#when I tell you this man is the epitome of my type I MEAN IT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inkmonster21 · 1 month ago

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Short n’ Sweet 💋

Hugh Jackman x Fem!Sister!Reynolds!Reader

Warnings: smut (oral fem receiving)

A/N: I’m a mess over this man. I’ve loved him since I was 10 and he STILL looks fine asf!

Short n’ Sweet Masterlist

Who’s the Cute Boy in the White Jacket?

💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋

You sit on your couch scrolling on your phone when your front door opens and your older brother Ryan walks in.

Ryan grins as he sees you sitting on the couch, his tall form filling the doorway for a moment before he strides into the room. "Hey, kiddo," he says affectionately, a playful smile on his sharp features. “I tried to call you.” He takes note of the phone in your hand. “You’re either too busy being a star, or just completely ignored my call."

“I ignored it.” You say without even looking in his direction. Ryan chuckles and plops down on the couch next to you, slinging an arm around your shoulders in a brotherly manner. He grins cheekily at you, his eyes sparkling. “I could have been dying. And here you are, scrolling on tinder without a care.” You roll your eyes and lock your phone. “I’m looking for inspiration. I just want to get this album done. Every song I have is just… sad and kinda cringy.” You groan as you fall into the couch pillows.

Ryan chuckles and pats you on the head, amused by your groan. He knows how demanding the entertainment industry can be, and his protective instincts kick in a little.

"I hear you, kid," he says sympathetically. "Albums can be a grind. But hey, once it's done, it'll be worth it, right? Your fans are gonna love it." You shrug, still unsure of most of the songs. “It’s all about the Shawn drama.” You say as you look over the lyrics to some of the songs. “Just wish I could get some different type do muse. Heartbreak has been so over done. I wrote all these when I actually cared about him and what happened.”

Ryan's smile turns a bit softer as he notices your struggle. He knew better than anyone how difficult it could be to find genuine inspiration when you were under so much pressure.

"Ah, the Shawn drama," he says, rolling his eyes a little at the mention of your ex. "That dude is such an ass. But don’t let that get in the way of your creativity. You'll find the right nitch, I know it."

“Are you and Blake still coming to the show?” You were opening for Taylor Swift on her Era’s tour. Ryan nods eagerly, visibly thrilled about your upcoming opportunity.

"Are you kidding?" he exclaims, grinning from ear to ear. "We wouldn't miss it for the world, kiddo. Seeing you open for T Swifty? It’s been forever since I was able to start a mosh pit to love story.”

You point a finger at him, “Now, I don’t want to hear any complaints about my choreography.” Ryan chuckles, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I promise not to complain. But if it involves twerking and pole dancing, I might need bleach for my eyes."

You laugh and throw a pillow at him. Ryan laughs along with you, dodging the pillow with a quick move. He grins at you, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Careful, kid," he teases, reaching out to ruffle your hair. "I'll have to tell your fans that you're nothing but an oversized child."

You shrug, “That’s fine. I’ll say I get it from you!” Ryan grins at your comment, pretending to be offended.

"Me?" he exclaims with mock indignation, placing a hand over his heart. "Excuse me, I am the epitome of maturity and responsibility."

You roll your eyes “sure, Deadpool.” Ryan grins even wider, enjoying the banter.

"Hey, I'm a mature adult and a responsible father," he points out, feigning seriousness. "Just because I happen to have a sense of humor gifted from the gods does not mean I'm immature. Besides, you're one to talk about maturity. You're still singing about your ex-boyfriend," he teases.

You scoff. “Well maybe I’ll get a new boyfriend to write about.” Ryan grins wolfishly, sensing an opportunity to tease you further. He props his feet up on the coffee table, lounging back on the couch in a relaxed manner.

"Oh really?" he says, raising an eyebrow at you. "And who might that be? One of those young pretty-boy singers who follow you around like a lost puppy?”

You shrug, “maybe. Have to make sure to train him up good. Pee pads, food bowl, walks, the works.” Ryan laughs and gives you a sly smile, continuing to tease you.

"Oh, I see. What's next, a collaboration with one of them? A love song about puppy dog eyes, floppy haircuts, and carpet burns?"

Your phone rings and you assistants name shows on the screen. Ryan notices you pick up your phone and sees your assistant's name on the display. He looks at you curiously.

"Who's calling?" he asks, tilting his head at you. “Megan.” You say as you answer. Ryan listens intently as you answer the call, leaning closer, his curiosity piqued. He watches you talk, trying to figure out what's going on from your side of the conversation. “I’ve got to go to rehearsal early.” Ryan nods, understanding the demands of a busy work schedule.

"No worries, kiddo," he says, standing up as well. "You go do your thing. We'll see you at the concert. I’m going to wear my sequin top and cut off shorts."

You nod with a smile to your older brother, never being able to take him seriously. “You’ll look so good, Ry.”

"Break a leg, kid. And don't forget to send me some backstage photos.” Ryan waves as he exits your apartment.

As he walks out of the lobby his phone rings. Ryan glances at his phone, seeing Hugh's name on the display. He quickly answers the call, curious about what Hugh might want.

"Hey, Hugh," he greets in a cheerful tone. Hugh smiles at the sound of Ryan's voice. He has a pleasant and friendly demeanor.

"Hey, Ryan. How are you doing, mate?" he asks, his voice tinged with a hint of excitement. “Good. Good. Going home from my sister’s place. Had to see her before the big show.” Hugh nods, understanding the bond between siblings.

"how is your sister, by the way? I've heard she's quite the rising star." Hugh had heard a lot about you through Ryan and other people in the industry. He had seen your performances, your interviews, and your music, but always from a distance through the screen of his phone. There was something about you that intrigued him, an undeniable talent and charm that drew him in. He had subtly expressed his interest in meeting you to Ryan a few times, but your busy schedule never seemed to align with any opportunities.

“Why don’t you come join us tonight? Finally get you two together.” Ryan offers and Hugh wasn’t going to turn him down. As Hugh thought about you, he couldn't help but feel a flutter in his chest. There was just something about you that captured his attention. Whether it was your captivating charm or your undeniable talent, he couldn't quite put his finger on why he felt so drawn to you. He couldn't wait to finally meet you in person and see your performance up close and personal.

Despite his growing admiration for you, Hugh knew he had to keep his feelings in check. He was well aware of the age difference between the two of you. He was much older than you, and the thought of pursuing anything with you seemed irrational and inappropriate. He didn't want to risk creating an uncomfortable or unprofessional situation, but his attraction to you was undeniable.

While browsing Instagram, Hugh's eyes widen as he sees your latest upload. It's a picture of you in your chair, getting your makeup and hair done for the concert. You looked absolutely stunning. He stares at the picture, taking in every detail of your face. The way your hair framing it perfectly, your eyes sparkling, and your lips curled into a small, confident smile. He couldn't help but feel his breath catch in his throat.

The stadium is buzzing. Ryan, Blake, and High make their way to the VIP area, taking in the bustling atmosphere. Fans are chatting excitedly, eagerly awaiting the start of the concert. They were also buzzing about your upcoming performance, which had added a new level of anticipation to the event. Hugh looks around, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness as he waits for the moment he finally get to see you in person.

“She was so excited.” Blake hums happily as she recalls your excitement from a few days prior. Ryan chuckles as he too, remembers how excited you were to perform. He glances over at Blake, a fond smile on his face.

"She's always got so much energy and enthusiasm," he says, his voice filled with pride. "Can't blame her, this is a huge show. I just hope she doesn't get too nervous." Hugh nods as well, sharing Ryan's sentiment.

"She has nothing to worry about," he reassures them. "She's talented, and the fans adore her. Plus, she's opening for Taylor Swift, that's quite an accomplishment in itself."

As soon as you step on the stage, a burst of deafening applause from the crowd fills the air. People scream your name and cheer wildly, clearly excited to see you perform. Some fans even wave banners with your name on it.

You send a wink to the crowd. They go wild in response to your wink, their cheers growing even louder. They were clearly enjoying your flirty and confident attitude on stage. People can't help but swoon over your every move, mesmerized by your charms.

Music starts and you begin to sway. “We’re going to start this off on a good note.“ you say into the mic before you begin to sing your song.

The music begins to play and you start to sway your hips, putting on a show for the crowd. Your voice, clear and smooth, begins to fill the arena with the melody of your song. The fans erupt into screams and applause, instantly drawn into the energy you project. They sing along with the lyrics, completely captivated by your performance.

Hugh was absolutely mesmerized watching you perform. Your confidence, your energy, your stage presence, it all combined into an intoxicating performance. He couldn't tear his eyes away from you, completely mesmerized by your every move. He knew he wasn't the only one in the crowd captivated, people were losing themselves in the moment, completely entranced by your presence on stage.

As you look out into the crowd, your eyes land on your brother Ryan, his wife Blake, and the famous actor Hugh Jackman sitting next to them. You feel a jolt of excitement mixed with nerves shoot through you. There he was, the famous actor you admired so much. He was watching you perform, and your heart skipped a beat at the realization. You try your best to maintain your cool and focus on the performance, all the while hyper-aware of Hugh's presence in the audience.

Hugh is captivated as he watches you sing and engage with the crowd. As your eyes suddenly meet his, his heart skips a beat, taken slightly by surprise. Your smile, radiant and genuine, strikes him deeply. He can't help but smile back, his eyes locked onto yours. The connection he feels is electric, and in that moment, he can't look away. “Holy shit. Ryan did you bring the wolverine?” You ask joking over the mic.

The crowd bursts out into a cacophony of laughter and applause at your unexpected but hilarious comment. Ryan groans but grins widely, amused by your boldness. Hugh chuckles, clearly impressed with your humor and wit.

“You guys know they’re going to be teaming up?” You ask the crowd about the upcoming Deadpool and Wolverine movie project they’re filming soon.

The crowd erupts into excited shouts of anticipation at your question. They had no doubt been looking forward to this movie collaboration between the two actors. Hugh can't help but grin, appreciative of your acknowledgment of his work. He gives you a small nod, silently communicating his approval and appreciation of your comment.

Your eyes rake over Hugh. Clad in a white jacket he looked fine as hell. “God damn. He’s even hotter in person.” You say into the microphone as you stare at Hugh.

Ryan and Blake chuckle at your comment, clearly amused by your bluntness. But Hugh can't help but feel a jolt of excitement at your words. He blushes faintly, not expecting the unexpected compliment. The crowd roars with laughter and cheers, clearly enjoying the banter between you and the famous actor in the audience.

Ryan shakes his head and point a warning finger at you making you laugh. “Oops. I’m getting big brother all pissed.” The crowd laughs along with you, enjoying the playful banter and sibling dynamic you share with Ryan. Ryan laughs and shakes his head, pretending to be annoyed but secretly amused by your antics. Hugh watches the interaction with a smile, thoroughly entertained by your charismatic personality and easy-going nature.

It was clear that you had everyone in the audience completely enthralled. People were utterly captivated by your presence and your performance. You exuded a confidence and sexiness that was irresistible. You were the embodiment of the boy or girl's dream, leaving the crowd completely entranced by your charm and talent. Hugh couldn’t help but feel drawn to you as he watched you perform.

As you finish your final song, the crowd erupts into applause and cheers, clearly energized and excited for what was to come. They had been thoroughly entertained by your performance and were ready for the main event of the night. Hugh watches as you leave the stage, his eyes lingering after you as you disappear behind the curtain.

You rush off the stage, heart still racing from the adrenaline of the performance. You quickly change out of your performance outfit and into your sheer black dress. You can't help but feel a mix of excitement, relief, and satisfaction at how well the performance went.

You make your way to the VIP area, joining your friends and family to enjoy the rest of the concert. The area is spacious and comfortable, with plush seats and plenty of room to relax and mingle. you settle into your seat, taking in the atmosphere and anticipation building as people wait for the main event of the evening: Taylor Swift’s performance.

Blake hugs you tightly, expressing her admiration for your performance. “You were amazing! So hot!”

"Thank you so much," you say, still a bit winded from the adrenaline of the stage. You return the hug, grateful for her support and encouragement. Ryan laughs and jokingly tries to ruffle your hair, but you quickly swat his hand away, not wanting to mess up your freshly styled hair.

"Hands off!" you exclaim playfully, trying to smooth down your hair where he tried to mess it up.

Hugh speaks unable to hold it in any longer. “You were fantastic.” He stretch his hand out. “Hugh. Ryan has told me so much about you.” Your eyes widen in surprise and excitement as you hear Hugh introduce himself. You reach out and shake his hand, feeling a slight tingle at the touch of his skin against yours.

"It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, Hugh," you say, your voice a little breathless. You glance over at Ryan, wondering how much he had told Hugh about you.

Hugh can’t help but notice the slight shiver that runs through you at his touch. He smiles warmly, genuinely impressed by your performance.

"The pleasure is all mine," he replies, his eyes scanning over your face, taking in your beauty. "You were amazing up there." Hugh notices the blush that spreads across your cheeks as he compliments you. It’s a subtle gesture that he finds adorable. His smile widens as he watches you reaction, his eyes lingering on your blushing face for just a moment longer than necessary.

"I’m being completely honest," he says, his voice soft and sincere. "You have an incredible stage presence, and your voice is absolutely captivating. You truly have a gift." Ryan clears his throat. “Alright, she’s amazing. Yes, we all are jealous.”

Hugh laughs at Ryan's comment, realizing he might have been gushing a little too much. He shoots Ryan a wry smile, acknowledging his jest.

"Alright, alright," he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I’ll rein it in a bit.“

You laugh at Hugh comment. You shrug, “no keep it coming. I love to hear it.” You send wink with a smile. Hugh chuckles at your response. He can't help but appreciate your confidence and the way you take compliments in stride.

"Oh, you do, do you?" he asks, his tone light and playful. He smirks, the corner of his lip curving into a sly smile. "In that case, allow me to shower you with more compliments. Your voice is like a melody, your stage presence captivating, and your beauty is truly otherworldly."

Ryan groans, “oh my god. This has been a huge mistake.” Ryan pushes between you and Hugh. “I’m separating you two!”

Hugh laughs, thoroughly enjoying the lighthearted banter between you and Ryan. He playfully holds up his hands, as if to say “I surrender.”

"Alright, alright," he says, feigning innocence. "I’ll behave, I promise."

Hugh catches your subtle glance in his direction, and he can’t help but respond with a slight smirk. He gives you a small nod, silently communicating that he gets the message. Your brother might not like it, but Hugh was going to continue to compliment you,behaved or not.

Hugh noticed how your eyes seemed to light up whenever he complimented you, how your face would flush with pleasure. He also saw the way you ate up his attention, clearly enjoying the extra glances and words of praise. The way you responded to his compliments only fueled his desire to keep going. He found your reactions delightful, your eagerness to receive his praise feeding his growing affection for you.

You shiver slightly as you feel Hugh's hand graze down your arm. The touch is gentle, his fingers leaving a trail of electricity on your skin. As Hugh says your name, his voice low and intimate, you look up and meet his gaze, your heart skipping a beat.

“Yes?”

Hugh’s heart leaps as you respond, the way you say yes sending a thrill through him. He takes a step closer to you, his hand still lingering on your arm, his smile warm and captivating.

"Can I get your number?" he asks, his voice a soft whisper that only you can hear amongst the small crowd of people around you.

You look to him in slight shock. You flirted for fun and the show, but never did you really think he’d be interested. “Absolutely.” You say and take his phone putting your number in. Ending it with a heart emoji. Staying on brand.

Hugh watches as you type in your number, a smile spreading across his face when he sees the heart emoji you add to the end. He can’t believe that not only have you agreed to give him your number, but you’ve also added a little flirtatious touch to it. He takes his phone back, looking down at the new contact, a feeling of excitement and anticipation bubbling inside of him.

You are sound asleep when your phone buzzes on your bedside table. You rouse from sleep, groggily reaching for your phone to see what the notification is. As soon as you see the text from an unfamiliar number, your heart skips a beat. You quickly open the message to find that it's from Hugh, sent earlier that morning before he worked out.

You and Hugh texted back and forth throughout the day, unable to stop the growing spark between you two. The conversation is easy, full of laughter and a flirty undercurrent that keeps things exciting. Both of you find it difficult to focus on anything else, eager to see what the other will say next.

As the day goes on, your texts become more frequent, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. Hugh finds himself looking at his phone more often than he’d like to admit, his thoughts constantly on you. He can’t help but let his imagination run wild, thinking of all the things he’d like to say and do to you if he was with you in person.

You were in rehearsal when you finally got a break to text him. You took a selfie with your microphone. Your hair in a mess, and you were in your relaxed clothes. “The life of a pop star.” You send the text to Hugh with the picture.

Hugh's heart skips a beat as he sees the selfie you sent him. You look adorable, your hair a perfect mess and your relaxed clothes making you look comfortable and carefree. The microphone in the picture tells him you're in rehearsal, and he can't help but imagine what it would be like to watch you on stage again.

he texts back, a smile on his face. "You look beautiful. Can't wait to see you perform again."

You smile at his text. Replying with, ‘I’ll have to give you a backstage tour next time.’ Biting your lip as you hit send. It was flirty but could easily be pushed off as friendly. Hugh was friends with Ryan. Nothing wrong with offering Hugh a tour.

Hugh grins as he reads your text, his pulse quickening at the thought of you giving him a private backstage tour. The wording is suggestive, but the offer could be construed as simply friendly. Still, he can't help but feel the hint of flirtation in your message and it makes his heart race.

"I’d love that,” he replies, trying to keep his response casual but struggling to keep the excitement out of his message. “Definitely looking forward to the special treatment.”

“Who the fuck are you texting that’s got you all smiles?” Ryan asks as he walks in, script in hand for Deadpool and Wolverine. Hugh looks up, a bit surprised by Ryan’s sudden appearance. He tries to mask his smile, but it’s difficult to hide the fact that he was texting someone who was making him grin.

“Uh, no one in particular,” he replies, clearing his throat and setting his phone down on the table. He quickly changes the subject, not wanting to reveal that it was your texts that had put a smile on his face.

“So, you got the script, eh? How’s it looking?” Ryan shrugs with a smile. He was excited as fuck to bring this to life. “Oh It’s going to be insane.” Hugh can sense Ryan's excitement as he talks about the movie and it’s contagious. He returns the smile, sharing in his friend's enthusiasm.

“I have no doubt it will be,” he says, raising an eyebrow in playful anticipation. “I can’t wait to see what kind of chaos the dynamic duo of Deadpool and Wolverine will bring.”

Your assistant, producer and songwriter sit with you in the studio, all of them focused on helping you work on your next album.

