#MOUSE STOP HAVING IDEAS!! PLEASE JUST FOCUS!! FOR ONCE!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweettjrose · 8 months

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Detective Mickey Pilot P.5

So this took a little bit longer than expected... Yeah. I guess I don't really have a realistic idea of how long these will end up taking. I'll try not to take as long on Part 6 and the possible epilogue. But part 5 is finished and honestly, I am really happy with how it turned out. I can't believe we are already so close to the end. Again thank you all so much for the support. I appreciate it so much!!!

Well, you waited long enough, let's jump into... Part 5.

Previous Part: X

Final Part: X

Mickey closes the gate of the construction site, but doesn’t lock it. He gives a small smile, seemingly pleased with what he just accomplished. The site should hopefully remain untouched by the time he needs it. Apparently this was going to be a building for a parachuting and paragliding class, but something must have happened and the building never got finished. It has been sitting unused for almost about a year now. Thankfully, Mickey knew the construction manager who was in charge of the project and he let Mickey borrow the keys to the site. Mickey helped him in the past find his missing electrical tools in the garage of his sneaky neighbor and this was a way to say thank you. Mickey looks at the sky. He uses whatever Junior Woodchuck knowledge he could muster and gathers that it is about noon. Hm… That should hopefully be enough time to enact the second part of his plan.

Mickey heads over to his car which is tucked away in a nearby parking lot, hopefully not easy to see. He opens the trunk and takes out a bag of five Little Korker V39 Cameras. They aren’t exactly in the best shape since Mickey had to fix them. But they look convincing enough. He takes the cameras out and wraps them around his body using the straps they are connected to. Mickey then walks a couple blocks until he is closer to the docks. After finding a good enough spot, he gets his phone out and takes a selfie, trying his best to capture both the cameras and the docks. It is a bit of a challenge thanks to his tiny arms, but he finally manages to get a good picture. As he walks back to his car, he prepares a social media post with the selfie. The mouse debates on whether to try to add a caption but decides to just tag words that will hopefully get attention in the right circles. He schedules the post to go off in about an hour, giving him some time to prepare, and then places his phone in the glove compartment of his car.

There. Now with the bait set, all Mickey has to do is to head back to the docks and wait. Thankfully, there aren’t many people around as not many ships come in or out this time of year. Though there are still a few fishermen who do seem a bit curious about the mouse with the cameras wrapped around him, but not curious enough to stop their work. Once Mickey returns to the spot where he took the picture, he begins to pace around. It is still going to be a couple of minutes until the post he made is released onto the internet. Then the second part of his plan can begin. He smiles to himself thinking about how confusing the post will be to his friends and family. He usually posts pictures of the time he spends with Minnie or Pluto. But perhaps they’ll see why by the end of today. But until then, all he can do is wait. Wait. Wait. Wait.

Hours pass and Mickey continues to pace the area, he tries his best to stick close to where he took the picture but walks out far enough to increase his chance of being seen. As Mickey walks around he starts to wonder if his plan will work. Will He see the post? What if He doesn’t? What if Mickey is wasting his time? Maybe He already found all the cameras and is gone by now. There were only 13 left, the last time he checked. But then again how is the Phantom Blot finding these cameras? These are old cameras and not everyone is going to make a post about them or have them in a store. What if… Mickey shakes himself out of his thoughts. He needs to focus if this plan is going to work. The mouse takes another look around at his surroundings, keeping a close eye on any shadowy areas. Unfortunately, he has yet to see anything of note. Mickey pulls out an energy bar from his pocket and starts to eat. He needs to keep his energy up, in case his target appears out of nowhere. Mickey sighs. He really hopes that this works. If it can’t, he wouldn’t know what else to do… “Mickey?”

The Mouse quickly turns his head at the sound of the voice, getting ready to run if needed. He looks around to see… A furious hawk standing right behind him. Shoot. The Editor in Chief. What is he doing here? How did he… The Editor interrupted his thoughts and shouted at the mouse asking where in the world he had been all day. He brings up that Mickey was supposed to come in today and how he has been trying to call him for hours. Mickey stands there. At a complete loss of what to do. Not him. Not now. Mickey tries his best to stutter out a response but is interrupted again as the Hawk goes on about how he had to track down the mouse’s location based off of a recent social media post and cannot understand why on earth he is here. The Editor then takes notice of the hanging cameras around Mickey’s body and asks what those are for until his eyebrows furrow upon realizing for himself. He harshly inquires on whether those are the cameras from the story he told Mickey to drop. Mickey tries once again to explain, only for the Hawk to continue about how he told the mouse to stop going after this story. He expresses that he can’t believe that he disobeyed him and is still wasting time on this stupid case. He offered Mickey a very generous second chance and he threw it back into his face. As the Hawk goes on ranting, Mickey just stands there. Frozen. He doesn’t know what to say or do. He wasn’t expecting this at all. How can he even fix this? Can he fix this? He’s never been in trouble like this. Ever. Oh Gosh. Everything is falling apart. He’s done for. It’s over.

As Mickey drowns in waves of worry, he does manage to catch the end bits of the Editor’s angry tirade as he exclaims that this is why he didn’t want the previous Editor in Chief to hire another Mouse. He continues how that hack journalist Felicity has caused the Mouseton Argus nothing but trouble and knew her brother would be just as bad. As Mickey hears this, he instantly retorts about how his sister is not a hack journalist. She is one of the best journalists in the world. The Editor gives a hearty but cruel chortle and challenges the mouse about how she is far from the best and only got to where she is due to being a manipulative opportunist. She would have run this paper into the ground if she didn’t get her fancy new job in the city. Mickey couldn’t believe his ears. And he wouldn’t believe it. He knows who his sister is. His sister got to where she is due to her hardwork and determination. She would not manipulate anyone. She never would. He shouts back at the Editor claiming that he is lying and he is just saying that because he’s jealous of her. This seemed to stop the editor-in-chief right in his tracks. Before his face hardened he icily tells the mouse that he doesn’t know his sister like he does. He starts closing in on the mouse adding that Mickey, on the other hand, is such a low-rate pathetic weakling who wouldn’t last a second as a real journalist. He’s a nobody who has absolutely nothing to offer the world of journalism. People like Mickey don’t go far into the world. People like Mickey don’t amount to anything. And people like Mickey should be grateful that people like him give them the time of day.

The Editor takes a step back from the cornered mouse and fixes his collar. He takes one last glance at the shaking mouse with tears building up in his eyes. He sighs and notes that since he is such a nice guy, he is willing to give Mickey one final chance. But this time Mickey will be demoted to something somehow lower than he already is and his pay will be docked. But Mickey better drop this story once and for all or he is fired from the Mouseton Argus and will never ever work there again. Mickey's heart drops. He is still shaking, trying to recuperate after the harsh blows made against his sister and him. Mickey knew taking this case would have risks. But now his whole future is being put on the line. And he can’t give up now. He can’t. He is so close. There is too much at stake. Mickey tries one last time to plead with the Hawk, explaining that he needs to stick with this case. So many lives are in danger and if he just had a little bit more time… Unfortunately, he doesn’t get far until the Editor yells at him again, telling him about how he doesn’t care and how Mickey needs to learn to stay in his place and obey or else he will make sure that Mickey never works as a journalist Anywhere... Ever. Again. Mickey sulked. He could feel his mind blackout in deep despair. What is he going to do?

A young Mickey enters a small pink and orange room holding two printed photos in his hands. He hands them over to the taller feminine mouse who just recently finished typing something on her desktop computer. Felicity smiles at Mickey and thanks him for the pictures. She takes them to her printer covered in flower and kitten stickers and scans them. Once scanned she quickly adds them to the document she was making. And there. Finished. She remarks about how excited she is to share the new issue of the Mouseton Middle School Gazette tomorrow. She’s really proud of the article she wrote about the Winter Dance and thanks to Mickey she got some amazing pictures to go with it. Mickey can’t help but smile at his sister. He always loved how excited she got over her paper. She put so much love and care into it and as a result, everyone started to care for it too, including him. Mickey couldn’t stop himself from blurting out how he wanted to be just like her. Felicity turns to him and giggles a bit asking Mickey what he means. He explains that he wants to be a journalist just like her when he grows up. She is so smart and nice and hardworking and he wants to be too. She continues to giggle and thanks Mickey, adding that Mickey doesn’t have to be a journalist to be smart and hardworking. She explains that Mickey should find what really makes him happy. She knows that whatever he chooses, he will be amazing at. Mickey gives a thoughtful expression. Clearly trying to soak in what she said. Felicity clicks a couple more keys and the printer turns on, printing out a stack of articles. As the printer finishes she takes the stack and gives Mickey one last grin before asking “So Mickey… What do you want to do?”

A much older but still young Mickey walks up to the stage that is in front of him. He is currently surrounded by a crowd and trying his best to see if he can spot the person he is looking for. It takes a bit, but he finally catches her large round ears. He rushes through the crowd and gives his big sister a hug. She immediately looks over and laughs seeing her younger brother clinging to her once again. She greets him and hugs him back. Mickey congratulates her for her college graduation adding that he can’t believe she got hired at the Mouseton Argus for her first job. She mentions that it was tough, but she managed to impress the Editor in Chief enough that they had to hire her. Mickey jokes that she should save him a spot and Felicity giggles adding that she will try her best. Mickey laughs a bit, but then his smile starts to slowly fade away, revealing a much more worried expression. Felicity catches this and asks him what’s wrong. Mickey tries to tell her that it is nothing to worry about, but Felicity knows better and asks again, adding that Mickey could tell her anything. Mickey takes a breath and admits that he is a bit worried about whether he can accomplish as much as her. His sister accomplished so many amazing things and Mickey isn’t sure if he has what it takes. Felicity smiles and kneels a bit, looking Mickey straight in the eyes. She tells him that she knows who her brother is. And that he has more than it takes to accomplish anything he wants. She knows that either as a journalist or as anything else Mickey will do amazing and she will be there to support him the whole way. A smile returns to Mickey's face joined with a couple of tears. He remarks that there are so many choices he has to make soon and just wants to make the right ones like she did. She gazes at him with her warm eyes and loving smile. “Oh, Mickey. You are so smart, so kind, and just so brave. You always did the right thing even when it was hard. It is what I love about you. I know you will make the right choice. I just know it. I believe in you”

The right choice. The right choice. Mickey could feel a lump in his throat as he knew what he had to do. It wasn’t easy. But he had to do it. “I quit”. The Editor perked up at the response, asking the mouse to repeat himself. Mickey repeats himself this time louder and clearer. “I Quit”. The Editor in Chief looks at him completely baffled, not believing at all what he is hearing. Mickey explains that he is tired of all the abuse that he had to deal with at the Mouseton Argus. And how the Editor went too far in trying to bring his sister into this. He thought that being a journalist was his dream, but it was not worth it for all of this. He needs to continue working on this Camera story. This is very important to him and he won’t give up. The only thing standing in his way right now is the Editor. And if the Editor is not going to trust him, then he can get out of his way. I quit. And with that, Mickey pushes aside the hawk and restarts his rounds. The Editor stands there completely dumbfounded, not at all expecting the mouse to actually fight back this time. He manages to regain composure and shouts at the mouse claiming that he will regret this decision and he will never work as a journalist ever again. Only for the mouse to continue on his path, completely ignoring the hawk. Frustrated, the Editor kicks a nearby rock and then stomps off in the other direction.

As the Editor storms away, Mickey stops for a bit to comprehend what happened. He felt like his heart was pounding out of his chest. Did he do that? Did he really do that? Why did he do that? No, he had to do that. He stood there waiting. Expecting to feel a wave of guilt for what he just did. But he doesn’t… At all. If anything he could feel his shoulders get a bit lighter. Huh. Maybe he did actually make the right choice… Well, either way, he still has important business to finish. And unfortunately, that confrontation took away some valuable time. He really hoped he didn’t miss his target. Mickey starts walking again. Continuing on the same path as before. Still walking. Still watching. Still waiting. A couple more hours pass and the warm day shifts into a chilly night. Mickey shivers as a cool wind brushes against his bare arms. The street lights automatically turn on, giving the mouse a little bit of light, though not much. Mickey proceeds with his pacing, holding his hands behind his back. Where is he? Did he not see the post? What if he thought it was too suspicious? What if he already got the blueprint and left already? What if the editor-in-chief scared him away? What if he is never coming? What if the plan already failed? What if … Mickey failed. The mouse stops in his tracks. Did he fail? No. He didn’t fail. Yet. Argh this plan is taking forever. And this is the only plan he has left. It is getting so late. Maybe he can try again tomorrow. What if he doesn’t come around then either? How long should he stay here? How long should he be doing this? Should he stay overnight? Should he sleep? Did he bring enough energy bars? It’s getting cold. Why didn’t he bring a jacket? What should he…

“Excuse me, I would hate to interrupt, but this is rather boring. What exactly is your plan here?”

The haunting baritone struck right through his core, causing every single muscle in his body to tense and raise every single hair. The Phantom Blot. He’s here. Right here. How long was he here? Was he following him? Stop. Stop. Don’t overthink. Don’t have time. The plan. Don’t forget the plan. You need to run. Run. NOW. Mickey pulls all his strength to force his body to move. Pushing himself to turn around and bolt in the direction he needed to go. Mickey could feel his heart, head, and everything pounding as he made the leap to rush toward his destination. Unfortunately, the moment was short-lived as the Blot rather quickly snatched the mouse up with his lightning-speed reflexes and held the mouse up by his collar. “I don’t think so~”. Shoot. How is he so fast? Mickey stutters out a plea at the Phantom Blot to let him go, only for the man to laugh brutally in response. He admits that he is not sure how the mouse managed to escape alive, but he has quite the nerve to think he can taunt him like this. Perhaps he was too kind before. Maybe he should try something that will send a more agonizing message. Mickey goes limp in the evil man’s hands. He barely even got 5 feet before getting captured. Is this too much? Did he really go beyond what he can handle? Is the Phantom Blot really…“What’s the matter? Are you still afraid?” The villain lets out a sinister laugh while raising the mouse up face to face with Mickey’s collar still tight in a vicious grip. Mickey tries his best to avoid looking at the malicious bright white eyes but finds it hard to. He hated those eyes.

“Do not be upset little mouse. It is quite alright to be afraid, necessary even. Fear is what protects you from danger. It is what keeps you alive to see another day. Unfortunately… it becomes utterly useless if you choose to ignore it… I may have pegged you wrong before. You are not just a pathetic nobody… but quite stupid too ”

Mickey could feel frustration rising up within him. He was sick of this. He was sick of being scared. He was sick of being treated like garbage. He just wanted to help people. And he will. He isn’t going to let this fear control him anymore. It is not over yet. Mickey could feel this raging bubble into a burst of energy. He then channeled this energy into the rest of his body kicking, punching, whatever he could to break free. The Phantom Blot first appears amused at this sudden burst of bravery and holds the mouse back a bit. However, he later finds that he is struggling to keep hold of the pesky mouse. Annoyed, the Phantom Blot slams the mouse against the wall of a nearby warehouse. Before Mickey even has a chance to get up, The Blot is already on him, ripping off the cameras and tying him down with rope. Mickey tries his best to fight him off, but the man is much bigger and stronger than him. However, the mouse doesn’t make it easy. The Blot notes how the mouse is being much more of a bother than he was before. But he is not worried. After this, the mouse will be all but a dangling memory. As the villain finishes tying him up, Mickey shouts about how he’ll never find the blueprint and how he will always be there to stop him. The Phantom Blot completely ignores these cries and grabs the other end of the rope as well as a couple of other things. He then drags the mouse over to the docks, taking little care in protecting Mickey’s head from bumping up against the ground.

Once the Blot reaches the end of one of the docks, he starts to tie one end of the rope to the middle of a large board he carried over. Mickey angrily demands to know what he is doing. The Phantom Blot snidely remarks how the mouse would probably prefer not to know. Mickey assesses the situation and asks if the Phantom Blot is going to drop him into the water. The Blot notes that he may not be that stupid after all. Mickey laughs and notes he would just float on the water and then all he would have to do is wait for someone to save him in the morning. Mickey felt a sense of pride for a nanosecond until he noticed the smug aura of the Phantom Blot hadn't changed. Instead, the malevolent figure thanked the mouse for the reminder and started attaching some weights to the rope around Mickey. Swell. He and his big mouth. Before Mickey has a chance to retort, the Phantom Blot places a gag over his mouth. He comments about how he is getting tired of hearing the mouse’s voice and prefers it when he is too scared to talk. As the Blot finishes what he was tying up, Mickey manages to shake the gag off and exclaims how he will never get away with this. The Phantom Blot drops what he is doing and glares at him with those horrid striking white eyes. Mickey wanted so badly to look away but needed to be strong. The Phantom Blot then moved his hands to cradle Mickey’s head, giving a tight squeeze. He gave a soft chuckle that rapidly evolved into a venomous cackle.

“Oh my sweet little mouse. I already have”

And with that the Phantom Blot suddenly brings his hands around Mickey’s head and roughly tightens the gag around Mickey’s mouth and then launches him over the dock. Mickey braced himself for impact, but it never came as instead he heard a loud clap above him and his body quickly bounced over the water, due to the elasticity of the rope. Mickey then drops down again doing a couple more small bounces before finally stopping. He hung, faced down, a couple of feet over the water. The long wooden board he was tied to was stuck between two wooden poles above, preventing him from being fully thrusted into the cold dark ocean. He could still hear the Phantom Blot above him cackling and gloating about how he is not as heartless as he appears. He left the mouse out of the water and even gave him quite a nice view of the ocean. The mouse should appreciate this rare sudden act of grace… while he still can at least. As Mickey considers what that means, a large splash hits him in the face. What was that? Mickey looks over and notices that it is the… Cameras? They don’t even look broken into. Why did he… Mickey tries his best to look up, and notices the villainous figure still standing there. He seems to be looking at something in his hand, before walking away. What was in his hands? Why didn’t he put him fully in the water? Why did he toss the cameras? Mickey sighs, well the best he can with the gag on, and takes a good look at his surroundings. Unfortunately he couldn’t really enjoy the view of the ocean as it looks more murky and gross from where he was. Mickey paused for a second. He could still feel the fiery rage in his heart from before. He can’t give up. He won’t give up. He made a promise to Minnie to come back. And he was going to do everything it takes to keep that promise.

Mickey tries to do his best to wiggle out of the rope but finds it hard to move anything. Darn. Mickey could feel the Deja Vu from earlier. This guy really knows how to tie someone up... But he also gives his victims way too much time to figure a way out. And perhaps an old trick might work again. Mickey uses all the strength in his body to attempt to swing back and forth. It was tough and slow, the weights attached to his body didn’t really help, but it was possible and the best solution he had at the moment. For quite a while, Mickey continued to swing, building a lot of good momentum. However, he could already feel his body ache. And he wasn’t nearly as high as he would need to be to escape. He tried to think of any other solutions as he continued to swing his body but struggled to come up with anything. Some more time passes, and Mickey is still doing his best to swing, though is clearly tired and starts to slow down, he tries to think of a more effective plan, but is coming up cold. Cold. Something feels cold on his stomach. Cold and wet. What is that? Mickey looks down and notices that the ocean is a lot closer than it was before. The ocean? But he was a couple feet above? How… Oh crap the rising tide. Mickey forgot all about it. The momentum the mouse was building started to slow down as Mickey continued to hit the water. Crap. Crap. Now what does he do? The mouse could feel the panic bubble up inside of him, as he felt more of his body sink into the water. No. No. He will not give up. He will get out of this. He just has to keep thinking. Eventually, something will poke… Ouch! Mickey felt a sharp pain in his butt. The poke causes Mickey to jump, but not enough to get out of the water.

