#this doesn't excuse his choice of words its just an observation

[classiccvnt]

One of my favorite things about Lestat is that no matter his mood, he will act defiant. Even when complying. The verbal agreement you'll get will be said with insult attached. Even when in deep mourning. The vulnerability will be shown with a snarky remark.

This makes his rare acts of complete earnest all the more satisfying.

[discordiansamba]

Azula visits him in his cell.

He knows she's coming before she arrives. He can hear the guards at the door try and dissuade her. His sister snaps at them, angry. How dare they stand in her way, when she knows that they let Mai through. They relent, and Azula steps into his cell.

She crinkles her nose at the smell. He's less filthy than he was before thanks to Mai, but only just. She meets his eyes- and for just a moment, her breath catches. Zuko's tempted to start growling, just to see what would happen. The dragon goads him on, but he decides against it.

"What do you want?"

She obviously didn't expect him to speak. When he does, she exhales, and she's back to the normal Azula.

"I see you're back to your usual self," Azula observed, "-I suppose we have Mai to thank for that. I hear she's been visiting you."

"Upset you'll have a harder time executing us?" Zuko asked. "Or is father the one who plans to do the honors?"

Azula flinches- it's obvious that she didn't expect him to know about that. He doesn't blame her. She must have assumed he didn't have the presence of mind to understand anyone when he'd been paraded through the Caldera like a chained beast.

(He had been, he supposes.)

"Father, of course," Azula recovers, "-it's only fitting that the Fire Lord should slay the last of the dragons."

Zuko bares his fangs. "What makes you think we'll go down so easily?"

Azula huffs, and rolls her eyes. "You should just make it easy on yourself, Zuko. I would think you'd be grateful to be released from your miserable excuse for an existence."

Yeah. He can't deny that some small part of him still longs for that. But he thinks of Uncle, and of Mai- thinks of his friends. They'd all seen him at his worst, but they accepted him anyways. And she's right- if he dies, the dragons really will be gone. He's spent years chafing at the confines of the prison that is his body, but maybe it doesn't have to be one.

Azula never looks him in the eye anymore. He levels his gaze with hers, but she takes it as the challenge it is, and doesn't look away.

"And what would you do," Zuko said, "-if it comes for you next?"

His sister pales. He shouldn't be enjoying this. He's not stupid- he figured it out a long time ago. He knows Azula blames herself. She hadn't known the consequences when she'd shoved him into that cave- she'd only been six. She was just playing a petty, jealous prank. All she'd wanted was to go back to the villa and lap up mother's attention for a few hours.

He also won't lie to himself. He blames Azula- but only sometimes. She was just a child. They'd both been children. But he also can't pretend that he's not bitter, vengeful in a way that has nothing to do with the spirit that took up residence in his skin. She'd taken everything from him- just like her namesake had taken everything from the dragon.

"Don't worry," Zuko promises, "-when you're running a fever that high, you don't even notice your body twist out of shape."

"Shut up," Azula snaps, "-I would never let that happen."

"You wouldn't have a choice," Zuko says, "-did you think I did? You can't fight something like that. You'll be lucky if the dragon decides to ever give you your body back. It's not like Uncle's here to guide you."

(He's not quite himself right now, otherwise he would never be saying these things. But he doesn't stop. He holds the dragon at bay, but only just.)

"Be quiet," Azula hisses, "-I would never become like you."

"No, you won't," Zuko agrees, "-because I don't intend to die."

Azula stares at them for a long moment, then clicks her tongue. She leaves without another word, and Zuko exhales. He shakes off the dragon, its whispers falling back into silence. He feels like he's finally won, but it doesn't feel as good as he hoped it would.

He doesn't hate Azula. He can't.

(It was as much a warning as anything else. Killing him would only free the dragon- and leave it free to search for its next host

Who better than Azulon's very namesake?)

[vanillaxoshi]

Analysis part 2! (This is a long one)

Glad to hear i was correct on somethings, now on to the actual scary days

'Cahaya was fighting his mind and delusional'

Now these two sentences could be unrelated but for now lets assume that they are. By doing so we can figure out that Cahaya could be fighting in LITERAL and figuratively as in seeing things or hearing voices, but that would be threading into derealization while from what i'm observing Cahaya seems to be more showing signs of depersonalization (tbh it could be both but i'm leaning more towards DP instead of DR)

Anyway.. those delusions could cause him to have paranoia

Now light paranoia or caution is not a bad thing, but remember these are DAYS meaning Cahaya has been doing it repeatedly to the point it causes the others..

'They doubted him'

Being warned constantly or more specifically a repetitive action can cause a dull/numb reaction to it

Similar to how people who have a sensitive fire alarm has a higher chance to actually get CAUGHT in a fire than those who have a more loose fire alarm (theres a whole research that i could talk about for hours on how the human brain slowly ignores warning signs)

But notice the word choice. 'Doubted'. They didn't reject it or ignore it or even told Cahaya they didn't believe him, they doubted him. Meaning there was at SOME point of belief in his words; his paranoia. Meaning the others know of his delusions and that caused them to start doubting him. But it also means the others are willing to listen to him, albeit they don't believe it but at least they're not ignoring it.

But maybe at some point his delusion got a bit too much, maybe he started to fight with himself violently (not to the point that could warrant self harm but close), and the others.. got a bit wary of him

Which resulted in HIM doubting himself with 'Cahaya wasn't like retak'ka was he?'

The previous connections was between solar and retak'ka NOW tho cahaya is seeing himself.

He couldn't defend himself by using 'solar' as a shield anymore because he isn't solar currenlty, he is cahaya.

And if solar was the middle ground while cahaya being one of the more 'good' sides.. what happens if cahaya himself is like retak'ka?

And when came in doubt, when the shield he could wrap himself with is crumbling. The negative thoughts could thrive

'Cahaya was hearing the voice, it was loud'

Genuinely i do not know who cahaya is hearing when i first read this. Is it retak'ka? His negative thoughts? His brothers and friends?

But i like to think cahaya in this sentence was experiencing dissociation. Because the wording shows us that Cahaya had gotten used to it. The lack of emotions you can kinda feel in this sentence kinda solidifies he is most likely depressed (this child is not ok)

But then came something that surprised me

'Solar hated this'

WHY was solar the one to say/think this, it felt random and out of place. The previous placements made sense but this one was just... odd

And then i realized that solar didn't like cahaya; more specifically what cahaya is going through.

Solar is what cahaya wants to become. Its his middle ground, his shield, his safe space. Its the part of him that can go on missions (code name and all that jazz). In other words, Solar is cahaya's strength

Where cahaya is weak SOLAR is strong, hes the finisher, the one hit KO, the final boss of you will. I think cahaya believes that Solar hated what hes going through

The paranoia

The fear

The doubt

The delusions

The anger

The mix emotions

When in actuality cahaya probably hates that part of himself, the part with so many issues; issues that he KNOWS he has. But he doesn't like the thought of hating himself

So he uses Solar as an excuse to feel that hatred towards himself

Solar hated this

Solar doesn't doubt himself, hes a genius, he gets to go on missions

Hes using solar to feel validated on his self loathing and as a comfort

But he became reliant to that..

'Cahaya was giving up.. and gone?'

If he liked who Solar was so much why would he want to be Cahaya? He saw himself as solar to the point CAHAYA became the second image

Its not cahaya looking in a mirror and seeing solar anymore, but its the other way around.

Cahaya was weak. Solar isn't

Cahaya gets left behind. Solar doesn't

Cahaya is paranoid. Solar is confident (to the point of becoming too confident)

But despite everything. Despite how much he tries, he can't ignore the issues that he has

That he will ALWAYS have, its why cahaya isn't completely gone (the question mark '?' Is a sign of that)

And in the end

'Cahaya was like retak'ka in someways'

Its cahaya who leaned more.. who was more like retak'ka than solar was. How poetic that the 2 sides were in fact the exact same side. Because both are dead

Not completely tho..

'Solar was woken up hearing a voice, it was loud. It was himself'

It started with cahaya woken up by a voice and it ends with SOLAR waking up in his place. Very poetic anon claps for you! 👏👏

And we're finally given an answer on who the voice was. It was himself, well cahaya to be more specific

I kinda figured that it was cahaya waking up from a nightmare but again. Its CAHAYA.

i feel like cahaya subconsciously already disconnected himself with the voice (the voice represents his issues and trauma)

But after he became solar he has someone to pin point; to blame, for the voices.

Cahaya was the one who nearly died, he is the one with the issues, the problems, the trauma.

Solar is a representation of him IGNORING those issues, shoving it aside

But

.

.

Despite how much you try you cannot ignore the problems that you have, its why the voice is still there. Its why cahaya is still there, no matter how hard Solar tries. He will always have those issues

He will always be cahaya

Thank you for anyone who read all of this, and again anon i would just like to applaud you for this writing ^^

ANOOON WAKE UP ANOTHER ANALYSATION OF YOUR ASK ARRIVED🙌🙌

And damn, Cahaya is definitely the oc-ified cuz wow, hes literally an all rounded character but its not canon

This is amazing, more cahaya angst and explanations im getting inspired *rubs hands evilly👏*

So much character inspiration love this

[possessionisamyth]

it's not for everyone that is for sure, but people using game cutscenes, dialogues and whatnot to prove and back up their claims doesn't mean much in the grand scheme of things because those very same cutscenes and dialogues and overall writing can be interpreted numerous different ways

example: ada told leon to abandon ashley purely because she wanted to fuck him and nothing more, just wanted ashley out of the way so leon can be hers and hers alone

alternatively: she was testing him, wanted to see if he's still that rookie cop from rc followed by a suggestive comment

u see? its as if ada came there and suddenly went full horny mode to temp leon which is plain stupid but each to their own

what I'm getting at is, cutscenes and dialogues from game such as re, things don't go that deep, things aren't really beholden of over thinking and nit picking yet it still happens, it's really not science just bias and excuse to be an asshole

that's how it appears to me at least

Hmmm. Well, reading those two examples gave me a third option wherein that scene Ada is testing Leon, BUT it's with the vague suggestion he might get something good out of it if he takes orders and doesn't ask questions like the government dog he is. In this way, the interaction can be read as extremely patronizing to his position as a federal agent, and the impact of those words could genuinely frustrate him because his job wasn't a choice he made. Which is something Ada probably wouldn't know about either. Her being unaware and mocking him regardless is an interesting dynamic to play too. He'd never tell her what happened, but she would notice the spike of aggression and misread it as her joke hitting too close to the truth she believes instead of the actual situation.

Yes one example is riddled with horny while the other tries to play it neutral, but without reading the good and the bad, there's less angles for me to observe and pick at a scene. The more angles there are, the more interpretations there are, the higher chance you have of someone putting things together differently, or in a way you like, if you don't put it out there yourself first.

You're right in that things in RE aren't that deep. The writing has changed too many hands, and it's too non-committal to all the relationships (familial, romantic, and platonic) to be remotely decent. Yet, the other main point of fandom is to really delve into the material you're given and extrapolate ideas and conclusions from it.

Some people take a very surface level look and run with it. Some people only see what they want to see. Some people try to pick it apart to understand or make connections to the characters' behavior in previous or later iterations, or what certain choices might mean for the story going forward. I'm in that third group because I love character interpretation! Chris, Leon, Jill, and Claire wouldn't have a character at all if they were in only one game or movie! Taking the common writing decisions shown in the games/movies and layering them is all anyone can do if they want to attempt to speak objectively about anything in this franchise.

Heck, you probably wouldn't be in my inbox talking to me if I didn't keep making posts that were the result of overthinking things in RE.

[wingedscribe]

1, 6, 15 for Tav backstory asks! Your choice or do one for each of them, whatever you prefer!

I'll do each for all of them because I love any excuse to talk about my OCs! For a brief overview of the three, Akakios is my Dark Urge playthrough and is a half-drow Paladin of Devotion; Hithala is. well. Hithala uses the wood elf body but is a hexblood druid of the circle of spores; finally, Tanith is a half-elven Cleric of Selune.

Is your Tav Baldurian? If yes, did they grow up in Baldur’s Gate? If no, where are they from?

Akakios is Balduran, growing up in Baldur's Gate -- although they can't remember it, given the uhhh. [Gestures toward the cranial trauma in the Dark Urge's past.] Hithala is not Balduran and grew up in the middle of a forest (I haven't decided which Faerun forest it is, it doesn't particularly matter) and spent most of his time pre-game wandering in less civilized areas. Finally, Tanith is from the area around Baldur's Gate, but didn't grow up in the city itself, although she has visited it multiple times.

6. When did your Tav learn their abilities/skills?

With Akakios they can't actively remember it, but they learned their abilities -- if that's the right word for them -- as the Dark Urge when they were around fourteen years old, proceeded to swear off using them forever (this did not work) and joined an order of Paladins, learning how to channel divine power to aid others through their adolescence there. It wasn't enough to stop their blood from taking its due, but when they woke up with no memory it was their Paladin's oaths that they clung to.

Hithala learned some basics of nature magic from the hag that raised him, although it was largely through observation -- the hag wasn't really interested in teaching what she saw as an unfortunate step on the path to making another hag. However, once he left her house, he took refuge in a local druidic circle, and that was where he learned most of his skills as a druid.

Tanith's entire family are Selunites, so once it was clear that she had both a lot of faith and a deep connection to the goddess she became an acolyte of the local temple, and from there her cleric powers came into focus as she devoted her time and energy to serving Selune. Her specific focus as a Tempest Cleric came from her conviction that someone had to strike at Selune's enemies before they could do harm to the innocent.

15. Do they have any sentimental items?

Akakios has a battered old book on the oaths of Paladin orders that they woke up with; the more they learn about themself pre-amnesia, the more confusing the fact that they held onto this was, but as the player I can say it's because there was always a part of Akakios who still very much wanted to be the strong, noble paladin who protected people and wanted to be the hero, and even though pregame Akakios had been convinced that they could never be anything but the villain, they kept that book of oaths anyway.

Hithala has a few things that he is emotionally attached to, but the main one would be a necklace with an amber pendant, holding a leaf from the forest he grew up in. It was a gift from his first love, a fellow druid named Rowan Tavverin -- Rowan was human, so Hith has long outlived him at this point, but in lieu of a wedding ring keeps the necklace with him at all times.

