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stayinlimbo · 2 months

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cat walk

pairing: lee minho x reader ft. soondoongdori requested?: yes; 100 followers celebration genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, i am only using my own cat experience, lowercase intended, slightly unedited word count: 935 note: thank you @infinity-tiny for the request. i definitely took some creative liberties with it but i hope you still like it ♡

if anyone had asked minho what he thought he’d arrive home to on a seemingly normal friday evening, he probably would’ve described his typical welcoming committee consisting of you shouting out a “hey min!” from somewhere in the living room or kitchen, and, if he was lucky, his cats poking out from their usual hiding spots to greet him.

it most certainly wouldn’t have been this, yet here we are.

minho’s hand hasn’t even released the front door handle before soonie’s pleading eyes bore holes into his soul. the cat’s large body is draped comfortably over your shoulder, but minho can tell that soonie would rather be literally anywhere else than where he currently is.

the sound of rustling diverts minho’s attention towards the ground next to your feet. doongie’s sprawled out form rubs against a pair of shoes strewn to the side of the entryway as he noisily meows at the sight of his owner’s (father’s) figure barely stepping past the threshold.

minho flicks his eyes back up as soft clicking noises reverberate around the narrow hallway, watching the final child hesitantly making his way towards your free, outstretched hand holding his favorite treat.

“what are you doing?”

dori’s cautious steps halt at minho’s voice, making you quietly groan out in frustration.

“hey min, happy to see you, now shhh for a minute please,” you hastily whisper, gaze focused on the brown tabby. the soft clicking resumes and dori finally comes close enough for you to scoop him up in your arms alongside his older brother.

you whirl around to face your boyfriend, who at long last has properly entered the house and closed the door. a radiant grin illuminates your face at the sight of him. if minho’s being honest, it tugs at his heartstrings a bit. you missed him and you’re so happy to see–

“hold soonie and dori for me, will you? i need to grab this bag real quick,” you rush out, not giving him much of a choice as you’re already transferring the two cats into his arms.

okay, so maybe not.

minho watches you jog over to a bag he didn’t see at the end of the hall, laughing at the tiny slip in your footing when you turn around to come back towards him. you plop down next to doongie, giving him a quick pet before fishing in the bag and pulling out a leash and a cat-sized reflective vest.

hold up.

“you didn’t,” minho blanches, watching you put doongie’s head and paws through the green vest’s openings, hooking the leash to the rings that are now attached to the cat’s back.

“i did. soonie,” you reply, reaching up for your next (unwilling) participant. minho crouches down next to you, reluctantly complying with your demands.

“you’re going out now?” he questions. poor soonie is not as cooperative as his younger brother, and it takes everything within minho to not save him out of pity for what is to come.

“yes, they’re more frisky in the evening—dori—so i thought ‘why not?’”

“but it’s dark outside,” minho tries to reason, passing you the final feline. it’s of no use, you are too far gone.

“that’s what the reflective vests are for. duh,” you counter, rolling your eyes with a fond smile as you let dori leap out of your hold. “there, don’t they look ready for the outdoors?”

the cats are all sprawled in different positions on the floor. soonie still looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, doongie is preoccupied with swatting the bag now, and if dori could make himself any smaller, he would turn into a perfectly shaped ball.

no, ready isn’t the word minho would use.

you must see the hesitance still lingering behind his eyes because this time you sift through the bag to retrieve a human-sized reflective vest and pull it over your sweatshirt.

“if it makes you feel any better, i’ll be wearing this the entire time with them to be extra safe. please, please, please let me try this,” you beg, looking at him with your best imploring eyes.

minho has to give it to you, you’ve gotten better at this. you must’ve been practicing after the last time he told you “no” to something he can’t even remember at this point.

he lets out a sigh at your unwavering gaze, finally giving in to your pleas. “...did you at least get me one?”

“of course i did, who do you think i am?” you scoff lightly, digging through the bag and extending your hand towards him with his very own green reflective vest.

as minho slips on what, in his opinion, is the ugliest vest he’s ever seen in his life, he can’t help the smile blooming on his face growing wider. although this may be one of the weirdest methods (and he means it) you’ve used to get the family all together, he can see the commitment and energy you put into making sure everyone would be safe.

you don’t need to know right now that he tried this years before he met you and that the cats will give up entirely about ten steps away from the walkway. he’ll let you discover that on your own.

and as you call “hurry up, let’s go!” to him halfway out the door with soonie and dori in your arms, doongie trailing slowly by your feet trying to bite the loose leash dangling in front of his face, minho knows he wouldn’t trade this for the world. not when he has the ones he loves most all in one place.

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taglist: @linospuddin @linocz

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brucebocchi · 2 months

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Winter 2024 anime roundup, Pt. 1: Ongoing/returning shows and the trash heap

hey y'all, this is also up on my ko-fi! it's free to read both here and there, but i'm struggling financially rn so i could appreciate if you'd throw a few bucks my way if you liked it!

I wasn't expecting to watch nearly this much anime in just the past three months, but life completely failed at getting in the way. So here's everything I either watched or tried to watch for the Winter 2024 season, and a short review for each.

I'm not going to bother with trying to rank them, so instead they're sorted by category, as follows:

Continuing series from Fall 2023

Returning series

What I dropped

Mixed reactions

On hold

New series that are actually good

With this first entry, I'll be covering the first three, with the back half arriving in another couple of days. As with the 2023 rankings, the OP for each show is linked in the corresponding title.

Here we go.

Ongoing shows:

The Apothecary Diaries

Looking back at my 2023 rankings, I think my placement of The Apothecary Diaries’ first cour at #11 may have belied how much I love this show and believe it to truly be one of last year’s greats. If anything, it was hampered by its status as an ongoing show making it incomplete by nature, and I worried myself over the possibility of recency bias taking over my top ten (Frieren is in the same boat, so its top overall ranking should really highlight how damn good it is). Make no mistake, though: The Apothecary Diaries fucking rocks, and it continues to fucking rock.

It’s largely more of the same, and that’s what you would want from another cour of this show. At the same time, though, more and more is uncovered about Maomao’s background and Jinshi’s status as the proverbial camera continues to pull back and the mysteries adorning the edges of the frame become clearer. I got a sense at the end of the Fall 2023 cour that the show was moving on from its episodic nature into something more serial and plot-driven, and I was mostly right: While several episodes of the Winter cour still revolve around various mysteries of the week, they all start to converge before you even realize it. It’s the same flywheel-effect approach to plot development that Kaguya-sama did so well: While so many of the events seem like one-off curiosities in the moment, these almost-imperceptible movements eventually barrel forward into an unexpected but perfectly logical momentum. The show teases out several plot threads that may not seem relevant at first, and it trusts you to be patient enough to see them play out.

I’m not at all exaggerating when I say that, along with the next entry on this list, The Apothecary Diaries is one of the best anime of the past five years. I had a feeling that this could end up being the case as 2023 came to a close, but I’m sure of it now. Watch this show.

Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End

Last year’s best anime continues apace into 2024 as we get an honest-to-goodness story arc: Frieren, who has been around too long to bother taking any magical governing bodies seriously, needs a certified mage in her party order to continue on the journey north. She decides to take the necessary exam to be certified as a First-Class Mage, a rarefied status in this world, and has Fern tag along to do the same in order to double their chances.

And it’s still incredible! Great action, brilliant animation, wonderful character moments, and a beautiful score. It is still the top-rated anime ever on MyAnimeList, and by a significant margin. I’m not sure I agree, necessarily, but I can say with all sincerity that this has been a perfect season of television and my Fridays now feel empty without it.

That’s all I’ve got on this one. What else do you want from me? I’ve already written nearly 2000 words about this show alone since it premiered. You’re asking me for more? I’ll kill you.

Shangri-La Frontier

If the low placement on my 2023 list was any indication, I was pretty fed up with Shangri-La Frontier by the end of its first cour, and the first couple episodes of 2024 being little more than plot set-up had me teetering on the edge of dropping it entirely. But I’ll be damned if it didn’t reel me back in once shit actually started happening and the plot really began to move forward.

Well, for a bit, at least. The height of the series so far has been the Wethermon arc, in which Sunraku teams up with his fellow shit-gamers, Pencilgon and Katzo, as they vie to be the first to take down a notoriously difficult unique boss. As the fight plays out, we get to see the feeling-out process of a tough action-RPG boss, rife with attack pattern memorization, skill timing, and buff stacking as the margin for error grows ever thinner. As always, the animation is on point, the soundtrack rules, and the action sequences are exhilarating.

But my major gripe with the series remains: There’s hardly any actual story here, even after 25 episodes. There are broad gestures towards a larger plot (“the truth of this world,” as the NPCs call it), but they are too vague to even resemble anything enticing. Everything in between the major fights is just set dressing, and there’s a lot of in between. There’s decent stuff in there, to be fair; the adorable rabbit NPCs are always a delight, and I love the commitment to depicting our top-level gamers as smug, preening shitheels. These are long walks for short drinks of water, though, and much of the main cast isn’t likable enough to make the downtime tolerable, to the point where watching the many set-up episodes feels like more of a grind than the actual grinding in the show. Even in the best fight sequences I still had moments where I found myself yelling “STOP TALKING ALREADY” at the screen. Internal monologues are a constant in battle shonen, I know, but if there’s any demographic whose internal monologues I want to hear the least, it’s gamers.

I kept watching this show despite myself, and six months later I’m still not sure how much I actually enjoy it. I haven’t seen any of the lousy VRMMO anime that people favorably compare it to, so at least it isn’t Sword Art Online. Yay, I guess? Yet here I am, still plugging away at a show I can’t strongly recommend to a lot of people. Shangri-La Frontier has turned me into a Steam reviewer.

Undead Unluck

The stakes continue to rise exponentially in one of last year’s more underrated shonen hits (or it would’ve been a hit if Disney gave a fuck about marketing the anime on its own platforms). The Union neutralizes a threat, gains a new Roundtable member, and then shit hits the fan.

The scope of this series goes into absolutely buckwild directions, and all I will say is that “Kimi no Todoke predicting the future” was not a piece of worldbuilding I would have ever expected. But at the same time, it never loses focus on the human element, which only gets more poignant as it goes on. There’s a really beautiful message in the last arc about how people can live on through the memories of others, well past their bodies dying, which hits nice and hard considering this season aired at the same time as Frieren.

This is a show that I tended to watch sporadically (because I just plain forget to open Hulu just to watch one show every week), and I would say that it was the ideal way to watch it, except the pacing issues from the first cour only got worse during a monumentally consequential sequence in the middle of the second. There was an episode that had, I shit you not, 90 seconds of new content in the first seven minutes of runtime, and at the exact point in the series where you’re salivating for something, anything new. In a season where so much goes on in just 24 episodes, I’m baffled that they felt the need to pad the runtime so much.

That’s the worst of it, though, and the momentum fortunately builds up from there and barrels downhill until the end. The story becomes incredibly meta, which was a very ballsy move for a Shonen Jump series that was still relatively early into its run. The gamble pays off, though, and the debut season ends on several incredibly strong episodes, and now I want more. I’ll be hopping on the manga soon.

It also struck me towards the end of the season just how goddamn cute everyone looks. For all of the spraying blood and grim marching towards Armageddon, it says a lot that I still wanna pinch everyone’s fat little cheeks.

Returning shows:

The Dangers in My Heart, season 2

The first season was absent in my 2023 rankings but I decided to pick it up while the second was still airing, and I’m so glad I did: The Dangers in My Heart is an almost-too-precious middle school romance that is endlessly endearing and bluntly honest (if a little exploitative) about what middle schoolers are actually like, warts and all. Insecurities are amplified, they struggle to figure out their identities, and mental and physical development run on different schedules from one kid to the next. And amidst all this raging hormonal nonsense, we have ourselves a lovely little romance story.

Kyotaro has (mostly) kicked his chuuni tendencies and realized that he’s madly in love with the beautiful, cheery Anna. He’s as aware as anyone of what a mismatched couple they’d be, though, and continues to self-sabotage any progress in the name of maintaining her good social standing. To pile onto his loner’s perspective of middle school politics, Kyotaro also gets a front-row seat to Anna’s part-time work as a model-slash-actress and he wonders if an underdeveloped shrimp like him should be seen anywhere near someone so obviously more mature. At the same time, though, he’s a growing boy, and we see lovely moments of progress as Kyotaro takes initiative both for her sake and to achieve what he wants. To both ameliorate and complicate these situations, Anna reciprocates his feelings towards her, and we creep ever closer towards what we want to see, in increasingly awkward and precious fashion.

So much of this anime is just gorgeous. Even setting aside the visuals and music (which are on point at all times), there are really lovely themes in here about insecurity, teenage perceptions of maturity, and self acceptance. On top of all of that, though, this is just a delightful slice-of-life romance story. You can probably guess where we’ve ended up by the end of the second season, but it’s the getting there that makes it all worth it. The manga is still running (and I plan to pick it up), so there’s clearly plenty more of the story to tell, but if this is where the anime ends, it ended perfectly.

Holy shit, though, did the first season really air at the same time as Skip and Loafer and Insomniacs After School? Dentists must have made a mint that season because every single one of these shows is so unrelentingly sweet that my teeth start to itch. Not that I’m complaining.

Mashle: Magic and Muscles, season 2

I honestly think I might’ve been too hard on Mashle in my 2023 rankings. I gave up on it a few episodes in when it’d initially aired, but I eventually came back to finish out the season and ended up having a pretty good time. I’ll cop to having forgotten that latter part when I mapped out those rankings, but that enjoyment quickly came back to me when I picked up season 2... even if the season begins with a ton of table setting.

Plenty of battle shonen take time to find their voice, both in manga and anime, and Mashle really seemed to hit its stride fairly quickly into the second season. Mash Burnedead’s lack of magical quality is no longer a secret, and now magical society has to find a way to deal with it, so the series’ initial stakes are raised and Mash HAS to become a top-level sorcerer lest he lose his life. Also, the bad guys are back. Unfortunately, just as I started to genuinely appreciate the ensemble cast, most of Mash’s friends took a backseat to the larger plot (Lemon is nowhere to be seen almost all season) as the villains raise the stakes with increasingly JoJo-esque magic abilities. There’s still plenty to like, though, and some of the new characters help. Props for having an openly nonbinary character play a major role.

The music is a real highlight here; a surprising amount of hip-hop paints the backdrops during dialogue, and any show with an OP by Creepy Nuts will immediately grab my attention. "Bling-Bang-Bang-Born" actually turned into a bona fide hit single, much like Oshi no Ko's "Idol" and Jujutsu Kaisen's "SPECIALZ," and I'd say it's well earned (seriously, it fucks, please click the link above). The animation has also started to really pick up where it felt like it kept falling short in the first season as well, and I found myself looking forward to action sequences more as the season went on.

And hey, it might’ve taken 21 episodes to get there, but I finally laughed at a cream puff gag!

