#but believe it or not Research is way more fun & engaging for me than Gaming!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

With your pokemon issue, why don't you just get an emulator and play it? Researching is probably what's making it hard for you to get into the game it's one of those things where there's no point in studying it and just jump in

As a veteran pokemon player since the yellow days, I reccomend the blue or red remakes (the ogs are super buggy, fun buggy but it'll just detract you) or even fire red/leaf green

Like I said the games are pretty cut and dry, you get mon, cockfight with it become champ rinse and repeat

so the main problem with this is that i Don't Like Gaming. especially games focused on repetition and goals. they just frustrate and bore me lmao - the only games i can play without wanting to get up and go outside are open world ones where i can just do whatever i want at my own pace, and that have variety so that i can do a lot of different things without getting Bored out of my mind <3

[beevean]

See, I'm not attacking this person. I'm not saying who they are, and ultimately, their identity doesn't matter to me. I'm not making fun of them or what they like - enjoy Nocturne all you want.

I only want to bring attention to their arguments, which I think are flawed, and I have every right to criticize.

It's very noticeable, to me, that this person (who again is not the only one, they just happened to be an example) reacted to us criticizing Nocturne with a variation of "well the games are bad too!". When I mentioned them, it was only to joke that even when the shows are faithful in designs and don't create OCs pretending to be canon characters, the changes in context create more plot holes than needed. And yes, the context matters, because when the games break historical accuracy, it's usually for small matters like edible items (Alucard eating hamburgers), collectibles (Juste finding a radio) or joke weapons (Hector forging an electric guitar), all minor things played for laughs; but Nocturne wants to be taken seriously and more or less attempts to be realistic despite its fantasy elements, so it feels less like a deliberate breaking of accuracy and more like lack of research. Again, it's hard to believe Tera is that poor when Maria looks so frilly and they waste bread: this cheapens my investment in the characters and backdrop.

Also "the games never dealt with the French Revolution" because Rondo of Blood (and I assume its remake as well) takes place in Transylvania, if we take into consideration that the first level is Aljiba Town which is the same as the one in Simon's Quest :P Nocturne was deliberately set in France precisely because the writers wanted to tackle that topic. Hence, I expect said topic to be tackled with care.

But yes, the point is, why was that the first counterargument? "well the games did it too"? "The anime is an interpretation", almost implying that these flaws are due to Nocturne being allegedly inspired by the games and not due to its own flaws in writing?

A similar thing happened to me on this blog when I criticized the show's tendency to fridge characters and I got a response that was roughly "well the games kill off a lot of characters too", which one, I have also pointed out in other instances and criticized as a flawed writing choice of its time, two, Nocturne somehow manages to be worse as it fridged more people in one season than the games have done in a decade, and three, why should it absolve a much more modern product that hails itself to be progressive? And more importantly, why was again the first reaction to put down the games as if that alone elevates the show?

I have all the right to point out the fallacies in these arguments. It's not mocking anyone or wanting to make them feel bad for what they like. I just think it's a flawed way to engage in a discussion, and especially on my blog, I can do so without harming anyone directly.

[avelvokai]

Reflective Post #1

Description: My creative journey began with an idea to craft a fantasy world that celebrates underrepresented cultures, specifically those from ancient Mesopotamia and Northeast Asia. The project was not just to design an immersive fantasy art book and visual novel but to construct an empire that is deeply influenced by these historical cultures, each region within the world has its own distinct traditions, histories, and environmental adaptations and making it feel real. My main character, draws heavily from Jurchen traditions, with clothing and symbolism such as Tyrian purple signifying her elite status. As the empire expands, so does the depth of its cultural diversity

Feelings: At the start of my project, I felt deeply motivated by the opportunity to represent cultures that are rarely shown in the mainstream media and games. The challenge was blending historical accuracy with fantastical elements, but it also felt really fun to do. As I drew out each parts of the empire and assigned specific historical references to each culture I had created, I became increasingly enthusiastic and exited in developing this world and its people further. This connection I had with the love of this story made every design choice feel more personal and impactful, especially when representing the distinctions of my environmental adaptations to the people I have created. This could be from coming up with the colours to represent each of the people to their unique features and cultures.

Evaluation: The most successful aspect of this project has been the way each culture reflects its environment while maintaining a sense of belonging to the larger empire I created. However, the biggest challenge has been time management, particularly with the environmental art taking longer than anticipated due to the level of detail required.

Analysis: Upon reflection, one of the most integral aspects of this project has been my research driven approach to world building. The cultures within the empire are not just inspired by historical references but are carefully adapted to their environments in the fantasy world. The process of designing each region, from their features to clothing, was influenced by both their real world counterparts and the fantasy landscape they inhabit. For instance, the desert cultures needed to reflect their harsh environment through lighter, flowing fabrics and earth toned structures that blend into the sand dunes, while northern cultures required heavier, layered clothing and sturdy homes built for resilience. This depth of cultural and environmental integration adds a level of realism and authenticity that I believe is crucial in creating a fantasy world that feels lived in and real. However the balance between creating a unique designs and sticking to historical accuracy had some challenges, such as when trying to avoid clichés and stereotypes.

Conclusion: This project has taught me the immense value of cultural research in shaping a rich and believable fantasy world. Each part of the empire feels unique yet connected, as the cultures reflect their environments and histories in ways that elevate the overall narrative. Despite the challenges of time management and technical learning curves, the process of bringing these designs to life has been incredibly rewarding. I have learned that the key to successful world building lies in the details making sure that each culture has its own identity while contributing to the larger whole.

Action Plan: In my future projects, I plan to continue refining my process of integrating cultural research with creative design. I will also aim to improve my time management, particularly by putting more structured time to environmental art. Engaging more frequently with online communities for feedback, such as on ArtStation, will help me refine my designs and receive constructive criticism earlier in the process. Lastly, I intend to explore ways to further enhance the connection between culture, environment, and character, pushing the boundaries of what fantasy world building can achieve.

[crowleaf]

Something that's interesting to me is how being 'kin is seen as a trend for chronically online kids (and adults), when I've been aware of my fictionkinity since around 2015-2016, maybe even a bit earlier, I just wasn't ready to accept or 'admit' it yet. I think I learned the concept existed around 2014, and it resonated, especially after some research into it. But even though I felt like it described what I was experiencing, I was too embarrassed to tell anyone about it. It wasn't until sometime in 2015 that I actively embraced it and made a blog where I could talk about it publicly and connect with others. But I digress.

It's just funny to me that it's treated like a 'trend' (I've even seen it called a 'tiktok trend') when the concept has been around for years. Decades. I've found a few sources claiming it started sometime around the 60's-70's and was named in the 90's.

While yes, this is the genesis of otherkinity and not fictionkinity specifically, it began with elfkind groups, and I personally consider this to be an overlapping of otherkinity and fictionkinity, which in itself falls under the broader umbrella of otherkinity. But once again, I digress!

My point is, aren't 'trends' supposed to be fleeting? Things people have a brief interest in because of its novelty and popularity, then drop when the novelty wears off?

Interesting that it sort of mirrors the way 'kinnies' ('kin for fun') treat fictionkinity. How it parallels the manner in which these kids (and sometimes adults, like I said earlier) 'add and drop' their 'kintypes' on a whim, based on some shiny new media that's popular at any given time*.

I would love to be able to 'drop' some of my kintypes, but that isn't how past lives work**. You can't 'drop' a past life any more than you can say 'what I did last week didn't actually happen because I changed my mind about it. lol' and expect the universe to just go along with it.

I dunno. Maybe it's just weird to me because for some of us - fewer each year, it seems - it isn't a fun little internet game where we put on and take off different personas like a fashion aesthetic and look for sourcemates (or 'canonmates' - how does a kinnie even have canonmates if they don't have a 'canon' they experienced in another universe/life??) to play along with us until we get bored, then drop those 'sourcemates' along with the discarded 'kintype'.

Some of us treat our spiritual beliefs like, well, spiritual beliefs. Some of us are irritated with this bastardization of the concept of 'kinity because we don't have the option to just throw away a part of our literal soul because we're bored with it or it's cringe or whatever.

I guess I'd rather be seen as some weirdo online who holds unusual niche beliefs than be lumped in with people who use their 'kintypes' as an excuse to, at best, be annoying, and at worst, be fucking awful people.

People who have co-opted 'kinity and diluted its meaning to be nothing but bad roleplay, who then turn around and mock those of us who 'actually believe in that shit'.

Footnotes and disclaimer after the cut

*"but crowleaf, your kintype is from a piece of very popular media! You're a hypocrite!"

I kinfirmed Crowley around 2015-16, before the show existed; this was one of my first kinfirmed kintypes, based on my past experience of having obsessively reread the novel countless times and what I now recognize as having experienced a kinshift, all around 2011, before I knew what 'kin was. My canon was about an even mix of novel and show, so far. Hope this helps.

Almost all of my other kintypes are from media that ended years ago and/or is not very popular. It typically takes me years to kinfirm a suspected kintype, because it requires thoughtful contemplation and introspection that takes longer than just a few hours or days to engage in.

**"but crowleaf, you add and drop kins all the time!"

Incorrect. I experience kinshifts (not 'reality shifting,' which seems to me like another word for lucid dreaming and is entirely unrelated to 'kinity), usually every few years, which is not the same as 'adding and dropping' kintypes (and for fuck's sake please don't call kintypes 'kins' if you want to be taken seriously). I have multiple kintypes because my soul is old as fuck and has lived many lives, including some of which I'll probably never remember.

There seems to be this assumption that if you have multiple kintypes, you must be a kinnie - this is bullshit. If a soul can reincarnate once, who's to say it can't do it multiple times, across multiple universes? Don't assume someone is a kinnie based on the number of kintypes they have. However, if they claim to kinfirm a new kintype every time they consume new media or become interested in something new and popular, they're probably a kinnie.

But that's just, like, my opinion, man.

Disclaimer: This post is not about system fictives. I'm a singlet - when I say kinshift, I do not mean fronting. I don't know what it's like to be a fictive or be in a system with fictives. I am not and will never equate fictives to kinnies. If you are a fictive, I hope something nice happens to you today.

[charliepipedesigner]

Primary Research in Odeon Cinema - Major Project

Since I am designing an app that specialises in teaching high school students (between 15-18 years old) about film, I felt it was necessary to have an insight into the value of cinema and how the environment can build inspiration for the engaging aspect of my app.

Cinema Experience

As a film enthusiast I often go to the cinema to watch the most anticipated movies, to experience the feel of the environment whilst I analyse the film techniques that are used within the movies. When I walked into the open space to collect my popcorn and drink I was surrounded by dark colours and bold white writing, which was also the case when I looked for the room number the movie was being played. The dark walls allowed the screens and posters to be the main focus within the area, and the blue light strips add to the mood and feel of being in the cinema because they can build anticipation for the movies. This aesthetic has made think about how I can apply this into my app so that the users can be excited to learn about film, and to make their own unique projects.

I watched the new Super Mario Bros movie, which felt relevant to analyse because I am personally a fan of the Super Mario video games, and the target audience for the movie would also connect with the demographic for my app, or so I thought... I paid attention to the different techniques that the filmmakers/animators used; such as camera angles, lighting, editing, and sound. This helped me to identify the key concepts and techniques that my app can teach, and also provide examples that can be used in the interactive lessons and quizzes.

Movie Spoiler Review

Before the movie started I noticed that there were a lot more families with parents and young children rather than teenagers and adults, but then I realised after a while that the film was made to be aimed at this target audience. As for the film itself, it was a really fun and enjoyable experience. Firstly, the Illumination Studios animation was very well-executed throughout. The characters were designed in a way that made the voice actors feel like they belonged to the characters, despite the amount of criticism that was received from the trailers prior to the cinema release of this movie. Chris Pratt as Mario, Jack Black as Bowser, and Charlie Day as Luigi were the stand-out performances in this movie. I also have an appreciation for the Luma star character who brought dark humour into this PG movie because it connects with my demographic's humour. Additionally, I respect the fact that the movie didn't rely on easter eggs as a member barrier, but rather a celebration of the different video games that made the franchise. Another stand-out feature in the movie was Brian Tyler's musical score being a contemporary approach to the classic tunes from the Mario games and applying them into the action sequences.

Negative Observations

While the majority of the movie was positive, I had a few problems as well. The main observation involves the fact that the movie felt too short in terms of time. I believe that the plot focused too much on the destination rather than the journey because in the video games the platforming and the travel across different worlds is what makes the Mario franchise an enjoyable experience. However I do understand that a 90 minute run time makes sense for the movie if it's targeted for families and young children. In addition, the brotherly connection between Mario and Luigi was very strong, but I believe the movie should have exploited this partnership a lot more on-screen. The first 20 minutes of the movie was focused primarily on them two until they were separated, and Mario had to go save him as the main intention of his adventures across the world.

Conclusion

After my experience of going to the cinema, it made me realise how important it is to have the right feeling for the app to portray the movie/cinema aesthetics. I also believe that it would be important to imply examples from different movies when it comes to specific film techniques because the movie I watched is an example of an animated movie that had the attributes to be a film for the demographic of my audience, but the intentions are there mainly for a younger audience. Therefore it would be important to denote the intentions for the app through the app design and the messaging strategy in the promotional visuals.

[then-ponder]

I have tried to write a response to this reblog like ten times tumblr user @_mlerpwonders. I at first I was flabbergasted. And then I was angry. And in all that time I couldn’t write a post that I believed to be kind enough and honest enough. To be entirely honest, I wanted to respond with “HELLO?!?” and “Did you read my post?” But I dont want to scare people away from this blog - and more importantly - I don’t want to scare anyone away from maths. This is why I haven’t responded quickly.

I think you are missing the point of my post. It doesn’t matter if math is useful. That’s not why anyone studies it. People study it because it is fun. People find applications for it because people need to eat under capitalism. And this is true for all of the creative professions that find themselves in the midst of capitalism. Sports are no longer “I would like to play this game” they are “people will pay me so much money to play this game”. It’s no longer “I have this need to express my emotions in a way that other humans can understand” it becomes “wealthy people will pay me an amount of money to let them decorate their home” or “they want me to design their home” or “this corporation will pay me a days wage to work on a multi-billion dollar movie”

In science, the craft they pursue is usually directed at how useful something is because how the hell are you supposed to secure funding if it can’t potentially make money? In engineering everything is applied, but you can see which industries make money by the how much engineers make, and engineers make fun of other engineers for making less than them.

Math is no different than all of these. But the critical distinction, is that people lack the foundations of math, and thus couldn’t possibly understand why math is fun. To them it’s just a useful tool. There is no joy in learning math, engaging with it. To say that math has a use or a purpose is antithetical to this post, because I’m saying that the view of math as a tool is harmful to math in the same way that viewing art as a tool is harmful to art or viewing science as a tool is harmful to science or viewing engineering as a tool is harmful. Math doesn’t need a use or a purpose to exist or to be used or anything. You don’t have to justify it or your love if it with some statement designed to ward of people who question your judgement. It’s like art. It can have a use or a purpose, but to say that all art needs to have one purpose is preposterous and antithetical to art.

And even then I can’t justify my love of math through usefulness, because it would be like if a scientist tried to justify all of their research with engineering projects. Converting the power grid to ac, or the Eiffel Tower or the Suez Canal. It’s just not worth it. I don’t like physics because of engineering, I like physics because I like physics.

Truthfully, I am critical of most arguments that urge people to learn math. This is in particular because most public defenders of mathematics and math education argue with the implicit assumption that you should learn this if and only if it is useful. They will argue that because we can use all of our math to travel the stars and save our dying planet it is worth learning.

I do not blame them for this. After all this is a common practice under capitalism. The constant need to prove useful is a hellish practice in which all professions participate even if some have it easier than others. But it is harmful. It separates us from seeing math for what it is. Want it wants to be.

Many people would call math a science and there is a truth to that. Much of mathematics is a process of learning cold hard facts, even if the idea has been proven a million times over, but that ignores all the bits of it that we tend to not include. The parts about logic and reasoning, the parts about discovery, the parts that suggest a deeper explanation, the parts where intuition feels like magic and reality feels fake.

At the beginning of this post I said that “arguing math is useful is a harmful argument”. This is why. There is no discovery of facts. Logic, what should be the foundation of all mathematics, is not taught and proving that a statement is true goes ignored and is deathly fatal to students who seek the answers, yet are obscured. Worse, the facts we teach in math are plainly obvious to the student in a way that destroy any merit of the claim “ math is useful” because why would I use math when I could use logic. Why would I use the Pythagorean theorem when I know that two sides of a triangle are longer that the hypotenuse when I’m path finding and why the hell would I use a polynomial to describe anything. You use the language of usefulness you should be teaching useful things, but math can’t teach useful things. It’s math not a trade or a science.

And in truth mathematics isn’t useful. Nothing you point to that most people understand are useful things and the vast majority of research is on problems that most people either don’t care about or find utter nonsense. Truly I don’t mean this to be cruel, it’s just that the proof for 1+1 = 2 is a books worth of pages. And that’s the thing people can’t possibly be bothered to ask questions that a mathematician would lose years to. They just want a fucking answer and that’s fine, but this more explicit explanation is why Mathematicians don’t like ‘applied’ math. It’s because assholes take our prized possessions, our meow meows, and our blorbos and they throw them in a shredder and mangle them up till they have a thing that they like and then they give it to another person who fucking hates math because they got their degree in “I hate math but I love problem solving so I became a [insert stem field here]” so they can blow up that thing so that they can use it to solve something.

The truth is that math is a humanity because it is a reflection of our own reality. Quite like art. And the reason for studying art is the same reason you should study math which also happens to be the reason why math and art education sucks. You should learn about these things because you want to. No amount of money can justify it. You have to want it. And the thing is art is best taught as art. It’s not a just or simply a tool for people to make money. It’s an expression of the self - The very people who created it.

Many fear that if we allow people to stop studying the math people won’t. Fair, but high school math is not reflective of math. It doesn’t teach foundations, it doesn’t teach about the different sub-disciplines. It refuses to teach any math that can’t be directly applied to science and engineering. Of course people don’t want to learn that. You’ve ripped out the meat.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Omg can I please get a hannibal x a shy girl reader ? Like he’s really possessive of her and she doesn’t know how to handle it but she likes him so they date??

Sorry this took so long, anon. I’ve been bouncing ideas around and this one in particular, I believe, fits your request. Y/n feels out of place among Hannibal’s fancy friends and it becomes even more obvious when he abandons her at a party. 

Trigger warnings: social anxiety, sexual harassment, overstimulation

You and Hannibal had an agreement about large gatherings. He could only bring you to a party if you had a week's notice and at least three uninterrupted hours of gaming time prior to the event.

For this event, you needed a solid six.

One of the major Maryland universities was awarding a lucrative research grant to a student of clinical psychology, and every influential name in the industry was expected to be there. As a recent college grad with a bachelor's in business you didn't know what to do with, you couldn't imagine a less welcoming environment if you tried. You couldn't fit into their world and more importantly, you didn't want to. But the thought of being noticeably different in any situation was twice as terrifying. So you spent the whole week repeating your mantra; blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

But Hannibal had different plans for you.

Halfway through the week, just when you'd pushed the party out of your mind, Hannibal presented you with a gift.

"What's the occasion?" You asked. You hoped that if you pretended not to know, it would just magically go away.

"I brought you something to wear on Friday." Hannibal answered, hanging the garment bag up on the bureau. "You know I'll take any excuse to dress you up."

He unzipped the bag and placed a black silk dress into your arms. "Try it on so I have time to get it altered if it needs it."

The material was cool to the touch and outlined your figure so perfectly, you felt even a little naked. Hannibal, of course, loved this. You were his own personal Venus de Milo. His goddess and his muse. 

