#that'll be. irritating when we get that far.

[altruistic-meme]

HI THERE

[deconstructthesoup]

I've been thinking a little bit about how the Cat King expresses his affection, and specifically, how the fandom interprets it.

There's some people who see how he interacts with Edwin and think "oh my god, he's such a simp, Edwin really has this sexy catboy wrapped around his little finger," and there's some people who see how he interacts with Edwin and think "yowza, learn to take a hint, he's not interested in you and your fuckboy fur coat," which, y'know, are both valid. I love the Cat King, but he's clearly not a fan of boundaries---outside of his own, of course.

Which... is the point, isn't it? Because here's the thing---we all like to analyze the Cat King as if he's human, but... he's not.

He's a cat. And that's how cats are.

Let's look back at his first interaction with Edwin. Our sassy Edwardian boy has used magic on one of his cats, and he's pissed, because cats are protective over what they consider "theirs---" and seeing as he's the Cat King, all of the cats in Port Townsend are his. He's bitchy and rude, cutting Edwin off when he tries to explain himself, and doesn't exactly seem like he's a merciful guy.

Then comes the moment where he whisks Edwin away, and he gets a closer look. The Cat King realizes that he's handsome, he's clearly queer, and that there is something fascinating about him. So he gets closer, he gets intimate, and it's working. Even in the throes of internalized homophobia, Edwin's getting into it, and... the Cat King self-sabotages, slapping a binding spell onto him.

A cat hisses at you when you attempt to reach out your hand and reason with it. It changes its mind, and it comes up to you, purring. And just when you're about to scratch it behind its ears, it freaks out, scratching you on the hand.

Sure, right after that, the Cat King lays out the terms---the binding spell (which, honestly, is actually a pretty fitting punishment given that Edwin used a binding spell on that cat) can be taken off, "and I'm sure we can work something out." That's a line that's probably worked before, and that's a line that probably could've worked, but the damage is done. So the Cat King gets irritated, sneering at Edwin's "old-fashioned sensibilities," and gives him your classic trickster seems-easy-but-is-a-lot-harder-than-it-looks deal. And we don't see him again for a couple episodes... at least, not until Edwin gets that little cat-scratch at the lighthouse.

When a cat scratches your hand, you give it a wide berth. Even if it immediately changes its mind and meows for attention, you don't trust it anymore. So it gets pissy, getting more and more annoyed the more you ignore it, until it gives up and bites you when you won't give it pets.

Now, the Cat King has realized that Edwin's getting close. He's counted almost all the cats, and it won't be long before he completes the task and books it out of town. So, the Cat King starts flirting even more, even going so far as to mimic Monty and Charles if that's what it'll take. When that fails, and when getting Edwin to open up fails, the Cat King lets out a nervous little laugh and tells Edwin that he's way off, when in fact he couldn't be closer.

Once a cat realizes that it likes you, it becomes incredibly needy. It trots along after you, it begs for attention and love, it sits on your laptop and jumps up on the kitchen counter and will attempt to insert itself into any and all activities you might be doing. And while that may be the cat's way of expressing love, there's no denying that it is ignoring all of your personal boundaries and generally getting in the way of you doing anything---other than, of course, paying attention to it.

And then comes the moment in the forest. The Cat King shows up with a fancy chandelier to blow Monty's cover---why now? Because Monty isn't just a romantic threat, he's trying to do something that'll take away Edwin for good. Once the cover's blown, and once Monty storms off, the Cat King uses this as an opportunity---I just saved his life, maybe he'll notice me now---and Edwin snaps, dropping one of the best lines in the whole series.

This is the first time, mind you, that Edwin has really pushed back. He's been resistant before, sure, but he's never said or done anything that indicates that he really wanted this dance to end. And I don't even think the Cat King realized that he was crossing a line, had been crossing a line since he slapped that bracelet on. But when Edwin says that he's not the Cat King's toy to yank around, that he's nothing more than an inconvenience, that's a big old wake-up call for our boy---and of course, he takes it horribly, snarling after Edwin that he'll be stuck in this town if he walks away, that he'll stop playing nice, just fucking NOTICE me already why don't you?

There always comes a time when you're fed up with how invasive your cat's being. Maybe you've just had a bad day, maybe it's genuinely messing up something important that you're doing, but you break out the spray bottle. And how does it respond? With a hiss, with a scamper away, and with a baleful glare over its shoulder. It knows it's done something wrong, but it doesn't fully understand, and it's mad at you.

Afterwards, Edwin gets dragged into hell, and that breaks the charm on the bracelet. And the Cat King's left to think.

There's some conflicting emotions there, of course. He's moodily playing with the bracelet when Esther shows up, showing that he probably does care, but there's still something to be said about how he immediately calls Edwin a "tease" and hates himself for being willing to wait for him if and when he ever returns from Hell (which is very noble of you, Thomas, totally way more of a meaningful gesture than actually going down there to get him back---which, as a self-described eternal being, would probably be easier for you to do than Charles. Just sayin'). But as much as I love to clown on that, the Cat King does die in that scene, and it's only after that that he spills to Esther.

This, I think, is where the Cat King stops acting like a cat, and starts acting human. Because he doesn't go and see Edwin when he gets back---he's realized that he kind of was in the wrong, and he's giving him space. And I'm sure it can't have been fun knowing that Edwin and Charles only got kidnapped by Esther because of information that he let slip.

But when the boys and Crystal (and maybe Jenny) are about to leave, the Cat King visits Edwin to pay his respects to Niko. He gives Edwin a lily, which several people have pointed out is fatal to cats. He's still flirty, sure, but he's more understated now. No more tricks, no more spells. Just him. And that's the version of him that gets that little cheek kiss goodbye.

Because even cats can learn that there's a better way to love.

[1toreyouapart]

The Lies We Tell

Summary that tells you nothing: Sometimes everything you ever wanted has been right there, within reach, all along.

CW/TW: Angst, fluff, swearing, friends to lovers, jealousy, smut, fingering, PinV, pet names, friends with benefits, more to come as I actually get things written out.

Masterlist

Why Do Men?

Quinn pushed the food around on her plate, barely listening to the man across from her. He was attractive enough, seemed kind. But good God, he was boring. From the moment she walked in he droned on and on about him and what he did for work, how much money he made. His big flashy car he had. Right now she was really hoping that Noah had asked her to stay with him instead. In fact, she had been sure that he would. Instead, he had rushed out of that bathroom and she hadn't seen him since. Not even when she knocked on his door before she left.

Him telling her she had shitty taste in men still stung a bit. Mostly because it was true. And who was it that picked up the pieces after every failed date? Every brief relationship that failed after three months? Noah. Always there to pick up the pieces and put her back together again. She was willing to bet he already had a whole thing planned for when she got home tonight, too.

"You're one of those goth girls, right?"

Quinn snapped out of her head. What the fuck was this guy on about?

"Excuse me?"

"I'm asking because you look like one. Tattoos, dark hair. Dark clothes." He leaned forward. "Bet you're into some kinky shit, too."

Her stomach turned. What the fuck? Did he really just say that? It didn't matter so much that she wasn't goth. Though, she definitely had more gothic tendencies than not. The sexualization of goth girls, however, was too much. It was vile. It was disgusting. God. Noah had been right.

"Mmmm. This date is over." Sighing, frustrated, she got up, pulling out her wallet. "Here's my half."

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that. It's just a question."

"Be like what? Bored out of my mind because you can't shut the fuck up about how great you think you are? Or irritated because you seem to think that goth women exist for your pleasure?" She threw the money down on the table, laughing. "See you never."

Satisfied she walked away, pulling her phone out. Everything in her screamed at her to call Noah, not an Uber. Noah would be there faster. But she didn't want to hear his "I told you so" just yet. That might set her off even more and she was trying not to cause a scene.

The cool night air hit her skin as the app told her a driver was on her way. 15 minutes until her ride arrived. Cursing she pulled up the text thread with Noah, debating texting him that he had been right. Just then, however, her date appeared in front of her, angry.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You're not even that pretty, anyway."

Quinn's stomach churned, her palms going sweaty as she glanced up and down the sidewalk. There were people. Lots of them. She should be safe, right? Fuck. What had Noah taught her? He had tried so hard to teach her how to defend herself. Now that the time may be here she couldn't remember a thing. Steeling herself for what may happen she lifted her chin, meeting the man's eyes.

"I said the date is over."

"You know, you should be grateful I even gave you the time of day. I make more money in a year than you ever will in your life."

She laughed. Genuinely deeply laughed. This guy wasn't going to attack her. His ego might be bruised, but that's as far as it would go. The type of guy that used his wealth to get sex. If he even actually made that much money.

"Says the grown ass man crying because the girl that 'isn't even that pretty.' Do you even hear yourself right now?"

"Whatever. Good luck finding a man that'll put up with you."

She watched as he walked off, ignoring the tiny crack in her armor that last comment had made. So many failed dates. Nothing lasting more than three months in the last seven years. Maybe he was right and there was something just inherently wrong with her. Her track record definitely spoke to that.

Her phone lit up, letting her know her ride had arrived just as a vehicle with an Uber sign in the window showed up. Thank fucking God. All she wanted right now was her pajamas, a movie, and her best friend.

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

I Cherish You, Halcyon Days: i.

“You’re gonna die, kid. In the worst way possible.”

tags: afab!reader (she/her), angst, slow burn

pairing: gojou x reader + onesided!getou x reader

summary: You’re 15 years old when you’re told you’re going to die. You’re 17 years old when you realize who your killer will be. And you’re 17 years old when you make peace with the fact you wouldn’t want it any other way.

index | previous chapter | next chapter

"[First]... [First]. Hey wake up!"

You blink blearily, just barely catching your chin with your palm. "Sorry," you mumble, closing your eyes once more. You open them once more when Shoko raps her knuckles against your desk again. "'m still kinda out of it."

Yours was the start to a very trying day.

First and foremost, you overslept and missed breakfast.

You were still tired.

And most irritating of all, you had a headache ー you forgot to drink water before and after going to bed, sue you.

While you're still cognizant, you whip out your phone to text your friends. What a waste, you sigh. There aren't any missions to go on today either. Originally your plan was to head out once classes were over for the day and meet up with your non-sorcerer friends in the city. Eat at Johnny's, maybe go to an arcade and watch a movie with the money you had leftover. With how you're feeling presently though, you much preferred laying down and immediately going to sleep. "This sucks," you fail to fight back on a yawn. "I wanted to see what's been going on with everybody from my old school too." You yawn again.

Me: I'm not gonna be able to make it, sorry. Can we meet up another time instead? Have fun without me (T^T)

Chinatsu: aww that sucks. Do you think you'll be free next weekend? We can do something for your birthday!

Your smile is small yet doubtful as you text back an 'I promised my aunt that I'd visit her next weekend to celebrate so it might be a while til then.'

If there's one simultaneous benefit and drawback to attending Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, it's that your schedule is sporadic enough that you it's never consistent what you might be doing on a day-to-day basis let alone week-to-week. Some mornings you'll find out classes are canceled for the next few days and other times you think you're home free to bullshit for the weekend only for Fujioka-sensei to pop up and say you and Shoko have a mission that'll take up the entirety of your free time. As far as your old friends from Tsubame High were concerned though, you somehow got yourself a scholarship for a bigshot religious school with a limited number of students and hellish expectations for said students.

"Look at [First] getting herself into some fancy rich kid private school," Tooru said when you broke the news to your friends you'd known since middle school that you'd be transferring to Tokyo Jujutsu Tech.

Chinatsu: Look at [First], not having too much time for the little people!

"It's pretty unusual for you to sleep in," Shoko's comment brings you out of your nostalgic stupor.

Me: Yeah who are you again?

"Yeah, I know," once you quickly type in your reply, you finally shove your phone back into your pants pocket. If there's a definitive benefit to attending Tokyo Tech, it's the customizable uniforms. You went for the boys uniform at this particular school. It felt like it would be the most practical decision when you'd be running around fighting cursed spirits. And with it being fall, the winter solstice being a couple weeks away, wearing pants felt like the best long term investment you could have come up with. Not to mention, you looked good in it. "It's not like I had any trouble getting to sleep though."

"Bad dream?"

"I don't know I can't remember it," you shrugged trying to recall whatever it was you were dreaming about. It's all hazy, not even the most significant parts scratching at your brain coming through the fog. "I don't think it was bad though. Maybe it was about my husband. I'm still mad they killed off his character in Anaconda 2 last year, can you believe that shit? He was the finest dude in the movie!" When you hear a snicker coming from your right, you shoot a glare towards the culprit with snowy white hair. "Like Inoue Waka even knows who you are, please shut up."

"At least my celebrity crush lives in my country," Gojou snickers back with a shit-eating grin. "Running into Morris Chestnut in Japan? Doesn't seem all that likely. Ah the delusions of young children."

"You are literally only two days older than me, you are making this way too big a deal."

Although Suguru releases a breath of exasperation, there's a smile gracing his features. "Well you can't be that tired if the two of you can bicker like this. Just try not to tear each other apart next week when the party hits. It's your special day after all."

Ah yes, the party. The brilliant idea that the first and second year teachers, Fujioka and Yaga, came up with on the fly yesterday on December 1st.

When you were told that there was a small number of students at this school, you didn't realize how little there would be going in. Among the first year students, you're quite literally only one of four. The previous second year student, Okita, died two months ago leaving the current number of second year students at 0. There's quite literally only two third year students in Utahime and Mei Mei. And as for 4th year students, there is only one ー Yamada.

The ratio of non-jujutsu sorcerer to sorcerer was shockingly out of balanced if there were only seven students at your school. Because of that, the teachers made sure to celebrate every student's birthday. A party, cake, presents, the whole shebang. No class, no missions. Just a day of setting up the dorms for a party while the one turning a year older had to either leave campus and wander around until it was time for their party, or sit around doing nothing around campus until someone came to get them.

It wasn't too long ago when you were all celebrating Shoko's birthday on the 27th of last month.

It was her party with her cake and her presents.

But you? The teachers had a special idea in mind for you. Because in a school of seven students where two of them were born within days of each other, why have two separate parties when you could make it one and cheapen the cost?

One party with one cake and a mixture of presents for you both to tear open at the same time.

Gojou is December 7th.

You're December 9th.

They'll just celebrate both on the 8th and call it a day.

When it came down to it, you understood the principle behind the plan. You could even get behind it. It's just that if somewhere to ask if you liked Gojou Satoru, your answer would be an irrevocable 'no'.

Hell, you'd answer 'no' even if no one did ask.

Gojou Satoru is impossible for you to like from his stupid sunglasses to his shit-eating grins. Even worse is his arrogance. Because apparently, there's no one in the world of jujutsu you were scouted into that didn't know who Gojou Satoru is. Born merely two days before you, Gojou Satoru's birth changed the state of the jujutsu world. "He's basically like the jujutsu sorcerer version of Jesus," Shoko explained when you asked why everyone seemingly made a big deal over him.

I don't like him at all.

You're the odd man out in your class, though, you begrudgingly force yourself to accept all over again during lunch. Despite your less than stellar review of the boy, Suguru and Shoko got along just fine with him.

Gojou had always been obnoxious about the fact you were born a couple days after him when you found out you shared a month of birth. It is just that with your birthdays being right around the corner of next week, he is being especially intolerable. He even came to wake you up this morning when you overslept, forcing Gojou Satoru and his blue eyes that were partially obscured by his sunglasses to be the first thing you saw that morning. Clearly a premonition that today was going to be a mess when he all but sang "morning, junior, you're gonna be late to class at this rate!"

By the gods, I wanna punch him so much. I don't care if he's Jujutsu Jesus, he just thinks he's hot shit because he has blue eyes.

At the very least, you can rest easy in knowing the fact that the feelings of dislike are mutual.

Gojou Satoru is strong, it's an irrefutable fact no matter how much you'd like to deny it. He's strong and in turn, the strong are the only ones Gojou respects. You apparently don't make the cut.

And that's fine. Strength came in all sorts of ways. (An argument the two of you have already had with one another where Suguru said you both would just have to agree to disagree.) You disliked Gojou Satoru but you could live with the fact that, at the very least, you were going to be stuck together for four years. Because even if he was strong, life sometimes paid you back with small moments of grace where someone put the golden boy of the Gojou Clan in his place.

"Just so you know, Takamatsu Akira is visiting again," Shoko's voice pulls you back into the present.

You raise an eyebrow at the unfamiliar name, "never heard of 'em."

"He's a sorcerer that can see glimpses of a person's future when he looks at them," Suguru answers in her stead over a sip of his oi ocha. "He's apparently at the school today for some sort of meeting."

"Hands off the goods," your eyes widen in amazement as you quickly smack away Gojou's hand from your lunch. "Really? And it's all accurate too?"

"He's a major asshole, though," the white-haired boy hisses with a pout. You roll your eyes. I'm not sure how reliable your words are if you of all people are calling someone an asshole. Your incredulousness must show on your face because Gojou's next words are, "seriously! He only tells people he thinks have interesting futures anything about it."

"And?"

"Satoru's just mad because apparently his future isn't interesting," Suguru smirks, smugly welcoming his best friend's unamused side eye. "He told me about mine though."

You bite back a snort when your curiosity to know Suguru's fortune wins. "What did he say about it?"

