#also the further i get into this book the more i miss eli | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ceefourbane · 1 year

Text

My Favorite Movies of 2010, 50-1

I am not very old. In fact, many would consider me to be fairly — or in some cases — extremely young. That is not a boast nor is it a deprecation. It’s merely a fact. It’s a fact that means I haven’t been alive long enough to have watched that many movies. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen plenty. Exactly 236 so far this year (plus a handful of repeat viewings) and 65 of those being 2022 releases. I’d say I’m at least in the top one percent of film-watchers in the world — that one was a bit of a boast. My only point is that, as a relatively young person, I juggle two seemingly endless tasks: watching old films that have been deemed “important” and seeking out as many new releases as possible. Doing all of this necessitates a Letterboxd page, a junk drawer of Google Documents and now, to my demise, a Substack. I say that as if I was forced to do any of this, which I wasn’t. It just so happens that there’s a cancer inside of my brain, slowly eating away at my happiness that tells me what to do sometimes. This is one of those cases. All of that to say, through my wondrous discovery of old and new, as well as my accidental gamification of film-watching, I figured I should put it all to use and entertain myself with a bit of a chore. That brings me here.

I saw 22 new releases in 2010, and through the years, I’ve added roughly 70 more titles to that list. In an exercise of futility, I selected my favorites, ranked them from 50-to-one, and wrote about them. I will do the same for every year of that decade, and through 2022. Is it all pointless? Yeah, probably. Will I enjoy doing it? I think so. That’s all that really matters anyways. Without any further ado, here are some movies I liked.

50. Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps

Oliver Stone makes horrendous movies a little bit more fun. That being said, this one didn’t really work. I’m actually not sure if Stone’s made a working movie in *checks watch* 23 years. Still, there are certain filmmakers that I just have season tickets for. I’ll never miss a game. Even in a thirty-point blowout, I’m staying until the end and probably having some fun doing it. Money Never Sleeps had just enough cool moments to ensure that I was satisfied by the end, which deserves credit.

49. Green Zone

For whatever reason, I remember watching this movie in the Outer Banks on a rainy day when it came out. I also remember walking out of the theater, as an avid Matt Damon fan, thinking..."cool.” I was seven years old then. 12 years and a thousand films later, I walk away from this one still just thinking, “cool.” There’s not much else to it.

48. The Expendables

I recognize that, with every number, swimming in the “stupid but fun” pool grows more unacceptable. Don’t worry, we’ll get out of it soon.

I detest the growing dearth of movies like this. High-budget 80s-styled machismo fests with several action heavyweights crammed in the poster. There are a couple of them on this list, but even by 2010, the genre had begun to dwindle. Now we’re at the point where I’m salivating over movies like Copshop and treating them like Christmas gifts. These types of movies may not be worth much, but they’re meaningful to me. Let me have my fun.

47. The Book of Eli

This is undoubtedly in the lowest quartile of potential outcomes for a Denzel-Hughes Brothers crossover. And it still kinds rocks.

46. Biutiful

I am not an Iñárritu fan.* He consistently makes impressive movies with moments of absurd excellence, anchored by flawless performances. But the stories underneath them are every bit as contrived and unrefined as his handle on how they’re told is tedious. The 148-minute runtime here doesn’t help its case. Birdman is AGI’s shortest movie, and not-so-coincidentally, my favorite of his. I guess I view his endeavors like magic tricks. There’s almost always some sort of gimmick that raptures you on first viewing, just enough to hide its blemishes. Then, from every viewing onward, you begin to get it more and more. For great movies, that should be a good thing, adding weight to the experience. For Iñárritu, it almost always does the opposite. I’m not trying to be a “hater.” If it means anything, I think this guy is as technically gifted as any living director, and I’m always excited to see what he does next. Thus far, he just... hasn’t done it for me. That said, Biutiful, one of his weakest movies, still cracks the top fifty. I’ll never watch it again, but like I said, I can’t deny something with this many impressive moments.

*I thought I’d make it clear that this was written before the Bardo disaster made it fashionable to hate on Iñárritu

45. The King’s Speech

One of the worst Best Picture winners... ever?

44. Inside Job

I think I read a Letterboxd review of this that described it as “The Big Short's realist and even more depressing twin.” That seems fair. It’s a bit strange to watch this far removed from 2008, especially since there’s been dozens of significantly lower-quality facsimiles since. Nevertheless, it does its job in the most airtight manner possible — making for a fantastic essay and a fine movie.

43. Last Train Home

Another measured documentary that acts more like informative wallpaper than anything really immersive or movie-like. I would still recommend it to anybody looking for their daily dose of film vegetables. I think it’s pretty good.

42. The Fighter

David O. Russell is extraordinarily hit-or-miss with me. Yet, almost all of his movies force me to gruelingly confront how I feel about them. Flirting with Disaster is chaotic and amusing. Three Kings is one of my favorites of the 90s. I Heart Huckabees has long been important to me. I have a love-hate relationship with Silver Linings Playbook. American Hustle excited me but ultimately failed. Joy and Amsterdam were offensively bad. Okay, so maybe it’s more like hit-hit-hit-miss-miss-miss. The Fighter, however, I’m firmly middle on. There are a handful of amazing performances in here and the boxing scenes look cool. Yet, anything having to do with the story left me placid and unmoved. That may sound a little harsh, and it is technically a sturdy film — far from D.O.R.’s worst — I just have so few lasting feelings about it.

41. Rabbit Hole

This movie is dramatic, potent, and affecting while keeping its lips sealed and never moving an inch. It’s a minor work that I never care to see again, but there’s at least something to reward here.

40. Monsters

I actually don’t think Monsters is Gareth Edwards’ most impressive work, but it is by far his most inspired. He’s not what I would call a “humanist” filmmaker, for good reason. He tried to be one here and that’s okay. Evans makes lovely portraits that I would hang in my living room. I’m not sure which ones, if any, work as movies. But I know I like watching all of them.

39. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

If I had watched this without any prior knowledge of how good Fincher’s version was, then I’d probably appreciate it a little bit more. I actually think there’s an argument to be made that Noomi Rapace delivers a better performance than Rooney Mara. She’s even darker, crazier and sexier, holding the more Lisabeth-centered telling of this story compared to Fincher’s, with a firm grip. There are also moments of truly expert filmmaking. However, I don’t think there are enough of them to warrant a 152-minute runtime. Again, it’s unfortunate for this movie that David Fincher exists.

38. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows: Part 1

Most of the Harry Potter movies do very little for me, but there are always a few scenes that steal my imagination for five minutes. Harry and Hermione swaying to “Dance O Children” by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds is one of those. I’m only human.

37. We’ll get there.

36. Let Me In

Interesting to watch in hindsight, knowing where everybody’s careers go. Never having seen the original, it’s difficult for me to judge this one, but I liked it a lot. Gut-punchingly disturbing violence, terrific child performances. It seems Reeves’ ethos is really just fierce brutality in the least subtle way possible, which sounds good to me. Watch this if you want to squirm.

35. Get Low

Bill Murray plays a garrulous mortician trying to make a quick buck in this movie. Of course I liked it.

34. I’m Still Here

In a six-year span, Joaquin Phoenix starred in two James Gray movies, two Paul Thomas-Anderson movies, one Spike Jonze movie, and this. Just remarkable taste.

33. Animal Kingdom

Nothing too artful. This, like most of Michôd’s films, is overwhelming, a tad absurd, and authentically Australian.

37. Salt

32. Kick-Ass

Winking genre movies that refuse to give up on the bit. They’re explosive, violent, hilarious, gut-wrenching, disgusting, beautiful, thrashing, and genius all at once. Some filmmakers spend their entire careers making them — and I promptly seek them out. These two, however, only really made one each. Philip Noyce is an old-stager in the TV world and the helmer of countless novelistic spy thrillers. Then he made Salt, a “fuck you” with a smile type of movie that makes his more robust, self-serious work look tirelessly drab in contrast. Matthew Vaughn, on the other hand, burst onto the scene with Layer Cake before really sharpening his knife, resulting in the blisteringly fun Kick-Ass. Then he followed it up with one X-Men and three Kingsman movies, none of which are bad by the way. In fact, I think X-Men: First Class is pretty great. Still, part of me wishes both filmmakers continued to crack their knuckles in the exercise of genre play. Sigh.

31. Inception

I’m sorry, let’s get this out of the way quickly. I loved this movie as I was watching it the first time, gasped a lot, and was drawn in just enough emotionally. It’s been downhill ever since. On repeat viewings, I began to feel burned by the cryptic ending. And the more I thought about it, Nolan’s make-shift script really felt like it was being held together by jumper cables and bungee cords. Then I started thinking about Ariadne’s “audience stand-in” character and how pathetically the exposition was wedged into the dialogue. All of the rules are arbitrary and I don’t think there’s an interesting character in sight of this thing. Movie bullshit is a more-than-okay topping, but it can’t be the whole fucking dessert. I’ll say this, the first 45 minutes are objectively great. There are also five or six of the best set pieces I’ve ever seen on film in here. But I like it less with every re-watch.

30. How to Train Your Dragon

I saw this in the theaters with my mom and sister the weekend it was released, while my dad and brother went and saw Hot Tub Time Machine. We got out around the same time, and on our way to the car, I recall my dad bantering with my brother about “that girl with the big boobs in the bath” (or something to that affect). I immediately knew I saw the wrong movie. In the ensuing years, I probably locked myself in my bedroom with the Hot Tub Time Machine D.V.D., putting that scene on a loop, countless times. I must say, with all due respect to the extraordinarily talented Jessica Paré, I think I saw the better movie that night. World creation to the highest order, a breath-taking score and blistering character work. It may not stack up with Pixar’s best, a ruthlessly high bar, and unlike Hot Tub, I probably won’t re-visit it much. Still, I find this to be far and away the most impressive DreamWorks franchise.

29. The Ghost Writer

There’s a tinge of European exceptionalism in all of Polanski’s films. This one best exemplifies it. I’ll excuse that for the time being, because it’s still a great work of unapologetic pulp. Cheap, grab-off-the-rack airport paperback fiction. A relentlessly watchable covert-ops thriller that functions without the baggage of any meaningful subtext. I could wrap this movie in my arms and watch it in the corner of a warm coffee shop on a winter’s day. It shares all of its qualities with the type of 70s b-movies that I cherish: tight pacing, propulsive atmosphere, and expert casting. I won’t litigate the morality of praising late-era — or any era — Polanski work. Boring. He’s a sickening person who shouldn’t be allowed to make movies. Still, this was a worthy effort that I’m glad we have and almost certainly would’ve been a limited series if it was made to day. That makes my stomach hurt.

28. 127 Hours

27. Sweetgrass

Nature.

26. The Illusionist

At some point, I’ll get to watching Tati’s films. For now, this will do. A tight 80 minutes of beautifully melancholic hand-drawn animation and score. This one will hold you.

25. Never Let Me Go

If the “adult drama” genre is truly fading (it is), then the “adult sci-fi drama” genre is damn-near extinct. Alex Garland is one of the only filmmakers still pouring all of his efforts into that pond, which I appreciate. Never Let Me Go feels like the beginning of the end in that regard. A deeply moving, heartache of a film that plain and simply wouldn’t get made today (I’m already tired of saying that). It’s a shame that Mark Romanek, acclaimed for his music video directing career, never put it all together in the feature film department. He clearly has something that few others possess today.

24. Another Year

23. The Kids Are All Right

22. I Am Love

Families are difficult sometimes. I could probably stand to take a little bit of time working on that instead of watching movies that constantly alert me of it. Oh well.

21. The Other Guys

99% of me rolls around in hysterics when watching this movie. The other 1% weeps when I realize what we’ve lost in Adam McKay. I say that as an ardent defender of The Big Short and — to some degree — Vice. This movie, if anything, should serve as a reminder that you can make harsh critiques of the ways we run society without being annoying.

20. Carlos

19. A Prophet

These are filthy crime epics, each with colossal performances in the center — by Edgar Ramírez and Tahar Rahim respectively — about mega-criminals turned assassins, at least partially set in France. They’re titanic achievements in their own right, but should be viewed as a diptych on terror, violence, and spectacle. Carlos takes a sweeping approach to its investigation, studying the commodification of these things, doing so in a grandiose manner. Meanwhile, A Prophet immediately alerts you of its claustrophobia, before slowly letting up. The only reason I favor the latter film, is because it’s roughly 180 minutes shorter. Still, both are excellently made. What can I say? Sometimes I love a disgusting bath.

18. Fish Tank

Like all of Andrea Arnold’s works, Fish Tank is quite the mess! But for a movie that submerges its characters in hardship and immorality, often going out of its way to do so, forcing painstakingly cringe-worthy choices onto them... it assumes a sort of shapeless form, shedding any desire to act like a movie, that just lets it go and go. Her work does very little for me, outside of providing an adrenaline rush of sensationalism, which is enough. Layered with a few vigorously earnest performances from Katie Jarvis and Michael Fassbender, who strike the exact right balance of honest character portrayal and operatic explosions. The movie also looks spectacular; bathed in a burnt orange and gold that makes it delightful to watch a girl pee on the floor. I’m not sure Andrea Arnold knows how to make a good movie, but she’s hopelessly impressionistic and makes hers about people, which I like. Although, American Honey is better. We’ll get there eventually.

17. Greenberg

This definitely isn’t my favorite Baumbach movie, it isn’t even one of my five or six favorite Baumbach movies. Yet, I feel like it’s importance in his lexicon is understated. All of his works are, in one way or another, about certain stages of life — making them endlessly relatable. The Squid and the Whale is about realizing your parents are fallible. Margot at the Wedding is about hating everyone in your life. Frances Ha is about growing up too late. The Meyerowitz Stories is about how death brings families together. Marriage Story is about dying love and having children. They all chronicle a time and a place, like a poetic diary. Kicking and Screaming will pretty much be my life in a couple of years. Maybe not the hooking up with Parker Posey part (although a man can dream). But the post-graduating living with your divorced parent, jerking off every day, being unemployed, and thinking about the Knicks and literature part of it hits home (I’m actually not a Knicks fan, but close enough). Greenberg is about an acerbic, unmotivated guy who’s feeling a bit adrift, trying to get his life together and avoiding every chance he has to do so. It might not be Baumbach’s most acidic film, but it is his grouchiest. The reason this is somewhat of a milestone film isn’t just because of how it acts or what it says though, but because of who’s in it: Greta! All of the movies Baumbach has made since meeting his now-partner aren’t nearly as angry as the ones that came before. They may have some venom or bite — *ahem* Marriage Story — but there are simply more smiles, winks and moments of levity in all of them. Again, Greenberg isn’t upper-tier Baumbach. But what you have to understand is that for a guy like me, Baumbach is my Cassavetes, my James L. Brooks. I can look at his filmography and find remnants of my past or glimpses into my future. That’s a pretty fantastic thing, I think.

16. Easy A

Being a teenager sucks. That’s why, with some exceptions, I’ve mostly hated watching present-day high school movies. Why would I want to experience the pain of something I already go through every day? Now, multiple years removed from high school, just barely hanging onto that teenager title, I thought revisiting them would be something of a joyous undertaking. Boy, was I wrong. What I realized was that, yes these types of movies are about teenagers dealing with their problems on screen. But really, to their core, they’re about millennials in their 30s processing their own experiences, using modern-day concerns as a vessel to express them. That, in turn, forces me to confront some of the worst years of my life... lovely. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t a tortured kid. Being a teenager in high school just really sucks. So why do I have Easy A ranked this high? For starters, it’s a knockout of a comedy that comes at the tail-end of an era in which the sub-genre I claim to loathe was really thriving. Napoleon Dynamite, Mean Girls, Superbad. I may experience moments of P.T.S.D. when watching each of these, but I’m still a human, and I love every one of them. Also, I’m a whore for movie stars. And this is undeniably a movie star movie. Stone’s performance is truly fantastic, and even better than I remembered. I’d also be remiss if I failed to mention the ridiculously deep bench on this cast: Stanley Tucci, Patricia Clarkson, Thomas Haden Church, Lisa Kudrow, Amanda Bynes, Penn Badgley, Malcolm McDowell... Malcolm fucking McDowell! I can’t resist this movie.

15. Exit Through the Gift Shop

I don’t care for Banksy, nor do I care for street art. I can still have fun with a highly entertaining, bonkers and wonky, laugh-out-loud hilarious documentary. Whether or not it’s a hoax doesn’t really make a difference here, the lines between fact and fiction are allowed to be blurred. Anything that fucks with its audience so much that it leaves them thinking “what the hell did I just watch?” will probably earn my respect.

14. Dogtooth

Five years ago, some would’ve considered this to be a movie without a genre. No longer. Hate it or love it, Dogtooth is officially a “quarantine” movie. An unnerving, fascinating, absurdist work that unfurls itself in almost the exact manner that life felt mid-pandemic. The dizzying paranoia of feeling like we may be living in a reality simulated by people who don’t always seem to care about us. A tale of people in isolation, constantly making confounding choices of how to live their lives. It’s easily my third favorite Lanthimos movie, solidly behind The Favourite and Dogtooth. He’s one of the good ones.

13. Jackass 3D

I seriously cannot put into words how much the Jackass movies mean to me. They’re like a fiber of my being, a harness to my soul. I don’t fucking know, I’ve seen them all a million times and each one rules. I understand the importance of guys like Truffaut or Kurosawa or Fritz Lang or Bresson or Bergman or Sturges or even Lynch, Malick, fuck even Hitchcock. I’ve seen many of their films, love a great deal of them and respect all of them. Pour one out for those guys. But trust me when I say, none of them would’ve gotten their ass bit by a snapping turtle or their tooth pulled by a high-speed Lambo. Give me Knoxville and Steve-O and Wee-Man and Pontius over those old farts any day.

12. Winter’s Bone

Easily some of the best atmospheric world-building of any movie this year. And at the center of it all is a young and rising Jennifer Lawrence. Delivering an all-time “too gorgeous to be in this movie but so good that she makes it work” performance. Right next to her is a terrific showing from John Hawkes, who’s one of our best working actors that isn’t in enough good movies.

11. Black Swan

My first celebrity crush as a young child was Natalie Portman. It only made sense, I mean she was Padmé Amidala for Christ’s sake. So as you can imagine, I was elated when I found a certain scene from Black Swan, about a year after its release, floating around on the internet. I watched that scene. A lot. My takeaway? That Mila Kunis was actually the hottest girl on the planet. So up until about four years ago, when I actually sat down and gave the thing a watch, Black Swan was a tortuous movie about two ballerinas vying for the heart (and dick) of a young boy. Mhm.

Also, the scene where Nina pulls off her hang nail is by far the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in a movie. I’m still haunted by it.

Before cracking into my top 10…here are five TV shows and miniseries I enjoyed this year that were better than the movies not ranked 10-1 on this list. V. 30 Rock

IV. Boardwalk Empire

III. Louie

II. Breaking Bad

I. Mad Men

10. True Grit

I didn’t see this movie in 2010, I was seven. But if I did, as the Coen fan that I am now, I’d imagine my reaction would’ve been something like this:

“By Coen standards, this is a major disappointment. Not only is it their least impressive film in years, but a totally unnecessary one. Scene for scene, beat for beat, this is a carbon copy of the original. Revising a classic western is for the birds and I thought the Coens were above that. Still, decent.”

Shut up nerd. Now, years removed from the discourse, I adore True Grit. I’ll take the criticisms on the chin, because there’s so much to love here. It’s still a minor work in the context of the Coen filmography, but that doesn’t say much. This isn’t even close to being the thoughtless remake some may have assumed it was at the time (duh). There are a half-dozen ideas on its mind at all times. Whether that’s selfishness, honesty, fairness, masculinity, or whatever else. There’s a lot here. Did I mention that this also just happens to be one of the most watchable movies of the year? I could put the thing on a loop. Love it.

9. Mother

I liked a subversive genre thriller from Bong Joon-ho? Shocking. This is probably his fifth or sixth best movie and it’s still a banger. All hail the king.

8. Blue Valentine

The thing about making something that hurts to watch is that you can’t win. It either fails to resonate and is lost to the void of pathetic try-hard movies, or you win, in which case nobody will ever see your film twice, aside from a select group of sociopaths who love to torture themselves. Thus attracting a cultish hive of passionate fans who drown their real life issues in sad art. Now, I wouldn’t say I necessarily belong in that category for Blue Valentine. But I am a major fan, and I’ve seen it twice. It’s a crushing work of cinema that enraptured be both times I watched it. If I ever see it a third time, I’ll let you know.

