seemed shaken as well and hadn’t answered his phone for a while even when they called him. Finally, King had called to report that Musa was okay.

“Shouldn’t we have called Jouta before he ran?”

They bought their tickets and went through the ticket gate. Kiyose checked the electronic bulletin board for the departure time of the train; the Odakyu line, which would take them to Hakone-Yumoto, seemed to be arriving in about ten minutes.

“The twins will be fine even if we leave them alone. They’re the type who would call themselves if they’re anxious.”

He has a point, Kakeru thought. They walked down the stairs side by side. On the platform, there were a few people wearing their best clothes.

“Putting that aside, the real problem here is Shindou’s condition.”

Before the train arrived, Kiyose began dialling a number on his phone. “Is that Yuki-san?” Kakeru asked, and Kiyose nodded. Then it seemed that Yuki picked up.

“It’s me,” he said. Kakeru reached for Kiyose’s phone from the side and pressed the button to switch it to speaker phone, thinking it was probably fine since they were in the middle of a crowd. Kiyose's head was tilted and Kakeru grabbed hand, changing the way the phone was held so it was right before their eyes.

“How’s Shindou’s condition?”

“I don’t know,” Yuki’s voice answered. “I can’t see his complexion, and he absolutely refuses to let me take his temperature. I guess it’s not good.”

“What do you mean you can’t see his complexion?” Kiyose’s eyebrows raised. “I do hope you’re attending Shindou.”

Yuki was supposed to be at the Odawara relay station with Shindou, who was running the fifth leg. Kiyose felt frustrated that he couldn’t go check on him even though he was so close.

“Shindou is next to me,” Yuki said. “But he's covered everything below his nose with a towel and he’s wearing masks on top of that. He’s wearing two masks: one’s for colds and the other’s for pollen allergies. I can’t even see his face, much less his complexion. Can you breathe, Shindou?”

Shindou had apparently put himself in full quarantine in order to not infect the attending Yuki with his cold. They heard Yuki handing over the phone.

“Hello.”

It was Shindou’s voice. It was a mumbling, unintelligible voice, like a kidnapper demanding ransom.

“How high’s your fever?”

Kiyose had cut straight to the point, but Shindou only answered, “It's not at all. I’m at the normal temperature.

“Kakeru is there, right?”

“Yes,” Kakeru said and took a step towards the phone.

“If you can, I want you to buy a mask on the way. I’ll leave the ones I’m wearing to Yuki-senpai.”

“If you have a normal temperature, then there’s no need to be so cautious,” Kiyose said.

“How did Haiji-san hear me?” The shock could be heard in Shindou’s voice. It’s the speaker phone, Kakeru explained in his mind.

“Got it. I’ll buy one, so don’t worry,” he answered out loud.

“Shindou, drink as much water as you can,” Kiyose instructed. “Even if you wet yourself while running, it’s better than being dehydrated.”

“I don’t want either of those things,” Shindou laughed, and then the call went dead.

“That’s a pretty useful function,” Kiyose said, staring at his phone. Kakeru turned off the speaker phone.

“Didn’t you know about it?” he asked.

“I never even noticed.”

Then what did you think that button was for? Kakeru cocked his head in puzzlement as he ran to the store on the platform. The train to Hakone-Yumoto arrived right as he returned to Kiyose after buying the mask.

Kiyose got onto the train, looking down slightly.

“It’s hard not to say, ‘You don’t have to force yourself to run.’”

Kakeru tucked the mask into his pocket and silently followed Kiyose.

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#Kaze ga tsuyoku fuiteiru #kazetsuyo #kazetsuyo translations #run with the wind

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bearseokie · 4 years ago

Text

Dry Humping (M) | Monsta X Reaction

request: Happy Birthday, my love! Thank you for writing for us! To commemorate, may I request a Monsta X reaction to dry humping them?

[warnings]: mature content, detailed sexual content, cursing, dry humping, some sub/dom undertones, mentions of edging

monsta x m.list | navi.

Shownu:

Pressed into the mattress with the intent of not moving, Shownu's body suddenly laying on you wasn't a surprise. Tired from the long workday, the second he crawled above you to lay between your legs, he was whining and groaning. Pushing his body against yours to gain more body heat, his lower body was on yours, the friction making him let out a separate groan.

"Fuck, that feels good," he said, your moan from the friction leading him on.

Rising above you, he set himself in a more useful place, body connected to yours through the fabrics of your clothing. With slow, broad strokes against you, your nails dug crescents into his arms. Overborne by the friction, his movements were speeding up, hot breaths against your neck. He rocked up into you, stiff muscles under your hands. Groans and pants echoing in the room, his orgasm hit first as he rushed to help you to yours. Keeping his hips moving, your body hugged tightly around him. With a firm hold, he placed kisses on your neck as you hit your high.

"We should do that more often." he grinned, kissing your forehead.

Wonho:

After a lovely dinner, both of you were eager to retrieve back into your comfortable home. With kisses placed along your neck, you walked down the long hallway towards your shared apartment's front door. Even in seductive silence, you could tell Wonho was losing his patience.

"Quicker," he whined at himself, pulling you along with fits of laughter when he attempted to unlock the door with his car key.

Rushing into the warm apartment, he had you locked between him and the door in seconds. With your body pressed against his, he lifted you up, legs wrapping around his waist. Sliding you from the door over to the smooth wall, the bumps made your muscles hurt, but his entrapped kisses on your lips made the pain subside. Holding your thighs against his hipbones, your body slid down, his crotch meeting your own in a fleet of passion. Taken back by the way he was aroused from just a few kisses and his own imagination, the rough movements had you moaning like he was already inside of you. With grunts and pleas from him wanting more friction, he turned your body to allow you to connect with him better. More resistance, you could tell it took all his strength to hold himself back. Your body catching up to his as you climaxed against him, fingers clamped behind his neck. Thrusting against you harder, a loud groan escaped him, releasing you to stand against the wall.

"Let's go have more fun in bed." he laughed, taking your hand to lead you into your bedroom.

Minhyuk:

A storm scattering the mood for the night, you were trapped within Minhyuk's arms. Your entire body on top of his, legs on either side of his waist, the sudden friction wasn't planned. With your lower-half placed above his crotch, the thin fabrics of what you both wore to sleep in couldn't hide the arousal he nonchalantly pulled from you, nor his own. Gently moving both of his arms - which were previously wrapped around your torso - down to your hips, your body ground against his.

Deep growls coming from him, his hips rose to meet yours. With pants filling the air, the once cool room was rising in temperature from the way your bodies rocked against one another.

"What are you doing to me?" he whined into the air, out of breath as he pushed against you faster to reach his climax.

Body growing stiff, a groan bolted from in his throat, hot fluids leaking through his boxers as he came. Rushing your body against his, feeling his muscles contort in pleasure and his sounds play in your ears was enough to send you other the edge yourself. Moaning against him, his heavy breaths calmed you.

"You've got a way with me, you know." he chuckled. "I could do that again."

