#some nights I wonder whether we read the same series or not. and I feel like you probably feel this way sometimes too

[birdmenmanga]

some kind of moodboard

@birdmenanime @kitsoa

[japhan2024]

Review of Smosh's Funeral Roast

I am harsh at times, but know it all comes from a place of love!

Spoilers under the cut

I live in Europe. This is relevant because of timezones: the funeral roast of Anthony Padilla was live at 6pm for them, meaning 3am for me. I am not the youthful insomniac I once was so I had to train my sleep schedule the entire week - otherwise I would miss it because I fell asleep. But I wanted to witness this live. I love smosh.

The trailer for this roast deserves an award: Ian and the cast have a movie night as suddenly the light turns blue and everyone but Ian freezes. He seems to know what's going on and discovers a zombie or ghost like Anthony levitating. The cast of the roast are all introduced and all play a gothic, churchy kind of character. See the full trailer here (it's currently at 666k views, how fun):

Around 1am I got impatient and decided not to wait for my alarm clock but to install myself on the couch, with a blanket and a scarf, and a hot cup of tea, god knows I would need it. I watched episodes of the Scott Pilgrim Netflix series to kill the time. The character Todd Ingram reminded me a lot of Anthony and I wonder whether Anthony has 'vegan superpowers' as well. Probably so.

Finally, the pre-show begins. This is pretty uneventful as they play a game and succesfully convince thousands of viewers to buy their tickets to the main show. I look at them. Everyone is gorgeous. But I can't look away from Ian and Anthony. And here is where I stray from actually reviewing the show to let my inner fangirl out: holy fuck they are hot. Me and my friends on tumblr have been making 'forgive me Father, for I have SINNED' jokes because his character, 'the pastor', just brings that out in people. We're not used to Ian in black, or in a robe, and he looks phenomenal. And then there is Anthony, clothed in a ridiculous Harry Styles-esque lace top with lace gloves, resting his head on Ian's shoulder. It's such a cute moment, Ian pushes him upright. He can be alive for a second before his funeral. My heart melts. Honerable mention: Courtney's bikini girl cleavage right behind Ian. The girls were ready to rock. Okay, okay, back to the review.

The room feels kind of small and a bit claustrophobic. The Smosh art dept. always steps up, so the stained glass "friendship never dies" high-five looks incredible, and the megachad-Anthony portrait hilarious. The casket is huge. But the props make the set look even smaller. I think the problem is the cameras. I realize how difficult camerawork is when you have multiple focus points to switch between, but next time they should do a lot of practice with this to streamline, to get everyone in the shot and better capture people's reactions to the roasts.

Ian walks in. He starts off with a bit about who Anthony is: a hot, hardworking guy with a big dick. Those are the main takeaways of his roasts.

Amanda is next. She looks beautiful but very wacky. Her deliverance and accent are stellar, though. She truly is top talent at Smosh. Her roasts are also some of the most scorching of the night. She doesn't shy away from calling out Anthony's past problematic behavior and less than stellar performance in the bedroom ("look it up!") She gets a round of applause and deservedly so.

Tommy follows with a kind of angry roast, and proceeds to read the will, from which nobody comes away unscathed. I feels like his words about Anthony supposedly hating the cast are a necessary evil. Just the same day Anthony posted his interview with Shayne on his personal channel. There we learned that Shayne didn't know before if Ian and Anthony actually had wanted to hire them. Anthony said they were very much involved, something I don't know whether to believe. As apparently, Ian never talked about it with Shayne either, for all those years. Shayne had also been very apprehensive when Anthony came back, not knowing what would happen and the first change was to boot the entire cast off the main channel. I feel like Tommy's roast puts the topic on the table and hopefully they will talk about it more until nobody has any doubt left.

Now I have to insert that one of my main critiques of the night is that lots of people both did a lot of obvious jokes (tattoos, leaving smosh, general appearance) and did not go hard enough. Anthony kind of has an awkward CEO vibe (he's not the ceo but still) about him that seems to make even the cast a bit wary of him. I had hoped for jokes about that.

Brandon Rogers is next and rightfully points out the lack of celebrities in the line-up. Doesn't Anthony have more friends who want to roast him? Either he doesn't or the rest of Smosh don't have access to them. Which is both fine, because it is a Smosh party after all.

Arasha comes in swinging with all kinds of Zoomer slang that I frankly don't understand but her deadpan delivery is like a breath of fresh air. She ends with a very nice message. That kind of undercuts her roasts though, I wish she would have been meaner.

Now it is time for the musical half-time show, which actually deserves its own review. Performed by Angela and Chanse, this is incredible. By far, the most professional part of the evening. These are no theater kids, as they still call themselves. These are Broadway acTORS! I was really taken away by their talent. Not only do they act, but they also sing amazingly? Did you hear Angela do screamo?! And Chanse's riffs? They pointedly mention the sexual tension between Ian and Anthony, both on- and off screen. This has been occupying my mind ever since. Wow, sorry I went fangirl-mode again. But the halftime show simply is that good. Keith makes an appearance at the end and brings the show back down to earth with his humor.

The biggest surprise guests are next in what I can only describe as Dan telling the horny tale of his years long obsession with Anthony, and the many, many times he unloaded on the 'sexy Anthony' calender (which is a real calender, I was there when it came out but was broke at the time, darnit). Dan and Phil have been shedding their PG personas on their own channels for a while now, but for those who don't watch them daily this December - they're doing gamingmas and it's chaos - it is shocking what X-rated stuff comes out of their mouths. Anthony is visibly taken aback. Good!

As the show progresses, Ian keeps moderating as the pastor. It is great to see him so in control and enjoying the roast of his best friend. The joke of Ian not being able to show his emotions comes up a lot, but today I see him mainly just having fun.

Of course, then there is Bikini Girl, whom I had high hopes for, maybe too high. She is hilarious, but nothing really stings. Courtney does also direct the whole show, so super kudos to her. I just don't think she has the best roasts. She is followed by Rhett and Link, who just do their regular thing. It is funny but not very original. You can only hear so many tattoo jokes before it gets old. We do see Link's bare torso, so a win for fangirls (gender neutral).

Then Shayne, or should I say the Chosen has his turn. He is absolutely in character and does great. I just don't know if the Chosen is the best person to deliver roasts. It feels more like a Shayne party than a roast of Anthony. Which enough people love all the same, I'm sure.

Angela is 'the vessel', a possessed girl, reading the roasts from the audience. These roasts are very mid (they should have included mine! /j), but her delivery is again stellar. Smosh is really lucky to have her.

And last but not least, Ian goes on a second roasting spree. Only, it isn't a roast? He just makes fun of Anthony’s baby picture and then proceeds to tell Anthony how grateful he is for him, how he's so glad they are friends again and that he loves him? Anthony is crying by this time, which makes the moment even more tender.

Of course, Anthony has to do a counter-roast. It is apparent that he is still affected by all the roasting or 'love-bombing' as Amanda calls it. And he's not as good at live comedy yet. Still, his jokes are funny and really in Anthony's own style. He concludes with Ian's quote of being happy to burn Smosh to the ground with him. I knew that quote would be ingrained in Anthony's mind. It was one of the sweetest things Ian had ever said to him, after all. Until Ian has now told him he loves him, of course.

And then it was 5 am. I got a healthy two hours of sleep in! I came away from this roast with a content smile and a full heart. This was well worth the ticket, the staying up late. I am happy to be a member and support them monthly, I've loved their humor even before they started their youtube channel. I love Smosh. I'm so happy that Anthony is back. Smosh is whole again. And it brings out that light in Ian's eyes. He is funny in an unhinged way again. I truly love Anthony and Ian and their dumb videos. I want them to continue to make them forever. These kinds of live shows are fun. But Ian and Anthony truly shine in their off the walls absurdist sketches.

Special shout-out to my bestie @only-frann who I could scream at this whole day.

[rhoorl]

Working Title | Chapter 17

Pairing: Dieter Bravo/OFC

Series Rating: Mature, 18+

Word Count: 5.3k

Series Masterlist | Chapter 17 AO3 Link

Chapter Summary: We slow burned and now it’s the day after. Dieter and Belle have one more day to themselves before production starts back up.

Chapter Warnings: Some allusions to smut. Negative self-talk from Dieter’s POV.  Body insecurity. 

A/N: For those following along as I update, I’m sorry it’s taken so long to get this chapter done! It was about a month between updates, which wasn’t my intention. Hoping the next chapter comes much sooner than that. Thanks for reading!

That's all you do, Dieter, fuck up. It's all you're ever gonna do.

Dieter wakes up suddenly, confused and momentarily caught in that in-between wondering whether he’s still dreaming or actually awake. He wasn’t a stranger to bad dreams and disruptive sleep, it seemed to be the only time his brain would process things. Sitting up slightly in bed, he leans over to see the time. 

6:15, huh, later than I thought.

He then looks over his shoulder to see Belle, fast asleep with a hint of a smile across her face. 

She looks like an angel. So sweet, so…perfect. And she … loves me. How? How could she love someone like me? She’s going to come to her senses soon. I just know it. Or, or, fuck…I’m going to do something to fuck this up, aren’t I? It’s what I always do anyway.

Dieter snaps out of his spiral when he hears Belle stir next to him. He wishes he could just push his self-doubt and insecurities aside. Everything seemed so much simpler last night, just two lovers letting their bodies do the talking. But now, Dieter’s anxiety is piqued thanks to the memories his dream drudged up. 

He desperately wants to be the man Belle deserves because she’s everything he’s ever wanted. The feelings he has for her are unlike anything he’s ever experienced with another person, stronger than any drug. And that thrills and terrifies him; his mind can’t help but wander to all of the ways he would be the one to mess things up and ruin his chance for happiness.

Why can’t you shut up?

He brings his hands to either side of his face, willing his brain to stop. To shut up. To let him enjoy this. To not self-sabotage the moment something good happens to him. Because these last few days with Belle have been the best thing that has ever happened to him. He wants to enjoy this for as long as he can.

He sighs, running his hand through his hair. 

This was not how he saw “the morning after” going. He would have much rather woken up with his arm draped around Belle’s waist, peppering her shoulder with kisses. She’d turn around, plant a kiss on his nose and they’d just bask in their confessed love before some slow morning sex, enjoying the continued exploration of the other’s body.

But instead, he woke up in a panic and needed to get away from the bed to process his thoughts. To think. To breathe. To try and shake this feeling of unworthiness, a feeling he’s carried for years. He gets up and hastily throws on a pair of gym shorts stashed in a drawer, his drawer, and heads to the kitchen. He reasons the coffee maker would give him a good out should she wake up and go looking for him. 

Your eyes flutter open as a small beam of sunlight warms the room with a soft glow. The last 24 hours truly felt like a dream. You can’t even call yesterday a date, it was just … an experience. The whole thing, tailored for you, planned around what you liked. And Dieter was so excited to see how you were taking it all in. Then, of course, there were the evening's activities, the soreness between your legs a reminder of the countless ways Dieter took you apart last night. Confessing your true feelings, and Dieter doing the same, made you feel…lighter. Happier. Complete. 

Taking a deep breath you turn around and see the bed empty next to you. But instead of worrying, you smile to yourself, figuring that your barista will walk through the door any moment with his messy curls and a smirk holding two coffee cups with a box of cookies tucked under his arm. 

Sitting up in bed, you bring the sheets up around you. Normally you’d scramble to find clothes to cover up, but with Dieter, you feel more comfortable in your skin. He makes you feel like an absolute goddess with the way his eyes rake over your face and your body. The reverence in his eyes is something you’ve never experienced from a man. 

You aimlessly scroll through your phone, catching up on a few texts from Indy. She and Sam were having a great time and managed to leave their hotel to do some hiking after all. There were a few posts on their respective Instagrams; it appeared they were soft-launching their relationship with some strategically stealthy photos. Sam posted one of himself sitting on a rock looking out onto the ocean while Indy posted one facing the water, her back to the camera with her arm extended behind her reaching for a man’s hand. The comment section of both of their posts was full of sleuths who had zoomed in and correctly identified the bracelet Sam wore was the same as what the mystery man in Indy’s photo had on.

You laugh to yourself, curious how Indy felt about the discourse online about her and Sam’s apparent relationship. It makes your mind wander to how things will be when you and Dieter go public with your relationship. Because that was the next step, right? While you’re on the island you can try and stay in a little bubble, but shooting for the show will wrap in a matter of weeks and you’ll both be faced with life outside of paradise and not having a built-in reason to see each other every day. 

Going public with your relationship will also open you both up for scrutiny, which makes you nervous based on your limited but recent experiences. While you don’t necessarily want to be plastered all over his Instagram or in paparazzi photos, you’d be lying if the thought of being on his arm for a red carpet didn’t make your heart skip a beat and want to throw up at the same time. Those were thoughts for a different day, for now, you want to find Dieter.

You have to get back to the room, she’s going to wake up. Just shake this shit off and think of her for a minute you selfish prick. The last thing she needs is to wake up feeling alone.

Dieter takes a deep breath and starts to brew some coffee, rummaging through the cabinet to choose a box of cookies. He smiles when he sees the macadamia nut flavor, thinking about how much Belle loves that one. 

He hears some shuffling behind him and turns to see Belle walking up to the kitchen island, hair thrown up in a messy bun dressed in just a shirt, his shirt. She’s looking at him like he hung the moon in the sky and Dieter feels equal parts proud and unworthy. But he also feels a sense of calm. Just her presence is enough to ground him and silence all of the intrusive thoughts.

“Hey,” she looks a bit nervous, fidgeting with the hem of the shirt.

“Hey,” Dieter closes the distance between them in a few steps, one arm wrapping around her waist as his other hand cups her face, tilting her chin up to meet his lips. They both smile into a kiss.

Belle’s hands instinctively reached for Dieter’s hair, bringing him closer. A moan escapes as he skims down to cup her ass. “Mmm, good morning,” she giggles as he trails kisses along her jaw and down her throat.

“Morning, sweetheart,” his lips pressed along her collarbone. “How’d you sleep?”

You can’t help the way your eyes roll in the back of your head as Dieter’s lips explore your throat, light nips soothed with his tongue. Being with him, surrendering your body over to him like you did last night, it's like something in your head has been…awoken. Perhaps unleashed is a better word for it. It wasn't about the sex, which has ruined all other men for you, it was about the intimacy. Being in his arms felt comfortable, like being home. 

“What d’you wanna do today?” You manage to pull back, eyes fluttering open to meet Dieter’s.

“Hmm…I could think of a few things,” Dieter smiles into another kiss and tickles your side.

“Oh yeah?”

“Could stay here all day, just right here,” Dieter runs his hands down your back, pulling you closer so you’re flush against him, feeling him hardening against your thigh. His hands skim underneath the hem of your shirt and trail up. “Not wearing anything underneath huh?” 

“I was…mmm…kinda hoping you’d notice,” you murmur as your brain short-circuits over how he softly presses his lips to your throat. His stubble is scratchy, but you don't mind. You instantly crave the feeling of it between your legs again.

“But if you really want to go out today, I guess that’s fine,” he teased.

You playfully stick your tongue out at him and wrap your arms around his neck. “Hmm… well,” you look over his shoulder to the time on the microwave. “It’s still early, I think we could maybe uh…explore…a few of the ideas you have in mind. Then we can go explore the island?”

“I like the sound of that,” he kisses you again, walking you back to the bedroom.

“You made us coffee,” you chuckle into another kiss, “it’s gonna get cold.”

He pulls back, his eyes darker now as he looks from your eyes down to your mouth, his chest rising and falling more rapidly. “That’s fine. I’ll make you a new cup when I’m done,” he smirks.

Before you know it, you feel the back of your knees hit the bed. Dieter gently guides you down, his arm extending behind you as you fall back onto the plush mattress in hushed giggles and kisses. He moves down your body, rolling up the shirt to expose more of your skin. His mouth trails after the fabric and you shift up slightly to help work the shirt off, fully exposed to him, again. 

Dieter stills above you, a slight shake of his head as he closes his eyes and trails his hand down your body, “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You move your head to the side and playfully roll your eyes. As much as you want to believe him when he says things like this, it's still hard to hear it and accept it. You can tell he’s being completely genuine, but it's unrealistic to think you could undo years of an unhealthy relationship with your body in a matter of days all because a hot guy paid attention to you and called you pretty.

Rather than say anything, you reach for his face, his lips crashing against yours. As his tongue starts to explore your mouth, you thread your fingers through his hair and pull him closer, wanting to feel the weight of his body on top of you. Dieter’s kisses swallow your moans, but it doesn't stop the low growl emanating from the back of his throat.

You lost track of time as you both lost yourselves in each other. 

“We should take a shower and clean ourselves up, huh?” Dieter kisses your shoulder as you lay side by side, fitting together like puzzle pieces. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest as the arm draped around your midsection draws small circles along your forearm. 

“Yeah. It's our last day before getting back to the grind,” you turn your head to look at him. “As much as I'd love to stay in bed with you all day, I kinda want to see the island some more. You know, visit the stuff I've only seen in photos.”

“We can do that,” he smirks, kissing your forehead. “Whatever you want. Ok, c’mon let’s go.” He taps your hip and starts to get up.

You should have known that you weren’t just going to be taking a shower. Although Dieter wasn't quite ready for round two, it didn't stop his lips and fingers from exploring more of you. He was gentle, taking his time to see what kind of reactions he'd get from you, while also being cognizant of how you were nearing overstimulation from the morning’s activities. You’d had more sex in the last 12 hours than you had in the last 12 months, and it was starting to catch up to you.

By the time you finally finished your shower, your hands were pruney and the hot water was starting to turn cool. Seeing Dieter with his wet hair brushed back made you almost want to grab him and throw him on the bed, but you really wanted to play tourist and see some of the sites.

As you towel off, he passes you a fluffy robe. The only thing that interrupts the quiet is the growling of your stomach. Upon hearing the sound, Dieter suggests ordering some room service, which you eagerly agree to. While you wait, you make your way to the balcony to sit on a lounger, close your eyes, and listen to the waves.

“Ok, shouldn’t be too long,” Dieter walks out and plops down on the lounger next to you.

You look over with a smirk and tease, “Well of course not, they wouldn’t want to keep Mr. Dieter Bravo waiting, right?” 

“Funny,” he rolls his eyes and chuckles. “There’s got to be some perks after all.”

The conversation flows easily as you wait for your food and continues once it arrives. You were opening up to Dieter in ways you typically wouldn’t, at least not this quickly or early in a relationship. He was a great listener and you felt like he truly cared. You tried not to pry, but you noticed he got a little uncomfortable whenever you tried to steer the conversation towards him. There were entire swaths of his past that he skirted around, quickly turning things back to you once you veered into territory he was nervous about. You took note, careful to not inadvertently push him too far. 

As you take the last bite of your banana macadamia nut pancakes Dieter looks over to you. “So, which places do you want to go see today?”

“Ah, I've been wanting to check this place out,” you fish your phone from the robe pocket. With a few taps of the screen, you bring up a few shots of a canyon dotted with various colors of greens and browns. “Waimea Canyon,” you smiled. “I'd love to go see it.”

Dieter takes the phone, scrolling through a few photos before looking up at you with a smile. “Done. Danny told me about this place, there's some hiking we could do there too if you want.’

“I’d like that. It’d be fun to explore a bit.”

He leans forward, his hand grazing your thigh. “Good. Then it’s a plan. C'mon,” he pats your thigh. “Let's get ready.”

He collects your trays and heads for the door to put them in the hallway while you try and figure out what to wear. You aren’t sure what the rest of the day holds, so you search for a swimsuit to put on underneath your clothes. Dieter seems like the kind of guy to spontaneously want to go swimming or something, so best to be prepared. 

Reluctantly, you sift through your drawer trying to quiet the voice in your head who picks apart how you look in everything you wear. You settle for a hot pink one-piece with cutouts along the sides. It’s a little bit skimpier than you'd normally be comfortable wearing in front of anyone besides Indy, but you thought why not?

She’s slipping on a pair of jean shorts, her back to the door, as Dieter walks back into the room. He smirks as his eyes rake up and down her body. He undoes the belt of his robe so it hangs open, working himself out of it and letting the garment fall to the ground. He saunters over while her back is still to him. She’s sorting through some jewelry on the dresser. His large hands find the cutout on either side of her waist, pulling her flush against him.

“This looks good,” he whispers against her ear. She shudders a bit, goosebumps forming on her arms.

“Thanks,” she giggles. “Just gotta put a shirt on and I’ll be set.” She turns around in his arms, shaking her head and laughing seeing he was completely naked. “You thinking of going like that?”

He tilts his head with a smirk and opens his arms, “I mean, could be fun.”

“C’mon, we’ll have some more fun later when we get back.” She rests her hands on his chest and reaches up to give him a chaste kiss on the heart-shaped patch in his beard.

“Sure we have to leave? Could get started on that fun now,” he winks as she rolls her eyes. He walks over to the drawer to put on a pair of light blue swimsuit trunks which are a bit on the shorter side. He pairs it with a gray T-shirt that hugs his biceps and fits taut along his back. “How’d I look?” He asks as he heads over to grab a pair of Crocs.

“Good, but I think you may want to adjust your footwear. We’re hiking after all,” she laughs. 

The drive to your destination was relaxing. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, and you had the most handsome driver. Feeling the wind against your hair and staring out the side of the car, you close your eyes to take everything in. 

As much as you’ve loved this time alone with Dieter, you know this little bubble won’t last forever. Indy is due back late tonight and production starts back up tomorrow. And speaking of production, there are only a few weeks left of the shoot since the series only got greenlit for a few episodes. It’s up in the air whether or not you’ll return to finish the rest of the episodes.

Dieter’s hand reaching for your thigh snaps you out of your thoughts and you turn your head over to him and your breath hitches a bit. His hair is wild and wind-swept and he tilts his chin  down so you can see his eyes over his sunglasses.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

You thread your fingers through his. “Nothing, just this is … nice. I’m trying not to think too far in the future, you know.”

Dieter’s gaze returns to the road and he takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I know. Truth be told, I’ve been trying to not think about it either,” he chuckles but then he gets a distant look in his eyes.