Urusei Yatsura (2022), season 2

I really don’t have much to say other than it’s more Urusei Yatsura, and that’s just swell. We continue the modern adaptation of the classic gag manga as the OG anime babe and her piece-of-shit “darling” get caught up in yet more bizarre hijinks. Despite the 48-episode run being touted as an “Urusei Yatsura all-stars” cherry-pick from Rumiko Takahashi’s 34-volume opus, not all of the segments hit on the same level, but the stories that last entire or even multiple episodes have been killer. Lum and Ataru, despite their myriad flaws, genuinely do care for one another, and this series is at its best when those feelings get to shine through. Takahashi remains a legend for her expert balancing of comedy and heart, and while this particular adaptation doesn’t have the built-in benefit of 300+ chapters of familiarity, those moments still feel earned.

It’s Urusei Yatsura. It’s a classic for a reason. Watch it.

Dropped:

Gushing Over Magical Girls (dropped after one episode)

For the TL;DR version, consult the image above.

All I’d heard about this show going in was that the manga it’s based on was good and that there would be boobs. I wish I’d known more than that before watching, though, because if I’d known that said boobs would belong to middle schoolers, I wouldn’t have bothered with even the one episode I did end up watching.

I was drawn in by the initial premise, too: The protagonist, the conspicuously-named Utena (who looks enough like Bernadetta from Fire Emblem that I was immediately endeared to her), is an enormous fan of the magical girls who keep her city safe, so when an adorable maho shoujo mascot approaches her with an offer, she immediately takes him up on it. As her sinister-looking (and unnecessarily revealing) costume suggests, though, Utena doesn’t get to live out her magical girl dreams; she actually got roped into—and blackmailed into keeping—a role as a villainess. The magical girl team she idolizes quickly finds her, and to stave off their assault, Utena is forced to summon a monster to bind them. As they continue to struggle and squeal, Utena goes further with it by ripping their clothes and spanking their bare bottoms red, because it turns out that she’s actually into this stuff, sexually. The title, it turns out, is a double entendre.

Credit where it’s due for a clever concept: On paper, this is really goddamn funny! My issue is with the execution: I don’t really care to see someone’s sexual awakening if it involves repeated violations of consent, and doubly so if I have to see nudity of ostensible middle schoolers (Japanese middle schools are the equivalent of seventh through ninth grade, meaning these girls are 15 at most). After 100 Girlfriends, I thought I could handle whatever trashy bullshit any anime could throw my way, but the longer I chewed on Gushing’s premiere, the worse it sat with me. I have no intentions of playing morality police here, but I can’t bring myself to watch any more of this than I already have.

Early teenage sexuality is a very difficult subject matter to handle delicately, especially in a comedy milieu, and I can levy plenty of criticisms on that matter towards series I otherwise enjoyed, like Call of the Night and the aforementioned Dangers in My Heart. And although there appear to be some coming-of-age elements here, Gushing doesn’t seem interested in handling it without being exploitative. Maybe it gets better, but I don’t really plan to find out for myself.

I just feel like it’s a shame that in a season with some actual halfway decent LGBT representation, the breakout yuri hit is about middle schoolers performing dubiously-consensual BDSM on each other. And maybe that speaks to something for some sapphic viewers, and I have no intention of speaking over them, but I do know that this isn’t for me. I would’ve gone fucking feral over this show when I was like 13, but I haven’t been a 13-year-old boy for a long, long time.

I may not have a leg to stand on here as someone who watches Mushoku Tensei (and frankly, that one’s on strike two with me), but I have to put my foot down somewhere. For me, that “somewhere” is borderline pornography involving 13-15 year olds. I try to meet media where it is, even the squicky stuff, but I cannot put myself at the level Gushing Over Magical Girls sets for itself.

Sasaki and Peeps (dropped after eight episodes)

This show is frustrating to even process postmortem. After a mildly intriguing hour-long premiere that introduced a whole lot of concurrent concepts, Sasaki and Peeps somehow managed to not only continue heaping new ideas onto the pile, but also fumble every single one of them in a way that wasn’t even entertaining to watch.

Sasaki, a lonely 40-something salaryman of modest means, decides that instead of living vicariously through adorable animal photos on social media, he should pull the trigger and get a pet of his own. He settles on a reasonably-priced and suitably adorable fat little Java sparrow, who as it turns out speaks human language and is actually named Piercarlo the Starsage (Sasaki settles on calling him Pii-chan, or Peeps in English). The bird was reincarnated from another world, where he is able to take Sasaki at will, and the man realizes he can use the other world’s relative dearth of technology to his advantage and sets up an interdimensional trade full time so he can make coin on his own watch and help Peeps try the delicious beef he heard is the best food in Sasaki’s world. To the latter end, he also invests in a restaurant. Peeps also helps teach him magic, which Sasaki is forced to use in a pinch in the real world. He is quickly found out and gets roped into a secret government bureau of psychics, because the agent who caught him using ice magic decides he’d be a perfect complement to her water powers (think Kanne and Lawine from Frieren, but stupider). Sasaki now has to balance these multiple lives, which hardly ever interact with one another, as the stakes rise in Peeps’ world in the form of palace intrigue and in Sasaki’s world in the form of a growing threat of evil psychics or something. Also, there’s magical girls, because why the fuck not at this point.

If you actually managed to process all that and went “wow, that’s a lot, I wonder how they can tie all that together,” it brings me no pleasure to report that Sasaki and Peeps completely fails at that task. This is a work of fiction with entirely too many ideas, to the point where it feels like it has no ideas. There’s a saying in football that a team with two quarterbacks is a team with no quarterback, and Sasaki and Peeps has, like, six on its depth chart. You ever hear a band that managed to cram multiple genres in the same song and you get whiplash every time it switches up? Those are bands with a lot of influences, but no identity or vision to call their own, and that is Sasaki and Peeps to me: It is the Twenty One Pilots of anime. A lot of shit got thrown at the wall, and none of it stuck: This show, conceptually, is shit-stained drywall with a pile of turds adorning the moulding.

For a show about a 40-year-old man, it gave me serious pause that there was not a single named adult woman in any of the episodes I watched, and I grew even more frustrated waiting for one to show up. Sasaki’s partner, Hoshizaki, seems to be a driven, professional young woman, but it turns out she’s a 16 year old high school student, for some reason. The daughter of the viscount doing business with Sasaki is a young girl who likes to tag along with him, and Sasaki’s neighbor is a latchkey high school girl who may or may not have a yandere-ish fixation on him. The magical girl we meet is also definitely a kid. The female psychics they face off against don’t appear to be older than teenagers, though the one who appears to grow fond of him turns out to be several hundred years old, which especially gave me pause because we all know that unfortunate trope and the type of person who hides behind it. Before progressing any further, I found out that the light novel series upon which this show is based was written by someone with the pen name “Buncololi,” which told me the rest of what I needed to know.

That part made me increasingly uncomfortable, and I became less and less convinced that this show was capable of sticking the landing as it continued to pile on new, contrived ideas. This was a waste of an excellent voice cast, but more than that, a waste of time.

Tales of Wedding Rings (dropped after nine episodes)

I can’t believe how much goddamn isekai I ended up watching this season. That Tales of Wedding Rings wasn’t the worst one (see above) was a minor miracle, because boy howdy was this one a dud.

Satou is just a normal high school boy, blah blah blah, his childhood friend he’s in love with is actually a princess from another world and she has to go back to fulfill a political marriage, he follows her into the portal to pull a Benjamin Braddock. But then, gasp, the palace is under attack, so the princess (her native name is Krystal, but growing up in Japan she was known as Hime, which means… princess) instead decides to marry Satou, bestowing upon him her kingdom’s ring, which gives him powers that he uses to fight back the demons. It turns out that her ring enables him to use one elemental affinity out of five, so of course now Satou has to collect the rings held by the other four kingdoms in order to become the Ring King and save the world, and to do so he has to also marry each corresponding princess.

This is basically Tolkien’s Rings of Power but as a harem isekai with bonus nudity. What I saw of the season was basically a MacGuffin hunt that had waifus of various fantasy races attached. Fine character designs for each, to be fair, but it wasn’t enough to keep me interested. It’s funny on paper that (to paraphrase Geoff Thew) our protagonist’s power level scales with the size of his harem, but Tales didn’t do enough to make me actually care what was happening. And I wanted to! There were elf titties and I didn’t care. That’s criminal.

What makes Tales especially difficult to watch is that this show is fuck ugly. The color palette is muddy and unappealing, everyone looks uncannily shiny, and there’s a smudgy Vaseline filter over everything. The action sequences are uninspiring, the animation is lousy, and every character looks terribly off-model unless they’re naked. Watch the OP I linked if you don't believe me; that's the best of it. The aural element isn’t much better; ecchi scenes are punctuated by a Cinemax-caliber smooth jazz score that I pray was chosen ironically, and most of the show’s humor consists of “an old guy is screeching.” And if you’re wasting Shigeru Chiba’s talents on that one lousy joke, you’ve fucked up catastrophically.

What completely pushed me out of wanting to see any more of this show, though, was how hard it doubled down on the worst elements of harem anime by having Protag-kun be a wishy-washy little ninny even though he’s openly declared his love for and is literally married to Hime/Krystal. And I wanted to care about her; the narrative made me want to care about her, and her jealousy of the other princesses is warranted, but alas, the harem demands bodies. To his credit, Satou recognizes her mixed emotions and makes extra time for her to make it clear that she’s forever number one in his heart, but every single time their shared romance and emotions actually push them towards consummating their (all caps for emphasis) MARRIAGE, the show goes Rent-a-Girlfriend on us and finds a cheap excuse to ruin the moment. No thanks, I’m out. Nothing else about this show is good enough to make me wade through that shit.

Honestly, the only thing that had me coming back after my Persona 3-induced hiatus was that I wanted to see the dragon girl, and that alone was almost worth it, but there really isn’t much of a draw otherwise. There were better isekai, better romances, better fantasy settings, and even better uncensored harem shenanigans this season. I might pick this back up as the second season approaches, but I’m not in any hurry.

#anime reviews

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lestappenforever · 11 months

Note

For the print: 41. “Is that my shirt?” “Is… is that okay?”

Lestappen sharing clothes is one of my favourite things 😍

I was hoping for this one! Thank you. 🥰

Also, throwing in a bonus 50. "Kiss me like you mean it." "With pleasure." for you.

---

41. “Is that my shirt?” “Is… is that okay?” and 50. "Kiss me like you mean it." "With pleasure."

Look, it wasn't as if Max had planned this, okay? Any of it. It just happened.

He'd been on one of his typical late night grocery shopping runs, because he could not for the life of him plan to do it at a more reasonable time of day, or when the store wasn't 10 minutes from closing.

He'd also decided to walk to the store because he'd had a couple of beers and he wasn't about to risk his livelihood for a five minute drive.

The cashier — a woman in her fifties named Stella, who has checked Max out numerous times in the past and has long since stopped caring about him being a Formula 1 World Champion and his attempts at being charming — rolls her eyes dramatically at him as he apologizes for once again being there last minute.

"Every time you say this, and every time you come in at this time, Max," she tells him, not at all amused.

(If he's being perfectly honest, Max doesn't think she's been amused once in her life.)

The disappointment in her eyes could rival that of his mother whenever Max had done something she didn't like growing up, which is unsettling. It makes Max feel like a little kid waiting for a scolding.

Completing his purchase, Max apologizes profusely once more to Stella on his way out.

As he exits the store, somebody practically barrels into him from the side.

"Shit," Max mutters, regaining his footing and turning to face the stranger who apparently has no disregard for anyone's safety or well-being, anger already building in his chest.

But the stranger turns out to be none other than Charles Leclerc, apparently out on a late-night run if his sweaty forehead and running attire is anything to go by.

And, well, Max's anger drains from him as quickly as it had appeared, because there is no way in hell he can stay angry at Charles.

Especially not a sweaty Charles, which is a sight that's doing all sorts of things to Max's mind and body.

"Merde, désolé," Charles tells him, taking a step back and finally looking up at Max's face. "Max?"

Max doesn't really think that question warrants an answer, given how Charles is clearly not blind.

"I'm sorry," he repeats in English, and his cheeks redden even further, which Max assumes isn't from the physical exertion of running.

"It's fine," Max says, waving the hand that isn't holding the grocery bag dismissively.

Charles glances at the bag in his hand, at the watch on his wrist, then at the large sign on the store front behind Max announcing their opening hours, raising an eyebrow.

"The employees must love you," he says teasingly, a small smirk on his face.

Max rolls his eyes at him.

"Yeah, they all light up with glee when I come in," Max replies, voice dripping with sarcasm.

It draws a laugh from Charles, which is a beautiful sound. Max kind of wishes he could bottle it.

Suddenly, there's a flash in the sky followed by a loud crack of thunder, making Charles jump and Max look up to see ominously dark clouds having gathered in the sky.

And then the clouds unleash hell — or ridiculously heavy rain — on Monaco.

"Fuck!" Charles hisses, and Max doesn't need to ask why because he knows Charles lives on the other side of town and that he was nowhere near being done with his run.

Before he can think better of it, Max grabs Charles' hand.

"Come on," he says, not giving Charles the chance to argue or question as he tugs the Monégasque right along with him as he sets off running in the direction of his own home.

Charles goes willingly.

---

By the time they make it into Max's apartment, they're both soaked to the core, and Charles' grey t-shirt is clinging to his body like a second layer of skin.

It's making Max want to do all sorts of unseemly things to him, so he promptly looks away.

"You can use the shower in the master bathroom. There's a pretty efficient drying rack in there," Max tells him, gesturing vaguely in the direction of his bedroom.

Charles has been to his place before and even if he doesn't remember the entire layout of the apartment, Max has a feeling he'll figure it out.

"Thanks," Charles tells him, apparently not needing to be told twice as he disappears down the hall.

Max, for his part, goes to the guest bathroom where he strips out of his wet clothes and takes a quick shower, just to keep his core temperature from dropping too low. Once he's clean and dry, he grabs a clean pair of soft sweats and a Red Bull t-shirt from the dryer in the bathroom, and tosses his soaked clothes into the washing machine. He was going to put on a load tomorrow morning anyway, so might as well do it now.

He's in the kitchen, finishing up on unloading the groceries, when Charles comes padding into the kitchen behind him.

"Do you want tea?" Max asks without turning to look at him.

"Yes please," Charles answers without hesitation.

Max puts the water on, and when he finally does turn to face the other man, he sees that Charles has hoisted himself up to sit on the kitchen island instead of sitting in an actual chair, like a normal person.

His hair is still damp and Charles is wearing his running shorts that now appear to be fully dry, thanks to the heated drying rack and the quick-drying fabric of the shorts. He's also wearing an awfully familiar-looking black hoodie that doesn't fit him properly over the shoulders.

Max has to blink a couple of times to make sure he's not seeing things.

"Is that my shirt?"

Charles glances down at himself. When he looks back up to meet Max's gaze, his cheeks are flushed.

"Is... Is that okay?" He asks, voice soft and uncertain and small.