Kihyun:

Stuck in the studio working, you had taken more of Kihyun's attention than you intended to when you asked to hang out on the couch. Raising a finger for you to join him in the chair, your body was sitting above his in a position you didn't imagine to be as uncomfortable as it was. Placed perfectly over his lower-half, your small adjustment to find a better position caused friction. Catching him off guard, his fingers moving across the equipment halted. Head moving back, your eyes met his gaze, the look you knew all too well. Taking his glazed eyes as a warning, you tried to settle in his lap once again, failing to do it without brushing against him. His hand moving to the small of your back made you arch, the contact reoccurring as he let out a groan.

"Can't stay still?" he asked, the rhetorical question making a smirk appear on his lips.

Pressing you down into him, the swiveled motions took their toll, both of you rushing against each other in a haze of stimulation. With his hands firm on your ass, you followed his touch to help him get off below you. Knowing your body too well, he was moving you in ways that you would catch the edge of pleasure every few seconds until he finally thrust against you with such a force that it had you falling over him, your orgasm racing through you.

"Now, are you going to behave in my lap, or do you need to go back to the couch?" he asked, kissing your lips waiting for you to decide.

Hyungwon:

With the car already steamed from hot kisses passed between you and Hyungwon, the sexual tension was thick. Able to finally catch him on a break, you both slipped into the backseat of his car with the intent of getting one another off. Immediately latched together, your body sitting above his was already turned on when he connected his body against yours. The traction he used unfamiliar to you, making you moan out his name. He was pleased. Merely distracted by his lips capturing yours in another passionate kiss, his pants felt tight as he bucked up into you.

"I know you hate being quick." he sighed against your mouth, your movements only speeding up at how deep his voice had fallen from the seduction.

He complied with your silence, pulling your body closer to his. Hands moving about on your exposed skin, the pressure he applied to your body was enough to make you whine against his neck. Holding onto one of the seatbelt straps for support, your bare legs began to hold the pattern of the seat below you from how hard he pressed you against him. Loosening and tightening his grip, both of you finally reached your peak as you fell against him.

"I bet I can make you finish faster next time," he smirked when you moved to exit the car.

Joohoney:

Settled on the couch in the living room, the movie playing on the screen was far from being entertaining. With your fingers tangled into Joohoney's hair, he moaned against your lips. Straddling him, the blanket once over both of your laps was now wrapped around your body. Tucked between him and the couch, it was slowly draping down from the continuous movements. Lowering yourself against him, you heard his breath hitch as you ground down on him. Not slowing your motions, the sudden friction made you both release sounds.

Voice turning horse as he groaned, Joohoney's sentences became incoherent when your body met his in such a tender area. "You are," he stuttered. "This is,"

He couldn't talk, the ends of either sentence swept away by quick pants and thrusts up against you. With his hands held so tightly on your hips, your body jolted from the sexual actions. Holding yourself up using the back of the couch, the fast pace was beginning to move the entire piece of furniture, rocking it up against the wall. Caught in the moment, his pace got sloppier, the dent forming in the sheetrock unnoticed as he came underneath you. Holding you against him, the outline of his still hardened self was enough to relieve you, shivering against him while he placed kisses in the nape of your neck.

"That was insane." he finally managed to get out, a grin on his face.

I.M:

Your day was long with Changkyun, his off day making it impossible for you to escape his grasp. Having taken you multiple times already, you had grown sore while he still held enough stamina to run a marathon. Getting up to get a glass of water, the second you made it back through the doorway, he had the glass on the nightstand and you pinned against the mattress.

"Can you go one more time for me, baby?" he said, your body immediately relaxing under him as his lips captured yours.

Wearing less clothing than you started the day off in, his hips pressed against your thin underwear made you moan and rise up for more. In a congruent state, he pressed you into the mattress harder, his pace deep and loving. Without direct intercourse, your body was able to regain arousal easily, nails scraping against his exposed skin. Moans and whines in your ears, his pace grew faster, racing for both of your highs. Finally finding a spot that had both of you holding on to each other, breaths held in your lungs, the release was sweet. Lips pressed against yours to bring you out of the euphoric state, the smoothness of his voice helped you through the aftershocks of the orgasm.

"How about a nice hot shower?" he said, kisses trailing across your shoulder.

#monsta x #monsta x smut #monsta x scenarios #monsta x imagine #shownu #wonho #minhyuk #kihyun #hyungwon #joohoney #jooheon #changkyun #i.m #monsta x scenario #kpop reactions #monsta x reactions #mature #monstax.headcanon

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everybodyscupoftea · 4 years ago

Text

i’ll be there

frat jj x reader

words: 2020

warnings: underage drinking, cursing

synopsis: in which boys will be boys and forget important dates

You and JJ had only been dating around seven months when your birthday came around. The birthday talk had come up because his was about four months before yours and you planned a whole day for the two of you to go fishing because you could tell how much he missed it with how busy school was keeping him.

JJ was ecstatic and the two of you drank all afternoon. You had a reservation at one of his favorite restaurants and a cake you’d made waiting in your room. He swore up and down to you that it was his favorite birthday ever and that he’d definitely one up you for yours.

As the date got closer, you began to doubt it. To clarify, it was fine, your birthday wasn’t a huge deal to you, just another day really. You never really announced it or had a party for it growing up, normally just movie marathon, dinner, and cake with your parents, sister, and some of your closest friends. But this year, it was your first birthday away from your family and home friends.

You thought maybe JJ was just planning something as a surprise until he started talking about a mixer he was helping plan that was supposed to take place on your birthday. While he was talking, you must’ve gotten a weird look on your face because he trailed off and asked, “Babe, everything okay? Do you think the theme is stupid?”

“No, the theme isn’t stupid, it sounds fun. What day is it again?”

He repeated the date and sure enough, you’d heard him right the first time. Nodding, you took a deep breath, “Well what if you moved it to that Friday instead of Saturday?”

“It’s like tradition or something to have Spring mixers on Saturday nights.”

This time you were absolutely sure that you were making a face. Your mouth fell open as you searched for the right words, “Wait, that’s one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard.”

JJ laughed and ruffled your hair, much to your annoyance, “Yeah, well, we don’t fuck with tradition.”

“Right,” you didn’t really feel like finishing the conversation, so you decided to just head out, “well, I have study group tonight, so I’m going to get something to eat before having to head over.”

“Oh, you want company?” JJ asked reaching for his wallet.

You shrugged, “I’m good. Have to call my sister anyway, so I’ll do that while I’m eating.”

JJ looked confused and a little hurt, you rarely ate dinner without him, but he quickly smoothed his face over, “Yeah, sure. Text me when you get out of study group, we can hang out later.”

With a weak smile, you nodded, “Sure, I’ll talk to you later.”

You left his room before he could lean in to kiss you goodbye and speed walked to the elevator before he could chase you down. The feeling in your chest was hard to pin down, maybe disappointment, maybe insecurity of not being important enough to JJ, but as soon as you had that thought, you pushed it away. That was absurd.

Pulling your phone out on the walk to the cafeteria on campus, you called your sister. She picked up on the second ring with an excited, “Hey!”

“Hey, loser, I miss you.”

She laughed, “Yeah, miss seeing your dumb face around the house.”

“I don’t know how, it’s like I’m still there with all the outfits of mine I keep seeing on Instagram.”

“Hey, if you didn’t want me to wear your clothes, you should’ve brought them with you.”

“Oh whatever,” you told her, not really in the mood to argue back.

