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paranormaljones · 7 months ago

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Love and Attraction in My Adventures with Superman

As someone who has never been particularly drawn by superhero media, I wasn't really sure what to expect when I first started watching My Adventures with Superman about a week ago. I had seen a few posts here on Tumblr that had piqued my interest, but all I really knew about it was that it was well-loved and had an art style that I knew I liked.

I absolutely did not expect to fall head over heels for the show entirely, or to be moved to tears multiple times by the wildly sweet, revolutionary relationship between this adaptation's Clark Kent and Lois Lane.

I say "revolutionary" because this romance touches on a lot of things that I feel are lacking in most modern portrayals of romance, and it handles them masterfully.

Most of what I reference/talk about in this post will focus on the first four episodes of season one (with a particular focus on the fourth episode, Let's Go to Ivo Tower, You Say) , because they are my favorite episodes and I think I can communicate what I want to by pulling mainly from those episodes. But I will be pulling bits and pieces from the whole series so consider yourself spoiler-warned.

The main point is this: I absolutely adore the way that physical attraction and emotional attraction are balanced between Clark and Lois.

The fact that this is possible comes from how well-crafted the dynamic is between the two of them; Lois' raw passion and energy inspires confidence and a mutual passion in Clark, and Clark's gentleness and kind heart inspire a tenderness in Lois that she was never given an outlet to show or receive. From this dynamic, a wealth of physical and emotional intimacy is naturally born. But never in the series do the two aspects of attraction feel out of balance; rather, they play off each other effortlessly. When one is brought into focus, the other quickly follows.

From the first episode and onward, it's obvious that Clark and Lois are awed by each other's physical appearance. Lois outright describes Clark as "beautiful" (which, if you saw one of my earlier posts from not too long ago, is something that makes me so incredibly happy to see in mainstream media).

To be fair, she doesn't say that to his face and says it in a moment of extreme frustration. But I still count it.

Anyways.

Upon seeing Lois for the first time, Clark is practically frozen in wonder for a good few seconds.

Lois, too, experiences this initial moment of attraction and almost immediately makes contact, with a playful punch to Clark's chest as he holds the door open for her.

This is a detail I really love, because first of all wow, I aspire to have her level of confidence. But also, it becomes clear early on in the series that Lois expresses herself very physically. She has no qualms regarding physical affection. Clark, on the other hand, is much more reserved and, at first, generally only initiates contact after an invitation from Lois, or after enough time has passed in their friendship for him to know that Lois is very physical and wouldn't have a problem with it.

There is also an immediate emphasis on Clark's concern for Lois' physical well-being. Take a sip of water every time Clark asks Lois if she's okay just in the first episode alone and you will be well hydrated.

Later on in this first episode, while trying to infiltrate a warehouse, Lois confidently asks Clark to boost her up to a window so she can get inside the building. Clark is immediately flustered, showing how much he feels out of his depth even with physical contact that, on the surface, would have no romantic connotations. (But to be fair, Lois is asking him to put his hands around her waist and lift her up when they literally just met like maybe six hours ago. I would be flustered too.)

And when Lois loses her balance and Clark effortlessly catches her, his first response (after blushing, of course) is to ask her:

Even in moments where the romantic tension is thick enough to cut with a knife and Clark clearly knows it, his first priority is to make sure she's okay.

And thus begins one of the strongest underlying themes throughout the whole building-up of their relationship, which is trust.

I'm gonna jump ahead now to the scene that inspired this whole post: the stairwell scene in episode four.

A basic rundown: Clark, Lois, and Jimmy are given an assignment to attend a tech unveiling for the city's top investors at Amazotech headquarters. Lois, naturally, ignores the parameters of the assignment and tries to use it as an opportunity to expose corruption in the city and get her stop-the-presses story. Clark very reluctantly follows her lead, believing that she will get herself into trouble . . . until Dr. Ivo, head of Amazotech, makes a few rude comments about Lois' appearance (Lois doesn't hear these, only Clark). This deeply irritates Clark and prompts him into revealing how much he knows about Dr. Ivo's corrupt business dealings, in an attempt to intimidate the truth out of Dr. Ivo, who responds by having Clark thrown out of the building and into a pile of garbage in an adjacent alleyway. Lois comes to find Clark (who is unhurt) and teases him about whether or not she should let him back in the building, since he didn't follow the assignment. Clark jokes that he doesn't even meet the dress code anymore, revealing that his suit jacket was torn as he was tossed out of the building.

Lois then reveals that she came prepared for this, and tells Clark to "take it off."

Clark immediately becomes flustered again and begins stammering as Lois pulls him back into the building by his jacket, continuing to tease him.

It's in these moments, as you can see, that the lighting of the scene changes. As soon as Lois says "take it off", everything is bathed in a rosy light. This happens frequently between these two; often, when we the audience are seeing one of these characters through the perspective of the other, the lighting takes on a very dreamy quality. This will come up again momentarily.

As Lois and Clark ascend the stairs, Lois removes her jacket and pulls a sewing kit from her pocket, admitting that she carries one on her because she herself has torn a lot of her clothing on her escapades.

The two then sit down on the stairs, and Clark removes his jacket. The lighting changes again, and we see Clark from Lois' eyes. It's clear by the dreamy lighting and the way that Lois blushes and involuntarily chokes out a "Wow . . ." that she is once again awed by him and deeply attracted to him on a physical level.

And this scene represents so much about their growing dynamic. It honestly has me floored.

But before I explain fully, I have to go on a tangent about my beloved Clark.

Throughout the beginning of the series, I believe Clark shows several signs that indicate that he is insecure about his physical appearance. Which you wouldn't expect, right? I mean, look at him. He's objectively a dreamboat. He was designed to be that way.

But at this stage of knowing so little about where he really came from or who he is, I think Clark struggles with not having a way to explain his physique. He admits that he wasn't an athlete in school; he was in the chess club. He doesn't work out as an adult. And yet he has the muscles of a bodybuilder. But, like so many other aspects of himself, he doesn't have a way to explain it. This causes a disconnect in how he sees himself physically; he likely feels as though he doesn't deserve his naturally impressive physique. And you could argue that he even does his best to hide it. As a civilian, he generally wears bulky, layered clothing like sweatshirts and sweaters. He slouches and carries himself in a very inward direction; his shoulders are often forward and his arms close to his sides, as if he is habitually attempting to make himself smaller.

This is one thing that brought me to tears when I saw it. The idea that a person can feel insecure about having physical attributes that would normally be seen as positive (and that they can't explain and/or feel that they don't deserve) is not very well-explored in media, but it is experienced by quite a few people, myself being one of them. But often in the real world when someone attempts to express this kind of insecurity, they are shut down and mocked and told to "be grateful" for what they have because others would envy them. Which I can say from personal experience is unbelievably damaging to a person's self image. So seeing this possibly be represented in Clark Kent himself was incredibly moving to me.

But back to the scene itself.

In the most recent gif above, this is the most vulnerable Lois has seen Clark thus far. What I think is so beautiful is the way that she invites him into this vulnerability by making herself vulnerable first.

Rewind a bit. Outside the building, Lois tells Clark to take his jacket off. Not a big deal, right? It's not like he's not wearing an undershirt. But Clark becomes flustered, not outright expressing that he's uncomfortable with this, but certainly indicating that he's not exactly at ease with it either.

Next we see them climbing up the stairs, and as they do so, Lois removes her own jacket and reveals her bare back to Clark in the process.

I believe this was incredibly intentional. This scene would have carried a very different tone if Lois' outfit was revealing in any other way. But the fact that her back is exposed symbolizes that she trusts him, in a physical and emotional sense. It's like when my cat Penny rolls on her back and exposes her fluffy tummy. Lois revealing this part of herself was her saying "I trust you, I feel safe with you, and I'll be vulnerable with you if you'll be vulnerable with me."

And only after that does Clark remove his jacket.

Because there is the factor of attraction at play, there is a lot of blushing and stammering going on in the beginning of this scene. These are two incredibly attractive people who are incredibly attracted to each other, after all. But immediately after the initial romantic tension, there is emotional vulnerability as well. Lois confides in Clark about her relationship with her dad, and the crippling self-doubt that she has kept very close to her chest. Clark jumps to reassure her in earnest, telling her that she has "changed his life for the better, in every possible way."

And that is what I meant at the beginning of the post when I mentioned balance.

Every moment of physical attraction in this series is followed by or harmonized with a moment of emotional vulnerability. Clark and Lois both invite each other deeper into each aspect of connection, and thus their relationship builds in an incredibly natural and beautiful way.

At this point, I think this post is about five miles long as the crow scrolls and I should probably stop now before all my thoughts run away with me. I could go on forever about the impact that this series and these characters have had on me, though. I will forever be grateful to the creators for giving us such an incredible series, and such a beautiful romance.

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deedeeznoots · 7 months ago

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You’re? Correction! I’m Yours

➺ Characters: Ryomen Sukuna, GN!Reader

➺ Word Count: 900+

➺ Genre: Fluff

➺ Content: Non-Curse!AU, Nerd!Sukuna, Established Relationship (with some pre-relationship sprinkled in), Swearing

➺ A/N: Shout out to my wonderful mutual @heian-era-housewife for this post about Heian Era Sukuna doing poetry. If she’s reading this: I hope you don’t mind the tag but your post seriously inspired a huge chunk of these headcanons 🥹

➺ Synopsis: Headcanons of all the nerdy things Sukuna does because deep down inside that’s all he is and all he wishes to be ❤️

➺ At first glance he doesn’t read as someone who would be super nerdy or all that interested in learning.

➺ I mean, can you blame anyone? No one really expects the dude constantly looking for a fight to pull up with some textbooks during his free time.

➺ Once you get to know him though, you realize that on the inside he is in fact a giant nerd about basically everything.

➺ It starts off subtly: at first you’d ask him questions and he’d be able to easily come up with answers without even giving it a second thought.

➺It could be a question about anything, regardless of the subject or perceived difficulty, and Sukuna would be able to explain it to you. Not only that, but he’d be able to explain it to you in a way that made it sound like the simplest thing in the world.

➺ At one point you basically just started playing trivia and just started asking him stuff normal people didn’t know the answers for and he’d answer with ease, albeit he’d get really annoyed with your constant random questions.

➺ Sometimes if he’s really excited about a subject his explanations would turn into full lectures that’d put most college professors to shame.

➺ Although it was shocking at first, it started to make sense when you realized that the main reason why he takes time to learn about stuff is because he’s constantly bored and looking for new things to entertain him.

➺ He’s good at basically everything so long as it piques his curiosity, but his one and only love will forever be literature, mostly because of how infinite the possibilities are with the medium.

➺ He’s well versed in literature of all genres and different cultures, but he is the most drawn toward Japanese works (and let’s be honest, his favorites would probably come from the Heian Period).

➺ Ever since getting with you, he’s been leaning more toward the romance genre. Just in case he needs any inspiration on how to spice up your relationship, you know?

➺ He’s taught himself multiple languages just for fun and to see how far he could go.

➺ He LOVES poetry, he both writes and reads it a lot and it’s his favorite hobby besides eating.

➺ Other than literature, he also has a huge fascination with art.

➺ He designed his own tattoos because he wanted to play with the idea of turning his body into a canvas. It also just so happened to make him look intimidating as hell which was a plus in his book.

➺ He also has a little journal that he carries around and he sketches a lot whenever he’s bored or sees something interesting.

➺ As for styles, he’s a really big fan of Sumi-e painting because he’s allergic to color but he basically just uses and does whatever he feels like at the moment.

➺ He’s the type of person who draws what he sees, but he would especially enjoy drawing nature.

➺ He would go out on hikes whenever he felt the need to draw and would walk until he found something interesting.

➺ He’s really into meditation while he draws and he uses sketching as a way to keep himself level headed during particularly annoying days.

➺ He isn’t too fond of drawing people, but you’d be the exception.