“I kinda forgot that I moved out of my apartment,” you say more to yourself than him. You see him glance over to you in your peripheral. “I needed a change. Figured if anything I’d just crash on Indy’s couch until I figured it out,” you say with a nervous laugh.

Dieter keeps his gaze on the road but you feel his grip on your hand tighten. “W-would you want to come back to LA with me?” He says it so softly you barely hear him.

“What?”

He clears his throat, “No pressure or anything, but if you wanted to you could come back to LA with me for a bit.”

“Like move in with you?”

You come to a red light and he looks over at you. He looked scared and nervous, biting his bottom lip as he nods.

“Uh, y-you’d … yeah, I mean, are you sure?”

“More than you know. Think about it, you don’t have to give me an answer now.” The light changes and he returns his gaze to the road. “I need to check with Liz, make sure she doesn’t have me going onto another project or something,” he laughs. 

“Yeah. I think that sounds good to me.” 

He turns to look at you as you give him an encouraging smile and squeeze his hand.

Your drive winds up the canyon, scenic overlooks peppering the side of the road. Dieter’s turned on some music and you both sit in comfortable silence, still holding his hand in your lap. When you reach the top, you get out of the car and walk to take in the spectacular vistas in front of you. The gigantic gorge is massive and dramatic. The red soil is dotted with ample greenery and you spot streams and waterfalls as your eyes take it all in.

Dieter comes up behind you, you feel his chest against your back and he rests his chin on the top of your head. His hands come to rest at your waist.

“Wow,” you manage to get out.

“Yeah, it’s pretty fucking amazing,” he murmurs. 

Your eyes couldn’t take in all of the beauty in front of you. It was a bit overwhelming to think something like this just exists in the world. 

You aren’t sure how long you both stand like that, but after a while, Dieter moves so he’s standing next to you, a hand resting on the small of your back. “We should take a picture,” he smiles.

“Yes! Here, take my phone, you have longer arms.” You hand him your phone and press up on your tip toes so your cheeks touch, both of you giving big smiles at the camera. 

After he takes a few shots he hands the phone over so you can scroll through and take a look. It’s at this moment that you can start to feel eyes on you; you were too awe-struck earlier by the beauty of the landscape to notice anyone else around you.

“Excuse me,” you hear a soft voice behind you, turning to see a woman and her son, a boy no more than 10 years old. “I’m sorry, are you…Dieter Bravo?”

The little boy looked both annoyed and in awe at the boldness of his mother to just walk up to Dieter. He looked up with big eyes and his jaw agape. Dieter’s eyes softened seeing the boy’s reaction. 

“Uh, yeah. That’s me,” Dieter flashes a dazzling smile and you’re glad it wasn’t directed at you because otherwise you’d be a puddle. 

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but could he get a picture,” she motions to her son. “He’s a big fan.”

“Sure, c’mere bud, let’s take a picture,” Dieter ushers the boy over, crouching slightly so their faces are level. After the woman snaps a few photos, Dieter stands back up. “What’s your name bud?”

“Ah, umm…K-Kofi,” the boy says softly.

“Well, Kofi, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Dieter. You having fun today with your mom?”

The boy nodded and his mom pipes in, “We watched Cliff Beasts on the plane ride over here.”

“Oh nice, well, I hope you liked it,” Dieter smiles, looking at you with a wink. 

“Well, I don’t want to keep you and your beautiful girlfriend from enjoying your day. Thank you so much.”

“Yeah, thank you, Mr. Bravo,” Kofi squeaks. 

“It’s Dieter. And you’re welcome. Have a good one,” Dieter waves and turns around, reaching for the small of your back. “He was sweet.”

“And so were you…boyfriend,” you tease.

Dieter moves to stand in front of you, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s blushing a bit, his eyes cast down before he looks up and takes your hand. “I like the sound of that,” he smiles.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve been wondering if it’s okay if I call you my… I-I didn’t want to presume.”

You laugh which throws him off, “I love you. You’re so sweet, you know that?”

He smirks, his eyes give you an up and down. “I love you too.” He leans down for a quick kiss. “Did you still want to go for a hike?”

You look around and start to see more eyes starting to look your way with hushed whispers. “Yeah, sounds good. If we stay here much longer you may start an unofficial meet and greet.”

You head back to the car to grab some water bottles and then head off on the four-mile trail. There were a few people along the way who gave a customary nod and wave as you walked by. A couple of times you could hear people excitedly whisper as they passed and figured out who they just walked by. Luckily, you were left alone and you both walked hand-in-hand over the terrain, stopping every now and again so you could take photos.

After some time you see signs for Waipo’o Falls and not too long later you see a massive waterfall come into view far off in the distance. It stands out against the dry, rocky background of the red clay of the canyon.

“Wanna sit for a bit?” Dieter gestures over to a rock off the path big enough for the two of you to share. 

You sit and share stories, most of them random. After all, you are still getting to know each other despite all of the feelings you’ve experienced and shared so far. Seeing Dieter relax and laugh, really laugh, was music to your ears. Seeing how his eyes crinkled and how he’d always lean into you as he laughed, touching some part of you whether it was your things or your arms. It was easy, simple. 

There was still more to explore so you managed to get back on the trail. Dieter started to complain about his back hurting so it seemed like a good time to turn around and head for the car. Along the drive back to the resort, you made a few stops along the way. He saw a sign for a swinging bridge and veered off the road to go check it out. 

Once you were back on the road, you saw a person selling coconuts on the side of the road. Seeing how excited you were about it, Dieter made a quick U-turn and went back for one. You shared one, drinking the refreshing water as you shared more stories and laughs. 

“We should probably get back, huh? I’m getting hungry,” Dieter smirked. His tone made you press your thighs together.

Once you arrive back at the resort, you and Dieter walk arm-in-arm past the lobby. You head toward the elevators when he pulls back and changes direction.

“Want to get a bite from Duke’s?” he asks, making you smile. You’d been wanting to check out the beachside restaurant since you arrived at the resort and hadn’t found the time.

“Are you sure? People are going to swarm you.”

“Nah, it’ll be fine.” He reassures you, taking your hand as he leads the way to the restaurant. 

As you walk up to the hostess stand you hear a familiar voice behind you, “Hey B! Fancy seeing you here!”

You turn around and see Rhys, his face sunburnt to the point where he looks like a lobster which makes you wince and laugh. Trailing behind him is Liz, looking relaxed in white linen pants and a powder blue tank top. 

“Hey Rhys, what’re you doing here?” You reach up to hug him.

“Hi Lizzie,” Dieter walks up to Liz, kissing her on the cheek. 

“Hey, champ! Hi Belle,” she surprises you with a warm hug. “You guys gonna grab some dinner?” You and Dieter both nod. “Great, we can all sit together!”

Dieter gives you an apologetic look, but you counter with a giant smile. You loved spending time with Rhys and getting to know Liz more. Plus, you still were with Dieter, so it was a win-win.

The hostess quickly seats the four of you at a table with a great view of the beach. It would be the perfect place for people-watching, but given your dinner companion, you feel a bit exposed. Dieter seems oblivious to it so you decide to just roll with it.

After you place your orders the waiter takes your menus and Liz leans forward on the table with her forearms. “So, have you both been enjoying yourselves?” She tries to suppress a smirk.

Dieter rolls his eyes and laughs. “Very much so, Lizzie.”

“Yeah, we’ve been having a lot of fun,” you chime in. 

“I’m happy to hear that, I really am,” she says to the both of you but is looking at Dieter, who shifts in his seat.

“What have you both been up to?” You ask, trying to change the subject which causes Dieter to visibly relax. His hand reaches for your thigh under the table, squeezing it. 

“Oh us? Well, I’ve been trying to relax, unlike Rhys. The guy’s been on the phone constantly.”

“Well, I learned from the best how to hustle for my clients,” he chuckles. 

“Got some good stuff cooking for Indy?” Your hopeful tone makes Rhys smile.

“You know it, B. Promise you won’t tell Indy, but I have to spill to someone other than Liz because I’m driving her nuts.”

“He is,” Liz says with a huff. 

Rhys proceeds to tell you that he managed to get Indy an audition for a franchise that has been her longtime dream. And it wasn’t just an audition for a side character, no he worked to get her an audition for a lead role. You know Indy is going to be over the moon about this development. 

“So what’s the catch?” You ask as you sip on your drink. 

“Well, they want her to come in person for the audition and presumably we’ll do a test shoot while we’re there.”

“What about the shoot here?” You ask, your eyes shifting to Dieter who looks a bit tense.

“Oh well, we are working on getting some stuff shuffled around in the production schedule. You’ll have some long days but it’s the only way to find time. After one of the days, you’ll take the red eye to LA, she’ll do the audition the next morning and you’re both back on a plane that afternoon just in time to shoot the next day.”

“Wait, they’re both going?” Dieter asks, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah, B is Indy’s good luck charm and this is the biggest audition I’ve ever booked so Belle has to be there for her. Right B?” Rhys gives you a big smile.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, she’d kill me if I wasn’t there.” You look at Dieter, trying to silently convey how important this is.

“So assuming she gets it, when are you thinking she wraps here?” Dieter presses on.

“Well, that’s the thing,” Rhys stops to sip his beer. “The person they had in the role had to drop out and pre-production already started so she’d be coming in late to the game. I’m trying to not get ahead of myself, but I’ve already talked with some of the crew here and it looks like we can wrap Indy up early so the girls can head to Toronto ASAP.”

“When are you planning on telling her Rhys?” You keep your eyes on him although you can sense Dieter’s shoulder slump out of your peripheral.

“Depends on what time she gets back, I was hoping tonight. I didn’t want to say anything before because I wanted her to enjoy her time with Sam. You know her, if I told her about this, they would have been running lines their whole trip. She needs to let loose, she looks so happy,” he gives a half smile, his eyes softening as he looks at you.

“Well, if we can make this work she’s going to be over the moon,” you smirk. 

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N: So I’ll be honest, I had a really hard time on where to take things following the previous chapter. I have a general outline, but I just was a little burnt out maybe? I’m not sure. I wasn’t really feeling anything that I was writing despite trying several times. (So apologies for any of the whiny posts you may have seen from me as it related to this fic). 

To give an update on “real-life inspirations” - Waimea Canyon is one of my favorite places on Kauai so I was excited Dieter and Belle got to see it. Also, Duke’s is a real restaurant, with several locations on the islands and the mainland too. I’ll be including photos of both whenever I finally finish this story!

Thanks as always for reading! Tag list: @musings-of-a-rose / @legendary-pink-dot / @bitchwitch1981 / @mysterious-moonstruck-musings / @gracie7209 / @amneris21 / @pastelnap / @maryfanson / @sunnywithachanceofjavi / @sin-djarin / @winchestergypsy90 / @for-a-longlongtime /@harriedandharassed / @titlee78 / @midnightraain / @poodlebae / @partyofone3414 / @guelyury / @weho2kcmo / @missladym1981 / @soapjay / @darkheartgatita

[thelightsandtheroses]

Between the Shadow and the Soul | Joel Miller x female reader

Pairing: Joel Miller x female!reader, Summary: In the wake of your brothers leaving the QZ, you find yourself drawn back to Joel. What follows is something neither of you can vocalise, you are one thing outside of closed doors and another together. As time goes on, it gets harder and harder to keep this divide this though until something happens that leaves you no other option. Content Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI please and thank you. By continuing to read you affirm you’re over 18, f!reader, smut, drinking, swearing, description of an almost assault that is stopped and fears of walking home alone, with that there are allusions to fear of SA but nothing happens, and there is a blink if you miss it element of PTSD. Author’s Note - This links to Into The Fire but you do not need to have read that to understand or follow this at all. They’re separated but linked and I’m toying with extending this in the future if people are interested as I have some ideas about how this could extend into a series that follows the main plot and then into Jackson either as a chapter fic or interconnected one-shots. Let me know if you have any thoughts here as I’d love to gauge if there’s interest. Also, there’s a little Easter egg for episode one in this fic, so let me know if you catch it. Title is from Pablo Neruda’s sonnet XVII. Word Count: 6k

 Into the Fire | Masterlist

Your brother leaves the QZ on a Wednesday. It’s him, Tommy, and the other Fireflies.

It’s been just 48 hours since he said he was leaving, less than 36 hours since you went to Joel Miller’s apartment to try and get him to join you in stopping this. It’s been 12 hours since you have been able to make some semblance of peace with your brother.

You lied through my teeth when you said that you would support my brother’s decision, blatantly fibbed when you said you respected the fact he felt he needs to go.  You both knew you were lying but we both pretended you were convincing. If the worst happens, you can hang on to that. 

Your older brother squeezes your shoulder and says that he’s proud of you as you watch your baby brother leave and you oscillate between wondering whether you want to cry or punch him hard in the face for not helping you stop our little brother from doing this.

It’s strange to feel both hurt and numb at the same time.  You feel too much and too little and all you know is this feels like an ending.

Days pass without major event. That’s the thing; your world can change in a moment, but the QZ endures and everyone else carries on unaware. There are ration cards to earn, trade or covet, jobs to do. 

You throw yourself into extra shifts of work, into finishing that book you’ve been meaning to. Distraction is your best weapon. Your apartment has never been so clean, your work so exemplary. If you’re not too exhausted to think at the end of the day, then that’s what the pills and alcohol are for.

Joel and Tess went on a supply run the day after that night so you’ve been able to avoid them both. You’re not entirely surprised; you knew he wouldn’t be there when Tommy left. There was enough said and left unsaid that night that told you everything you needed to know about how Joel felt about his brother’s decision.

 They’re gone for nearly a week before you hear that they are back.

You can’t quite articulate what brings you back to Joel’s apartment. You don’t expect anything; you’re curious though; curious about how he’s taken Tommy’s departure, about the supply run and what they’ve found or traded, about him in general.

It isn’t Joel who answers the door though; it’s Tess.

“Huh,” she says before opening the door wider for me to walk through.

Everything in you tells me to turn around, to make your excuses but you don’t. You walk inside instead.

Tess has made her way to the kitchen area, picks up a half-drunk glass of alcohol. It strikes you that she’s so comfortable in Joel’s space doing this, that it’s obvious Joel isn’t here right now, but he trusts Tess enough to let her be here.

You’ve made a mistake. The two of you clearly made a mistake.

Tess takes a gulp of her drink and then leans against the kitchen cabinet. “You’re looking for Joel.” It’s a statement not a question.

You nod slowly. “I can go.”

“Don’t.”

You pause in the hallway, nod and then walk back to the table, toy with taking a seat but instead dig my hands into your worn jean pockets.

Tess doesn’t move from the cabinet but just meets your eyes, an unreadable expression on her face.

Is this where she confronts you? Where she confirms your fear that her and Joel are like that that Joel lied, or you ignored my gut and it’s you, you are the one at fault here.

Will she yell, will she lay down her territory?

“So, was it a good run?” you ask after a moment; you’ve always hated silence. It’s the way that silences feel like a weight above you, keep you anticipating something. Eventually something has to break the silence, right?

“Same old, same old,” Tess says, shrugging insouciantly.

“Oh.”

“I should go, really, please don’t tell Joel I was here. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Look,” Tess begins, her fingers pinching her brow, “you don’t know what you’ve got yourself into.”

“I do,” I protest stubbornly because even if you don’t, if Tess says that you don’t know then you will argue until you’re blue in the face that you do.

“No, you don’t.” Tess looks at the floor for the moment and then meets your eyes. “Don’t put something on him you know he can’t give you, it’s not fair. It’s not fair to either of you. Look, you seem like a good - or maybe an alright person. We’re not.”

It’s not that simple, you think. You know all too well that men who seem charming and nice at the start can be the most heinous of them all - that good and bad don’t feel like binary values in this world anymore. You thought you were good once, but your survival has come at a cost.

You open my mouth to protest her words but she shakes her head at you. Neither of them seems bad; yes, there’s an air of danger, they’re certainly competent and you wouldn’t necessarily want to cross them. They don’t seem actively malicious though. Or is that just the version of them you’ve seen?

"He told you what happened?"

“He didn’t.”

“Then how did you know?”

“I came over the morning after - saw you leaving. Also, even if I didn’t, you just confirmed it. You’re not very good at this, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Oh.” You have to say what’s next. “I didn’t - if I - I’m sorry if I stepped into something. I didn’t - I didn’t know if you were together. I’m honestly sorry if you are and I’m sure it didn’t -”

Tess laughs, it’s slightly bitter. “That man can’t be 'together' with anyone, sweetheart, that is the whole goddamn point I am trying to make.”

“It was a one-time thing.”

“Then why are you here, huh?“ She’s got you there.

You shift awkwardly in the kitchen, drag your foot on the floor and try not to look at you. Why are you here? What were you thinking?

“I’ll go,” You repeat, tightening the fist in my pocket.

As you open the front door, you walk straight into a solid weight. It almost takes the breath out of you.

“Crap.”

“What are you doing here?” Joel asks, because of course you would walk into him. Literally.

“I was leaving,” I say. “Sorry I uh -walked into you.” Walked into you, walked into this mess, walked into your apartment in the first place.

He clasps your wrist as you move to leave, he’s surprisingly gentle considering there’s a bruise on his knuckles. It looks fresh. You look down at the discoloured flesh and then back up at him.

“It wasn’t important, it can wait,” you say, swallowing and then looking anywhere but at him or Tess.

Joel doesn’t say anything. He loosens his grip on your wrist and then moves slightly to your side. “The problem’s sorted, Tess,” he says lightly. “Won’t happen again.”

You wonder if there’s a correlation between the problem and his bruised flesh.

“Fucking Robert,” Tess says, a mix of bitterness and almost cheer in her tone that you can’t quite reconcile.

You turn around and look at them both, trying to figure out what to do, whether you should just leave.

He hasn’t even said hello to you.

Joel drops a pack of ration cards on the table and places both hands on the table.  From where you stand you can see the outline of his back, his broad shoulders. It takes you back to the week before, to the way you had kissed the freckles on his shoulders and the way you’d felt beneath him.

There’s some sort of unspoken conversation taking place with him and Tess. She finally finishes the rest of her drink, takes a handful of the ration cards and then walks towards the front door, shaking her head at you and mumbling something you can’t quite decipher.

“Why’d you come?” he asks gruffly.

“No idea,” you say.

“Oh yeah?”

“They left safely, think they’ll try and radio in the next month or so, Tommy said,” you say as though that’s the message you came with, the mission you needed to carry out.

Joel turns and he’s facing you. “Right. Good.”

“Yeah.”

“You uh, doing okay now?”

You’re not sure how to reply to this; you’re surprised he’s asked, that it seems genuine. You’re also not sure what he’s asking; are you okay your brother left, or you okay after hooking up with him?

You nod. That seems an appropriate response.

There’s a protracted silence. It’s not entirely uncomfortable and you’re taken by the way Joel is carefully looking you up and down, calculating, making some sort of assessment.

“Since you’re here, you want a drink?”

“Sure,” you reply as you walk back to the kitchen table.

You know where this is going. You knew from the start after all, didn’t you?

The QZ has a sense of security; it’s strange, there’s comfort in the known, even when it’s corrupt. At least you know who your enemies are most of the time, who’s running the show. There’s a safety in that. It’s when you don’t know who to avoid you find yourself in trouble.

Since Joel came back from the last supply run, you’ve fallen into a new pattern. At least two nights a week you’ll find yourself in his apartment, tangled up together in secret.

You don’t think anyone but Tess knows about this. You haven’t mentioned it to your friends, to your brother. They seem oblivious to it all, each of them ensconced in their own dramas and relationships. Even Maria, who you live with and has been your closest friend for years doesn’t know. However, as she’s a smuggler too, you’re not sure how she’ll react to you being with Joel. They have a loose truce, but in the QZ all connections are fragile.

You’re not even sure how to describe what is happening with Joel and you to them.

There are no words, no platitudes, Joel Miller is not going to hold your hand in public, after all he can’t betray that he has emotions or vulnerabilities to others, can he? How would that work with his reputation? You’ve heard that even some of the FEDRA soldiers are scared of him. Joel Miller is a man whose reputation truly precedes him.

Around others, nothing has changed between the two of you. It’s when it’s the two of you alone that it’s different.

Then it’s kissing against kitchen counters as you pretend the edges aren’t digging into your back, hands entwined as you move to his old bed held up by breeze blocks. It’s fierce, desperate kisses and roaming hands. It’s heat and fire and safety wrapped together.

It reminds of you that Alanis Morrissette song you used to hear on the radio, the one where the only ironic thing about it was the fact that the song wasn’t actually using examples of irony. Outside of these walls, he’s one of the most intimidating men in the QZ, but when it’s just the two of you, well then you feel the safest you have in years.

You wake to a bright apartment. Next to you, Joel is still asleep and radiating heat that as winter sets in is far less unwelcome than before. One arm rests above your head while the other lazily hangs over your waist, his hand loosely entwined with yours. You lie there, listening to the sound of his breathing, the sound of his heart beating. He’s a solid, grounding presence like this.

For a second you allow yourself to indulge. You’re not in Boston, you’re not in a QZ in a ramshackle apartment that doesn’t even have a fridge. You’re in the Before. This is just another lazy Sunday morning and Joel’s here.

You can’t fully picture the man he might have been then, how you and him would have been something different in that world. Just thinking about the Before is strange for anyone who’s survived this long though. It’s hard to remember a time when people would run into a coffee shop after classes ended, when we’d think about supermarkets and buying groceries because there was so much choice. Which of the different tomato types or cheeses did you fancy today, how many types of toilet paper could there be? It’s almost obscene to remember it now.

The reality creeps in too soon.

The problem is moments like this; the ones where you can dream and imagine this is something else. It’s been months and neither of you have defined yourselves, there have been no words, no spoken confessions of feelings. Inside these four walls, there’s something, but outside you feel like he treats like an acquaintance at best.  You haven’t told your friends or your brother about this because you’re not even sure what this is. You don’t know what you mean to Joel. You started out in desperation and shared loneliness, what even can this grow into?