She was quiet for a few seconds before gently asking, “Everything okay? Did you and JJ fight?”

You sighed, “No, I just, I think he forgot my birthday because he’s planning something with his frat and I asked if they could move the day and he was all like ‘no we don’t fuck with tradition’ and like I guess I get it, but I just wanted to do the whole movie thing with him this year since I won’t be with you guys.”

“Did you, I don’t know, tell him it was on your birthday or did you happen to leave that little detail out?”

With a soft laugh and slight blush, you responded, “What do you think?”

“I think you left that important bit out because you know how much the frat means to him and you’re willing to just get your feelings hurt for his sake.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, hating how well she knew you.

“Well, Sis, unfortunately he’s probably going to be a typical boy about this and he’s not going to remember until after the fact and then he’s going to feel like shit and you’re going to feel like shit with him. Really this could all be avoided if you just tell him.”

“He doesn’t have to know.”

“Oh my god, you do realize he’s going to be thinking to himself in a few months, huh, I wonder when her birthday is and he’s going to find out.”

“Well, I’ll tell him I don’t celebrate it.”

She made an exasperated noise, “Okay, clearly nothing I say is going to change your mind, so I’ll just drop it for now. How are your classes going?”

And with that the two of you started catching up. You told her about your classes and your study group, and she told you about all the gossip going on with people at home and about how bullshit senior year of high school was.

“I’m just ready to be in college and doing whatever I want, like you,” she whined at the end of her rant.

You laughed, “The grass always seems greener, my friend, but I can promise you it is not.”

She complained a little bit more before the two of you exchanged goodbyes and you started walking to the library to meet with your group. By the time you finished there, it wasn’t too late, so you texted JJ that you were finished. He replied pretty quick, telling you to wait there, and he’d come walk you back since it was dark and your dorm was pretty far away from the library.

Everything was going to be totally fine, he still cared for you, it was going to be okay.

In the weeks leading up to the party, JJ got busier and busier, focused on making sure the details were exactly right. He was put in charge of coordinating the alcohol, which you didn’t really get because he was only 20, but he told you it was a real privilege, so you let it go.

The night before, he crashed in your room and by the time you woke up at 10, he was gone and you had a text from him that he had to go help set up and that he’d be back to pick you up at 5:30.

You stretched and decided to go for a run before getting some expensive coffee you normally didn’t spend money on as a treat for your birthday. It was nice outside, and you enjoyed the fresh air. While you were drinking your coffee, you parents FaceTimed you, so you moved to the outdoor patio and talked with them and your sister for a good 30 minutes.

After picking up lunch at your favorite sushi place, you went back to your room to eat and start getting ready for the Mardi Gras themed party. You scrolled through Instagram, smiling at your friends’ posts for you. It felt nice, especially since JJ hadn’t said anything about it yet.

Your suitemate let herself into your bedroom around 4 with a cupcake from the bakery downtown and a huge smile. It almost brought you to tears. She gave you a huge hug and sang to you before asking, “What do you and JJ have planned?”

“Oh, uh, we’re going to a party his frat is throwing. He helped plan it, so he’s pretty excited.”

She looked disappointed, “He planned a frat party on your birthday.”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. It means a lot to him, so, I don’t mind.”

“Right…” she trailed off before straightening back up, “want me to do your makeup?”

“Oh yes, please!”

JJ knocked at your door at exactly 5:30 and you greeted him with a smile and a kiss. He yelled out a greeting to your suitemate and she got off her bed to lean against the doorframe and glare at him, not returning his hello.

With a weird look in her direction, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out after him, rambling about how sick the house looked with all the decorations, still not bringing up your birthday at all. With that, you resigned yourself to just having to get over it.

You got a drink almost immediately and stayed pretty close to JJ’s side as he walked around socializing. A few people from your study group found you and started talking to you, which you were grateful for. And then it happened, before you could stop it, one of the boys in you group blurted, “Oh, by the way, happy birthday! The big 20, huh?”

JJ laughed, looking down at you, clearly thinking the guy was confused, and you blushed, “Oh, uh, thanks. Yeah, 20.”

“One more year till you’re legal!” he cheered before catching someone across the room’s eye and excused himself.

JJ had gone totally rigid next to you and you cautiously glanced up at his face. You held your hands up, and quietly told him, “J, it’s not a big deal.”

His face was incredibly pale as he whispered back, “It’s your fucking birthday?”

“Um, yep,” you responded with an awkward half smile.

“And you didn’t tell me why?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know, you were just really excited for the party, I didn’t want to ruin it for you or anything.”

“Ruin it for-“ he cut himself off and started pulling you through the crowd and out the back door. JJ ran his hands through his hair, “So that’s why your roommate gave me such a dirty look then.”

You nodded, playing with your fingers as he paced back and forth. Clearing your throat, you said, “It’s really not like a huge thing. I mean we get to spend time together tonight.”

JJ stopped, “No, it’s actually a huge fucking thing. What kind of boyfriend forgets that shit?”

“A busy one,” you joke.

His jaw tensed and he sighed heavily before speaking again, “Babe, I am so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I don’t know how this happened; I mean it’s in my phone calendar.” JJ pulled out his phone to show you and then sighed again, “I put it in April.”

“JJ, I promise it’s okay. I mean I was a little hurt, sure, but at least it wasn’t intentional.”

“It’s just, I love you, and I want to be there for you and I knew you had a problem with the party but I figured it must not be huge since you never said anything but I should’ve fucking asked.”

You had frozen at his words; he’d never said them to you before. JJ gave you a weird look when you didn’t react and it unfroze you. You surged forward, kissing him, before pulling away to look him in the eyes, “I love you, too.”

His eyes went wide, suddenly realizing what he said and he kissed you again, holding your face gently in his hands. When he pulled away, he pressed a final kiss on your forehead before taking your hand, “Let’s go.”

“No, you worked hard on this, we can stay.”

JJ gave you a look, “No, we’re going. I’m going to buy you some ice cream and then we’ll go for a walk and spend some time together. I know I’ve been really wrapped up in this and I haven’t seen you as much.”

You smiled and squeezed his hand a few times, “I’d love that.”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fic #jj maybank headcanon #jj maybank fluff #frat!jj #outer banks fic #outer banks #obx #sigma chi!jj

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undertaker1827 · 4 years ago

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Hi!! May I request Sebastian and Ronald w a s/o that sleep talks? She rarely does but when she does sleep talk its just her yelling out iconic meme? Bonus of the sleep talking get progressively more aggressive, like its starts w “put GERARD BaCk!” And then the next time she yells “bitch gon step on my fucking toe bitch w them fucking cowgirl fucking boots bitch DIGOISTIN” (oki ik this is so old but its iconic😂😅)

Why hello yes of course you can!! Sorry this took me so long to write, hope it’s what you wanted I tried so hard I really did ahhh

Masterlist

Sebastian Michælis

You had never really been one to talk in your sleep. Given that mostly Sebastian avoided doing it all together - he didn’t actually need to sleep as a demon - he would often just hold you while you rested. If he had nothing to do which involved a deadline, he found laying with you to be quite the comfort after a long day filled with incompetent servants and constant complaints from his Young Lord over wifi speed. If Sebastian had told the boy they’d got the fastest broadband anywhere, he’d done it a thousand times. He would allow his hand to stroke back through your hair, fingertips lightly grazing your scalp whilst you slept peacefully as he mulled over the days events. Granted, it gave him time to think, but more importantly he enjoyed knowing you were safe, finding that the thought gave him peace of mind.