Mickey instantly looked at where the poke came from and saw a very angry swordfish. Crap. Mickey heard about the famous Mouseton Swordfish from Captain Churchmouse but never met one face to face. Unfortunately, the Mouseton Swordfish are known for being very territorial and deadly to any unlucky person who crosses their path. And it seems like right now Mickey is that unlucky person. Great. As if he needed more things to worry about. The mouse tries his best to kick his legs at the fish but struggles due to the rope tied around him. The Swordfish seems to swim back a bit, but only so it could prepare for another strike. Mickey notices and holds his position until… Swish. The swordfish takes another lunge at the mouse, but luckily Mickey gathered enough energy to just barely swing out of the way. It seems like the rope still got partially hit and is now somewhat frayed… The rope... It’s frayed. Mickey recalled how Captain Churchmouse told him that the nose of the Mouseton Swordfish also tends to be sharper than any other swordfish. Sharp enough to cut…

The Swordfish, annoyed about its failed second attempt, dives deep back into the water. Mickey sticks his head into the water and opens his eyes, trying his best to triangulate where the fish may be. He had a bit of trouble at first but then saw a flicker of the Swordfish’s body. It's time to go. Must be quick. Mickey used any remaining strength he had to orient his body as quickly as he could, as the Swordfish then raced towards him with incredible speed. Mickey could feel his heart pounding as he struggled to move his body in the thick water. It was tough. But he can do it. He knows he can. Come on. Move your body… Just a tiny bit more… A little bit more… Just one more smidge… and… THERE! As the mouse finally gets into his desired position the Swordfish lunges at him, but manages to aim right above his body, getting in between Mickey’s back and the rope. The swordfish lurched with so much force that it ended up hitting one of the legs of the dock and got its nose stuck. As the fish wiggled his nose to escape, Mickey could feel the ropes cut, until he was finally free. His adrenaline pushed him up the rope. As he finally reached the top, Mickey rolled over to his side, ripped off the gag around his mouth, and laid on his back catching his breath. He’s alive. HE’S ALIVE. Mickey let out a deep breath that evolved into a hearty laugh and then partially into tears. That was so close. So close. But he made it. He was lucky that Swordfish happened to be there. The Swordfish. Mickey looked over the edge of the dock to see if his mean companion was okay. Even though it attacked him, it was still just an animal trying to defend his territory. As he looked down he noticed the fish managed to free himself from the dock. It looked rather annoyed to have hit the dock and confused about where the intruder went. Mickey noticed part of a fish head nearby and threw it in the water, hoping it would work as an apology and sign of gratitude. The Swordfish seemed to appreciate the fish head well enough and swam off deeper into the sea

Still tired, Mickey rolled onto his back again. He wanted so badly to fall asleep right now. He had more than enough danger for tonight. But… He doesn’t have time to. His plan fell apart and now he needs to come up with another one quickly. He doesn’t know how long he has until the Phantom Blot finds what he needs and leaves. Mickey picks himself up and starts to wobble his way over to where he remembered parking his car, relying on a couple of streetlights to light his path. Thankfully his hiding spot worked and it was still there, completely untouched. He got in and immediately locked it, not wanting any more surprises that night… Now what. The question bounced around in Mickey’s mind as he fished out his phone from the glove compartment. Instinctively he just started scrolling around, hoping that something might spark his mind. He saw a couple of calls from the Editor in his missed call list, but nothing from anyone else. He checked his messages and didn't see anything of note there either. Well, nothing outside of a picture sent from Goofy sent to the group chat that he, Mickey, and Donald were in called “The Musketeers”. It was of Max and his friend PJ watching a movie under a blanket fortress. Goofy added a comment asking if they remember doing that in college. Mickey's phone pings. Donald just now responded with a picture of Huey, Dewey, and Louie doing the same thing adding a sarcastic comment about how Max should stop copying his boys. Mickey smiled. This is what he needed at the moment. He really loved his friends. They always could bring a smile to his face, no matter what. But they are also why he needs to do this. His friends can’t be safe with the Phantom Blot walking around with that weapon. Nobody or any of their friends would ever be safe. And that is why Mickey is going to stop him.

Reinvigorated Mickey adds a heart emoji to both of the pictures and decides to check on the post he made to lure the Phantom Blot. He notices it has some likes on it and a couple of comments. One of them was from Horace who congratulates Mickey on finding so many cameras and asks if he could have some to replace his missing ones. But the other comment was from… Felicity? Mickey reads the comment. She remarks about how interesting the cameras Mickey found are but notes that they look a lot like the one that Captain Churchmouse had that didn’t work. She recalls how Mickey used to play with it as a kid. Huh. What. Mickey didn’t remember playing with this type of camera. He thought his earliest camera was Ol’ Reliable. Mickey's phone pings as Felicity recently adds another comment. She notes that it still may be at his lake house if she remembers correctly… Lakehouse… That isn’t too far from here. What if… Mickey quickly turns on the car and rapidly starts to back it out. Once the car is free out on the road, Mickey rushes down the quiet streets as he hurries to his next destination. However, he still makes sure to stop at red stoplights and not be too much above the speed limit. Mickey could feel his thoughts scramble as he considered all of the possibilities. This could be his next chance to get ahead of the Phantom Blot. Mickey could feel his heart tense. It quickly occurred to him that the Phantom Blot was also likely to see that post. It is likely that they will meet again. But he can’t back out now. Not now. He has to finish this no matter what it takes. He was terrified. But also brave. The Phantom Blot may have had the upper hand before, but this time Mickey has something that the Phantom Blot couldn’t possibly have… A shortcut. Mickey taps the contacts section on the screen in his car. He needs to make a quick call.

To be honest lake house was a very kind term to what is more like a cabin that happened to be next to a lake. Though to be fair it was a fairly large cabin and there were a couple of other smaller cabins nearby. This land and the small lake has been passed down through the Churchmouse family for years and since Churchmouse was a very close family friend, the Mouse family has been here quite a bit too. Whether for family gatherings or just to visit while his parents were away. To someone from the outside it wasn’t the prettiest place, but to Mickey it was beautiful. Thanks to the shortcut, Mickey arrives at the “lake house” rather quickly. Quick enough to give him quite a bit of time to look for the camera. Mickey parks in the spot Uncle Oswald used to park whenever he came for family reunions and then walked across the yard to the front door. Hopefully that spot will keep his car hidden. He looks for a special rock in the bushes and when he finds it, he opens it revealing a set of keys. Thankfully Captain Churchmouse and his wife are away at vacation. Mickey called them to ask if he could come over to find the old camera. Churchmouse was more than willing and told Mickey that it may be in the attic somewhere. Mickey smiled, Churchmouse really felt like another father to him.

Mickey quickly enters the cabin, picks up a flashlight near the door, and heads over to where the attic is. As Mickey walked through the house, memories of his childhood played out in his mind. Felicity and him running through the halls. The chatter of so many family reunions. The decorations from that one Christmas. That time he brought Minnie and Donald to play at the lake. So many memories. So many wonderful memories. Memories other families should also be having. Memories that could easily be taken away. Mickey shook himself out of his nostalgia and finally reached the ladder that led up to the Attic. He swiftly but also carefully climbs up the steps. When he reaches the top, he opens the hatch which lets out a wave of dust into his face. Mickey stands there coughing but still presses on to fully enter the attic. He could already feel his eyes and throat being irritated by the amount of dust here. Cough. But he can handle it. At the front of an attic, a giant circular window allows the glow of the moonlight to fill the room. Mickey heads over to the large pile of boxes and crates that lined both sides of the attic. Alright. Mickey cracked his knuckles. Time to get looking.

About half an hour of searching passes and Mickey can already feel himself getting disheartened. So much time has passed and he barely got through half of the boxes. He opens one more box and starts frantically tossing out the contents, old clothes… old clothes… And even more old clothes. Crap. Mickey feels bad about tossing all the clothes on the floor, but he doesn’t have time to clean it up now. He’ll definitely have to come back and clean up afterward. He wished they labeled these better, or at least labeled them at all. Mickey slumps down onto the floor. He doesn’t have much time and needs to find that camera quick. Why do they have so much stuff? Why are there so many boxes? Why aren’t they labeled very well? Mickey shakes his head breaks himself out of another overthinking panic and takes a deep breath. Which wasn’t smart since this place was so dusty. Cough. Cough. Maybe he needs to think about this smarter. He takes a look at the boxes again. He quickly notices a piece of paper sticking out of the one he just ransacked. He picked it up and saw that it was a receipt for one of the dresses that was in the box. He notices the date is sometime in May 1973… Hm… Maybe he doesn’t have to look through everything. Mickey immediately starts rummaging through a nearby box and finds a picture frame. He looks in the bottom right corner and finds another date December 1975. Ah ha. Maybe if he starts looking for things with dates on them he can use that to track down the camera easier.

Mickey heads back over to some of the previous boxes he already looked at that was closer to the door. He finds a couple things with dates on them ranging from the 50’s and 60’s… Hm… Maybe… Mickey starts to check out a pile of boxes that were after the ones with the 70’s stuff and finds a t-shirt with… 1981 on it. Hot Dog! The newer stuff must be towards the back of the room which is probably why he hasn’t found the camera yet. Now he just needs to find stuff that was from the late 90’s to mid 00’s as that is most likely when the camera was added to the attic. Mickey looks through some more boxes and specifically looks for things with dates on them. 1989… 1993… 1991… 1999… 2000… Something catches Mickey’s eye. It’s a chest hidden behind some boxes he is currently looking at. He starts to pull it out and wipes off the dust with his gloves. On the top of the chest, it reads “Mickey Mouse” Gasp! Mickey Mouse. Could this be it? Mickey instantly starts to open the chest and poke through the contents. In it, he finds some crude pictures that he must have made when he was younger. Seems like he always had a knack for drawing. He also catches some photos and some things he can best describe as art projects. Most of them seem pretty unfamiliar, but there is one or two that he actually does happen to recognize. Man, these must be from when he was really really young.

As he picks up a drawing with a macaroni frame, he notices something large and boxy underneath it. He pries the item out of the chest and a huge smile grows on his face. He found it! The Little Korker V39. Mickey double checks and confirms that it is indeed the same version as the ones that were stolen. Filled with excitement, Mickey leaps off of the ground and gets ready to bolt to his car. Wait. What if… A sudden thought occurred to Mickey. He should probably check to see what is in it, first. Mickey looks around the camera and finds a latch. He opens the latch which opens up to reveal the inside of the camera. He instantly remembers about the secret compartment and starts to open it revealing… something green. Oh Boy! The chemical. He found the chemical. Mickey felt a wave of instant relief. He finally had physical proof. The police will have to believe him now. Or at least would be curious enough to check it out. Maybe Professor Ludwig Von Drake can figure out what it is. There are just so many possibilities… Wait what’s that. Mickey took a quick glance into the rest of the camera and noticed that there appeared to be something that was stuck within the camera parts. It appears to be a… piece of paper? Wait. Is it the… Mickey immediately starts to pull it out, though is careful to avoid ripping it. When he gets it out he starts to unfold it. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The blueprint… He found it… It was here. It was here the whole time. This is even better than the chemical. Mickey felt himself tearing up. This is amazing. This is wonderful. This is fantastic. Finally things are going to be…

“I believe that belongs to me”

The man takes one more step towards the mouse, this time moving at a quicker pace. Mickey tries to back up but hits the back wall of the attic. Mickey takes this as a cue to run. As the Phantom Blot charges towards him, he takes off rocketing past the Phantom Blot on his right side. Unfortunately, the nightmarishly quick reflexes of the Phantom Blot are already prepared to catch the mouse as he passes by. At least that is what would have happened if Mickey didn’t learn a lesson from last time. As the man swings for the mouse, Mickey does a fake out and makes a quick turn instead of running through his left side, instantly passing him. The switch happened so quickly that the Blot didn’t even have time to process it before the mouse was now behind him, bolting to the end of the room. Mickey felt a real sense of pride as he heard the grunts of confusion behind him. He did it. He finally got past him. But don’t celebrate yet. Run. Keep Running. Mickey charges forward, getting closer and closer to the window until he is close enough to leap out, launching his barreling body into the chilly night air. The mouse lands on part of the roof and then takes another jump landing on the ground. He bolts over to where his car is and turns it on. Thankfully it turns immediately on and he is able to back out and speed out of there. Mickey’s car flies down the street, with him not really caring about adhering to the speed limit. He had to hurry to the police station. No matter what. He can’t stop now. Honk! Honk! Honk! Mickey glances in the direction where the noise came from. He sees a very expensive-looking fancy black car that is currently tailing him. He doesn’t even have to guess who that could be. The car bumps into him from the back causing Mickey’s car to thrust forward. Mickey presses everything he can into the gas pedal, trying to get away as quickly as he can. Unfortunately, the other car speeds past him with ease, and once side by side the window near Mickey rolls down, revealing exactly who Mickey expected to see giving a “friendly” wave. Mickey partially rolls down his window and shouts at the Phantom Blot, calling him insane. The man laughs and alerts the mouse that what is insane is thinking that he could get away from him. The Blot’s car then leans into Mickey. Forcing Mickey to drive off the road, to avoid getting hit. Mickey tries his best to keep control of his car and screams back at the other man, warning that he needs to stop or he is going to get them both killed. The man shakes his head “Nope, Just you ~” before slowing down his car. Mickey tried to process what he meant. But unfortunately, it was too late.

Him. It’s Him. He’s here. Mickey knew this was likely to happen. He hoped it wouldn’t. But it did. Now to deal with it. The mouse slowly turns around and catches a view of his frightening new guest. The Phantom Blot sat on top of the sill of the now-opened large circular window. His dark cloak blew into the room, vanishing as it touched any shadows. His bright blinding eyes only second to the moonlight that glowed behind him. Mickey stood up straight and stared the man down. Mickey’s not scared of him anymore. Okay, that was a lie. He was still terrified. But he can’t let that stop him now. He can’t let the Phantom Blot win. The cloaked figure leaves the window and starts walking toward the mouse at an excruciatingly slow pace. Mickey steps back at a similar rate, trying his best to maintain the distance while putting on a brave face. Mickey tells the thief that the blueprints don’t belong to him and will never belong to him. The Phantom Blot cocks his head a bit, somewhat still entertained by the pushback from the mouse. Entertained… But also… He states that he is grateful that the mouse ever so kindly found the blueprint for him, even after all the trouble he caused. And as a reward, he’ll let the mouse choose whether he wants things to end nicely… Or messy. The blueprint is already in his hands. What has yet to be determined is how much pain the mouse is willing to suffer. Mickey stands strong and reassures that he will never hand it over calling the Phantom Blot a creep. The Phantom Blot shakes his head and clicks his tongue, noting how the mouse is resorting to name-calling now. The mouse must have a masochistic desire to feel pain. But not to worry, The Phantom Blot will be more than happy to oblige.

#disney #mickey #mickey mouse #mickey and friends #mickey mouse and friends #mouseverse #disney comics #the phantom blot #phantom blot #captain churchmouse #detective mickey #detective mickey pilot idea #fanfiction #disney fanfiction #violence tw #death mention tw #disney channel #disney+#drowning tw

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midnxght-sweet-time · 2 years

Text

✦ Ｉ'ｍｎｏ `Ｇｒａｃｅ` ✦

❥︎ Paring: ✩Aether x F!Reader

➳ AU: Fixer!Sagau

⚠︎ TW: Hurt to comfort. Reader dealing with period times. This fic may trigger your ptsd of the hypostasis event.

᯽ A/N: This was me playing around with the idea of a scenario when creator is playing Genshin outside of the game world.

Around the time I wrote this, I had a friend who was going through some deep shit so this was partially the experience.

To anyone else going thru a rough time, just know that its okay to not be okay and these dark times will fade away soon. Take things easy for urself and forget whatever neagativity people think about you. Focus on and learn to love yourself. Your feelings matter.

❦︎ Tags: @campanula-rotundifolia @chihawari

"Now- Are you sure – you want me to do this-?"

"For the last time, [Name], I am okay with you controlling me."

The tired voice of the male's rings in your ears through the soft cushion of your headphones. One hand nervously holding onto your trusty mouse while the other with the index finger, hovering over the W key with an aching hesitance. You feel the nervousness holding you back, keeping you on a pause just like the blonde haired male in your screen. He taps his foot impatiently, his sword by his side as he faces a giant geo hypostasis, larger than the regular one, sleeping by the middle of the domain platform.

"Why are we doing this?" You heaved a shaky inhale. Even though you know if Aether dies you can always respawn him back into the game with a simple click of a button, it does not assure you of the fact this man is about to go through literal hell.

The geo hypostasis you were up againsts was a more buffed version, somewhat the mother of the actual hypostasis you two would face outside of this domain that our starbound traveler was confined in. This strange event somehow spawned in an insanely powerful hypostasis that you will need to kill in order to obtain primogems for the sake of upgrading your characters.

"Helping me fight is much easier than me having to fight it myself. You've done this before." The boy's voice is stern but soft, as if talking to a child. "That doesn't change the fact I'm controlling you like a puppet on a string. Do you really think that's morally fine?" His eyes closed as he could hear the panic of the Creator in the back of his mind. You stuffed a pillow on your face as the panic manifested in your voice erupts from your throat. Your screams slightly penetrated through the bolster that reduced the loudness of your voice.

As much as you hate controlling the will of your now live creations, Aether was right. You're able to see in a third person view of him, making it easier to catch sight of anything incoming his way from all directions like his third eye. That and along with you controlling him to fight, is much more smoother than Aether frantically keeping his guard up. Albeit the feeling of his body moving on its own is quite unsettling, but he has to admit, you guiding his movements in fending off enemies is more efficient, knowing you care for his well being and is doing everything in your power to keep him out of harm's way as much as you could. He feels safe with you.

"I need you." his mouth was left open, his words lack some sort of completion. Wonder written on his expression as he blinked once in thought. You didn't respond. Your screams prevented his words from being comprehended as all you could focus on was your moral anxiety.

"Please…your grace?"

With those words muttered, the internal screaming stopped. It went silent for a moment. One second has passed, then two, then three. It made Aether worried.

"[Nam-"

"I told you before. Don't call me that."

His eyes widen at the sudden change of tone from the god. You sounded empty, very stern but a slight crack in your voice made him tense. The air around him suddenly became a heavy weight. He can just hear the hidden pain in your voice. But why?

"[Name] I- Are you okay?"

His body turned away from the hypostasis as he exited the domain. Perhaps they will face it later, right now his concerns are on you. Did he upset you?

"Sorry Aether. I'm just… a little emotional today." You admit. You went from total panic to angry to guilt in a matter of seconds. The blonde haired male is convinced you were not okay. Whatever happened before you opened up your computer to see him, it was probably a bad case.

"Want to tell me what happened? I can be a good listener y'know?" Thinking you might need someone to talk to, he wasn't expecting the next few words that came out of your mouth–

"I'm on my period."

His lips immediately shut after that, stretch to a thin line and his eyes widen slightly at the realization. Oh how could he not notice that? The sudden mood swings was a dead give away. A bright twinkle of stars flashes in front of him as the cute little mascot pops into existence, looking at Aether with her hands to her hips and a disappointing shake of her head. "W-well, how are you feeling? Did it just came?" He asked, trying to ease up the awkward tension that's suddenly at the back of his mind.

"Yeah… I can feel my lower half turning itself into a pretzel as the ovaries go through a monthly olympic tug of war." His ears perked up at the sudden thump, Aether assumes you are probably laying face first on your desk. A snicker at your silly joke. "Shouldn't you rest then? We can continue this next time." The blonde male laid down on the grass and looked up at the night sky. The floating child followed his movements with a trail of stars behind her. "Paimon thinks so too! You should really rest up, you're in no condition to play!"

Their words were left unresponded. Silence befalls them once again leaving the two to worry about what you are thinking out there. Aether laid on the grass, following the silence. He can feel the grass swaying and tickling his exposed skin. He was about to say something before your voice echoed to him.

"You said you can be a good listener… right Aether?"

Your throat sounds dry, it stings the back of the male's mind. He was convinced you really didn't have enough water. He sees the stars twinkling away, the moon burns into his sight. He wonders, what's your life up there? Is it even up in the sky? Or another universe he could travel to? "You voice sounds dry. Shouldn't you get yourself some water?" His voice softly brushes with the wind, it's loud enough to embed it into your mind.

Ah, perhaps you really should keep your health in check. Your hand reaches out to the nearby water bottle, immediately takes the cap off and starts chugging down the drink. You never noticed how thirsty you were until you felt the sense of relief as the cooling liquid flows down your throat.

"Thanks Aether." You cleared your throat, the hoarseness of your voice disappeared. Through your screen you can see Aether looking around the area, as if he's trying to pinpoint where your monitor is. To him, you were a whisper in his head. To you, he is but a programmed character that you came to care for.

