#I just read such a good one shot that had the most unsatisfying ending

[tiredcowboyy]

the next one shot I read that once im at the end makes me realise “oh this isnt a one shot its just an unfinished fic marked as complete” is gonna be my last straw of the year please dear GOD stop doing this or at least mark it as open ending

[genacity]

DAY ONE. FIRST TIME?

ft. gojo satoru — jujutsu kaisen (呪術廻戦)

your boyfriend gojo satoru is convinced you’ll never be able to knock him off of the pedestal he stands on. saying he’ll always be the one to fuck you good and straight, that you’ll never one up him. maybe it’s time to show him that he’s not always right.

ruling. nsfw — mature content

content warnings. dom! gn! reader, first time sub! gojo, anal penetration / pegging, fingering, overstimulation, bratty gojo, slight dacryphilia, dumbification themes, hair pulling, spit as lube, established relationship, plot before porn

an. this came out way too long. anyways hope y’all enjoy day 1, some of the kinks listed on the ml did not make the cut bcs the fic would take 80 years to read and the intro is already cutting into my lifetime. also not proofread. anyways enjoy fucking gojo!!

kinktober 2023 masterlist

you and your boyfriend gojo satoru have been dating for five months at this point. your relationship is everything you’ve ever wanted in one; secure, loving, and honest. satoru is the most caring man you’ve probably ever met— though cheeky, he’s just as infatuated with you as he was when you first met.

not only is gojo amazing, but so is the sex. not to be a prude, but it’s true. he knows how to take care of his baby and never wants to leave you unsatisfied.

the only sour thing about your relationship is his teasing. especially in the mornings-after.

when you’re groaning, pressing down on a muscle in your back as you complained to gojo about how hard he went down on you the night prior. your boyfriend’s fierce laughter as he’s propped up on one arm, staring at you from his safety beneath the covers of your shared bed and messy hair.

“aw, c’mon, you know you liked it.” gojo would say as you kept prodding at your shoulders and legs. you’d shoot him a dirty look and he’d snicker loudly again. “okay, okay, i’m sorry. i’ll make it up to you today, i swear.”

one morning, your boyfriend had tossed his still-bare body over yours after a long session that night. face first into the pillow behind your head; long, spindly limbs sprawled out like a starfish on top of you as you both shared silly remarks about the long night you both had.

“y’know, one day, i’m gonna get you back for all the times you leave me sore like this,” you huffed, earning a muffle giggle from your boyfriend with his head in the sheets. “what? i’m serious.” you insisted.

gojo’s head snapped up to look at you. squinted blue eyes followed by another ugly little giggle. “uh huh, i bet.”

“what do you mean, ‘you bet’?” you scrunched your nose as your boyfriend gave you another mean chuckle through his big grin. “c’mon, y/n. you know you can’t top my skills.”

“now what does that mean?” you shot back, cocking an eyebrow at gojo’s funny expressions.

he hummed, thinking for a bit before turning his attention back to you. “you know i’m good at what i do. if you even tried to top me, you’d just end up giving up anyways.” you rolled your eyes. “not true.”

“what’s not true? that you’d give up, or that i’m good? because y’know, these fingers aren’t only good at sorcery—”

“yeah yeah, shut the fuck up.”

ever since that night, though, you haven’t stopped thinking about the idea. reversing the roles. it’s something the both of you had never tried before, but were you open to the idea. you just needed to make sure that satoru was, too.

but there was something different about tonight in particular that made you feel a bit more confident than usual.

it started off as it usually did whenever the both of you were in the mood. a handsy hello as soon as you got home from work; peppering your face with kisses and fingers pressing against your hips as you let your boyfriend lead you to the bedroom.

you’d barely be able to get a word in with the way gojo would welcome you home. lips quickly pressed together and without hesitation your back would be against the mattress and clothes discarded onto the floor.

“missed you today.” gojo mumbled into the kiss, lips sloppily trying to chase the pattern the both of you shared. hands gripping at your sides as he pushed you eagerly onto the bed.

as soon as you hit the bed you immediately grabbed at his arms and pulled him forward onto you. something inside you was pounding— pounding for tonight to be different than the rest.

you pulled gojo onto the bed, chest rising with heated breaths as a switch in your brain flipped. hands pushing him down beneath you, his back against the sheets as your boyfriend let out a breathy gasp.

“hey, what’re you doin’?” gojo mumbled, looking up at you through glassy eyes and white lashes as you reveled at the sight of satoru beneath you— a sight you weren’t used to seeing, but welcomed with open arms.

“you’re gonna let me take care of you tonight. okay toru?” you said, his eyes blowing wide and lips twitching into a small grin.

“take care of me?” he chuckled, watching as you slowly started to undo his shirt. “i’d like to see you try.”

you rolled your eyes as you pulled his shirt off, tossing it onto the floor. gojo watched your every movement, watching with interest as one of your hands quickly went to circle one of his nipples.

he shivered at your cold fingertips tracing along his chest, but laughed all the same. “what, ‘s this all you’re gonna do? c’mon, baby, let me just take care of you and— mmph.” gojo was promptly cut off when he felt your fingers press against the hard-on in his pants. a small smile crept onto your lips at the sight.

“hush, toru.” you muttered, palming him through his pants as gojo let out a strained groan. “this is what you get for being so mean to me all the time. leaving me brusied and sore.”

“you said you wanted it rough.” satoru panted, looking down at you as his long fingers started to grab at the sheets beneath him. “oh, i do.” you shrugged. “but now, it’s your turn to feel what i feel.”

your boyfriend’s breath hitched in his throat at the words from your tongue. he quickly gathered himself, clearing his throat to mask the whimper that slipped his lips. “you’ll just give up, y’know. you’re just gonna give into me and come crawling back.”

“that’s what you may think, but i know what i want.” you said, removing your hand from his bulge to reach for his glinting silver belt buckle. “you’re gonna take my cock and behave, just like i do for you. and if you don’t like it, you can say our safe word and leave.”

gojo gulped. he knew you wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want. he was in the position to say no whenever he wanted to. but the thought of your thick cock splitting him open had him salivating; even if he didn’t want to admit it to his big ego.

“satoru.” your voice called him back, snapping him out of the trance he was in. he looked down at you, his belt already undone and ready to be pulled off. “color, satoru. tell me what you want.”

he swallowed thickly again, lips parting as he whispered. “green.”

you smiled softly at him, slowly pulling his belt from the loops as you muttered a slow “alright.” unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down alongside his boxers. his pretty cock revealing itself to you.