One night, he was doing just that. You had gone to sleep a couple of hours ago, Sebastian laying on his back and you curled into his side, your head resting on his chest and him holding you tightly. You were slumbering peacefully, or at least he thought you were. You had started mumbling something intelligible, though Sebastian had to remark to himself that you sounded incredibly confused. He continued to listening to your mumbling until you finally came up with a sentence he could understand. You turned to face the demon, eyes open wide and expression entirely serious, stating, “Road work ahead? Yeah, I sure hope it does!” You proceeded to close your eyes and bury your face in Sebastian’s chest, resuming your usual calm breathing pattern as if nothing had ever happened. So amused was the demon at your apparent distress that his hand had paused, half hidden in your hair and his shoulders were jumping with silent laughter that he didn’t even try to cover up.

The next time you talked in your sleep, some several months later, you had rushed in from work, collapsed on Sebastian’s sofa then lost consciousness about five minutes later. From what you had told him, it was something of a stressful day and there was one colleague in particular you were ready to murder in cold blood. When you started mumbling, he immediately rushed to your side, phone in hand and determined to catch whatever you said this time on video. He still remembered your nervous confusion from the last time so clearly that it sounded like you were speaking aloud every time he thought of it and chuckled at the thought of something similar happening again. By the end of a good 20 minutes, all recorded so that the viewer would be entirely unaware of Sebastian’s silent chuckling, you had told someone to come back as you hadn’t finished insulting them yet, claimed you “sits but did not fits”, accused someone else of having harboured a red dot the entire time and ended with a disgusted “I had fun once. It was awful.”

When you woke up half an hour later, Sebastian immediately brandished his phone in your face to make you watch something he claimed was inordinately funny, without telling you what it was first. As you watched sleeping-you gradually get more upset through the video, your smirk grew until you were laughing long with your boyfriend.

“I knew it!” You announced at last, “My soul and Grumpy Cat’s are linked!!”

However, it was your most recent escapade, in Sebastian’s mind at least, which was the best. It was once again the middle of the night, Sebastian holding you close as you slept blissfully on. You started muttering something he couldn’t decipher, then quietened down again, only to start up once more. As he listened to your slurred speech, he decided what you were doing would be better classed as grumbling than muttering, clearly very annoyed over something. Then, and this was the only way he could possibly describe it, your grumbling simply intensified. It continued doing so until you were practically yelling, but he couldn’t understand a word you were saying. That was until the very last moment, when you screamed, demonically if he did say so himself then claimed in a false, almost sing-song tone, “Everything’s fine.” Having said your piece, you flopped back down, face buried in a pillow and said nothing more for the remainder of the night. If Sebastian’s eyes held a little of a glimmer in the morning than usual, you certainly thought it suited him - though you were ignorant as to what had caused it.

Ronald Knox

Ronald had been entirely unaware that you talked in your sleep at all. You had never mentioned it to him, either by way of warning or whilst relating a funny story that had come about because of something you said unconsciously, and it became apparent to him that his was because you had no idea you did it. You barely ever spoke a word, but sometimes, sometimes you did; these cases were, in Ronald’s opinion, some of the most iconic things you ever said.

He first discovered your sleep talking when he had come in very late from dispatch, having been left with mountains of paperwork, and quietly slipped into bed next to you. He gave a lopsided grin when you automatically moved closer to him until you were wrapped securely in his arms with your head resting on your shoulder. The reaper found he couldn’t get to sleep immediately, so instead settled for taking in your slightly dishevelled, beautiful appearance. Some of your hair was pressed into a strange angle from how you had been laying and he couldn’t see your glittering eyes, but all he could think was how amazing you were. He was disrupted from his thoughts quite quickly though. You began muttering, sounding most distressed, however he was able to pick our at least part of what you said.

“I’m disgusted, I’m revolted, I dedicate my entire life to my Lord and Saviour and this is the thanks I get.” By the end of your speech, you had curled up into a ball and all but hidden your face from Ronald entirely. The reaper couldn’t help his grin as he put a hand up to your back and ran it along your spine comfortingly, soothing you as best he could. He only hoped you would wake up before he left for work in the morning so he could tell you what had happened.

It wasn’t until a few months later that you talked in your sleep again. This time, you had been watching something of a movie marathon with Ronald only for your eyes to drift close halfway through the third film, head falling heavily onto his shoulder despite your best efforts to stay awake. The reaper was neither surprised nor bothered by this development, simply continuing to watch the film with an arm slung securely over you. You both stayed like this for a long time, the film a good two thirds of the way through, when you started shifting around a little bit, a hand moving to grip his arm. Then, you whined. Literally whined, as though you were a heartsick dog. That alone brought a lopsided grin to Ronald’s face, but what really did him in was when you started telling someone how nice their hair looked, then followed it up with, “Why can’t you just tAke thE cOmpLimeeEEE-” which just descended into unintelligible whining again. Honestly, he was surprised his laughter didn’t wake you up. He couldn’t even keep a straight face when he related the story to you later on.

His favourite instance, however, occurred when you had spent the day walking around London together, just exploring the streets and seeing things you had never really taken much notice of before. It was late when you got back and you decided to stay over at Ronald’s place rather than make your way back to your own. You had both settled down, slumbering in each other’s embrace when your loud, frantic voice yelled out through the room, startling Ronald awake even as you carried on sleeping.

“Din-din in T minus five seconds!!” The reaper almost fell out of the bed in shock, whipping around to see where the threat was only to realise what your actual words were. A chuckle escaped his lips as his gaze fell back to your sleeping form, face pressed against a soft pillow. He leaned down, intending to lay a gentle kiss on your shoulder. As it happened, you threw an arm out to the side so suddenly that he didn’t have time to catch it or dodge, meaning he got smacked straight across the face. You jumped up to scream, “Evacuate the kItcHEN!!” Proceeding to lay down again and resume peacefully resting as if nothing at all had happened. You had left Ronald sitting up with a hand pressed against one eye, the other held in front of him to fend you off if necessary yet a smirk still on his lips. He soon descended into full on, cackling laughter, so loud that he startled you awake and was left incapable of telling you what happened for a good ten minutes, though during that time you managed to pry his hand away from his face to find he had a blossoming black eye. You were mortified when you discovered that you were the one who had given it to him, but that just made it funnier for him.

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #sebastian michaelis #black butler x reader #kuroshitsuji x reader #ronald knox #sebastian #black butler sebastian #black butler sebastian x reader #sebastian x reader #sebastian michaelis x reader #kuroshitsuji ronald #kuroshitsuji sebastian #ronald #black butler ronald x reader #black butler ronald #ronald knox x reader #ronald x reader

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sayonarasanity · 4 years ago

Text

Reverberation

Chapter IV

link to AO3

Chapter 1 - 2 - 3

Hideous. It was the most hideous thing she had ever seen.

Hanji observed her reflection in the mirror, with her mouth twisted in disgust, each and every hair on her body standing on end. Her hair fell down from one shoulder as a short braid, its tip barely reaching the slightly visible bump on her chest under the school uniform.