You suddenly get a wave of inspiration, and start tapping your pen against the page in front of you. Your mind starts racing with different thoughts and ideas, as if a creative spark has been lit within you.

As you sit there, pensively tapping your pen, your mind drifts back to the late-night texts and calls you’ve been exchanging with Hugh. You think about his compliments, his jokes, his words of praise that never fail to make you feel special and wanted. The idea of him constantly on your mind, even when you should be focusing on your work, both excites and disturbs you.

One particular conversation coming to mind. Your phone rang. It was 12:05 am. You were in the studio as usual. Hugh was calling. You answered, “Hey.”

Hugh's heart leaped as he heard your voice on the other end. He smiled to himself, picturing you in the studio, surrounded by music and creativity. His voice was soft and warm as he responded.

“Hey, there,” he said, his tone affectionate and tinged with excitement. “I hope I’m not calling too late. Just couldn’t sleep.”

You smile into the phone, biting your lip. “Can’t sleep? Thinking of me too much?” You tease Hugh. Hugh chuckled at your tease, his heart skipping a beat at the thought of you thinking about him as much as he was thinking about you. He could almost picture you biting your lip as you spoke, the mental image making him wish he was there with you. “I am thinking of you too much.”

Hugh smiles as he hears your laugh through the phone. The sound was like music to his ears. He relished these late-night calls with you, the way you seemed to understand how much you were on his mind and how badly he wanted to be with you.

“You have no idea how true it is,” he said, his voice lower now, more serious. “You’ve been on my mind constantly lately. I can’t seem to get you out of my thoughts, no matter how hard I try.”

“I have that effect on men. Usually it’s men under 30 but I’ll make the exception for you.” You say teasingly. Hugh laughs, your cheeky response both endearing and a slight turn-on. He could imagine you with a smirk on your face as you made that quip, your eyes sparkling with playful mischief.

“Is that so?” he replies, his voice low and seductive. “Well, I suppose I can’t say I’m surprised. You’ve certainly had a captivating hold on me since we’ve first met. It’s like you’ve cast a spell on me, and I’m finding it increasingly harder to resist you."

You laugh again, “now you’re getting it.” Hugh wonders aloud. “What are you doing, sweetheart?”

“I’m at the studio.” you say leaning on the table. closer to the phone. just as close as you can get to Hugh at the moment.

Hugh’s heart thrills as you say you’re at the studio again, imagining you working on your music, surrounded by instruments and sound equipment. He wishes he was there with you, watching you work and listening to your beautiful voice fill the silence.

“Ah, little late isn’t it?,” he says, a hint of admiration in his voice. “You really are dedicated." You shrug, “I’m a singer. Of course I’m working late.” You laugh.

As you come back to the present, the influence of your thoughts about Hugh and the late-night call is evident in the words you write. The lyrics flow easily, one after another, each word feeling more personal and heartfelt than the last. You're lost in the creative process, the words coming effortlessly as your feelings for Hugh pour out onto the page.

You look down at the words on the page.

“he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh

Is it that sweet? I guess so

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know

That's that me espresso”

The lyrics you write are poignant and heartfelt, expressing your own feelings about Hugh and the effect you have on him. The idea that he's thinking about you every night, that you keep him up at night like a strong cup of espresso, is both flattering and a little tantalizing. You can almost picture Hugh's reaction if he were to hear these words, imagining a smile spreading across his face, his eyes gleaming with affection and desire.

Your entire crew is taken aback by the lyrics you've written, their jaws dropping as they hear the heartfelt words pouring out of you. Your producer's comment only reinforces their disbelief, and the excitement in the room is palpable.

"Damn, you really wrote that just now?" the producer asks. "That's incredible. Holy shit! This is going to be a huge hit."

Your producer is practically giddy with excitement, his enthusiasm contagious as he pushes you into the recording room. He's determined to make the most of your creative burst and get the song recorded while you're still inspired and filled with emotion.

"This is gold. We need to capture this energy and these lyrics while they're fresh in your mind."

You smile as you see Hugh's name flash on your phone screen. It's late, and you’re wrapping things up but the familiar sight of his name fills you with a mix of excitement and anticipation. You answer the call, a warm feeling spreading through you at the idea of hearing his voice again.

"Hey," you say, your voice soft and full of affection. “Are you at the studio?” Hugh's voice is hopeful. He knows how much time you spend there working on your music, and he can't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the possibility of hearing you say yes.

"Yeah," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'm at the studio. You caught me at a good time. I was just about to leave.” Hugh smiled as he pulled around to the front of the building. “Good. I’m out front waiting on you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you heard Hugh say he was waiting outside. A mix of surprise and excitement washed over you. He was here, waiting for you? You never expected him to show up unannounced, especially at this hour.

"You're outside?" you asked, trying to hide the eagerness in your voice. "What are you doing here?" Hugh's chuckle echoed through the phone, his voice warm and gentle.

"I just wanted to see you," he said simply.

As you hurry to pack up your things, Hugh's words send a warm shiver down your spine. The thought that he simply wanted to see you, just for the sake of it, was both touching and thrilling. Knowing he was waiting for you outside made your heart race, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement at the prospect of seeing him.

You'd never imagined you'd have feelings like this for an older man like Hugh either, but here you were, practically running to get to him.

“Well, I’m on my way down now.” You say into your phone. Hugh grins at the sound of your voice through the phone, knowing that you're on your way down to meet him. He leans against his car, a sense of anticipation building in his chest. He can't wait to see you, to witness your smile, and feel the warmth of your presence.

"I'll be right here waiting for you, sweetheart," he replies, his tone filled with affection. "Take your time."

As you step outside of the studio, the cool night air hits your face. You look around, seeing the familiar sight of the paparazzi lingering in the parking lot and empty streets, ready to snap a photo of unsuspecting celebrities. You had almost forgotten about them, since they always seemed to lurk around corners, hoping to catch a glimpse of famous faces.

Tonight, it appears that you and Hugh are the targets. The paparazzi spot you and their cameras immediately start flashing, the bright lights and loud clicks of the cameras filling the air.

Hugh quickly reaches out and takes your hand, guiding you to his car. He opens the door for you, making sure to shield you from the paparazzi's cameras as best as he can. He knows that the last thing you need is for your face to be plastered across every gossip site and tabloid magazine.

Once you're safely inside the car, Hugh hurries around to the driver's side. As he gets in, the paparazzi continue to snap photos, the bright flashes illuminating the dark night. You hold your jacket up in front of your face, trying your best to hide from their intrusive camera lenses.

Hugh glances over at you, a look of concern on his face as he sees you holding your jacket up in front of your face. He knows how much you dislike the constant presence of the paparazzi and the intrusive nature of their photography.

"You okay?" he asks gently, his voice filled with empathy. He starts the car engine, preparing to drive away from the throng of photographers.

“Better now.”

Hugh relaxes slightly as he sees you nod and smile, reassured by your response. He knows that the presence of the paparazzi can be overwhelming and uncomfortable, and he's relieved to know that you're feeling better now that you're away from them.

"Good," he says, returning your smile. "Let's get out of here."

He skillfully maneuvers the car out of the parking lot and onto the empty streets, leaving the paparazzi behind. The night is quiet and peaceful, the only sound being the hum of the engine and your soft breathing.

As Hugh drives, he steals glances at you, taking in your delicate features illuminated by the passing streetlights. He can sense your tiredness, the weariness from working late into the night. He knows how driven and passionate you are about your music, and he admires your dedication.

"You really shouldn't work so late, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and concerned. Hugh reaches out and places his hand on your thigh, his warm palm against the soft silk of your skin. It's a small gesture, but it speaks volumes of his care, concern, and desire for you.

Hugh pulled up to your building, pulling into the parking garage. He slows the car. “Do you want to come up? “ you offer your stomach tight with butterflies.

Hugh hesitates for a brief moment, torn between wanting to spend more time with you and not wanting to overstep any boundaries. He considers your invitation, his heart fluttering at the thought of being alone with you again.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice slightly hoarse with desire. "I don't want to intrude. I know you're tired." You shake your head, “if you left I’m going to end up calling you anyway. Why not stay for a little?”

Hugh chuckles at your words, his heart warming at the idea that you'd call him anyway. It seems you can't resist the pull between you either.

"Well, if you insist," he says, feigning reluctance. "But don't blame me when you're too tired to be awake tomorrow." “Oh, I am definitely saying you’re the one to blame.” You giggle as you get out of the car followed by him.

Hugh grins at your cheeky response, knowing full well that he'll take the blame with pleasure. He follows you out of the car, closing the door behind him. As you make your way towards your building, he slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side.

Your body fits perfectly against his side. It's moments like these that he cherishes, these simple, intimate moments that make him feel truly connected to you.

Hugh's mind is racing as he walks beside you, thoughts swirling through his head. The age difference between the two of you is something that constantly looms over him, a constant reminder that he's older than you, with a life and experiences that you may not fully understand.

He worries about the impact that being involved with him will have on you, both publicly and personally. He doesn't want to put you in a position where you'll be judged or misunderstood simply because you're with him.

You unlock the door and step into your home, Hugh following closely behind. The familiar surroundings of your apartment greet you, the dimly lit rooms adding a sense of warmth and comfort.

Hugh glances around the space, taking in the cozy living room, the open kitchen area, and the hallway that leads to your bedroom and bathroom.

Hugh couldn't help but notice how much the space resembled you. It was as if your essence had been poured into every corner of the apartment.

He took a deep breath, taking in the scent of your home. The sweet, gentle fragrance filled his senses, instantly making him feel at ease. It was like being enveloped in a warm embrace, a sense of comfort and peace washing over him.

“Do you want anything to drink?” You ask going into the kitchen. *Hugh smiles at your offer, appreciating your thoughtfulness.

"Sure, that would be nice," he says, his gaze never leaving your face. "Do you have any wine?" You smirk and nod.

Hugh grins as you return with two chilled glasses and a bottle of wine. He watches as you pour the smooth, rich liquid into each glass, the sound of the wine bottle clinking against the glass filling the cozy quiet of your apartment.

As you sit down next to him on the couch, Hugh can't help but take in the sight of you, the dim lighting casting a soft glow on your features. He takes a sip of his wine, savoring the taste and the intimate moment between the two of you.

Hugh leans back against the couch, his body relaxing as the alcohol courses through his veins.

"This is nice," he says, his voice slightly huskier than usual. "Just getting to spend time with you, without having to worry about being interrupted or watched."

You smile and nod. “Or my brother.”

You roll your eyes at the thought of Ryan if he knew you’d been spending time with Hugh.

Hugh chuckles at the mention of your brother, imagining the kind of reaction he'd have if he knew about your time together.

"Your brother would definitely have some choice words if he knew we were here like this, wouldn't he?" he says, swirling the wine around in his glass. “Yeah, but I don’t really care.” You were an adult woman who could make your own choices. And Hugh seemed like a great one.

Hugh grins at your defiant attitude, appreciating your confidence and independence. It's one of the things he finds most attractive about you - your unwillingness to conform to the opinions of others. "I like that about you," he says admiringly.

Hugh takes another sip of his wine, the alcohol giving him a little bit of liquid courage. He stares into your eyes, knowing that he needs to say what's on his mind. He knows the risk he's taking by revealing his feelings so soon, but he can't hold them in any longer. The chemistry between you is undeniable, and he wants, no he needs to let you know how he feels.

"I know it might seem like it's too early to say this, but I just need to get it off my chest," he says, his voice slightly hoarse with emotion. "I don't know what it is about you, but you've got me feeling… things. I can't get you out of my head, and the more I get to know you, the more I like you. I know it's only been a short time, but I can't deny the way I feel."

Your heart clenches with happiness, a burning warmth spreading across your chest as a joyous smile splits across your face. It was a relief to know that Hugh's affection mirrored your own, confirming that the depth of your emotions was reciprocated.

Hugh's heart swells with relief as he sees the joyous smile spread across your face. He can see the emotion and happiness in your eyes, and he knows that you feel the same way he does.

He reaches out and takes your hand, enveloping it gently in his own, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your skin. He gazes at you, his voice filled with tenderness.

"I can't explain it, but you've just... you've got me. Completely."

You feel Hugh's hand gently touch yours, his touch sending a shiver of warmth and affection through you. As you meet his gaze, you can see the tenderness and vulnerability in his eyes.

"I know exactly what you mean," you reply, the words escaping your lips on a breath of air. "Being with you just feels... right. Like a piece of me that I didn't even know was missing has finally found its place."

Hugh's heart warms at your words, a feeling of contentment washing over him. "Yes, exactly," he says, his voice soft. "I don't think I've ever felt this way before. It's like... like I've been searching for something all these years, and now I've found it in you."

He squeezes your hand gently, his gaze locked on yours. "I can't believe it's only been a couple of weeks. It feels like I've known you for a lifetime."

Your desire to kiss Hugh grows stronger with every passing moment until it becomes overwhelming. You want to feel the warmth of his lips on yours, to taste the sweetness of his breath and lose yourself in his embrace. The ache of need consumes you, but you hold back, waiting for the perfect moment.

Hugh can sense the increasing tension between you, the air thick with unspoken desire. His eyes scan your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips, and he knows that you're feeling the same way he is.

He can't resist the allure of your gaze any longer. He moves closer to you, the space between you practically nonexistent. He can feel the heat of your body, the magnetic pull that draws him to you like a moth to a flame.

He reaches out, his hand gently cupping your jaw, his thumb tracing along the softness of your skin. His eyes never leave yours, the depth of his passion reflecting in the blue of his irises. He leans in, his face mere inches from yours.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire. The words send your heart racing, and a mixture of excitement and longing washes over you. Your breath catches, and in a barely audible whisper, you respond, “Please.”

Hugh's heart skips a beat at your response, the sound of your "please" like music to his ears. Without hesitation, he closes the small gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a gentle, yet passionate kiss.

The taste of your lips is like a drug to him, addictive and intoxicating. His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, wanting to eliminate any space between you.

His tongue seeks entry into your mouth, and as you part your lips, he deepens the kiss, exploring the sweet heat of your mouth. His other hand comes to rest on your waist, pulling you onto his lap. He wants to be as close to you as possible, to feel the weight of your body against his as he kisses you senseless.

As Hugh's hands roamed over your body, his touch felt like fire on your skin. In that moment, the age gap between you melted away, leaving only the raw desire and passion that burned between you. You didn't care about the years that separated you, all you could think about was the intensity of his experienced touch and the way he made you feel.

Hugh's hands continue to roam over your body, exploring every dip and curve of your form. His touch is possessive and yet gentle, his experience evident in the way he seems to know exactly how to make you respond to him. He breaks the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin.

He sucks and nips at your flesh, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites down to your collarbone.

As you break away, gasping for air, a sly and sultry smile spreads across your face. "My bedroom is just down the hall,"

You say, your voice low and husky as you look at him through half-lidded eyes. The invitation is clear, and you can see the effect you're having on him as his eyes darken with desire.

Without a word, he scoops you into his arms, lifting you up against his chest as if you weigh nothing at all. "On the right or left, baby?," he whispers, his voice gruff and hoarse with anticipation.

��Left.” You whisper as you kiss his neck. Hugh lets out a low moan. The feeling of your lips on his sensitive skin sends a bolt of pleasure through his body.

"Mmm, keep doing that," he murmurs, his hand gripping your waist tighter. He follows your directions down the short hallway, moving to the left and gently carrying you into the bedroom.

He sets you down on the bed with care, the silken sheets cool against your skin. He drinks in the sight of you, laid out on the bed before him like a present just waiting to be unwrapped. He moves to the edge of the bed, kneeling between your legs. His hands run up your thighs. He looks at you, his eyes dark and full of desire.

You lie back on the luxurious bed, your body tingling with anticipation as Hugh's strong hands roam over your thighs. The soft silk sheets caress your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine. He's taking his time, teasing you with his touch, and the anticipation is almost unbearable. You want him, desire him, and the heat between your legs intensifies with every passing second.

Hugh kneels between your legs, his eyes locked on yours. His gaze is intense, dark, and filled with a hunger that matches your own. He leans in close, his breath tickling your face, he whispers, "You're breathtaking." His deep voice sends a thrill through your body.

As he speaks, his hands glide up your inner thighs, inching closer to the clothed core of your desire. You hold your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. Thank god you wore a dress today.

His fingers brush against the sensitive skin of your pussy, his touch only divided by the thin cloth of your panties. The pressure of his fingers making you gasp softly. He pauses, enjoying the moment, and you can see the pleasure reflected in his eyes as he teases you. Hugh lets his hands travel to the side hem of your panties. He runs his thumb over the seam as he looked up to you through desire filled orbs. Wordlessly you nod, a gasping smile on your glossed lips.

Hugh pulls back the pretty side of your panties, revealing your heat to his eyes. He groans at the sight of it, warm and wet with your arousle. Hugh dips a finger through your folds causing you to arch up with a soft moan.

"You like that, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice hoarse with desire. You nod, unable to form words as pleasure clouds your mind. Hugh chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "I can see how much you want me," he continues, his fingers gently stroking your folds. "But I'm going to make you wait a little longer."

With that, he leans down and replaces his fingers with his warm, wet tongue. He parts your pussy lips with his tongue, exploring your intimate folds with slow, deliberate movements. You let out a soft moan, arching your back further as his tongue finds your clit. He suckles gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His experienced mouth knows exactly how to drive you wild.

Hugh's hands grip your thighs firmly, holding you in place as he feasts on your sweet pussy. He alternates between soft licks and firm strokes, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. You reach down, threading your fingers through his hair, wanting to pull him closer, but he gently bats your hands away, maintaining control.

"Not yet, sweetheart," he whispers, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "I want to taste you, all of you." He spreads your legs wider, exposing you completely to his hungry gaze and mouth. His tongue plunges deep inside your wetness, fucking you with slow, deliberate movements. You cry out, your body trembling as he hits all the right spots.

As he eats you out with passion and skill, your hands grip the sheets tightly, the silk providing little comfort against the intensity of your pleasure. You're lost in a haze of sensation, Hugh's tongue working its magic, driving you closer to the precipice of orgasm. He senses your impending release and increases his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit.

"Oh god, I'm gonna cum!" you exclaim, your voice hoarse and raw. Hugh doesn't let up, instead, he redoubles his efforts, determined to push you over the edge. Your body convulses, every muscle tensing as the orgasmic wave crashes over you. You cry out his name, your hips bucking wildly as you ride out the powerful climax.