“already leaking for me, huh toru?” you snickered, the feelings of your breath along his dick making him twitch.

“still gonna break you, y’know.” gojo murmured. “you’re just gonna give up and beg me to fuck you.”

“whatever makes you feel better.” *you said plainly. the tone in your voice left him shivering. suddenly, you raised your hand to his lips and with no hesitation said, “spit.”

gojo blinked down at you, who was watching him expectantly. he parted his lips and let his tongue slip forward, spitting onto your fingers as he maintained eye contact with you. “thank you, toru.” you said, lubricating your fingers before you lined them with the edge of his hole.

he felt his heart leap into his throat when your fingertips prodded at his entrance. silently, satoru spread his legs to let you know he wanted you. and you seemed to understand his prompt, for almost immediately your long fingers slipped into him with ease.

“fuck, oh god.” gojo immediately hissed, clenching tight around your middle and ring fingers as they slowly began to thrust in and out of him. “oh my god.”

he watched as your hand worked at his insides; curling your fingers as the sorcerer finally allowed for small whines to slip past his lips. each sound left his stomach turning— the dirty sounds of his own hole clenching around his partner’s fingers making him shudder.

gojo was stuck at small whines of pleasure, heavy breathing and the occasional gasp, until your fingers hit a particularly good spot inside him that made him cry out.

“ohn— oh fuck,” gojo whined out. “there. right, right there, that— ah!” he gasped when your fingers curled against his sweet spot, making him flinch and pulse around you. “‘s that feel good, satoru?” you asked, slowly thrusting your fingers in and out of his hole, taking note of the way his fingers curled around the satin sheets of your shared bed.

satoru nodded. his chest rising and falling with sharp breaths as he kept his eyes locked on you. “yeah. feels good. right there, feels so good…” he murmured. jolting back with every thrust of your fingers in and out of him, muscles tensing and relaxing in ragged patterns before you eventually pulled your fingers out.

“so messy.” you murmured, raising your hand to his mouth again. “spit.” and he did, right onto your fingers once more.

“i think you’re ready to take me, toru.” you spread his legs and began to undo your own buckle. your boyfriend watched your hands, every move closer to watching you reveal yourself making him almost shake with anticipation.

it wasn’t until you finally pulled out your cock did he realize how big you truly were. eyes blowing into saucers as he immediately began to blabber.

“you look so big!” satoru whined. “no way you’re gonna make me take all of that!”

“oh, i will.” you purred, pressing the head of your cock to his hole. he flinched, feeling your tip just against his ass as he went to protest again. “why can’t i jus’ fuck you like usual, baby?”

you laughed meanly at his words. “what, are you scared, satoru?” you asked, leaning in and simultaneously pressing your tip just against his opening. “scared i’m gonna break you open?”

“no!” gojo shook his head furiously. “i just- i just think you’re gonna get tired and give up.”

you sighed, staring down at your boyfriend with his big wide eyes and wet eyelashes. after a moment of bathing in his beauty, you grabbed hold of his thighs and leaned back. “color, satoru.”

gojo hesitated. looking from you down to his drooling cock that was just begging to be touched. his inflated ego kept hammering in his chest, but the feeling of your tip against his hole drove every thought away and left him squirming.

“green.”

“good.” and before he knew it, you’d forced yourself into him. a loud moan clawing its way through his throat and spilling from his lips as you began to pound into him, gradually picking up speed.

suddenly, that same hammering feeling in his chest immediately died out. as soon as satoru felt your cock sliding in and out of his walls, pressing up against his prostate with every thrust, his demeanor immediately unraveled.

“fuck— oh my— fuck, you’re so big!” gojo cried out. hands scrambling to ground himself as he gripped onto the sheets. “ah— oh— oh my fucking, please, y/n!”

you couldn’t help but watch gojo’s big blue eyes grow teary. rolling back into his head as you fucked him, forcing his legs back to angle yourself well enough to hit all of the right places.

“already all ruined for me, satoru.” you cooed. your words slipped into his brain and toyed with his thoughts, leaving him quietly whimpering as he felt your hands near his head.

all of a sudden, the cloudy feeling forming in gojo’s brain flickered as you took a handful of his hair and forced him to look at you. yelping as your fingers intertwined with his snowy locks and pulled his head up.

“what was that you said earlier about me getting tired and giving up, toru?” you asked, hips angling and pounding into him faster and faster. all he could do was hiccup and gasp, head subtly bobbing from the force of your thrusts combined with the weakening grip on his scalp.

“ahmm— ah, i don’t— uhn…” he stammered, too focused on the feeling of the head of your cock kissing his prostate with every thrust to make out the words you were saying. the fog in his head was coming back, accompanied by a knot tightening in his stomach.

satoru was panting and shaking. too focused on the heat in his lower abdomen spreading across his body. “i’m- it’s-” he stuttered out, words slurred together. his brain was rattling inside his head. too embarrassed to admit the fact that he was already about to cum his brains out to himself as you kept hammering his hole. “y/n, i’m gonna— haaah, oh!”

“gonna what?” you asked, thrusts growing deep and sloppy as you kept your quick pace. “c’mon, finish your sentence. don’t tell me you’ve already gone dumb.”

his vision grew blurry with tears, a few even spilling over and down his cheeks. the heat in his stomach kept burning, hotter and hotter as his brain tried to scramble for words to try and form a sentence. hell, even a word would be nice.

“ah, ahn, i’m— haah, ah, ah!” gojo began to squeal. your grip on his hair grew tighter as he completely began to forget you were even talking to him.

and suddenly, he was cumming all over himself with a garbled “cu— ah, aahhn!” his scalp burning from the force you held him up with, legs twitching as his cock bobbed with every stream of cum he coated his stomach with.

you slowed your thrusts as you watched him cum, but didn’t halt completely. as soon as he was done, you immediately began picking up your pace once more.

“wait, wh— fuck!” satoru whined out as you let go of his hair and flipped him onto his hands and knees. his head stuffed into the pillow that was once below him as you drove your cock into his hole with more fervor than before. “i- i just came! y/n, baby, i just-”

“i never said you could cum, did i?” you asked. immediately he shut his mouth, clenching around you with a loud whine. “you’re gonna keep taking my cock until i’ve cum. until then, you sit here and look pretty for me. is that clear?”

at first he didn’t respond. not until you grabbed hold of his hair from behind and forced him up again. “i said, is that clear, satoru?”

gojo eagerly nodded his head, panting and whimpering with your every movement. “yes. yes, ‘s clear! fuck me, please!”

you were going to have a long night.