7. Unstoppable

I’ve seen this a lot. It was one of the movies I saw when it came out in 2010, and I’ve probably watched it a dozen more times since. The interesting thing is that I’ve seen it in about every setting possible. In a movie theater, in my bedroom, in a classroom, at a friend’s house, at a bar, at my grandma’s. Every time, without a doubt, it immerses everybody in sight. Whether it’s on an IMAX screen, a TV, a laptop or a phone (eyeroll). There’s something so captivating about the way Tony Scott makes movies that is singular to him. They’re all so exciting, propulsive, fiery and fun. Impossible to refuse. But like I said, that’s all Tony movies. What makes this one especially great are two things. One, the passing-the-torch movie stardom between Denzel and Pine. Two, the examination of blue collar work ethic in small-town America. I’ve seen Man on Fire and Beverly Hills Cop II more times than you’d like to know. But it’s those two elements that separate the wheat from the chaff in Tony Scott’s filmography. I think Unstoppable is somewhat of a lost masterpiece and if you haven’t seen it — do. If you have seen it and thought it was just a fine action flick, watch it again — I think it’ll surprise you.

6. Scott Pilgrim vs. the World

This is a thing that simply makes me happy. It warms my heart. Therefore, I only watch it when I’m at my lowest points in life, which means it’s kind of difficult to talk about. Not because I’m afraid of being open on the internet. But rather because, outside of those contexts, I don’t think about it much. It’s kind of like a really long hug. At the right moment, it feels like it can cure the universe. But when you don’t really need it, it’s still “nice,” just a tad awkward. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll always laugh and scream and sing and gawk at every beat of this thing, even when I’m not technically depressed. But I think saving some things for certain moments in life is a good idea.

5. The Town

Just about the best bank heist movie since Heat and the best Boston movie since The Departed. Watching this is how I’d imagine soup fans feel about eating a hot bowl of soup. It’s warm, comforting, familiar and doesn’t test you. I fucking love it.

4. Somewhere

I’m not a daughter, nor am I a father. But my sisters are and my dad was one. This movie makes me feel closer to them.

3. Shutter Island

“Which would be worse, to live as a monster or die as a good man?” Whoosh, this one is special. I find that with every viewing of a late-period Scorsese, he simply only makes masterpieces. First time seeing Shutter Island, cold. Second, blew me away. First time seeing Silence, respectable. Second, I was lights out. First and second and probably third time seeing The Departed... fun but played out. Every time after that had me re-considering where it stands in my rankings (extremely high). The Irishman got me from the moment I saw it, and I’ve yet to revisit Hugo so TBD there. My biggest takeaway with this one is that Marty paints regret in the most brutal of ways. The colors alone had me rapt. A woozy, mind-numbing flourish of devastation with a story that flicks the light-switch to your brain on and off and on and off. At the center of it all is the signature actor of our time. I don’t know if there’s a movie out there more deserving of a re-watch than Shutter Island.

2. Toy Story 3

Remember when I said that “all movies are supposed to do is manipulate you”? Yeah, well enough said. A harrowing tale about acceptance, death, and learning to move on. There’s also a momentous prison break at the midway point, layered with an excellent buddy comedy dynamic and pumped with loads of nostalgia. I’m not sure there’s ever been a movie that sounds this good. And honestly, it lives up. This might not be the best of the franchise, I still prefer the original for the time being. It’s also no longer “the end.” But it is an astonishingly brutal and beautiful film that should go down as one of the best of the decade.

1. The Social Network

Speaking of “best of the decade,” this is it. Only rivaled by There Will Be Blood for best of the 21st century. A quintessential film about power and class and jealousy and betrayal and privilege. So basically, our best piece of modern Shakespeare. There’s not a shot, a frame, or line of dialogue in this movie that doesn’t eternally stick in my mind. There’s nothing that hasn’t been said about it, so I’ll leave things there.

0 notes

cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

Headcanon - When he sleep talks

Original title: 当他说梦话

Original author: 君兮耶君兮

[ VICTOR ]

It’s nighttime, and Victor is sound asleep beside you. With a practised hand, you feel for your phone from underneath the pillow. Tapping open the e-novel application, you start “committing a crime”.

Since he has repeatedly prohibited you from staying up late to use your phone, you carefully scrutinise Victor’s actions, deathly afraid that he’d suddenly wake up and catch you red-handed.

“Dummy...”

The rustling of fabric drifts from behind you as Victor turns over. A large hand wraps itself around your waist, and you instinctively lock your phone and hide it beneath your pillow, pretending to be asleep.

A long time passes without any further movements from the person behind you. Turning your head slightly to observe the situation, you discover that he’s still asleep. What happened earlier was simply him sleep talking. Relieved, you feel for your phone again, continuing with your little antics.

Soon after, the person behind you begins to mumble again. “It’s not that I don’t like you.”

Your finger pauses on the screen. You seem to have heard something interesting? As someone in the media industry, the acuteness in your DNA causes you to tap on the recorder app to capture what’s going on.

Victor’s chin rests against your head. Cushioned on his arm, you can clearly hear what he’s saying. “I’ll always like you.”

“Who?” You whisper.

“Dummy.” He responds quickly. If you hadn’t verified it earlier, you might have suspected that he wasn’t sleeping at all.

The corners of your lips curl into a slight smile. Closing the recorder app, you place your phone down. Scooting backwards against him, you sink into a peaceful sleep.

While Victor is preparing breakfast the next day, you lift your hand and wave your phone in front of him triumphantly. “Victor, you confessed to me last night!”

He cracks an egg into the frying pan. Hearing what you said, he remains unaffected as he continues to cook. “You had a dream?”

“No, it’s the truth!”

You knew he wouldn’t believe you, which is why you had the recording prepared.

“...”

After hearing it, Victor turns off the fire. He takes your phone to check its veracity, then returns it to you with a glance and a dry laugh. “You recorded this at 1.13am. Looks like a certain someone slept pretty late last night.”

Your heart sinks, and you completely forget about the recording as you retort. “No I didn’t! You saw wrongly!”

How could he not understand you? While he metes out the punishment, he places a plate of warm omelette into your hands. “From tonight onwards, you’ll sleep half an hour earlier than before. You’ll also give your phone to me.”

[ GAVIN ]

If you hadn’t witnessed it personally, you never would have believed that the all-powerful Officer Gavin would turn into a clingy little wolf at night.

Returning from a mission, Gavin manages to fall into a deep sleep when it’s still relatively early. Grabbing a book, you sit on the bed to keep him company. Reaching out to cover him with a blanket, you suddenly hear Gavin’s voice.

“I want a hug.”

Finding this humorous, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. As though you’re coaxing a child, you pat him on the back. “Here you go.”

“Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone.” You aren’t sure what he’s dreaming about, but his brows are tightly knit, and he seems uneasy.

This causes your heart to ache, and you respond gently. “Silly Gavin. I won’t leave you.”

Perhaps hearing this assurance, Gavin presses himself against you. After a while, he clicks his tongue, muttering hazily. “I want a homemade bento.”

This is the first time Gavin is asking for a bento directly. Before, he always dropped hints along the lines of, “Sometimes, my colleagues would bring homemade bentos”. You feel tickled by this. A childish Officer Gavin is especially adorable, and adorable children always get special treatment. “Okay, I’ll prepare it for you tomorrow.”

Gavin mumbles to himself softly. “The dishes in the canteen aren’t as delicious as what you make.”

Your smile falls. Didn’t he mention that STF doesn’t have a canteen?

Putting on a professional smile, you lean closer to him and whisper into his ear. “Gavin, what’s the salary of the aunties working in the STF canteen?”

“$620 a month.” Gavin responds without hesitation.

“Good. Very good.” You straighten up, smiling wryly as you flip to the next page of the book, as though nothing had happened.

“I’m off.” Gavin gives you a goodbye kiss, his spirits high as he heads out of the door carrying an exquisitely wrapped bento box.

“Be safe!” Your smile is the same as every morning.

“Gav, what delicious food did she prepare for you today?” Eli pulls Tang Chao over so he can experience the pain of being single too.

Mentioning the homemade bento brings a smile to Gavin’s eyes. While responding, he opens up the bento. “I don’t know either. She was really secretive about it in the morning, and said I should only look at it at noon...”

Very soon, he isn’t able to continue smiling. Slices of green bitter gourd are neatly laid out in the box. Aside from that, there’s nothing else inside.

“HAHAHAHA. Does sis-in-law want to help relieve your internal heat?” Eli chuckles boisterously, and Tang Chao’s shoulders tremble from suppressing his laughter.

The chopsticks in Gavin’s hand are on the verge of snapping. As they continue rubbing salt into his wound, the chopsticks curve.

He shoots them a glare. “Get out!”

“Gav, don’t murder your squad mates!”

[Trivia] One of Gavin’s “Go See Him” lines is - “There isn’t a canteen in STF, but the nearby eateries aren’t bad.”

However, in an official post about Loveland City, it’s revealed that there IS a canteen. This has been a running joke in the CN community because we still don’t know if it’s a mistake by Papergames or if Gavin really lied to MC so that she’d make him bentos (っ˘ω˘ς )

[ LUCIEN ]

Mr Lucien has always lacked a sense of security, and this is something you’re well aware of. However, the vulnerabilities he reveals to you are mostly meant to tease you, or used to stir up sympathy. You can only get a glimpse of his genuine unease after Lucien falls asleep.

“Mm...” Lucien’s eyes are shut tight, as though he’s having a nightmare.

Since you drank a cup of milk tea before heading to bed, you aren’t drowsy at all. Sensing Lucien’s movements, you pat the large hand wrapped around your waist. “What’s wrong?” you whisper.

Thinking that Lucien is feeling uncomfortable due to the heat, you attempt to put some distance between the both of you. However, the arm around your waist tightens. Not knowing if he’s awake or not, you don’t dare to move much.

Lucien embraces his treasure as he mumbles to himself. “My... Little Butterfly belongs only to me...”

You smile in resignation. Lucien has always been stubborn when it comes to staking his claim on something. This doesn’t upset you. In fact, you have the impulse to tease him even though he’s asleep. “Really?”

“We’ll see who dares to snatch you away.” Lucien’s brows furrow even more, dyeing his expression with an intimidating aura.

Having a bad feeling that you accidentally stepped on a landmine, you decide to soothe the atmosphere so that Professor Lucien wouldn’t feel troubled in his sleep. Before you can do so, you hear a dry chuckle. “A collaborative partner? Hmph.”

The threatening tone in his voice causes you to tremble, and an iciness travels up your spine and into your brain. You instinctively tense up, and you decide to wake him up.

“Lu...”

“Pete, could you bring me that box of scalpels?” His gloomy voice makes him seem like an entirely different person. “Little Butterfly, you can only be mine. Forever.”

You shut your mouth. The Ultima Bioresearch Centre measures its scalpels in boxes?

Sensing your movements, Lucien opens his eyes slowly. In the haze of drowsiness, he kisses your hair while speaking with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Your survival instincts cause you to shrink your neck backwards, and you nuzzle into the arms of the big fox. “Goodnight.”

[ KIRO ]

“Miss... Chips...”

A soft mumble rouses you from the world of novels. Turning your head, you watch as Kiro is sprawled on the bed, quietly tugging the blanket over his bare chest.

Kiro nuzzles the pillow with a slight frown. It seems as if he’s dreaming about something troubling. “Miss Shrimp Strips...”

Your fingers pause on the screen when you hear this familiar yet unfamiliar term of address. Although the both of you often eat shrimp strips, he has never called you “Miss Shrimp Strips”. Does Kiro have another snack in his life?

Thinking of this possibility, your expression turns cold, and you decide to observe further. After waiting for such a long time that you start to doubt if you were merely hallucinating earlier, he finally speaks. “Miss Drumstick...”

Okay. You didn’t mishear earlier. There’s a Miss Drumstick now.

“Miss Popcorn...”

It’s said that dreams portray the most genuine reflections of reality. What one thinks about in the morning is what one dreams about at night. You never imagined that Kiro would be this sneaky in his dreams. Taking a deep breath, you inch closer to him.

The arm of justice reaches out to the unsuspecting Kiro. The second before his head is ripped off, he suddenly twitches, giving you a fright and causing you to pause.

“No! All of you are fakes!” His voice carries with it a sense of righteousness.

There’s a dramatic twist in his dream?

Kiro releases a “hmph”. He shakes off the blanket with a hand before exclaiming, “I, Kiro Bohu, will find the genuine Miss Chips!’

You burst into laughter. If you’d known earlier, you wouldn’t have forced him to watch “Tang Bohu Spots Autumn Fragrance" with you earlier. Covering him with the blanket properly, you pat his golden coloured hair. “Your Miss Chips is right here.”

As though he’s able to hear this, Kiro curls his four limbs as he nuzzles against you. “Mm... Miss Chips...”

“Goodnight, Mr Chips.”

[ SHAW ]

“Tsk.”

A noise sounds in the quiet and still room, causing your fingers to pause. Did he realise that you’re staying up? You quickly turn around to look at Shaw behind you.

At this moment, his eyes are shut tight, his breathing is even, and he doesn’t seem to be awake. You heave a sigh of relief. As long as you don’t get caught, you'd continue using your phone.

“What’s that?”

Another sound drifts over, but it sounds a little unhappier than before.

“What’s what?” You find yourself responding instinctively after growing accustomed to retorting him.

Shaw purses his lips, and he appears to be having an unpleasant dream. You shift a little further away, afraid that he’d progress from simply retorting to whacking you.

Shaw turns over, unable to break free from his dream. “Dragonfly Eye. Don’t lose it again.”

“Your dream’s pretty exaggerated.” You roll your eyes. You’ve only lost the Dragonfly Eye once - and it was 99% due to a certain someone’s “assistance”.

Shaw doesn’t seem to have had his fill yet. He adds another grumble.

“Silly woman.”

The familiar term of address leaves absolutely no doubt that his current dream involves you. You take a deep breath. “Carry on if you dare!”

“Stupid.”

Even when he’s asleep, Shaw is the same as when he’s awake, meeting you head-on.

Fuming, you give him a kick to the butt, sending him off the bed.

Shaw is startled awake. He scans his surroundings in confusion, then covers his injured area while standing up, gritting his teeth. “What’s up with you!”

You respond with a glare. “You insulted me! Twice! You pig!”

Shaw, who was kicked awake but has no idea what happened: ???

More translated and original works: here

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: Can, just state the author and the source

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc gavin #mlqc lucien #mlqc kiro #mlqc shaw #cheri shortcake

212 notes · View notes

softpunks · 2 years

Text

AmeriKate Comic Reading List

Portal-punching queen America Chavez (Miss America) and badass archer Kate Bishop (Hawkeye) are the two awesome girls that make up AmeriKate. Though never made canon, there’s no doubt they’re each other’s “best ones”. If you’re interested in learning more about these two and where they appear in comics, then look no further — this post compiles the issues they’re in together!

More often than not, they have their own partners. Corresponding notes will be made for each recommended reading as a disclaimer, and so you can get a bigger picture of the overall premise! Details about the listed comics (i.e. brief summary), issues about the characters individually, and a sprinkle of OP’s personal opinion of a couple of the arcs can be found under the cut.

The list may not be as extensive as other ships in Marvel Comics are, but AmeriKate makes each issue count.

(Feel free to let me know if I missed any issues!)

AmeriKate Reading List:

→ Young Avengers Vol. 2 (2013) by Gillen and McKelvie

Sequel to Young Avengers Vol. 1 and Avengers: The Children’s Crusade - Young Avengers.

Kate bishop is/was dating Noh-Varr.

→ All-New Hawkeye Vol. 2 Issues #2 and #3 (2016) by Lemire and Perez

Continuation of All-New Hawkeye Vol. 1 (2015).

→ Civil War II: Choosing Sides Issues #2 and #3 (2016)

Issue #2 by Whiteley and Sauvage; Issue #3 by Doyle and Byrne.

Part of major storyline Civil War II.

→ America Vol. 1 Issues #1, #5, and #6 (2017) by Rivera and Quinones

America was/is dating Lisa Halloran. She has a brief thing with Magdalena Velez.

→ West Coast Avengers (2018) by Thompson and Caselli

Kate Bishop was/is dating Johnny Watts.

America Chavez was/is dating Ramone Watts.

→ America Chavez: Made in the USA Issues #1 and #5 (2021) by Vazquez and Gomez

America was/is dating Ramone Watts.

Miscellaneous Issues + Information!

→ Young Avengers Volume 1 (2005) by Heinberg and Cheung

Kate Bishop’s debut. Highly recommend reading about this team, regardless of how well (or poorly) MCU does with their adaptation of its members. Here, the Avengers have disassembled, and all of a sudden, a bunch of teen heroes with sidekick-sounding names are popping up and trying to save the city.

Kate Bishop has an off-and-on again relationship with Eli Bradley (Patriot) and a friendly flirty dynamic with Tommy Shepherd (Speed).

Lineup: Hawkeye (Kate Bishop), Hulking (Teddy Altman), Iron Lad (Nathaniel Richards), Patriot (Eli Bradley), Speed (Tommy Shepherd), Stature (Cassie Lang), Vision (Jonas), Wiccan (Billy Kaplan).

→ Young Avengers Special (2005) by Heinberg and Cheung

Initial/brief origins of the original Young Avengers Team, including Kate Bishop’s.

→ Vengeance (2011) by Casey and Dragotta

America Chavez’s debut. She has a thing with the Ultimate Nullifier, which is brought up and addressed in the 2nd Volume of Young Avengers, where she and Kate Bishop officially meet.

→ Young Avengers Vol. 2 (2013) by Gillen and McKelvie

Post Avengers: Children’s Crusade event. Though not liked by all compared to Volume 1, Volume 2 still had its own charms, and established how this was one of the first teams to ever be mostly queer canonically — on top of being adolescents too! This was a gift to all the young LGBT comic book fans out there who wanted to see themselves in their heroes.

Lineup: Miss America (America Chavez), Hawkeye (Kate Bishop), Hulking (Teddy Altman), Kid Loki, Marvel Boy (Noh-Varr), Prodigy (David Alleyne), Speed (Tommy Shepherd), Wiccan (Billy Kaplan).

→ All-New Hawkeye Vol. 2 (2016) by Lemire and Perez

More insight into Kate Bishop’s backstory is presented here. Arguably one of my favorite Hawkeye arcs because Kate was such a sweetheart to the kids of Project Communion.

→ Siege: Battleworld (2016) by Gillen and Andrade

America goes to another universe (Earth-311) and meets their version of Kate Bishop. Optional read since this isn’t Kate Bishop from Earth-616, but that universe also has other Young Avengers members making an appearance.

→ America (2017) by Rivera and Quinones

There are two volumes of this and give us a deeper dive into America’s origins. Besides Kate Bishop making an appearance, America goes to a university with David Alleyne (entering the Young Avengers roster in their 2nd volume).

AmeriKate’s road trip stint was lovely.

→ West Coast Avengers (2018) by Thompson and Caselli

Kate’s in the West Coast and finds that there’s barely any heroes stationed there to protect the city, so she enlists the help of some other heroes (including her partner Clint, her best friend America, and her boyfriend Johnny). The team’s line-up is really interesting, and the sheer chaos of their dynamics makes it a fun read. This is also where Jeff the Landshark makes his debut!

→ America Chavez: Made in the U.S.A. (2021) by Vazquez and Gomez

America’s origins about the Utopian Parallel was later retconned here (by a lot). It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, especially for the fans who liked America’s original background since this one pretty much took a massive dump on Rivera’s work in America (2017), though I personally enjoyed the art, if nothing else. It’s any fan’s game as to whether they want to view this storyline as canon or not.

→ Hawkeye: Kate Bishop (2021) by Nikjamp and Balam

Currently an ongoing series as of now (Issue #3, Jan. 2022)! Kate shows off her skills once again as a private eye and solo hero with this arc. America only shows up in text messages, along with Cassie Lang and Clint, but the events in the story imply they’ll be making an official appearance soon enough. Art is fantastic and the premise is so far interesting.