Suguru touched his chin thoughtfully, recalling back the day he met the seer. "He said that one day I'll be stuck at a crossroads between two paths and make a life changing decision," he pauses dramatically and you lean forward in anticipation. "That's all he told me though."

Damn it.

The brown-eyed boy chuckles but he shoots you a look of amused sympathy, "he never really tells you too much about it apparently. I was disappointed too."

"Did he ever tell you anything about your future, Shoko?" You ask your class' resident slacker.

Shoko shook her head, bob gently moving with her. "I'm one of the boring ones too," she says with a lazy wave of her hand. "Like Gojou."

"Don't worry, my friends," Suguru places a hand over his chest and bows with far too much grace and humility. "I alone will shoulder the burden of having an interesting future. Unlike Satoru."

You choke, unable to stop yourself from chortling this time. Whatever Gojou sputters in his self-defense, you don't hear it over the sound of your own laughter. "Maybe he'll tell me about my future too," you sigh when your giggles subside. You sincerely doubt it, but it's fun to think about the possibilities. I want an interesting life plot twist, like the reveal I'm actually a long-lost member of some royal family he just won't tell me which one.

"He'll probably stop by because you're here," Shoko rests her chin on her palm. You were the newest in your class, starting a month later than the rest. "He likes seeing if new students will have interesting futures ahead of them."

"Don't get too excited, [First]," Gojou quickly rains on your parade with a lot of arrogance for someone whose future is apparently so boring a seer won't even talk to him about it. "I'm the most interesting person in this place and he won't even talk to me. So who knows what sort of reaction you'll get."

"Oh quit being bitter that your future is gonna be boring, asshole," before any other quips and gripes can be exchanged, the class door slides open abruptly. You look over with a start, wondering if it's your teacher when you see it isn't. The man is a bit younger than Yaga but his hair is already graying and his eyes are a deep green reminiscent of pine trees. You have a feeling you already know who it is and grin. "You wouldn't happen to be Takamatsu Akira, would you? Gojou here was telling me about his boring future soー" you stop yourself with a shudder when you blinked and realized that man was in front of your face and much too close for comfort.

"Now that is something," the man blinks owlishly, eyes almost glowing in his amazement.

Your discomfort flies away faster than a seagull with someone else's lunch, "really?"

The man leans back with a grin and a snap of his fingers, "really, really."

With that you look at Gojou and stick out your tongue and he sticks his tongue in return.

[First] 1, Gojou 0.

Suguru chuckles and Shoko grins and all the while, Gojou flicks your forehead too quickly for you to react. "Look, hater, it isn't my fault that your future's boring, quit trying to rain on my parade," you snicker, batting your eyelashes. "Mr. Takamatsu, I'd really appreciate it if you could tell me about my future if you don't mind. Before the naysayers get more butthurt than they already are."

"You're gonna die, kid."

With four words, your blood freezes and you find yourself blinking once, twice slowly. It's the matching looks of shock and surprise on your classmates' faces that tells you you heard Takamatsu correctly. Stiffly, you look back at the seer hoping for that revelation to be nothing but a joke, but instead you find yourself looking at a maniacal grin. That grin feels more like a knife in your gut. "In the worst way possible."

The knife sinks deeper into your flesh, twisting.

"Hey," out of the four of you, Gojou is the one who finds his voice first.

Takamatsu ignores the boy with snow white hair as if he's nothing but a minor breeze, "But," he beams like he's only told you that he found a discount at the convenience store. "Because I like you so much, I'll let you ask three questions about it."

"O-okay," you stammer almost instinctively. Like a zombie, you find yourself stumbling onto your feet and Takamatsu nods at the door. These answers will be for you and you alone. You aren't sure what expression you wear on your face as you exit, nor the expressions of your peers. You can't bring yourself to look at them as you follow the future-seeing sorcerer into the halls of your school.

I'm going to die.

I'm going to die.

In the worst way possible.

It's only once you're relatively alone that the seer halts his walking in the middle of the hall to look at you. "Feel free to ask your questions," he tells you. "Your classmates shouldn't be able to hear, even if they keep looking out the door. So ask away," he reassures you, waving his hand nonchalantly.

You glance to your left and sure enough there are three heads leaning out of the door, staring straight at you both. You can't bring yourself to smile reassuringly before you return your gaze to the sorcerer in front of you.

Three questions.

Your first question can only be so obvious. "Howー how do I die?"

Takamatsu's amusement is sapped from his face at that question. "Really?" He yawns with a shake of his head. "That's what you're going to ask? That's quite boring."

Boring? Boring?! It's my life! "Yeah but-"

"You know what, fine," Takamatsu sighs, crossing his arms. He recalls his vision in his mind for a moment before he opens his lips. "You're going to be killed by someone precious to you. Ask me something more… riveting this time."

You blink slowly.

You're going to be killed by someone you care about.

When do I die?

Was it an accident?

On purpose?

Why would they want to kill me?

You don't think those are questions Takamatsu will find intriguing in the slightest. In a panic, you ask the most original question that enters your brain. "Do I die… angry at them?" No. Fucking. Shit, me. "Wait, that was dumb don't answer th-"

"Nope, it counts," Takamatsu clicks his tongue. Maybe it's payback for your first question being so predictable and unoriginal. "And my answer for that is no. Your heart will surprisingly bear no anger towards the person who kills you." A revelation that shakes you to the core. "Well, one question left to go, kid. No more mess ups, I'll take it even if it's something as a dumb as a repeat question."

"Okay, okay," you exhale nervously, biting your lip. I need to think.

You know yourself.

You're selfish at times, who isn't? If it really came down to it though, you know you'd always put someone else's life over your own. You can talk big, you can snort when you watch a movie and say 'yeah sorry, they'd be stuck on their own. I'm not dying in a situation like that, I'd wanna go home'. But you know yourself enough to know that despite thinking it, your feet would inevitably turn towards the other person. Maybe you'd die in the end but you know you'd try your damnedest to get them out.

Why else would you put yourself on the line fighting curses?

Curses were scary.

You'd seen them you're entire life, unable to explain why or what they are to the people around you. Some were tall, some were small and some were so grotesquely horrifying that it made Sadako and Freddy Kreuger look like kittens. Being able to literally shield yourself from them were a saving grace when Rejection came in. Those curses didn't attack often, no they mostly just hung about before choosing some random poor soul to haunt. You just didn't want one touching you or your parents.

Things got a bit better when they sent you to Japan for the summer with your aunt. Apparently that's what happens when you live in a country with a more stable and organized force of jujutsu sorcery. Or maybe it was, begrudgingly, because living in the home court of Jujutsu Jesus kept some curses from wilding out the way they did in your home country.

Either way, your parents relented when you begged for them to let you continue living in Japan with your aunt.

That's how you were prepared for the night your class' test of courage went to shit when a curse showed up and miraculously kept the list of mortal casualties at zero.

But I'd like to think that in a life or death fight where it's me or them, I'd choose me. You shake your head pushing the thought to the side. You almost forgot the most important detail. Your killer will be someone who matters to you. But I won't be mad about it. If it was life or death, I'd choose me. I know that. Stranger on the street or a lifelong sworn enemy. And I know if I was killed by someone I apparently care about, I'd definitely be bitter about it. I'm not that forgiving.

Future you isn't in agreement. Your eyes turn to the ground.

Is it a life or death fight situation or an accident? You open your mouth briefly before closing it again.

They're precious to me.

They're someone I care about.

But I won't be angry.

I mustn't have been trying that hard then, you wet your lips as a light bulb flickers deeply in the recesses of your mind. You couldn't have been. How else could your future self's lack of anger be justified? One day, there will be someone you care for so greatly that even in a life or death battle, you'd still choose them.

You raise your head to look into dark green eyes dancing with amusement, a grin accompanying them. The grin morphs from clear to distorted at the welling of tears in your eyes. I wasn't trying. "I must really love this person, don't I?"

Takamatsu's grin grows even wider, eyes flashing in pleasant surprise. "Yeah," he leans against the wall, crossing his arms. "It seems like you do."

Tears roll down your cheeks like streams into a river yet your arms hang loosely at your side. "That's three questions then," you murmur, throat constricting. You inhale slowly, hold your breath and release before wiping your eyes. "Thank you for answering my questions, Mr. Takamatsu. Lunch is gonna be over soon, so I'm gonna go finish eating now."

You bow before turning on your heel back to your class, your classmates are still there. You don't really care to receive their pity or empathy.

"I'm gonna die, it's gonna suck and that's all he really told me," you say before anyone can ask.

It's hours after classes have ended for the day and you're cooking in the communal kitchen when you see Gojou again.

"Hey," Gojou says and his tone is so serious it startles you. You set your knife down on the cutting board before looking at him. His face doesn't seem right to you and it dawns on you a second later it's because he's frowning and it's not the usual childish frown you're used to seeing. "Don't take what that guy said seriously. Like I said, he's an asshole. He was probably saying all of that to freak you out." There's a pause and Gojou scratches the back of his head, looking uncomfortable in his skin. "So don't, like, cry about it. Takamatsu's a prick."

"Are you," you squint, looking Gojou over suspiciously. "Trying to make me feel better or something in your own weird Gojou way?"

"Someone has to make sure you aren't drowning in their sorrows," Gojou returns to his usual brand of cocky, with a grin. His sunglasses slide down, revealing playful eyes.

"I don't want the comfort then," you roll your eyes and return to chopping your vegetables. "Besides, I don't need it anyways, I'm strong."

"Eeeeh."

Asshole.

"We had this argument before that there's different kinds of strong, you jackass," you argue for argument's sake knowing it's a moot point to argue with someone who vehemently believes otherwise. Apparently he thinks belief in philosophical kinds of strongs is how the weak comfort themselves.

You vaguely notice that in spite of your annoyance, your shoulders aren't stiff and your jaw is loose. Apparently Gojou is good for something, after all. "Strong looks different for different people. A kid is strong when they act tough after tripping. A grown man crying and being open with his emotions is strong," you recount some of the ways you've seen people be strong in your life. You've witnessed strength in various ways in your 15 years of living. "… Even just living despite how hard it can be is strong. But it's whatever, I already know you think that's a load of self-comforting weak crap, don't feel like arguing about it."

Save for the sound of you cutting green celery and the light simmer of the pan, silence falls over the two of you.

"What did you guys talk about when he said you could ask him questions?" Gojou finally asks.

"… nothing important," you mutter back.

ー

When you wake up at 4:30 in the morning the next day, knowing full well there was going to be physical education that day, you decide to ditch class.

index | previous chapter | next chapter

Extra

In the oneshot I somehow fucked up the timeline by one year. In reality, Gojou was a 1st year in 2005 not 2004.

Also, in the oneshot I said the reader was the baby of the class. I was wrong again. Suguru was actually born in '90, not '89, like I originally assumed. Thus, he's actually the baby of the class. So I removed all mentions of the reader being the class baby. Still, you're younger than Gojou by two days so he is still rather insufferable about that, much to your chagrin.

Compared to the oneshot, now that there is more extended time to look into such things, there will be dives into the reader's non-sorcerer origins, family and friends. I would like to note that the reader isn't from Japan originally in terms of her nationality, but that will be covered in future chapters. Regardless, the reader is ethnically ambiguous for the self-insert convenience!

[danieyells]

Sure Haku can have big balls but we all agree Alan Thoma and Jiro have big dicks? But not like slightly above average but rather 20 minutes foreplay just to loosen up but still be a fair stretch, big as in a fair amount of lube is needed to even slip the head in and might need more to fully thrust inside

You only need that kind of prep if you're a coward!

THEY ARE RATHER LARGE MEN y'know as far as the bishie style goes. It'd be pretty proportionate of them to be well hung and i'm all about sicknasty size difference and distention if you've got a small enough partner--

Fortunately all three of them are. . .idk graceful enough not to be cruel about it.

Alan is definitely inexperienced and he's already so fucking scared of harming his partner he would just. . .whenever they try and get him in bed he just goes "We can't. Sorry." Fortunately he's not the type to, y'know, beat around the bush so if they ask him he'll explain. . .and if they say they wanna try anyway he'll give it a go but he'll be ready to stop the moment they seem uncomfortable or in pain. Which means a lot of reassurances that it's fine, it's fine, keep going. It'll be a lot of convincing, but he'll be as slow and gentle as he can! His partner would probably have to do a lot of leading. . . . Alternatively he'd be all about getting them off and appreciating their body and when they wanna return the favor he hesitates then says they don't have to. He can take care of it himself if they don't want to. And they're like 'why would I not want--oh' when he pulls out this monster.

Tohma has much more experience and is much more confident overall. When things reach that point with his partner he's a little more direct. Maybe he grinds against them to let them get a subtle feel long before the first time they do it, or he just takes their hand and lets them have a feel for themself. "Do you understand? If we take that route, I'm going to need a fair bit of your time. . . ." He knows just how to prepare them, just how to stretch them out, and he makes certain to pleasure them the whole way--and if they're a little limp from the pleasure buildup then. . .that'll just make it easier to put it in at the end. He might hold them up and gently guide them down onto him. . .use them as a little fleshlight once they've gotten used to it enough.

Jiro isn't even fully aware of that he's particularly large. Like, numerically he is, he's studied anatomy before and he's seen Yuri naked and he's a lot smaller(well, Yuri's smaller in every aspect) but it somehow hadn't occurred to him that it could be a problem. Meanwhile the one who knows is Yuri--and when Jiro's partner shows up, Yuri just looks at them in irritation. "Ah, yes, Jiro did say he had plans today after his treatment." And Yuri just thrusts a particularly large, unlabeled jar of gelatinous fluid at them, telling them not to take too much time because they are very busy and Jiro being occupied is a hindrance. And Jiro's like "oh, Yuri said we'd need a lot. I've read that too much can reduce the pleasure, though. I don't care either way, so just use as much as you want." (Not that he can't feel it or anything, he's just. . .indifferent for the most part. It doesn't bother him if he doesn't come, he'll take care of it later if it's a problem.) And of course they understand why they thought they'd need so much when Jiro whips it out. Jiro's very analytical about the whole thing, once he realizes that hm, yes, this won't fit, but with enough elasticity--he's got no problem figuring out what should be done to prepare. The massive jar of lube may or may not be experimental but it does the job with great efficiency. . .turns out it was an experimental gel for anomalous ailments where the afflicted turn to stone or wood with the intention of relaxing muscles and joints and regaining flexibility, but it works great as a lubricant! Jiro's also not very experienced and his tendency to experiment means he might be a little rough just to see how it all works, but he's considerate enough of his partner not to go too hard once he realizes oh that hurts, huh. Kinda antithetical to the evening's plans.

[itti-bitti-yibbi]

'Scuse me imma just put drop these here-

I have. SO MANY doodles of these guys, these are just the traditional ones lol. Most of my doodles are digital, I'll get around to grabbing and posting them eventually.

Allow me to chatter under the cut (SPOILERS), if you please

That first one I actually did while a guest was on hold with a third party at work (we were waiting for them to call me to fix an issue). We waited on them for literally an hour!

I am on season 3 now, and having a Time. That is for sure. Jon is being. Not that smart. Bless his heart. Of course Jude was gonna burn you if you shook her hand. You already knew that but you did it anyway!

I need to shake him. Like a maraca. Mabe that'll knock some sense back into him. ALSO. Assistants recording statements!! I like! That!

I think it's cool to hear how differently they get into it, like Tim couldn't get into it enough to get through one, which at this point doesn't honestly surprise me, he is not having any of this rn.

When Martin reads them, he gets very into it! Emulating them emotion in the statement kinda like when Jon gets into it, (I think that Martin's readings are the most similar to Jon's so far). And his little "sorry for the change in tone bit", I just. He's so Much. To me.

Melanie gets hit hard by the statement when she reads it. You can hear how shaken up she is by it while she's reading, he voice kinda trembles. I really do feel bad for her, she didn't really know what she was getting herself into, and now she's trapped. The others tried to warn her.

AND. THE FUCKING. AUGH. COLLATERAL. ELIAS YOU FUCKER. POOR BASHIRA. Daisy and Bashira are something. I like them.

And. The way that Tim got sick trying to leave. Grabgrabgrabgrabgrab. Guess Jon would have gotten ill if he hadn't read the statments that were sent to him? That and his other investigations.

AND. GEORGIE AND THE ADMIRAL. I LOVE THEM. I like Georgie a lot, she seems cool to me. And of course I adore a good Kitty. Admiral beloved.

The calliope is spookin me, but also I am excited for Jon to get into more situations lmao. This man is the most unfortunate fellow you could meet.

I have been taking a tiny break and it's late, so my commentary is not that profound, lmao. I am enjoying it a good deal, though. And I have been irritating the shit out of my siblings recommending it to them.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

The Shadow Falcon | Knives in Darkness

please i need more of the complicated world of shadow falcon 🫣- anon

I really liked The Shadow Falcon, but as someone who really loved the Remus chapters at the end of Little Prince, I was wondering if there's any chance of that here too Also, what is Janus' part of this, considering Logan seems to be the main caretaker this time around -🇵🇱

Read on Ao3 Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: implied/referenced torture, implied/referenced major character death

Pairings: intrulogical, anxcietmus

Word Count: 4739

"You need to let me talk to HQ."

"And why the fuck would we do that?"