"So, what happened? You don't have to give me full details if you don't want to." You bit your lip at his initiative. As much as you want to let your feelings out, a force of doubt clung onto your chest. It is so desperately screaming at the back of your mind to call it off, to tell them 'Nevermind' or 'I'm fine'. Your breath hitches as fresh tears pooled at the side of your eyes, blurring your vision as an impersonation to your clouded mind. Words stuck and jumbled in your brain, all trying to find their way and form a complete sentence to tell a story, but clash with each other, it formed only small mutters of insecurities.

Aether can't understand what you're going through. How could he? One of the many characters you created that's apparently brought to life; and you, a grown young adult, ranting to an AI about your problems.

Pathetic

Then it hit you–

"I'm pathetic. I don't know why some people of Teyvat would see me as some god." Your mouth shuts at that, your voice trying to hold back the choked sobs that threatened to erupt from your throat. "I mean- I understand I'm the creator but–" a hiccup interrupted your words, a hand covering your mouth.

"I don't like anything about myself. I'm just some person that likes to create a world which I can play in to escape from reality and compensate for the fact I'm no use to the world I live in." Your voice becomes so quiet, it breaks the hearts of those who hear it. You sounded helpless, like a small animal crying for help in the end of the dark cave.

Aether was about to say something, but the little mascot beat him to it. "You shouldn't really tell yourself that. It's not good!" Her voice chimed in the usual high pitched tone.

"Paimon thinks– everyone has a worth, no one is pathetic. You are amazing in your own way [Name]. Life is so short, so enjoy it." You and Aether were almost shocked at the sudden change in tone from none other than Paimon. The high pitched tone was gone in that moment, what came out was the soft spoken, friendly resonance she once spoke with at the beginning of the journey when Paimon was first introduced and guided Aether through Teyvat. "Looks like your the one that took the words right out of my mouth this time." The blonde haired male chuckles. "Paimon's right. We may not be able to understand your troubles outside the screen, but we still want to console you." His hand reaches out, a sign of affection that wont reach you til your next your next visit.

"Your not just our creator, your our friend too, [Name]. Wether we are real or not, we are here for you. Thats what a 'comfort character' is, right?"

You didnt even have to tell them your situation and they already seem to understand you. Their words were enough to relief you of your stress. "Thank you both. I feel so much better now." You wiped your tears away, a determined look on your face with your heart feeling full from the encouragements your filled with.

He heard your sniffles died down to soft laughter. He smiles, knowing you taken their words into account. It reminds him of the times when his sister had these kinds of meltdowns. When her hormones would increase her levels of stress and him being the big brother, comforting her in her times of need. Or atleast thats what his fabricated memories tells him.

"When you come back here, lets have a grand big feast together! Surely the food will make you even more happy!" Paimon's back to that baby tone again as she lifts herself off the ground and flew around Aether with a hopeful look that made him sigh.

"Your only suggesting that so you could eat more huh? We might as well have you as the main dish."

"How many times do I need to tell you? Paimon. Isnt. Food!"

Their conversation tickled the back of your throat. These two really know how to make your day better. Maybe whatever made your creations sentient wasnt such a bad thing after all.

#genshin impact #genshin sagau #sagau angst #genshin x reader #sagau genshin #genshin #fixer sagau #genshin x y/n #aether #genshin aether #aether x reader #aether x you

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mydysfunctionalvampirefamily · 11 days

Text

Dan don't be so casual!!! Your brother is worried about you!!!!

Goddamn Jessie please don't actually go sacrifice for your brother out of guilt.

Dan stop being so fucking casual!!!

Okay side note that has nothing to do with anything. But you can leave bullets inside people, it really depends on where they are. Usually the worst thing is the damage they caused moving. Though I assume the fact that they are silver does mean you should remove them from a werewolf.

Far be it from me to call Jessie a liar, but I do not believe for a second that if Lola tells him it's an unfair deal he is not still gonna take it.

"you wanna eat my ass, fine." tell me there were now kiss motions made on that please!

Why do we need fucking cop to convince everyone they need to get healed. 😂😂

John just being rational is once again the thing that works on Lola and her freak out and refusing medical attention.

��😂 Aviva getting medical help out of pettiness.

Aviva, John would do anything for you, making a bit of ectoplasm is probably the least.

Oh John, my precious emotionally repressed baby, just casually using up dead bodies like you do.

The goblins taking good care of turkey tail. 😭

All this magic is crazy but really cool!!!

This fucking mouse though. His little hat is cute, but he is a LIAR!!!

John once again knowing exactly what to say to get to Lola.

😭😭😭 The mouse wants to save her! I take it back lil moussy.

Me and Aviva are on the same page! The cop wanting a drink with Lola!!! It's the grenadine, it has to be.

Grenadine with energy drink shots. This sounds like the idea you have once you're already way too drunk to function normal the next day and then you think this will stave off a hangover.

They're both going upstairs. 👀 They are gonna sleep in the same bed!

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Fuck me, John. Why are you so good at talking to everyone for their benefit??? Like no offense but you're so bad in dealing with yourself.

Ohhh Jessie Jessie Jessie. Seems like a bad idea to insult an owl.

I love it when they role exceptional successes!!! Especially when it is when they're doing smth for someone else.

It's so interesting to finally see some stronger emotions with John. The excitement you hear when he talks about smashing his mom's signs is rare.

Sword in the stone-ing that bat into the windshield with everything that's going on, so petty. 😂

"Carl, this man is a werewolf, do you think he's gonna fuck off?" 😂😂 made me laugh out loud, and people looked at me like I was crazy.

He just ended Carl in one shot!

Sure, not feeling pain and going numb is definitely the healthy thing to do after cold blooded murder...

They're extra giggly today, are they nervous?

Also Tim is the irl Miles of that group, telling everyone to focus. 😂

Oh my God!!! They are not fucking around, Aviva just chopping a dead man's legs and hands off. (btw why just stop at the hands at this point and not go full arms?)

You know if you hear about a matter wizard and a wizard of space and time the matter wizard kind of sounds like a dweeb, but actually it's fucking badass.

I am screaming! Fucking Ramona, really thinking giving him a dad will stop him from this. Like she's smart, but she's fucking stupid.

Oh no Lola's worst moment is so awful, and so sad.

The sound of rolling dice is so good.

I hate Ramona so fucking much. She is delusional at this point thinking she's doing the right thing and all creepy calm. Why are parents the fucking worst?!?!

To be fair I like to hate Ramona though, I love hating awful parents.

This fucking magic dagger tho! And Dan himself too obviously but omg.

"I only remember things that are important." yikes!

We love a villain that believes they working for the greater good.

"Consequences are for lesser beings." woooooooooh I hate this bitch.

SHE'S JUST DEAD?!?!

Oh no of course she's not.

The fact that John really doesn't feel pain rn is really so much like his mom. He's on the edge.

Noooo Aviva can't die. 😭

Not the look of confusion, that is kind of sad.

Nope nope, I am in a store rn I cannot listen to this. Will continue listening when I get home

Jesus fuck! I was right to not listen to the last 15 minutes in the store. Good lord. 😭😭

I'm laughing and crying at the same time at Jessie just being gone.

Rob shut your fucking face 😭 (said lovingly obviously)

John casting a spell to finish all this, while having Aviva in his arms. STOP 😭

What??? *insert jlaw gif of what does it mean?!?*

What what what??? Ernie???? NOOOOOOOO Rob stop!! This is illegal!!!! What are you doing???

Okay... But this means there is gonna be a sequel right????

I will post some more thoughts later maybe, but I need to center myself because fuck me.

#path of night podcast #pon liveblogging #forgetting ashville #Episode 13

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winterwidowtickles · 2 years

Text

Relax.

Coming home from a mission was always stressful for Natasha.

For one, she wanted to be absolutely sure no one followed her back to her apartment. For another, she didn’t like coming home to silence.

But mostly, it was because ever since Bucky had moved in, she was afraid of leading someone back to him.

Tonight, when she came home, still dressed in the disguise she’d worn on her mission. He met her at the door with a kiss. And she knew he could tell she was on edge.

After the third or fourth time of her jumping every time someone walked down the hall outside their door, Bucky felt he had to do something.

The little black dress that she wore was strapless, with slits down the side that left very little to the imagination. and left a lot of her figure exposed.

“You’re so tense,” Bucky sighed, while Natasha’s focus was directed out the window to the parking lot below.

“Let’s do something about that.”

Before Natasha could react, Bucky’s good hand was exploring her ribcage, ticking her vulnerable ribs. Instantly, the redheaded widow jumped up from the couch where they’d been sitting, Bucky had a smile on his face and a light in his eyes, Natasha knew that look.

“Run.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. Kicking off her heels, Natasha sprinted for the bedroom, Bucky in hot pursuit behind her.

He chased her around the room, like a cat playing with a mouse, until at last he had her cornered between the bed and the wall.

“Don’t you dare.” Natasha said as her boyfriend approached her, Bucky still had that look on his face, maybe if she was quick enough she could still escape.

She waited a moment too long, no sooner had she thought about escaping, then Bucky had grabbed her and wrestled her onto the bed.

“I think someone, needs to relax.” Bucky said once she was on the bed and he was hovering over her.

“This is not my idea of relaxing!” A devilish smirk came over Bucky’s face at Natasha’s words.

“James!” Her voice held a warning. Which he ignored, retaliating with a playful:

“Natalia.” Before reaching for her with both hands, fingers, cold vibranium and warm flesh, digging into her sensitive ribcage.

Natasha exploded into giggles, but every time she reached for him to try and stop him from tickling her, he quickly dodged her.

It was a general rule, that they didn’t use restraints when they did this, it reminded them both too much or the ordeals they had been through. But it seemed like they didn’t need them, because every time he tickled her Natasha was rendered helpless by laughter.

“There’s that pretty smile!” Bucky cooed as he tickled her lower ribs.

“Go to hell!” Was Natasha’s response through laughter. Which only went up an octave when Bucky began to tickle her stomach.

“So rude,” he said mock offended, Natasha shook her head, still laughing as she tried to throw the super soldier off of her, but to no avail.

“Apologize.” But Natasha was laughing too hard, as the soldier spidered his fingers over her abdomen.

“No? I guess I got to bring out the big guns then.” Bucky said ceasing the tickling to Natasha’s stomach.

Natasha frowned to herself, what was he planning? Usually, her stomach was her kill spot, Bucky could tickle her there for hours, hell. Natasha was so sensitive on her stomach that kisses even tickled!

And then she felt it.

the light scratching on the ball of her nylon clad foot.

The Black Widow squealed and tried to pull away, but Bucky quickly put her feet in a headlock.

“Say you’re sorry.” Bucky instructed, as Natasha tried in vain to free her feet.

“No, no, no, Jahahamse!” Once again, Bucky was tickling her, just below the toes. Normally, tickling Natasha’s feet would result in a few giggles. But the silky black nylon was only making matters worse.

“I don’t think that’s an apology.” He was scratching at her arches now, clearly enjoying himself, Natasha could barely breathe, she was laughing so hard.

“I-I’m sohohohohohohory! Please! James, I- I can’t...”

“What are you sorry for?” Damn him! He said it as casually as if he were commenting on the weather. All the while, switching between her arches and tickling her toes.

“I’m sohohohry for telling you to go to hell!” Natasha said, but the torture didn’t stop.

“And, what else?”

“A-And for coming ho-home so tense!” Those must have been the magic words, because Bucky released her feet, and smiled at her.

“Do you feel better now?” He asked, laying down beside her on the bed.

“I’m just trying to protect us.” Natasha said flinching away, expecting more tickles.

“I know,” His metal hand reached up to play with her hair.

“But I promise you, there’s nowhere safer than here.” The cool metal of the vibranium was massaging her scalp now, and Natasha sighed.

Finally relaxing.

#tickle fic #buckynat tickles #winterwidow tickles #tummy tickles #feet tickles #rib tickles #natasha romanov is ticklish #ticklish!natasha #ler!bucky #marvel tickle

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hellbubu · 1 year

Text

I’m handsome, tall, and rich

Chapter 19

AN: I might not update in a bit. I will probably be busy the next couple of weeks so updates will either slow down or be shorter.

“What happened just now?” Kakashi pulled away. He still kept close to Sasuke, never taking his eyes off him.” Does this mean we’re now together?”

It was almost like time had slowed down. Kakashi could almost hear soft music playing in the background. Sasuke was looking up at him with wide eyes and his mouth was slightly open. Kakashi could just tell that the moment Sasuke regained his bearings he’d say yes.

“No!” Sasuke pushed him away.” No, sir.”

“Huh?”

“This is- uh. This is a mistake.”

“What? A mistake?”

“Can we pretend it never happened?” Kakashi remained silent. He was still as a statue.” I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sasuke walked away. Sasuke had just made it out the door when Kakashi caught up to him.” Hold on! Wait!”

Sasuke stopped in his tracks. He slowly turned to Kakashi as he spoke.

“So you’re just gonna leave like this?”

“Hey, Sasuke!” Before either of them could speak, Genma showed up.” Where were you? We’ve been looking for you for ages!”

“Let’s go then.” Sasuke walked in the opposite direction to Kakashi.

Kakashi closed the door to his home office and sighed. He touched his lips with his fingertips, he could almost feel Sasuke’s touch and warmth.

“He wanted to kiss me but now it’s a mistake?” Kakashi ran a hand through his hair.” How can he be so good at playing with me?”

Sasuke laid in bed, wide awake, regretting every single decision he had made in his life.

“Maybe I should’ve saved my vacation days.”

He tried his best to think of ways to avoid Kakashi, but none would 100% work, after all, Kakashi could just show up unexpectedly like he did that day.

Subconsciously, his fingers played with his lips as he fell asleep.

“Morning, guys,” Sasuke yawned as he walked into the office. He saw that everyone had crowded around Karin, watching something on her desktop. That let Sasuke know that that day wouldn’t be an easy one.” What’s going on?”

“There he is! The best worker!” Suigetsu exclaimed.

Sasuke walked around to see Karin’s screen. Yesterday’s video was playing.

“You have to focus on the board,” Sasuke read out loud the text that showed on the screen as he chopped the onions while keeping eye contact with Kakashi.

“It’s company policy to never put artificial coloring on our sauces,” the Sasuke from the video said as he whipped at his coat,” this will be easy to get off. It’ll just need some water and soap.”

“Why would they upload that?”

“Chill.” Suigetsu grabbed the mouse and scrolled to the comments.” They love you.”

“He’s really pulling all the weight,” Karin read out loud.

“If his boss is watching, he should give him a bonus.” Juugo pointed at a comment.

“If you receive a bonus you better take us out!”

“As I mentioned yesterday,” Karin said ignoring the previous comment,” I want you all to think of five or more product ideas for the dumplings.”

“We’re marketing overseas, right?”

“Yeah. I want only your best ideas.”

The moment Sasuke sat down at his desk, his phone started buzzing. The screen lit up showing a call from Kakashi. Sasuke quickly declined the call.

“So now you’re not picking up my calls?” Kakashi muttered as he locked his phone. He looked out the window like some sort of drama villain, except he wasn’t on the top floor and this wasn’t his building.

“It’s all ready.” Naruto interrupted his thoughts.

Kakashi sighed and walked towards where the rest were gathered.

“I’ll take the photo now!” The photographer said once everyone was holding the giant check.

“Wait up!” A good-looking middle-aged woman wearing a light blue, v-necked midi dress slowly walked towards them.” Just a moment please.”

The woman placed herself right at the center. She just barely head onto the check and posed for the picture.

“Thank you for letting me be a part of this.” Kakashi shook a man’s hand. Naruto stood behind him and off to the side.

The man faked-laughed in return before excusing himself.

“Excuse me, President Hatake.” The woman from before intercepted him.

“That’s Director Hyuga Ah-lin from the art museum,” Naruto whispered to him.

“Long time no see,” she said as she held a hand to him as though she expected him to kiss it.

“It’s been a while.” Kakashi held her hand.” I don’t think I’ve seen you since the opening ceremony three years ago.”

“You’ve become even more good-looking.” She chuckled.” Maybe it’s because of how long you were in New York.”

She tried to push her hand closer to Kakashi’s face as if to make him kiss it. He let it go once, twice, by the third time he let go of her hand.

“Do you really think so?”

“Let me put it this way,” she started,” your software and your hardware are both good. One could say you’re perfect inside-out.” She looked at him almost smugly before continuing,” It’s no wonder you weren’t happy with Hinata.”

Behind them, Naruto bit his tongue as he gave the woman a nasty look.

“It’s fine.” The woman waved her hands in front of her.” She’s my niece, that’s true, but, objectively speaking, you’re out of her league.”

“President Hatake,” Naruto interrupted before leaning in to whisper something to Kakashi.

“My apologies, but other matters require my attention.”

“Of course. I’ll see you next time.” She watched Kakashi walk away, not letting the opportunity of checking him out escape. Her phone vibrated and she answered the call without even looking at the caller.” Yeoboseyo?”

” Auntie! Do you think you can get me a position at the museum?”

“No.” Her voice was almost stern, almost comforting.” If you quit Hinata will snatch your position. Is that okay with you?”

” I don’t really-”

“No! It’s not okay with you!” She raised her voice slightly.” I can ask father to make you senior manager director instead.”

”Really?”

“I’m still at a meeting, but we can have dinner tonight.” Kakashi overheard Naruto on the phone.” Okay. I’ll see you at home. Bye.”

Kakashi walked towards him just as Naruto turned around.

“You have nothing else scheduled, do you want me to drop you at yours?”

“I have something personal to attend to, so I’ll be leaving now.”

“Where? I can-”

“No thanks. I’d rather drive myself. You can go home.”

“Huh?”

“Clock out.” Kakashi gave him a stern look.” You’re basically my brother, so take this as a favor. Go and enjoy your evening. But most importantly your dinner.” Kakashi winked at him before walking away.

Sasuke and Kakashi quietly sat in the car. The tension and awkwardness were thick.

“I think we have something to talk about.”

“Talk about?” Sasuke frowned before his eyes widened.” Oh, I thought we were already done talking about it.”

“Who said we were done?”

“I’m pretty sure I told you to pretend it never happened.”

“So, you’re telling me, after initiating the kiss, that it was a simple mistake?” Kakashi turned his head to properly look at Sasuke.” Don’t you think that’s a bit one-sided? Plus, you’ve been ignoring my calls!”

“It’s just that we were standing so close and- and our lips bumped!” Sasuke did a motion like fist bumping himself.” It was kinda like a fender bender.”

“A fender bender?” Kakashi looked at Sasuke indignantly.” Are my lips some sort of parking post?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Let me get this straight, then. Yesterday was just a mistake you made because of lust and not feelings for me?”

“What do you mean lust? It wasn’t even a heated kiss!” Sasuke took a deep breath to calm himself.” Look, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I don’t care if was a mistake. The fender-bender was your fault so you’re responsible for the damages.”

“Yeah.” Sasuke closed his eyes and sighed.” I’ll take responsibility and do my best to pay you back for it.”

Kakashi smirked, his head was turned to the side so that Sasuke couldn’t see it.

“Very well.” Kakashi droved away.” To pay me back for the kiss, take me to dinner.”

Sasuke almost choked on air as soon as he opened the menu.” How can someone as rich as you ask me to buy you this!”

“I thought you were going to handle it?”

“The worst thing is that the kiss wasn’t even good,” Sasuke muttered as he tried to find the cheapest things on the menu.

“Did you say something?”

“That I didn’t do it by myself. You kiss me back.”

“You’re saying you were not the only one responsible for it?”

“Indeed I am.”

“I’ll take some responsibility, then.” Kakashi crossed his arms.” I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life as a person cares for their partner.”

“Smooth change of topic.” Sasuke rolled his eyes.

“You know how I feel. How did you expect me not to react when the hot, sexy man I like kisses me?”

“ Are we really having this conversation right now? In public?”

“If you don’t want to pay me back with dinner, do it another way.”

“I feel like I don’t want to know what the other way is.” Sasuke had given up on finding something cheap on the menu. He set it down at one end of the table. It was nearly impossible to concentrate with Kakashi saying that kind of thing.

“I think paying back with what one received is acceptable.” Kakashi’s expression was completely serious as he said that.” An eye for an eye or, in this case, a kiss for a kiss.”

“What did you say you were ordering?” Sasuke picked up the menu again.

“Good evening,” the waiter said,” here’s your amuse-bouche.”

“Thanks.” Sasuke watched him set it on the table and tried his best not to think about how much it cost.

Click! Click! Click!