➺ He would 1000% draw you while you sleep. It’s the perfect time since you’d be still for most of it.

➺ Sukuna is able to write really good cursive and also does calligraphy because he got bored one time (shocker) and so decided to see if he was able to do it well and to no one’s surprise, he was eventually able to.

➺ The reason why he leans towards the humanities so much is because they’re both subjects no one can really “master”. With both art and literature, there isn’t a point where someone knows absolutely everything about either subject. Since Sukuna loves a challenge, he wants to be the first person to go “Fuck you, I DO know everything about this”.

➺ One of the little things he does every day includes writing you short little romantic poems on a post it note and leaving them in out random spots for you to find.

➺ Sometimes they would be in your pocket or other times on the bathroom mirror, wherever it is they would make you smile.

➺ Though, sometimes he would stick them onto such odd spots that you’d wonder just how he did it?

➺ He has TONS of pride in his writing (to be fair, he’s prideful about basically anything he does) and he always appreciates it when you mention his little notes and complement the work he put into writing them.

➺ Sometimes when the both of you are talking together he’d say some of the most poetic sentences that you’ve ever heard like it’s nothing.

➺ When you gasp he just goes “What? Why are you staring at me like that?” as if he didn’t randomly drop lines that sounded like they came from straight out of a novel.

➺ He’s a dick when it comes to spelling and grammar, especially during petty arguments.

➺ “How many times do I have to tell you, if your going to the restroom put the damn seat down afterwards” ➺ “It’s YOU’RE*, actually” ➺ “Fine, YOU'RE** a piece of shit Ryomen!”

➺ Don’t fret though, because while Ryomen Sukuna wants to know anything and everything there is to know about the world, he knows deep down inside that the best thing the world could have ever offered him was you.

➺ Edit: Okay I made this story quite a while ago but I HAVE ANOTHER HEADCANON TO ADD! I think his observation skills are super on point which is how he’s able to understand things so easily

A/N: Everyone list what you think Sukuna’s favorite book(s) would be 🗣️

A/N: If you enjoyed my thoughts on Sukuna, you’d love this story I also wrote paired with some headcanons!

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year ago

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I'll Crawl Home To Her | Marcus Pike

Fic Summary | Marcus Pike had been the man of your dreams until a promotion tore your away from him. Four years later, a wedding brings you back together, but it the bubble you've built over this one weekend going to crash and burn just like it did before?

Pairing | Marcus Pike x Bridesmaid F!Reader

Fic Warnings | Explicit. Exes to Lovers, themes of second chance love, references to food and alcohol, descriptions of a wedding, Marcus Pike being a dirty talking menace, talk of contraception, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, semi-public sex, oral sex (F), overstimulation if you squint, allusions to oral sex (M) and mentions of a facial cumshot, mutual pining, flirting, two idiots in love, a touch of angst, basically two idiots who never got over each other have a lot of sex over a weekend.

Word Count | 7.9K (I can only apologise lmfao)

Authors Note | So, two weekends ago I was a bridesmaid and spent the entire time messaging @undercoverpena about how I wished Marcus Pike would whisk me away to the bathroom, tell me how pretty I was and give me a good time.... and this is what's come of this. Entirely self-indulgent but we love that for me sometimes. If you enjoy this, please consider commenting or reblogging - I'd love to know what you think of it! And if you'd like to support me further, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

Moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only - reader is a blank slate. Although if you're interested in the dress I chose for her - it's this.

Divider by the amazing @saradika

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Marcus is still out of breath as he clutches the champagne flute in his hand, chest heaving as his sucks in air to his lungs, “I didn’t mean to be so late.”

“Marcus, buddy, it’s fine,” His friend puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, he knows Marcus gets anxious when things outside of his control happen, like the delay to his flight from D.C. to London, and then the delay in getting from London to the wedding venue, “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

Marcus nods, chugging down half the champagne in one go, hoping it’ll calm his anxiety a little. He had cursed Mike and Cassie for choosing to have their wedding in England, but Mike’s family, most of them ageing now and unable to make the long trip to D.C. had insisted on it. As he looks around the large reception room, he muses internally to himself that it was beautiful. A huge room, semi-decorated for tomorrow’s reception and dinner. It’s a smaller affair tonight, immediate family and friends for the rehearsal dinner, but he can imagine that tomorrow, once all is said and done, it’ll be the perfect backdrop for their wedding.

“Where’s Cassie?” Marcus asks, looking around the room, finding a distinct lack of the bride and the bridal party Mike hadn’t shut up about over the last few months.

“She’s just sorting the last of the decorations for the ceremony room,” Mike explains, waving a hand to the waitress currently doing the round with a refilled tray of champagne, “She’ll be here soon.” He finished with a wink, which, although is odd, Marcus doesn’t question, just picks up another glass of champagne and stands talking to his friend and whoever is milling around offering their congratulations.

There’s a flurry of conversation that has Marcus turning around a few minutes later, he can see Cassie and her mother, who are pulled to the side by someone from the venue holding up two different types of ribbon, asking which one they want to drape around the columns and which one to tie around the chair backs. It’s not Cassie that Marcus is interested in though, it’s the bridesmaid that follows behind her.

He can feel his throat constrict, a small pit opening in his stomach that’s somewhere between the feeling of dread and excitement. He can feel the palms of his hands starting to get clammy, so he drains his glass and sets it down on the nearest table to avoid an accident. Then, he thinks he might actually pass out when you finally look at him, eyes searching his face and then the glimmer of recognition that you know exactly who he is, remember exactly the last time you’d seen him, and exactly what had happened when you had.

Your leg is bouncing underneath the dining table, food somewhat eaten regardless of the fact that it’s your favourite. You’ve dug half-moon shapes into the palms of your hands and bitten the inside of your mouth enough to taste blood.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” It’s Marcus, sitting across from you, plate cleared, completely oblivious as to what’s about to come.

“I got offered a promotion.” You tell him simply, running one hand up and down your opposite arm in an attempt to soothe yourself.

“Darling!” He exclaims, “That’s amazing!” He doesn’t move to get up, but reaches his hand out, palm up for you to take, which you do, letting his hand softly clasp yours in his own, “Why are you so upset then?”

Taking a deep breath in, biting your bottom lip, you decide it’s best to rip the band-aid off sooner rather than later, “It’s not here, Marcus,” You sigh, “The job is in D.C.”

The smile, the light of his eyes, everything on his face that had just seconds ago been showing joy, had faltered. Much like you imagine your face would have when you’d been offered the job. A significant pay rise, governmental opportunities, bigger clients, a shot at being a proper lawyer for once, but with the caveat that you had to uproot your comfortable Austin life for D.C. and with it, Marcus Pike.

“I don’t have to go,” You follow up with, “I haven’t accepted yet, I’ve got some time to think.”

You feel him squeeze your hand, his other palm coming out to rest on your wrist, slowly tracing the blue veins he can see there, “Look at me,” He asks softly, which you do, the tears that had been forming in your own eyes starting to spill down your cheeks when you find Marcus’ eyes glassed over too, “Baby, this is such an amazing opportunity, you can’t say no because of me.”

Because that’s what you would be doing. Marcus, brilliant, funny, intelligent Marcus, wouldn’t be able to follow you to D.C. There had been some talk about his work in the Art Crimes team with the higher ups, people who were impressed at his success rate, people who wanted to keep him here, send him off to California even. He was at too much of a crossroads to be able to follow you to D.C.

“I don’t want to lose you though,” You sniff, free hand coming to wipe away some of the tears that are falling from your eyes, “I love you.”

Marcus hums, finally pushes himself off his chair, letting the legs scrape across his kitchen floor, until he’s sat right in front of you, knees touching, his palms on the tops of your thighs, warm and soothing, “I love you too,” He says, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek, making sure you’re looking at him, “But this is what you’ve wanted, you’ve been working so hard baby and I’m not going to let you stay here just because of me.”

It’s killing you inside, because you want so badly to ask him to follow you. To drop everything and come to D.C. You’ve been together two years, you’re comfortable together, he makes you so happy, you’ve talked about moving in together, starting a life together, but you know deep down you’re asking him to do something unfair.

“So, I guess your stance on long-distance relationships hasn’t changed?” You ask, tone soft and sad, tears falling down your cheeks.

You watch him as his own tears fall, his hands clutching your own so tightly as he gives you a soft smile, “Baby, I wish I could say yes, I wish I could drop it all and follow you, or promise you we’d talk on the phone every day and see each other every weekend, but you know we can’t do it.”

Biting at your lip, you nod, because you know he’s right. You’re a lawyer, you barely have free time as it is - weekends more often than not spent sat on the couch with him, tapping away at your laptop whilst he looks over case files. It would never work.

Marcus leans forward, presses a kiss to your forehead, then pulls you into a hug. You clutch your hands to his back, inhaling the smell of him on his shirt , watching the light blue turn darker as it catches your tears.

“When do you go?” He asks quietly into the crook of your neck, soft kiss placed to the skin right after.

“A few weeks, probably.”

“Well, let’s enjoy them while we still can, hey?” You nod silently, “And maybe one day, we’ll find each other again.”

“And maybe one day, we’ll find each other again.”

Those words still echo in your ears four year later, like they have at various different points since you last saw Marcus Pike. Leaving had been hard. He’d helped you pack everything up, driven you to the airport, kissed you before security and promised he wouldn’t forget you. You’d text a for a few weeks before life dragged you in one direction and him in another. No-one had quite been able to live up to him either. Sure, you’d tried dating, seen people for a few months before deciding they weren’t quite the man who had almost been able to give you everything you ever wanted.

And now here he is, standing in front of you, pale as a ghost as if he’s about to keel over and have a heart attack. You want to run to him, to fling yourself into his arms and make sure he’s real. You want to press your lips to his, let him kiss you like he always used to, to clutch you to his body and whisper sweet things into your ear, but you have no idea what he’s been doing these past four years - for all you know, you could get closer and find a wedding band across his left finger.

It’s a blessing when Cassie’s hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you over to the side.

“Do you prefer the dusky rose or the blush pink?” She asks, holding up two ribbons that look identical to your eye.

You want to tell her does it really matter, they both look exactly the same. You want to tear your wrist away from her and go to Marcus, but instead you settle for a warm smile and “It’s your wedding Cass, you choose what you want.”

And when you turn around, looking back over to Mike, Marcus Pike is nowhere to be found. Like he was a mirage. A figment of your hopeful imagination. Something conjured up after your mother had set you down at the airport and said, “Bridesmaid’s always get lucky at weddings, you might find your own husband.”

When everyone is called to sit down for the rehearsal dinner, you jump at the opportunity to let Cassie sit down and eat, whilst you get pulled away by the staff to advise on which candles to use for the ceremony room and where exactly to place the flower arch for the best photos tomorrow. When you make it back, everyone is standing, milling around, getting drinks from the bar, which you decide you desperately need.

“A negroni, please.” You ask for after taking a few seconds to peruse the cocktail menu set out. The stronger the better.

“I see your tastes haven’t changed in the last few years.”

You’re pretty sure that if there was a mirror in front of you, the look of shock on your face would be comical, as Marcus Pike sidles up to the bar next to you. Up close, he’s just as handsome as he always had been, except now, he’s got a beard and more fine lines in the corners of his eyes, which means he’s been happy, smiling, whilst you’ve been gone. It makes your heart swell that he’s been happy.

“I wonder if yours have.” You counter, tilting your head towards the bartender who is waiting for him to order.

“Just a beer for now.” He smiles, but at you, not the bartender.

“That’ll be a no then.”

There’s a moment of silence between the both of you as you sip the cocktail given to you, and Marcus takes a swig of his beer. His left hand is wrapped around the bottle, no sign of the wedding ring you were convinced you’d find. You want to say something, anything, but when you go to open your mouth, he beats you to it.

“You look well.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Of all the things he could have chosen to say to you, you hadn't thought it would be that.