Roman sighs, wincing as he sits up a little more in bed. Remus adjusts the tray over his lap as Logan puts a few more pillows up behind him. He shuffles through his hand and plays another card. "Because the longer it takes them to find me, the more likely it is that when they do, they're not going to believe me when I say it's not worth attacking the building I'm in to get me back."

Logan lets out a small noise that's probably meant to be something of a scoff. "Not to insult the abilities of your esteemed colleagues—"

"Cut the bullshit. You and I both know that if it actually came down to an open firefight, you're not winning. There's a reason you've been stockpiling in the eastern quarter—yeah, we know about that, and I'm telling you this now because you're the one who actually has the power to make this not go the worst way possible," Roman says sharply when Logan's gaze darkens, "so how about we all pretend that I'm not just a hostage and talk about this?"

He glances over and sees Remus's surprised expression and raises an eyebrow. Remus shakes his head. "Nothing, nothing, I just…what happened to the boy who was always so eager to do whatever the instructors wanted?"

"Someone killed my brother."

"…yeah, that'll do it," he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, but we're not—you reacted this way to finding out I'm still alive, how the fuck is everyone else going to react? How're they gonna believe you?"

"They will."

"They didn't last time," Logan says in a voice far too gentle to be anything other than devastating. Roman shifts with the bruises.

"Yeah, well, that was before I became the Agency's leading expert on hallucinogens and body doubles."

"…and how the fuck did you do that?" Roman doesn't even dignify that with a response, just turning and looking at Remus. "I'm a little scared of you right now."

"However impressive your credentials may be," Logan breaks in, "that doesn't exactly offer me any incentive to return you to their clutches, nor reveal anything about my own operations."

"Which is why I'm not asking you to do that. I'm asking you to let me contact HQ. You can monitor everything I say, you can even say it for me if you want to, but the longer they go without hearing from me, the harder this gets."

"And what would 'this' be?"

Roman stares at Logan for a long second before glancing at Remus. "The Agency's changed a lot more than either of you realize. We don't let our people go anymore. We don't just give up on them if they're presumed dead. We confirm it or we get them the fuck back."

"Also, since when have you started swearing more?"

"Since you put me on the good painkillers and I'm getting really tired of the bullshit."

"You mentioned." Logan looks both mildly amused and mildly irritated by how little Remus seems to care that he's mouthing off and making trouble—then again, that was always Remus's MO, he's probably thrilled that Roman's coming around to it, and doesn't that just tug on the heartstrings just a little more? "So your proposition is that if you communicate something along the lines of: 'alive, don't send out the cavalry,' this will buy you time to…what?"

"Well, if I send out something like: 'alive, relatively safe location, will move when recovered enough,' that buys you time to figure out what you want to do with me."

"I thought we were past treating you as though you were just a hostage."

"Just a hostage I may not be, but still your hostage? Yeah, very much so." Remus curses at him under his breath when he plays another card. "I'm not about to pretend I have more leverage than I do, which I don't. But I'm also not just going to let you think that nothing's going to happen if you keep me here without letting me tell them I'm alive."

"You seem awfully assured about the Agency's desire to keep you for someone who was horribly betrayed by them not ten years ago."

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you that it's different now before you believe me—"

"Are you gonna be the only one happy I'm alive," Remus interrupts, his voice far too small and scared for Roman's liking, "or not?"

Roman's mouth freezes halfway through whatever he was going to say next. He turns to look at Remus and yes, there it is—his shoulders are just a little too tense, his gaze focused a little too intently on the cards. He glances up at Roman and can't hold eye contact.

"Re," he mumbles, not caring a bit that he's still playing all of his emotions out clear as day for Logan fucking Hoskins, "if you think I was the only one ruined by your death, you're wrong."

Remus huffs in disbelief. "You're my brother."

"Yeah, which means I'm the one who—" don't get stuck there, don't get stuck there, don't get stuck there— "which means it affected me the most, but Re—oh my god, you don't know."

"Know what?"

Roman can't speak. He's can't say a fucking word because his hands are over his mouth and his eyes are wide and tears are streaming down his cheeks. He can't think about it. He can't talk about it. He can't—he can't—oh, God—

"Ro? Ro," Remus is saying, insistently now, the tray in his lap is gone, his hands are tugging at Roman's, trying to get them away from his face, "Roro, don't do that, don't—it's okay, just—just tell me what's going on—"

"Roman," Logan says, his voice gentle, too gentle, hands too kind as they try and smooth his hair back from his face, "you need to breathe. Take a breath, now, shh, don't try and speak just yet."

He can't. He's too busy reaching out for Remus, wrapping his hands too tightly in his hair and pulling him close, panting breaths shuddering into the crook of his neck as Remus flails awkwardly for somewhere to put his weight that won't fuck up Roman's ribs. Logan's hand is on his shoulder, the other probably somewhere on Remus but he doesn't care, can't care, not when he's pressing against Remus's pulse for everything he has and reminding himself that his brother is, after all, alive.

"Ro," Remus murmurs after god knows how long they spend like that, "Ro…what don't I know?

***

Psychological Findings and Progress Report #103826.89.2

Patient shows no sign of improvement. Patient is still insisting on feeding delusions involving conspiracies that [REDACTED] is still alive and that his body was a hoax created to test a new bioweapon. Patient shows high levels of stress and hysteria when challenged on this belief. Patient harmed three orderlies and threatened to 'burn this place to the ground before [he lets] something like this happen again!' Patient is being sent for more intensive treatment.

Addendum: patient is being quarantined for his own safety and the safety of other recruits. He has begun attempting to persuade others of the truth of his delusions. Further close monitoring will be required.

Addendum: patient has successfully convinced three other individuals. Patient has been restricted to solitary confinement.

Addendum: we need to do something now. He's getting out of control.

***

Post-Mission Injury Summary #12532985.43.8

Survivors underwent approximately ten weeks of physical and psychological torture. Initial review shows broken bones, bruises, lacerations consistent with training blades and real blades alike, and signs of severe medication withdrawal. One subject appears to have been waterboarded, another shows mild signs of hypoxia indicating suffocation.

Patient 161891435 is still in a medically-induced coma. It's unclear whether his body will continue trying to heal itself. At this time, we cannot draw any firm conclusions as to why, but one of the doctors thinks it might be due to the fact that we have no idea what truly happened to his brother.

***

Transcript from Interview #57

"Thank you for agreeing to this."

"Sure."

"Can you describe for me what you remember about the day you were taken?"

"Yeah. Uh, Princey—Roman was supposed to be coming back from training. He was half an hour late—I don't know if you know this about Roman, but he's not really the 'come back' late sort of person. We gave him the full hour to see if maybe he'd been called away to something else and just forgotten to message us—

"Could you clarify who 'us' is for the record?"

"Oh, yeah. Uh—me, I'm his training partner right now, Janus is our group instructor at the moment, and then Patton's overseeing our whole division. We were waiting for Roman to get back 'cause we had a, um, meeting thing we were going to do—"

"I'm going to remind you that this isn't a disciplinary hearing and it's important to be honest."

"Fine, yeah, we were gonna talk about the shitty stuff happening in the Agency, is that what you want to hear?"

"Is it true?"

"Considering what we just got tortured for, yeah, I think I can say it's fucking true and that we were fucking right. Actually, no, fuck that, Roman was fucking right and you can tell that to his face when he wakes up."

"There's been no change in Roman's condition, I regret to inform you."

"Oh, he's gonna wake up."

"Can I ask what makes you so sure?"

"'Cause we still don't know what actually happened to Remus, even now that the fucker who did this to us—all of us, might I add, you got fucked over by this too—is behind bars, and if you think Roman's gonna leave that job unfinished, you don't know him at all."

"You sound like you might admire him for that."

"If you're not a little scared of Roman right now? You're an idiot and you fucking should be. Someone took away his brother."

***

An Open Letter

To the people who don't know, my sincere apologies for the rude awakening you are about to receive. If there were a gentler way to do this, a more compassionate way to do this, even a slightly easier way to do this, I can promise you I would be taking it. But the very thing I am attempting to fight against would silence my words before you knew I had opened my mouth, and so I cannot afford to be gentle.

To the people who do know, know that your days at this Agency are numbered.

You enabled a power-hungry megalomaniac to manipulate and abuse a system designed to keep vulnerable people safe. You allowed him access to data that could destroy the world and limitless capabilities to affect it as he saw fit. You willingly turned a blind eye to those who were suffering and suppressed their voices when they tried to fix it. And now, when his crimes have been exposed and it's your own heads on the chopping block, you scramble to hold on to any semblance of power you thought you once had.

At midnight, the dossiers will be released. They will be made available to Level 0 clearance. There is nothing you can do to stop them and any action on your part to attempt to do so will be treated as treason of the highest order. You have until then to decide how you want your stories to end.

You will not force me out of this Agency. You will not silence me nor the others who have spoken up against the unfairness enabled by you and perpetuated by the system you helped to create. You will not preserve this horrific brutality and you will not get away with this again.

You know that I'm not alone. You know that there's no way you can win this. Your best option right now? Help us be better. You know it's possible because there's no other reason you would be so foolish as to try something like forcing us out. And because of that, we're willing to put our names on here, so if you try and come for us again? You'll find out why he wanted us dead so badly.

The clock is ticking. Your time is running out.

Signed,

Patton Everlark, Janus Russo, Virgil Dagenheart, Roman Prince

***

"Remus," Logan coaxes for the fifth hour in a row, "Remus, you need to sleep."

"He got tortured for me, Lolo," Remus responds in a hoarse croak, the same way he has over and over, his hands still white-knuckled around Roman's shirt and blankets, "he and the others—they almost killed them for me and I—I didn't—they don't—I—"

Logan crosses the room and sits down next to him, covering Remus's hands with his own. He doesn't attempt to make him let go. He rests his head on Remus's shoulder. Remus takes a shuddering breath and shrinks under him, so much so that Logan quickly shifts his arms to wrap around Remus's waist to keep him upright. He kisses his cheek.

"Talk to me, dear," he whispers, "please."

"Every time," he manages, "every time I think I know what happened, he tells me something else and I—I keep thinking about what might've happened if I'd just—"

He shakes his head suddenly.

"I know I can't think about it like that, but he—fuck, Lolo, he's—how did I ever think this would be easy?"

"I don't think you ever did," Logan says softly, "I think we both knew the moment you saw Roman again, it wouldn't be easy."

"Yeah, because I was trying to wrap my head around the fact that I'd have to kill my brother, not—not whatever this is." He leans against Logan's chest. "I don't know if I can do this anymore, Logan."

Logan hums, rocking them slightly back and forth. "So you believe him, then?"

"Why the fuck wouldn't I believe him?" He twists around to stare at him. "What incentive does he have to lie to me right now?"

"It splits our attention between finding out his supposed truth about the Agency with our goal to take it down. It splits your focus and emotionally compromises you. And it drives a wedge between you and me." He presses his hands gently against Remus's stomach. "And that's not saying what it means for the rest of our operation."

"Roman wouldn't do something like that," Remus says, but his voice is wavering, "he wouldn't."

"And you believe he would willingly rebel against everything he's ever known just on the off-chance that he was right? Is he that confident in himself?"

Remus looks back at Roman, asleep in the bed. His chest rises and falls steadily. His hands twitch.

"Believe me," Logan continues, his words tinged with something almost like remorse, "I want to believe him. If what Roman's saying about the Agency is true, then there's a greater chance that we could reach an agreement without an unnecessary amount of bloodshed. But, Remus, if we're wrong—"

"Are you jealous or something?"

Logan startles into silence. "What?"

"Are you jealous that I care this much about Roman? Is that what this is? Are you actively trying to undermine how much I care about my brother right now?"

A chuckle rumbles through his back. "Do I seem like the type to be threatened by such a thing?"

"I don't know, you're trying really hard to convince me not to listen to my brother right now and I'm not exactly sure what motive you have other than, oh, I don't know, you don't like that I'm paying this much attention to him."

"It's your brother, of course you're paying a lot of attention to him." Logan holds him a little closer. "And he knows that too."

There's a pause. The sudden quiet in the room makes the slight rasp in Roman's breathing all the more obvious. Remus slowly frees one of his hands and adjusts the blanket so it covers Roman's shoulder. Logan doesn't say anything. The heating in the room kicks on. Somewhere outside a car drives by.

"Stick to the plan, then?"

Logan nods. "If Roman is telling the truth, then things will be much easier."

Remus swallows heavily. "And if he isn't?"

"Then we'll be prepared."

"So are we gonna let him talk to HQ, then?"

"We will, yes, but it will be on our terms."

"We won't hurt him," Remus says suddenly, his voice small and quiet again in that way he hates, "we won't—we won't hurt him unless we have to, right?"

Logan shifts, letting his grip slide loose just enough to cradle Remus's chin. Remus's eyes are wide and watery, his hands beginning to tremble ever so slightly. Logan kisses his cheek gently, then his forehead, closing his eyes and letting them rest together.

"Not unless we have to," he agrees, "and I would never make you do it."

Remus's breath shudders out of him and he sags into Logan's hold. His grip loosens slightly on Roman's shirt as Logan tucks his head under his chin. As Remus begins to doze, his eyes trace the lines of Romans' sleeping face.

"The two of you do look remarkably similar when you sleep," he muses in a voice too quiet for Remus to properly make out, "but there will always be little differences here and there."

Such is the reality of growing up believing your brother would leave you for dead. Such is the price to pay for misunderstanding.

***

They meet in a warehouse. Not terribly original, not terribly secure, but necessary. Roman sits in a chair, mobile enough to make it there but not to stand and pace the way he desperately wants too. He feels every bit the hostage still, even though he knows that this meeting is on as equal footing as they could manage.

He still wishes Remus could've heard the disbelief in Virgil's voice. Wishes he could've heard the hope that he might be able to see him again. Even the hope that Roman might be wrong and that this horrible thing that happened might be a little less horrible because it would mean they didn't abandon one of their own too early.

But in a few minutes, Virgil's going to be here. He's going to be here and Remus is going to see that he was never forgotten, never abandoned, that they tore down and remade the world so that there would never be another like him, not that there ever could, because he's Remus and he was theirs and nothing could ever happen for the rest of time that would change that. Ever.

"You're anxious," comes Logan's soft voice—no, he's still not over that, not when it rasps unfamiliarly at his skin— "try and relax."

He turns his head to snap that he'll be as tense as he wants, thank you very much, only to see that Logan isn't talking to him, he's talking to Remus. Remus stops short like he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and only whirls around to pace in another direction. Logan rolls his eyes fondly and relaxes into the other chair, shooting Roman a look like they're about to bond over how stubborn Remus can be.

"What?"

"Oh, don't give me that, little hero, you have the same pinched expression on your face right now. Don't try and pretend you wouldn't be doing the same thing if you could pace right now."

"I'm not going to answer that question on the grounds that I don't want to."

"Mm, and would such a defense hold up in any meaningful court room?"

"Funny, I wasn't sure you knew what those were, since you're in the habit of getting yourself into the most kangaroo-laden courts you can find."

"It's less fun when they have actual kangaroos," Remus adds, because he's Remus and that's what he does, "trust me."

"You know what? I'm gonna take your word on that one."

He doesn't quite see the small flinch as Remus hears him say that, but something in his brain just clicks. The same one that had him look at that corpse—don't get stuck there, don't get stuck there, don't get stuck there—just a little bit closer.

"Re—"

"They're here," Logan says abruptly, looking down at his phone, "their car just pulled up."

Remus pivots abruptly, facing the entrance. The three of them wait in silence as the door slowly slides open and—

"Holy fucking shit."

Remus freezes. "Virgil? Is that—"

"Yeah, it's fucking me, you think I was gonna find out you were alive and not race down here to see you? Holy fucking shit, Remus, you're—you're—oh my fucking god—"

And then there's a hand wrapping around Virgil's shoulder and holding him still as Janus walks in behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Remus stand up a little taller and he can't help the small smile that crosses his face at the same instincts that come over him. Even now, some part of them is still the little kids standing at the edge of the training mats waiting for instructions.

"The course objectives for the round-off qualifiers," Janus says smoothly, like they're back on those mats again, "what are they?"

He sees a truly impressive range of emotions cross Remus's face, from surprise to fury to something he can't quite name—something else in his brain clicks—before settling on a wide grin. "Go fuck yourself, old man, or sit back and watch."

There's a pause. Then Janus sniffles and there's a very quiet oh, sweetie, and two people are dashing across the warehouse floor to wrap Remus up in their arms. Roman can't stop beaming at Remus's confused little face, nor at the way his knees go weak as Janus presses a fierce kiss to the side of his head. He always denied that he was capable of that, after all, but oh, now he's just a little pissed that Remus fucked up his ribs so bad because he wants to be in that hug too, dammit.

"I'm so fucking sorry, Remus," Virgil's babbling, "we didn't—we didn't believe Roman until it was too late and we—they got us, I couldn't—I tried—"

"You tried?"

"Of course we tried, sweetie," Janus murmurs when Virgil just chokes off in a sob, "we were—I don't think I could ever put into words how furious we were when we realized—when Roman convinced us that he was telling the truth—"

"Which was hard," Roman adds, not above it in this moment, not right now, not when his face hurts from grinning too much, and not when Janus is so distracted he doesn't even get scolded for it.

"—but you have to know, sweetie, we moved Heaven and earth to try and find you afterwards." His gaze slides to Logan for only a moment. "I should've known you'd be resourceful enough to make it."