“Yes, that will do nicely.” He observed, looking at you hungrily. 

“Seems a little short for a such a sophisticated event, doesn’t it?” You raised an eyebrow. The answer was yes and he knew it. He was very deliberate in everything he did. “I don’t want to come off the wrong way.” 

“And what way would that be, darling?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your figure. 

“I mean--” You searched for the right words. “It’s a gathering of the Mid-Atlantic’s most esteemed academics, I feel like, in a dress like this, I might be seen as, well, a...” 

“A prostitute?” Hannibal finished, choosing a much nicer word than you would have.

You looked down. “Yeah. It just doesn’t seem all that appropriate.” 

Hannibal approached you and lifted your chin slightly to look into his eyes. “Many Christian denominations believe that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, yet she was Christ’s right-hand woman. She was first to see him crucified and first to witness his resurrection.” 

“Dr. Lecter,” You smirked. “I never would have taken you for a religious man.” 

“Goodness, no.” He shook his head. “But any reputable academic is expected to be familiar with biblical literature and its many contradictions and impossibilities.” 

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You are my divine feminine, Miss [L/N].” Hannibal said in a low whisper. “And I want everyone to see it. If they see a common whore, it would only be a reflection of their own jealousy.” 

Hannibal's rationalization almost made you forget about your fear of being noticed. Almost. It all came rushing back when you arrived at the event. Not one person your age was in attendance. The women wore long, flowing evening gowns that reached the floor. The length of your skirt alone guaranteed that all eyes were on you. In a simple black silk dress, you looked the very model of high society. Silk was a sign of luxury, and Hannibal wanted everyone to know that you were a woman of means. His woman, to be precise. That was why he brought you to these functions in the first place. To put you in a dress short enough for any wandering eyes so see the smattering of love bites running up your inner thighs. He wanted everyone in his field to know that you were completely and entirely his.

You realized too late that this was all his little exercise in showing you off.

Everyone seemed to know him. He only knew a handful of people by name, and you didn't know anyone.

"And who is this delightful young woman?" A woman with a light southern twang in her voice asked, looking at you as if you were a caged animal on display.

"I wasn't aware you had a daughter, Dr. Lecter." The young man beside her laughed. "Or is she your side piece?"

Your eyes scanned the room for the nearest exit. It would be unbecoming to make a scene, so you plotted a way to slip out quietly.

“Darling, meet Dr. Charlotte Ramset and her TA, David.” Hannibal introduced, notably ignoring the young man. “Dr. Ramset, this is my intended, [F/N] [L/N].”

"I didn't realize she was also a ventriloquist!" The lady, presumably Dr. Ramset, joked. You'd heard that one a million times. She looked at you. "Tell me about yourself, sweetie. What are you studying?"

The lady was old enough to be your grandmother and reeked of too much perfume.

"I graduated last year." You said, quietly. "With a BA in business."

"See, there's a good woman." David added. "Only speaks when spoken to. They don't make ’em like you anymore, baby."

Hannibal tightened his grip on your hand. "On the contrary, David. See, Miss [L/N] is quite a bit like myself. She only dignifies those she deems worthy with a response. There's nothing wrong with being selective."

The lady laughed at David's expense and smiled at you. "Good for you."

You smiled back just a little, not ready to bring your guard down yet. "I've had to deal with more than enough. It's best not to engage."

"Oh, I know, I know." The lady said, shaking her head. "That's how it is for us educated gals. Always having to put up with pigs. See, I went to college in the sixties, so I can tell you some real stories."

This was a new experience. Talking to Hannibal's friends and having them listen to you was something you never considered possible. Now, you were one of the educated gals. You were just about to strike up a conversation with this woman, when the man next to her decided someone desperately needed to play devil’s advocate.

“I find that sexist, actually.” He cut in. “Not all men are pigs.” 

The silence following his comment was deafening and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Whatever progress Hannibal and Dr. Ramset made breaking down your defenses was completely reversed and you were ready to retreat.

Dr. Ramset took a long sip of wine and adjusted her shawl. “David, none of us said anything about men, you drew that conclusion yourself.”

“I mean, look at you.” David gestured to your dress. You knew exactly where this was going and you wished you could just disappear. “You’re basically asking for it.” 

Dr. Ramset glared at him. “David, that’s enough.” 

“I’m just stating facts.” David crossed his arms. “If you dress like a slut, what do you expect?”

Dr. Ramset and Hannibal seemed to have an entire conversation through prolonged eye contact before one of them broke the silence. 

"Charlotte, I hate to have to excuse myself so soon, but the president of the university is expecting me." Hannibal said, dropping your hand. Your heart hit the floor when you realized that he would be throwing you to the wolves.

"Of course, Dr. Lecter." She nodded. "Duty calls."

"I trust you'll keep an eye on my beloved [F/N] in my absence?" His voice hardened. The severity in his tone frightened you.

Dr. Ramset didn't seem disturbed or even surprised in the slightest by his gently threatening demand. "Of course."

"Thank you. And [F/N]?" He said, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. "I won't be going far. Please, try to have fun."

You tried not to look affronted, but you were going to have a long talk with Hannibal when you got home. 

"I'm just saying what everyone is thinking." David continued, his inability to take a hint positively astounding. "Why don't you respect yourself enough to cover up, [F/N]? You have a boyfriend!"

Your eyes scrolled across the room looking for any sign of Hannibal, but he was gone. Dr. Ramset finished her wine and stared at her TA with the resigned disgust of a death row jailer.

"Any other thoughts?" She said, snatching a fresh glass of wine. You looked at her with a clear expression of discomfort.

"Come on, do you see any other woman in the room dressed so provocatively?" David's voice broke mid-sentence. "No. Because they're educated enough to know that real men don't care about their bodies."

The hotel clerk approached the group. "Mr. Hosmer, there's a call for you."

David narrowed his eyes. "Uh, what?"

"Someone is on the phone asking for you." The clerk repeated. "Says it's an emergency."

David shrugged. "Fine."

Just when you thought you would be rid of him, at least for a moment, he planted his hands on your hips in attempt to "get by" you. His touch was like that of an insect crawling across your skin; unexpected, filthy and leaving you squeamish.

"I'm so sorry about that." Dr. Ramset's words echoed in your ears, but you didn't really hear them. You were too focused on grounding yourself to process what she was saying. 

“Dr. Ramset?” You said, quietly. “Which one is the president of the university?” 

She glanced at a tall woman in a dark blue suit, surrounded by equally important looking businesspeople. You followed her eyes. “That’s Dr. Mary Hosmer.”

Your ounce of righteous fury was squelched in two seconds when the reality of having to talk to someone, especially someone of stature, set in. You looked sheepishly back at Dr. Ramset. 

“Could you please ask her where Hannibal went?” You whispered. “I’d really like him to take me home now.” 

Her face turned sympathetic. “Of course, [F/N]. Stay right there.” 

You nodded. “Thank you.” 

Dr. Ramset crossed the floor and politely greeted the president. You took a few slow, calculated steps closer, just to get in earshot.

“Pardon me, but, have you seen Dr. Hannibal Lecter?” Dr. Ramset said, casually. 

“I wasn’t aware Hannibal had even arrived yet.” The president answered. “I haven’t seen him.” 

Your eyes widened. You fought the urge to freeze, but you had to move back before Dr. Ramset knew you’d been eavesdropping. You heard everything you needed and rushed back to where she’d left you.

“Dr. Hosmer said he stepped out.” She told you upon her return. “He should be back soon.” 

You tried not to show that you knew she was lying. “...oh.” 

“Would you like me to stay with you until he comes back?” 

You knew you were completely on your own. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had an inkling that it had to do with the president and David sharing a last name. All you knew for certain was that you couldn’t trust anybody. 

“Don’t bother.” You shook your head. You took off for the door, but Dr. Ramset grabbed your wrist. 

“I’m sorry, [F/N].” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. She didn’t look mad, but afraid. “But Dr. Lecter told me to stay with you. Please. Don’t make this harder for me.”

You recalled how seriously threatening Hannibal’s request was. She wasn’t answering to the president of the university. She was answering to Hannibal. You didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved. 

“Right.” You conceded, stepping back in. “I’m sorry.” 

The actual award ceremony was much longer than it needed to be, and it dragged on even longer knowing there was no reason for you to be there. Other than that, you awkwardly followed Dr. Ramset around the party like a lost puppy the whole time. You were back to your original plan: blend in, be quiet and make it through the night. 

Just when you thought the party would never end, someone tapped you on the arm. You turned around, hoping with every fiber of your being that it was Hannibal, but it wasn’t. A tall woman in a dark blue suit stared back at you. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss.” She said, apologetically. “But have you seen my son? I saw him talking to you and Dr. Charlotte earlier, perhaps he told you where he was going?” 

You’d pushed that man completely out of your mind. You shook your head. “He left to take a phone call and I haven’t seen him since.” 

A hand found your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hosmer, but I believe I saw the boy on his phone out in the lobby.” 

“Dr. Lecter!” The president’s eyes widened. “How nice of you to finally join us.” 

“...Yes, I believe he left right after making unwarranted comments towards my intended here.” Hannibal ran his hand down your arm lovingly. 

“Well, boys will be boys.” The president chuckled. “Maybe you should teach your girlfriend not to wear such revealing clothes.” 

Hannibal smiled and pulled you in protectively. “Whatever the case, I hope you find him very soon.” 

Her phone chimed in her back pocket. “Oh, that’s him right now.” 

“Wonderful.” Hannibal said. “[F/N] and I will be taking our leave.” 

He hurried you towards the door, his hand tight around yours. A blood-curdling scream came from behind you. You looked back for just a moment and found the president hollering in pain and falling to her knees. 

“Let’s go, darling.” Hannibal tugged at your arm. “They don’t deserve your presence.” 

“Hannibal, I swear.” You said, once you were in the safety of the car. “If you killed every man who looked at me like a piece of meat, sooner or later, there won’t be any men left.” 

Hannibal smirked and reached for his seatbelt. “Wonderful.” 

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: Kokichi Ouma x Female Reader - Love-Hate Relationship

Thank you to my patron/client! Kokichi is always fun to write

Summary: Kokichi starts to fall for the only person in the killing game who likes him. His best friend is always on his side and has true feelings for him both platonically and romantically, but will he ruin everything with his harsh words and lies?

Friends to Enemies back to Friends to Lovers LMAO - ANGST and FLUFF

Warnings: Vulgar Language, otherwise SFW - Admin Myah

Word Count: 5.1K words 

When it all began, people didn’t like Kokichi. (Y/N) found this little fact out quite quickly. It was quite obvious. He was loud, and obnoxious, and stubborn, and whiny, and a great many other negative adjectives one would use to describe, say… an elementary school student.

 But! … he was also a great many other amazingly fantastical things, such as cunning, intelligent, hilarious, perceptive, adorable. These were the things (Y/N) saw in him, these and a lot more endearing qualities, these things the others seemingly refused to see in him. Even the more intelligent and reasonable of her peers, such as the intuitive detective Shuichi Saihara or the studied anthropologist Korekiyo Shinguuji could admit Kokichi was intelligent, but not much else. (Y/N) didn’t understand it. She truly didn’t think Kokichi was all that awful. Why weren’t they seeing what she saw? From the moment they all arose, groggy and confused in that eerie gymnasium together she knew he would be something special, someone to watch. She had a gift for reading people like that: their souls, their intentions, their true talents.

 The two of them, in time, had even started to become friends where he had none, and she essentially became his only link to the rest of the students. It would often go something like this: 

 Kokichi would reveal something critical, something hidden or potentially deadly that they all must know.

Kokichi, being the stubborn ass that he was, would lie about the details, or the information altogether, switching facts around and embellishing the story with fictional bits and bites.

The other Ultimates would ignore him, call him a liar, engage in some petty squabble.

(Y/N) would vouch for the little lord of lying, and the group would reluctantly scrounge up enough good faith to believe the pair.

 In times like those, (Y/N) would often chastise the tiny tyrant, forever asking him why he couldn’t just play nice and help the group out of the kindness of his heart?

 There was always some nonsensical, facetious, nonchalant response.

 And without fail, the more outspoken students would try to talk some sense into (Y/N), asking her why she put up with him, why she even tried to get to know him, why she liked him.

 But it was no use, she was drawn to him, and there was no stopping or changing it. (Y/N) was always one to latch onto the people who piqued her interest, who plucked her heartstrings, be it romantically or platonically. She found herself enraptured by his mind at first, then his looks, then the way he spoke, and more specifically... the way he spoke to her. 

 Yes, despite what the others thought, she found herself always defending him, and then, she found herself falling for him.

 And he would never in his life admit it, but he was starting to fall for her, too. 

 When the killing game first started, the others thought of him as a brat, just a nuisance. They ignored him and at worst, they told him off like the annoying kid on the playground. Back then, she would still hang out with him, ignoring his teasing jabs or even jabbing back. He found himself surprised with her comebacks and playful insults at times. 

 She was always around, and would never abandon him, a fact he most definitely took advantage of, for when the first killing happened, when Rantaro was taken from them and the killing game transformed from a hypothetical danger into a very, very real one, people started doubting and turning on each other. At that moment, he also was transformed in their mind. He was no longer a brat, he was becoming a villain and potential threat. People were choosing sides, forming cliques, trios, duos, going solo, and so on. 

 And she was always on his side.

 When it came time for their terrified little class of ultimates to enter the trial grounds for the very first time, her podium was directly across from his, as if by fate. Kokichi didn’t believe too much in fate… but he didn’t mind getting a perfect view of her all trial long. He found out quickly that he may come to regret the placement, however, as it also gave her a perfect view of him, and she was no fool like the rest of them. She would watch his expressions, catch the smallest twitch of his lip or raise of his brow. Much like Shuichi, she was one of the only ones who could study his words and actions and weed out the lies… at least most of the time. She wasn’t afraid to call him out on it, and she knew the tone of his voice better than anyone else there. She was making it terribly difficult for him to confuse others, extend the trial, stir up some fun… and he liked that about her. Someone who could keep up with him was certainly not boring… and extremely attractive.

 Even with so many people against him, dismissing both his lies and truths, verbally attacking him, she would hear him out, and by the end of it all, the innocent got out alive. The thrilling and bone-chilling trial ended with a correct verdict. Without their teamwork, even with Shuichi’s genius, it may not have been so.

 With the first trial’s conclusion, Kokichi’d made up his mind to stop simply admiring her and actually get to enjoy that not-boring personality to the fullest. That’s the most he’d give her: that she wasn’t boring, unlike the rest of them. Grabbing her hand, he whisked her away to uncover the newest research labs that Monokuma’d allowed them access to. They inspected them all top to bottom, together as a team. They eventually would do this to every unlocked location in the academy, making short work of the campus while harassing each other, badgering and bantering, hurling insults the entire time. She was the only one he couldn’t exhaust. Just when he began to think it might be a tad bit more romantic to pull some punches for her sake, he discovered he didn’t have to. She’d punch back, and just as hard.

 In fact, he liked her so much, that when his poor classmates were subjected to the horrendous Insect Meet-and-Greet event, she was personally invited by Ouma himself, and not hauled over Gonta’s gentlemanly shoulders and carried, or worse, knocked the fuck out only to wake up surrounded by bugs.

 “How charming,” she teased, rolling her eyes as he stood in the frame of her dorm room’s door.

 “Yeah, you should feel pretty special! I wasted precious energy coming down here to ask you to come!” He exhaled loudly, far too proud of himself.

 “Well, as much as I’d love to be covered in roaches and piss myself when beetles attempt to crawl into every orifice on my body, I can’t. Again, love to, truly, but-”

 “Awwww! But we hang out every night! And you’re lying! You’re never busy you dirty, rotten, lying loser! Who else hangs out with you beside me?! What else do you have to do if it doesn’t involve me? Your life’s a yawn unless I plan your daily itinerary!” He huffed, crossing his arms with a small stomp of one foot. “Gosh, I hate liars!” He pouted.

 “Pout all you want, I’m not going to your bug fest. I hate bugs.”

 “Wait ‘til Gonta hears about your very controversial opinion!” Kokichi gasped, feigning absolute shock.

 “You wouldn’t...” her eyes widened, knowing instantly that she’d fucked up. He didn’t reply, but simply smirked, an evil, plotting, crooked grin creeping across his visage. She sighed deeply, head hanging in defeat.

 “Be my date?” He held out a hand, wiggling his fingers temptingly. Her head shot up, an uncomfortable, flustered warmth running through her cheeks and to the tips of her ears. He caught this immediately, as he caught most changes in the air, and his face twisted into an equally awkward expression for a split second before his brow furrowed and he snarled. “Hurry the fuck up, shithead! You know what I meant! Let’s go or I’m having Tarzan put your ass to sleep!” He spat, and she simply giggled, grabbing his hand before being pulled off.

 “Your date huh? I can’t think of anything I’d love more than some worms in my shoes.”

 ♡

 That morning when they awoke, Ryoma was gone, stolen away in what they assumed was either the night or the early morning. Kokichi was usually very much unfazed, desensitized to most shock and awe in life, but this time… it was different. He was upset, and visibly so, stomping around the crime scene like a child, brooding.

 It wasn’t the loss of a Ryoma, nor the gore and tragedy of the scene that had him so agitated, it was her reaction to it. (Y/N) wore her heart on her sleeve, and she wasn’t afraid to cry in front of others, so it was no surprise that she was in tears now. She’d cried over both Rantaro and Kaede’s deaths, but that was different. Kaede was a girl, and he didn’t care about (Y/N) enough back when Rantaro was killed to be jealous of her tears, but now… he was practically green.

 (Y/N) had actually been pretty close with Ryoma. Like she did with most people, she dug past Ryoma’s appearance and the story he wanted everyone to know, and what she found was a pretty amazing guy. She wasn’t as close to him as she was to Kokichi, but still…

 These weren’t tears of horror from seeing a dead body, or of witnessing a young person’s life cut short. They were tears of mourning the loss of a close friend, and Kokichi was positively boiling.

 By the time he’d managed to cool himself down while effectively hiding his meltdown from the rest of them, (Y/N) had wandered off to start the investigation and avenge her friend with Shuichi. Yeah no, that wasn’t going to happen. She was quickly swept away to start their own little search party. The two of them, the way it was supposed to be. Of course, he would never say all of these embarrassing thoughts aloud. He’d make up some stupid excuse for why she just had to come with him. But it wasn't personal, and he didn’t care about her.

 He didn’t

 He. Didn’t.

 Did he...?

 ♡

 When it came time for the second trial, Kokichi made sure to make fun of (Y/N), calling her a crybaby, mocking her “endless blubbering” and all the valuable time she wasted doing it. He tried desperately, now at war with his own heart and values, to convince himself she was nothing to him, that she was just another pea-brained opponent in this death game, that she was a source of entertainment at best, and nothing else.

 “Shut the fuck up, Miu, nobody wants to hear that gross shit! Cream your pants later!” (Y/N) spoke across the circle to the blonde exhibitionist with a scowl on her face. Miu, in response, shriveled and whined. Kokichi couldn’t help but crack a smile. That was one of the things he loved about (Y/N), how she put people in their place.

 What?! Shit, no! Not loved… I mean she was cool, but... not - his mind raced, trying to shake himself back to the place he wanted to be. Shit!

 The trial went on, and with every word she worsened the self-made conflict within him.

 “How could you say that Kaito?!” (Y/N) howled at the Ultimate Astronaut, who was taken aback by her anger. Kokichi, too, found himself taken aback. Kaito was the “good guy”, the macho action hero, the protagonist’s best friend. While many called Kaito names, dismissed his ridiculous ideas, and even told him he was plain stupid and wrong at times, no one ever truly challenged the trusted hero duo that was Shuichi and Kaito, and certainly not with such unbridled anger. “You must have no idea what it’s like to go through depression, to not see the point in living anymore! How dare you speak ill of Ryoma?! How dare you say he used to be your hero?!” She knew what it was like, those dark thoughts Ryoma must’ve been having for years.