[delulu-with-wandanat]

Fics recs: 1-THE ROMANOFF CHRONICLES, an astounching groundbreaking, never seen before (literally) masterpiece, 100/10. It's mainly set in those 5years post snap, it explains the development that each character presented in endgame in a way the Russos wish they did, it represents the friendship between the avengers in a way marvel never allowed them be, it respects Natasha ( skill set, humanity, personality, affiliations,..) it's nat centric, it's only flaw: it's not complete but don't worry it has 60 medium to long chaps.

2-ON THE COVER - RED WHITE AND BLACK | New York Magazine | Dec. 30th, 2024, this is the most beautifully written farewell, tribute to Natasha Romanoff I have ever seen, it's written in a format that I think has never been used in fanfics, it's a soul touching poetic masterpiece

3- Ohio years, an exquisite bittersweet mini series of 1 shots that's written in a captivating style that keeps your attention, it showcases how the Russian murder family but mainly nat & Melina come to love & connect to each other.

4-FIREFLIES, it's written in such a bittersweet melancholic reminiscing way, it's just so beautiful. It's an 18 1 shots about nat encountering fireflies & being reminded of Ohio years &then others being reminded of nat by seeing them.

5- DISTURBING THE PEACE, an excellent 100/10 tear-jerker masterpiece, it's a very long 1 shot about what if post apocalyptic lonely nat , it also showcases her friendship with og avengers & nick.

6- I USED TO HAVE NOTHING, - WIDOW SISTERS AND MANY MARVELOUS MARVEL WOMEN - WE ARE MEANT FOR MORE THAN THIS, it's cute well written comfort, fluff, a bit angsty 3 different series of mainly 1 shots by 3 different authors about yelena and Natasha. They're my all time favorite comfort read.

7- I LOVE YOU, GOODBYE, it's a very very long 1 shot of AU of endgame in which Wanda survives & wandanat happens that hit me so hard I needed hours to process it & get out of it, my only quell with it is that it reset nat & Wanda's relationship with each other at postAOU where they would definitely be distant to each other.

8- IT'S FUN TO LOSE AND TO PRETEND, an absolute tear-jerker, a masterpiece, a beauty, a greatness, it's a 5 parts multichaps which takes place just after Westview, before Hawkeye where nat is given another chance ending up at Wanda's door, Wanda is given the healing marvel denied her with nat, Sam &bucky not being limited by the shackles of the screen & actually interacting with the events of their universe,Clint and yel meeting with their beloved. The ending was a bit unsatisfying to me but nonetheless as martin says this is CINEMA.

9- HOW NATASHA ROMANOFF MARRIED WANDA MAXIMOFF, it's a medium paced 38 chaps retelling of "how Nancy Jackson married Kate Wilson" but with wandanat with huge changes. It's sweet & adorable, the beginning was a bit rocky to me, there parts I would wince where I didn't like it but otherwise an absolute entertainment, I wanna kiss the head of it's author irl for giving me this absolute comfort for FREE. God or whatever higher power bless this person.

10-OUR LITTLE GROUP HAS ALWAYS BEEN (AND ALWAYS WILL UNTIL THE END), it's 9 part series of mini chaps, it's very creative concept,a wild imagination, it's the biggest au to ever au as its author puts it. To me it's the truest form of fanfic, the author took majority of the plot of MCU & toyed with it &come up with their world which has everything cute adorable wandanat, yelenat, the maximoffs, yel and Pietro, loving Russian spy parents, coulson's Lola, overall it's cuteness overload. God bless this author too.

If you ever decide to read them pls leave them a comment & let me know how you feel about them, also do you have more nat centric fanfics or just good fanfics about nat and anybody else.

oh my FUCKING GODDD THANK U ANON!!!

im def gonna read all ur recs! So far i had this one fanfic i rlly like but i forgot the title. I’ll let u know when i rememberr

[adultswim2021]

The Boondocks #24: “Invasion of the Katrinians” | December 10, 2007 - 11:30PM | S02E09

I never really read the Boondocks comic, but the one time I did happened to catch it was the day after the 2004 presidential election. The comic, if you don’t feel like clicking the link I very nicely supplied for you, consisted of “The Boondocks Kids” (as they like to be called) musing how the comics page seems to be slightly behind on current events. Tellingly, they refer to the election having ended, but don’t discuss the outcome. Eventually this strip ran, with Huey screaming “D**NIT!”, and then remarking that he’d been holding it in for a couple weeks. 

The animated show is even more delayed. Most traditionally-animated television shows are like this. This one involves the wake of Hurricane Katrina. Huey even gets the viewers up to speed by describing the devastation felt by those affected by Katrina in a little opening narration bit. This is probably a good thing; there are actual adults walking around now who weren’t born or too young to remember this news story. 

Not to brag, but I was a young adult living in Northern California working in a movie theater at the time of Katrina. I was working in the snack bar, and I slightly over-filled a person’s soda, causing the soda to bubble out of the straw hole in the plastic lid and spill slightly out into the crevices of said lid. I apologized for the unsightly mess: “Sorry, it’s a little over-filled,” I apologized. “Better over-filled than under-filled!” the customer replied, being a good sport. “There are people in New Orleans right now who might beg to differ” I shot back, EXTREMELY quickly. It’s not very cool to take pride in your own jokes, especially when they receive blank stares. This one received a blank stare. Unsatisfied, I proudly repeated the joke to co-workers (which is lame, I know this already) and also got blank stares and had to explain it. President Bush, and also, the customers and staff at Movies 10 in Redding, CA, don’t care about black people. 

That’s a pretty long intro for an episode that I’m basically about to call “fine”. This episode is fine. It’s a little comedy of errors about the Freemans taking in Robert’s cousin’s family who were displaced by Katrina. They are bad house guests, and Granddad does everything to try and be rid of them without seeming like a heartless piece of shit. They are waiting for their check from Fema, which keeps getting deferred for various reasons.

Like I said, this one’s fine. Not terrible, but not exceptional. I feel like this season has been significantly less satirical than the first? Episodes are maybe a little more satirical than your average animated sitcom like The Simpsons, but that’s not too hard of an accomplishment, especially when comparing the mid-00’s version of the Simpsons. South Park was way more outwardly satirical but is a much whiter, much more libertarian show. Also, South Park had the animation style that let them be extremely topical. They would sometimes reach for the stars and come up short.