Tanith doesn't have a strong attachment to many things -- a lot of her belongings she sees as stuff she's been given by her goddess/the temple she typically works out of, and so she's happy to give them to someone who would need them more than she does and just make her way to wherever she can find the next thing she needs -- but her holy symbol, a Selunite pendant she's kept since childhood, is extremely precious to her. She had one of a matched pair with a childhood friend of hers, to the point that they swapped them before that friend went out into the woods for her coming-of-age ceremony -- where she was, Tanith assumes, killed by Sharran hunters, along with the rest of her family (if this sounds similar to a companion's backstory, there's a reason for that! Neither Tanith nor Shadowheart know it, though), so Tanith holds onto the pendant as the last part of her best friend she has with her.

Thank you so much for the questions -- if anyone else wants to ask about these three gay adventurers feel free to send me questions from this list: https://wingedscribe.tumblr.com/post/736382006258253824 or, you know, whatever questions you have.

[sorcerous-caress]

Now that you mention red and chaos dragons, I will admit that I'd played with that when choosing his subclass.

I made Khal'ian a Way of the Ascendant Dragon monk(a mod). And with that choice I wrote it into his backstory.

In adolescence he believed that if he could emulate the chaos dragons he would gain some form of acceptance or a way to mock the elders.

As way to say:

" Look at where I have succeeded in which you have failed. I can Emulate the spirit of entities you wish to bond with; and yet the majority of you have fail to!"

A lofty and arrogant goal but he sets off to do it regardless.

He digs through every scroll, pamphlet and book within the archives.

Every chance he gets to slip away from basic training, he opens small temporal rifts to observe the draconian creatures.

Sneaking out to secluded training grounds to take peeks at the only other Ascendant!Monk that he knows of, trying to memorize the techniques.

The Ascendant had red scales, that glimmered like rubys which adorn armor. Their roars poured out fire that in one hand terrified and in another invigorated. He never really got a chance to put a face to the veracity, he only truly remembers their white hair.

It made him think that he wasn't the only forced conversion at the monastery, bended to suit someone else's means

Eventually, he earns his opalescent scales and chaotic breath.

The poor monk doesn't get to savor the success for long, Soon he is Tadpole riddled and weakened.

It was before facing the goblin camp that he came back to a semblance of prior strength. However, something was very wrong; in place of opalescent scales there were dotted rubies along his cheeks and his breath was an inferno.

There wasn't time to ponder, besides noticing Lae'zel's nod of approval.

He was running on autopilot during the goblin battle; Until he came face to face with her.

All he saw at first was white hair and ruby eyes whittling him down, for a moment he was younger again. Sneaking peaks at the Ascendant and all their glory.

Then he feels the heat of the fiery smite before he sees it.

He dodges it barely, a mace meer inches from colliding with his skull.

He hears Lae'zel shouting at him but he can't tear his gaze away; you can't afford it with a warrior like her, yet its not like he would have wanted to.

The Drow in front of him was not like anything he as seen in a long time. The sheer power of her fury, the pure martial prowess of her form and her regal presence that demanded your attention.

She was Exquisite.

Oh the pleasure that it would be to be at her command, to feel her firm head grasp he's reins and order his draconic fire to-

He hears Lae'zel shouting again, he barely as time to bring his forearm up to block a mace swing from shattering his jaw.

He can feel the smites fire extinguish on the skin, his bones ache and fracture.

A name. A title. She demands an honorific, he's so sure of it. Yet one he deems worthy of her slips his mind.

It's on the tip of his tongue.

In the end it takes him and Lae'zel to finally force the paladin to a retreat, he feels Lae'zel's ire on his back while watching her go.

Then the word comes to him.

Kith'rak

No something more, a word that she must demand him to call her.

Heat pools in his belly.

I'm sorry if I'm rambling too much but this is giving me a good excuse to write more. Smut and Character reflections are fun to write! I'll write about the Creche and Jaheira in a bit if the hard cider doesn't take me out.

-githzerai anon

Don't apologise anon, I completely love this! I'm enjoying reading it a lot even.

His first ever meeting with Minthara was her attempting to kill them, and honestly, that is very hot of her. Just her imposing authority as a paladin and him completely falling head over heel in sheer awe at her. Feeling as if he is sneaking forbidden glances to a great ancient warrior when that said worrior is second away from smiting him with inferno fire.

Bless Laezel pulling through and getting him out alive, would've been too sad to write "horny" as the cause of death on his tombstone.

And him slowly merging into both dragons sounds kinda cool actually- he should be scale friends with my Tav and they'll teach him to act like you're better than others simply for having a dragon lineage in you.

From how many githzerai bases there are in the underdark, i wonder if he stumbled upon a book or two with some drow language. Or just underdark speech in general.

Or maybe leave it to Minthara to teach him the right word to address her by when the right time comes

[ballyblee]

ok not to add on to an already long post but i was having a hard time consolidating my thoughts in the tags so here's an essay

tldr; it's the shading (cel vs. soft) i think and also pokemon is the most valuable franchise and has no excuse

i've been staring at these pictures for a while now. just trying to figure out what exactly it is that makes these feel wrong. i think it's finally hit me that it's the shading?

[note: i'm no professional artist, i'm in college and i'm still learning. also i'm going to mostly just reuse the same pictures from before (so i don't have to hunt down new ones and because these are the ones made me realize it)]

here's a quick resource for the difference between cel shading and soft shading! and if you're too lazy to click the link, here's a picture comparing them from the site:

soft shading is generally for paintings, cel shading is generally for cartoons. (obviously this is not the rule, just an observation) (also bonus: for a long time i thought it was cell shading with two Ls because the blobs used to make shadows are cell-shaped. it is actually cel shading with one L because it comes from the material they used to use for animations called celluloid. source)

anyways, pokemon.

i noticed that in the pictures that were definitely pulled from the 3D art, the shading blended together oddly compared to its previous counterparts. you could argue that it's simply an artistic choice, but they didn't carry that across the board. here's fuecoco:

if you look at the shadow lines across the middle section of his belly or on his tongue, you can see that it is pretty crisp. there's no giant gradient blending the shadow in. on the other hand, the highlights on his hands and knee clearly have uneven brush strokes. these still come across as rounded objects. you can compare them to the harsh highlight lines of his toenails. (claws? foot decor? i don't know) this was the first official gen 9 2D art released, so they established a long time ago that they were using cel shading still.

point 1: the orbs

speaking of rounded objects, let's look at lokix's face. it's an orb. funnily enough, we've got plenty of orbs to compare to from previous pokemon. so here's a side-by-side of lokix's face with tentacruel's head orbs. (warning: i will be saying the word orb a lot. it's what the dex entries say and i don't know what else to call them.)

the blending in the dark center of lokix's face is different from tentacruel's orbs. lokix's face is blended into itself in the exact center, while tentacruel's orbs have a sharp-edged circle that is slightly offset. the two small highlight circles on lokix do not sell the "shiny, hard shell" effect, especially when compared to the bright circles on tentacruel. even still, the larger highlight circle is blended into the base color of lokix's face, making it less like a shine and more like a highlight. lokix is supposed to be shiny - he's got an exoskeleton. look at literally any bug ever and the first thing you notice is how hard and shiny and reflective it is.

point 2: the grabbers

oh look, more rounded objects. (hint, this is a really good way to tell imo) here's a comparison of tentacruel's tentacles versus toedscruel's (in this chunk i'm going to call them tenta and toeds because their names are so similar):

maybe you've also noticed. not all highlights are created equal. tenta's has long brush strokes and a harsh line between light and midtone. compare that to poor toeds. he's got a perfectly circular highlight that blends completely into the midtone. it's not nearly as dramatic or aesthetically pleasing as tenta's. also, you can see tenta's start to follow along the length of his tentacle, a thing that doesn't happen on toeds. it makes for not just a less interesting design, but one that has less energy - not a thing people really want in their art.

point 3: the lines?

in the kindest way possible. what are these lines. you can really see them in the grayscale image. there's just. lines of light. that cut across baxcalibur's body. there's no dimension to them to make it seem like he's round. they just. are these streaky lines. i don't even know what to say about this because it's genuinely just so confusing to me. they show up in some of the other 3D-to-2D pieces, too - i.e. scroll back up to the full body lokix.

ok, the art's weird. so what?

everyone makes mistakes, nobody's perfect, etc. sometimes art is just weird. maybe the company ran out of time to hand draw all of the pokemons' official art and this is simply a faster alternative that gets the job done. who cares?

pokemon is the most valuable franchise in the entire world. it's got a chokehold on just about every single person who was a child anywhere from 1996 to now. it has legs in video games, trading card games, tv shows, kids toys, even like. the travel industry. pokemon makes money.

so why couldn't they hire an artist to draw these?

why couldn't they have postponed the release of the game/art until everything was completed?

they would have lost... not enough money to make that much of an impact. however, they knew that this would be enough for them to get by. they knew that this was acceptable, and acceptable still sells as long as it's got the pokemon logo on it.

we as a whole are okay with settling with less. the more we become okay with poor quality, the less pokemon as a company will try. the more quality goes down, the more quantity goes up. the more quantity goes up, the more quality is lowered in every aspect, not just the 2D art. that's why SV feels so cheaply made at times. because it was.

maybe you're okay with the quality being bad and the games being fun for you. but the people who are creating this game - and i mean actually creating, not the people who sit and delegate tasks all day but the people who are writing and drawing and sculpting and coding and everything else - they are going to be so incredibly overworked. (and we all know they definitely aren't getting paid enough) you can already see the bits and pieces of people wanting to care in SV - clearly this story is so well thought out and these characters bring a depth and personality to everything they are a part of. however, it is undeniably faulty because these creators were clearly pushed to get this game out before christmas. even now, these 2D artists ended up having to copy 3D sprites so they could meet the deadline.

personally, i'd rather have a game that people care about and are allowed to take the time to care about it than a game every 6 months. i say this as someone who has cared about pokemon for more than half of their life.

I’ll be bringing this up in my coming review of Spidops but some of the official artwork looks directly traced (or even auto-generated, with a few touch-ups) from the in-game models and it damn near hurts my soul. The artwork is the “real face” of a Pokemon and typically has more personality than the 3d graphics, because the drawings and the models exist for different purposes. The models are made to function in a 3d animated game. The drawings are made to look good and represent the character. THIS DOES NOT LOOK GOOD, and it’s glaringly cheap for something that over a hundred artists on my dash every day could have done better. As I’ll also be repeating in the Spidops review, its tcg card shows how much personality its design is capable of conveying:

[unironicallycringe]

they are gay

UPDATE: I fixed it, apologies, today is filled with a lot of pain meds. Anyways. I wrote the oneshot finally. Ghirabeck crackfic, written as seriously as possible to produce silly fluff, in...

The Real Treasure Was The Unlikely Romantic Bond We Developed Along The Way

Rated:T Word count: 2,024 Pairing: Ghirahim/Linebeck No content warnings

If there were an onlooker to observe, they might have thought that the Famed Adventurer Captain Linebeck had gone entirely mad.

The man was prowling through the old wreckage of a capsized ship run aground. The broken vessel bridged the rocky intertidal, its stern having lodged itself in a sandy berm where the shore blended from sea to land. He balanced across half-submerged masts and algae-slick rocks as the tide came in, speaking aloud as though having a full conversation with no one in sight.

The captain's presence lent a colorful splash to an otherwise dull shore. He was obviously a man of fame and wealth, and one who took great care to look the part. He wore his signature blue mariner's coat, its brass buckles gleaming under a recent shine job, while his bright red neckerchief adorned the space under his chin. Right above, a trimmed goatee and mustache gave him just the right dash of roguishly-handsome flair. The style was intentional, portraying a proper gentleman while still entrancing the imagination with hints of adventure. Of curious note, however, was the large sword strapped to his back. A man like Linebeck was more suited to a thin rapier, perhaps a scimitar at the very most; an obsidian, spiked greatsword was not his style, nor should he have even been capable of lifting it. The weapon's incongruity was more than a little noticeable.

"First Mate, a report please! Where did you say you got that treasure map from, exactly?" Linebeck asked aloud.

There was the slightest shimmering sound in response, quiet enough to make the captain seem as if he answered his own question moments later.

"The merchant from the shop ship? Ohh, I don't trust that, not one bit, you know!"

He paused, and in the silence came another breezy shimmer before he continued.

"It's not to be rude, I just don't think that he can verify the integrity of a ware like that. He doesn't have the treasure-hunting know-how, the hands-on experience, the keen-eyed passion! Not like us! I don't think he ever even leaves his ship. For all we know, he could have been sold a fake, and then we look like fools for buying it…"

There was a titter like the rustle of leaves. Linebeck rubbed at tired eyes with the heel of his palm.

"Oh, darling, won't you just come out and help me, then?"

In a flash of golden diamonds, another man suddenly appeared from inside the sword. This newcomer was gray-skinned and white-haired, and he was tall enough to tower over the captain. His garb was just as meticulously coordinated as the captain's. He wore a billowy, crimson blouse with ruffled cuffs, and a single, diamond-shaped earring dangled from his right ear. When he spoke, his voice was lilting and haughty.

"As you wish, Captain," this new entity chuckled. "Though, I had hoped a simple hunt like this would be no match for such a man of the sea as yourself…"

"Alright, alright, no need for that now, Ghirahim! Besides, I'm only having trouble searching because…well, because…" Linebeck quietly glanced around for an easy excuse. He frowned up at the sky through holes in the ruined ship's overturned hull. "Why, it's because the weather is just so dour! It's giving me a headache. Barometric pressure and all that, you know."

"Current barometric pressure shows no indication of a coming storm," Ghirahim remarked, casually cleaning his nails. "Nary a cloud in the sky, too."

Linebeck simply fell back on stubborn confidence, his pretense of choice.

"Right, well, I just know these things by instinct even before a storm blows in. You see, I'd been out sailing while you were stuck in your sword in that temple after all. I have fresher experience with these seas and her stormy temperaments."

"Oh. He just knows these things, he says," the sword spirit scoffed melodramatically. "I suppose that makes me mistaken then, and you don't need any of my other wisdom. I'll just have to pack my little rucksack and take my leave from this scavenger hunt then, for Captain Linebeck just knows these things far better than a sword spirit..."

"Now, now, I didn't mean it like that! No need to be like that!" the captain backtracked. Ghirahim's threat had no teeth whatsoever, and it was obvious he just wanted to be paid his fee of compliments. "Let's just forget about it and focus, darling? Why, I think you're quite wonderful at, uh…forecasting the weather! And countless other things! Really, you're perfect in so many ways."