He sounds and looks so fucking cute that Max might actually implode on the spot.

"My t-shirt doesn't dry as quickly as my shorts and I was cold, and I had a feeling you didn't need me walking around shirtles and —,"

Max doesn't let him finish, because before he even realizes he's moving, he's crossed the kitchen and situated himself right between Charles' legs, hands curled in the fabric of the hoodie, lips pressed against the Monégasque's.

Charles flails a little and makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat, but when he recovers, he returns the kiss. It's a closed-mouthed kiss — nothing but a firm press of lips, really — but it's still the best kiss either man has ever had.

When he pulls back a small eternity later, Charles' lips are a little puffy and red and his eyes are unfocused.

Max finds himself thinking that he's never seen anyone or anything as beautiful.

"Yes, Charles. That's okay," the Red Bull driver says with a smile, finally answering Charles' question.

Charles smiles back, all dimples and bright eyes and sunshine.

It makes Max's heart leap.

"Good," Charles tells him, hands coming up to tangle in Max's hair, tugging ever so slightly. "Now kiss me like you mean it."

It's not a question, it's a command.

"With pleasure," Max says, and that's exactly what he does.

#Prompts #Lestappen prompt #Lestappen #Lestappen fic #Lestappen drabble

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bambisnc · 3 months

Text

♥♥♥ pairing : na jaemin x reader hehehehehehe genre : suggestive except i can't really write suggestive that well (YET) so mixed w angst ish cw/tw : unedited + swearing + reader is in a dress and has hair long enough to be tied up to show their pretty af neck + jaem and reader r trying to play some kinda mind games or osemthing idrfk man + lmk if there r some that i missed bc i have my language exam day after tomorrow and i need to study CRIES wc : 0.8k ish ... notes : def suggest listening to it w the osng in the bg!! ♥♥♥ mm okay so attention by charlie puth + ex situationship!jaemin

under the hazy blue and violet lights of some party, you’d be damned if you knew whose it was, you notice him surrounded by people. obviously you won't even think of going over to him, no, you have a better plan

so you bide your time, make sure to position your figure - swathed in a gorgeous dress, perfectly equal amounts of ethereal and alluring - in such a way that he wouldn't see you immediately, no god you'd rather him have a little bit of internal debating, mind filled with thoughts of you

then!! when his eyes finally catch a glimpse of you somewhere in the corner of his view he all but completely drops his conversation with the girl he'd been talking to, yearning somewhat subconsciously for a proper glance

and boy oh boy when he finally gets the opportunity to absolutely devour you with his eyes - flickering ruby hues illuminating your figure, as you throw your head back, laughing in that utterly perfect way of yours at something someone said..

he isn't really bothered that you've apparently shown up with someone to be honest, you don't really have a relationship which warrants him having any feelings like that, not anymore

but he can't help but feel extremely concerned at the way he is immediately flooded with images of you - of your playful eyes, of your exposed neck when you tie up your hair, of how your nose wrinkled slightly when you cringed at something and your lips, oh god those lips

I know that dress is karma, perfume regret You got me thinking 'bout when you were mine

so you really can't blame him when he walks towards you.. only to go right past and making his way to the roof

and you hate to be predictable but you really can't help making up some story, excusing yourself from the person you were with - name and face forgotten with practiced ease - as you follow behind

the chill air hits you as you seek the railing, attempting to look for him without making it obvious, but you barely have any time to process it before you feel a warmth, a very familiar warmth enveloping your figure

turn around with as much nonchalance as you can muster, which proves to be rather challenging because of how your heart seems to exalt with sheer joy it's obviously due to the success of your plan, due to you winning right? and see jaemin. looking just as in-place and confident as ever as he smiles at you

as if he's forgotten all that happened between you two. forgotten all the hugs, the hand-holding, the sleepovers which lead to certain experiments, somehow always ending with kisses placed at the corner of your lips till one day you decided you wanted more and pulled his collar, yanking his lips to meet yours in a passionate exchange

this is your game though. you've basically already won so you refuse to give up now in the face of the perilous adversity that is jaemin, when he’s decided to take up your challenge

so you indulge his mindless conversation, all the while subtly trailing your hand up his chest to its rightful place at the base of his neck as both of his own simply ensure your place between his figure and the railing, almost as if he's scared you'll suddenly run away you'd never, how could you?

pulling him closer with a deceptively slow pace, as if you're only just now noticing his oh so kissable lips. allowing yourself to miss a couple opportunities of making witty remarks at his words to make it seem as if you're lost in his vibrant, obsidian-like eyes and you could've sworn you saw the moon in them.. and.. wasn't it particularly beautiful then? as if his own beauty graciously rubbed off on the celestial entity

he takes the hint, finally, and without a single word, indulges you with a peck, lips meeting yours gently, softly. he breaks away rather quickly, much to your disappointment leading him to tell you to "use words to say what you want princess, y'know 'm not a mind reader"

"need you jaem," you find yourself complying, the promise of having him completely rendering your thinking capacity useless "need you to kiss me please"

and that's all he needs to dive in again, one hand gripping your waist and the other tilting your face upwards to meet his

the faint music of the party still rings in your ears, as your own arms clutch at his shoulders tighter, wanting to be closer, closer to him.

having to push him away, albeit unwillingly – because it feels so so painful to break apart from his soft, familiar embrace when for ages this is all that has consumed your thinking – when your breath fails you, a string of saliva stretching between your now slightly swollen lips; you gasp at the feeling of him placing feather-like kisses against your neck - not as a means to comfort, but to tease you, to rile you up further.. you attempt to distract yourself from how all your nerves seem to be on fire and yet are craving for more and more of his heat but your brain is only able to to take you back when you’d me jaemin for the first time, so blissfully unaware of how your entire soul would soon devote itself to him but due to your mind being afraid of “complications” would lead to a war within you, between your head and your heart

then a rather harsh bite right below your jaw jolts you back from your reverie, as if he knew your thoughts were wandering. that's definitely going to leave a mark

And now I'm all up on ya, what you expect? But you're not coming home with me tonight

the only half-coherent thought in jaemin’s head on the other hand, is : fuck this, there's no way you're not going home with him ♥♥♥

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sasusakucoded · 6 months

Text

"Karin! Karin! Help! Anyone? Please!!"

Sasuke? I hadn't heard his voice for a while.. Let alone calling out for my name like that. "I'm there! Wait, Sasuke!"

I met him at the entrance of the Southern Hideout. Orochimaru was rushing as well. Sasuke's voice was panicky. It made both of us nervous and worried.

"What is it?" I was surprised to see him. He was still as handsome as ever. His face was serious but unlike before, it was more of a look of concern. It took me a few seconds to notice that he was with someone. It was Sakura. She looked weak. I was too stunned to see them clinging on to each other like that. I knew they were traveling together but I didn't anticipate to feel this way. I still liked him, which was foolish by the way. But at that time, that was the only thought in my mind.

Since I was dumbfounded, Sasuke talked to Orochimaru instead. All I could think of was how he was holding her —so gentle, so kindly.. Everything I wanted from him.

Orochimaru led them to a room. I still didn't know what was happening. I just followed them. When Sasuke helped Sakura remove her cloak, only then that I realized she was pregnant. To say that I was so shocked was an understatement. Sakura nodded at me but I couldn't remember if I even responded back.

Sasuke left her there and I followed him.

"Y-You got her pregnant?" I asked. I was very emotional for some reason. I thought I stopped liking him but seeing him again made me remember our past moments.

"Who else?"

I didn't answer. I was bawling my eyes out but I managed to cry quietly. I didn't want to, to be honest, because I knew they had been together for a while.. But I couldn't help it.

"Karin.. Please help Sakura.. I'll do anything, just tell me what needs to be done."

Of course you will.. Anything for her, right?

"H-Have you heard of water birth?" Kusagakure, the village where I came from, was not advanced medically, but this was one thing that was practiced there.

"Water birth? What is that?"

"It's basically delivering the baby in a pool filled with warm water. It has benefits but of course there are risks too."

Sasuke thought for a moment. Just like in our missions before, he wanted it to be planned perfectly. He knew they had to be very careful.

"Can you ask Sakura while I talk to Orochimaru? Maybe she has an idea about it. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Without thinking, I rushed back to the room. Sakura smiled at me as soon as I entered. Why was she so nice? Why did she have that warm aura? We had no proper conversations before, but it felt like she was a long time friend. No wonder Sasuke liked her.

I sat beside her and asked her directly. "Do you happen to know what a water birth is?" I hated how I delivered my question. I sounded so cold and passive.

"Yes, I've heard of it.. Do you think we can do that here?"

"Yes. We don't have the equipment needed specifically for deliverng a baby, so I think water birth is the best option. That's a common practice in Kusa."

"Oh nice! So, that means you know how to do it.. We don't have that yet in Konoha.."

"I've seen a couple but haven't assisted anyone personally.. There are risks too but I think the benefits are higher in number."

We discussed for a bit. I told her everything that I know. I asked her again and she agreed. "Okay, I'll tell Sasuke that we need to prepare the pool." I was about to get up when she held and slightly pulled my arm.

"Thank you, Karin.." She smiled at me —that big happy genuine smile.

"I promise, you and the baby will be safe. You can count on me." I didn't expect those words to come out of my mouth but they did.

I went to Orochimaru's office and told them the plan. Sasuke and I prepared the pool. He opened a portal connected to a dimension full of hot springs. We took water from there. In no time, the pool was ready.

It was funny to see Sasuke being shy and worried at the same time. He was hesitant to assist Sakura at first. He thought he should stay out of the room because it was a woman's thing. But when he saw Sakura struggling, he made sure to be right by her side, holding her hand all the while.

I was focused on Sakura but I kept looking at Sasuke too. Was he crying? His eyes were red. Was he worried about Sakura? Was he scared that the baby— his baby wouldn't make it?

When we finally heard the little cries, Sakura and Sasuke were both very happy. I took the baby and cut its umbilical cord. "I'll preserve this!" I told them. They didn't seem to hear me. They were just giddy that both were safe and that the whole thing was finished.

"Sakura, can you stand up? You need to deliver the placenta."

She nodded. That was Sasuke's cue to help her as her legs were still wobbly. I gave him the baby and I assisted Sakura.

"I've prepared the towel and the clothes.. After this you can go out of the pool." I glanced at Sasuke. I had never seen him that happy. That time, I was sure he was crying.

"Sarada. Uchiha Sarada. Hello my love!"

Orochimaru knocked and entered the room. He didn't say a word. He was just observing of what was happening. "Karin!"

I went to him thinking he had orders.

"Hmm. I've never seen you smile like that before."

I was taken aback. I didn't even realize it. Indeed, I was very, very happy at that moment.

Maybe I got it all wrong. I really thought all I wanted was to see Sasuke smile at me.. But apparently, I– I just really wanted to see him smile.. Like a real happy smile. And that smile —he only showed it to Sakura. That moment, I finally understood.

I was busy with my thoughts when they called me. "Karin!!" I looked at them. Sakura was holding their baby. Sasuke's arm was around his little family. "Thank you!" Sakura added, "we will forever be indebted to you, Karin."

"No, I still owe you a lot Sakura." And that includes making that man happy.

#sasusaku #sasusaku headcanon #ss headcanon #from ask #ty anon #sscoded no 277

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good-beanswrites · 7 months

Note

Hello! I'd like to request "There's an 80% chance of this working out" from List 5 with Mahiru and Mikoto! Horoscope Girl and Tarot Boy...what will they do...

Ooh this one was so fun, thank you!! It was really neat learning about tarot :0 (It'll take a bit longer, but I got carried away with the idea and also started writing something of Mikoto doing a reading for Fuuta hehe). It always makes me sad that Mahiru doesn’t trust Mikoto at first, so it was really fun to picture them bonding over things like this during T1! I never thought of them having that in common and my mind has been opened to this duo asdfsdfds

“Alright, I’m going to need you to manifest your energy as hard as you can.”

Mahiru squeezed her eyes shut. Her face scrunched up in concentration. She let out a little hum of effort as she poured all her emotions into the card deck under her fingertips.

“Uh… maybe not that hard, Mappi.”

She looked up with a giggle. “Right, right! I’m just so curious!” Well, she was curious about how a tarot reading itself would go, not about what it would tell her. Mahiru was fairly confident of her upcoming verdict, and the cards would only confirm it. So far only one prisoner had been named guilty, and everyone could see he was just a bully. Mahiru was nothing like him. She would be forgiven. She just knew it.

Mikoto started shuffling the cards. “Are you ready?”

“Oh, yes!”

To be honest, she’d had her suspicions about Mikoto for a while. His smile was too perfect at all hours of the day. (Even someone as cheery as her knew a smile like that couldn’t be consistently real.) She’d seen enough cheaters who chatted as easily as he could with everyone here. His nicknaming habit was a cute one, but she was keeping her eye on how informally he acted with little basis for friendship. She knew for sure he was a dangerous flirt when he’d grabbed her palm to read her fortune, launching into talk of life and love lines. However, none of that meant he was lying about his tarot expertise -- so who was she to refuse his offer to read her cards?

Her eyes glimmered as she watched Mikoto lay out three cards before her. Though he used the same theatrics he had for the others, she was just as entranced. It was just so magical, she thought.

Mikoto circled his palms over the cards. “We’re going to begin by looking at the past and present to get a bit of perspective before we move on to what your future will hold, alright?” He’d already explained that the cards couldn’t read one’s future as much as they offered self-awareness. He said it was all about being in tune with oneself, and the world. She was sure someone like him was already perfectly aligned within himself, but she could admit her heart carried her away at times…

Mahiru held her breath as he flipped the first card. She studied his face for any trace of negativity. Seeing her worry, he slipped back into his usual smile. “For the past, we have the Reversed Page of Cups,” he said. “This suit deals with emotions and intuition.”

Mahiru nodded, excited at the accuracy. Her past certainly had its share of intense feelings.

“This card in particular may mean emotional insecurity, or immaturity. It could also point to an avoidance of reality, something that’s not being faced head-on.”

She nodded, with a little less excitement this time.

“It also represents a specific person who influences you.” His face lit up, recalling Mahiru’s favorite topic. “Pages can represent a companion! Is there a romantic someone in your life who may have been causing some emotional insecurity?”

Picking up on the way her face paled, he said quickly, “or maybe not! They could be a messenger, or a childlike figure, or…” He reached for the next card. “Moving on, uh, to the present. Ah! This is a really good sign.”

She perked up.

“Here’s Justice. It’s fairly self-explanatory, representing the consequences that follow your actions. It’s about cause and effect, and accountability. It means things are happening according to karma, which is natural.”

He turned over the last card. “And finally, when looking to the future, we’ve got the Two of Swords. Swords deal with the mind -- conflict and communication. That’s… interesting.”

Mahiru’s eyes grew round. “What’s interesting?” She slid the card closer to herself, studying the picture. A blindfolded woman with two swords. There was water, and the moon. Was that bad? Was the woman unhappy? She was all alone. What did that mean?