You try and ignore this, to live in the moment, but it eats at you a little. You wonder if it would be the same if you were Tess?

He turns over, removing his hand from your side.

“Hey,’” you say gently.

“Mornin’,” he mumbles, the Southern drawl thicker in his voice as he wakes up.

He props himself up on his elbow, regards you carefully. His gaze is piercing, like he can really see through you even with half-awake eyes and a drowsy expression. You watch how his expression sharpens.

“I’ve got work in a bit,” you say just to fill the silence.

“Okay. Tess and I are going on a supply run later today, might be a couple of days.”

“Bill and Frank?” you ask.

He nods and then shifts himself so he’s hovering over you, meets your lips and skims his hands down your waist.

You hum in approval, slipping your own hands around his neck and pulling him closer.

In these moments, these fleeting quiet moments, things don’t feel so bad.

There’s a louder and louder question in your mind though - what is this? What are we doing? What does it mean to Joel?

It might be sensible, but there’s a weight to whatever has developed between you and Joel. You can justify and understand why things are different outside to when you’re alone, but even when you know the reasons it tugs at old anxieties. Is it you, are you the problem? Maybe if you were more like Tess, maybe if you were different then he wouldn’t keep you a secret.

He’s never even told you how he feels about you. The two of you started in desperation and shared pain - what was you said to him back then? Don’t overthink it? Well, now you are.

 

It’s been a long day; your shift ran long after a clash between Fireflies and FEDRA. It’s strangely familiar; even when the world ends, we all still find a way to fight with one another. Perhaps that’s too reductive though.

Curfew is close, you walk a little faster down the street because you know you’re cutting it fine. FEDRA have been difficult recently; you don’t want to spend any more time in lock up.

 It’s this that motivates you to take the shortcut, to walk down the alley that will take you out closer to Joel’s apartment and mean you probably make curfew. You’re tired, exhausted from a long day of work and all you want is to be with Joel.

You hear the footsteps creeping behind you and your heart sinks.  In the Before you’d walk home with keys between your fingers in a clasped fist in your pocket for just this reason. How could you be so stupid? This is a moment you’ve been actively avoiding since you were a teenager, since before the outbreak. What have you done to save yourself a minute or two?

You’re angry too because why can’t you just walk down a street without this fear? What’s wrong with people?

You can’t berate yourself, not right now. You carefully look around you, try and think of a way out of this. You need to be practical, to swallow the panic that’s rising and get out of this. What would Joel or Tess do?

You’re almost out of the alley when it happens. He grabs at your shoulder, pulls you and then pushes you against the wall.

You don’t recognise him but you recognise the look in his eyes.

Mentally you try and remember the self-defence you’ve learned over the years; you’ve fought more people than this. This is nothing.

It’s just the way he’s so close and the panic and the -

“Let me go,” you say loudly, “You let me go now and we forget about this.”

“But I don’t wanna do that.”

“Let me go.”

“Hey, I’m just sayin’,” the man slurs, his foul breath on your neck. You push him off you and scramble to get away from him. He’s behind you and you manage to grab a loose brick from rubble on the ground and you’re ready. You’ve done this before and you can do it again.

He grabs at you and you raise the brick ready but something holds him back.

“Stop it, stop it! “a man yells, “Jesus, you’ll get yourself killed. Get away, now.”

He shoves the man away and takes a step toward you, hands raised in surrender as you take a step back. The alleyway exit is just ahead of you, you can make it through this.

“Look, you need to tell him what I did, okay? I stopped him, helped you out.”

“I had it covered.”

 “Look, you need to tell your guy that I helped you,” he says firmly.

“My guy?”

“Yeah, now he,” the man points in the direction of the other man who has run in the opposite direction, “he owes me too because I know your guy would have destroyed him.”

“My guy?” you ask again, the adrenaline starting to wear off as you drop the brick to the ground.

  “You tell your guy that Robert -” The name clicks straight away, this is the man who Tess and Joel deal with, who neither of them like. They won’t like owing him.

The QZ is alarmingly similar to high school. Gossip spreads faster than fungus.

You shouldn’t be surprised people know about you and Joel, you shouldn’t be surprised there are rumours.

You are though and you know Joel will hate this if he ever hears about it. About the way Robert already wants to exploit it into something else. A wild thought that this was a set-up immediately comes to mind before you squash it down.

You break into a run back to Joel’s. You won’t tell either of them what’s happened, you can’t.

Joel’s counting out ration cards on the kitchen table when you walk into his apartment. He spins around, a tense expression on his face, fists ready and teeth grit, and then he softens at the sight of you.

“Hey,” you say, walking over to him before getting a glass of water. “So, I take it you and Tess have been able to trade the stuff from your last run then?”

“Yeah.” Joel stands up, his posture stiff and it instantly raises an alarm bell. “So, Robert said some things today,” Joel says in a low voice. “You know him, don’t you?”

You swallow, feel the ground drop a little below you. You finish your water and place it on the counter, taking the time to think through what you say next.

“It was nothing,” you say, moving to him and placing a hand on his side in what you hope is a reassuring way. When you meet his eyes, you realise it though.

There’s some worry there, sure, but more than that, he’s annoyed. He’s annoyed because someone knows about what’s happening with the two of you, that you didn’t deny it or tell him, didn’t warn him.

It stings.

“I didn’t say anything to him.”

“You didn’t have to. Now he knows - or he thinks he knows something and the asshole is looking for a way to use it against me. Are you happy with that?”

“Why are you mad at me? I didn’t confirm it and I -”

“You didn’t tell me. If you’d told me before -”

“I thought you might worry, and I was - I was embarrassed, okay? I took a risk because I thought I’d miss curfew and I almost - it could have been really bad.”

Joel’s face hardens and you’re not entirely sure you’re making the situation any better.

“How bad?” For a second he softens, reaches towards you and cups a hand to your chin. You realise he’s checking for marks, he’s realised what could have happened, his eyes are dark with worry and anger and something else that you can’t identify.

“It was fine, I had it handled.”

“Sure. That’s what Robert said, that’s why he intervened and that's why he now he thinks I owe him.”

“I did have it handled,” you say, angry that Robert would use that moment against you like this. “I didn’t need him to intervene but he did and I didn’t ask him to. Nothing happened to me, okay? I stopped it. I stopped it.”

Joel is so close to you now, hands on your shoulders, eyes heavy. He nods at what you say, more reassured that nothing had happened to you. His head is bowed slightly, leaning against you and you move your hands down his arms to clasp his.

“Who was it?”

“No idea, just some guy -” Even if you knew him, you wouldn’t say his name with that expression on Joel’s face.

You pause before you continue because this will be the contentious part. “When Robert said about us- I didn’t confirm anything - and so what if I did?”

Joel scoffs, takes a step away from you and breaks the moment you start speaking.

“This isn’t fucking high school, sweetheart, we’re not going to announce we’re going steady in the cafeteria.”

“Who on Earth says going steady? Did you ever say that before?”

“No, of course not. It’s an expression. That’s beside the point. The point is - “

“What is the point?” you snap.

”You should have told me.”

“Maybe, maybe I should have. However going off this conversation, I’m pretty sure anyone would understand why I didn’t.”

“You’re impossible. How many people have you told about us, huh? Your friends been spreading it all around Boston?”

“You’re being a jerk,” you say, eyes fixed on the ground. “I’m not asking you to hold my hand and skip along the QZ in unison, Joel, don’t fucking be like this. I don’t know how Robert found out about us. Just please don’t blame me for something that wasn’t even my fault. Do you think I don’t realise that this - us - could put a target on my back? I’ve known that from the start and it’s why I’ve never pushed things.”

He swallows, clenches his fists and you realise that’s his main point. That’s the part that’s worried him. You’re not Tess - you’re not feared, you could be a vulnerability for him to others if it got out. Robert’s realised this, exposed a sensitivity Joel never wanted visible. You are tired though, you’re tired of being a tool for other people’s games.

You have survived too much. You’ve endured things you never can talk about, think about even, to get where you are today. You have fought and you have won some fights and lost the others, but you’re here.

You’re so tired of this though.

“You’re not being fair, Joel.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. You raise your gaze to look over at him again, to take in exactly how he looks, how he’s reacting.

His expression is blank but his body betrays him. He fidgets, how he scrunches and loosens his fist, moving his fingers.

“I know,” he says finally. “I know you didn’t say anything.”

You wait for a moment, hoping for more but he doesn’t say anything.

“Okay then.”

“I just - ‘s not, everything’s complicated.”

“You think I don’t get that? I understand why you want to keep us in here, I get that. It’s just if I don’t even know what we are? How could I say anything to Robert when I don’t know whether there is an us?” Now you’ve started you can’t stop.

He reaches for you, takes a step closer as you step back because if he touches you, if he holds you right now and you swallow these words, you’ll betray yourself. 

“I’m not as weak as you think. I know I came to you and I was upset about my brother but I’m not weak.”

”I don’t think you’re weak,” Joel says, looking up at the ceiling. “I didn’t think it then, I’ve never thought that. We walk in different worlds ‘round here, sweetheart so I have to keep it separate.”

“And I understand that. It’s just that I don’t even know how you feel about me and now we’re talking about it, I can’t not say it, Joel. We’ve been - doing whatever this is for months and I - I - I’m a person, Joel. I have feelings.”

He says your name; all desperation and despair.

“I don’t think this is working for either of us anymore,” you say, taking a deep breath.

You glance over at the breeze blocks below his mattress again, how it sums everything up perfectly.  A makeshift bed for makeshift love.

“I should go.”

You should have gone a long time ago, you should have left when you came to his apartment and spoke to Tess all those months ago and saved both of you this pain.

So this time you do and you ignore whatever Joel says behind you.

It’s for the best.

You scowl as you take in your apartment and listen to rain hitting the window. You are itching to do something different, but you’re not sure what you should do, or even what you have the resources and energy to do.

You can’t talk to your best friend about what has happened with you and Joel because she doesn’t know that you ever even slept with him the first time. It’s the same with your older brother and to be honest, things have been strained between the two of you since he supported your other brother in leaving with the fireflies.

You feel alone. You feel numb.

Hell, the only person you could talk to is Tess and you’re not even sure if she likes you.

There’s a knock at the door. You freeze. It’s past curfew which never means anything good. You quickly look around your living room for any visible contraband in case it’s FEDRA.

Joel’s standing there. You take him in for a moment; the way his six-foot frame dominates the door frame, his wet hair and unreadable facial expression.

“What are you doing here? It’s curfew!”

Joel raises his eyebrows smugly. Like curfew could ever stop him. You bite your lip so you don’t smile like you usually would because no, no you can’t smile at these things anymore.

As you turn away you’re sure you see his face fall slightly.

“Can I come in then?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

Since you’ve been together, most of your time has been spent at Joel’s. It’s quieter there, which may be more of an indictment of your own accommodation than a recommendation for his.

Joel stands awkwardly in your living room.  He’s rarely here as you live with your friend so his apartment has always been the choice. You’ve noticed before how every time he has been in your apartment, which has usually been to talk to you friend, he seems to be taking in some of the details, gleaning what he can from the small personal touches. Today is no different.  There are photos on your coffee table; you and your brothers, you and your best friend. Your brother found one of those Polaroid cameras once, it’s long broken now but there are some markers of your life, some semblance of normality.  You notice how he takes in the pile of books stacked next to your sofa, picks one of them up and flips the cover over to read the back. You almost smile at the fact he instinctively knows the books are yours and not your friend’s.

“Is - is it just you?” He asks tentatively.

“Yeah, uh - just me tonight. Maria’s over at Jason’s tonight.”

“Do you want a drink? I have some but it’s not the best quality.” Which is a polite way to say it’s really shitty quality moonshine.

“I’m good.”

“Why are you here, Joel?”

“You said some things.”

“So did you.”

“You said you didn’t even know how I felt.”

“I don’t.”

“You can’t mean that,” he says quietly. “You know, you have to know.”

“Joel, outside of your apartment I barely even exist to you!”

“I wanted to keep you safe, keep you away from what I do.”

“You think I’m safe from all of that? Maria is a smuggler too, I might not be, but I’ve been at risk if their operations fall apart from day one.”

You think about Joel’s words for a second, the ones you’d almost ignored as you launched straight into your planned words and defences.

“How do I have to know? What do I have to know, Joel?”

Joel doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t look like the Joel you see on the streets anymore, he doesn’t even look like the Joel you know from those nights, the one who knows every spot to touch and kiss and makes you feel like someone else entirely.

“ Look, I don’t know how to do this anymore, bein’ with someone, I mean. Reckon I wasn’t much good at it before the world went to shit.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “I think you’re more than adequate -”

He smirks. “Not that,” he whispers, “You know what I mean.”

You do.

“It’s a lot for me too.” It is, there are parts of your history you haven’t shared with Joel, that you’re not sure if you ever will. It isn’t because you don’t trust him, it’s that those memories live locked away and you don’t want to release them, not now, not ever.

Joel closes the gap between you. “I was worried because you didn’t even tell me someone tried to hurt you. How do I keep you safe if. -”

“I could have told you, but I was embarrassed. God, Joel, I’ve known not to cut through alleys in the dark since I was a kid. I’m just mad that I have to think like that.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Joel says, his tone softer.

“I should have told you about Robert, but Joel, I - I didn’t want to lose you.” You laugh bitterly. “Guess that worked out real well though.”

He puts his hand on your chin, guides you to meet his eyes.

“You haven’t, haven’t lost me. I was - you were right,” he mumbles. “I was a jerk. ‘M sorry. ”

You lean in to him and you’re about to say something back when he kisses you and every word you thought fades away. It’s gentle at first but he doesn’t break contact even as he moves you to your bedroom.

You work the buttons of his chambray shirt with your fingers. It’s damp from the rain outside, clings to his skin more as you peel it away, move down to undo his belt.

His kisses are becoming more familiar, more desperate by the second, as though you’ll stop him, you’ll tell him it’s over at a moment’s notice.

He guides you to your bed. 

His fingers skim the bare skin on your hip where your top has risen up with the movement, then  he traces up your waist to the edge of your breasts.

“You okay? This okay?” Are we okay? He’s asking that too you realise.

“More than,” you whisper, nod, and then wrap your arms around his neck to bring him back closer to you because you need him close, you need him.

He pulls you up to ease your shirt off, to unclip and remove your bra, kisses the hollow of your throat and traces a line down to your breasts.

Joel Miller might be terrible with words, but you realise he communicates in other ways.

He moves his right hand down to the edge of your jean, into your underwear and you bite back a groan at the heat building between your legs as he slips a finger inside you.

You moan as he finds the spot he knows turns you into putty.

“Joel -”

“I know,” he says, removing his fingers and making you gasp.

He tugs your jeans and underwear off, places a kiss on the inside of your knee as he uses his hands to prise you open more as he works soft kisses up your thigh to between your legs.

You buck against him as he presses his tongue against you. You grasp his hair as he kisses, sucks and teases you to oblivion. You shudder against him as you come and he eases himself up over you, kisses you so you can taste yourself on him.

“I need you,” you say, “Joel, I need you.”

“I need you too, you get that, right?” he asks before pulling off his own jeans, his boxers. He kisses you fiercely as he lines himself up and sinks into you.

As he moves in you, he wordlessly tells you everything you needed to know. It’s in each thrust, each sound, the way his hands entwine and interlock with yours as he gets even deeper.

Afterwards, after both of you have collapsed into each other, let go completely, he moves so he’s lying next to you.

His body glistens with sweat and you absentmindedly trace a scar on his shoulder. He kisses your hand and then looks at you seriously.

“You know?” he asks, running a finger down your cheek. “You know now, right?”

“Yeah, I do,” you whisper, because you think you’re finally a step closer to figuring this man out. You get it now, you get it.

Tag list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories

Please let me know if you would like to be added to my tag list.

[scrunkalicious]

A Lackadaisy Victory!! (A LackaVictory!) :)

In less than an hour, Lackadaisy exceeded it's 125K goal on Backerkit on the first day. In that same first day, we've already funded 500K, half of that last Million Dollar goal. In five days, we reached 900K. Last night while I was sleeping, we managed to fund the full ONE MILLION!!! And, along with all of these Backerkit goals being reached, the Lackadaisy Pilot on YouTube reached 10 MILLION views!

Think about that! Over one Million Dollars, in just 8 days! Half of a million on the first day. That's extraordinary! Thank you to everyone who has been working on Lackadaisy. Tracy, Newt, Fable. All of the voice actors. Every single sound designer. Every clean up artist. Every storyboard artist. The violinist who played Rocky's violin parts! Every musician. Everybody else who had a contribution to the series in some way, thank you!

Thank you to the fans who were able to back the project. Thank you to those who may not be able to back the project, your support still matters!

The Lackadaisy community is so supportive, welcoming and kind.

The Lackadaisy community is by far one of the best communities and fandoms I've been a part of. Everyone is so kind, nice, and welcoming to everyone. Whether you've been here since the comics, or since the pilot came out (I'm this one!), or anywhere in between, we've all come together for the silly booze cats and a great time. Seeing all the Lackadaisy fanart, LackaOcs, fanfiction, all of it, makes me so happy! It's nice to see such a big and heartwarming community. There's a place for everyone, and everyone is so kind to each other. Seeing every theory and discussion makes me giddy with joy, because who knows what could happen next?

Every person who loves a certain character to a certain degree of insanity normality (Don't worry, I'm guilty of this too!), and finds comfort in them, it's so nice to see people finding comfort in something as great as Lackadaisy. Whether you love the poetic Rocky, the stoic Mordecai, the baby boy baby Freckle, the ecstatic flapper Ivy, the dynamic duo Savoys, or anyone else, I love being able to see how these characters make everyone feel good.

And that's just how great the community is. I haven't talked about Lackadaisy itself!

When I read the Lackadaisy comics, or (re)watch the pilot, it's clear that a lot of love has been put into making Lackadaisy what it is. Each character feels so real, their personalities are so in depth, you feel as if you can find someone with their same personality in the real world. I knew a guy who was almost exactly like Mordecai! And the character's backstories make you/me want to cry and give them a little hug. Everything is so in-depth, and well thought out about.

The time and research Tracy must have done to also make Lackadaisy historically accurate is amazing. I love reading the comic on the website (Lackadaisy.com) and seeing the little notes at the bottom of every part in the little box thing that may explain some 1920s slang, or something that people may not get right away. I've personally learned quite a bit about this time period thanks to Lackadaisy, and I have even done some extra research myself.

And the art. Oh, the art and graphics! Lackadaisy's art style, both in the comics and the pilot, have inspired me a lot in my own art. Studying the style and drawings of silly little booze cats have helped me improve quite a bit.

The story is so intuitive, and in the comics, I love how we can see a bit about each character, whether it be through flash backs or retellings (Like when the Savoys tell Mordecai about them). When you reach a comic chapter that doesn't include a certain character, you wonder "What's going on with them right now?". Lackadaisy's story is easily something that makes you want more.

Usually, when I get into a fandom, I tend to stay for maybe a month or less, then drift off. I don't know why, perhaps I just don't connect with it. But, Lackadaisy is one of the few that I really connect with. The community is one of the reasons I connect with this fandom. I've made so many friends and mutuals through Lackadaisy. It's also nice to see how Tracy and so many people who worked on Lackadaisy look through the Lackadaisy tag and like people's posts, it means a lot to fans like me!

I've had a fixation on the 1900s-1960's for quite some time, maybe since 4th/5th grade. I've seen a few fandoms that wrap around anywhere in that time period, but Lackadaisy is the first to go all in with this period. That's another reason I stay.

And overall, I love the booze cats! I love them all!! Especially Mordecai!! Mordy my beloved!

So, thank you to everyone ever! I can't wait to see something great! I'm really happy to see that Lackadaisy has a bright future!! :) <3

[morallygreyyn]

Please a contuination of 'a rare opportunity' / more drunk illumi / or even a illumi smut😔 AND ADD GOSSIPING WITH HISOKA WE CANNOT FORGET MY BOY👀

jealous confessions pt 2. - (drunk! illumi x reader)

description: having seen what illumi was like a few nights prior, you were desperate to see it again and to know once and for all whether the zoldyck assassin had feelings for you too. so you and your best friend hisoka devise a master plan to get illumi drunk again but this time, make him jealous...

warnings: implied nsfw, implied dubcon, drunk illumi, sober reader, maybe blackmail?, just some really sketchy shit all around

authors note: ahh another request! thanks so much anon! 💗 seems like drunk illumi is quite popular with y'all huh? 👀 well your wish is my command (and i just really love illumi 🥴) so here is part two of a rare occurance (with ofc added gossipy hisoka) ! i tried my hardest not to make this too ooc but it’s illumi and emotions so what can you expect really 💀maybe i should make this a series haha 🫢 implied smut happens at the end so lemme know if y'all want another part where the reader gets to do the diddly doo with you know who 👀 anyway that's all from me! enjoy!

read part one here!

read part three here!

word count: 2.1k

requests are open!

“What happened next?”

“He couldn’t stop kissing me.” You mused, reminiscing on that glorious night you had with your favourite Zoldyck. 

It had been a couple of days since then and you only now had the chance to spill all the juicy details with your partner in crime and gossip.

“No wonder you were smiling like that.” Hisoka had been thoroughly entertained by the whole ordeal, finding you trying to get Illumi to have emotions wholly amusing.  “I couldn’t get any information out of him when he came out of your room.”

“I’m not sure how much of it he remembers.”

“Oh he remembers, he would’ve said so otherwise.”

“Would he? What if he’s embarrassed?”

“It’s not in his nature.”

“Yeah but trying to squash his feelings is.” You were both all too familiar with how the robot you called a friend dealt with his inner turmoil.

“True.”

The conversation naturally died out, your thoughts too focused on your hopeless crush. Maybe you really should move on and find someone who could actually give you a positive response to your attention.

Hisoka didn’t seem to want to give up however. He turned to face you, the embers of a plan flickering to life in his wicked eyes. “What if we take it a step further?”

“How so?”

“Jealousy is a powerful emotion to play with.” His eyes flashed with mischief. “Which is only amplified when drunk. Surely even the most heartless of us can be affected.”