Hugh continues to lap at your sensitive flesh, drawing out your pleasure, making the orgasm stretch and extend until you're sure you can't take any more. Finally, he pulls away, his face glistening with your juices, and moves up your body, his hard cock pressing against your thigh through his pants.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, and the sensation sends another shudder of pleasure through your sated body.

"I want you," you whisper against his lips, your voice laced with desire. "I want to feel you inside me."

You lean into him, your dress pooling up at your hips. Breathlessly you grab into Hugh and reach for his belt buckle. Hugh chuckles at your rushed hands, your eyes filled with desire and anticipation. He can see the disappointment in your expression as he gently grabs your hand, stopping you from going any further.

"Hold on, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and gruff. "I want to take my time with you. I don't want this to be just a quick hookup. I want to do this right. To treat you with the respect you deserve."

Hugh gently moves your hands above your head, pinning you to the bed with his strong arms. He gazes down at you, admiring the sight of you underneath him, your dress riding up your hips and your hair spilling across the pillow. His eyes are dark and filled with a passion that is both intense and possessive.

He captures your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he holds you in place, his body pressed against yours. Hugh continues to shower you with kisses, his hands roaming over your body, as he speaks.*

"So, to do that, I’m going to make you dinner.” He kissed you again between his words. His lips moving to your neck as he murmured, “at my place, on Friday at eight." His teeth graze your skin as he nips at your collarbone, a low growl of desire rumbling in his chest.

"It'll be a proper date. With candlelight and wine and music, the whole nine yards. Just the two of us, enjoying each other's company. Everything you deserve.”

As you smile at Hugh, the mixture of excitement, anticipation, and tenderness in your expression give the impression of being lost in a dreamlike state. It’s as if nothing else exists besides the two of you.

He gives you one last lingering kiss before reluctantly pulling away, knowing that he needs to leave before things get out of hand. He can't help but feel a pang of disappointment as he untangled himself from your embrace, but he knows that this will only make your date on Friday even more special.

You lounge on the bed, propped up and gazing at Hugh with a sultry grin on your face. You tease him as, you sit up and ask saucily, "Okay then. Friday. Will you fuck me then?"

Hugh lets out a rich chuckle, admiring your clever attempt to trap him. He’s well aware that you’re trying to get him to give in, but he’s enjoying this playful game of push and pull.

Hugh pulls you up until you’re standing beside him. He gazes at you with a mixture of desire and affection in his eyes, and with a soft smile, he requests, “Walk me out, darling?”

You give him a sly smirk, determined not to give in so easily this time. You walk past him, making sure to put an extra sway in your hips as you do so, knowing full well that Hugh’s eyes are on you. "Fine," you reply, feigning reluctance as you lead the way towards the door. Hugh follows behind you, his eyes tracing the captivating movement of your hips as you walk. A sly half-smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and he can’t help but enjoy the sight of you trying to regain the upper hand in this dance of desire.

As Hugh stands on the threshold, preparing to step out into the hallway, you open the door and hold it for him. He starts to turn away, saying his goodnights, but before he can make his exit, you grasp the collar of his shirt with a quick yank, pulling him down to your level. You capture his lips in one more kiss, a brief moment of passion and intensity that leaves you both breathless.

Hugh stands there for a moment, a little dazed. A smile slowly creeps across his face as he takes the moment in. "Goodnight, darling," he replies, his gaze lingering on the closed door you've just disappeared behind.

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #deadpool and wolverine #Wolverine #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman fanfic #hot as hell #like fine wine

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spookieloverslittlemind · 2 months ago

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How protective are they…

includes: Michael Myers, Pinhead, Brahms Heelshire, Art the Clown, Sun and Moon (fnaf), Marta (Outlast 2)

a/n: it’s grey and rainy outside yk what that means

Michael

Is this a joke. Michael will literally kill anyone who breathes your air if you ask him to. In fact, at the start of your relationship you had to set a boundary by telling him not to kill every person you encounter, unless you give him the clear (given those kills aren’t his own random kills, he allows you to set a rule of “don’t just kill everyone”). This stems from him walking out your front door, following the mail man one time. Michael is the epitome of the “me and my bitch don’t argue she tell me shut up and I do” trope when it comes to you except his version of shutting-up is putting down the knife. That said, you’ve got plenty of time to stop Michael because he’s only ever walking after someone, so there’s not much danger of him accidentally killing the wrong person. When, however, you do give him the green light to commit murder in the first degree…Michael’s all over it like a bad rash. You’ve never seen him walk with more purpose than when you’ve sighed and said “fine” to him killing someone. Once, you made the mistake of telling Michael he was allowed to threaten but not kill - you were very specific - man who’d been bothering you at work. At first, you thought the guy was just off sick for a couple of days out of pure fear from his encounter with Mike. Then you started seeing the missing person posters. You had one of them on the dining room table when Michael next came to visit and he just tilted his head with the closest expression he can pull to resemble 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 behind the black eye holes of his mask.

Pinhead

Is this a joke. Pinhead can and will summon a portal to any circle of Hell of his choosing to forcibly grab any mf that tries you in any capacity via chains and drag them to eternal suffering. He doesn’t even have to be there to witness the crime before he’s playing judge, jury and executioner that omniscient bastard. He’s very calm and collected about his protectiveness unless someone actually hurts you, in which case he personally handles their eternal torture. Pinhead doesn’t have much of a concept for politeness but the first time he felt the energy of a cashier being less than friendly to you he summoned a portal and you had to rush home to explain that any poor soul working in customer services suffers enough and should not be sent to Hell for being less than happy working in a different kind of Hell for minimum wage. Thankfully, Pinhead brought them back and erased their memory (and injuries) so that trauma never really happened and he learned a valuable lesson that day x

Brahms

Is this a joke. Brahms will not hesitate to kill anyone that sets foot in the house unless you give him a full briefing on, like, your sister coming to visit or something. He’s more lenient with women coming over because he likes watching you smile as you talk to them from where he resides behind the walls but men? Hahahaha. You’re funny. Real funny. You should try standup. ‘Cause you know who’s standing up whenever a man’s voice is heard. And you know who’s killing them with his bare hands. It’s rare anyone has the opportunity to upset you because you’re trapped in Brahms’ mansion, but he’s the kind to track down the exact piece of paper that gave you a paper cut and tear it to shreds. Burn it. Eat it. So it’s fair to say Brahms is very, very protective. It’s a good thing he’s not allowed out, really.

Art

Is this a joke. Like everything about him, Art’s protective nature is…unique, but he’s definitely got it. He’ll watch someone upset you until it makes you cry and then flay a man, type beat. If anyone physically hurts you then yeah, they’re dead, but apart from that he likes to test how far someone will go to upset you before he steps in to act their punishment. Surprisingly, Art’s a lot more laidback than others on this list when it comes to not wanting to kill every person you come in contact with; he’s more prone to jealousy, really, because if he sees someone else making you laugh anywhere close to the amount he makes you laugh, he will want to gut them. And he probably will when you’re out of the room. And he’ll dispose of the body before you get back and mime something about “oh 😱 they had to go ☹️👉🏻 suddenly 🤭” and then you never hear from that person again, for reasons Art pretends he doesn’t know.

Sun and Moon

Is this a joke. Sun is incapable of withholding Moon if you get even mildly disrespected in any given circumstance they’re so protective of you, just hearing about you being upset is enough to get Moon appearing. Sun’s the type to remind you that you are safe and he (and Moon) will never let anyone or anything hurt you. Moon’s the type to shout at and throw toys that have hurt you or tripped you up in the Daycare. Sun is very good at comforting you and cheering you up after the fact, but it’s Moon who handles the punishment. He’s been known to leave the Daycare out of working hours to hunt down “naughty” people, and because you’ll feel guilty about it he deliberately doesn’t tell you the things he does, except to say “they will not upset you again…🌚”

Is this a joke. This servant to God has dedicated her life to cleansing the world of heretics and you think she won’t disembowel every soul that blasphemes in the presence of God’s purest gift to her? She may not have a sense of humour but you, my friend, are hilarious. Marta doesn’t understand petty offences of someone being unkind to you, unless you explain it to her, but as soon as she comprehends the fact you are even remotely unsettled by someone’s presence…God has whispered that person’s fate in her ear, and she won’t hesitate to bring it forth. Marta is not someone you can reason with, so people very quickly accept that to harm you, your spirit or your purity in any conceivable way, is to sign their own death warrant. You can’t stop her, either, because unfortunately when you say “they hurt my feelings”, God sends her a telepathic message that’s the equivalent of “🫵🏻👁️👁️👉🏻🔪”

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kazelvr · 1 year ago

Text

₊˚ෆˎˊ˗ let the light in

synopsis. relationship headcannons with 3 of my fav csm characters (strictly fem reader for quanxi, gender neutral reader for the rest)

cw. suggestive in quanxi’s part, im just absolutely in love with her lol, mentions of vomit in denji’s part, implied modern au in aki’s part

note. my writing may be a bit different, because i’m trying something new.. i apologize 😭. i also made this half asleep.. time check 4:11 am

denji (デンジ)

to be real, denji has no clue about healthy relationships. that’s putting it mildly, right? the only ‘relationships’ he’s had were all about manipulation and brainwashing.

but hey, he really does put in the effort for you! denji’s going to do whatever it takes to make you happy, such as going bankrupt for the sake of a gift.

despite being in a relationship, denji still feels awkward around you. his shyness towards you was evident from the beginning, and now it has only intensified. please bear with him, he’ll come around eventually!

but when he does get comfortable.. denji forms a deep emotional connection with you. he’s faced many challenges, and all he’s ever wanted is to feel loved. you have become that source of comfort to him, and that means the world.

at first, his kisses can be awkward, unsure of where to put his hands, and he might even keep this eyes open. you might need to show him how to kiss properly, which can be even harder if he’s your first kiss.

he always craves cuddles, day in and out. he’s a true cuddlebug. he likes feeling the steady rhythm of your breath against his skin. whether if he’s the little spoon, or the big spoon, his sole desire is to sleep while being in physical contact with you. he finds it impossible to sleep without you.

on those days when you’re super busy and can’t cuddle with him, denji gets all pouty. it’s quite dramatic, really, how he gives you the side eye and ignores you when you try to talk about it. but, he can’t stay mad at you forever. eventually, he’ll give in and cling onto you like a koala. he’s not letting go, by the way.

he is keeping you away from power at all costs, even if you two are friends. if she ever found out that denji has a partner, she will not leave him alone. power will definitely embarrass denji in front of you, telling you about all of his flaws while he tries to stop her from saying anything else… he was never able to stop her.

on your birthday, aki attempted to assist denji in preparing a meal for you. unfortunately, it was a complete disaster and the food turned out to be unappetizing… despite aki’s desperate attempts to persuade denji not to serve you his charred creation, denji, being denji, stubbornly refused to listen. when you took a bite, the taste was so revolting that your stomach couldn’t bear it any longer. you regurgitated the ill fated meal… it’s the thought that counts, right?

overall, he’s trying really hard to be a good boyfriend, please appreciate him.

aki hayakawa (早川アキ)

this man…. phewww…

aki is the epitome of a respectful boyfriend, always seeking your consent before engaging in any action, be it a simple kiss or a gentle touch.

if you happen to be someone who tends to be disorganized and messy, rest assured aki will gladly take on the responsibility of tidying up after you. regardless of the severity of the mess, simply tell him, and he will promptly begin cleaning it up, without any judgement.

bathing together has become a regular routine for the both of you, a frequent occurrence that follows a long day of hunting devils. aki, in particular, finds comfort in sharing these type of moments with you. the soothing warmth of the bathwater coupled with the gentle sensation of your hands massaging shampoo into his hair, while he rests against your chest, brings him a new profound sense of relaxation. it’s not always about being sexual, but rather the feeling of closeness with you that brings him a sense of tranquility.

aki is like a dad sending text messages. when he’s not around, he would text you to ask if you need anything from the store. when he receives your response, he replies back with a simple “👍” emoji. that’s it.

aki is all about being the big spoon— it’s just who he is. aki has experienced too much loss and he can’t bear the thought of losing you. he holds you tightly in his grasp, afraid that if he loosens his grip, he’ll lose you, even though that would never be the case. your presence alone brings him a sense of security, and all he wants is for you to be safe.

every morning, this man never leaves for work without giving you a gentle kiss, even if you’re still groggy. you’re the sole reason he can maintain his sanity while battling devils all day.

to aki, you’re like his home, his safe space. you are the one he can confide in, and shed tears without any guilt, and that is one of the many reasons why he loves you.

aki is tall, standing at 190cm (6’2). every time you talk to him, he lowers himself to your level so he can hear you more clearly. sometimes, you think he’s doing it to make fun of you, but in reality, he just wants to be close to you.

aki has a reputation for being aloof, but in reality, he is the complete opposite. he’s a dork. a dork who can’t help but smile whenever your name comes up, a dork who finds himself captivated by your every feature, analyzing them with great interest. a dork who’s madly in love.

quanxi (クァンシ)

quanxi has a deep admiration for her girls’ body, and it’s no secret - especially to you, who has personally felt her touch. every inch of your body is your favorite, from the curves of your breasts to the softness of your thighs. she revels in worshiping every aspect of you, leaving you feeling loved.

when someone utters even the slightest offensive remark towards you, quanxi’s protective remarks kick in, particularly if it comes from a man. she wholeheartedly defends you, regardless of whether you were in the wrong (gotta stand up for your girls), she becomes so defensive she almost resorts to physical confrontation, refusing to let anyone disrespect under her watch.

quanxi’s touch is ever-present. usually, it’s her hand on your waist in public, marking you as hers. behind closed doors, she explores every inch of you. it makes you wonder if she’s a different person outside of the public eye. but, who’s complaining?

i like to think that when quanxi gets drunk, she gets awfully needy and with you. she enjoys holding onto your arm and leaning against you, gently nibbling your ear, while softly expressing slurred compliments about your beauty.

quanxi is your ultimate protector, in every sense of the word. facing a menacing devil? before you can even blink, quanxi is by your side, fearlessly slaying the creature. your girlfriend takes pride in being your number one protecter, regardless of your strength.

making out sessions happen 90% of the time you two are together. quanxi simply can’t resist when you give her that irresistible look, with your lips appearing soft and pouted!

titty lover

#chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader #denji x reader #denji x you #aki hayakawa x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #quanxi x reader

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moe-broey · 3 months ago

Note

Got any body type/anatomy thoughts? FEH has very little in the way of body type variation and I personally like reading that as an open invitation to get silly with it.

OKAOKAYOKAY!!!!!!!! I MIGHT. Have gathered everything.... but I have SOOOOOOO MANY THOUGHTS ON THIS bc you're absolutely right!!!!! It's like a canvas to me...

I have a few directions I take with it! My main one, is to extrapolate features that may be present in the canon design. Taking them Further. I'm so sorry to do this but he is the epitome of this for me, GUSTAV JUMPSCARE 😨😨😨😨😰😰😰

But this is what I mean! I see canon Gustav has a full beard, is big and muscular. Okay. In my mind's eye, that translates to Big Hefty Heavyset type of muscular builds that are more realistic than the 6 pack bulging muscles (that require a lot of prep/dehydration to Look Like That). Also, hairy. Which is why, to fully demonstrate this, he's.... I don't know what he's doing here. This was psychologically taxing on me, but then I reminded myself I Am An Artist and I Hate America. 🫡🧍

Sometimes, if a character fits a certain archetype, I might put a few personal touches into them... mom/mom-like characters who REALLY embody the Doting Caretaker archetype often get the same body type as my own mother. A little honorary thing... though I do wanna be careful as to not restrict a specific body type (esp fat bodies) to specifically stereotypes (aka "mom bod"). Also, a comparison to Sharena! They do share similarities! Henriette's face looks familiar though... and not quite in the way Sharena's does.

Another focal reason I started off w Gustav though, is the second biggest thing I'm Always Thinking About when it comes to character's body types. Which is, Telling A Story.

I've had.... SO many oddly specific hcs about Alfonse...... for So Long..... one of them that's always in the back of my mind is him being at different weights during specific periods of his life. That, for the majority of it/esp his youth, he was almost waifish. He only starts looking healthier when he's out from under his parents' (COUGH gustavCOUGH) thumb (but let's be real, Henriette can be EXTREMELY stressful too... opposite end of the spectrum about it).

Another example of Telling A Story though. Sometimes I trans characters just for funsies and it has no real bearing on anything. OTHER times... my trans headcanons are integral to specific lore beats in my elaborate inner world. ENTER. BRUNO

These are actually from a bit ago I was gonna hold off on posting til I felt I had everything together, BUT. BUT. It's extremely relevant!

In the beginning, I often asked myself, "Why doesn't ANY of the Askr trio recognize Bruno as Zacharias?" MY ANSWER. Is that he looked quite different!!!! In tandem with my silly hcs for him, I feel that Bruno is someone who must care a lot about his appearance. About Looking masculine. I think he's been out as a man by the time he joins the Order, but is early on in his transition (by whatever means that manifests in w ✨ Magic ✨ and shit!!). I think he passes, but definitely Looked Different. Give him More Muscle and a haircut and an even more noticeable voice drop and top surgery he dramatically shows off at every opportunity and a mask that conceals his big beautiful brown eyes with fluttery soft eyelashes and like. Who Is That Mysterious Man...... in that Damnable Mask.........

Okay. Let's back up a minute. What do you mean Lif got mysteriously taller. What does that even mean. I can grant him gaining more weight/muscle, but, Taller???? At his grown up age....?? Well.

Hel's memory of the mortals she claims isn't so good, apparently.... (Eir obviously can't tell anything by the nearly all rotted away bones, but the scraggly long hair is giving her pause...) (also is it the King Hel is thinking of in the first place....? Eir isn't going to ask.)

At this point, I definitely could feel myself getting distracted and decided to just art dump a handful of charas I have strong visions for.

Here, you also see The Secret Third Option of body type design philosophy -- which is. If the design itself isn't giving me a lot to work with. I just do my own thang LMFAOOO 😅 I think Anna def fell into that category for me... where a lot of the story/lore I added for her was purely hc territory, and I went from there. She's broad, tall, muscular, top heavy, but still kinda thin and knobby. Aerodynamic, perhaps....