“Don’t worry,” Mikoto soothed. “It just means you’ll make a big choice. Well, actually, it means you’ll get stuck, so you need to make a choice. I just thought it was funny, we’re here wondering about Es’ decision, but it turns out you’re the one who needs to make a decision.”

“Ah,” she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Now we can look at the big picture. It seems like some of your past problems may have come from emotional issues, so you’ll want to keep an eye on your emotions going forward.” Mahiru shifted. “The fact that we pulled Justice should reassure you about being here. I’ve heard some of the others complain that they don’t belong here, or it’s all a mistake, but this card is showing you that it’s just cause and effect. The events of your life are running their natural course.”

It was true, even she had been unhappy that her actions were being labeled that of a murderer. After all, those were an entirely different breed of people, right? Someone like Fuuta, who was guilty. People like her and Mikoto could never raise a hand to another. It was good to know, then, that this was all meant to be.

“And going forward, you’re gonna want to make sure you’re being decisive. Face your problems head-on, and communicate. If you can do that, things will be alright.” He folded his hands on the table, finished his reading.

Mahiru thought for a moment. A smile crept onto her face, growing larger and brighter by the second. She clasped her hands together. “That’s wonderful! Thank you so much for doing this. It’s told me everything I need to know.”

“Yeah?” He picked the cards up, shuffling them back into the deck. She pulled a slip of paper from her pocket, pointing to some lines scribbled down.

“Yes. I’ve been jotting down some birthdays, see? I’ve had to make a few guesses until I get more information, but if Es is either a Scorpio or a Virgo… as a Capricorn myself… we’re very compatible, look! Capricorns have excellent communication with both of those signs, and you said that’s what I’ll need to get through this tough decision.” She turned the paper over to reveal more notes. “On top of that, my extraction is scheduled right before my birthday, during Capricorn’s governing period. At that time, things will be aligned more in my favor.”

Mikoto’s eyebrows raised at her notes, impressed. “Wow! You have this all worked out, huh? If that’s the case, you seem very prepared to have a successful interrogation.”

She steepled her fingers. “I’d say there’s an 80% chance of this working out!”

“Definitely!”

He returned her beaming smile. Things would be perfect. Nothing to worry about.

#milgram #mikoto kayano #mahiru shiina #*narrator voice* and then she didnt communicate or face her conflict head-on.#it was too late to switch pov but im obsessed with how many tarot resources talk about being in tune with yourself and your identity #being secure and aware of your own mind #and just how clever it is that the symbol was chosen for mikoto...#tihtbilwy released just a few days before her birthday - thats so cute!#featuring @snakes-and-fluff's hc that mikoto can do palm reading and other things! i really loved that #there must have been such a crazy atmosphere in the prison during mahirus interrogation/verdict #halfway through all interrogations and only one person voted guilty - and hes the most obviously brash and loud one #i feel like everyone would be feeling really safe -- an then someone as sweet as mahiru gets her verdict. everyone would start to worry #if anyone who knows more about tarot/astrology sees any glaring flaws let me know lmao -- i did my best looking things up 👍#thank you so much for the request!! it was such a blast #(though also im yelling at you for sending it because ive been roped into reading my partners grandmothers cards possibly daily after #she caught me looking stuff up 😂😂😂)#drabbles

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homerjacksons · 3 months

Text

Fluffy February - @fluffyfebruary Day 25: Kiss Word count: 2,637 Fandom: Ripper Street Pairing: Homer Jackson/Edmund Reid AO3

A/N: This is a 5+1 fic!

All 5 "almost kiss" moments are inspired by actual canon events, little missing scenes I've decided to write in. However, I'm only up to the end of s1 in my rewatch and this starts at the end of s1 so...any inaccuracies are due to my goldfish brain, apologies.

The +1 at the end is a direct follow-up to day 3 in this collection, with the first line being the last line from that ficlet.

Jackson didn’t know what to do. His whole body was vibrating with pent up energy. The last 24 hours had been absolute hell, hell he’d been sure he wasn’t going to come back from. If he were being honest, he still wasn’t sure. If he were found guilty of being the Ripper, he would hang, no doubt about it.

“I’ll get you out of this,” Reid muttered, still leaning against the bars as though he refused to leave Jackson’s side. After all he’d done, he wasn’t sure he deserved it.

He sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair, pacing the length of his cell once more. He felt sick with it, with all he’d done, with all that was yet to come. He just wanted to rest, to fall into Susan’s arms and sleep, be at peace at last. He wasn’t sure if Susan would even have him, not really. They hadn’t had time to discuss what the day’s events meant for them. All he knew was he wanted–needed–to rest, preferably in the arms of someone he loved.

“Stop pacing, you’re giving me a headache,” Reid bit out.

“You don’t have to be here,” Jackson snapped back, pausing in front of him, just the bars between them and precious little air. “In fact, shouldn’t you be out there clearing my name?”

“Fine.” Reid sounded angry, put out, almost hurt as he pushed away from the bars and made to walk away. But Jackson caught him by the wrist before he could.

“Wait.” Reid stopped, turned to look at him, expression hard. “Are you hurt?”

“You arrived in time.”

“Let me take a proper look,” Jackson insisted, knowing he had to do something.

Reid hesitated a moment before reaching into his pocket for the keys to Jackson’s cell, and he released his hold on Reid’s wrist to allow him to unlock it and enter.

“Sit down.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Reid said, though he complied.

Jackson knelt before him, peeling back his collar to view the bruises at Reid’s neck, the slight cut where the cuffs had bit into flesh, fingertips trailing gently, reverently, over both. Reid sucked in a sharp breath as Jackson’s fingertips ventured to the edges of the scar at his shoulder and he pulled back, resting his hand over Reid’s chest, fingertips settling at the hollow of his neck.

Reid swallowed thickly, eyes downcast, and when he finally looked at Jackson, through his eyelashes rather than head on, Jackson’s breath caught in his throat. He knew why, knew his mind and his body well enough, he just wasn’t sure why now, why this moment, when so many others had passed before them, more charged and less emotionally fraught.

“I told you I am fine,” Reid said, voice a little huskier than before.

“Just had to see for myself.”

It would be so easy to lean in, to close the distance. What was one more crime tacked onto the long list added to his name today. If Reid didn’t want to kiss him, if Jackson was reading the moment all wrong, it wouldn’t fuck his life up any more than it already was. He thought about it, licked his lips, felt Reid lean in infinitesimally against his hand, that pressure almost like permission, but he pulled back at the last moment, patting Reid’s shirt down before standing once more.

“I am sorry, Reid,” he muttered, voice hoarse enough he had to clear it before continuing. “For all of it.”

For Hobbs, for running, for Goodnight, for Swift, for aiming a gun at him, at Drake, for his past, for what was likely to become of his future.

Reid didn’t respond. He just stood, making his way wordlessly to the door of the cell, casting one last, inscrutable look Jackson’s way before locking it behind him and striding off.

For a brief moment, hope had lived inside his heart, hope that he'd see his little girl again, hold her in his arms, take her home where she belonged. For a brief moment, he'd felt so alive again. Then all his hopes had been dashed in an instant, everything he'd been clinging to had crumbled, and he was left floundering, left to pick up the pieces of his broken heart, his broken life, once more.

Reid’s whole body shuddered as he suppressed a sob, leaning forward against his desk, letting it take most of his weight. His head hung low, breath hitching as he attempted to pull himself together.

He straightened as he heard the door behind him open, clearing his throat, though he couldn’t dash the damning wetness from his eyes before Jackson was beside him, one hand on his shoulder, the other covering his where it still gripped the desk.

“I am so sorry, Reid,” Jackson whispered, giving Reid’s hand a small squeeze.

It struck Reid as odd and yet fitting at the same time that it would be Jackson here comforting him, Jackson trying to help, and not his wife nor his best friend. He tried to offer Jackson a smile but it crumbled and he looked away, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Jackson eased him into a chair, never once fully removing his touch, whether it was a hand on his arm, his shoulder, his back. He shivered as Jackson took his hand again, kneeling before him.

“I dunno what to say, Reid,” Jackson whispered, offering a sad smile.

He watched as Jackson reached up, hand hovering by Reid’s face as though he were going to cup Reid’s cheek. And oh, how Reid wished he would in that moment. How he wished Jackson would touch him like that, how he wished he could lean into that touch, let Jackson soothe his pain, let Jackson press a gentle, comforting kiss to his lips. He craved it so suddenly his breath caught in his throat, but then Jackson's hand fell to his shoulder.

“Tell me what you need.”

Reid couldn’t, not really. His heart hammered against his ribs as he looked into Jackson’s eyes. Sometimes he was sure Jackson felt this too, this pull between them. But he also knew how Jackson felt about Susan, how he would choose her above all else, always. And quite rightly, too—Reid had no claim over him.

“Nothing, Jackson,” he said quietly, voice tight as it squeezed past the lump in his throat. “Go home, be with your wife.”

iii

“Jackson.”

Jackson hummed in response, forcing his head up enough to look at Reid. “Thought you were gone.”

“I, uh…” Reid trailed off, looking almost embarrassed, and that was interesting enough for him to lift his head properly and look Reid in the eye despite the way the room spun nauseatingly around him.

“I’m on it,” Jackson muttered, realising Reid wasn’t embarrassed at all, that he just looked impatient as always. “Was just restin’ my eyes so I don’t mess up the dose.”

“No,” Reid said softly, moving to kneel before Jackson, hand hesitating before settling on his shoulder. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Jackson snorted, vision swimming a little as he cocked his head to the side. “You've changed your tune.”

Jackson’s head lolled to the side and he was surprised when Reid’s hands came up to cup his cheeks, holding his head upright. Jackson blinked against the vertigo and met Reid’s intense gaze. He looked on the verge of something, eyes flitting across Jackson’s face, from his eyes to his lips and back again like he was struggling with something, though Jackson’s mind was too fuzzy to work out what.

“How can I help?” Reid asked quietly.

His thumb brushed against Jackson’s cheek, distractingly tender, and for a moment, all he could see was Reid’s lips as his heart hammered against his ribs. He tilted forward, unintentionally though he wouldn't be surprised if his drug-hazed brain had tried and failed to make a decision. Reid removed one hand from his face to settle on his chest, keeping him upright.

“‘M fine, Reid,” he murmured, realising it was best to remove himself from this situation before he did something he couldn’t take back. “Just need a coffee and a cigarette and I’ll be good to go.”

He patted Reid’s cheek clumsily before standing, staggering a little as he made his way to the door in search of both, leaving Reid bewildered in his wake.

Jackson had never done this before, never shown up at Reid’s place. He only knew where the man lived on paper, had never even set eyes on the building though he’d thought about it often, thought about how it might feel to be welcome there any time.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before knocking.

He’d imagined showing up here, all casual nonchalance, a cigarette between his lips and a bottle of whiskey in hand. He’d imagined arriving with his arm about Reid’s shoulder, the two of them drunk and stumbling home, invited to spend the night on Reid’s couch, the thought of more teasing him behind closed doors. He’d imagined showing up here with false bravado and declarations he couldn’t take back. He’d imagined this so many ways, but none of them had involved him feeling broken with nowhere else to turn but the bottom of a bottle and a gutter down some dark alley.

The bottle had been tempting, he couldn’t lie, but the temptation of Reid was stronger, the ache in his heart yearning to be soothed in some way no matter how hard it was to picture Reid caring for him.

“Jackson?” Reid asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He straightened, swallowed, aimed for a smile then sighed, realising he couldn’t be assed, and braced himself against the door frame instead. “Susan threw me out.”

Jackson was sure he saw a smile tugging at Reid’s lips for just a moment before it was gone in a flash, concern pulling his brow together as he wordlessly led Jackson inside.

“Drink?”

“Please,” Jackson replied, voice catching on that one, simple word, making him sound utterly desperate.

Reid poured them both a drink while Jackson hovered, uncertain and entirely out of his depth. He handed Jackson his glass and led him to the couch, sitting down, gesturing for Jackson to do the same.

He downed a large mouthful of the drink, relishing the burn, hoping it would stop his hands from shaking, but he had no such luck. He gripped the glass tighter, frustration bubbling inside him, and just as he was beginning to wish he’d not come here, not sought comfort where he’d never find any, Reid gently pried the glass from his hands, placing it aside before taking both Jackson’s hands in his own.

“I’m sorry,” Jackson whispered before Reid could say anything, shame bubbling up inside him.

“You’ve nothing to apologise for,” Reid said softly, giving his hands a small squeeze.

Jackson chanced a glance at Reid and his heart stuttered at the look of open affection and compassion he saw there, something he so rarely saw on Reid’s face, certainly not aimed at him.

It wasn’t the first time he was overcome with the urge to close the distance between them and press his lips to Reid’s, but this somehow felt the most dangerous, the most emotionally charged.

He swallowed, leaning in a little, hesitating as he tried to gauge Reid’s reaction. He thought Reid was going to lean in too, meet him halfway. He was sure as he watched Reid lick his lips, watched as his eyes darted to Jackson’s mouth before darting away again. He hovered, about to close the distance, when Reid sat back, letting go of Jackson’s hands with a quick pat.

“I’ll make up a bed for you,” Reid said, and he’d left the room before Jackson’s thoughts had even caught up.

Reid bristled, but he thrilled all the same to hear Jackson tease him once again, a response that was insanity, he was sure, but one he was so tired of fighting. So he dared to ask the question, dared to, in a roundabout way, attempt to get to the point, to finally stop, once and for all, their endless dancing around one another.

He found himself leaning in, unable to help it, as Jackson’s hand settled on his back, as Jackson leaned into his space. He breathed in deeply, eyes only leaving Jackson’s briefly to dart to his lips before locking eyes with him once more.

And then Jackson moved away, left Reid hovering in his wake, lips tingling with anticipation, with something that had yet to pass.

“We needle, we goad, because if we did not we would be forced to speak the truth.”

Reid swallowed at Jackson’s words, heart hammering against his ribs, barely daring to hope they may be on the same page.

He trailed Jackson, almost unconsciously. “Suppose for just one moment that was not–” He was brought to a sudden stop as Jackson thrust a drink between them and into Reid’s hands, causing his heart to stutter as their fingertips brushed. He forced himself to continue, barely holding his composure. “Suppose for one minute that was not the case. What would the truth say?”

He looked into Jackson’s eyes, willing him to understand, to play along, to finally put an end to the tension that seemed to be bubbling between them since the day they met. He was not quite brave enough to take that leap on his own, was not brave enough to kiss the man before him or confess to any feelings without the assurance that it was safe to do so, that Jackson felt the same, or at the very least, would not turn away from him.

“The truth?” Jackson started, and Reid had to remember to breathe. “That the good councillor fits with you. That the two of you look right together. And that I am sorry that your life is not less…complex.”