That resulted in an approving hum from the playful demon. "Hmmm…fine, it's all water under the bridge. I just think you're funny when you put your foot in your mouth."

Ghirahim twirled his hair in a finger with a long, thoughtful look. Then, he turned on his heel, moving towards the upside-down cabin towards the stern.

"Why don't we check over here again?" he said abruptly.

"Certainly, I was just thinking that."

"Great minds think alike, then."

Linebeck eagerly trailed behind him. His eyes darted over the area with renewed vigor now that he had his exploring buddy fully present.

"Do you imagine it could've been buried in the sand during the wreck?" he suggested. "I was wondering, but I've no shovels on hand."

"Perhaps! Orrr… maybe it was stowed securely enough as to stay aboard while the wreck drifted," Ghirahim returned. He offered a knowing smirk before directing Linebeck to the ceiling - or rather, the ceiling that used to be the deck floor. The sand here sloped steeply upwards, bringing them within such easy reach of it that Ghirahim had to crouch to avoid bumping his head. "Did you know that pirates often use secret compartments to hide their stolen goods and jewels? Now that's a good start."

Linebeck's eyes lit up with excitement.

"Oh, yes, you're quite right!" he smacked a hand to his forehead and laughed a little, then proceeded to check each of the planks above their heads. "Of course! There could be a secret trapdoor on the floor of this very cabin! I'm sure I would have thought of that, had it not been for this dreadful headache…"

With his morale boosted, Linebeck analyzed the old floorboards attentively. He didn't notice Ghirahim wasn't actually looking very hard, instead only smugly observing. Eventually, the demon subtly shepherded them to a space where Linebeck pointed out a hidden, rusty lock that caught his eye.

"A-ha!! Ghirahim, look there! I think I've found something promising!" he sang.

"I'm looking! Good eye, Captain, well done."

"Let's hope the reward will be well worth the splinters…"

Linebeck produced a lockpick and fiddled with the old mechanism briefly. It clunked and scraped in protest before it yielded, allowing the trapdoor to fall open with a creaking groan. He stepped handily out of the way just as a large chest tumbled free from above. But instead of landing still like well-behaved loot, it bounced and rolled down the sandy slope in a bid for escape, headed towards the rising tide.

"Gah! An escape artist, eh?" Linebeck called, scrambling after it through loose sand. "Come back here, you slippery eel!"

Linebeck slid and sprang forward, catching the rogue chest just as it leapt from a rock towards the waves. Far from his earlier frustration, he laughed aloud in the triumph and fun of it all. The chest was surprisingly lightweight, but it didn't dampen the success. Regardless, treasure was treasure. He dragged it safely back to dry land and waved up to Ghirahim.

"Got it!" he cheered.

"A stunning display of dexterity, Captain," the demon yelled back. "Now what's inside?"

Linebeck's fingers searched for the chest's latch. With no lock in sight, he wrenched the lid open and peered inside…

…only to tilt his head in bewildered confusion.

"Huh? What's this?" he blurted. "Did some ruffian get to most of it first? There's just this paper hat and note left...oh, hold on, Ghirahim come look. There's some jewelry that looks exactly like your earring…"

Ghirahim appeared beside him suddenly in another shower of diamonds. The demon tapped his chin, trying very hard to look puzzled.

"How curious! 'Tis almost like … a matching piece to mine," he said innocently. "That's a paper crown, by the way."

Linebeck narrowed his eyes at Ghirahim in suspicion.

"Curious indeed," he said. A smile began to tug at the whiskered corners of his lips as understanding quickly dawned on him.

"Well? What other plunder is there? Does the note share any fanciful tales, Captain?"

Captain Linebeck did his best to fight off that growing smile and look serious.

"Ahem. Let's not get too hasty! We'll do this properly, shall we?" He began pulling each item out to appraise it, standard practice for the record-keeping of his hauls. Ghirahim summoned up quill and parchment to complete the scene.

"First Mate, if you'd please log Item #1 as Suspiciously Familiar Earring Which Certainly Wasn't Left By Anyone I Know." He hooked it into his left ear, opposite the one worn by the demon.

"Mhm, yes, counted and logged. What luck! Blue is definitely your color."

"Item #2: Paper Crown Belonging To A… " –Linebeck stifled a snicker as he read the cursive script across it– "...To A 'King Sexyman'. A historic find and a valuable artifact, I'd say."

"Logged with amendment: Well-Folded Paper Crown. Fine craftsmanship."

"Where did you even get this?"

"Who, me?" Ghirahim feigned ignorance poorly. "Why, I've never seen this treasure before, Captain, on my honor, cross my gem."

"You're not very good at lying…"

"That makes two of us. What's next?"

"Other than the note, there's more jewelry." Linebeck showed off a few other gifted trinkets one by one. Then, he came to two additional golden rings inlaid with sapphires. "You're giving me quite a few earrings, darling."

"Those aren't for ears. But worry about that later, handsome." Ghirahim shot him a wink. "Anyways, I'm simply dying to know what that note could possibly say, aren't you?"

Linebeck sighed, having already given up his play in favor of flushed cheeks and his persistent grin. He unfurled the parchment scroll to read aloud. Its writing was calligraphy of gaudy flourishes typical to a certain sword spirit.

"To My Dearest Captain Linebeck:

I hope you don't find the contents of this chest disappointing, for it was already empty when I got here. It seems our friend Beedle sold us a useless map. But fear not: I procured some other baubles to place inside for your enrichment and amusement! Besides, should you choose to look again, you may find that the real treasure was in front of you all along..."

Linebeck snorted. "Did you draw a winking face at the bottom here–?"

He turned to look at his companion, but the demon wasn't by his side anymore. So expectedly, he returned his attention to the emptied and open chest.

Ghirahim was now sat inside it, fluttering his eyelashes prettily with a hand under his chin.

Seemingly at a loss for words, the captain buried his reddened face in his hands.

"This is…wow…" His shoulders shook with muffled laughter. "Oh, how in the world did I end up finding someone who is so … well, so …"

"So clever? Beautiful? Creative? Excellent at designing surprise bonding activities? Please, take your time."

Bending forward, Linebeck merely captured the demon's lips with his own. His companion's mischief briefly melted into something softer, quieter. When he pulled away, he found that his had, too.

"...so perfect, actually," he finished. "Quite wonderful at many things, really, including surprise bonding activities."

Ghirahim grinned widely, but his voice was only a whisper. His fingers found Linebeck's to intertwine in.

"Speak for yourself. I dare say, you're the one with a new crown to boast of your perfection." He snapped the silly craft into existence and placed it atop Linebeck's wispy olive hair. That earned another shared snicker and the captain nuzzled his nose into the sword spirit's cheek.

"You know, in truth," Linebeck admitted. "I do believe you're my favorite treasure to have found."

[rivaille-13]

Levi - | Trusting & Letting Go |

It's been a while since I last posted some observations, and since I am so hooked up about the latest chapter... Might do some with my RM brainrot.

Warning: This post is Levi-centric and would mostly focus on RivaMika. I know right now I may be delusional, but I won't remove my shipping goggles here. Lololol so fuck off

Choice with No Regrets: Chapter 7

I will start here. Aside from the death of his mother, the deaths of Furlan and Isabel affected him in a way that made him realized a few things.

Levi: "I heard you already! I can do it by myself! Trust me!"

This line is very important because it had shown the past Levi attitude. He usually does things alone, afraid to ask help from others because he wanted to keep his comrades safe, and as I could see it here... He trusts Isabel and Furlan (The night before the three of them went on their first expedition; Furlan and Isabel asking him to trust them) but at the same time hesitant over trusting them (When Levi decided to kill Erwin alone.)

Levi: I'm going to end up letting everyone die. My choice... was the wrong one.

And starting that, he doesn't interfere with the choices his comrades made... living a life with no regrets. It was stated when Eren apologized for the first Levi's squad deaths.

Next important death on Levi's life: Kenny Ackerman.

Levi: "You've had the time and energy before this to inject yourself. Why didn't you?"

Moving on, (this shit is already going in a different direction) I personally believe that Levi knew death so well. But as much as he knew that everyone he loves would die in some shitty point, there is always a silver lining in every word he would say.

Levi: "...There's no way you'd sit around and want to die. Don't you have a better excuse?"

Because as much as he accepts reality, he still would hope for someone important to live. But notice how he let go and accept its fate...

Just like this.

Levi: "Erwin... I'll trust your judgement."

Because going back at the first statement, Levi does not want to interfere with the choices his comrades make.

And I think the decision of letting Erwin go was something hard for him to accept especially that Erwin Smith was not just any other comrade but Erwin was his liege.

Again, Levi is unpredictable.

Levi: "Give up on your dreams and die for us. Lead the recruits (crying children) straight to hell."

Because he just literally told Erwin to die, yet still had a petty argument when Eren and Mikasa asked him to hand over the syringe... And when he realized that Erwin already had enough hell,

Levi: "Can't we just... Let him go?"

Third major important death: Hange Zoe.

Levi: "Devote... Your heart."

I think this is very needless to explain. That letting Hange go the same way he did with Erwin but this time... There was no time to bargain. (Of course, one factor is the fucking Rumbling)

But I think we are getting the gist of the development of him accepting that someday he needs to let everyone important go...

The same way like this.

No words. No goodbyes. Just pure pain in his eyes. Yes I know, he knew everyone was already at death's door but I think this is one good example of him still preventing death:

Levi (at Chapter 136): "If we don't get out of here, we all die like dogs!"

It was not easy for him to leave Connie and Jean behind but Levi tends to set his emotions apart, thinking for the practical desicion for their chaotic situation.

And what made my RM brainrot go shit and delusional is because of this:

That Levi knowing that only him and Mikasa are the only ones left to end that nightmare.

Levi: "Mikasa?! Stay with me here!"

Although in the raw manga it was supposed to be: しっかりしろ (Shikkari Shiro) - something like 'pull yourself together' but not 'get your shit together' and somehow it made me think that before Kodansha could publish the Eng version, it must be checked by Yams-san (Right?)

Because adding the small detail of "Stay with me here!" is such a great impact in this development. Why?

Because damn, it's so obvious. Out of the important deaths I mentioned in this post, not once did he

Desperately asked someone to stay with him.

Not once did he asked someone for help the way he did with Mikasa. Not once did he interfere with their choices but right now it appeared that he was trying to tell Mikasa what to do. And I think that that fun-loving-chaotic-panel was the very first time Yams drew Levi almost out of his calm demeanor while asking Mikasa to go for the kill.

And does the panel below looks familiar?

Levi: "I see. All right. Understood."

Know that Levi does not take orders from anyone that easily. The only one he took orders from was with Erwin (his sworn liege) and I think we all knew Levi's rough attitude towards everyone even the higher ups.

"Is it hope or despair his strength comes from?"

The glimmer in his eyes won't mean nothing.

And from being that limping-exhausted Levi to a muscled-hot aiming thunderspear Levi...

So what made my RM brainrot delusional to make this post?

Because of this. Because his strength comes from hope and not from despair. Because of Mikasa, the only one left.

Levi: "Understood... Mikasa."

Taking orders from his wife easily lololol

So yeah... That's it. If you have read it this far, then a big thanks! I honestly know I am so bad at explaining, I can't word it out properly but I hope you get the gist. Lololol, my brain is infected with RivaMika shits. (X And I am betting we will get that RivaMika Endgame!

[visd3stele]

More of my Invisible life of Addie LaRue thoughts that no one needs or wants. As always, click "read more" only if you are ok with spoilers (this time from Faust and Dorian Grey too)

I think something fascinating about humanity is how we can trace back our stories to one or more old ones. People in the past expressing same ideas, pains and visions as we do. That's why we call them classics, huh?

This being said, I don't think it's a new perspective to associate The invisible life of Addie Larue with either Faust or The picture of Dorian Grey. I will merely draw the similarities more prominent:

Let's start with the beggining, the deal with 'the devil'. It is the reason why most people point at these three stories and sense they're alike. Looking even farther, the reasoning of the main characters, though vastly different from each other, have one thing in common: it benefits their own selves. I would refrain to use the word selfish, for its negative connotations that can't be applied to all three of them, but Faust's pursuit of knowledge, as well as Dorian's vanity and Addie's desperate need of freedom serve only themselves. (an intresting observation is how the reasons work in or against the characters' favor: with Addie we sympathize and don't condemn her, Faust's is seen as noble and therefore excusable while Dorian's is incriminating).

They all have the influence of someone more powerful actively pushing them to lose their souls. Faust has Mefisto, Dorian has Lord Harry and Addie has Luc. (an important side note is what are these presence and how exactly they exercise their influence. Because Mefisto is almost always present on Faust's side, constantly breathing on the back of his neck and not letting him take a moment to consider his wrongs, but Lord Harry plants the seeds as often as he can and despite his blatant role in Dorian's fall, it's easier to brush it off as he is just a human Dorian could ignore. With Addie and Luc, the darkness is using both his absence and his presence to discourage her for the soul).

The linked objects Addie and Dorian have to their 'devils' give them more autonomy. It's their choice to sell their souls. (while Faust's lack of a specific object is absolving him of the fault of striking such a deal).

Their age. In order to walk down the path of decadence, Faust must be deaged. To enjoy his beauty and all the doors that are opened by it, Dorian doesn't age. Addie's forever youth is part of the curse, her promising Luc her soul when she doesn't want to live amymore. I'd say the age as a common factor is due to how younger people seek to experience everything. How we're mostly driven by emotions and burn bright and quick and chaotic, thus making it easier to trip, fall and get up again, idealy. (I'd also notice the older people presented along the main characters: Faust's old self, a teacher, patient, who has but one wish in the world, to learn; Dorian's so called friend, Lord Harry who, when old, spits on the man he modeled and the old lady that taught Addie about old gods. I bet she wouldn't have mistakeingly summon the darkness... or wouldn't have agreed with the deal.)

On the same page with the previous point, their age is part of the stories. They have characteristics of a bildungsroman, Addie's more than the others. She lets go of the innocence and naivity of childhood and becomes a strong, independent, powerful woman by the end. She had to face many hardships for it and Luc could act as a neccessary evil too. Dorian started as a good, confused, lost young man that didn't know how to deal with life. But he had the option to listen to Basil's good influence and mature accordingly. He evolves in worse and worse until only death can suit him anymore. Faust falls back in juvenile missteps and denies Mefisto to save his soul. I would never call The picture of Dorian Grey or Faust bildungsroman stories, but there are certain aspects that can be viewed as characteristics of one. Addie could be, in my opinion, called a bildungsroman.