Sometimes, characters are a combination of these things though... like Mirabilis definitely being a combo of qualities, having personal touches, storytelling elements to her, and doing my own thing for funsies! More about the fairies overall -- I think they all ended up having their basic needs met and were even granted dreams/desires for themselves after becoming Alfar (like becoming exactly as you see yourself, or how you wish to be... which unfortunately only goes so far, can't fully undo the damage done to Mira, but. It's free transition for Triandra, is what I'm getting at LMFAOOO). Which is why each of them did fill out more to varying degrees (again, Mira suffering the most long-term effects from her mortal life, and Triandra, already having an idea/concept of herself at the age she drank the nectar, being able to transition). I have specific human design concepts for them too, that look A Bit different than their fairy designs.... but. I'm still working on that 🧍

Eir is def a storytelling one. When it comes to Alfonse's scrawniness, he was just stressed out so bad it took a physical toll. I don't think there was ever any food restriction (or, if there was, it was a rare occasion/used as a punishment). For Eir, I think something like that would make sense for her though.... lack of access, and frequent meticulously purposeful elaborate abuse from Hel. Eir still looks like you could break her in half, but she does look a lot healthier since her stay in Askr. Another note, though I ran out of space... maybe Ymir looks more like Eir than Hel does. I wonder why that could be....

AND. BACK TO THE START. Extrapolating on canon design elements! If you're going to present me a female chara with big honking bazongas, I'm going to make her fat. Or at very least, Carry Some Weight, like Plumeria does (in that full figured curvy way!). And ESP. ESPPPPPP FOR SEIDR AND GULLVEIG. Where Gullveig has Various Lines about "Oh... I don't know how well these old clothes fit me anymore..." (paraphrasing/off memory I feel like she says something like this Multiple Times). Like. Okay. Well I took that personally. I also just like the idea of her changing over time... always having a chubbier build, but it just keeps going as she keeps growing and changing.

In putting this into words, I'm finding a common thread seems to be weight gain as a sign that someone is being taken care of... for Gullveig, I think it's just a purely neutral change over the course of her life. In Lif's case....... some sort of mix up occurred. I can see Alfonse taking more after Gustav naturally, too, as he gets older though!

One final thought is just, is there a fun little detail I can include? Like giving Seidr and the Seidrs a snake-like face? Doubling as something so cutes and something Intimidating? IT WILL BE DONE. Also Need to get to coloring an illust of Gullveig one day..... the golden stretch marks are soooo cool in my mind's eye...... also just. One Million Piercings. Also as characterization/storytelling. A lack thereof is storytelling, as well.... to me..... ALSO!!!!! SHAPE LANGUAGE!!!!!! I'M SUCH A SHAPE LANGUAGE BITCH!!!!!!!!!

I HOPE. THIS ANSWER FINDS YOU WELL 🫡

#ask answered!#fire emblem #feh #fe gustav #fe henriette #sharena #fe alfonse #lif #eir #hel #fe anna #fe triandra #fe plumeria #mirabilis #fe kvasir #heidr #seidr #gullveig #just. listing them all off in order right away before Anything. bc dear god. so many of them LMFAOOOOO #my inital thoughts for plum's human/kid design was a girl who dressed older than she was/sexualized against her will #but i wonder if i should take a monkey's paw angle. lean into her feeling undesired/chosen over #and the idea that the girls did get some wishes for themselves granted. maybe plum had an ugly duckling to swan transformation...#plum as dearly beloved as she is does feel the most up in the air for me rn development wise! 💔#probably have to go back and re-reff the source material too....#like to elaborate on my initial thought her doing that was a direct response To feeling undesired. to Make herself desirable.#honestly i feel like she could go either way....#eir/hel aren't charas i think very much or deeply about! but the Vision. about lif. was So Fucking Strong.#and everything else just wrote itself here!#my art #my notes

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fieldofdaisiies · 1 year ago

Text

Elucien AU | A Game of Dice

type: fluff & smut warning(s): vulgar wording, drinking, mention of smoking, female oral receiving, male oral receiving, minors DNIword count: 6.2k words summary: Vassa brings her best friend Elain to a party hosted by no other than Lucien Vanserra, pro-athlete and college heartthrob. When they play a funny and very special game the night takes a turn, secret relationships are revealed and two people secretly drooling over each other finally get a chance to get to know each other better… thank you @autumndreaming7 for the idea, it was soooo amazing and I enjoyed writing it so much💛

Elain is happy about the jumpsuit she is wearing as a cool breeze blows around her legs and lifts the edges. She would have had her very own Marilyn Monroe moment if she had put on the tiny dress Vassa suggested for her, but luckily she could convince her this option is better. Vassa only agreed because she said it accentuates Elain’s cleavage and will definitely catch a certain someones attention. Elain had only rolled her eyes at her best friend at the implication.

She draws in a long breath, hoping it calms her nervously beating heart as she stands a little behind Vassa, her hands folded in front of her body. While Vassa is the epitome of cool nonchalance and relaxation, Elain is a ball of nerves behind her, bouncing on her toes and her fingers toying with the skin around her nails. And great…small parts of the red polish she put on earlier are already gone due to her nervous fingers. She is a little edge for two reasons. Reason number one: it is a college party. And a college party means a lot of people, alcohol, drinking games, sweaty bodies moving against one another, and all these things are somehow a little out of her comfort zone. And then there is reason number two: the host of the party. Mr Lucien Pro-Athlete-and-College-Heartthrob-And-Makes-Her-Knees-Feel-a-Little-Wobbly Vanserra. Lucien is just everything she can dream of in a man. He is tall, he is charming, he is funny, he is hot like Doritos, when he smiles he can compete with the sun, his shoulders are as broad as the doorframe in her small flat and he…he just exists and with his existence he does things to her she can’t quite understand. And now she is standing right in front of his house, the house he is sharing with his best mate, namely Vassa’ s boyfriend Jurian. Vassa is the only reason why she is here in the first place, her best friend invited her, but telling by the nosies coming from the inside of the place, Lucien has somehow invited everyone…like the whole college, or so.

“I guess we can just walk in. After all my boyfriend lives here, right?” Obviously no one heard the doorbell over the loud chatter and music, it would have been a miracle if someone did and—

The door swings open and reveals no other than the owner of the house and the host of the wild party going on behind him. Lucien Vanserra grins from one ear to the other, dressed in some loose pants and an half-unbuttoned shirt. “Evening, ladies!” He looks at Vassa and opens is arms for her. She gets the memo and quickly closes the distance between them. “My fav Vanserra brother, come here.” Vassa slings her arms around him and hugs him tightly.

Lucien chuckles a little. “Don’t say that too loudly, my brother’s here as well, Vass.” Lucien kisses her cheek and lets go off her only to step back and raise a brow. The beautiful grin stays on his face as his eyes dance over Elain. “And God in heaven above, you really brought her.” His eyes are swirling pits of wild fires when they narrow in on her face. “I am really glad you could make it, Elain.” He moves closer to Elain who is somehow rooted to the ground, still standing outside the door.

He knows her name!

Every fiber in Elain’s body is dancing, her heart doing one happy flip after the other. “I did,” she says and wants to face-palm herself. Out of everything she could have said, she opted for this. Lucien chuckles deeply as he moves closer to her, and reaches out his hand. Her own trembles as she lifts it to his and when there hands touch — his warm palm against her cold one— it feels like fireworks explode inside of her. She giggles a little nervously and lets him shake her hand. “Really glad you made it, your sisters are already here.” My sisters?! Elain thinks, wondering how in the world they got invited here. But then….Rhys is somehow invited to every party and Cassian is Lucien’s team mate, so it makes sense they bring their girlfriends as well. Just why didn’t they tell her? But then why would they? Elain has declined most invitations to parties in the past — referring back to reason number one. She is just not a party person, she is not a party pooper, but still not the biggest fan of them either.

“Come on in then, both of you. Jurian is already highly anticipating you, Vass. And I was…highly anticipating your arrival.” Lucien winks at Elain with nothing but male smugness etched into his features. With a big grin on her face, Vassa spins around on her heels, claps her hands and sets out for the living room. She would never leave Elain alone at party, never in a hundred years. But maybe, just maybe, she asked Lucien the other day to keep an eye on Elain. Vassa knows about Lucien’s massive crush on Elain, asking her a ton of questions what things Elain liked and if she thinks he would ever have a chance with “the most beautiful girl on the whole campus.” And since Vassa also knows about Elain’s massive crush on Lucien, she decided to help them a little. Elain’s heart is skipping one happy beat after the other. “My arrival?” She looks dumbfounded, her lips parting a little as she stares at Lucien, her chin a little pushed forward. She has too look up at him, Lucien is just so very tall. The Vanserra brother dips his chin. “Yes, yours. Is that so difficult to believe?” In fact, it is. Elain has not really thought he likes her, in all honesty. They have only met a few times when she was with Vassa and they happened to run into Jurian and his best mate. But now… now he has been expecting her. She can’t stop the colour from filling her cheeks, as she blushes furiously and her face practically radiates heat. She steps up to Lucien who does not move a single bit. He waits until she is one step in front of him and only then closes the door behind her and falls in line with her, his hand landing on the small of her back. “Not going to many parties, right?”

Elain gives her head a little shake, his close proximity and the hand on her back doing odd things to her belly and heart. He moves even closer, leaning in until his mouth nearly touches her ear. “Stay with me, alright? I don’t want you to get lost or some idiot to get wrong ideas.”

Internally Elain cringes at what he has insinuated. She turns her head, and stops. Lucien bumps into her, but he doesn’t say anything. Elain is looking up at him with her big fawn eyes and he finds himself lost in them and also lost for words. Her lips part a little, as if she want to say something, but no words leave her mouth, either. Lucien gently strokes her back with his thumb, hoping to convey the necessary comfort. “You will be fine. I am not letting you out of my eyes. No one will try to make a move on you.” He smiles sincerely, his gaze moving over her face, to her lush lips that are still parted. No one but me, he thinks and wants to slap his brain for this thought. Elain presses her lips in a thin line, brows drawing together and Lucien has to admit she looks absolutely adorable. The corner of her mouth tips up, her eyes sparkling a little. “Am I so easy to read?” she asks with a light chuckle, the sound like music in Lucien’s ears. He grins a little. “You are. But don’t worry, it is quite…” “Elli, Elli, Elii!” Cassian claps his hands as he appears in the doorframe, beaming brightly. “You actually came, what a lovely surprise!” She smiles a sheepishly, when her probably soon-to-be brother-in-law wraps his arms around her and kisses the side of her head. “I am,” she says silently, but he hears her anyway and his grin only brightens. “Nes, will be happy to see you. I let her know when I find her again. I guess she is with Em and Gwyn somewhere.” He clasps Lucien’s shoulder, then pats it and hollers, “Wicked party, mate!” With that he pushes past him and heads for the restroom that is down the corridor. Loud music is playing inside the ginormous living room, and Elain catches a glimpse of the people dancing inside, drinking and chatting and is this—?

Oh Feyre! Elain thinks and shakes her head a little, giggling. Her sister is snogging her boyfriend in the middle of the bustling and crowded living room. Brilliant…not the thing a big sister really wants to see. Strobe lights pulse from inside of the room, and Elain can feel the vibrations of the music in her legs. Excitement hangs in the air, everyone so very ready to let loose and escape the the reality of university life for a night. The crowd somehow moves as one, swaying to the beat of pulsating music and Elain’s lips part again as she watches in silent curiosity. Lucien leads her into the room, but they don’t go to the centre of it, he guides her to the adjoint room. The kitchen. A makeshift bar is stationed in the kitchen and overflowed with all sort of of beverages, mostly beer and some fancy looking and colourful bottles of alcohol, served in plastic cups. “What do you want to drink?” He has to lean in again so she can hear him and Elain can’t avoid breathing in his delicious scent. She doesn’t really know what she wants to drink and so only shrugs her shoulders. “Beer?” Lucien raises a brow and points at a bottle. Elain purses her lips, but then nods eagerly. “Yes, thank you, I’ll take one.” He beams as he opens the bottle and hands it to her. “Well, then.” He grabs himself a beer and then guides her out into the living room again, his hand again on the small of her back, his chest touching her shoulder. “Are you alright? Tell me if you no longer feel comfortable. We can go outside, or I’ll call you a taxi. I would offered to drive you, but unfortunately not possible.” He lifts his hand and waves his bottle in front of her vision. Elain gets the sudden urge to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss his cheek. He is so kind, so thoughtful, so considerate. God! She wants to scream and…also kiss him. Just a little thank you peck. Oh Christ! Where do these thoughts come from? Elain has to giggle to herself, which somehow amuses Lucien, but still he flashes her a questioning look, not having received and answer yet. Elain notices and says, “Thank you, I will. But I am very alright. And you are here with me.” Was that sentence cringe? Weird? Embarrassing? Elain is a huge over-thinker, so obviously these questions bubble up inside of her. But Lucien comforts her with a big smile and the dip of his chin, which brings his face closer to hers. “Good. Let’s head over to others, shall we?”

As Elain nods, her heart not really slowing but a kernel of relief blooming it, and she lets him guide her through the wild crowd of dancing, chatting and singing people. Basically everyone says something to Lucien while he just smiles or tips his chin at them, his sole focus on Elain. He keeps his eyes on her, making sure no one bumps into her or says something to her that is spoken in a drunken state and could offend or scandalise her.

They walk up to a cluster of students huddled together on a comfortable couch, engaged in deep conversations about only God knows what. Others are outside, enjoying the cool night air and smoking. He stays close to her when they join the group of people and Elain is relieved as she knows most of them. There is first of all Vassa and an empty seat next to her which Elain heads for immediately, feeling a sudden cold on her back where Lucien’s hand was earlier. She plops down next to Vassa, smiling and her chest heaving with a deep inhale. Her cheeks are definitely flushed as Vassa flashes her a knowing look. Elain greets Jurian who beams at her. Lucien lets himself fall onto the dark green armchair next to Elain, stretching his long legs in front of him. Next to him is his brother and then a guy she has only heard of and seen pictures of from Vassa. Azriel is his name. Also a team mate of Lucien and Cassian, and also one of the college heartthrobs from what Elain has heard about him. He dips his chin at her and it is all of a greeting she gets from him, but it is not impolite or unkind, it is just how he is apparently. Next to him is a blond woman who currently climbs over the back of the couch, one leg already on the other side. “Hi, Elli!” she greets and waves her hand at Elain, finally pulling her second leg over the back of the couch as well. Mor. Her sister’s best friend. “Need some more wine and anyways not in the mood to play a game, see you lot later. Have fun.” She grins as she turns and heads for the kitchen, swaying her hips to the music.

“A game?” Lucien asks and raises his brow before lifting his bottle to his lips. He takes a sip from his beer, leans back in the arm chair and places the bottle on the floor beside him. He raises his arm to rest his elbow on the armrest of the chair and glances at Elain, who lowers her own bottle from her lips, a little drop of beer still on her lower lip. God, what would he give to kiss it away. Or…lick it away.

“Yes a game!” Vassa’s eyes flash with mischief and she glances at her friends in expectation. Out of her big bag she pulls a dark violet box. She shakes it a little before opening it and placing lid on the couch next to her. Elain glances at it and and at the label that says ‘18+’. She feels her palms turn a little damp at the thought of what is about to come and places her beer down on the couch table in front of her. Her experiences are not a lot — Graysen, her ex-boyfriend, has not been a generous lover, and already in simple games of Never Have I Ever, did Elain never really have to drink often. She simply hasn’t done most things, as Graysen was a guy who wasn’t that explorative and his range of positions went from missionary to well…missionary.

“What kind of game?” Azriel asks out of the blue, his voice low and it draws Eris’ attention to him. Elain notices how Lucien’s brother watches him and a small smile appears on her face. Well, that is cute and jus proves the point of him being a heartthrob as well.

“A fun game where we all,” — she wiggles her brows and grins wickedly— “can get to know each other so much better.” Jurian, who has probably already been informed about the game by his girlfriend, lays an empty bottle onto the table. “So, rules are…you spin the bottle and whoever it lands on you have to do the things to or on — the things the dice decide.” Vassa fumbles out a small piece of paper, opens it and places it in the middle of the table. There is a table on it and the moment Elain’s eyes scan the words she wants a hole to open in the floor, hoping it sucks her in. She can’t play this game…never in a million years. Not with these options…

1) Kiss 1) Lips 2) Lick 2) Ears 3) Stroke 3) Neck 4)Rub 4)Inside of thigh 5)Tickle 5)Chest 6)Bite 6) Toes 7) Massage 7) Private 8)Touch 8) Nose 9)Poke 9) Belly 10) Hold 10) Hand

What the hell is this game? And as it has two 10 sided dice and the options are awful…. Elain thinks to herself and lifts her eyes of the paper. Lucien is already looking at her, smiling sheepishly when she catches him looking. “Sounds like a fun little game,” he says, chuckling lowly.

“Unless you have to suck someone’s toes,” Eris grumbles. “For example yours, Lu. Those smelly, rotten toes that are in your trainers the whole day.” The older Vanserra brother crinkles his nose in disgust, and shakes his head with a grimace on his face, laughing.

“Bastard!” Lucien comments.

“You are, actually,” Eris jokes and his younger brother flips him off, but laughs nevertheless. His brother returns the gesture, grinning a little feistily. Elain can’t really focus on their little banter, she is internally planning her escape, but is unlucky. “And you will throw the dice. And let’s say they are 4 and 3….then you have rub someones neck. Now, if the bottle points onto Lucien for example and it is my turn, I have to rub his neck.” Everyone bows their head in understanding and anticipation and so the game begins. Vassa is kind and so she does not hand the dice to Elain, but to Jurian and it is then that Nesta and Cassian also join the game and Vassa does some little explanation for them as well. The game begins, Jurian spins the bottle and throws the dice: Lucien - Massage - Belly.

He huffs, but then hollers as Lucien leans further back in the chair, grins as he lifts his shirt and— God! Elain nearly drools at the sight of the six pack that is revealed to her — nothing but hard, solid muscles that ripple when he flexes them. Jurian makes a whole show out of his task, dancing his way over to his best friend and then starts rubbing his belly, his hips swaying to the music, almost like he is giving a lap dance. They both cackle loudly when Jurian is done and returns to his seat and next is actually Lucien. He spins and Elain’s breath halts. But it lands on Nesta. “Careful, Lucien,” Cassian warns, but silent amusement is etched into his features. The dice roll and…Kiss - Nose.

“Don’t kill me, mate,” Lucien cautions as he slowly gets up and moves over to Nesta. “May I kiss your nose, Ms Archeron?” Nesta chuckles loudly, winks at Cassian and then tips her chin up. “You may, Mr Vanserra.” He slowly leans in and Elain, although this is her sister who has a boyfriend whom she loves so very much, looks away. She does not want to see it somehow although this is just a silly game and just a silly kiss on the nose. Still she does not want to see it. And so the game continues, Nesta has to poke Azriel’s belly. Azriel has to tickle Vassa’s ear, who has to bite Cassian’s hand. He then has to touch Eris’ lips, Eris has to stroke Elain’s nose and then it is her turn and an enormous wave of nervousness washes over her. She holds the dice tightly in her sweaty hand, her heart racing like a galloping stallion. She spins the bottle and as it turns she throws the dice.