Reid’s heart dropped to his stomach, a chill crossing over him as a lump formed in his throat. He had been sure, so sure, that Jackson would infer his meaning. But perhaps he had. Perhaps he knew exactly what Reid was trying to say and was letting him down gently, safely, a way that they could both come back from, could continue on as though nothing had happened.

Because nothing had happened.

He swallowed down his disappointment, glancing at Jackson’s lips for just a brief moment before downing his drink in one, letting it wash away the hurt.

“C’mere, then,” Jackson said, laughter still in his voice as he crooked a finger at Reid. “I can find better ways to entertain you.”

Jackson laughed at the stunned look on Reid’s face, unable to hold it in, pure joy rising inside him. He’d spent so long second guessing himself, spent so long convincing himself that loving Reid was a fool’s errand, doomed from the start, could never come to anything.

But there Reid was, his love so clearly etched into every feature, every inch of his face brimming with affection, and Jackson couldn’t believe he’d convinced himself otherwise. There had to have been moments where Reid had looked at him like that, as though he’d hung the moon, as though his existence was something magical, but it had never been there long enough for him to convince himself he hadn’t imagined it.

Then here Reid was, watching him work, adoration so clear on his face that Jackson almost, almost, felt a fool for having never had the courage to act before.

He cupped Reid’s face in hands, sliding one hand back into his hair. He brushed his thumb across Reid’s lips, faces inches apart.

“I thought—I thought—you rebuffed me and—“

“Shut up, Reid,” Jackson whispered, cutting him off with a kiss.

#ripper street #edmund reid #homer jackson #jackmund #my writing #fanfiction #fluffy february

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cream-and-tea · 9 months

Text

LAY ME DOWN. chapter six excerpt. unedited. featuring: fivers attempt at honest conversation at a very bad time, the first of many. a category five Pallas Mental Illness Moment. thoughts of violence.

[transcript under the cut]

don’t ask if i’m posting this excerpt just to make this joke. you already know the answer. anyways me when i try to comfort the teenager that HATES me.

TAGLIST (ask to be +/-). @vellichor-virgo @transmasc-wizard @houndmouthed @muddshadow @just-wublrful @corkywantstowrite @shrunkupthejams @andromedaexists @kingsinking @lungs-and-gills @lychniscitrus @phantomnations @onomatopiya @sapphos-scientist @arctic-oceans @perilous-prologue @redbloodprose

Pallas leans their head against the stone railing and tries to think calming thoughts. Colour-coded notes, pens lined up in a perfectly neat row, the feeling of freshly laundered clothes against their skin, old-book smell, sticking their thumbs into Calliope’s eyes and watching his head explode like an overripe melon dropped onto concrete…

No. Not that. Not now. Cold water. The bite of frost in early morning air. Coffee so hot it scalds their taste buds going down. Slowly, infinitesimally, they allow themself to breathe.

Then sound, the scuff of a boot against the floor. For a split second of stupidity Pallas considers that merely thinking about Calliope has summoned her to torment them like some kind of bloody mary demon. They spin sharply on a heel, bristled, already narrowed in on a heartbeat and ready for a fight; only to find someone far worse darkening the tower door.

The man, tall and rangy with waves of blond hair pulled unsuccessfully back from his face, stops dead in his tracks, hands raised in the universal gesture for surrender. Fiver (as in the fictional rabbit, not the currency) looks, as always, like a problem that should have been dealt with years ago.

Pallas narrows their eyes, not moving an inch. “How did you know I was here?”

He shrugs, signature laissez-faire smile painted across his face, signature gaudy coat brushing just above his ankles. He's wearing red heart-shaped sunglasses and the overall effect is patently ridiculous.

Pallas isn’t certain why the Director tolerates Fiver at all. He’s a wanderer and a wretch who doesn’t even have his name logged in the ledger. He appeared out of the blue when Pallas was a child and has spent the years since darting in and out of The Library's halls whenever it suits him, like a stray cat who only wanders back when the weather gets cold. He’s far past the age of a student and yet hasn't taken up any official post, so Pallas has deduced that he is either an man so abominably foolish that the Director considers him below her notice, or he somehow holds knowledge that could be useful to the cause, in which case it’s not their place to question her. They don’t have to be cheerful about it though, not when Fiver knows things about Pallas that no one should know and insists on popping in and out of their life as if he doesn’t.

“Lucky gue-”

“You followed me.” Pallas cuts him off so they don’t have to listen to his voice. They narrow their eyes. Fiver takes a step further onto the balcony as if he has any right to.

“Calm down pal-o-mine, my ears were popping three floors away. I think everyone in this building can tell you’re out of it. I came to the place furthest away from everybody else. Trip not go so well?” He has a smile like the Cheshire Cat, it doesn’t once slip from his face. Instead of answering Pallas turns around to face the air. That’s right, they think, you’re so little of a threat to me that I don’t even care that I’m leaving myself exposed to attack from behind.

“Yeah, it’s like that sometimes,” Fiver continues lightly. “Hope it wasn’t a total horrorshow at least.”

Pallas crosses their arms on the railing and leans their chin on them. If they ignore him long enough eventually he will give up and leave. Still the footsteps draw closer and then, horribly, he appears next to them, leaning his arms against the railing as well. They resist the urge to move away, opting to keep staring straight ahead and trying not to think about the dirt smeared on their cheeks or the pine sap making their fingers stick together or their messy hair or anything else that will confirm to Fiver that they’re just as weak as he obviously believes. Heat floods to their face, ugly and rioting. What does he know? What does he know about anything?

They want to wash their jacket. They want to take everything out of their jacket pockets and arrange it all on a table and throw out anything that’s useless and then wash their jacket and then after it’s clean put everything back in the pockets and feel satisfied about all the excellent objects they have in their pockets and how well organized it all is. They don’t want anyone to look at them. They don't want to talk to Fiver, especially today, when thoughts that usually stay locked in the back of their mind have been so quick to claw their way to the surface.

#fiver is trying so hard he’s trying SO HARD you guys #it would be funny if it wasn’t deeply deeply tragic. nothing on this earth more sisyphean than trying to help someone #who doesn’t want to be helped. it’s like buddy this is rlly rlly sweet but u are getting NOWHERE #pallas voice ugh why can’t you just leave me alone to isolate and self destruct in PEACE old man (<-25 year old)#wip: ghost story #creme does a writing #creme does an art

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randomwriteronline · 2 months

Text

"Pohatu - fancy seeing you here."

Nokama smiles a little more when the Toa turns to her. He sits slightly hunched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea, powerful legs swinging idly in the emptiness that divides the rocky wall from a plummet into the ocean, completely unafraid; the unusual shape of his Kakama Nuva greets her wordlessly.

"I hope I did not bother you," she continues gently: "You seem so caught up in your thoughts, these days..."

A comfortable silence follows the pause she allows to hang.

For a moment a sense of dread creeps along her spine, around her arms, ensnaring her neck: Pohatu, whose voice rattles the mountains, stares at her eerily quiet with a terrifyingly blank gaze and a lack of emotion in his expression.

But he blinks, and his eyes widen, and he says: "What?" as he leans his head forward. "I'm sorry Turaga, I was not listening."

She exhales, amused, as the broken tension allows her shoulders to sag a little: "I only mentioned that you seem very distracted as of late - even during Vakama's tales."

"Ah," he replies with a slightly embarrassed laugh: "I guess my head likes to be in Lewa's domain far more than my feet do in Onua's."

Nokama laughs with him: "May I?" she asks.

He gestures to his side amiably, inviting her to sit with him: "Of course, of course."

It's surprising how little he's worried. Even her head starts to spin from vertigo when she dares to look down at the swirling waters, and she is the furthest thing from the infamous Po-Matoran hydrophobia; yet he sits there without the barest hint of concern despite knowing very well he would sink to the depths of the ocean horribly easily.

Pohatu looks again to the horizon.

He's unusually unreadable.

"I've spoken with the Mahi of Po-Koro, on one of my visits," she tells him - her Rau's abilities have already been unmasked by now, so it's less strange than it could be - "They've told me you quite love to pamper them, more than the Hapaka."

His laugh vibrates out of him, but she notices he does not smile as wide as the sound would imply when he simply shrugs: "I like horns."

They've told her that, too.

"What troubles you, Toa of Stone?"

He glances back at her: "Nothing."

"Yet your mind is so often elsewhere, and you almost don't look like yourself. I've come to know you, Pohatu - I wish to help, if I can."

Nokama's gentle worry makes him sigh deeply: "You're as good a teacher as Toa Lhikan thought, Turaga," he replies with a heavy tone. "Very attentive."

She looks to her feet: "Vhisola was proof otherwise," she mutters.

Pohatu tilts his head: "Then it just means you've gotten better."

The Turaga smiles: "You're always too kind."

He does not reply to that.

His fingers sink into the stone of the precipice to rip a chunk out of the cliff like it's nothing; he tosses the rock from palm to palm absentmindedly, neck craned back to look at the sky.

"I'm just thinking of Po-Metru."

Curiosity, then. "It's only natural," she soothes him: "Your siblings wonder about Metru Nui too. Gali has asked me about Ga-Metru and the Great Temple quite a lot in the past few days. I'm certain Onewa will not be too shy to answer your questions."

She watches him pull one knee up to lean his chin on it: "I don't have many, to be honest - not about the city."

"Really?"

A shrug: "Turaga Vakama is very good at descriptions."

"Ah... Yes, he is, isn't he."

The Toa does not smile back at her; he keeps looking further away into the endless sky, as if to pull on the rest of the ocean with his mind until the other side of the island appears on the horizon.

"What is it, then?" Nokama nudges him. "What doubts take hold of your focus?"

He does not answer immediately.

The rock falls back in his hand perfectly each time he juggles it.

He does so halfheartedly, distractedly - in the same way he sits at the Amaja circle and looks at her brother speak as though he could see right past him, through him.

"The Matoran come from there," he finally says.

She nods.

At last, his strange nearly impersonal gaze returns upon her mask.

"Do you know where we come from?"

It takes her a moment to understand who he speaks of: "You come from the canisters," she answers, because that is nothing if the truth. "You come from the sea."

"The sea bears life - the sea bore us," he says under his breath at that, as though he is repeating a memory. It sounds a lot like Gali.

She nods: "That is as much as we Turaga know."

"And nothing else?" he insists. His words don't hold any desperation, but there is something in them she can't explain with any other term. "Did we have anything before that?"

"No, nothing. Nothing that we know of."

"You were Matoran. You became Toa. Do you not remember us?"

"No - you were never in Metru Nui. We never could have met you there, not even as Matoran."

"It remains we must have been Matoran. Isn't that right?"

His tone is... It strikes her enough to make her stagger before she can offer a response.

He sounds like...

He sounds like them, in a way.

He sounds like he is testing her - to see if he can trigger a specific reaction from her.

His tone is somewhat methodical, scientific, like a researcher interrogating a subject to observe the effects of whatever he's administered them; it is that of calculated questions that one already knows the answer to. His mask is unreadable, incomprehensible - not for a blank anonimity but instead an overwhelming amount of minuscule tells and signs that muddle the waters of his emotions, obscuring them within their own cacophonic confusion.

If only she too knew the answer.

If only (she assumes) he had not forgotten it.

"I imagine as much," Nokama finally replies. "But you six are special, Pohatu."

"You were chosen by Mata Nui himself," he interrupts her. The kindness in his voice is nearly an afterthought, but he masks that fact well. "I would say you too are not necessarily as ordinary a bunch as any Gukko flock might be in Le-Wahi."

She chuckles despite the strange atmosphere: "Oh," and then she laughs, and she laughs some more, bent over herself to try and stifle the giggles that bubble in her chest, "Oh, be careful not to say that in front of Tamaru or Kongu, lest you want a very angry lecture on how the Gukko force is so very different from their wild siblings."

Pohatu's smile is lukewarm.

The Turaga recomposes herself quickly when she takes in his lack of amusement: "But you are different," she insists. "You are something more than what we were or could have hoped to be."

"That sort of thing doesn't spring out of the ocean from nowhere."

"That sort of thing is what legends and prophecies are made of. Your arrival was foretold in stars that cannot be rewritten; you came to aid us, delivered upon our shores by the elements themselves; you battled against the Great Spirit's most insidious, terrible enemies, and defeated them. You are special. And perhaps you had no need of a Toa Stone to become who you are."

The reply she gets is a silent stare.

The rock creaks from within the Toa's grip.

If she were looking at it she'd notice the liquid manner it behaves.

"It's a sad idea," he finally says, "To be born only to fight."

The Toa protect, for that is their duty; the Matoran create, for that is their destiny.

Her hand lays on his arm with a kind, humid pressure.

"I may very well be wrong," Nokama reassures him now. "I've told you, not even we Turaga know much."

"You know prophecies."

"Those can only get us so far. And they can't see the past."

"I wish they could," Pohatu says with a focused gaze.

His eyes are locked onto her own.

"I will pray the Great Spirit to bring you answers soon, Toa of Stone," she promises - because what else can she do? How else can she reply to the perfectly still stare that seems to pass through her, carving holes within her head with the precision of a sculptor? "So that you and your siblings will never have to feel as you do now again."

He does not move.

Then, at last, his head tilts with a tired, relieved smile.

"Thank you, Turaga," he tells her earnestly. "I hope so too."

Nokama grins back at him, so gentle, so sweet - so glad that the disquieting spell is over and the Toa is once again fully himself.

She raises herself from her seat with a bit of a struggle, helped upright by his powerful arm. Another burst of vertigo makes her sway for a moment as she catches sight of the long fall into the waters, head feeling light before she imperiously shakes the sensation out of it: there is nothing to fear, the cliff won't fall. Even Pohatu has gone back to swinging his legs in the nothingness with the carefree movements of a Matoran dangling from a jungle vine, and if he is not afraid then she has no reason to be either.

He does not move to follow her.

"I shall return to Ga-Koro now," she tells him: "Soon enough we'll have to carry the boats to Kini Nui, and I ought to make sure they're nearing completion."

"Call Taipu when you need to move them, if my brother is too busy listening to stories - I'm sure he'll be happy to help," he suggests.

Her smile confirms that his poison is mistaken for a lighthearted jab: "A good idea. I will ask Whenua to send him to us, if he is not busy enough already and wishes to lend us a hand. You should be off too, listening to stories like your siblings, should you not?"

Head thrown back and legs stiffened, the Toa whines like an annoyed child: "But Turaga," he exaggerates his whimpering drawl to kick a laugh out of her shoulders, "I don't wanna!"

"Neither do I want to go fetch Nixie out of her observatory for the eleventh time today, but duty call us all the same."

He huffs and pouts dejectedly as his body slumps on himself in a comical manner; his furrowed brow clears into a simple smile as Nokama hiccups chuckle after chuckle at his stellar performance.

"There's still a little while," he bargains with her.

"And will you be at Kini Nui on time?"

"Am I ever late?"

No, she can't argue with that. Her eyes shine with affection as she lays them on him again.

"Alright," she pretends to concede with a sigh, as though she were doing him a big favor. His grin amuses her to no end. "But make sure to be there."