Genma sat behind a long table as a photographer took close-ups of his dishes. The man then backed up to take a picture of him alongside the dishes.

“Chef Shiranui, could you smile more naturally?”

“Sure.”

“One second, please.” Anko told the photographer.” I think he might be nervous.”

“Alright. Let’s take a short break then.”

She walked toward Genma and fixed his hair.

“What are you doing?” Genma looked up at her.” You didn’t ask if I wanted this.”

“Why are you complaining? Others would love to be in your place.” Anko let her hands fall to her sides, she tried to keep on the mask of a happy, dotting girlfriend.” You’ve been acting like this lately.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever since we came back from Sokcho you’ve been acting like you’re mad at me.”

“I’ve been busy because of work and it never leaves my mind.”

Anko rolled her eyes. Before she could speak the photographer spoke to Genma,” I just wanted to say that you have a great social media presence.”

“I didn’t expect you to have seen that.” Anko responded in Genma’s stead.” Thank you.”

“That part where the researcher talked about the sauce and food coloring was good. It was scripted, right?”

“I think it-”

“It wasn’t,” Genma spoke up,” Sasuke isn’t all that good of an actor to act out and react that quickly.”

Anko walked away. In a corner of the restaurant, she opened the video of Genma and Sasuke. She went to the comments. Most of them seemed to be about how good they seemed to be together and how they must be dating.

“Do you not like the food?”

Sasuke chewed slowly so that he didn’t have to answer immediately. How could he enjoy the food when just thinking about it made his wallet hurt?

“The food’s fine.”

“What’s with all this food?” Kakashi asked as another server brought more food to their table.

“We would like for you to taste-test our newest menu, sir.”

“Asking your customers to do your work?” Kakashi asked in a light, joking tone.

“I’m more than sure your palette is much more delicate than mine, sir.” The man chuckled.” It’d be an honor if you obliged.”

“Alright.”

“Thank you.”

Sasuke adverted his eyes from Kakashi’s mouth because seeing him eat a pastry made him have the type of thoughts he’d rather have in private. The way he licked his lips and the way they moved as he bit the pastry made Sasuke wish Kakashi had something else in his mouth.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“I need to use the restroom.”

Sasuke got up and power walked to the restroom.

“I should probably buy a toy,” Sasuke muttered in front of the mirror. He splashed some water on his face and mentally prepared himself before walking out.

As he walked back toward their table he heard someone playing the piano. He peeked from behind a plant to see Kakashi sitting at the piano. The way Kakashi’s fingers danced caused Sasuke to, once again, have thoughts he’d rather have in private.

Sasuke sat back at their table just before Kakashi finished the song. He clapped alongside the other patrons as Kakashi walked toward him.

“I didn’t know you could play the piano.”

“Didn’t I tell you that I’m good at many things?”

“So you play the piano for every person you meet?” Sasuke’s tone was light but Kakashi turned somewhat serious.

“I won’t answer that question. It is more fitting for people in a relationship.” Kakashi then put a charming smile on his face.” If you want to hear the answer, we can always change our status.”

“You sound so fucking desperate,” Sasuke whispered before raising his voice.” I’d better grab the check.” Sasuke turned to a waiter.” Could you bring us the check, please? My coat and wallet too, if you don’t mind.”

Two waiters walked towards them with their coats.

“The check?” Sasuke asked.

“Your meal’s already been paid for.”

Sasuke looked at Kakashi questioningly. Kakashi just bid the waiters good night and walked away.

“Wait.” Sasuke rushed to catch up with Kakashi.” Why did you do that?”

“I thought about it for a bit.” Kakashi paused” It would be so absurd for this to be payback for a kiss, would it not?”

“Huh?”

“I’ll just have you pay me back with something bigger.”

“What are you trying to get from me?”

“If not–” Kakashi paused. His eyes traveled to Sasuke’s lips.” – you can always pay me back with something else.”

“I’d rather not.” Sasuke took a step back.” Since you already paid there’s nothing I can do. Next time, it’ll be on me.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” He smiled before walking away.” Maybe we should eat steak next time.”

Sasuke just sighed thinking of the bill.

#mj's writing #kakasasu #kakashi hatake #sasuke uchiha #fic: im handsome. tall. and rich #naruto

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sandbees · 3 years

Text

Yuu and the House of Mouse; The...Great Seven?

It’s been three weeks since Yuu has worked at the House of Mouse.

Headmaster Crowley decided that going would be a great experience! He graciously gave you permission to work there! (Just don’t forget to do your homework and get a good rest after; he doesn’t want you to be lagging behind your classes after all!)

At the House of Mouse, you eventually learned the ins and outs; and you’ve gained everyone’s attention. They like you a lot! You have this, “If I talk to you about my problems you’ll listen kindly and either give me advice or continue to let me vent out my feelings” vibe.

Being a (sort of) therapist must have helped, huh?

You yourself have a few favorite guests that you can always look forward to seeing;

Tiana and Naveen: You hit it off when you first met. Something about their dynamic and allowing you to vent about back at Twisted Wonderland gave you good vibes about them. They’re polite guests, and they have given you advice on how to improve your work. Tiana has (once) invited you to work for them if you wanted to work at another job, but you tell them that you have school. They’re immediately concerned, because someone going to school working at a job with very demanding and colorful characters? You assure them that you’ve manage to balance school and work, however they seem less than convinced. Though nothing big changed, they occasionally remind you to take breaks and to have fun watching the cartoons on screen when you’re not busy waiting tables. (They also give you candy from their time! Butterfingers, anyone?)

Hades: He’s a frequent guest at the House of Mouse. You had lent an ear to his complaints, and then again, and then again, and soon enough you’re his personal therapist. You’re the go-to waiter whenever Hades shows up; much to the delight of the staff (The penguin waiters are...a little scared of Hades). It’s surprising how little he seems to reflect Ignihyde. He’s like a shut in extrovert. However, when you tell Hades this, he becomes very interested in your world. He’ll let you ramble about what you know about Twisted Wonderland, and he’s going to make smug comments about it. After that encounter, Hades starts conversations with you that isn’t just complaining about his siblings. In fact, he’s one of your pep talkers when you’re feeling stressed or down.

The Darling Siblings: If you don’t recognize them, they’re the siblings from Peter Pan! (Wendy, John, and Michael) When you first met them, they acted very polite. And they gave “children, protect them” vibes. As you continue to work, you discover that the children had a more playful side to them. You could easily joke with them and in exchange Wendy would tell you stories or John and Michael would tell you about their recent adventures.

Scrooge McDuck: Donald introduced him to you, actually. He mentioned, “Since you sound like you’ve been on a lot of adventures, I think you might like to share stories.” How right he was. Scrooge’s stories were captivating and enchanting, you’d always be on the edge of your seat hearing them. Whenever he swung by and you were on break, you two would be swapping stories of your lives. He was most interested in your first day story; about the magical chandelier specifically. You always look forward to a new story he would have.

Of course there were others, but the ones listed above were the people you loved seeing.

Today was a typical night in the House of Mouse, though everyone seemed...a little agitated?

You ask Mickey, and he explains that there was a reservation for a villain get together...and last time, it went poorly.

You offer to serve them as a waiter, since you’re sure that you can handle it.

“Are you sure?” “I’ve dealt with worse characters...I think. By the way, can I get the list of who’s going?”

You find out Hades was the one who reserved it (oh thank goodness, someone you’re already familiar with. And he likes you)

He’s also bringing - “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” “The Queen of Hearts, Scar, Ursula, Jafar, The Evil Queen, and Maleficent.” “I-“

Imagine your shock when you find out Hades is bringing all of the Great Seven. You’ve already met Maleficent, but someone like the Queen of Hearts, or the Beautiful Queen??? You’re ready to walk to your doom right now.

When the doors open, you go about your night as usual, though your on edge as you anxiously wait for the Great Seven to arrive. This would be the first time you would be interacting with most of them.

When they arrive, you greet them and take them to their table, doing normal procedure.

However, things go south when Hades asks Yuu to come and have a chat with them when they go on break.

“yeAH suuurrreee-“ “Great! They have a lot of questions and I think they’d like to hear what you have to say!”

Yuu is making high pitch dying screams when she gets to the kitchen.

“Oohhhh my god, they want to talk to me. What if I mess up? What if they dislike me and then try to kill me? Oh no oh no-“

Yuu is trying not to scream in excitement and stress as Mickey excuses her to talk with the Great Seven.

The meeting? It goes well.

When they ask about their world, Yuu describes their time at NRC, and how the villains were praised as good people, and were known as the “Great Seven”.

They were very intrigued about this, and would always puff up when Yuu praised them. They also ask questions about Yuu as well!

What? They’re villains, but they’re not rude.

They listen to your tales, and are sympathetic to the idiots that you surround yourself with. They get it, they are also surrounded by idiotic, self centered heroes who think they’re in the right- (projecting much?)

The Queen of Hearts is a lot more than you expected; she’s strict, but she also has good humor (as long as you don’t mock her). When you ask what kind of tarts she likes, she responded with “Any kind of tart, however jam filled tarts are one of my favorites.”. You wonder if she’d like the tarts Trey would make.

Scar...isn’t talkative, though he seems very pleased when you talk about what NRC thinks of him. He’s actually kinder to you - you’ve heard stories from Goofy and the penguins waiters that Scar is hard to please.

Ursula is what you would call a sweet talker. Kind of like Hades, but you can tell that she wants something. You indulge her, answering any questions about your world. She seems particularly interested in the rivalry between NCR and RSA, however.

Jafar wants to know everything about Scarabia. From it’s current standing to it’s history. You try your best to explain as much as you know about the dorm; but you mention that your information is limited since it wasn’t your dorm. He’s satisfied with what you give, but Jafar tells you that next time, he’d like to know more. You better go study up on Scarabia now :) (Or ask Kalim or Jamil about Scarabia)

The Beautiful (Evil?) Queen acts smug, and she seems relaxed around your presence. Maybe it’s because you told her that she’s known as the Beautiful Queen? She wants to know who is housed in her dorm, and like Jafar, she wants to know everything about Pomfiore. When she heard about the VDC, she asks multiple questions about it. (“When the VDC comes around, maybe I shall grace everyone with my presence...hmm, or should I help NRC’s team? I mean, they would represent me, of course.”

I’ve actually mentioned that you have met Hades and Maleficent in this ask

Hades and Maleficent consider you as friends (maybe not close friends, but friends nonetheless)

The rest of the Great Seven also have positive opinions on you; and they try their best to live up to your expectations! They can’t have you turn your back on them after you openly praise them!

You’re dragged away from your job - instead you focus on entertaining the Great Seven! (Which was fine, Pete was at it again by trying to drive out the guests; you kept the Great Seven in so they could still run the show!)

As the night went on, you felt yourself getting less and less nervous about being with the Great Seven. You had loads of fun!

Of course the show ended sooner than you liked; and it was closing time.

“It was really wonderful to meet you! Maybe we’ll see each other again when the House of Mouse opens again?”

“Why would we wait for nighttime? I have a magic portal to travel to Twisted Wonderland whenever we’d like.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Turns out Maleficent had an easier way to travel to Twisted Wonderland; but she gave you a sparkling gem. She told you that when she gave everyone (The Great Seven) a way to travel to Twisted Wonderland, they’d surely visit you. With the gem, it will sparkle and shine a certain color when they do.

The color? Well, of course it would be the dorm colors! It would be easier that way, would it not?

So, in the near future, the Great Seven would be able to visit you.

What do you think? You’re not against the idea; but the idea of one of them showing up during class is going to be a nightmare.

Oh well, future you will worry about that.

You thank Maleficent and go about returning to your world.

Before you get to the mirror, Mickey stops you.

“Hey, I just wanted to thank you for making sure the villains stay, it was a lifesaver and you saved our show.” “No...problem?” “Haha, our club would’ve been toast if they left! Thank you again!” “...Your welcome?”

And then you departed from the House of Mouse, immediately crashing onto your bed. Lazily, you take a glance at your mirror, wondering when you’ll see the Great Seven.

Then you promptly fall asleep.

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bullshxtvixen · 4 years

Text

On Mute

Pairing: Kenma x Reader

Request: This is me making the request for sucking Kenma while he streams. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I NEED IT! - @queenktbigal

Word count: 3.2k (oops)

Warnings: 18+, Softdom!Kenma, Bondage, Spanking, Finger fucking.

Song: Gravity by John Mayer

A/n: Thank you to @kiribakuho and @egghoe-waffle for reading this over for me, and to everyone in the karasuhoe discord server for thirsting over this idea with me, i hope i did it justice!!

You can find the sequel to this fic here

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

“Kenmaaaaa.”

Standing in the doorway of your boyfriend's gaming room in nothing but one of his old volleyball shirts and a thin pair of underwear, you looked at the back of the brunette’s head with a pout. He’d spent the last 2 hours streaming with the boys and you were desperate for some attention.

Pulling his headset back slightly to free up an ear, he mumbled to the guys about hopping off for a second before he turned to you, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. You watched his eyes widen slightly as he took in your bare thighs and his old shirt loosely clinging to your form -even though he no longer played, he still got a thrill out of seeing you wearing his number. He shuffled in his seat, tempted to reach out and slip the shirt off of you.

His eyes lingered on your thighs a moment longer, his tongue darting out to coat his bottom lip before his golden eyes met yours. A smirk forms on your lips at the blush covering his cheeks.

“I-I’ll be done after this game, I promise, bunny.” He turned back to the game, repositioning his headset. He needed to finish the game but his mind was already distract by thought of his fingers running up and down the soft skin of your thighs.

Your smirk disappeared.

You were well aware that ‘After this game’ could mean anywhere from another 20 minutes to an hour, and you were too needy for that. You needed to feel his hands on you.

You watched him a moment longer before a thought occurred to you. Let’s see if he can concentrate after this. Peering over his shoulder, you checked to make sure that he was only streaming via audio before shimmying your underwear down your legs and kicking them to the side. His shirt fell just below your butt so you were still covered.

Without bringing too much attention to yourself, you crept over to the side of his gaming chair before sinking to your knees. He was so engrossed in the game and mumbling commands under his breath that he didn’t notice you until you began to slowly turn his chair towards you, and even then his eyes never left the monitor in front of him. It wasn’t unusual for you to climb into his lap when he was gaming so he didn’t think anything of it.

However, his head did snap in your direction, when he felt your fingers tug on the waistband of his sweatpants, “what are y-oh” it was too late for his hand that was reaching out to stop you. His cock was already released from it’s confines with your hand wrapped firmly around it, gently stroking his shaft. He immediately became hard under your touch and knowing that you had that effect on him had desire pooling in your stomach.

You subtly rubbed your thighs together to create some friction.

Covering his mic with one hand, his free hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist, halting your movements. “What are you doing, bunny?!” He hissed, though you felt his cock twitch in your hand. He was getting turned on just as much as you.

You shot him a wicked smile before stroking your thumb over the tip on his cock, a move you knew would drive him wild.

His reaction was immediate, his hips bucked up into your hand as he bit back the moan that was threatening to leave his throat.

‘I want to suck your cock’ you mouthed before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the head of his now leaking member.

Kenma knew he should’ve pushed you away, or at least quit the game and carried you to the bedroom so he could take you there, but the sight of you pulling back from his cock with his precum coating your lips as if it were lipgloss, had all sense of reason flying out of his brain.

If that’s how you wanted to play, then so be it.

“Give me a sec, guys.” He mumbled into his mic as he uncovered it before hitting the mute button. Releasing your wrist from his grasp, he reached for your chin, his soft fingers tilting your head so you could meet his eyes. Desire swirled in them, causing your body to heat up under his gaze.

His usual laid back demeanor had gone and was now replaced with hunger. He wanted you, and the look alone told you his was going to have you begging for him.

He leaned forward so that his face was hovering just above yours, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. His warm breath ghosted over your lips, sending another shiver down your spine as his scent wrapped around you.

“You want to suck my cock, bunny?” His thumb swiping across your bottom lip before giving it a gentle tug. You nodded, giving his cock a gentle squeeze to convey your need for him. He leant back, a small smirk falling on his lips.

“Then suck it,” he held up a finger before you could move an inch, “but I’m going to finish this game and unmute the mic while you do it.”

You tensed. While the thought of sucking him off when there was a risk of people overhearing turned you on, you couldn’t help but still be a little apprehensive about it. Looking at Kenma, you could see that he thought he’d won as a smug smile settled on his features. He didn’t think for a second you’d go through with it.

Reaching over his desk, you pressed the unmute button so that the light switched from red to green, meaning that the mic was back on. “Game on.” You whispered.

Then your hot tongue was on his cock, licking a slip up his thick shaft before taking the tip into your mouth. He had to bite down on his lip to stop himself from moaning as your tongue danced around his tip, licking up the precum that was still collecting there. God, he did he taste good. There was no way you’d ever get bored of the way he tasted.

Turning his head back to the game, he managed to keep his voice level as he let the other players know that he was back in.

That just wouldn’t do. You wanted to see him writhe under your touch.

Hollowing your cheeks you began to take more of him into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around him as you did. You loved how big his cock was, even as it hit the back of your throat and caused you to gag, you only continued to suck harder.

Your free hand gripped his thigh as your head continued to bob up and down his length, your hand working what you couldn’t fit passed your lips. Meeting his eyes, he mouthed ‘all of it.’ before giving a gentle thrust of his hips and turning back to the game. As he hit the back of your throat once again, you felt your throat protest. Pulling away for air, you felt his hand reach down to fist in the back of your hair, preventing you from taking his cock all the way out of your mouth.

You moaned around what was left between your lips, the vibrations almost causing him to spill into your mouth right there. Fuck, did you feel good, he should’ve known his third favourite hole of yours would be able to work him well enough to have him ready to cum in minutes. He wasn’t going to let you have that satisfaction though.

Even still, that mouth of yours knew exactly how to work his cock and he was having a hard time remembering how to breath properly, let alone concentrate on the game in front of him.

“You good, Kenma?” Kuroo’s voice came through the headset.

“Y-yeah, just having some issues...with my controls.” He said, his voice higher than he’d meant it to be as your mouth made a sinful sound around him.

“You sure, I thought I heard a weird noise…”

“It’s nothing!” He said quickly, too quickly. He hoped they didn’t press any further. He held his breath for a few seconds, but if Kuroo and the rest of the party suspected anything, they didn’t voice it. He let out a shaky breath.

Good. He didn’t actually want them to hear the lewd sounds your mouth was making as you took his cock down your throat. Those sounds belonged to him and only him.

He loosened his grip on your hair but you continued to take him further as your throat relaxed around his length, your nose now hitting the spatter of dark pubic hairs at the base of his cock. When you hummed around him and brought your fingers up to gently massage his balls, his whole body seemed to convulse under your touch.

Shaking his head, he tried to focus back on the game, his grip on the mouse a little tighter. His eyes followed his player on the screen when he spotted movement in the corner of the screen.

“Sniper, to the r—” He heard Kuroo -or maybe it was Shoyo, he couldn’t tell anymore, his mind was hazy with lust- call out, but it was too late. It was game over.

Throwing his headset onto the desk, he turned to you, his eyes burning into yours. You felt your walls clench between your thighs, your arousal beginning to leak out of you.

“Up, now.” You didn’t need to be told twice. You stood up in front of him, waiting for him to make the first move.

“Bunny, that mouth of yours...it’s sinful.” His voice was low as his hand reached out to caress your inner thigh, his fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “I couldn’t even concentrate on the game, I just wanted to watch you taking me between those beautiful lips.” Up and up his fingers went, “but now, now I want to see myself disappearing into the ones between your hips.” His fingers reached the apex of your thighs and he groaned.

“You’re not wearing any underwear, Bunny. Did you plan this?” He already knew the answer. You could only moan as he slipped two fingers in you, his thumb beginning to make tight circles on your throbbing clit.

“You’re already dripping and i’ve hardly touched you,” his fingers picked up their pace inside you as the knot in your stomach began to tighten, “always so ready for me like the good girl you are. Even if I couldn’t feel how wet for me you are, I’d be able to tell from those sounds your pussy is making around my fingers.”

You could only whimper at his words and grasp onto his shoulders as he curled and scissored his fingers, stretching your walls in the most intoxicating way. Your legs began to tremble as his other hand shot out and gave you a firm smack on your ass.

“Put your foot up here, bunny.” his fingers continued to work inside you as you placed your foot on his chair next to his leg. Your head fell back as he was now able to slide another finger inside you and reach even deeper than before, brushing against your sweet spot with every movement of his wrist.