#amerikate #kate bishop #america chavez #kate bishop comics #america chavez comics #marvel comics #marvel #comic reading list #marvel 616 #jinn rambles

113 notes · View notes

angxlyxn · 3 years

Text

preservation - aesop x f. reader

summary: Aesop wants to make sure that you stay as his, forever.

warnings: death, reader dies, minor gore (blood), asphyxiation/choking, obsessive behavior, usage of a syringe, death by use of pancuronium bromide.

a/n: identity v is unfortunately my current brainrot, so please take this. i’m actually pretty proud of this piece and i hope you enjoy it too!

word count: ~4.6k

When you had first arrived at the manor, you had been seen by many as strange. An oddity if you will, a disturbance in the otherwise monotonous and flat life that the others led. You had stood upon the steps of the mansion, clutching a leather case between your clammy hand and knocking definitively on the door. The oaken frame was soon flung open by a vivacious girl, her brown hair falling in locks about her face and tangling around her chin with a sort of carelessness. She had introduced herself to you as Emma, and you had given her a curt nod in return. You mumbled out your name, mindlessly letting your eyes drift about the meticulous architecture of the manor in disinterest, the girl’s lively rambles buzzing about and filtering through your previously vacant ears. She soon had led you into the warmth of the building, a creeping feeling overtaking you as she tugged you towards the dining hall, where she said the others were waiting. Your hands tightened around your skirt pocket, where the letter that brought you to this place was secured. It had promised a large sum of money for your participation in some sort of “game”, of which the details were not included. You, however, blindly jumped at the opportunity. Lack of a spouse and job had left you nearly homeless, and you had become tired of being a scavenger, tired of having your life depend on whether or not an inn had vacancies. So, the idea of a huge cash prize was everything to you.

You remembered clearly the moment when you had been pulled into the dining room and hurriedly introduced by an overly excited Emma, the sea of survivors greeting you with looks varying from boredom to contempt. One person, however, stood out to you as they looked on with an expression of interest, cold grey eyes analyzing your features and brows drawing together in thought. You returned his stare, not as a challenge but simply out of curiosity. Upon realizing that you were looking at him as well, he turned away from you, gently tucking the hem of his mask further over his thin nose.

A peculiar one, Aesop was. He never did grow less reticent during your time together, always staying serious and stone-faced, yet easy to fluster. A few survivors took advantage of his frightful nature, but most were too afraid of the embalmer to even spare a glance in his direction.

Which, he supposes, is where his infatuation with you began. You were like him, in a way. Generally avoided by most, with the exception of a few more social survivors, such as Kevin and Emma. Luca, it seemed, had also taken a liking to you, and often would drag you along to keep him company. Those were the times that Aesop hated the most. He never minded much when Kevin would flirt, or when Emma would insist on you helping her with her gardening, because he knew that these were just patterns of behavior, and nothing personal. Luca, however, was hard to read. He was extroverted, yet private, and tried as he did, Aesop was never able to figure him out. His motives were too jumbled to understand, his words always far too fast and convoluted. And the amount of attention you seemed to divert to the young inventor was more than enough to bring forth the feelings of jealousy and disdain that seemed to occupy Aesop whenever someone spoke of or interacted with you.

Despite these odd feelings, Aesop was disgusted by you. The living repulsed him, and you weren’t supposed to be an exception to this rule. He would hold back a flinch each time that you would breathe, the motion of your chest rising filling him with contempt both for you and himself. He hated that he was so attached to a living thing such as you.

You would be so much better off dead. So much prettier with your eyes permanently closed, the gentle flush that usually occupied your cheeks drawn out from your skin.

He knew that he had to resist these temptations of seeing you lifeless. Aesop was a calculated man, but he seemed to have much less control when it came to you. So, he decided that it would do him well to attempt to act as one usually would, and for a time he tried to fit himself into the social structure of the manor, at least more so than he usually did.

He tried to grow closer to you as someone usually would. The male would dedicate part of his day to attempting to be social with you, although this usually just meant that he would sit near you in the library or join you by the fireplace. Little to no words were exchanged between the two of you, and yet, he could not have wished for anything more. During the time he spent with you, he was able to observe, able to familiarize himself with your behavior, your quirks, and your patterns. He found immense satisfaction in watching as your expression would change as you read, taking great joy in the way that your brows would cinch together every so often. Not to mention your other more intimate expressions. It almost felt orgasmic to the male whenever the most lithe of smiles would spread across your cheeks. Sometimes he would grow flustered just thinking about the gentle curve of your lips, or the way your tongue would protrude slightly in an ever so innocent way when you would grace him with that kind smile of yours.

This was enough to keep him content for a long time, but at some point, that changed. He grew bored of just watching you, and longed for more. He wished to feel you against him, to feel your steady breaths reverberate against his ribs. He wanted to experience the sensation of you quivering against him, wanted to caress and tug your hair, wanted to wrap his hands around your pretty little neck and squeeze until you were begging and gasping for air. He wanted to make it so you were completely at his mercy.

Unable to refuse him.

Helpless.

But still he continued watching you, without your knowledge, of course. He familiarized himself with your schedule, and found that Tuesdays were the days you were most often matched, while Sundays you always kept to yourself, not even sparing a glance at other survivors unless it’s warranted.

Sunday was Aesop’s favorite day. Sunday meant that he could observe you without being bothered or eavesdropped on himself, it meant that he could watch over you in an environment where pests, such as the likes of Luca and Emma, weren’t constantly flitting about you.

Today was a Sunday, and Aesop was planning something special for you.

A bundle of storm clouds had gathered atop the manor. Rain had already drenched the wooden exterior of the building, and was now continuously pelting against the many window panes. The sound of the storm resounded through the manor in a way that was reminiscent of a hum. You presently were sitting inside of your room, clothed in a silk nightdress that was gifted to you by Miss Nightingale. You didn’t have many proper clothes upon your arrival at the manor, neither had most other of the participants. The majority of your wardrobe was provided for you by the woman herself, whom you had never seen.

The dress itself was rather comfortable, and draped nicely over your body. It reached the floor, the ruffled trim on it brushing against your feet periodically. You had laid yourself across your bed, pulling the blankets adorning it up to your chest and drawing the bed curtains closed. A book sat beside you on your bedside table, and yet you couldn’t be bothered with reading it. You were too occupied with watching the rain outside, memorizing the patterns of the water as it fell down and clambered against the manor.

A knock at the door brought you out of your dazed state. You waited for a voice to precede the sound, but nothing came, and so you rose from your bed, reluctantly moving out from under the bundle of blankets and grabbing a dressing robe from your armoire. You pulled it on, walking tiredly towards the door with an unconcerned expression and grasping the brass handle, pulling the hatch open to reveal the delicate frame of a man before you.

Aesop stood outside of your doorway, grasping his embalming kit and standing stock still, as though someone had forced a pole up his back.

“Mr. Carl..” You said, voice breathy and calm as you pulled your robe further over your exposed clavicle. He offered a curt nod in return, acknowledging you with a blink. You noticed how his hands were shaking, quivering around the handle of his kit as he stood in front of you, his fingers obviously clamming up. Perhaps he was nervous? “Do you need something?”

He looked up at you with a frightened expression, and you were worried that you had said the wrong thing. He looked back down, turning from your skeptical eyes and nodding profusely.

“Y-Y/n,” he began, gaze still casted downwards. “Would you mind...a-accompanying me to my room? Th-There’s a bird that flew in, and I don’t know what to do about the thing.” His voice shook as he spoke.

You squinted at him. It was raining outside. Why had he propped open his window? Why would he ask you for help? Emma and Eli were both much more comfortable with animals than you, and the latter especially had a talent with birds.

“Do you want me to get Eli? He’s much better with things like that,” you offered, your voice skeptical.

He finally looked up to meet your eyes, his pupils dilating slightly.

“No, I’d- I’d rather have you. Help me, I mean,” he finished awkwardly.

You turned over his question in your mind, surveying the man’s frail appearance. Aesop had never talked to you much, but you supposed he did have a habit of staying around you. Sometimes you would find him following you places, and he never seemed to be more than a room away from you. You knew very well the male’s nervous tendencies, as well as his difficulty with interacting with others. Part of you felt sympathetic for him, but your place in the manor’s social structure wasn’t much different than his. Still, you felt obligated to help him. Not many other survivors, or hunters for that matter, acted too kindly towards Aesop. If he had worked up the courage to ask you something, you might as well comply with his wishes. He never asked much of anyone, so you supposed it was a rare occasion that you should indulge.

“Alright,” you said hesitantly. He looked up at you, his eyes the most telling they had ever been. His grey irises swirled with probably the closest thing to joy you had ever seen him express, mixed with a bit of shock. You supposed the second part was warranted. You weren’t particularly one for helping others around the manor, especially because of how selfish and cruel many of the survivors were. You sure as hell weren’t going to help Freddy if all he would do is be stingy towards you, neither would you help Naib, who would just yell at you if you tried to assist him. You couldn’t be too upset with him for his reactions, though. You supposed you would do the same. Your life before the manor, which was generally spent in poverty and isolation, had bestowed upon you the gift of independence, as well as a lack of selflessness. You saw this as good. Why help others if they have nothing to offer to you?

You were only helping Aesop because...well...you supposed you enjoyed his company, however solitary the time you spent together would be. And you supposed he had never asked for anything before…

And so you were off, following Aesop down the winding hallways of the manor. He led you through sets of doors, each strikingly similar and equally as eerie as the next. The clothed floor creaked beneath you as you walked, carpet growing indents in it each time either of you would take a step.

After what felt like an eternity filled with nothing more than the sound of monotonous footsteps, you reached what you presumed to be the embalmer’s door. It was a tall door, one that was crafted from mahogany and glazed to be a darker, more sultry color. He hesitantly turned to face you, an unsure expression on his face as he gazed at you with distrust.

“I…” He began, only to leave his sentence hanging.

“You wanted me to shoo away the bird, right?”

Aesop tried not to panic as he looked at you.

Vulnerable you.

Standing outside of his room.

Once you were within the confines of his abode, he could do whatever he wished to you. You were going to look so wonderful dead.

He wrapped a milky hand around the doorknob, pulling it open and letting you into his room. He watched you with narrowed eyes as you walked through, observing your surroundings with a sort of careful skepticism.

You had a distinct feeling that something was wrong. Aesop never allowed anyone into his quarters. He never even let anyone see inside of his embalming kit. He was excessively private. This was strange. And the feeling of eyes burning into your back was not helping with your nerves.

“Mr. C-Carl,” you said, shifting to face him. “Where was the bird?” Your words knocked him out of his unconscious stupor, and he shut his door behind him before pointing to a place near his clothing chest. You turned around, walking towards it as he discreetly locked the door behind him.

He watched you intently as you bent over, looking carefully through his meticulously organized room with part curiosity and part concern.

“Aesop,” he corrected, his voice barely a whisper.

You hummed in confusion, looking back to face him.

“My name...please don’t be so formal.”

Your eyes betrayed you as utter confusion seeped through your pupils. Aesop had always been one for formalities, and he had always been perhaps the strictest about respect out of the group. Only a few survivors called him by his first name, all of which did so without his permission. This wasn’t like him.

By now you were certain that something was wrong. However, you just nodded compliantly, still foolishly putting your trust in the male and shoving your suspicions down. He was probably just trying to be nice.

You breathed in a sigh, turning back to to corner and continuing to look for the bird. There were no signs of one, and you grew increasingly irritated at the male for calling you as you came to the realization that there was probably no such thing in the first place. Bringing a finger up to your temple, you muttered out once more.

“Mr. Car-”

“I told you to refer to me as Aesop.”

You felt a deep presence take its place near you as you stood stock still, the clarity of the young embalmer’s voice indicating that he was directly behind you. Lurching upwards, you whipped around, an unintentionally accusatory expression on your face.

“Please don’t...be so close to me. I- Why are you..” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, your discombobulated words drying up as he leaned into you, moving his face down to meet yours as you looked on with discomfort and shifted away from him as far as you could. He just hummed in satisfaction, eyes narrowing as he observed the power he currently held over you, how you were bending away at the mere prospect of his touch. Anyone else might have found this hurtful, but your actions just submerged Aesop into an unmistakable feeling of power, one that he faintly remembered from his time before the manor when he was still working as an apprentice.

He carefully reached out a hand, feelings of longing spreading through his fingertips as he drew them close to your face. A slender digit traced up to your hairline, shifting some stray hairs aside. You stood there, quivering.

This was uncomfortable. You had to go. Even Aesop must know that this wasn’t normal. Your eyes darted across the four walls of his room before falling on the door. You spared him one more shaking glance before pushing him away from you, shoving the male to the side and sprinting towards your only viable exit. You heard him stumble a bit behind you, the satisfaction of having stunned him motivating you to move faster. You grasped a hand out, searching blindly for the doorknob in a less than futile attempt to let yourself out of the room. You grabbed a hold of it, shaking wildly when it failed to click open.

An unforeseen force grasped you by the back of your collar, pulling you backwards and eliciting a few chokes from you. Your body collided with something soft behind you, the slim torso of the embalmer pressing up against yours in an uncomfortably heated manner. His breathing was thick and shallow, as though he were struggling for air as he grasped you within his horribly depraved hands. His arm slid around your middle, pulling you further into him as he breathed down your neck, heavy sighs falling against your skin and creating a sensation of chills within your shoulders.

“Don’t run,” he said between heavy breaths, voice shaky and thick with something akin to arousal.

Without warning, you were shoved against the cold wood of his desk, head banging against the surface as he wrapped his hands around your throat, his movements sharp and concise. You yelped, only for the sound to come out as a series of gasps due to his inhuman grip on you. You clawed your hands against his, eyes glazing over as you fought against the male. He refused to let up on you, his mask itching down his face and revealing a sick half smile.

You felt as though you were about to die. Correction: you were going to die. But you were nothing if not a fighter. You kicked your steadily numbing leg up, your unclothed foot colliding with his stomach. He grimaced, his grip loosening noticeably for what must have been less than a second. This moment, however, was enough to give you just the slightest bit of hope, and so you kept struggling. If he was going to kill you, you should at least like to go out fighting.

A flash of clarity came to you as you shoved your hands towards his face, aiming for his eyes as your outstretched fingers came into contact with the male’s milky flesh. He threw himself backwards, retracting his hands and hissing as he shaded his face from further assault.

You took off, sprinting wildly towards the door and stumbling over your own feet as you tumbled away from your attacker, lunging once more and outstretching your hand. Taking heed of your previous mistakes, your fingers slipped around the lock, releasing it before pulling the door open. The hallway never had looked so inviting before as you jumped out into it, forcing yourself through the doorway and out into the hallway and screaming for someone to help and…

And no sound came from your lips. In one swift motion, Aesop grabbed you back, his grip on your midsection suffocating. He kicked the door closed, wrapping his arm around your chin in order to muffle the cries that were threatening to spill out of your mouth. You kicked and struggled as he once again pulled you backwards, keeping one arm wrapped around your waist as he reached into the pocket of his jacket.

“I wanted to try and make this as painless for you as I could, darling. However, it appears that tried methods always work the best. Choking is far too messy of death anyways, isn’t it? I want the beginning of your new life with me to be as clean as possible, I want it to be something befitting of a person like you.” You stopped moving, freezing up as he spoke out the word death. “It’s a good thing I prepared for this, hm?”

You craned your head towards his mobile hand, spotting a syringe filled with a milky substance, the tip of it dripping slightly as he pushed the plunger forward and tested the liquid.

“What?-” You managed to spit out, gasping as you pulled against his restricting arm with all your worth.

“Pancuronium bromide,” the male said, addressing your unspoken query. “It’s a serum used in lethal injection. It should be relatively painless, well- as painless as death can be.” His voice was confident, firmer than you had ever heard it. It was terrifying, how quickly he had switched from his customary anxious demeanor to this cold, almost professional persona.

“No, Aesop please think about this! I’ll- I don’t know what you want, money, or- or information or sex- but I’ll give it to you, please we can work this out, I just- Mr. Carl please!”

He paused before answering, his grip tightening even more as he began to speak. “My love. My beautiful, exquisite gem, my precious doll. You really do not understand, do you? This is the only way we can truly be together. I cannot bear to be without you any longer, I can’t stand being without your presence. Of course, the likes of you wouldn’t spend time with someone such as myself, so you must understand that this is just me ensuring that we can stay together, forever.” He halted, letting his words hang heavy in the air. “I’m doing this because I love you. This pain will be temporary, but my affections for you won’t ever let up. I’ve never had even a concept of what love should be, but you’ve helped me to see that this is what it is, and you are the person who I have chosen to spend the rest of my time with.” His voice grew gentler as he spoke, his tone reverent as he held you. You grew numb at his words. He truly was messed up, in more ways than one. What he was describing was not love, it was obsession. It was a cruel infatuation, one that, for some reason, had led to him feeling the need to kill you.

“Aesop. I- I promise I’ll be with you. I- I love you! I do..and I will continue to do so, but you must let me live. I beg this of you, I just wish to spend time with you, I truly am o-obsessed with you, Mr. Carl.” You felt him freeze up behind you at your feigned confession. The promise of your affections had to be enough to convince him to not kill you, you were going to make sure of it. No matter what, you were going to make it away from the embalmer, alive. You would try anything, and eventually you would be-

“Doll,” He began, his arm resuming its suffocating grip on your torso, the sudden pressure enough to make you draw your breath in as you fought for air. “Please don’t be so formal. I told you to call me Aesop”

A sharp pain spread through your neck, the feeling of a needle plunging into your skin barely registering in your mind as he held you, a low hum falling from his mouth as he held your quivering self. He drained the syringe of the substance, pushing it further into your vein as he gazed down on you with eyes full of concentrated adoration. He had killed before, but nothing had ever felt as satisfying as gripping your twitching body, holding onto your vulnerable form as the fluid began to spread through your bloodstream. You shook against him as he laid you on his bed, silken sheets coming up to caress your steadily paling face.

Nimble fingers removed the syringe, wiping the needle with a nearby cloth before setting both upon a bedside table. His silver eyes drank in your form, pupils dilated as he ran his gaze over the red marks on your neck. He couldn’t manage to resist a final temptation of his, reaching his hands out once more and wrapping them on top of the strips of pink skin. He knew that the bromide would be enough to kill you, but he couldn’t deny that there was something satisfying about the power he felt as he had choked you before. As so he gazed down at you, now too weak to struggle against his hold.

His grip was what finally pushed you over the edge. A deep breath reverberated through your lungs right as the life finally faded from your eyes, pupils glazing over and cornea becoming cloudy as you gazed forward with a sort of inanimate poise. You were still, completely still.

Aesop was right.

You did look beautiful dead.

He kept his eyes on you, gazing at you distrustingly as he retrieved his embalming case, as though he was expecting you to spring back to life.

He set it down beside you before moving your limp legs onto the bed, your body significantly heavier than it was before. Such was one of the physical tolls of death.

Hands subconsciously reached for a needle and thread, used normally for repairing ripped clothes and garments before burials. It held a different purpose for you, though. You were special, a newly immortalized doll, and one that should be treated as such. He threaded the needle, gripping it between careful fingers before carefully lifting your eyelid and plunging it within the flesh that lay there. He slowly sewed it to your bottom lid, a bit of blood spurting out, which he quickly wiped away with a previously pristine white cloth. He moved on to your other eyes, repeating his same meticulous process. A finger traced over your stitches, caressing them with a sort of gentleness that could only occupy one such as Aesop. He took another glance at your features, deciding that you needed to look at least a bit more lifelike. Aesop hated the living, but he supposed you had always given him pleasure while alive. He wanted to preserve his feelings, no matter what. He plucked the corners of your mouth up into a smile before threading the string through your lips and cheeks, forcing your features into a permanent simper. He tied off the string, appeased by the doll-like appearance that the stitches gave you. He took out some blush, methodically spreading it upon your blanched cheeks and up near your nose, returning a bit of life into your body. Your robe was soon pulled open, leaving you in only your nightgown. You looked so soft, so vulnerable. Aesop was pleased.

He caressed his hand against your cheeks before bending beneath his bed, drawing out an elongated wooden box that lay there. He opened the top, revealing the plush white surface of the surrogate coffin. He pushed himself up, more careful than ever as he placed you within the tomb, manually wrapping your hands over your chest. You looked so peaceful, so utterly perfect, and you were going to stay as such.

Now you two would be bound forever, with him as your owner and you as his loving doll. Such a relationship was born out of his pure love for you, his unadulterated affection that no one, not even yourself, could hinder for any longer. This was a safer and more thorough solution, not to mention more desirable for Aesop.

He despised the living.

And so here you were, perfectly preserved for him.

#aesop carl x reader #aesop carl #identity v #identity v x reader #idv x reader #idv imagines #yandere aesop carl x reader #yandere aesop x reader #yandere idv x reader #yandere identity v x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #aesop carl x you #identity v x you #yandere #x reader #yandre x you

224 notes · View notes

spac3-em0 · 3 years

Text

Hi due to some things happening I’d like to say a few things about the webcomic The Glass Scientists because I keep seeing lies about it.