He places a hand on his heartlight: "I will be."

"And try to focus, as best as you can."

"I will try my hardest. I just need to clear my head a little more, and then I'll be the most captive audience Turaga Vakama has ever had."

"I'm certain you will. I hope the sea brings you solace, Pohatu."

"Thank you, Turaga. Goodbye."

She does not see his cheerfulness drop in an instant as soon as her back tells him she will not turn to look at him again, smile flattening, eyelids drooping, eyes hardening. He watches her until she disappears from view with a face devoid of love and a sizzling in his heartlight that almost makes him feel sick; the stone in his hand squeezes through his fingers like putty, slithers between them, takes a slug-like shape as it coils around his digits squirming like a worm emerging from a fresh tomb into a summer downpour, before he lets it collects itself in his palm once more.

He crushes it gently and looks down only when he opens his palm again. It looks like a Kane-Ra bull. He tries again: this one is a Makika. A Fikou. A Dikapi. A Tunnel Stalker. A Husi. A Fusa.

A Turaga with their mask shattered.

Without a word he presses the rock with both hands to somewhat shape it back into a proper sphere, carefully, taking his time.

He kicks it as far into the ocean as he can. His eyes follow its trajectory until the distance turns it far too small for him to distinguish it against the flickering gleams of the waves in which it no doubt sinks. He continues to look at the calm waters, legs swinging idly much like branches in a light breeze.

The sea bears life, Gali said; the sea bore us.

Pohatu looks into the cradle of his siblings' rebirth thoughtlessly, quietly, hating it as much as he hates them for not swallowing them whole.

#bionicle #nokama #pohatu #random writing #orpiment au #(kisses head of orpiment pohatu) my beautiful boy who is so full of hatred and has decided to let it stew so he can make it explode harder #idk if this reads the way i want it to? but then again idk how i want it to read #i guess nokama interprets his strangeness as melancholy and/or ghosts of memories from his amnesia #whereas in reality pohatu has a completely different motive #i.e. 'i wish the prophecies could look into the past' - nokama interprets this as him wishing he could know his past #while what he means (and tries to convey by staring) is that they wouldnt ail the mata as heroes if they knew ''the truth''#or ofc what he thinks is the truth (that they left the av matoran to die bc they were cowards). which is completely off the mark #audience pls tell me your interpretation of whats behind the convos and actions. thats your homework for the day. im jokin but itd be nice

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silkscream · 2 years

Note

i have a req for arvy…him admitting his feelings to you and he’s so nervous but when you reciprocate he kisses you so hard and holds you so tight argh 🫶🫶

arvin russell has never been the best at being good, despite what the elders of the town had said when he was a teenager. he was perfectly polite, always cared for his sister and went to church even though he and his family were the oddballs. though, since his “disappearance”, he’s past it all now, knows full well that anyone who used to know him from that barren town thinks he’s some urban legend gone down to hell.

not you, though.

in this new southern town, you’re the only one who arvin talks to. he figures that your kindness had been there since you were born, that it had been embedded in your veins because of the soft cadence in which you speak. you figure that he’s a lot cuter than the other boys in your town, not to mention the amount of help he’d been right after he’d moved in next door to you. lately, he’s always volunteering to give you rides, always around to help you with your garden.

he’s surprised now to find you in the dingy bar in town sipping on a beer and rejecting the advances of other men, daggers in your eyes that soften immediately when he sits on the stool next to you.

“didn’t know you drank.”

“fuck else is there to do in this shitty town?” you scoff. he snorts, eyebrows raising. you hardly ever cuss in public.

“lots, probably, if you gave any of these poor boys a chance, huh?”

“ha. none of them are worth my time.”

“why’re you still talking to me then?” arvin tries carefully.

you swallow a lump in your throat, smiling sheepishly at him. “because you are.”

it doesn’t take very much for arvin’s cheeks to heat up, roseate flush decorating his features. it’s not as noticeable to you in the low light of the bar, thank god.

“wanna go on a drive?” he asks. you nod.

it doesn’t take much convincing for you to get in the passenger seat of his car. for half an hour, he lets you talk. it feels liberating for you, so liberating that you have to ask him if it’s okay, but he chuckles and asks you more questions. you don’t remember the last time someone had asked something about you.

“you tired?” arvin asks you when the conversation is at a lull. he notices you slumped in your seat.

“no. just lookin’ at the stars.”

he looks at you for a long time until you blink back at him. his brown eyes on the road flicker with some sort of wanting, something that conveys a message you can’t quite decipher. you fiddle with the knob of his radio until it lands on something folk-y, a woman’s voice crooning about her lost lover.

“pull over.”

he listens to you. he can’t imagine not doing so — he never has when he’d help you cook dinner or garden or study.

“what’s up?”

“didn’t wanna waste your gas,” you giggle. “and it’s pretty outside. c’mon.”

arvin follows you onto the front of his car, in which the two of you hoist your bodies onto the hood and look up at the velvety black sky, scattered with stars. he’s scrounging for conversation, looking for something to fill the air so he can full the neurons firing within his body just from his closeness. right when you put your palm over his hand, he stops breathing.

“what’re you thinking about, pretty boy?” you coo.

“you’re drunk, aren’t ya?”

“’m not. what makes you think that?” you furrow your brows.

“y’just called me pretty boy.”

“i’m an honest person, arvin russell.”

an awkward beat. the car’s still running. bobby vinton sings from the car radio like a faraway ghost.

“what are you thinking about?” you ask him.

silence settles uneasily, and arvin thinks that if he were to answer your question with pure honesty, he’d ruin everything. there’s not enough beer in his system for him to make up something on the spot, so he stays quiet. he busies himself with squeezing the joints of your fingers carefully, mindlessly. he can’t look at your face.

“not much,” he asks quietly.

“that’s a lie,” you retort. “you’re very expressive, arvin, even when you think you’re bein’ stoic. i know there’s a shit ton going on in that pretty little head of yours. so tell me.”

he huffs out a breath, leaning back onto the windshield as he faces the sky. his eyelashes flutter like a hummingbird’s wings knowing that your drunken gaze is fixed on him, searing into him, waiting.

“i haven’t been able to get you off my mind for a second, y/n l/n,” he mumbles. “not since you accidentally hit me with a baseball and blamed it on little tanner wick.”

he looks at you now, finally, pupils blown out like flying saucers. or maybe it was the lack of light in the secluded hiding place you two were.

“who said i did that?” you try to hide your smirk, playing with a loose thread from the linen of your dress.

“the kid is five years old.”

“he’s a prodigy.”

he chuckles, shaking his head. “well, i looked up, and i saw you, and it felt like my whole world changed.”

“must’ve hit you too hard.”

“probably.”

the softness of his voice cracks you open and has you raw, but you’d rather die that be splayed out and vulnerable in front of arvin russell like this. hot blood pumps through your ears in anticipation.

“i think about you all the time, arvin,” you whisper.

it’s then when the knot in arvin’s chest untangles. instead, he’s wrapped up in you, freely flowing, especially when you inch closer to him so he can smell your hair. fresh picked daisies surrounds his senses.

you don’t really know how this is supposed to go. sure, boys have courted you before in high school, but in the form of childish notes and rehearsed speeches for school dances. the feel of arvin’s breath against your neck has you wired — this is different. this is unprecedented territory.

your nose twitches slightly like a rabbit’s when he pulls back to look at your face clearly, and he realizes that his emotional reaction to that tiny gesture alone means that he’s in love with you. he could never tell you that, though. but he says it silently with a kiss, pink mouth chapped against yours. there is a string between the two of you that tightens and tightens and tightens and you’re sure that you’re about to mesh into one very soon. the euphoria of it all has you spellbound.

he sucks on your bottom lip experimentally, sweetly, and there’s a dewy ache inside of you that’s all too tantalizing. he pulls away before you can do anything about it, ragged breaths falling from his mouth as he grips your thigh under your dress.

“what?” you rasp, smiling, holding his jaw.

arvin returns a grin and twirls your hair in between his rough fingers.

“think i might have to keep you, now.”

#asks #sunflowermotel #arvin russell x reader #arvin russell x you #arvin russell x y/n #arvin russell smut #arvin russell drabble #arvin russell blurb #arvin russell fluff #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x you

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danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 7 months

Text

My breaking point...

//Hey, so...I hope you guys don't mind, but I need to vent for a bit.

//I'm here to announce that I need to take a break for a bit and...I'll explain why. Just a warning, I'm gonna be talking about some pretty heavy stuff.

//I don't really want to go into proper details, but these last few months since the start of the year have been...rough for me.

//I've been stuck in a horrible place and suffering from depression and unfortunate circumstances, even with the arrival of my new university year. I've been trying to make some changes and better my physical and mental health, so I can work my way through it.

//But it hasn't really worked. For some reason, every time I try and do something better, my life and mood just gets worse. And I will admit, some of it has derived from me doing stupid things and I'm the only one who can be held accountable for it. However, a lot of it also comes from other people both around me and online, who are making my life difficult for literally no other reason than what I can assume to be an innate desire to want to hurt me, with no rationality behind it. You guys have no doubt seen my complains about Tumblr's changes and how they've completely ruined my usual setup, and I still hate that I'M the one who has to change my way of doing things just to adapt to what are unquestionably stupid and terrible changes to what was once a perfectly good website.

//And even if it's completely unrelated to me, I just hear so much negative, and just horrible, terrible stuff going around that makes me question what the point is of even having a life to live. Take this past week leading up to today for example. If you've been following social media and the latest news, the situation with SSSniperWolf and JacksFilms and how YouTube are protecting her. Even today, I logged online to see what was happening, only to find out Wendee Lee (Miu and Akane's VA) is deciding to be a cunt and talent agencies fucking people over.

//Additionally, on AO3, I caught one of my followers being homophobic, saying they were desperate to not have any gay relationships in PToH. Because they post from a private account or whatever, I can't block them either.

//Inconsequential to me in the grand scheme of things, but the knowledge that other people are suffering at the hands of others is making me sad and prompting me to just reflect on whether there's a point or not in even trying to do what you love or make something of yourself if it only means someone else will hold it against you for the sake of their god damn ego.

//Because ultimately, people are horrible. They just are. To be honest, I'm still shocked that I have an understanding and kind audience on this platform like you guys, because I know a lot of you sympathize with me and have done in the past. And for that, I'm grateful.

//That being said, even though I would REALLY rather have avoided it, there's something I DO need to make perfectly clear, because it's happening again and I'm not in the mood to put up with it this time. I know I said I wouldn't go into detail, but I kind of need to here, even if I really rather wouldn't.

//If you follow me on other platforms of have seen my other work, you'll know that I have a sprite edit blog called @creepercraftsprites, and recently, I was requested by Mod Bubbles from A Student Out Of Time, to make some sprites for their blog. These sprites involved Kanata Inori from Another Despair Academy in a bunny girl outfit.

//A while back, I uploaded a series of sprites of every DR girl in a bunny girl outfit on Reddit; a series which included Chihiro, Hiyoko and Himiko, and sparked some heavy controversy on the subreddit. It gradually got worse, and eventually, I got permanently banned from the subreddit entirely.

//I still assert the moderators for the subreddit are ungrateful and favouritist cunts, but that aside, part of the reason why the situation got worse is because I was harassed, threatened and verbally abused by multiple people, and accused of pedophilia.

//And low and behold, I got some messages saying the EXACT same thing in light of the Kanata edits.

//I knew this would happen, but I still wanted to go through it anyway because I respect Mod Bubbles, and in no way am I saying this is THEIR fault. Of course it's not! I had every right to refuse making those edits, but I accepted. But I will not let myself be held accountable for statements that are just blatantly false, and I know even back then, the people who did this kind of harassment to me didn't actually care about the edits. They just wanted to hurt me.

//Case in point, they went out of their way to CREATE ALTERNATE ACCOUNTS after I blocked their mains, JUST TO KEEP HARASSING ME!

//And it's PATHETIC! It's just a sad state of existence and it makes me angry just thinking about it! That people do this!

//And do you know WHY they do this? Because the internet is the perfect place where you can say the worst thing imaginable to someone, or accuse them of something that is just completely and utterly ridiculous, ruining their reputation for no good reason, and face NO repercussions for it.

//Twitter, or X as it's now known, is the prime example for this. Almost EVERYTHING about that platform is horrible. It's a toxic platform full of toxic people, owned by a toxic manchild. But this is a problem that exists EVERYWHERE. Tumblr, Reddit, Facebook; if it's a social media, there's going to be someone who's going to take advantage of it with the intention of HURTING people.

//Whether it's because people can't think for themselves and have to be led by some influencer or whatever, because they can't take a joke, because they like seeing people suffer or because they misunderstand someone's intentions and refuse to let them explain themselves.

//If somebody offends you, or you don't like what someone's opinion states, then that's fine! Either ignore them, or block them! Blocking someone might be toxic, especially if they haven't gone out of their way to harm you, but at least it ends the problem right there and then! Why do people think that a perfectly reasonable solution to saying you don't like someone's work or statement, is telling them to kill themselves!?

//That's NOT funny! And you deserve some kind of punishment for saying that! Do you really think telling someone like me, or someone else who you think has screwed up, to kill themselves, or to die, is going to make YOU the BETTER PERSON!?

//It makes you WORSE by a SIGNIFICANT AMOUNT!

//People over react to everything nowadays; you cant even talk without pissing people off. GenZ and people on the internet are just really fucking immature, and I hate that it really does get to me. It shouldn't. But when people tell you you deserve to die just because you made one innocent piece of artwork of a character you like...

//...I won't lie, I considered it for a brief second, just if it means I can get away from the world that I share with these horrible, disgusting people.

//Before anybody asks, I AM seeking help for this. I just needed to rant a bit because this keeps happening, but I need to take a few days to just...readjust, focus on myself and my life, and what ACTUALLY matters right now, because frankly, I'm on the cusp of losing my fucking mind.

//I'm tired...I'm just...so...damn...TIRED...I'm fed up of ALL of this.

-Mod

#mod #vent #important notice

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just-a-draco-girly · 8 years

Text

The Secret - Chapter Two

CW: swearing

A couple of weeks after that conversation, Charlotte has me sat on my bed, attempting to put makeup on me. She lets out a huff as she holds up a dark blue matte lipstick. I shake my head in defiance.

"Vicky, we need to agree on a lipstick that will go with your outfit if you're gonna make him notice you whilst you're in Hogsmeade" She sighs, rummaging through her make up box. She's a muggle-born, so she's into make-up and stuff like that. "I think I've got it... This one" She exclaims as she pulls out a pinky-nude coloured matte lipstick. My eyes slightly widen and I shrug in response. That is a nice colour if I'm honest with myself. I glance over at the outfit that Charlotte has put together that is laying on my bed, realizing how perfectly it compliments it. I nod in resignation and she smiles widely, gently applying it to my face.