This episode IS satirical; Robert’s treatment of his family has real-world parallels, but the story is more focused on characters having personality clashes. This episode isn’t on a soap box, but the soap box can be seen in the subtext. It’s a lighter touch, and that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

MAIL BAG

Sorry to hear you didn't like the WaitMate sketch that much. I workshopped it with Mr. Goldblum back in the day. Was it the cartoon? Was it not era-appropriate animation?

The cartoon was just fine. Maybe the best part of the sketch. The sketch was fine. I didn’t say I didn’t like it. How dare you.

Really like the Beach Blast song. As good as anything the B-52s did. I'm serious! They really do paint Quall up to look like a ten cent ho though.

She is a skanky little bitch, isn’t she? But, I love her...

The music that plays at the start of Zan's memory tape sounds like something from Earthbound, doesn't it?

Right on the money, SMAAAASH!!

The biggest bummer about the Sam Hyde stuff is that Connor O'Malley has ripped his shit off wholesale without any of the transgressiveness that made Sam interesting. Thankfully adultswim hasn't been stupid enough to give him a show.

I know enough people who HATE Connor O’Malley and consider his comedy to be too revolting. Personally I think he right in the sweet spot of rude-enough. I crave rudeness. I’m practically Rude Dog and the Dweebs over here.

[shybunnie20]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader x Bff!Robin Buckley

★My Masterlist

Summary: Your relationship with Eddie isn't what it used to be. Things take a turn for the worse and he faces the fragility of life when you're left at death's doorstep.

Author's Note: This is the longest one shot I've written so far. I worked on this for two months, so please let me know if you enjoy it! Be sure to reblog, follow, and show some love ♡

Author's Note Cont.: Established relationship. AU with no Upside Down. No use of Y/N. Predominantly angst but has fluffy moments. Bittersweet ending! PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: Descriptions of physical trauma (of the reader). Heartache, arguing, Eddie being a crybaby, includes swearing.

tags: @protecteddiemunson4vr

Initially, you were on the fence about moving in with Eddie, it was his childhood home after all. You were worried about imposing and it’s nerve-wracking to officially combine your life with someone else’s.

Wayne assured you that he was happy to leave the trailer to the two of you so that you and Eddie could pursue your lives together. You were considered a part of his family and he knew you’d take good care of his nephew; he expected Eddie to look after you just the same.

Once you had agreed to make the transition, Eddie had to learn to accommodate your needs in the confined space he’d previously shared with his uncle.

You folded your arms and took in the cluttered bedroom. “Can we please take some of these posters down?”

Eddie feigned annoyance with a throaty groan, but beneath it, he was eager to appease you. “Fine, but the Corroded Coffin banner stays up.” With a devilish smile, he pulled you into his embrace.

The unnecessarily secure hug caused a strained giggle to escape you. “Eddieee! That’s too tight!”

He chuckled amusedly and loosened his grip. After nestling his nose into your hair, he hummed with contentment. “This is your castle now, princess.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head and sighed. “Someday I’m gonna get you a big house with a yard and I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make it happen.”

You smiled and buried your face into his neck. “My home is wherever you are. If we grow old together in this tin can then so be it.”

That was well over a year ago and things are far from how they were. The air, once saccharine, has a sour aftertaste that has failed to melt away as you’d hoped.

Eddie is making every effort to juggle his responsibilities. He plays twice a week at The Hideout with his band, which means frequent late-night practice sessions. Despite being a Hawkins High alumnus, he remains the Hellfire Club Dungeon Master. In addition, he works extended shifts at the auto shop. More often than not, they need all hands on deck, being that it’s the only one in town.

Due to his demanding schedule, you don’t see him much anymore. There’s always something that he has to tend to. By telling yourself that his absence isn’t personal, you’re unknowingly making excuses for your boyfriend’s inability to make time for you.

Each day, Eddie wakes up at the crack of dawn to get ready for work. If you’re lucky, he’ll place a brief kiss on your forehead while you’re tucked under the shabby blankets; not even awake to savor the gesture of waning affection. Most nights, you’re exactly where he saw you last. Fast asleep and worn out from your own job and keeping the mobile home tidy.

The lack of physical intimacy has Eddie feeling rather unsatisfied. On a few occasions, he slipped into bed beside you and his hands searched your body in the dark. It was low to be copping a feel but his self-restraint had been whittled down from exhaustion. You’d pushed his hand away and mumbled in semi-cognizant disinterest. Left rejected and frustrated, Eddie’s hurt feelings have brought on a distant shift in his demeanor. His internal thunder matches the rumble of your own.

At this rate, you’re merely coexisting with one another. Hardly so, given that he’s rarely home. You’ve been nothing but patient and supportive of his copious passions. Truly, you’re glad that Eddie has these things in his life that make him feel fulfilled, you just wish that you were still one of them.

There’s a good chance that communicating will resolve the strain, but you can’t bring yourself to speak up. It’s pathetic to beg for his undivided attention. Thinking that you could tough it out, you’ve broken your own heart by waiting for him to realize how lonesome you’ve been.

Instead of counting sheep, you lay and wonder if it's fate that the two of you have grown apart. Regardless of kismet interpretations, it’s debilitating to continue a masquerade of pretending that this isn’t torturous. You’ve killed a part of yourself to keep this love afloat with no lifeboats in sight.

This relationship is more than its worst moments but you’ve exhausted the idea that this is simply a rough patch. A day where anything changes for the better remains a pipe dream.

You’ve bid farewell to the little moments that once meant so much. Light years ago, Eddie couldn’t bear to have you out of his arms for more than a few minutes. He'd wrap his arms around your waist and whisper sweet nothings in your ear while you washed dishes at the kitchen sink. He would pull you closer by the belt loops of your jeans to kiss you with fervor after just a few short hours apart. At the time, hours felt like an eternity.

It stings, feeling that you’re not missed. Or at least not missed enough for him to make an effort to be home more. You’ve stopped looking for reasons to stay because he hasn’t given you any. But for the sake of it, you give him one last chance.

Eddie pinky promised he’d be home for dinner tonight. With renewed optimism, you whip up his favorite comfort foods. It feels odd to be cooking after countless weeks of takeout leftovers. You’ve gotten so used to gnawing on cold pizza that eating has lost its significance.

After swiping on a little makeup, you slip into an outfit that’s a step up from your usual sweatpants and t-shirt. The uneasy feeling in your gut bears a striking similarity to how you felt the night of your first date with Eddie. The inexplicable desire to impress him is undeniable. Maybe if you look pretty enough, he’ll remember that you still exist. Ultimately, how the evening goes will determine where you belong. Whether it be in his life or elsewhere. You’re sincerely coveting the former.