 Kokichi watched her, like a spitfire, a firecracker. He forgot all about his decision to let her go, to stop interacting with her altogether after today, and couldn’t help being pulled in. They spent the rest of the trial working as they usually did: together, as a team. He spoke up more, and they teased each other, flirting harmlessly and carrying on.

 And the others were starting to notice…

 “Man, can’t you two save it for when you’re alone?! Damn! I can practically see you undressing each other with your eyes, bleh!” Miu gagged before letting out one of her infamous cackles. (Y/N)’s face ran hot, instinctively leaning back on her podium. Her bottom lip caught itself between her teeth, at a loss for words as she met Kokichi’s gaze.

 “Yeah right, as if! I’d love to be discussing with literally anyone else here but you guys all have the personality of dirty pond water…” Kokichi sighed defensively, looking at his nails as if Miu’s words meant nothing to him. 

 (Y/N) knew how he was, she knew harsh words and lies were his coping mechanism, but she couldn’t help the way her shoulders sunk.

 ♡

 Despite her hurting heart, when Kokichi - the shit-stirrer that he was - revealed Maki’s truth to the group after Kirumi’s execution, (Y/N) was the only one to throw herself between them, prying Maki’s hands from her best friend’s throat.

 “Fuck, now she’s out here tryna die for this asshole!” Miu crowed. “HA HA! They’re definitely fuckin’!” She held her stomach, practically in tears from her laughing fit.

“Shut up! Just shut up!” (Y/N) pushed past the crowd, tired of them, tired of the humiliation, tired of Kokichi, tired of all of it. She left the trial room, running all the way and not stopping until she was locked up in her room.

 After the public embarrassment and Kokichi’s heartless dismissal of their… complicated relationship, maybe….

Maybe now it was her turn to cut him off.

 ♡

Days passed and she refused to see him. She stayed locked up in her room at night and avoided him during the day, well... avoided him as best she could. Kokichi wasn’t one to be ignored if he didn’t want to be. He persisted, harassing and tracking her around, begging her to talk to him, to play, to prank others with him, to investigate the new research labs, but she simply pretended he wasn’t there. It hurt, it really hurt to shut him out, but to go on with him acting like she didn’t matter in public and then deciding she did in private hurt even worse. Her loyalty could only go so far. She wouldn’t allow him to mess with her heart any longer… or so she thought.

 ♡

Hours before the third trial was to commence, (Y/N) found herself outside of Korekiyo’s research lab when what looked like a walking corpse stumbled by. She cried out, running over to a dazed Kokichi, bumbling about light-headed and pale, with fresh blood running freely down his head.

 “Kokichi!” Her feelings be damned! She couldn’t just sit there and watch him suffer or worse. Who knew how much blood he’d already lost? Crazed with worry, she threw his arm over her shoulder, looking around frantically wondering why no one else had noticed him yet.

 The answer was simple: no one else cared. They probably had noticed and simply written him off. (Y/N) pouted, contemplating leaving him there… she was supposed to be mad at him.

 “Ohhhhh… gah! ...Damn you, Kokichi!” How did he keep doing this? How was he worming his evil little ass into her heart again and again?! She began dragging him down the stairs and toward the dorms. The investigation would have to wait.

“(Y-Y/N)...?” Kokichi mumbled in his ditzy state. “Hoo hoo! I thought we weren’t talkin’?!” He nearly tumbled from her arms, weak and wobbly.

 “Oh, shut up, asshole!” (Y/N) growled, nearing the dormitory area and pulling him into her room.

 ♡

 “Man, that sucked!” Kokichi sat leaned against the glass of the sliding shower door in the small personal offshoot bathroom attached to her small dorm room. A cold washcloth sat covering his forehead, wetting the messy strands of his long bangs.

 “Tell me again why you didn’t just call for help once you realized how badly you were bleeding?” (Y/N) made small talk, wringing out the soiled rag she’d initially used to clean him off. He took a swig of some icy bottled water she’d provided and glowered, his bottom lip out in contemplation.

 “ ‘Cause I didn’t think anyone would come…” he spoke flatly, exhausted with the loss of blood and shittiness of it all. She froze, turning to him.

 “I’m sorry…” she sighed, replacing the washcloth on his head with some gauze that she started to gently wrap around the rather deep wound.

 “You should be! Hmpf!” He crossed his arms and she pulled on the gauze sharply, tightly constricting the oozing sore. “Shit!”

 “Don’t start, dickhead. You’re lucky I’m choosing to forgive you!” She chided. He shot her a dirty look, and for moments they sat in silence.

 “... For a moment I thought you hated me… like the rest of them,” he finally spoke up, any amount of silence torturous to his child-like psyche. She felt her heart sink.

 “... I could never.” She smiled softly, fighting off a nagging frown that threatened to present itself. Before he could make this even more awkward, she stood, taking control of the situation. “Okay, I’ll be right back, you stay right here. I don’t want you passing out again.” She took off, closing the bathroom door and sneaking away into the main room.

 Shuffling through her closet and by extension her Monokuma-provided wardrobe, she peeled off first her shirt then her uniform’s skirt, both now completely ruined by dark patches of Kokichi’s blood, her reward for carrying his sorry ass all the way here. Now in only her underwear, she reached for a replacement uniform and wandered over to her bedside table for her deodorant and some facial wipes. As she wiped the grime and sweat from the crevices of her oily face, the bathroom door slid open with an impatient force behind it.

 “I’m boooooooored-”

 “Ahh!” She screeched, rushing to cover herself up before she could even process what was happening, but the only things nearby were her comforter and intricate uniform.

 “Oh, God! Why are you naked?!” Kokichi hollered, his face turning beet red. (Y/N) pulled the comforter up and around her body, her uniform falling from the bed.

 “I told you to wait there!” Her cheeks felt engulfed in flames, the skin all over her body hot and her feathers effectively ruffled.

 “You didn’t say why! You didn’t say you were doing a strip show in here!” He retorted, covering his eyes with one arm, more for her to save face than out of his own desire.

 “Get out! Just get out!” She screamed, tears pricking her eyes.

 “But-!”

 “Now!!” Full of a genre of rage he almost never felt, he conceded, stomping out of her room without another word.

 (Y/N) fell to her bed, screaming into her pillow like nobody’s business. She felt ashamed, mortified, infuriated. Why, for once, couldn’t he just listen?! Her body was never something she was confident in or proud of, and now, to have him, the guy she had feelings for see her like that, and not only practically naked, but caught off guard… it was as more than she could handle.

 ♡

 The trial room was relatively quiet that afternoon. The usual suspects were chatting, defending themselves, accusing others. Shuichi was having a pretty smooth trial - a blessing in his eyes - with Kokichi not giving him an easier time than usual. When he did speak, it was his usual lies, with an underlying irritated tone, but he never spoke a word to (Y/N), and (Y/N) hardly spoke at all. After some time, someone addressed the elephant in the room… err, other than the murders, that is…

 “Soooo, uh…” Kaito, courageous as always, spoke out, “(Y/N), you awake over there? We could use some help to, you know, find the culprit so we don’t all bite it?” He was only somewhat gentle with his words, having already made up with her after the last trial’s argument, but anxious over the current situation. “Shuichi and I can’t handle this on our own! You usually have a lot to say!”

 “I resent that comment, Kaito, as I believe I help plenty, but yes,” Kiibo rolled his metallic eyes to the sky, ever focused on the current goal, “you do usually have more to say, (Y/N). We could really use another opinion here.”

 “Something wrong with (Y/N)?” Gonta, always concerned for his friends’ feelings inquired, brows furrowed in concern.

 “Hah!” Miu spat. “Of course something’s wrong! Haven't you noticed that little prick over there ain’t feedin’ us his bullshit nearly as much as neither?!” She pointed at Kokichi before placing a haughty hand on her hip. “He probably slipped her his little prick, and it was so tiny she was turned off for good! Probably can’t even speak, she’s so disappointed! Hella awkward!” She roared. Everyone exchanged the familiar looks of disgust or scorn that came after one of Miu’s outbursts, and as (Y/N) opened her mouth to defend them both, she was cut off.

 “More like the other way around!” Kokichi hurled Miu’s statements right back in her face, his knuckles crunching down on his podium with a vice-like grip. “After I saw her naked earlier, I was the one leaving with a softie!” He growled, his frustrations, self-loathing, and need to be in control and defend himself all culminating in these toxically destructive words.

 A few audible gasps were heard in the room, a few laughs from Monokuma and his remaining offspring, and the more mature students such as Maki and Shuichi simply sighing in exhaustion, wondering why they kept getting off track with useless information. (Y/N) felt her knees almost buckle.

 No. Not this time! She heard her mind shout at her heart, and she slammed her hands down on her podium, all embarrassment melting into pure rage.

“YOU- GOD!” An encore slam down onto the flat metal, “You FUCKING asshole! That’s not what happened you goddamn fucking LIAR, and you know it!” Her voice was hoarse with the force of it.

 “Uh oh! Struck a ner-” Miu began to speak.

 “You shut the fuck up!” (Y/N) pointed to the busty instigator before directing her venomous ire back at Kokichi, who refused to look her in the eyes. “I did everything to help you after your dumb ass fell through the fucking floor, and this is how I’m repaid?! I do everything with you and for you, and this is how you treat me?! Why do you always sit here and lie to these people about us?! Fucking shithead fucking-” she was struggling for words, holding back tears. “You tell them the truth, that I had your blood all over me from patching you up because no one else likes your sorry ass! Everyone else would’ve left you passed out on the floor or worse dead from blood loss or killed by the culprit who seems to be on a fucking spree!” She gestured wildly, talking with her hands. “You walked in on me changing my bloody clothes! It was your fault! Just like it’s your fault that you have one fr-” her voice broke, and she looked to her feet. “No friends. Fuck you… Shuichi just finish the fucking trial we all know who the culprit is.” She looked down the rest of the trial, saying nothing, hearing nothing, just a ringing in her ears.

 “This is reeeeeeal fuckin’ awkward and I hate it here,” Miu cooed, rubbing her hands together.

 ♡

 As soon as the trial was over, Kokichi, feeling the weight of his best friend’s words, searched high and low for her. The campus was huge with many places to hide, but he knew her well, and he knew her favorite spots. He checked the AV room, library, casino, her research lab, and her room first, then everywhere else, asking anyone he came across about her whereabouts.

“Dude you messed up, even by your standards,” Kaito demeaned with a righteous fist in the air.

“I think it’s completely reasonable that she would not want to speak with you,” Kiibo sighed.

“Kokichi, you probably really hurt her. Just let her be, that’s the right thing to do,” Shuichi offered guidance even to the worst of his peers any time he could.

“Why are you speaking to me?” Maki walked away.

♡

At long last, finding himself in the basement after wallowing around the school for a while, he opened the door to the AV room for some space and privacy, seeing as it was rarely used since Rantaro’s death. He gasped.

 “(Y/N)!” She turned from her position reading on the little couch, startled, and immediately turned back upon seeing the owner of the voice. He closed the door behind him, shuffling over with his tail between his legs. Quickly, before she could notice, he forced a rather convincing peppy voice. “The heck?! I already checked here!” She knew that. She’d been there earlier, and left when she heard he was making the rounds only to return later, but she didn’t say as much now. “Soooo? Whatcha readin’?” He grinned, plopping down on the floor beside her seated position on the couch. She didn’t respond, didn’t change her expression, and merely kept reading. “C’mon!!! Reading’s boring!!! Well,” he tapped his finger on his lip pensively “not always! But your taste in books is! Let’s at least go find some good shit to read together!” She had not the mental or physical energy, the want nor the need to banter with him. As far as she was concerned, this… whatever it was, was over. 

 Kokichi sighed, taking the hint to stop talking but not the hint to leave her the fuck alone. She would not physically kick him out, he knew this, and it seemed she wouldn’t do it verbally either. It was safer not to be alone, she rationalized in her mind… well, only if the group knew who was paired up and when, but he would never hurt her… physically. And she would never hurt him. And so, Kokichi resolved to sit there, just sit there and stare: at the ceiling, at her, at his thumbs. After the first thirty minutes he began to make pretend snow angels on the ground with his arms and legs flopping together and apart. He lapped around the room a few times, looked through the DVD options, sat with her on the couch, moved closer, then further, then closer, back and forth trying to get some reaction. Usually he could at least annoy someone into paying attention to him. Even negative attention was still attention. She was never like this with him. This was bad… he could feel his selfish little heart ache.

 An hour passed, and then another. She’d picked up a sketch pad she’d stored in the couch cushions, doodled, changed books, and now was reading again. He’d begun running his fingers up and down her thigh, making explosion and car noises when he hit her knee. And finally, he spoke.

 “You know, you’re super brave to be down here alone, you know... before I got here I mean… or at all really. Place is spooky… haunted since Rantaro got murked. No one comes down here but you. Surprised you’re down here… but I guess you always are.” He could feel the stone wall she’d put up between them. “You know, it kinda sucks, that we lost Rantaro…”

 “...and Ryoma, and Tenko, and Kirumi, Angie, Kiyo, Kaede…” she spoke up, irritated by his flippance. “Don’t forget them like they don’t matter.” He twiddled his thumbs in response.

 “At least you didn’t die…” he tapped on the back of the book you were reading, making the pages shake before her eyes.

 “Like you’d care if I did,” she replied without hesitation.

 “I woooooould,” he pulled at her sleeve like a toddler aching to be picked up.

 “I’m ugly. I’m fat and hideous and a turn off and just disgusting, right? So who cares if I die?” She spoke like she was reciting a grocery list: monotone, uninterested.

 “Well… I can still care about ugly people…” he batted his eyelashes innocently. The look she shot him told him she was not in the mode for jokes. “B-but, you’re not ugly! You’re way hotter than Maki or Miu or any other hag here! I just said all that stuff to catch Miu off guard! It was all a lie!” He was getting nervous now, sitting upright beside her on the couch.

 “That is not an apology,” she rebuked.

 “Aww come on, forgive me!” He collapsed, resting face down on her stomach and stretching his body out on the cushions behind him. “You’re my best friend…” His words were muffled, but she could make them out still. “You’re more than that…” her ears perked up, and she began to hear sniveling. Slowly, a wetness began to seep through her shirt onto her abdomen.

 Was he…?

 She placed a single hand on the back of his black locks and ran her fingers through the messy mop. The other placed the book on the floor then joined the other. For a few peaceful moments they sat silently while she stroked his scalp and played with the waves.

 “I’m sorry…” an apology came through his sniffles, but he would not lift his head up, never in a million years would someone see him cry genuine tears.

 “I can’t hear you,” she lied, something she learned from him. A devious smirk he could not see crossed her lips.

 “Yes you can!” Muffled frustration vibrated her tummy.

 “Well since I can’t hear you anyway this conversation is ov-”

 His head shot upward, a snarl crossing his red, moist, puffy face. He pulled his knees up, leaning forward with all his weight

And pressed his lips deeply into hers.

[tiffdawg]

Curriculum Vitae: Chapter Fifteen

Gif: @bestintheparsec​

curriculum vitae noun cur·ric·u·la vi·tae Latin. the course of one’s life.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 7.0k

Rated: E  | Warnings: NSFW – explicit sexual content, sex, public sex, oral sex (female receiving), cumplay, dirty talk. Mentions of alcohol. Mild language. 18+ only.

Chapter Summary: In this chapter, you and Javier attend the holiday party for the social sciences’ faculty.

A/N: I really risked it all for y’all just to login and post this. I still haven’t seen the finale so I’m going to drop this and run but I’d love to know what you think. I hope this chapter makes the extra-long wait worth it.

Read on AO3

CV Masterlist | My Masterlist

… . …

Chapter Fifteen

Unsurprisingly, things were tense the next morning

Javier was up before you but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. Although considering it was a quarter past seven you wondered how much sleep the man could’ve gotten. What was surprising was that you woke alone.

Then you ate breakfast together in silence. Moved about your 400 square foot studio in silence. Worked across the dining table grading papers in silence.

Javier was never an overly talkative person but that was unlike him. It was unlike the two of you. You knew there were things from his past that troubled him. Things you couldn’t even begin to imagine. The longer you’d known him, the more time you spent together, the more you felt his sadness. But he seemed determined to hide it from you.

However, you couldn’t dwell on it. Not until you’d finished grading exams and assigned final grades and could put the fall quarter behind you. With a Monday deadline, work came first.

Eventually, Javier finished his grading. He gathered his things to go home and dress for the faculty party that evening, leaving you with just a kiss on your cheek and a promise to pick you up at six. You hummed noncommittally as you watched him leave.

Sunny whined at the closed door before looking over her shoulder at you with a silent question in her wide brown eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong either,” you answered with a shrug. She laid down where she was, head on her paws and a rather sad expression of her face.

… . …

By some miracle, you were able to focus long enough to finish your grading with enough time to spare to get ready for a night out. At 5:58 you walked out of your building into the dark evening and found Javier waiting for you at the bottom of the stoop. It was a chilly night and you pulled your wool coat tighter around you as you closed the last bit of distance between the two of you. For the first time that day, as he held his hand out to you, he smiled. It was nothing more than a slight pull at the corner of his lips, but it was something.

You took his hand and let him lead you toward his car. When he reached into his coat pocket, presumably in search of his keys, he pulled out a half-finished pack of Nicorette. He tossed it in a nearby trash can.

“Why did you do that?” you asked without thinking.

He shrugged as he unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for you. “I don’t need it.”

You made no move to get in. “I thought you were trying to quit.”

“I… I did.”

“Really?” you asked, not bothering to hide your excitement.

“I haven’t needed it for a couple of weeks now actually.”

 “Javi, that’s amazing,” you smiled as you brought him to you for a kiss by the lapels of his coat. “I’m so proud of you.”

 He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re proud of me?”

 “Yeah,” you said easily. He still didn’t seem to believe you. You continued tentatively, afraid you might say the wrong thing but needing to say something all the same. “Sometimes I just– I feel like I don’t actually know that much about you. Or, I should say, about your past. And I don’t need to know anything more than what you want to tell me,” you added quickly. “But I see you. I see you trying to be a better man. Everyday.” Your hands moved on their own accord to cup his freshly shaved cheeks. “I’m proud of you. Even if you think it’s silly.”

“I–” Javier opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t manage more than that single syllable.

Instead, he stared at you. You might’ve crossed some unspoken line, but you didn’t care. You’d meant everything that you said. His eyes shifted away as he stared at something past you for a drawn-out moment. “Come here,” he finally managed, and he pulled you into his embrace. The two of you held each other in the middle of the sidewalk, letting the few people out and about walk around you. “You’re too good for me, compañera.”

“I know,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. His fingers dug into your sides and you laughed. “Are we going to talk about what happened last night?”

He sighed heavily. “I’d rather have one good night with you before I leave. I’m not going to see you for more than two weeks.”

Deciding not to question it, you put it out of your mind. Maybe what happened was a one off. Still, you pulled back and scowled at him. “Then stop being such a….”

“An asshole?”

“Exactly.”

He huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes but nodded his agreement. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You gonna make it up to me?”

 “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got plans for you tonight.”

A chill shot down your spine at the insinuation. “Good,” you smirked, “so do I.”

… . …

The country club was only a short drive past the university and up into the hills amongst rows of gated mansions. Slipping out of the car before the valet approached, you darted in ahead of Javier. The bubble that the two of you were living in still didn’t extend to work, not entirely. Not beyond fucking in your offices and occasionally brushing hands under the table at faculty meetings.