“Disgusting,” she commented.

“You look beautiful,” her mother exclaimed, wiping the imaginary tear from under her eye. Hanji sent her a very Levi Ackerman signatured gaze from the mirror. “I hate it.”

Her mother approached her from behind. She was a little shorter than Hanji, her head merely reached her neck. The older woman put her hands on her shoulder and caressed gently.

Then, getting her mouth closer to her ear, she whispered, “You lost the bet, honey.”

That she had. Cold-bloodedly and ruthlessly lost a bet which should’ve been the last thing she would agree to let alone losing it in the first place. Never again would she challenge the instincts of her mother while watching a TV series and guessing whether the main character would live or die.

Worst, and biggest mistake of her life.

“Mom,” she whined, losing every drop of dignity she had with playing the emotional blackmail card. “Please. At least, don’t make me do this on the first day of high school.”

“Rules are rules,” her mother said, ignoring her entreaty then proceeded to fold the clothes piled on top of her bed. “And since when do you care about what people think about you?”

“It’s not that,” she sighed. “I just don’t feel like myself like this.” She pulled at her hair, wrinkling her face.

“You’re not a kid anymore, Hanji.” She walked to her closet and put the folded clothes inside one of the drawers. “Bear it for one day.”

“But I don’t want to.” She groaned, covering her face with her hands and lying her head backwards.

Hanji felt her mother come close, then her hands cleared the dust on her shoulders and fixed her hair. “Have a nice day at school.”

Hanji let out a frustrated moan which was very successfully brushed off by her mother.

“Morning,” she muttered insipidly while she entered the kitchen. A bowl of cereal was ready for her already and she poured milk inside of it as she sat down on one of the chairs.

“Morning, honey,” her father responded. Hanji noticed that his voice had faded towards the end. “Umm, you look, uh, nice.”

“Don’t,” she warned, her mouth full and directed her spoon threateningly towards her father. “Dad, don’t say another word.”

Her father’s face was very red as he obviously held back his laughter. He coughed into his hand and cleared his throat, nodding. “Yes, of course, of course.”

Just then, her phone vibrated with a text message. She didn’t need to look to know who it was from. “I’m leaving.”

“You’re not really mad at me, are you?” Her father asked as she got up from her seat and dropped her bag on her shoulder.

“No, dad, of course, I’m not.” She rolled her eyes and waved. “See you.”

Levi was waiting in front of the house, his back facing her. When he heard the sound of the door closing, he turned around.

And he froze.

“Levi, listen to me very carefully,” Hanji started calmly, while Levi stood as rigid as a stalactite. “If you so much as breathe I swear I’ll chase you to the school.”

Levi looked her over, with his customary, blank gaze which was almost impossible to read. Yet, Hanji knew him well, maybe better than he knew himself and she also knew that he was giving one of the biggest wars inside of himself to not give up and laugh at her face.

However, Levi Ackerman was not one to laugh. He had other ways to show his belittlement and mocking. He lifted his fist to his mouth, as his eyes shone vaguely with amusement and snorted, audibly. “Lookin’ good m’lady,” he said as if he was a 19th century English gentleman and was about to ask a high-born lady to dance in a flamboyant ball.

Frankly, Hanji didn’t even know what felt so wrong about braiding her hair, neatly and orderly on the first day of school. But for some reason, maybe because of the goddamn puberty she was going through—she was almost fifteen anyway—it irked her in a way nothing else did. And Levi was oh so aware of it.

“Ackerman!” Hanji snarled, as blood rushed to her cheeks in light speed and hence started their first-day marathon.

Levi had inhumanly fast reflexes. One second, he was standing in front of her, and the other he had already hurled himself to the street, running like a goddamn horse on a race. Hanji didn’t lose much time following after him, her steps were hard and fast on the ground. The braid her mother had so delicately made was winnowing left and right on her back as well as her backpack.

After almost ten minutes of exhausting and intense chasing, Levi was the first one to throw himself into the borders of the school. Hanji’s lungs were burning as if they had been exposed to hot, boiling water when she stumbled into the wide yard, breathing heavy and coughing miserably. Her neck, chest and back were all sticky with sweat. Levi was bent over, hands on his knees, his shoulders were rising and lowering with his fast inhales. He was tired too obviously.

But Hanji wasn’t done with him yet.

After her breaths more or less stabled and her heart quieted down, she sneaked up to him from behind being very aware of the crowd of students around them. No one cared about them just yet. And most certainly Hanji didn’t either. Levi slowly lifted his body, his schoolbag almost slipping down from his shoulder, and his neck shiny with droplets of sweat. He made the mistake of not checking what was behind him and hence gave Hanji the golden opportunity to jump onto his back.

“Hah!” she exclaimed. “You thought you could run away from me that easy—"

Her sentence was cut short when she realized that things weren’t going much as planned.

“Hanji!” he snarled and then, “Hanji, you fucking idiot!” Levi grabbed her legs and stumbled dangerously to the left. To where a table full of plastic glasses of lemonades was located.

“Oh no,” she gasped and held his shirt in her fists, tightly. “Oh, no. Levi, shit, watch out—"

So much for taking revenge. They both screamed at the same time when Levi couldn’t carry her sudden weight with his already tired and unstable body and together, they fell.

“Holy fuck!”

Hanji blinked her eyes. She was sitting on the ground, the ground which was wet with lemonade, as well as her uniform, her legs and she guessed, some parts of her hair. And if she was in such condition, then that also meant that Levi too—

A pair of arms wrapped around her neck from behind, making her gasp in shock. “Make your last wish, Zoe.”

“Levi,” she breathed, as he clung to his forearms with her hands. “Levi, please. Have mercy, have mercy!”

“In your goddamn dreams,” he tightened his arm around her neck just vaguely. Hanji knew he wouldn’t hurt her on purpose.

She couldn’t help it. She started to laugh. “I didn’t mean to—” she managed to say. “But you deserved it.”

He snarled right next to her ear. Oh, shoot. He was so, so pissed. “You’re dead.”

“The first day of high school,” an older and authoritative voice spoke from somewhere above them. Hanji looked up to see a man around his forties, with dark yellow hair and round glasses, wearing a well-ironed white shirt and black trousers. He had a blank, serious and bearded face. “And I see some of our newest students are already having fun.”

Hanji opened her mouth, unsure of what to say, or what excuses to line up, but Levi spoke before her. “It was my fault.”

“Levi!” she whispered harshly, turning her head slightly backwards to look at him.

“I am touched,” the man continued. Was he a teacher or someone else Hanji couldn’t exactly tell. He appeared to be way soberer to be one. “I didn’t know teens these days cared for each other this much. What are your names?”

“Levi,” he answered without so much delay.

“Hanji,” she followed right after.

The man nodded. “I am Adam Smith,” he introduced himself. “The headmaster.”

Oh, dear, Hanji thought bitterly, I wish I had the chance to look at my books one last time. Then she closed her eyes, afraid of having to face Levi’s wrath.

“And this is my son.”