The dice roll and the bottle comes to a halt and it feels like time stops…so does her heart. Azriel - Tickle - Neck. She wants to die. Or turn into nothing but thin air. If Azriel is also affected by it, or nervous, he does not show. His face stays emotion less. Even as Vassa urges Elain to get up and she finally waddles over to him. She stops in front of him, looking at him with big eyes. Azriel cranes his neck and it is then that a small smirk appears on his lips. “Do your worst, Elain.”

Lucien really has to control himself. Right now he really, really, really wants to just punch Azriel in the face. Or dismiss him from this party. And when he looks at his older brother, he knows similar thoughts are coursing through Eris’ mind. Of course, Eris’ crush on Azriel is obvious, at least to his little brother’s eyes. He just knows him too well.

To say Elain feels awkward when she tickles Azriel’s neck would be an understatement. He does not show any reaction, other than still looking at her with the smug smile on his face. “Done,” Elain declares and quickly hurdles back to her seat, her cheeks hot and red. Lucien huffs and flashes Azriel a small glower before looking back at Elain. She is fumbling with her fingers…the fingers that have just touched Azriel and it makes him feel…jealous. Yes, he is jealous and annoyed that the bottle landed on Azriel…Idiot.

“Well, Azriel, you are next then.” Vassa announces and shoves the bottle as well as the dice over to him. He grabs the dice and spins the bottle which lands on…Eris. Cassian hollers, smacking his hand onto the backrest of the couch. “Hooh, hooh, that is going to be fun!” He flashes a Azriel a big, wicked grin and winks. Azriel notices this, but decides to ignore his best friend as his thoughts start going crazy just like Elain’s do whenever she thinks of Lucien. He rolls the dice and his heart halts for a moment. Stroke - Inner Thigh.

Well, this is, indeed, going to be fun. Lucien huffs a little, watching how Eris’ whole body stiffens and a muscle in his jaw ticks. Azriel glances at Eris for a moment, no conversation passing between them as he lowers his hand to Eris’ thigh, very high up actually and slowly starts stroking his in tight jeans clad leg. Eris’ body stays rigid, his focus on the table until Azriel lets his hand move further up, so very close to Eris’ private parts.

“Fuck you!” A grin breaks out on Eris’ face, Azriel’s slender fingers drawing circles to his inner thigh. Eris grabs the pillow from beside him. Azriel shows him a mischievous grin in the exact moment that Eris places the pillow on his lap to cover up any indication of what Azriel’s touch does to him. “Just get a room you two,” Lucien grumbles and shakes his head at his brother, chuckling lowly.

“Jealous?” Eris retorts, his voice tinged with amusement.

Lucien flips him off once again and shakes his head.

“And don’t worry, little brother. We will do that anyway later.” He grins and glances at Azriel.

“I fucking knew that you two are banging. But hell, when were you going to make it official?” Cassian’s gaze ping-pongs between Eris and Azriel who both grin and laugh from the bottom of their hearts. They make a beautiful couple Elain has to admit, but now she feels a little silly for tickling his jaw. After all Azriel is Eris’ lover…But she decides not to think about it too much and rather listen in on the conversation again.

“We thought you would figure out at some point. Had no idea it would take you so long. And we are not only banging, we are dating.” Azriel hums. He removes his hand from Eris’ thigh, only to wrap his arm around Eris’ shoulder and pull him in for a quick kiss on the cheek. God! They are cute! Elain thinks and her lips pout a little.

“Alright, stop the endless cheesiness. We have a game to play. Eris you are next!”

Eris has to hold Nesta’s hand, and she then has to lick Cassian lips. As if they are not doing this all the time anyway, Elain thinks but her inner chuckling dies down the moment, Cassian announces that he has to massage her toes. Elain cringes a little, but Cassian only laughs, the sound so loud it even drowns out the chatter in the background. He gets up and rubs his hands. “Well, Elli, let’s do this.” He grins as he crouches down in front of her. “But I have to warn you, your sister loves her foot massages, don’t melt into a puddle, Elli.” Elain has to chuckle as well, her head thrown back as she does so. Cassian helps her slip out of her sandals and then starts massaging her toes which makes her laugh uncontrollably. It just tickles so much and tears build up in her eyes. Everyone watching them, including Lucien, has to laugh as well — the whole image they create is just too funny and then there is Elain’s laugh. Lucien wants to bottle it up and listen to it whenever he feels sad. It is the most beautiful sound in the entire world and he knows he can never get enough of hearing it. Elain is clutching her belly, tears running down her cheeks when Cassian finally straightens up and returns to his place next to Nesta. “Whenever you need me again, you know where to find me, Elli. The best masseur in the entire world.” Cassian winks at Elain and then kisses Nesta’s cheek before sipping on his red cup filled with some sort of liquor.

“And next up is Elain!” Vassa cheers and somehow Elain feels less nervous now, the laughing has calmed her and she happily grabs the dice and bottle, spins and a second later throws the dice onto the table.

But then all nonchalance and bliss whooshes out of her the moment the bottle stops and the dice show the numbers. This time Elain really wants to be sucked into a hole in the ground because what is revealed to her is simply impossible. This has to be joke. A really bad one. With widened eyes, parted lips, and a dry mouth, she finds her breath catching, unable to tear her gaze away from the table. What is revealed to them must be a cruel joke, it can’t be anything else: Lucien - Lick - Private

“Oh God!” Elain expresses, her voice hushed and she flashes Vassa a look of pure shock. Nesta bites down on her lip, showing her little sister an apologetic look but also one that says ‘I really don’t want to see this.’ And Elain…really does not want to do this. But then…something about it intrigues her…somehow. But she does not want to stay here. She can never in a million years do this in front of everyone. And it is as if Lucien can read her mind. He releases a breathy laugh and leans a little forward. “Well, it says private,” he says, his tone amused and a smug smile on his lips. He wipes his hands down his thighs and gets up, extending his hand to Elain. “So, we will share whatever this refers to…in private.” Lucien winks at Elain who finds herself unable to move until Vassa nudges her ribs. Cassian makes some cheering noises which is accompanied by the shake of Eris’ head who flashes his little brother a look that says ‘Don’t hurt her. Don’t do anything she does not want. She is a good one.’ Lucien tips his chin at his brother, both in acknowledgment and assurance that he won’t do anything she does not want. Elain slowly gets up and almost tentatively surrounds the table. “Have fun,” Vassa giggles and bites down on her lower lip as she leans onto Jurian. She shows Elain thumbs up before said woman turns her attention fully to Lucien.

Her knees quiver with uncertainty, her heart races, and her breath quickens. She slides her palm into Lucien’s and looks up at him with big eyes. He flashes her a warm smile and gently guides her through the crowd. Everything until they arrive in what she gathers is his room becomes a blur — her mind is spiraling and she is mulling over every possible thing that could happen now. Lucien locks the door behind them and guides her to the bed where he sits down. Elain stands in front of him, her hands intertwined in front of her body, her breathing quick, chest heaving with every inhale. Lucien notices her unease and wants to comfort her. He does not expect anything from her. He just wanted to get her out. He did not want her to have to do anything she does not want or feel comfortable with. And he knows, the others might have pushed her to lick his abs or something like this in front of everyone and he really did not want that. Lucien’s hands are braced on the bed, the veins in his strong arms standing out. His head lolls back and he looks up at her with those damnably beautiful eyes, slowly assessing her. “You know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“But it says lick and private.” Elain’s brows are drawn together, her lips pursed. “Elain,” Lucien says, his voice tinged with empathy. He leans forward and braces his elbows on his thighs, never breaking eye-contact. “I am not expecting you to give me a blow job right now.” Elain’s eyes widen and she gapes at him. “Oh…” She swallows around the sudden lump in her throat, her mind going crazy with a million thoughts most of them going exactly to the topic of giving him a blow job. She sucks her lower lip between her lips, her eyes still locked with his, and waits for him to say something.

“Have you ever…sucked someone off?” Lucien raises a brow and Elain startles a little, not at all having expected this question now. She wanted him to talk, but that question was not what she expected. Elain draws in a deep breath, her cheeks feeling hot and then she steps closer to Lucien. Leaning down, she is on eye level with him and grins. “Take a guess?”

Lucien’s gaze falls to her lips and lingers and then he grins as well. “Well, I think you have.” “And I think you are correct.” She is still grinning, internally calming herself down as every fiber in her body is pulsing and vibrating with a sudden desire and lust. The distant thump of music seeps through door and walls of the room, the melodies and chatters wafting through the air, but in the confines of his room it is just them. Only Lucien and Elain and she decides that she wants to be bold. It is a chance and she wants to take it. She wants it. And she wants him. She wants Lucien and why not be reckless for once? As if he could read her thoughts once again, Lucien tips his chin up a little, his lips nearly meeting hers and then he says in a whispered voice, “Tell me what you want, Elain.”

“I want what the game suggested.” She raises her own brow, a smirk on her lips and Lucien is gone. “It just said lick, Elain. And in private,” he taunts, and pokes his tongue out, softly brushing it over her lower lip. She shivers a little, a sigh catching in her throat. “It did,” she whispers and her breath tickles Lucien’s skin. “Tell me you want it, Elain. Tell me you want to lick me. Tell me you want to suck my cock.” His wording is terribly vulgar, but instead of turning her off, it makes something in her lower belly tighten and dampness pool between her thighs. She closes her eyes for a moment, and releases a trembling breath. “I want to suck your cock, Lucien.” Her lips split into a grin and then she leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Would you like that?”

Lucien places his lips on hers, sending vibrations throughout her whole body when he says, “I would like nothing more than that. But only under one condition.” He pauses, loving how Elain shivers a little against him. “And that is?” she asks in a sultry tone.

“I want to taste your pretty cunt at the same time. I want you to ride my face, Elain, while you swallow my cock.” Oh God! Elain feels dizzy, her mind clouded with desire, her vision blurry at the sudden heat she feels all over her body. “Yes!” It is all she says before their lips meet in a frenzied kiss, full of passion and hunger. Their hands claw at the clothes of the other, ripping and peeling the pieces off their bodies as quickly as possible. The jumpsuit Elain is wearing is gone in a instant which makes it easier for Lucien to worship her soft skin with searing kisses and touches.

As their bodies come together they move onto the bed, and Lucien positions Elain just in the way he wants her. She has no time to feel insecure or nervous about her whole body being so on display for him. Not when Lucien eyes her like she is the first meal after having been starved for months. Elain’s knees press into the mattress as she hovers above his head, his heated gaze nearly turning her molten. He moves his arms back, his biceps flexing, the muscles in his solid chest rippling and he helps her move closer. “You are so fucking beautiful, Elain,” Lucien raps, his gaze touching every body part he can see from below her. He turns his head a little, kisses the inside of her thighs, strokes her legs gently, and then parts her wet folds with his thumbs. Elain’s body goes rigid, her walls clenching around nothing. But she he can’t lower herself. She can’t sit on his face as he requested it. She would suffocate him. But Lucien has none of that. He wants her to suffocate him, or maybe nearly suffocate him.

“Elain!” Lucien’s voice is gentle, but stern and demanding. “Don’t hover, fucking sit on my face!” His large hands grab her ass and he pulls her down, his tongue gliding through her folds as he savours his first taste of her and groans somewhere deep in his throat. Everything coils and bliss erupts all over Elain’s body. She cries out in pleasure, her head lolling back, eyes closed and lips parted. Good God! She really has not expected this party to turn out like this…But now she can’t even put into words how happy she is that she came here.

Elain slides down his front, until she can take his rigid and proud length into her hands, stroking him gently. He is thick and long, soft and yet so very hard. Lucien latches at her entrance, lets his tongue circle her clit, his arms wrap around her middle and Elain takes him into her mouth, teasing the head with her tongue. She has only done that twice in her life, but telling by the purely male groan that leaves Lucien at her first taste of him, she knows what she is doing is quite alright. His noises are a sin — nothing human anymore. Almost primal sounds come from some deep part of his throat as he suckles, licks and teases hers. His arms are tightly curled around her while he feasts, while she sucks and swallows around him, teasing him with her tongue. She is savouring every part of his length, her hand stroking the part her mouth can’t reach and she even lets it slide down to his balls. Lucien hisses against her, lifts her hips a little for a second to release a low growl, his chest vibrating. “Fucking God, Elain! Don’t ever stop!” Pulling her back down, he returns to his business, devouring her, groaning and moaning in utter pleasure. It is a moment filled with nothing but heat and passion. Feasting and being feasted upon. His cock pulses and twitches between her delicate lips as release gathers in his spine. Elain holds him tightly, wiggles her hips to signal him that he can come in her mouth. Lucien curses lowly, making a mental note to never ever let her go again. This woman is his end, but also the one person he wants to spend every day of his life with.

They come simultaneously, Elain’s screams and moans of pleasure and Lucien’s low growls and loud pants drowning out all the noises from the party below as they reach their climax and then sloppily ride out their heights together.