Inside, the already gilded ballroom was draped in silver and gold holiday decorations from ceiling to floor. Every inch sparkled and shone in the chandelier light. Your colleagues from across the school of social sciences crowed the hall, all dressed to the nines with glasses of champagne and hors-d’œuvre topped with caviar in their hands.

You politely made your rounds before you found yourself conversing with Debra by the bar as you waited for a cocktail. She was her usual gossipy self, going on and on about the latest office drama. That was when you first spotted Javier amongst the crowd.

He wore a well-fitted black suit – one that was significantly more flattering than some of his older ones and you idly wondered if it was new – with a white shirt, forgoing a tie so that his tanned chest was still exposed, even on a winter night. His dark hair was styled just enough to keep it off his face. Even from across the room, you could see the glimmer in his warm brown eyes as he chatted away with someone. You were surprised when he walked right up to Rafael Garcia, one of the younger professors from the political science department. You watched as they shook hands and he was introduced to his wife, noting the genuine smile on his face.

“We just started seeing each other a couple of weeks ago but it’s going well so far. I really like him.” Deb’s voice brought you back to the present.

“That’s nice,” you replied absentmindedly.

“What about you, doc?”

“What? Oh, no. I don’t have time for something like that.” You waved her off, but your eyes still followed Javier across the room. You tried to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach.

“That’s a shame.” Debra looked out at the crowd and sighed. “He never flirts with me. Not anymore, at least.”

“Your new boyfriend?”

“No,” she laughed and smacked your shoulder playfully. “Javier,” she answered, lowering her voice.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Although you hoped it wasn’t that obvious who you’d been looking at. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. And don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“Sure, but Javier was always fun to flirt with. It certainly made work more interesting. You know,” she took a sip of her martini, “the two of you seem awfully friendly lately. I thought you hated him.”

“I do,” you answered quickly.

“Well, don’t let Dr. Campbell hear you speak ill about his favorite lecturer.” She raised her brows over her class as the department chair approached the two of you. You stifled a sigh.

… . …

Javier sipped at his drink as he listened to Sofia Garcia regal him with the story of how she met her husband. He’d hardly spoken to the man before than night, but after five minutes with his loquacious wife, he felt like he knew his whole life story.

“I played on the Mexican women’s national team for a few years after college until I injured my knee. But it was a blessing. I was offered a coaching position here a week later and by the end of my first season we were engaged.” She held up her left hand where a modest diamond sat on her ring finger. “That was nearly fifteen years ago. Now he’s the only one who plays soccer.”

“Yeah,” Rafael scoffed, “I play in an adult league with my cousin and some old college friends. That hardly counts. She’s the real athlete.” He looked fondly on his wife who beamed back at him. Even Javier had to admit they made a handsome couple. And it had nothing to do with his expensive looking suit or her champagne dress. It was something about the way they looked at each other. they were easily better conversationalists than most of the people in that room. You weren’t kidding when you said academics only knew how to talk about journal articles and research funding. “You ever play, Peña? We’re actually looking for one more.”

Javier shook his head. “I played when I was a kid but that was a long fucking time ago.”

“Don’t worry, man, it’s not that serious. We drink the whole game. All you gotta do is pay for the keg when it’s your turn.”

Javier laughed, surprised by his answer. “I could get on board with that.”

The conversation moved on, but Javier was only half aware of whatever question he was being asked. Just over Rafael’s shoulder, he caught sight of you. With a red dress with thin straps draped across your form that left everything and nothing to the imagination, you looked… alluring.

“Hey, uh, you look like you could use a refill,” Rafael commented, pointing toward the bar where you were standing.

“Yeah,” Javier nodded, “I’ll catch you later. Nice meeting you, Sofia.”

“I hope to see you around, Javier.” She smiled kindly at him, but Javier was already on the move, swiftly cutting through the crowd as he contemplated the ways that he could get you alone.

“Whiskey. Dry,” he ordered, leaning against the bar next to you.

“How are you enjoying the evening, Professor Peña?” Debra simpered.

“Much better now that I’m talking to you lovely ladies,” he answered without missing a beat.

On cue, Debra’s whole face flushed bright red.

“I’ll have you know I’m spoken for now. Your charm won’t work on me anymore.”

“That’s too bad.” His eyes slid to you. And then up and down your body. “What about you, sweetheart?” He offered you the perfect set up on a silver platter. And you took it.

“Not in your wildest dreams, Peña,” you shot back. His lips quirked as he repressed a smile.

“Don’t you two ever get tired of antagonizing each other?” Debra scoffed before traipsing off. He was hoping that would work.

The bartender placed Javier’s drink on the counter and then he turned back to you, still admiring your dress. Now that he was near you, he noticed the fabric was a soft red velvet he wanted nothing more than to get his hands on.

“You looked like you were enjoying your conversation with Rafael.”

“He does some interesting work on South American politics,” he offered distractedly, his eyes snapped back up to yours. “I probably shouldn’t ask you to dance.”

You reeled back a little, as if the question surprised you. “Probably not. That might ruin the whole facade of me hating you.” He made a sour face as he looked at his glass in his hand, swirling the amber liquid a few times. “I wouldn’t have taken you for the dancing type, Javi.”

He grinned. “I love dancing.”

“You never take me dancing.”

“Fucking shame. I’m gonna start.” You beamed at him, uncaring, just for a moment, who saw. It was a smile nothing short of dazzling. He took a step closer. “You look stunning.”

“You drove me here.”

“I thought you were stunning then too. But you were wearing a coat and I didn’t get to see this.” He ran the back of his knuckles down the fabric of your dress just over that sensitive spot on your side he liked so much. “You were right. This is definitely worth it.”

“What if I told you there’s more,” you said unaffectedly, feigning interest in your empty glass. The mischievous look in your eyes when they met his confused expression gave you away. Gently, you brought his hand to your thigh, just under the hem of your dress, and his fingers instantly hooked around the strap of the garter belt holding your sheer stockings in place.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“What a way to go,” you cooed. His hand traveled up the strap to the apex of your thighs where he found little more than a thin piece of lace below the belt. “Careful,” you warned him, pushing his hand away.

Turning so that his body pinned you between him and the bar top and shielded you from the rest of your colleagues, he grasped your hand and brought it to the front of his pants “Can you feel what you do to me?” he said against the shell of your ear.

“That’s what I was hoping for.” Your smile was absolutely wicked.

“Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is not to kiss you right now?”

“Yes.” You squeezed him through his trousers. Javier might’ve looked remarkably calm, but he knew you felt his reaction. He steeled himself as he finished his drink and set the glass on the counter behind you.

“Follow me.”

… . …

Keeping a few steps behind him, you followed Javier back to the front of the club. You assumed he was leading you out to the car but apparently, he had something else in mind. He swung open the door to the coat check, since abandoned by the clerk now that all the guests had arrived and the party was in full swing. With some idea of what he had in mind, you hoped no one was inclined to leave early.

His mouth was on yours in an instant and as soon as the door was shut, you were pressed up against it.

“The coat closet at the holiday work party?” you asked in between fevered kisses. “Isn’t that a little cliché?”

“Honey,” he murmured against your neck as his lips moved lower and lower, “I know for a fact it turns you on when we fuck in public.”

His hand slipped underneath your dress again, following the same path as earlier, and he pressed his fingers against the lace covering your cunt, now soaked with your arousal. He pulled away to raise a brow at you, daring you to contradict him.

Instead, you palmed him again, finding him harder than before. “I’m not the only one,” you shot back. With your eyes locked on his, you dropped to your knees to loosen his belt and unbutton his trousers. Then you leaned forward to slowly pull the zip down – with your teeth.

“Fuck me” he gasped around a ragged exhale, his hips automatically bucking toward you. He watched you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, before he hauled you to your feet with a hand on either arm. “Fucking dirty girl.”

“Wanna be your dirty girl, Javi,” you sighed, batting your lashes at him. You wanted him unraveled and unrestrained.

“Yeah?” he asked with a hint of excitement in his voice, and you nodded, satisfied with the response you’d gotten from him. Before you realized what he was doing, he spun you around and hiked your skirt up over your ass, letting it bunch around your waist.

“Hey, be careful. This dress is vintage.”

He just laughed against your ear. “You should’ve thought of that before you started this.” With one hand on your hip to hold you up, he kicked each of your ankles to prompt you to spread your legs before hooking a finger under the band of your thong and sliding them to the side. “Damn,” he growled when his fingers met your wet cunt. “I think you’re ready for me.”

“I was ready for you the moment I saw you tonight,” you answered truthfully.  

You felt his grin as he kissed the nape of your neck. He freed his cock and ran the tip through your folds. You knew better than to tell him not to tease you. That was part of it. That was what he enjoyed. He wanted you so strung out by the time he slipped inside you that you were already a mess and he knew just how to get you there. And that was exactly where you wanted to go.

He started to press inside you, slowly stretching you around him with each inch, and you delighted in the slight burn. Usually, he spent more time preparing you, but there was no time for that. Not when you were just hoping to finish fucking each other before someone came to collect their belongings.

You were wet and ready for him, but you were unable to stop the yelp that escaped you as he pushed in a little further.

“Quiet,” he snapped. Then, softly, he asked, “are you okay?”

You nodded. “It just takes a minute sometimes. You’re so big, Javi.” You felt him twitch inside you.

“You take me so well. This cunt was made for me.” Your ego burned bright at his praise and he slid in a bit more as you relaxed around him.

He held you, gently caressing you while you adjusted in what you assumed was a merciful act of patience. When you were ready, you rolled your hips to encourage him.

“Keep – shit – keep doing that. Feels so good on my dick.” You could imagine the debauched look on his face. You reveled in it even though you couldn’t see him. He reached around you to cup your pussy, fingers rubbing against your clit and following your movements as you circled your hips. You moaned in unison.

But it wasn’t enough. Not for you. Not for Javier.

“Hold on to something.”

His warning came just a moment too late. With a gasp, you fell forward clawing at the coats in front of you and fisting an expensive looking black peacoat in hopes of staying upright as he set a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck yes!” you whined.

“Are you even trying to stay quiet?” Javier hissed.

“Yes,” you replied weakly.

“Fucking liar.” You heard the smirk.

The hand playing with your clit moved to your mouth and he slipped two fingers past your lips. It effectively muffled your noises of pleasure as he pulled you down hard on his cock with every thrust. The only sound was the wet noise of him sliding in and out of your slick cunt and the slap of your stocking-covered thighs as they bounced against his. You felt that delicious pressure deep in your belly, right between your thighs, building steadily.

Until you heard a noise just outside the door and the two of you froze.

Without pulling out of you, Javier held you to his chest. As if that would somehow help. You could feel his heart beating against your back just as your own threatened to break through your ribs. Two sets of wide eyes watched the doorknob, waiting for any sign that someone on the other side was about to turn it. You held your breath as you listened carefully to the low voices murmuring, unable to tell who they belonged to or what they were saying. It was like they were hovering just outside the door. Taunting you.

Just as you were about to suggest redressing and making a run for it, Javier started moving in and out of you as a torturously slow pace. Despite the voices nearby, a small whimper escaped you. He shushed you gently. “Quiet, baby,” he whispered.

“But–”

“You wanted this.”

“Javi­–”

“You wouldn’t have worn this” –he fingered the garter belt– “if you didn’t want to end up just like this.”

He was right, of course.

“What if–”

“I’m not going to let that happen.” You had no idea what he thought he was going to do if someone did catch the two of you, but he seemed confident enough for the both of you. Coupled with the easy rock of his hips, you relaxed into his hold. The truth was, as much as you liked the freedom of your home, you missed this. This thrill that you trusted only him to give you.

As soon as the conversation faded away, he resumed his previous pace, punching the air right out of your lungs.

“Yes! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chanted, forgetting the precarious situation you were in only moments ago. The coil in your belly tightened as you neared your crest, and you could tell by his less than precise movements that Javier just as close. And then, right as you were about to fall apart on his cock–

Javier pulled out and spun you back around in one swift movement. Before you even knew what was happening, he yanked down your panties and came all over you. Jaw dropping, you watched him work his length until every last drop was on you. White spurts of cum marked you and pooled in the black lace, already dripping down your thighs to the tops of your stockings. You placed a hand on either of his shoulders to steady yourself as your legs threatened to give out under you and stared down at the mess. Somehow, you were more turned on than before. You felt like you would actually combust from arousal. He held your panties in place for a moment, admiring his work, before letting the elastic snap against your skin and drawing your attention upward.

His breaths were jagged, stuttering and uneven. His head tilted back, and he looked down his nose at you with dark eyes that shone with something feral. Something sacrilegious. He was flushed and panting but a smirk tugged on his lips as he tucked his cock away and belted his pants. “You said you wanted to be my dirty girl.”

You swore you could feel your last brain cell short-circuiting. You were hyperaware of the errant drop sliding down your thighs, but you couldn’t look away from him. “Always,” you promised quietly.

You kissed him with everything you had. Javier took it greedily.

“You’re so good for me. Letting me cum all over you,” he said breathlessly, still kissing you. “I want you to keep it all in your panties so that while you’re out there talking to those pretentious professors you can feel my cum between your legs. Okay?” You nodded and he graciously straightened your dress, letting it fall over your messy thighs. “You first.”

“But I didn’t–”

“Only good girls get to cum,” he replied quickly, apparently knowing exactly what you were going to say.

“Javi,” you scolded breathlessly and pointlessly, “I– I am your good girl.”

“Not tonight. You can’t keep quiet. Do you want everyone we work with to know I’m fucking you in this god damn coat closet?” You shook your head. “Don’t worry, honey, this was just foreplay. I’m not done with you yet. Tonight, I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard you’re screaming my name at the top of your lungs. I can’t do that here, but I can get you ready.”

Your head buzzed.

Some filthy part of you liked that he’d cum all over you. That he wanted to do that to you. You didn’t even need to cum because it’d felt that good. And you knew by the look in his eyes that he planned on making up for leaving you wanting, for making a mess of you. You instinctively understood that this was part of it. That even greater pleasure waited for you if you could just be patient and... and trust him. And you did trust him. You knew he would take care of you.  

If this was going to be your last night together for weeks — after hardly spending a night apart the last month and a half — then this was just the start.

“Okay,” you agreed. “But you’re a fucking tease, Javier Peña.”

He laughed with genuine mirth in his eyes. “You started it.”

“I’ll finish it,” you promised.

“I’m looking forward to that.”

You hesitated, teasing your bottom lip with your teeth. “Do we really have to go back out there?”

“It would be rude to leave so early.” You knew he didn’t care about staying. He was just tormenting you, playing a fucked-up game that had your head spinning like crazy. “But don’t worry. Eventually, I’ll take you home and fill you up. Just the way you like it. Now be a good girl” he said with a swat on your ass, “and go out first.”

Feeling defiant, you turned around and planted a kiss on his neck, purposefully leaving a smudge of red lipstick on his crisp white collar.

“Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

“Maybe I do want everyone to know your mine.”

He wiped away the lipstick he smeared when he stuck his fingers in your mouth with the pad of his thumb. “You know. That’s all I care about.”

… . …

The two of you didn’t make it another hour. Fifty-two minutes to be exact. Javier knew because he kept checking his watch only to decide that time had crept to a halt. He wanted nothing more than to take you home and finish what he’d started. Every time he glanced at you across the room, he found you squirming as you tried to keep a straight face while chatting with some colleague, and he had to look away and recompose himself.

It hadn’t been his intention to leave you wet and wanting and covered in his cum. It’d just happened in the heat of the moment. Some wild idea that he’d decided to act on. But you… you’d liked it. And so did Javier.

In reality, fifty-two minutes wasn’t that long, but it was enough time to suck up to the school’s dean. If Javier was going to be put on display as his prized lecturer for the year, he’d make him listen to him in return. Even if he had to turn up the fake charm to a ten in front of a group of wealthy alumni.

“Here she is now,” Javier said, taking a hold of your elbow as you passed by, physically dragging you into the conversation. You shot him a confused look, but he just smiled at the dean.

“Ah, yes, professor,” Dean Dalton started, “It would seem you’ve made quite the impression on Agent Peña.”

Javier elected to ignore his choice of title.

“Really? I wasn’t aware.” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, but he could tell you were happy.

“I’ve had the privilege of reading a few chapters of her upcoming book,” Javier explained. “Trust me, you’ll want to see what she’s planning next.”

“As luck would have it, I’ve been talking to a few of our more generous donors tonight. Perhaps we should meet when classes resume to discuss how the school might be able to help your research.” The dean clinked his glass against yours and ambled off.

“What did you just do?” you asked, disbelief lacing your voice.

“I told you I would help you.”

“Oh my God… thank you,” you said softly. You stared at him for a long moment and he just held your gaze. “Will you take you home now?”

“Yes.”

Without wasting another second, you turned on your heel and headed toward the entrance. He followed eagerly. “Wait.” You stopped suddenly and his chest hit your back. You peered at him over your shoulder. “Don’t forget our tradition.”

He quirked a brow in silent question and your eyes flicked to the bar in response. It clicked. “Got it,” he said with a grin. He swiped the first bottle of champagne he could reach. Something so expensive he couldn’t even imagine the price tag. Something neither of you could ever afford on an academic salary.

… . …

Javier drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on your knee, drawing circles on your thigh over the sheer material covering your skin. Late on a chilly December night, the streets were empty, and the drive was easy. The city was unusually peaceful.

“I still can’t believe you pulled that off,” you murmured dreamily. He squeezed your knee in response.

A few minutes later, he’d stopped at a light when you quietly said his name. He turned to you and found you staring at him. You looked relaxed and happy. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you how handsome you look tonight. All dressed up for me,” you offered sweetly. “You’re absolutely breathtaking.”

“How much did you have to drink?” he deflected.

“One drink hours ago. Nice try, but I’m sober.” You laughed but your teasing tone gave way to something softer. “You really are the most beautiful man.”

In his periphery, the light changed, bathed the inside of the car in a bright green light. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your beautiful face. Not when such an open, vulnerable sincerity graced your features.

“The light’s green,” you whispered.

“I know.”

A small smile broke out on your face.

… . …

Behind you, Javier trailed soft, lazy kisses along the slope of your neck as he slowly unzipped your dress, letting it hang loose around you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he smoothed his hands down your exposed back, thumbs gently digging into your flesh to massage your tired muscles. Every kiss, every touch, stoked the fire he’d ignited inside you hours ago.

“Let it fall,” he murmured against your skin. You slipped the straps over your shoulders and the fabric pooled at your feet. Then you reached for the clasp of your bra. “Leave it. I’ll take it off when I want to.” You bit back a devilish smile as he continued his ministrations. His lips followed his hands down your spine, and you gasped when he placed a kiss on the small of your back.

“Can’t decide how I want you first,” he mused.

“I want your mouth on me.”

He kneaded the flesh of your ass as he placed the lightest kiss on one cheek. “It is.”

“Not there.”

At your complaint, he snapped the garter belt strap so it stung against your flesh. But a firm hand on your back urged you forward until you were kneeling on the bed and he mouthed your cunt through the lace. “Here?” he asked, voice muffled.

“Yes,” you moaned, desperate for more.

“Maybe I should clean the mess I made on your pussy.” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled the fabric away and sealed his mouth over your hot, wet core, drawing an inarticulate slew of curses from you.

Hands gripping the backs of your thighs right at the tops of your stockings, he alternated between sucking on your clit, teasing the little bundle of nerves between his lips, and fucking you with his tongue. The constantly changing pressure was as intoxicating as it was frustrating — it was never enough but plenty to keep you hovering right on the cusp.

Until he finally – finally – gave you what you needed most.

Holding a steady pace as he flicked his tongue over your clit, Javier pushed you right over the edge.