“Fu-, Kenma, fuck. Oh god.” Your words were failing you as he continued to pump his fingers inside of you, his palm now pressing against your clit as your fingers dug into his shoulders. He groaned at the feeling, dipping his head down to kiss your inner thigh. You were his and only he could ever make you feel this good, you both knew it.

“I want you to cum on my fingers, now.” Then his teeth were nipping at your inner thigh as he pressed his fingers against your g spot. Kenma watched as your orgasm consumed you, your hanging out the side of your mouth and your eyes closed as the ecstasy ran though your body.

His cock was throbbing unbearably now, his hand reaching down to stroke himself as he felt your walls continue to clench around his fingers that were still moving inside you, prolonging your orgasm as much as he could. He wasn’t done with you just yet.

Before you had a chance to come down from your orgasm, he was removing his digits from your greedy cunt, your juices coating his hand. Your eyes were heavy as you watched him bring the hand to his mouth so that he could lap at your juices.

“You taste amazing, bunny,” he licked some more of your release off his fingers as you brought your foot back down to the ground, your legs unsteady, “no one else will ever get to taste you, you’re all mine.” You were his, you always had been, you both knew it.

“All yours, Kenma. Forever.” you whispered, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. He leaned into it, pressing a kiss to your wrist. His heart swelled at your words, he’d never wanted you more than he did right now.

“Turn around for me, hands behind your back.” You hesitated for a second, searching his eyes for any hint of what he had planned. Unable to find anything you turned and did as he said. You heard shuffling before you felt something being tied around your wrists, securing them in place behind your back.

“Wha-”

Before you could ask what he’d used to tie your wrists, you were spun around and pulled into Kenma’s lap, a knee falling on either side of his thighs. His hands reached out to steady you as you were unable to use your hands to stop you from falling.

His face was just inches from yours. You could see your breath moving the hairs that fell on his forehead, pushing them out of his eyes as they peered up at your disheveled state. His hand came up to brush some of your own hairs out of your face, tucking them behind your ear. He took your chin between his thumb and index finger, bringing you even closer to him.

“Do you have any idea how crazy you make me, Bunny?” then warm lips were on your throat as his hands slipped beneath his shirt you were wearing, trailing his fingers over your stomach and under your breasts before settling on your thighs. You shivered under his touch, your arousal beginning to coil in your stomach again. You whimpered as you pulled at your restraints -that you now realised must’ve been some kind of spare cord from his computer- wanting to touch him.

You could feel his cock pressing against your entrance, your juices coating his tip so that he’d be able to slip inside you so easily.

“Please, Kenma. I-I need you.” You grind down onto him, needing him to fill you.

He let out a groan, his hips coming up to meet yours so that just the head of cock was inside you. He was teasing you, finally getting his own back for how you’d snuck up on him earlier. You tried desperately to sink down onto him but his grip on your hips stopped you. It was driving you mad.

Every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire, there was no one who could drive you crazy like him and he knew it.

Removing a hand from your hip, he reached around your back before grabbing a fist full of your hair and giving it yank, making your head fall back so that your throat was exposed to him.

You yelped at the pain but it was quickly forgotten as Kenma used your vulnerable state to press a kiss to each of your collar bones, before licking a hot path up the hollow of your throat. You shivered at the feel of his tongue on your skin.

Then he was wrapping his free arm around your back and easing you down into his cock, your jaw hanging loose as he finally filled you in the most delicious way.

“Good girl, take it for me.” And you did. He didn’t give you anytime to get accused to his length before his hands were back on your hips and he was guiding you up and down on his hardened shaft.

The feel of him stretching you had your head swimming as you braced your forehead on his shoulder and began to match his pace. The grip he had on your hips was sure to leave marks, but you didn’t care, you craved his hands on you.

Your moans filled the room as you felt another orgasm building. His lips latched onto your neck as he angled his hips to a new position that allowed his cock to hit a spot inside you as stars danced across your vision.

“Kenma, I’m close, I’m so close, please.”

He knew you were, he could feel your walls beginning to clamp around him, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer either.

His thrusts became sloppy as a thin sheen of sweat coated the both of you. His hand grasped your chin and pulled your face to his, needing to feel your lips on his. Your breaths mingled as your stomach tightened once again.

“Cum for me, bunny. Cum on my cock like a good girl.” he whispered against your lips as his arms wrapped around your waist, stilling your movements. He picked up his pace, giving a few more hard thrust inside your sopping pussy, feeling your body seize up in his hold as another orgasm ripped through you.

“Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou.” was all you could say as you were lost to the ecstasy that flowed through your body. It had your eyes squeezing shut and your toes curling as you rode it out.

Kenma followed not long after, his teeth latching onto your shoulder as his warm cum coated your walls. His breathing was heavy as you sank into his chest, his now limp cock falling out of you.

You felt empty for a second before warm lips were placed on your forehead, his hand coming up to brush your hair from your sweaty forehead. He reached around and removed the makeshift restraint from your wrists, placing a soft kiss to the raw skin on each one.

“That was...” you started, unable to find the words.

“Mind blowing?” He muttered into your hair, his voice sleepy. He shifted you in his arms, picking you so he could carry you to the bedroom.

You peaked up at him through your lashes and he gave you one of his private smiles. It made your heart squeeze. He shared so much of himself with you that no one else got to see and it made you unbelievably happy.

Sighing with content, you looked over his shoulder at where he’d just fucked you and you froze in his grasp.

“Um, Kenma...”

He stopped in the doorway. “What is it, bunny?”

You could only nod your head towards the gaming set up and the bright green mute button that you knew should’ve been red if it was on mute.

He turned his head to see what you were referring to. When he realised what you meant, his whole body tensed.

“Oh fuck.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Yeah, so i got a little bit carried away with this request and i’m not sorry. I can’t even begin to describe how much fun i had writing this. I live for soft dom Kenma!! - Vixen

#kenma kozume #kenma x reader #kenma smut #kenma imagine #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu smut #nekoma #kenma #hq #my writing #mine #vixenwrites #haiykuu #vixenscribbles #hq peepee

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cupidsintern · 3 years

Text

the death of hyacinthus - pt. i

this is my old renaissance au with artist!billy and model!steve so enjoy lol

The light spills out onto the floor before the window, making the worn wood of the floor look bright again, like new. The light doesn't reach Steve though. Billy set up the scene like that on purpose, closer to the center of his studio. No direct light. He wants this to be lit like it's the beginning of twilight. In his head, Hyacinth dies at sunset.

The room is silent, has been for a while, other than birds outside the window, a breeze that made the window tap against itself lightly, and fabric shifting if Steve stirs from where he is at all, draped across this haphazard construction of pillows, blankets, and a bench.

That's the word Billy used; “drape”. When Steve got to the studio Billy was kicking pillows around on his little model platform, trying to get everything set up right, hardly even greeting Steve at all before launching into his explanation of how he wanted Steve to look.

“-and he’s dying, but he’s not dead yet,” Billy walked half a circle around the platform, hands out. “So Apollo would- damn-” A pillow fell over, he pushed it back up. “Would be here. So if you can just sort of drape yourself across right here-”

Steve was stripping off the last of his garments when Billy turned back around.

“Here?” Steve finished kicking his stockings off, crossed to step up onto the platform.

Billy swallowed, looking Steve in the eyes because at least it meant he wouldn't look down, slack jawed. “Yeah, that's- that’s perfect.” Steve was already settling in to sitting down, letting his head fall back against the seat of the bench, throat exposed.

The way he was sitting shifted his weight in his hips more; Billy tried to look critically. Not appreciatively. He shouldn’t be appreciating the son of the nobleman that had decided to be his patron. Not that Steve was even supposed to be modeling for him beyond the two portraits he’d already had done.

“Tip your knee down more,” Billy stepps back, takes in the composition.

Steve drops his knee.

“Turn your head towards me.”

Steve obliges. The line of his nose looks perfect at three quarters.

Billy stepps up to the platform again, pulls some of the fabric forward, lets it fall over Steve's legs more, over his groin- good. Less distracting. More poetic or something- and the line of his thighs beneath the fabric has just the heaviness Billy is looking for. He steps back again.

“What’s the myth again?” Steve’s jaw gains definition when he speaks with his head at this angle.

“The Death of Hyacinthus.”

“I know that part.” Steve rolls his hand a little. “The part before that. How does he die?”

“He- hang on.” Billy steps close again to push things around, make the lines right. “The wind- Zephyr- gets jealous of his beauty. Apollo throws a discus, and Zephyr pushes it off course, so it knocks Hyacinth in the head. Apollo holds him while he dies.” Billy says it all matter-of-factly. He's trying not to get distracted. He picks up Steve's arm to tilt back towards him a little. His skin is warm like the sunlight staining the floor.

“That's sad.” Steve says. His arm feels relaxed in Billy’s grip. “Weren't they close? Apollo and Hyacinth.”

Billy feels a familiar warmth at his neck of this topic. This thing that always comes up when he and Steve are alone. “They were lovers.”

Steve doesn't say anything back to that.

Billy gets the composition mostly how he wants it- and he’ll probably try Steve in a couple different poses, this is only for sketching. He takes ages deciding where to set up to actually draw it- Steve makes fun of him. Billy says he’s not the one naked on a pile of old curtains. That makes Steve laugh. His stomach flexes a little when he laughs.

Billy's glad Steve can be part of his process now.

He gets some general gestures down on paper. He really nails the angle of Steve’s throat- which he's proud of. He needs the arch of the thing to be perfect. And he gets the general idea of Steve's features down quick- he’s drawn Steve's face maybe a thousand times by now. The way his arm falls is tricky- he’ll come back to that in a bit.

“Billy.”

Billy looks up at Steve’s voice. He’s sat up a little, something short of coy in his eyes. “I’m cold.” “You’re cold.” Billy says back to him. Because he never does what Steve implies. Only what Steve says.

“Yeah, like you said- I’m bare ass naked on a pile of curtains.”

“Your calling.”

Steve laughs again. “Do you think we could close the door?”

“We?”

“You. Can you close the door.”

“Who’s the revered artist here?”

“Who’s the patron?”

Billy rolls his eyes, but he drops his chalk into the lip of his easel anyway, walks to pull the door to his studio shut, separating them from the rest of the house. Steve left it open in the first place.

“You’re not my patron.” Billy says when he gets back, picks up to start drawing again.

“I’m close.” Steve only sounds a little superior.

He’s right. He is close to being Billy's patron. He recommended Billy to his family, he talked up Billy’s version of the pieta, he introduced Billy to the Influentials of Florence, got him this nice new studio, set up in one of the family houses. He was only a little superior about it.

Mostly he was nice.

Nice to Billy. Excited about the things he drew, always asking him what he was working on.

Asked to sit for him once, twice, how many more times, he was part of the process now.

This might be what having a muse was, if Billy believed in things like having muses.

Steve scratches the back of his calf with a foot, then sets his legs back down.

“I’m surprised you don’t get bored doing this.” Billy cracks two of the knuckles on his drawing hand, shakes out his wrist. He’s only prying a little.

“I like watching you work,” comes Steve's easy reply.

“Still.” Billy smudges at a stray line with his thumb. “You’re always fidgety at dinners and shit. Not here.”

“Dinners are boring.” Steve sighs.

He had expressed that sentiment before. That he found Billy much more interesting than anything his family ever did. That he’d trade his infinite wealth for the virve Billy so possessed. Only he didn't say it like that. He said “I’d trade all of this shit for whatever makes your art so beautiful.”

And Billy said “You wouldn't want to. Trust me.”

Billy, having seared the image of Steve into his brain by now, was adding more definition in places, really letting his focus slide out of his head.

And it’s quiet for a bit. Billy doesn't notice when the silence breaks- the sound of shifting fabric, bare feet on wood floor-

“Shit, that’s really good.” Steve's voice startles Billy a little, but he doesn’t let it show. Just turns a little abruptly to find Steve leaning over his shoulder.

“Looks just like me.” Steve continued, hovering his fingertips over Billy's rendition of his nose.

“You don’t have to sound so impressed every time.” Billy rolled his eyes, pushing Steve’s hand away.

“Oh, excuse me for showing some enthusiasm.” Steve hummed another laugh, still looking at the paper. He traced a finger absentmindedly down his own flesh-and-blood nose, marveling at the likeness.

Billy couldn't focus enough to continue with Steve so close. Not like he’d never seen Steve in next to nothing before. But this was really and truly nothing. And even naked as the day he was born Steve exuded wealth in just the way he stood. Like clothes were nothing but decoration on something already… beautiful.

“Can you go back to your spot, please?” Billy got out, looking away like he was annoyed.

Steve just smiled at him before padding back to his platform, throwing the fabric back over his legs.

But now the composition was wrong-

“So,” Steve’s voice carried across the sun-soaked chambers. “Why Hyacinth?”

“What do you mean.” Billy was trying desperately to collect his thoughts.

“I mean, he’s dating a god, right? Why him? What's so special about him.”

“He’s beautiful.”

“And?”

“Well, I mean, he’s a Spartan prince, he’s legendary. Apollo doesn't even really pick him. Hyacinth has, like, a bunch of people to choose from. He picks Apollo.”

Billy can’t draw like this, especially since Steve fucked up the composition- probably on purpose.

Billy gets up with an unintentional little huff and gets close to Steve again, has to adjust his legs again, avoid staring at the pinks that dust Steve’s everywhere-

“You draw me a lot.” Steve interrupts Billy’s train of thought.

Billy looks up, holding Steve’s wrist like it was his own. “You sit for me a lot-”

“What's your favorite part to draw?”

Billy’s breathing feels thicker, like his throat is coated in honey, sweet but hard to breathe. “Of you?” “Yeah.”

“Your nose.” Billy says easily, because it's safe to say.

Steve smiles. “You've said that before.”

“It's true.” Billy prepares to turn away again, to tell Steve they should get more done while there's still daylight.

Steve’s fingers hook against the palm of Billy's hand. This is playing with fire.

Steve lifts Billy's hand up, touches it to the bridge of his nose.

He can feel the sharp bone under his forefinger.

“Where else?”

Billy inhales. It's a feat. “Your jaw.”

Steve pulls Billy's hand down his cheek to touch his jawline. They’ve been avoiding this forever,

“And?” Cliche game of cat and mouse. Right now, Billy’s the mouse.

“Your shoulders.” Billy watches Steve drag his hand down his perfect neck to the slope of his perfect shoulders. “Steve.”

“Billy.” Steve mocks Billy’s warning tone just a little. “Come on, what else?”

Billy swallows again. He doesn't respond he just lets his hand wander lower, lower, down his chest, to his stomach-

Billy stops his hand, pushes back against Steve’s. “I’ve never drawn you nude, if that's what you’re implying.”

“Maybe you should.” Steve’s finger’s slide up Billy's forearm to hook under the edge of his rolled up sleeve.

“I’d need a couple different references...” Billy trails off. He knows Steve is about to kiss him.

It’s still delicious when he does. No number of days, weeks, waiting for one of them to make a move, of thinking what that move would be, what it would feel like, would have prepared Billy for the spit-sweet taste of a first kiss in the late afternoon.

i might do a part ii or just leave it like this lol

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve x billy #billy x steve #harringrove fanfic #harringrove fic #my fic #my writing #its the renaissance au

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 21 | S.R.)

Summary: Unfortunately, a new case couldn’t have come at a worse time for Reader, who’s starting to feel that dysphoria Spencer’s always warning her about. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Adults w/ Age Gap (10yr), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, BDSM, Daddy Kink, D/s relationship, degradation, brief mention of consensual dub-con, aftercare included, Sub Drop! Word Count: 6k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

The television was playing for itself, the sounds only serving as the background soundtrack to Spencer’s lips as he kissed his way down my neck and over my shoulder. I wanted to be angry or annoyed, but each time his mouth met my skin, my body gave in to him.

And when you gave this mouse a cookie, he took everything else with it. Within a single second of my hips rocking back against him as we lay together on the couch, Spencer’s fingers dug into my hip, forcing me against his painfully obvious erection.

“Spencer!” I whined while my hips continued to move with him, “You said you would watch the movie.”

I had known it was a lie when he said it. We both knew it was always going to end like this. But at the same time, I enjoyed teasing him over the fact that out of the two of us that night, he was the one who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

“Then tell me to stop,” he slurred between his kisses that were sure to leave bruises behind. “Tell me that you don’t want me to do this.”

We both also knew there would be no protest from me, and yet Spencer deemed it necessary to continue to shift the odds further in his favor. The same hand that had pulled me to grind against him pushed forward at a torturous pace until it slid into my underwear.

Once the soft whimper left my mouth, he knew he had won. He’d barely even touched me, and I was already a mess. The flashing colors on the LCD in front of me looked just like the backs of my eyelids. I could hardly tell if my eyes were even open anymore.

“How quickly you change your mind when I do this,” Spencer breathed into my ear as he finally slipped a finger inside of me. “I might be flattered if I didn’t know any better.”

It wasn’t the first time we’d had sex since the disaster; it had been a few weeks since, although it had felt like a lifetime. A lifetime that led us back to where we’d begun, wound so tightly together that my mind couldn’t follow his hands or his lips as they traveled wherever they could, memorizing the way each muscle tensed and twitched in response to his ministrations.

“Please, I—“

“Please what?” he ordered, “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“Whatever you want.”

There was nothing else to say. It was, apparently, both the right and the wrong answer. I say that it was right because I felt his cock twitch against my backside, and I heard the way the breath shuddered from his lungs. But it was also wrong, because I could hear his teeth clack shut and grind together as he growled, “Do you know what you’re asking for, little girl?”

I wanted to be a brat— to remind him how well-acquainted I was with his methods, and that he’d really mostly been all bark and no bite— but something in the rough drag of his finger against my walls made me pause.

So, I said nothing. That wasn’t the right answer, either.

Everything about him became more feral with every passing second. His breath fanned against my ear and burned my already heated skin. When he spoke, the words felt similarly laced with a heat and rage that almost seemed foreign, “Do you have any idea how many filthy, disgusting things I’ve dreamed about doing to you while I couldn’t touch you?”

What was I meant to say? My throat was closing around any options, insistent that my mouth could only make mistakes right now. I could hardly coordinate my lips to my mind, let alone say something witty. And Spencer hardly seemed in the mood for my usual bratty behavior.

My mind flashed back to the last time he was like this. At the time, it had been a result of something terrible. But this time? I think it was actually a part of something beautiful. Despite the trouble that had originally led to him shoving my face into the sheets so he could find some relief, I couldn’t deny that it had felt good to be that reprieve for him.

I couldn’t imagine how good it would feel this time, with no hurt between us except the kind I trusted him to administer.

“Tell me,” I whispered.

“I have a better idea,” he answered quick enough for me to question if he had actually read my mind. Removing his fingers suddenly, I swear I heard a laugh as he whispered, “Let me show you.”

My vision rocked as my body flipped, and before I knew it my hands were scrambling to grab something, anything, to regain control of the situation before I tumbled off the couch. But I should have known better; Spencer wasn’t going to let me fall.

Just as my nails dug into the cushions, he dropped his weight onto my back. I struggled to breathe for a number of reasons, including the fact his fingers had once again found their way into my underwear.

“Remember the last time you let me use you?” he chuckled, bringing his other arm up to cage me in even closer. “You looked so fucking pathetic. Shaking and begging, even as I split you open.”

The only thing I could do was whine and wonder how he managed to maneuver the little space between me and the couch. If he was still worried about hurting me, he didn’t make it obvious. Nothing about him was gentle; he was ruthless and insistent in the most satisfying ways. As he ran his finger back over my sex, a groan rumbled through his chest.

“And you pretended like this isn’t what you wanted? You’re a filthy liar. You’re practically dripping, little girl.”

“Please—” I tried to appeal, but he must have heard it in my voice. I didn’t want him to stop any more than he wanted to. And he didn’t. With all the force I knew him capable of, Spencer’s free hand covered the back of my head, which he promptly shoved down against the cushion.

“I don’t want to hear your stupid fucking excuses,” he spat, his words laced with greed and vitriol that made my stomach and heart do flips in my chest. “Give me your safe word right now,” he ordered, “before I change my mind and leave you a disgusting, whimpering mess right here.”

I turned my face just enough to breathe, loving the way the friction felt on my already flushed cheeks. “S-Starship,” I said through a pleased gasp.