"Of course you should," Remus says with enough false bravado that Roman almost believes him for a second, "I've always been better than you thought I was."

"Oh, sweetie, no—"

"You've always been his favorite," Virgil interrupts, "it's really fucking obvious."

"True."

"Wait, what?"

"I don't have favorites, you two."

"He says, you know, like a liar."

"Mhm."

"Wait," poor Remus says, and fuck Roman wants to hug his brother right now, "wait, I'm—I was—"

Janus softens—see? Favorite—and cups Remus's face properly in his hands, letting Virgil move over to Roman to check that he's alright—which is not the priority right now, but he does appreciate it. "Sweetie, if you don't know how much you were loved, then we've failed more miserably than I thought we ever did."

"He thought you abandoned him," Logan says softly when Remus can't speak, and Janus's head whips around to stare at him, "he thought you were willing to believe he was dead because it was easier."

"Bullshit," Virgil spits, "Remus, that's bullshit, right?"

But Roman's already been through this, and he can only grab for Virgil's hand when Remus suddenly stops being able to make eye contact. Janus looks like he's about to cry again—which is its own level of fucking weird as hell—and Virgil just rushes back over to wrap him up in a hug. The three of them start mumbling together and Logan's expression just softens further as he watches them interact.

Eventually, they step back, wiping away tears with varying levels of discreteness—or in Remus's case, refusing to wipe them at all. Janus attempts to gather himself and looks at Logan.

"I'm no fool. I know this meeting is conditional. State your terms."

"I won't be so brutish as to insist upon such haggling right now," Logan says, "perhaps you should take this as a token of good faith between us."

"Your last 'token of good faith' involved a hundred suitcases stuffed with half-bloated corpses showing up on the City's doorstep. Try again."

"Why the animosity?" He leans back in his chair. "Have I not earned myself any goodwill at all?"

There's a silent stare-down for a few seconds. Then Logan sighs.

"I suppose it was too much to hope that you would be reasonable right away." He stands, adjusting his suit jacket. "Remus, Roman, I believe our time here is up."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Virgil steps between them. "What the fuck do you mean, 'Roman?' Roman's not going anywhere with you!"

Logan just turns and looks at Roman. And Roman…

…is torn. Because he knows the smart thing would be to go back with Janus and Virgil. Logan is right, this isn't the time or place for this negotiation and if they all have time to rest and recover—mainly him—then the next time they actually meet, they might have a chance at actually getting somewhere. Plus, now he knows that Remus is alive and safe, then he might be able to rest at the end of all of this.

But walking away from his brother? Again? That might just finish the both of them off.

"Before you go," Virgil blurts out, "can—can Patton see you first?"

Remus's head whips around. "Patton's here?"

"Yeah, Patton's here, he—fuck, Remus, yeah, he's here. Can he just—before we do anything else? Can he?"

Remus just nods silently and Virgil steps back, muttering into his comm. He glances back at the door and the whole building waits silently.

Patton steps inside and three things happen in quick succession.

One: Patton bursts into tears and starts running forward.

Two: there's an almost imperceptible schink as something metallic slides into place.

Three: Roman lunges up out of his seat and tackles Logan's chair to the ground as he pulls out a gun.

His ribs scream in protest. He ignores it. The gunshot goes wide. Footsteps and shouts come from outside. Someone is yelling. He gets up and picks up the chair, throwing it at Logan. Janus and Virgil are already shouting. Patton's still running toward them. He looks up at Remus.

Shock. Surprise.

The thing he couldn't name before: guilt.

They make eye contact.

He's never been more grateful that Remus is his brother.

He hauls himself to his feet and starts running.

***

"Well," Logan sighs as he hears the four of them have gotten away, "that didn't go precisely as expected, but—"

"You lied to me."

Remus's back is one angry line. His hands are curled into fists.

"You lied to me."

"Remus—"

"You said we wouldn't hurt him unless we had to. You said this would just be a meeting. You lied."

Logan doesn't say anything. Remus just looks off in the direction Roman had run. Because Roman had taken one look at Remus and been able to tell that Remus might have known something, but he hadn't known and hadn't agreed with what just happened.

Roman hasn't abandoned him. He never had.

And neither had the others.

"…what have we done?"

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[cookinguptales]

you know, when I was like... maybe 7ish we had a pizza party at school. they had 2-liters of coke for us, but I remember crying because I wanted diet coke. and all the teachers were like ??? because it's not typical, I'll admit, for kids to want diet drinks. and I was asked, y'know, am I diabetic? do I have blood sugar problems?

no and no.

my dad has trouble digesting sugary drinks. I was never banned from them, I just didn't have the opportunity to drink them often. we only had diet drinks and juice in my house. (and even juice wasn't my favorite.)

so I didn't like coke. it tasted far too sweet to me. it was unpleasant. I wanted a diet coke. and I cried because everyone else had a special-occasion drink they liked but I had to drink coke, which was so unpleasant, until a teacher took pity on me (or got irritated) and got me a can of diet coke from the break room.

and, y'know... for years, I felt embarrassed about throwing a fit about that damn drink. oh, I should have just shut up and drank the coke, or maybe just gone without a drink. it's so embarrassing the way I cried over everything as a child. (and I do mean everything.)

but I understand these days that I was dealing with a fairly traumatic home life (that I constantly tried to tell the adults in my life about, but who told me I was overreacting) as well as being neurodivergent. I understand things like sensory issues and RSD now. I get why everything always felt so overwhelming at that age, why everything felt like it was the end of the world and why I felt like everyone would hate me for every perceived infraction.

what I understand better, though, is that I also cannot digest sugary drinks. it turned out to be something I inherited from my dad. my father and I aren't diabetic or anything; we've been tested many times. we just... don't handle sugar well. and I hadn't been exposed to a lot of sugar back then, but I knew when I had really sugary things, especially in liquid form, I didn't like it. I didn't like the way it tasted and I didn't like the way it made me feel.

we didn't know that I had an actual medical issue back then, or that I probably should have always had low-sugar snacks on hand. that they should have had a diet coke for me from the beginning.

but we knew that I didn't want to drink that soda.

idk, I just... as a kid, I always felt so ashamed of this episode. like I was being purposefully manipulative to get what I wanted. but as an adult, I have a lot more patience and understanding. I hate that we don't just listen to kids. they don't always have the experience to tell us why something is bothering them, but they know that something is bothering them.

I'm thinking now about how long it took me to get diagnosed with my multiple chronic illnesses, and how part of what took so long was the fact that many doctors didn't take me seriously. several of them told my parents they should be taking me to a therapist, not a medical doctor. they thought I was just a kid acting out.

idk. idk. this isn't like... a full meta post or a well-thought-out post about disability or anything, but just... I'm thinking about how from birth, we're taught to ignore what our body is telling us. (especially if we're AFAB.) I'm thinking about how raising a fuss while trying to take care of that body is something that'll get you shamed.

I'm thinking about how sick I got every time I drank juice at breakfast, and how none of that was necessary.

going to school with my spine partially dislocated wasn't necessary. fainting between classes wasn't necessary. hell, going to school with bruises and bites and scratch marks all over my body wasn't necessary.

idk. I don't want kids. for a lot of reasons, really. but sometimes I want to take care of them just so I can listen to them as they learn what their body is telling them and spare them any unnecessary harm I can. :(

[annaphoenix1994]

Cartel Protection

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

I clutched my M4 in my left hand as Soap and I exited the plane to our assigned destination – Las Almas, Mexico. Never once have I had a good memory in Mexico. In fact, I hated it. Hated everything about it, and I let one horrible memory ruin the experience for me. 2006 was the worst year of my life, going into 2007 with traumatic post-stress and severe anger problems. Manual Roba. Fuck, that name made my chest ache and phantom pain spread across my lower ribcage.

Failed brainwashing and months of torture is all I'm going to say about it.

Likely that it would never happen again considering I killed the man myself, I forced myself to think of my assignment ahead to keep my anxiety at bay. For once, I focused on Soap's social butterfly behavior, already irritated that he began making friends before we went out on a mission. "Alejandro!" He smiled at him, extending his hand out for the man to shake.

"Sergeant MacTavish." Alejandro replied, shaking his hand firmly, and I was relieved that he didn't try to shake my hand because I was in no mood to make friends, nor was I in the mood to talk. I was an observer, not a talker.

"Call me Soap."

Then, Alejandro's interest turned to me, looking me up and down as if I was a potential threat because of my face covering, and if that's what it took to keep my identity hidden, then so be it. I was here for one task: to find this terrorist, not make friends or take part in small talk. "Lieutenant, Laswell says they call you Ghost."

"Actually, I think he prefers to be called—"

"That'll do!" I barked at Soap, my irritation turning to full on anger when he said that. I didn't know what he was going to say, but he should've known better, but here he was pushing my buttons like he always did.

Why couldn't the old man send Garrick with me?

Alejandro breathed a laugh at the sudden awkwardness, "Welcome to the city of souls."

Well, isn't that fitting?

"I've never been to Mexico." Soap commented as we followed Alejandro towards a fleet of vehicles.

"This isn't México, this is Las Almas."

Same bloody difference.

"Shepherd's contractors are inbound to reinforce. They're bringing hardware. They'll need room." I informed him.

"My base is your base."

"Good. Now, where's Hassan?"

"Cartel safe house ten klicks from here. Get in."

I huffed when I tried to take a deep breath through my mask, setting my M4 between my knees as I continued to eye my surroundings. I couldn't trust anybody, especially in a country that I despised the most due to my past, I couldn't help the morbid thought of being put through the same thing again rising into my consciousness. Except this time, I was far more prepared to protect myself and Soap if I needed to. Even if the bloke did get on my nerves 99.9% of the time, he was still a partner on my team, and he was on my watch. If he couldn't fight back, then I'd fight for him. "This is my second in command, Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra." Alejandro introduced him, the grip on the steering wheel tightening when he saw my appearance through the rear-view mirror.

"Tengo miedo de los fantasmas. (I'm afraid of ghosts.)" He mumbled.

I know what you said, bastard. I wanted to retort back so bad, but I wasn't going to let my anger and hateful attitude take the better of me this time. I watched Alejandro smirk at Rudolfo before looking back at us, "You know Spanish?"

"...No." Soap replied. Again, Alejandro never once looked at me for an answer, except I felt like he had caught on to my behavior as to only talk to me when he needed to, not when he wanted to.

"You will."

We left the base in a three-car convoy, a short drive taking us into the small and cramped town of Las Almas. It would've been a lovely place if blood didn't literally liter the streets. Gore and vandalism were a primary appearance so far, clearly taking away what I was sure was a peaceful town at some point. It looked like it could've been a place for seniors to retire, but now, it looked like a destination hot spot for drug lords, cartels, gangs, and criminals from all over.

Soap was looking out through his window, watching a truck pass by that was going the opposite direction, a group of armed men sitting in the back going about their day. "White truck – four armed in the back." He mumbled to me, but I didn't move as I didn't sense any hostility from the truck that passed by. For some odd reason, it felt like seeing armed cartel driving around was normal, not taboo.

"Hey, tranquilo, easy. That's normal here," Alejandro advised, and Soap lowered his weapon. "Guns on the street is a jurisdiction of the police."

"Where are the police?" I questioned, my curiosity getting the better of me. As much as I didn't want to talk, I felt like I needed to make Alejandro talk in order to get a sense of his character if I was going to work alongside him.

"Well, Las Almas has a very serious problem. There are a few here to uphold the law and many of those who resist corruption... disappear."

"What about the military?"

"Well, because we are well-trained, soldiers are recruited by the Narcos."

"Why not you?"

Alejandro shrugged, looking over at Rudolfo, "We grew up here. They call us Los Vaqueros – cowboys. We love this place, and we will die fighting for it."

I sighed through my nose as I looked to my left to the open area of the town, seeing a bunch of children and their mother at what looked like a food stand, except what was supposed to a normal picture turned dark when I saw a man with a skull printed balaclava clutching a machine gun in his hands as if he was standing guard.

Soap chuckled, "Kids, guns, and balloons, that's a new one."

I didn't think it was quite funny, and Soap could see that on my face as I stared at him blankly. I was definitely not in the mood for jokes, either.

"Narcos use generosity to win over the people."

"Even the children?" Soap questioned.

"Especially the children." Rudolfo answered.

Well, that's fucked up.

The car stopped, and I immediately grew anxious. Why would we stop on a littered street of people where the majority had weapons? We're sitting ducks at this point, and I realized with a quick glance towards the front of us that there were pedestrians crossing the road. I looked to my right, seeing – and smelling – the two bodies covered by white sheets in the narrow alley. "What's on those sheets?" Soap asked.

"Norcomantas..." Rudolfo mumbled.

Speak English for the lad, would you?

"Cartel cloths. Messages from El Sin Nombre. Warnings, marking territory... Our streets are laced with death."

Yeah, I see that.

"Who's Sin Nombre?" I questioned.

"El Sin Nombre,"

Same fucking difference.

"The nameless. The leader of the Las Almas Cartel."

"Where can we find him?"

"You can't. Nobody knows who he is, but he is everywhere, and this is a challenge, but Los Vaqueros like challenges."

"With your mask, you will fit in well here, Ghost."

Hope your joke was funny to you, just wait until you hear mine.

I was satisfied when I watched Rudolfo's stupid smirk fall from his face before I could even say anything due to Alejandro stopping him. "Tranquilo, Rudolfo. Hey, checkpoint, it's the Army. Turn right, we'll go around."

"Why?"

"Some troops are in the pocket of El Sin Nombre. Like I told you, he is everywhere. The cartel is hiding Hassan in the village across the river according to our eyes on the inside."

"Who is that?"

"Case Officer Dutton. She will be helping us find Hassan and take him down. She's doing reconnaissance at the perimeter of the village. We get there, partner up with her, and get out with our target."

"American? Never heard that last name before." Soap guessed.

"Aye. Sent by Laswell. We've worked with her before. She's Laswell's second in command."

"I think I've talked to her before, then. I remember that last name now. Called me about the missile we found in Al Mazrah." Soap rambled.

"Probably. If she can't find a hit on Hassan, then we're out of luck. When the F.B.I needs help finding someone, Dutton is who Laswell sends."

Soap chuckled before nudging my elbow, and I knew exactly by the look on his face that he was excited about the fact of working alongside a woman. "Badass, eh?"

I shared the same glance of curiosity, but I could care less about working with a woman or not. Although I didn't agree that women needed to work in a man's world, if she could do it, then all the power to her.

»»-------¤-------««

Armed and ready, I was second to exit the car before we regrouped with Alejandro, who was directing his team. "Líderes de equipo, formen un círculo a mi alrededor. Armas calientes, Vaqueros. (Team leaders, circle up around me. Weapons hot, Vaqueros.)" He directed.

"Where are they holding Hassan?" Soap questioned, standing beside me with his M4 ready.

"Stand by," Alejandro held up his finger. 

I watched Alejandro reply with a subtle smirk. "Love that woman. White two-story building, back of town. Our partner is on the roof of the second largest building. Do not fire up top if you see movement."

"What does she even look like?" Soap asked, and again, I knew that he wasn't asking to prevent a fatal shot, but because he was always a horn-dog when it came to working with a woman. Before earning the callsign Soap, I addressed him as Barracks Bunny for the longest time. The lad got around when I first met him, and I wouldn't be surprised if he still did. Regardless, he always tried if he liked what he saw. I couldn't lie and say I wasn't curious myself as I had never worked alongside a woman before on the battlefield, and the soft part of me liked the sound of her voice, but I forced myself to keep my thoughts strictly tactical as I had a job to do.

"You'll know her when you see her. Let's move. Switch to channel seven."

We moved to the gate that she had said she gained entry, confirming it was clear before we pushed in, Soap and Alejandro taking point as we swept the first quarter of the area before making our way to another gate, Soap throwing a frag over the gate after he confirmed with Alejandro that he heard multiple footsteps on the other side. 

I heard her warn us, and the hateful part of me wanted to reply saying that I knew what I was doing, but I again refused to be a hateful prick when it came to addressing a woman. My mum raised me to always talk to a woman with decency and respect, regardless of their line of work. Even if this lass was to curse at me and slap me, I'd never raise my hand. Maybe say a couple of hateful comments, but never raise my hand.

She'd roll in her grave if I were to disrespect a woman.

I took a moment to wonder what this woman looked like. She seemed relentless already, which caught my attention. Perhaps it was because I haven't been touched by a woman in years because of my job, well, not in a serious relationship type of way. I had blown off steam with hookups occasionally when back home, but I made it clear that it was only just that and nothing serious. Her naturally soothing voice didn't help my wondering thoughts, either.

Get your fucking head right, Simon!

"Window! Window!" Soap shouted, he and I aiming our weapons to take out the hiding cartel members in the small shack.

We made our way to a claustrophobic alleyway between two houses, Soap and I taking out more cartel members that had managed to sneak up on the roof. We shot two of them, but we failed to see the third that was hidden behind a chimney. Before I could even get into cover and fire my shot, the man fell from the roof and down onto the ground in front of me, a large hole through his neck.

I looked up, seeing her laying down on the roof, a proud smirk on her face before she nodded at me, quickly getting up to keep on her path.

She saved my life, and I finally had a glimpse of her.