Unable to breath, unable to move, unable to even think, you sobbed, cunt still pulsing around nothing, when he unceremoniously flipped you over and entered you. He slid into your dripping heat easily. And somehow, your first orgasm rolled right into the second as his cock struck something magic inside you, sparking a whole new wave of pleasure.

“You can’t stop coming, can you?” he asked, grunting as he pounded into you.

It just kept going. And going. Wave after wave relentlessly rolling through you. Unceasing in the best way imaginable. Javier knew your body so fucking well. He was the only one who knew how to do this to you. “No,” you mewled deliriously, body still shaking under him.

He thumbed away a tear rolling down your cheek. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. His hand left your face to knead a lace covered breast. “You look so fucking hot.”

“Fuck me harder, Javi.”

He pulled out all the way and your hips lifted, chasing him, but he pushed your knees to your chest and shouldered between your legs. “You’re not going to be able to walk when I’m done with you.”

“Good. I wanna feel you for days.” you said, ignoring the pang in your heart that told you that you were going to miss him.

“Fuck,” he spat. Your cunt drenched his cock as he slipped back inside, and your breath hitched as he hit deeper at the new angle.

“Right there!” you cried, arching up against him, “oh, God, right there!”

“One more. Give me one more,” Javier demanded, lacing your fingers together and pining your hands above your head, “But not until I tell you.”

You nodded eagerly, happy to give him whatever he wanted. “I get to tell you when too. Please, Javi.”

“Whatever you want baby. You fucking earned it.”

He kept slamming into you and every stroke of his cock rubbed against your inner walls perfectly. You swore you could almost feel every ridge and every vein of his thick length as he fucked you. Your third orgasm was tantalizingly within reach. You just needed his blessing, and you’d break.

“Alright, baby,” he panted as he rocked his hips against yours, grinding his pelvis against your clit, “cum all over my cock.”

Just like that, that tight coil inside you he’d been winding up all night snapped, and you came for a third time with a wanton cry. His name tumbled from your lips repeatedly as your body writhed beneath him, cunt spasming around his cock.

“I need to cum,” he ground out, voice cutting through the haze of pleasure.

“Ask me nicely,” you teased when your senses had returned to you just enough that you decided it was your turn to play with Javier. You wanted it to be just as good for him as he made it for you.

“Please.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Baby, please.” Javier’s broken words trembling around the edges as he begged you. His brown eyes, eclipsed by his dilated pupils and wet around the edges, stared deeply into yours and you almost gave in.

“Don’t stop.”

He made a desperate sound but kept going, snapping his hips against yours harder and harder.

“Almost there, Javi. You’re doing so good for me,” you praised, encouraging him. His jaw clenched and you kissed his neck, sucking hard on the straining muscles. His hands gripped yours so tight it hurt, and his face screwed up as he panted with each thrust. “You can cum for me, Javi. Fill me up.”

His lips crashed against yours in a desperate gratitude, and his hips stuttered as he came hard. He gasped for breath even as your mouths moved messily together. His cock twitched inside you as he painted your cunt like you’d been patiently waiting for all evening, until his body gave out and he collapsed on top of you, still locked in an embrace.

“Was that good for you?” you asked. When you didn’t get an answer, you prodded his side. He startled, eyes suddenly blinking up at you.

“What?”

“I asked if that was good for you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that was... it’s always good with you but that was...” He trailed off and you thought he might’ve actually fallen asleep on you. “I’ve never cum so hard in my life. I think I fucking blacked out.”

“I didn’t know my pussy was that good.”

“Are you kidding me? I fucking love your pussy.” He was positively beaming at you. He cursed with a sigh as he laid his head back on your chest and you threaded your fingers through his damp locks, holding him close while you could.

… . …

You sat half in Javier’s lap in the middle of your bed, sheets strewn about from your previous activities, both completely naked but freshly showered. He moved his mouth against yours, tasting you, drinking you in until he was as lightheaded from your kisses as from the champagne. His hands roamed your body, touching you for no real reason other than to memorize your gentle curves. One hand cupped a breast and the other squeezed your hip, both moving slowly until they met to cradle your face.

He pulled away to look at you. No fancy dress, no jewelry, no make-up. Just you.

“Still stunning,” he whispered.

You smiled softly and pressed your lips to the bridge of his nose. “Still handsome,” you countered. Chills erupted across his skin, but you mistook his reaction. “Come here.” you pulled the blankets up as you settled back against the headboard. He followed, swiping the bottle of champagne off the nightstand. Without bothering with glasses, surely a disservice to something so expensive, he took a swig and handed it to you. It was bubbly and light and perfect for the evening.

“You never told me what you’re doing for the holidays.”

“Oh, nothing much,” you responded as you took the bottle from him. “Bev’s family celebrates Christmas. They always do gifts with the kids in the morning but then her mom and in-laws and whoever else in the family is around go over for a big dinner. She insists I come to keep her sane. Her mom and mother-in-law don’t exactly get along.”

“What about New Year’s?”

You took a long pull before sighing. “Well, I usually spend the night with Sunny watching old movies and drinking too much wine.” Your face pinched. “That sounds much sadder when I say it out loud.”

“You don’t mind being alone?”

“It’s been this way for years now.” You smiled, a rueful thing. “I’m used to it. I’m usually so tired after the quarter ends that I don’t mind the time alone.” You tried to brush it off, but he could hear the sadness in your voice.

“You could–” Javier stopped himself. “You could call. Anytime. I’ll give you my dad’s home number so you can reach me.”

That time your smile reached your eyes, crinkling the corners as you looked away bashfully. “That’s really sweet of you.” You reached for his hand and added, “I’ll call you at midnight in Laredo.”

“We’ll talk until midnight in Los Angeles.”

You curled up next to him before Javier could decipher your expression.

When he felt your breathing even out, surely sated from the sex and exhausted after the quarter, he pried the bottle from your grasp. He finished the last bit before setting it aside and switching off the lamp, careful not to disturb you.

Javier held you close, not unlike the way you’d held him the night before. He knew he needed to get his shit together. He didn’t want you to see that part of him. He needed to protect you from his past. But he didn’t know how to do that when he couldn’t even protect himself.

He flicked off the light and hoped for a peaceful sleep.

… . …

The first thing you noticed when you woke up the next morning was the dark bruise that you’d sucked onto Javier’s neck the night before. You ran your fingertips over it, outwardly cringing but inwardly, well, preening. This time it had been you who left those little love bites on his neck.

“Did you mark me?” he asked, his voice barely more than a quiet rumble. “Fucking felt that last night.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you answered, looking up at him as innocently as possible.

“Don’t lie to me,” he grumbled as his eyes blinked open. “You were a woman determined last night.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I liked it,” he grinned, but it faded quickly. “I forgot I was going home today. My dad’s picking me up at the airport.”

“Oh shit,” you laughed, burying your face against his chest.

“Don’t laugh. That’s not funny.”

“Maybe you should try buttoning your shirt like a normal person for once.”

In one smooth movement, he flipped you over and caged you beneath him. “You’re pushing your luck,” he tried to warn, but the grin on his face and the glint in his eyes betrayed him.

“What time is your flight?” you asked, soothing a hand across his face.

“One.” He glanced over at the clock. “It’s ten now.”

You wondered, just for a moment, if he would stay with you if you asked him to. If he would pass the holidays with you so you wouldn’t have to be alone. But that was foolish. And more than a little selfish. He had his family to go home to.

“You should probably go.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I should.”

He eased his hold on you but made no move to leave. Not until he’d placed a kiss on your lips and one on your forehead in a gentle goodbye.

... . ...

Thank you for reading! 💗

Forever Tags: @leo-moon @readsalot73 @frietiemeloen @huliabitch @jerusomeeno @benedrylcumbersnatch @b0n-chann @scapricciatello @liadamerondjarin @pedropasscals @paintballkid711 @mistermiraclee @honeyand-roses

Curriculum Vitae Tags: @softpedropascal @roxypeanut @unstoppableforcce @technicallykawaiisoul @mrsparknuts @weirdowithnobeardo @seeking-a-great--perhaps @assultsofthought @arrowswithwifi @larakasser @romewritingshop @none-of-your-bullshit @the-bird-suit @magneticbucky @bbygrgu @luminarahan @buckstaposition @grapemama @emzd34 @itsilvermorny​

Javier: @wander-lustbabe​

Tag lists are always open. 

[beecil]

OP this is a fun theory, and I hope you don’t mind that I add onto it. I’ve been studying Fire Emblem Cipher for the past year (incl. preserving and translating all of Cipher Frontier, which is home to most of the Cipher original character information) so I have some additional context/points of consideration.

The way I see it, there’s two possible ways to take this theory: theory A is that the Zero Emblem is meant to be one of the Cipher OCs that we know, and theory B is that the Zero Emblem was going to be a Cipher OC, but they did not ever get introduced to the series due to the untimely death of the Cipher card game. If this really is the case, I’m inclined to believe the latter, just because the emblem described doesn’t quite match any of the Cipher OCs we know (though you are right that Niamh is probably the closest we get).

Theory A: The Zero Emblem is Niamh

We don't have much information on the Zero Emblem, but what we do know describes them as solitary. If we are to believe that the Zero Emblem is one of the Cipher characters, Niamh does most fit the bill--when she is introduced in the Cipher Drama CD, The Special Talk of Love & Bonds, she is found all alone by Alice and Valjean in what is heavily implied to be another dimension, researching what a 'party' is, as she has never heard of it before. Niamh describes herself as coming from a world filled with the energy known as Boundless Chaos, which in Cipher is demonstrated to cause spacialtemporal abnormalities--it is the reason armies across the different Fire Emblem universes are able to fight each other. Niamh herself being able to travel utilizing Boundless Chaos is implied, if not explicitly stated. (In fact, I wonder if Boundless Chaos was also what was intended to be what makes it possible for Sombron to travel between worlds, and for Emblems to be summoned!)

The main argument against this, in my opinion, is honestly the timeline. Niamh appeared in Cipher Frontier as early as 2018, which is early enough that I would doubt that she was created with Fire Emblem Engage in mind--and I have my doubts that they would have built Engage around Niamh, rather than the other way around.

Theory B: The Zero Emblem was going to debut in Cipher, but never got the chance to.

Most of the characters original to Cipher are not explicitly associated with any particular Fire Emblem universe, with three exceptions: Emma, Shade, and Poe. 

As a little context, Cipher began development following Awakening, so it was in development at the same time as Fates. Its very first two original characters, Emma and Shade, are stated explicitly to be aligned with Hoshido and Nohr, and their designs are very clearly Hoshido- and Nohr-esque.

(pictured: an introductory image for Emma and Shade directly from Cipher Frontier, with English captions added by me.)

Outside of Yuzu, who does bring Hoshido to mind as well, most of the other Cipher OCs (Randal, Alice, Valjean, and Niamh) are not explicitly aligned or associated with any particular universe or country.

That is, until Poe.

Now, Cipher Frontier was hosted on the Cipher Website. The button you would click to be taken to Cipher Frontier looked like this:

It’s somewhat widely accepted that Engage and Three Houses were in development at the same time, which is important to note because Three Houses got its own Cipher Original Character. Poe was clearly created for Three Houses--she is the only original character who got fullbody reference images, and I'd bet my bottom dollar she was meant to be DLC before the death of Cipher was decided upon.

And the banner image on every issue of Cipher Frontier looked like this:

I don't think I need to point out the extremely conspicuous empty space in both of them.

There was quite clearly room for one more character--I would argue that just as Poe was created for Three Houses, it was highly likely that another original character was created for Engage, since both were in development concurrently. This could have been the Zero Emblem--or, it just could have been another character intended to be from Elyos.

We unfortunately have no way of knowing! I've trawled every file on the Cipher Website as archived by the wayback machine, and there's nothing there that hints at it. We can only imagine!

Anyway, tl;dr OP your brain is huge and while we don't have conclusive evidence I do think your theory is at least possible!

wait wait wait

spoilers for fire emblem engage end game

is the emblem of foundation referring to fire emblem cipher?

https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Category:Fire_Emblem_0_(Cipher)_Original_Characters

for those not in the know, there were actually 8 original characters who debuted with the now cancelled card game. some of them became playable as DLCs in Shadows of Valentia.

but out of all of them there's a character named niamh who is explicitly stated to have a world which she originates from that has nothing to do with any of the existing games. everyone else seems to be natives of certain worlds in existing Fe games but outside of the narrative

so about Niamh.

this is her profile

i dont actually think she is the zero emblem, but considering how Fire Emblem Cipher's logo is this...

its uh, sus. these original characters were released in separate sets and the official source of lore to go with it are now pretty much gone. the zero emblem might be something that was once real and in the works in some form, and it feels like its strongly pointing towards cipher.

only the devs know for sure though...

:thinkingemoji:

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, epilogue

Epilogue: Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby: The beginning of the end. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 1.3k Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol consumptions, other than that just a big ball of FLUFF !

series masterlist

A/N: holy shit, this is the end!!! i had so much fun writing this little series, but it wouldn't have been the same without all of you reading, so seriously thank you! now, if anyone on the story taglist would like to be moved to my general spencer reid taglist just let me know, other than that i hope you enjoy this very last chapter!

-

Ever since you were little, you dreamt of your wedding day.

The elegant white dress you would wear, the way you’d style your hair, how your dream venue would look, the perfect guest list, the flowers, the track list, and of course, your husband to be.

You imagined he’d be handsome, a prince to accompany your dream of becoming a princess. You imagined he’d be smart, trustworthy, courageous, and caring. You imagined he’d be funny, make you laugh even when you didn’t want to smile. You imagined he’d be a great listener and have a heart of gold. And you imagined he would always put you first, no matter what.

Dr. Spencer Reid, your husband, was everything you imagined and so much more.

“I believe it was Paulo Coelho who once said, Love is just a word. Until someone comes along and gives it meaning.” All eyes were on Rossi, who with a glass of champagne in the air was delivering a speech he swore he hadn't prepared prior to this moment, “Now, when Y/N and Spencer broke the news and told the team they were finally tying the knot, I personally couldn't have been more thrilled.”

Everyone nodded along to his words as he continued, “And I think I speak for everyone gathered here today when I say these two are made for each other.”

Rossi glanced between the tables until his gaze finally landed on you and the brunette doctor beside you. “To the bride and groom. Cheers!”

“Cheers!” The gathered crowd erupted simultaneously, and what followed was the loud clinking of glasses.

You turned to face Spencer. The hazel-eyed man was already looking at you, a warm smile circling his lips.

“Cheers, my husband.” You lifted your champagne flute a little higher, as he chuckled lightly before following suit, “Cheers, my wife.” Without breaking eye contact, the two of you chinked your glasses together and took a sip of the bubbling liquid.

The evening slowly turned into night. Dozens of tiny fairy lights illuminated the venue, accompanied by the shimmering hue of the disco ball in the middle of the dance floor. Not a single body was sitting down. Everyone swayed to the music, rejoicing in the love which was so clearly floating in the air.

Spencer had his arms wrapped around you, the palms of his hands resting on your lower back. Your arms were around his neck, tips of your fingers tangling in the ends of his soft curls.

The song currently playing was quite fast, but neither of you were particularly keen on the comforting embrace ending - even though you had the rest of your lives to hold each other.

Next to the two of you, on your left, Emily and Tara were jumping around to the beat of the music, while JJ filmed them. Rossi and Will observed the spectacle with drinks in hand and loudly cheered the ladies on. On your right, Penelope was engaged in a dance battle with Derek - one she was undoubtedly winning. Matt, Kristy, and Savannah watched the pair in fits of laughter. And all of the kids ran circles around the gathered group, playing a game of tag with Luke.

“What’s on your mind?” Spencer questioned quietly, after noticing the look of contemplation gracing your features.

“Hmm... I’m just trying to remember the last time we were all together, and this... carefree.” You replied, meeting the ever so welcoming hazel gaze of your husband.

Spencer smiled softly at your response. “Well, we’re here now.” He simply stated, and you couldn't help but playfully roll your eyes.

“You know what doctor, for an extremely outspoken man, and one who seemingly possesses more knowledge than all of us here tonight, you can be very cryptic sometimes.”

“I have to keep a few things to myself, otherwise you'd loose interest in me.” He joked with a chuckle.

The comment earned him another eye roll. You moved one hand from behind his neck and lifted it in between you, curling all fingers inwards apart from the ring finger. His gaze travelled to the notion and the grin on his face widened, because he knew what you were about to say.

“I’m stuck with you now, forever and ever and ever, whether I loose interest or not.” You teased. Spencer’s hand found yours and he brought the finger to his mouth, before pressing a soft kiss to the ring.

“I wouldn't dream of being stuck with anyone else.” Spencer proclaimed, and proceeded to attach his lips to yours in a blissful exchange of breaths. The kiss was short and sweet. Similar to many you’ve shared before, yet different at the same time. Better almost, because he was no longer just Dr. Spencer Reid, he was your Dr. Spencer Reid, and you were now Mrs. Reid.

“I love you, my husband.” You muttered against his lips after pulling away. He smiled, “And I love you, my wife.”

Spencer spun you around once, causing a light giggle to escape you, before he pecked your lips again.

“May I steal her for a moment?” It was Luke who asked, appearing beside the two of you almost out of breath.

“The kids really wore you out, huh?” You teased as Luke smirked, “Oh definitely! Which is why I’d like a dance with the lovely bride so I can compose myself.” He extended his arm and you linked yours with ease.

Shooting Spencer a smile, you disappeared into the crowd with Luke. The doctor watched you for a moment, once again wondering how the hell he got so lucky, when his thoughts were interrupted by a clearing of the throat. He turned his head to find your dad also looking in your direction.

“She’s beautiful, isn't she?” Your dad asked.

“Extremely.” Spencer whispered back, loud enough for Anthony to hear.

The older gentleman shifted in his position, facing Spencer completely. “Thank you.” Anthony stated and extended his arms to wrap them tightly around Spencer. “Thank you for keeping an eye on her, son.”

“I’ll continue to do so for the rest of my life. Nothing’s gonna hurt her ever again, sir” Spencer replied, before quickly correcting himself, “Anthony.”

The older man chuckled lightly as he pulled away. He straightened his tie and proceeded to place his hands on Spencer’s shoulders. “I’ve wanted to say this for quite some time now.” He paused briefly. “Call me dad, son.”

The unexpected request caused the smile on Spencer's face to widen ever so slightly. He didn’t waste time to nod his head in agreement and with one last hand shake, he observed Anthony make his way through the bodies and steal you from Luke for a dance of his own.

Spencer’s heart soared as he watched you sway to the music. In this moment, he was glad he had an eidetic memory that would allow him to remember this sight forever. How filled with joy you seemed, and how ethereal you looked in your white wedding dress under thousands of fairy lights.

Your eyes locked with his amid the celebrating crowd. Amid the off-key singing and crazy dancing. Amid the drinking and loud cheering. Amid every single person that was currently partying between you and Spencer. When his hazel gaze found yours, it felt as if there was no-one else present.

And you were suddenly filled with immense gratitude for everything that has happened since you met the handsome doctor. Grateful for every single step which lead to this very this very moment. Grateful for him, for Spencer.

Your husband.

Today was like any other day.

You woke up at your usual time to the sound of your alarm. You had coffee, and a quick bite to eat while aimlessly scrolling through the social media apps on your phone. You showered, brushed your teeth, got dressed, did your makeup. And when it was time to leave, you walked out the front door locking it behind you, hopped in your car, and drove to work.

Today was like any other day. Except that it wasn’t.

Today wasn’t like any other day because while you carried out all of your menial morning tasks, you felt a great deal happier. Because you weren't doing them alone, and with Spencer by your side, you won't ever have to again.