Surprised, and with a slight hope, she dared to have, Hanji half lifted her eyelids, and her eyes travelled up until they met a blond boy around their age who had eyes as blue as agate. He was the most clean-cut boy she had ever seen since Levi. His school uniform was ironed straight without a single wrinkle left, and his hair seemed like quite an effort had been spent on it just this morning. But he looked friendly.

“Erwin, escort your friends to their houses and make sure they come back until the end of the first class,” the headmaster ordered the tone and his expression not altering just a bit.

“Yes, sir,” the boy affirmed, nodding.

Mr Smith then stared at Hanji and Levi. “I won’t give you two any punishment since it’s the first day of your high-school life,” he said, his eyes moving back and forth between the two of them, intimately. “But I won’t be as considerate as I am now in case of any further improper conduct.”

“Yes, sir,” Hanji said, successfully remembering the fact that she was able to speak.

“And young man,” the headmaster directed his piercing gaze to Levi. Hanji felt the rising and falling of his chest on her back. She wished she could see his face too. “Mind your language or else I might have to speak to your parents the next time.”

Hanji couldn’t see Levi’s reaction but he must’ve at least nodded for the headmaster soon turned around and started to walk towards the door of the building.

“Here, let me help you.” As soon as his father left their side, the boy, Erwin, extended his hands to them to help them get up. Hanji accepted the gesture with gratitude and smiled at him as she stood on her feet again.

“Thank you.”

Levi stood up by himself and glared at Hanji then at Erwin. “Why the hell there was a table of lemonades on the goddamn schoolyard?” he asked, already forgetting the very threatening warning he had just received.

“My father thought it would help new students to get adapted easier,” Erwin explained. “I hadn’t thought it would work, to be honest.”

“Well, it didn’t.”

“I am Erwin,” the boy introduced himself then, nodded at Levi and smiled at Hanji.

“Hanji,” she said, beaming at him. “Say, Erwin, how is it like to be the son of the headmaster?”

“Complicated,” he replied gently. “I can tell you more on the way.”

“That would be great!” she exclaimed. “Right, Levi?”

He was still glaring at her, his clothes were half-wet, one side of his hair was sticky with lemonade, he looked like a forcefully bathed, grumpy cat. “I need to take a shower.”

“We don’t have that much time,” Hanji looked at Erwin for confirmation. “Can he?”

The boy shrugged. “Sure, if he makes it quick.”

Levi nodded then turned around toward the exit of the school. They started to walk behind him with Erwin. Hanji felt pretty much guilty watching him go, although she was the right one here in the first place. Still, she felt bad. She even felt more uncomfortable about the lemonade on him than on herself.

“Best friends?” he asked, probably noticing Hanji’s regretful gaze following the boy walking in front of them.

“Yeah,” she nodded, looking at him. “Childhood friends.”

Erwin hummed; his sharp, blue eyes moved to Levi. “He seems… intense.”

Hanji couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah,” she confirmed. “He kind of is.”

When they got out of the school borders, she realised she wouldn’t be able to keep this tense atmosphere any longer. She needed to talk to him. “Sorry,” she said, sheepishly. “Do you mind if I catch up to him?”

“No, of course. Go ahead.”

“Thank you,” she touched his arm. “It was nice to meet you by the way. I hope we’re in the same class.”

He smiled. “You too.”

Then she turned around and ran up to Levi, who was radiating his dark aura as if he was some kind of a nuclear weapon.

“Frailty, thy name is woman,” she recited when she reached up to him. Then bit her lower lip when he glared at her from the corner of his eyes.

“Fuck off.”

“You can’t stay mad at me forever, you know.”

“Watch me.”

“Leviii!” she exclaimed, then wrapped an arm around his neck. They stumbled together a little until they found their rhythm back. “I am sorry, okay? But I still think you kind of deserved it.”

“Get off me,” he pushed her lightly from the stomach. “You stink.”

“You stink too. We’re both sweaty.” She paused then added. “And we’ve just taken a lemonade shower.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Of us both.”

He sighed. “Whatever.”

She watched his profile for a while. “Am I forgiven?”

He met her gaze, eyes searching hers. He didn’t seem much angry anymore. “I’ll consider it.”

She smirked. “Roof after school?”

He nodded without even stopping to think. Seemed like she was forgiven already. “Sure.”

At the end of the first month of high school on a supposedly autumn day, she was standing in front of his door, wearing a black, denim jacket, sweatpants and holding a scissor in her hands.

“Missed me?” she stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. Levi closed the door, eyeing her suspiciously.

“It’s been only two hours since I’ve last seen you.”

She gasped as she stepped out of her shoes. “It’s been precisely four hours, thirty-seven minutes and—” she looked at her watch briefly. “Forty seconds since you’ve last seen me. I can’t believe you can be this reckless about the time we spent apart, Levi. And you call me your best friend.”

“I am regretting that sometimes.” Hanji ignored him as she walked inside the house. “Where is everyone?”

“In their rooms,” Levi raised his brows. It was almost midnight. “Why are you here?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“In this hour, yes,” Levi said matter-of-factly. He had no problems with having her here, never had, but it was Friday, and he was kind of tired. “So?”

Hanji raised the big ass scissor with one hand. “I want you to cut my hair.”

“Your hair?” His eyes scanned her hair, as messy as always, brought together with a black hair tie on the top of her head as a ponytail. “Four-eyes, I think you mixed the buildings. The hairdresser is down the street, on your right.”

Hanji rolled her eyes then stepped closer to him. “I don’t want to go to a hairdresser. I want you to cut my hair.”

“Hanji I’ve never cut anyone’s hair. Are you out of your mind?”

Rather than answering, she pressed the scissor on his chest so much so that he almost felt it on his ribcage. Her eyes were resolute and serious. “I am going to give you all my power.”

Levi sighed; his eyes moved up to the ceiling. The yellow light dazzled his sight, and he wondered what the hell had he done to deserve this at this hour of the night. Yet, there was a part of him, a part he was sure controlled more by Hanji rather than himself, and that part kept up with her bizarre mind almost subconsciously. “Samson?”

“Yes.” She was smirking when Levi lowered his gaze from the ceiling to look at her.

Levi shook her head. “You should stop living your life by fictional or Biblical characters.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Levi took the scissor she was continuing to press upon his chest when she applied more pressure not so subtly to imply him to hold it. She took her jacket off when he did and started to climb the stairs. Levi fell into step with her without losing much time.

“Why do you want to cut your hair anyway?” He asked, wondering.

“Because I don’t want to be the subject of my mother’s evil deeds anymore,” she replied with a low, dark voice.

“You are the one who is adamantly losing the bets,” Levi reminded her. Meanwhile, they had started to walk towards the bathroom through the dark corridor. Levi turned the light on as he passed by the button, then followed Hanji into the bathroom.

“Whose side are you on?”

“Your mother, obviously.”

She threw him a nonchalant look, “Traitor.” Then she reached for her hair tie and pulled it off.

When had her hair grown so long? Levi blinked as he watched the brown strands falling down from her shoulders in waves. Towards the end, a few of them were curling slightly on her back. He also noticed the different tones of brown, light, dark and chestnut, shading some parts of her hair. When her glasses followed the hair tie after, and Hanji put them on top of the washing machine along with her jacket, he asked, bewildered. “Who are you?”