“So do you.” You compliment back.

There’s another silence, the two of you just looking at each other. You’re soaking him up, committing him to memory to replace the old Marcus you knew so well.

“Are you here alone?” You ask, playing with the glass in your hand.

You watch as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, “Are you?”

“I asked you first, Agent Pike.”

He tilts his head towards his shoulder in a movement that says he’ll give you that one, “I’m here alone.”

You can’t help but smile a little, biting at your bottom lip to try and hide how pleased you are, “So am I.”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you notice the exact moment those brown eyes that you’re so used to getting lost in darken, watching you as you sip your drink, tip of your tongue jutting out to catch a drop from your bottom lip.

“Is your room completely over the top?” You ask, watching as he swallows deeply, “Because mine is, I’d love to know what the honeymoon suite must be like.”

“Depends what you mean by completely over the top?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to show you?”

He doesn’t even respond. He sets his half-finished beer down on the bar, takes your almost-empty negroni from your hand and does the same. Then he’s taking hold of your hand, lacing your fingers together like he always did, dragging you out of the room. You turn to find Cassie and Mike, looking at you both as you have to jog to keep up with Marcus’ pace. Both of them are winking, smiling, and Mike even throws a thumbs up your way. You can feel heat rising on your cheeks as you turn your head away from them.

“Which floor?” Marcus asks then you reach the grand staircase in the lobby.

“Second.”

He doesn’t let go of your hand, but takes the stairs two at a time, meaning by the time you reach the second floor, you’re out of breath from running behind him, trying to keep up.

“Which room?”

It’s your turn to lead him now, stepping in front of him to walk down the hallway to room 212. You fish the keycard from the back pocket of your jeans, wasting no time in pushing the door open when the tiny light turns green.

It’s dark inside, but you don’t care. Marcus Pike pins you against the wall, his thigh between your legs, both hands on your waist, and then his lips are on yours. The way he kisses hasn’t changed a bit. His mouth slants over yours, softly at first, but when you open your lips against his, hands clutching at the collar of his shirt, it’s just like you remember from all those years ago. He tastes the same, mint from the gum he always chews, the tang of the beer on his tongue, and that distinct taste that’s just him.

He swallows a groan from you as your pitch your hips down, denim rubbing on denim as he devours your mouth. His hands on your waist trail down just a little, finding the top of your jeans, floating under your shirt just a little to touch the bare skin underneath. His hands are warm and strong as they start guiding you to move against his thigh as his tongue works against yours.

Marcus pulls away from your mouth just as a particularly breathy moan leaves your mouth. It makes you both stop. Stand still. Eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room as you both realise exactly what’s happening. You know you should stop, talk about what’s clearly about to happen, but when did talking ever help anything.

“Don’t think about it,” Marcus sighs, leaning down to trail kisses along your jaw, “We talk after.”

“We talk after.” You say, mainly to the room more than anything else.

Your hands are still clutching at his shirt when his fingers find the button on your jeans. Still as adept at it as he’d always been, he pops the button open and pulls down the zipper, letting his hand trail down, settling across the lace of your underwear, cupping your pussy, letting his fingers trace along skin through lace.

A hiss leaves your mouth as you work your body in time with the slow, teasing movements of Marcus’ hand, “You’ve changed,” You manage to breathe out, your hand coming to the back of his neck to pull his mouth nearer to yours, “When you were desperate for me you’d never tease.”

You can feel his lips smile against the skin of your neck where he’s tracing wet kisses along the skin, hand still feather-light between your legs, “I’ve learnt to be more patient, honey.”

“And if I asked you not to?”

“In all the years I knew you, never once did you beg for it.” He pulls back, your eyes now accustomed to the dark, able to see him better, his voice is low, “Unless you’ve changed, you’ll have to put up with it.”

You grasp his cheeks in your palms, his hand still teasing you, pull his attention to you fully, “Marcus Pike, I swear to all that is holy that if you do not spread me out on my bed and fuck me in the next five minutes, I will die.”

He makes a ‘tsk’ sound, his head shaking in your hands, “That’s not begging for it honey,” He coos, “You gotta ask nicely for it.”

You let out a grumble of frustration, but you have to admit, this new version of the man you knew so well before is enticing. You can feel the way wetness is settling between your thighs, you’re sure if he dipped his fingers down he’d have some smart comment about how soaked you were for him already.

So you swallow your pride, you know it’ll be worth it in the end, “Please.”

“Good girl.”

It all happens in a flurry. One moment you’re against the wall, the next your back is against the mattress, Marcus’ hips pressed to yours as his hands work to push your shirt up and off your body. Your back hits the mattress again and his mouth is on you almost instantly, his lips trailing down your sternum, between the valley of your breasts. Pushing himself back on his knees, he brings his hands to the cups of your bra, pulling them down. Your nipples pebbling against the cold of the air.

His lips are back on you almost immediately, nipple enveloped into the warmth of his mouth, tip of his tongue flicking at it, making your back arch off the bed, pressing further into his mouth. Your hand comes to tangle in the curls at the back of his head, anchoring him to your body. As his mouth works across your chest, you can’t quite believe what’s happening to you. The man of your dreams, the person you always thought you were destined for, back, right here between your thighs, the bulge in the front of his jeans all too familiar to you.

Head tipped back in pleasure, you breathe out into the air, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

He tears off your breast with a wet pop, looking up at you through his lashes, mouth kissing down your body, across the soft of your tummy, he taps at your sides, lifting your hips up to drag your jeans and underwear down your legs, flung behind him and forgotten when you plant the flat of your feet onto the bed and let your knees fall open.

Marcus isn’t a religious man, he never has been, but knelt between your thighs, hands flying to rid himself of his clothes, watching as you gingerly trail your hand between your thighs, eyes on him as you play with your clit, he thinks he might have to start believing. As he stands to take the last of his clothes off, standing at the foot of the bed, naked with his cock in his hand, watching your face, he thanks the Lord for whatever mischief they had to concoct to get you back here with him.

He crawls back up your body, kissing from ankle to thigh, settling himself between your thighs, cock sliding through your slick folds as he lays his body down against yours, one of his hands slipping under your neck, cradling the back of your head, the other cupping your cheek, moving your face to look right into his eyes. He’s so fucking close to you, lips barely a hairs breadth from your own.

“I have to be inside you,” He pants against your mouth, “I promise I'll spend hours between your thighs later baby, but I have to be inside you.”

He doesn’t give you any time to respond, just shifts his hips a little, sinking himself into your aching cunt. You arch up into him, moaning against his mouth as he stills. The hand clutching at your cheek trails down your neck, thumb flicking against your nipple as it travels to rest on your hip.

“Stop squirming,” He pleads, “Please.. Just stay still a minute.”

He feels so right, nestled inside your pussy. The weight of his body pressed against yours takes you right back to all the nights before, locked away in his Austin apartment in the dead of night, making each other feel good, making promises at the height of your combined pleasure to each other that never materialised. You can feel tears settle in your eyes as he starts moving, pulling himself out of you slowly, pushing back in even slower.

Marcus leans down, kissing the salty tears from your cheeks, shushing you, “Don’t cry baby,” He whispers into your ear, “I’ve got you now.”

Your hands are clutching at his shoulders, nails digging small, half-moon shapes into his skin there. He feels just as incredible moving inside you as he always did, but there’s something settling in your tummy, the feeling that you knew so well with him, that you’ve only really known with yourself since.

“I can feel you baby,” Marcus groans into your ear as the thrusts of his cock get a little faster, a little harder, “Clenching all perfectly around me,” He takes hold of one of your wrists, dragging it between the both of you, resting it right where you need it, “I won’t last baby,” He admits, “Touch yourself and we’ll do it together?”

So you do, you rub tight, precise circles over your clit as Marcus pushes himself up, takes your thighs in his palms, pushing your legs back as far as he can. The change in angle makes you cry out as he really starts fucking you now. The only sounds in the room are the slapping of his skin against yours, your whimpers and his groans. You can feel the tightening coil across your abdomen, breath hitching in your throat, you’re so fucking close to coming undone on him.

“Marcus,” You whine, “I’m gonna-” You trail off as he shifts a little more, pressing your legs further back, cock hitting that unholy sweet spot inside you, “Gonna come.”

“Go on baby,” He encourages, “I’ll be right behind you.”

And that’s how it ends. Eyes shut so tightly you can feel tears pooling at the corners, cunt clenching around his cock as you cry out his name. It’s so familiar, the way it feels, the way he sounds, like no time has passed at all and you’re exactly the same as you’d both been four years ago. He’s pounding into you as your body convulses underneath, thighs shaking and toes curling as his hips start to stutter.

“Where?” He manages to choke out, his tone reminiscent of all those times before when he was holding on, teetering on the edge, wanting to know what you wanted.

“I’m s-safe,” You manage to choke out, head reeling from your own orgasm, “The pill.”

He doesn’t need to hear anymore, finally giving in, knowing you’ve fallen apart for him, he’s groaning your name into the dark, you can feel him spilling into you, claiming you, marking you as his own in a way only the two of you could ever understand. He lets go of your thighs, letting your legs drop back into comfort as he slowly drags himself from you, collapsing onto the bed next to you.

There’s a few moments of silence. Your arm is draped across your face, chest rising and falling as you try to suck in enough air to calm your breathing, Marcus doing the same across the bed. You roll over, putting yourself on your side so you can look at him. He’s led on his back, head turned to look at you in the dull light of the room - the moonlight through the window the only thing illuminating the two of you. He reaches out, traces your face with his hand.

“I can't believe you’re real.” He speaks softly, rolling over to face you, pulling your warm body to his.

“I know we said we’d talk after,” You whisper, hand trailing over his waist to rest across his back, “But can we just stay like this for a while?” It’s a soft plead, you don’t want to be reminded that this was probably a bad idea, you want to hold this man in front of you and forget that in a few short days it’ll all be over, he’ll go back to wherever he is now, and you’ll go back to D.C. lonelier than ever.

“I’ll stay here as long as you’ll let me, honey.”

Marcus, against his better judgement, stays with you all night. You don’t talk. You curl up into his side, settle against his body as he wraps his arms around you. It’s inevitable that he casts his mind back to how things used to be. To the history you share with each other. He still, to this day, hasn’t stopped thinking about you, about what would have been if you’d stayed. Would you be married? Probably, he thinks. He’d thought of it often towards the end, before your promotion. Stopped outside jewellery shops, tried to imagine which kind of ring you’d want – he’d even slipped one of your rings onto his own finger, figuring out where it stopped so he could pick the right size when the time came. Would you have children? He isn’t sure, neither of you had ever spoken about it, you’d never expressed a want to have them, but he’s certain if you’d have asked, he’d have given them to you.

He falls asleep, waking up hours later, darkness still pervading. He turns on his side, spooning his front to your back. You’re half-awake when you press yourself back into him, bring your hand up to clutch at his head as he slips inside you once more, his hand holding your thigh up. He breathes into your ear, whispers filth to you as he rocks his hips against you. When you feel his teeth trail over your shoulder, he chuckles when you tell him off.

“I can’t walk down the aisle with bruises on my shoulders, Marcus.”

It’s soft, and he tips you over the edge, feeling you clench around him as his fingers trace circles over your clit, following just behind you, filling you up once more. He doesn’t pull away from you, just settles your thigh back down, resting himself inside of you as you both fall back to sleep.

Then, he’s awake before your alarm. He wakes you with a kiss to your forehead, tells you to go back to sleep when you protest and try and coax him back to the warmth of your sheets. He has to shower he says, has to help Mike get ready, but he’ll be waiting for you, watching you all day. Marcus smiles, really smiles, when you curl over back onto your side, soft breaths and mumbles as you fall back to sleep, and as he walks to his own room and stands waiting for the shower to warm, there’s a feeling of content that spreads through him – should he have fucked you last night? Probably not. Should he have encouraged you to talk more? Probably yes. He knows he’s got his cards hidden, he’s not letting on that this might not have to just exist here, but he’ll keep that to himself for just a little longer.