And by what I could see, she was far too gorgeous for this type of occupation, and I'd never have a chance.

Soap was going to lose his bloody mind when he finally got to see her, seeing what he could do to snag her for himself, but a part of me knew that she'd be a hard one to impress, which was something Soap severely lacked. The lad was impatient when it came to impressing a woman, wanting to move too fast into a new relationship. When he realized this, he just turned to hookups.

"Push forward! Let's clear this house, then get to Hassan!"

"Cartel will move him fast since they know we're here." I grumbled.

"Then we move faster," Alejandro replied, using the stock of his rifle to bust open the door. "Going in."

Soap and I followed him in, our M4's ready to fire as we approached a narrow hallway. "Watch the door on the right." I whispered to Soap in front of me, watching him throw in a flashbang before shooting the man hiding inside.

"Good shots, Hermano." Alejandro praised.

We cleared the rest of the house, making our way upstairs to clear the master bedroom, the only sign of Hassan being his flag hanging on the wall in front of the desk. 

"Quds Force, that's his flag." I pointed towards the Iranian flag on the wall, looking through the papers on the desk while we took a few seconds to ensure our weapons were loaded while the smoke was deploying outside.

"So, he was here."

"Colonel's intel was good, but he got away." I sighed.

"Her intel is always good," Alejandro chuckled. "Just bad timing."

She replied, unaware that her compliment made Soap blush due to the lack of compliments from a woman in a while.

It didn't go unnoticed as I grew jealous fairly easily in general, but I assumed it was always a man's nature to grow jealous of a compliment that wasn't given to them, but to someone else other than them.

I took cover before looking out the window, watching her climb down the back of the building she was on to run through an alley that opened towards the woods, a sniper rifle in her hand. 

We watched her get close to the group, a sly smirk on her face as she picked up a large rock before throwing it towards thick brush in the woods in the opposite direction, alerting the group of soldiers into thinking that the sound came from their enemy, giving her enough time to deploy the explosive. Smart woman.

We made haste in falling back as advised, especially when we learned that the closest band of enemy soldiers deployed gas into the house we took cover in. 

Kiera... That's her name. A beautiful name to match a beautiful face. Fuck, Simon! Get your bloody head right! I was eager to get a closer look at her, but I had to push that thought aside to prevent myself from getting distracted. Let's face it, I was already distracted, and all this woman was doing was her job.

We retreated downwards into heavy trees. Soap turned to look behind him when he heard footsteps approaching from behind, his gaze locking onto her when she ran between us and slowed down to match Alejandro's stride, Soap shooting me a curious gaze. Fuck, she's short. She comes up to my sternum. How can someone so small be talked highly as dangerous? Perhaps I'll find out.

"There's a bridge at the river. Extraction will be there," Alejandro informed us before looking at her. "Still in one piece? Glad to see it!"

"Yeah, me too," She scoffed. "Haven't been here for a full three days and I've been in more fights than I've slept."

"Trouble seems to always find you."

"You're tellin' me!"

"Contact! RPG!" I shouted, the familiar whistle of the weapon coming from the top of the hill. The RPG hit in front of us, a huge wall of dirt and smoke rising from its target. As we moved to take cover, an enemy darted out from behind the boulder Kiera was heading for, aiming his weapon at her, and I immediately risked my own safety to return the favor by saving her life.

But she beat me to it.

That's right, this lass grabbed the tip of the enemy's rifle with rapid speed before he could pull the trigger, using her foot to kick him between the legs to give her time to jerk the weapon from his grasp, turning it around to aim at him before she killed him with his own weapon and took his magazines for herself as it was the same weapon she had. Fucking hell, I think I'm aroused.

Goddammit, Simon! Get your head right and get to cover! You're no better than Soap right now! 

"Army on the ridgeline!" Soap shouted, he and I aiming up top to eliminate them to buy us more time. Only a dozen soldiers showed up this time, giving our team time to make quick work of them before retreating towards the river.

"We're going to have to jump here!" Alejandro shouted, stopping at the edge of a six-foot gap separating us from the other side to safety and borrowed time.

"Can we even make that?" Kiera asked.

"Do or die, Ditch."

"I hate when you tell me that." She huffed.

"Wait, did he just call you a bitch?" Soap questioned. 

"No, Ditch is my callsign because it's frowned upon to say "bitch" over the comm, and it's fitting because I am a bitch. Echo 3-1 is just easier to remember." 

"It's an inside joke," Alejandro laughed, "Use those little legs, frog. You can make it."

"Only one way to find out," She shrugged. "I'm not going first, though."

"I'll go first, scaredy-cat." He teased before making the leap, and it looked rather easy. Kiera's jaw dropped briefly before turning back to look at us, "Well, if I fall, it was nice to meet you."

Not a chance you're going to fall, love, I thought. Suddenly, I was appreciative of my concealed identity when the eye contact she made with me made my chest burn.

I could see her nervousness as she slung her rifle to sit across her back, and I was able to realize that it wasn't the distance that scared her, but the fall.

My breath hitched when I watched her jump, laughing as she slid down the slope before Alejandro stopped her, laughing with her before he teased her again, "Look at you, jumping like a frog! Wish you could've seen the look on your face!"

"No, I don't."

Soap and I made our way across, halting at the hum of an incoming helo. "Incoming heli..."

"Get into a firing position. We'll take them by surprise."

"Which way to the bridge?"

"Straight ahead. Past the helo," Alejandro answered, ducking down behind a rock as more fire erupted from the cliffside. "Weapons free!"

"Fuck, they're coming in like roaches!" Kiera shouted, taking cover next to me while Soap was with Alejandro.

"Top of the hill and down the cliff is the bridge! Let's move! Watch your backs – could have shooters positioned." He warned after we neutralized our enemy.

"Ah, fuck," She sighed, looking down at the cliffside. "You always have me facing my fears every time I'm with you, Alejandro."

"Don't even think about it, just do it," He chuckled, jumping down to the rock below. "You're really going to hate me after seeing what we have to cross."

Even I was nervous to cross this narrow ledge that led us to another cliff to take cover on, the drop being a two-hundred-foot first class ticket to the rapids below – a sure fatality.

She huffed, following his lead and ignoring the sharp pain in her knees she made obvious by the groan that followed when she landed. She waited on Soap and I to jump down before beginning her trek across the narrow ledge, pressing her back against the rock wall before being startled by an enemy sniper. The bullet hit closer to me than her, but she crossed with a quick pace before taking cover behind a rock, setting her rifle on top before adjusting her scope quickly, sighing before she squeezed the trigger, taking out the sniper and again preventing either Soap or me from losing our lives. "Sniper down!"

"Bloody good shot, love." I complimented her, waiting for Soap to cross before we moved forward, the short ledge ending to a literal drop into the water below. "You led us to a dead end, mate!"

"We jump from here. Don't lose your weapons!"

Yeah, she was definitely going to hate this.

Everyone was afraid of something, and it didn't take me long to realize that her fear was falling, perhaps even heights. I couldn't blame her, though, because the thought of falling into a body of water without knowing what laid beneath was terrifying. "Your turn, Sergeant." I said to Soap, making him go first to ensure that I was keeping him safe by providing cover fire, and the jealous part of me sending him before me to keep him from coaxing her into jumping. "Your turn, love."

She huffed a deep breath, gasping when she peered her head over the edge. I could feel her anxiousness, but we were running out of time. "I'll be right behind you. Cross your ankles and keep your body straight. Won't hurt as bad."

"That's comforting."

"Beats getting shot and falling," I shrugged. "Don't think about it. Just do it. Could've been over with by now." The wind blew her scent on me, and aside from the sweat, I could smell the sweet scent of her body wash, and it drove me insane. I stood behind her before I turned to follow the sound of upcoming footsteps, seeing the shadow of an enemy soldier approaching. Fuck, I had to make her jump now.

I didn't hesitate as I grabbed her hand, "Don't let go!" I shouted, leaping from the edge and dragging her along with me, hearing the whisp of a bullet fly past my ear as we fell. She gasped in fear before we hit the water, and as much as the impact stung, I refused to let go of her hand until we broke the surface. I could hear her release a breath under the water, a groan of pain following as I pulled her to the surface. "You alright? Think I heard something crack."

"Probably my fucking leg!" She groaned. "That's one way of making someone conquer their fears."

I shook my head, huffing out a laugh before I pulled her in front of me, using my body as a shield before I removed my pistol, taking two shots towards the cliffside before I watched the enemy fall to his death.

"Everyone alive?"

"Breathing." Kiera grumbled, taking cover behind a rock.

"Looks like we have some time before more reinforcements come in. There's a bridge up ahead. Let the river carry us until we need cover. It'll get shallow when we get closer to the bridge." Alejandro explained.

We stayed close to the rocks that lined the shore, keeping our weapons ready. I was sure that Kiera's adrenaline kept her from focusing on the pain of her leg by how she struggled to swim, so I made sure to fall back to keep my pace up with her as she was the most vulnerable out of the four of us. We saw vehicles lining the bridge up ahead, and I was quick to realize that those vehicles weren't with us...

"Fuck! It's the Army! We'll have to hold here and get extraction!" Alejandro shouted, taking cover behind another rock once we reached shallow water.

"I'm aiming for the fuel tanks of the trucks!" Kiera shouted, setting her rifle on the top of the rock, taking two shots before one of the vehicles exploded, killing four soldiers that were surrounding it.

"Commander Graves. Shadow Company. They're with us," I answered, thankful to have him covering us. 

"Let's roll." Soap groaned, wiping his hand through his mohawk, ridding it of water.

[redwithjoon]

"Haley wants me to sign the divorce papers uncontested."

"You don't want to...?"

Ultimately uneventful :/

HotchxReid

Word count: 8k

Just filth - NSFW!!!

An insanely stressed Hotch was ready to fight an inmate and is currently giving Spencer a seminar about how his wife wants a divorce pronto. Spencer decides that this just can't be and takes matters into his own hands. Quite literally. Oh, and he also finds out that his boss has a weirdly specific kink??

Read on Ao3

I come bearing food: @observaureium, @gay-in-a-jar, @castielryan

Have fun ↓

=

"Haley wants me to sign the divorce papers uncontested." 

There it is. 

Spencer has been silently wondering why his boss 'escalated the situation' by losing his patience and was about to fistfight a whole serial killer so easily. Hotch had faced down more unreasonable, violent unsubs in the past, but for some reason, the moment he was baited by that man, he instantly snapped. 

"So we don't waste money on lawyers." 

Well, that'll do it. Having your wife screaming you down over the phone about how she wants you to officially divorce her already was obviously not an ideal start of the day but it can't just be that, can it? His boss is ridiculously pent up, and it's not like he had anyone to bitch to. After a few seconds, Spencer realized that Hotch wants some kind of response to his almost-confession but he's still unsure of what to say… like he literally has no fucking idea what Hotch wants him to do? Reassure him that it was going to be okay? Tell him that he's a good man either way? 

"You don't want to…?" Well, yeah obviously.

Hotch continues to randomly complain to him about his problem with his soon-to-be ex-wife and Reid just lets him be, trying to help him by giving responses he thinks would calm him down and make him feel the slightest bit better but there's only so much he can say. 

And to make it even worse, now they're stuck in traffic. In an absolutely insane traffic. 

Hotch subtly asks the taxi driver next to their car what exactly is happening and the driver just sighs. "I dunno, there's apparently a car crash not too far from here. They're rerouting the cars but…" 

"It'll take a while." Hotch thanks the man and rolls his windows back up. 

Christ. What can they do? Hotch is already irritated and now they have this. And the burden is not just mentally, Hotch has been driving for a while now and Spencer knows it's usually nothing for the man but it's a bit more tiring when you're stressing out about your imminent divorce, huh? 

Like a good friend, Spencer just listens to him, he listens, he listens, and he listens. 

But, fuck… there's only so much passive-aggressive talk about Haley that he can take.

"Are you tired?" Spencer cuts off Hotch in the middle of his mumbled rant, Hotch was talking about custody or something and Spencer has been listening long enough that he feels like he could be a divorce lawyer too by now. 

"Not really." 

"Well, I'm tired, it's the uh, the heat, you know, and I'm still a bit shaken from before." He is not shaken from before, but he'll say whatever it takes to get the hell out of this car. 

Hotch's previous potential outlet, a literal full-on fistfight, has been taken from him and now it has nowhere to go, no relief from the frustration. Too bad that they're not in the FBI's training room where Hotch can go berserk in shredding rubber dummies. 

"I see. We can pull over, but there's still no place to rest." 

Right. Ah… think, Spencer, think. You may not be under intense terror anymore and can't do your best work, but you need to come up with something. 

Hm… what will he do when he needs to let out stress– wait, no, not him, what would guys like Hotch do when he needs to let out stress other than sweating it out? Reid is tempted to just tell him to do laps but then a sudden realization hits him like lightning, so fast and shocking that he almost jumps on his seat. 

There's another way to sweat things out, right? 

But that won't do, does that even exist in Hotch's list of options of stress relief? Workout? Deep meditation? And…? 

"Hotch, do you want to rest? There's uh… well, there's a hotel there." Spencer points at a discreet-looking hotel. Hm… too discreet in fact with its own parking lot and everything. 

Hotch blinked. If it's any other hotel, he'll just chalk it up to Spencer needing that sweet coolness of AC and some subpar dining. But that's not that kind of hotel, is it? 

"That's not a proper hotel, Reid." Perhaps his subordinate just doesn't understa–

"I know." 

Of course he knows. Look, he knows a lot of stuff, a lot, some of them irrelevant, but even he knows that that is a love hotel, a short-stay hotel to be exact, paid by the hour for obvious fucking reasons. Hotch knows, he knows, he's just offering. 

It's silent for a while and Spencer's hyper brain is already thinking of dozens of different ways on how he would be fired (he's up to 57 potential scenarios by now), but shockingly…

Shockingly, Hotch makes a left turn, he drives down the rather empty road and parks into the almost-hidden parking lot. Quiet, discreet, just everything you need to make sure no one sees you come and leave. 

Hotch turns off the engine and Spencer is just… he's waiting for Hotch to unlock the car. He's nervous. Sure, he was the one that offered Hotch to stay in a love hotel for a few hours with the obviously very unprofessional, potentially damaging suggestions, but he's still nervous, okay? He just… wants to get Hotch's mind off of this downright spiral he is on and he's not the best in– 

"Are you sure?" Hotch's voice is as calm as ever, if Reid isn't a profiler he would've missed the slight tremble on his voice.

"…No one has to know." 

"No, Reid, are you sure you also want this…?" 

Yeah, Reid, do you want to fuck your boss? His brain is taunting him, asking him why he's offering sex to his boss but then again, why did his boss accept, hm? Why did he even consider the idea? He's not the only one in the wrong here. 

"I…" He clears his throat. "Can you just unlock the car…?" He could hear the door unlocked, Spencer walks out first, still looking everywhere but at Hotch. "…Do you have cash?" 

"Yes." 

"Okay. Good. So um, we're… good?" 

"Good." 

Spencer wants to scream from all the one-word answers. Of all times can Hotch just sound less formal? Just once, can he sound less formal when they’re literally going to have real sexual intercourse? 

…probably not, huh? 

The less they talk the better. Reid wants to hiss the moment they walk into their room, the thought of how dirty this room must be even though it looks perfectly clean considering the purpose of such accommodations but he pushes through it. 

Okay. Now that they’re here, uh… what should they do first? 

Spencer almost jumped when Hotch walk past him and sits on the bed. The first time they finally lock eyes with each other, as if creating a silent agreement, Reid lightly nods and put his bag on the chair. Okay, no thinking, (no bitching about divorce too,) only uh… only…

Okay, class? What should we do first? 

That's the limit on how his brain is functioning right now, thinking about what should they do first? What should he say to his boss? Should he, like, give him options? List out the menu like he's a waiter just asking when he wants for lunch? 

Hotch hasn't said anything and it's unnerving to be honest. 

Spencer sighs comically loud before he decides he might as well chose for him, if Hotch doesn't know what he wants then they just do whatever they can do. 

It's not like Hotch doesn't know what he wants. 

When Spencer turns around to grab something from his bag, Hotch can't help but watch and linger his eyes on Spencer's body. 

He admits that he has never, in the years and years of them working together, thought of Spencer as sexy. One part of it must be from the fact that he had started working with Spencer since he was a lanky, nervous 21-year-old who looked like a kid straight out of highschool. He never really noticed the change until now. 

Hell, even the word 'sexy' doesn't seem to fit him at all, with Reid always dressing up so conservatively. 

He always, always dressed like that, the only casual clothes Hotch had ever seen him in is his standard academy uniform and some shirt he wears strictly when the summer heat just gets too much. Even then he would wear short sleeves button up. 

Suddenly he remembers how surprised he was when one scorching hot day, he saw Reid with his long hair tied in a ponytail with the first two buttons of his shirt undone. It's not… he's not showing any excessive skin, the buttons didn't even show anything that can't be compared to Prentiss' shirt but it just looked… vulgar. It looked so vulgar merely because of the rarity of it. He remembered for a second that he almost looked away, like it's not something decent or proper for his eyes but then he remembered how illogical that is. 

That's something he didn't remember till now but it comes back at full force right this minute, when Reid bends down just the slightest bit to rummage through his bag to get…  

It's ridiculous how hot it is when Spencer pulls out a hair tie from the bag's tiny pouch, the man reaching back to gather his neck-long, perfectly curled hair. It's ridiculous how he feels himself getting more and more aroused just to see Spencer unbutton his cufflinks. 