"Can I look in the mirror now?" I ask, finally losing the last ounce of my patience. She nods, picking up her mirror from the bed. She holds it up in front of me and I gasp as my eyes land on my reflection. The pinky-nude matte lipstick compliments the black cat-winged eyeliner and black mascara that decorates my eyes. It's also perfect for my skin tone, as my usually pallid cheeks are dusted with a bit of light pink blush as well. My hair is loosely curled and left to hang over my shoulders in natural waves, stopping at my waist. I smile happily. "I look beautiful, thanks Charlie" I grin at her and hug her gently.

"Well, you were beautiful anyway, but boys are dumb and need extra incentive to look at a girl sometimes. Anyway let's get you dressed" She chirps, energetically clapping her hands together.

Swinging my legs off of the side of the bed, I stand and brush my hands off on my pajama bottoms. Almost immediately Charlie throws a pair of my black skinny jeans at me, hitting me square in the chest. I obediently change into my underwear and after five minutes of tugging and pulling I button up the skinny jeans. Next, she carelessly tosses the grey cropped hoodie that she bought me for Christmas last year in my direction. As soon as I have that pulled over my head without disturbing my hair or make-up, a black pleather jacket hits me square in the face.

"What's this?" I ask, glancing down at the jacket in bewilderment as it lays in my lap.

"I bought it for you for your birthday but I felt that it's needed for this occasion, and I've got you something else anyway" She replies, now fully dressed in her own clothes and brushing her long black hair speedily.

"Thanks, I guess" I thank her awkwardly as I slip it on and reach for my worn pair of black converse only for them to be smacked out of my hands. "What?" I question, staring up at Charlotte in confusion.

"You're wearing these" She pulls a pair of chunky, black heeled boots from behind her back. I shake my head instantly in defiance. "They're more sturdy than stilettos. You won't fall over in these" Charlie pleads, smiling down at me from her standing position. I let out a sigh of resignation and take the shoes out of her hands, before placing my feet in them.

"Well, let's go" I jump up, wobbling slightly but eventually manage to regain my balance.

"That's the Spirit!" She exclaims, grabbing her brown jacket and pushing me out of the door.

"Isn't this a bit much? Won't he notice?" I ask, cautiously following her down the stairs into the common room. She turns to look at me as we reach the portrait hole, rolling her eyes.

"That's kind of the point, duh" She states in a matter of fact tone. "You've been wearing light make-up in class for the past couple of weeks and, with my help, looking after your appearance more. Don't worry" She sighs, stepping out of the portrait hole and dragging me with her until we reach the Great Hall.

"Show time" She whispers, letting go of my hand as we both walk into the Great Hall and quickly place ourselves at the Ravenclaw table for breakfast. I immediately feel eyes on me from the opposite side of the hall, but I attempt to ignore it. Taking a deep breath, I hurriedly scoop some scrambled eggs onto my toast and cover that in beans. I go to tuck in, however I am ground to a halt by Charlotte hastily slapping my cutlery out of my hands. "You are not eating that, think of all our hard work" She hisses, gesturing to my lips.. All your hard work more like, I roll my eyes before reaching for a pot of fruit salad and a fork.

"Better?" I ask, stabbing a grape with my fork and earning an approving nod from Charlie.

"He can't keep his eyes off of you, by the way" Charlie speaks, nudging my elbow and nodding in Draco's direction. I glance up and my eyes lock with his grey orbs from across the hall. So those are the eyes that I felt on me? Smiling gently, I awkwardly wave at him, earning a wave back in return. My face heats up, so I swiftly drop my gaze down to the plate of food before me.

"I think I'm gonna be sick" I speak, pushing the last piece of melon around my plate with my fork mindlessly. Eventually, I drop my fork and go to stand up from the table, only to be stopped by Charlotte.

"Where are you going?" She asks, her blue eyes are full of concern.

"I need some air" I reply, before hurriedly walking out of the Great Hall and down a random corridor, hopefully in the direction of a courtyard. When I finally reach the Transfiguration courtyard my feet are in agony from the boots that Charlie made me wear, so I quickly perch on the nearest stone bench and remove them from my feet, throwing them halfway across the grassed area in my frustration. I drop my head into my hands and kick the leg of the stone plinth, letting out a grunt of pain as my foot makes contact with the unyielding, grey rock.

Why am I doing this?

"What did those shoes ever do to you?" A familiar voice asks. Of course, it's Draco. I sit up straight, glancing behind me with a slight smirk.

"They hurt my feet" I sigh, pouting. His tall frame nears me and he casually places his hands in the pockets of his dark, blue jeans. Dropping his head as he chuckles lowly, as if reveling in a secret joke. He wipes a tear from his eye with the sleeve of his green Quidditch jumper. Damn, how does a human being look that good so effortlessly?

"What?" I demand, when he decides to place himself next to me on the bench. He chuckles once more, carelessly running a hand through his loose, blonde locks. Consequently causing my heart to flutter momentarily.

"You look cute when you're angry, like when I broke your broomstick when we were six" He replies, laughing a little more as he speaks.

"You still owe me a replacement for that, asshole" I huff, directing my head away from him and folding my arms in disgruntlement. He giggles quietly, before taking my chin in one hand and forcing me to look at him. My breath catches in my throat when our eyes lock and I nervously nibble my bottom lip.

"I said I'd get you a new Firebolt, remember?" He speaks, staring into my eyes with his beautiful grey orbs. "Anyway, what's all this about?" He questions, dropping his hand from my face and gesturing at my appearance. I drop my head and stare at my hands in my lap, feeling my cheeks heat up immensely.

"It was Charlie's idea. Apparently, I was too 'Girl-next-door" to get myself a boyfriend" I respond, continuing to scan my hands as a light breeze brushes past us.

"Why the hell would you want a boyfriend?" He asks. An undertone of anger is present in his usually calm voice. I shrug in response, glancing up at him. "And surely, if you want someone to be interested it's more authentic and honest to be yourself?" His eyebrow quirks up as he stares down at me.

"I don't know" I say, quietly. "Is Drakey-poo jealous?" I ask, smirking at him.

"No, but boys are stupid. Trust me, you don't want one to be hanging around you constantly" Draco adds, smiling warmly down at me. His pale cheeks are tinted a muted pink.

"That's rich. Look at who I hang out with the most" I laugh loudly, punching him gently in the arm. He responds by playfully putting me in a headlock.

"I didn't say that I wasn't stupid" He chortles, tickling my sides with his spare hand. I giggle helplessly, attempting to break free of his grip.

"Oh, there you are" Charlotte's voice causes the pair of us to freeze. I look over to where she's stood to find her shaking her head with her hands on her hips. My cheeks heat up instantly, whilst Draco releases me and awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.

"Hey, Charlie" I smile forcefully, waving in her direction. Her face hardens when she spots the boots that are located on the other side of the courtyard.

"What are these doing over here?" She asks, marching over to the boots and picking them up. My face pales as she stomps over to my location.

"They hurt my feet" I whine, causing Draco to laugh quietly beside me.

"You should know not to make her wear heels. You know what happened last year" He continues to chortle loudly, clutching his stomach as he does so. I elbow him in the side whilst flashbacks of my family's new years party last year flood my brain. Charlie made me wear a pair of silver, stilettos. I was fine until I decided to dance. I tripped over and broke my ankle, ending up in a cast for several weeks. It was not fun, especially as Draco mocked me the entire time.

"I hate you" I mutter under my breath, scowling up at him.

"You love me really" He winks at me, gently ruffling my hair. "And that scowl doesn't look too pretty on you" Draco remarks, standing up.

"That scowl doesn't look too pretty on your mum" I retort, pulling a face at him. To which, he responds by flipping me off. "Fuck you!" I huff angrily, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks.

"Bet you'd love to, but I've got places to be and people to see right now. Laters, baby" He smirks, before turning around and walking away.

"That just there was your fault" I speak, pointing after Draco and glaring at Charlie.

"How?" She asks, affronted, holding up her hands in defence.

"You're the one that gave him your copy of Fifty Shades and told him to read it over the summer! Before that he was perfectly innocent" I snap, taking the boots off of her and jumping off of the bench. I walk away with Charlotte closely trailing behind me.

"It's not my fault that the perverted fuck actually liked it" She shouts after me, catching up to me and walking by my side. "Anyway, if it's my fault that he was flirting with you then I'm fine with it" She adds, grinning happily at me.

"He was flirting with me?" I ask, honestly shocked. She nods swiftly.

"He called you 'baby'. That counts as flirting. He wants the D" She remarks, raising her eyebrows and staring at me pointedly. "Well, too be more accurate you want the D from D" Charlie giggles, causing me to blush heavily.

"Can we not talk about this now?" I ask, when we start to ascend the main staircase. Charlotte nods just as I spot the blonde devil himself, descending the same staircase as us. I bite my lip, dropping my head in a bid to avoid confrontation. This proves useless, however, as Draco speedily pulls me into a bone-crushing hug.

"Hey, can we talk later? Alone?" He whispers softly in my ear, his voice unusually husky. I nod, unable to speak due to my body being pressed up against his. "Perfect. Meet me outside the Shrieking Shack in an hour" He demands, before quickly letting me go and hurriedly walking down the stairs with Blaise. I watch after him until he disappears from sight. Charlotte goes to speak, but I instantly stop her.

"Don't even think about it" I speak, proceeding up the stone steps steadily.

"Where are we going anyway? We're supposed to be going to Hogsmeade" Charlie speaks, walking beside me once more.

"I need to grab my trainers. I'm not wearing these boots anymore" I sigh, finally reaching the portrait outside the Ravenclaw common room. Quickly, I answer the riddle before running up the stairs to our dorm room. I throw the boots into Charlotte's trunk and pull out my trusty black Converse, tugging them onto my feet. I run back down the stairs to find Charlie sat in one of the armchairs.

"Right. Let's go!" I chirp, clapping my hands together.

"Somebody's cheered up, may I know why?" She asks, inquisitively. I slyly tap my nose, before hurriedly climbing through the portrait hole.

Other Chapters

#The Secret #draco fanfiction #harry potter fandom #draco malfoy #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #draco fanart #draco x oc #slytherin #ravenclaw #wizarding world #cedric diggory #hp fandom #hp fanfic

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2-lines-and-a-circle · 11 months

Text

Beauty in the Hands, Idia’s route

Notes: Fem reader, newly established relationship, Idia x reader, Please reblog

Back to prologue

Idia was walking through mainstreet on his way to Sam’s shop in hopes he could snatch the newly released game he had been eyeballing. As he reached the store, he noticed there was his lover who was busy engaging herself in a conversation with Jade Leech. Instead of walking over to them he hid behind a nearby tree due to the topic of their conversation.

You: Yeah, it was a really tough job, but Y’know I managed to take them all out. Afterall, if it meant I was the only one getting blood on my hands it’s no big deal. Jade: Sometimes it truly is best to be the one who does all the dirty work, is it not? You: That’s so true. *sigh* But now my hands are all covered up with their remains. See, not a pretty sight.

After catching a glimpse of their conversation and seeing his lover’s hands Idia immediately ran back to his dorm in a panic. Just what had he heard? Idia knew his lover previously worked as a bodyguard, but he didn’t think it was that kind of job. In his head ran thoughts of her being a member of a crime organization. Keeping this to himself he rationed that it was best to ask her about it. So, on their next date he would use that as an opening.

By the time of that date Idia noticed she was dressed up in a plain button up shirt with black pants. Yet, there also accompanied a trench coat which went all the way down to her ankles. If he didn’t know any better Idia would say she looked ready to take down anyone who threaten them. Despite all that Idia found it attractive how confident you carried yourself as you approached him.

One of the first places on Idia’s date plan was a local sweets cafe which specializes in cakes. At the cafe Idia kept a keen eye as to how you used a knife, taking mental notes to see if anything was off. Which there was, you had perfectly cut every slice of cake between the two of you. Then as if to show off for your boyfriend you spun the knife around and stabbed it into a lava cake. Much to his horror, Idia couldn’t help but think of the chocolate leaking out of the cake to be blood leaking from a dead body.

You: Would you like a slice of the lava cake now? The chocolate sure is a mess though, reminding me of something I used to see a lot. Idia: N-no, I think I have enough cake already…

Following the cafe, the two of you headed for the arcade to end off the date. Taking hold of your hand Idia brought you to one of the top games. The goal of the game was to shoot down as many targets as possible, a rather simple shooter game. Forgetting his current worry for a while Idia and you faced off in an intense game. It was a very close call which resulted in a tie, but Idia came to recall the conversation once more. As his face went pale from the memory, he got the courage to ask.

Idia: *sigh* I… want to know, are you actually… i-inovled in um, a… a crime organization?

Looking away from his lover, Idia nervously waited for her response. After a few seconds he heard a small chuckle. Tilting his head up once again he saw a familiar smile and relaxed eyes.

You: I was part of one way back in my rebellious years before I came to NRC, but not anymore. To be honest, the life of crime doesn't really suit me, and I want to repent for any damage I caused. *takes off gloves* see, I even got badly injured when I was protecting my little bro back then.

His breath nearly stopped after hearing the whole story, to calm him down you reassured him that it was all in the past. Plus, you were confident that if anything were to happen you could protect Idia. In fact, you were so confident you got down on one knee and swore to Idia by kissing him on his hand.

You: Idia I promise I will absolutely protect you by any means if someone were to hurt you. Though, I doubt it since I don’t have any bad blood with anyone. Still, trust me on this, okay. Idia: O-okay.

#twst #twisted wonderland #beauty in the hands #idia x reader #fem reader #fluff #kissing hands #bodyguard #cafe date #arcade date #jade leech #ignihyde #octavinelle #wearing gloves #I love it when characters wear gloves #lava cake #Idia's route

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t0mcruize123 · 3 months

Text

Stuck with you

Last part🎀🫶

AGHHH THIS IS THE LAST PART OF STUCK WITH YOU I CANT BELIEVE I FINISHED IT ALREADY😭😭 I’ve loved writing this story the most it’s been my SLOWEST SLOW BURN but I’ve absolutely been ADDICTED to the plot and hot mini tropes🤭 ofc this entire story was written for the beautiful beautiful one and only @mqverick so yes, this is for HER AND HER ONLY🫵👹 IVE SAID IT BEFORE AND ILL SAY IT AGAIN HAPPY BIRTHDAY LUV UR THE BEST AND DESERVE EVERY SINGLE TOM CRUISE SMUT FANFIC IN THE WORLD THIS ONE IS FOR U🫶💞

There was a knock at the door and I jumped to my feet, panic holding me rigid. After my argument with Charlie last night, I’d tried to find another hotel nearby but they’d all been too full or too far so I was still in the same one. I’d purchased another room on the other side of the building, but I knew he’d find me. Charlie could be persistent when he wanted to be.

“Hello?!” He banged his fist against the door, “I know you’re in there, let me in! I dont like how we left things yesterday, can we talk?!”

I sighed heavily and opened the door a few inches. Charlie’s palms were pressed flat against the doorframe and his eyes were red as though he hadn’t slept all night. Now I felt bad because he had a whole day of driving ahead but it was still deserved.