(not proof read) (if you agree or not, if you debate this in the comments, BE NICE PLEASE)!!!

[suganovakawa]

𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐄 .

PAIRINGS : tooru oikawa x fem! reader , slight hajime iwaizumi x fem! reader

GENRE : angst , romance

WARNINGS : cursing , car accident , recovery from amnesia

SYNOPSIS : tooru doesn’t understand how special you are to him until he comes close to losing you forever . as he struggles to comes to grips with his feelings and balance it with his future , you still have to recover from your own injuries , but without your memories to assist you .

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 < [ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 ] > 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐍

he knows what could happen if you remember. he’ll do anything to prevent that.

word count : 1.6k

saudade masterlist .

SAUDADE

( 𝐧 . ) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant , or that has been loved and then lost ; “ the love that remains ”

⠀whatever iwaizumi was thinking, he certainly had no logic. honestly, he probably would've been better off just not telling you a thing about oikawa. after all, he should've known from the start it's in human nature to want to push past restrictions forced upon them. and as much as it pained him, he knew he had messed up bad, his anger getting the best of his common sense and regretting it a day later.

⠀he knew you were curious about your boyfriend.

⠀rather, the boyfriend you didn't even know you had.

⠀from the very beginning, hajime could see it in your eyes - the natural attraction your body held as you and oikawa first exchanged short glances towards each other in class. volleyball had taught him to be quite the observer, and you made no effort in being subtle. unfortunately for iwa, oikawa noticed your innocent curiosity as well.

⠀he was afraid to ask you more about what you remember. it was different from the first day you had woken up from your coma, you were completely out of it so your muddled brain couldn't have remembered nor recollected much. now that you were spending regular time at school, just like normal, your memories might have just resurfaced sporadically. as far as hajime knew, you remembered everything, just pretending like you're still suffering from memory loss.

⠀but he knew you weren't like that. you wouldn't do that to him.

⠀you two weren't best friends before the accident, basically just friendly acquaintances who shared the same pain in trying to make the aoba johsai volleyball captain learn how to stop and take a damn breather. you had made it quite obvious in the past that you were an admirer of oikawa's, much to hajime's dismay - but he suppressed such feelings, in fear he'd be seen as too selfish.

⠀and he paid the price by seeing you happy in oikawa's arms.

⠀maybe iwaizumi was biased, but tooru really was more on the shitty side when it came to being a boyfriend. he had asked his peer countless times why he had accepted your feelings when he knew he didn't have time for a relationship; and every single time, hajime would get the exact same answer:

⠀"she made me happy at the winter tournaments, i'm only returning the sentiments."

⠀does causing your car accident count as making you happy?

⠀seeing how determined tooru was to get close to you again, pissed hajime off. what was there to be pissed off about, though? if this was a game, iwaizumi was winning. oikawa lost everything, from his reputation to his girlfriend. hajime was on his way to making you happier than tooru ever could. there was no competition here - he had this hook, line, and sinker.

⠀at least, he should have it in the sinker.

⠀a part of him knew, deep down, he was always default to second place. even without your memories, you still had your conscience, that internal voice in the back of your head that still held its senses. and if your conscience was stupid enough to adore oikawa even after everything he's done to you, how could the ace possibly fight against it? you could've died. and it would've been oikawa's harsh words as the true perpetrator.

⠀he wanted to prove a point to himself, you, and oikawa. that he was worth it. that you shouldn't have to waste your time with a scumbag who took your adoration and admiration for granted. the entire team knew that tooru wasn't the type to put anything over volleyball, and he displayed that when it came to your guys' relationship. while the captain was deserving of any praise he received that was volleyball related, hajime knew that it was unfair for you to be neglected because he spends so much time and energy on it.

⠀"hajime? are you listening to me?"

⠀he turned his head towards you, your words shaking him out of his daze. he blinked a couple of times and sat up, turning his head so his attention was fully on you. "sorry, y/n. a bit tired today. what do you need?"

⠀"huh? i don't need anything." you shook your head. "i was telling you that makki and mattsun were inviting me to go out with them today, just out to eat so they can also fill me in on random things, and to talk a little more. i said yes because they seem nice enough, and you seem to trust them, so i didn't have a reason to say no. i just wanted to tell you because i'm not going to be walking home, so you don't need to take me today."

⠀hajime's heart dropped to the abyss in his stomach.

⠀you were going to what?

⠀he knew exactly what those two were planning on telling you, and he was not having any of it. panic bubbled and almost erupted out in the open, but he saved himself with a deep breath and a plastic smile, nodding his head slowly. "right, i trust them... yeah. you have fun with that." you appeared happy with what he said, giving him a quick hug before walking off. he waited for you to turn the corner before walking off on his own, his jaw clenched and his destination set.

⠀"iwaizumi, where's - " hanamaki was grabbed by the tie as the brunet glared at his former teammate, his eyes anything but nice. "what are you doing? let me go. i'm supposed to be meeting - "

⠀"i know what you're fucking doing," he spat, his grip around makki's uniform only tightening. "this isn't just some random meeting. y/n asked you for this meet up, didn't she? she wants to know stuff, and figured you two would willingly comply." he laughed, more of a mocking volume. "and what do you know, she was right."

⠀"iwaizumi, let me go." the male with pink hued hair snapped more sternly the second time around; hajime hesitated for a few moments before reluctantly releasing his grip on his fellow third year, who pressed his lips together as he fixed his uniform hastily. "you got us," he muttered, his eyes finding iwa's. "she came to us during lunch and kept asking us. you were already on your way back to the table so we simply told her we'd tell her after school. that's all."

⠀"that's all, my fucking ass." pointing an index finger in takahiro's face, hajime shook his head. "you better not tell her about oikawa. she's much better off without that piece of shit in her life."

⠀"but she has a right to know."

⠀iwaizumi's face paled, taking a step back as makki crossed his arms. holy shit, he was serious. he and makki were going to tell you everything. "she's a big girl, iwaizumi. she wants to remember her life before the car accident. i can't imagine what she's going through, having her memories blacked out like that. i know if i was her, i'd want to know every single detail." makki's eyes narrowed. "including the memories that could hurt me."

⠀hajime's hands clenched into fists as he shook his head again in protest, sticking his foot out to prevent the other from walking forward. "over my dead body will i let you do that. the last thing she needs is a reminder of the nightmare he put her through. you won't tell her a fucking word about it."

⠀"or are you just scared you'll lose her to oikawa again?"

⠀just that question was a punch to the stomach as hanamaki observed iwaizumi's reaction. a corner of his lips protruded upwards as he stared at the other male in the hallway, the truth so horribly obvious. "doesn't take an idiot to see how set you are in making y/n fall for you. using her amnesia to your advantage to brainwash her into forgetting oikawa and becoming her new boyfriend... i was on your side at first, iwa. now? you're being just as shitty as he is."

⠀"don't you fucking compare me to him. i'm not like him, and i will never treat her like shit."

⠀"maybe not like shit, but she's certainly more like a prize than an actual person in your eyes."

⠀takahiro watched the frustration boil to hajime's face, taking a deep breath and walking around him before he could be stopped again. "if you excuse me, you made me late. i'm sure y/n will - " he grunted as a sharp pain grabbed hold of his wrist, his eyes widening slightly as hajime seethed at him, jaw clenched and face glowing angrily.

⠀"i said, you're not telling her anything."

⠀"who's going to stop me?"

⠀iwaizumi's smile was anything but pleasant as he pointing towards the school entrance. "mattsun and y/n are waiting for us, right? we shouldn't leave them waiting for too long."

⠀makki's breath hitched in his throat at the realization and cursed to himself quietly, shaking his head as he had no choice but to pull hajime along with him. "your logic is fucked up. y/n is nothing but a trophy for you to show off."

⠀"y/n means more to me than what you could ever hope to understand. keep walking, bastard."

⠀"hajime? what are you doing here?" your face revealed genuine surprise as he had appeared right beside hanamaki, releasing his iron grip on his wrist before exiting aoba johsai. "i thought you were walking home?"

⠀he could see the silent exchange of glances going on between the other two, and he could tell by matsukawa's quiet but exasperated sigh that he understood what was going on. iwaizumi pretended to not notice, however, as he moved to stand next to you. he saw the confusion flickering within your irises, how they were averted towards the ground instead of looking at him. if only he could tell you how important you were to him and why he was acting this way for your own good, maybe you'd understand his side better.

⠀"i figured since i was hungry, i'd join you guys. after all, we all trust each other enough to discuss anything, right?"

a / n : second post today! promised it would come out soon 🥳 ALSO, THANK YOU SM FOR 900 FOLLOWERS !!! it truly means the world to me that you all decide to stick around my profile, i promise i’ll do the best i can to provide content worthy of your attention 🥺❤️

taglist ( closed ) — @ot127 @rena0921 @karlitabi-rrito @psychicpercyjacksonfan @crescentbitch @amelimiles @damnirina @pasta-warlord @blossomingbangtan @clinomanians @i-am-kinda-in-alot-of-fandoms@manq-fandoms @cirtruss @sugar-wara @haikoo @anime-simp @kairostatue @awkwardspontaneity @iwantapoptartqwq @aquariarose @softestdreamer @plantisnotplant @avylee @froppysgirl @that-animebitch @wisepandaslimeland @samanthaa-leanne @dumplingzumispam@0hakaashi @captain-janeway @afterglowkuroo @bellabelieveme @attixca @chickenrest@tycrackculture @ynjimenez @karaseijoh @lavieenblancetnoir @dabilove27 @cuddlesslut @crypto-s @keigosbitch@readeretal @shittykawaa @donghyuckster @adriloen @ella-solei @emiyummy @kukiisan @catyuyuyuu @sillykittt @dolan-mendes @kiritokunuwu @the-third-wall @yammerss @monviemoo

[bubblesgoboink]

everybody loves you

paring: movie-star!ransom x actress!fem-reader

word count: 1.5k+

summary: she doesn't like that anyone would die to feel his touch because she wants to be his gold rush.

WARNINGS: drinking, fluff-ish

The sound of champagne flutes clinking paired with indiscernible conversations and laughter floated around the room while she mingled. While discussions with castmates, crew workers, writers, and reputable directors flowed, her feet were getting achier, and a mild tension headache was building from her temples. Taking a deep breath, she excused herself from an animated conversation about the latest Hollywood affair and its politics alongside the movie release starring the couple. On a good day, she would have entertained the conversation while politely attempting to steer it in a different direction, but today wasn't one of those days, the champagne was too sweet, borderline frat party punch, and the air was too stuffy. Placing her fourth empty glass on a server's tray, she slinked out of the room to the nearest balcony.

Cool night air caressed her bare shoulders and combed through her loose hair as her eyes swept the yellow-hued illuminated city. In the serene moment, she felt the adrenaline of many months of shooting seep out of her and trickle back into the party, where it belonged. This wasn't her scene; it wasn't anyone's scene. Despite the excitement radiating from every person's hand that she shook in that room, she felt the exhaustion of the castmates from early shoots, the crew workers from setting up and cleaning up after hours every day, the writers from putting their hearts in their hand and their pens to paper, and the directors who made sure every word of the script was done justice on the big screen.

A flurry of camera shutter sounds and eager photographers shouting brought her out of her trance. She peered over the edge of the balcony and observed the scene unfolding at the entrance. One look at the sleek black BMW, and she knew who the chauffeur would reveal when he opened the door. Glancing back at the party, she sighed knowing the level of schmoozing in the joint was going to increase once the man in the car stepped in rapidly. Stubbornly she refused to step back in and be a part of the atmosphere that would exponentially boost his ego. The chatter swelled from below the balcony, and against her better judgment, she glanced over.

Even at over an hour late, photographers looked at Hugh Ransom Drysdale like he was the answer to all their editorial wishes. Fitted in a deep maroon Dolce and Gabbana tux with material that looked like mohair and leather dress shoes embossed with the double Gucci G's on the sides, he faced the left, favoring the right side of his face and aimed a smirk at the largest camera of the bunch.

Taking a few steps down the red carpet, he ran a hand through his perfectly quaffed hair, leaving a single strand to linger over his temple while the rest fell right back into place. How he managed to look sleek and expensive while maintaining a grounded "I just woke up like this" vibe was beyond her, but she would never say that to his Adonis-like face.

A chorus of, "Thank you, Ransom", rang across the rope line as he reached the end of the carpet. With a quick eyebrow flicker and a cocky half-grin, he acknowledged the crowd and headed inside. She scoffed and ran a hand through her hair, huffing irritably as the front strands fell awkwardly into her face and not elegantly like Ransom's. A drink sounded good right about now, but if she went in, she'd have to face the music that was Ransom's siren song, ignoring the possible repercussions she made her decision.

Slipping back into the room, she walked the perimeter of the room, hoping to avoid getting sucked into a conversation on her way to the open bar.

"Can I get a to-go cup full of the Pinot Noir?" The bartender raised his eyebrows in mild concern at the strange order but moved to grab the wine and a paper cup.

"Would you like ice in this?" He snarkily quipped as if to imply that someone who was unsophisticated enough to order wine in a to-go cup wouldn't know that ice diluted the full-bodied notes of the wine.

"Is that the Belle Glos Pinot Noir from the Russian River Valley because in that case, I would-"

"No, she won't have ice in that. Pour it into a glass for me, will you? And you, what are you doing ordering red wine in a to-go cup like some kind of broke alcoholic college student?" Ransom smiled smugly at her like he just saved her from a career-ending scandal. She glared up at him, accidentally making direct eye contact with his stupidly pretty ocean eyes. She let her eyes trace his clean-shaven jaw down to his disgustingly broad shoulders. How the hell could someone look so broad in a blazer? He chuckled knowingly as she "discreetly" checked him out.

"Are you done yet?" She wanted so badly to wipe that smug look off his face. Ransom Drysdale not looking smug was nearly impossible. She remembers the time he took one too many steps back and fell into the pool, shirt, jeans, shoes, and all, and didn't look the least bit embarrassed, whereas she fled the scene out of second-hand embarrassment.