First off, if you don’t know, TGS is set in VICTORIAN LONDON because it’s a mad science fantasy comic with a dark academia twist. This is extremely important to the story, considering how easy it is to set things on fire, how the two of the three main characters have a shitton of Victorian repression, and how Hyde, the other main character, came to be in the first place.

Now, I’ll be talking about Hyde’s actions/what happens to him throughout the comic, the way Sabrina, the author represents POC, the two white main characters and how that’s not a bad thing, the claim that it’s a bad representation of D.I.D, when consuming problemactic media becomes a problem/why problematic media is needed, and finally what is and isn’t a lie. And, spoiler warning for the entire comic.

Edward Hyde’s Actions and the Plot Points Surrounding Him

Edward Hyde is the on and off narrator for TGS, and is also, in my opinion, one of the main characters. His actions have greatly befitted the plot, from when he manipulated Jekyll into letting him go free for a night so he could visit Blackfog, when he set a third of London on fire on accident, when he started using “nightmares” to torture Jekyll into letting him out to go to Blackfog again, him discovering he could take control of Jekyll’s body, becoming what my friend and I call Green Eye, and finally Rachel and Hyde’s relationship which started before the comic even began. These are just the ones off the top of my head, but there are more.

I’ll talk about Rachel and Hyde’s relationship first, because it’s used as a plot point multiple times. At first glance, it could appear that Rachel is abusive towards Hyde. One could make that arguement, and I only slightly agree. The reason for Rachel’s actions towards Hyde is because her deceased little brother, Eli, looks an awful lot like Hyde. Rachel blames herself for Eli’s death, and believes if she was there for Eli more he wouldn’t have died. This is explained by Rachel’s older brother, Patrin, to Hyde. I don’t believe Rachel is trying to be abusive, commonly people don’t realize their actions are, in fact, abusive. That gives others time to show them the error of their ways (However, there are people who know they’re being abusive, and that is not a good way to view the world). Rachel is not intending to abuse Hyde in any way, she simply believes that she can “rescue” Hyde from a life of crime and thievery, doing what she couldn’t with Eli. This, in and of itself, is not bad. Their relationship is only slightly toxic. If Rachel can get over Eli’s death, and stop blaming herself for it, I’m sure their relationship will be less toxic.

Now onto the things Hyde does. Hyde is meant to be a bad person. Hyde is everything Jekyll’s repressed, and clearly Jekyll has had some nasty thoughts. It’s also good to keep in mind that neither Hyde nor Jekyll are a full person. Jekyll drinking the HJ7 split his personality in two. Both Hyde and Jekyll are missing important parts of themselves, so, in my opinion, neither of them could be classified as a full human, but they are the same person. I bring this up because Hyde relied on Jekyll to take care of maintaining looks, paying bills, and other responsibilities that Hyde didn’t want to deal with. And Hyde has been shown hating the idea of being trapped. So, what does Hyde do? He manipulates Jekyll into giving him what he wants. But we run into a problem when people expect Hyde to be perfect and a saint. That isn’t his character at all. His character is supposed to be considered evil by Victorian society. So he’s not going to be unproblematic. He’s based off the book Hyde, who literally trampled a little girl and committed murder. The explanation I just listed is the reason behind most of Hyde’s actions throughout the story, and they commonly carry the plot forward.

Sabrina’s POC Representation

I’d like to go on record and say that the representation in TGS is nice to see, however I am white myself. I’ll be going off of what I’ve heard other POC say about the representation, and my own personal opinions. The main criticism I see is Lanyon and Lucy being portrayed as black stereotypes. Except they aren’t. First off, Lanyon isn’t even a full black man. He’s biracial (half white half black). I’m not too sure about Lucy, but given the fact she is darker than Lanyon I believe she is a full black woman. Neither of them play into stereotypes. Now you could say that Lanyon is the gay black best friend, except that would be diminishing him to half of his racial identity, his sexuality, and his relationship with Jekyll. The comic is good at showing that Lanyon doesn’t fit that mould perfectly, or in fact at all. Lanyon’s actions are fueled by the want to keep the Society for Arcane Sciences afloat, and keeping Jekyll alive and well. His sexuality also plays a role in the plot because before the comic started, it’s shown that Lanyon and Jekyll clearly have a history, and as you read further you can infer that it was sexual in nature. Why would a straight man in Victorian London sleep with a man?

Now, onto Lucy. We don’t know a lot about Lucy, but we do know that she was poor as a child, and was able to create an empire of thieves and provide housing, childcare, and income to a lot of women. Now, tell me how that’s playing into a stereotype for black women. Or, really, black people in general. From what I’ve researched, a lot of stereotypes about black people are rooted in racism and slavery. You could argue that because Lucy’s a thief, it’s negative and racist. But if Sabrina was racist, wouldn’t Lanyon also be a thief instead of being well off? And wouldn’t Lucy not have been able to create something of this magnitude, because the entirety of London knows about her empire.

Another criticism I saw is the fact that Rachel’s name doesn’t fit her race. And that Eli being a thief is a negative stereotype. As far as we know, all of Rachel’s blood-bound family is Romani. But here’s the catch, we don’t know if Rachel’s parents are immigrants or not. They could have very well have been raised in London themselves which is why Rachel has her name to begin with. I’m not entirely sure about the Eli stereotype, but I know it wasn’t meant to be like that. Eli is meant to be like Hyde, and Hyde has problematic traits and does problematic things. It’s supposed to be a parallel between the two, which is why Rachel acts the way she does with Hyde.

Why Having Two White Men as Protagonists Isn’t a Bad Thing

I know I’ll get backlash, but not every piece of media needs a POC main character. Especially not when it’s set in Victorian London. However even with my first statement, in TGS there is a biracial gay man as a protagonist. And even though Hyde and Jekyll are white and are men, they aren’t straight. Jekyll is bisexual and Hyde is pansexual. So there’s still some representation for the LGBTQ+ community, which I am a part of. I’m a transgender man and bisexual myself and I like seeing bisexual men be represented.

Why Jekyll and Hyde Isn’t the Thing You Turn to for D.I.D Representation

J&H was never meant to be D.I.D representation. And even if it was, it was written in the times where people were sent to asylums for briefly thinking they heard something when they didn’t /not serious, joking. As someone who has two systemmates, I can assure you that J&H isn’t meant to be D.I.D representation. And if people are trying to claim it is, you should maybe just try and talk to them to see where they’re coming from.

Problematic Media

Consuming problematic media doesn’t make you a bad person. Creating it doesn’t make you one either. It becomes a problem when the person or you creating it tried to romanize certain toxic behaviours, or claim problematic actions are perfectly okay. We need problematic media because we don’t know the story behind it. The person making it could just be venting and trying to heal, or if they write a success stories, like I do, it creates a well of hope in them. Because they believe if this character can do it, then so I can I. Now, how does this tie into TGS? Characters in the comic have shown behaviours that are problematic. Rachel, Hyde, Frankenstein, Moreau, and even Jekyll to an extent. However, their behaviours are framed in a way that puts them in the wrong, but they aren’t bad people, aside from Moreau.

What is and isn’t true?

TGS is not a “yaoi uwu gay soft bois” comic.

Characters are allowed to be problematic because no one is perfect.

No one’s sexualities have been the butt of any jokes.

No one has been sexually assaulted within the events of the comic or what has been shown.

Lanyon and Lucy are not black stereotypes.

Hyde and Jekyll being white and men aren’t a problem.

#the glass scientists #tgs

58 notes · View notes

redstainedsocks · 3 years

Text

Found Wanting

(Reminder, and for those who missed it, I changed Eli’s name to Zach from here on out and retroactively by editing the other pieces. Same character, same backstory, new name ^.^)

Warnings: brief derogatory language, victim blaming, guilt, feelings of betrayal, hurt by someone that should be trustworthy, abusive tactics, blackmail set up, slapping, conditioned behaviour/trauma response, brief allusions to past NSFW/noncon acts

[Previous] [Other parts] [Backstory]

Zach was shattered. There were always more questions to answer and more they wanted to debrief him about and he’d also been assigned to have a session with a counsellor three mornings a week. It was hours at a time of dredging up just enough to let them know he was serious about his recovery, while keeping enough of his shame hidden where no-one would ever have to see it.

He spent every other moment that he wasn’t being interrogated one way or another either hiding in the bedroom he’d been provided or sitting in the break room hoping to go unnoticed. More often than not if one of the team saw him they would ask if he wanted something to do. He nearly always said yes, wanting to be helpful and polite. They asked him to describe locations or remember the names of people or had him look through dossiers to see if anything dredged up memories of things that he’d overheard and could give them information on.

It didn’t matter that he told them he wasn’t allowed to be privy to anything important, or that he was always in some back room and often blindfolded—they wanted him to feel useful. He was good at being useful, just not in the way they remembered.

There were other jobs on the books that he wasn’t part of and wasn’t allowed to know anything about. People bustled back and forth, computer screens were on all the time, voices talked continuously in low undertones. The fridge in the break room hummed loudly and the water cooler bubbled annoyingly often and all of it was too much stimulation.

He found, one afternoon, that the interrogation room was blissfully quiet. With it’s dark grey soundproof walls and uncomfortable seating, it wasn’t somewhere anyone else chose to spend time. It was a haven of quiet and he laid on the hard floor hoping that no-one would find him there.

He was wrong.

The door squeaked open and he froze before scrambling to his feet to see who it was and whether he was needed. It was Tom. He’d been lower in the ranks when Zach left, and they’d never had much of a rapport and no reason to be friends even then. Now there was a gulf between them that neither had tried to cross. Tom had barely stayed in the same room as Zach for more than a few minutes and wasn’t privy to the debriefings like some of the others were. Zach hadn’t sought him out and had barely said more than a word or two to him since he got back.

Now he twitched nervously as he waited for Tom to speak, his fingers tapping against his palm inside loosely curled fists.

“What are you doing in here?” Tom grunted, dropping a file of paperwork onto the desk. It landed with a soft thwack and Zach smothered a flinch.

“Just looking for somewhere quiet. You?”

“Looking for you, you’ve been MIA for almost two hours. They’re checking storage cupboards and all sorts out there.” Tom scowled, and Zach thought it made his usually bored face look ugly, and mean spirited. It sent a shiver of unwanted anticipation down his spine. “And here you are sitting around doing nothing, wasting everyone’s time.”

Zach inhaled slowly to calm his pulse, or try to, and nodded. He and Tom always grated on each other’s nerves, there was no telling why, but it seemed his time away hadn’t made anything better. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

Tom crossed his arms and leaned back against the door, blocking the exit and smirking. Cruel, maybe, or some kind of power play. “Oh you will, will you? How generous.”

Zach gathered the tattered edges of his courage around himself like a cloak. Drawing it close and trying to draw himself up tall. “Do we have a problem?”

“I dunno, you just swan back in after so long being gone and expect everything to go back to the way it was? After everything you did?”

“What did I do?” Zach asked, curious now, at which thing in particular he was getting the blame for this time.

Tom’s face darkened, his eyes narrowed as he shifted his weight forward and pointed an accusing finger at Zach. “We all had to move, all had to go into hiding at a moment's notice—because of you.”

The sudden onset of anger was shocking, a bottled up rage that was opened and poured out in so few words. Zach nodded, once. A swift bob of the head as the rest of his body fell into absolute stillness. He knew how to avoid enraging someone further when they were angry with him. At least, he always hoped he did. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t fucking care if you’re sorry,” Tom said hissing, stalking closer. “I lost my fucking cat because of you, she was out the day I vacated and when it was safe to go back I couldn’t find her. I couldn’t visit my dying grandmother in case I was seen and it put my family in danger. You ratted us out and now you come back and expect to be treated like the golden boy all over again? I don’t think so.” He punctuated his sentence by stabbing Zach in the chest with a finger, prodding and prodding again until Zach stepped backwards.

“I didn’t—I don’t,” Zach had no defence, no come back. He had no way to make up for it. He’d given in under torture and duress, yes, wouldn’t anyone? He’d given their locations under threat of other people’s deaths too, but of course Tom didn’t know that and he was sure it wouldn’t take the sting out of the betrayal anyway.

“They might all fall at your feet and mop up your tears and coddle you, but why the fuck should I? Huh?”

Zach pressed his lips together, balled his hands into tight fists and tried to breathe evenly. He wasn’t safe for any of them, he knew that, he’d tried to admit as much. He couldn’t make this right and there was a strong chance he was going to make it worse, hurt everyone again. Unless...“Don’t coddle me,” he said. “You can… you can keep me in line.”

“Wait what?” Tom stepped back, and Zach chanced a look up at his face and saw confusion, furrowed brows and thin lips.

“I’ll do whatever you say, you can tell me how to be. Make sure I don’t fuck up.”

Tom laughed, bitter, acidic, sharp as knives and Zach cringed. “Maybe I want to see you fuck up, ever thought of that? Maybe I want everyone else to see the weaselly weak little arsehole underneath the façade. Why would I help you?”

“To keep them safe.” Always to keep them safe. Always to minimise the damage. He just wanted not to be hurt, or see others hurt, or to keep picking at the wounds that were burned into his own soul; he couldn’t do it alone and yet he was completely isolated.

Tom marched forward and slapped him, Zach reeled but turned his face back and offered the other cheek. The second slap forced his head so far to the right that his neck twinged and the impact site felt immediately warm, humming with a sting that would surely redden the skin. Tom shoved him and Zach stumbled before he fell to his knees, lowered his head and raised his hands in submission. He’d do it, he’d do anything, just please make it all stop.

He waited. And nothing came. No pain, no orders, Tom showed no intent that Zach could brace for. He thought about reaching forward for a zipper or a waist band, and wondered if that would help. He tried, moved forward blindly and his hands met fabric, his fingers fumbled for the opening until his hands were roughly pushed away.

“What the hell?” Tom said. Zach glanced up and saw disgust and cringed at the hatred in the eyes watching over him.

Humiliation washed over him, smothered all other thoughts as he stayed there on his knees, willing and open... and unwanted? He used to think he’d grow beyond humiliation to where nothing could touch him anymore but he was always wrong. It was a slumbering thing inside him that awoke over and over again at the slightest provocation. On the floor in the midst of his old teammates, waiting to be found pleasing, or outed as a traitor, the red burn of it was as fresh as ever.

Tom snorted in derision and Zach grit his teeth, hurting his jaw as he ground them down and clenched his eyes shut. Tom’s hand grabbed his jaw, rough and warm and gripped it tightly, his thumb pressed into the hinge and Zach’s chin sat on his palm. Zach swallowed as Tom turned his face one way then the other, before forcing his head back until his neck strained at the pressure.

“Open your eyes.”

Zach obeyed immediately, hatred ran deep but it was always, now, turned inward. Tom’s cool, icy stare appraised him, flicking over his features and down his body; disinterested and judgemental. Zach was laid bare again. Always. Weighed and measured, found wanting.

“They really did a number on you, didn’t they?”

Tom shoved him, and he choked briefly as his throat took the pressure of Tom’s hand under his chin before he fell backward, unbalancing off his knees to land on his backside. He sat there, stunned.

“I’ll keep this dirty little secret between us, and you... don’t tell anyone I hit you,” Tom said.

“Yes, all right,” Zach breathed out the words and lowered his eyes to the floor.

“I could use a stress reliever…” Tom mused, and then he laughed. “You’ve got yourself a deal, you can be my punching bag or my errand boy, or my bitch. Whatever works.”

Zach winced at the words but said nothing as dread pooled in his stomach, a cold and uneasy feeling. There was relief too, but it was smaller, drowned out by the knowledge that pain was sure to follow. By the time he looked up, ready to reply, the door was already slamming closed, and Tom was gone.

[Taglist: @haro-whumps , @whumpthisway , @hurting-fictional-people , @lonesome--hunter @crowned-avery @extrabitterbrain thank you to everyone who's asked to be on the taglist, let me know if anything changes!]

#victim blaming #betrayal of trust #conditioned responses #conditioned whumpee #slapping #shoving #blackmail #angst #whump set up #OC whump #OC series #team whump #spy whump #rescued whumpee #escaped whumpee #trauma recovery whump #derogatory language #Zach and Archer

49 notes · View notes

xoxo-bunnydumpling · 2 years

Text

About last night, when we all cried a little:

The thing about Mama is that she's extremely direct. It's not that I do a ton of beating around the bush, but...I feel like Karma is coming at me full force in the face.

When we got to the house, the first thing she said was "so where is my grandson?" I told her he'd be here tomorrow, she made like she was heading for the door and said "I'll come back then." She and Eli have the same dry as fuck sense of humor...this will be a long week.

"Elias tells me you're a writer? Are you published? Where can I get your book?"

I just have to laugh. No one has ever called me a writer before. People are usually hesitant to even call me a chef when they find out I didn't go to culinary school, even with all the experience I have. People have such weird qualifiers.

"I don't have a book, per se. I just wrote some poems, that's all."

She does what I've seen Eli do an untold number of times, and sits smiling and waiting for more information...her head tilted slightly to indicate a vested interest in this particular thing. Karina, who is seated next to me so closely that we knock knees whenever we move, brightens and reaches over the table to try to pinch her brother. She misses, and clicks her acrylic nails in his direction instead.

"She's THE poet then, indychka? The one you were soooooo in love with you stopped being gay?" (She's called him a turkey)

He laughs so loud it scares the cat.

"That's not very woke, suka." (He's called her a bitch, albeit very lovingly in tone). Mama kicks him, not that hard though.

Gabby leans back and raises her hand. "When was he gay? I'm the gay, or did you forget?"

"It must be hard to be THE gay..."

"Yeah, doing the parade all by myself gets difficult." She says, winking at me. I officially have never met a lesbian that doesn't like Margaret Cho.

I look over at Mama, who is rolling her eyes. She does not look surprised at the mention of Eli's queerness...but I suppose if you'd known someone 42 years, you probably wouldn't be. She catches me looking at her.

"You knew about this?"

"The guy? Yeah we actually saw him at the store the other day. Very nice dude...and cute too." I also kick him lightly under the table...he catches my foot and holds it in his lap. When he told me he'd been out with a guy before we met, he didn't say the guy was STUPID HOT. Several miles hotter than I am, that's for sure.

She tsks. Three whole times. Not unkindly or judgementally, just thinking. "You're a different kind of woman."

"Different than what?" There is a touch of challenge to it. Right here, right now, for the sake of our relationship going forward I'm refusing to be afraid of her, back down from her, or be dishonest with her.

She laughs. "Good point, baby. Very good point. So tell us what he looked like, Elias refused."

I look at him, and he shrugs. So I describe the guy, and when I'm done Karina asks if he's "all the way gay or only some" because "I might want to get out of the house a few times while I'm here, you know." That's not something I'd know, and Eli refuses to offer any further information...purely out of brotherly spite.

Gabby has packed several small photo albums, and apparently, that's her role in the family. The archivist. The keeper of lore. The memory bank. We have an astonishing amount of things in common. Flipping through and identifying all the family members for me, she stops and puts her hand over her mouth for a moment.

"I haven't seen this one in a while. Eli look...you look so much like daddy now that you have grey in your hair."

It's a picture of them, Eli and his father, on Eli's third birthday...cake all over his face, sooooo much thick, dark hair, and a happy papa obviously in love with his son. I look up at him, thinking he'll be smiling at the memory but he looks stricken instead.

Gabby slams the book shut and apologizes.

He smiles at her, or tries to, and pats her on the back. He's trying so hard to smile, to not make her feel worse, but something is breaking underneath the surface and he's struggling. I don't want to get in their way, but I can't watch him flounder under the weight of this...so I get up, climb into his lap, and moosh his face.

"Look at you, handsome AND sensitive. He'd be so proud of you."

He's gotten a little misty before, bless his heart, but he really cried this time, right into my shirt. Which set off Gabby. Seeing Gabby cry got Karina started...and also got her irritated.

"Oh Gabby, fuck you. You're always the one. Such a baby."

Gabby laughs through tears, flipping the bird at Karina, but leaning over to pull Eli into a one armed hug. "This is why he's my favorite and not you."

Mama, with her head in her hands, tells us all we get on her nerves. But that she loves us very much.

#misha collins #not actually misha collins but close #hot librarian chronicles #family #Eli vs his sisters #poor mama

3 notes · View notes

aurelie-celine · 3 years

Text

Mi Alma - Part Five

A few years ago, Miguel, Lina, Nestor, and you were laughing together in a restaurant in Florence, Italy. Back then, you thought you would have many other happy moments with them. But then everything changed - was it for the worse, or for the best?

Love, Murder, Friendship, and Trust.