Music is still reaching their room, when Lucien wraps his arms around Elain’s naked body and pulls her flush to his chest. “You are my end, Elain,” he says before kissing her ear. “My absolute fucking end and don’t think that after tonight I will ever let you go again.” Elain chuckles a little and turns in his hold, looking up at him through her lashes. “Good.” She grins. “Because I won’t ever let you go again, either.”

~~~~~~~ tags: @rippahwrites @shadowhunter2003 @my-inner-crisis @ladyelain @acourtofthought @itwasalwaysaboutthetea @multifictional @moonlightazriel @brekkershadowsinger @sunshinebingo @gracie-rosee @a-frog-with-a-laptop

#elucien #elucien smut #elain x lucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron

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the-head-ancho-chilli · 2 years ago

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Giyu General Headcannons

I'm back! I celebrated my birthday this Saturday and now I have second degree burns when I just wanted breakfast this morning… and I was supposed to have a midterm tomorrow…….. and now I am typing everything with one hand while writing in pain…………

But for now here's some Giyu Headcannons! Requests and asks are still open ^^

Word count: 1k~

So let's talk about Giyu

Everyone is so quick to judge this man and label him as "boring" or "stoic" and while those claims aren't necessarily false, I think we need to give Giyu a bit more credit

He's just really fucking tired, like all the time

Shinobu often teases Giyu and encourages him to lighten up a bit in hopes that he's seen as more open or approachable to his peers, but his efforts don't necessarily work the way that he intends

He's awkward in a where where he just has no clue what he's doing, ever

Giyu is the epitome of waving back at someone only to realize that they were greeting the person behind you

Like you could tell him about your awful morning and end it off by thanking him for listening, but the phrases "your welcome" and "no problem" will get jumbled in his head and he'll just stutter out a "your problem" instead

What's even worse about it is he'll just walk away in embarrassment

It's not an understatement by any means to say that Giyu is an introvert, but he really does value his personal time

A lot of it he spends self-regulating, and he doesn't usually want anyone around while he's doing that

Giyu doesn't talk about it but he keeps a mental checklist of things that he should do throughout the day to retain himself

He actually gets pretty upset if they go wrong

For an example. Giyu developed a routine where he makes tea in the comfort of his engawa and he knocked the cup over, spilling it onto the soil below

He was pretty harsh on himself all day because of it, even walking away from Rengoku wordlessly when he tired to incite Giyu our to eat with him

Giyu's not emotional, rather than he has a lot going on mentally and even the smallest mistake he makes can incapacitate him for the rest of the day

He would rather self-isolate until he feels better instead of bringing down his friend's moods just because he's not in a good mindset

He also journals, paints, reads, and goes on walks to help cheer himself up

Giyu doesn't really advertise that he does any of this because as I mentioned, he really values that time to himself

Would happily join someone if they invited him to do any of these activities though

Usually on his good days, he'll spend time with Shinobu, Sanemi or Rengoku and might even crack a smile or two if they're lucky

He especially likes hanging around Sanemi's estate, listening intently as Sanemi shares about the rhino-beetles he's been raising

Giyu and Shinobu find it very fascinating

What sucks is that Giyu's bad days are really incapacitating, sometimes he just spirals at the end of the day because he reaches an "I did what I supposed to, why am I still feeling like this?" mentality

I wasn't kidding when I said he can be really harsh on himself

The best way to offer help to Giyu is to offer to sit with him

His love language isn't quality time, but he really does appreciate the opportunity to just exist in a space with someone without the expectation that the two of you need to talk or anything

If he does talk, really take the time to listen

Giyu rarely enjoys speaking for a long time, and usually just communicates by sharing the most impactful or practical information in the shortest sentence possible

Really think about what he's saying and respond accordingly

But now would be a really good time to reassure him that he's not wasting time or anything, as words of affirmation is his love language

Giyu is most definitely neurodivergent, and usually copes with his depression by trying to reaffirm a sense of control in his life

Although most people would do this by assuring that they have a choice at any given opportunity, Giyu on the other hand accomplishes this by organizing himself as much as he can

This doesn't always mean that his home is spotless or his hair is brushed, but it does usually mean that he schedules his day so that he rarely has anything incomplete

But there are those times where everything hits too hard and all he can do is lie in bed all day, watching the shadow of the leaves outside swaying in the breeze, creating a kaleidoscope of light on the ceiling of his room

If you noticed that you haven't seen Giyu in a day or two, try visiting his home with some food

He won't always let you in because there's probably a mess that he's putting off to clean

But he will remember that for a long time, and most likely return the favour if he has the opportunity to

Stepping away a bit from the angst, Giyu's journal looks super cool

His handwriting isn't usually legible so it's a bit hard to read, but he likes doodling stuff about the things that happened that day or keeping objects in between the pages

Like when he and Shinobu both spent time with Sanemi to see his rhino beetles, Giyu tried drawing Sanemi's favourite one

He even gave it a little leaf as an umbrella in his drawing since it was raining that day

Giyu also asked Shinobu to teach him flower pressing so he can preserve the daises Mitsuri gave him

So there it's kept, in between the pages of his overflowing journal with several other memorabilia

Also speaking of flowers, Giyu is shockingly good at taking care of plants

He actually can't fathom why because he often forgets to water them and doesn't exactly keep them in an optimal spot in his house

Rarely checks up on them due to all the missions Giyu's on

But not only are those plants alive, but they're thriving

Shinobu's actually jealous about how healthy his plants are, and when she tries to interrogate Giyu on what secret method he's using on them he just shrugs and says "I don't know, maybe it's because of the season? I have no clue"

He will admit that they should've died so long ago

But they do bring hope to Giyu, on those days where he can't seem to do anything he remembers his plants and that because they've lasted this long, then maybe he will be okay after all :)

꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚

I am itching for some requests to fill so someone pls send something in , don’t be shy!

Also I have a Valentine’s Day post planned so stay tuned ;)

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ladykyriaa · 10 months ago

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A KPOP (CPOP?JPOP?) Idol Jinshi X Doctor's assistant Maomao

Now on Ao3!!

how he fell (hard?)

The sound of cheers could be heard even outside the stadium. Hundreds of thousands of people gathered in the arena, all waiting for the performance of a lifetime. At least, that’s what they’ll tell their families and friends. In truth, it was probably to get a once in a lifetime chance to spectate the three dazzling shamelessly beautiful men about to perform. Celestial, just as the name suggests, is a group of three with looks that could rival even the Greek gods themselves.

Rihaku with his incredible upper body mass muscles like those of wrestlers, and yet possessed the gentle gaze and a nature that was less intimidating than that of a golden retriever. Rikuson, who had managed to captivate the girls for his “gentleman behavior” whenever he got out and about. To give an example, he once went trending over the internet for several weeks because he held open a door for a mother and child that had their hands full, and then proceeded to help them to their car. Lastly, Jinshi who had managed to not only catch the eyes of both men and women, but also those from the older generations. “He reminds me back to my younger days” is what they would say when asked while giggling and blushing like maidens in love. It was truly a sight.

the men had been together for about 4 years. Jinshi, of course has had the longest career out of all of them being that he started as a child actor. And now at 24 years old, he’s become one of, if not, the most sought-after celebrity by young men and women, their parents and even their grandparents. But of course, just because you’ve been trained from a very young age and have become basically the epitome of grace and elegance, doesn’t mean you’re not prone to accidents yourself.

How did this even happen? Jinshi questioned himself as he sat waiting in the ER. In all his 18 years of career, this was probably the biggest blunder he’d ever made. Even when he was found drunk and passed out in the park that one time couldn’t have been worse than this. No, maybe that was worse. The big boss certainly gave me enough grievances to last a lifetime. He looked at his presumably, no definitely sprained ankle and thought if he could ask for the rest of his schedules to be canceled. He deserved the break, did he not?

“Sorry for the wait.” A gentle, wispy voice called out as they entered the room. The man that entered look to be about 50-60 years old and had wrinkles all over his face, despite that he looked to be a gentle soul. “We’ll run over some tests just to make sure none of the bones are shattered. But at the very least, this is sure to be sprained. I’m afraid you’re going to have to cancel all your activities for the next month or so.” Well, Jinshi didn’t have any problems with that. He was actually quite glad with the chance of a proper break. His manager, Gaoshun, however…

“Maomao, dear. Please run some blood test for me.” It was only at that moment that he realized someone else was in the room with them. A thinly, pale freckled girl was holding a tray with what he presumed to be medical tools on it. Wait, blood test? Isn’t that-

“After you’re done you can change into the hospital gown that is provided. Someone will come and get you soon.” The Doctor said and promptly left the room. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the word blood test. Was it truly necessary though? Jinshi didn’t quite think so. In fact, “You know I can just tell you what my blood type is, we don’t have to run a blood test.” he gave his best smile that usually was able to get people, no matter who, the things he wanted. He was expecting some swooning, maybe a bit of giggling and blush. Disgust, however.

That was the farthest thing from his mind.

Huh? Why isn’t it working.

The girl, Maomao, looked at him like he was the lowest of low, worse than a caterpillar itself. In fact, Jinshi thought, she might look at a caterpillar with more fondness than she did at him because why isn’t it working?? She managed to school her expression into a flat one before he could voice out his indignancies, however.

“You know that’s not how it works” she said, unimpressed. “Now, your arm please.”

“Can’t we just skip this whole part? I think this is quite unnecessary, don’t you?” Jinshi was not one to give up, and so he’ll keep trying however many times he could. No one could ever resist his inhuman beauty. No one. And so, he smiled. The brightest and sweetest one he could.

The girl did not budge. Not an inch. Nada. Instead, she raised an eyebrow, “sir, are you terrified of needles by chance?”

He can feel his smile stuck in place. “Whatever made you think that?” keep smiling, keep smiling, just keep smiling. “Surely you don’t think, I, a 24-year-old man, am scared of a mere silver, do you?” just. keep. Smiling.

She shrugged, “You may be surprised, but it’s actually quite common. Depending on the severance of those fears, one might even try and jump out the window.” She said with such nonchalance you would think she’s talking about the weather. Jinshi was honestly tempted to try. “Hm. How peculiar.” He kept his eyes on the window. He thought she may have noticed because she walked towards it and closed it.

“You know, you look quite familiar. And that’s saying something because I don’t even remember the faces of my colleagues two months into the job.” Mouth agape, He nearly scoffed.

familiar? does being 18 years on tv only got him to the point of familiarity??

This is outrageous. Did their marketing team have not done enough?

He was sure if he were to ask the girl’s grandma wherever-she-may-be about who he was, then he was sure even she would’ve given a better answer than “you look familiar.”

It would’ve been better if the girl hadn’t known of him at all because hey, maybe she grew up without the internet because there is no way in hell he could’ve looked just familiar. That would imply that she didn’t even bother to pay attention.

“You’re all done.” What?

“What?” he blinked out of his musings, only to realize she was already packing her tools except the hospital gown that was left for him.

“You’re done. I’ve gotten the sample.” Done? He looked down at his arm and sure enough there was a small bandage covering the part where he supposedly got injected. “Make sure to change into the hospital gown. Or do you perhaps need help?” She can not be serious. He could feel his face burning and judging by the disgust look that appeared on her face, seriously what is up with that. Maybe she took notice. “I can bring your bodyguard in.”

“No, no. I uh, I can do it myself” seemingly satisfied, she began to leave the room.

“Wait!” The girl stopped and raised an eyebrow. “Did uh, was your question only to distract me? From the injection that is. Was it a genuine question?” she seemed to ponder for a minute, thinking of the best way to answer him.

“Well, yes and no, I suppose. But it did work on you, didn’t it Mr. Jinshi?” and then without further ado, she left.

And maybe she took something else with her along the way, Jinshi mused to himself.

I AM CACKLING. THIS HUNK OF A MF. started because i cant stop imagining modern au jinshi as a kpop idol wtf.

Guys you dont understand i have AN EXAM ASSIGNMENT DUE TOMORROW. I've nEVER EVEN WRITTEN A FIC BEFORE. ALL MY LIFE. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME

oh my god this obsession has got to stop im being so serious rn

whoever came across this sorry excuse of a story i am so sorry but i wrote this in one sitting, literally no draft no thing. nada. I just wanted to get this out of my chest

finally i can continue my assignments. i think. hopefully.

#the apothecary diaries #kusuriya no hitorigoto #hnggghh if you came across this no you didnt #and even if you do you dont know who i am god idk why this is so embarassing #IM NOT A WRITER IM NOT MEANT FOR WRITING #but alas #if you want it you gotta make it #jinmao #jinshi #maomao #kyriarting

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so-i-grudgingly-joined-this-site · 1 year ago

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Dream-Killing Bitches, Evil Exes, and Bad Moms: Portrayals of Women in "The Kindly Ones"

So, I've been attempting to write a more formal meta about this for months, but I've not gotten it to ever gel properly, so I thought I'd share my thoughts more informally here.

COMICS SPOILERS AHEAD

Basically, there is something really weird about how women are treated in The Kindly Ones arc of The Sandman.

The semi-official guidebook "Sandman: King of Dreams" basically called The Kindly Ones a #GirlPower arc, but I don't find much particularly empowering about it. Lyta literally goes insane from the stress of being a single mother, albeit exacerbated by supernatural forces. Thessaly is a TERF bitch who serves the role of "spiteful ex" to the protagonist. Nuala is passive and sad and ultimately just pushed around by the whims of the men around her, and when she finally makes a choice of her own it kills the person she cared about. Rose's quarter-life crisis is miraculously "solved" by an unplanned pregnancy. Chantal and Zelda die of AIDS. Even the unstoppable Furies are ultimately a tool in a man's orchestrated suicide-by-magical-cop.

Maybe this is a leftover from when the books were written? Maybe this was the epitome of feminism in the 90s? Or maybe the guide was meaning that the women were powerful as in LITERALLY powerful...women sure do wield a lot of deadly strength and magic in this, even if none of them are particularly EMpowered, if you catch my meaning.

There's also layers as to how we're supposed to interpret this in relation to Morpheus, our doomed protagonist. I've written previously about how we might be intended to see him as an unsympathetic misogynist. If that's the case, then perhaps his doom at the hands of multiple female forces is supposed to be karmic and positive, no matter how questionable those women are. Support for this interpretation is the myth the old ladies (a manifestation of the Kindly Ones?) tell Rose, wherein a deceptive man who abuses and kills his wife meets a karmic comeuppance at the hands of his magically transformed daughters and resurrected wife.

There's also the fact that Overture reveals that Morpheus has MASSIVE issues with his mother. If one decides not to interpret Morpheus's death as a suicide, there is the possible alternate explanation that he frankly underestimated Lyta's threat level to him. Having never experienced a mother's unconditional love, he couldn't fathom that a mother could love her kid enough to literally go insane and kill gods over them.

But even as motherhood is a negative path to stress, insanity, and threatening the fabric of the universe, it's also VERY uncomfortably presented as a cure-all. Rose only gets her heart back by getting knocked up, and we're supposed to see Lyta's suggestion of an abortion as further continuance of Lyta's madness. But of all people, Lyta knows what she's talking about! She knows how difficult single motherhood is! She was going mad even before supernatural intervention... In fact, multiple sequences in The Kindly Ones make it ambiguous what elements are supernatural and what are just her mind interpreting mundane signs as godly while cracking under realistic stress!

This goes outside of the arc I chose to focus on, but I also can't help but contrast the two lesbian couples: Foxglove and Hazel vs. Chantal and Zelda. Foxglove and Hazel end up on the path of traditional motherhood, down to having to choose a child over a career, despite being lesbians! Meanwhile, Chantal and Zelda, as mentioned, die horribly of AIDS. The paths for women are motherhood, tragedy, madness, or some combination thereof.

I'd almost say that the ultimate message of The Kindly Ones regarding women is "no matter what type of woman you are, things will go horribly for you, you cannot win, and no matter what you are at the whim of a violent patriarchal system. The closest you can come to 'winning' is unfortunately by playing into the male-POV fantasy of devoted motherhood." But. like. that was DEFINITELY NOT THE INTENDED WRITTEN MESSAGE. BUT THAT IS THE MESSAGE THAT RESULTS.

Forget asking if Morpheus is a misogynist, the NARRATIVE ITSELF of The Kindly Ones pushes misogyny more than any individual character does!

tagging those who I know like discussing/reading meta:

@serenityspiral @orionsangel86 @violetoftheendless @duckland @notallsandmen

#the sandman meta #the sandman #neil gaiman's sandman #the kindly ones #misogyny #original post #my writing #literary analysis

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classickook · 2 years ago

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more könig headcanons

a/n: i literally cannot get this man out of my head lol i wrote this with civilian!reader in mind and it ended up getting pretty specific (flower shop au???) but i hope y’all still enjoy <3

<< prev | next >>

- idk how the two of you meet but i’m imagining a quaint little town that’s far away from any sort of battle that könig stumbles upon while on break

- let me set the scene: you work in a floral shop or market and spend most of your day planting, nurturing, and arranging a variety of flowers <3

- könig sees you one day and is immediately drawn to your kind smile and sunny aura (no wonder the flowers are so beautiful when they look upon you for sunlight and nourishment, he thinks) and finds himself a bit extremely nervous to introduce himself

- you notice him shuffling awkwardly by the door so you greet him warmly and ask if there’s something you can help him find

- i just know our gentle giant is blushing like crazy at this point; being so close to you and hearing the soft timbre of your voice has his blood pressure skyrocketing

- he shoves his hands in his pockets to hide how shaky they are and tries to act all casual but ends up accidentally knocking over an arrangement next to the door

- the poor guy is BEET RED now and wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole, he’s so embarrassed :(

- he apologizes profusely and feels SO awful for ruining your pretty arrangement, he even offers to pay for it but you wave him off easily as he picks up the broken vase and crushed petals

- “don’t worry about it,” you offer kindly. “it wasn’t my best work anyway.”

- könig still feels like absolute garbage and you can clearly tell by his body language that he feels terribly uncomfortable and kinda curls into that massive body of his to appear smaller

- “did you know that the gladiolus symbolizes strength and integrity like the gladiators of their namesake?” you ask as a way to distract him from the little accident. his pale blue eyes settle on you as you continue, lightly stroking the baby soft petals of the arrangement nearby. “they kind of remind me of you, soldier. valiant and strong yet undoubtedly beautiful.”

- they also represent infatuation is what you don’t tell him, afraid to voice your immediate crush on the man who quite literally stumbled into your floral shop

- “they’re pretty,” he breathes, however, you notice his gaze is not on the flowers you’re showcasing — it’s on you

- your breath catches in your throat at the unwavering contact, stunned into silence as he cautiously reaches forward to brush his gloveless fingers across your cheek; and he’s pleased to find that the velvety-smooth sensation of your skin is incomparable to that of any petal on earth

- from there on out, könig spends most of his free time in your shop, asking about the meanings of every flower, buying a bouquet of your recommendations each day, and carefully placing them on the counter for you before he leaves

- he finally builds up the courage to ask you out, properly, to which you very quickly agree, and the two of you are inseparable after that

- you spend most of your time with him, going for walks in the park, visiting cafes in the area and laughing loudly when könig plops a fingertip of whipped cream on your nose just to lean forward and kiss the sweetness into his mouth, leaving you a blushing mess

- calls you his blümchen (little flower)

- he definitely strikes me as the type who would follow you around like a puppy and do anything you ask! könig aka sunshine/golden retriever bf we all deserve <3

- want him to carry your purse? done

- need some help around the shop? no problem

- you end up buying too much at the store and need him to hold everything for you? you got it

- someone bothering you? consider it already taken care of

- he’s basically your bodyguard and takes your safety very, very seriously; the epitome of scary boyfriend privilege right here

- this man adores you and worships the ground you walk on!!!! enamored doesn’t even begin to express his feelings for you

- literal definition of a simp

- would do anything and everything for you; i’m talking he would kill or die for you (he’s a bit dramatic but we love that about him)

- he loves holding your hand, playing with your fingers, brushing your hair as you lay on his chest ! könig goes crazy for that stuff :)

- especially loves skin-to-skin contact because he wants to get as close to you as possible; he just can’t get enough!

- as i’ve said before, this man’s love language is physical touch and he uses it as a relaxant if he’s anxious or on sensory overload

- extremely observant and can read you like a book (as can you; the two of you just get each other, ya know? match made in heaven fr)