She eyed him first like she was trying to figure out the reason why he was so shocked. It didn’t last long until the wheels sat in their places. “I am the evil twin,” she replied easily then, with a glint in her eyes. “We have to wash my hair first.”

Oh? Hanji willingly offering to wash her hair? She was that desperate about cutting her hair then. “We?”

“I can’t wash it on my own. I am practically half-blind right now.”

“Just say you have no idea about being clean, and we can get it over with four-eyes.” Levi dropped the scissor on top of her jacket and bending over the bathtub he turned on the tap, waiting for the water to get hot enough.

“Who am I to talk in your presence, Your Cleanliness?” She said, then laughed at her own joke, tilting her head backwards.

“Shut up,” he had tried to be strict and curt, not that he had failed. If only he hadn’t snorted right after. “Idiot.”

To wash his best friend’s most of the time hygiene neglected hair was a once in a lifetime opportunity, so Levi took his sweet time, rubbing her skull and her long locks with his shampoo two, three times until he was totally satisfied with the result. Hanji was restless as expected, she whined when shampoo got into her eyes and grunted when he pulled on her hair by mistake. Levi didn’t quite care about her compliments. She was the one to offer this whole thing after all.

After he thoroughly rinsed the shampoo out of her hair, he handed her a towel then got out of the bathroom to bring a chair for her to sit down.

When he came back, she was combing her hair in front of the mirror. “You sure about this?” he asked as he dropped the chair behind her and gestured her to sit down.

“Of course, I am.” Hanji settled down on the chair, and Levi, after getting the scissor back from the top of the washing machine, stood behind her. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

“I am not promising a clean-cut,” he warned her beforehand and travelled his hand through her wet locks. The smell of the shampoo was clear and fresh and on the reflection in the misty mirror, her cheeks and eyes were vaguely red. She smiled when they made eye contact.

“I trust you.”

Cut.

The brown strands fell on the white tile one after the other, the metal scissor was the only one making sound inside the bathroom. Levi tried his best to cut her hair in a straight line just above her shoulders as she had requested. He didn’t know if he made a good job or failed miserably and gave her the worst haircut of her whole life. And he wasn’t sure if Hanji was faking it or not, but she looked ecstatic when he was done with the cut.

“I love it!” She was grinning at her reflection, now standing in front of the mirror. “Thank you, Levi!”

“Yeah, sure,” Levi said, doubtfully. He was still pretty much convinced that she was pretending. “You’re welcome.”

The stupid grin stayed plastered on her face as she wore her glasses and tied her now quite short hair. It wasn’t a successful attempt. Only a quarter of her hair had managed to fit into the tie, the rest was falling off on her nape and around her face.

Hanji gave him a thumbs up when she saw the way he was watching her. Still not satisfied but thinking that if Hanji was happy then it was all good, Levi shrugged. “You’re gonna stay the night?”

She paused for a second, thinking. Then nodded seconds later. “I’ll text my mom.”

After cleaning the bathroom, Levi brought Hanji a set of clothes for her to change into. He then went back to his room to prepare his bed for the night.

“I am so tired,” Hanji said, yawning as she joined him after a few minutes. She closed the door and sat down on Levi’s bed.

“You can take the bed,” Levi offered and patted his own pillow which was lying on the head of the makeshift bed on the floor. “The sheets are clean.”

“How very nice of you,” she said, smiling.

Levi turned off the light before he got under the sheets. He lied on his back, watching the dark ceiling. Every now and then, a car swept by and its yellow headlights filtering through the curtains created shadow patterns above.

When only minutes passed by, “Levi,” Hanji called him softly.

“Hmm?”

“These sheets smell like you.”

“Oh?” He blinked up to the ceiling, and his mind made a quick tour around the events of the past two days. He must’ve forgotten to change them. “Well, shit.”

She laughed quietly, and Levi turned his head to the side looking up at her. “Sorry, do you want me to change them?”

“No, it’s okay.” She tossed over to lie face down. Half of her face was on the edge of the bed. He could make out the lines of her lips and nose, and fluttering eyelashes. “You always smell nice.”

“I smell—”

“Clean, I know,” she snickered. “Hey,” she said then.

“What?”

“What do you think about the high school?”

“An asylum stuffed with a bunch of arrogant teenagers.”

“You are a teenager too, Levi.”

“I am not arrogant.”

“No, right, you’re a clean freak.”

“And you are a half-mad genius. We blend in.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, quietly. “We do.”

His eyelids got heavier and his breaths steadier when he thought the conversation was over for the night. Darkness lurked over him, it was deep and wide, and dominant. It demanded him to surrender, and he almost did until he heard Hanji’s voice again.

“I think our classmates are cool, though.”

He blinked open his eyes, “Yeah, some of them,” he muttered, voice dripping with sleep.

“Erwin is very intelligent,” Hanji went on, unaware. “He knows a lot of things. I think I like him the most. What about you?”

And just like that, he was wide awake again. “You sure do seem to get along really well,” he said bitterly, ignoring her question.

“Don’t tell me?” Levi heard the sheets rustling and felt Hanji looking down at him. “Are you jealous?”

“The hell does that mean?”

“So, you’re jealous.”

“Fuck off,” Levi turned his back to her, lying on his left.

A few blissful seconds passed in silence, then Hanji said, “You are though.”

“Am not.”

“Levi, come on,” Hanji urged his side until she made him lie on his back again. “Look,” she took the hand which was resting on his chest and enlaced their fingers. “You don’t need to be jealous. You know why?”

“I am not jealous. For fuck’s sake—”

“Because we are soulmates,” she cut him as if he never made a single word. “Which means there is nobody in the world who can understand you better than me,” she went on. “And there is nobody in the world who can understand me better than you.”

In the dark, Levi stared at their hands curled together, the tip of her fingertips was touching the back of his hand. And he pondered over how warm, smooth and somehow strong her hand felt against his. Strong as her existence, strong as her very soul and mind. Warm like the first days of summer and resilient like the frost-bound fist of a fallen soldier. She pressed their palms into each other, and as another car drove by the street Levi looked up to her face half-hidden in the shadows. Newly cut, damp hair resting like a dark nimbus on her cheek. Dark shades of her eyelashes were lined up on her cheekbones and they were reminding him of the beams around the sun. And she was staring at him like what she had just said was the only truth on earth.

He felt himself nodding, approving because she was right. Of course, she was.

I am an astronaut, he thought abruptly, completely out of the blue .

“Goodnight,” she whispered then, he caught her smile just as the light vanished, and she was covered by darkness again.

Not entirely. It was innate in her. “Goodnight.”

He had no knowledge of the period after his conscience left the screen but until then he didn’t let go of her hand.

And neither did she.

“Hanjooo!” A muscular arm wrapped around her neck all of a sudden, while she was reading a book during the break, in front of the window on the school corridor.

“Hey, Mike,” she said, overcoming her shock at his sudden appearance.

Mike was a blond, green-eyed boy from her class. He was pretty tall and muscular for their age and she was almost certain that if the headmaster let him, he would absolutely grow a beard. “Are you free after school?”

“Umm, I guess?” She blinked. “Why are you asking?”

Mike smirked, playfully and kind of slyly. “I thought we could hang out together.”

“Together?”

“You and me,” Mike explained to be clear.