Looking him dead in the eye, "Put the wine back in the cup, with ice, please." Narrowing her eyes, she shoved a finger against his chest, "My wine, my choice." She could tell from the way his jaw clenched he was getting irritated with her bit.

"Darling, you don't know-"

"Ah, there you are, Ransom. Have I introduced you to my wife Mrs. Edwards?" The older lady grasped Ransom's hand that he'd robotically stuck out as he's been conditioned to greet people at such large gatherings with both of her hands and tugged him towards her, placing obnoxiously loud air kisses on either side of his face.

From her angle perched on the barstool, she could spy the grimace on Ransom’s face as the lady gushed in a thick British accent about his latest film and how captivated she was by the chemistry he had with his costar.

“You didn’t tell me your wife was so charming. I might have to steal her after this”, Ransom stage-whispered to the director. Mrs. Edwards let out a raucous laugh and placed her hand on Ransom’s bicep while he joined in her laughter with deep chuckles of his own.

“Ransom was an absolute pleasure to work with on this film and so was his costar-” As if on cue, there was an audible sound of someone chewing ice behind them. The director and his wife turned around at the sound to find, said costar sheepishly grinning at them while holding a styrofoam cup in her hand. She placed the cup on the bar, stood up, and straightened her dress to appear somewhat professional and held out a hand to Mrs. Edwards.

But before she could introduce herself, Mrs. Edwards cut in, “Is that wine in a take-out cup? That reminds me of my college days, such good times. Especially because I met this one.” Mrs. Edwards giggled and gently bumped her husband’s shoulder. “You’re absolutely adorable, sweetie.” She politely smiled at the director’s wife and started a conversation with her about behind the scenes on set and all the little quirks her husband had while he was directing. While Mrs. Edwards was speaking about a trip she’d taken to Australia with her husband where he nearly lost a limb near the dingo enclosure, she felt a warm hand placed on the small of her back. She side-eyed Ransom only to find that he had been inconspicuously tugging her into his side during the conversation, she was practically standing with her back pressed against his chest.

Mr. Edwards checked his watch before wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist. “We should go now. We only planned on dropping by for a couple minutes but then I saw my boy Ransom and just had to stop by and say hi. Also, we have a dinner in a week to discuss the possibility of a sequel.”

“Oh look at them. They’re practically cuddling.” Mrs. Edwards pointed out to her husband.

“I simply can’t help not being close to her. It’s like muscle memory from our days on set.” Ransom smoothly responded as he ran his hand up and down her back in soothing motions. Mrs. Edwards smiled knowingly and reached over to interlace her fingers with her husbands. Another round of air kisses and the Edwards left the premise.

She turned on Ransom as soon as they left, furious. “I’m not a prop for you to earn some brownie points with.”

He poked her chest lightly with his index finger and leaned down, brushing her nose with his. “It’s good press for the movie, sweetheart. Don’t get ahead of yourself. See you at the dinner.” He tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, finger softly caressing the side of her cheek. Her eyes reflexively fluttered shut as she leaned into his exuding warmth.

The air suddenly turned cold and when she opened her eyes, he was already being whisked off to another conversation leaving her with nothing but a styrofoam cup in one hand and the dizzying scent of his woodsy cologne dancing around her.

-

a/n: this is probably gonna be a three part series bc that's how i planned it but since when do i adhere to my plans. hope you enjoyed! :)

[4aloysius-porteu]

i really wish i hated you || tsukishima kei

masterlist | 1 | chapter 2  | 3

pairing: tsukishima kei x f! reader

sypnosis: It was an accident that (Y/N) met a certain tall, blonde male; a memory she isn't fond of remembering, but it is where it all started. And ever since, she magically makes her to his path. The image of the bespectacled man dwelled in her mind more than she thought. Tsukishima pushed away his softer emotions and denied their existence, or at least that's what he told himself. But then, he couldn't believe that this girl he labeled as a clumsy, unlucky creature who smashed his glasses is slowly bringing these strange emotions back to him. She might be irritating and dumb sometimes, but he couldn't get himself to completely hate her. Either that destiny was stupid, or he was blessed or cursed.

genre: fanfiction, fluff

wc: 1881

(Y/N) stopped her tracks upon hearing his voice and turned around to confirm, but it was true, much to her dismay. He held his black-rimmed glasses with its left lens and frame cracked. The girl's mind went blank. She hesitantly glanced at him a few times, hoping that he would forgive her or let the incident smoothly slide.

He hissed, "Don't think you can get away with this, miss."

She sighed in defeat. The kids approached her with worried looks. She patted her heads, accepting their sympathy. "Well, playtime's over."

"But we haven't finished the game!"

"Do you still want to play?"

"Yes!"

"Next time, when you see me again at the park. Onee-chan has to go now."

She bade goodbye to the children and walked towards the guy she hit with his friend. She looked at his broken glasses again and couldn't help but to let out an exhale with anxiety. This is the result of my stupidity...

"W-What do you want me to do?" (Y/N) slurred.

" I don't know, maybe you should fix it right here and right now." The blonde guy crossed his arms and frowned.

Why don't you just get to the point?

"Replace it."

Of course, she will have to replace it. What a question to ask. She mentally rolled her eyes.

"I'll check there out if there's an optical store, I guess you will have to keep an eye on me so that I won't escape?" She pointed to the nearby mall, walking distance from the park.

"What else? Nobody trusts a stranger."

They reached the town's mall and saw an open optical store, but (Y/N) remembered her wallet. She wasn't sure if there's enough money for her to buy glasses.

"On the second thought, can I buy the glasses tomorrow? I don't think I have enough money."

"No." He instantly replied.

"Tsukki," His green-haired companion interrupted, "Maybe we can give her a chance? What if she's telling the truth?"

"I need my glasses in my everyday life, and if she doesn't have the money, I'll be happy to spare her some, but she'll have no choice to be in my debt."

How merciless. It's not like (Y/N) could blame him, but if the same thing happened to her, she would treat them nicely. She looked around the store to find a pair of glasses exactly like his, as he demanded, with his friend helping her for 30 minutes. After she gets the correct measurements and eye grade, she emptied her wallet to pay for the damn thing,

"Here." She held out the new glasses in the case. "Take care of them, it costed my LAST savings."

He took them and wore them immediately, "I am taking care of my glasses, it's just someone 'accidentally' kicked a ball on my way and knocked them off. Thank you for the horrible experience."

He excused himself and walked away. His friend stayed to talk to her.

"I'm sorry for the way he acted, he's like this most of the times. Please understand," He bowed, shyness evident in his voice.

"It's okay, it was completely my fault, so I don't mind."

"It was an accident, though. Thank you for your generosity." He soon followed the blondie that headed first.

"That was mandatory, though." (Y/N) lightly chuckled to herself.

She got out of the mall to take in the fresh air, but her soul almost left her body when a bolt of lightning strikes a tree near her, setting it on fire.

"Oh, my fucking- Did the sky just attempted to finish me?!" She said, calming herself down and looking up. The clouds were much darker than earlier.

As the townspeople bombed the burning tree with water, she ran to her apartment before it rains. There, she dropped her things on the couch and flopped to her bed, thinking what happened on this day because of her own stupidity. She groaned when she held her now empty wallet.

"Argh! Why am I so unlucky?!"She threw her wallet in frustration.

"That tall, blonde, asshole! He didn't need to embarrass me in front of people! I didn't mean it! He could've waited for tomorrow for me to replace his glasses! He's so unforgiving!" She complained, hating the thought of the said guy.

She sighed, cringe, anger, and embarrassment filling her head as she hugged her pillow.

"May karma comes to him sometime," was her last words before drifting off to a nap.

A few days passed, she went out of the house again to buy food supplies in a convenience store. It was almost nighttime. The chilly wind blew to her face and the sweet scent wafted in the store. She picked up some junk food and meat first before stopping by the confectioneries section. While choosing what shortcake flavor to pick, she bumped into something that almost made her fall to the floor, if she hadn't retained her balance.

"Oof, I'm sorry..."

Or rather, it was a person she bumped into.

She looked up and recognized the face of the man. It was the guy she's kind of mad at, but this time, he didn't have his nice friend with him.

(Y/N) took a step back, "You!"

The male looked back at her, tilting his head, observing the girl. He spoke with a monotonous expression, "Do I know you?"

Her eye twitched in irritation, "He doesn't remember me?!"

"I was the girl in the playground three days ago! I... I replaced your glasses!" She said, hesitating on the next sentence.

"Oh." His eyebrows raised, "Did the midget learned her lesson not to play a sport she's bad at?" He mocked.

"I'm not even a soccer player to begin with! What are you doing here?"

"What? Am I not allowed to buy food in a convenience store like a normal person?"

"I've been buying stuff here and I've never seen a similar face I've met twice in a week or month. That's sus."

"Maybe you are following me."

"What do I gain by following a huge, mean person like you?" (Y/N) retorted.

"Perhaps you want to get back at me after what happened days ago even if it's your fault. I don't know. Ask yourself." He took his eyes off her to choose among the sweet desserts.

She paused, analyzing his comment, "Well, you aren't completely wrong..."

"So, I am being followed? What a stalker."

"Of course not! What you said might be possible, but it's not the case right now!"

Both of them have set their eyes on an item and surprisingly the same one. A strawberry shortcake in the middle of the section. Their hands both grabbed the object before staring at each other in annoyance.

"Let go." They chorused.

"I chose it first." Said (Y/N).

"I do not see your name in it. You let go." He replied.

"How about no?"

They glared at each other for a few minutes before (Y/N)'s brows creased deeper in the middle, knowing well that this guy won't back down. "Whatever, you take it. I don't care anymore."

"Wow, thanks." He subtly rolled his eyes then walked away.

It was very awkward in the cashier where she had to wait behind him. Damn, he's so tall. Does he play any sport? Is he human? Or probably just a walking, mean tree?

What happened in the park flashed in (Y N)'s mind again. The impact of the ball might have been so painful to him since he wears glasses, where it cracked. What if the shards got into his eyes? Her wallet isn't ready for more payments, but that isn't the issue right now. She was worried about his well being. Both of them got out of the convenience store and she called the blonde male before he could get away again.

"Uhh, hey!"

He looked over his shoulder a little, "What?"

"Are your eyes okay? I mean, your glasses cracked... shards could've got inside your eyes..."

"Yes, they're fine, fortunately."

(Y/N) let out a sigh of relief. "That's... good to hear."

"But if something happened to my eyes, I will not hesitate to find you and make you pay for an eye surgery."

"You're exaggerating."

"It's not impossible. Now, go home. Elementary school students shouldn't go past the curfew."

She frowned. If only he wasn't a stranger, she would've kicked his ass to hell.

"Oh, gladly. I wouldn't want to stay near a bootleg Eiffel Tower any longer. Have a good day for you."

The blonde male left without any more words. (Y/N) sighed again in mental exhaustion, having to finish a lot of things this night. She was walking straight to her home while thinking of ideas to put in her current project when she realized that he was still walking ahead in front of her.

Where is he going?

She made her footsteps lighter, not wanting him to think that she was following him. She was thinking where does this guy live or why is he walking the same route as she does. It's not wrong to know where does this asshole stay, right? This continued for a couple of minutes before he turned around.

"Will you stop following me?"

Her eyes widened, not expecting him to know that she was behind him, "Excuse me? I'm just walking to my place?"

"Really?" He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

(Y/N) looked around to find a way to escape. There, she saw her house that she almost missed because her mind was occupied, "Oh, look. It's my house. I gotta go!"

She waved goodbye to the blonde stranger, ran to her apartment, and slammed the door, dying from the awkwardness. She proceeded to the kitchen to drop the food supplies and to cook for herself as well. The salt in the cupboard reminded her of the rude, four eyes that she just met again minutes ago. That's when she realized, she kept calling him either insults or his evident physical features when he probably has a name. She could've asked for his name earlier, but shrugged the idea off, thinking that he will never give her his name.

The common thing to do after graduating junior high is to find a decent high school. (Y/N) is scheduled to have her entrance exams next week, so she has to spend time reviewing her notes these days. She opted to go to the prefectural library the next day to get further references as she isn't satisfied with the books she has. It was Wednesday, thus it was full of people who are also preparing for their entrance exams. With her stature, it'll be easy to pass in this crowd of people but she will have to ask for help because she can't reach the books at the top of the shelves.

After wandering around the crowded library, she found an unoccupied table to quietly study. She made her way to it, carrying the heavy books she needed that was luckily located at the bottom shelves. As she set the books on the left side of the table, someone did the same on the opposite side. She looked up to see who the stranger is, only to find out that the person isn't a stranger to her anymore.

"Oh, the midget stalker is here." 

©4aloysius.porteu.2021. please do not repost, copy, or edit. plagiarism is punishable by law.

[squadrablog]

ok I've joined the Ghiaccio hype train, could I request a Ghiaccio fic with a reader who doesn't like sudden loud noises and will definitely cry if you yell at them? they're really intimidated by Ghiaccio but they're comfortable with the rest of La Squadra, so he's struggling to be a good team member to someone who's always nervous around him. feel free to make it romantic or platonic, your writing is amazing!! 💕💕

Here you are! With the stuff I ended up focusing on I thought that shoehorning a romance in would feel weird, so I focused more on exploring the beginnings of a platonic friendship with him. Lots of awkward Ghiaccio and miscommunication but it all ends up good. :^)

Ghiaccio & Reader (platonic, gender neutral)

Ao3 Mirror Here.

Word Count: 3921

Warnings: Reader has childhood trauma w/ loud noises, not gone into in depth. Assassination job implied but doesn’t happen in text.

Under cut for length!

The last thing you saw yourself doing with your life was becoming an assassin, but here you were. You were a tough kid, scrappy and resourceful when it came down to it, but only because you had to be to get by. You always thought you’d eventually leave that old life behind. The gunshots echoing into the night from rival mafias squaring off to claim the neighborhood you lived in as their territory. The shouts from the man who took you in when you had nowhere else to go, only to berate you when you failed to pick enough pockets to meet his quotas. The way the older and meaner children would torment you, taunt and deride you, whenever you let your vulnerability show.

And you had, more or less, left those parts of it behind at least. When you joined Passione as a last ditch effort to survive you were given a sense of stability that you had never had before, and after initiation when your stand manifested as something powerful and deadly, it didn’t take too long for you to get placed into La Squadra di Esecuzione, Passione’s team of elite assassins. 