Eddie swore on being home by six sharp. Even so, the steam rising off of the hand-cooked meal dissipates as it grows cold. You take a final glance at your watch and concede defeat at the forty-five-minute mark of his tardiness. As much as you hate to admit it, you should’ve known better than to trust that he’d show.

Time has always had a way of throwing it all in your face, but it never fails to wreck you. Just like the days that led to this one, the sun came up and went down. You can’t discern whether it’s what Eddie did or didn’t do. If it was the lack of effort or the intentional cold shoulder. At the end of the day, all of the love is still there but it serves no purpose now.

The chair creaks as you get to your feet. You step into the kitchen and refill your drinking glass at the sink, promptly gulping down the milk-tinted water as a placeholder for the meal you didn’t have. Your skull acts as a cauldron for the boiling hurt and it bubbles to a feverish froth. Before you can stop yourself, you chuck the glass down onto the worn linoleum and jagged shards scatter across the floor. Along with it, you fall to pieces. Your back slams against the cupboard as you slide down until your tailbone meets the floor.

At fifteen minutes to ten, the trailer door slams closed with a thud. Eddie toes off his grimy work boots and notices the romantic setting for two, the plates entirely untouched. It’s immediately evident to him that you went out of your way to put together a special evening that is well past expired.

Eddie’s gaze then finds the broken glass. He inhales sharply and concern coats his lungs. He heads down the hall toward the light emitting from the bedroom and calls out. “My bad for being late, I was-” Eddie reaches the doorway and his sentence drops off when he sees you haphazardly shoving clothes into a duffel bag. “What’re you doing?” He asks, his voice sewn tightly with puzzlement.

Mutely tugging open the top drawer of the dresser, you grab a fistful of socks and underwear and tuck it into the bag. Eddie used to be able to finish your sentences, but tonight you’ll be finishing his. You’re already anticipating the bullshit justifications that you’ve heard time and time again.

Eddie becomes frustrated with being blatantly ignored. When you shift to step past him, he blocks the doorway by extending his arm. “I’m talking to you. Where are you going?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” You look into his hardened eyes, your own marbled with inflamed crimson veins. “But there’s no way I’m staying here.”

There’s a throbbing in his ribcage at the sight of how visibly saddened you are. Finally being confronted with the consequences of his actions, Eddie swallows hard. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Does it look like I’m joking?” Your icy stare falters with the release of a shaky exhale. “I'm done waiting around for you.” Eddie’s expression only adds insult to injury, the fucking nerve of him to play dumb right now.

He throws his head back and scoffs, “Give me a break, I didn’t mean to be late! I was the only one closing tonight.”

Unconvinced, you mutter, “Uh huh,” while ducking beneath his blockading limb.

Eddie scoffs louder this time. “Okay, I see how it is. You think I’m lying.”

You don’t care if he’s telling the truth or not. Even with all of the space that’s amassed between the two of you, there’s no room for honesty. Eddie continues to prod while you rummage through the bathroom drawers gathering necessities.

The beat of your heart thumps wildly in your ears. All the while, your bones have caught a fever, and the fire in your chest spreads, charring your throat as the flames continue to climb. The blistering smoke irritates the backs of your eyes, causing tears to reform and your nose to run.

Eddie makes a sound of artificial amusement and it reverberates off of the shallow walls as he follows you to the living room. “Convincing performance, babe. You’re really sellin’ it, but you can put the bag down now, alright? I get it. I learned my lesson.”

While putting on your shoes you swallow a whimper. Your backbone is coming apart at the seams, but you refuse to express how distraught you truly are.

Folding his arms across his chest, Eddie continues. “Are you seriously making this big of a deal over one missed dinner?”

You stand and take a step toward him, accusingly pressing your pointer finger to his chest. Applying enough pressure that your nail leaves an indentation. “If you think this is because of one dinner, you’re fucking delusional.”

The hinges on the front door squeal as you push it open and walk outside. For far too long all you’d wanted was him, but now being in the same room is unbearable.

Eddie treads on your heels, descending the concrete steps out into the ill-lit trailer park. “Can you not be so overdramatic for once in your life? This is ridiculous. C’mon, let’s just go back inside and talk it out.” 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You growl while jamming the keys into the door of your car and tossing the duffel bag onto the passenger seat. It’s not improbable that if he begged you right now, you’d give in. Part of you is relieved that he isn’t on his knees because you’d never be able to walk away otherwise. Without sparing another glance in his direction, you reverse and steer out of the trailer park.

Cemented in place, Eddie’s socked feet press into the rocky gravel. The lights from the neighboring mobile homes flare like lasers as tears deluge his vision. The utter disbelief that you’re leaving him causes a surge of nausea to churn in his abdomen. What the hell just happened?

As luck would have it, Robin answers when you ring her doorbell. “Hey! Oh- you look like shit.”

Your shoulders slump with the bow of your head, feeling just as shitty as you look. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Errr, sorry. Come on in.” Robin insists, stepping aside for you to enter her home.

The two of you plop down on her living room couch and share a short-lived silence before unpacking the evening’s sequence of events. To the best of her ability, Robin digests your nonsensical blubbering about how you didn’t want to ask Eddie to give up the things he loved.

Half a box of tissues later, you’ve calmed some. “I feel like such a fucking idiot.” You sniffle and fiddle with a loose thread on your sleeve. “Y’know, I can’t even remember the last time we showered together. He treats me like a roommate. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he isn’t in love with me anymore.”

Robin frowns. “I don’t blame you. I’m sorry that you’re going through this.” She takes your hand in hers and squeezes it reassuringly.

Shortly after you’d left Forest Hills, Eddie did the same. He figured taking a joy ride down the streets of Hawkins could help clear his conscience. With heavy metal crackling from the stereo, he drives down the sparsely illuminated avenues. In an attempt to escape from his bleeding reality, he focuses on the beat of the music; tapping the steering wheel with his sterling silver-adorned digits.

This is the worst fight you and Eddie have ever had. Sure, there have been trivial arguments over him leaving water on the bathroom floor after taking a shower. Not to mention, Eddie was particularly explosive about you misplacing his belongings while cleaning the trailer. However, it has never gotten heated to the extent that either of you stormed off.

As much as you appreciate Robin’s hospitality, you feel that you’ve overstayed your welcome. Especially since she has to work in the morning. On your way out, you hug her firmly to convey your gratitude. “Thanks for being such a good friend, Robin. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Robin rests her arms on the car door as you settle behind the wheel. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

With a nod, you force a grin as a semblance of emotional stability. “I’m a big girl, I’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, but still. At least let me know when you get to the motel.” With a sympathetic expression, Robin pushes the door closed and watches as you back out of the driveway. 