Mi Alma, a story with Miguel Galindo, Nestor Oceteva, Lina Brayer (OC) and Aurélie „Elie“ Gaillard (OC)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Warning: smut

Words: 1983

London, UK – Present

As soon as you open your front door, you see Nestor jumping from your sofa and walking toward you. Without saying anything or giving you the chance to walk away, he kisses you passionately. You take a few seconds to process before kissing him back. His reaction and his words are still hurting, but you also really missed the feeling of his lips and his arms around you. This kiss leaves you breathless, and when he pulls you in his arms, you are burying your face in his chest.

"I'm sorry, Mi Alma. I'm sorry for not believing in you. I'm sorry for thinking that you were playing with me. And I'm sorry for comparing you to Lina. Miguel explained to me why he was here as soon as you left!" he says while tightly his hold on you.

"It was 3 weeks ago, Nes ..." you say while trying to pull away to look at him.

"Yeah, I know ..." He whispers while letting you step back a little. His hands are still holding your waist, ready to pull you back if you decide to reject him.

"So why did you not come sooner?"

"I struggled a bit to process the fact that Miguel could have a Female friend."

You couldn't help yourself but smile at that statement. When Nestor sees it, he leans again to kiss you. It's a lot softer than earlier. He knows you enough to understand that you will not reject him now.

The alarm of your oven interrupts you to signal that the diner that Nestor prepared is ready. While he is dressing the plates, you open a bottle of wine and pour some into two glasses before placing them on your dining table.

As soon as the diner is finished, you basically jump on him. He catches you without any effort and takes you to the bedroom. You strip each other of your clothes. He sits against the head of the bed and pulls you on top. He grabs the back of your head to bring it toward him and kiss you with such a force that you know your lips are going to be swollen tomorrow.

You try to roll, but he holds you tight and whispers: "Ride me."

You grab his hard member and slide down, taking all of him inside of you. A moan escapes your both months at the same time. He seems bigger than you remember, and you have to stay still to get used to the feeling.

Seeing you almost in pain, Nestor cups your cheek and make you look at him.

"Maybe we should do a bit more of foreplays next time," you say softly while kissing his hand.

He was about to say something when you start to move your hips in circles. The feeling makes him pull his head back immediately.

You now bounce on him, his hands running on your thighs until they reach your ass and give you a small spank. You moan at the feeling and close your eyes. He gives you a harder one, and you fall back on him.

"You like that?" He asks you while placing his arms around your waist to hold you tight. He doesn't give you a chance to reply and start to thrust deeper and faster into you. You come almost at the same time, screaming each other names.

----

It is now eight months that you and Nestor are together. Most of the time, you see each other in your apartment, but he manages to organize a few weekends in remote places in Europe. Even if it's not like if the location matters really.

You spent more and more time on foreplays, and you could stay hours in bed with your man. You lost track of the number of beard burns you had between your thighs or bit marks on your chest. You also discover that he is your favorite flavor, and scratching his lower stomach with your nails will always make him twitch deep inside your throat.

You never spoke about it, but he was already keeping your connection as secret as possible before, so nothing change at that level. Therefore, all the marks you leave on each other bodies have to be in hidden places. You both became really good at that and you are fine with it: you couldn't really go to work with prints of his fingers around your throat. Your waist, was much more discreet.

You were about to enter a meeting still thinking about that when you see an incoming call from a hidden number. As soon as you answer, you smile like a teenager when you recognize the voice.

"Can you take a few days off?"

"Are you organizing another nice weekend?" you ask him playfully.

"He needs you." the seriousness in his voice combined with his words make you shiver.

"I will take the first plane in the morning."

Santo Padre, USA – Present

After almost a 20-hour journey, you finally reach Miguel's home. You came several times, and even if he always make sure that you feel comfortable, you are still a bit intimated with its size.

Nestor welcomes you at the door and gives you a quick kiss on the corner of your lips. The gestor will typically make you smile, but you can feel that he is tense and looks tired.

"What wrong?" you ask him while taking his hand and giving it a quick squeeze before releasing him. You know most house employees are somehow already aware of your relationship with him, but you also noticed several bikes.

"It's business-related, so I can't give you all the details. He is furious, and none of us can approach him."

"Us?" you interrogate him while following him inside the house toward two men that you never met before.

"This is Marcus, his new advisor, and Bishop, a business partner."

"Nice to meet you, I'm..." Before you have the chance to answer, you hear a loud sound behind the door following by Miguel's voice. You instantly go to the door and enter the room.

"What the fuck are you doing?! I ask that nobody disturb me!" he screams while slapping his hands on his desk.

"Miguel?" you say with a soft voice. When he sees you, he just crashes into his office chair behind him. Any other person over than you will have probably spent a very painful moment for disturbing him, but not you. You are his safe place. You immediately go to him and drop on your knees in front of him. You are putting your hands on his thighs before saying still with your soft voice: "What happen?"

"Elie ... I can't speak about it with you," he tells you while robbing his face with both hands before looking down at you.

"I know, but you can speak with the people standing on the other side of this door. You choose them to be around you, which means that you trusted them and their abilities to do business with you. Is it not the case anymore?"

His features soften at your words. You never push him to tell you about his "job," and you always trusted him. You proved it a few months after what happen in Morocco, in this room.

Gently placing back a lock of your hair behind your ear, he pulls you a bit toward him before leaning down to you and kissing the tip of your nose.

"Thank you."

"That's what friends are for," you say with a smile on your face.

"Yeah ..." he replies while looking at your hands still on his thighs and giving you a wink.

You laugh a bit shily before removing them and standing up. There was never any real sexual tension between Miguel and you; you just happen to be two extremely touchy people. But that doesn't mean that Miguel was not playing with it from time to time, and you have to admit that your hands were a bit too high on his thighs.

After making sure that he was presentable, you ask him if he is ready before opening the door.

"Marcus, come in," Miguels says as soon as you leave the room.

Once the door closes behind Marcus, Nestor comes to you and asks you if you already ate something today.

"Just my usual liter of coffee," you reply with an innocent smile on your face. He breath deeply while shaking his head before bringing you to the kitchen to prepare you a sandwich. As much as he hates when you replace food with coffee, you love when he prepare you something to eat.

"Don't think I didn't notice the bruises," you say pointing at his head and hands. As you say that, you can hear a laugh behind, and when you turn, you notice that the man has some matching ones. Your eyes meet for a moment, and he stops laughing almost immediately.

Bishop walks to you and shakes your hand before saying: "I'm not sure who you are but thank you. It was quite impressive that you manage to calm him so quickly."

"Yeah, she tends to do that," says Nestor while putting the sandwich in front of you. He robs your back discretely so Bishop can't see it and asks you to eat.

You thank him, but before you had the time to say anything else, Nestor asks him to follow him. They go a bit further away to discuss, so you take your phone to check your emails. That was one of your job's advantages, as long as you had an internet connection, you could work from everywhere in the world.

Felling someone looking at you, you check around you and see the man from earlier staring at you. Tall, with tattooed arms, dark hair, and a thick beard, he is a good looking guy, this you have to admit. But you don't know whether you want to hug him or punch him. You see him take a step toward you when Miguel and Marcus get out of the office. They both start giving orders to everyone, and soon after, there is just you, Miguel, Nestor, and Marcus left in the house.

"Marcus, let me properly introduce you to Aurélie. She is one of our dearest friends. Aurélie, Marcus is my new adviser."

"Aurélie? That's an unusual name. Nice to meet you." says Marcus before giving you a quick kiss on both cheeks.

"It's French. Nice to meet you too, Marcus," you reply. You like him; he seems calm and gives you a fatherly feeling.

"How long are you staying?" asks Miguel

"I actually didn't book any return ticket, so I'm not sure yet."

"Well, you know you can stay for as long as you want and use the studio to work."

The rest of the evening is just doing some small talk, but you just want to go to bed with Nestor. You understand he needed to be distant while the other men were still there, but now it's only the four of you. Unfortunately, they still have to speak about some business topic, so you excuse yourself and go to your bedroom. It's not really yours, but you always sleep in this one ever since the first time.

#mayans mc #mayans smut #miguel galindo x oc #miguel galindo #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x oc #nestor oceteva smut #aurelie gaillard

29 notes · View notes

jobrookekarev · 3 years

Note

17, 18, 30!

17. What fic are you most proud of?

Definitely, I Remember it All Too Well. It was like my first multi-chapter jolex story and I'm really proud of the way that it turned out. It definitely turned into something that was a lot more than the original idea that I had but I was just so happy with it!

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

(Spoilers for I remember it all too well in case you want to read it beforehand.)

(Okay so little bit of background This takes place post 16x16, but Alex has recently moved back to Seattle they’ve trying to be in a relationship again. And as a result of them sleeping together, Jo is now unexpectedly pregnant. )

“Yeah, that’d be great, I’d love to have you guys here as much as you want and you can bring over whatever you need. You could move in if you wanted to?” Alex said but immediately regretted it as he watched Jo’s eyes grow wide. “You don't have to or anything and I know that with the kids, we should let them get to know each other before we try and combine our families, just never mind, forget I asked.”

(I feel like Alex was always the one to just jump in head-first, like for him walking away from Jo and coming back, he forgets that they didn't just put a pause on their relationship and that he can't just jump back in with things. He also realizes that he can't just move in with her or have her move in because of the kids they have, AKA the twins Alexis and Eli and Jo’s baby boy Asher. I've heard so many stories about step-siblings and step-parents. Also from my own experience with my older half-brother and my mom and their relationship, I know that it's really important to take it slow and not immediately try and play happy family. You need to acknowledge the feelings and wants of the children and create a relationship with them between the new person before you have them step in as a parent. I think that it's like that with any child that you work with.)

“Alex it's okay, really. I thought about it too,” Jo said before she looked down at the plate in her hands. “But you're right we should take things slow with the kids and let them get used to each other first, but then maybe we could give it a try.”

“I'd like that, there are two extra rooms upstairs so maybe in the next couple of months if things go well you could move in with me?” Alex offered with a shrug as Jo smiled.

“Yeah, that sounds good, maybe in less than a couple of months though,” Jo said, as she looked over at him with a kind of longing that he knew all too well. “I miss sleeping next to you.”

(I forgot how much I had these two pine over each other. I feel like, in seasons 12 and 13 especially there is a lot of pining and longing between them which I absolutely love writing.)

“Me too,” Alex said as he stared at Jo, her skin glowed from the pregnancy and suddenly he imagined what it would look like when she was further along with her round belly or even when she had their baby in her arms.

(So originally there wasn't a jolex baby in the story. iI was just Jo and Alex sleeping together at the wedding and then decided they wanted to be in a relationship and trying it out with all three of their kids. So the expected pregnancy and baby was like a late idea that I had had. I thought it added such a great level of drama to the story that I couldn't pass up the idea, even though I knew that it meant I would stretch out the epilogue. Also, I felt like it motivated Alex to show (not tell) Jo that he was all in with her. And that's something that I wanted him to do I wanted him to show through actions and the things that he did that had he loved her and that he was going to be there for her and their child and her son as well so that's why I had this scene.)

He could imagine what it would be like in a few months when they lived together, Jo would hold their baby and sit at the table as they ate together, with their three kids around them. He would sit next to her and have his arm around her shoulders as he talked with Eli, Alexis, and Asher about what they wanted to do that afternoon. He wanted them to all be a happy family together. He wanted it all right now and he hated that he had to wait for it to happen. However, Jo was right they needed to take things slow for the kid’s sake and he knew the wait would be worth it. She smirked as she caught him staring and came over to pull him out of his daydream with a quick peck to his lips.

(I don't know if you caught this but this is pretty much somewhat similar to what happens in the last scene I thought it was a really good little bit of foreshadowing.)

“I also got something for the twins, to help with the adjustment,” Jo said as she went back to the diaper bag and grabbed out a book before handing it to Alex.

It was a children's book titled ‘You're Getting a Baby Brother!’ Alex smiled as he flipped through the pages. The story detailed what it was like to live with a baby brother and Alex thought it was fitting, especially considering that if they were going to be a family it would include Asher as well as the baby Jo was pregnant with.

(So this is a real book you can find it on Amazon. I've read it before with my kiddos (I’m a teacher and I have nieces and nephews) and I figured that this book was a little really fitting for the twins with Asher.)

“This is great. I'm sure the kids will love it and it'll help them get used to Asher, although he's not a baby anymore,” Alex smirked as he smiled over at Jo and he couldn't help the way his eyes trailed down as he stared at her stomach. (Alex just can't help himself)

Jo caught his eyes and sighed as she shook her head with a smile. “You know, don't you?”

“Know what?” Alex said, looking back up at her as he played along, waiting for her to say it.

“You know that I'm pregnant,” Jo said, raising an eyebrow and waiting for him to deny it and knowing that he wouldn't.

(I thought this would be really fun for Jo to not get to tell Alex she was pregnant and just realize that the way he was looking at her like that was because he already knew! And Alex figuring it out when he went to talk to Meredith was something that was discussed in the @thejolex chat and I was throwing around ideas with them for the epilogue. I can't remember who suggested it. But a lot of times everybody or throw around ideas or ask for help and we all talk about things and throw in dialogues or scenes and it's always really helpful! It's also very exciting to share something angsty and then get yelled at!)

“It wasn't really that hard to figure out,” Alex said with a wide smile, he was absolutely giddy at the thought of having a new baby with Jo.

Alex put the book on the counter and reached out to her. Jo allowed him to place one hand on her stomach as they both stared down at her belly. He knew that she still wouldn't be showing for a while, yet he was still disappointed when her stomach felt the same as it always did.

“I’m only eight weeks, so I’m not showing yet,” Jo said as if she was reading his mind as she placed her hand over his and they both looked down at her belly. “I've had Carina check me just to be sure. She did a full exam and work up and everything’s fine, but I haven’t scheduled the ultrasound. I wanted to wait until after I told you so you could come too.”

“You want me there for the ultrasound?” Alex asked, looking up at her again.

“Of course I do. I want you there for all of it Alex. I want you to be a father to our baby,” Jo said as she squeezed his hand.

(So this was Jo really want it because she knew how hard it was for Alex not knowing the twins until they were five and missing the first years of their life and not knowing Izzie was pregnant. So she knew how important it would be for him to be involved from the beginning and just how excited he would be to be there for the first ultrasound. It was also kind of a little bit of contrast between her and Izzie and the relationship they have with Alex. I feel like the two of them knew two very different Alex's. Alex was still kind of a frat boy when he was married to Izzie and he matured so much since then, especially in season 13. When he was with Jo he was much more mature. I feel like Jo knew the man that Alex is and Izzie knew the boy that Alex was.)

Alex was so relieved that even after everything he put her through, Jo was willing to allow him to be in their child's life. He thought that she would still be hesitant because he had left once before and he didn’t think that she wouldn't trust him again so easily. After breaking her heart he knew it wouldn't be so easy for her to trust him again, but he was so thankful that she was giving him his chance.

(So that’s it! I was really happy with this. I thought it was a good mix of cute and fluffy and serious development. For the story as a whole, I wanted Jo and Alex to rebuild their relationship in pieces, step by step. I do feel like I kind of rushed it a bit, wish I had broken it up into several more chapters or turned it into a sequel.

Originally this was just like a 1 + 5 story but it evolved into a lot more and although I'm really happy with it, if I was going to redo it I would draw it out more. Still, I really feel like the point in the story translated well. With any piece of writing, you're always going to look at it a second time and think, oh I could have done this differently, but I'm also really proud of what I was able to accomplish. Multi-chapter stories are really hard for me to finish and I was so happy that I was able to complete this one.)

30. Tell us an idea for a longfic you want to write in the future.

So so many ideas I literally have at least 50 ideas for Jolex that I have not pursued.

The one that I really really want to write, that I have started writing, but I haven't finished it. I got kind of stuck and I haven't been able to go back to it. It’s this one where Alex calls Izzie to testify at Meredith’s trial. Alex hears the twins in the background and asks about her family and Izzie says that she has a husband and twins, Alexis and Eli.

Then Alex says that he's married to Jo and they're expecting a baby, so Izzie congratulates him, and then she agrees and comes out with her family. So they fly out and Jo and Alex meet Izzie, her husband, and Eli and Alexis. Then after the trial, Alex and Izzie start talking and Jo gets to know the twins and Izzie's husband and she starts to put together the pieces and she thinks that the twins might be Alex’s. So she goes to talk to Alex but sees Izzie and Alex together.

There is so much more drama than I haven't told you about! But I just thought about what it would be like if both Alex and Izzie have the same things in life. They each have a partner and kids and what if the twins were Alex's? What if they weren't Alex's? What would mean for both of their families and for their partners and what would happen? Would Jo share her thoughts about the twins being his with Alex's or would she keep that to herself? Would Izzie try and pursue Alex if they met up again? What would Alex do if he was faced with the choice between Jo or Izzie with the same steaks?

It's a really good idea and it's a really good story, but I got to a point where I think I got it got too big and I got overwhelmed. Then I got to a point where I got stuck and I didn't know where I wanted to take the story so I had to rethink that. Also, I haven't really had the time to pursue it, especially with T. S. Jolex week and then school started up, so I started working more hours since I'm a teacher. I just really haven't had the time to sit down and really plot out this story and try and pursue it again, but I really hope I get the chance to.

#ask me stuff #asks #writing #fanfiction #my fanfiction #jo wilson #alex karev #grey's anatomy #otp: home and heart #jolex #grey's anatomy fanfic #my work

5 notes · View notes

justkindaoverhereobsessing · 4 years

Text

help me gather mine

Restless and worried in the wee hours of the morning, Tony leaves home to clear his head and finds himself in a synagogue for the second time this week. {missing scene from 10x12 "Shiva" shortly after the death of Ziva's father}

Friend drabble project, this one for my babe @benditlikepress, who is a fantastic supporter and a wonderful friend. <3

Can also be read on ff or AO3

____________________

“A fine glass vase goes from treasure to trash, the moment it is broken. Fortunately, something else happens to you and me. Pick up your pieces. Then, help me gather mine.”

— Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

____________________

Tony closes the bedroom door behind him and returns to his makeshift bed on the floor outside the kitchen, tired and feeling heavy with borrowed grief. It comes as no surprise that Ziva dismissed him rather than choosing to talk about her feelings, but something about the way she looked before that, right when she woke up…

Well, it has Tony feeling unsettled.

He doesn’t go to sleep once he settles back onto the loaned inflatable mattress; his mind is too busy to relax, instead repeatedly mulling over possibilities and worries, stressing over solutions to problems that haven’t yet been made entirely clear.

He needs to empty his head, get some clarity.

He texts Abby after another fifteen minutes of tossing and turning, and despite the late hour, he gets a quick reply… clearly, Tony is not the only team member still awake and worrying, and Abby agrees to his request without question.

He rises from the blow-up mattress and pulls on a coat over the sweats he wore to bed, then tugs on his running shoes. By the time Abby arrives, Tony is sitting on the stoop outside his apartment waiting for her.

“Thanks for this,” he tells his friend, standing and clapping Abby’s shoulder fondly.

“Of course. Has she…?”

“She woke up with a nightmare, but as far as I know, she went back to sleep. Didn’t tell her I was leaving.”

“Hm. I’m guessing you didn’t tell her you called a babysitter, either, did you?”

“Nope, and I’m hoping she won’t wake up again to find out.”

“Alright. Well, I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Thanks, Abbs. I’m sure Ziva would be fine alone—I mean, she’s not even actually alone, Shmeil’s asleep on the couch—but Gibbs would have my head if I just abandoned my post.”

“You didn’t call me ‘cause Gibbs was worried, Tony.”

Tony doesn’t dignify that with a response. “I’ll be back in an hour, two tops,” he says instead.

“Be careful.”

“You, too.” Tony pauses, and then adds: “If anything happens, if anyone shows up, Ziva can obviously hold her own, but… just in case you need it, there’s a gun taped to the back of the toilet.”

They nod at each other—the heaviness of the week’s events keeps even smartass Tony from making any jokes—and Abby slips into the apartment while Tony heads out of the building.

His feet tread a familiar path as he automatically settles into following his jogging route; it’s a good thing, too, because he’s not very focused on where he’s going. Instead, he lets his chaotic thoughts start to whir again, nudged toward organization by the mild distraction of exercise.

The urgency of the team’s quiet investigation into Eli’s death has kept Tony from thinking too deeply about what’s really concerning him here: Ziva, and everything that she must be feeling. Oh, he knows they’ll get to the bottom of the shooting at the Vance house—they always do, in the end. And he’s certain that they’ll get whoever is responsible for it. But for Ziva… None of this will ever be neatly tied up and boxed away for her, no matter how the investigation ends.