The fact that he feels some kind of excitement seeing Spencer struggling to pluck his cufflinks off…

He needs to stop thinking and just enjoy it. Besides, isn't this Spencer's idea? Is he not in the wrong? Hotch's brain desperately needs some kind of justification as to why he's weirdly turned on already. 

Spencer, still pouting as he struggled with his right cuff, started walking towards Hotch. 

Spencer decides that he is going to straddle his lap, almost like he's used to if even. He only paused for a second, as if contemplating for the last time if he's going through with this or not but decides that there's no backing out now and he slowly starts to climb on his boss' lap. 

Spencer is nervous but he knows what he's doing. 

…Hotch doesn't know why that ticked him off, not in a sense that he hates what Spencer is doing, but in a sense that it shows this is Not Spencer's first time. 

Is it absurd of him to expect this 27 year old man to be… a totally inexperienced person? And why he finds himself feeling the smallest bit of disappointment when he realized Spencer isn't a fumbling, blushing mess. He's not aggressive in any way, still pretty much the Spencer that he knows, and yet. 

He got pulled out of his mind when he hears a relieved, tiny laugh as Spencer finally got the cuffs of his shirt off, then those same hands hold Hotch's shoulder, using them to brace himself as he tries to get comfortable on Hotch's lap, moving his knees subtly here and there on each side of Hotch's thighs to minimize discomfort, he expected Hotch to help him but–

Spencer feels hands on his waist to… push him away? 

The 'rejection' puzzles him greatly, looking down at the older man with the same pout, just more confused this time. "You don't like it…?"

"I do." Well. Then why? Spencer wants to ask when Hotch fully push him off his lap, making him stand up again. Hotch's hands are still holding Spencer's waist and Spencer could still feel the desire if the way Hotch's fingers are pretty much massaging his waist is something to go by so he isn't sure why the man is pushing him away. 

"I… like how you look unbuttoning your cuffs." 

The little confession made Spencer gasps ever so slightly. Hotch is actually talking to him about what he wants? Really? 

"I'd like to see you strip everything down yourself, if that's not too uncomfortable for you." 

Oh, how careful this man is. Reid offered sex and Hotch still asks if he's uncomfortable, truly a gentleman.

"I can do that. Do you want me to do it slow?" Spencer doesn't fucking know how to do a strip tease but he's good at improvising (as they both just saw) so he's sure he can do it right. Hotch's brows furrow in contemplation, he's also not sure what he wants but… he has an idea. "That's not necessary, I like it more if you do it casually."

"Casually?" 

"How you would strip when you're in private, like your bedroom for example. When you strip for a shower or to simply change clothes." 

"Oh… okay, then." That's a relief, though it is a weird request is it not? Act like he's at home? As if he's just relaxing alone? …Like doesn't know he's being watched? Hm… is that a kink? Is it, in and of itself, something sexual? 

Reid decides that he's thinking too much about it and thinking isn't what both of them want right now, right? 

Rarely has Hotch ever been this focused in anything other than work. He follows those trimmed, slim fingers slowly unbutton the rest of the dark, almost black cardigan off. Was it slow? He wasn't doing it slow, was he? No, he wasn't, he was undoing them normally so it might be Hotch's brain that's working slow. Not just his eyes, his ears also seem to be hyper aware to the slightest sound, because he got pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of Spencer's rolled up cardigan being tossed to the hotel's lone sofa, it feels like he could hear the lightest sound of the silk tie (always coloured or patterned) being unfurled easily by a single tug. 

Is he sweating? Because Hotch feels his body temperature going up for some unknown reason. (He knows the reason is arousal but he refuses to recognize how easy it is to get him hard.) 

Spencer then unbutton his white shirt one by one, this time he folds them a little neater before putting them on top of the cardigan. He's wearing a thin, loose tank top undergarments underneath. God, just how many layers does this man wear on the daily? Again, for some 'unknown' reason, Hotch finds that arousing. Probably because of how conservatively Spencer always dresses and he is probably one the only ones that gets to see his skin, because of that tank top, even if Spencer sweats or gets wet, no one can see his chest, his nipples or belly button. Yet he can.  

Hotch almost jumps when he hears the slightest frustrated groan as Spencer struggles to unbuckle his belt, eyes looking down and his lips pouting in focus. Wait, what? No. No, don't do that, get rid of that tank top first. Hotch is screaming on the inside, just one thin layer of cotton fabric and he could finally see his bare upper body. God, why is he being a tease?

Well, maybe he isn’t being a tease, maybe this is just how he– 

Can't think, Hotch can't think when he hears the thump of the belt buckle hitting the floor, Spencer accidentally dropping it, he picking it up and spun it into a circle. Hotch thinks he must look like a creep, eyes focused on every millisecond hearing that typical unzipping sound as Spencer pulls down his zipper. Pants pushed down to the floor and Spencer stepped out of it one foot at the time. 

There's something about this, he's not doing it to seduce Hotch, just like he requested, Reid just stripped like he's at home going to change from his work clothes to something more comfortable, no moving his hips or ever looking at his boss. Spencer is wearing a loose, bright blue underwear, his habit of wearing colourful clothes underneath all his formal look is endearing, especially seeing those mismatched socks, moss green with a star pattern on the left, orange with red stripes on the right. 

Spencer pulls off his tank top, unfurling his hair along with it, he bends down and was about to pull off his socks when– 

"Wait– what– wait!!" Spencer stumbles when Aaron suddenly stands up from the bed, his hands gripping Spencer's bare waist and manhandling a bit too roughly and it caught the younger man off guard. He lets out a surprised huff when Hotch shoves him on the bed on his stomach, gasping when he feels Hotch on top of him, trapping Spencer with both his knees on the sides of his thighs. 

He knows it's ridiculous, but Spencer felt the slightest bit of fear knowing that Aaron can just… do anything to him if he wants, he knows his boss won't hurt him of course, but the fact that Spencer is hanging on the belief that Aaron is a Good Person still makes his heart beat faster. 

Spencer hears the sound of zipper being undone, Hotch stripping on top of him impatiently. Oh… he wants to see that too… it isn't fair? How is it that Aaron gets to see everything while he's trapped on the bed? 

Reid swallow his silent protests when he feels Aaron's lips on his neck. 

This is the first time Hotch ever touched him more than hugging him and dragging him by the hand when he almost got shot for the 5th time because he thought it was a good idea to talk down an unsub without his vest on. Hotch is touching him and Spencer is dead silent about it, his mind still trying to wrap around the idea that he's basically naked under his boss who's stripping patiently. 

"Hotch– Aa…" 

"Aaron." Hotch finishes for him. "It's okay, Spencer." Reid didn't reply, squeezing the pillow under him viciously when Aaron grip each side of his underwear and tugging them down so roughly that Spencer hissed out loud at the feeling.

"I'm sorry…" Hotch's voice is so low, so… just so… It's doing things to reid and suddenly he doesn't really mind anymore. 

"It's okay…" at least Hotch is nice when he takes off his socks, it's sweet even, how he bends his legs and pulls them off one by one. Then, as Spencer suspected, Hotch rolls him to his back, the first time Reid is facing him when he's properly aroused. "Hey…" he whispers, pulling on Hotch's shirt collar, whispering at Aaron to take his clothes off first. And he does, but still when he's on top of Reid, when he keeps eye contact that makes the other squirm. 

He had never seen Aaron naked before, Spencer tracing his fingers on the old scars peppered on his body, to the little beauty marks on his neck and chest, and, aha… Aaron has a lot of body hair, a lot, it tickles him a bit and he just knows he's gonna get some kind of chafing later. 

"What, um… what do you wanna do…?" Spencer mumbles as he strokes Aaron's arm, going up to his neck and shoulder, sighing when he feels Aaron nuzzling his neck and his jaw… "I'll do whatever you want." Spencer adds. "Just… can't go all the way." 

Penetrative sex is a painful thing, at least at first, and it's unsaid but both of them are tired from the day's work and Hotch is mentally exhausted from all the stress. 

Spencer whispers to Aaron that hotels like these usually have condoms and lube stashed on the bedside drawer and he's right, but despite all that, it'll still gonna take a long while. Spencer would have to clean up, they both have to take things slow, foreplay that could take minutes till hours since that's what Spencer needs if he doesn't want to be a rigid, awkward mess. And both of them don't have the energy for that. What should they do, then…? 

Spencer reach around blindly until he finds the bottle of lube and squeezed a considerable amount into his hand, he hesitantly pulls Hotch into a soft kiss again when his hand move down ever so slowly until he finally wraps his slick, slippery fingers around Hotch's straining erection. 

"Sorry–" Spencer whispers between their kisses when he hears Hotch hissing loudly. "Sorry it's cold…" he has nothing to be sorry about but he gets sensitive during sex, sometimes he's extremely cheeky and insufferable and sometimes he gets just a little too soft and this is the latter. 

"Don't," Hotch replies, Reid is slowly stroking his cock, squeezing hard at the base and lightening up at the tip just how he likes it. Huh, how did Reid know what he likes? 

Hotch's hand moved from softly caressing his back to Spencer's shoulder, basically shoving him down on the bed, Spencer gasped in surprise when he– "Ah! Aaron, I– fuck…" Aaron shoved his hand away, hooking his hands on Spencer's thighs, spreading them, and hooking them on his waist as he forcefully grinds down on Spencer's groin. 

It feels so– it feels so good, it feels so fucking good, holy shit. Aaron is grinding down on him, squeezing Spencer's erection between their bodies, the fast, heavy stroke milking his cock from the mere friction alone. It feels good but it also fucking hurts, fucking Hotch and his fucking body hair, it's just everywhere! It scratches and tickles his skin and it– fuck, don't stop, don't stop, don't– "No…" Spencer groans loudly into their kiss when Aaron stops. 

Why the hell did he do that? What the hell is his problem!? He–

"I'm sorry–" Hotch blurts out. "I’m– I'm sorry, I have to stop…" He knows he pissed off his younger partner, but… "Had to stop, I was already close." 

Wait, "What…?" Spencer doesn't want to sound rude but he's actually caught off guard, they've only been doing this for a few minutes, so why? 

"It's you," Hotch whispers yet again, his voice is so soft, he must also feel humiliated to some degree. "I've never done this with a man before and there's just something about you…" Hotch started kissing his jaw, Spencer twitching from the feeling of Aaron's lips lingering on his skin, parting his mouth as he lick and suck in the softest way possible because Spencer has an inkling that Aaron’s a bit possessive when it comes to sex and he's fighting with every nerve in his body not to leave painful, glaring hickeys all over his partner aka him. 

Something… about him? Because he's a man or because he's Spencer? 

"It's okay," Spencer said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "We can just…" Spencer pushes Aaron away from his body, sure Spencer is loving all the kisses but he also needs something else. 

He slowly turns around and lays on his stomach, his legs spread wide as an obvious invitation that Hotch readily accepts, taking only a second before he slots himself between those thighs, his hands rubbing from Spencer's hips, waist and back slowly, going up and down in a firm, almost painful strokes with how deep Aaron is digging his thumb on his skin. 

"Can't do too much, Aaron, but I don't mind." Spencer is driving him crazy, Hotch is completely sure Spencer is doing this on purpose because those long, bony fingers of his are reaching back slowly spreading his cheeks apart till his rim strains, "Use me…" 

Use– Fuck, Hotch is so pissed off at the fact that Spencer knows, he knows this is driving him crazy yet he does it anyway, baiting Hotch to completely let loose and just, use him. If he can't fuck him, he can grind on him like Spencer’s just a toy, that's what he’s implying and Hotch is going to do just that. 

Hotch grabs both his wrists and forces them both to the pillow again. "Keep them there, don't you move." Spencer nods, he can do that, bringing his hands in and tucking it on his chest. 

He hissed when he smells latex and feels Hotch's thumb rubbing the liquid roughly between his cheeks, making sure that he's slick till the bottom, Spencer shudders when Hotch absentmindedly start massaging his perineum with his thumb, making Spencer whines as quietly as possible into his hand, it's nothing overwhelming, it just feels good.

Hotch stops much to Spencer's disappointment, but then he feels Hotch on top of him. Not just above him, he feels Hotch's body on top of him. Feels his chest on his back, feels his full weight trapping his body down. But that's not even close to the overwhelming feeling he gets after. 

Hotch shoved his cock between his cheeks and started grinding him down so hard that even with the lube, Spencer could still feel the burn of the movement, how his cock would drag low and slow and then push back up again, Spencer feeling his body being trapped by Hotch, how his damn heavy weight is making it hard to breathe but Aaron is enjoying himself and Spencer doesn’t want to stop that. Christ, he could feel how big Aaron is just by grinding on him, could feel his rim rubbed by the tip of his heated, rock hard erection, so hot and veiny, just… it makes him wonder if it'll even fit in him?

"Aaron–" Spencer gasps when he feels Hotch's fingers digging into his back, leaving white marks from his shoulders to the dip between his thighs, those same hands squeezing his ass painfully hard, grabbing them so roughly that Spencer can't handle it, one hand reaching back frantically only to have it pinned down on the bed, unable to wiggle them free no matter how hard he tries to get away. "Aaron, please…" 

There's a pause, Spencer gasping when Aaron starts kissing the side of his head, down to his cheek, his ear, damnit. "Shh… it's alright, Spencer. It’s alright." Alright, he said, but he didn't let up. 

Though he finally, oh god, finally… lift himself up and bracing himself on his elbows, finally letting the younger one breathe properly, letting Spencer's hand go. He can't blame Aaron though, he doesn't want to because he said it himself didn't he? Use me. And Aaron is doing just that. 

Aaron pulls apart his cheeks with his thumbs even more, enough to make Spencer hiss and grip the pillow tighter. 

It feels good for Aaron though, even better than before, he could get himself more snug in there as he continues to grind down on him. Fuck, he could just… feel his hole whenever he pulls back before thrusting up again. And this, this lust inside of him is infecting his brain with all sorts of sinful thoughts. 

He could do it, Hotch thinks. He could spread Spencer's legs apart and make him take it, he could pin him down, Hotch knows he's strong enough for that. Pin his back down with his body, pin his arms and wrist down with a forceful grip, use his legs to pin his calves in place and he could just make Spencer take his fucking cock, just take it, take it, take it. Just shut up and–

Wait, hold on, what was he thinking? What kind of depraved imagination did he come up with? Hotch got rid of those thoughts off of his head instantly. 

But he can't deny that this is so good that his mind is having trouble processing it. The way his precum is making it easier to slide his cock up and down, to grind in harder and harder, he could feel every single fucking time how the tip of his cock would brush past his hole, and it– fuck, it feels good, for some reason even something as simple as feeling Spencer clench under him every time is making his mind thought of those horrible things. He feels shameful, completely appalled by his wretched thoughts of forcing Spencer. 

For some kind of reassurance, Hotch suddenly kissed Spencer's neck, making the younger one's breath hitch under him, Spencer's thighs shaking a bit when Hotch parts his lips, mouth sucking on the spot, way too wet for a hickey while his teeth ever so slowly push and drags on Spencer's skin. Only when Spencer whimpers did he stop. That didn't last long though because Hotch starts doing the same thing to his shoulder down to his shoulder blade, all the while he hasn’t stopped grinding down on Spencer. 

It's almost embarrassing how quickly he feels his orgasm brewing, how his breathing gets heavier, his body more tense, Spencer could barely move from how hard Hotch is holding him.

Spencer is hurting; Aaron is squeezing his arms so tight that it turns his fingers white, he kept thrusting so hard that Spencer feels the sensitive skin around his rim randomly stinging with every pull, and to be completely honest, Aaron's weight on top of him is making it hard to breathe. Though Spencer doesn't tell him to stop and is not planning to, he knows Hotch is nearing his orgasm, knows that if he breaks that momentum, he would probably feel too sensitive to continue, or his orgasm might not end up as satisfying and that's the last thing Spencer wants. This all starts with him trying to make Hotch feel so good he'll forget about his, uh, absolutely ruined marriage, for an hour or so, and he’s going to do just that. 

Spencer's a man too, it happens so quickly that despite being prepared, it still surprises him nonetheless. Because Hotch suddenly freezes, Spencer feels hot semen staining his lower back right after and he shivers with disgust. But it's fine, after a few seconds and a few more drops of warm come wetting his skin, he knows that Hotch is done. 

Now finally flaccid, Hotch slowly moves off of him, rolling to his back to take deep breaths. Spencer's waist and thighs are aching, the skin between his cheeks and especially around the rim starts stinging from the burn of previous friction, he desperately wants to just roll back and heave in some breaths but he can't fucking do that, can he? He's not going to smear this whole bedsheet with his boss' drying semen. Christ, this is both humiliating and irritating. 

Spencer pushes himself off the bed, still pretty much erect as he stands on wobbly legs, carrying the damp towel with him. He didn’t look back at Aaron once as he stumbled his way into the bathroom. 

Well. They finished what they set out to do, right? Spencer tosses the towel to the laundry bin and walk inside the shower, making sure that the water is hot before stepping into it. 

Spencer squeaked from the sudden stream, gasping in pleasure as the water relieved some of his tension. He reached back to, ugh, rub the slippery semen off his back, it just feels… wrong but the water cleaned it up so it's fine. 