As a stand user working with other stand users you rarely relied on guns to get your work done. You were no longer struggling to get by, and although your new Capo held his team to high standards he made sure you had ample training and was patient with you while you were still getting your footing. All your teammates were surprisingly supportive; even if they were wary of outsiders, when it came to their own family they looked out for each other.

It was a dangerous life, not without its own anxieties, but it was a much quieter life. It was a life in the shadows, with a roof over your head, with work that allowed you to use stealth and silence. Even if you couldn’t exactly say you were thrilled about being an assassin you were at least surrounded by people who genuinely cared about you now, watched over by a man who never raised his voice at you for things outside your control, and most comforting of all: you never needed to use a gun.

Not all loud noises set you off, just the ones that reminded you of the violent instability of your childhood and the cruelty of your guardian and peers. Your new teammates could get pretty noisy and spirited, but the boisterous and jovial nature of their laughter, even from their more intense teasing, was a comforting change of pace. You didn’t doubt your value or the fact they respected you.

Well, mostly. There was one teammate who was a bit harder for you to let your guard down around.

His name was Ghiaccio, and to say he was loud would be an understatement. When you first met him he had been a bit standoffish, but so were Risotto and Prosciutto. You knew it would take some time for everyone to accept you as a real part of the squad, and you were ready to be patient. But as you quietly observed everyone for those first few weeks, getting a feel for their individual personalities and their dynamics with each other, you found yourself very intimidated by Ghiaccio. He was able to pal around with the rest of them, even if he was gruff as a default, but when something upset him it was like a switch had been flipped.

He was critical of his squadmates’ performance out in the field, and he never hesitated to offer his critiques regardless of how little anyone wanted to hear them. He was critical of the way people talked, constantly nitpicking everyone’s pronunciations and word choice. He was critical of the way that chores around the house got done, judging everyone’s efforts by timeliness and thoroughness.

Everyone was able to brush him off most of the time without problem. When they actually valued what he had to say they never seemed to take the mean way he said it personally. They’d had plenty of time to get used to him and sift through the bullshit. They knew when something actually mattered to him and when something was just him blowing off steam for the sake of it. They knew when it was fair to ask him to shut up and when it was best to let him get it out of his system.

You steeled yourself as best as you could in those first few weeks, just telling yourself you needed some time to understand his quirks like the rest of your squad did, but your opinion changed immediately after your first mission with him.

“Is Prosciutto teaching you anything?” he barked out at you after you two finally managed to take out your hit. You flinched and looked away from his intense gaze. You were a bit anxious about being alone with him for the first time, and you wanted to give him your best effort to impress him, but being on so on edge caused you to make some big mistakes.

“Well?” he demanded when you said nothing. You had assumed it was a rhetorical question.

“Y-yes?” you stuttered out.

“Then you’re the one accountable for fucking up today. What the hell was that?” he asked, his question ending in something similar to a snarl.

Something that was different about working with Ghiaccio as opposed to working with the others was that he argued out loud to no one in particular about random topics that pissed him off. At first you thought he was expecting you to talk to him about how nonsensical some phrase was that Formaggio used before the two of you left, and you listened attentively, but he never gave you any room to respond. Eventually you realized he wasn’t really conversing, just yelling to yell. It was very distracting and it only made you fidget and lose focus.

“I… well…” you choked out. “It’s usually quieter… on my missions, since my stand is- well, since my stand is made for stealth and-”

“Me talking prevented you from doing your job correctly?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. You just shrunk even deeper within yourself. The last thing you wanted to do was insinuate your mistake had been his fault. There was no way that wouldn’t provoke his ire.

“N-no! You didn’t do anything wrong! It was me, I’m really sorry! It won’t happen again!” you squeaked out.

“Better not,” he grumbled sarcastically with a huff before turning to walk down the street towards his car. You followed, keeping a good distance behind him, not looking forward to the ride back to the base.

---

That had been weeks ago. While you had been doing a decent job at tolerating Ghiaccio before that mission, afterwards was a different story. You actively avoided him, checking if he was in rooms before entering, excusing yourself when he came into a room you were already in, shutting yourself in your room upstairs when you heard him start up on a rant somewhere on the main floor.

Eventually it was shamelessly (or perhaps shamefully) obvious to just about everyone.

“Dude, what happened on your mission with them?” Formaggio asked in a hushed tone one time after your footsteps had disappeared up the stairs. “They’re terrified of you.”

“How the fuck should I know? They haven’t said anything to me about it,” Ghiaccio shot back.

“Uh, yeah, duh. That’s what I’m saying. They won’t even sit in the same room as you,” Formaggio muttered.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” he said, scrunching up his eyebrows. “But it’s not like they talk much to begin with.”

“Are you kidding?” Illuso interjected, inserting himself into his two teammates’ conversation, much to Ghiaccio’s annoyance. “I can get them to prattle on for hours about themself. They’re a real chatterbox once you get to know them.”

“Illuso, dude, have they told you the story about their mission with Pesci down at the wharf?” Formaggio asked with a big grin.

“Fuck, I almost forgot about that,” Illuso replied with a chuckle. “What about the time where-”

“Hey! Shut up for a second,” Ghiaccio snapped. “We’re all talking about the same person, right?”

Upon being interrupted Illuso narrowed his eyes at Ghiaccio before turning to Formaggio. “It’s obviously because of Ghiaccio’s poorly controlled rage. Have you ever seen the poor thing freeze up over a gunshot before?”

“No, but I can imagine. One time I tried scaring them from behind and it took them ten whole minutes to recover,” Formaggio responded.

“I haven’t done shit to them, what possible reason do they have to be scared of me?” Ghiaccio asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, what happened on that mission?” Formaggio asked again.

“It was pretty standard, I killed the bastard while they assisted. They did fuck up pretty bad, which is typical during training, so I pointed it out for their benefit. Then we left,” Ghiaccio recounted. “Nothing else happened.”

Formaggio raised an eyebrow. “What did you say?”

“I don’t know! I think I asked if Prosciutto was doing his job right since they didn’t seem too confident. I asked if there was anything that might have contributed to their lackluster performance, but after thinking it over they said that it was on them.”

“Sounds pretty level headed and analytical of you,” Illuso said, stroking his chin. “Are you sure that’s how you said it?”

“Probably not in so many words, I was probably more casual about it,” Ghiaccio grumbled. “Why does it matter how I said it? What’s important is what I said.”

“Ghiaccio, your brand of casual is a few decibels above what’s average,” Illuso said.

“Not to mention the casual expletives, or the casual sarcasm,” Formaggio added. “Are you sure you didn’t casually tell them to go fuck themself without realizing it?”

“No! I mean, if I was stern with them it was in the context of training!” Ghiaccio insisted.

“Are we being trained right now? Is that why you’re yelling at us?” Illuso asked with a smirk.

“This is just how I talk!” Ghiaccio said, bringing a hand up to his temple. “Ugh, I don’t fucking know! Maybe I yelled at them? I remember being very straightforward. They seemed kind of on edge, but I just assumed that’s how they always are!” He dropped his hand and turned to look at his two teammates. “Are they really not like that on missions with you?”

“Not anymore,” Illuso said with a shrug. “At first a bit, but they’re pretty reliable now.”

“You’ve got to go slow with them. They’re easily set off, but if they know they can count on you they’re able to push through it,” Formaggio said.

“My stand is invincible and I never even let the guy near them. There’s no one better suited for watching someone’s blind spot than me,” Ghiaccio said with his hand splayed out on his chest.

“I mean, like… emotionally,” Formaggio said, scratching the back of his head. “If I was to put myself in their headspace I’d say they probably think you hate them.”

“I don’t hate them,” Ghiaccio spat loudly.

“Good! Now step two is letting them know that,” Illuso said, clapping a hand on Ghiaccio’s back, causing his glasses to slide down his nose.

Ghiaccio grumbled and pushed his glasses back up. He knew that things were weird between the two of you ever since your mission, but it never even crossed his mind it was because of something he said. Is this what Prosciutto felt like training Pesci? But even Pesci had never been avoidant or scared of Prosciutto for all the tough love that he gave him. Pesci looked up to him like an older brother.

If he was really the only one in all of La Squadra that you were uncomfortable around, then he supposed it was on him now to figure out why.

---

The base was pretty quiet today, with a lot of missions landing on Risotto’s desk this week. While you were quite fond of your new teammates you liked having the common area all to yourself on a quiet evening, especially if you were curled up with a novel. When you first started living at the base it felt like a luxury, but even after you had gotten used to the quiet its novelty hadn’t worn off for you.

The sound of a key jingling at the front door had you peeking over your book. When Ghiaccio appeared framed by the living room entrance you held your breath. Hopefully he’d be going upstairs… no, it looked like he was coming into the common area. That’s okay, you could move, so you started standing up, except… he was looking right at you, heading in your direction.

“Sit down,” he said stiffly, and after a beat he added, “Please?”

“Uhh! Okay!” you said, sitting back down and bringing your book right back up to cover your face.

“Can you also, uh. Please. Put the book down?” Ghiaccio said, his voice strained to maintain a monotone and flatten out any inflection. You did as he asked, although you still couldn’t meet his eyes, and he just stared at you awkwardly.

“Uh-”

“Hello,” he said, and it left his mouth at the exact same time your muttered exclamation had. Another awkward pause.

“Hi?” you said, unsure. This wasn’t what you were expecting from your next conversation with the man, for as long as you had postponed it. You thought he’d be demanding to know why you were ignoring him, or getting on your case about being too sensitive to handle his criticism on your last mission. Maybe that was yet to come?

“You are afraid of me,” Ghiaccio stated flatly. Then perhaps he realized he wanted to ask it as a question. “Yes?”

“Oh, no, I’m…” you muttered.

“Of course you are,” he said quickly, cutting you off before you could mumble out an excuse. You got pretty embarrassed by that, but you swallowed and moved your eyes up to gauge his expression. He didn’t look angry, but he looked hyper focused to the point of distress. His lips were pressed together tightly as if he was trying to hold back from speaking again.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“For being scared of me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He was being sarcastic again, wasn’t he?

“No, I… I mean… I’m sorry for,” you started, trying to think of something legitimate to actually be sorry about. “For fucking up on the mission.”

“Did fucking up on the mission really bother you that much?” he said. Not only were you stupid for fucking up the mission, but you were also stupid for letting it bother you for so long! What did he want you to say?

“No, I mean…”

But Ghiaccio cut you off with a long loud exhale. “Look, I’m not great at this kind of thing. I understand that I make you anxious, and I understand that for whatever reason it’s hard for you to talk to me, but I really can’t understand what people say unless they drop all the bullshit.” When you frowned and looked away he tried again. “Not bullshit, fuck, uh. No, not fuck... It’s just that. I need you to say exactly what you mean. I can’t tell what people are thinking unless they make it… easy for me.”

You looked back at him. Whatever he was here to talk about with you, he was trying very hard not to raise his voice. The way he was talking to you was too stilted to be anything but intentional. If he was doing this for your sake, then you would try to meet him halfway. You took a moment to think, to choose what you wanted to say carefully.

“I don’t do well with loud noises. I also… take things very personally. I’ve been worrying that you…” You took another second before committing. “...Hate me.”

He pressed his lips in a thin line again as some noise tried to escape his throat, perhaps an instinctive denial. “What about me makes you think that?”

“Well… you seemed pretty disappointed in me after the mission.”

“I was checking in with you. I wanted to make sure Prosciutto was properly training you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “But… but you sounded really angry and sarcastic.”

Ghiaccio closed his eyes and thought about that for a second. “I probably was angry, but not at you. You just fucked up on something so basic that I had to wonder if Prosciutto was actually teaching you anything useful.”

“That’s… not how you said it though,” you said, feeling defensive. “I… I know I did something dumb… but I’ve never messed up with my stand like that before. It was different on that mission.”

“Me talking to myself?” Ghiaccio asked. He had been fixating over what he said to you at the end of that mission for days now, trying to remember all the details. He recalled how you had started with one explanation, but you quickly retracted it.

“You were… so angry the entire mission,” you complained. “Everyone else is quiet on missions with me because my stand is better suited to it.”

“It wasn’t a stealth mission,” Ghiaccio countered. “We were using your stand for something different. I wasn’t even talking to you.”

“I know!” you groaned. “You weren’t trying to distract me, but when things get too loud I…”

“But you took it back. You said it wasn’t me,” Ghiaccio said, leaning forward. His voice had risen just a little, but when he noticed how you reacted to that he tensed up.

“I took it back because I was afraid of upsetting you!” you said, leaning back into the couch as far as you could. “Because when I brought it up… you were mean about it… so I took it back! I thought you were trying to tell me it was my fault, so I took the blame like I thought you wanted!”

“I was… I was asking for clarification! If I did something that caused you to fuck up then I want to know that I did so we can talk about it!” He was clenching his fists to keep his upward inflections from becoming full-blown yelling.

“None of that came across!” you complained. “Like… maybe you technically said those things, but the way you said made it come across completely different!”

“What about you? Now you’re telling me that you meant something completely different from the things you actually said to me!?”

“I-I… but I was obviously upset! I was obviously just trying to appease you!”

“How was it obvious? I thought you were upset because you fucked up! No one likes fucking up!”

“Yeah, no kidding!” You realized at this point that your own voice was starting to rise, which was making Ghiaccio raise his to match yours, and you took a deep breath before speaking calmly again. “I was upset because I was afraid.”

It was quiet again for a little while until Ghiaccio broke the silence.

“Being mean and angry comes really easy to me,” he said, running his fingers through his curls. “Even when I don’t realize it, I still am. Even if I think I’m being reasonable, people misunderstand. I’ve been so used to the others actually being able to take it that I forgot how bad it was.” He scratched at his head a bit. “I also have a hard time telling how loud I actually am until someone points it out.”

You sat there for a moment, soaking that in, before you gave a small amused huff with a half-smile on your face. “I’m not great with loud noises because of what they mean to me. Gunshots remind me of a time when I wasn’t safe… but I can protect myself now, and I have other people who will protect me too. But yelling reminds me of… how I was never good enough for anyone.” You tapped your fingers on the cover of the book on your lap and shrugged.

“I hear from the others that you’re really skilled and reliable on missions,” Ghiaccio said. “I didn’t see that from you when we worked together, but maybe that’s because I was the one who fucked up.”

“But you didn’t...” you started.