Truthfully you would rather stay at Robin’s place than at a crusty motel, but you can’t bring yourself to burden her with your hardships. The radio hisses with a channel teasing to stick. A faint melody fades in and out of the static as you concentratedly twist the tuning dial to find the sweet spot. While preoccupied, you fail to notice that you’re driving through a four-way intersection.

Glass rains down like hail when the driver’s side door is struck. The echo of skidding tires halts as your vehicle comes to a complete stop, the passenger side crushed inward by the thick trunk of a tree. The other driver stumbles out into the street, disorientated by whiplash. They frantically shout for help and flag down a car that pulls up to the intersection.

It’s not long before the accident is encircled by emergency responders. Dismal gray columns of smoke lift into the air as the engine’s inferno heats the mangled steel frame that cages your scathed body.

Meanwhile, Eddie ventures to decompress at the private spot he used to frequent with his trusty lighter and a single lazily rolled joint. As he turns the corner of Highland and Chestnut, he’s taken aback by the twirling red and blue streams of light.

The firemen work skillfully to free you from the burning structure. Secured by your seatbelt, you’re slumped forward in your seat; your chin digging into your clavicle. The blaze roaring just inches away caresses you, leaving fiery kisses across your skin. Even so, the warmth gradually drains from your complexion as you begin to sink into the earth to lie forever. Death coaxes you with its enticingly bitter embrace and you're lured beyond control.

Eddie’s van slows as he drives past the scene. The catastrophic sight is unsettling but he can’t take his eyes off of the sparks from the jaws of life that cut the driver’s side door from the frame. It’s far too dark to make out what models of cars are involved.

By the looks of it, there’s a slim chance that whoever is being pulled from the vehicle will survive. There’s a morbid sense of comfort in knowing that he’s not the only one having an awful night. More than anything, he’s glad it’s not him who got into an accident.

Lakeside with the doors wide open, Eddie lies in the back of his van. He drags an ample hit from the joint, striving to cloud away the image of the ecstatic look you gave him when he’d assured you that he would be home on time. Eddie hasn’t seen you that excited in longer than he can remember. He wonders how this evening would’ve gone if he’d kept his word.

The argument replays, and it’s the frailty in your voice that’s penetrating deep into his memory. Eddie convinces himself that it was just a bad fight because that’s what couples do. You’ll come back in a day or so, you’ll hug and make up, and your lives will go back to normal.

Except that‘s exactly what got him into this situation. Things cannot go back to how they were, he has to do better. You deserve to be prioritized and he realizes that now.

Rattling fills the ambulance as it speeds over fragmented pavement caused by the most recent blackberry winter. Strapped on the gurney, you lie motionless. Catatonic, in essence, you're wading in and out of consciousness. Even though your eyes are practically swollen shut, you can see. Though, it’s like looking out of a frosted window. A pearlescent film alters the clarity and runs red due to the blood trickling down from the gash in your eyebrow.

The gurney wheels wobble as you’re rushed down the corridors of the hospital, lungs struggling for air as the bag valve mask offers little assistance to your labored breathing. Under the knife, the surgeons struggle to contain the internal bleeding and operate tirelessly to keep you alive.

After smoking himself as numb as physically possible, Eddie glances at his watch which indicates that it’s half past midnight. He zones out during the drive home and focuses on the painted white dashes that repeatedly disappear under his van. Once he stumbles back into the trailer, it feels exceptionally vacant and the silence is deafening.

Be that as it may, he’s bone-weary from the weed and the strenuous shift at work. Ultimately, he decides he’ll go to bed and deal with his emotions tomorrow. It’s probably for the best since he tends to make poor choices when he’s overtired.

Eddie shucks off the layers of denim and leaves them in a jumbled pile on the floor. His high has broken sooner than he preferred, which makes it difficult to doze off. For a while he tosses and turns on his side of the bed, respecting that the other side still belongs to you.

He listens to the sounds that he’d forgotten about. The crickets outside the window chirping like an off-tempo symphony, the buzzing of the outdated refrigerator in the kitchen, and dogs barking off in the distance. All of the sounds blend to create a foreign cradlesong, lulling him into the twilight of his mind. Your steady breathing is the lullaby he longs for. Shortly after his restless adjusting, exhaustion overtakes him.

Post-operation, the humming machine beside you controls respiration as you lie in the hospital bed. The cocktail of painkillers in your system has buried you into the bottomless oblivion of unconsciousness. Cessation of internal bleeding is a miracle in itself, but being put in a medically induced coma isn’t exactly a triumph.

Due to having broken ribs, the expansion of your chest is feeble. In order to ensure that you remain stable, the medical staff keeps a close eye.

The sun has long since climbed the horizon. Eddie sleeps well past noon due to his body taking the time it required to achieve a relatively homeostatic state. Last night, he was supposed to have an intimate dinner, make love to you, and wake up with you wrapped in his arms. Instead, he was tormented by the fact that not only failed you but his uncle as well. He was raised better than to take your love for granted.

Eddie finds his hands searching for the comfort of your warmth, only to be met with chilled bedsheets. Given that you didn’t come home, he’s quick to remember the unsteadiness he saw in your eyes. Eddie caught a glimpse of the exposed nerve that was worn down to the point of you giving up on him, and he hates himself for it.

He feels vexed that you didn’t express how you’d been feeling. Regardless, he should’ve known damn well that he was running the risk of losing you. Eddie has to figure out where you wound up and think of a way to make things right. One thing is for sure, Eddie refuses to go a single day without you.

After getting out of bed, he pulls on a questionably clean outfit plucked from a heap on the floor. Hell, it passes the sniff test. Correctly assuming that you went to Robin’s after the fight, Eddie snags his keys off of the kitchen counter and sets out to locate you.

When he arrives at Robin’s place, he’s met with an empty driveway. A tinge of worry casts a shadow but Eddie fights off the pessimistic thoughts that pelt him like an air raid. Without stopping, he drives to Family Video. Eddie suspects that Robin is at work if her car isn’t at home, but that leaves your car unaccounted for.

Distracted by the cyclone of desperation stirring powerfully within him, Eddie nearly trips when he hops out of his van. He strides through the double doors and leans his forearms against the front counter.

Robin appears from the back room having been beckoned by the door chime. She stops in her tracks and a bewildered expression forms on her freckled face.