You couldn’t help but grin once you caught his drift. “That is an interesting idea. Jealous how?”

“Hmm.” Hisoka looked up, putting his devious brain to good use.

“We could kiss in front of him.” You threw the idea out there, what had you to lose?

“Do you mean to kill him?” Hisoka laughed. “Surely that would be too much for him to handle if he does have an interest in you.”

“But if it works?”

The magician tapped his chin. “Then yes, it would be a very powerful weapon to use.”

“I think it’s worth a shot.” You turned to your diabolical friend and he met your eyes in a sidelong glance. “So how are we going to do this?”

Three plans, a couple of shots and a script later and both you and Hisoka had devised a masterful way of seeing whether Illumi had feelings for you once and for all. 

Plan A was already in motion by the time you had finished plotting. Step one was to get Illumi to agree for a night out at the local bar. It wasn’t too difficult to get him on board. He replied to your invitation with a simple, “Ok.” and that was the end of that.

Then it came to the night itself. You arrived at the same time as Hisoka, making sure that when Illumi arrived the idea of you two together would be in his mind for the rest of the evening. 

“It’s time.” You whispered in Hisoka’s ear just as Illumi walked through the front door, trying to make it look as suggestive as possible.

The magician simply laughed, sauntering off to the bar to put the plan in motion. All you had to do now was sit back and put your faith in Hisoka’s very capable hands.

You had found a booth in a quiet part of the bar and settled in, wondering if this plan would go as smoothly as you had hoped. The most difficult part would be getting Illumi to drink the desired amount but you trusted Hisoka would get him there.

There was movement next to you and you turned to see Illumi sit next to you, staring at you with his fathomless eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for Hisoka, it’s drinks on him tonight.”

“Oh.”

Of course, you weren’t drinking. You had to make sure this night went in your favour and you would be damned if you risked another chance with Illumi.

“You’re smiling.” He observed, his light voice cutting through the silence. “Why?”

Thankfully for you, your smile could be read that you were just happy to be spending time with Hisoka rather than the fact that you were quite excited to meet drunk Illumi again.

“Is it illegal to smile?” You teased, knocking his shoulder with your own.

“No.” Ever the man of little words.

Just then, Hisoka returned with a couple of shots, whisky on the rocks for Illumi and what looked to be a neon red cocktail for the magician himself.

“Drink up.” You muttered, one finger under Illumi’s glass guiding it to his lips. You watched closely, perhaps like a predator would watch its prey in the wild, as your crush swallowed the amber liquid. 

You retracted your finger, satisfied that the plan was in motion while Hisoka almost choked on his drink from trying to suppress a laugh. Illumi noticed this too and cocked his head, confused at the magician’s reaction.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” He waved his hand, feigning innocence. 

The assassin shrugged and finished his drink. It was nowhere near enough for him to feel a buzz, but you smiled regardless in anticipation.

Nine drinks later and the familiar red flush was creeping its way back onto Illumi’s face. He was definitely feeling some sort of a buzz now. Time to see if he was drunk enough to feel jealousy.

“I wonder if I’ll get lucky tonight?” You pretended to be absent minded, twirling a straw that had come with one of Hisoka’s many cocktails.

“Get lucky?” Illumi questioned, seeming the same as he usually did. Hisoka had gone to the bar to order more so now was your chance.

“Mhm, I wonder if Hisoka would be down to do something fun.”

“Fun how?”

“Oh, you know,” Your grin was positively wicked as you leaned closer to him, as if you were about to spill your darkest secrets. “Like sex.”

As fast as lightning, the boy next to you grabbed your wrist in that familiar way of his whenever the alcohol kicked in. 

“Why him?” His voice was unaffected but his hand never moved.

“Who else would be willing?” You asked innocently, meeting his gaze. “You know Hisoka likes to get frisky with anyone.”

He didn’t respond, you didn’t think he would anyway so it didn’t come as a surprise but it was still very apparent that he didn’t like the sound of your answer.

You stared at him incredulously. Was he actually jealous? The thought was so absurd you had to laugh. No, you shook your head, surely not. You knew that you had set out to make him so but never did you actually think that it would work. In all honesty, you didn’t think Illumi had the capacity to be jealous. That was too advanced in the feelings department for him.

Hisoka returned, grinning ear to ear, having seen the whole thing go down from the bar. “Round two.”

Illumi and Hisoka were fifteen drinks in each by the time anything promising happened. The Zoldyck assassin had seemingly returned to the state he was in that night and both you and Hisoka knew it was time to enact the final stages of the plan.

You promptly stood, attracting the attention of both of your companions.

“Wanna dance?” You offered your hand to Hisoka, blatantly ignoring the boy next to you. It crushed you a little to have to do this but you kept reminding yourself that it would be worth it if the results went in your favour.

The magician accepted with a grin and the two of you made your way to the centre of the room, leaving your crush behind. You didn’t dare spare a glance at him, as much as you wanted to. Hisoka however, was openly staring at Illumi, as if presenting a challenge.

“Is it working?” 

“Just about~” Hisoka sang and leaned in, lips inches away. “One more push should break him.”

Just as you were closing your eyes, there was an ear shattering crash from behind. Whipping your head around in the direction of the noise, your jaw almost hit the floor at what you saw. Illumi was standing upright, hand balled into a fist, and underneath was a table in smithereens. All noise in the bar had stopped, eyes focused solely on the drunk assassin. 

“Congratulations, we have successfully broken him.” Hisoka muttered, you could feel the curve of his lips against your ear.

“Yeah.” You couldn’t really comprehend what you were seeing, and you still couldn’t when the bartender started walking towards the cause of the commotion.

“Um sir, I think you’ve had too much to drink. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” It was quite foolish of the bartender really. For him to approach someone he just witnessed shatter a thick, wooden table with his bare hand. You couldn’t feel too bad for him when Illumi reached out and crushed the man’s neck. You could’ve done without the screaming that followed though.

“Time to go.” You watched the body of the bartender crumple to the floor as you sprinted to Illumi, not wanting to push his unpredictability any further. As you approached, his eyes locked onto you and he reached out again, only instead of meeting the same fate as the bartender, he grabbed your wrist instead.

Was he jealous?

You couldn’t think too hard on the topic as people were screaming, rushing to get out. You were fairly sure you could hear sirens in the distance. Not that the police could do much against you three but you wanted to enjoy Illumi in this state more than you wanted a fight.

“C’mon sunshine, let’s go home.” You looped his arm over your shoulders and began to drag him to the exit. He didn’t put up a fight but that didn’t make it any easier.

“Hisoka, a little help here?” You grunted, forgetting how difficult it was to carry a drunken Illumi and being swiftly reminded at an alarming rate.

“No, no. You’re doing great.” Hisoka’s voice came from behind, clearly amused at your struggling. “You don’t need my assistance.”

“Thanks so much.”

Somehow, you successfully managed to get Illumi out of the building and to your apartment block with little issues. Your body ached with the weight but that was about all you had as far as problems went.

“And this is where I leave you.” The red head announced, bowing with dramatic flair. “My work here is done for the evening.”

Ever grateful to the best wingman, you gave him an appreciative nod. “Whatever would I do without you?”

With that, Hisoka took his leave knowing that you would update him of any and all developments later. Pulling Illumi inside, you were grateful that you decided to live in a place with elevators so getting the useless body to your apartment proved little to no issue.

The door swung closed behind you and suddenly it was just the two of you. Almost as if a switch had been flipped, the second you were alone, Illumi attacked you with as much passion as his lithe, emotionless body could manage. Illumi when intoxicated could never seem to keep his emotions in check. It was quite entertaining to watch him go from an expressionless assassin to a car crash of desperation. You loved every second of it.

It was a struggle to keep up with his feverish kissing, not that you were complaining in the slightest. This was exactly what you wanted.

The first time Illumi was drunk, he didn’t speak unless spoken to. So it shocked you when he pulled away, half lidded eyes boring into yours.

“Don’t ever do this with Hisoka.” 

Ah, so this was jealous drunk Illumi.

His eyes never left yours, as if waiting for your word that you wouldn’t. He was bold in the way he looked at you, long hair mussed and wild from your fingers, cheeks twinged red from the alcohol.

You smirked and leaned in, lips purposefully brushing his ear. “Only with you then, if that is what you want.”

Illumi leaned back in for a kiss but you put your finger to his lips, halting him immediately. “But I want you to do something for me in return.”

“What?”

The very final part of the plan. “Tell me you like me." “Why would I do that?”

“So I know you’re serious. Why would I waste my time on someone who didn’t like me too?” You knew this wasn’t true, you would always fool around with Illumi even if you thought he had absolutely no interest in you whatsoever. He didn’t know that however and you were using that fact to your utmost advantage.

He nodded, your words making sense to him even in his drunken state. You held your breath, waiting for his honest answer.

“I like you.” His voice was heartless, and there was very little emotion in his delivery but you knew Illumi always spoke the truth with you. You smiled at his confession, your plan a huge success. “So don’t ever do this with Hisoka or anyone else.” 

“Only you Illumi, only you.” You barely had time to finish your sentence before he was on you again.

Oh yeah, you could definitely get used to this. 

Promptly deciding that kissing wasn’t enough, you began to lead the assassin to your bedroom. However you managed to shoot Hisoka a quick text first. It only consisted of one word, but it was all he needed.

“Success.”

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Hiiii!!! How're you doing? Good I hope!! ahh I'm seeing these amazing reblogs on your page and with College and my F1 brainrot I haven't been able to read Irondad fics 😭😭😭 is it okay if I ask you to give me some recommendations? preferable whump or sickfics (with fluff, lots of fluff) 👉🏼👈🏼 or like which fics did you enjoy the most this year/past 6 months 💙💙💙🩵🩵🩵🩵

Sorry for the delay in answering! I just needed to find the right time to really sit down and make a *good* list. Haha. Here is a list of what I've read recently and enjoyed a lot. Some of it fits better into your criteria than others, and some of them are still in progress, but here's the list! Don't forget to kudos and comment!!

[fic list with links below the cut!]

Paradigm shift by Bergen (T) In Progress (I love where this one is going! Lot's of fun surprises)

Peter got a Stark phone when he was ten. Adrian took him to a big store with lots of TV screens that all played the same video of Tony Stark declaring to the world that he was Iron Man. They ducked behind the microwaves, both of them giggling as Adrian stuffed the phone under Peter’s sweater.

They walked right out the door without tripping the alarm, and Adrian bought him ice cream to celebrate

After his parents die, Peter is taken in by the Toomes’ family. Things slowly, then quickly spiral out of control. All Adrian wants is to take revenge on Tony Stark. All Peter wants is to do the right thing. Why is that so much harder than expected?

Spaghetti and Red Wine by arthropodwithapen (M) In Progress (Lots of good whump moments but also some fluff and angst!)

After Peter's precarious position goes from bad to worse time and time again, he is left all alone with nothing but his anger and resentment at the world to keep him company. He wonders how much more he can take and whether the growing grudge between him and the Avengers will be enough to finish him off for good. Will he be able to complete his mission in time? Does he even want to anymore?

Of course. He is Spider-Man and he has a job to do. And he'll do it even if it kills him. For everyone else's sake.

Strands in the Rope series by Sara (ctrsara) @ctrsara (T) Complete (this whole series and its follow-up are super great. Lots of angst, misunderstandings, and of course, a whole ton of fluff)

A collection of insights starting after the events of Homecoming, mostly from Tony's perspective. The relationship that Tony and Peter had built by the time Infinity War happened (or not - I'm not a big fan) wasn't built on any big world-ending events, but on countless lab sessions, movie nights, smaller emergencies, and conversations. All of these combined to form a bond between them just as strong as blood ties, and just as unbreakable. I feel like we missed out on all that on-screen, so I can never read enough stories that would maybe cover that period. There is a follow-up series called, Unbroken Strands.

Please, Help Me by Muikelle (Not Rated) In Progress (So. Much. Whump.)

Mj watched as they pride apart the car. Her car. The only car she had, the one Tony had gifted her as a graduation gift. The car she and Peter first- well. Anyways. Then Peter was being moved out of it, and slow motion had taken over once more. She was standing to go get to him, he needed her. She needed him. But a man stopped her, told her to sit down, or something of the likes. She was pissed off when they closed the ambulance door and finally took off with her inside, she didn't need to be in there, she needed to be with Peter.

Or Mj and Peter get into a car crash when coming home from spring break.

Iron Dad: Coming Home by JAWorley (T) Complete (I just started reading this but so far it's really great!)

Cold, tired, hungry, and homeless, 14 year old Peter Parker gets taken in by Adrian Toomes and his crew. Mr. Toomes is a great guy who teaches Peter how to survive on the streets, and Peter loves him for it, despite that Mr. Toomes hates Peter’s hero Iron Man and says Tony Stark is out to line his own pockets by stepping on the little guy. When Iron Man appears one day and presents Spider Man with an opportunity too good to pass up, Peter finds himself having to make up his mind about what ‘helping the little guy’ really means. Peter also begins to find out some ugly truths about the things Adrian Toomes and his crew are making, and has to decide if the safety Toomes offers is worth throwing Spider Man’s mission and morals out the window. Can he find that same safety with Mr. Stark? So much of Peter’s future hangs in the balance and depends on the choices he makes. An anti-hero and an anti-villain are just one step over the same line in a different direction.

Double-sided Coin by kingdomfaraway @asyouleft (G) Complete (I have never read anything like this before and it was so so good!)

The Iron Man rarely had assignments that weren’t direct kill orders.

Usually he was given a weapon and a target, with the strict instructions of leaving no one alive, target and witness alike. They didn’t expect him to make too much conversation, to integrate himself into the person’s life, to find a way to gain the target’s trust. He was not a spy. He was a machine made to kill, to take down threats to HYDRA, and to preserve the Greater Good.

When the assignment came from high up to kidnap, not kill, a young boy, Peter Parker, he was a little baffled.

(or How to Make a Deadly Assassin Adopt You: A HYDRA!Tony fic)

How to Get Banned from Monaco (again) by niniblack @niniblack (T) Complete (This is so funny and so perfectly in character. I love it.)

Tony texts Rhodey before they leave for Monaco:

two rules for this trip

don’t let Peter out of your sight

don’t let him do anything Pepper would get mad about

Rhodey: that second one doesn’t leave many options

will you make me a lot of pancakes (when we meet again?) by Peng_Peng (G) Complete (This is some great Ironfam whump, right here!)

Five times hurting you + Five times receiving your kindness.

Peter knew from the first time they met that the kid wasn't going to like him. But Peter could do that. She was his first and only sister after all.

A New Point of View by waitingondaisies (T) Complete (This one is si so fun with lots of funny and serious moments. It's a good balance)

Peter rushes out of school to join Tony in fighting the aliens that appear over New York, leaving behind the problems that plague his life.

He ends up leaving them behind for far longer than expected when an alien substance causes him to swap bodies with Tony. They agree to live each other’s lives to keep the mishap under wraps, giving each of them an up-close and personal view of the other’s hidden problems.

Peter will come to learn that Tony’s life isn’t as glamorous as it appears, and Tony will come face to face with all of the things that Peter never told him about: bullies, unfair teachers, and economic struggles.

Saving the World Does Not a Hero Make by Azure_K_Mello (M) Complete (This isn't an Irondad fic so much as it's an older MCU/X-Men Crossover but I read it again recently because I love it so much)

Years ago, Tony Stark created a brutal weapon. Even when he was the Merchant of Death, he couldn’t bring himself to put it on the market. But, when S.H.I.E.L.D. learned of its existence, they wanted it. Deciding Spider-Man was the weakest link in Iron Man’s armor, Captain America, Black Widow and Falcon were sent to apprehend him — hoping he either knew where the weapon was or that they could trade him to Tony for it.

But, apprehending a fifteen-year-old is more correctly be termed as kidnapping. And what S.H.I.E.L.D. called interrogation was, in actuality, torture. And, when push came to shove, Peter had to save himself when no one else was going to help.

And my shameless self-promotion...

Threenager by happyaspie (G) Incomplete

While on patrol, Peter is struck by a spell that turns him into a toddler. Or mostly into a toddler. His memories, intellect, and experiences are still intact. Unfortunately, that makes being trapped in a toddler's body, with a toddler's motor skills that much harder. His legs are too short, and his fingers are too uncooperative. He can’t ride in the car without a super claustrophobic car seat. He can’t even wash his hands without help and it's all very frustrating. Between the teasing, Tony does his absolute best to help.

I could add so much more to this list, but I think I'll stop here. Haha. As far as sickfics go, @sicktember is coming up soon and I know *I* will have plenty to add to the genera during that event!! So be on the lookout for that, my friend! And Thank you so much for asking me to compile this list!!

[ronearoundblindly]

Hi Ro! I have this idea eating a hole in my brain since it manifested. I feel like we see a lot of mafia! Steve and Bucky where the reader is one of their gf and the other is her bodyguard or something else of the sort (which I love) BUT…

Could you imagine a badass bodyguard reader? Like, she works to protect one of them and they don’t even sexualize her, but after seeing how well they work together and how dedicated and hard-working she is, they just hopelessly fall in love? Which launches mutual pining, but also both of them thinking it’s unrequited and her still just girlbossing away. Until some inciting inciting incident (TBD) which makes them super close to realize how they feel and then both of them needing a new bodyguard because now she’s the gf of a mafia boss.

I’d try and write it but I don’t have anywhere near as much talent as you and wouldn’t do it justice. Also, sorry if this adds to your 92747739 other WIPs

Alright. Full disclosure: I am not even remotely a fan of the mafia!fic, or mob!fic, or really any of the tropes that take a fundamental piece of a character out of the equation. To me, doing the right thing and using personal harm as a last resort are inextricable from Steve's personality--and is what we love about him.

[To be clear, I am not throwing shade on y'alls writing or reading preferences! Just telling you my take on it. You do you 😘]

His character lends itself to being a CEO, like in the It Had To Be You series, a military commander, or even president.

In that regard, I wonder if it would fall into the same vein of story to have Steve be running for some sort of 'office' but in a kind of dystopian country as the non-corrupt candidate who is in danger due to political/military pressures between opponents?

Say...maybe John Walker could be the smooth-talking but selfish alt runner? Bucky and Steve and Walker used to serve in the armed forces under an equally corrupt dictator figure...say, Ross, perhaps? Then Steve broke away--like the Nomad persona--until he emerged to run against Walker with a faction of the military's support.

So you're hired as part of Bucky's security team first, but since Bucky is with Steve so much, you're very recognizable to Steve. There could be a minor attack at a public event where you throw yourself in front of Bucky (who threw himself in front of Steve), and the real surprise to them is that you want to return without hesitation once recovered.

After a completely professional, stone-faced few months, Steve wins the election.

The night's celebrations go on till the wee hours; you keep a keen eye on your charges even though it's the first time either has seen you in a formal gown instead of a plain suit. When the results are actually announced on the TV, Steve is struck by seeing you smile and get emotional for the first time. It warms his heart to see you proud of him. It's a relief to know you don't just stick around as an employee. You actually believe in him and what he's doing.

fucking swoon

I'm not sure whether I'd write this as Stucky x reader or Steve with reader and Bucky as a friend, honestly, but I feel like after Steve (and maybe Bucky) turn in at their hotel room after all that partying, you're the guard at the door.

Steve debates inviting you inside because he's so curious to know more about you personally.

He opens the door, but you're not there. Sam Wilson is. He took over the shift so you could get out of your heels.

Steve makes up some shitty excuse to need your room number, fusses over going to talk to you alone, maybe says Bucky will come with him as protection instead (since at very least Buck is sus of Steve's interest).

You answer the door sans jewelry and shoes but with the dress still on. He can come in if he helps with the zipper and buttons down the back. For such big hands, his fingers are nimble as they work the delicate fastenings.

ope, swooned again

And then...ya know...this is all very tempting since the night has been charged with adrenaline and hope, so...yeah...

Steve goes in for a kiss and more.

🥴

Idk. Probably. Something like that. Is that close enough to mob/mafia? Not my wheelhouse so this is likely the best I can do...

Can y'all help me? You want stucky or just stevie?? Promise that the politics is more of a background thing, but it's the only scenario I could work with in their canon dynamic/personalities.

[integra1127grimmreaper]

His Warrior Princess - Part sixteen

Series Masterlist

Part 15

Warning: swearing, mention of sexual content, mention of abortifacient

Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts after having spoken to your father about the events of the previous night. What in the Seven was Daemon thinking to take Rhaenyra to a brothel? And to be seen openly coupling in said place?

You knew your uncle was a very promiscuous person (there was no denying that), yet to take your sister; an unmarried royal princess and the heir to the throne to such a place to participate in the activities, was utterly moronic. That was why you had done your best to convince your father that what Otto had told him was nothing but lies, (although deep down, you were quite sure that there was some truth to them), you had to make sure that your sister's reputation remained unsullied.

And if it meant getting rid of Otta Hightower to ensure, then even the better. You had to remove the huge influence he had over your father and protect your sister's claim to the throne. Killing two birds with one stone.

Agitated with all that had happened and with Harwin on day duty, you needed another form of distraction so that you wouldn't confront Rhaenyra before your father did.

If Rhaenyra's chambers had a secret doorway, then surely there must be one in each of the other royal chambers?

You were curious to about it when discovering the one in hers and wonder whether there might be one in your own chambers. With that new thought in mind, you sent your handmaidens away with the pretense that you weren't feeling well and not to disturb you for at least an hour whilst you took a nap.

It took quite a bit of searching and rearranging the chamber until you found the secret doorway. It opened onto a stairway the same as Rhaenyra's and as you followed the path, you were quite surprised that was shorter of a distance leading toward the chamber that housed the shrine of Balerion's skull.

Making yourself comfortable upon the floor in the center of the chamber, you silently sat staring mesmerized at what was left of what was once The 'Great' Black Dread.

"The things you had seen and done during your lifespan must have been as magnificent as you were..."

"The battles you fought under the guidance of Aegon the Conquer, the blood shed under Maegor the Cruel, and then peace under my father. Mayhaps that is why you perished, aye?"