His head thumps lightly on the wall, wondering what the hell he's doing. 

Whatever though, he's still turned on and hard and that's really numbing his critical thinking. 

The bathroom reverberates his moans when he wraps his fingers around himself, pumping up and down his length in an impatient manner. He just wants to fucking get off already so he can function normally again. 

It's a love hotel, these things are bound to happen, right? So he doesn't care if he's letting out sounds here and there, he's not being super loud and fuck it, if he wants to jerk off in the shower he'll fucking do it. 

His other hand hits the wall and curls into a fist, his mouth breathing hard on the tiles, he's not sure what's dripping down his chin anymore, is it water or spit? He spread his legs carefully, making sure he won't fucking slip and bust his head or something but he needs to thrusts into his hands, it feels good. It feels so, so good…

The hot water is fogging up the shower's glass and mirror outside and he couldn't care less. His hand moving from the walls to the glass, his shaking palm wiping up the fog, he's almost bouncing on his legs now with how good it feels and how much he wants to get off. 

Oh god, he's going to come, he's going to come– he's right there! Right– he just needs a few more minutes, just a little more… a little… 

"Spencer?" 

Fuck. 

He gasped loudly and had to bite down a loud groan from his frustration. Great, Aaron is here, just when he was about to come, that's just–

"Aaron…?" Reid whispers when he feels the shower's glass door being opened, the older man slowly stepping inside. Spencer… he knows what's happening but it's really hard to think right now, not with Hotch pulling him off the wall, not with him pushing Spencer on the glass door, not with Spencer feeling just how fucking hot the surface is. All that is forgotten when Hotch presses his back to his chest, kissing and pecking Spencer's neck and shoulder again as his hand rubs his waist roughly, his hips, his upper thigh, his– 

"Aaron! Aaron… oh god… fuck…" 

Spencer's forehead thump on the glass, lips bitten down and his face scrunch up in pleasure. It does feel different when someone else is jerking you off, someone who has the same sex as you, who knows just how to pull, tug and squeeze just right. Spencer feels his eyes rolling back, his eyelids fluttering close, mouth open in a silent gasp. 

Hotch grips his erection harder and Spencer keens, feeling his thumb pushing down on the tip with each fast stroke, would rub up and down his prominent vein and his slit and– 

"AH!! AARON– MORE, YES, yes just like that, oh god, god, faster, faster! More, goddamnit, I'm so close, I'm so close, baby, just like that… just–" 

Hotch's brain glitched for a second there. Reid's the type that slips in nicknames when he's having sex, huh? Well, he isn't sure what to do with that information, but it's sexy, god, that sounds so sexy. 

"Baby, yeah, more, oh god, Aaron, I'm gonna–"

When Spencer's body twitches hard and freezes, Hotch squeezes his cock oh so painfully tight, all hard and fast till he fucking comes in his hand, nails dragging hopelessly on the slippery surface, staining the glass and his fingers. 

He strokes him through his orgasm, then he lightens up ever so slowly, only letting go when Spencer's soft in his hand and so very, very satisfied…

It took the younger a couple of seconds to truly get himself back to earth. It was so fucking good that if he isn't so exhausted he would've loved a second round. Despite the orgasm, his brain is still numb from pleasure so it's not really his fault is it? When he turns around, humming and curling his hands around Hotch's shoulder, when he leans in close, so close that he's sure Hotch would pull back and push him away but… he's playing along? 

Their foreheads pressed together, both of them breathing hard, lips just a breath apart. "Thanks…" Spencer whispers. "That felt so good…"

And Spencer, Spencer was about to fucking kiss his boss when– wait. 

Wait– Fuck. Fuck, this is his boss. This is Aaron…

Spencer quickly pulls away as the haze passes, looking everywhere but Hotch's eyes. He sounds stupid trying to make excuses why he needs to shower alone but Hotch seems to understand, washing himself under the stream quickly before walking out. 

Spencer's left alone again and for a second he just stands there unmoving. Yeah, so… that happened.

=

Spencer feels awkward when he walks out only wearing a towel to see Hotch who's already fully dressed. Spencer, at the speed of light, managed to get his singlet and underwear on, he wants to put on the rest of his clothes too but he actually has long hair and he needs to blow dry them first. 

Hotch didn’t say anything, it would’ve been creepy if Spencer doesn't know his boss well enough to know that he's just… thinking. At least Spencer made him think of something else other than the divorce papers, right? Mission accomplished? Wow, he's trying to make this less awkward but it's not happening. 

The only brush he has is the flimsy one he got from the bathroom so it was a nightmare getting his hair to settle down, they always bounce back every time he tries to straighten them so he just gives up, putting the rest of his clothes back on. 

Hotch is trying, and failing, not to focus on Spencer dressing up, it feels… It feels weirdly disappointing when he sees Spencer almost fully dressed. He noticed how the younger is looking around for his belt and Hotch picks it up for him, hidden under the chair. 

"Thanks– I, um…" Spencer really doesn't know what to say when Hotch, without asking, starts putting his belt on for him. 

His fingers slowly pulling the tip after every loop, it feels kinda rough but nothing too hard. He buckled it up for him, Spencer doesn’t even realize how close they're standing now. 

Okay. So, that's weird. But when Hotch was about to step back, Spencer clears his throat to get his attention. "Hey, Hotch, uh, here." Spencer hands him the folded tie. "Put this on for me too." 

Oh, Spencer surprised himself with how bold he is, but what the fuck is he trying to accomplish? He just has this weird inkling that this whole thing, stripping and dressing up thing, kinda turns Aaron on in a weird way? Like not enough to get him hard obviously, but enough to make him want it. Spencer's testing the water but for what, exactly? This is a one-time thing, why is he taking notes on what turns his boss on? 

Hotch pulls his shirt collar up, looping his tie around and actually putting it on for him, his tie turning out neater than it would whenever he did it himself. 

Again, when Hotch was about to walk away, Spencer stops him. "Can you tuck in the back of my shirt? I can’t really see…" Spencer turns around, and true enough, there's a slight wrinkle on the bottom of his shirt, not anything he needs help tidy up though and both of them know this but for some reason, Hotch just follows. 

Reid didn't feel anything for a second and was just about to ask when he feels Hotch yank him back by the waist, he pretty much shoved the shirt down and going a step further by making sure they're all neatly tucked by rubbing his fingers hard from the back to the front. Spencer has to stop his gasps whenever Hotch would shove in his perfectly tucked shirt roughly for no fucking reason. It seems like Hotch also has a limit on how much teasing Spencer dish out. Spencer's not complaining though. 

He almost stumbles when Hotch gives his waist one last squeeze before finally letting him go for real this time. Spencer’s done dressing up but he feels eyes watching the undone button on the bottom of his shirt from all of Hotch's rough handling. Hotch didn't make a move to fix it though, probably not wanting to touch Spencer's hip again. 

Spencer finished up the rest of his clothes, putting his socks and his shoes on, tapping the tips once to get them snug before walking to the door. 

Both of them have been silent till now, looking all prim and proper like they were before. Spencer went to crack open the door, the slightest orange light of the hall seeps in but it instantly disappears when Hotch slams the door back close and single-handedly turns Spencer around. 

Shocked and confused, Spencer doesn’t fight it when Hotch shoves him up the door and kisses him full. 

Fuck it, Spencer pulls on his shoulder and yank him flush to his chest and deepens the kiss shamelessly, his brows frowning and lips parting to roughly kiss Aaron's mouth, open-mouthed and dirty, Spencer would be disgusted when their spit wets his chin but he couldn't care less, not when Hotch shoved his tongue inside his mouth, when Spencer bites the other’s lower lip when they part for air till Aaron was groaning at him. Mm, that sounds nice, Spencer decides that he likes it and he's going to pull more of that off of him. 

It was Spencer that initiated more, telling Hotch that hey, it's not just a kiss, they're not going to stop at a kiss, no, Hotch opened the floodgates and none of them can stop it. Spencer grips Hotch's hair, keeping him in place so he could kiss down Aaron's neck. 

Spencer fucking hates how physically stronger Hotch is compared to him. How easy it is for the older man to drag him off the door despite Spencer's loud whining. 

Spencer felt Hotch pulling on the belt that he himself puts on just minutes before and unbuckling it with the patience of a toddler, roughly unzipping Spencer's pants and swallowing his loud moan with another round of rough kisses. 

Spencer's not going to back down without a fight, though. He pushed the older man off his body with all the strength he can muster, before Hotch can wrestle him down, he slip to the side and this time he shoved Hotch to fucking sit on the bed. He didn't even get to ask Spencer what the hell he's doing before the younger one went to his knees in seconds unzipping Aaron’s pants impatiently and– 

"FUCK–" 

Oh, he's cursing! He's cursing and that makes Spencer giddy. He got his head between Hotch's thighs, his fingers spreading the zipper apart as much as it can go before leaning in and dragging his tongue on Aaron’s cock through the thin material of his underwear, his putting his tongue flat and dragging it up and down as hard as he can, wetting the fabric with spit that Spencer obviously doesn't give a shit about. He knows it drives him crazy, it apparently entertains him and Hotch knows this. This time it's Hotch's turn to grip his hair in place painfully before shoving his underwear down with one push. God, he's so fucking hard already and it's all because of the cheeky thing sitting between his thighs. 

He knows Spencer can be cheeky when he feels like it. It drives Hotch absolutely insane when he looks down and he sees Spencer, trying to pull pry fingers off his hair to lighten the tension but still supporting that grin on his face. Hotch… he tries not to curse, he never does in front of someone else but he keeps doing it under his breath now, Spencer managed to pull all that out of him and he knows how smug he is about it. 

He's going to wipe that grin off his face though, he’s– "Gonna wipe this grin off my face?" The younger man says knowingly like the profiler he is. "After I turn you on just by letting you fix up my clothes, hm?" Spencer is teasing him, it probably gave him a big wave of satisfaction from knowing he manage to fluster his usually always stoic boss, and Hotch has to admit that he's impressed by his little game. He's going to make him regret it (not really, but oh well). 

Spencer whines when the grip gets harder, when Hotch yanks his hair up so hard that Spencer is leaning up on his knees, pulling a real reaction of pain from the younger. Spencer kept trying to get his grip off but he didn't fight it when Hotch drags him closer, even voluntarily opening his mouth as wide as he can go, sticking his tongue out in a blatant invitation. 

It's so fucking dirty, holy shit, he's so fucking shameless. Hotch's brain froze for a second from the sight of his usually awkward, youngest teammate now waiting for his boss to face fuck him. If it's anyone who he knows is naturally flirty, this image might not break his mind this badly but because it's Spencer… Hotch isn't sure how his brain is still functioning but it's functioning enough to grip his cock and slide it into Spencer's mouth. Sliding is such a soft word to describe him gripping the man’s jaw to make sure it stays open.  

"Ha… fuck…" Hotch moans when the sudden tight wetness envelops him, Spencer letting Hotch force his jaw open, Spencer trying his damnest to get that cock in as far down his throat on the first try. He didn't manage much, just 2 or 3 inches but the moment he starts bobbing his face up and down, the more he can get into his mouth. That's good, that's nice, but the thing is, Hotch is already feeling his orgasm coming fast and he needs to– 

Spencer sounds confused and alarmed when the hand on his hair lets go, that confusion turns into surprise as Hotch grabs each side of his cheeks instead, forcing him there as Hotch thrusts his cock inside his mouth and down his throat, making Spencer let out a real, almost panicked sound.

He kept fucking his mouth, gagging Spencer again and again, Spencer fighting every urge in his body to push Aaron off because he knows now that's what Aaron likes. What triggered his orgasm is Hotch looking down and seeing that previously smug face now turns all red and teary, nose flush and lips painfully spread open, he keeps eye contact until he, shamefully enough, comes in around a minute or two inside his mouth. He almost passed out when he felt Spencer's throat contracting around him as he swallowed his semen. Not like he has any choice, he would’ve gagged if he didn't.  

A wet squelching sound can be heard when Hotch finally, ever so slowly slides his softening cock out of Spencer's mouth. Spencer instantly heaving for air, coughing a few times and wiping the spit and semen off his lips and chin. Hotch could hear Spencer curse under his breath, finally getting his breathing back to normal. 

Hotch wonders if he's twenty years younger, can he get hard again so quickly? Because his cock twitched at the sight of Spencer looking absolutely ruined. 

That looks so good, Hotch wants to take a picture of it but then realized how vulgar that is and what a disaster it will be if someone accidentally sees it. 

Hotch grabbed Spencer's shoulders up, the younger falling to the man's chest with a soft 'oof', hissing when Hotch's hands gripped and squeeze his ass roughly, just about to yank his pants down too when Spencer whines, pretty much slapping his hands away. "Don't! You're gonna get me hard too and you never sucked cock before have you?" Spencer said with a pout in a matter-of-fact way. 

Then Spencer moves away from him, going to the bathroom to wash his face and rinse his mouth, thankfully none of that stained his collars and tie. 

When he got out, Hotch already zipped his pants back on, he looked disheveled and there were some stained spots on his pants but nothing that won't be covered with the bottom of his suit, small blessings. 

"Let's go." Hotch said and their way back out isn't so awkward this time. After Spencer paid the fee, Hotch even opened the car door for him, ugh what a gentleman. He seems much more relaxed than before, Spencer's theory is true, orgasm does help you relax, he just didn't know Hotch needed more than one. 

=

"Pretty boy! How was Connecticut?" 

"Hm… Ultimately uneventful." 

Thankfully, Hotch had his dry cleaning in his office so no one had to see his come-stained pants and sweaty shirt. 

Well. Spencer hopes that what happened earlier would be considered 'uneventful' compared to what will happen tonight. Tonight when Spencer promised to show his apparently not-so-straight, clueless boss on how to fuck a man proper. 

Besides, he would probably need those orgasms again after he signed those damn divorce papers, right? 

[captainjoongki]

Hae in I love you girl but I'm gonna need you to get up. Hyun woo is fighting for his life letting her gross family live with him and his going to work when he could get any great job at another company to save her family's business taking care of her and saying multiple times that he's worried about her health. He's grown so much in the a few episodes or more like went back to who he actually was because he's always been such a good person and he's spending his entire waking moments doing something for hae in. So I'm gonna need hae in whom we know loves him as much as he loves her to get up and start acting like it?

babes this whole episode gave me a Headache sljfslkjfkls prob my least favourite so far sooo um. that's nice.

like i can't even personally comment on HI right now i feel like they've been flip flopping HI's character a lot these past few episodes and her screen-time feels a lot shorter to me? we know she loves HW and that she thinks she's doing him a favor with the divorce but also that's it. i think the whole drama has given us HW's POV a lot more so i feel more confident on my thoughts on him but like we haven't had much time even with her which is irritating bc girly pop is quite literally going to die in like 2 months so what is going awn here. i need them to cut down on the villains and business plot asap i do not care about queens and eunseong needs to be arrested for stalking.

anw my personal guess is that to protect HW and show her love haein will join forces with eunseong and that'll make me want to eat my arm so let us hope i am wrongggg i hate hate hate that plot so much but given how makjang this drama is i am thinking i will be r i g h t

[harmonyckrs]

Act 4, Scene 5 of Twisted Veronaville: An Unraveling World

THE LAST PAGE

Bottom: So, who was that?

Puck: Ripp, and one of the most...interesting people that I had ever met. He reminded me of Tybalt, but if Tybalt was...insufferable and unlikeable.

Bottom: So, regular Tybalt?

Puck: I mean, he didn't try to fistfight me, at least. And I don't think he's inherently bad. Just...I don't know. Very overwhelming.

Bottom: Wow.

Puck: ...Do you think it's possible that aliens are replacing people who get abducted by them?

Bottom: Beats me, I'm ten. I don't think about that kind of stuff.

Puck: Fair...I'll just...avoid thinking about it...

Ripp: Well, that was Puck. Also the next time we talk to someone, at least give them your name before going on a racist rant about aliens.

Tank: I was just concerned, because of his ears.

Ripp: You made him uncomfortable and by now everyone probably heard about what happened. But luckily, there's a lot of other people in Veronaville you can try to befriend that'll hopefully look over what you did.

Tank: Who else is there?

Ripp: Besides Tybalt and Mercutio, there's Juliette and Hermia. Both of them are pretty cool. Not to mention-

???: RIPP! THERE YOU ARE!

Ripp: ...Romeo.

Romeo: Mercutio's missing, and it's YOUR FAULT!

Ripp: Woah, what the fuck? He's missing?

Romeo: Yep! If you hadn't set him up with Tybalt, none of this would've happened!

Tank: Hey, back off! He was only trying to end the feud!

Romeo: You know what would really end the feud? If all of the Capps just died!

Tank: What's wrong with you? Isn't one of them your ex?

Romeo: Yeah, and? We're not dating anymore, thanks to him! Now get out of my way!

Tank: No!

*RING RING*

Ripp: (Finally, a chance to get out of this mess!) I'll go get that!

Hamza: Hello, Rippert. Is Aktu there?

Ripp: That's not my name. And why should I tell you if he is?

Hamza: It's not? Your dad actually just named you Ripp?...wow, he's a lot stranger than I thought. Anyway, just give Aktu the phone.

Ripp: No.