“Look at that. You aren’t completely clueless,” he laughed.

There were no words for how it felt to be crushed beneath his weight while his fingers worked inside me. I still couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t want to, either. It was just another reminder that he didn’t need his hand around my neck to take anything away from me. I was helpless to his whims, and in that cage, I’d never felt freer.

Still, his hands managed to switch between doting and domineering, and he almost seemed merciful when he cooed, “So then what’s your excuse for lying to me? For pretending like you weren’t begging me to do this?”

“I don’t have one, sir,” I slurred, my lips dragging on the cushion with every movement. I could hardly focus on that, though, when Spencer’s weight was lifted from my back. My lungs quickly tried to fill with deep, desperate gasps.

“Wrong answer, little girl.”

The oxygen I did manage to bring in left just as fast when he grabbed my hip, lifting my bottom half until my knees were settled on the couch and my arms were bent by my head. Even when he started to tug my pants and underwear down my legs, he kept his other hand thrusting rhythmically between my legs. I could feel how close I was to losing myself completely to him. I didn’t even fight it, letting all the keening cries and whimpers fall from my lips without any hesitation.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” I sobbed, keeping my face down as hard as I could while I started to shake. But then his fingers stopped, slowly dragging out of me and dragging a wet finger down my leg.

“‘Daddy’ isn’t going to get you out of this one,” he growled.

The burning in my body was unbearable. I couldn’t even push myself back against him or appeal to him in any way. His hand splayed over one cheek dug into the skin and I felt the crescent shapes as they dutifully marked my skin. They were followed by the snapping sound of a firm slap against skin.

There would be so many marks, but all I could think of was how I wanted more.

“I’m sorry,” I cried again, trying to look up at him with that pitiful pout he loved to see.

“No,” he corrected, “You think you’re sorry now, but you aren’t. You will be, though.”

There was no other warning, no further preparation for the feeling of him stretching me open. He was kind enough to move slowly at first, although that tenderness was contrasted by the way he left welts in the wake of his hands, which trailed down my back at the same torturous pace.

Once we were entirely connected, he let his hand drift over my jaw, brushing my hair out of my eyes. I couldn’t keep our gazes together for too long. It felt dangerous, like looking directly at a predator. A challenge to his authority.

But where else could I look, if not at him? My eyes immediately fell forward at the reflection of the two of us in the glass panes of the entertainment console. What I saw sent a shiver down my spine as my desire reached impossible heights.

Spencer felt it, too.

“Go ahead and watch yourself,” he said with equal parts cruelty and kindness, “Watch what you make me do to you.”

So I did. I watched the way his hips carefully pulled away just to snap forward again, burying himself in me and eliciting a pained cry from my throat. Each thrust went just like that, with him bottoming out with a small jolt of pain. I couldn’t complain though, not when I saw the way his head fell back and a moan tore through his chest.

He was beautiful like this. Completely unhinged, animalistic, and… different. Every time I’d found myself at the receiving end of his pent up rage, I wondered which of his personas he related to more, the cool collected FBI agent or the sensual and cocky dominant. Or hell, even the awkward, insecure dork he was at his most comfortable. I was sure that my answer changed with the days, but I couldn’t ignore the freedom we both seemed to achieve in moments like this.

“Spencer,” I whined, my legs pressing back against him. I just wanted to feel him all. I wanted to take him in and keep him safe in my arms. But he was in a less than romantic mood, and before his name could fall again, he cut me off.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Daddy,” I corrected. My eyes left the reflection long enough to glance up and spot his cheeky little smirk.

“Good girl,” he praised. The words caused even more pleasure than the rest of him as he continued to fuck me into the couch. “That’s the only word I want to hear from you. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut.”

I tried to nod, but his hand returned to my head, pushing me harder into the cushion. Immediately, my instincts kicked in, causing my whole body to squirm underneath him. It wasn’t that I was necessarily trying to get away from him, but for a brief moment, I struggled to regain some control. But that seemed to only encourage Spencer’s desire to completely dominate every inch of me.

His hands only got tighter and his movements rougher as he sighed, “Enough. I want to enjoy this.”

Eventually, that fight left me. My body settled into the couch and felt the warmth of his thighs pressed against me and the still growing friction of the fabric on my skin. I focused all attention on the way we looked, lost in each other and the bliss we were creating on a dreary Friday night.

I had no idea how much time passed, but it felt like a lifetime that would never be enough. Every inch of me was brimming with love. I could feel it, the tingling covering me like a sheet. With each thrust of his hips, I felt impossibly closer to Spencer.

But the fight started to leave him, too. That darkness had spread between the two of us and dissipated in the process. All that was left was the two of us, tangled together with his movements beginning to falter.

“That’s it, little girl. You’re doing so good,” he groaned, his jaw clenching shut as he tried to fill hungry lungs without stopping. “I’m almost done. Just hold on a little while longer.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I replied, surprised by the tremble in the words. We were both so tired, so ready to fall apart and come back together again in the aftermath.

And that’s exactly what happened. Spencer waited until he felt the telltale tremors right before I peaked. He rubbed the marks he’d left moments before and repeated my name over and over until I was on the brink of tears and something else.

“That’s it, little girl,” he whispered again, “Let go. Daddy’s got you.”

The words were like magic. With just five words, Spencer brought me with him over the edge. He dropped his hand to mine still gripping the couch, holding onto it as his body tensed above me.

I could feel each muscle as it twitched before it calmed. I could feel everything, every point of contact all at once. I felt the way he filled me from inside and dug his teeth into my shoulder. I wanted to take that moment in forever, to never be farther away from him than I was right then.

But we couldn’t. Time rudely continued without our permission, and once he regained his strength, he pulled out of me so gently I had to laugh at the juxtaposition.

“Don’t move yet, beautiful. Stay right here,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss onto my head before he left me shaking and panting on the couch. Thankfully he had the decency and self-preservation to hurry before we made too much of a mess. Lord knows I didn’t want to spend our time together removing any hint of what we’d done in our time alone.

Then again, I did love the way he cared for me after. There was no way to really describe it— the love that was in his touch during the aftercare. I soaked in the pure elation I derived from his adoration, closing my eyes and trusting him to put me back together.

After he’d dressed me and positioned me just like a doll, my eyes finally opened again.

“Does anything hurt?” he asked, already busy working to massage my tired, angry muscles.

“No,” I murmured. I didn’t realize just how tired I was until I could barely get through the word. The panic set in again, and Spencer narrowed his eyes as he sat me up to inspect my face from a closer distance. It seemed silly, though, to look down at him on his knees in front of me right after he’d done everything he could to dominate me.

But then here he was, worshiping and worrying over me.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm, just a bit delirious,” I explained through a yawn.

“I’ll take care of you. Lay down,” he urged as he helped me back down on the couch. When he kissed my forehead that time, I could tell he wasn’t just trying to show me affection.

My suspicions were confirmed when he wordlessly left my side, only to return with a thermometer and a bottle of water. Through laughs, I slurred, “What are you doing?”

“Taking your temperature,” he said like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Sexy.”

He laughed with me, then, although I could tell it didn’t do much for his nerves. “I want to make sure I didn’t aggravate your wound,” he muttered with more guilt than I thought was possible. It broke my heart, to hear him speak through such a pathetic little pout. It was my turn to lay on the praise, although we both knew I’d never be quite as good at it as he was.

“I’m okay, Spencer. Seriously. I’m just tired and…” my words fell off as I tried to put the feeling into words. That comfortable, buzzing blankness that came from only the most powerful catharsis. I ran my fingers over his cheek while I thought, and giggled at the way he pressed harder into my touch. The words came to me so naturally then.

“I’m just thinking about how much I love you.”

With a small nod, Spencer accepted my answer… with some conditions.

“You have to drink a whole bottle of water and give me at least ten kisses before I let you sleep,” he shyly mumbled against my palm that he’d dragged over his mouth.

“You drive a hard bargain, old man,” I whispered, tossing my arms around his shoulders. He caught me before I fell, just like he always did. Together, the two of us stayed twisted up as we stumbled through the halls to my room. I truthfully had no idea how he managed to have any coordination, but I was grateful for it.

Once he had me tucked into the sheets, he took a moment to appreciate the sight before him. I tried to give him something better to look at, but all that I could muster was a dopey smile and a bit of a laugh. He still seemed to appreciate it, nonetheless.

“Stay awake. I’ll be right back,” he instructed, pulling the blankets up around my shoulders one more time before he pointed to the bottle on the bedside. “And drink that water!”

I tried to listen— really, I did— but I mostly ended up almost spilling the water down my chest as I sat up to sip at it. I had to focus all my energy on the first order to stay awake, and I was dangerously close to failing at it when Spencer walked back into the room with a thermos in his hands.

“What’s that?” I laughed, pleasantly surprised by how nice the warm cup felt against my still shaking hands.

“Hot chocolate.”

“…Why?” I mean, it was appreciated, but it was strange. He hadn’t treated me quite so sweetly since the first week I came home from the hospital.

And while I understood he felt guilty, I wasn’t helpless. If anyone looked that way, it was the man who was barely able to coherently reply, “Because you need it.”

“You look exhausted, old man.” Mirroring his previous actions, I covered his forehead with my hand. He didn’t lean into it that time, though. He just slumped into the bed beside me, curling into a ball at my side.

“I really am,” he admitted.

It was a rare thing to hear, and so I wasn’t going to try and convince him to stay up for my sake. I would finish the drink he’d made and simply enjoy the way it felt to have my boyfriend clinging on to me like a magnet.

“Go to sleep,” I basically ordered, following it up with a much nicer, “and let’s sleep in all morning.” Then, deciding that was too nice, I tacked on, “I’ll even let you make me more hot chocolate.”

Spencer’s laughter shook both of our bodies, and I pulled him even closer. Like the few inches would help the sound last longer in my memory.

“How are you feeling? Seriously,” he asked again, looking up at me through half-lidded eyes that barely kept open through his yawn.

“I’m fine. Just like I told you I was.”

“Okay,” he conceded hesitantly, “Tell me if that changes.”

“Promise,” I said, letting my hand run through his hair and enjoying the way his whole body wiggled from the attention. He looked up at me from his position with his head resting against my heart just as the goosebumps spread over his skin.

I almost let him off the hook. I almost let him drift off to sleep then, but that look he flashed me filled me with such an undeniable, uncontrollable love that I couldn’t let him forget the very order he’d given me.

“You owe me more kisses, you know.”

We didn’t keep count, but I was certain we passed ten by the time we both fell asleep.

—————————————————

There was nothing quite like being woken up by the horrible buzzing of Spencer’s phone. I understood that the whole point of having the ringtone and vibration set to be so loud was precisely to be annoying enough that it couldn’t be ignored, but it didn’t mean I had to like it. Especially not that morning.

I barely remembered the night before, still stuck in a sleepy haze, but I was able to recognize that, for whatever reason, his phone was on my side of the bed.

“No! It’s Saturday!” I whined, tossing in the bed so I could throw my arms over him, “That’s not fair!”

“I know. Life isn’t fair,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes and mostly ignoring me as I draped over him. “Give me my phone.”

Glancing back at the offending device, I noticed for the first time just how hard my heart was beating. Not only was it loud in my ears, but it also caused a vague discomfort in my stomach.

“Do you really have to answer?” I asked quietly.

“You know I do,” he responded in that stern tone of voice that never accompanied anything fun.

I relented, taking his phone gently and handing it to him without another word. He stayed in bed for a second longer, his hand running over his face to try and wipe the exhaustion off. I watched him from my position shrunk under the covers.

When he finally put the phone down, he sighed, “Shit. I have to go.”

Spencer sat up so quickly that my hands that were settled on his stomach slid from their spot before I could try to hold him tighter. The chilly morning air caused goosebumps to burst all over me, but I ignored the chattering of my teeth as I threw my entire body over him.

“Wait!”

To his credit, he didn’t really try to fight it. With another heavy sigh, he dropped his body back onto the bed and closed his eyes. I could feel the annoyance quickly building, but I suppressed the sadness it caused. I tried to stay lighthearted, leaning over him with a soft plea, “Kiss me before you go.”

“I know that voice,” he warned, sitting up and grabbing hold of me. For a split second, I thought I might get what I wanted, but then he just picked me up, plopping me back down onto the bed beside him.

“I don’t have time for this,” he said.

My heart leapt into my throat, and I could feel my pulse just as hard there. It felt like I was suffocating on the words that couldn’t make their way out. In fact, everything about the situation felt bizarre— like there were some invisible high stakes. Like I needed Spencer to look at me and touch me or else I might actually shatter to pieces in my bed.

The bed that he was leaving.

Jumping up from my spot, I threw myself at him for the second time that morning. I caught onto his arm with a heavy enough grip that I almost succeeded in forcibly dragging him back into the bed.

“Come on! It won’t take that long,” I appealed, my voice growing more frantic with every syllable, “If you’re going to leave for god knows how long, they can wait an extra... 15 minutes!”

There was no pause or sympathy when he replied, “Cut it out.” He just pried my hand off his arm and continued on his way through the rushed version of his morning routine.

“What are they going to do? Leave without you?” I called.

“Yeah, they might.”

I was getting nowhere. I didn’t even really know why I was so persistent, but the only words that were forcing their way through the blockage in my throat were words I didn’t want to say. They were words that made me feel weak and clingy and stupid. I knew he could hear it in my voice, too, although to him I’m sure it sounded more like my normal whining.

“So let them leave,” I mumbled, dragging myself from the bed and padding over to him as he threw on a shirt. “Then we would have plenty more time.”

Spotting my next move in the mirror, Spencer placed a forceful hand on my chest to stop me from wrapping my arms around him. “Stop it, (y/n),” he said slowly and lowly, “I am not playing with you. I don’t have time for this.”

A chill ran down my spine that was immediately replaced with a burning heat in my face. I wasn’t blushing, and I wasn’t angry. It was a terrible, horrible, indescribable feeling. The feeling of being forgotten.

But that wasn’t fair, was it? He was just trying to go to work, so why did I feel so empty? It wouldn’t be the first time the BAU had interrupted our plans.

“I just want to be helpful,” I muttered under my breath.

Spencer had already looked away.

“Then get back in bed.”

I looked over at the disrupted covers and had the sinking realization that no amount of comfort items would make me feel better. The very idea of returning to his bed without him brought honest to god tears to my eyes.

“B-But if I do that then you’re going to leave me,” I blubbered. I’d never felt more pathetic. My boyfriend was almost at the end of his patience, and my hands were still clinging to his shirt and leaving even more frustrating wrinkles in the fabric.

“Well, I’m doing that either way, so you might as well not throw a tantrum.”

He wasn’t wrong. If I’d taken a step back and looked at myself, I would have seen how ridiculous I was being. My brain was screaming at me to let him go, to just climb into bed and cry by myself until I got over it. It wouldn’t take that long, right?

But I’d never felt like that before. I’d never wanted to cry like that before.

“Please don’t leave me,” I whispered into the sleeve of his shirt before he gently nudged me away again.

“What?” he said with a tired sigh, “I can’t hear you when you whine like that. Please just get back in bed. I know you’re tired.”

I stared at his profile, recognizing the exhaustion clear in his eyes that could barely stay open. His jaw was clenched shut, and his hands were sluggish. He was tired, and it was all my fault. I’d kept him up taking care of me, and now I was making his morning worse, too.

I didn’t know how to make it better. I didn’t know what to say or do to show him that I appreciated him, but that there was something else inside of me trying to break its way out. It was working, too, as the sadness started to pool in my eyes. I buried my face into his back, my arms wrapping around him and halting his movements again.

It was the last straw for an exhausted, annoyed Spencer. Pulling my arms off him, he finally turned to face me. His hair was still ruffled and his voice crackly from the interrupted sleep.

“What has gotten into you?!” he shouted, unable to control his crankiness any more than I could control what happened next.

“I don’t know!” I yelled.

His eyes went wide as I crumpled forward, sobs taking up all of my breath as I covered his shirt with tears. I clung to him tighter than I had all morning, giving everything to the last attempt to stop him.

“I just really, really don’t want you to leave!”

Spencer became absolutely panicked, his arms wrapping around me faster and tighter than I thought he would be capable of in the current state.

“Oh, little girl,” he cooed, stopping me from falling to the ground with a bit of a chuckle. He clearly didn’t mean to laugh at me, it was more like one of those self-deprecating laughs he gave when he realized how stupid he was being. But he wasn’t being stupid, I was.

So why was he being so nice?

“I didn’t realize, I’m so sorry,” he whispered into my hair. He began gentle strokes along my back while the two of us moved back to the bed. He waited until I stumbled backwards and took my seat before he looked at me.

With all the tenderness he could muster on an early Saturday morning, he swept my messy hair from my face and told me, “I’m not mad at you.”

“What’s wr-wrong with me?” I sniffled and choked, not even bothering to clean my face. His hands were already busy trying to wipe away the tears.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with you.”

I almost believed him. He let out a soft, stuttered breath before he kissed me. Then, as he had before, he kissed me again, and again, and again. He kept laying the tiny pecks all over my lips and cheeks until I was able to flash him a half-hearted smile.

“This is totally normal and it’s going to be okay,” he assured with one final kiss on the lips.

It felt like things were going to be okay when it was just the two of us. But then Spencer looked down at his watch, and the rest of the world joined us in his room. It was too small for everyone to fit.

“I’m going to get you in trouble,” I whined as the tears sprouted anew, “This is so stupid! I’m being so stupid!”

“Stop that. You’re not stupid.”

Then, with perfect timing, that horrible ringing of his phone was all I could hear.

“Shit!” he cursed under his breath, pulling the phone from his pocket. Even though Spencer didn’t point out to me exactly what was happening, it was clear that he thought it was serious enough to consider the one thing he was so dead-set against a few minutes earlier. He looked down at his phone that was still ringing, then back up to me.

“Just go. I’ll be okay,” I said with as much confidence as possible under the circumstances.

It didn’t work.

“No, you won’t,” he corrected. There was a pang of guilt present in all his features that was only getting worse. Before I knew it, he had his arms around me. “This is my fault, I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s fine,” I laughed, my mind already trying to find a way to shove the sadness down long enough that I could see him off with a smile. “I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.”

Spencer laughed, too, although it was obvious that he didn’t buy my usual act. I’d blame it on the therapy that I’d started to attend, but the truth was he’d noticed my tells long before that. He was just willing to ignore them up to a point. This, clearly, did not qualify.

“No, I’m not doing that to you.”

He didn’t say anything else before he stepped away. He let our fingers linger together until they couldn’t reach anymore. Even that made me miss him, despite him barely standing a few feet away. I figured he didn’t want me to hear the other half of the conversation. So, I just sat there, crossing my legs with my hands between them and trying not to look as embarrassed as I felt.

“Can I—“ he muttered into the receiver. I didn’t meet his eyes, and soon heard him continue more confidently, “I’ll meet you there. I’ll take a commercial flight.”

My body perked up at the implication, and a dopey smile covered my face as I realized just what he was sacrificing for me. But then any sign of happiness was crushed by the guilt that immediately followed. He had shirked off so much of his job for me. I was just always this big, annoying inconvenience. He was important, and I was monopolizing his mind and his time just so he could wipe away my tears.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said before clearing his throat, “And uh, Hotch? I don’t need a room. I’ll get my own. Yeah, everything is fine. I’ll explain when I get there... Alright, bye.”

“What are you do—?” I started the second he hung up the phone, but Spencer shook his head, raising his hand to cut me off.

“Come with me,” he said, rushed and exasperated.

After a brief moment of silence, I laughed. I figured it had to be a joke, or some offer I was always meant to deny. But when he just kept staring expectantly, hopefully, I blubbered back, “W-what?”

“Come with me, on the case,” he repeated with a scrunched up smile, “I want you to come with me.”

“Can you even do that?” I asked cautiously, covering my chest with my arm. I think he could see how badly I wanted to do it, but he had to realize how uncomfortable the request made me at the same time. I mean, how would he explain it to the team? Would he keep me a secret? What was I meant to do while they were working?

Spencer saw the questions rolling through my head. He came back to me, his hands cupping my face and making me look up at him. “I don’t care,” he whispered, “I won’t leave you like this. I can’t do that.”