You gently tilted your head with a faint smile.

"Being trapped in the Dragonpit, instead of being free along with Vhagar?"

"You should see her now... she has grown far greater than you. A bit grumpy and aged, yet still magnificent in her own right."

A chuckle slips from your lips as you shake your head in amused at your words.

"I have claimed her as her rider, you know? The second Visenya to ride the 'Great' Queen of All Dragons..."

"I believe she misses you at times. She seemed so only in the beginning, spending all those years alone after my grandfather's death."

Getting up from the ground; you dust yourself off, giving him a short nod.

"Do not fear though, I vow to take good care of her."

It was late in the evening when you finally went to see your sister.

"Vi..." she greets from her seat.

"I take it that you have spoken with father" you state matter-of-factly after seeing the look on her face.

"I take it, you have heard of the tales Otto has span then?" she utters, closing the book she had been reading with a heavy sigh.

Nodding your head in response, you take a seat next to her.

"Not only that, but I have also become part of them."

"What?" Rhaenyra scrunches her face in confusion.

"I went to your room, and I found the map Daemon left you" you explain.

"I followed both of you through the streets, though I lost track of you after running into Harwin."

Rhaenyra frowns, even more confused than ever.

"How does this make you part of the tale?"

"It is there where my 'tale' begins" you exhale heavily.

"After Harwin assured me that you were safe with Daemon, we ran into one of the captains of the City Watch. He had been under command of Daemon and I back then and he invited me to join them for a drink at a tavern after the watch."

"And how does this have anything to do with what was said of me?"

"Otto found out, reported it to Father as he did with you" you reply.

"According to the Leech; both the princesses were acting like 'lowly whores'..."

"What?!" Rhaenyra stares flabbergasted at you.

With pursed lips, you nod at her.

"Probably told Father that I was whoring myself off to the entire City Watch, when all I was doing was enjoying a drink with old friends."

"Thats preposterous!" Rhaenyra scoffs.

"Otto Hightower needs to go."

"That is precisely what I told Father", you nod in agreement.

"Do not fear..." Rhaenyra smirks at you then.

"I made an agreement with Father."

Narrowing your eyes, you stare at her.

"What agreement?"

"In agreement that I would marry Laenor Velaryon, he has agreed to remove Otto as Hand of the King" she hastily blurts out.

"What...?" you stared open-mouthed at her.

"But is he not... you know?"

"If you are referring to his affinities for those of the same sex as he? Then yes" Rhaenyra drawls in response.

"It's actually quite perfect. He is in need of a wife, to hide his secret and I am in need of a husband that will not attempt to control me."

Suspicious of her reasoning, you squint at seriously.

"You were quite adamant on not wanting a husband, what has caused this sudden change of heart?"

"Circumstances" she shrugs in response, and then it hits you.

"You really did fuck Daemon?!" you gasp out.

"I did not!" Rhaenyra squawks out.

"You are lying..." your eyes squint even narrower.

"You may be able to lie to Father and Alicent but not me. I can easily tell when you are, which is what you are doing right now..."

"I-" Rhaenyra begins but is interrupt by a knock at the door.

"Come..." Rhaenyra calls out to whomever it is.

"I hope you can forgive the late hour, Princesses..." Grand Maester Mellos greets the both of you upon entering the chambers.

"What may I ask brings you here, Grant Maester?" you stare confusingly at him and the unusual looking jar in his hands.

"I took great care in its preparation" he merely remarks, placing the jar on the table.

"If not brewed properly; it can either ineffective or else bare unpleasant-"

"Brewed properly...?" a confused Rhaenyra comments.

"What is that?"

"A tea... Princess" the Grand Maester responds.

"From the king. It will rid you from any unwanted consequences."

You stared open-mouthed when realizing it was 'moon tea'.

"There is one prepared for you in your chambers as well, Princess" he directs toward you then.

"What?" you stare open-mouthed as the Grand Maester bows, taking his leave thereafter.

"Rhaenyra?" you turn to find her silently staring at the tea.

"Tell be the truth this instance!" you demand then when seeing the concentrated look on her face.

"Did you fuck Daemon that night?"

Snapping out from the trance she had been in; she looks up at you then.

"No."

You exhale loudly in relief.

"Good, then there is no need for the tea..."

Rhaenyra looks back down at tea, then back up at you and back down at the tea yet again. You watch in utter disbelief then as she reaches out to pick it up then.

"What are you... you lied to me?!"

"I did not fuck Daemon" is her only response as she lifts the lid from the jar.

"Rhae..." you sigh out, dropping down next to her and grabbing her hands in your own.

"I am your sister, your twin... we share the same blood, shared the same womb. I truly do not care if fucked Daemon or not, but I need you to tell me the truth so that I may help protect you."

"I did not fuck Daemon that night" she repeats nonchalantly, picking up the tea then.

With furrowed brows, you watch as she lifts the cup to her lips.

"Then who...?"

"Criston" is all she suddenly blurts out, hastily pouring the tea down her throats in one gulp.

You stared bug-eyed at her for a split second.

"Criston...? As in Criston Cole, your sworn shield?

Rhaenyra remains silent after placing the empty cup back down, merely returning your bug-eyed stare back at you in response.

"Rhaenyra!" you scowl at her then.

"How could you be so irresponsible? If the rumours of you and Daemon circling around is not bad enough, you go on to sleep with one that not your husband nor betrothed, not only that; you made a member of the sworn King's Guard break his oath."

"It is not as if he was unwilling..." she scoffs in amusement.

"As if he had a choice?" you scoff in retort.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Rhaenyra remarks, offended at your words.

"You are a royal princess and heir to the throne; he is your sworn shield, your servant... therefore he must obey your commands at all times."

"That is low blow..." Rhaenyra narrows her eyes, glaring at you.

You chuckle at her in response, standing up to tower over her then.

"Nay, what is a low blow; is the act that you think so little of your status as the royal heir. You are just as bad as Daemon; he always thinks with his cock, and you with your cunt."

"How dare you!" Rhaenyra gasps, jumping up to stand even with you.

"As if Harwin and you have not fucked?"

"That is precisely the point!" you bawl out.

"We have not! And do you know why? Because he refuses to taint my reputation. Yet all that was for nothing... because you did that for the both of us! And now Father believes I am just as guilty as you!"

"There is no need to be so dramatic about it..." Rhaenyra rolls her eyes at you.

"The rumour will die out soon enough, especially after my betrothal has been announced."

Taking a step back, you scoff at her nonchalant manner as you shake your head.

"You will have to clean your own mess up this time, Dear Sister... as I must now clean up the one you recreated for me."

Rhaenyra stares at you in bemusement and you shake your head at her once last time before storming out of her chambers.

You could not believe how dense Daemon and Rhaenyra were, if they had wanted to be together then they should have done it the correct way and approach your father on the matter. Now they had doomed themselves with how things had come to be.

You were so utterly furious and lost in thought, that you nearly missed noticing Harwin standing to the side of your chamber's door.

A hand grabs hold of your own as you reach out to open the door, causing you to instantly reach for the Dragon's Eye with the other as your defense reflexes kicks in but the assailant's other hand grasps hold of that one too.

"Easy there, Love..." a familiar voice rasps out against your ear from behind.

"Seven Hells, Harwin!" you wheel around to glare at him.

He smirks at you for a second, frowning then when noticing the stormy look on your face.

"What happened?" Harwin enquires, gently cupping your cheek.

Your eyes flutter close at his touch as you nuzzle into his palm with a soft sigh.

"Speak to me, Love?" Harwin presses, pulling you out from trance.

Opening your eyes, you silently stare at him for a moment.

"Not here" you shake your head, pulling him down to whisper into his ear instructions to meet you at the top landing of the steps that lead out to the Keep which you had followed Daemon had snuck Rhaenyra out of. 

Part 17

Tag:  @missusnora@alexandra-001@green-lxght@stitchattacks@evyiione@squidscottjeans

[fountainpenguin]

"She's into superstitions: black cats and voodoo dolls... I feel a premonition- that girl's gonna make me fall..." (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 23 - “Cooldown (Pearl, Lizzie, Mumbo, Scott)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

---

Pearl puts research into camera accounts and brings home books for her nonexistent roommate, EthoCam… Er, Rhetoric. Lizzie and Joel enjoy date night. Mumbo collapses in bed after an exhausting break-up. Scott puts on his ambassador hat, entertains the Fox Dragon, and reviews a fey contract with a peculiar white-eyed man.

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

PearlescentMoon - Bat

Status: Reflective

Venue manager, event coordinator, and seasonal business owner

💙  🧡  💚

When Pearl lets herself through the door, the whole flat is quiet. From the pale smell, nothing's cooking in the furnace. But then, he can't, can he? Then he'd be burning my charcoal. She dropped by the library tonight and borrowed a book on soul twins who never became official camera accounts. That should subtly break down the Yes and Nos of what Rhetoric can do. All the librarian villagers were happy to help. She even ran into Gem, which was a surprise. Gem's eyes lit straight up.

"You're back! Hope you had a good time. And how's Impulse? Is he better than he was after last week?"

"He's all right, I think. Had a rough go of it mid-session, but he said he'd share the story on movie night."

"Oh, that's good. I've been worried more than I need to be; I want to smack him. Hey, I'm on snacks tomorrow, right? I'm thinking popcorn balls."

"Popcorn balls sound amazing, actually. I'll make sure I'm stocked up on butter."

"How d'you feel about two movies back to back? I found one I'm DYING to show you guys."

Now the soul-twin book rests in the bag at her waist, hidden by the black cloak that marks her uninterested in the courtship events of the night. Pearl moves through the flat's entryway, glancing left and right. All the lights are off. Can Rhetoric turn on lights?

I didn't even think about that when I went out. Oh, this is a toughie… She didn't bring back any treats on purpose, not wanting to offend him. She did pick up a random book on folk tales and another on hybrid biology. These, she leaves on the kitchen counter. As a museum curator, maybe Rhetoric considers himself a historian and potential expert on both these subjects.

Maybe he'll scoff. But according to the patient librarians, account-less soul-twins can hold books and turn their pages just fine. They just can't write in them because it would update the book, and they can't rip out the pages because it would create paper. If you're account-less, you can't update blocks.

That's the word, by the way. Soul-twins… She never actually knew that. She's always just called them "cameras." Did you know you can be account-less as the player, and it can be the camera twin who gets most of the creator bleed and activity levels?

It's not common, but apparently true. It happens on occasion if the same creator is juggling three or more accounts at a time and largely uses that third one for spectating right at the start in those early days. Traditionally, the first account to sync goes to the player soul. The second sync goes to their soul-twin, whether they're often on spectator mode or not. The third can be a coin-flip as a completely new pair of souls is spawned in, syncing up to an already established Minecraft player who may actually prefer spectating this time around.

Food for thought. I wonder if Moo's ever been bugged when I've called her a camera. Maybe I should ask if I can meet up with some of her friends. Maybe we can all do a Q&A night. You could write a paper on this stuff.

… or a book, evidently. Pearl checks the signed name again. Pixlriffs. Of course it is.

If this is insightful, I'll have to drop something off to thank him. But she'll wait until the full moon's faded out so he won't get the wrong idea.

Pearl leaves the books she got for Rhetoric at the end of the counter, next to the bar stool she drapes her Not Courting cloak over. She'll hang it properly some other time. For now, she wants to set the scene: I'm not trying to come on too strong. I just happened to leave a few books here, that are mine, and when I'm away, nothing's stopping you from taking a little looksie at them.

When she turns around, she catches her new roommate standing out on the balcony, one elbow on the rail. Did he open that door? Did she leave it open? He gazes into the courtyard below, swishing his tail back and forth against his heels. It stiffens when she creaks the door open. "Don't talk to me," he mutters, not turning around.

"Right, I won't- Not for no reason, now. Still, I have some housekeeping things we should go over."

Rhetoric's tail twitches again. "No. That can wait. Literally, don't talk to me. I was getting fresh air. As fresh as you can get under bedrock, anyway. Now that you've returned, I'll stay in my room and keep my head down, but it's a full moon tonight. I don't technically exist, but I'm still a hybrid. Give me space."

"Okay," Pearl concedes. There are seven fox ambiance defaults: burrowing, hunting, napping, courtship, marking territory, playing, and stealing. On top of that, the urge to flee from players is a legit part of their coding. Rhetoric's maybe or maybe not feeling courtship tugs, and neither of them wants to deal with that. If it's not courtship, that urge to find his own private space is probably gnawing at his spine. She's not giving up on him, but she'll wait until he's less prickly.

Pearl returns to the kitchen and starts prepping a mixing bowl. Rhetoric's ears snap up. He turns his head. He has gray eyes. They're dull from lack of color, but almost puzzled or wary when he studies her from across the room. He says, "You're an anivore, right?"

"Just a little bit- I'm a partial anivore. I need code to keep my energy up, but I actually can eat other foods without feeling sick. My diet's still restricted." He doesn't look away, so she doesn't stop talking. She barely looks at him, though. "I know fox hybrids can change color between white and ginger when they respawn. My friend Grian's a parrot and they're the same way- the soul spawner might spit them out with different feather colors than what they had before, based on RNG. We bats are like that. Right now, I'm a vampire bat. I used to be a fruit bat when I was first spawned. The type of food that actually refills my hunger meter shifts between respawns, but my stomach can digest all of them."

"So you're an omnivore."

"Well. Yeah, I guess so."

Rhetoric folds his ears flat against his night-black hair. "I don't have proper code. I'm not real."

"Nah, I don't nip much off other people. I barely need any, see; I nip my own code." Pearl lifts her arm, gesturing to the space between her sleeve hem and her hand for emphasis. "Tastes like macaroni and marshmallow right here at the edge." For the sake of it, she doesn't ask if he's ever tasted code before. Probably not. She pauses for breath anyway so he can have his chance to speak.

"That's… disgusting." Rhetoric waves his tail for a second, keeping it low, then almost rotates full around to talk to her. "I had a visitor today."

"What?"

"Some phantom wearing green. Yellow hair. Black bandana. He didn't give his name, but I found him rather rude. I'm half tempted to report him for harassment."

Martyn. Pearl's instinct is to volunteer the name, though she catches herself and hesitates just before she can. "Oh. I'm sorry he bothered you. Was he hunting? Maybe he clocked you as not having slept… ever."

Rhetoric shrugs, dismissing her thin attempt at comfort. "He broke in. I'd talk to Scott about upgrading your security, if I were you."

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

[unmitigatedsuperiority]

Summary: Mermaid movie night ensues, prompting some reminiscing between you and Spencer. You swear you'll help Spencer get home...tomorrow. Pairing: Mermaid!Spencer Reid x Reader Word count: 4.7k Category: Fluff Rating: T Warnings: Food, brief mention of nausea

read it on ao3 | series masterlist

[previous chapter]

JULY

“I wish I didn’t have to wait so long to see you,” Spencer mumbled, his tail swishing in time with the current below. You wondered whether that was a matter of rhythm or some deeper, intrinsic thing. Being so connected with the ocean. If someone were to pry you away from the air, would you still sway in time to the breeze?

“I feel the same way,” you agreed. “But it’s better like this.”

“I know. And even if you asked me to come here every day, I would say no. I do have some self-preservation instincts.”

“Says the mermaid who befriended a human. Doesn’t that go against your mermaid code?”

“Mermaid code?” He repeated incredulously, cheeks going wide in glee. You reached down to the cool saltwater, splashed it in his face.

“Hey!” You giggled at his mock-offense. Before you could gloat too long in catching him off guard, he returned the favor with a swipe of his tail and a downpour of water across your torso.

“What!” You squeezed out the bottom of your top. Spencer threw his head back, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him. If there was any melody that would lure you out to the murky depths of the sea, it would be Spencer’s laugh.

AUGUST—TWO DAYS AFTER

“I love pancakes.”

Spencer tore into his breakfast, haphazardly cutting the stack of pancakes before him and stuffing forkfuls into his mouth. That morning you had woken up to a peaceful scene. The beach finally almost free of people, only one or two stragglers. And none on the path to the rocks. You probably could have taken him back this morning. But better to be safe than sorry—one more day couldn’t hurt. Besides, nothing would have brought you joy like the sight of Spencer scarfing down pancakes. You had to admit, it was adorable. Even if the concept of sardines on top of pancakes made you want to barf. But at least it was nutritious for him…kind of.

“And coffee,” you added, pointedly looking at Spencer’s now-empty second cup. He gave you a look, scrunching up his face, cheeks filled, sending you into a fit of laughter. You couldn’t believe you helped start a mermaid’s coffee dependence. He was going to be a menace once he went back home and couldn’t have caffeine. Because he needed to go back home…right?

“I need to look into this coffee thing, actually,” Spencer interrupted your thoughts, pensive. He shoved another bite into his mouth. “There has to be a way to have it back home.” You stared at him incredulously.

“Right. You’re going to grow coffee underwater?” You asked, slightly skeptic, but still with a dopey grin on your face. You could practically hear Tara making fun of you for it.

“We grow a lot of things underwater. We’re just good at hiding it,” he shrugged. “I think I could figure it out if I tried.”

“I’m sure you could.” You smiled and he mirrored the gesture. You took your seat next to him, content to eat your own breakfast by his side. Wondering once again how you got so lucky to have Spencer here with you. Except it wasn’t luck, not really. It was a matter of circumstance. And this was just like any other day with him. Except instead of peanut butter sandwiches on the beach it was sardine pancakes (regular for you) in your bathroom. Same difference. Time flew by the way it always did whenever you were with him. Or maybe it slowed down. Again. Same difference as far as you were concerned. Spencer didn’t seem to be too bothered by it, either; eyes lighting up every time you entered a room. It was becoming a conditioned response—open the door, see Spencer, be happy. Soon, just going into the bathroom was going to bring you joy, even without Spencer.

But you didn’t want to think about being in this room without Spencer anymore.

So, you didn’t. Instead, you two talked about literature and poetry and what does a mermaid even do all day, anyway? Then, you cleared your plates and talked some more. It had only been a few hours when you’d remembered something. A certain something you told Spencer you’d do with him someday.

“I have an idea, and I’ll be right back,” you informed him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before you could overthink it. You just caught sight of the redness spreading across Spencer’s face and down his neck as you left the room.

Jogging down the hallway, you swung into Tara’s open doorframe, leaning against it. Tara was laying on her bed, only a handful of pages into a new book. One that was decidedly not one of her usual thrillers…interesting.

“Hey…” you started. She looked up from her book, suspicious.

“Hey yourself,” she replied. You held your arms against your torso, preparing yourself to ask about what you came here for. You took a deep breath.

“I need to borrow your portable DVD player.”

“You own DVDs?” Tara asked, a furrow in her brow. You sighed.

“Aquamarine,” you mumbled.

“What? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“Spencer and I are going to watch Aquamarine together,” you spit out before locking eyes with Tara. “Don’t,” you threatened as she bit back a laugh. “I know exactly how that sounds. Believe me. Just let me live.” You held her gaze, trying to come across as menacing as possible. Tara backed down, but you had a feeling it wasn’t out of fear.

“Okay, okay, give me a second,” Tara gave in, placing her book face down on the bed as she went over to the closet to retrieve the device. You walked into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, peered at the cover of the book.

“Since when do you read Joseph Campbell?”

Tara scoffed. “I happen to read a lot of different things, Y/N.”

“Yeah, from Dan Brown to James Patterson,” you retorted. Tara responded with a graceful middle finger.

“Shut up,” she grumbled, still sorting through piles of semi-neatly arranged boxes and bins. “Luke said it was good.”

“And I’m sure he’s the one that successfully recommended a book to you.” Sarcasm bled into your tone. You’d been trying to get her to read some of your favorites for years now, to no avail. Only a certain someone could be having this much of an impact on the usually stubborn Tara Lewis.

Tara cut you off with an irritated groan as she continued rummaging through a box from a particularly high shelf. She paused. “Aha! Here it is.” She held up the chunky portable DVD player. “There’s batteries in the kitchen,” she added as she walked back to the bed, dropping it in your lap.

“Thanks, Tara.” You stood up as Tara settled back into her reading position. She glanced back up at you, laying the book down on her chest.

“Hey, is it cool if Penelope comes over today? I think she’s already on her way, but I can tell her not to if you’re not comfortable. She knows the one bathroom is off limits. Thinks it’s you and your boyfriend. I’m not going to correct her. It’s pretty accurate.” She lifted the book back up to her face. Your heart stuttered at boyfriend. Was Spencer your boyfriend? Your more-than-platonic mermaid friend? You couldn’t say.

“Rude! But fair,” you relented. “I assume the Joseph Campbell is because of Penelope?” Tara bit her lip, the silence thick. You smiled, smug. “Of course. Yeah, that’s fine. Bathroom is off limits. No being gross in public areas.”

“We’re not going to be gross!”

“You’re reading Joseph Campbell for her. You may as well be making out with her in front of me.” Tara chucked a pillow in your direction, landing just beside you with a gentle thwump.

“I love you, don’t be gross!” You called out as you left the room.

“Like you’re not being gross right now!” She called back. You laughed to yourself as you dipped into the living room to retrieve the DVD and then the kitchen to swipe some batteries.

Once you were fully equipped with everything you needed, you slipped back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. “Okay, that’s it. We’re watching Aquamarine.” You held up the DVD and portable player. Spencer sported a wide grin, affirming your decision.

“I’m actually really excited about this. I mean, I’ve never seen a movie before. I’ve heard of them, of course, but I doubt that just hearing or reading about them will live up to the real thing. I…” He trailed off, catching your gaze. He quirked his eyebrow, as if to say What? You grinned.

“You’re cute when you ramble, that’s all.” Now it was Spencer’s turn to be flustered. Which you caught onto immediately, given the daring shade of pink his cheeks took on. It was quickly becoming another one of your favorite colors.

You brought the side table used for breakfast earlier back to the tub, positioned the DVD player on top. You switched it on, the screen lighting up. You watched Spencer out of the corner of your eye, his gaze transfixed on the screen, taking in everything. His mouth was just slightly ajar, in disbelief at what he was seeing. You smiled, happy to be sharing this moment with him. You laced your fingers with his, prompting him to look up at you.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“We definitely don’t have this back home,” he said, eyes wide in fascination. You chuckled.