“I fucked up by not meeting you where you were at. You’re new. I don’t know you, I don’t know what you’re like. If we had talked beforehand, if I had worked with you, then you probably wouldn’t have made that mistake. I was taking the lead on that mission, it was my job to train you to use your stand in an unfamiliar circumstance. I use missions to get out all the shit that makes me angry, since I don’t need to stay quiet. You don’t work like that. You had no idea what I was yelling for. I never told you how I do things, I just expected you to brush it off like everyone else does.”

You blinked a few times. You had been pretty quick to blame yourself for your own shortcomings, but hearing him say that really recontextualized that entire mission experience.  You might have fucked up, but it was now obvious that he did not hold it against you. “That’s surprisingly self-aware of you.”

He rolled his eyes and set his elbow on the couch’s armrest, plopping his head on his fist. “You don’t know me either. I’m more than a raving heartless bastard. Stuff like this… not understanding why other people think the way they do, or what I’m doing wrong… it really fucks me up. I don’t hate you. You’re a part of my family now and I genuinely want to help you get stronger. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Ghiaccio was nothing like you thought. He was actually really sensitive and introspective. You could tell it was hard for him to confront you like this, almost as hard as it was for you to be confronted. You appreciated that he wanted to put in the effort to have a relationship with you.

“Thank you Ghiaccio. And I’m sorry I avoided you instead of trying to talk about it like this.” You reached over and placed your hand on his shoulder with a gentle smile. He seemed taken aback by the contact, but he relaxed after a moment.

“Are we… good?” he huffed out.

“I think so!”

He let out one long exhale that seemed to go on forever. “Thank fuck,” he muttered, before turning to look at you. “Goddamn it, sorry.”

“It’s not the swearing that bothers me,” you clarified. “It’s the intention behind it. You’re… uh… fucking good, my dude.”

He let out a snort at the awkward way you said that before bringing his hand up to cover his face, looking away in embarrassment.

“Aw, no, that was cute,” you assured him, which only made it worse.

“Well, if we’re done here then I’m heading to bed,” he said, and you glanced at the clock in the living room. It had gotten pretty late. He stood up and started walking towards the stairs.

“We have a mission together again this weekend, right?” you asked, and he looked at you over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he confirmed.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you said with as much enthusiasm as you could muster. And you meant it. “Goodnight!”

“...Night,” he said, before he disappeared around the corner.

[drakewalkerfantasy]

Giving in. (Eleventh Doctor x Clara Oswald)

A Doctor Who fanfiction for #WhouffleWeek2020

Day 1: Jealousy / “How does that feel?” 

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x Clara Oswald

Not sure if anyone would be interested so just tagging my lovely and amazing and very supportive friend here: @choices-bound​ 

I hope you will enjoy it.

Summary: After Clara being late for their usual Wednesday's adventures the Doctor becomes very jealous of what he have accidentally witnessed outside TARDIS' doors. Will he finally admit of being jealous and will act on his feelings that he is developing to his pretty companion? Or will he lie making the distance between them even bigger? And will he finally Give in as he promised once upon a time to another Clara, in Victorian London. And could this promise hold completely different meaning this time...

Words: 3189

A/N: I’m not sure who want to be tagged. This fic probably completely rubbish... but I wrote and rewrote 100% and I know I can do better, if I would have month or two to write and if my little baby wouldn't interup. But hope you will enjoy it a little bit at least :)

**Warnings: slightly angsty / SMUTTY / 18+ / NSFW / MATURE**

“What got into you,” finally asked Clara, when the tension became unbearable to handle. Her eyes were on Doctor watching him to pace around the console panel, mumbling something under his breath that she couldn’t quite catch. His movements sharp and precise, pulling levers and pressing buttons with unnecessary force. His body stiff and his hands moving sporadically, while he paced quickly around the panel not saying even a single word to her.

That's a first. Thought Clara, while biting her lower lip. Carefully observing the usually cheerful Doctor who was visibly brooding.

She could sense how his somehow bad mood radiated from him and it took her by surprise. She could basically hear his teeth clenching, while he tried to keep quiet, sensing how his body shook from the unexpected emotions. Emotions she couldn’t quite recognise. Emotions he tried stubbornly to suppress by not speaking with her, and only occasionally casting a grim glances at her before turning away. “Did I do something?” questioned Clara, worrying when he didn’t reply. Worrying that she offended him in some way that she didn’t realise.

He noticed how she caught her bottom lip between her teeth anxiously. The nervous habit of hers. He noted. The habit that he noticed was driving him crazy. And no matter how hard he tried to deny this, it made his blood boil and his hearts thump harder. He swore quietly under his breath when he caught her stare at him with this big wide doe like eyes whole of confusion. Her bottom lip trembling slightly, tucked between her teeth in a most adorable way possible. And he could feel how his resolve broke by uttering the only response he could master.

“You are late.”

“What?” asked Clara taken aback by his unusually low and sharp voice with a deliciously dark notes in it. The notes she never noticed in his voice before.

“You are late,” repeated Doctor taking a deep breath, finally stopping to pace and leaning forward on the console panel. His hands pressed flat against its surface. His head lowered and the bang of his hairs hanging over his eyes. He could feel something what he didn’t feel in a very long time. Something what he shouldn’t have been feeling to his companion... his friend. Something what he could name with one single word. Jealousy.

Yes, he was jealous. And it was pointless to deny it. This is why he kept quiet, trying to ignore Clara. Trying to ignore the pang of jealousy he felt when he landed near to her house a half an hour earlier to pick her up, only to be a witness of how she let some other guy to kiss her on the corner of her lips before she awkwardly waved him goodbye.

“Sorry... kind of lost track of time,” she murmured lowering her gaze to the floor drowning her lip even further into her mouth, making him groan quietly from the gesture.

The truth be told she didn’t lost track of time as the guy she went on on a blind date was boring as hell. To be honest it was even quit the opposite as she counted every second till this awful date would come to the end, but she couldn’t just up and leave. Or could she?

She questioned, while thinking about the Doctor and how he possibly already waited for her as he did every Wednesday evening at seven o’clock sharp, while the date was dragging on and on till it was already past the time. And when he kissed her on the corner of her lips she froze on the spot in shock before rushing toward the Doctor, who had strolled into his TARDIS not even looking at her. And now he was angry... The angriest she ever seen him to be.

Or was it something else? she wondered watching him to meet her gaze before mumbling something and looking away. His brows furrowed and his lips dragged into a frown.

“Yes, I gathered it,” he seethed, when she asked him what did he said. His hand angrily pulling on the lever while another slamming on the console with a loud thump. Causing TARDIS to hum something grumpily before Doctor murmured an apology, gently dragging his hand over the surface. Clara's eyes widened and she strolled toward him, grubbing his arm and forcing him to face her. Feeling how her own blood started to boil from the way he acted as if she did something wrong.

“Doctor, what did you mean, you gathered it?” she asked, her voice raising on a few octaves while feeling rather frustrated that he turned his back to her again not able or not wanting to meet her eyes.

“Nothing.”

“Doctor?” huffed Clara.

“Do you really want to know, what is wrong?” cried out Doctor, swirling at the spot to face Clara, watching her to nod as if she truly didn’t have any idea. As if it wasn’t obvious how much it hurt him to watch her to move on with her life, letting him to be in it only one single day... one Wednesday per week. Watch her to go out on a blind date with some random guy and letting him to kiss her, when he couldn’t. Wait for her day after day, jumping from one Wednesday to another just for her to be late because she lost track of time... and feel unreasonable jealousy just because she doesn't think of him as much as he did about her.

“Yes, Doctor. I want to know. I need to know,” she pleaded, her voice thick from emotions. So many possibilities of what could have happened to make him angry. Was it her past, or her future? What did she do to the only man in the whole universe she couldn’t stop thinking about? To the only man in a whole universe, whose lips she craved to be pressed to hers taking her breath away. To the only man in a whole universe who was worth counting every second until their next meeting. She could feel how her heartbeats elevated, and she waited for him to speak with a bated breath.

“Do you? Do you really want to know?” seethed Doctor, hovering over Clara's petite frame. He was standing so close now that his hot breath caressed her soft skin as her lips parted readying reply. His eyes flickered to them, and before she could even master a sound, his lips crushed onto hers kissing her deeply. His tongue slipping past her lips meeting hers just for a briefest of moments before they pulled away panting. Their cheeks flushed and their lips swollen from the force of their short-lived but passionate kiss.

“You kissed me,” exclaimed Clara. Her rosy lips parted, forming a perfectly shaped “o”. Her eyes widened in confusion and shock meeting Doctor’s matching bewildered expression, who raised his arms covering himself, ready for a slap that never came. Meanwhile trying to find a perfect excuse for his action, but instead only able to mumble: “You were late.”

“Yes... yes, I was,” agreed Clara, taking a step forward toward the Doctor who hastily stepped back. His mind working with an extra speed trying to look for anything to say, but failing. “Do you know why I was late?” tentatively asked Clara, realisation slowly started to sink in, why he may acted so weird since the moment he picked her up so she took another step closer. “Did you see why I was late?” she asked, standing straight in front of the Doctor with him pressed against the console panel, swallowing hard. His anger dissipated, but the jealousy didn’t go away just got mixed up with the nervousness of the situation and the fact that she seemed in control of it now.

“Yes, I...,” Doctor cleared his throat nervously, tugging at his bow tie, feeling a heat of Clara’s body, watching how her brow raised studying him with curiosity.

“Well, Doctor? Did you probably get jealous of me being late because I was on a date?” she helped with suggestion. A devilish smirk now playing on her lips, while her heart was pounding inside her chest waiting for his reply. Her gaze not leaving his, watching how his eyes slightly widened as he tried to make a run for it, slipping from her and mumbling that they needed to go. Some places to see. Some people to meet.

Suddenly, he felt her gentle hand placed on his forearm, stopping him from starting to fumble with buttons and levers again. Making him to lean on the console panel while his gaze became hidden behind the flop of his hairs. Hands flat on the console, gaze dropped to the floor, and voice huskier and lower than she ever heard him to speak.

“Yes... yes, Clara, I did in fact seen your blind date... but no I...”

“Doctor...,” said Clara.

“But no I... I wasn't jealous. No... Not jealous at all, just...,” stubbornly said Doctor, trying to suppress the jealousy that he still felt. Still not daring to look at Clara. Feeling, that if he would she would easily crack his lie. He shook his head in disbelief of how easily the lie slipped from his tongue, not hearing her to call for him. His thoughts fumbled one over another, and she could hear him to gulp nervously, while he continued to speak.

“Just concerned...,” said Doctor still standing near to the petite girl who so easily inflicted the feelings he didn't think were even possible for him to feel. The powerful feelings that still made his blood boil from the single thought that she allowed some guy she just met kiss her. “Concerned about your safety. You... you just met the guy and he...he can be anyone... some alien for example. His kiss could have poisoned you for all you know.”

“Doctor,” Clara called louder the warning in her voice finally picking Doctor’s attention.

“What?” he asked, daring a quick sideway glance at Clara under the flop of his hairs.

“Doctor, how do you know that this was a blind date? Did you spied on me?” she gasped from even slightest idea that he did, not sure if this made her happy or furious... or both at once.

“No, no... I... I didn’t,” Doctor’s eyes widened. “I just...”

“What Doctor? You what?” Uttered Clara raising her voice and stepping away from him in disbelief.

“I just... I was getting impatient, so I came earlier and seen you leave for that date. You even didn’t notice me,” he said accusingly. “And it was clear from the way you acted that you even didn’t know the guy. You was all fidgety and... and blushing constantly,” Doctor spun to face Clara, storming toward her.

“Doctor, how do you know this was a blind date? It could be simply a first date...”

“I... I...,” tried Doctor.

“Did you gone through my messages?” gasped Clara, taking another step back with disbelief. Her body suddenly trapped between rails of the platform and Doctor's body, his hands catching hers preventing her from tipping over. And she suddenly got very much aware of his hot elevated breath on her lips.

“No,” exclaimed Doctor offended by the assumption, trying to push away the sudden urge to shut her mouth with the kiss. The single thought of her thinking that he would do something like that made him angry. “I seen your chat with Linda," explained Doctor. "Seen that you have agreed to meet this guy, when I was showing you a rock that looked like Strax's potato head. I seen how you texted him to meet today. You clearly was more fascinated and keen for this date, than to spend time with me,” said Doctor. His eyes dropped to her lips trying to overcome temptation to kiss her. His knuckles grazed against her cheek, feeling how her breath hitched. “Also why did you even take your phone with you? Are you so bored with me showing you around?” the change in Doctor's tone took her by surprise. It wasn't angry anymore, or nervous. It was... sad? like when you are about to loose something very dear to you, something what you already lost and just realising it.

“Doctor, were you jealous? Are you jealous?” asked Clara again, holding her breath while waiting for his reply. Bracing herself for her heart to be broken.

It took couple of minutes longer for Doctor finally to meet her gaze as if deciding on something. As if contemplating if truth would be to dangerous to tell or if it would be worth it after all. And with a deep low husky voice he finally did it, admitted what she wanted to hear, admitted the truth.

“Yes, Clara. I was jealous... I'm jealous,” he confessed with the sigh, not able to lie to her anymore.

“Kiss me,” whispered Clara, tiptoeing toward him. Her eyes on his, while their lips became only a breath away. So close to him that he couldn't resist the temptation. 

His lips touched hers tentatively at first, hesitantly. And he felt how electricity coursed through him, making his two hearts speed up their temp. Her taste was like something long forgotten, like distant memory from another life. Like Gallifrey's sunshine, sweet and bitter, like morning's coffee and honeydew melon and it drew him even more to her. Making him dip deeper, attacking her lips vigorously again and again, deepening their kiss and kissing her more desperately, moaning and groaning into their kiss. The one she returned fully matching his passion. Her fingers dug into his hair bringing him closer to her, passion for passion, desire for desire. And they couldn't stop even if the whole army of Daleks and Cybermen combined would appear at the doorstops of TARDIS and would demand to give them his true name. They couldn't stop as the passion was too much to stop now, while the words of love were swirling on the tips of their tongues, while they met in the passionate tango, to the pace of their lips colliding together. 

Doctor's hands slid along Clara's petite frame effortlessly lifting her up and sitting on the console. Her legs opened up to accommodate him. The desire that Doctor's jealousy and Clara's unfortunate date spurred so easily inside both of them finally freeing them from the fear and hesitation. Their kisses and touches are more bold and desperate. Both wanting so much more... both needing so much more.