I inspected his face for a long while. I let the silence settle over us and tried to find a reason to say no. I searched for the courage to say no and the stubbornness I used to have. But then my mind flashed back to the only arguments we’d had. They always revolved around this, around our insistence that we handle things alone.

Why? I reminded myself, I’m not alone. I don’t have to be alone.

So, with a trembling lip, I mumbled, “O-okay.”

“Okay,” he returned. And for a second, the tension melted from him. Closing his eyes, Spencer let out a deep breath and pulled me closer in a small hug that didn’t last long enough. But once it was over, I realized why. He had practically dragged me off the bed by both hands, guiding me over to my closet and pulling out my barely-used suitcase.

“Hurry up and pack a bag for at least five days. Anything you forget we can just get there.”

I nodded, releasing his hands yet again. Except this time, it wasn’t a goodbye. It was something entirely different. It was taking another step into the future with Spencer Reid. It was thrilling and strange and welcome.

Welcome, I repeated in my mind. It wasn’t a word I would have used comfortably before. As I packed my bag, I felt my boyfriend glancing over at me every few seconds. Like he was waiting to see how I assimilated into his life. I found myself hoping that I was passing the test, although I knew this wouldn’t ever be a normal occurrence.

“Are you ready?” he asked. The question brought another heavy feeling into my stomach, but this time it wasn’t necessarily a bad one. I looked down at the suitcase in my hands, and then back up to him.

Am I ready? The question was meant to be about our impromptu trip; I knew that was all he meant. But as I stood there contemplating a future with Spencer Reid, I asked myself if I was ready for a number of things I hadn’t ever seriously considered.

Am I ready? I prompted myself again.

“Yeah,” I said with a relieved sigh, “Yeah, I think I am.”

—————————————————

| Part 22 |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid series #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid request #reid request #dr spencer reid

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heauxplesslydevoted · 3 years

Text

Silent Treatment (Ethan x MC)

Summary: Naomi decides that if Ethan isn’t going to treat her like a valued member of the team, she’ll teach him a little lesson.

Based on chapter 1, some spoilers for chapter 2, and my own speculation, so read at your own risk.

I highkey hate this but I’m posting it anyway

~v~

Naomi is quiet. No, she is unusually quiet. Ethan has seen her get silent when it’s time to buckle down and focus on a task, or if something is weighing heavily on her, but at this point he knows her well enough to know it’s neither of those. She’s withdrawn, and he doesn’t understand why.

Her presence is hard to miss, the young resident has enough charm and charisma in her pinky finger to dazzle an entire room. And she’s never this quiet. Naomi demands to be heard at all times. With unapologetic vivacity. With her hands. Eyes sparkling when she gets an idea, or fiery when she needs to dig her toes into something and fight. Nothing about Naomi Valentine is ever subdued, so why the hell is she so silent?

She didn’t speak much during the last few team meetings. He and Harper have led all of the conversations, bouncing ideas back and forth, building off of each other’s ideas. Occasionally, Naomi would offer input, merely to agree or disagree with a theory, before going back into her shell.

It’s even bleeding into their personal life. For the better part of the past 3 months, she’s stayed with him, the two of them holed up in his apartment in the Back Bay, but now she’s opting to stay at her own place. It’s been going on a few days now, this random despondence, and Ethan isn’t a fan of it. He’d take it a step further and say it's driving him crazy. This isn’t the woman he’s known for the past two years, even at her lowest was she never this reclusive.

As he walks down the halls of Edenbrook, he spots Naomi, her personality back to what it once was. She’s with Ines at a vending machine, and Naomi wastes no time animatedly talking to the now attending about a fun date she went on with her girlfriend.

Heart hammering wildly in his chest, Ethan swallows thickly as he listens to her talk. He’s missed the sound of her voice, the affectionate way her strong accent curls around her ‘r’s’ and dramatically elongates her ‘o’s’. It becomes clear that she’s willing to talk, just not to him. Ethan doesn’t like that idea at all, but it’s the only one that makes sense. And if that’s the case, he needs to get to the bottom of things and remedy the situation.

“Naomi, can we talk please?” He asks once Ines is no longer in their presence.

He doesn’t miss the way she bristles upon hearing his voice. But Naomi nods anyway. “Sure, what’s wrong?”

“Can we talk in the office?”

The walk back to the seventh floor is marked with awkward silence as Naomi refuses to initiate conversation with him. The more time ticks on, the more anxiety settles in Ethan’s chest. What’s going on with her that she refuses to divulge?

The office is unoccupied when they arrive, as Harper has already gone home for the evening. Naomi stands by the door, opting not to settle into a seat or even move further into the room. Everything about her body language reads that she’s poised and ready to strike at any given moment. He frowns. She’s never been this defensive against him, at least when they’re not in the middle of an argument. “What’s going on?”

“Are you okay?”

The question catches Naomi off guard. She blinks slowly before shrugging in nonchalance. “I’m fine, Ethan.”

“You’re fine? Really?”

“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t be fine?”

“Not really, but you haven’t been acting like yourself recently.”

Because you’ve been quieter than a church mouse for the past few days. You don’t talk during meetings, you’re silent when we interact with the patients, it’s like you’ve completely tuned out.”

With the way he’s been acting, Naomi is almost shocked that he even realized what she’s been doing. Wow, so maybe the great Ethan Ramsey hasn’t lost his attention to detail.

“Oh, so you’ve actually noticed?”

“I’m a diagnostician, I notice everything,” Ethan deadpans. He can feel the sarcasm wafting off of her. “What, was this an intentional act for my attention?”

“Intentional, yes. But for your attention? Not necessarily,” Naomi answers.

His eyes narrow at her, his gaze near piercing. She’s playing some sort of childish game with him, first with not speaking and now with the vague half answers. “Okay, so walk me through your thought process. Why has the cat stolen your tongue?”

“I decided that if my input wasn’t going to be valued during team discussions, I might as well not speak at all.”

Ethan gapes at her, confused. Where did that come from? “Naomi, what on earth are you talking about? When have I ever not valued your input?”

“I’m talking about the fact that for the past two cases, I’ve stood on the sidelines while you’ve either cut me off mid-sentence to talk over me, or ignore my presence altogether. I might as well blend into the wall.”

“That’s not–”

Naomi doesn’t give him the chance to refute. “Please spare me the attempt at arguing. Last week, Harper’s first day on the team, you literally had to circle back to me because you cut me off while I was speaking. And now, we’re working on a case, and you and Harper aren’t even taking this patient seriously! I’ve had to redirect the conversation and tell you guys to focus, because you two were too busy acting like bosom buddies, sharing anecdotes about hangovers, and stupid flamenco lessons, and dates you went on in the past, which is not only inappropriate and disrespectful to the patient’s time, it’s disrespectful to me.”

“So either you are completely oblivious, which I find hard to believe for someone as astute as you are, or you have no respect for me, not just as your colleague, but as the woman you claim to be in a relationship with,” Naomi continues. The floodgates have been opened and now that she’s started, she can’t stop herself. “And maybe it’s the latter, because I set that standard. I’ve let you go days, weeks, months without speaking to me with zero consequence, I’ve let you shut me out and slam doors in my face, make snide comments last year when we were treating Leland, I’ve let you have carte blanche over the pace of this relationship. I’ve always just been here and allowed your shitty social graces and piss poor communication skills to rule, and time and time again, you’ve gone unscathed, but now I’m just really tired of it.”

For the first time in a long, Ethan doesn’t have a clue what to say, and as always, Naomi is the woman who puts him in this position.

“Naomi, you can’t possibly think that I think so little of you.”

He can tell by the way her eyes darken that he put his entire foot in his mouth just now. The warning bells go off in his brain, and he scrambles to think of how he can correct this latest blunder.

Naomi bites down on her lip, and she’s actually shocked her mouth isn’t instantly flooded with the metallic taste of blood. She’s getting Punk’d obviously. The office is bugged, and Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out and announce his presence soon. That has to be it. Ethan has to be pranking her, because there’s no way a 38 year old man could ever be so dense, right? Surely his response to her grievances isn’t to dismiss her claims.

“You know what? You’re being obtuse, and we clearly aren’t getting anywhere, so I’m going to cut this conversation off now.”

She refuses to look like the psycho in this scenario and breathe any more life into this argument, and she’s not about to plead her case any further like she’s the one in the wrong.

Ethan’s eyes soften, and he takes a step forward, arms outstretched to touch, soothe whatever hurts he’s heaped upon her, but Naomi sidesteps, moving out of his reach.

If he wasn’t nervous at the start of this conversation, he is now. If the physical act of Naomi blatantly refusing to touch him wasn’t clear enough, the metaphorical chasm between the two of the just widened by a few yards as well. A chill races up and down the length of his spine.

“Naomi, I’m sorry,” Ethan says gently. “I…” His words taper off and he pauses, struggling for what he wants to say next. This has never been his strong point, being vulnerable.

And Naomi doesn’t offer him a lifeline. She’s not going to give him an out or assuage him of anything he’s currently feeling like she usually does. She’s laid out all of her cards, and things are in Ethan’s court at this point. Like always.

“I’m going home,” she announces. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

~v~

The sun is barely out when Naomi shows up for work in the morning. Most of the hospital is still, the last of the night shift heading out as she’s on her way in. She heads towards the residents’ lounge, wanting to put her things away before checking in on her patients and having a team meeting.

As soon as she opens her locker, she spots a gorgeous bouquet of red roses wrapped in newspaper invading the space. There’s no note attached to the bouquet, and she spared a quick glance around the room to see if anyone else is there. The lounge is empty, save for another resident in the corner, sleeping.

Naomi takes the bouquet out of her locker, careful not to smash the petals and holds it up to her nose, inhaling deeply.

Deciding to not put more thought into where they came from, Naomi simply cradles the bouquet in the crook of one of her arms, stuffs her bag into her locker, and continues on with her morning routine.

She’s passing by the nurses’ station on the 7th floor when someone catches her attention. “Oh Dr. Valentine! You have a special delivery.”

Her steps slow down as she approaches the front desk where Sarah, one of her favorite RNs is stationed. Sarah steps aside, revealing an even larger bouquet of roses, these ones white.

“Where did these come from?” Naomi asks.

“They were delivered about half an hour ago,” Sarah replies with a wink. “No note, though. I won’t let Dr. Ramsey know that you have a secret admirer.”

And that’s when it clicks into place. Memories of her fight with Ethan come flooding back, and it becomes clear that he’s the one gifting her these flowers. Before she even realizes she’s doing it, her eyes roll. If he thinks a couple of bouquets of roses are a good enough apology, he can think again.

Naomi plucks a white rose right from the center of the bouquet and hands it to Sarah. “For you.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“I insist,” Naomi says. “Happy Friday, Sarah.”

“Thank you, Dr. Valentine!”

Seeing the smile on the senior nurse’s face is almost enough to cleanse Naomi of the annoyance she feels towards Ethan in this moment. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Naomi manages to scoop up this new batch of flowers – they’re in a vase, to which she adds her red ones – and finishes her trek to the office.

She isn’t expecting it to be covered in bunches of bright yellow sunflowers.

Their communal desk is covered in them, along with Ethan’s personal desk and the couch. “What on earth was he thinking?”

“I was thinking that sunflowers are your favorite flower,” Ethan answers, and Naomi jumps, startled at his voice. She whips around and sees him standing in the doorway. “And so I got up well before the sun was shining, went to the Boston Flower Exchange and bought every single one I could get my hands on.”

“And the roses?”

“White is supposed to be symbolic of new beginnings and forgiveness,” Ethan explains. “And you simply can’t go wrong with red.”

“If you think buying me flowers is going to cut it, you must not know me well,” Naomi says. Him buying her things doesn’t impress her, no matter how much she jokes about his money.

“No, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.” Ethan takes a cautious step into the room, shutting the door behind him. A sleepless night without her beside him forced Ethan to do a lot of thinking about how he wanted this conversation to go. A peace offering is always a good start. “And it got you to talk to me.”

Naomi scoffs and sets her flowers down. “Barely.”

“I’m sorry,” Ethan says. “I’m an idiot, and an asshole.”

“It’s good that we can agree on something.”

Okay, it’s clear that she is not going to give him any leeway. “You were absolutely right to call me out on my behavior towards you.”

“Why did you do it?” Naomi asks.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Ethan says simply. “I got so caught up in having Harper on the team, and it’s easy to slip back into old habits without even realizing.”

“It wasn’t a simple one time thing. It was more than once that you and Harper completely forgot I was even there. And I like Harper, I don’t think I could respect her more than I already do, and I have a very healthy sense of self esteem, but even the toughest person on earth wouldn’t like being in my shoes, on the outside looking in while you and your ex reminisce on old dates and inside stories. Ethan, you couldn’t handle a modicum of the shit I have willingly put up with in order to be with you.”

His stomach knots up at the thought of an ex-boyfriend of Naomi’s coming into his personal space, sharing personal jokes with her, ignoring him, and monopolizing her time. If the thought of it had him this twisted, he can’t believe he’s been putting her through that reality.

“You were right to call me out on my bad communication skills. I am terrible at relationships. I’m not using it as an excuse, it’s just the truth. But I’ve gotten complacent, which is unacceptable.” Ethan takes another step towards Naomi, and when she doesn’t instantly recoil, he takes it as a sign to get even closer. “The last thing I ever want to do is stifle your voice, or make you feel invisible. Naomi, you are...invaluable. To this hospital, to this team, to me, and I am so sorry that there was ever a time where I made you feel like you weren’t. You are the most important person in my life, and what we have is something I’ve never had with anyone else.”

“Okay, so start acting like it,” Naomi challenges. “I’m your equal and I demand every bit of respect you have to offer. Anything less than that cannot be tolerated anymore, personally or professionally.”

Ethan nods emphatically at her words. “Of course.”

“I mean it.”

“You have my word, Naomi. I’ll never let it happen again.” He closes the gap between them and cups her face in his hand. “Just please...never give me the silent treatment again. Yell from the rooftops, argue with me, I don’t care, but I can’t take not hearing your voice.”

“You needed to be taught a lesson,” Naomi says simply.

“I learned my lesson, and I hated it,” Ethan confesses, his lips dangerously close to hers. Naomi doesn’t budge, not even an inch. She’s terribly stubborn, even at the end of a fight. “It was torture.”

“Good.” Deciding to put him out of his misery, Naomi tilts her head up and captures Ethan in a kiss. He doesn’t waste a single second returning it. His free hand wraps around the small of her back, pulling her in closer. How did he go this long without touching her?

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing, but he finally breaks apart from her long enough to bury his face in her neck, allowing her scent and soft skin to soothe any of his fraught nerves. She smells like home.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Ethan asks.

“The jury is still out on that one.”

“You’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

“Are you up for the challenge?”

Ethan untangles himself from their embrace and takes a step back, so he’s able to look Naomi in the eyes. He takes her hand and presses a soft kiss into her palm. “For you? I’ll do just about anything.”

~v~

Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list, or if I tagged you by accident!

Tags: @mvalentine @ @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @nikki-2406 @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @mysticalgalaxysstuff

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan x mc

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nctsworld · 4 years

Text

honestly

☆ haechan x reader | fluff | 0.4k

→ summary: you ask for haechan’s honesty, but it’s not what you expect to hear. → warnings: fluff, playful punching, none really → rating: general → prompt: “YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!” → req by: anonymous → notes: for my first follower celebration! it’s still ongoing, so feel free to send more in! | i have no idea how overwatch works, so this is based on my limited knowledge and general experience with other games lkfmdslfkds sorry if it’s wrong!

→ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Laser-focused on your laptop screen, your keyboard and mouse clicks are loud and frantic. The enemy team is better than you thought, and today just doesn’t seem to be a good day for you in Overwatch.

And to make matters worse, you’re on Haechan’s team and he’s playing right beside you.

You know how heated he gets on the game chat, both through text and on mic, especially at players who drag the team down. Every time you get killed, you wince, ready for Haechan to reprimand you.

But he doesn’t, and you wonder if you’re underestimating yourself, that maybe today isn’t as bad as you think it is.

After the match is over, Haechan’s focus is on his phone, scrolling through the food delivery app.

“I think I’m gonna order something. Do you want anything?”

“Hyuck, can you be honest with me?”

The sudden question catches him off guard, forcing him to tear away from the glowing screen with furrowed eyebrows. He swivels his chair to face you and his expression melts, softening at the way you’re looking down and plucking at the ends of your sweater.

“Was I bad in today’s game?”

“No, of course not, honey...” Haechan shakes his head and rubs the sides of your arms tenderly, before pulling you into a tight hug. A smile tugs at your face, pleased to know that you really were just overanalyzing the game.

“You’re always bad at Overwatch.”

You gasp at your boyfriend’s notion, and the moment changes instantly. You sever the hug and begin punching him repeatedly in the arm.

“Hey, hey, hey! You said to be honest, stop hitting me!”

You don’t relent until you think he’s deserved enough. After you turn your chair around to face the wall with a pout and a cross of your arms, Haechan peels himself away from his chair and gets on his knees in front of you.

Carefully, in case rage flows through you again, he takes your hands into his, rubbing his thumbs over your skin. Locking eyes with yours, and knowing you’re a little more at ease now, he drags the back of your hands to his face and peppers small kisses.

“Just because you’re bad, it doesn’t mean you’re the worst,” he whispers into your hands with a playful grin. Then, he rests his chin onto your knuckles. “And I enjoy doing things with you, honey.”

Your gaze is still icy, but a half smile begins to fade over your pout. Haechan pulls you into a hug once again. His lips meet your cheek, arms are snug around your waist, and his hands rub your back lovingly.

“And if you were really that bad, I wouldn’t play with you—ah, ouch!”

#haechan #lee donghyuck #haechan x reader #lee haechan x reader #lee donghyuck x reader #nct #nctcreations #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 imagines #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #mywritings #myfanfics #nctsworldffc

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fenoderee · 3 years

Text

Shinya [Drums] Interview

Our fourth solo interview is with Shinya, who is the foundation of the band. Shinya has been focusing on simple phrasing and groove in recent years, so how did he approach his latest album "Oboro"?

Basically I don't think about the details, I just do what comes to my mind and I don't worry about it.

-It seems that the songwriting process started very early on, but did you have the new album in mind from the beginning?

Shinya: That's right. I've been working on the songs for the new album. So we decided to release a single, and we talked about which of our existing songs we should release as a single, and "Oboro" was chosen.

-In your case, I personally feel that you've always written songs with a lot of energy or beauty. When you were thinking about the album, what kind of ideas and images did you have in your mind in the early stages of composition?

Shinya:I didn't really think about it before I wrote the song, I just started writing it, and as a result, I couldn't write anything but intense stuff.

-When you say "intense," do you mean songs with a fast BPM?

Shinya: That's right.

-There are several ways to compose a song, how did you do it this time?

Shinya: Recently, I've been using a plug-in guitar instrument that I really like. It has a lot of heavy sounds in it, so I just play it and think about what I want to do.

-What kind of composition system do you currently have at home? It is known to your fans that you are an Apple fanatic, and you seem to be changing to the latest version every year. Do you use the same kind of system for your compositions?

Shinya: It's the other way around, I'm very minimalistic now. I only use one laptop for composing.

-Do you want to install all your DTM software on the computer?

Shinya: That's right. I don't play guitar anymore when I write songs, so I've removed the audio interface. It's a very compact period.

-At the time of this writing, you are touring the country with the "Meguro Rokumeikan Gig", but if you take that computer with you, you can compose music in your dressing room?

Shinya: If I wanted to, I could, but I don't think I will (laughs).

-Did it change the way you came up with the ideas and the process of shaping the songs?

Shinya: That's right. When I used to compose, I used to play my guitar at home and write riffs by myself. But now I don't have a guitar and I'm working on it, so I think the guitar phrases I make have changed.

-So the intense songs you wrote were not chosen for the single, but do you have any plans to make it into the album?

Shinya: The song wasn't selected when it was written, so it was probably rejected (laughs).

-That's not something to say while laughing (laughs). By the way, Shinya, you're the type of person who actively goes to see other people's live performances. I think the main reason is because it's your favorite band or artist, but I also think that seeing a live performance can stimulate you in terms of calligraphy and creative therapy. Now that I have become a member of Corona, I can no longer go to live concerts, and DIR EN GREY has almost completely stopped performing. What do you do for musical input in such a situation?

Shinya: Hmmm... I don't think so at the moment (laughs). Especially when it comes to music.

-Do you ever go through various albums and videos by yourself?