“Glad to be taking your movie virginity, then.”

Spencer tilted his head. “Virginity?” He asked, innocent, as though he’d never heard the term before. Or he’d never heard the term used in this context before. You felt your cheeks heat up, hotter than the sun. Even with all of Spencer’s encyclopedic knowledge and voracious reading habits, some things still didn’t translate.

“OKAY, let’s watch the movie, huh?” You pressed play, sound spilling out of the speakers, instantly enthralling Spencer. The perfect way to get out of explaining the concept of virginity to your mermaid maybe-boyfriend. As the movie began, you’d come to realize a crucial part of Spencer you’d been missing out on. He was a talker.

Well, that you knew. But he was a talker during movies, too. And it wasn’t annoying. It was endearing. You found yourself anticipating his reactions, responding to his quips about realism and questions about early 2000s human life. You even explained the cultural context behind Emma Roberts’ comment of Did they get bigger? preceded by a shot of the movie’s mean girl in a bikini. And you did, in between gasps of uproarious laughter. Spencer laughed right along with you, eyes crinkling. You could do this with him forever, you thought. You had gotten through the first few scenes, no Aquamarine to be seen yet, when the door to the bathroom was pushed open.

“WHOA!” You yelled out as a distinctly masculine voice yelled Sorry! and the door was shut just as quick. Spencer retreated, taking his hand out of yours and hiding. The entire side of your body felt cold and empty without his close presence. The door had barely been open a crack before it was shut again, but that was enough to break the spell you and Spencer were in. You tried to still your racing heart once you were sure no one was coming inside. You glanced to your left to see that Spencer had made himself as small as possible in the tub, eyes peering out over the water. If you had been any closer, you’d have noticed him shaking.

“I’ll be right back,” you reassured him, pushing yourself out of your seat and walking over to the door, only opening it just wide enough to let you through, not wide enough to let Spencer be seen. You looked up to see Luke. From the bookshop. You knew he and Tara had been getting closer recently—she frequented that store just as much as you did, it seemed—but you hadn’t realized they were on this level yet. Even more so that Tara would have extra company over when it was clearly not a good time.

“Hey…Luke. What’s up?” You asked, trying and failing to be nonchalant.

“Hey…” He narrowed his eyes. “I was just looking for the bathroom, but I see this one is occupied.”

“Yep. Yeah, occupied. Sorry about that.” You cleared your throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Happy to see me, huh?” He grinned, even as the joke fell flat. He barreled onward. “Well, I thought I’d come by and check up on everyone. I know the storm was rough and I just wanted to make sure you all were okay. Including Penelope because I guess she’s kind of camping out here now? Anyway, she told me the bathroom was down the hall, but I guess this is the wrong end of the hall.” You internally sighed in relief at the confirmation that Tara wasn’t careless enough to have multiple guests over. Just Penelope was enough to make you nervous, but she knew this bathroom was off limits. Luke, apparently, did not. You still silently cursed Tara for leaving all the outside doors unlocked, resulting in unexpected guests. Anyone could walk in. Clearly, you thought, now that Luke was right in front of you.

“Yeah, it is, and yeah, she is. I mean, she did go home yesterday but I know she’s back. Those two could not be less subtle,” you attempted some humor. Luke laughed in agreement.

“No, no they could not.” The silence between you grew before Luke raised his eyebrows and said, “Bathroom?”

“Oh! Right. Sorry. The other one is down the hall to the left.” You motioned with your hands as though the directions were a lot more complicated than they were. Luke huffed a laugh.

“Alright, thanks.” You nodded. Luke turned to leave. “Hope you’re having fun in there with your Romeo,” he added, chuckling, as he strode down the hallway towards the other end of the house. Once he was out of your line of sight, you slumped back against the door, opening it and slipping in. Spencer looked up at you, nerves visible.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. You got back into your seat, leaned against the edge of the tub. “I guess Luke came over for something. But he didn’t see you. He knows I have someone,” you waggled your eyebrows for dramatic effect; Spencer chuckled, “over. But he doesn’t know you. Not beyond the fact that I’m a little hopeless when it comes to you.”

Spencer perked up, minuscule. “Hopeless, huh?”

“We’ll leave it at that, okay?” You took in Spencer’s tired eyes. “Are you okay?” Spencer nodded, quick.

“Yeah, just a little in shock, I guess. A lot of people. Close calls. Homesick, too, maybe.”

“I’m sorry about that. Especially the homesick part,” you said, sympathetic. Spencer shrugged.

“There’s not much you can do. It’s like you said, there’s too many people out there, right?” He smiled, making your stomach do flips in ways you hadn’t even known were possible. You thought back to the empty beach this morning. Only one or two stragglers. But it wasn’t safe, right? You had to keep him here. Maybe tomorrow, too, just to be safe. You could keep him safe here.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Too many people.” You sat there for a moment, unmoving. Spencer motioned for you to come closer. You could tell he needed the comfort, and you offered your hand to him without hesitation, without contemplation. You’d offer him anything if he’d asked. Fingers dragged down your arm before entwining in yours. He squeezed your hand once, eyes on the screen in front of you both, and exhaled. You squeezed back just as tight. Wondering just how tight you had to hold on to never let him go.

“Let’s get back to the movie,” he suggested. You nodded, pressing play on the DVD player and settling back. Several more minutes into the movie and Spencer had once again begun offering corrections on ocean life (That’s so unrealistic!). Your heart warmed at his enthusiasm, though you eventually decided that maybe you shouldn’t just stare at him for the entire duration of the movie. You redirected your attention back to the plot. Now, the girls had just discovered Aquamarine, with lots of screaming ensuing.

“That’s you,” Spencer whispered, lips quirked. You snorted.

“Shut up, I’d never seen a mermaid before when I first saw you.” You looked back over at him, unable to resist. He was grinning.

“I’d never seen a human that close either. You didn’t hear me screaming.”

“That’s because you were too busy hiding,” you teased.

“Excuse me for having some self-preservation instincts! Have I told you the story about my great aunt and how she had an encounter with a not-so-friendly human? Well—”

And as Spencer began to weave together this story he’d heard since childhood—one of fear and humor and cautionary tales—you retreated inward, just a little. You thought back to when the two of you first encountered each other, reveled in how it could’ve been just another cautionary tale. But it wasn’t. It was something so much more.

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer asked. You sighed.

“When we first met,” You replied, small. Spencer drew circles in the water with his fingertip. His tail thumped against the wall. He smiled.

“Of course. How could I possibly forget? The day some random human terrorized me.”

“I did not terrorize you! I walked away!”

“But you came back,” he pointed out, his voice softening, eyes crinkling.

“Yeah, I came back,” you agreed. Laid your other hand on top of your joined ones as though the contact would somehow make you feel even closer. Spencer didn’t seem to mind, inching into your personal space.

“I came back, too, you know,” he said before locking eyes with you. He took a deep breath, eyes flickering down to your lips, almost imperceptibly. “I will always come back to you.”

The ocean that lived in your chest roared again as you maintained eye contact. Frozen and unable to make the first move. You cleared your throat. “It’s Sunday.”

“I know,” Spencer replied, a near-whisper. “I always hated it.” You frowned at this admission.

“Hated what?” You asked, unwilling to tear your gaze away. Spencer was getting closer.

“Waiting to see you.” Your breath caught in your throat at Spencer’s words. You felt yourself scoot forward, Spencer mirroring your actions…

“Wrong bathroom!” Tara called out from outside the door, effectively dispelling whatever was about to happen. It was as though the bubble burst, and the tension fizzled, though not unpleasantly. Spencer instead leaned his forehead against yours, giggling at Tara’s dramatics. And you laughed along with him. In that moment, you couldn’t decide whether you hated Tara for interrupting or loved her for preventing an even bigger interruption. Whatever would get Spencer to stay this close to you would be your preference.

You both sat there for a moment, just listening to the forgotten sounds of the movie, the quiet inhales and exhales between you two. You closed your eyes, taking in this moment. Maybe if you didn’t open them back up, you could freeze this place in time, never have to leave. Spencer dispelled your dream, though, when he leaned back and away from you. You tried not to look disappointed. Spencer smiled, shy, before he sat fully against the side of the tub.

“You may as well just get in here,” he smirked. You huffed a laugh, but didn’t argue, modestly stripping and climbing into the tub. Spencer scooted backwards some more, giving you space to rest against his chest. You hip squished against his tail, arm against torso. Even cramped, limbs protesting, you couldn’t seem to get close enough. You just needed to be with him.

Spencer rubbed his hand up and down your upper arm as you laid your head against his chest. You listened to his heartbeat, a subtle thump-thump­. It was comforting, this position. Despite how physically uncomfortable it was. Because, truthfully, there was no place you’d rather be. Spencer spoke up after several minutes of pleasant silence.

“I was really scared today,” he whispered. You craned your neck to look up at him. “When Luke came over,” he continued. “I was scared. I don’t like to show it—even just admitting it like this is hard—but, uh, I was kind of terrified of being found out. I mean, I trust you, and I trust Tara to an extent. But I don’t think that number can grow. It’s too big of a risk.” Your heart sank a little at his confession. No more humans. But you understood. Of course, you understood. You wrapped an arm around his midsection.

“I would never let anything bad happen to you, Spencer. Never.”

He tightened his grip on your bicep. “I know. And the same goes for me. I know I’m an ocean away most of the time, but I would never do anything I thought would hurt you.” He looked down at you. “Never.”

You leaned further into his chest, hummed. “We’ve come so far, you know,” you said. Spencer rested his cheek against the top of your head.

“I know,” he replied. “I remember everything about how we met.”

And so did you, which you noted as the two of you recalled that very first time. The first meeting, and the countless others that came after that. From strangers to something more.

And then to something even more than that.

MARCH

You screamed.

Because of course you did. You instantly regretted it, feeling tendrils of guilt rise up in you at the retreat of the creature. But the damage was done. You’d scared it.

At night, you’d been coming to the rocks at the edge of the beach to collect your thoughts, maybe get lost in your latest read. It was your own personal refuge away from the rest of the world. Everyone else seemed content to leave this area alone. And so, in your head, you’d dubbed it yours. A secret place made just for you. But today was a disruption in your routine. Today, you’d come at the crack of dawn, unable to rest. And today, you weren’t alone.

“It’s okay,” you called out, quiet. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Brown eyes peered from behind a rock, the rest of its face obscured beneath the water. It did not seem intent on moving, and you couldn’t quite make out its features. But you knew there was a tail. A tail. Your mind couldn’t wrap around that fact, so you pushed it thought to the side for now.

“I’m sorry I screamed,” you added. “I was just surprised. I usually come out here to be alone. I wasn’t expecting to find anyone else here. Are you from around here?” You were met with silence. You hopped down from your spot, unwilling to overstay your welcome. “That’s okay. You don’t have to talk. I can leave. I won’t tell anyone I saw you; I wouldn’t do that. Your secret is safe with me.”

The entire walk back to the house you couldn’t stop thinking through the scene in your mind, over and over. Like rewinding and replaying a VHS tape until the image goes fuzzy. You didn’t see Tara that morning. And you didn’t feel like waking her up only to be told you were just seeing things. So, ultimately, you kept this to yourself and went about your week. Business as usual. Except for those eyes taking up space in your brain. Brown like freshly brewed coffee with a splash of milk. Like freshly tilled soil in the summer sun. Brown like you’d never seen. And those were just the eyes. You couldn’t even think about the tail, tucking that nugget of information into some recessed corner of your mind to be unpacked another day. But it still nagged at you.

Which is how, the following week, on the same day, at the same time, you’d found yourself back at the same spot of the beach. Where you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that you weren’t alone.

“Hello?” You called out, listened for any small movements. But the waves were too loud to hear anything but the sound of your own breath. “Is anyone there?” More silence. “I’m just going to sit here and read, if that’s okay…” You glanced around the rocks, any signs of life invisible. You shook your head, muttering to yourself about how you were basically talking to yourself when there’s clearly no one here.

You swung your tote bag onto the rocks, sat back and took out your book. Spent an hour reading peacefully, something you’d been longing for all week. Contentment. Eventually, you’d abandoned your book in favor of watching the sunrise. And that’s when you saw it again. A flash of blue-green. This time against a perfectly peach-streaked sky. Something beneath your ribs stirred, a foreign feeling, one that you’d come to be intimately familiar with in time.

“Hi, again. Do you have a name?” You asked, hopeful for the slightest bit of conversation. You don’t know what prompted you to think it would understand you, but you believed it would. Wholeheartedly. Silence filled the air in response to your question. “That’s okay, you don’t have to speak. I can do the talking.” You took your book out of your tote. “You seem like you could use a friend. Do you want to hear what I’m reading?” You heard a splash in the distance, the single most clear sign of understanding there ever was. You took it as a yes.

And so, that’s how it began. You reading passages of your books to the mysterious creature at the edge of the beach. Each week, it would come a little bit closer, never quite in full view. After the third week, though, it stepped out of hiding.

“…and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days—” You stilled, cutting off your reading some twenty minutes into your visit that day. Because there it was. There he was.

He was like nothing you’d ever seen before. Pale in the way a creature without sunlight would be. Lanky, but decidedly not starved. Damp brown curls almost obscured the brown eyes that had been on your mind for weeks now. Distinctly human eyes. They bored into you now, leaving you feeling particularly exposed and vulnerable. Naked. But the goosebumps and slight discomfort you felt was nothing compared to what the creature before you must have been feeling. You watched, utterly hypnotized partly at his beauty and partly at the situation itself, as he pulled himself up onto one of the lower rocks until his shoulder was in line with your feet. As he did this, your eyes were drawn to something even more incredible. Something the wildest fantasy novel would never be able to capture in words alone. A tail. Blue-green. Except that wasn’t an apt description because it was so much more than just blue-green. It was iridescent. Mesmerizing. something that nothing short of Poseidon himself could have conjured up. But there wasn’t a word that fit all of that into a few neat syllables, so, blue-green would have to do.

“Hi,” you spoke, testing the waters. It was the most direct you’d been with him yet.

“…Hi,” he replied, voice honey-sweet and utterly unique. You desperately wanted to hear it again.

“My name’s Y/N. What’s yours?”

“Spencer,” he replied, eyes finally meeting your own. You inhaled sharply, feeling that current in your chest rise.

“It’s nice to meet you, Spencer. Do you want me to keep reading?”

He licked his lips, nodded. You brought the discarded book back into your lap, brushed sand off the pages. You paused before continuing, looking down at Spencer.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said, smiling slightly as you lifted the book back up. You were just about to speak when you heard a reply.

“Nice to meet you, too.” he smiled back, bright and magnificent, as though signaling the start of something amazing. Because that’s exactly what it was.

And like the sun greeting the horizon every morning, Spencer always came back to you. Week after week. He always came back.

[next chapter]

A/N: fun fact, I actually do own aquamarine on dvd

taglist: @everyonesfavoritepipecleaner @moderatelydelusional @reidslibrarybook @reidselle @serenity-lattes @honeydjarin @shinebrightlikeafanbase @crynroom @samuel-de-champagne-problems @sugasthreedollarkookie @reidsbookclub @safespacespence @spencerssweatervests @liltimmyst @hayleyarts @lcvingprentjss

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[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

A Moment's Surprise--Chapter 12

Whether it’s called an accident or the fates of the universe, you and Calum find yourselves taking on the next level of your relationship: parenthood.

Reader (Gender Neutral) X Calum. Multi-chapter Series.

Series Note: Across this series, pregnancy is discussed thoroughly. While I have made this series specifically a reader insert and have done my best to avoid coding for cis women, I am taking this moment to acknowledge that this content may not be suitable for every reader. I want to acknowledge even if I’ve been careful some things (like uteri) are still mentioned and if that causes you discomfort please DO NOT read this. You may keep scrolling (as there is a read more) / skip this series as necessary.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Epilogue

 

Your alarm goes off in the morning and you sigh as you push up from the mattress. Sleep was better than normal but you’ve taken to using the full on black out curtains for Calum since he’s gotten home. The lack of natural light to help rouse you awake gently makes it harder for you to get up. But over the weeks, it’s gotten slightly easier with time. Today’s one of those days that as you push up, you feel good about the day ahead. 

Moving the pillow that was between your knees back up to the head of the bed, you get your feet to the floor and pause. Calum’s at your side of the bed, leaning against the wall but his eyes aren’t focused on anything in particular. A scowl is on his face. “What happened?” you ask. A bit of panic leaks into your voice. You wonder if something happened to one of the guys. Did something happen to Mali? David wasn’t scheduled to come out for a while, but still things could change in an instance. Had something happened to the flight? 

Calum shakes his head. The action causes him to move his arm and you catch his phone lighting up. “It’s out.”

“What’s out?”

“Yesterday--someone recorded us while we were in Target and posted it. I made a tweet but I’ve been up half the night trying to talk to our social team. And as I was making those calls, I felt like a hypocrite.”

You push up finally to fully stand. You reach out with a little hesitation. Would Calum even want to be touched? You ultimately decide to drop your hand, seeing that he doesn’t move closer to you. You take it as a sign that you should possibly tread lightly.  “Why do you feel like a hypocrite?”

“I’m doing the same thing I got mad at you about. What if you don’t really care if people know? What if it’s all just me? But I can’t help but think the last thing I want to happen now is that you be out and get stopped by fans. Or God forbid, you’re delivering and there’s a fucking mob outside the birth center because somehow fans have figured it out.”

“So you like the idea of a birth center too?” you tease. As much as Calum was willing to listen to your concerns, he harped on about safety measures. Birth centers were only the recent debate surrounding his safety kick. 

Calum’s gaze finally drops from the ceiling to you with a tiny smile lifting at his lips. “I might’ve been convinced in all my late night pacing.”

“Want some coffee for this conversation?” you ask, offering your elbow out. 

Calum goes for your hand instead and nods.  Now with less distance between the two of you, you catch the faint note of nicotine from Calum. “It’ll be my second cup and today seems like the day I’ll need it.”

For all that it matters, Calum had done well with his smoking until now. Ashton kept tabs on him and sent you updates periodically. Though, neither one of you made it super obvious that you were paying attention.  Now, undoubtedly the stress he’s surmounted and feels like he’s facing, you keep a close lip around the scent. The two of you pad softly to the kitchen. Joy’s taken to getting up either when you do a little before and as you two round the corner to the kitchen, you spot the light on. 

“Who’s been in my kitchen?” she asks aloud. 

“Me, Mum. And technically, it’s my kitchen,” Calum quips. He gives her a kiss on her cheek. 

“You look like hell, son.”

“I feel like hell.”

Joy turns and spots you. Her eyes ask if you know. You give a so-so or somewhat gesture with your hand and she turns back to Calum. “Should I refresh this pot then?” she offers. 

“Great minds think alike,” Calum grins, already getting fresh grounds into the machine. 

The kitchen falls silent around the work of Calum. But like he knows that everyone is watching him, he drops his hands to the counter to support his weight. “What do you think, babe?” He looks up and over to you.

“About?”

His brows furrow. “I didn’t show you anything, did I? I’m sorry. I’ve been a mess since last night,” he confesses. 

“It’s okay to be a mess sometimes.” 

You stand on the opposite side of the bar height counter top. So Calum steps closer and extends his phone out to you. You take it, going to unlock it. Maybe it matters less about you and more about what Calum feels comfortable doing. You had told coworkers and some other friends. People close enough to you already knew. Had it really mattered if the thousands and millions of other people knew too? You were now closing in on your third trimester. Things were looking good for you and baby boy Hood. A stark change to your perspective from before you know. But maybe the cosmos had a way of operating that was just beyond your understanding. Or maybe even if your mind has changed the distinct stress on Calum’s face takes precedent.

“What do you want?” you ask Calum. 

“What do you want?” he counters. 

“I want you to feel like we’re safe and that you’re in a place where you feel comfortable with what’s public and what isn’t.” 

Calum nods but not without comment. “And I want you to feel like you have a say.”

Of course, he did. You unlock his phone only to stare at the cluttered Home Screen. While Calum wasn’t disorganized, his strategies were much different than yours. You don’t mess with any of the text messages. “Where should I go?”

“Twitter,” Calum answers. 

You load the app--the mentions are a cluttered mess and you can see why he’s got literally every notification setting turned off for any social media app. You go to his profile first and read through the tweet he made. In the early parts of your pregnancy it was important to you to keep this quiet. Things were in a state where they could rapidly shift from good to bad and from bad to good, or bad to worse. There was no reason why you’d want to have to put that sort of information out into the world when it was constantly in flux and already stressful on its own. In addition, you know Calum. You can take one look at him and understand the words that don’t always fall from his lips. It’s not so much a secret language as it’s finally cracking the code on Calum’s language and him cracking the code on your language. 

You two have become proficient and fluent in the languages of each other. “What has your social team said?” you ask. 

“They’ll try to contact the person who originally posted the video and ask them to remove it. But it’s being reposted all over. So there’s no real way to stop it now. I’m waiting for an update now.”

“And am I correct to assume I shouldn’t go look at the video or what people are saying?”

Calum nods. He read only a few comments. Some were shocked by the news and happy. Others were much meaner in their remarks. “None of it changes how I feel about you or our baby. Nor does any of it have any bearing in our relationship.”

“Well, I always knew that,” you laugh. You set his phone down on the counter just as the coffee pot settles. Joy steps in to divvy out the cups and mugs. 

Calum’s mug billows with steam from beneath him. You take the mug Joy extends out to you with a quick thanks and let the warmth seep into your palms for just a moment before you set it down. You notice your mug is filled with decaf tea as an alternative and you’re not even sure when Joy got the kettle going for it to steep. But you appreciate her careful eye. 

“I think privacy is important. And I don’t fault you for taking steps to make it clear that this pregnancy is a private matter,” you return. “Who knows? Maybe people will start deleting what they’ve shared now that you’ve tweeted about it.”