- perfect for cuddling ! literally more comfortable than any pillow or bed, so you end up sleeping on him most of the time and he’s 100% okay with that

- könig loves having you in his arms, especially if he’s just recently come back from a mission, and it makes him so unbelievably happy that you feel safe with him :’)

- has a picture of you in his wallet that he pulls out every single night while he’s away from you on a mission. the poor photo is so wrinkled and faded from the number of times he takes it out but he refuses to throw it away even when you suggest on replacing it; he would never pass up on more pictures of you but i can guarantee he would keep all of them (scrapbook king <3)

- he’s as much of a lover as he is a fighter and i stand by that

- would never ever raise his voice at you; if the two of you get in an argument, he would simply take a breather and maybe go for a walk to clear his head before coming back to hug you and apologize and make things right

- if when he eventually proposes, i know for a fact that it would be with a family heirloom that holds a lot of history and sentimental value (because he’s sweet like that)

- he’s such a good guy, i love him to death!!!! (men all over the world: take notes)

#könig #könig x y/n #könig x you #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic #call of duty fic

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jynjackets · 1 year ago

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Sorry to ask but why did you call Adria sexist? What has she done?

I don’t mind the question. I think it’s important to back up my claims so here we go.

If you watch her interviews, she's weirdly consistent about this really odd opinion she has about women.

Here she basically says men and women have different attributes when it comes to strength and toughness (which is sexist). Talking about her character that is known to "talk like a woman, walk like a woman," I don't even know what this means. But it comes off that she thinks there exists a single way a woman should act. Her character being a typical feminine-damsel type also implies her preference for this stereotype.

Reading through her other interviews she has a very narrow idea of what a woman should be, especially when it comes to ‘taking care of men’ and whatnot. I want to be clear it is one thing with having personal preferences to how you want your female characters to be presented, which is totally fine, preference is preference. But why this is problematic and moves past mere preferences is because she is saying one is better than the other. That women should be represented in this certain way.

She's done this not with just her latest character, but a lot of them.

Here she says her character is a "real woman" implying that there is a way to be an authentic woman as opposed to an inferior type. She also implies that her character is a real woman because she takes care of people. I don't feel the need to explain the issue with idealizing this.

It's again, her weird notion there's a difference between "tough" and "strong". Here she adds that women should 'own their femininity,' as if the opposite is what women are experiencing.

Not that this completely applies but it’s common for women who perceive other women to be adopting too ‘boyish’ of traits, to believe they are misogynists and rejecting their own kind. But this generally isn’t true— and the real issue with this is that it’s actually those that show conventionally masculine traits that are typically a minority and/or marginalized across women. Studs, butches, and tomboys helped pave the way and redefined culture for all women. In reality, they can be considered the epitome of feminism – proving that you don’t have to look, think, or act “like a woman” to be a woman.

It's, again, fine she may have had a preference. But to make a whole career where women are meant to be portrayed a certain way is such a red flag for me. Especially when she likens herself to them.

The rest of her snippets, to be very honest, it's just a bad fucking vibe I get from her, man. Like why would you say this?

and this?

"Sexist," one might say, might be a rather strong claim for someone who may, arguably, insist on a certain portrayal for women?

No, it fits because not only is this "preference" already largely overrepresented in media, but there are several ways of being sexist. The actress especially is exhibiting what is known as benevolent sexism, a more socially accepted form of sexism prevalent among both men and women.

Examples of benevolent sexism include:

basing a woman’s value on her role as a mother, wife, or girlfriend

focusing attention and praise on someone’s appearance rather than their other attributes

believing that people should not do things for themselves, such as manage money or drive a car, because of their gender

A lot of these can be done without intentional malice very easily! It could be seen as a complement telling someone "wow! I love your braids and lipstick, you really look like a real woman," or "my character is special and great because she is such a good friend and so loyal to this male character" without adding anything else. These, no matter the intent, are still very stupid and sexist to say.

I guess it's important to note where I am coming from and it is that I fucking hate toxic radfems. I hate how lesbian spaces drown out studs and mascs. I hate terfs and people who gatekeep identities because a certain representation isn't good enough for them. And while this actress's crimes are likely a misdemeanor compared to these awful gatekeepers, I cannot stand the stupidity of any hint of lateral violence. Especially when you’re relatively rich and famous you have a responsibility to not hold people back.

I can see that for others it’s not a big deal, hence “socially acceptable”. But it’s ideas she spouts like these that are poisonous to progress. The point should be that there should be no expectation for women. You can be anything you want because you want to. It's when I see comments to the things she says that make my blood boil like “yea! I love women who aren't so in our face ” (aka I don't want female characters with agency or opinions or as the lead) or “this is what a real woman is, sensual and feminine” (aka sexualized, long hair, tits, and ass).

I’m not above giving her the benefit of the doubt that she’s just kind of dumb. Like she’s not out here with a tradfem agenda or whatever. Outside of sexism she’s just bad at explaining anything. This is the last time I’ll probably criticize this woman because I already blocked her tag and she’s a flop anyway so she's easily ignorable. I really hate hating on women because they’re criticized enough, but there is a standard to be met when it comes to being aware and respectful. I wish I was cherry picking but I found all these interviews in like a 20 minute Google search and that's pretty damn telling of her career. She's also like 30 something years old. It's difficult watching a full adult infantilize her own character or see people believe she's "just naïve" when you can just say that they're being sexist.

#this is the last time I'll talk about her though #tw sexism #so to be clear tony is also sexist lol if that wasn't obvious #but I hate men so I just ignore most of them #there are many actresses who go through this but don't say weird stuff like this #critical #anon asks #sorry I never learned how to edit and make the longest rants #anti adria arjona #bix caleen #martine bancroft #andor talks

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girlreviews · 8 months ago

Text

Review #113: The Queen is Dead, The Smiths

Morrissey really turned out to be a disappointing and vile piece of shit, and it’s a damn shame. Went from being this quirky, pretentious, off-beat guy that you sort of tolerated because it was funny and the music was so damn good and you could let go of his holier-than-thou shit because you could never really tell if he was being totally serious, and every now and again the internet would gift you with a picture of him with a cat on his head. You were like “OH Morrissey, what are you like?!”, but over the years it got a darker and more insidious until it became abundantly clear that we weren’t dealing with some performance artist who liked to play with irony and push boundaries – we were dealing with a hateful man. The dude supports a political party that is too far right for Nigel Farage. I hand on heart did not know such a thing could exist, which is truly disturbing, but Farage himself described “For Britain” as “made up of Nazi’s and racists”. To be fair, Farage didn’t actually qualify that he thought that was a bad thing, so maybe Morrissey is still in appropriate company with that sorry excuse of a human.

Thankfully, The Smiths isn’t Morrissey, and Morrissey isn’t The Smiths. The other members have distanced themselves and made it clear that they don’t have any tolerance for anything center-right, let alone anything that flirts with fascism. One of my favorite moments in British politics is when then Prime Minister/Head Doofus David Cameron tried to be a cool dude in front of his in-bred private schoolboy cronies and said The Smiths were his favorite band. I assume he was not expecting the pure and utter humiliation of Johnny Marr, founding member and legendary guitarist of The Smiths publicly forbidding him to like The Smith’s music and instructing him to “stop saying you like it, no you don’t”. I believe I laughed for a solid 15 minutes. You can have all the power in the world (or the illusion of it), and someone can still just destroy you like that because you’re a fucking dillhole with no integrity, no spine, no chill and everybody knows it.

Anyway, we’ll get to the record and the songs in a second, but circling back to the time in life before we all had to really accept just how much of a turd Morrissey is, you know, we had this sort of whimsical Eeyore crooner type character that was pretty entertaining, truth be told. I had a friend that used to sing Happy Birthday in the style of Morrissey and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to it every year. There’s a particular delight in singing along and doing your best Morrissey impression or going all in on the “aaaah!” in This Charming Man. We’re grieving that Morrissey. But he’s gone, if he was ever really here. I actually saw him at the Ryman, and there was still some semblance of the witty weirdo that we put up with. He came on stage, took his shirt off, said in his ridiculous voice, “I wuff you!” and launched right into How Soon Is Now? It was pretty great. It really was. But still, fuck that guy, he doesn’t deserve to perform at the Mother Church ever again.

So if I’m being completely honest, I think I’ve gotten to know The Smith’s haphazardly over the years not through their “true” albums. They put out a few compilations that could have fooled me into thinking they were albums (and did), and so I do not believe I ever listened to The Queen is Dead from start to finish until now. It really epitomizes what people mean when they’re like, ugh, The Smiths are so depressing. I’ve never really felt that. I always found them to feel very upbeat, despite the content being undeniably steeped in misery. I always found that very funny and assumed it was intentional. But a lot of these tracks are just straight-up downers (I Know It’s Over, Had No One Ever). It really takes me back to this time, where we had not lived in England too long. We didn’t know anyone yet, and weren’t all that settled – for those of you who have never moved across an ocean to another country, which I’ve now done twice – that shit is hard and it takes so much longer than you realize to feel like you have any sense of belonging or feeling of being home. I knew that even though I was three, because on Sunday we would just aimlessly drive around in my Dad’s company car and try and find a pub that welcomed children (that was not the cultural norm in England in the 90s), and that was even open on Sunday at all. Often we would just end up driving around the countryside or going to a hardware store. This is likely why I associate both Sundays and hardware stores with immense existential dread. I totally knew we were lonely and outcasts as a family unit. It was also so grey and rainy looking out the car window and The Smiths was often the soundtrack. Bleugh.

Bigmouth Strikes Again changes the pace and gets to that upbeat misery that I referred to earlier. A song can get you up and moving even when it suggests that “you should be bludgeoned in your bed”. When I still lived in East London, my friends and I used to frequent this very funny club night, dubbed “Feeling Gloomy”, that was entirely dedicated to dancing your ass off to miserable songs that were catchy as fuck and had a great beat. It was rife with moody 80s serious synth music, and to the surprise of absolutely no one, it was one of my favorite places to go and let it all out. It was my happiest place to be miserable.

Once, after a particularly heavy weekend, I was in my office alone, not getting a lot done because I was… Struggling. Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. This wasn’t a glamorous or stable time in my life, and I did my best all told. As mentioned previously, I had some very unsympathetic and problematic upper management that imposed bans on my music habits. One of my three bosses was a half-decent human being and found my antics sort of endearing. He came in that day, and found me in a very sorry state. I was attempting to eat a banana, curled up on the floor, with There Is A Light That Never Goes Out meekly playing from my shitty laptop speakers. He laughed, shut my laptop, made me a cup of tea, and said “listen girlreviews, we’ve talked about this, you can’t listen to The Smiths when you’ve had a big weekend”. We laughed. On a separate note regarding this song. One of my closest, dearest, and oldest friends assigns this song to me, my life, and our relationship with each other:

“Take me out tonight

Oh, take me anywhere, I don't care

I don't care, I don't care

Driving in your car

I never, never want to go home

Because I haven't got one, la-di-dum

Oh, I haven't got one

And if a double-decker bus

Crashes into us

To die by your side

Is such a heavenly way to die

And if a ten-ton truck

Kills the both of us

To die by your side

Well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine”

Make of that what you will. It’s complicated, deep, and beautiful. The strings that accompany these words are complicated, deep, and beautiful as well. I don’t know what it is about this song but it captures a gratitude and a melancholy. Something that is, but also cannot be. It’s very special and I cherish it. I think it’s too easy to get stuck on the morbidity of it without realizing what it’s really saying: I’m so grateful to be here with you in this car. Even in the face of certain death, you make me feel safe. You’re the home I don’t have, and I love you. What a wild thing for two people to share. How fortunate am I to know and love someone like that, and know that they know and love me like that right back.

#album review #music #music review #rolling stone top 500 #the smiths #the queen is dead #morrissey #johnny marr

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bullshit-tqia · 2 months ago

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>This time last year I was a Marxist-Leninist-Maoist, I am a center US democrat now.

I personally went from center left to just leftist overtime. It’s not a huge shift like yours. You, on the other hand (and just so that your new TERF followers know this), now support -Israel- and GCs, which are extremist positions that are a far cry from being far left and trans. If you “peaked” because of Benjanun’s shitty cult of terminally online tgirls and all of the sudden support genocide, that’s a mental health crisis

“It’s not a huge shift”

I hope when you inevitably wake up from the foreign state brainwashing you’ll realize how embarrassing this is.

My extremist positions, explained:

1. The Arab-Israeli conflict did not begin in 1948 (fact) it began after Arabs started to threaten Jewish refugees fleeing the Holocaust with genocide after they committed antisemitic hate crimes against other waves of Jewish refugees (fact), the nakba overemphasizes Israel’s role as Egypt and Jordan played a part and then occupied Gaza and the West Bank respectively until 1967 (fact), and that the Israelis are actually allowed to defend themselves after the government of Gaza invaded their country and killed over a thousand Israelis (fact). But one question. Why did South Africa try to delay the due date to submit evidence of genocide to the UN? (Fact) Surely if genocide is so obvious they would have ample evidence, yes? But actually…the reality is that this situation is much more complicated than you think it is. Bombs and people dying ≠ genocide. Boohoo I’m not a reactionary moron who repeats retarded shit like “globalize the intifada” which islamofascists have spouted for decades. Y’all repeating fascist slogans but I’m the extremist.

2. GC means gender critical. I do in fact criticize the idea that we need to fix “gender incongruence” with medication and surgery that have been known to kill people. There is a type of vaginoplasty that takes part of the colon and makes a vagina out of it with many complications, such as making trans women SHIT OUT OF THEIR VAGINA. I personally do not think we actually need to tell people “hey, you either have suffering or suffering” because they have gender dysphoria, especially when a large section of trans people are autistic and these surgeries cause infertility. It’s starting to sound like we have a roundabout form of eugenics. We should ALLOW people to be gender nonconforming without making it a medical issue. We shouldn’t be pumping ourselves with exogenous hormones and castrating ourselves for “happiness.” This does not bring happiness! It’s a placebo!! Being trans sucks! We shouldn’t exchange one type of suffering (gender dysphoria) with another (transitioning). Especially when we don’t even know that transitioning gets rid of gender dysphoria. That’s fucking crazy!!

It’s crazy how y’all think human suffering is the epitome of le wokeisme!! Why is the immediate assumption that we should fix ourselves with hormones and surgery instead of accepting ourselves? How can it be impossible for us to be happy and gender nonconforming?

I don’t want to spend the rest of my life on hormones and possibly going through a series of surgeries meant to modify previous ones because I think I have to conform so extremely to this idea of what a man should look like. How does that help dysphoria? It just reinforces it! It makes our idealist view of ourselves narrower and narrower as we spend more of our lives alone and distressed that people may learn we’re trans. That’s fucking crazy.

I am more pro-trans than you will ever be.

#transandrophobia #anti transmasculinity #baeddelism #baeddel #transmisandry #liberal feminism #radical feminism #gender critical #gender discourse #trans discourse #israel #zionism

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cryoculus · 2 years ago

Text

— reparations 06 ⟢

do i get a gold star for doing a great job or no?

★ FEATURING; arataki itto x gn!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 5.4k words

★ TAGS; modern au, flower shop au, slow burn, idiots to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining, no smut, sfw

★ NOTABLE CHARACTERS; arataki itto

★ DISCLAIMERS; contains completely made up shuumatsuban lore, please don't take it too seriously!

★ MASTERLIST . AO3 ★

A young boy trudges to the side of a run-down building—vials of medicine clutched in his small arms as he rests against a dingy wall. His heart still races with adrenaline as he examines the amber bottles, wondering if he even snatched up the right ones.

He lets out a shaky sigh, dabbing his fingers along the open cut on the back of his head. The warm liquid of his blood seeps from the wound, and he hisses at the abrupt contact.

Granny is so going to give him an earful later.

“You look pretty scratched up over there.”

The boy jolts at the sound of another voice. He glances around the abandoned warehouse, wondering if that security guard managed to tail him. But all he sees is a man in a gruffy looking suit—the buttons of his shirt undone to reveal twin dragon tattoos inked onto his chest. A pair of black sunglasses sits on the bridge of his nose, and the boy gulps, knowing exactly what type of person this is.

A yakuza.

“You need any help?” the man asks, taking out the cigarette from his mouth before killing the light underfoot. “Kids don’t usually wander ‘round these parts.”

“No,” he mumbles quickly, hugging the vials in his arms tighter to his chest. Granny is waiting for him back at home. He should probably get going—

“It’s your first time shoplifting, isn’t it?”

Before the boy can even move another step away, he freezes in his tracks. Is this guy going to scold him for it? Worse, is he going to turn him over to the cops?

“Yes…”

“Mmm? Figures. You’re fast enough to get away from the man guarding the pharmacy, but not nimble enough to do all that unscathed,” the man chuckles, walking closer to stare him down. “So? Why’d you steal those in the first place?”

The boy is compelled to tell him to mind his own business, but he can almost hear granny’s voice telling him not to be rude to strangers, much more adults. Even if this guy is the epitome of a shady adult himself.

“I-It’s my granny,” he mumbles. “She’s sick. She… She’s always the one who takes care of me, but we don’t have a lot of money so…”

The man nods. “You’re pretty honest for a kid.”

“...”

“Say, how about we go back to the pharmacy and apologize like proper citizens. I’ll pay for granny’s medicine if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

The boy gapes. “You’d really do that?”

“Oh, it’s not for free, though.” He laughs again, bringing down his sunglasses to give the kid a glimpse of his eyes. “You see, kid, in a world like ours, nothing is freely given. Everything comes with a price.”

“...What do you want in return?”

The man hums thoughtfully, as if only having considered it when the boy knows he probably approached him with an ulterior motive in mind. Still, if it means getting medicine for granny in a way that won’t disappoint her…

“Well, it just so happens that my team has been declining in number as of late,” he sighs and takes out a handkerchief from his pocket as he kneels in front of the boy—dabbing at the wound on the back of his head. He stares at the man, puzzled, but he only responds with an almost-gentle smile.

“What do you think about becoming my disciple, huh?”

A few days later, you can say that things have become relatively peaceful.

Too peaceful.

As promised, Itto always keeps you updated about his plans and whereabouts—texting you so goddamn often that you had to tell him to knock it off in real life. You just wanted to know what he was up to; not be unknowingly lectured about the ingrown toenail he had checked in the doctor’s clinic. Well, even if he can be a bit gross, at least he’s honoring his end of the agreement.

Your apprentice has been timing in regularly again like usual, too. Itto has familiarized himself with the specifically assigned placements on your shelves, and you can finally rely on him to do inventory while you take care of the delicate orders from your clientele. (He’s still a long way from handling your flowers with those heavy hands of his, but he’ll get to arrange a bouquet of his own one day. Maybe.)

The customers have definitely taken a liking to him as well. Ever since Itto got back from his so-called leave, the old ladies in the neighborhood fawned over him as he helped carry sacks of fertilizer to each of their houses. The bastard was all-too happy to serve, but you can’t quite put down the feeling that’s been nagging you since he returned.

This is what you wanted, right?

Itto is somewhere you can carefully watch over him, and in the event that he isn’t, he always keeps you posted through badly punctuated text messages. Just like you agreed.

But from his ghastly run-ins with the yakuza to the portrait he’d smashed that night, you were beginning to wonder if you really knew this guy as well as you thought. Well, technically speaking, it was normal not to know a whole lot about Itto. He was just a sacrificial lamb offered up by his gang to compensate for the inconvenience they caused. Your relationship doesn’t go beyond employer and employee, so the fact that you’re having all these complicated feelings about the situation doesn’t really make a lot of sense.