Tony has known for a long time that his partner’s relationship with Eli is—was—complicated at best. Until tonight, however, he had been focusing on what she told him when he found her after pinging her phone: she wants revenge. Of course, Ziva hadn’t been lying then, and her words are undoubtedly still true—but her nightmare tells Tony that she’s also just grieving. She’s hurting deeply, even if she won’t admit it to anyone other than herself. Maybe she’s not admitting it to herself, either, though, and maybe that’s part of the problem.

Tony can feel her slipping away. Rage and mourning are slowly eating away at her rationality, leaving behind someone whose behavior he can’t predict. He’s afraid of what she’ll do next.

That concerning thought is interrupted when something unexpectedly catches Tony’s eye, drawing him back to where he is.

A few meters back from the sidewalk, tucked away in a large, darkened building, there’s a single brightened window. Light passes through thick, translucent panes to spill onto the ground below, leaving on the grass a thin column of luminescence broken by only one thing: the shadow of an unlit menorah resting just on the other side of the glass.

The familiar shape makes something clear: whether by fate, coincidence, or simple subconscious choice, Tony’s restless wandering has led him to a synagogue.

He’s not sure why, but something about the place draws him in—maybe it’s just a stronger-than-ever desire to understand Ziva. Whatever it is, though, it makes Tony leave the sidewalk, his feet passing noiselessly over a manicured lawn as he drifts closer to the window.

Inside, past the menorah, someone is visible. A man sits in profile, staring studiously down at an open book as he turns a page. Though it’s going on four in the morning and the rest of this particular sleepy neighborhood has been at rest for hours, something about this man seems… unhurried. Relaxed. Peaceful, even.

I could really use some peace right about now, Tony thinks.

Without letting himself consider all the reasons that he shouldn’t, Tony turns to his left and bounds up the steps leading to the synagogue’s entrance. Then he knocks on one of its large doors.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then a face appears in the lit window that Tony can still partially see from where he’s standing—it’s the man who had been reading, and he looks at Tony in confusion.

Tony waves awkwardly, trying to look as non-threatening as possible, and after a pause of clear deliberation, the man in the window gestures something along the lines of ‘hold on a second.’ He disappears from view, and shortly after, Tony can hear footsteps behind the door directly in front of him. Then there’s the sound of a lock sliding free.

The door opens just a little. “Good evening. Can I help you?”

Tony isn’t sure what to say without sounding insane, but he tries. “I, um, I was out walking, and…” He sighs. “Are you a rabbi?”

“I am, yes.”

“Any chance we could talk? Like, now?”

Tony can dimly see the other man evaluating him and considering, and he finds himself really second guessing his impulsive decision to knock. To his surprise, though, the rabbi only pauses temporarily before opening the door further to admit him.

Tony sticks his hands awkwardly into his pockets and walks in, glancing around. This is not the same synagogue he found Ziva at recently, but even in the low lighting, he can tell that this one has a similar setup.

The rabbi interrupts Tony’s musings by brushing past him after re-locking the thick door. “This way,” the man requests softly. Then he leads Tony down a hall and into a large, almost cavernous room where Tony thinks services must take place. After motioning Tony into a pew, the rabbi sits down himself and looks at the restless agent expectantly. “Okay, we can talk here. I’m Rabbi Aviyah Silverman—you can just call me Rabbi Avi. And you are?”

“Tony DiNozzo.”

The rabbi nods. “Alright, Tony… what’s on your mind?”

Tony shakes his head. “I don’t even know,” he says, feeling displaced and wrong-footed. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I’m not even Jewish.”

“I could tell that the moment I saw you.”

“How?”

Rabbi Avi smiles with a touch of humor at Tony’s expense. “For starters, you’re not wearing a kippah, but maybe more to the point, you look… very uncertain about being here.”

Tony laughs ruefully—he really can’t argue with that astute observation—and he finds that the other man’s straightforwardness relaxes him a little. “You’re not entirely off-base, I guess,” he admits. “Before this, I’ve set foot in a synagogue maybe a handful of times in total.”

The rabbi dips his head again, looking thoughtful. “Well, something led you here. What were you thinking about when you decided to knock?”

“A friend.”

“What about them?”

“She, ah…” Tony hesitates and then sighs. “She’s just going through something difficult. I’m worried about her, and I don’t know how to help.”

“Has she asked for your help?”

Tony snorts, trying to imagine that impossibility. “No. That’s not really in her nature.”

Rabbi Avi lets out a quiet half-laugh. “Without knowing exactly what’s going on, there’s a limit to how much advice I can give, but… let me say something general that I think you may need to hear.”

“Alright, shoot.”

“There are things in this life that a person must face for themselves—and by themselves. That isn’t to say you should abandon your friends, but some demons live inside the mind, and sometimes, they’re too personal to fight while someone else is watching.”

“So you think I should just... leave her to it?” Tony asks, trying to work out the implications of the metaphor. “Let her deal with it alone?”

“Not at all. What I’m suggesting is quite the opposite, actually.”

Tony frowns. “Then what—”

“Remind her that you’re there for her! Even the battles we fight by ourselves leave us drained, right? If you’re up pacing the streets of Washington in the middle of the night because you’re so concerned, you must care about your friend. Feeling supported might give her the strength she needs to do what she has to do without you… so, tell her that when she finishes with whatever that is, she has you to fall back on.”

“She knows.”

“Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t, but a reminder couldn’t hurt.”

Tony finds all of this to be surprisingly logical, and he nods in agreement, staring up at a large Magen David hanging in a place of honor on the far wall and thinking of the one Ziva wears around her neck. “Surprised you’re not telling me to pray about it or something,” he jokes softly, his gaze and his thoughts still far away.

Rabbi Avi chuckles. “Proselytizing isn’t a very Jewish thing to do. Besides, no one ever walks in here looking to be told to pray.”

Tony smiles a little. “I wouldn’t know how to, anyway. Ziva—my friend—would probably be able to teach me… She is Jewish.”

“I see why you ended up here, then.” Rabbi Avi reaches under his seat and pulls out a siddur, offering it to Tony. “If you decide you want to try your hand at praying, this is full of prayers and blessings to choose from. What I think you really need, though, is some time alone in a quiet place to think.” He rises from his seat, and Tony pulls his eyes away from the unfamiliar text in his hands to look up at the other man. “My office is down the hall on the right,” the rabbi continues. “I’ll be in there if you need me, but if you don’t, stay as long as you’d like.”

“Thanks, Rabbi.” Tony offers a hand to shake, and Rabbi Avi accepts it.

“Any time. You’re a good friend, Tony. Don’t let yourself worry so much that you forget that.”

Tony isn’t sure what to say to that, so he offers a small smile of appreciation. As the rabbi walks away and Tony glances back at the thick book in his hands, though, the sight of English text and Hebrew text lined up together offers sudden inspiration. “Hey, Rabbi Avi?”

“Yes?” The rabbi pauses just shy of the door they walked in through.

“How do you say ‘you are not alone’ in Hebrew?”

____________________

The sound of airplane engines fills Tony’s ears as he walks slowly toward the tarmac; somewhere under those bright fluorescent lights, one of those planes is waiting to carry Ziva away.

Ziva herself stands back toward the gate, something making her linger even as she sends Shmeil on, and Tony, catching the tail end of the conversation, wonders what it is. Maybe it’s just dread for the tasks ahead of her, something Tony can understand.

“Go with him, Shmeil,” Ziva is saying as Tony walks up behind her. “I will be there in a moment.”

Shmeil, kind and good-natured as ever, brushes that off. “Take your time. It’s a long flight. Besides,” he adds, making eye contact with a half-smiling Tony over Ziva’s shoulder, “I think someone’s come to see you off.”

As Ziva turns, following her elderly friend’s gaze, Shmeil departs. Tony only has eyes for Ziva, though, noticing that she’s entirely unsurprised to see that it’s him. “You did not have to come,” she tells him quietly.

“Well, you always forget your gum and magazines when you fly, so…” Tony’s weak joke gets no more than the distant hint of a smile in return, so he stops trying for levity. “They’ll find Bodnar, Ziva. Mossad’s looking, CIA, Navy Intel, Interpol... us.” He hopes that Ziva understands just how much support and care and promise is hidden in that last word.

Us.

Whether his intent is clear to her or not, though, Ziva doesn’t say anything back.

“Shmeil’s got your back,” Tony tries again—anything to engage her. He gives her a smile. “Shmeil, the man of steel.”

Still, Ziva doesn’t speak. Her expression, carefully neutral, doesn’t shift, either. That more than anything else worries Tony... Ziva hasn’t always been overly impressed by his often childish sense of humor over the years, but rarely has she failed to react at all. This time, she doesn’t laugh; she doesn’t huff; she doesn’t even roll her eyes. It’s almost like something is weighing on her so heavily now that the effort of rising to his bait is beyond her capabilities.

It’s like something inside her has broken under the heaviness of grief and of expectation.

Swallowing back a deep, bone-aching worry for his friend, Tony sighs, unable to stop himself. “Don’t do this,” he begs, his voice dropping to a whisper, and he finally gets a response out of Ziva.

“I am going to a funeral, Tony,” she informs him with a slight nod, as if he doesn’t already know. “I am delivering my father’s eulogy.”

That’s as clear an answer as any, and it’s probably all that Tony is going to get—she’s shutting him out again, and no matter how she felt about her father while he was alive, she will do what she must. It’s time to give it up, to stop fighting her or trying to help her.

It’s time to follow Rabbi Avi’s advice and just… be whatever Ziva needs him to be.

He can do that. “How’s this for a… an opening line: ‘He did it his way,’” he suggests wryly.

Ziva studies Tony’s face, and a small amount of the tension in her body seems to release. That’s enough to tell Tony that he’s doing the right thing. “My father was, um… not an easy man to understand, and yet…” Finally, she smiles a little.

“Complicated runs in the family,” Tony concludes.

Ziva hesitates, looking away for a few beats. “Tony, I…” She trails off rather than finishing, but she meets his eye again.

“What?”

He has rarely seen Ziva as vulnerable as she is then… Her lips twitch briefly, forming words that remain unspoken, and her eyes are a little too bright to be empty of tears; a smile emerges and then fades above her trembling chin as she fights for something intangible. In the end, though, her obvious struggle draws to a close when she reaches up to hug her partner tightly.

Tony’s arms raise automatically to hold her back; her face presses so securely against his neck that he can feel it in her cheek when she smiles. This embrace alone, secure and trusting and intimate, might be nearly enough to knock his breath out, but then an unanticipated thought pops into his head and threatens to steal his breath entirely…

He loves her.

The realization, though unexpected, doesn’t come as a shock. Of course he loves Ziva, even if he has never stopped to think about it. She’s his best friend and has been for a very long time.

Tony won’t do her the disservice of telling her now, though. She has enough on her plate without having to field any heartfelt confessions tonight.

Instead, Tony tells her something that means the same thing.

“At lo levad.”

You are not alone.

Ziva tightens her embrace for a fleeting moment before releasing Tony and stepping back. There’s a smile on her face and tears in her eyes, and when she answers in a whisper, Tony thinks she might understand what he meant by it.

“I know.”

Not waiting for Tony to say anything else, Ziva turns away, heading purposefully toward the plane carrying her father’s body; then she’s gone.

Still and quiet, Tony stares after her, worrying about her and missing her already.

He doesn’t turn back until her plane has disappeared into the dark sky, long out of sight.

#ncis fanfiction #ncis #tiva #tony dinozzo #ziva david #cynthia writes stuff too #it's not as long or as beautiful as what you've written for me jess #but soft and bittersweet tiva feels always make me think of you!#also i originally thought this was gonna be under 1k words #what a clown i am lmao #friend drabble project #love u jess <3

46 notes · View notes

since-it-must-be-so · 3 years

Text

A Wild Sheep Chase: Chapter 2 of Choujin X!

It's here! I've gushed about the chapter over at my Twitter, but like I said in my previous post, I want to see how the story progresses and keep a log about it. So here it goes!

Background info on Ely Otsuta

So before we delve into Chapter 2 which almost exclusively featured Ely... Let's take note of the new things we learned about Ely:

She's from a rural prefecture. I think she lives in the mountainside specifically since that's where she grows her tomatoes.

She's a greenthumb (we already kinda knew this from the previous chapter but we learn more about her life pre-Choujin X). I understand that even if the soil is infertile, she's able to grow tomatoes so nutritious and plump. So plump, they resemble butts, hence, "bumbums!" It appears she uses advanced equipment for her farming stuff. So yeah, based on these, it's established Ely has a green thumb!

Oh, and it appears that it's clarified that her "Grandpapi" whom she talks about in the 1st chapter is an adoptive grandfather (not biological, hence, maybe in the future we'd know her parents and learn why Ely is special).

It's just me but I get the impression that Ely is being introduced as some sort of "fertility" choujin, since she also dreams of having 9 kids. Haha!

It's kinda weird though why the burning tomato has a face. Was it just from her dream, since after plucking a bumbum - she woke up? Hmm, after some thought, I think the burning tomato with a face is just from her dream.

Ely Wakes Up from Reality

When Ely woke up, she finds herself in the South Yamato prefecture. Okay, so I think this leaning tower of some sort has a significance to the story.

It's featured in every spread with the title "Choujin X" and also in the last chapter. Can you see it? Maybe it has something to do with how the powers are made, like pollution-related or a botched experiment. Dunno. Just my wild speculation.

A Wild Sheep Chase

This is the exciting part. So when Ely wakes up, Chandra Hume offers to "escort" her, but really it appears he wants to kidnap her. And from, *checks the manga* page 10 to 40, we have Ely running away from Chandra until she fell in what looks like a similar area where Tokio and Azuma fought Johnny Kiyoshi Takeyama.

The chase sequence consisting of 30 pages were so fun and I was smiling all the while I was reading! Ely is so cute trying to parkour her way through the buildings (kinda reminds me of Touka?? I miss Touka!). Chandra looks really cool, he seemed to be flying too, using his powers (more on that later)!

But not to be outdone, Ely borrows a "Roller Boy Yay-Yay" which basically is a scooter with something that resembles a driver's wheel. Its literal translation of ローラーBOYイェイ・イェイ -- which, checking Twitter and in Ishida's latest live stream, I think the locals found it hilarious too. Ishida is just unleashing his crazy here, I love it!

After that sequence, we get the tractor and sheep chase. Ah! I love it.. So what happened is that, Chandra and Ely fall off from their Roller Boy Yay-Yay. Ely who just claimed she can outrun Chandra if she were riding a tractor, suddenly found one right in front of her! Then Chandra lands near a gang... or should I say, a flock of sheep-bikers. They're all wearing these Kanji-printed tracksuits and basically look like they're a bunch of delinquents? They even describe themselves as "cryptid bikers"... Cryptid supposedly means mysterious? Idk why the weird choice of words for the translation though.

Funnily, I was just reading Haruki Murakami's A Wild Sheep Chase (羊をめぐる冒険 --- Hitsuji o meguru bōken or literally An Adventure Surrounding Sheep). I wonder if this scene something to do with this book?

Anyway, Chandra entices the sheep to help hip capture Ely by bribing them with a Docomo flip phone. I don't know why a flip phone - could mean the following: (a) the sheep are so poor, a flip phone is cool; (b) maybe flip phones are a status symbol in that universe; (c) maybe the setting is in the 2000s when the flip phones really were all the rage.

So they all chase Ely, but Chandra suddenly has a car too. Someone on Twitter said it's a Porsche? But I can't tell, though Chandra said his car is a four-wheel drive... Heh? Idk what to do with this info.

As for Ely, she is really good with the tractor as she said. The hilarity of outrunning motorcycles and what could be a Porsche. That tractor prowess! Later on, Chandra and the other sheep figure into an accident with a "safety-loving" truck (oh the irony, lol). Chandra flew off the car and so did his fancy shoes...

Ely didn't exactly come out unscathed. Ishida allocated 4 double spreads for this epic fall. Some of the sheep definitely should have died from that spectacular accident.

At first, Ely was smug about escaping the sheep. But then, I think she was moved by compassion and I think she hurt herself in order to revive the sheep. I just wonder though, how she learned to do that?

Then we get another awesome double spread of her transformation, similar to Tokio's. Augh Ishida-sensei. These are soooo good!!!!

Because of her transformation, the whole area was engulfed with smoked and I think the sheep were effectively revived. It appears Chandra saw all this (while he was regenerating... so we now know choujins or at least smoke choujins like Chandra has regenerative powers), hence he marveled at Ely's newfound power. It was kinda confirmed that Ely was responsible for keeping the casualties to a minimum. Specifically he said Ely possesses: quick judgment, though resolve, persistence... making her a human with the makings of a choujin... while also kinda noting Ely's silliness.

Here we go again with Chandra's "fancy gentleman" facade... Even the way he talks is fancy ("I am well-acquainted with the roads here") but more than that... he's self-important. I talked about my other views on his character on Reddit. I get the impression he's something of a "Choujin supremacist", you know what I mean? So, he wants to kinda recruit Ely into his organization or whatever.

Ely is righteous

So we see that Ely is further introduced as a good character, standing up against Chandra and rejecting his offer to be his pupil or something. Ely was clearly upset about the grandma getting hurt (did she die? I hope she didn't) and made it clear she would never join him. Chandra takes offense at this rejection, especially when Ely said Chandra is worse than a turd.

As Chandra tries to inflict pain on Ely (something about marking her on the face), she recalls her resolve from Chapter 1: drones for farming, a greenhouse, her grandpappy, a mansion, the big dog, paying back the kid for his roller boy yay-yay, the Goldilocks hubbie, nine kids... But just before we can see if she can fight Chandra off...

The most handsome man of all Sui Ishida's works (haha!)

This buff mysterious man with a bandana reminiscent of the Teenage Ninja Mutant Turtles seemed to have blown Chandra and Ely (also the cars and motorcycles) away by a mere clap of his hands. It appears even Chandra is afraid of this guy and recognizes him... he leaves the scene using his smoke powers before the guy can do serious damage. I think his power has something to do with wind since there was like a little hint with all the ventilation stuff in the setting.

The guy manages to create a circle of protection around Ely. He tells Ely that Chandra's modus is to target "people with aptitude like Ely". He helpfully mends Ely's punctured hand with his bandana.... And when Ely looks up at his face, what do you know? Haha!

Our girl Ely has a love interest! Haha.

Tokio's Gregor Samsa moment

I've observed from the manga I've read that characters with transformation abilities always, always go through this adjustment period with the power. Gregor Samsa, Peter Parker, our boy Kaneki... Anyway, it seems Tokio doesn't know or can't turn back into a normal-looking person. But the last panel sure is interesting because we have them experiencing this transformation at the same time. Also, since it reminds me of Touka and Ayato's volume cover. I hope they find each other soon though!

Types of Choujins and initial premises on the Power of Choujins

So there are 3 confirmed types so far: Flexi (Johnny), Bestial (our boy Tokio), and Smoke. It seems that pretty boy Hoshi doesn't have a category yet, but like I said I think his has something to do with air or ventilation lol.

We learned that Chandra is a Smoke Choujin, and Ely is now one too and she was may have been somehow infected by Chandra's smoke/fumes. It appears now that there are 2 ways to become a choujin: injection and inhalation. Chandra wonders if Ely was infected with his power... But I'm thinking the infection theory might not be that accurate. After all, it seems Ely has a green thumb.

But, I think as Chandra said, only some people have an aptitude for this. So, Ely and Tokio are examples. I wonder if Azuma also has choujin powers or did it not manifest yet? Is the aptitude inherent or something you can acquire? If so, what does Tokio have that Azuma doesn't, especially since everyone thinks Azuma is "better" than Tokio in all aspects?

We'll find out in Chapter 3 more or less!! I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes! I'd like to hear your thoughts or comments if any :)

#choujinx #choujin x #sui ishida #ishida sui #elyotsuta #tokiokurohara #tokio kurohara #ely otsuta #azumahigashi #azuma higashi #hoshi sandek #chandra hume #chandrahume #chandlerhume #chandlerfume #hoshisandek #超人x

5 notes · View notes

cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] Gavin’s Returning from Afar Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 远归之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

[ This date was released in CN on 28 Sep 2020 ]

This is the 29th day of Gavin’s mission, and also the day he said he’d return.

As agreed, I’m in Gavin’s house to water Little Spiky. Since I’m already here, I also tidy up the place, which hasn’t been habited for a month.

MC: Mm, its rootstocks are healthy, the colour is lush and green, and it’s growing well. Now to put it under the sun.

I carry it to the window carefully, letting it soak in sunlight.

My line of sight lingers on the wind chimes hanging near the window. I reach out to pull at the crystal piece.