“I can only hope,” Calum returns.  The two of you share a nod--an agreement that whatever steps Calum has taken are okay to continue down--and then both take a sip from your respective mugs. “I’ll give up alcohol for you, but never caffeine,” Calum jokes after his sip. 

“And I would never want you to.” 

“I’ll fix all of us breakfast and that way you can get ready, love,” Calum offers. 

You nod and Joy’s silent from the corner of the kitchen. As the two of you lock eyes, she gives you a tiny nod. She’ll keep an eye out on him while you’re gone. “Me and Duke will post up in the living room I guess. Lots of cuddles needed to be had,” Joy laughs. 

By the time you’re dressed and ready for work, but not forgetting to enjoy the breakfast that Calum prepared, you’re ahead of your normal schedule. You consider it a sign. You’ll leave work earlier too because of it. Calum walks you to the car. He gets your bag into the passenger side, but you can tell by his face that there is so much more on his mind. “I’m worried about you and if something happens at work,” Calum confesses, looking down at the car door. “I can feel you staring at me and I figure rather than making you ask, I’ll just tell you.”

“I’m going to be okay. We’ve got security at work. If it looks really bad, I can call them,” you offer. 

“I know. I also reached out to one of our security guards. If anything goes wrong, or seems bad, you let me know. We have a guy ten minutes from your job.”

“Please tell me he happens to live close to my job and not that you have him posted up near it.”

Calum chuckles. “He lives out there.”

“Poor man did not ask to deal with this.”

“But I’m just glad he’s happy to help,” Calum states softly. “Be safe today.”

It sounds like a plea to you, to the universe, to any and every force. You nod in return. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The rest of your day is uneventful. When you get to the office, it’s just you and the custodians for a moment. A few more people filter in in the early morning and then as the day progresses the office fills out more and more. In your morning break, refreshing your water bottle, Sharon, one of your co-workers steps up to you. “Hey, you doing okay?” she asks. 

You nod. “Yeah, doing good on my end. How’s your sister and niece?”

“They’re doing well. My niece is dreading the end of summer, but ain’t it how it always goes,” Sharon laughs. 

“The summer breaks really aren’t that long.”

“Speaking of my niece,” Sharon drops her volume just a little, “I heard about a video on Twitter. What is-how are you actually doing?”

Part of you is curious just how much Sharo knows or what she say, but you know if you go doing you’ll find more than what you’re looking for. “We know. His team is on it, I think. Mostly just trying to lay low,” you return with a nod. 

She hums. “Yeah, I get that. I was shocked that she even remembered you from the holiday party--my niece. She just happened upon it and then sent it to me asking if that was you. I didn’t respond, but I was shocked considering how long it’d been.”

“Seems to be a hazard of the job for him,” you return. “Hoping it blows over really.”

“Understandable, really. If you need anything, let me know.”

There’s something in the way that Sharon’s got you almost pinned to the wall that makes you wonder if the conversation is as friendly as it was supposed to appear. You only nod in response and then slip away back to your desk. You don’t want the circumstances to cloud your judgment, but you also can’t be blind to them. Besides, better to err on the side of caution than to be caught in a bigger mess. When you’re done for the day and go out to the parking garage, you keep your phone pulled up on Calum’s number. You’d rather wait an extra ten or so minutes hiding out in the lobby bathroom of the building than get cornered again. 

But there’s nothing but the bright morning sun. There’s nothing besides the clack of people walking past and the chatter of their voices. The drive back home you take in silence. Not even the radio plays faintly. It’s just you and the rush of the wind in through your windows as you carry yourself through the streets. As you turn up into your neighborhood, you realize just how tense your shoulders are, how much you’ve been pulled up close to the steering wheel. 

Calum’s waiting for you on the front steps as you pull into the driveway. Behind him you spot Ashton peeking his head out of the door with a wave. You wave up at him and he ducks back inside. Calum grins as he approaches the driver side door. “You survived.”

“Thankfully,” you laugh in return. “Is it just Ashton?”

Calum nods. “Michael was by earlier and Luke said he’d be by after dinner. I think they’re taking shifts.”

“You’ve been that much of a nervous wreck?”

“I care deeply about you and Pumpkin. Fucking sue me,” he returns, helping you out of the car. 

“Be careful what you wish for.”

Tagging: @rosie-posie08 @markaylafruitcup @sunflowercalum @wonderlandiswhereitsatyo @carma-fanficaddict @fandomfoodiedancer @icelily13 @one-sweet-gubler @busstop @wiiildflowerrr

[newpathwrites]

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Chapter 7 -

The Morning After

“Do you remember when we first discussed marriage? You were concerned that I might miss out on the love of my life, and I insisted that such a person didn’t exist.” He nodded and chuckled lightly. “But you were right in front of me the whole time…” You ran your fingers over his beard affectionately. “It never occurred to me that the love of your life doesn’t necessarily have to be a romantic one.”

Summary: You and Din discuss the nature of your relationship the day after high emotions nearly lead to your first sexual encounter.

Note: This is probably my next favorite chapter. After confessing their (as yet uncharacterized) love for each other in the face of Din’s possible impending demise, adrenaline had kicked in to create the recipe for sexual arousal and desire, which Cyar’ika cautiously pulled back from, and they subsequently agreed to keep sex out of the equation until they’d calmed their nerves and had some time to think about whether that was really something they both wanted. In this chapter, I give you the resulting conversation the following morning where the nature of their relationship is explicitly discussed and boundaries are set with more intention.

Warnings: Sexual references and discussions of past sexual abuse/trauma.

Read on AO3

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You awoke to the familiar warmth of Din’s body wrapped around yours as memories of the previous day’s events came rushing back - panicked love confessions giving way to unexpected passion, fear for Din’s life turning to immense relief when he returned unharmed, finally consummating your marriage in the removal of his armor, and then… a quiet evening spent reveling in comfortable togetherness.

  The sex issue remained the ‘bantha in the room’, further consideration deferred until emotions had settled and actions were no longer fueled by adrenaline.  Your near encounter yesterday was incredibly confusing, especially as a person who’d never felt anything akin to sexual desire before.  In that moment, you had just wanted to be as close to him as possible - adrenaline-fueled chemical reactions probably did the rest.  But still, it was true arousal and desire you had felt, however briefly - and you were quite certain he did, too.

  Of course, you’d thought about it, ever since that night in the tent when you’d discussed the conditions under which you might be willing to explore that kind of intimacy again, and he’d admitted to the same curiosity.  If there was anyone you could safely do that with, it was him.

  But something about it wasn’t right.  You still didn’t feel that sort of attraction, no matter how much you enjoyed affectionate touching and all manner of kissing with him, and the thought of actually partaking in sexual activity, even with this most trusted person, still gripped your heart in panic.  Would satisfying your curiosity, even if it turned out to be wonderful, be worth the possibility of a traumatic experience involving the man you loved so dearly?  You didn’t think so.

  And then there were those three words you’d spoken to each other for the first time yesterday.  The love between you had always been a well-acknowledged truth, though you’d never explicitly spoken the words aloud before.  You knew that to an outside observer you might appear like any average romantic couple in love with your closeness and easy affection.  But the entire concept of romance still felt foreign to you.  What kind of love was this, then?  Kriff if you knew… but maybe it didn’t require a label… something not quite platonic but not quite romantic, either…

  What you did know… You loved him and craved being close to him.  He was your husband and your life partner.  And you never wanted to part from him.  Understanding that much would have to be enough for now.

  As you mused over the confusing status of your relationship, Din began to stir, eyes fluttering open as you reached a hand over to push a lock of hair from his forehead.  He smiled warmly as he reached one arm out to pull you closer to him, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.  “Good morning, cyar’ika.  So it wasn’t all a dream?  I’m really done with the darksaber?”  You grinned and nodded in affirmation.  His voice became a bit rougher as he added, “And you’re officially my riduur, fully consummated.”

  “Yeah, that I am,” you responded affectionately, tangling your fingers with his and bringing his hand to your lips to lightly kiss his knuckles.

  He looked at you fondly for a moment before his brow creased in thought.  “We have some things we still need to talk about…”

  “Yeah, we do…” you replied softly.

  He paused, something like guilt clouding his handsome features, before he started lowly, eyes downcast, “You were uncomfortable last night… when I was ‘over’ you on the bed… I’m sorry… After what happened before, I shouldn’t have…”

  You stopped him there, not expecting to discuss that at all.  “What?  No, sweetheart, you asked me first, and I told you honestly that it was all right… Even I didn’t anticipate how anxious it would make me feel… And as soon as you realized, you stopped… I trust you.”

  “Still, I shouldn’t have put you in that situation… for the second time in one day…” he replied, guilt still tainting his words.

  “Din, please stop blaming yourself.  There’s two of us, after all.  But we do need to discuss that... It’s been… confusing.”  Your eyes met his again.  He still looked pained, but thankfully you saw less shame there, replaced by the same brand of inner turmoil you’d been feeling yourself.

  “Yeah, it is confusing… I don’t really know what to do with it…” he started, pausing as his thoughts hit a similar brick wall to the one you had scaled inwardly when you awoke this morning. 

  You’d gotten a head start on this thought process, so you figured sharing your own conclusions might more efficiently get you to a point of mutual understanding.  You took a deep breath and got started, praying to the Maker that this wouldn’t be the beginning of real conflict in your relationship.  “I’ve had some time to think this morning.  Would you like me to share?”

  “Yes, please,” he responded seriously.

  You cleared your throat nervously and began, comforted by a warm hand running up and down your spine.  “I have to tell you truthfully that in the moment, I desired it just as much as you did.”  He looked down in embarrassment, having hoped that you hadn’t noticed his very obvious arousal yesterday, but you brought a hand to his chin and looked into his eyes kindly, silently reassuring him that there was no judgment here.  “But the truth is that I just don’t feel that kind of desire outside of that one instance, which was mostly fueled by panic and high emotions.  If it had gone any further, I don’t think I could have handled it.  Just the idea of actually… doing that… even with someone I love and enjoy being close to… it fills me with dread.”  Oh no, just talking about this in such a real way was getting your heart rate up. You tried to compose yourself, but you couldn’t stop a few errant tears from falling, as your breathing sped up slightly.

  “Cyar’ika…” Din said with concern, pulling you closer.  “Hey, just breathe with me…”

  You took a few deep breaths and wiped the tears from your eyes.  You’d underestimated the lingering effects of decades-old trauma.  “Stars, I’m sorry, Din… I promise it’s not you… You’re the only person I’ve ever trusted enough to even consider it…”

  “Don’t apologize, cyar’ika.  I’m so sorry that you still have to carry that with you.”  He ran a hand over your back comfortingly.  “Clearly, we’re not meant to broach that territory, and that’s fine.  If you ever feel differently in the future, we can talk about it then.” Interesting… he was leaving this open-ended, not entirely shutting the door on it but rather leaving the ball in your court, to pick up again in the future if you so desired.

  “Din, tell me honestly, how do you feel about this?  I realize there’s not much room for compromise here if our feelings don’t align, so I’d like to understand how this affects you.  No judgment, I promise.”

  Okay, that made him nervous.  Should he tell you the truth?  Of course, he should - you were always honest with each other. He began, voice shaking slightly with the lingering fear that the truth might upset you, “Honestly… Ever since we discussed our general feelings about sex, or lack thereof… you remember that night in the tent…”  You nodded.  “I realized that the scenario I’d sometimes imagined that I might be comfortable trying it again… was exactly this one...  It’s mostly just curiosity, but I’ve also thought of it as another way to be close to you, similar to kissing, which I had never imagined I would enjoy so much.  But I’ve always preferred to handle my own needs and will continue to do so… And I would never want or expect you to feel that it should be otherwise.”

  You were thoughtful for a moment and then suggested with some hesitation, not entirely sure you liked this idea, “… Would you consider… meeting your needs outside of this marriage?  If it’s important to you…”

  “What?! No!”  He was quick to respond, making you oddly relieved, uncomfortable with the idea of him being intimate with someone else, even though it was you who suggested it, not wanting to force him to go without something he wanted for your sake.  “Cyar’ika, as you said, there is nobody else that I have ever or would ever consider doing that with.  In no way is sex a ‘need’ or even a ‘want’ for me, just an… ‘interest’… and only in regards to you.  If there was ever a time that we were both interested, then maybe we could try it, no expectations.  But if that time never comes, and I think it probably won’t, then I am very happy with our relationship exactly as it is now.”

  “Okay.”  You nodded, suddenly feeling a bit emotional, and leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on his lips, relieved to know that nothing needed to change.  Sensing your vulnerability after this intense conversation, Din pulled you to his chest and wrapped his arms around you in a warm embrace, just holding you until your breathing settled.  “Is everything all right, cyar’ika… between us?”

  “Yes, of course, Din,” you replied, nuzzling your cheek further against the soft fabric covering his chest.  You hummed, “There’s something else I was thinking about this morning.  I wonder what you think…”  He stilled, letting you know he was listening.  “Do you view our relationship as romantic?” Oh, maker, this felt like a trap.  But of course it wasn’t - he knew you better than that. You added, as if reading his mind, “There’s no right or wrong answer, by the way.  I’m not entirely certain myself.” Okay, definitely no trap here.  Was it romantic?  Did he even know what that felt like?

  Once again choosing complete honesty, he delved into his muddled thoughts on the matter.  “Well, I’m not sure that I even know what romance or being ‘in love’ is supposed to feel like… but friendship doesn’t adequately convey what I feel for you, either… I’m not ‘committed’ in this way to Boba or Cara, for example… I’m not interested in kissing or touching or sharing space with them… I’ve only ever wanted those things with you.  But honestly, I’ve never thought of us as being romantic, either, even though I love you and enjoy being physically close with you.  Calling it ‘romance’ just feels very strange to me.  I wish there was some other word we could use to describe this.”

  You chuckled.  “Din, I was thinking the exact same thing - something that’s not quite platonic and not quite romantic.  I think that’s as accurate a description as we’re going to find.  Anyway, thanks for indulging me.”

  “Well, since we’re married, people will assume what they will - but it doesn’t matter.  We know what we are to each other…”

  “Oh, and what’s that?” you asked affectionately, placing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

  He chuckled.  “I think we just established that we have no idea…” He kissed you between words, happy to get back to comfortable affection after an emotional morning.  “But if I had to put words to it… I’d say we are… close friends… partners… family… some sort of otherwise unclassified lovers…”

  You broke the kiss then, snorting with laughter.  Maker, you loved this man, especially this side of him, reserved only for you.  

  “Din, do you remember when we first discussed marriage?  You were concerned that I might miss out on the love of my life, and I insisted that such a person didn’t exist.”  He nodded and chuckled lightly.  “But you were right in front of me the whole time…” You ran your fingers over his beard affectionately.  “It never occurred to me that the love of your life doesn’t necessarily have to be a romantic one.  It could be ‘otherwise unclassified’.”  You smiled broadly.  “But no less real.”

  His face turned very serious, as he said with conviction, “I love you, cyar’ika.”

  “I love you, too, riduur,” you whispered.  He looked at you then with such love that it nearly took your breath away.  Whether it was simply his affection for you or your use of Mando’a to name him as your spouse you weren’t sure.  But it didn’t matter as his lips met yours in a deep but tender kiss, solidifying your shared feelings.  It may have taken half a lifetime to find each other, but you had the rest of your lives to enjoy together.

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

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 8

[archiveikemen]

'If I Were A Demon Princess' Collection Event — Yasuchika Bonus Story

I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by downloading and playing their games.

read this before interacting with my posts

What would it be like if the one I made a deal with was the demon?

This is a story about me and “him”, after I made a deal with Ibuki and became a Demon Princess —

I was thinking about Yasuchika while getting ready to call it a night.

(He said he’ll be coming home late tonight. I wonder if he’s home already?)

We weren’t lovers, we just happened to be living in the same mansion.

Basically, whether or not he comes home late from work is none of my concern.

(But I’m still worried. I doubt I’ll be able to fall asleep… I’ll just take a walk in the garden and see if he’s at the gate.)

…

(... Oh, there he is!)

I went to the garden and caught sight of Yasuchika sneaking around.

His eyes widened slightly when he saw me.

Yasuchika: Oh hey! Good evening, Demon Princess. What brings you here at this hour?

He struck up a conversation with a big smile.

Yasuchika: Staying up late is not a good thing. Be a good girl and go to bed, okay?

He had his usual smile and tone.

(“Demon Princess”...)

I usually didn't mind being called that.

But tonight, there was something prickly about the way he said it, and I just couldn't get it out of my head.

Yuno: … Don’t talk to me like that.

Yasuchika was taken aback and his smile disappeared.

Yasuchika: Okay. … Sorry.

(Uh oh… I made him apologize.)

I immediately shook my head.

Yuno: No, don’t apologize. I sounded too harsh, sorry.

Yasuchika: I didn't think so. I understand that nobody wants to be reminded that they made a deal with a demon like Ibuki.

Yasuchika responded with a smile and went back to being his usual self.

Yuno: Oh. Yasuchika, on your cheek.

Yasuchika: Hm? … Ah.

I reached my hand out when I saw a cut on Yasuchika’s cheek.

But I stopped myself when I noticed his facial expression grow tense.

Yuno: Uhm… can I help you treat your wound?

I offered to help, even though I had the feeling that it might be awkward for him.

Yasuchika: I didn't even notice that I got injured. It's alright, I’m fine.

Yasuchika declined my offer in a lighthearted tone and took a step back to put some distance between us.

(... Could it be that he doesn't want to be touched?)

That kind of hurt my feelings.

Yasuchika seemed to notice it, and he quickly spoke up in an unusually panicked tone.

Yasuchika: That's not what I meant.

Yasuchika: I don't hate being touched by you. It's just…

Yuno: Yeah?

Yasuchika: I’m afraid that touching me will taint your hands.

(What…)

I was puzzled by that unexpected reply — and then it hit me.

(There’s a reason why he came home late tonight.)

Why else would he try to avoid contact with others on his way back to his room?

Yuno: … Did you run into trouble at work today?

Yasuchika: !

Even in the dark, I could see Yasuchika gasp.

Then he gave a loud sigh… that was a clear enough answer to my question.

Yasuchika: I don't have a very pretty job. I’m sure you already know that.

Yuno: … Yes.

Yasuchika: That’s why it's best if you don't touch me.

Yuno: B-But–

Yasuchika: I don't want to taint you.

Yasuchika said bluntly and winced in pain afterwards.

Yasuchika: … But you’re bonded by a deal to the guy I hate most.

Yasuchika: You’re an ordinary girl with a good heart. … I wonder why you chose to make a deal with that demon.

Yasuchika: You knew that your life was going to become so messed up and filled with danger.

Yuno: I…

Yasuchika: Why do the people I want to see happy have to go through the toughest situations?

(Oh…)

(Yasuchika is talking about Akihito too.)

His words touched my heart.

Ignoring everything he said about not touching him, I held his hand.

Yasuchika: ! Yuno

Yuno: I don't think touching you will taint my hands.

Yuno: I couldn't avoid making a deal with Ibuki, but I don't regret it either.

Yuno: I’m going to move on with my life and see how I can make the most out of my situation.

Yasuchika looked at me in surprise, then a faint smile formed on his face.

Yasuchika: You’re a strong woman. But I still want you to remain pure.

Yuno: Yasuchika…

Yasuchika: Ahh I really don't like this. I hate Ibuki even more now for forcing you to make a deal with him and trapping you.

Yasuchika: I feel like attacking him right this instant.

Yuno: Whaat?

(That’s kind of… um.)

Yasuchika: Just kidding.

Unlike the disturbing words he just said, Yasuchika had a relaxed smile.

He gently squeezed my hand back — and I smiled at him in response.

[soul-dwelling]

you mentioned in another answer that you find a lot of flaws in soul eater. could you expand on what you dislike about it?

Spoiler warning for the entire series:

How it handles fanservice, often relying on fetishizing underage characters (Chapter 113 and its treatment of the girl characters in particular; Meme's handling in NOT)

Some plot drags after Crona leaves the DWMA and even into the final arc on the Moon. It felt like the story was spinning its wheels (some parts of the Baba Yaga Castle arc, some of the Moon arc, the stupid shower scene with Kim and Kid, whatever that sky whale chapter was doing).

Soul Eater NOT struggled to locate a plot and didn't seem to know whether it wanted a series-wide plot or just to be episodic for worldbuilding and gag chapters

Lack of back story and worldbuilding (culture and origins of witches; Immortal Clan and why Free is the last one we've seen outside of supplemental content; what were Vajra, Pushka, and others like before they died)...until [SPOILER] came along and gave a lackluster, ham-fisted back story that potentially contradicts what was already defined in canon and does so for the sake of forcing a connection between [SPOILER] and Soul Eater that does disservice to both series. (This only gets worse when you re-read older chapters of Soul Eater and look at older supplemental supposedly "canon" content, all of which got contradicted so badly by [SPOILER] that it opened more questions that will lead to disappointing answers. When fans are coming up with more engaging back story and worldbuilding for witches, souls, Lord Death, etc, there is a problem with the original work...)

Speaking of [SPOILER]: no, Kid does not look like [SPOILER]. I don't see it, not any more than any of Ohkubo's characters suffer from a "same face" problem as any other character. This isn't helped by how inconsistent Ohkubo's overall oeuvre is--which is not a flaw: his style changed, that's fine, but stop acting like you could compare how [SPOILER] looks at the end of [SPOILER] to how Kid looks at any point in any manga and say they look similar. (That also opens up questions about Asura, but any more discussion about how bad a manga [SPOILER] was and I will be at this all night.)

Speaking of the supplemental content: it felt like it was repeating the same gags or were cliche or really should've taken what worked in them and used them better in the manga to progress characters. An audio drama with Tsubaki acting like Black Star to try to jog back his memory when he has amnesia? I wish that had been a chapter. Some Soul x Maka hints? Why weren't those in the manga? Then again, you have a plot like Maka drinking a love potion, and an underdeveloped fight involving Poseidon's lance, that are problematic in the former and underdeveloped in the latter.