“So,” Cassie smirks from her place in the make-up chair, artist flitting around her, pressing all number of products into her face, “You and the groomsman?”

“Shut up,” You mutter to her, trying not to scratch at your face, make-up already settling uncomfortably across your skin, “A momentary lapse of judgement.”

She hums, and then moves her focus back to the make-up artist who is tilting her face to put on some blush, “You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” She says to you as you pass her a mimosa, “I know that was Marcus. The Marcus.”

There’s a moment where you feel like a deer in headlights, like you’ve been caught being up to no good, even though you know that’s not the case. Then you turn slowly to her, eyebrow raised, and see her smirking, much to the chagrin of the make-up artist who urgently wants to get her lipstick on her so she can move onto the final bridesmaid.

“He’s Mike’s friend, they went to school together, see each other quite often these days – apparently he always talks about a girl from Austin, no-one could ever compare, he’s tried moving on, done this, done that, but always came back to thinking about the one who got away,” She stops talking to take a drink, “Which sounded oddly familiar to someone else I know.”

She’s not wrong really – Cassie had been a lifeline when you’d moved to D.C. a work colleague turned best friend, who has been the shoulder to cry on whenever dates had gone badly, or even when they’d been good, but you just couldn’t get Marcus Pike off your brain. She told you, like most good friends would, that it would take time, you’d find someone right for you, someone who would take your mind right off Marcus, but it never happened.

“You did this on purpose!” You accuse, but its friendly, because really, her and her soon-to-be husband have only done what you had always wanted to do yourself, pick up the phone, no matter how long it has been and tell the man you still loved him.

“Of course we did,” She chuckles, “Don’t think about it too much,” She adds, “Just enjoy this today and most of all, behave yourself.”

When Cassie walks down the aisle, it’s not her that Marcus is looking at – it’s you. He hadn’t thought it possible for him to find you more beautiful than he had before, but in your dark green dress, slit cut into the fabric to show off one of your legs as you walk, dress cut perfectly to sit on all the curves of your body that he always did love, he can’t deny you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He spends the entire ceremony making eyes at you, smirking when you meet his gaze. He wants to tell you how lovely you look, lean down and plant a kiss to your lips in front of everyone, but he doesn’t get a chance until cocktail hour, once you’ve had your pictures taken and Cassie has insisted on you finally having a drink and enjoying your day instead of flapping about whether she needs anything from you.

“Has anyone told you how beautiful you look today?” He asks, hand settling on your waist as you lean against the bar waiting for your drink.

“Funnily enough, it’s not me most people have been looking at.” You quip back, taking the margarita from the bartender when it’s handed to you.

“I’ve been looking at you.”

“I know,” You smirk, “Pretty sure I ruined my panties stood at the top of the aisle.”

“Because the ceremony moved you so much?”

“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about your face between my thighs, actually.”

He looks exactly like he always used to when you flirt with him like this. Eyes low and dark, mouth slightly ajar like he can’t quite believe you’ve just been so forward. He’s not thinking straight anymore, and much like he had done last night, he grips around your wrist and starts dragging you from the reception room, this time there are considerably more people so you manage to slip out unnoticed.

Instead of heading up the stairs, taking you to your room or his, he turns left down a hallway, tearing open the door to one of the bathrooms. It’s a single stall, lock clicking behind him. You press your back against the wall, setting your drink down on the sink.

Marcus takes three steps towards you, hand slipping around your waist, pulling you flush against his body, lips so close that you can feel his breath on your skin.

“Do you know how sinful you’ve looked all day?” He asks, “Walking around looking all innocent, but I know you’ve been begging to get fucked all day, haven’t you?” You whine at him in response, trying to chase his mouth as he pulls back, “Don’t think I didn’t see you rubbing your thighs together during the ceremony.”

“It’s only because you wouldn’t stop looking at me.”

His hand finds the skin of your thigh, the slit of your dress making it easy for him to trail up to the hem of your panties.

“If I put my fingers on you,” He breathes, “Will you be wet?”

“Why don’t you find out?” You cock your head to the side, biting your lip as you look at him, his hand pulling your panties to the side, thick fingers slipping between your folds.

“Baby,” He moans, finally taking your bottom lip between his, nipping your skin with his teeth a little before he pulls away, fingers slipping inside you, pulling a groan from your throat, “Soaked for me?”

“Always, Marcus.”

He drags his fingers from you, spins you around, and reaches down to bring your palms up to rest against the wall in front you. He puts his hands on your hips, dragging your ass backwards until you can feel him through his trousers. His hands shuck your dress up to your waist and instead of tearing your panties off, he pushes them to the side. You look over your shoulder at him, as much as you can, and watch as he undoes his belt, pulls the zipper of his trousers down and reaches in, pulling his cock out. His trousers are pushed down just enough to let him free himself, and you don’t think you’ve seen such a beautiful sight in your life, than Marcus Pike with his fist around his cock, running his hand up and down himself as he moves to nudge the head of his cock at your soaked core.

Unlike last night, he isn’t gentle when he pushes into you. He’s buried inside your cunt in seconds, setting a pace that punches the air from your lungs. You know that even though you’re locked in here, away from the party, there’s still every chance someone is going to walk past, try the door handle, and hear exactly what’s going on in here, so you’re trying your best to keep the noise to a minimum.

“Needed you so badly, baby,” Marcus chokes out behind you, hands gripping your hips hard enough that you’re sure you’ll have his fingerprints embedded onto your skin, “Always so pretty for me, aren’t you?”

He’s hitting that sweet spot inside you, over and over again, and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out. You feel one of his hands trail up your spine through the material of your dress, coming to rest with a grip around the nape of your neck, his fingers itching to slide up into your hair and grip it.

“You can’t,” You plead, “Don’t mess my hair up.”

“I won’t baby.” He pants out from behind you, trailing his hand down just a little so he’s not tempted to take a fistful of it to pull you back, arch you into him even more.

It’s fast and it’s hard, everything Marcus never really used to be. He liked to take his time, spread you out and have you crying for him before he slipped inside you, slowly, watching every contort of pleasure on your face. You think you like this new version of him, the one so desperate to have you he couldn’t make it up the stairs, couldn’t even pull your panties down your legs.

“Marcus,” You moan out, “Please.”

“What’s that, baby?” He asked, mouth right by your ear, “You begging for something?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“What do you want?”

“Make me come?”

You think maybe he might try and tease you some more, but mercifully he takes the hand he’s got resting on your hip and snakes it down your body, letting his fingers find your clit - he had always been good at that. He drags the gathered slick where he can, cock still moving into you, pulling whimpers and moans whenever you feel his skin slap against yours, circles your clit quickly with the pad of his finger. You can feel your walls tightening around him, your thighs starting to shake as he continues doing exactly what he’s doing.

It’s no secret to either of you that making you come always took time. He’d never shamed you for it, always been more than happy to do whatever it took, for as long as it took, to get you there. But the mix of desperation for him, elation that he’s waltzed right back into your life, and the fact he’s fucking you in a public bathroom, have that coil tightening inside you quicker than ever.

“Can feel you getting tight around me baby,” He groans into your ear, “You gonna let go for me?”

You don’t have time to tell him yes. The tight coil snaps inside you, your eyes closed so tightly you’re sure the make-up around your eyes is dragging down your cheeks on tears. You can keep your voice down now as you flutter around his cock, you cry out his name, feeling his hands holding onto your hips to keep you steady as your legs threaten to fall out from underneath you.

You’re only half aware of him speaking into your ear, telling you he’s close. You can feel him start to pull himself out of you, so you reach behind you quickly, fingernails digging into the part of his thigh you can reach to keep him inside you.

“I swear to god if you get cum on my dress Pike, I’ll kill you.”

He lets out a deep, throaty chuckle behind you, slams himself back into you, “You just want an excuse for me to come inside you, don’t you?” He hisses into your ear, teeth nipping at the skin behind your ear, “You just have to ask nicely for it.”

“Please, Marcus, please.”

Never one to deny you, he does, having held out as long as he could, he thrusts once, twice and then he’s moaning your name into your ear. You can feel him spilling inside of you, filling you up, then you can feel him dripping down your thigh when Marcus starts pulling away from you, not quite quick enough to put your panties back on. He tells you to keep still, fumbling behind him for some paper he can use to clean your thighs up.

He speaks to you as he lets the material of your dress fall back down over your legs, “Walking around full of me for the rest of the night.” He coos as you turn around, reaching out to pull his mouth to yours in a chaste kiss.

You stay like that for a moment, both attempting to fix the others clothes. Marcus brings his thumb to his mouth, letting his tongue jut out to wet it, before he drags it under your eye, getting rid of the worst of the black marks he’s caused.

You reach behind him, unlock the door, but take hold of his hand as you push the door open. Thankfully there’s no-one waiting outside to use the bathroom as you drag him back down towards the party.

It’s late. Or early depending on how you look at it. Marcus had dragged you from the dance floor at midnight, walked you slowly up to his room instead of yours. He’d helped you out of your dress, let you shower and wash yourself clean, then, before you could put your robe on and insist on going to sleep, he’d taken your hand, led you to the chair near the balcony doors and he’d made good on his promise of last night to spend hours with his face between your legs.

“I can’t,” You whine, Marcus hand’s pinning your legs open, his tongue flicking against your clit, “It’s too much.”

He pulls off you just enough to speak, “Believe in yourself baby,” He says, sinking two fingers into you, curling them upwards, “I know you can, just one more for me.”

Your whole body feels like its on fire. You’ve lost count of the amount of times he’s made you come tonight. There had been a small reprieve when you’d begged to suck his cock, Marcus obliging, painting your face and your tongue, before he settled right back to his knees. It’s almost as if he thinks if he stops you’ll disappear.

Your fingers are tangled in his hair, battling between tugging his face closer and pulling it away as he sucks your clit into his mouth, the added pressure along with the flicking of his tongue setting your skin on fire even more than before. Your hair is sticking to your forehead and the back of your neck, rivulets of sweat gathering at various points across your body as Marcus tips you over the edge once more.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, body feeling boneless as your whole body convulses at his touch. Almost like he knows, he pulls himself away from you gently, knowing that any more would be too much, saving you the need to beg him to stop. He presses soft kisses to the skin of your tummy, kissing up your body until he’s sitting up on his knees, kissing into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on him.

Marcus clambers to his feet, takes hold of your hand and pulls you to your feet, guiding you over to the bed to settle you under the sheets, the air peppering your sweaty skin with goosebumps. It’s a sad realisation that you have to go home tomorrow, that the bubble you’ve caught yourself up in over the past few days is about to burst. You think this might break your heart even more than the first time around.

“What are we going to do?” You ask against the skin of his chest as he pulls you into him.

“What do you mean?” He asks back, kiss pressed lightly to your forehead.

“With us, after this?” Your fingers are tracing over his skin, trying to map the feeling of him before he leaves.

“Well, I thought maybe we could go for dinner sometime?”

You look up at him, face contorted in confusion, “You’re going to come all the way from Austin to take me for dinner?”

“No baby,” He chuckles a little, “I don’t live in Austin anymore, I live in D.C.”

You push yourself up in bed, one hand on the mattress to keep yourself upright, looking down at Marcus, who reaches up to cup your cheek in his hand, thumb rubbing soft lines across your skin, “Since when?”

“Two years?” He offers, “I would have-” He trails off a little, “I would have told you but I wasn’t in a great place when I first moved, had no idea what your life would have even looked like either, I didn’t just want to turn up out of the blue if you’d moved on, found someone else.”

Your hand comes up to clutch at the wrist of the arm cradling your face, “I’ve waited so long for you,” You sigh, “I tried, tried to find someone else, but none of them were ever you Marcus.”