Clara could feel how Doctor's hands moved up her legs opening them even wider, searching for a closer contact with her, while the heels of her legs dig into his back. They could hear how the fabric of her very tight skirt teared, but they both couldn't care less about that. Both desperate for even less clothing to separate them.

Taking that as an opportunity to get Clara out of her clothes, Doctor broke their kiss. His lips moving to the pulse point at her neck, sucking on it gently, but with precision that definitely would leave a purple mark on her sensitive skin. His tongue gently licked over the mark soothing her, making her suck in the breath, while her head lolled back with a delicious moan. His hands moving to the tear in her skirt, tearing it even further and letting it drop to the floor. His fingers hooking at the waistband of her tights pulling them vigorously down not caring for a slightest if they will remain intact. He kissed and bit her neck moving lower, making her moan and gasp every time his mouth or teeth grazed her skin. She thrusted her hips toward him, trying so desperately not to loose contact with something so hard and big pressed to her thigh, that she was sure as all hells in that and others worlds, that it wasn't his sonic screwdriver. The realisation that it is him so big and hard against her made her almost undone on the spot as specially when his long delicate finger slid beneath her panties. His thumb pressed firmly to her nub rubbing gentle but insistent circles over it, while another thrusted inside her dripping pussy making the scream mixed with moan leave her throat.

The sounds he elicited from her made him groan in desperation and the feeling of her juices on his fingers made him work on her with doubled effort, wanting nothing more that to feel her juices drip on his fingers.

“You are so wet,” he gasped against her skin, his lips moving up her throat. And he cupped her cheek with his hand, while pressing his forehead against hers. His lips just a fraction away while he whispered sweet nothings into her moans, helping her climb higher and higher to her heights until she couldn't hold it anymore. His thumb circling over her nub, his long delicate finger joined by another, working her faster and faster, kissing her sweet lips, swallowing the maddening sounds she made.

He could feel how her walls were clenching around his fingers, and he broke the kiss gazing into her darken eyes. His vision blurred by desire as he dropped to his knees wanting nothing more than to prolong her pleasure and to taste her. He kneeled in front of her like she was some Goddess of old times. His gaze meeting hers and holding it, while his hands dragged her panties down her legs, not able to keep his moan to himself when his tongue slide over her lower lips, dipping in just slightly and tasting her. The taste is even more amplified by her pleasure and reminds him of home. Of something that was lost so long ago. Of something for what he was looking desperately and finally found in the woman who was moaning his name. The name he had chosen as a promise. Doctor. Doctor. Doctor.

He could hear her chanting it over and over, moaning and groaning it until it became too much to hold any longer. The crescendo of screams falling from her lips, while he was lapping at her dripping juices, drinking her nectar. He could feel how her legs tensed, starting to tremble, and he could see how her hands held into the rails of the console gripping it tightly. Her knuckles white and her head thrown back while the most powerful orgasm rolled over her again and again. He was licking her gently guiding her through it until he could feel how her trembling subsided, licking her for the last time, savouring her taste, before standing up.

His eyes fixed on her while he watched her catch the breath, his fingers toyed with the top button of her blouse, while she wrapped her legs around his waist pulling him toward her, feeling how his impossibly huge and hard length press into her thigh before he kissed her gently with a kiss, that held a promise. A promise, that he made her once upon a time: to give in, and now he was finally ready to held his promise.

[lvnatiq]

Cheers to the mess pt.1 |

Nicky Valentino x Reader

a/n: Hello, my love. So this was based on the idea of Jealous!Nicky Valentino. Let me know if you have any suggestions or questions about anything concerning my writing or Nicholas Valentino because my heart, soul and ass belongs to him truly. By the way, I proofread for the first time so make a wish while you’re at it lmao.

-Italic phrases in quotation marks are indicating readers inner monologue, meanwhile, words in italic are used to emphasize the meaning of the word itself-

warnings: usage of inappropriate language, slight angst.

The night is still young, the speakeasy is filled with the late-night conversations of people with humorous expressions and the delightful sound of the jazz music. You, on the other hand, curiously explored your surroundings as the sweet and sour taste of your booze lingered on the tip of your tongue. You asked Ralph to let you have some time with yourself while you were waiting for Nicky to come. You two spoke on the phone, arranging your rendez-vous, approximately two hours ago. Now, there you were sitting at a casual table in the speakeasy for an hour waiting for your sweetheart. Worried that something might've happened to him.

"Where is he? I hope the meeting didn't take a turn for the worst."

You thought to yourself as you tapped your fingers against the wooden material of the table, letting your anxiety get the best of you. Your eyes focused on the entrance gate of the speakeasy, wishing for him to stroll in at that moment. Today seemed like it wasn't your lucky day as your wishes are not being granted. The feeling of loneliness soon turned to utter boredom. The more bored you got, the more attractive the thought of losing yourself at the bar became.

"If I am about to let my stress romance it's way into giving me a nervous breakdown, at least I should get it a nice drink. It would be rude of me not to."

Your desire for a Manhattan led you to take a couple of steps towards the bar. Settling down on the stool, you slowly took off your gloves. The feeling of warmth left your fingertips, the cold surface of the glass table taking its place. The bartender took his shaker as he made his way towards your spot. You opened your mouth, eager to spill the magical name of your remedy.

"A Manhattan-"

"A Singapore Sling for the lady."

Your words were cut short by the silhouette of a stranger located behind your stool. This moment felt too familiar for your liking, almost like a Deja Vu. You slowly turned your head towards the unknown figure as they casually sat down beside you.

"Very rude of me to not introduce myself."

He said, extending his hand in your direction. The bartender's eyes followed the young man's gesture, holding an unreadable expression. You could feel the unusual tension in the air, nevertheless, you remained unbothered. Looking at his hand and then meeting his gaze, you extended your hand for a handshake. Your attempt went unnoticed as he gently turned your hand placing his lips on top of it.

"Matteo Bianchi."

The moment Matteo said his name, the bartender dropped his shaker, practically spilling whatever was inside of it. Shaken by the sound you averted your gaze to the bartender. His hands were shaking, hurriedly trying to clean up the mess he created. He glanced at you, his eyes had panic written all over them as if he was trying to tell you to be cautious, making you even more curious.

Unaffected by his gesture you slowly pulled your hand back as you directed your gaze back to the drink menu.

"Pleasure to meet you, Matteo."

You said, paying him no attention what so ever. Matteo laughed under his breath as he studied your figure. Your drink came into sight, you were still upset at not having your Manhattan.

"Where are you, Nicholas ?"

"I'm impressed that I managed to choose a drink that suited your aura well, miss...?"

You didn't want to give him your name but the reaction that the bartender gave at his name made you reevaluate your choices. Not wanting to cause trouble to anyone including yourself you took a sip from your drink as you responded.

"(y/n)."

You paused as you turned to him, letting your curiosity do the talking.

"How come this drink suits my aura well, Mr. Bianchi ?"

He smiled as he lifted his drink pointing it at your way.

"You seem like a bittersweet woman. Just like the drink."

You laughed, entertained by his way of using words, you decided to let yourself loose by following his game. Observing his looks for the first time, you realized that he was quite charming. His face reminded you of Paul Newman.

You let your thoughts wander as two women with enchanting appearances passed by greeting Matteo with flirtatious looks, giving you a death stare on the side.

"Alright, you seem pretty involved with bittersweet women."

Matteo laughed throwing his head back.

"Enough about bittersweet women-"

"Oh, so you want me out of here? Because I'll make it happen."

Your attempts at escaping failed as he caught you by your waist. Making you feel inevitably uncomfortable.

"Matteo, please-"

"Hands off."

The voice of the man you craved for the entire day has finally appeared. Nicky's harsh tone made Matteo take a step back. Then Matteo opened his arms wide, followed by his sarcastic tone.

"Man of the hour, Nicholas Valentino to whom do I owe the pleasure?"

Nicky placed his hand at the small of your back as he pulled you closer to him. His grip on you was tight, making you feel safer than before.

"I thought that we were supposed to meet next week."

Nicky said his eyes burning through Matteo's skull, filled with enough rage to kill him right on the spot.

"I need to settle it now, I have a meeting with Romano tomorrow. You don't want him to get the deal do you?"

Matteo said unconcernedly. You could hear Nicky curse under his breath. You placed your hand on his giving it a squeeze, trying to reassure him.

"Alright then, let's get this over with."

Nicky let his hand loose as he started to walk to the booth alongside Matteo. Appalled by his behavior, you started to follow their steps. They sat down and you moved to sit beside Nicky. Noticing that you followed them Nicky turned to you lowering himself as he whispered in your ear.

"Toots, would you mind giving us some space while you treat yourself at the bar?"

You looked at him, getting angrier each second passing by. Being kept in the dark wasn't something that you fancied.

"Excuse me? Are we really doing this again Nicky?" You said, your tone exposing your frustration. Your mind brings up memories of your first time in this speakeasy, where Nicky left you stranded because of business. But now you are a part of the Valentino family, so what was the problem.

His expression softens as he takes in a deep breath. You tried your best to understand what made him so uptight.

"You two... are you together?"

Matteo's voice made you snap out of your thoughts as you turned to Nicky, who was definitely not in a good state of mind seeing that he froze.

"Nicholas-"

"We're not together."

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. The waves of shock washed over you as you dropped your gaze on your hands. The thought of leaving right now seemed like a good idea but something inside of you was telling you to dig this situation deeper. This wasn't Nicky, you had to find out what was disturbing him so profoundly.

"Still that doesn't explain your overprotective response, Nicholas. Nonetheless, I am glad if Venus is single by any means."

"Let's get this venture over with, shall we Matteo?"

You wouldn't be lying if you said that this was the first time you saw Nicky this aggressive. He looked like he was so close to shot Matteo dead. You didn't say a word throughout their conversation. Patiently waiting for Nicky's breaking point.

The business they fussed about didn't seem skeptical at all. It was the usual, large amounts of illegal cash transactions and exchanging men for personal protection. Still, your questions remained unanswered. So you decided to follow up with plan B.

"If that's all, it's time for us to leave. Buona serata, Matteo."

Nicky said as he stood up. You, on the other hand, remained unruffled as you grasped your glass tightly completely ignoring him.

"So, Mr. Bianchi, you and Nicky seem to have a history. Do you two go way back? Based on something other than business-related, of course."

Upon hearing your voice Nicky slowly sat back. Taking in a deep breath, he averted his eyes to the bar. Trying to avoid Matteo's gaze.

"Oh, he didn't tell you?"

"No, he did not."

Matteo let out a breathy laugh as he took a cigar out of the silver case placed in front of him. Nicky's hand sneaked up on top of yours under the table, holding it firmly. You intertwined your fingers with his.

"Have you ever heard of The Count of Monte Cristo, (y/n)?"

"Alexandre Dumas, how can I not? One of my favorite novels."

"You become even more interesting by the second, my dear."

Nicky started to pull on his collar to get it loose. His grip on your hand gets even tighter. You can feel the distress radiating over him but you had no choice, he wasn't planning on opening up to you when he should've.

"Our situation is similar to Dantès, Mondego, and Mercédès love triangle. Nicky thinks that I am the Mondego of our scenario."

Finally, it sinks in. Still searching for more clarity you ask,

"You betrayed him, by stealing his lover--"

"Aha! That's the part I am trying to justify for the past five years. I didn't steal her- Minchia! I didn't know that she and Nicky had a thing. I mean she ran after him for quite some time but Nicholas didn't give a shit. How could I know?"

"Matteo cut the bullshit."

Nicky said, eventually joining to your conversation. You most definitely understood the situation at last. At this point it wasn't important whether or not if Matteo was right or wrong, Nicky was insecure at the fact that there might be a possibility of such a thing happening. He couldn't take risks when it comes to you, so he just acted like you meant nothing to him as if that would make Matteo uninterested.

Now that your worries came to an end, your only interest was to get Nicky all riled up.

"I think I heard enough."

Both of them stopped their bickering, turning their appalled gaze towards your direction.

"It looks like we are dragging out our dirty laundries. Well then, let me do my part."

Your devilish smirk took over as your playful aura filled the air.

"So, there is this guy, or more like this utterly, unbelievably handsome fella that makes my heart flutter."

"Oh? Tell me more Venus."

You focused your gaze on Matteo, eyeing him from head to toe. Knowing damn well that Nicky was watching your every move.

"He is compassionate, determined, enthusiastic, fearless, hard-working, kind, loyal, and everything that only a real man can be."

"Gesù Cristo! Who is this man? Are you sure that he isn't just a piece of your beautiful imagination?"

You laughed at Matteo's words. You were savoring every second of this mess, meanwhile, Nicky was chugging his whiskey on rocks.

"I would say that he is a gift from the gods, but unfortunately he is lacking something very important."

"He must've stolen the devil's dime. What does such a man lack that made you back up?"

You looked at the pair of hazel eyes intently watching you. You took a couple of seconds, staring adoringly into his beautiful eyes. You caught yourself getting lost in the honey hue of them. His feelings dripping from his glance, telling a story that only his eyes could tell.

"He is not honest."

You said without separating your eyes from Nicky's. Matteo raised his eyebrows, looking at Nicky and then back at you.

"Do I know this fella?"

"I don't know. All I know is that I like my men bare, in various ways."

Nicky laughed under his breath, placing his hand on top of your thigh.

"Oh my, do you?"

You grasped his tie pulling him to yourself, your lips almost touching his.

"You have no idea-"

Matteo cleared his throat,

"I should get going, you wouldn't want your girl falling for me. I know that my charming nature could cause trouble for a lot of people."

He said as he gave you a wink,

"Get lost Matteo."

Nicky hissed as Matteo approached you taking your hand in his giving it a goodbye kiss.

"Pleasure to meet you, (y/n). I hope that one day you can introduce me to the guy that got you head over heels."

He said jokingly as he turned to leave. Nicky slowly leaned in to kiss you but you stopped him midway.

"I don't kiss random men that have nothing to do with me, Mr. Valentino."

He gave you a smirk that summarized his plans for tonight.

"I might have nothing to do with you, but I certainly have a lot to do to you toots."

You took the last sip from your now empty glass and lifted it in the air.

"Cheers to the mess, my darling."

Vocabulary:

Minchia: in this context used as fuck, as exclamation of surprise.

Gesù Cristo!: Jesus christ!

Buona serata: “have a good evening”