Shinya: No, I don't. I just use what I have inside me right now.

-Shinya's musical tastes are well known to his fans, but is there anything new that has resonated with you during this composing process?

Shinya: Hmmm... I haven't explored anything new in the other solutions.

-Did you go back to your roots and what you like?

Shinya: No, I didn't think about that too much, I just made the songs naturally.

-How did you spend your time at stay home, as a musician and as an individual?

Shinya: I was doing nothing but editing videos (laughs). That's why I was spending most of my time on my YouTube channel.

-I've been watching it for a while now, and I'm also a subscriber to the channel, so please answer me politely (laughs).

Shinya: Oh, thank you very much (laughs).

-Of course it's fun to do, but is there anything exciting about it?

Shinya: When I was working on it, I thought that it was very similar to songwriting. You can keep working on it, and it never ends.

-If you want to be particular, you can go all the way.

That's right, even for a single video, there are endless things you can do.

-The timing of inserting a subtitle, the choice of font, etc.

Shinya: Yes, yes (laughs). Once you start paying attention to the details, there's really no end to it. It's similar to songwriting..

-Is Shinya the type of person who spends a lot of time focusing on various aspects of a song, even when he's writing it individually?

Shinya : With DIR EN GREY, I always bring the original songs to the studio before I've finished them. I know that as the members' ideas come in, it will definitely change from the shape I've created. That's why I don't go into too much detail (laughs), I only make it to a certain point because it's going to change anyway. I try to make it so that the members can understand the side of the song.

-You said that when you select songs in the band, you don't know who wrote which song. Do you ever get feedback from the band members afterwards?

Shinya: I was asked afterwards about the songs I wrote this time. "That's Shinya's song." Then, he said, "Oh, I liked it."

-So you've had that conversation? If you listen to the demo, do you know who made it?

Shinya: Yes, you're right. Yes, I don't have a definitive answer, but I can vaguely tell.

-Although it wasn't adopted, it's nice to be told that it's your favourite song.

Shinya: Well...yes, but the song selection is a majority decision.

-There are always multiple layers to a song, but each time you're inspired to write a new song from a different angle?

Shinya: No, I don't have any particular plans at the moment, since I'm in the middle of an explosive screening (laughs ). Once the songwriting starts again, I'm sure I'll be motivated like you said. I still have my computer with me, but I'm not writing songs, I'm collecting videos (laughs).

-That's a good point (laughs). You've been working on the album for a long time, what do you hope to achieve with it?

Shinya: Up until now, I've been thinking of songs that can evolve in a live setting, but this time, even if we make an album, we don't know if we will be able to perform live or tour like we have in the past. So I've been thinking about it with that situation in mind.

-In other words, rather than evolving through live performances, do you have a sense of construction that evolves completely during the production process?

Shinya: Well, to put it simply, it's a nuance.

-Do you want to take a different approach to the drums?

Shinya: No, when it comes to drum phrases, I don't think about the details, I just do what comes to my mind. I don't worry about it too much.

-What was your impression of this single, "Oboro", when you heard the original song?

Shinya: Well... I was working on several songs at the same time, and I don't remember what the original "Oboro" song sounded like.

-Were the other songs that you were arranging and pre-producing at the same time too strong for you?

Shinya: It was all very strong. The drum approach for "Oboro" was just what I thought of when I heard the original song, without any worries.

We're going to do a live performance for an audience on the 6th of May, but we don't know what's going to happen after that, so we're going to do it as if it might be our last one.

-You said that you often set up an electric drum machine at home and make drum arrangements while playing, is this the same style you used for "Oboro" and the new songs you were working on?

Shinya: When I'm thinking of drum phrases, I don't use an electric drum but just use the mouse. In the past, I used to focus on the basic groove of the song, and I used to add drum phrases while actually playing the drums. But the period of thinking while playing is over now…

-I didn't know you had such a time frame in mind (laughs). Thinking with the mouse is a way of avoiding the first days of DTM, isn't it?

Shinya: Yes, it's the way we did it in the beginning. I think the period of time I was thinking about it while I was in the city changed my way of thinking about drum place. It's hard to describe it in words (laughs).

-I'll take care of that. I'm a subscriber to the Shinya Channel, so be nice to me (lol).

Shinya: Well, I guess I should say I've got it all figured out. I've learned about the advantages of using an electric drum and the differences between using a mouse and thinking with an electric drum, and now I'm able to create phrases and grooves with just a mouse while playing the electric drum, so I think it's not a problem. I can now type in rhythms and phrases with the same time signature as if I were actually playing.

-Do you find it easier to come up with something unexpected by not thinking of phrases as you play?

Shinya: Yes, one of the advantages of playing the piano is that you can create phrases that you can't edit. You can create phrases that you can't edit with your own hands. That's why I started thinking about drum arrangements by typing with the mouse in the early days. In this song "Oboro", I used the mouse a lot in the A melody and other phrases. The demo phrases that I came up with using only the mouse were much stronger and weaker, but when I actually played them on live drums, I couldn't get that level of intensity.

-Do you mean simply the volume?

Shinya: That's right. The core of each sound has to come out properly in live drums, so even if you add a strong instrument, if it's too weak, the core won't come out. The image was different from the one I had in the mouse, but it turned out good, so I didn't have any trouble. I also thought a lot about the guitar in the drum braise of "Oboro". It's the solo part.

-It's a drum approach that is making a difference.

Shinya: Yes. I tried to make a good movement when I hit it. The form of the striking and the movement of the arms are flowing.

-You have a large number of cymbals anyway, and they are set up around the effects cymbals. Effect cymbals have a shorter blue sustain than normal cymbals. That's why when you use a lot of cymbals, do you consider the tendency of the sound of each cymbal and the length of the sustain while constructing the phrase itself?

Shinya: That's what I'm trying to do, to make it so that it's smooth and the previous movements flow. But when we were recording, we didn't talk about it that much. At the live show, I think "I used this cymbal on the recording, but I'll use that cymbal at the live show", so at the live show, I try to pursue the movement more.

-You‘re a drummer who can go beyond. You mentioned that you bring the same cymbals and settings to your recordings as you do live?

Shinya: There are as many cymbals as there are live, but the tycoons are more like two thimbles, two toms and one floor. It's a set of two toms and one floor.

-I think it's important to be careful when making drum sounds.

Shinya: Yes, it is. The drums are the most important part of the sound. I leave it to the tuner. I asked the tuner to listen to a demo of a drum phrase that I typed in with my mouse, and then I asked him to create a drum sound that would fit the phrase. I didn't start working with the drum tuner on recordings until 2019 (The World of Mercy), and he also joined me on several occasions during the tour. The sound on that tour was so good that we started asking them to play on 'The World of Mercy'. It's easier to make a good sound in a live setting, but if the tuner can make a sound that I'm happy with, then I can trust him for the recording. For the recording of "Oboro", they tuned it to the sound I had imagined from the beginning.

-I get the impression that you always do your recordings without getting bogged down, but this time?

Shinya: Just like that. We also recorded the coupling song "T.D.F.F." at that time, but we didn't get stuck. But I recorded it part by part, so it took a bit longer. If I'm happy with the intro, I'll go on to the A melody, and so on, starting from the beginning of the song. It takes a lot of concentration to record each part. Also, sometimes the song isn't written until the day before, so I haven't memorised the phrases yet (laughs). The structure of "Oboro" wasn't even ready until the day before we recorded it. So when I played it, I put the recording side by side and concentrated on each part.

-What did you think of the coupling track "T.D.F.F."?

Shinya: I didn't change much in terms of drum phrases, but I tried to give it a bit more energy. As a result, there are a little less detailed snare phrases than on the original version.

-When you do a self-remake, do you tend to go in with a different stance than the original?

Shinya: It depends on how it's arranged. If the whole arrangement is completely different, I'll consider it a controversial piece and work on it. But basically, I try not to change the original phrases. When SUGIZO joined X JAPAN, he said, "Classical phrases are all different depending on the performer, even if the phrases are not changed“ . That's why SUGIZO said he was playing the same phrases as HIDE. That's why I want to show that although the phrases are the same, they are actually different.

-It's all luck. Even though the phrases are the same, each note is different, and this progression is the growth.

Shinya: Yes. It's a bit embarrassing to call it growth, but I think it's different even though it's the same phrase. But there are things that only the ward of that time could do, but there are also things that only the ward of today can do.

-What mode are you in as a drummer in 2021?

Shinya: I don't really think about it, I just want to play a good drum.

-When I started thinking about the phrases in Mouse, it was also the time when the Band started performing and touring overseas, and the Band's drummers and musicians that I played with at festivals and other events were always saying, "The drums in DIR EN GREY are so circular and amazing. I wondered if Shinya had some kind of special meaning behind the way he phrased the songs“ .

Shinya: Even if I say I've gone back, the way I put it on is completely different from back then. I was thinking of doing something complicated back then, but now I'm thinking of making it as simple as possible. I'm saying that now, but I think it will change depending on what kind of new songs I'm going to play. I'm going to release "Oboro" as a single, but I don't think you can see the spirit of the album from this song alone, in fact I think the album will have a completely different feel. In addition to "Oboro", the other songs on the album will have more impact in the direction of things. I may have done something uncomplicated before the drums... (laughs).

-By the way, today was the first time you met your fans in Osaka, are you getting more excited about the show?

Shinya: Yes, I am. We're going to play to an audience on May 6th, but after that we don't know what will happen. So I'm going to do it with the mindset that it might be my last live. I'm looking forward to seeing how it will be expressed in the actual live performance.

Text/ YUKINOBU HASEGAWA, HIROKI KATAGIRI [GiGS/Equipment]

Photo/ REISHI EGUMA [C-LOVe CREATORS]

Translations by me.

#Dir en grey #Dir en grey Shinya #Dir en grey translation #fan translation #interview translation #Shinya #GiGS #Oboro #Dir en grey Oboro #magazine

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downywrites · 3 years

Note

If you’re still taking requests.. maybe a t*ckle fight between the members of the sbi? ~🐉

Bird says take this. Maybe good enough, maybe not.

Beta reading? What’s that? Lmao

After a long night out at the nearest village, Philza was, for lack of a better term, tired. Trading with the people was...difficult to say the least. They had been scornful of the way he looked, glancing at his wings scornfully as they spoke about trading. He didn’t fail to notice the way the children were corralled away from him. Whispers floated in the air, long after he had left. And he certainly felt his lengthy trip out. His bones ached with every weary step he took. Every fiber in his body screamed for flight, for the air to be under his wings.

But he could not. It was late in the server and people would mistake him for a phantom at this time of night. He knew better than to take a tumble like last time. But he still thought of the idea anyways, mind distantly attached to the outside world around him. The grass rustled underneath his feet, brush gently rubbing at his ankles. He shivered and suppressed a smile, shaking his head a little bit. The hardcore charm dangling from the top of his hat swung back and forth like a rope attached to a mooring at sea. He grumbled quietly about his predicament. “Why do I have to be so ticklish? Ugh. I really, really want to be home with the others.” He knew his family would call him an old man if they heard him complaining about this. They’d probably mock him for a little, then ask him whether or not they brought back anything for them. His family...his eyes unfocused even more, following the blocks he placed on autopilot.

“What I would give to be home with them right now…” He fluttered his wings excitedly. He sighed a little, snapping himself back into reality. “Now is not the time to doze off. It’s still night-time.” He trekked on, sandals scraping on rocks, sinking into snow, into sand. By the time he had reached the beaten path of their shared home, Philza was barely walking.

He slowly trundled towards his destination, hope flourishing in his chest. The sound of crickets in the nearby pond surrounded him. A singular frog hopped onto a lilypad, blinking and croaking curiously at the winged man. Phil paid no heed to it. It was always there. Out of all the creatures that Wilbur had raised, that one was the one that somehow never got bored of the family. Philza never paid any attention to it. It was Wilbur’s pet, after all.

Eyes glancing towards the door handle, he fumbled for the keys loudly. He cursed slightly at the loud jingling noise it made, hoping he didn’t wake up the lighter sleepers of the family. The door creaked open, blinding him for a moment. He squinted through the light, seeing two familiar shapes sitting at the dining table. A single head popped out of the side of the door, grinning widely. His blonde hair bounced happily. “Phil! Where have you been? It’s been soo loongg-'' Tommy sank to the floor dramatically.

Despite his tiredness, Philza cracked a smile at the youngest of the family. “Wonder where. Were you even listening when I told you?” “Nooo-” Another voice rang out, smooth and melodious. “Jeez, Tommy. This is why nobody loves you in the household.” The blonde pouted, getting up from the floor to go argue with him. The bird hybrid entered the house, sighing gratefully for the cool air within the house. Techno got up from his seat and took a large step in his direction, making him startle a little.

“Hey, mate. How are-” He walked right past him, pink hair flowing in the same direction of his movements. Phil turned around slightly, tilting his head as much as he could in puzzlement. “Why did you...oh.” Technoblade made a small joyful huff, closing the door gently behind the eldest. He looked back at Phil, tail wagging slightly behind him. “Ah. Nonverbal today, I see.” He nodded, floppy ears bobbing up and down. His smile made his eyes scrunch up with its intensity. He walked past him again, pulling out some raw foods and chopping them up quickly. His hands flew over the cutting board quickly, chopping onions and tomatoes with an efficiency that only a trained warrior could muster.

He placed them on the table with a little flourish, before filling a pot with water with the intent of boiling it. The sound of running water and the footsteps of his children made Phil coo happily. His eyes fluttered shut. Feathers fluffed out with contentment, catching a pair of crimson-tinted eyes. Techno purred roughly as he waited for the water to boil. ‘Phil had a long day, huh?’ Before he could control himself, he had gently led Phil to his favorite armchair, settling him down and pushing his wings into the designated holes. If anything, his coos and trills got even louder. He moved away, focus shifting back to the soup. The feeling of someone gripping his tufted tail made him pause.

“Stay with me for a moment, Tech. The pot won’t overboil for a few minutes.” The piglin complied, sitting himself down carefully by his feet. He played with his hoof-hands, ADHD energy begging to be let out somehow. The elder of the two frowned quietly at that. Stretching out a single wing, he angled it to brush ever so slightly against his back. “Preen me, please?” Crimson eyes widened in surprise. He nodded, hair flowing gracefully around his person. As the soft, comforting feeling of someone carding through his wings slowly enveloped his being, he sat back, trilling loudly. He let his eyes shut, sinking into the blissful abyss of rest. Wilbur and Tommy, however, were certainly not resting. The two brothers wrestled playfully, shouting insults at each other with the gusto of a lively duo at a bar. “You fucker, you son of a bitch, you-” “Shut up, Tommy! Old man might be trying to sleep, you dumbfuck.” “Oh, I’ll show you dumbfuck!” They rolled over each other, pushing each other to the ground as much as possible.

Eventually, they rolled close to the doorway of Tommy’s room. With a small push, Wilbur pushed Tommy up to the door, grinning triumphantly. “I won.” The younger of the two scoffed quietly, pushing back with all his strength. Wilbur didn’t budge, irritating smirk plastered on his face. He tucked in his leg to kick him, grinning a little when the musician made a small noise of pain. “Tommy!” “Yeah, Wilbur?” “You little- I’ll get you for that.” Tommy snarked back, smugness twinkling in his eyes. “Get me how, big Dubs?” Wilbur smirked again, but this time it looked a little more wicked. “Oh, Tommy...I think you know how..” He released the younger from the pin. Before he could react, he darted his hands over his sides, scribbling lightly through the thin shirt.

He shrieked in surprise, batting Wilbur’s hands away. “Wihill! What the fuck?” The elder made no inclination of hearing him, moving closer to him like a cat stalking a mouse through the bushes. Tommy backed up as much as he could, eye widening when he hit the door. “Wahahait, cahahan wehehe tahalk abhohout thihis?” “I haven’t even touched you yet, Toms~” His face turned a light shade of pink at the tease. He averted his eyes, trembling in anticipation. The second the boy broke eye contact with him, Wilbur pounced, pinning the boy to the wall and grabbing both of his wrists with one hand. He scribbled his fingers all over the boy’s ribs, making him burst into laughter. Tommy shook his head, already feeling weak from laughing.

“Nohohoho, plehehease! Ihihihi’m sohohohorry!” Wilbur’s fingers rubbed gently between the bones, making him buck slightly. “Sorry doesn’t cut it, Tommy. Who in their right mind decides to kick their brother when they’re pinned? Certainly not someone who wants to say sorry right when their punishment begins.” He poked and prodded his ribs, eliciting little screeches and squeaks from the boy underneath him. His fingers followed the curve of his ribs down to his sides, tracing shapes and scribbling on the sensitive flesh there. Tommy squealed quietly when he shifted to his hips, pinching and drilling at the bones. “Wihihihi- Wihihihil- AHA!”

After a few minutes of being wrecked, Tommy’s eyes welled up with happy tears, shaking his head in hopes that his brother would slow down. The musician slowed down the tickles, then stopped completely, making sure his brother was alright. He pulled away, giving him a little space. The blonde panted for breath, dazed and tickled silly. He gazed affectionately at his brother through half-lidded eyes, a dopey smile painted on his features. Wilbur smiled back at him, warmth blossoming in his heart at the sight. ‘Aww, look at him! He’s so cute!’ His mind cooed at the cute sight of his brother not trying to kill him for once. (And that’s as close as it gets to affection that Tommy would ever willingly give him, as far as he was concerned. That should have been a clue that perhaps the next thing he was going to do was a trap.)

After a minute or two, he snapped out of his daze, pausing to fluff up his hair, then smooth it back down a little bit. He beckoned Wilbur to come closer, arms open. Wilbur gasped in excitement. “Really?” Tommy looked to the side, blushing softly again. “Just come here.” Wilbur eagerly crawled towards him, flopping into the embrace. He tightened his arms around the other, ignoring his protests. He squeezed his eyes shut, basking in the situation and the feeling of Tommy’s arms encircling him. The feeling of someone scrabbling their fingers over his shoulderblades made him giggle. His eyes shot open in surprise. Struggling in Tommy’s grasp, he pushed gently at the younger.

“Yohohou jeheherk!”

Tommy giggled softly in his ear. “Payback, Wilby.”

He scratched softly all over his back, making the taller of the two melt into his arms. “Tohohoms…” “Shh, Wilbur. I want my revenge and you want affection. It’s a win-win.” The musician’s charming little giggles was just as musical as the songs he played in the living room every day. He shifted his hands to scratch gently at the back of his neck with one hand. He squeezed Wilbur’s hip with varying intensities, reveling in the changes of pitch in the other’s laughter.

“Ehehe, Tohohommy...ihihit tihihickles…” He scrunched up his shoulders, giggling louder when Tommy traced shapes into his neck and scratched at his collarbone teasingly. “That’s the whole point, big Dubs.” The sound of hooves and talons stepping on the creaking wooden stairs gave him pause. The sound of Philza’s wedding ring scraping softly on the stairway rails made his hair stand on end a little. ‘Did I wake him up? Oh shit..’ He held his breath as he saw the familiar shapes of the two warriors in the house step into view. “H-Hi?”

“Hello, mate. What was that ungodly noise, hm?” His trepidation reached its peak. Eyes widening to the size of dinner plates, he let go of Wilbur, stuttering apologies. “I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry… sorry, s-sorry, I didn’t m-mean to wake you..” Philza gently scooped up Tommy, holding him from his underarms. He gazed at him with a soft, unfocused gaze, trying to convey to the panicking boy his level of annoyance. When it was obvious the poor kid still thought he was in trouble, he smiled at him a little. “Oh, no, mate. It’s alright. You’re not in trouble.”

Tommy’s muscles relaxed a little, but didn’t fully lose all of their tension. He looked at him with slightly nervous intensity, looking away from him guiltily. A small little squeeze to his underarms and ribs made him squeak. Cheeks burning, he looked back at his father to see a cheeky grin grow on his face. The winged man placed him down on his feet, wings fluffing out playfully. “So, Tommy.” “Y-yeah?” “Run.” Minutes later, the sound of Tommy’s screeching laughter echoed through the house, dissipating in the warm, balmy winds outside. Sitting idly on the lilypad, frogchamp blinked, croaking softly outside the lantern-lit door.

#downywrites #dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #my writing #ler!tommy #lee!tommyinnit #ler!wilbur #lee!wilbur #bruh i am so tired #dragon anon #sfw tickling

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