“I tried too,” He admits, because Lord knows he did, and for what? “I promise I’ll tell you everything one day, but right now, I want to fall asleep with you right here.”

You settle back down in bed, curling up against his side, arm draped over his waist, “Where in the city do you live?” You ask, sleep starting to make your eyes heavy.

“I’m on 4th street, in Petworth.”

You can’t help but laugh, because of course he fucking does. Marcus Pike has been living four streets over from you for the past two fucking years.

“You’ve been living four streets over from me for two years, Marcus.”

He runs his hands up and down your spine, gently, soothing you, “Well, that’s convenient, isn’t it?” He asks softly, “I can be at your front door in five minutes.”

“You want to be my booty call, Marcus Pike?”

“If that’s what you want,” He speaks, “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“What are you doing Wednesday night?”

“Nothing, as far as I’m aware.”

“How about you take me on a first date?” You offer, “Let’s learn each other all over again and take things from there?”

Marcus colts your chin up to his face with a finger, leaning down and giving you the softest kiss you think you’ve ever received, “I would love nothing more.”

#Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike Smut #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #marcus pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x F!reader #Marcus Pike fic #Marcus Pike fanfic #the mentalist #the mental illness is winning #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #Pedro pascal #marcus pike fluff #Marcus Pike angst #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal #Marcus Pike The mentalist

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spliqi · 1 month ago

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spliqiii hi!! i remember seeing you talk about a theory regarding higuchi's ability and i was thinking about that now. with innocent purposes. so i wanted to ask if you can redirect me to the posts you made about it? (and/or elaborate when you answer this ask!) no pressure of course <3

aaaa hello!!! here are the main posts i made about it. but i can absolutely just explain everything again because i love to yap and i have even more thoughts on this now than i did back then

it's difficult to say for certain what her ability could be since we know literally nothing except that she has/will have one (thanks to asagiri's vagueposting on twitter). in my opinion it would be pretty strange for her to be the one exception to the 'all authors have cool abilities based on their works' rule when she's such a recognized figure in japanese modern lit. so. here's where i fell down a rabbit hole of trying to figure it out with nothing but crumbs and a dream.

for starters there's a lot of unanswered questions around higuchi. the problems she faces with belonging in the mafia seem normal on the surface but when you look into how highly she's ranked it gets ?????. she leads the command unit with akutagawa, a unit that sits directly below the executives and above the black lizard + the majority of the organization. if she doesn’t bring much to the table as mori and tachihara imply in chapter 14, how did she get so high up? she’s also one of the few characters that report directly to mori himself:

not to mention how she must have joined the mafia fairly recently and reached this position super fast, as her and dazai didn’t recognize each other in chapters 3-4:

she’s presented as a totally ordinary character with "relatable problems", and yet her rank doesn’t match this at all. i could see it if she were on the lower rungs of the mafia, maybe the level of a grunt like oda was, but since she isn’t, all i can think is she must have something that the mafia wants, something valuable enough to make mori look past her poor suitability and give her such a high position working as a bodyguard (bodyguard??????) for one of the strongest characters in the series. and of course the most logical conclusion to draw is that it’s related to her mysterious ability.

i’m assuming it’s not an ultra-powerful fighting skill (as cool as that would be), since that would kind of defeat the purpose of her struggle in chapter 14, and it would be odd in that case for her subordinates to look down on her so much:

plus asagiri denies it outright in this 2019 interview:

after digging around, examining each of her scenes down to the atom and bouncing ideas off of mutuals, i think it would make the most sense for her to have a life support or healing-type ability, especially one that comes with some kind of cost to her own wellbeing. it fits the caring and self-sacrificial nature of her character, and her acting as a "nurse" figure would explain both her connection to mori, a doctor, and also her being assigned to work with the terminally ill akutagawa, despite the seemingly massive gap in their capabilities as mafiosi. if her ability is directly linked to treating his illness it could also give us an explanation as to why it’s been a secret for such a long time, as asgr would have to reach the point in the story where akutagawa's illness is revealed first, and timeline-wise the cruise ship scene where that happened was like. a few days ago lol

we only see her around injured people that she could potentially heal a couple of times, but both of these scenes are interesting. the first is with akutagawa after the cargo ship battle in the first arc:

she reaches out to touch his hand with a little glowy effect, but hesitates when she remembers he doesn’t want her to help him. possibly a touch-activated ability? possibly because she’s conflicted about putting herself at risk when she knows he won’t even appreciate it? this takes place immediately after mori berates her about her worth to the mafia/in comparison to akutagawa, so if she does have a healing ability i imagine it's one she has to use sparingly, to the point that her usefulness is being called into question.

at the end of the chapter he apologizes to her and takes her hand, she starts crying and holds his hand back, and a few chapters later he reappears unscathed and stabbing nathaniel. despite having *checks notes* a broken jaw, a fractured spine and skull, first degree burns from head to toe and being in a coma 😭. which could just be animanga logic. but maybe… just maybe…

the second scene is with mori in cannibalism arc, and this one always gets me bc the direct parallel of higuchi at mori’s side and yosano at fukuzawa’s is wild !?!?!

higuchi and yosano are also both conveniently written out of the plot during the annihilation sequence in 55 minutes, when everybody gets hurt:

so. yeag. it makes sense to me. the healerguchi theory is probably the strongest i've seen for her ability by far lsjdjskjrkrj

i also think this theory links well into the irl author’s work - many of ichiyo's protagonists were "overlooked women" like maids, prostitutes, waitresses etc. if her job does involve her being a nurse to akutagawa you can see the clear nod to ichiyo's stories about vulnerable girls in roles of servitude. plus the concept of her ability physically draining her... dying as a result of caring for someone... (<- guy who's trying so hard not to mention flowers at dusk. and failing):

if higuchi has the ability to transfer her lifespan/life force/whatever based on one of her own characters who died slowly due to her unrequited love for a man with the same name as akutagawa… i fear asagiri’s pen game may have been fire all long

#i'm so sorry ela you probably didn't expect this giant posthfsdhsdgh. i'm Normal i swear #i hope this appeals to your innocent purposes <3 #asks #bsd #higuchi

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godsstrongestangel · 1 year ago

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Astro notes - 2

This post is definitely for my softies and also I'll be talking about positive side of signs I shot in my previous post

The element of your moon sign tells how other feels when they come to you during tough times

Air moons will make u forget about ur problems and lighten up the mood also makes jokes as well they are funny and u will realise things are not that serious :)

Water moons will make u feel seen and heard they will hug u n comfort u, might even cry with u :)

Earth moons will make u feel grounded and calm u will realise things aren't that bad n they can be solved :)

Fire moons are they type to motivate you and encourage with lots of positive words, they might even start speaking some quotes or wise words to fire u up :)

Venusians suns with leo moon are great to get advices if u dont like to do the thinking part they can also save u from making stupid mistakes but dont take advice from them if u r not gonna follow through cuz some yall love askin for advices but end up doin wt u wanted in the first place 😭🤣if they find out be prepared for consequences (yes there are consequences n im not telling which one)

Capricorns moon do give this vibe of being well put together, they might not be emotionally but definitely practically so u can really learn from them when it comes to making rational decisions in life.

Libra suns are great to be weird with infact they will adapt ur personality so if u want another lil u befriend a libra sun

I heard this on a reel long time ago it said that air energy is great because it can transcend but if it is underdeveloped it can become gossipy and vain so all my fellow air placement people must develop their energy

Tips for developing air energy would be - meditating, drawing, journaling ur feelings i.e. writing them down with no filter though these habits are great for everyone but its a must for air signs if u want me to explain why u can tell me I'll do it on another post

Dating an aquarius venus is great because they will give u space and freedom and also they wont loose interest in u unlike other venus signs who might give u space and adventure but will loose interest quickly as well (just make sure u tell ur aqua venus partner that u will be busy for this much time they r just happy with knowing u r theirs n please dont break their trust if u have agreed for monogamy although yall should communicate well with all signs)

Speaking of air venus communication is a must for all of them because speaking and talking is their main way of expressing their emotions

Aquarius venus might not be that possessive with their partners but they can be with their bestfriends

If you find a sagittarius sun who is not that famous it could be because they are not sagittarius dominant

Make out sessions with cancer suns can leave u feeling good (not so sure about sex though) good tip for anyone who might wanna burst into a hookup or smthng

Speaking of hookup ik its unrelated to astrology i think its much better to just make out or do oral/mutual masturbation bcuz sex itself is not that pleasurable,its overrated plus its dangerous on a spiritual level bcuz there is always a risk of soul tie u r not missing out if u dont do penetrating sex trust me on that

Now i mark the end pheww.. Just another day helpin yall with my wise words

#astrology #astronotes #astro observations #astrology observations #aquarius venus #air venus #cancer sun #sagittarius #capricorn moon

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months ago

Note

AITA for making a joke about colors?

(This is in no way going to go the direction you think it will)

I (17F, though I was 16 during the time of this) used to have an online friend (23F) who I was really close with for about a year or two, and we'd talk and roleplay about a lot of stuff. Generally, our interests in most stuff aligned, and it was just great! I felt really happy having someone who would talk to me regularly, and there was a total lack of drama.

But the issue started when I noticed how she was lacking in responses in regards to /my/ ideas that involved /my/ characters, yet sent me really long (and, I'll be honest, stupid and ooc) plot ideas with her own characters. She never seemed to really give me any kind of reaction to my excited rambles about an idea. And I'll mention this here, I have ADHD. It's not like I was constantly spamming her, but whenever I sent ideas, she'd just be like "that's cool" or "do what you want". I really felt like she wasn't contributing to anything unless it was about HER. She'd even send completely horrible ideas like (this is just a random example of MANY things that irritated me) "what if my male human oc had a kid with your vampire oc and had to drink blood to sustain the child but refused to because he's a vegetarian?" And I was just like. Why are you so content with letting a literal baby die for the sake of oooh meat Bad™.

And after a while and a bit of arguments here and there, she also (though she claims it was unintentional) dismissed or put down my interests. We talked about ocs in love, I mentioned the Titanic dancing scene, and she immediately goes "I don't know about that, but Titanic sucked as a movie". I randomly mention that I've got back into Gravity Falls and ask her if she's seen it, and she says "No, and the only things I have was that girl being annoying." I inquire if she knows Captain Underpants, and when she says no, asks if she's interested in getting into it, to which she demands, "What is this about? Are you trying to get me to voice my issues so I can upset you and you can get mad at me?" As if the previous instances of HER putting down MY interests was ME GOADING HER INTO IT! Seriously, I can't even.

There were other issues that are equally as ridiculous and mainly involve me being just slightly childishly naive and her turning it into a Full. Blown. Fucking. Fight. And it wasn't even two-sided! I was never really ever mad. It was literally just her stupid anxiety and overthinking ruining our friendship. She often also tried to express how much she hated herself and demanded things like "am I being manipulative? Am I toxic? Does everyone hate me?" during these times, which was very frustrating, because she WAS being toxic, but due to her depressive tendencies, I couldn't even say that because she'd go off and do something dumb like harm herself. And like... I do believe people start to greatly mature in their late teens, but they ARE still teens. And I was 16. I couldn't understand why someone in their twenties was being more immature and stupid than me!

Anyway, our 2-year-long friendship slipped into the trash bag when one of our mutual friends posted "hi" and she (the Bad friend) replied "hi" with red, white, and blue hearts. Jokingly, I responded, "FRENCH HEARTS!" and she said "Dutch hearts." To which I said, "do u know how many flags r red white and blue".

She messaged another of our friends (who, may I add, is closer to ME and therefore told ME all about THIS HOE'S insane rants) and started raving in all caps about (and I directly quote) "WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE ATTITUDE?!?!" Like, are you kidding me? That's your response to a lighthearted joke? To express dramatics and claim I was being an "asshole"? After I heard she said that to our friend, I blocked her on my main, and she proceeded to block all my accounts from all her accounts. And when she dm'd another of our mutual friends asking, the mutual calmly replied that she had acted immature. And then she had the audacity to go and say "it's actually you being immature because you only listened to one side of the story !!1!1!"