Everyday, before he times out for the night, you make it a point to inspect Itto’s back for any new injuries. Though he insists that the last time he’s met up with his yakuza friends was the time he passed out on your door the other night, you still can’t be too sure. You pretend not to notice the way he tenses up every time your fingers graze his healing wounds, but you’re just glad that he isn’t out there hurting himself on purpose again.

But you don’t have the time to mull over trivial things right now, sadly.

“Alright! So the wedding is in four months, and the bride wants the motif to be…” You proceed to encircle a poorly drawn doodle on your notepad before showing it to Itto. “Hydrangeas.”

He examines your work with one hand on his chin. “I don’t need to know how to spell that, do I?”

You pointedly ignore his question. “These babies will take about ten to twelve weeks to grow. If we plant them today, they should be ready by spring.”

“Am I really going to work for you for twelve more weeks, master?”

“Got a problem with that?”

“...Strangely, no.”

And that’s how you ended up going to Konda Village alongside Itto. As he helps unload the gardening tools out of the taxi, you pay the fare to the driver once your helper has retrieved everything from the trunk. The guy promptly sees his way out of the dirt road and back to the city before you can even thank him for the ride—the wheels of his car kicking up dust everywhere.

“Okay, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t expect us to just plant all these in your back alley or something,” Itto pipes up suddenly, red eyes transfixed on the plot of land that stood before you. “But isn’t goin’ all the way out here too much?”

“You’re asking an awful lot of questions today.” You roll your eyes, undoing the latch on the wooden fence as you swing the small gate open. “Hydrangeas are huge when they’re fully bloomed. Plus, I had to call in a few favors just to free up this spot. Are you saying you want to render all my efforts futile, Itto?”

“I’m saying that it probably isn’t a good idea to close up shop this time of year,” he tells you, stepping inside the lot as he sets down your equipment. “Why do you think I’ve been timing in every single day, huh?”

Why has he been timing everyday, indeed? That’s the same question that you’ve been wanting to ask him for days now. But the answer apparently has something to do with the season? You shoot Itto a puzzled look that he only returns with a gasp.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know.”

“I don’t know what?”

“You run a flower shop but you have no idea that Valentine’s Day is right around the corner?!”

“...Oh.”

Okay, maybe you lacked a bit of foresight in that regard, but… You’ve had a lot on your mind lately, okay? Sure, the sudden influx of customers is unusual enough for you to notice, but you’ve been so out of it that you never attempted to wonder why. Gods, you live in a reality where Arataki Itto—the main reason why you’re distracted in the first place—is more aware of your shop’s surroundings than you are. The world must be ending.

Just when you expect him to hound you with questions, Itto pushes up the sleeves of his shirt as he picks off a gardening hoe from your bag of tools. He flashes you a determined smile that makes you want to punch him in the face immediately after.

“So, where do we start?”

You suppose that you could’ve just ordered some pre-grown hydrangeas so you could continue cultivating them on your own. That’s going to be much faster than growing the flowers from scratch, but this is the first major booking you’ve ever accepted. If you want your business to gain a reputation for itself, you might as well showcase your skill in the process, right? What better way to ensure quality control than to grow them yourself?

You tell Itto to leave ample spaces in between plots, reminding him over and over that hydrangea shrubs take up a lot of space to the point that you’re probably annoying him. Which is fine. He should think of it as payback for all the times he talked your ear off about the most insignificant things during work hours and beyond.

Of course, you’re not some tyrant that just orders their loyal subjects around, though. You pitch in your brunt of the work by planting the seeds your mother gave you. The hydrangeas back at your parents’ house were always so lovely, and you hope you could emulate the same quality for Andou’s wedding in the spring.

“You said this plot of land was owned by your mom, right?” Itto asks out of the blue, hefting the garden hoe over his shoulder as he glances at you curiously. “Is she into growing stuff too or somethin’?”

Patting down the lump of soil you scooped over your next patch of seeds, you reply, “She used to run a flower shop before she had me. This is where she grows plants that are too high maintenance for indoor environments.”

“Ohhh, it runs in the family.” Itto nods thoughtfully. “You’ve been doin’ a pretty good job for yourself, though. I’m sure she’s proud of you.”

You try not to let the compliment get to your head.

“What about you?” you ask him. “Do you have any other family aside from the gang?”

He hums before resuming his work. “Yeah, my granny. She took me in when I was just a kid, but the folks around Hanamizaka started calling her Granny Oni after.”

“...Were you that much of a problem child?”

“Nah. It’s ‘cause I’m an oni, remember?”

You do remember; you just refuse to acknowledge it. Why is this man so determined to brand himself as a demon anyways? Either way, you’re not really in the mood to pry about that in particular.

“Right,” you say dryly. “How about blood relatives? Have you ever seen your real parents?”

You immediately realize that you’re toeing on dangerous territory when Itto visibly stiffens. The grip he has on the handle suddenly turns knuckle-white, but he’s quick to compose himself before you can even retract the question.

“My folks died of some nasty disease when I was about, I dunno, five.” He shrugs, sounding way too nonchalant for someone talking about his dead parents. “I did have a cousin who was with me all the time, though. He’s like a brother to me, but… We got separated eventually, and I haven’t seen him since.”

Something about the somber tone his voice suddenly takes on makes your face twist with sympathy. Idiotic as he might be, it isn’t so weird to know that Itto has incurred his own losses, too. What does come off as strange, however, is how he seems more attached to this cousin of his than his own parents.

“Have you ever tried looking for him?” you wonder, rising back to your feet to pat the dirt off your pants.

It takes Itto a while to answer, and you hear nothing but the sound of the garden hoe sinking into the rich brown soil. You quietly plant the seeds in the spots that he carves out for you, and when he finally speaks, you listen to every word.

“I have,” he murmurs. “But he doesn’t really want to be found.”

This time, you know better than to shatter the silence.

“Hey, master! Can you hold on for a sec?”

You glance over your shoulder with brows raised. Itto is absentmindedly hooking back the latch on the fence’s gate when you catch him typing something on his phone, and you wonder what he’s up to.

Hydrangea gardening was quite the success, and you were already done talking to the elderly couple who’d taken care of your mother’s plot since she’d purchased it. All that’s left is to head back to the city before nightfall, but your wonderful apprentice seems like he’s being held up by something entirely.

“What’s the matter?” you ask Itto once you’re in close proximity. “Since you graciously reminded me that it’s Valentine’s season, I might have to make some last-minute shipments. So I’d appreciate it if you hurry up.”

Itto chuckles softly, pocketing his phone. “I’ll have you back at the shop faster than you can blink if you come with me.”

“Come with you? What—”

You don’t even get to finish the sentence because he’s already seized you by the wrist; dragging you further into the village without giving any leeway for protest. That obviously doesn’t stop you from making a scene, though. You thrash against Itto’s grip, yelling in a way that both attracts the attention of the villagers and smashes through the peaceful air of Konda.

“Where do you think you’re taking me?! This is kidnapping!”

“You’re not a kid anymore.”

“I’m still my dad’s little rascal, so you don’t get to decide that!”

Okay, bringing up the silly names your father calls you is quite the low blow to your own pride. But just when you expect Itto to tease you about being a daddy’s girl or whatever, you briefly get a glimpse of a grim look settling over his face. He doesn’t give you time to make sure it wasn’t just a trick of the light, though. In the next second, he full-on grins with that stupid, shit-eating smile—making you forget about that split-second shift faster than a bullet train at rush hour.

“Relax, and quit making it look like I’m a serial killer,” he huffs. “I’m just going to grab my bike from the repair shop so I can give you a lift! Shinobu’s gonna cut my family jewels off if she finds out I made you walk from here to Hanamizaka, so…”

Huh. So he does have an ounce of gentlemanly pride in that thick skull of his. But still.

“You had your motorcycle fixed all the way here?” you ask incredulously.

“Konda Village may not be known for their mechanics, but the guy that tunes up my ride whenever I need a fix is trustworthy, ‘kay?” Itto informs you before finally letting go of your wrist. “In fact, we’ve already arrived~”

You blink, taking in your surroundings. Itto stopped in front of a building that looks a bit more modern compared to the other houses in the village. The metal shutters are up, revealing the inside of the shop for easier viewing. Spare parts are lined haphazardly along rows of metal shelves, and various tools can be seen hanging from the side of a wall just above a cluttered work table. The space kind of seems cramped, though. You wonder if Itto’s mechanic simply overhauled their garage and turned it into something profitable.

“‘Sup. You here to get your ride?”

You’re a bit surprised to see Haru emerge from inside, a dash of grease smeared across the side of his face as pushes up the goggles on his head. He’s one of the first members of the Arataki Gang you’ve met aside from Itto and Shinobu. But it makes sense for your apprentice to trust him with his bike so much if that was the case.

“Oh? You brought the boss lady, too?” Haru raises an eyebrow—gaze flicking your way.

“Hey, I only let it slide when Tora called them that one time,” Itto grumbles. “I’m still the boss, got that? Master over here’s got nothin’ to do with the gang.”

The mechanic chuckles, using the small towel slung over his shoulder to wipe the sweat and dirt off his face. “Well, y’know how osmosis works between brothers.”

“Osmo… what?”

“Anyways, I don’t believe we’ve properly been introduced,” Haru says, turning to you as he completely dismisses Itto’s question. You and him are going to get along; you can already feel it. “I’m Kanzaki Haru. Nice to meet you.”

Once you introduce yourself back, you can’t help but ask, “You and Tora are brothers?”

“The resemblance ain’t very uncanny ‘cause we have different mothers, but yeah.” Haru nods. “By the way, Itto. Your bike’s as good as new in the back. You wanna try it out?”

“Of course I do!”

Seemingly familiar with Haru’s workshop already, your apprentice is quick to bolt back outside—presumably to check on his motorcycle where the bike should be. You sigh. So much for packing up as soon as you could.

“You know, he’s started to look better ever since Shinobu forced him to work with you.”

His words catch you off guard a little. “I’m sorry?”

“I mean, our boss is in good hands,” he chuckles, pulling out a wheeled stool beneath his work desk before plopping himself on top of it. “The gang was pretty opposed to the idea when we broke the news, but now everyone seems convinced enough that you’re taking care of him alright. Myself included.”

“...I’m not trying to steal Itto away, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

“It would actually do all of us a favor if you did.”

You scowl. “Do you hate him or something?”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Haru interjects with a smile. “We love Itto so goddamn much that we want him to start thinking of himself for a change. That guy’s got a heart that’s bigger than his own body, if you still haven’t noticed.”

You have. In fact, it’s harder not to notice.

Despite the (probably) illogical reason behind it, Itto willingly deals with his own problems under the Arataki Gang’s noses because he doesn’t want them to share the same burden. He doesn’t even have to say a thing for you to know how much he cares about them. And if the hearsay about the gang being a safe haven for misfits has any real weight to them, then it would just prove Haru’s words tenfold.

“I’m sure he’s always going on and on about his oni heritage, am I right?” Haru asks.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask someone about that,” you admit. “But I thought Shinobu was still busy, so I kind of put it off…”

“Haha! Well, the first thing you should know is that every word that comes out of his mouth is true.”

“...Are you telling me to play along with his oni superhero fantasy or something?”

The mechanic shakes his head. “No, I’m telling you to believe him when he says he’s an oni.”

You proceed to stare at him like he’s an escaped mental ward patient.

Haru lets out a lighthearted laugh, reaching for one of the loose screws on his desk as he fidgets with it. “It’s a bit of a stretch, yeah. And the oni blood has watered down after several generations. But those marks on his face and chest? Those ain’t tattoos. He’s had them since we were kids.”

“I’m still not buying it,” you tell him. “He doesn’t even have horns!”

“Hey, his genetics are out of anyone’s control, you know?” Haru rebuts. “Either way, I can’t and won’t force you to believe me. I just thought it’d do you some good to learn more about Itto now that you’re stuck with him.”

“Temporarily,” you add. “It’s not like he’s going to work for me forever, right? The gang’s waiting for him.”

The mechanic pauses, quietly placing that loose screw into a jar full of all sorts of metal fasteners. “You know, the Arataki Gang wasn’t always this big of a deal.”

“It started with Itto and three of his friends from the city. Now those guys were the actual delinquents. Stirring up trouble for no real reason. But after a few years, they accumulated more and more members.”

“Yet you were recognized as the top dogs of Hanamizaka,” you point out.

“Well, that’s all thanks to a certain…third party. Our mentor.”

“Mentor?”

Haru nods. “Back in the day, Shinobu, Itto, and I all trained under the Shuumatsuban. Does the name ring a bell?”

Shuumatsuban? That's the first you've heard of it, and you let him know with a shake of your head.

“Aha. Think of it as a…martial arts club of sorts,” he chimes, and you get the feeling that there’s more to it than what Haru is willingly divulging, but you opt not to press. “Our mentor trained the three of us along with a handful of other kids for a while. Tora even joined in when he was old enough to fight.”

Martial arts club, huh. Well, that explained how Itto was able to hold up against the yakuza multiple times. It also explained how Tora had it in him to jump off your balcony unscathed. That’s some mentor they have.

“We had the time of our lives—that’s the thing I remember the most. Even if our mentor was starting to disappear on us, we never stopped carrying out missio— I mean, training. You know how kids take those taekwondo tournaments seriously.” Haru punctuates this with a suspicious-sounding laugh. “At least, that’s how things were until our mentor stopped showing up completely.”

“He…abandoned you?”

He shrugs. “More or less, yeah. And get this, when we tried to investigate, we found out that he has a family of his own. He never really told us that. Shinobu even said that we were all big enough to clean up after our own messes, and that we should just leave our mentor alone with his family, but…”

“I’d be furious if my mentor suddenly left like that,” you tell him. “Isn’t that a bit harsh on his part? I know it’s just some martial arts club, but he could’ve at least explained what was up.”

Haru laughs again, but it sounds a bit lonely. “We don’t really get to have everything we want. That’s just the way things are. Although, out of the four of us, I’m pretty sure Itto was the one who took it the hardest.”

“He resents our mentor for what he did. I don’t think he’s actually over it to this day... But even if the other kids from the Shuumatsuban carried on with their own lives, Itto made sure there was still a place where misfits like us can belong,” he continues. “I was one of the first people he tried to invite. But I was already dead-set on keeping my nose out of that gang business.”

“And look where you are now,” you tease.

“Hey, if you have an adorably pushy little brother, and an equally pushy friend named Kuki Shinobu, it’s hard to keep refusing.” Haru sighs. “Now here we are, one big happy family.”

“That still doesn’t explain why the Tenryou Commission recognized you guys officially.” You cross your arms. “Come on, Itto’s taking his sweet time inspecting his ride as is. I’m sure you can share some more details.”

“I’m getting there.” He rolls his eyes. “We never expected it either, you know. One of the officers from the police station suddenly just showed up at home base and broke the news. Shinobu and I suspected that our mentor pulled a couple of strings in the sidelines as an apology of sorts, though we could never really confirm it.”

“But even if that guy left us all in the dust, it doesn’t change the fact that Itto created a safe space for people like us.” Haru smiles. “They didn't have to train the way we did back in our Shuumatsuban days. As long as they felt estranged, despised, or abandoned, we’d take ‘em all in. That's what the Arataki Gang is all about.”

…These boys aren’t troublemakers at all. Not in the slightest. You have no clue how the rumors about the gang even sprang up in the first place, but after hearing all this, you couldn’t help give Itto a couple of brownie points for his unwavering compassion. You never would’ve expected a guy like him to care about his friends so deeply.

Suddenly, a loud roar snaps you out of your musing.

“Oi, Haru! You sure you washed the engine properly? I don’t like how it sounds when I’m revving it up.”

As if on cue, the man of the hour brought his motorcycle back to the front, looking in much better condition than how it used to be the night he crashed it into your shop. The silver handles were polished to perfection, and the dragon sigil—oni sigil, you correct yourself—festooned by the headlight glimmers like solid gold.

“You’re not doubting my expertise now, are you?” Haru sighs. “That shitty bucket of bolts has been sitting in the garage for weeks. I was wondering when you’re going to bother picking it up.”

“Well, sorry I had my hands full with my new job,” Itto bites back sarcastically, but you feel no antagonism in the words. “Speaking of my new job… Master! Hop on! You still need to make a few orders, right?”

You shoot him a perplexed look. “After what you did to my store, it’s bold of you to think I’m just going to let you drive me back on this thing.”

Itto shrugs. “You seem to trust me with a lot of things now. Isn’t trusting me with your life included in the package this time?”

“You’re despicable.”

“Really, I’ve been told worse.” Itto smiles as he holds out his hand, and you hate the way your heart flutters at the sight. “Come on! We’re burning daylight!”

Reluctantly, you turn to Haru who’s already waving a hand in farewell. “It was nice talking to you, boss lady. See you soon.”

You return the gesture with a warm smile, grateful that he trusted you enough to tell you about the lives they lived as children. The mechanic’s tale certainly painted your not-so-good-for-nothing apprentice in a different light. Maybe you’ll start being a bit nicer to him from here on out.

Haru doesn’t ask, but you say it anyway.

“I’ll take care of him. That’s a promise.”

“You know, I really don’t appreciate being left in the dark!” Itto yells over the blare of the traffic as he eases his motorcycle at a red light. “Not only are my boys callin’ you boss lady now, but who the hell are you and Haru talking about? Take care of who? Do you need back-up or somethin’? I bet I can knock that guy dead!”

“Yeah, I’m sure you can,” you say, leaning against the backrest of his bike. “Don’t worry your empty little head about it.”

“Empty?!”

Before he can get another word out, the light turns green. Itto groans.

The trip was faster than you’d expected. Konda Village was a thirty minute drive away from the city, but Itto made it to the outskirts of Hanamizaka in fifteen. While you had some reservations about riding with him, he proved to be a much better driver than you thought. Those yakuza assholes must’ve bashed his head pretty bad that night for him to crash into your shop.

But that’s not the only thing you end up mulling over about the man in front of you.

You think about Haru’s words over and over. About how Itto takes poorly to being left behind; about how he makes sure no one else has to feel the same way. Then, you remember the fact that his parents passed so early in his life, and the cousin that he seems to have never stopped looking for.

He always takes things in stride, you realize. Always grinning like a goddamn madman before hurtling headfirst into his stupid ideas. But you also realize that just because he’s someone who can effortlessly make the people around him smile, doesn’t mean he’s invincible.

You witnessed that firsthand when he came to you, sporting the worst piece of hazing evidence you’ve seen in your life.

When it all comes down to it, you still don’t know how to feel about this stack of contradictions that goes by Arataki Itto. You don’t know why he’s dabbling with the yakuza. You barely know anything about the guy at all. But you do know that a person who can easily tell you that you’ve been doing a great job also needs someone to let them hear the words in return.

It’s the least you can do, after all.

Your eyes rove over the way his unruly white hair sways in the breeze. Itto had the decency to tie it when you decided to ride behind his back. And it makes it awfully easy for you to circle your arms around the broad circumference of his torso—pressing your cheek against his back as you lock him in a loose embrace.

Itto doesn’t flinch at the contact like you expect him to. He merely tenses for a fraction of a second before his muscles ease up after a moment’s hesitation. You breathe in the scent of sun and sweat clinging to his hair, and surprisingly, you don’t mind. In fact, you even find yourself worrying about the wounds on his back. But if you were so concerned, you suppose you could just inspect them once you got back to the shop.

“You’re doing a great job,” you tell him, hoping the words won’t get lost in the wind.

He doesn’t say anything; doesn’t give any sort of reaction. But you can almost feel him smiling away from view either way.

For you, that was enough.

“So? How’s my driving?”

“You had me at a loss for words there,” you say once you hop off his bike—handing the only helmet he has in the trunk back to him. “You’re a pretty decent driver yourself, Itto. Though if you’re going to let other people ride more often, you should have two helmets in stock.”

“Right, right. Road safety and all that jazz.” He waves a hand nonchalantly.

“You’re good enough to get a license~”

“Um, excuse me, I so have a driver’s license!” Itto corrects, fumbling around in his pockets to bring out his (usually empty) wallet. “Here! See that? I look dashing in my picture, just so you know.”

You lean in for a closer look as he shows you the card. Hmm… It’s issued by the Tenryou Commission’s Land Transportation Department. Looks official enough—

Wait a second.

“Itto,” you begin, meeting his eyes warily. “This thing was issued two years ago.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“You do know that you have to renew your license every year, right?”

“... No, I did not know that.”

“Is this why you’ve been getting arrested so often?!”

“Hey, I’ve never once been arrested for violating traffic regulations! Okay, maybe I was thrown into the slammer once for beating a red light. And I almost ran over a kindergartner on his way to the day-care. Oh, and let’s not forget the very reason why the two of us even met in the first place—”

I can’t believe I felt sympathy for this guy, you think to yourself—groaning as Itto lists off his public offenses while you both head inside the shop.

But it's not like I’m about to stop, either.

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