“What’s that look for?” Eddie asks regarding her strong reaction to his presence.

“Uh- nothing.” She resumes her path to the counter and sits in front of the computer. Her fingers clack away on the keyboard to log returns into the system.

Eddie rubs the back of his neck and shifts his focus to a scuff on the surface of the countertop. “I think it’s safe to assume you’re already aware of what went down.” He pauses to take a deep breath. “She stayed with you last night, right?” If Eddie knows anything about you, it's how much you confide in your best friend. It’s a fair assumption, given that’s precisely where you went.

“No, she didn’t,” Robin says snappily, baffled by how inappropriately relaxed he’s acting right now. What is he even doing here?

Eddie’s brows furrow and he raises his head to look at her. “What do you mean no? Where’d she go then?”

Robin stops typing to look at him. “Wh- Do you not know?” When she learned of your incapacitation, she thought that surely Eddie had already found out.

His posture goes rigid as he straightens from his leaning position. That’s not a sentence that ever leads to promising news.

Swiveling on the stool, Robin cocks her head in disbelief at the lost look on Eddie’s face. “She’s in the ICU.”

Blood rushes to Eddie's head and his ears begin to ring like a pipe bomb just went off in the video store. “What? Where’d you get that idea?”

“I guess she had me listed as her emergency contact, I got the call this morning.”

Eddie shouts vehemently, “And you didn’t think to tell me that?!”

Robin raises her hands defensively. “I thought you knew!”

Already having spun around, Eddie dashes through the doors and hops back into his van. Going twenty miles per hour over the legal limit, he speeds down the drabby roads of Hawkins. Luckily he finds an open parking spot in the crowded lot of the hospital.

Following the wall directory that indicates where the intensive care unit is located, Eddie runs faster than he thought he was capable of. He conquers the lengthy stairwells thanks to the adrenaline pumping through his veins. His eyes scan his surroundings while he blindly navigates the polished hallways.

Eddie fails to heed the “medical personnel only” sign and barges into the unit. A voice calls out for security and addresses his intrusion. “Young man, you can’t go in there!”

Frantically inspecting the area, he spots your name listed on a board. The sharp pang in his side from being out of shape isn’t phasing him in the slightest. When Eddie passes the threshold to the room you’re in, his heart is gouged from his chest; ripped clean from the cavity at the sight before him.

Wrapped in bloodied gauze, your complexion is hellishly bruised with raisin and rust-colored burns. The array of discolored hues makes you look like a well-loved doll that’s been drawn on with a permanent marker.

All Eddie can muster is an exasperated “Oh, sweetheart...” with a wobbly lower lip as tears well in his eyes. He reaches for your hand, but just as his fingertips are about to graze yours, he’s yanked backward by a security guard.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” Eddie wails. "Let me go!” His composure disintegrates as he tries to free himself from the guard’s unrelenting grip. The resistance only lasts a few seconds before Eddie’s muscles give out and he’s dragged away.

Astonishingly, Eddie respects the stern warning he receives. He knows that if he impedes, it’ll make things worse for you. He’s done enough damage as is.

In the third-floor waiting room, Eddie settles into the chair in the far corner. Sitting near the window would provide him with vitamin D, which would help him feel a little brighter, but he intentionally avoids it. He won’t allow himself to feel the glow of the sun when you’re clinging to life by the skin of your teeth.

The room is no larger than fifteen by eleven feet and has a sterile atmosphere that makes Eddie feel rather uneasy. The adrenaline dwindles from his system, allowing him to drift off while resting in the firm armchair. Understandably, considering he didn’t sleep well last night without you beside him.

Over the course of the day, the respiratory analysts run tests to determine whether you can be weaned off of the ventilator but you’re still unable to breathe unassisted.

“Mr. Munson?” A tall, older male doctor asks flatly.

Eddie stirs, his frizzy curls flying as he shakes away the drowsiness weighing on his eyelids. “Yeah, yes. That’s me.” He rubs his eyes with his fists and sits up. “How’s she doing, is she alright?”

“Well, the acute agonal respiration has…”

Eddie stares blankly as the medical jargon goes in one ear and out the other. It sounds like an entirely different language, he has no fucking clue what the doctor is talking about. Eddie is trying his best to comprehend the complex terminology.

“...a coma has been induced to allow her a better chance at healing. With that, we’re hoping to see a reduction in brain swelling. Though I do regret to inform you that the likelihood of her waking is a matter of if, not when.’

It feels like the roof is crashing down on Eddie, thrusting him through the layers of the earth until he reaches the molten outer core. Grief eats away at his sweat-slick skin, causing a loss of feeling in his fingertips as if the blood in his veins slows to a crawl.

“...If she does rouse, there’s a likelihood that she’ll experience anterograde amnesia.”

Eddie scoots to the edge of his seat and runs his palms roughly down his face. “Amnesia? Does that mean she won’t remember me?” He gulps sorely and his eyes form a glassy sheen at the notion of everything that the two of you shared being lost forever. He doesn’t even want to imagine what his life would be like without you.

The doctor opens and closes his hand as if to catch Eddie’s concern as it floats through the air. “No, no. She shouldn’t have difficulty with memory retrieval. Consolidation is what may be impacted. Only temporarily, we hope.”

With a disheartened “thank you” from Eddie, the doctor excuses himself. The strength that had kept Eddie’s tears at bay dwindles and he slumps back into the chair, sobbing noisily. He sinks his top teeth into his knuckles in an attempt to muffle the whimpers that tumble from his lips. What is he supposed to do now? Is he going to start praying to a god he doesn’t believe in?

With his optimism beyond pulverized, Eddie is overcome with the fear of losing you. How could he have let something like this happen? While managing the chaos of the present, Eddie lost sight of his future. You.

To say he’s regretful would be a substantial understatement. As Eddie realizes that you were in the burning car that he’d driven past, he feels like he’s going to be sick. The sensation is so strong that he keeps a small trash can nearby just in case. 

Beyond the thick panes of glass, the setting sun brushes the horizon and leaves the sky a flushed pink. Eddie attempts to talk some sense into himself. As difficult as it is, he takes on the responsibility of notifying your friends and family by phone call. Of the many, one call goes out to Robin.

As soon as she’s able, Robin arrives to provide Eddie with the emotional support he desperately needs. Few words are exchanged as Eddie drifts in and out of crying fits. She sits beside him and strokes his back reassuringly while he hiccups and coughs.

Robin hasn’t witnessed Eddie this perturbed before. It’s evident to her how sincerely in love he continues to be with you even though he neglected to express that when it mattered most.