You finally found your happily ever after.

-

A/N: from the bottom of my heart thank you for your continuous support and going on this journey with me. with love, mal. x

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story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne​, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0, @calm-and-doctor, @halseysunset, @ellesgreenaway, @chipot-lol, 

tags not working: @radtwinkie

[northwest-cryptid]

This post goes over most of it

The big thing that was explained to me a while back also has to do with how an actual addiction is formed, by alteration of the brain to create an artificial dependency.

Essentially the idea is that when you use a substance it releases dopamine in such quantities that your brain actually has to recover from it. The receptors that respond to dopamine are unable to respond to as much and your brain can't produce as much. So the only way you're getting to feel that good again is by abusing the substance to force more dopamine into your system.

Something I've come to understand is that addiction can form one of two ways but only one is actually classified as addiction. That one being the aforementioned alteration of the brain resulting in a dependency that shouldn't otherwise be necessary.

The second, and mind you this isn't real addiction; is a sort of behavioral decision made from poor impulse control and not really being able to prioritize in a healthy manner.

What I mean by that is that someone may decide on impulse to engage with behavior they wouldn't normally prioritize if the immediate benefit outweighs other behavior's payoff.

As an example let's say I have to make a quick decision. I can either spend time with my friends, which is a social interaction, they want to play some online game; so now I'm required to be social and dedicate some level of effort to the interaction. It's easy to say this would be a healthy way to obtain dopamine, I get to enjoy a game with friends. In fact this could provide prolonged dopamine over a few hours.

Or I could sit alone in my room, which doesn't require social interaction, and just watch porn; so that's no effort, immediate dopamine and a lot of it all without having to socialize. This likely would actually result in more dopamine as my stupid monkey brain keeps producing hormones that trigger reward chemicals in my brain for this behavior. However this behavior is less desirable overall from the standpoint of myself being a social individual and not a shut in who watches porn as my only source of dopamine.

Now if I'm suffering from depression and none of my family or friends is really helping with that, it's a very easy answer to just turn to something like porn that gives immediate and extreme amounts of dopamine. However this is literally normal behavior, like my body is producing hormones that make this behavior fun in the first place. So my brain isn't going to be altered by something it's literally built for. I may form a sort of behavioral preference but it's not an actual addiction, at that point it's just lazy decision making based off impulse and not actually wanting to change.

I think the big thing about that to consider is that, it's ultimately not hurting them if they're normal about it.

As someone who has worked in NSFW fields for over a decade I've come to know a lot of people who consider engaging with porn to be just a normal hobby, no different than they might decide to watch a movie or play a video game.

I think people are far too quick to call something an addiction without considering what an addiction really is, from a scientific perspective.

I have ADHD and I'm autistic, so impulse control isn't exactly at the forefront of my best skills, this is why for most my life I thought I must be addicted to MMORPGs. It wasn't until I was sat down and asked why I played these games that I understood the reasoning behind my decisions.

From an outside perspective it's very easy to see a kid shut themselves in a room and play online every day and say that's addiction. If I'd rather play a game than focus on school, social relations, or family; it must be addiction right? Well... If we look at the fact I was literally depressed to the point school wasn't going well for me, I didn't have friends who didn't play online games to begin with and I saw what few friends I had at school every day, and my family was constantly telling me I needed to fix my life; it suddenly becomes a lot more understandable that in reality online games were a way for me to even remotely feel like I'm good at something, which in turn helped me to not be so depressed all the time.

It's not that I was addicted to gaming it was that my behavioral patterns preferred playing games to other activities because I got the most dopamine for the least amount of effort from it. There's no logical reason for me to develop other behavior patterns because the only people telling me I need to are like, my parents and such; which ultimately weren't helping with my depression.

At the end of the day it wasn't addiction, I had control over my actions; it was just the logical right thing to do in my head. This is what I mean when I say addiction fetishists won't admit that porn addiction isn't real.

Because if they really do have control over it but are just choosing to engage with porn obsessively then it not only goes against their kink, but suddenly they feel a need to justify that behavior logically or admit to being some "perverted porn freak" instead of just being an unfortunate victim.

In reality, engaging with adult material isn't actually bad, it doesn't actually inherently do anything to you. It can wrap your perspective of sex, it can change how you view people, sure; but those are things you'd almost need to already be thinking about for it to convince you to a degree you can't just think for yourself. In other words you'd have to be agreeable to the idea before it's proposed to you at which point it's likely not the cause and effect the was people think and rather that people gravitate towards that kind of porn because of their pre-existing views.

Anyways this is just what I'm aware of, there are proper scientists and studies and such that are done by people with degrees and the like and if you poke around the Internet you can find plenty on the topic.

Never try to explain to a NSFW community that you can't be addicted to pornography. That it literally is not an addiction. That it cannot change your brain chemistry in that way. That this has literally been proven.

Not only will they not accept it, you will make them sad.

[fallenfurther]

Homecoming

This is a story I’ve been planning for over a year and finally feel readyish to post it. This first chapter has been reread about ten times so it’s about time to release it. It introduces the main OC for the story, which will spend the next fifteen chapters exploring Jeff’s return to earth before Josie comes back into play. 

Thank you @misssquidtracy for being my cheerleader, this would be no where near as far written if you hadn’t enjoyed it so. 

I hope you enjoy chapter one, which is set between Series 2 and 3. 

AO3 and FFN

First Impressions

Josie stood outside the hall and took a deep breath. You can do this, she thought, you already have the invite for the invite only event. They might be the big bosses, the people who matter, but you matter too. You just have to network. Don't sell yourself short. 

She steeled herself again and swallowed. She really didn't belong here. London was a long way from the compassionate community she grew up with in Scotland. But the idea of getting stuck there and never fulfilling her dreams made her determined, despite the imposter syndrome that plagued her. She looked down at herself and tried to feel comfortable. They were her smartest clothes: a black pencil skirt, blouse with frilly collar and a fitted, thanks to Nancy's excellent seamstress skills, suit jacket. They were all high street brands which wouldn't compare to the designer suits and dresses she'd be mingling with. The only saving grace was the simple diamond chain around her neck. Worth more to Josie than anyone would know, and it gave her the courage she needed. Brushing down her jacket and holding her head high she strode forwards.

She had been so fixated on herself that she almost bumped into a mature couple. Josie stumbled out an apology and let them in first. Flustered, and having lost any semblance of confidence, she entered the room. 

****

Another networking event, this time forced on him by Lady Penelope. Scott scouted out the room as he sipped his Scotch. Many eyes were on the two Tracy brothers, all wanting but not yet daring, to approach. The power of his presence in a room of businessmen never ceased to amaze him. 

"Found someone you like yet?" Gordon chimed cheerfully from beside him, though Scott knew him well enough to hear the bored undertone. Penelope had invited Gordon and of course he had said yes, his brother absolutely smitten with the lady. Scott shook his head. Events like this maintained Tracy Industries reputation, though they also gave Scott his player reputation. It was an easy place to pick up a girlfriend or let off some steam. Scott surveyed the room again. Within sight there were a few women who appealed to him. 

"I don't always leave with someone." 

Scott took a sip of his drink. 

"Oh, so you're not the ever-successful ladies’ man we thought you were?" Gordon teased. 

"Well, I didn't say that." Scott chuckled. "I just don't always want company."

Gordon rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. I bet you've had many failed conquests. You just don't want to admit it."

Scott shook his head. "You believe what you want, Gordon."

"Bet you can't get a random woman to sleep with you," Gordon challenged. 

Scott bit his lip, trying not to rise to Gordon's bait. Yes, Scott had been planning to find some company for the evening, but a bet? He shouldn't sink to that. Thankfully, the CEO of a small engineering company that had worked with Tracy Industries a year ago strolled over. Scott slipped into CEO mode and exchanged the required pleasantries and confirmed that they were considering working with their company again, before one last handshake. 

"So, the Great Scott Tracy is backing down from a challenge?"

Scott rolled his eyes. Gordon was bored and just trying to find a way to entertain himself, but Scott did like a challenge. What's the worst that could happen? With a sigh, he gave in. 

"What are the stakes?"

"If you can't seduce the woman I pick, then you give the swimming pool its biannual clean."

"And if I win, you are on deck lounger duty for a month."

“Deal.”

Gordon held out his hand and Scott shook it. He knew this was a bad idea, but it 

would liven up the evening a little, and Scott was in the mood for a little fun. Something to help him relax after a tough week. His brother’s eyes scouted the room looking for the ideal candidate. The smirk that appeared on Gordon’s face worried him. 

“The next woman to walk through the door.”

Scott raised his eyebrow. It was a gamble, but Scott understood why Gordon had 

done it. He nodded and took a sip of his drink. Both men had their eyes on the door. A few people left, but no one entered. When the door finally opened, they both held their breath. An older couple entered, their outfits and demeanour radiating their importance. A quick sideward glance at Gordon confirmed he was holding back a laugh. Scott sighed before looking back toward the couple. Behind them the door opened again and in walked a lone woman. 

“That one, the nervous blond.” Gordon announced. 

A nod from Scott and he accepted the challenge. His eyes surveyed the woman. She was young, probably about Virgil’s age, and she definitely looked uncomfortable. Her clothing was smart and fitted her well, but he could tell they weren’t the high end fashion that many were wearing that evening. Her hair was loose, brushing down past her shoulders, and there was nothing wrong with her features. She had the kind of appearance most people would look over, including himself, for someone more striking. Scott started to formulate a strike plan. He knew he had to avoid overwhelming her, she probably wouldn’t be expecting to get the attention he was going to give her. He turned back to his brother; whose attention had turned to something else. Scott followed Gordon’s gaze to see Lady Penelope with a tall man, laughing away. The man was obviously flirting with the aristocrat. The clenched jaw and stiffened stance of the aquanaut gave in to jealousy he was feeling. Without a second thought, Gordon strolled over to the gathering and joined in, a fake smile plastered his face. Scott shook his head, before turning back to his target. 

****

The glass was chilled in her hand, and Josie took a sip of the non-alcoholic mojito with the hopes it would help steady her nerves. Practicing her breathing techniques briefly, she turned around only to come face to chest with someone. She was flustered again and felt heat rise in her cheeks. Her eyes fell on the man in front of her and her heart jumped. 

She froze. Her instincts put her on high alert. This man looked like trouble, and she had just made contact with his deep blue eyes. He smiled at her, dimples deepening in his cheeks when he did so. Mind over body, mind over body, she repeated in her head. It was the intensity he gave off, the way he held himself like he was in control. He hadn't been surprised by her almost bumping into him. He'd know she was there and hadn't moved. She'd seen this before at university, she'd learnt the signs from experience. But still, why did they always have to be attractive? Why did they always gravitate to her? Josie rolled her shoulders back and gave him a brief nod. 

“Excuse me.” Josie smiled politely, ducking as gracefully as she could past him. 

“I’ve not seen you here before.”

Josie paused. His deep voice demanded her attention. She was here to network, at least she could get him over and done with. She could keep her cool, watch out for his game. Josie was wiser now. She turned around and held out her hand.

“Josie McNelly, engineer for Taybrooke Aeronautics, Satellite division.”

He shook her hand firmly. The man looked familiar, though she couldn't place where from. 

“Scott Tracy, CEO of Tracy Industries.”

That explained the familiarity. She smile grew as she thought of her brother’s prized 

poster of Jeff Tracy which had hung above his bed. Josie could see the resemblance 

to the astronaut. Same eyes for certain. She'd been shocked at the sudden loss of the great Jeff Tracy. Not that her brother had ever met him, but the astronaut had been such a big part of their childhood. Especially the fights over who was greater, her admiration for Neil Armstrong was still just as strong. The memories threw her, and suddenly she had no idea what to say next. How do you network again? What do you talk about with the CEO of Tracy Industries, one of the best engineering companies in the world? Facts about the company filled Josie's head and thankfully one stood out.

"Tracy Industries doesn't have a UK branch, so may I ask what brings you to London?" 

Josie took a deep breath as the man paused; glad she could make an impression. She congratulated herself while remembering what she was here to do. She'd failed to get a job at Tracy Industries on multiple occasions, maybe this could be a way in. She almost laughed at herself. The CEO was unlikely to care for someone as low down the pecking order as she. Part of her wanted to try, just in case. If people less qualified could get experience and jobs over her by knowing the right people, maybe she could too. That was why she was here, to get the contacts so she could play their game. 

"You've done your research. Tracy Industries works with some UK based companies that are represented here tonight, and the event is being hosted by a good friend of mine. I've not heard of Taybrooke Aeronautics before, care to give me some insight?"

His strikingly blue eyes gazed down at her with sincerity. It threw Josie to see it in someone she suspected of having ulterior motives, however she'd tried to keep her cool. Staying wary, she engaged with him. 

"Taybrooke Aeronautics is a small Scottish company. It started with plane design and manufacturing then branched out into satellites and astronautical technology. It's well known for its niche and unique satellite designs. It's entirely based in Scotland and has various sites throughout the country."

"Have they done anything I might have heard of?"

"Have you heard of Global One?" 

"The GDF's space station."

"Yes, the thrusters that keep it in orbit are a product of Taybrooke Aeronautics. They are actually my design."

"Your design? Aren't they normally developed by a team of engineers."

The surprise on Mr Tracy's face was priceless. It wasn't the first time people were shocked by what Josie could do, and she was planning to make sure it wasn't the last. If she wanted to become a big name rocket designer, she was going to have to blow a few minds. 

"The initial design was mine, obviously other engineers had input over materials and the like, but the actual design hasn't changed much. Taybrooke owns the patent, but my name is on it, so you can check it if you don't believe me. They aren't the only thing I've designed that's currently on orbit. Two of my resistojet rockets were used in some private satellites that were launched late last year."

Josie refused to hide her pride. Her family was proud of her achievements even if they didn't understand them. It was why she was here, to continue making them proud of her. She and her brother had had a dream and she was going to fulfil it if she could. 

"That's impressive. Have you considered applying for a role in the Tracy Industries aeronautical department? I'm sure we are always in need of people with your kind of skills."

Josie took a deep breath. She wanted to believe Mr Tracy. Every engineer wanted a job at Tracy Industries, it was considered one of the industry leads and had fantastic employee benefits. The company was known worldwide for taking care of its workforce, but she had never made the cut. Neither did she believe this man would remember her beyond today. It was time to end this conversation and see if anyone here might actually be interested in hiring an engineer. Josie met his gaze and prepared to say her piece. 

"I have applied for various aeronautical and astronautical roles at Tracy Industries since graduating. I've been called to interview twice, one at the European branch in Germany and another at the Japanese branch. Both times I was turned away for lack of experience. The Japanese branch didn't believe I would fit in with the company's culture and the European job was given to the son of one of the employees. It appears that I’m currently not what Tracy Industries is seeking. It’s been interesting talking with you Mr Tracy, but I have just spotted someone that I would really like to speak with, so if you’d kindly excuse me. Have a pleasant rest of the evening.” 

Josie turned and strode away from Mr Tracy. She headed into the crowd, not looking back, keeping her eyes open for the people she'd flagged on the short guest list she had managed to obtain. There were representatives here that might help get her into the industry. Not that she wouldn't stop applying to Tracy Industries jobs, a girl could dream, but she was realistic. Josie knew she had to work her way up and she needed to make the right contacts. 

****

Scott watched Josie walk away. She weaved into the crowd and disappeared from his sight. Gordon had lucked out and this bet was going to be harder than he thought. Miss McNelly may be nervous, but there was something beneath her words and her guard was up. He would have to change his approach, and unfortunately, he couldn't use Tracy Industries as bait. Josie wanted a job and she seemed to believe Tracy Industries didn't want her. Even if he could promise her a job, he was sure she wouldn't believe him. Scott was so used to women warming to him, swooning over his smile, and in many cases excited by the prospect of spending the evening with someone from International Rescue. Josie hadn't even mentioned it or made an indication that she knew he was part of the elusive organisation. Scott headed to the bar and ordered another scotch. He lent against the polished wood, swirling the drink in thought. He had to get her to lower her guard, to open up. His eyes hit the crowd and he sighed. Scott knew he was going to have to take the plunge. 

Almost an hour later and Scott hadn't been able to get close to Miss McNelly. He'd glimpsed her but being in the crowd meant he had to be polite to the other attendees, especially those who the company did business with. Duty called without the usual klaxon that echoed through the villa. Although Scott did want to be rescued from the current conversation; fisheries in the Atlantic were more Gordon's realm. He inspected the room, going from head to head in search of Miss McNelly. He easily spotted Gordon, standing next to Lady Penelope who was conversing with a young businessman. At least his brother wasn't having much luck either. Continuing, he spotted Mr Sandip with whom he'd had a pleasant conversation with at a previous gala. Excusing himself, Scott headed over to the man, but as he neared, Scott got a glimpse of whom he was talking to. Josie's hands were moving as she described something, and as he stepped up to the pair, he could hear the enthusiasm in her voice. There was a sparkle in her grey eyes that hadn't been there previously. 

"Mr Tracy! How good to see you again? How have you been?"

Mitchell Sandip had spotted him out of the corner of his eye and had turned to offer him a hand, which Scott took with a smile. 

"I'm very well, thank you, though I wasn't expecting to see you here." 

"Yes, well, the representative from the engineering department that was meant to attend became unwell. With so few people free to come, I drew the short straw. Though, seeing you has greatly improved my night."

Scott laughed at the accountant, his friendly demeanour had charmed Scott last time they had met. 

"Now, Mr Tracy, have you met Miss McNelly? She has quite the head for numbers. Unfortunately, she's not after an accounting job otherwise I'd snap her up before anyone else could!"

Scott turned to the woman in question, eyebrow raised. Head for numbers, well she was an engineer. He watched her straight up and nod politely at him. 

"I'm rather good with calculations.”

Mitchell's hand landed on Scott's arm, drawing his attention away from Miss McNelly. The shorter man's hazel eyes peered up at him full of excitement.

"She's being incredibly modest, Mr Tracy. I was certain someone was pilfering funds, and after a week I managed to work out who and how, but I hadn't mentioned it to anyone yet. I’ve just finished collecting all the evidence and sent it to HR. Well, I was just discussing yearly finances with Mr Yang over there, and I was just throwing a lot of numbers about, as you do, trying to show off, when Miss McNelly pipes up saying my calculations are wrong. I told her they weren't, and she said they had to be unless someone was swindling money. I was shocked that she could work it out like that, then she rattled off her calculations faster than anything. Like I said, I hadn’t told anyone and Miss McNelly here was able to work it out in minutes. Obviously, I had to confirm this wasn’t just a one off, so Mr Yang and I rattled a few numbers off, and Josie performed the calculations there and then. All in her head and fast as can be. It was incredible!"

Scott turned with Mitchell back to Miss McNelly. There was a proud smile on her face, even if he could see that she was still nervous. Her fingers were playing gently with the hem of her jacket. 

"I've always been fast with numbers."

"Are you certain you don't want to be an accountant?"

Miss McNelly laughed, a blush coming to her cheeks. 

"As I told the Professor during my interview at Cambridge, when he asked why I was pursuing a career in engineering over mathematics; for me mathematics is easy. I don't want to be bored. I want to be challenged." 

A cheeky grin graced Josie's lips, obviously warming to Mitchell's easy charm. It was hard not to smile around Mitchell, the man had a unique manner that just set people at ease. 

"How about a drink then?" 

“Fantastic idea, Mr Tracy. I’m sure Miss McNelly is in need of one too.”

Scott beckoned over a waiter, who swiftly moved around the other attendees to reach them. 

"I'll have a sherry, if you don't mind."

"I'll have a Scotch please. What would you like, Miss McNelly, another mojito?"

Josie hesitated a moment and seemed to become uneasy, her fingers returning to her hem. 