Like, girl, how do you expect me to have sympathy for your "tendencies" and "fear of abandonment" when you're the one pushing people away? I once implied she ought to get diagnosed for autism, because her lack of understanding things and how to not upset people in convos was really upsetting.

Sorry if this is bad. Idk guys. AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole #self harm cw

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moonlit-escape · 4 months ago

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. ☠︎︎.˖⚝๋࣭⭑ֶָ֢♱ Gene Mystreet headcanons !!

my third and final favourite mystreet character. he's so silly i need to beat his ass

5'7.4 (171.2cm)

hispanic

bisexual (it runs in the family. their mom is bi too)

the eyebags aren't just bc he's has a god awful sleep schedule, they're actually hereditary (dante covers his with cucumbers and a skincare routine)

only speaks in spanish when he's losing his shit (arguing, panicking, tripped and scraped his knee on the sidewalk)

god can that boy dance

honestly just really loves cats

he went through a rough patch in uni and it sort of gave him a major wake up call as to just how he was doing and what kind of person he was and wanted to be

he, zenix, and sasha went their separate ways during uni, but tried to keep mostly in touch until eventually coming back together as roomies

god he would have just. the Worst depression meals. bro eats macaroni cheese dust in a glass with milk like it's a fucking nesquik packet. takes apart oreos and eats all the cream off, then puts pieces of ham in between them like theyre goddamn lunchable crackers. makes mayonnaise and jello sandwiches. takis and sweet relish. sasha and zenix have to make sure they come home on time and cook something before he puts whatever fucking concoction he makes into his body.

but he's actually a pretty damn good cook (when he's Not in a depressive episode)

learned to read fairly quickly, so he would always read dante to sleep

HARD gifted kid burnout like my man crashed and burned at 16

but now he's just a silly little nerd

favourite ninja turtle is donatello (mainly bc his fav color is purple)

he likes anime a lot, honestly. especially from 1990 to 2000s

plays mihoyo games. his mains are, respectively; cyno (genshin), jing yuan (hsr), and anton (zenless). This is a meta joke.

piercings,,, pirericngs,,,,, yesssss ,.

typa guy to use kaomoji and cat emoticons and send you cat videos off of youtube

the only social media he has is tumblr and reddit his punkass doesnt fw any other

he'd probably get a tattoo. maybe for his sweet girl, Apple, the poor thing

wants another cat, but he wants to give sasha and zenix no other choice but to let him take one in, so he's up Praying a stray will find him and follow him home

*opens his wallet and an entire roll of dante's baby pictures fall out* "UHM- UH- FWUH- I WAS HOLDING THESE FOR MY MOM-" dante, travis, and aph tear up on the spot

carries an epipen on his person at all times in case of emergencies. it was something he did growing up with dante, just in case the kid had something with peanuts, and it just kinda followed him into adulthood

was never that mean to travis, since he was dante's best friend, but he was never careful around him either, so

him and garroth actually end up being great friends who just spend most of their conversations gushing about mutual interests (their baby brothers, cats, video games) or sassing each other off

no wait bc why would his taste in men absolutely be himbos. (or at least just very sweet, kind-hearted people)

he calls people by specific little terms of endearment, depending on the type of response. that doesnt make sense. let me elaborate.

uses "babe" or "honey" when someone is in distress or upset ("oh, honey,,")

uses "bucko" or "buddy" when someone mouths off at him ("oookay there, buddy." "alright then, bucko.")

you get it now

the type of friend that is Always ready to back you up on your bullshit. absolutely no hesitation

he really didn't have a crush on aph, he was just a Grade A Asshole who thought it was fun to fuck with people

because he was viciously jealous of people who were capable of being happy and having good lives

not that he had a particularly awful, hard life. sure, his family had their struggles, but they were getting by. yes, he has felt like there was something deeply wrong with him that has been present within himself since even before he was born that made most people avoid him like he was on a secret list. but it was fine

he just knew that he had a sick feeling in him, and the only way he'd feel anything else was if he was a mean little asshole

some nights, it did scare him. it frightened him how bitter his tongue always tasted

and all of the time, constantly, buried beneath the feelings of hate, he felt guilt. he felt so, so much guilt. but, his only coping mechanism for when he's feeling bad is to do more bad things, and pretend he's always in the right

and, eventually, he broke. he broke down hard. now, since he's seen that his first plan to get rid of this feeling of skin-deep sin has failed, he's decided to try the other way. to atone

#i learned that pinterest really really likes ein #cw: swearing #mystreet headcanons #gene mystreet #gene aphmau #aphmau mystreet #aphblr #he is. unfortunately. very special to me #why do i have to favour all the abandoned characters.

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cripplecharacters · 9 days ago

Note

so, i'm writing a short story that involves a main character becoming disabled. the story isn't mainly about the disability, it's about the leadup to it.

basically, over the course of the story the two leads develop a mutual, sexual, interest in cannibalism, and decide to perform an at-home amputation of one of their arms in order to consume it. this is an absurd premise, and i am aware of that. i don't take the whole thing too seriously, it's supposed to be absurd, i'm asking a lot of any potential reader to suspend their disbelief for it. it's supposed to be horny but also silly. (the horniness is focused on the cannibalism, not the limb loss.)

i'm also aware this is not the situation for basically any amputee, so it's difficult to ask about similar experiences.

the first half (possibly closer to two-thirds) is told from the perspective of the cannibal, while the latter end switches to the perspective of the... cannibalee? the amputee, in any case. i want to write a little about the experience of losing an arm (specifically below the elbow, if that's helpful at all) while also keeping it absurd and funny and horny, and wrapping it up. because the limb loss is anticipated, i'm planning on having the pair make preparations beforehand, such as the amputee practicing certain tasks one-handed, and buying nonlaced shoes, as well as the cannibal researching the mechanics of, and buying equipment for, amputating an arm at home. they decide to amputate the non-dominant arm, for obvious reasons.

timewise the story is going to end fairly soon after the amputation, on the day they explain to their friends that the amputee was in a car accident, because they obviously cannot be honest about the true nature of the amputation.

my questions include: how much of the story should i dedicate to explaining their experience post-amputation? is it better not to dwell on it for very long? i want to research amputation and amputees so i can portray things as realistically and respectfully as the premise will allow, but i don't want to center the story on the amputation--because as i said before, it's meant to be centered on the cannibalism. part of me also worries the whole thing is horribly offensive, as i myself am not an amputee; i think it would be very different if i were an amputee, and this was a way to explore amputation in a lighter-hearted way, possibly as a coping mechanism. i don't know if it's possible to adjust the story in a way that would make it "less offensive" without abandoning the premise entirely.

any other advice or thoughts are appreciated. this is something i really want to complete and put out there, so i doubt i'll be receptive to opinions that amount to "don't write this"; however, i do apologize for subjecting anyone to reading this ask.

thank you.

Hello, thank you for your ask!

Note we don't have any amputee mods at the moment. If any amputees reading want to share their thoughts feel free.

I'd say don't dwell on the experience of being an amputee, as it makes the story too real. Honestly I'd say this story is as much about amputation as The Substance (2024) is about spinal injury or Barbarian (2022) is about congenial disability, which is to say it isn't. They feature in the story sure, but in such wildly absurd ways it doesn't even register.

You said you don't want to abandon the story premise, but I don't think it can be done respectfully. In the real world I've seen amputees be accused of losing their limb(s) on purpose as a fetish, and this definitely feeds into this trope that gets people harassed and bullied (though the fetish in this case is cannibalism instead of just amputation). I'd say make it as unrealistic as you want, even take out the practicing how to do things one handed. You're not going to be able to makes this respectful, so take a page out of absurdist horror's book and just lean into the absurdism and make it as unrealistic as you want, since making it a more realistic portrayal might actually be more harmful & offensive. The less the story actually becomes about the amputation the better, because that separates it from real world amputees. If you're going to write it no matter what, focus on the horror, gore, hornyness and silliness instead.

Good luck!

Mod Rot

#anonymous #mod rot #long post #tw cannibalism #cannabalism tw #cannibalism #nsft

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lurkingshan · 3 months ago

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Japanese QL Corner

Things are a bit quieter for a beat, with two shows only available to international fans via fan sub (but very much worth your time and patience to track down!) and one airing weekly on Gaga.

Smells Like Green Spirit

This week was not as hard a watch as the premiere, though there are plenty of hints about the traumas to come. Our main focus this week was the blossoming queer friendship between Mishima and Kirino. After Mishima caught Kirino trying on his lipstick, Kirino came out with the reason behind his bullying: deep jealousy of Mishima's effortless femininity and confidence to be himself. Mishima's easy forgiveness and acceptance of Kirino was both touching and a bit alarming. Mishima doesn't exactly have a lot of options for friends, so it makes sense that he would accept Kirino that quickly despite how he's harmed him, but I will always feel sad for a kid who can't find anyone that hasn't hurt them to be close with. Their scenes on the roof together where they could just be themselves were lovely despite that; Kirino seems to be even more femme than Mishima when he feels safe. Meanwhile, the show has started laying groundwork for a romance between Mishima and the other bully, Yumeno, and badness is lurking with teacher Yanagida taking an inappropriate interest in Mishima and maneuvering to get him alone.

Chaser Game W 2

This week Fuyu’s homophobic mom swanned back into town to remind her she’s supposed to be performing heteronormativity. She’s completely insufferable, but Fuyu is also pretty frustrating. This week regressed her even further into a grown ass woman who is unable to do anything but nod meekly at her horrible mother, and gave us a college flashback in which she is a college-age student who talks in a full on baby voice and is so naive she has never heard of lesbianism as a concept. Sure! This mom stuff is the exact same issue that broke them up a decade ago, and despite coming back and declaring her intention to be with Itsuki for real, Fuyu seems no more prepared to face her mother now than she was back then. I’m glad Yeoreum delivered the message (and the slap to the face) that she should stop messing with Itsuki if she’s not serious.

Love is Like a Poison

After some delay caused by tomfoolery, the fourth episode has been made available to international fans! Always give thanks and respect to fan subbers for all they put up with to help us watch these shows. We got another great episode this week, with Shiba reeling from Haruto's confession and arguing with his succulents and himself about whether the feeling is mutual while Haruto works a new mark whose clinginess is sending Shiba into conniptions. Also, a shoutout to my favorite holiday! Of course Haruto loves the fall season and Halloween in particular, that man has excellent taste. This show is so fun to watch; my only regret every week is that it's over too soon.

#japanese ql corner #smells like green spirit #love is like a poison #doku koi: doku mo sugireba koi to naru #chaser game w #japanese bl #japanese gl #shan shouts into the void

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m1ckeyb3rry · 8 months ago

Text

── PEREGRINE // ONE

Series Synopsis: The ways that you and Seishiro Nagi fall together and fall apart over the years.

Chapter Synopsis: You wrap up your affairs before flying over to your hometown, where your best friend will soon have his wedding.

Series Masterlist

Pairing(s): Nagi x Reader, Kira x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.2k

Content Warnings: unhealthy relationships, cheating, non-linear narrative, probably ooc, angst, nagi is endgame, kira sucks, alternate universe, original characters

A/N: you know it’s a m1ckeyb3rry fic when the main love interest doesn’t even show up for the first few chapters…also please note this is NOT THE FIRST CHAPTER of the story there is a prologue before it!! which gives a lot of necessary background so you’re not (as) confused by the plot

divider credits: @/benkeibear

“Sora,” you cooed at your cat, your torso jammed beneath the bed as you tried to pull her out. “Dearest Sora, please don’t make this so difficult.”