The bright and limpid crystal suddenly sends my consciousness back to the week before Gavin departed for the mission.

[ flashback ]

The afternoon wind blows the curtains upwards, brushing across the crystal shoes glittering on the floor.

If one were to ignore the slight scratch at the back, this would have been a perfect souvenir.

I squat on the floor, one hand holding the “main culprit” - the broom, and another hand gripping my phone, giving the manufacturer a call while feeling upset.

MC: Hello? I’m the person in charge of [MC’s Company Name]. We held an activity and ordered crystal shoes from your company. Do you still remember that?

Person in charge: Miss MC, right? I remember, I remember. Do you want to collaborate with us for another event?

MC: Ah, actually, one of the crystal shoes has a scratch on its back. I wanted to ask if it’s possible to fix it?

Person in charge: Hmm... Because of the way it was designed, that batch of crystal shoes were specially handled, so traditional restoration works won’t be effective. But since you’re a regular client of our company, we can send you a pair based on the address you gave us.

MC: ...no need for the trouble. Since it can't be restored, it’s fine. Thank you.

I hang up, a little disappointed.

In the midst of cleaning up, I had accidentally scratched the crystal shoes Gavin gave me the other time.

[Note] MC is referring to Gavin’s 2 Become 1 Date, which is available in EN.

Although the damage is slight, it’s not something I can just ignore.

While sighing, I store the crystal shoes back into the box, and place it in the cabinet.

At this moment, a low knocking sound resounds from the door.

When I open it, I see that the person standing at the door is Gavin.

Light and shadows are cast on his profile, illuminating his sharp and soft eyes.

Gavin: What are you busy with?

He walks in while speaking. Without him noticing, I prod the the box containing the crystal shoes further into the shoe cabinet.

MC: I was doing a cleanup, but it’s almost done.

Gavin responds with a “Mm”. He seems to hesitate, then walks over and takes my hand in his, his thumb rubbing it gently.

Gavin: I have a mission in a few days. It’s of a high level, so you might not be able to contact me for a while.

I freeze for a moment, subconsciously recalling how Eli had previously detailed the dangers of Gavin’s missions.

MC: ...is the level of danger very high as well?

Gavin: Mm, it’s a little dangerous. Which is why I have to go.

He pauses, then continues.

Gavin: You don’t need to worry. Before the 30th of next month, I’ll definitely be back.

He speaks confidently. Suppressing the worry in my heart, I give him a smile.

MC: All right. I’ll take care of Little Spiky. And will wait for you to come back.

[ end of flashback ]

The wind chime clangs, its melody light-hearted and lively. However, I can’t help but sigh.

For some reason, the second day after Gavin left, I discovered that the crystal shoes in the cabinet had disappeared.

I searched the house, but couldn’t find a trace of them. In the end, my guess was that a thief had stolen them.

Even after pondering over it a hundred times, I remain puzzled about the thief’s motives, and couldn’t fathom how a thief could have broken in. To be safe, I ended up changing the lock.

MC: When Gavin returns, should I tell him about this...

All of a sudden, the wind outside grows stronger, causing a magazine on the table to flip open with a rustle.

MC: What’s this?

I walk over, holding up the magazine. I flip through it randomly, and wind up on a page which has been folded.

It features a custom-made jewellery shop.

The vibrant front cover is incompatible with the cold colours of Gavin’s house. On the page, the eye-catching font forms the shop’s name - “Cang Xing”.

[Note] 苍星 (“cang xing”) directly translates to “dark green star”.

MC: Isn’t this the private studio which opened recently?

In a program not too long ago, I got to know about this shop. Although its prices are hefty, and the workmanship takes quite a long time, it has a very good reputation.

I find myself getting confused.

MC: Is Gavin interested in this shop too...

The phone suddenly rings.

Designer: Hello. Is this Miss MC? I’m a designer from Cang Xing. Previously, a customer ordered a gift for you. May I know if you have time to drop by and have a look today?

MC: A gift?

My eyes flit to the magazine in my hands, a vague guess surfacing in my heart.

MC: All right, I’ll head over now.

Pushing open the doors to the studio, it’s as though I’ve stepped into another world.

Soft white muslin can be seen everywhere. Jewellery of various colours can be seen on the ivory tables, brilliant like stars in the dark night.

The table near the entrance has visitors’ book. The designer doesn’t seem to be around, so I instinctively pick up a pen and flip it open, planning to write my name down.

After signing my name and preparing to shut the book, I suddenly see familiar handwriting.

On the upper section of this page, amongst a mix of illegible and serious font, there’s a handsome and light-hearted one.

It’s Gavin’s.

The date that he filled in was the third day before he left for the mission.

??: May I know if you’re Miss MC?

A staff dressed in working attire walks towards me.

MC: Mm, I’m MC.

??: Nice to meet you, I’m the designer who talked to you over the phone earlier. Please follow me.

I follow the designer’s directions and walk towards a reception area at the side.

Several pink jasmines are scattered on the table of the reception area. At the side, there’s a long white silk ribbon, looking as though it’s been tied halfway.

MC: Is there an event happening in the store today?

Designer: No, there isn’t. These were leftover flowers from an earlier event. I just thought to use them to decorate the shop. I didn’t expect you to reach so quickly, so I was only halfway done with the decorations.

The designer explains in embarrassment.

MC: I see. Oh yes, you mentioned a custom-made gift in the call...

The designer casts a glance towards the door, her expression turning apologetic.

Designer: Well... I have to wait for the customer who ordered it to arrive before I can tell you. I’m really sorry about that.

I nod my head pensively. Looking at the unfinished decorations, I break the silence.

MC: Since I have to wait, why don’t I help you with the decorations?

Designer: How could I ask that of you!

MC: It’s fine. Is this meant to be hung on the wall?

While speaking, I pick up the jasmine flowers on the floor, and hand it to the designer.

After that, we stand on the stools, hanging the jasmine flowers on the wall. The white muslin sways gently next to us.

At this moment, the door is suddenly pulled open. What follows is the sound of specially made boots. The footsteps are slightly hurried, and they pause not too far off.

Gavin: Sorry, I arrived slightly later than scheduled.

I lift my head abruptly, turning around and wanting to hop off the stool. But my coat gets stuck on a hook, which has jasmine flowers hanging on it.

MC: !

Along with the sound of fabric ripping, a pulling force tugs me backwards, and there’s empty space beneath my feet.

MC: Gavin--

In a moment of desperation, the word slips my mouth.

A gust of wind blows up the white muslin. Accompanied by a calm laugh, a strong pair of arms wrap around my waist.

Gavin: [laughs] Don't worry, I won’t let you fall.

Gavin catches me steadily. In the narrow and small world created by the soft, drifting muslin, he carries me and spins in half a circle.

My torn coat is on the floor. Slightly embarrassed, I clasp a hand over the strap which has fallen off my shoulder.

Gavin sets me down. His gaze falls on my body lightly. Then, he hurriedly averts his line of sight.

Gavin: [coughs] ...

The temperature in the room suddenly rises. Face flushed, I frantically search for the coat.

MC: ...where’s the coat?

Gavin: Over here.

He picks up the coat and hands it to me, his eyes averted to the side, his ears tinged a slight red. I take the coat, but discover that it’s basically unwearable since the snag is too serious.

In the next second, a warm piece of clothing is draped over me. The texture feels slightly hard, and I can even still feel the cold insignia.

MC: ?

I lift my head to see that Gavin has taken off his uniform, revealing his white shirt underneath.

Gavin: Put mine on first.

He pulls the uniform more snugly around my body. His warm fingertips accidentally brush my collarbone, causing me to shiver.

Face flushed, I lower my head. But I catch sight of a ripped button on Gavin’s shirt.

MC: What happened? Are you hurt? Are there any other places? Let me see...

Anxious, I’m just about to pry apart his shirt to check if there are any injuries on his body.

Gavin: ...

Gavin: I’m fine.

Gavin grips my hand to stop me, his cheeks slightly red.

The designer had left without us realising it, leaving the private space to us.

The surroundings are delicate and tranquil. Only the person before me carries with him a windy and frosty aura, his eyes lowered as he watches me quietly.

[Note] Interestingly, the word used to describe Gavin’s aura, 风霜 (“feng shuang”) also has a figurative meaning to describe someone who has experienced hardships in life :’)

MC: Let me have a look then. Only after I’ve verified it with my own eyes, I’ll believe that you’re not lying to me.

I act in a fit of pique, angry and not understanding why he would still hide his injuries from me.

Gavin looks resigned. After a moment, his long and slender fingers touch his lapel, slowly removing one button.

His defined muscles come into view, revealing a lean figure.

My hand gently brushes a wound on his shoulder blade which has already formed a scab, and my nose suddenly feels sour.

Gavin: It’s just a small wound, and it has already healed.

His gaze follows my hands and rests on the wound, then he pauses.

After being silent for a while, I lower my head, mildly aggrieved, and speak.

MC: Did you rush over from afar? Actually, you could have taken your time to come back. You didn’t have to... be afraid that I’d worry, and be so anxious.

I hold onto Gavin’s hand. He hasn’t removed his gloves, and the touch feels as cold as ice, bringing with it a chill.

Gavin: It wasn’t far.

He tries removing his gloves before holding me again. But I don’t release him, and I tighten my grip.

Gavin pauses. Then, his fingers curl slightly, encasing my hand in his.

Gavin: The mission was completed earlier, so I came back.

A smile dyes Gavin’s eyes. Then, he pinches my palm.

Gavin: Let’s not talk about these things first. The gift I prepared for you - want to know what it is?

Looking at the mildly expectant expression on his face, I can’t help but store away my sour emotions, and snort with laughter.

MC: I do want to know. So could Officer Gavin tell me what it is?

Gavin: You’ll know soon.

MC: I didn’t think there would be a small showroom at the back of the private studio...

After pushing open the door inside the studio, what enters my vision is a glass showroom.

The outer side of the showroom is constructed using glass, allowing sunlight to stream in, illuminating bouquets of pink jasmine flowers that have been strung up.

Gavin: This is a small glass showroom originally used by the owner to allow customers to hold mock weddings.

Gavin guides me to the centre of the showroom, brushing past the flower bouquets.

Gavin: But today, I’ve temporarily borrowed it.

A gust of wind causes the fine gauze draped over the showcase in the middle to fall, revealing a pair of crystal shoes surrounded by flowers.

The shoe now has a small gem embedded in the place which was scratched - brilliant, bright and sparkling.

MC: ...this is? What is it doing here?!

Gavin: When I went to your house the other day, I saw that you placed them on the shoe cabinet.

I’m a little dumbfounded.

MC: I thought I hid it in the box...

Gavin can’t help but laugh.

Gavin: Mm, you did hide it in the box. But your reaction was too obvious. In the span of a meal, you glanced at that area around ten times. So before I left, I took a look.

This causes me to feel perplexed.

MC: So you were the one who secretly took the shoes away. I thought I lost them, and was depressed for so long. I also thought a thief stole them, and even changed the lock.

I mumble softly, but my eyes sneakily linger on that pair of fully restored crystal shoes.

The unease from the scratched souvenir vanishes bit by bit, turning into a sweetened state of mind.

Gavin: I searched for many places, but only this shop’s owner said he could use precious stones to try restoring the damaged area.

Gavin: The date of the completed restoration could have been earlier, but I wanted to give them to you personally.

Gavin: Which is why I asked the shop to give you call today.

Gavin: [coughs] Even though it looks different from how it was before...

I interrupt him softly.

MC: But I like it very much.

Gavin stops, looking at me seriously with lowered eyes.

Gavin: I did this because I didn’t want you to be unhappy over the damaged crystal shoes.

Gavin: As long as you like it, that’s all that matters.

His words land on my heart, rippling across it.

Slightly flushed, my peripheral vision rests on the gem, which is reflecting specks of light.

MC: Oh yes, what’s with this gem?

Gavin: While I was on a mission, I passed by a shop and saw this gem through the window.

Gavin releases an unnatural cough.

Gavin: At that time, I was about to return to help you with the amusement park wedding photoshoot. I thought it would be of use, so I bought it.

Gavin: But after that, I didn’t have a chance to give it to you.

He seems to think about something, and laughs lightly.

Gavin: I kept thinking about when would be an appropriate time to give it to you.

Gavin: It just so happened that the shape of the gem needed by the owner tallied with this.

Gavin: So it was used.

He fixes his eyes on me, affectionate and gentle.

Sunlight parts the layers of clouds, casting a warm shade. It’s as though I can clearly hear the sound of my own heart beating.

The sound gradually grows louder, becoming more urgent, wanting to burrow its way out of my chest and tell the person in front of me how I feel right now.

MC: Although what I’m about to say may come across as being overly polite to you, I still have to say it.

MC: Gavin, thank you.

Thank you for silently watching over my mood. Thank you for always returning to my side no matter where you go.

The white muslin drifts to and fro. My heart stirs, and I gently touch the muslin in front of me. Sunlight streams in.

My fingertips brush the soft white muslin, tracing the word “Gavin” on it.

I turn my head to the side, blinking at Gavin a little playfully.

MC: This word - apart from it being your name, it also has another meaning.

MC: It’s “courage”.

Gavin’s eyes pause on my face, as though he’s slightly shocked. But it quickly morphs into a smile which harbours starlight.

His smile leaves me in a daze. I turn back, pretending to be unaffected as I begin speaking softly.

MC: Gavin, you are my courage.

MC: You are the courage I have when I face life’s large and small twists and turns.

MC: Next time, I’ll become a person who is stronger in heart, and won’t be dejected over such a trivial matter.

MC: I’ll also work hard to become your courage and strength - to protect you from harm each time you go on missions.

MC: Or... to sustain fewer injuries.

I wave a fist towards Gavin as a display of my determination. The sunlight sifting in through the muslin is like a gentle filter, descending on Gavin slowly.

Having to part from each other and having gloomy moods are inevitable. But there’s one person who will ultimately make his way over to me, smoothening out all the anguish, leaving only happiness behind.

He will cross the mountains and rivers, walk across the clouds and the moon, to meet me at the brink of dawn.

Gavin: [laughs] I got it.

He turns his head, mimicking my earlier actions, lifting his hand to trace something on the white muslin.

MC: This is...

I try to decipher what he wrote, but can’t tell what it is. Confused, I look at Gavin.

He puts his hand down, lifting his eyes to stare at me quietly.

Gavin: Protecting each other.

His voice is loud and clear, reminiscent of a galloping breeze in autumn, crashing into my heart.

Gavin: You are already my strength.

Gavin: So I will keep protecting you, and everything you like.

The numerous times of parting, the numerous mornings and evenings spent alone, now leave a sweet aftertaste.

MC: Gavin, I’m really happy now.

MC: So happy that I feel as though the entire world is before me at this moment, and within reach.

Seeing my smile, Gavin lifts the white muslin between us, reaching out to bring me into his arms.

The coat draped over my shoulders slides off. The white muslin is akin to a gentle mist, gracefully drifting mid-air, then falling onto the both of us.

Gavin holds my hand, encircling me in his arms.

MC: Gavin...

The close and warm contact causes my face to heat up. I can’t help but call his name.

But he isn’t in a hurry to respond. Instead, he lifts a hand, taking a strand of my hair into his palm, his gaze lingering on my face.

Gavin: Now, I’m the only person in your entire world.

The delicate fragrance of pink jasmine slowly permeates the air. The temperature from our laced fingers is scalding. I tilt my head upwards, giving Gavin’s chin a careful peck.

MC: In that case, could I bribe my entire world to let me have this moment for a while longer?

In the next second, I feel warmth around my waist, and Gavin wraps me in his arms tightly.

He lowers his head slightly, his fringe brushing my eyelashes. I can feel his steady, composed breaths.

Gavin: No matter how long it is, you can.

Phone call: here

🍒 Cheri’s elegant thoughts 🍒

HE PURCHASED A RING OKAY

NO ONE JUST BUYS A RANDOM GEMSTONE

HE HAD A RING ALL THIS TIME

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin

305 notes · View notes

imjeralee · 4 years

Text

Wallflower: Chapter 11 - The Honeymoon Phase (NSFW)

Raihan x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Note: This is my first Pokemon fanfic. I hope you enjoy it :) Originally posted on Archive of Our Own.

Summary: You’re an unassuming Pokemon breeder who works at the nursery in the Wild Area and he’s Raihan, the fearsome gym leader of Hammerlocke who has more than a million followers. You don’t want anything to do with him but he’s…persistent.

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Lemon, smut, violence, language

Extra Note: Plenty of smut here

THE HONEYMOON PHASE

...

"So, how's things?"

"Good."

It's been a while since he visited Alola but Looker thinks it's time he paid Nanu a visit. Nanu had always been rather rough around the edges and when it came to dealing with people, he's not exactly described as being a ray of sunshine, but he gets things done and his heart is in the right place, even though people may not realise it. Looker calls in advance of course, and when he arrives, his superior's looking more grizzled than ever but overall, he seems to be fine. He's just slumming it in a dilapidated settlement called Po Town, right next to the hideout of a gang that once roamed around Alola. After some brief catching up, they decide to go through some cold cases from regions ranging from Kanto to Kalos which Nanu has kept in a box under his desk.

"Heard you helped a couple of kids recently," Nanu grunts out, rifling through the documents and examining them. They're so old, the paper is turning yellow and wanes in his hands. "It's always the kids these days, isn't it?"

"It was more of a personal favour." Looker puts down his file, deciding to pour himself and Nanu another cup of hot herbal tea, watching as two Alolan Meowths play with a ball of string. Another Meowth is resting at the foot of the window whilst another stares at Nanu's fish tank which contains several Goldeen and Finneon. That's not all - In fact, there's a lot of Meowth here. Looker counts sixteen, but there could be more. "...Before I left, they told me they found a dead body in the woods of Galar and the Stow-on-Side gym leader said it belonged to a Phantump."

"You gonna investigate that?"

"Not this time."

"Good on you."

Together, they go through some more documents until Looker finds an old photograph of a young couple - the mother is holding a little girl in her arms. Lifting it up, he studies the little girl's face carefully and realises he may have seen this girl before. He turns the glossy print round but there is no further information aside from a date stamp. Looker picks up the file next, flipping it open. The file mentions the little girl went missing and has never been found. "Hey, Nanu." Looker mutters.

"What?" Nanu grunts out.

"You mind if I hold onto this?"

"Nope, it's all yours."

"Thanks."

...

Meanwhile.

You have a couple of tasks to complete and on your to-do list is to check up on your family. Therefore, early in the morning, you called them and you're glad to see that your mother's doing fine. You tell her you're dating and she's eager to meet Raihan in person so you tell her she will be able to meet him soon should you decide to visit Johto with him in the future. She asks you about work and you tell her everything is well. You chat for a bit longer and her Blissey pops up - you’re not too worried about your mother being left on her own since she has a lot of Pokemon and Blissey is an excellent nurse.

Next, you call Glenn and he's safely made it to Johto, he's in Mahogany Town and he's doing just fine. Everything is just peachy. He will also go visit mum soon as well. Great! You'll check up on them again when you have the time.

Following that, you message Allister and ask him how Phantump is doing. He informs you he's fine and sends you a photo of himself, Phantump and his pokemon. Allister will let you know when they find out more about Phantump and his family, if possible. It’s going to be a while, so you will need to wait.

Either way, you wonder what will come out of this. You also message Opal, asking how she got on with Chairman Rose and the Glimwood Tangle business. She flagged it to him but Rose merely told her he's dealing with it and Eli would be careful from now on. It sounds like Eli's been left off rather lightly. This is unsurprising, you suppose, since Eli works closely with the Chairman.

You’ve scored off several tasks which were rather easy to complete so onto the next one - you open the door, the bell jingling to indicate your arrival. The nursery worker greets you and quickly disappears inside to retrieve your Pokemon.

They've refused to stay in their pokeballs, knowing that you're coming - so when you see the large hulking frames of your Haxorus and Salamence stomping through the doorway and into the visitor's area, you hold your arms out and they growl and nicker at you affectionately as they waddle into your embrace. Mindful of their sharp skin, tusks, claws and fangs, your pokemon allow you to pet them and stroke their heads and backs.

"Here you are! Bagon and Axew are in excellent shape!" The nursery member also hands you two pokeballs which you take off her.

"Thank you so much."

"You're welcome!"

With the new pokemon, you recall your two dragons, pay the worker and leave the nursery. You can't wait to give them to Raihan; you're sure he will love them and you're excited to see his reaction. You're also wearing one of the lingerie sets you got the other day. It's not the most comfortable and the lacy thong keeps riding up your ass and you’re trying your best to resist from adjusting it every now and then, but your mum once told you beauty has a price, so you're reduced to dawdling around with an awkward gait.