"Another mojito would be lovely, thank you." 

"Is that all?"

"Yes, thank you."

Scott dismissed the waiter, still intrigued by Miss McNelly. There was so much to uncover, and although he was starting to feel that he'd be cleaning the pool next week, he hadn't given up. Mitchell was just the person he needed to help break down those walls of hers.

"So, a Cambridge graduate then? I've a friend who did engineering at Cambridge university."

"Yes, it's a fantastic institution. It took me a year to find my feet, but I thrived once I did. Did you visit your friend while he was there?"

Scott chuckled slightly at the thought of visiting Brains at university. His father hadn't met the man yet and he would have been a kid himself. 

"No, I never got the chance."

"That's a shame. It's like a world of its own. All the best equipment within old buildings and traditions which go back centuries. Although it was fun at the start, with all the formal dinners and dressing up in your gown, it does get a little mundane after the umpteenth time. Sure, it's a three course meal with wine from some excellent chefs, but you can't eat that rich food every day and it's expensive. I could keep myself fed and watered for a week for the price of two evening meals!"

"I must admit, I didn't make the best decisions when it came to food during my first years in the Air Force."

Scott thought back to the instant noodles and takeaways he'd indulged in on the weekends. The freedom that came with not having to eat Grandma's home cooking had been liberating. Though he did eventually learn to cook a few simple dishes during his time in the Air Force. 

"Most of us make bad choices at university. It comes with being young and free." 

There was a sadness in her tone and her face dimmed slightly. What mistakes had this woman made that she regretted? Did it have something to do with the guard she hid behind? She put on a forced smile, and he knew he had to keep her engaged. Unfortunately, Lady Penelope and Gordon decided to make their entrance to the group. 

"Oh! Why hello Lady Penelope, and you are…."

Mitchell held out his hand to Gordon, who shook it with his usual amount of enthusiasm. Out of the corner of his eye, Scott caught the movement of Miss McNelly's hand. She was once again fiddling with her jacket. 

"Gordon Tracy."

"Ahhh, Mr Tracy's brother. I see the resemblance now."

Scott hid his laugh behind a grin, though he caught Miss McNelly’s eyes darting between him and Gordon. He wondered if she was picking up on the same resemblance. Scott watched as Lady Penelope, and then Gordon, introduced themselves. The drinks they had ordered arrived, and Scott noted the way Miss McNelly took a tentative sip of the drink. The small talk started, though Scott caught the small sips she took frequently, as a way to keep herself busy. She was definitely out of her element, which might explain why her guard was up. He listened in, gaining snippets of information about the woman. Gordon was keen to keep her chatting, probably as a way of distracting her from him, thus improving the chances Scott was going to lose the bet. After a while, Miss McNelly politely excused herself. Scott watched as she headed in the direction of the bathrooms, he hoped that meant she’d be back. 

“Miss McNelly is quite the interesting character, don’t you think Scott?”

Scott could see the small grin on his brother's face and the gleam in his eye that revealed to Scott the hidden meaning. Gordon thought the bet was his and he’d gotten out of his chore. Another business associate of Tracy Industries joined their group and stole Scott’s attention. Miss McNelly never returned. 

****

Finally getting away from yet another business proposal, Scott headed to the bar where Gordon was perched. He lent against it and turned to survey the room with his brother. 

"No success then?"

"As much as you've had with Lady Penelope."

Scott's eyes fell on Miss McNelly. She was chatting with Mitchell again. Maybe he still had a chance. Turning to the bartender he ordered a Scotch and mojito. Gordon raised his eyebrow at the order. 

"One last chance. I'm not going to give in that easily."

Scott grabbed the drinks and headed toward Miss McNelly. She'd just shaken hands with Mitchell and the man had turned to chase down someone on the other side of the room. He took a breath and turned on the charm. 

***

Josie watched Mr Sandip hurry after someone and smiled to herself. He'd promised to pass on her details to recruitment. She was feeling beat but was pretty pleased with her efforts. She'd sold her company and thrown out a few business cards. Hopefully she'd made her mark. The whole event hadn't been as bad as she'd expected, though that one alcoholic drink had eased her nerves a little. She was happy to have been able to keep it to one. Glancing at her watch, she confirmed it was late and she still had some travelling to do. It was time for her to leave. 

"Miss McNelly, care to have a drink with me?"

Dread filled her as the familiar voice spoke from behind. Turning she immediately noticed Mr Tracy was standing between her and the exit. She took a deep breath. In the man's hands were two drinks: an amber spirit and a mojito. Her breath caught in her throat, the situation bringing her back to a night she wanted to forget.

"You got me a drink?" 

She stared at the glass. She suspected it had alcohol in it, having ordered one in front of him, but what else did it contain? She couldn't confirm it wasn't spiked. Would he do that sort of thing? Save people one day, drug them the next? Rich people never made sense to her though. They defied logic. 

"I thought we could chat a little more." 

He held out the mojito, forcing Josie to make a choice. Did she trust the man? She looked up into his face. He had a warm smile that met his eyes and she wanted to trust him. She wanted so much to believe he was a good guy. But her fear was there, deep inside as it always was, and she couldn't. She smiled at him as she reached out her right hand and plucked the glass of what she hoped was scotch, from his grip. Josie kept her eyes locked on his as she raised the glass to her lips. The amber liquid was not one she'd tried before, probably a vintage out of her price range. She was thankful it wasn't peaty; she hates those. His mouth dropped in shock as he looked at the cocktail in his hand. Josie couldn’t help the smile as she fought not to laugh. She let the liquid roll over her tongue and down her throat. 

"I'm Scottish and it's the end of the night. You never asked me what I wanted." 

She locked eyes with him as the shock faded from his face. Mr Tracy glanced down at the cocktail briefly, indecision in his eyes. Josie was still on edge, ready to step back if she had to. She decided to test the water. 

"Take a sip. The mojitos here are the best."

Josie challenged him. If he refused to drink it then it must be spiked. If it wasn't, there was no reason not to take a sip. His hand stayed where it was. 

"I'd rather the scotch."

"This scotch is mine now, and you don't want to waste that drink now, do you?"

****

Miss McNelly's face was serious. Scott felt slightly uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze. It was a challenge. For some reason, she wanted him to drink the mojito. He hadn’t expected her to take his drink and she had sipped it without grimacing. Never before had he met someone who acted as she did. Most people wanted to know more about him, most pestered about International Rescue, but not Miss McNelly. It felt like she had never warmed to him, even if she had seemed better and more relaxed during their conversation with Mitchell. Scott didn't want to drink the mojito; it was his most despised cocktail. What was this woman's game? 

"No, thank you."

"Fine." 

Scott was shocked again when Miss McNelly took the cocktail from him. What happened next, happened both at lightning speed and in slow motion. There was nothing Scott could do to stop it. 

"Thank you for the drink, but I don't appreciate the attention you've given me. I tried to make it clear I wasn't interested."

The cocktail glass was thrust in his direction, its contents flying out at him. Ice and mint hit his face as the sticky fluid started to soak into his shirt. As if that wasn't enough Miss McNelly stood on her toes, stretched up and poured the scotch into his hair. It trickled down his neck. 

“I’m not interested.”

Miss McNelly stalked past him. Scott didn't know how to react. One part of him wanted to storm after her and demand an explanation, though that would probably make things worse. This is what he gets for accepting a silly bet. He turned on his heel and headed towards the exit. Gordon was sitting at the bar and the smirk on his face became laugher as Scott approached. His brother was struggling to stay in his stool. 

"I'm calling it a night."

"Sure Scott….I look forward...to watching you...clean the pool." Gordon gasped between spasms of laughter. 

****

Josie bolted. She started running once she had heard the door shut. She didn't stop, not looking back and running as fast as she could to the nearest light rail station. Fear was a great motivator, and she didn't slow until she was on the platform where she gasped for breath. Josie had never been a runner. She hated it. Her eyes never left the entrance until she was on the train. Only then could she start to relax. Once in the carriage the tears started to fall. She’d overreacted. She'd made a scene. Her body shook. How stupid could she be? Slipping her phone out of her jacket she swiped up her call history and tapped the first person on the list. 

****

Josie lay back on the bench. It was around the corner from the hostel she’d booked for the night. The cheapest way to stay in London was to share a bunk bed with a stranger. There was no way she could have a private conversation in a room of sleeping people, and this random street bench was the easiest option. If there was ever someone she needed right now, it was her best friend Graham. His thick Scottish accent rang out from her phone. 

“Seriously Josie, ye need to stop seeing every man as a potential threat. Cannae a man just be polite?”

“I don’t suspect all men, just the ones that make me feel uncomfortable.”

“Ye said this guy was Scott Tracy, right?”

“Yes.”

“Scott Tracy, the Commander of International Rescue and pilot of Thunderbird One?”

“Maybe, I can’t remember which one flies which.”

“Hold on, ye can list every damned fact available about the Thunderbirds, but ye cannae tell me who pilots them?”

“You sound like my brother! Why should I care who flies the Thunderbird? I want to know how they fly!”

Graham rolled his eyes, and Josie couldn’t help but laugh at him. She twisted onto her front, her arm aching from holding her phone in the air. 

“Well, I’ve looked him up and I think ye would have been safe to drink that mojito. Although I’ll admit that he probably was hitting on ye. According to the gossip blogs he has picked up the odd girlfriend from events like that. Not that they last long, with him spending most of his time savin' people. If ye hadn’t been so aggressive ye could be heading back to Scotland with a great story! Imagine being able to say ye slept with the pilot of Thunderbird One!”

“A. I prefer Thunderbird Three. B. I’d rather spend the night with Thunderbird One herself. C. If I’d known, I would have given him your number.”

Josie stuck her tongue out, only to watch Graham contort his face in response. They both ended up in a fit of giggles. 

“At least ye still have a good story for the next campfire. Many girls have slept with Mr Thunderbird One, but I doubt many can claim they threw a drink in his face.”

A groan left Josie as she placed her forehead against the wood, breathing in its damp musk. She was never going to forget this and once it’d been passed round the town, it would definitely make its way to work. They would never let her go to another event again. 

“I’m an idiot. The whole night was pointless. No one is going to want to hire me now.”

“Definitely an idiot. They only let those into private schools.”

Josie scowled at her friend, though she was fighting a smile. It was an old joke, one that Graham used when she needed to see perspective. It reminded both of them how far they had come. Even if Josie was still stuck in Scotland. She yawned at the same time as the fifteen-minute warning was announced on Graham’s end. 

“Looks like we’re both in bunks tonight.” 

“Righty-ho. G'night Josie.”

"G’night Grey.”

Josie was just about to end the call when Graham decided to get the last word in. 

“And Jo, FYI Gordon Tracy pilots Thunderbird Four.”

Josie glared at him. The last thing she heard was Graham’s laughter as the screen went black. Cradling her phone in her hand, she stared at it, before turning her head to the sky. She couldn't see the stars that she knew were there. Josie may not have her dream job, yet, but Graham always reminded her of how lucky she was.

[lucywritesreid]

Our own little island

Thank you for all the feedback from my last fic :3 I really don’t have any explanation for this other than....yeah...Spencer during lockdown haha.

Summary: Spencer and Y/N Have been living in their own private bubble during lockdown. YN has discovered a game and initially Spencer shows no interest...

There wasn’t much to say about the last few months other than they had been… weird. Weird on a global scale. You almost couldn’t believe how quickly everything went from normal to complete lockdown and watching the news every night had set you into complete panic mode. Both you and your highly germ-phobic boyfriend were more than happy to comply with the necessary restrictions. Spencer’s rational and calm mindset kept you both prepared and he did everything possible to reduce your anxiety. You would be forever grateful to have him by your side at such a horrible time.

For you the hardest adjustment was not seeing your work friends every day. It was odd to not spend every waking moment surrounded by all the people you loved the most. You didn’t realise just how much you would miss them despite seeing them all the time anyway. Friday night became the highlight. Your team, set up by Garcia, started a weekly quiz whereby everyone joined a Zoom call and one member was chosen to deliver a set of questions. Granted, it took Rossi a few failed attempts to be both seen and heard on camera, but you had all got it working in the end. Garcia’s quiz was based on cute, fluffy cartoon characters, Rossi delivered a mastermind style quiz all about the ratpack, Hotch surprised everyone with an in depth quiz about the employees of the FBI (where you realised he knew way more about personal lives of his colleagues) and you did pop culture through the ages. You had warned Spencer that ‘the history of the atom’ wasn’t in keeping with the Friday night spirit, and despite being met by many groans, he ended up presenting a fun and engaging quiz where losers had to take a shot for every question wrong. No surprise that he was the only one still standing by the end.

 The truth was that despite all the chaos and uncertainty, you realised that you were lucky to have so much time spent with the man you loved. Sure, you worked together, but that was as professional as you both could manage. Stolen kisses at the back of the jet and shoulder squeezes were as close as you could get whilst working. But at home, you both had free reign of each other. You were both night owls, sleeping through most of the sunshine. You spent your evenings playing chess, re-watching old horror movies and having a lot of sex. You were sure that you were keeping your local Thai restaurant in business, living mainly off that and tubs of ice cream. It was almost therapeutic spending your time lounging around in your comfortable clothes. Hours would pass while you both sat reading in silence (you, a few chapters, Spencer, a novel or three…), his arm slowly brushing the inside of your leg as you read. On the more anxious nights, Spencer would do absolutely anything to calm you down, making sure you were okay. He’d perform Shakespeare, teach you how to cheat cards, read to you in different languages and even let you braid the ends of his hair.

 You were very sure you were going to marry Spencer Reid.

 There was one of your hobbies that he didn’t quite understand. In the first few weeks at home, you had invested in a Nintendo Switch, mainly from the push of Garcia but you had been eyeing it up since it first came out. You spent many nights on animal crossing visiting Garcia and her magic candy land island. It was one way to experience the outside world without actually being there. There was something wholly therapeutic about going fishing, planting flowers and giving gifts to your wonderful animal villagers.

 Spencer, of course, didn’t really understand the appeal. Despite having the most wonderful brain you’d ever met, he seemed to have a block when it came to technology. He never discouraged you playing, but always looked over your shoulder with a furrowed brow whenever he saw you.

 “See that, y/n, there’s no way all those fossils would be in such close proximity to one another in such a small area.” He commented on more than one occasion. “What use is archaeology when they are just there on the ground for you to see?”

 “Spence, it’s a fictional world, I really don’t think they took into account geographical locations of fossils…” you couldn’t help but laugh whenever you spoke about it.

 “Don’t even get me started on the physical anatomy of these animals! How disproportioned they are from the real thing! And the colours, y/n! Have you ever met a purple tiger before?”

 You knew that he meant no harm from his remarks and was probably getting enjoyment out of it. So you’d shrug, offer him a turn and wait for some comment about how he was going to read an FBI report from 1987 again, and open your switch back up once he was distracted.

 One night, you had stayed up late to make wishes on your island. You really needed the star fragments to craft your new DIY recipes and had spent hours posed in position, ready to make a wish. You hadn’t realised that you were falling asleep and your switch was falling out of your hand, until…

 “YES! YES! Take that you stupid arachnid!” you heard a shout.

 Waking up and looking to your left, you blinked in amazement to see Spencer sat with your switch gripped between his fingers.

 “Spence? What are you doing? Are you okay?!” Many sleepless nights and bad dreams had left you very susceptible to fear when you heard shouting.

 He looked over to you and his cheeks flushed. “Oh, y/n, honey I didn’t mean to wake you I’m sorry! It’s just you fell asleep with your game in your hand, I went to turn it off and ended up talking about the stars with this wonderful little owl… She just tells you all these facts. And they are accurate, too! I even wished upon a star.”

 “That’s Celeste.” You commented, and yawned. “Spence, what time is it?”

 He squinted at the screen before replying, “4am.”

 You laughed. “And how long have you been playing animal crossing?”

 His focus went back to the screen but he carried on talking to you. “Oh, a few hours now! I’ve just caught a tarantula, the stupid son of a bitch bit me before! Did you know they could bite you in the game? I was just running around trying to get my bearings and it ran up behind me and bit me. But I showed it who’s boss. And hey! It turns out I was wrong about the fossils, in a sense..”

 You raised one eyebrow, “Dr Reid, wrong?”

 “Well, not wrong exactly. It’s still highly unlikely that they would be so close together, so close to houses, and be found in just one dig. But I took one to the museum after I dug it up and was really surprised. I hadn’t realised how accurate the information provided was about these fossils! And the details in the display, too! You’ve got yourself rather an impressive collection, y/n.”

“Mhmm.” Tiredness was setting in but listening to Spencer talk about your game was more than entertaining. You sat up slowly, leaned across and rested your head on his shoulder. “What else have you been up to?”

 “Well I recalculated the position of some of your flowers to maximise chances of getting hybrids. I know purple is your favourite colour so I looked into the best way to get purple flowers!” Spencer was speaking in that quick, animated tone that told you he was really into something. “I even researched the quickest and most beneficial ways of befriending your villagers to maximise the gifts that they give you. I spent a lot of time talking to the Raymond character.”

 “Raymond reminds me of you, y’know. Dapper, sophisticated, looks great in glasses…” you replied, nudging his shoulder with your forehead. “How did you find out all of this?”

 “Well, I read the whole Nookipedia website and that gave me a pretty good idea.” He turned to you and grinned. Of course, the genius had become the master of your favourite game in a matter of hours. “You can test me on any of the villagers’ names and personality types.”

 You looked down and saw piles of notepaper, all scribbled on, splayed out across the bed. You picked one up entitled ‘terraforming.’ Instead of trying to decipher Spencer’s handwriting, you decided to ask him about it. “Spence… what’s all this paper? What are these drawings?” You tilted your head and the paper simultaneously to try and get a better understanding of his scribbles.

 “Oh! I’ve been looking into reshaping your island. I came up with a few designs I thought you might like. My personal favourite is the honeybee, cos I know they are your favourite, so I calculated how we can use the terraforming tool to turn your island into a bee. Garcia would be so jealous and…” he trailed off.

 “What’s the matter?”

 He looked back at you with big puppy dog eyes. He chewed on his bottom lip a little before he spoke. “I’ve gone too far, haven’t I? This was your game, your private space, I never meant to take over. You really have done a great job…”

 All you could do was laugh. You leaned over and planted a reassuring kiss on his cheek. “Honestly? I’m really happy that you’re into this now. It means I can talk to you about it. Just you wait until you see Garcia’s island!”

“Really, you’re not mad at me?”

“It would be impossible to be mad at you, Spence. Maybe we’ll set up your own character now.”

And with that, you kissed him again, nuzzling into the comfort of his arm. “Show me what else you’ve been doing…”

[retrievablememories]

moonlight | jaehyun (m)

title: moonlight pairing: jaehyun x reader genre: smut request: “Hi 😘 Nct members going to a strip club and jaehyun getting a private dance that turns into fucking scenario please? Can be smutty” word count: 3.2k warnings: sex work, oral sex (male receiving), dirty talk, riding a/n: I admittedly don’t know much about strip clubs at my big age of 23 💀 I researched what I could but took some creative liberties. I only included a handful of nct members here since that is a looot of men lol 

“Don’t look now, but your pretty boy and his group of friends are back. Diane says their car is outside,” Anya says, walking into the dressing room where the rest of the girls are. Your interest is piqued at this, though you pretend not to hear her as you finish applying your makeup. Serena isn’t so quick to let you off the hook.

“Isn’t that your boyfriend? Your little boy toy?” Serena asks, leaning closer and batting her eyelashes at you.

You pause with the mascara wand in your hand. “What boyfriend?” you scoff, though you already know exactly what she’s talking about.