“I told you you should’ve gotten rid of her when you had the chance,” Ryosuke said from where he was folding clothes to put in his suitcase. “Honestly, I don’t get why you insist on keeping her around. All she does is shit in the house and make problems.”

“She uses her litter box like a good girl, and she doesn’t cause trouble on purpose,” you said. “She’s an animal, not a person. She’s not capable of malicious intent.”

“Whatever. All I’m saying is that things would be a lot easier if you had just left her at the shelter when you moved in with me,” he said.

“I’ve had her for years,” you said, finally getting a grasp on her body and yanking her out in one swift move. “She’s a part of my family. I don’t know why you’re so determined to hate her.”

“She hates me, too!” he said. True to form, Sora hissed at him as you walked past, her ears flattening to show the disdain she had always held for him. “And you always take her side. It’s like you like her more than me!”

You rolled your eyes. “She’s a cat. You’re jealous of a cat.”

And you’re the one who’s cheating, anyways. You left this second part unsaid, because it wasn’t really relevant to the conversation, and besides, you had done such a good job at maintaining the facade of normalcy in your relationship that it would be a waste to break it just because he was annoying you.

That didn’t stop you from scowling at him when his back was turned, pressing a kiss atop Sora’s head and smiling when she purred at the show of affection — or was it because you were in the kitchen and near to her container of treats on the counter that she was so pleased?

“I’m not sure what to do with you,” you admitted, scratching under her chin with one hand and opening the jar with the other, offering her half of a treat as a consolation for having ripped her so uncaringly from her hiding place. She accepted it daintily, which meant that all was forgiven, and you stroked her in appreciation.

She was an enormous, fluffy white cat, closer in size to a small dog than anything. Her eyes were a wide, endless blue, hence why you had named her Sora, and her fur felt like cotton when you ran your hands through it. You had had her for almost as long as you had been in America, and you thought that there was almost no one in the entire vapid country who you loved more.

Normally, if you and Ryosuke had to go somewhere, you’d drop Sora off at Chigiri’s. She liked him well enough, and he was typically glad for the company, so it was a mutually beneficial deal. But of course, this time, Chigiri would also be away, as he was attending the same wedding that you and Ryosuke were, which meant that you were somewhat out of luck.

Sora dangled limply in your arms like a heap of rags as you paced about the kitchen, trying and failing to come up with someone who could take care of her while you were gone. Finally giving up when you realized that Chigiri had been right, you really did need more friends, you picked up your phone and called the man in question.

“Yo,” he said, answering almost immediately, though you could hear the shower running in the background, which meant he was either about to get into the bath or had gotten out for the express purpose of answering you. Either way, you decided not to hold him up with useless pleasantries.

“Hey, Chigiri,” you said. “I heard you’re going to Reo and May’s wedding?”

“Yeah, I’m between jobs again, so it’s not like I need to take off work or anything,” he said.

“Again?” you said, your resolve to have a quick conversation shattering almost immediately. The sound of water stopped, which meant that he, too, sensed the call was probably not going to be a short one.

“Tell me about it. I can only land short-term gigs at the moment,” he said.

“Maybe you should just move away from trying to coach entirely,” you suggested. “You were a marketing major, right? You could probably go corporate.”

“I know, but I don’t think I’m that desperate yet. I’m sure something or another will come along. The issue is that no high-level team wants a coach who hasn’t played in years, but those high-level gigs are the ones that are much steadier in terms of pay and schedule,” he said.

“I’d want you as a coach,” you said loyally. “If I was a soccer player.”

“You’d be a shitty soccer player. I don’t even think my coaching could change that fact,” he said.

“You’re so mean to me,” you said.

“Someone has to do it,” he said.

“And there I was, trying to support you,” you said. “On a more serious note, though, any team that doesn’t hire you just because of what happened back then is stupid.”

“Oh, I agree completely, but try telling them that. It’s all ‘sorry, but we want a coach that has a little more experience.’ I have experience! The only reason our school ever won games was because of me, even after I stopped being able to play myself. It’s not like that dumbass coach ever did anything for us beyond praising your peacock bastard fiancé,” he said

“Exactly,” you said, though you had no idea how true this was, as according to Ryosuke, he had been the one to carry the team to victory. The roles Chigiri might’ve had to play in their victories, if any, had always been omitted.

“Ugh, it’s fine. Like I said, I’m sure there’s some youth league that’ll take me on next season, so it’s okay. I’ll work it out, like I always do,”he said.

“Let me know if you need help at any point,” you said.

“Always,” he said.

“In the meantime, uh, I actually need your help,” you said.

“Right, I was wondering why you had called,” he said.

“The thing is that I don’t have anyone else I can leave Sora with, so I was going to pay one of my company’s interns to watch her while we’re gone,” you said.

“Aw, make sure you pick someone gentle. She’s very particular,” he said.

“You know, she is my cat,” you said.

“Just reminding you!” he said.

“I think I know who I’m going to ask already, so as long as he agrees to it, it’ll be fine,” you said.

“Okay, so what’s my place in all of this?” he said.

“Ryosuke and I have to go over a little earlier, since I’m the maid of honor, so I was wondering if you’d be alright with watching her until you have to leave?” you said.

“Why, because you don’t have to pay me?” he said.

“I can, if you want,” you said. “It’s just so she can be somewhere she’s comfortable, since she’s never met this kid before.”

“I was just joking, don’t worry about it. Drop her off whenever,” he said.

“You’re the best,” you said.

“Yup,” he agreed. “Now, I was kind of in the middle of something, so…”

“Oops, right, go enjoy your shower,” you said.

“Wait, how’d you know I was showering?”

Although there were several interns working for your company at any given time, you generally paid little attention to most of them. You were too busy with your own work and life to care about their struggles, so beyond giving them advice when they asked and helping them out when you didn’t have to go out of your way to, you didn’t interact with them much.

There was one boy, though, who had caught your eye. Something about his aloof personality and quiet demeanor reminded you of a person you had known back in high school, and you had unofficially adopted him, though you weren’t sure if he was exactly aware of this fact.

Actually, he was definitely unaware, considering the way he all but jumped out of his skin when you sat across from him in the lunchroom.

“Hey, Niko,” you said brightly. His dark hair covered his eyes, so you couldn’t read his reaction, but if you had to guess, it was probably panic. If you were in his place, that was what you’d be feeling, considering it wasn’t exactly typical of the regular employees to hang out with the students.

“Um, hello, Miss L/N,” he said, somehow managing to keep his voice level. “Am I in trouble or something?”

“No,” you said. “I just need you to do me a favor.”

He got out of his seat immediately, pulling out his phone from his pocket and opening the notes app. You furrowed your brow as he tapped his foot expectantly.

“Well? What’s your coffee order? And which shop do you want me to get it from? I accidentally went to Starbucks the other day to get a latte for the director and he freaked out about it,” he said.

“Oh! He thinks Starbucks makes their coffee too sweet, that’s probably why,” you said.

“I learned that the hard way,” he said.

“Yikes, I’m sure that was not a fun conversation,” you said. “But that’s unimportant. I don’t need coffee, and you don’t have to say yes to this or anything. I guess you can consider it to be more of a request from a friend — although I promise I will pay you!”

“Okay,” Niko said hesitantly.

“I’ll just lay it on you,” you said.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“I’m going abroad for a wedding soon, and I need someone to watch my cat,” you said. “She’s very well-behaved and friendly! Honestly, she’ll just sit with you on the couch the whole time, I’m sure. I’ll give you her food and everything, and like I said, I’ll pay you, so how about it?”

For the first time, he looked up at you, his hair falling out of his face and revealing bright, shimmering eyes. He clasped his hands together, a smile threatening to dawn upon his face, and then it was your turn to grow bewildered by the sudden switch in his personality.

“Yes!” he said. “I’d even do it for free, Miss L/N.”

“Woah, are you a cat enthusiast or something? And none of that; of course I’m going to pay, or else it’d just feel like I’m taking advantage of some poor intern,” you said.

“I really like them,” he said. “I’ve had one my whole life, but my house is a three hour drive from campus, so I haven’t gotten to see her much since graduating high school. I really miss hanging out with her, though, so it’ll be nice to have a cat around, even if it’s only for a little while.”

“Perfect!” you said, cheering internally at how well things had worked out. “She’ll be staying with a friend of mine, so if you’ll give me your number, I’ll send it to him so you can coordinate picking her up at some point.”

“Sure,” he said, giving you his phone so you could type his number into your own. “What’s your friend’s name?”

“Hyoma Chigiri,” you said. Niko’s jaw dropped.

“Hyoma Chigiri?” he whispered. “You’re friends with him?”

“Do you know him or something?” you said, handing him his phone back. Niko shook his head.

“Not personally, but I remember reading about what happened to him,” he said. “It’s one of the reasons my parents convinced me to stop playing soccer.”

“Ah, maybe don’t mention it around him,” you said. “He’s doing fine now, but he still doesn’t like talking about it.”

“That’s understandable,” Niko said. “My lips are sealed. I just can’t believe I’m going to have Hyoma Chigiri’s number in my phone!”

“Feel free to act like a fan all you want,” you said, after the initial strangeness of meeting someone still so obsessed with Chigiri had passed. “He really appreciates it when people praise him. Though, you probably shouldn’t spam him or anything.”

“I’ll be just as responsible with his phone number as I will with your cat. Thank you for entrusting me with this, Miss L/N! I promise I won’t let you down,” he said.

“I know you won’t,” you said. “And, to be fair, it’s not really a difficult task. Just sit at home and watch TV a lot and be kind with her; if you can do that, then Sora will be perfectly content.”

“That’s what I’d do anyways,” he said.

“Great,” you said. “Now I can feel even less like I’m taking advantage of some poor intern.”

“Thank you again for your faith in me!” he said when you reached your office, bowing at you as if you were some kind of sage master that had offered him a great opportunity for personal growth.

At least he was taking it seriously. You thanked whatever deity had intervened on your behalf that you had found the one person within a ten-mile radius who would care for Sora as well as you or Chigiri would.

Unlike Ryosuke, you barely packed anything but the most basic of items. This was because you knew full well that the minute you stepped foot on Japanese soil, you would be dragged into Reo’s arms, whereupon he would force you into his car and take you shopping at the closest luxury mall — on his card, of course. He was prone to such acts when it came to you, mostly because you were one of the first true friends he had ever had, and so he tended to spoil you as if you were his baby sister or something.

“How can you be sure that Reo’s going to get you everything you need?” Ryosuke said, eyeing the suitcase you lifted into the trunk of the car. “It’s been a pretty long time since you saw him last. He’s probably matured a ton since then — I mean, he’s getting married! What kind of wife would be okay with her husband doting on some random girl?”

“For one, I’m not some random girl; I’ve known May longer than Reo has, and I’m also the one who introduced them to one another. She knows there’s nothing between us, so there would be no reason for her to not be okay with it. Secondly, I’ve been friends with Reo for so long that he’s more like a weird cousin of mine than anything. The Mikages look after their own, and it just so happens that I am, by proxy, one of them. So I can be reasonably confident that it’ll work out in that way,” you said.

“Don’t you feel bad, then?” he said. “You’re using your best friend for his money.”

“You’re so determined to find fault with our relationship,” you said. “It’s not like that. Everyone has different ways to show affection for the people they care about. It just so happens that Reo’s so wealthy that that kind of thing is his own personal manner.”

Ryosuke scoffed, pressing the button to turn on the ignition and starting the car without another word, prompting a worried mewl from Sora, whose carrier was currently on your lap. You tapped the side to remind her that you were still there with her, and she quieted at that.

“Don’t forget that we have to go to Chigiri’s first,” you said.

“Yes, yes, we’ll stop by your lover’s house,” Ryosuke said. At your surprised expression, he laughed. “What? You’re always with him or at his place. Any normal person would suspect it.”

There were a million things you could say in response, but the least-inflammatory was a repetition of the same thing you had been telling him since the day the two of you got together.