Hamza: Oh, I get it. Your dad told me you would act out a lot. You're mad at me because I'm an antagonist, right? Stopping you, Sita and Aktu from messing up the plot of the story and all?

Ripp: That and the kidnapping.

Hamza: Oh, right. Well, I'm sure you must hate me. It must irritate you to hear my voice over this phone. Which is why you should just give it to Aktu.

Ripp: ...Answer my...three riddles...first.

Hamza: Hm. Well, alright. Not to brag, but I'm pretty good at solving riddles. Give it to me.

Ripp: (Oh shoot, I didn't think this far.) Can I have some time to think of some first?

Hamza: You asked me to answer your riddles when you don't even have any? What sort of joke is this? At least go with a basic one like "what has four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon and three legs in the evening" or something like that!

Ripp: Wait, what's the answer to that one? I've never heard it before.

Hamza: Seriously? That's the most basic riddle! The answer is a man! You would've gotten eaten by the Sphinx with this little knowledge!

Ripp: What does the Sphinx have anything to do with this?

Hamza: You uncultured swine, that's the origin of that riddle! The Sphinx asks Oedipus that riddle and it made him the tyrant of Thebes because he answered it correctly!

Ripp: I don't know what any of those words mean.

Crystal: Wow, he's really going at it.

Aktu: Yeah. How long do you think it's going to take before he realizes I'm not even home?

Crystal: Hard to tell. And he's talking about riddles of all things. Imagine if Ripp asked him about something that he was actually interested in, like tech or witchcraft.

Aktu: Indeed. Oh, and sorry Sita threw you under the bus earlier. We were getting a bit desperate, and Zoya was being pretty annoying.

Crystal: Oh, no worries. Hamza didn't even mind. Said something about how "he'll always love me no matter what I do." He's taking this fake dating thing really seriously.

Aktu: (Didn't they have fake twins together?) Yep. No hard feelings though, right? Maybe we could all get sundaes together once this is all over.

Crystal: Yeah, that'd be nice. Just like old times...it's a shame Vidcund and Lazlo couldn't join us this time, though.

Aktu: I wonder where those two are. It's been a while since I've talked to either of them.

In an unusual series of events, Zoya had somehow managed to track down Vidcund and Lazlo's location and bring them to Veronaville. And the three had discovered something else earlier in the day, too - the coffin holding Tybalt's supposedly dead body.

Zoya: To think that Aktu and Sita made clones of your parents to guard Tybalt...

Lazlo: Yeah, that was wack...probably not the weirdest thing we've seen, though. I'm more surprised Crystal was helping them.

Zoya: (Crystal's not the only cloner, is she?) Well, we should prob-Hey! You! Where do you think you're going?

Tybalt: I'm going to find-

Zoya: Nope! No! Absolutely not. You'll be staying with us.

Vidcund: Zoya, maybe we should just let him go.

Zoya: And let Aktu and Sita get the upper hand again? I have to complete what we started. And besides, they defiled your parents' graves! Aren't you upset about that?

Vidcund: They always liked Pascal more.

Zoya: (Well, that's messed up.) Let's just capture him before he gets too far, and bring him with us.

THE NEXT PAGE

[titanicfreija]

Snitching on Yourself

"Sunny."

"Caiatl! It's good to see you!"

"Sheer happenstance," she rumbled, lumbering up behind Freija and Sunny where they sat at an open table, watching a crucible feed.

"I'll be here for a while, this is beginning of yesterday," Freija told Sunny, barely glancing at the empress. "Empress," she said softly, bowing her head but not getting up.

"Your guardian participates in the crucible?" Caiatl asked the ghost as she hovered to join the Empress.

"Didn't I tell you?"

"Perhaps in passing." Caiatl lumbered into a darker hallway, out of the main corridors, and ventured a back way to the hangar. Her helm occasionally brushed the ceiling and her pauldrons allowed no passage. "Sheer happenstance brought you to my attention. You are fortunate."

"To have a friend that'll call to me when she sees me? I am," Sunny agreed, bouncing merrily. "I'm glad to see you, too. I hope it's not bad news that brings you to the tower?"

"It is the event," she explained shortly. "Valus Forge regards this ritual as deeply important. I accompanied him to investigate. I like this celebration, so far."

Sunny bobbed merrily around Caiatl's winged helm, pleased.

~

"How are you recovering from your... malady?"

"I'm doing better. Listening to Freija giggle after being blown up is helping. She's always enjoyed the Iron Banner, and I didn't have the heart to tell her no."

Caiatl snorted a laugh. "Would I find her identifiable amongst the many matches?"

"Oh, no, not at all. I mean, she's a little odd, there's a lot of times where she'll just stand in her barricade and annoy people during Fortress, but I doubt she's the only one that does it. We had a real pretty white and red outfit with goat horns for most of it?"

"Nothing remarkable," she agreed.

"How's warfronts?"

"I much prefer my conversations with you to exclude the war fronts."

"Sorry. How's... things?"

Caiatl rumbled an irritated sigh.

Sunny sank to shoulder level. "Ah, so you actually did look for me, at least a little."

"I am fortunate," she agreed. "I worried you and your guardian would still have withdrawn."

"I'm well-loved and well supported," Sunny promised. "Sometimes against my will. Do you want to hear about my digging into my guardian's history? Only you can't tell anyone. Freija doesn't know much, and she's actually mad at me for what she does know, so we're kind of dancing around the rules a little bit."

"What have you learned?"

"Well, she was born on Earth in the Tower, but from what I can glean, she spent more days on the road than inside. Her parents were from the Dreaming City, and they wanted to help."

"This is fairly recent, considering the timeline of your existence."

Sunny dropped two feet. "Eight hundred and fifty years, I searched for someone that hadn't been born yet!"

"Depending on your method, the nine hundred years would have been inevitable. She died young for Awoken."

Sunny dropped a few inches and hovered in a circle. "Assassinated along with most everyone else that didn't marry out of the family."

"Interesting. Royals?"

"Nah. Politics, though."

"Hmph!" She didn't ask further, giving Sunny a side-eye.

It had been so long that she forgot the cue. "Oh! Her parents are the ones I've found stuff about. They eloped and came to Earth to help the humans here. Established routes around the Tower's base, some cartography. It's been... fun, but my research is about to get me into trouble, I think."

"Hmph! Your disregard for boundaries and authority likely lend to this."

"Likely," Sunny agreed sheepishly, swaying low. "I kinda wanna look around on Earth, but I think that might be too close to home. Found out Petra had a crush on her dad, that was funny to think about. Found out that she-- okay, so you know how I told you guardians all hate water? And drowning? I'm not entirely wrong, but I didn't realize that Freija's is way more pronounced than average. First- most guardians don't like swimming, but the helmets can keep them from drowning up to impressive depths, so the fear of water isn't nearly as common as I thought. We never had occasion to get into water deeper than her shoulders, but she really, really hates water. Or any other liquid deep enough to swim in, where she can't touch the ground anymore."

Caiatl rumbled a laugh. "Oh?"

"I don't want to talk too much about her, 'cos I don't want her mad at me for snitching, but she is terrified of swimming. She says it's because she can't swim, but she can, but she doesn't believe me!"

"Swimming is not an activity for panicked minds," Caiatl stated, giving Sunny another sideways look. Even under the helm, she managed to make the expression chastising.

"She won't try!"

"She needs not," Caiatl rumbled.

"Are you defending her?" asked Sunny, bobbing to see Caiatl's face. "Are you really-- isn't your species aquatic? How can you see reason in hydrophobia?!"

Caiatl narrowed her eyes at Sunny and shifted her weight heavily from side to side. "I do not understand your guardian's fear, but I see no reason to force oneself through facing one if they need not. Is there occasion for swimming?"

"Probably not, now that we're done on Titan."

"She could force herself through the situation without truly overcoming the fear?"

"I guess, if you count those fits as pushing though. The missions got done."

"Then I stand firm on my position."

Sunny froze, considering the notion.

"You were telling me about the history of your guardian?" Caiatl reminded her, stumping firmly onward.

"She had a dream! It's happened twice, where she's dreamed pieces of memory! It's fascinating, but I can't talk to anyone about it cos I'm already breaking the rules. But so she had a dream where she--well, her previous sister-- almost drowned. And I think that's led to a phobia in this life."

"That is indeed interesting. I forget to consider a guardian's first life. The guardians seem content to act similarly, as we have discussed. What inspired you to break these rules?"

"You, kinda."

Caiatl's pace faltered and Sunny felt the eyes digging into her. "How so?"

Sunny giggled. "When you asked me about the guardians' memories of their first lives, the first thing you said was that remembering only the last ten years would be an unpleasant lifetime. So I wanted Freija to have a life that didn't have war. But like you also said, there's no such thing. So I wanted to know who.... Honestly, Freija keeps calling herself and Sarah as different people, but from this angle, I'm not sure I didn't just wake up and rename Sarah. But I wanted to know her first life."

"Have you satisfied this urge?"

"I'm getting more and more sure that I'll never be able to," she admitted with an exasperated drop. "I know more about her parents than her. I want the dreams to keep up but she hates them."

Caiatl didn't answer, lumbering ahead silently as she contemplated the middle distance.

"What?"

"Periodically, Sunny, Ghost of Freija, you show a dark side. I enjoy it greatly."

"What?!"

"Wishing nightmares upon your guardian to answer questions," she chortled. "The desire to remove a phobia unnecessarily."

Sunny bounced to and fro in frustration. "It wasn't unnecessary! It is now, but every time we went down there, she kept panicking! And it wasn't even swimming! It was just moving through a liquid! She swears it's a fear of drowning, but her helmet keeps liquid out! And she kept screaming and throwing fits! She was doing so well with her behavior before the methane!

Caiatl rocked her weight back, amused smile in her posture. "You expect much. If rationality could solve it, she would not have the fear at all. Completing the mission in spite of abject terror is admirable."

Caiatl opened the Hangar door, revealing Zavala and two guardians at the doorway, with two Cabal soldiers sheepishly peeking around behind them.

"I stole the empress away!" Sunny sang, surprised to see the waiting entourage. "Sorry!"

"Good afternoon, Sunny," Zavala called cheerfully. "The empress made clear her intention to speak with a friend privately."

Sunny froze in the air and Caiatl chortled. "I appreciate the effort," she rumbled, taking her place between her guards.

Zavala smirked wryly at the ghost. "I do not, and I am taking note of your willingness to lie for a friend." Sunny drooped, but his smile warmed up again. "I expect to see you and your guardian lighting the pyres with the rest of us."

"Yessir!" Sunny chirped, flying in a big loop on her way back to Freija at higher speeds than should have been reasonable.

~

~

@annieruok94

[taintedsoul-if]

When Yesenia finds out that the MC is currently seeing someone else, she's going to try to work her charm on the RO the MC is dating.

lmaoo well then i have to do intense gatekeeping on the RO's (except u-know-whoe), i dont want her germs to contaminate them😷 pls wear ur mask mam/sir when talking to her(preferable if u keep a distance of 12 ft or just stop interacting with her at all😊)

😂🤣. Wait wait. It was never my intention to not explain a bit about Yesenia sleeping with others.

The thing is, Yesenia does have a intimate relationship with a selected few, but the thing is that, while those men think that Yesenia is actually fucking them, she's actually implanting "memories" of those moments inside their head. This is what we call mind-fucking. How she does it, well Yesenia is an intelligent girl, she spends her time learning the likes and dislikes of her "bed-partners". Like for example the instructor she's "sleeping" with likes to drink green tea, which clears the impurities and cleanse the mind he says, usually Yesenia would prepare a pot of that tea and bring it with her when she's going to see him. Shortly after drinking the instructor will be all tucked out for the night. Then Yesenia would get naked and hop in bed, beside him....

Touching the instructors head, she would then be able to implant those memories inside. The only person Yesenia has actually slept with so far is Trysten/Trista but that'll soon change.... in the near future. 😏😏

The only person she'll get a reaction from is Trysten/Trista, unlike others Nyssa/Nyala, Cadmus, Atticus minds cannot be manipulated so easily. So it's best if Yesenia just pack her things and just go.... nobody likes her! And yes anon! Let 'em double up on that face mask and hand sanitizer. Who knows she might be carrying a deadly virus! 😷🤧

Alright thank you for the ask anon! Happy New years and enjoy the rest of your day.

I just remembered that I did not add a "fade to black" option for this upcoming update. 😑. Irritating.

[aflyingcontradiction]

Also, there's this whole thing of some people equating the idea that bad mental health is due to outside circumstances with ... idk, an immature, unhelpful mindset that'll get you stranded in depression forever? Like, the one true way of dealing with bad mental health is to change your mindset and then, and only then, will you be able to claw your way out of misery? Which may be true for some people because of the way their brains work or because their circumstances truly are unchangeable (at least through their own agency). And the general state of the discourse may also be a reaction to the whole "Depression will only be solved by the glorious revolution. No, we don't have a schedule for that, why do you ask?" meme, which is obviously less than ideal.

But my personal experience is that when I've been in the deepest of pits, maybe I COULD have painstakingly crawled out of those pits by somehow forcing my brain into new pathways. I don't know. It's never happened. But what has ACTUALLY improved the situation every single time so far has been giving my brain whatever it was apparently screaming for*. Any change in perspective was very much DOWNSTREAM of that, not the other way around. And any time I've fallen back into the pit it wasn't because of some fundamental problem with my brain (even if it kinda feels like it at the time) but because it turns out I've accidentally stopped giving my mind all the things it needs. My brain is a high-maintenance little bitch that needs a lot of things, after all, and it's easy to fuck up the maintenance process. Once I figure out the need and fulfil the need, I'm mostly fine.

So when I see an exchange like A: "I'm miserable because of outside circumstances." B: "You childish idiot! You absolute ingrate! You would clearly be miserable in any circumstance with that mindset, what you really need is - insert therapy / method primarily aimed at changing thought patterns -

it just makes me go "bzuh?" Like. No. THEY MIGHT ACTUALLY BE PERFECTLY FINE IF THEIR CIRCUMSTANCES CHANGED IN THE RIGHT WAY??? (Whether or not that change is possible is a different argument, of course, so I don't have the same 'THE FUCK' reaction to "Fair, but seeing as that's not currently on the table, you could try coping with your circumstances like this...").

*In my case it's usually that I haven't people-ed enough or I haven't slept enough or I haven't been given enough work recently or I haven't gone outside enough or I haven't been to a fun event in ages or, fuck, I've spent too much time hatereading irritating opinions on tumblr and maybe I should force myself to not do that...

[sonicasura]

Anyone has any games they greatly miss? Like there hasn't been a new one or even an update about it. That's been me with two particular franchises: Rayman and Spectrobes. (It would be three but Tom Holland practically put Jak and Daxter in possible production with wanting to play in a live action Jak game.)

I gonna start off with Rayman cause this is the first game I play between these two series. A colorful platformer often recognized by their unique protagonist, Rayman. He's a Thingamajig which can be considered an incomplete species as in one set of lore there were simply not enough energy/magic to fully complete Rayman's body.

A kindhearted, whacky and bit snarky protagonist who had a total of one trilogy, a reboot duology alongside various platforms. My first Rayman game was actually the first in the trilogy, aka his starting point in the series. I played both these three games alongside the reboot.

My favorite being Rayman 3 Hoodlum Havoc. I just love the nutty character interactions, beautifully made environments, awesome music and the best for me is the power ups called Combat Fatigues. Although I absolutely loathe the Desert of the Knaaren stage. Ubisoft knew how to write fucking tension(before the disgusting actions in the office occurred.)

After Rayman Legends came out, the only games we been getting so far are phone games. Since the creator of our Thingamajig protagonist left to open up an animal sanctuary, Rayman got shoved into obscurity. Especially when the Rabbids were made.

I really don't like the Rabbids and not because they practically got my favorite game series kicked the curb. They're just so annoying to the point I want punt them into the sun. So far, Mario + Rabbids is the only game series that doesn't make em so irritating.

Thankfully Rayman is actually making an emergence in Mario + Rabbids Spark of Hope as a DLC character and his own adventure. If it goes well, we might see him back in an official game than a phone app.

Next game is highly unlikely as it fell into Nintendo's forgotten bin, Spectrobes.

A monster collector type game that actually dives off the normal formula. You collect Spectrobes by excavating fossils and awakening them with your voice. Spectrobes can be used to excavate more fossils alongside minerals or battle Krawl, invading darkness type creatures that'll devour anything in their wake even whole star systems.

This game series had a trilogy, a few books and even a web series. The last game being Spectrobes Origins for the Wii. One special thing about the series were the monsters you collect. Like Pokemon they have three stages: Child, Adult and Evolved.

As you can see, some look straightforward like the Koma line (Komainu, Komanoto, Komadoras) yet there are a bunch that would throw you off guard between stages like (Shogyo, Chugyo, Daigyo). First game I played was actually the second, Spectrobes: Beyond the Portals. Took awhile to play the first and third games. Like Rayman, these were part of my childhood.

As for why it's unlikely to comeback also comes from the fact that studio which made, Disney Interactive Studios, closed down in 2016. It's death came from Disney's Skylanders rip-off. Although the patent for the Spectrobes series might still be there and we could have a Blinx the Cat situation.

I love to see both these franchises come back one day. Even an HD Collection for the trilogies would be great.

That's it for now! Until next time folks, I'll see you later!