“You want to talk or yell?” His head snapped up at the sound of my voice.

“Talk,” he promised solemnly and pressed his lips into a thin line, “But I haven’t got long because Ray is on his own in the hotel room and I don’t trust him to be careful.”

I inhaled sharply and opened the hotel door. Charlie slowly brushed past me and my stomach fluttered at the small touch. I walked forward into the bedroom and he followed quietly behind me.

“I haven’t been sleeping all night, because I’ve been thinking about what you said…and you’re right. I mean you’re always right, but I never realised just how right until you weren’t there to remind me,” his hand rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “Ive been really shitty to you and Raymond and you’re such a good person, and I want to be the perfect person for you. You deserve someone better than me but…if you come with me to LA, I’ll spend the rest of my time trying to be that perfect person to you.”

I forgot how to breathe, “You’re ready for commitment?”

“The idea still terrifies me, I can’t lie- Ive got so much going on but you’re right. You’ve been so helpful and comfortable to be around, and I know we haven’t known each other for long but you’ve really impacted my life. That first night in the hotel, was the night I started to forget a life without you.”

He took a step forward and breath caught in my throat, “I wasn’t lying when I said I needed you. You keep me sane, you keep me anchored, and you remind me when I’m acting like a total dick and I love you for it. I love everything about you, your stubbornness, the way you smile when you think I’m not looking, the way you fit perfectly in my arms.”

His hand came up to hold the small of my back and I arched into his touch, “There’s only you. Even when I'm not with you, there's only you. Next time, just ask. You've never had a problem being bluntly honest with me. If we're going to do this, then we have to trust each other."

"And you want to do this?" I hold my breath.

He sighs, long and hard, then admits, "Yes." His hand slides up, and he caresses my cheek with his thumb. "I can't make you any promises, But I'm tired of fighting it."

"Yes." One word has never meant so much to me. Then I blink, remembering his previous comment about our first night together in that hotel, “You wanted me then?"

"I've wanted you from the first second I saw you,” he admits, “Even when you were screaming at me in the airport, the fierceness turned me on.”

I laughed quietly and he stroked my cheek with his thumb, “And if I was short with you yesterday... well, it's just a shit day and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

"I understand,” I nodded, imagining I was in his situation. His head tilted ever so slightly towards mine and I gestured to the bed, “Now sit.”

"What?" His eyebrows rise.

"Sit," I order, staring him down.

To my absolute surprise, he does as I ask, sitting on the side of his bed.

His long legs stretch out in front of him, and he leans back slightly on the heels of his hands. "Now what?"

I move between his thighs and run my fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes and leans into my touch, and I swear, I feel my heart crack wide open. "Now I take care of you."

His eyes fly open and gods, are they beautiful. I've memorized every gold fleck in those green depths. Running my hands through his hair, I sink to my knees before him.

"You don’t-“

"I'm just taking off your boots." A smirk plays at my lips as I unlace one, then the other, taking them off.

His gaze locks on my skirt, heating every time the slit reveals a section of my thigh. "You've been wearing that all morning?"

"That's what you get for walking behind me," I tease, coming to stand between his thighs again.

"I can't really argue about the view from the back, either." He tilts his chin to look up at me.

"Be quiet and let me get this off you." I take off his jacket and his arms curled around my hips.

"I don't deserve you." he tugs me closer. "But I'm going to keep you all the same."

"Good." I lean in and brush my lips over his. "Because I think I'm in love with you." My heart beats erratically, and panic claws up my rib cage.

I shouldn't have said it.

His eyes flare wide and his arms tighten around me. "You think? Or you know?"

Be brave.

Even if he doesn't feel the same, at least I will have spoken my truth.

"I know. I'm so wildly in love with you that I can't imagine what my life would even look like without you in it. And I probably shouldn't have said that, but if we're doing this, then we're starting from a place of complete honesty."

He crushes his mouth to mine and pulls me fully into his lap so I'm straddling him. He kisses me so deep that I lose myself in it, in him. There are no words as he takes off my my shirt and unbuttons my skirt, all without breaking the kiss. "Stand," he says against my lips.

"Charlie.” My heart thunders.

"I fucking need you, Right now. And I don't need anyone, so I'm not quite sure how to handle this feeling, but I'm giving it my best. And if you don't want this today, that's fine, but I'm going to need you to walk out that door right now, because if you don't, I'm going to have you naked on your back in the next two minutes."

The intensity in his eyes and the vehemence of his words should frighten me, but they don't. Even if this man loses every ounce of his self-control, I know he'll never hurt me.

"Walk away or stay, but either way, I need you to stand up," he begs.

A smile curved at my lips, “I think two minutes might be overestimating your skills.”

He grins and lifts me from his lap.

My feet hit the floor. "I'm timing you."

"Is that_"

"One. Two." I hold up my fingers. "Three."

He's on his feet in a heartbeat, and then his mouth is on mine, and I stop counting. I'm too busy chasing the strokes of his tongue, feeling the ripple of his muscles beneath my fingertips, to give a shit where my clothes are going.

I feel air rush against my legs as my skirt hits the floor, leaving me in my underwear while I suck on his tongue.

He groans, Then his hands are in my hair, and he pulls back only long enough to rake his ravenous gaze down my body. "So fucking beautiful."

"I think that might have been a little longer than two-" I start, but he grabs the back of my thighs and lifts, sweeping my feet out from underneath me. My back hits the bed with a slight bounce, and honestly, I should have seen that move coming given that he's been putting me on my back for the better part of a year now.

"Still counting?" he asks, dropping to his knees beside the bed and pulling me up.

"Do you need me to keep score?" I tease as my ass hits the end of the bed.

"Feel free." He grins, and before I can get another word in, his mouth is between my thighs.

I suck in a sharp breath and throw my head back at the sheer pleasure of his tongue, licking and swirling around my clit. "Oh fuck."

He licks me from entrance to clit, finally flicking his tongue over that sensitive spot and I moan.

"Fuck, you taste good." He lifts my thighs up onto his shoulders and settles in like he has nowhere else to be tonight.

Then he absolutely devours me with tongue and teeth.

Pleasure, hot and insistent, spirals in my stomach and I'm lost in sensation, my hips rising and falling as I chase the high he drives me toward with every expert stab of his tongue.

My thighs tremble when he takes up a rhythm against my clit and drives two fingers inside me. They lock when he strokes his fingers in time with his tongue. Mindless, I'm simply mindless.

when he tips me over the edge of oblivion, it's his name I scream as that power whips outward with every wave of my climax.

"That's one," he says, kissing his way up my limp body. Moving his fingers out of me, he moves them to his lips and never once breaks eye contact. I suck in a deep breath as he licks his fingers clean, savouring my taste.

"Your mouth is..." I shake my head as his hands slide under me, moving us to the center of his bed. "There are no words for that."

"Delicious," he whispers, his lips skimming the plane of my stomach.

"You are absolutely delicious. I never should have waited this long to get my mouth on you."

I gasp when he sucks the peak of my breast into his mouth, his tongue lashing and stroking my nipple as he works the other between thumb and forefinger, setting a whole new fire within me built on the embers of the first.

By the time he gets to my neck, I'm a writhing flame beneath him, touching every part of him I can reach, stroking my hands down his arms, his back, his chest. Fuck, this man is incredible.

Our mouths meet in a deep kiss, and I can taste us both in it as I draw my knees upward, settling his hips right where they're meant to be- between my thighs.

he groans, and I can feel the head of him at my entrance. He shakes his head slowly and I smile.

"I don't get equal time to play?" I tease, arching my hips so he slides against me and making my own breath catch with the motion.

He nips my lower lip. "You can play all you want later if I can have you right now."

Yeah, that's a plan I can get with. "You already have me."

His gaze collides with mine as he hovers above me, bracing his weight to keep from crushing me. "You have everything I have to give."

That's enough...for now. I nod, arching my hips again.

Eyes locked with mine, he pushes into me with one long roll of his hips, consuming every inch and then taking another until he's i feel him everywhere.

The pressure, the stretch, the fit of him is beyond words.

"You feel so damn good." I roll my hips because I can't help myself.

"I could say the same thing about you." He smiles, using my own words from earlier against me. Hard, deep, and slow, he sets a rhythm that has me arching for every thrust as we come together again and again and again.

He drives us up the bed, and I throw my arms back, bracing against the headboard for leverage as I meet every plunge of his hips. God, each is better than the last. When I urge him to move faster, he gives me a wicked grin and takes me at the same mind-blowing, heart-jolting pace. "I want this to last. I need this to last."

"But I'm..." That fire in my core is coiled tight and so ready to burst free that I can almost taste how sweet it will be.

"I know." He drives forward again, and I whimper at how fucking good it feels. "Just stay with me." He adjusts the angle so he hits my clit with every thrust and presses my knee forward, taking me even deeper.

I'm not going to survive this. I'm going to die right here in this bed.

"Then I'm going to die with you," he promises, kissing me.

I'm so far gone, I didn't even realize I said the words out loud.

"More. I need more." Pleasure simmers beneath my skin and my legs lock.

"You're almost there. Fuck, you feel so damn good around me. I'm never going to get enough of this, enough of you.”

"I Love you." His eyes flare and his control snaps as he pounds into me, and that coiled pleasure explodes as he drives toward his own release, groaning into the side of my neck as the last waves of my orgasm leave me shuddering against him.

Long minutes pass before our breathing steadies, "You're all right?" he asks, brusting my hair back from my face.

"I'm great. You're great. That was-“

"Great?" he supplies.

"Exactly."

"I was going to use the word glorious but I think 'great covers it,”

His fingers tangle in my hair. "I fucking love your hair. If you ever want to bring me to my knees or win an argument, just let it down. I'll get the point." I grin as the breeze rustles through the brown strands.

My head turned to the side and I gasped at the broken desk to our left.

"What are we going to do?"

"Right now?" He strokes my hair back from my face again. "That was two, if we're still counting, and I say we clean up, move the desk out the way, and get you to three, maybe four if you're still awake."

My jaw drops. "After we broke the furniture?"

He smiles and shrugs. "I don’t care about the cost.”

I gaze down at his body, and the craving for him ignites again, "Yeah, let's go for three."

We're going for five, my hips in Charlie’s hands while I slowly ride him, and trail my fingers down the hard planes and muscles of his back. I'm not sure how either of us is still moving, and yet we can't seem to stop, can't get enough.

"It really is beautiful," I tell him, rising up only to sink back down again, taking him deep within me.

His dark eyes flare as his hands flex. "Oh yeah, you always wanted a man with a nice back, didn’t you?." He arches his hips, hitting me at a sublime angle.

"Mhm,” Fuck he's robbing me of every thought.

Someone pounds on the door.

"Go the fuck away!" Charlie yelled, reaching up my back and hooking onto my shoulder to pull me down into his next thrust.

I fall forward, muffling my moan in his neck.

"I really wish I could." There's enough regret in the voice that I believe it.

"Someone better be dead if I get out of this bed," Charlie retorts.

“It’s your brother, Raymond Babbitt?” The man called, “Nothing bad, we just found him wandering the hotel looking lost.”

Both Charlie and I startle, our gazes colliding in shock. I slide off him, and he covers me with his blanket before shoving his legs into his trousers and striding for the door.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Charlie swung open the door to see the hotel manager and Raymond standing there awkwardly.

“Charlie, Charlie Babbitt,” Ray mumbled quietly.

Charlie clapped his shoulder softly and I couldn’t help but grin.

~3 days later~

Charlie stared down at me with a mischievous smile, “Dance with me.”

I scoffed, “You don’t dance.”

“For you I will,” he offered me his hand and I looked down at it hesitantly, “Come on. You can’t come all this way to a wedding and not dance.”

I rolled my eyes playfully and accepted his hand. Keeping his eyes on me, he led us to the dance floor as though he knew exactly where to go and I sighed.

“This is so embarrassing,” I wrapped my arms around his neck and glanced to my right. My sister, dressed in her brilliant white gown, winked at me and I scrunched my nose back at her.

“Love isn’t embarrassing,” he murmured lowly and wrapped his arm around my waist. Our free hands came up to clasp each other and I smiled at the sight. The music slowed to a more romantic tune and we began to sway from side to side, never once breaking eye contact. I was wearing a red dress that accentuated my hips and hugged at my curves. Charlie kept reminding me how beautiful I looked though in all honesty, I was most excited for when he took it off me tonight. We’d made it to LA and we’re currently moving from hotel to hotel whilst we came up with a solid plan.

I looked at all the dressed up people around us and realised one person was missing, “I’m sorry about Ray.”

He shook his head fiercely, “You don’t have to be. Ray’s better off back at his institution, it never would’ve worked if he lived with me.”

I nodded, “Yeah…you did deserve a bit of the money though.”

“Its all his, that money was never meant to be mine and besides,” he leant closer to press his lips against my forehead, “I already have everything I need.”

I grinned and claimed his lips with mine, my arms tightening around his neck and his hands pulling me closer. I couldn’t get enough of this man, Charlie Babbitt was going to be the death of me.

“What happens after this?” I pulled back for breath, “When we both go home?”

“Well we don’t live far from each other,” the corner of his lip lifted, “And I need a new employee at the company.”

“Oh really?” My brow raised jokingly, “I didn’t realise there was a job vacancy.”

“It actually opened up recently,” he pretended to look at his watch, “Two seconds ago to be precise.”

I chuckled quietly and he nodded, “Though seriously, there is a job for you at the company if you want it.”

“What would I be doing?”

“I’m sure we can find something,” he shrugged as we moved around the dance floor, “I’d be your boss…”

“Sounds like a forbidden Office romance,” my mouth curved into a smile as I kissed my way up his jaw, “I’m in.”

“You just like the idea of me bending you over the desk and fucking you senseless when we’re not supposed to, don’t you?” he murmured against my skin and my back arched slightly.

“You know….we could always take this conversation to the bathroom.”

He leant back, “At your sisters wedding?”

I shrugged, “She won’t care, and I need this right now….so I can go to the bathroom alone and think about you slamming me against the wall and sliding your-“

His head leaned back with a low groan and I continued, “…Or you can come with me and make these fantasies a reality.”

I grew hot under the intensity of his dark gaze, and he smirked, “You never even had to ask.”

Without wasting a moment of hesitation, Charlie grabbed my hand and we rushed back out to the private bathrooms. My skin was already hot at the idea of Charlie filling me, and my heart pounded loudly enough for the both of us. This day couldn’t get any better.

My back pressed against the cool bathroom wall and Charlie pinned my wrists above my head. Pulling my skirt to the side, he lined himself up at my entrance and wait…no, it could get better.

He rolled into me with one thick thrust and my head tipped back in blissful pleasure. Completely inside of me, I took a moment to adjust to his size before he pounded into me once more, my thighs already spilling with a pool of wetness.

Best

Day

Ever.

The end💋

#fanfic #tom cruise #smut #romance #enemies to lovers #rain man #charlie babbitt

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