“You know I’ve never been with anyone but you,” you said.

“Of course,” he said. “I guess that’s true. No matter how many people you sleep with now, you can never change the fact that I was the first.”

“Hm,” you said, staring out of the window and speaking to his reflection instead of facing him properly. “Don’t be crude.”

“Come on, it’s just us two. When else can we make these kinds of jokes?” he said.

“You didn’t seem like you were joking,” you noted.

“Y/N, I’m hurt. You thought I was being serious? I mean, did you really think that I believed for a second that anyone preferred that washed up princess’s company to mine?” he said, stalling the car in the driveway and grinning. “Tell him I said hi.”

“You and I both know that’ll accomplish nothing,” you said, slinging the bag of Sora’s things over your shoulder and gripping the handle of her carrier so tightly that your knuckles whitened. “I’ll be back soon. No point in missing our flight.”

“I’ll be here,” Ryosuke said, waving at you as he began to fiddle with the knobs on the car’s dashboard, evidently trying to decide whether he wanted the radio to play classical music or the latest episode of some talk show.

You rang the doorbell and then stepped back, knowing it might take Chigiri a second to get to the door depending on where in the house he was located. Luckily, he had been expecting your arrival, so by the time your arm began to grow numb from holding Sora’s carrier, he was opening the door and inviting you in.

“Thank you again for doing this,” you said, setting the carrier down with a thump and massaging your shoulder. Chigiri crouched gingerly, unzipping the opening to the carrier and allowing Sora to peek her head out. When she realized where she was, she bounded out, rubbing her head against Chigiri’s legs as he breathed out a laugh and rubbed her face with his hands.

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “It’s nice having someone else in the house. Less lonely.”

Your face softened, and if it weren’t for Ryosuke’s presence looming in the driveway, you’d have leaned over and hugged him. But as it was, your fiancé was waiting, and if you lingered for much longer, you risked missing your flight.

“You have Niko’s number?” you said.

“Yeah. He’s kind of a weird kid,” Chigiri said.

“What do you mean?” you said.

“He keeps telling me that he thinks I’m cool and that he can’t believe he’s texting me,” Chigiri said, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. “So strange.”

At this, you smiled, vowing to text Niko and thank him later. His admiration was exactly the boost Chigiri needed when he was so down on his luck, and though he was pretending like he found it odd, it was obvious he was pleased by the attention.

“As long as he can take care of Sora,” you said. Chigiri nodded in determination.

“I’m sure he can. He obviously has good taste in other things, so it stands to reason that he’d be the kind of person who could really look out for her in the way she’s used to,” he said.

“You would be the first to die in a horror movie,” you said. “Did you know that?”

“What? Why would you say such a thing?” he said.

“Never mind,” you said. “I should go. Ryosuke’s in the car, and our flight is soon.”

Chigiri wrinkled his nose, his whole delicate face crumpling at the mention of your fiancé.

“I thought something felt off about the property,” he said.

“You are so dramatic,” you said. “He says hi.”

“Tell him I said fuck off,” Chigiri said.

“I don’t think — actually, sure,” you said. “I’ll do that. See you at the wedding. And Sora, please be a good girl for Chigiri and Niko alike.”

“She will be,” Chigiri said affectionately. Sora had wriggled her way into his arms, and he stood while hugging her to his chest, ready to shut the door behind you. “See you, Y/N.”

You were reluctant to leave, because it would be so easy to stay and talk with Chigiri while playing with Sora, but you knew you had to. Even that knowledge, though, was hardly enough — it was simply the thought of seeing Reo and May again that made you take the next step, and the next, all of the way until you were back in the passenger seat of the car and Ryosuke was reversing the car down the driveway.

“So, how is my beloved teammate?” Ryosuke said. “Did he leave you with a message for me?”

“Yes,” you said. “He told me to tell you to fuck off.”

Ryosuke chuckled. “Sounds about right. He’s always been a petty son of a—”

“Ryosuke,” you sighed. “Do you really get any gain out of insulting the only friend I have left in this country?”

“It’s the same gain he gets out of insulting your fiancé!” he said.

“Which I always reprimand him for,” you said. “And also, he at least has something resembling a reason to resent you. When you do it, it just feels excessive.”

“You defend me to him?” he said.

“Obviously?” you said. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I suddenly feel very cheerful and optimistic,” he observed.

“What are you talking about?” you said. He waved you off.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It was a personal musing. Think of it like an interjection from the narrator, except that in this case, the narrator and the protagonist are the same.”

“Okay,” you said. “Sure. If that’s what makes sense to you.”

The two of you spent the rest of the drive to the airport in relative silence. Ryosuke hummed along to whatever pop song came on the radio, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove, and you texted your friends — mostly Reo and May, who had been anxiously waiting for your arrival since you had agreed to come at all.

When you had first started dating, you used to go on aimless drives for hours, talking about whatever crossed your mind. Not a second would go by without one of you speaking, but that kind of constant conversation wasn’t sustainable. Eventually, you both ran out of things to say, and so you began to spend more and more of your time together in silence. That was around the time that Ryosuke began to seek outside assistance in quelling the fire which was constantly blazing within him; whether it was a coincidence or a cause, you could not tell, but it remained that everything had happened at once and led to your relationship now being like this.

You always forgot how long the flight back to Japan was. It was the second reason you never visited, beyond the fact that there was hardly anything worth visiting in the first place — it was a day-long ordeal composed of arguing with the TSA agents, waiting in security lines, and of course the flight itself, which was only marginally bearable because Reo insisted on buying you first-class tickets.

You spent most of it dozing, the armrest between you and Ryosuke pushed up so you could lean your head against his chest as he watched a movie. In the haze of your sleep, you could feel his arm wrapping around your shoulders, his fingers idly stroking your cheek as if that were the natural outcome, as if there was no other place that they could come to rest. It was the easiest that things had ever been between you in some time, and subconsciously, you relished in it, in the soft scent of his cologne, in the warmth of pretending like you were loved by someone again.

Reo had told you, in no uncertain terms, to not even attempt going to the baggage claim. He had contacts in the airport who would take care of it, because of course he did, and so the only thing you and Ryosuke had to do was meet him and May at the gate. You stopped in the bathroom, mostly at your insistence, so that you could freshen yourself after the long flight, which had sapped you of most of your energy despite how much of it you had spent sleeping.

“Are you nervous?” Ryosuke said as you reached the door. He held both of your carry-on bags in his hands, an amused grin on his face as you all but vibrated with every step you took.

“Of course,” you said. “I haven’t seen them in so long, and I haven’t been back home in that same amount of time. I don’t know how it’s all changed. And what if it hasn’t? What if the only one who’s changed is me?”

“Only one way to find out,” he said, nudging you in the side. “Look who it is.”

Standing awkwardly by the metal barrier separating the airport from the street in front of it, surrounded by security guards that kept the rest of the crowds at bay, was Reo Mikage. He wore a pair of khaki shorts and a polo, sunglasses perched on his head as he checked the time on the — likely expensive — watch which he wore on his left wrist.

A grin split your face, your spirit rejuvenated as surely as if you had never been exhausted in the first place. Cupping your hands around your mouth to amplify your voice, you shouted out his name with glee.

“Reo!”

The boredom dropped from his expression immediately as his head snapped up, trying to determine the source of the noise. When he locked eyes with you, he beamed so brightly that you were all but blinded by it, and then you were both racing towards the opening in the barricade where you could finally meet.

You tossed your arms around his neck as soon as you could reach him, clinging onto him tightly, suddenly and unreasonably weepy at the fact that the two of you had finally been reunited. He did the same, squeezing you to the point that you thought you might burst from the pressure.

“I can’t believe you’re finally back,” he said, letting you go and holding you at an arm’s length so that he could look you over with a critical eye. “How have you been?”

“Good,” you said. “Where’s May?”

“She had to go to the bathroom,” he said. “She should be back in a couple of seconds, and she’ll probably be furious, too, considering she was really hoping she’d spot you first. I convinced her that it would be fine for her to take a moment to herself, and that it’d probably still be a bit of time before you arrived, but, uh, I guess it ended up being kind of an unfortunate coincidence in that sense.”

“What’s up, man? Congrats on the wedding,” Ryosuke said, finally catching up to you and offering Reo his hand. Reo glanced at it, and anyone who didn’t know him as well as you did wouldn’t have even noticed the way he hesitated before taking it and shaking it with the firm conviction of a businessman.

“Thanks, Kira,” he said. “You’ve been taking care of my best friend?”

“’Course I have been,” Ryosuke said, ruffling your hair. You did your best to force a laugh, not wanting Reo to have to concern himself with your wellbeing when he was about to be married. “You’ll be the one coming back to America for our wedding soon.”

“That so?” Reo said, raising an eyebrow at you. “I expect to be the first one invited to the wedding, then.”

“Was I the first one invited to yours?” you shot back.

“Er, I mean, not exactly…” Reo said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had to tell Nagi first, since I wanted him to be my best man and had to give him adequate time to prepare for the hassle of the role.”

“Then I’ll invite May first, since she’ll naturally be my maid of honor,” you said, your stomach twisting at the mention of Nagi. “But you can be second, Reo.”

“That’s right!” a new voice said. “He had better be second, considering he sent me to the bathroom so that he could win our bet!”

And then there she was in front of you: Reo’s soon-to-be wife and your former roommate, May Ducat. Her thick brown hair was loose and wavy around her shoulders, and her peacock-feather eyes gleamed as she embraced you tightly.

“May,” you said. “It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you!” she said. “I miss you every day. Mostly because you were a much better roommate than this one. He snores.”

“Hey!” Reo said, gasping in offense. “I do not.”

You dug around in your pocket before solemnly presenting her with a box of breathe-right strips.

“I know,” you said. May clapped in delight, accepting them and then turning to hand them to Reo, who took them even as he protested that he definitely didn’t need them and how would Y/N even know if I snore, anyways?

“Congratulations, May,” Ryosuke said, offering her his hand as well. May glanced at but did not accept it, opting to smile frigidly instead.

“Thank you for coming,” she said. After a discomfiting pause, Ryosuke lowered his hand, brushing it off against his pants and clearing his throat.

“I couldn’t let Y/N come alone,” he said.

“Of course not,” she said.

“It’ll be my first time meeting her parents,” he said. At this, May gave you a sad look. Though you had never told her much, she had always harbored her suspicions, always been less fond of Ryosuke than she really ought to be, considering he was typically polite to her.

“I hope it goes well,” she said. Ever the diplomat, Reo was the first to break the ensuing silence, clearing his throat.

“Alright, then! I’ll have one of my drivers take you two to your hotel room, where your things will be waiting, and then tonight, we can show you around. Y/N, they just built a new mall where that park used to be, so we can go shopping there,” he said.

“They built a mall over the park?” you said, your eyes widening at the prospect. Reo nodded.

“Isn’t it great? It’s so much more convenient than the one we used to go to,” he said. You disguised your frown with a yawn.

“Right,” you said.

“Try not to sleep,” May advised. “It’ll help you break your jet lag if you just stay up for as long as you can.”

“We’ll do our best,” Ryosuke said. May gave him a measured look before nodding slightly, turning away to continue her conversation with Reo instead of risking further discussion with your fiancé.

The hotel you were staying in was only a few streets down from your childhood home, and as with all things Reo, it was excessively opulent. The shower itself was large enough to fit at least ten people, and you spent far longer in it than was really necessary, rinsing the grime of your journey off of yourself.

“Going to sleep already?” Ryosuke said when you crawled under the covers of the bed beside him. “May recommended we wait.”

“I know,” you said with a yawn. “I’m just going to lie down and close my eyes. I’m not actually going to sleep or anything.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, patting you on the head. “I’ll do the same, then.”

Before long, the both of you had passed out.

#nagi x reader #nagi x y/n #nagi x you #nagi seishiro #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #modern au #peregrine #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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