In retrospect, some stakes felt low. (I appreciate that so few of the main and supporting characters are killed off. But I wonder whether, in a re-write, having more deaths would reinforce that this is still a series about Lord Death, the concept of dying, and what happens to the dead. And what deaths we did get come so late in the story that, while they hurt, also feel like a last-minute instance rather than a logical conclusion, or were of characters we barely knew at all and whose personalities and relationships with other characters were so underdeveloped that, while they hurt as much as the deaths of anyone else, aren't as effective as suits the story.)

Personally, for me, I don't think Ohkubo's manga style (B Ichi era/beginning of Soul Eater, later Soul Eater, end of Soul Eater/all of Soul Eater NOT) is as memorable, appealing, or outstanding as what BONES did with the first anime.

Speaking of the anime: The original arc that wrapped up the first anime (when it diverged from the manga's plot) could not keep focus on any one character very long (we keep following Maka running for episodes, the Kid versus clowns story is a fine fighting episode but leads to an anticlimactic conclusion for Lord Death and Eibon). And that's not getting into the good and bad parts of the "punch of courage" ending. And, while this is not the fault of the series, it has opened up the interminable "I want a Soul Eater reboot!" demand from people who do not realize how bad of a monkey's paw wish that is, not only considering adapting Chapter 113 but also having to acknowledge the prequel material.

And Soul Eater NOT, as an anime, is enjoyable for me--but in addition to the aforementioned fanservice problems and lack of consistent plot progression, the series suffered from disappointing visuals and animation.

(This isn't a flaw, but since I'm mentioning the anime: I can't speak to many problems with the acting or casting in the Japanese and English versions--minus, of course, Mignogna--or the music. Just about all the acting and casting is phenomenal, just about all the music is phenomenal and doesn't come off as repetitive or overstaying its welcome.)

With more and more time, the Book of Eibon "you look like what you find attractive in the opposite gender" conceit gets more and more problematic.

And Ragnarok's annoying gags regarding Crona's gender and pulling up their outfit were distasteful and infuriating.

There's next-to-nothing I could criticize as a flaw or something I dislike with the fandom in general. Granted, there have been individuals in the fandom whom I find abhorrent (when you see some clown putting hate symbols onto anime characters, like those fucking red hats, I don't understand how you can't have anything but contempt for such inhuman people).

I wish there had been more Tom and Jerry-esque shenanigans with Blair in her cat form, like how she tricked the Flying Dutchman in the monster factory arc. Hell, I've seen enough fan works do more with Blair as a "mother figure" role or just giving her more to do than "cat who tricks people" and "fanservice checklist," and she felt under-utilized in the manga.

The Death Scythes who aren't named Spirit and maybe Marie, Justin, and Tezca felt under-developed.

(I haven't played through enough of the video games to give a fair assessment as to their flaws.)

Team B (Kilik, Harvar, the Pots, etc) were underutilized and underdeveloped. Ox got off better--but it required a forced relationship with Kim, and that's all the more bothersome when NOT had a more engaging relationship between Kim and Jackie.

SquareEnix should've made more merch and other productions. But that's less of a flaw and more me being petty when it comes to promoting your product.

[masterwords]

two tickets to paradise (part one)

Summary: Derek takes Hotch on a much-needed vacation. (Post-Route 66)

Warnings: Lots of food and alcohol...

Words: 4.2k

Notes: Alright, yes, I'm doing another long fic. This one is a little different though...here we have part one, setting the stage. After this I'll create a masterlist for this thing, and it's basically going to be a series of one-shots, whatever these two idiots in love get up to on their vacation. Not necessarily a linear story, just a whole bunch of cute soft shenanigans.

Read on AO3: two tickets to paradise

** CHAPTER LIST **

**

3:14am and he was pacing the kitchen like it was his job. His internal clock was all mixed up. He hadn't known insomnia this bad since law school.

It started as the pain waking him, stomach cramps, back aches, all sorts of post-op fun, now it was just routine. Quarter after 3 and his body decided it was time to be awake, pain or no. Most nights were no but he treated them the same. Heating pad, cup of tea, a book or some old black and white middle of the night movie on silent. He could be asleep by 4 without fail.

But not tonight. As he paced the kitchen waiting for his heating pad to warm in the microwave and his tea to steep, he found a brochure. Just the corner, poking out from behind the calendar on the fridge. Hidden in plain sight. Bright yellows and pinks offset by eye popping turquoise, a smattering of photos, bold letters exclaiming VISIT MEXICO! His veins pumped cold, which was funny really, if he really stopped to consider it. Maybe it was the idea that Derek was up to something, or maybe it was the thought of sunburns and sand in every crack and crevice for the rest of the century...he wasn't sure why it struck him with such ferocity, but he stared at it long after the microwave beeped and beeped to let him know it was finished.

As soon as that heating pad was settled against the phantom ache in his stomach though, everything else vanished and as predicted, he was asleep on the couch by 4am.

He hadn't slept a full night in his bed in nearly two months.

That icy feeling of dread returned when he stood in Cruz's office the following morning, bright and early staring at his employee file splayed with its guts bleeding out on the desk. His file lying open there like he had weeks ago on cold metal. There was some connection here that he wasn't making, but it would be clear soon enough.

“You wanted to see me?” Hotch asked, turning to watch Cruz enter the room with some haste. Like he hadn't intended for Hotch to beat him there, although the file seemed staged enough that it might all have been a game. He could see it, that split second when Cruz glanced at his desk and then at Hotch, as if to wonder whether Hotch had been in there long enough to take a peek at the bright pink post-it note stuck to the top page. Whether curiosity had gotten the better of him. But then, he didn't really seem worried about that in the least and Hotch sort of wished he'd leaned over and taken a peek.

“Please, have a seat.” He said it in a sort of funny high-pitched voice, exasperated almost at the idea of Hotch standing. Enough to give Hotch pause, suddenly feeling the weight of the scrutiny he was under. Just back from medical leave, one case under his belt (and a birthday to boot) but he's been dragging. His body just hasn't bounced back like it used to. In fact, it really wasn't bouncing much at all. Dragging was a better word for it.

Cruz was afraid. He recognized it now, that was worry in his eyes. He'd seen it around, people who heard the story. I heard he passed out in the conference room, right in front of everyone. They whispered after he walked by and at one time in his life he may have found it to be humiliating, but it was a nice change of pace. He no longer had to hear Haley's name hissed when he entered a room.

Cruz motioned to the chair and Hotch stalled a moment longer, quirking an eyebrow before accepting the offer of a chair. Sit before you pass out again, that's what Cruz was thinking, he could see it written on the other man's face. He'd never forced Hotch to sit before the incident, they would just stand and talk beside his desk. As he lowered himself into the seat, one hand flew to his tie to keep it in place, just a formality, maybe a nervous tick, and his pinky finger flicked out once and then twice to make sure it was all smooth. Cruz watched, completely fascinated.

“You look tired, have you been sleeping?”

That's when it happened. The image of the brightly colored travel brochure flashed before his eyes, a distant memory of an insomniac's double life. He couldn't stifle the automatic sigh that followed.

“Yes,” he lied coolly, sitting tall in his chair to give the air of not being as tired as he was. Cruz, maybe the first person in the history of the BAU, didn't even pretend to fall for it.

“You've been back for two weeks,” Cruz began, not missing a beat. “I think it goes without saying that you gave us all a pretty good scare, and I'm just not convinced that your time off was enough.”

“I took the mandatory six weeks.” Strike one. Cruz clearly didn't care about that.

“So you did. You're very careful Agent Hotchner, and maybe Erin Strauss would have put her pen to the paperwork and insisted you were right, that everything was good. Waived a fitness for duty exam, even. But I'd like to be open with you...we are going to be working closely together, you and I. I'd like to establish something right now...I'm not fooled by your work ethic. That isn't to say I'm not impressed by you, but I can see through you. So let me level with you. I can tell that you probably needed twice that amount of time to recover from your ordeal, and honestly, we both know you should probably not be here at all after everything that has happened over the course of your decorated and impressive career.”

“I'm not sure that's...” he started around the lump that had formed in his throat, but Cruz raised a hand to hold him off. His gentle features lulled Hotch into a sense that this wasn't a bullet train to hell, but his gut was already smoldering. That was new, this feeling of flames in his belly. He was keeping Tums in his pocket and Alka Seltzer in his desk drawer, but he didn't reach for minty relief.

“Aaron...may I call you Aaron?” he paused, a real pause, like he was actually waiting for Hotch to consent. Not just a formality, a genuine request. So, with some hesitation Hotch nodded his approval, hoping it might at least garner him some favor. “You've had an eventful couple of months. More has happened to you in a couple of months than has happened to me in years and yet you continue to show up here and perform at a high level. I can't help but think that your collapse was only a down payment on the price you'll pay for all you do. It catches up to us all, Aaron.”

Hotch's frown deepened and Cruz smiled at that small victory. He'd really just intended to get right to the point, but he had to admit that making Hotch squirm a little had its perks. “Yes, I know much of this is my own assumption, profiling maybe? I'm a newbie, a rube, I haven't finished the profiling courses they've asked me to complete in order to take this job...it was kind of a last-minute deal, you know? In any case, I may not be a trained profiler yet, but I do think I've hit the nail on the head.”

“Forgive my asking, but has my performance not been up to standard?”

Cruz let out a barking laugh and Hotch felt his heart drop into his belly. He did his best not to let the shadow cross his features.

“Your performance sets the standard, Aaron but I think that's part of the problem. I know there isn't any way I can convince you to take an additional six weeks of medical leave, I may be new but I wasn't born yesterday. Your reputation as a...well as a stubborn ass...precedes you. I would, however, consider it a victory if you would take a two week vacation.”

The brochure. VISIT MEXICO. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Sir, I was just off for six weeks...”

“This may come as a shock to you, but medical leave is not considered a vacation to most people. Two weeks somewhere far away from here. Get on a plane, leave your phone and your laptop in your office.”

“That sounds like an order.” Hotch's lips twitched a little, a half smirk half frown. He wasn't sure what to think about Cruz. He was not accustomed to anyone taking a personal interest in his well-being. It was oddly unsettling.

“I'd hesitate to call it an order, but it certainly is not open for negotiation. I will personally see to it that your team is well taken care of in your absence.”

(x)

Things were not better in his office. He was irritated, maybe, but nervous more than that. He'd just put his team through hell, and now he had to tell them that he was going away again. How were they supposed to trust him anymore?

And when Derek appeared in his doorway, the pretend look of confusion on his face gave him away. He could feel that familiar itchy feeling that often preceded anger deep in his belly, the smoldering from earlier had fully given way to something new. It was hot and sharp and made him want to claw at it with his fingernails.

“You've been speaking with Cruz about me.” It was not a question. He didn't have to wonder, he knew. VISIT MEXICO, his inner voice screamed.

“Hey, slow your roll baby,” Derek said, shutting the door and the blinds. This was going to get ugly, he could feel it and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't been anticipating it. “He approached me. Honest.” Derek took a seat across from Hotch and tried to look a helluva lot more casual than he felt.

“He knows about you and I.” More an accusation than an observation and it took everything in Derek's power to look past the tone to the vulnerability hiding behind it like a rabbit in the brush.

“Hotch, the whole damn Bureau knows about us, they'd have to be fucking idiots if they didn't at this point. Come on now. No one cares. You're not supposed to be getting yourself all worked up...the doctors said...”

“I'm not worked up. I'm simply trying to understand why I was called into the Section Chief's office this morning...”

“Alright, hey, look. I admit we could have done a better job, blindsiding you was wrong, but it's coming from a place of caring, man. He's worried about you. The whole team is. You almost died right in front of everyone.” He paused dramatically, maybe for effect or just to let it sink in, but whatever it was Hotch hated it. He was sucking air like a fish out of water and trying not to suffocate. “Cruz wants to keep you around. He relies on you, and he wants you in good shape.”

“I am.” His voice betrayed him. He could hold it together under duress better than most, but with Derek staring him down the way he was, he was on the verge of a panic attack right there in his office. He was too damn tired for this.

“So, prove it. Don't make me go on vacation alone...”

“Mexico?” Hotch asked in a sort of meek, sarcastic voice and Derek smiled wide, humming a little Eddie Money for effect. As if it would help lighten the mood. I've got...two tickets to paradise...pack your bags, we'll leave tonight...Hotch could hear the lyrics in his head. He'd always hated that song.

“Yeah. Mexico. You'll come back tanned and well-rested.” Another pause, this time long enough to round the desk and sit there, right in front of Hotch, on top of his papers, still humming the damn song. Leaning forward, he cupped Hotch's jaw with one hand and smirked. “After two weeks of me being on your back, he'll be off of it.”

“Get out.”

“Oh come on, I've been waiting all morning to say that...”

“Out, Derek.”

“You know, normal people get excited when their boyfriends book them two weeks in paradise...”

“You know I don't like the beach.” Not exactly the truth, but right now he hated just about everything. Except Derek, he really loved Derek and couldn't help wondering why someone he loved would torment him so ruthlessly. Exploiting his weaknesses for personal gain. And okay, he knew that really wasn't what Derek was doing but in the moment logic was taking a backseat to some raw and bitter feeling of betrayal.

“Yeah, but you don't hate seeing me at the beach, do you?”

Hotch pursed his lips and glared, having finally reached his limit of innuendo at work. “Don't you have something to do?”

Derek grinned, reaching for the door handle. “I don't think you want me to answer that...”

(x)

The flight to Chicago allowed Hotch only enough time to wonder if they were making a mistake. Of course Jack and Derek were thick as thieves. First they just shared their snacks, Jack's cheezits and Derek's trail mix became like a shared currency when it came to in flight entertainment. Much to Hotch's chagrin, they had also combined their two sodas into some sort of Frankenstein horror mix of Coke and Sprite because Jack wondered if it might taste good and Derek of course had to enlighten him to the wonders of The Graveyard.

“You put every single flavor on the soda fountain in your cup, one after the other, anything the soda machine has...your dad never taught you about this?” Jack shook his head and Derek turned to Hotch, shot him a dirty look and went back to the explanation of other examples of the finer parts of childhood that the kid was being deprived of. “When grandma takes you to the pizza parlor for dinner tonight, you hook yourself up and tell me what you think.” Hotch could only cringe at the thought.

A delayed flight for engine malfunction (Hotch was careful not to tell Derek it might be a sign that they shouldn't go) meant an extra night in Chicago and dinner at the pizza parlor with the whole family. Everyone comes out of the woodwork when Derek is home. Sometimes the whole neighborhood. The place was packed, the food was endless, the noise was deafening.

Hotch stuck to a Sprite with his meal, barely finishing half of it. He was eating more Tums than pizza anyway, playing his conversation with Cruz over and over in his head. It wasn't improving his mood or his upset stomach. Derek had gone with beer, though he did try a sip of Jack's graveyard and quietly admit that it was gross to Hotch once the kid had wandered off triumphantly. "Shoulda told him you never put in the grape...fuck. Nasty."

Derek's beer was light, airy and sour, not Hotch's preference but he was sneaking a few sips here and there to try and indulge in whatever vacation spirit he could muster. Vacation wasn't his thing. His heart wasn't in it. He was stuck on how it all played out, the image of him sitting lame as a duck in Cruz's office while the two of them played their elaborate trick. In any case, he knew it wasn't really a trick and he knew he needed to get over it. Fran, sensing a heavy conversation looming over their heads, ushered Jack toward the game room with a bucket of gold coins and the promise that there was more where that came from if he would win her a prize.

He got her a stuffed panda bear holding a silky red heart. She carried it around with her everywhere she went the rest of the evening.

To her surprise, the heavy conversation she'd anticipated wasn't between Derek and Hotch, but between she and Derek on their walk back. He slowed his pace and waited for her to catch up to him, and then ushered her to the back of the procession. She was still clutching her panda bear. Jack rode on Hotch's shoulders far ahead of them and they spoke in hushed tones, afraid to let anyone hear.

A conspiracy hatched over the course of three city blocks. Fran was all smiles, light on her feet, chastising Derek for telling her what he had planned as if she'd want to keep it to herself. “Don't tell everyone you know, moms...”

“Give me a number.”

“What? Come on, just keep it quiet...it's only two weeks.”

“A number, Derek. Ten? Fifteen?”

“Five. You can tell five people.”

She frowned, and in that moment she looked exactly like her son. “But what if those five people tell another five? Is everyone held to five?”

“Mom...what if...”

“Do not speak those words into the world. There is no if. So only five huh?”

In the morning, when it was time to say goodbye, Jack did so happily with a smile full of pancakes and syrup on his chin. He was about to spend two weeks being spoiled by Derek's family, he couldn't be happier. Derek ate his pancakes with peanut butter slathered on top, extra protein so he wouldn't get too snacky at the airport and be tempted to spend a ton of money on convenience food. Hotch stuck to coffee and an apple. No purpose other than his complete lack of appetite. He hadn't had much of one in months now. No matter how she tried to entice him, he politely declined the offer of a stack of pancakes.

“You'll have some when you come back,” she said with an unnerving smile, rubbing his arm. Like she knew something he didn't. Everyone was conspiring against him.

Truth be told, Fran adored him, but somehow she also understood some of his quirks. He was odd but sweet. He never had been much of an eater, at least not at meal time. But he was a snacker, she'd find him in the kitchen searching out a handful of blueberries or throwing a slice of bread into the toaster at all hours. Just little nibbles, nothing that would fill a man his size up. She tried not to worry. “I'll make them special for you. With bananas. You'll feel better when you come back.”

He wanted to tell her he felt fine now but the look on her face...she wasn't going to buy it. She hadn't seen him since he collapsed and glad as she was to put eyes on him right now, in the flesh, in her home...seeing him upright when all she'd seen before were photos Derek took of him sleeping (He's sleeping so much, is he alright? Are you sure Derek?), she still thought he looked off. Pale and drawn. Dark circles almost black in the morning light. Truthfully, she'd never known him not to have them, they were like old friends but they were darker now. Deeper.

He just looked so weary. Derek was right, he did need this time off.

(x)

Two days at a resort in Cancun was about the opposite of anything Hotch would have planned, but Derek had ideas and when Derek had ideas...you went along with them. He rarely disappointed. It being the off-season, they more or less had the resort to themselves anyway. It was pleasantly quiet, just some families rambling around, kids splashing in the pool and building sand castles. This is about the only time of year they could come here safely Hotch assumed, the only time the beach wasn't flooded with party kids half naked and doing things he knew would be on Jack's mind in the not too distant future. The thought sent a shiver up his spine.

“This isn't...” he started, walking to the desk with Derek. “The brochure in the kitchen, that wasn't for Cancun.”

Derek just smiled. “Your only job on this whole trip is just to go with the flow...we're vibing it baby. So...to the room first?” Derek asked, attaching a plastic bracelet onto Hotch's wrist with a grin. Rolex on one hand, neon plastic on the other. “All-inclusive, the resort is your oyster. Want a drink or a snack? Flash that fancy jewelry.”

Hotch has spent more time in hospitals than resorts.

The little plastic bracelet he now wore announced his status at the resort, a garish sunshine yellow that reminded him of those pesky plastic bracelets they always slapped on his wrist in the hospital. Here he's pre-paid for every goody he might want to consume, there he's a fall risk. He'd take this version, he figured. It didn't come with needles and beeping machines.

This was his first small step toward enjoying himself.

It was the bed that called to him first and Derek was more than willing to indulge him. It took Derek only seconds to be fully naked and ready for a nap in the chilly air-conditioned room. Travel was exhausting. Sitting in an airplane, soaring over invisible timelines, rushing through airports, listening to people cough all around him...he was ready to sleep it off too. “An hour to sleep and then we hit the beach?”

“Sure,” was Hotch's immediate reply. But when he didn't even move, not even a twitch, at the sound of Derek's alarm...Derek made a very important decision. One that might dictate the entire mood of their trip, if he was careful. This was vacation, and it didn't have to just be what he wanted. Yeah, he wanted to spend the day at the beach with Hotch, but Hotch needed sleep.

Vibing it applied to him too.

So, he got himself dressed, scribbled a quick note down on the pad of paper on Hotch's nightstand, and left. He was ready to hit the beach, get some booze in him, maybe meet some people who knew where to go to have the most fun. With a flash of his bracelet, he walked out to the beach with a little clear plastic cup of margarita in his hand. And when a fly landed right in the neon green beverage? He wished it well and flicked it on its way, hoping that it got drunk enough to have as good a time as he planned to. Maybe it would find some little fly nightclub somewhere and dance the night away.

Sucked first into a game of volleyball, and then the pool with the swim up bar, he was set for the afternoon. Every time he decided to change activities, he popped up to the room and found that Hotch had barely moved. He would adjust the temperature, refill the glass of water he'd left on the nightstand, amend his note with where he planned to be next if he had to be located and be on his way.

Derek didn't need much to have a good time, and Cancun was providing more than enough.

Hotch's one hour nap lasted well into the evening, long past all of the hotel buffets closed up for the evening. Derek had been eating off and on all day, little snacks to balance out tiny cup after tiny cup of neon booze. His favorite had been the pink drink, it tasted like strawberries and coconuts, but the blue one left his lips a funny color and he sort of liked that too. He was waiting for Hotch to have a full meal, that was the one thing he wanted. Even if their first meal on vacation was breakfast, he'd wait it out.

Room service sounded good to both of them, eating out on their veranda listening to the almost black ocean waves crash against the pale moonlit sand.

“I'm sorry I slept so long,” Hotch whispered in his gravely sleep voice, dragging a fry through a glob of ketchup. Burgers and fries, not exactly what Derek had been anticipating but he was letting Hotch lead for a while. “You could have woken me.”

“That's the longest I've seen you sleep in years, like hell I'm waking you up outta that. You barely even moved. I mean, you might have been in a coma I don't know.”

Hotch smiled, and Derek could see already that it looked lighter. A little flushed and sweet. It was a good start.

“Are you gonna be up all night now?”

“Truthfully,” Hotch started with a yawn, and Derek could already see the writing on the wall. Hotch hadn't slept in weeks, not really. His body was willing to catch up all at once now. So be it. “I could go back to bed...”

“Sounds good to me.”