“Girl, stop pretending like you’re not into him or some shit. You look at him almost as much as he stares at you!” Anya rolls her eyes and puts her hand on her hip, looking every bit of an Amazon in her 6-inch heels.

“He’s yet to request a private dance, so…I’m not sweatin’ over him. And anyway, he’s no boyfriend of mine if he ain’t paying the bills.”

“Okay, I heard that one!” Both Serena and Anya laugh at your comment. But now that you know he’s here, you are suddenly a little more motivated to dance well tonight. Not that you don’t already, but a little extra never hurt anyone.

Him and his idol friends come around to Moonlight every so often, one weekend or so a month, to get their rocks off. They’re from that kpop group NCT, and you’ve figured out the one who stares is Jaehyun. But you don’t know a ton about them other than those bare facts.

With Moonlight being one of a few ultra-diverse strip clubs in Seoul, it rose to popularity fairly quickly after its establishment. And to no one’s surprise — no one who truly knows the game, anyway — there are always a lot of kpop idols who come to watch the dancers. Their fans would undoubtedly be scandalized if they knew, but hey, that ain’t your problem. You’re here to make money, have fun, and seduce starry-eyed, lonely men. If they’re attractive, that’s only a bonus.

The House Mother, Daya, comes to stand in the doorway and calls your name. “You’re up next girl, so move that ass!”

“I’m coming,” you sigh dramatically, but there are no hard feelings at all. She’s one of the nicer club owners in this part of the city, one who treats all the girls like equals no matter what their skin color or creed is. And when you work in a club as popular and as multicultural as Moonlight, you need someone there to keep the drama to a minimum.

--

The club is as dim as ever, but the stage lights remain at a low shine, ready to come on full blast once the next dancer appears. The music thumps so heavily that the bass seems to become one with the building, making every part of the club feel alive with energy. A group of 5 men enter, weaving their way through the seats to make it to their usual spot next to the stage.

“Wow, can’t believe we’re actually in a strip club right now, haha…” Mark tries to play it cool, but he’s not very good at hiding his nervousness. This is only his first strip club outing with the other boys, after all. He taps his fingers on his legs like he’s playing the drums.

“Yeah, could’ve sworn we were on Mars instead,” Doyoung says, and the others laugh while Mark rolls his eyes.

Mark isn’t the only one whose nerves are getting to him, though. Johnny notices Jaehyun’s restless demeanor as the rest of them settle in, and he muffles a laugh, nudging the younger man. “God, I hope that one dancer you like is here tonight, you look like you’re about to come out of your clothes.”

“She’s way out of your league,” Ten snickers.

“Stop acting like I’m ugly. I could get her any time,” Jaehyun argues, glaring at the other man.

“She’s a woman of her own, not something you can take as you please, Jaehyun!” Johnny says, and both Ten and Jaehyun laugh.

“Johnny, you should keep an eye out for your own crush.” Doyoung gives him a knowing look, and he only laughs sheepishly in response.

It isn’t long before you appear on the stage, the club bursting with cheers and claps and the dual spotlights flickering to full illumination. The spotlights glisten on your skin and reflect off the light pink lingerie set you’re wearing, making you look akin to a goddess—at least in Jaehyun’s eyes. You step out from behind the velvety curtains, letting the fabric caress your body before making your way towards the pole in the middle of the stage.

Your signature song plays as you twist yourself around the pole and perform your favorite tricks, letting yourself be hyped up and carried away by the people around you calling your stage name and throwing bills at your feet. The world spins as you do, revolving around the pole with your legs touching the sky. You grin at the upside-down faces staring back at you, leaving your charm to do all the talking.

You finish your pole routine by slowly sliding down to the base of it and landing carefully in a split. Your back is facing the NCT boys, though you look over your shoulder to flash a sultry look at the audience. This one is always a crowd-pleaser—though you also use this move as an excuse to catch a glimpse of Jaehyun’s expression. You aren’t disappointed by the hunger written across his gaze.

You gracefully turn your body to them, getting on your hands and knees so they have a full view of your chest. As you crawl closer to the end of the stage, Jaheyun’s figure grows clearer underneath the club’s simultaneously dark and light atmosphere. He’s close enough to reach out and touch. 

So you do—bringing your legs out in front of you and spreading them in an appealing stretch before resting them on his shoulders, one after the other. Other men in the club seethe with envy. Jaehyun himself is stuck like a fish out of water, blushing madly but also completely into your display.

Beside him, Doyoung whoops and Johnny whistles. You lift your legs off of Jaehyun gracefully and follow the move by letting your silk robe slip off your shoulders, fully exposing the bare skin of your shoulders and back. Even this is enough to get the men riled up again, and you revel in their cheers.

Jaehyun knows enough strip club etiquette than to try to touch you, and you take advantage of this by gliding off the stage and circling him like he’s your prey. You purposely brush your silk robe over his body, letting it cocoon him in your scent. His fingers drift across it, and he wonders if it could possibly be as soft as your skin looks—or maybe you’re even softer.

Before he can truly get into it, you’ve flitted off to another nearby table of men, taking your silk with you.

“Holy fuck,” Mark looks like a deer in the headlights, and his legs are crossed uncomfortably to hide his obvious boner. 

“The baby’s gonna implode!” Ten laughs.

“Well hold it, because the night is just beginning!” Doyoung shouts.

Jaehyun’s eyes keep coming over to you even as you rotate to one of the other, smaller platforms in the club, another girl taking your spot on the main stage.

--

“You really put it on him tonight, huh?” Serena says, putting her arm around your shoulders. “He’s totally in love. Watch him come to the next show with an engagement ring.” You chuckle at that idea. You find it strangely endearing. You wouldn’t marry him without knowing him, of course, but the idea of having him that tightly wrapped around your finger makes you grin.

You don’t have long to think about it before Daya is coming to break up your kiking fest.

“You’ve got a request for a private dance from one Jaehyun. Sound familiar?” Daya announces. Serena nudges you, and you nod. Daya raises her eyebrows. “You up for it?”

The corners of your lips curl up in a smile. “Give me 5 to freshen up.”

--

Moonlight holds a dozen or so rooms within its second story, all solely reserved for private dances. You climb the stairs slowly in your heels, partly because you don’t want to trip and partly because you’re slightly nervous about what to expect. There’s an abundance of security guards stationed on this level—and each room has an emergency button—so you’re not worried about safety, per se. Whoever this Jaehyun guy really is, you hope he can meet a few of your expectations, at least. Maybe it’s a little embarrassing, but you’ve built him up in your mind more than you’ve allowed yourself with other club-goers.

The room number is 202. You stand in front of the door for a few moments to take several deep breaths. Then you relax your body, talking yourself back into your Performance mode, and open the door.

“Who’s this handsome man?” Jaehyun looks up to see you standing in the doorway, still wearing your outfit from the stage. He sits up on the plush black couch that stands out from the blazing purple hue of the rest of the room. A row of mirrors frames the wall behind the couch, reflecting your own figure back to you. He looks a bit disheveled, with his shirt unbuttoned and his slacks crooked, but it’s a good look for him.

He leans forward to drink in your body, his eyes drifting up from the garters resting against your thighs to the lacy bra covering your breasts, and you smile underneath his gaze. “Jaehyun. And you’re ______...right?”

“Of course. You should know me by now, special boy,” you tease, sauntering over to him to sit on the couch beside him, instead of his lap like he expected. Still, you hover incredibly close to him, your hand sliding against his lapels and stroking the fabric of his button-up right where it unfolds against his skin. “After all, you’ve stared enough.”

“It’s hard not to.” Jaehyun rakes his eyes across your body as if he’s dying to touch it. You smirk and stand up again, sliding off your silk robe and throwing it to him as you wind your body to the music coming from the room’s speakers.

“What would your girlfriend say?” you tease.

His eyes widen at that. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Don’t act so scandalized about it...men with girlfriends and wives come here all the time. It’s shitty...but it’s life.” You say this while twisting your hips in his face, and he initially seems a little too distracted to realize you’ve said anything. Then it registers.

“That’s....do you like this j-job, at least?” Jaehyun’s breath hitches at the end of his sentence when you drape yourself across his body, your head resting back on his shoulder and your ass pressing against the undeniable bulge in his pants. Still, he doesn’t touch you, which you are grateful for—many other men haven’t been so tactful during private dances—so you continue servicing him without a care in the world.

“It’s fun, and I get to meet handsome men like you.” Your fingers ghost across his jawline, drifting only inches away but not making contact. “There’s a lot to like about it.”

You move away and he thinks you mean to get up, but you only turn to face him. “You can touch me now, if you’d like. I think you’ve been a good boy…”

You grind in Jaehyun’s lap and are delighted when he responds in kind, pushing his hips up to meet yours. Your faces are inches apart. You are practically breathing in sync, smiling like there’s a secret only the two of you know.

You make the first move by kissing him, and he slants his mouth against yours as if your lips have always belonged together.

You grasp Jaehyun’s hand and lead it to your hip, and he takes the cue to rest both of his hands on your waist, simply following your directions.

He does take the lead with the kiss, though, biting your lip as you gently pull away, and tugging you back in. He tastes like alcohol, and as cliché as it is, it makes you feel a bit drunk—but that might also be due to his demeanor itself.

“How long have you wanted this?” you ask, sliding your hand into his black shirt and drawing your nails across his skin—not painfully hard, but enough to make him throb under you.

“Maybe too long,” he says. “You’re very beautiful.”

You smile. “Aren’t we a perfect match, then?” Your hand slides lower, to his abdomen and the muscles you can feel even under his dress shirt, and then to his belt. “Would you like to continue?” you ask. 

“Yes.”

You unbuckle his belt, sliding the leather through his belt loops and dropping it off to the side somewhere. You slide yourself off his lap to kneel in front of him as you caress his lower half, rubbing your hands up his thighs and across his bulge, underneath his clothing to feel his abs, and then back again. 

Unzipping his dress pants is equally fun. You watch him sweat and feel him shudder as you drag the zipper down with your teeth. You pull his underwear down after, slowly drawing the material over his skin on purpose. His cock springs out, hard and thick and flushed with need, and you lean forward to drag your mouth over it, base to tip.

Jaehyun is heavy and warm against your lips and he smells good, like male musk, like pheromones and desire. You hold the base as you slap his dick on your tongue and he rolls his head back, making a sound between a groan and a laugh as if he can’t believe this is happening.

He doesn’t want to rush or hurt you, so he lets you do the work of sliding him into your mouth as far as you can take, drooling over his dick and sucking him so messily that it makes his knees quiver. The groans and grunts you pull out of him are lovely to hear—you feel good to know that you can bring him this much pleasure so easily. His precum drips into your mouth, salty on your tastebuds.

Jaehyun is pliable in your hands as you stroke his shaft, focusing your tongue on his leaking tip. You feel his thumb brushing the back of your neck, his hand settling on your nape as he watches you suck his dick. He curses under his breath when you scrape your teeth against him very gently, giving just enough pressure to make it feel good.

Soon, you feel Jaehyun nearing in your mouth, his cock throbbing harder and his thighs trembling around you.

“I-I want to fuck you,” Jaehyun says abruptly. You pull back to look at him through your eyelashes. You leave a trail of spit lingering between your lips and his dick, and he looks like he might come right then.

“Such a greedy boy.” You lift yourself to be level with his eyes, tilting his chin with your fingertips. “What’s the magic word?”

“Please?” He looks like he isn’t totally certain that’s the right answer, and it makes you laugh. In response to his request, you turn to face the door, bending over and making a show of unclipping your garters and sliding your thong down before straightening to remove them completely. Jaehyun moans at that.

You turn back to see that he’s already taken care of the condom. He groans beautifully for you again when you crawl back onto his lap and slide him inside of you, clenching around his hard length.

You start with a slow and winding rhythm at first, not entirely hellbent on teasing him but not willing to let him blow his load too soon, either. His hands are all over your body at this point, gripping your ass and your breasts and whatever else he can get his hands on. He pulls your bra down and tugs your nipples into his mouth like a man starved. 

You laugh at his eagerness, riding him harder.

Jaehyun plants his feet straight on the ground and starts thrusting up into you and you cry out at the added sensation, his tip hitting against your g spot and making you sweat and tremble.

“Fuck, you’re good,” you sigh, digging your nails into his shoulder as you fuck each other at the perfect pace.

“This is the best pussy I’ve ever had,” he says in between sucking your nipples. “I’ve gotta taste it.”

“N-next time.” Your body squeezes around him again as he brings one of his hands to the front to rub your clit. You’re glad the music is loud, otherwise there’d be no hiding your noises or the sound of your skin slapping together.

You feel wild and free in a way you haven’t in a long time, and you let yourself scrape your nails across his skin and bite at his neck as you fuck yourself harder on his dick.

You and Jaehyun kiss and thrust against each other like you’ll never get to do it again, with all the delicious hurriedness that a quick and tension-filled type of fuck can offer.

“I’m c-close.” Jaehyun groans this into your hair as you’ve gone back to biting his neck again. He grips your ass and holds you tighter against him, if at all possible, and pushes himself into your spot with renewed energy. His hand still works your clit, just shy of being firm enough to hurt—but practiced enough to provide pleasure.

“Not without me,” you say, licking the shell of his ear. “What would your friends say?”

“They wouldn’t know, because right now, you’re mine alone.” He slaps your ass and that’s enough to get you spilling onto him, crying his name right into his eardrum as you shudder and tighten around him.

Jaehyun comes soon after, thrusting a few more times and settling himself deep inside you as he fills the condom. He leans his head against the couch and you watch as he vocalizes his pleasure, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he arches into you.

You feel sated and a bit sleepy now, but your shift isn’t over yet and there are still more shows to be done. You lay a kiss on Jaehyun’s throat before gingerly untangling yourself from him and redressing, making sure everything is in place.

Jaehyun throws away the condom and does the same for himself, though there won’t be any hiding the bruises you’ve left on his neck. He looks in the mirrors behind him and blushes at the sight of them, brushing his fingers over them.

“Sorry honey. Hope your friends don’t tease you too much over it.” You smile sympathetically, though you aren’t terribly sorry. You move to open the door but Jaehyun calls out wait, and you pause.

He slides a piece of paper with his number on it into your hand and gives you a smirk. “Don’t forget our promise. ‘Next time,’ remember?”

You tuck the paper into your bra and make a note to put it somewhere safer once you get to the dressing room. “Of course, baby.” With that, you are gone, and Jaehyun is left with the memories—and the marks—to remind him of you until you meet again.

[thorne1435]

Eh. I actually really like Wirebugs. I think the added mobility makes a lot of weapons that are really sluggish actually fun to play. Clutch Claw/Slinger is nice too, but if I had to pick, I'd take Wirebugs.

Actually, I have a massive complaint with your take on the Wirebug/Switch Skill vs. Slinger/Clutch Claw debate, but I'm putting it behind a readmore because it's really long and irrelevant to my main point.

What I hate the most about Rise/Sunbreak is that they took out the need to hunt the monster. And that may very well be part of why I no longer feel the emotional investment in a hunt: the fact that I can just find the monster on the map immediately, and have to, because there's no environmental signs of their presence whatsoever, completely shatters my immersion in the game. I've said this a lot: Rise/Sunbreak is not Monster Hunter, it's Monster Fighter. World/Iceborne had you scour the area for footprints and territorial markers, and track the monster down to its favored habitat, where it would be engaging in its routine, non-aggressive behaviors in a realistic way (i.e. foraging for food, sleepin', slorpin', aminal shit). It made you roleplay as a Ranger instead of an exterminator. Of course you did end up exterminating the monster, but that never felt like the point, to me. They said they were the research commission of the hunters' guild and I believed them, because they did both of those things!

In Kamura, they're not part of the research commission, of course, but they don't really feel like hunters either. They feel a bit more like the Guardians, that we never really get to see in the franchise. The Kamura hunter is always protecting the town and dealing with some threat that's implied to be right next to the village, but they're also supposed to be going out and finding these monsters that are, at least as far as we can see from Kamura itself, and the target locations, kinda...nowhere near Kamura?? And I don't know where the Outpost is, for Sunbreak, but it's implied to be close to the Jungle and the Citadel. But, like, it's not. 'cause I got eyes. Where is it, Capcom? Where the fuck is it?!

Still, the plot of the game centers around a very town-guard theme, as opposed to World/Iceborne's very ""naturalist"" theme. The Rampage itself can just be seen as the primary instance of the player character being a Guardian. It's just, they weren't willing to come out and say it, so they still have you pretending that your character is a Hunter even though the ludonarrative doesn't imply it and the regular narrative doesn't imply it either.

I think these problems mainly come about by reducing the gameplay formula of Monster Hunter down to its barest essentials: "find monster, kill monster, carve monster." World, if you listen to the long-term fans (which you never should btw), already reduced the hunting portion of the game from what it was in previous installments. Capcom reducing it further in Rise, then, would just be...taking it out. And lo and behold, that's exactly what they did. They wanted a quicker way of tracking the monster than the paintball system, for World, so they added in Scoutflies (the best part of the game, the gods of the setting, my favoritest, specialest, goodest little bois). They wanted a quicker way of tracking the monster than the Scoutfly system, for Rise, so they...removed tracking. Because really, that was all that was left to do. And taking out everything but the combat, is a surefire way to reduce the game from a semi-realistic hunting-sim with a Kaiju Battle attached to...just a Kaiju Battle.

So I guess what I'm getting at here is, they didn't really know how to set the tone.

In Monster Hunter World/Iceborne, you're in the untamed New World. In the wilderness, all alone, you have to find the monster and skin it, like a pioneer. (Don't think about how this will affect the local cat population, they're the slave class anyway.)

In Monster Hunter Rise/Sunbreak, you're defending the Japanese-themed suburbs. They know where the monster is. They want to watch it die. That is your job. (Don't think about how this will affect the greater ecosystem, you don't get paid to think)

I don't really understand what you mean by slinger-ammo--a thing that can be picked up by anyone, no matter what it is, and used to cover the gaps of any build, no matter what it is--being "an extension of the player" any more than Switch Skills and Wirebugs. The skills that Wirebugs give you in Rise/Sunbreak are the skills that define the playstyle of your weapon, sometimes moreso than the weapon itself. These things still have massive liabilities, and to keep your damage and defense on-par with what's expected of you, you're required to ration your Wirebugs, given that you only have 3 for a short time at maximum, and usually only have 2. It's far more involved than the slinger, in my opinion. And, it should be noted, that extra mobility? It doesn't help Greatsword or Hunting Horn. Or at least, not as much as you'd think. It's nice to be able to leap at the monster from a far distance, but the slowness of Greatsword and Hunting Horn that forces you to commit to an attack is not from how close you have to get or how slowly you can get there, especially not since the monster is going to charge at you anyway. The Greatsword gets hit all the time for the same reason why the Hammer doesn't. The Greatsword takes a full 2 seconds to recover from every attack, and the Hammer takes a full 0.2 seconds. Hunting Horn is much the same. Every attack takes far too long to recover from, and no amount of Wirebugs will help you with that. You have to have skill to avoid taking that damage, and that skill mostly comes down to the timing of your movements, even wirebug movements, as opposed to "I pressed ZL+A, I win." which is what you're presenting it is as. I find this disingenuous.

Wirefall does function as a get out of jail free card, though, because it'll bail you out of a stunlock. And that I appreciate, because Stunlocks are stupid and feel unfair. No slinger ammo can do that, because the slinger can't be used while falling from an attack.

When a quest is over in Monster Hunter Rise/Sunbreak, I feel nothing. It was meant to be, and I never feel satisfaction with myself quite so much as relief or curiosity as to what new layered armor set just got unlocked.

When a quest is over in Monster Hunter World/Iceborne, I spend the remaining seconds after a carve laughing and sighing as if I actually did just win a fight for my life.

This is important to me.