Hopefully, you'll get used to it soon and it's not like you are going to wear this everyday. Nope, on lazy days you're just going to go back to your mismatched, grubby t-shirt bra and panties. You’ve even done your hair and makeup today too. It’s not a special occasion but you wanted to put in the extra effort and it was really fun to dress up.

There's not a moment to waste - you're supposed to meet Raihan in Hammerlocke stadium as soon as you have finished up. You call the Corviknight taxi which arrives pretty quickly and once you’re at the castle city, you hurriedly make your way towards the venue; you've become rather familiar with the entire place by now but inside, you don't see Raihan anywhere on the pitch at all.

"Hey!" Someone yells from behind, and you turn round, coming face to face with none other than Ball Guy. "Hihi. You're looking for Raihan, right?" His voice is muffled behind the mask but it sounds pretty deep.

"Yeah."

"Unfortunately, he got called to the vaults, but he told me to give you this." He lifts his hand up, where you see a pair of keys dangling off his fingers. He presses them into your hand for your taking. "And since you came all the way here, this is from me, your friendly neighbourhood Ball Guy!"

He hands you a Love Ball - a type of capsule which you know is far more common to get in Johto than other regions. "Thanks!"

"No problemo! See you around! And have a wonderful day!"

Gee, Ball Guy's positivity is contagious. You leave the stadium in good spirits when Rotom sounds off. Checking your phone, you see that you've received a message from Raihan:

Doofus: Did you get it?

You: The keys? Yep

Doofus: great

Doofus: Meet me at the house :) I'll be there in 15. You remember the way, right?

You: Yep, sure. See u x

Leaving it at that, you make your way to Raihan's house, your heart pounding and stomach fluttering with butterfrees. Even now he still has that effect on you. You make your way past the main district and into the quiet, residential area with the similar looking houses where you count down the number of houses until you reach the two hundreds. You didn't realise it but this is a decent area and it's very quiet. You pass a few people with their Stoutlands and Yampers scurrying around on leashes and they greet you politely.

Once you're at number two hundred and forty one, you go up the steps, remembering the last time you had been here. Pulling out the keys once you reach the door, you unlock it and step in, closing the door behind you, removing your shoes and leaving them on the shoe rack. Now this would be your second time in Raihan's home and you take the time to look around. His wallpaper is a royal blue which reminds you of the dragon uniform colour.

You hang up your coat on the hooks provided and the stairs are directly in front of you - however, you decide to enter the living room to your left. You hear something rustling from within so you quickly poke your head in to see Torkoal fumbling in the lounge by the fireplace, heating up the room.

"Hey there!" You greet him with a wide smile, squatting down to his level and he lets out a low but gentle bellow as smoke puffs out from his shell. You pat him on the head and from the corner of your eye, behind the leather recliner, you see a little Applin on its back, struggling to roll up properly. You promptly head over and pick him up, returning him back onto its feet and it rubs itself against your arm happily. "Hehe, you're okay."

Returning to stand, you put a hand to your chin, glancing around. A black leather sofa sits against the wall, facing the fireplace. The TV stands opposite the sofa as well albeit closer to the window. In another corner, there's a benchpress and a couple of weights - Raihan's workout station. You smile to yourself as you glance at his bookshelf where you see a few awards standing on the top shelf along with some books.

There's a few photo frames too and you look at them one by one: there's a photo of himself with Leon, a photo of himself surrounded by his pokemon in front of Hammerlocke stadium along with his proteges and the cheerleaders. Then there's a group photo of the gym leaders and Rose. There's another photo with himself, Leon and Sonia.

Then you see two photos that capture your interest; the first photo shows Raihan, Rose and the blond-haired man known as Eli. They all look happy, and you wonder what happened that drove the wedge between them aside from, well, Raihan getting the position as Hammerlocke gym leader and Eli getting...well, whatever his job actually is. The other photo is a picture of Raihan with his arm around an extremely attractive young woman as they stand in front of a beach resort. Maybe an ex-girlfriend...

You should let Axew and Bagon out, so you quickly release them and they look around their new home for a while; Applin rolls over to Torkoal's side and everyone makes a brief exchange of growls and rumbling noises before they decide to follow you into the kitchen.

There's bowls left lying around with food and water which Applin and Torkoal head over to at once. Raihan's kitchen looks surprisingly empty but there's a lot of protein powder and nutrition bars in the shelves and his fridge is full of vegetables and meat.

You think it's best to wait for Raihan to come back to decide on food so you head back to the lounge and into the landing again where you head up the stairs and into Raihan’s bedroom. You two were really absorbed with each other the last time so you didn’t quite look around his room properly. You’re not being nosy or anything, just curious.

It’s a typical guy's room. The bed's in the middle, there's a desk with a Dragonite figurine, there's another bookshelf chock full of Pokemon books and there's posters of the Pokemon League stuck to the wall. That's about it.

Remembering that Raihan will be here soon, you suppose it’s time to get to business and you begin to remove your clothes, leaving them folded over his stool and leaving yourself in your undies.

You wonder how to do this the right way and quickly check your reflection, making sure your hair and makeup is fine - before you gently move to lie over the bed, propping yourself up with one elbow on the bed and your hand behind your head, leaving your other hand draped over your waist as seductively as possible.

It's then you catch whiff of his scent from his sheets and you feel your cheeks warming. Holy shit, you've never done this kind of thing before... This is really happening and it feels like something straight out of a movie. Your heart's thumping hard even though he's not here yet. What will he think of this?

You sit up, pondering to yourself until Rotom sounds off again and you check the screen to see that Raihan has messaged you. He's running late. Your face falls as you tap a reply back. No biggie, he will just be an extra thirty to forty minutes late.

Lying over the bed, you stare at his ceiling. What should you do to kill time? You actually feel very sleepy all of a sudden - well, it has been a long day, you suppose... but you fight to keep your eyes open. Your eyelids are threatening to droop every second or so and you move to lie on your side, curling up for some warmth. It is so nice and cosy in his bed that you find yourself drifting blissfully off to sleep...

...Then you promptly jerk awake because you feel someone stroking your hair and you open your eyes to discover that it's become dark - you must have dozed off - and you're still in Raihan's bed but this time the owner has returned and you're sitting in his lap.

"Hey..." He grins at you as you blink unsteadily for a few seconds before you look up and around, lifting your head off his chest.

".....Raihan?" You squeak groggily, brushing some hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear as you sit up properly. "You're here."

"Sorry I'm late." He replies; you rub your eyes, glancing around again and stretching slightly before you gasp, throwing your glance to yourself. You're still in your bra and panties and you gawp at yourself whilst his grin widens; he reaches over, fingering the lacy shoulder strap of your bra. "What's all this about then?"

You cringe as he lets go, encircles his arms around your bare waist, pulling you into his chest before his hands slide down to your ass, fingers delving under the flimsy material of your panties. You silently inhale in response, your cheeks evidently growing warm as he busies himself in feeling the fabric of your underwear, skimming his hands over your flesh at the same time. "Oh, um...well, this..." You slip your hands over his shoulders as your faces grow close, your lips millimetres away.

"And there's a Bagon and Axew downstairs too." He murmurs, leaning forwards to bite down on your lower lip teasingly before pulling away gently.

"Yeah, they're yours." You mutter, and you quickly throw your glimpse down to yourself once more and return to meet his gaze; he hasn't taken his eyes off you, not once. "I, uh...I wanted to do something nice for you. But... I feel and look stupid."

Raihan gives you a sweeping look from head to toe before he leans into you again, lips by your ear. "You look beautiful."

Even though you feel ridiculous right now, your heart lurches frantically against your ribs when he pulls away, letting go of you to swiftly remove his t-shirt, lifting it up and pulling it off before he dumps it somewhere to the side; reaching for you, he pulls you into his embrace once more, crushing his lips against yours and as you kiss, you wrap your arms around his neck, enjoying the feel of his muscles relaxing under your grip whilst his large palms caress the curves of your body.

You cautiously slip your hand from his shoulders to his chest and hips, sliding your fingers past the waistband of his shorts and his boxers when you feel the hardening bulge underneath the thin fabric, fingertips gliding over his smooth skin until you find his shaft. He hesitates at once from your touch and you can tell he’s a little surprised by your bold, eager action but then he grins against your mouth and you know he doesn’t mind this at all.

In fact, he leans backwards slightly, allowing you full permission to explore him to your heart’s content. You swallow down inwardly, cheeks going warm as you fondle him. He’s been inside you, and as you slowly grip his shaft, you realise just how big and thick he is. Clamping your fingers around his warm length, you gently run your hand up and down, giving him a few strokes.

His cock is engorged with arousal, hard and stiff under your palm as you sheathe him with your hand, fingers gliding underneath his length. He feels bigger than usual and as you continue to stroke him his breathing becomes laboured; you come in contact with something wet and it's coming out of his hardened tip but you continue, the warm liquid staining your fingers as you pump your fist up and down over his length.

"My turn." He breathes out, pushing you gently to lie over the bed and you retreat your damp hand, licking your fingers dry. You watch as he climbs over you, pinning your wrists to the pillow before his lips claims yours. Closing your eyes, you relish the feel of his mouth over yours. He kisses you passionately and when you part your mouth for air, he slips his tongue inside, mingling with yours and you emit a soft gasp as your tongues press together. He retreats to focus on kissing your neck, trailing his lips up and down your skin as he releases your hands to hold you tightly to him.

You close your eyes, slipping your arms around the back of his neck and entwining your fingers over the sides of his shaved head and into his dreadlocks, moaning quietly as he moves to your chest, pulling down on your bra to reveal your breasts.

Cupping your breasts with his hands, he frees your breasts from the garment so he can suck on your nipples, massaging your chest and running his fingers all over your flesh, forcing you to shudder involuntarily under his touch. He leaves no area of your exposed skin untouched, using his tongue to lap at your nipples and under your breasts. He's determined to take his time with you today and he suckles on each breast at his own leisurely pace.

You sigh gently, lying still as he continues, tilting his head to the side to kiss and lick your breasts from all possible angles. He cups your breasts and massages them again, squeezing down on your mounds before he laps at your nipples hungrily.

He soon moves between your breasts and down your stomach until he reaches your panties. Hooking his fingers under the thin material, he eases them down your hips and all the way down your legs before yanking them off you entirely, pressing kisses over your skin as he moves further and further and once he's at your slit, he discovers you're drenched for him.

Raihan parts your folds with his fingers before he leans forwards, his lips finding your aroused clit. You moan heavily with unabashed lust as he kisses and sucks, and you clamp your hand over the back of his head, weaving your fingers through his dreadlocks and keeping his face positioned in-between your legs.

You can feel him grinning against your flesh before he slips his tongue inside and eagerly licks at your clit. You wriggle helplessly as he continues but he holds you firmly down over the bed, one hand fondling and squeezing your breast whilst the other hand keeps your leg pinned down.

When you come, your body grows limp as you sigh and he finally releases you to nudge your knees further apart from him, untying his shorts and removing them. Raihan wipes his chin, grinning as you pant from the extortionate experience, chest heaving. He proceeds to lift your legs up and hike them over his hips - you instinctively settle them around his waist and over his back, keeping him close and locking him in so he can angle and guide himself.

"I'm not wearing a condom." He murmurs.

"It's fine, I'm on the pill. I want you inside right now." You reply breathlessly, and now that you're quite aware that he's going to go in raw, you swallow down when he pushes his tip past your soaking folds and buries himself all the way to the hilt, grunting. You bite down on your lower lip as you feel your walls being stretched to accommodate his size and when he starts to thrust, you clutch onto him.

He sets a moderate pace and you close your eyes, moaning loudly with content as he fucks you. You spread your legs as far apart as you can for him; your body forced to move up and down from the repeated, rhythmic penetrations of his cock. You can't think properly as he leans his weight against you, your legs bending further for him and dangling high in the air as he drills into your wet and tight pussy.

He goes in smooth with slick, deep thrusts because you’re so wet. He strokes your walls intensely and withdraws, then pushes himself back inside once again and you pant and moan heavily. To keep yourself grounded, you hold onto him tightly, snuggling into his shoulder and burying your nose into his nape as you enjoy the build up of pleasure that's settling in your lower regions.

The bed begins to protest loudly from the harsh movements of your joined bodies. Raihan kisses and nuzzles you affectionately, passionately ravishing your skin with his lips; he trails his mouth over the side of your neck and shoulder, biting down on your flesh playfully as he holds you to him, wrapping his arms around your back, your breasts pressed tightly against his chest.

As he rocks his hips back and forth against yours, you follow him so you can meet him thrust for thrust, your walls contracting around him uncontrollably.

You're close to coming and he bucks his hips against yours in one intense motion that has your toes curling; his cock pressing thoroughly inside, his tip hitting your womb and you cry out at the mind-numbing intensity, nails digging into his back. Knowing you thoroughly enjoyed that, he pumps into you rapidly and slams you harder into the bed, working you over the edge and you're starting to feel rather raw and sensitive as he grinds against your walls.

Thrusting into you one final time, you pant and moan as you achieve that peak and he cums inside you, spilling his seed and you shudder all over as he grows still, his cock throbbing inside.

He stops moving altogether, and you rub his shoulders gently as your frantically beating heart begins to slow down. Grunting, Raihan begins to withdraw out of you and you steal one shy glance to your body as he drops himself beside you on the bed; you’re smothered entirely all over with cum and juice. You wipe your brows free of sweat before you roll over to join him, climbing over his chest, stroking the side of his shaved head before you lean over to nibble the shell of his ear, your lips finding his piercing.

He welcomes you into his embrace, wrapping his arms around you tightly before he runs his fingers down your spine and stops at your ass, giving you a firm squeeze. "Can you stay here for the rest of the night?" He mutters, burying his nose into your hair.

You poke your head out of his neck, smiling. "Okay."

He looks surprised that you've actually agreed, grinning widely before he promptly rolls over the bed, trapping you underneath him as he nudges your legs apart and enters you once more.

Eventually, you both leave bed after the third (or was it the fourth?) round and don't even bother getting properly changed: Raihan merely puts on his boxers and tugs on the string whilst you pull your panties back on along with your bra and the two of you leave the room, hand in hand. Once you reach the stairs, however, and he decides that carrying you is more fun and you climb onto his back with your arms around his neck and his arms tucked underneath your knees. He carries you downstairs and into the lounge where the pokemon including your Rotom phones, stare at you two silently and you both smile sheepishly at them.

Raihan wanders to the kitchen in his flip-flops to switch on the central heating, picking up Applin along the way and holding him under the arm whilst you stay in the lounge to make sure the pokemon are fine. They're okay, just wondering what the racket upstairs was all about, why the two of you were gone for so long and also, when you were going to come back downstairs.

When Raihan returns with Applin and two beers, Torkoal helps heat the room up for the time being so Raihan sprawls over his sofa and you curl up beside him with your head on his shoulder; he throws his arm around you, switching on the TV where a late night scary movie is playing. He hands you a beer and funnily enough, he's become engrossed with the movie in a matter of seconds. As you lean against him, you stroke his bare thigh absent-mindedly before he lifts you up and eases you into his lap, bundling you up in his arms and stroking your thighs and ass.

He also holds your hand, reminding you that you don't need to be afraid of any scary parts because it's just a movie. It's then you remember something similar that crossed your mind a long time ago. You watch him from the corner of your eye as he relaxes and drinks his beer. Despite his tall, lanky lithe figure, his body is sculpted and he's undeniably fit. Again, you wonder to yourself how you managed to land yourself such a fine man.

The ambience is disturbed when Raihan's phone sounds off. "Bzzzt, mezzage from Chairman Rose!"

"Hm?" He puts his beer down as Rotom flies over and Raihan opens the new message on his phone.

"What is it?"

"...Chairman Rose will be holding an exhibition in two weeks and all the gym leaders, including the Champion, are invited. And there's some special announcement from Eli. It says I can bring a plus one." Raihan adds with a grin, turning to you. "How about it?"

"Uh...." It's basically a party and you absolutely abhor parties, but for Raihan, you have to bury those feelings deep inside. Therefore, you find yourself nodding reluctantly. "Sure."

....

A few days later.

Ever since Raihan confirmed he was dating on his social media account, his page has been inaccessible due to overwhelming traffic and he's been trending for days.

Who is she? Where did they meet and when? How long have they been dating for? No-one knows who she is, why is everything so secretive? Fans were divided at once - some were happy for him whilst others flew off into a rage which subsequently created a storm of online articles about social media influencers and the importance of their privacy.

Eli puts away his phone, brows furrowed. Honestly, he just thinks this whole thing is annoying and that Raihan is an attention seeker. Why is this guy so popular? What is so lovable about him? Who cares about the fact that he is dating, and who he is dating? He's dated before anyway... Why do people care so much and how could he get so many fans, so many followers? He's nobody special.

He moves off the tree he was leaning on, making his way towards the direction of the pokemon nursery. He stops just a few steps away. It's a disgustingly cheery place - a small cottage, pleasant and cosy, with a thatched roof and one side covered in ivy.

There's a sign painted in primary colours, along with rainbows and a sun. He scoffs, opening the door to see Raihan's girlfriend inside at the sink, washing dishes. There's a Goomy sitting on her shoulder. She hears the door opening and turns round, a little spooked by his arrival. It's then he also sees a Dreepy sitting in the front pocket of her apron.

"Hey." He greets her, stuffing his hands into his pockets, glancing around.

"...Can I help you?" She asks, a little nervously whilst Dreepy and Goomy gurgle and chirp. He doesn't think Raihan's girlfriend is much to look at, but considering how strong her pokemon is and what kind of pokemon she has, looks certainly are deceiving for her case. He also finds her a little demure and quiet, meek. She's the complete opposite of Raihan. Also, he takes notes of the dragon pokemon - no doubt, she'd raise them into strong battlers for her team in the future.

"No, you can't. Where's the old bag?"

Her eyes widen; she knows he's talking about her boss. "...She went to Hammerlocke to complete some errands."

"So it's just you then?"

She looks uncomfortable. "...You...You can wait over there for her to come back." She stammers slightly, pointing to the sofa for visitors.

He follows the direction of her finger, but doesn't head over. Instead, Eli proceeds to wander over and approach the counter; she inches backwards as he pushes open the small gate and enters the staff area, stepping towards her.

"What are you doing? You can't come in here."

"Don't you know who I am?"

She stays silent as he steps closer and closer to her until she is backed against the wall. She looks left and right, not sure where to go and Goomy and Dreepy emit loud noises in protest but she doesn't command them to attack. It's not like she can, anyway.

"I'm her son. I bet she's never talked about me before, right? Heh. She wanted me to become a pokemon breeder but the idea of looking after other people's pokemon and raising them up instead of my own made me sick." Eli replies, smirking as she gazes up at him, eyes wide. He's not as tall as Raihan but he still towers over her. "You know, I really wonder what Raihan likes about you...you’re nowhere as pretty as his ex-girlfriend and you’re nothing like her. I didn’t think Raihan would like girls like you. Actually, now that I think about it... it’s not even been that long since they broke up. He’s probably not even over it. Maybe he’s just using you.”

Reaching for her, he takes a strand of her hair in his hand and all of a sudden, he sees a change in her persona - she shoves him away, seething. "Don't touch me!" She yells, her face red with anger. Goomy and Dreepy also hiss at him angrily too, protective of their trainer.

Eli merely blinks slowly, and sighs. "....You're no fun."

In fact, they didn't notice that someone else had entered the establishment and as Eli turns, a fist connects with his face. However, before he falls to the floor, he is grabbed by the front of his coat and he comes face to face with the dragon tamer.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Raihan growls. It's weird to see Raihan angry because he's always either smiling, grinning or posing for the camera. Nothing gets to him apparently, except this, which is nice to know. It's kind of exhilarating, knowing that he can get Raihan to rear this side.

"Oh. It's you. We were just talking about you." Eli says, grinning.

"You got a problem with me, you take it out on me. Not her. Leave her alone."

He is unfazed, despite Raihan's threatening tone. "You don't scare me, Raihan. I'd watch myself if I were you."

Raihan releases him and Eli almost stumbles over his own two feet. "Get outta here."

Adjusting his coat, he wipes the blood off his chin, turning round to leave. "See you at the party." Eli says, smirking.

...

#fanfic #archiveofmyown #jeralee #wallflower #fic #raihan x reader #reader insert #kibana #pokemon #pokemonshield #pokemonsword #pokemonswordandshield #raihan

42 notes · View notes