“You and— oh,” Hanji stopped as she kind of understood what Mike was implying. “But aren’t you, uh, I mean, don’t you have a thing for Na—”

Mike let go an uproarious laugh and patted her shoulder, almost making her choke on her own spit. “Joking, joking. We are thinking about hanging out after school. You know, me, Nana, Erwin, you and your little friend too if he would like.”

“You mean Levi?”

“Yeah.”

She hummed and shrugged. She didn’t think Levi would say no if she agreed to go. “I’ll ask him…”

Just then, she saw Levi climbing the stairs with Petra who was another classmate of theirs and one of Levi’s friends from middle school. They were talking at the same time; Levi was nodding to something Petra was telling him. The scene was quite ordinary, just two friends talking to each other, but Hanji had realized it was the mimics that were kind of different. The way Petra pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, the way she was smiling shyly at something Levi had said, the way Levi’s features were relaxed and almost soft as he talked to her.

And also, as for herself, the way she felt her shoulders tense, the way something murky, almost venomous walking tiptoe on her gut. It was a strange and unwelcomed feeling and she quickly got disposed of it as Levi moved his head and their gazes locked for a second before his eyes travelled down to her shoulder and he glared at it as if he had just seen his biggest enemy.

Petra touched his shoulder lightly and said something Hanji couldn’t hear, and he nodded absently while Petra walked away to the other direction toward the class after a brief glance at Hanji’s side.

Levi walked up to where Hanji and Mike were standing. “Hey!” she greeted him, smirking.

He squinted at Mike who was retreating his arm from around her shoulder at the time and nodded at her stifly.

“I’ll see you after school, then,” Mike said. “You too, man,” he added addressing Levi, then turned around to walk up to Erwin who was sitting at one of the tables placed next to the wall.

“What is that giant talking about?” Levi asked after Mike left.

“Well, buckle up,” Hanji told him while shutting her book with a thud. “We’ve got plans after school.”

It was February, and it was cold.

The five of them were walking through a park, all around there were giant, old and naked trees that were reaching high up to the sky. On the earth below them, thousands of pale leaves were piled up. The colours of fall were still visible here and there, on the yellow, orange and red skins of the leaves, on the pine trees down the road, on the dry rustle of the brown branches.

“How pretty,” she cooed.

As Mike suggested they were hanging out after school. If walking through a park counted as hanging out that is. Erwin, Nanaba and Mike were walking before them while Levi and Hanji were following them right behind.

“What is?” Levi asked.

“The colour of fall,” she replied with a smile.

“It is Winter,” he objected but looked around himself nonetheless then hummed confirming.

“Hey,” she urged his shoulder lightly. “Wanna race to that tree?”

Levi followed the direction Hanji’s head gestured with his eyes. A single tree just some miles away from where they were. “Why would I race with someone knowing they will lose?”

Hanji scoffed, “Don’t underestimate me.”

“Are you challenging?”

“What do you think?”

She put an arm on his chest to stop him from walking any further. “On three.”

They took position side by side. Hanji felt her mouth curling up, and a peal of laughter shaped on her throat, but she avoided it from going out and counted to three instead. “Go!”

They both hurled forward at the same time and she felt their friends looking at them surprised as they ran past them, but within minutes Levi was far beyond her. Like the first day of school, he was running like his life was depending on it, his dark hair a wild wave and his steps seemed like he was more like flying than running. Hanji was laughing breathlessly as she forced her legs to their limits, her short hair sticking to her nape with sweat, and she ran, ran and ran to the tree with him, with a wind he carried, the storm he ruled. As if she were a ship without a helm so she merely let the wind lead her to the harbour.

Levi won, in the end, but he lost his balance when Hanji, unable to slow down, crashed against his back. Along with grunts, swears and laughter they fell down, lying side by side on top of the leaves. Breathing heavily and loudly, chest moving up and down, watching the clouds sliding slowly one by one.

She turned her head towards him, still breathing hard and traces of laughter on her lips and she saw him looking upwards with the slightest but peaceful curl of his mouth. His eyes shone like the sand under the midday sun, like invaluable pieces of stone, like the surface of the moon. The colour of fall around his head, sweaty, raven hair scattered on the leaves whose time had long passed. The red colour of fall on his cheeks, because of the cold and because of their race. For the first time, she realised how dark his eyelashes were. Black like the wings of a crow, the feathers of a raven.

For the first time, she realised how beautiful he was.

Beautiful? The word startled her like an unexpected jolt of lightning. She almost winced, frozen on the spot. She didn’t know why, she couldn’t name the curl, crawls on her stomach. She also didn’t know the reason why she felt like crying, her breath hitched, her eyes wide, terrified. She couldn’t understand what felt so wrong about this but somehow it was undoubtedly close to denying gravity.

“What?”

He was staring at her, a frown shaped on his face. She winced visibly; she hadn’t noticed him looking back at her.

“What?” she asked.

“Are you okay?” His frown deepened.

“Yes,” she lied and quickly stood up albeit a little clumsily. Then fixed her clothes and hair. “Perfectly fine.”

He was looking suspicious as he too stood up. “You sure?”

She nodded drastically, avoiding meeting his eyes. “Let’s go join the others.”

Then she turned around without giving him a chance to speak. Crashing whatever had happened just now with each step she took and relentlessly stepping on the wildflower she felt sprouting within her stomach.

Watching the way the flames moved was addicting. She couldn’t take her eyes away from the dancing fire, the red knots flying around it like fireflies, the transit of colours from tip to the end and the crackling sound it made. It was a good enough distraction from her uninvited thoughts.

“Didn’t think this was what they meant by hanging up.” He sat down next to her on the sand. They were on the beach, stupidly challenging against the cold weather.

She smiled playfully. “Why? Did you think we would go to a party and get tanked up?”

Levi threw her an unimpressed look, “No. I thought we would go to a café with an air conditioner and drink hot tea.”

He got a point, she couldn’t deny. “They managed to make a fire though,” Hanji said, extending her hands toward it.

“Yeah, I am impressed.”

She snorted lightly and wondered where the other three had been. They had gone to buy beverages and snacks to eat about ten minutes ago.

“Hey.” Hanji felt him sliding closer to her. Their shoulders almost touched. “Are you okay?”

She nodded watching the flames with unfocused eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

She looked at him then to find him watching her carefully, with his full attention on her. She thought about the wildflower, and as she sought a solution, she found it on him again. “We are besties forever, right?”

Seemingly confused, Levi frowned vaguely, trying to see beyond her words. And maybe he did or maybe not when he replied she almost lost her courage to continue. “No, not forever.” It lasted for merely seconds, because she had understood what he was coming to. “To the last syllable of recorded time,” they said at the same time, echoing each other.

She smirked, as he chuckled. “I can’t believe you make me say it every time.”

“I don’t make you say it,” she said, matter-of-factly. “You are saying it willingly.”

He grunted and looked away, a smile stayed hanging on the corner of his lips, the flames painted his face, played with the colour of his eyes. It was there, the word, so close to invade her mind yet again with guns and rifles. It was that perilous to let it stay because it would only cause a ravage in her mind.

For that, she looked away too.

Do not water the plant, she thought to herself then. Let it grow old and decayed. Let it fade away.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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