A twister of bleak thoughts rips through Eddie’s mind, turning his mental state to rubble. It’s hard to process each emotion individually when they’re all equally loud. At this point, all he can think about is the little things that he may never get to do again. One particular memory stands out from the rest.

In the moments after Eddie made love to you for the first time, you laid in his bed on your stomach; naked, drowsy, and utterly satisfied. You looked ethereal to him. Eddie traced the contour of your spine with the tips of his fingers while you slept. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear to admire your sleepily blissed-out expression. Thereupon, Eddie knew that you were the most important aspect of his life and that wouldn’t change.

As much as she'd like to, Robin can't stay all night. After sacrificing her evening to console him, she has to go home. Which leaves Eddie by his lonesome once again. It’s a rough night but somehow he manages to catch some shut eye.

Come morning, the staff still won’t allow Eddie to visit you. He rings Robin and Wayne to update them when he receives the slightest bit of information. There’s no regression in your condition, but that offers little relief.

In the following days, Eddie camps out in the waiting room. Forfeiting his comfort for the sake of being there for you. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he wasn’t there in the event that you needed him. After four days drag by, you’re finally capable of breathing without the assistance of the mechanical ventilator.

“Mr. Munson, would you like to see her now?” A nurse asks.

Eddie’s eyes widen with the desperate nod of his head. “Fucking finally.” He murmurs to himself.

Now that you’re no longer in critical condition, you’ve been situated in a room outside of the ICU. The nurse leads Eddie to the room and he hesitates outside the doorway. Up until now, he wanted to see you more than anything. But now that he can, he’s petrified. Taking the deepest breath he’s ever taken, he enters.

The blunt discomfort in his ribs is alleviated by how pretty you look. You’ve been cleaned up, which makes you appear less mangled than you did when he saw you last. Eddie's movement resembles a shuffle and his eyes switch between your face and his dirty sneakers. As if trying not to startle you, he carefully pulls up a seat at your bedside to absorb his new reality.

The steady beep of the heart rate monitor brings consolation because it reminds him that you are in fact still alive. Your unmoving hand is gently taken into his trembling palm. Eddie handles it delicately, knowing how fragile you must be.

He contemplates in silence, unsure if you would even be able to hear him if he did talk. Surely, you must be in there somewhere. In a circumstance like this, what would be the right thing for him to say?

The pad of Eddie’s thumb strokes your knuckles with a featherlight touch and his burnt caramel irises are downcast in chagrin. He can’t bring himself to look at you for very long, feeling that he doesn’t deserve to because he hurt you.

With his gaze remaining fixed downward, his other senses heighten in the hopes of detecting a subtle twitch or quiver. Any kind of indication that you know he’s there and that he promises to be by your side for as long as he lives.

Your motionlessness is killing him, but you look agonizingly peaceful. Beneath the plum-colored bruises, stitches, and scabs, you’re still the beautiful girl he treasures. Eddie whispers, “my sweet angel,” as he places a kiss on the back of your hand.

The tears that run astray trickle down his cheeks, each salty droplet holding a memory. Eddie isn’t ready for you to become a real angel. If you do, he’ll spend the rest of his life searching for white feathers and shapes in the clouds. Eddie will endlessly scour for signs that you’re watching over him.

Thirty minutes pass before he finally garners the courage to speak. “I don’t really know where to start, this feels kinda silly. But first and foremost, I owe you an apology.” Eddie tries to swallow the stale air that's making his throat feel brittle. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry. I know that probably doesn’t mean shit. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself, so I don’t expect you to.”

With his free hand, Eddie wipes his cheeks with the hem of his shirt. “If I’m being honest, I’m fucking terrified that you aren’t gonna wake up. I miss you so god damn much. I can’t imagine how tired you are, and if you wanna let go… It’s okay.”

Eddie can feel pressure building behind his eyes as the tears threaten to fall faster. He blinks them away and tries to stay focused. “But I want you to stay, baby. I’m not done being selfish yet, I need you to come back to me. Please come back. I promise I'll treat you better this time.”

It feels like he’s on a bullet train, the outside world soaring by at lightning speed while the hospital room is eerily stationary. “I swear to god, I’ll never make you feel alone like that again. No more broken promises either.” Eddie hooks his pinky finger with yours, solidifying his word.

There’s a knock at the door and Eddie peers over his shoulder. A nurse enters with a full rally bag and a roll of bandages. "You'll need to step out for a moment."

Eddie is unwilling to leave your side, but he knows he shouldn’t interfere. When he rises from his seat, he gives your hand a brief kiss. Eddie glances behind him before leaving and thinks as if saying to you, “I’ll be right back, princess. Don’t be scared.”

As the nurse is refreshing your bandages, Eddie wanders until he happens upon the gift shop. He purchases a wimpy bouquet with the pocket change he has on him. When he’s allowed to return to your room, he places the vase on the utility cart beside the bed. Even though you’re unable to see them, Eddie tells himself that you like them.

From thereon, Eddie never leaves your side. He doesn’t care about the awful nicotine withdrawal or how much he misses his mattress, there’s not a chance in hell that he’s going to be separated from you longer than absolutely necessary. Your hand never leaves his for as long as he's sitting at your bedside.

The staff takes pity on him and brings him ham and cheese sandwiches. Eddie struggles to eat one-handed but he makes it work. He wonders if you’re hungry, considering you’re surviving off of IV mixtures. He misses eating junk food with you and licking the cheese dust off of your fingers on movie nights.

Eddie’s sanity gradually slips due to being confined to the small room, but having visitors is keeping him relatively sane. Over the remainder of the week, the atmosphere vibrantly evolves. The gifts from Wayne, the Hellfire Club members, and your family bring a spiritedness similar to that of a blooming field of spring flowers. Themed balloons, greeting cards, and assorted floral arrangements line the windowsill.

Robin buys you a stuffed monkey that she names Bananas and it stays tucked under your arm. She stops in every other day, usually bringing Eddie clean clothes from home. Robin keeps you company while he takes brisk showers in the private bathroom. She even brings nail polish and paints your fingernails your favorite color.

Eddie wishes you could see how incredibly loved you are. In part, he's glad that you’re not awake because you don’t have to bear the damage your body has endured.

His thoughts continue to consume him. Eddie incessantly scolds himself for having ruined the best thing that's ever happened to him. He feels wholly responsible for you being in this state. If he hadn’t fucked up, there wouldn’t have been a fight, and you wouldn’t have left.

Eddie is slouched in the same uncomfortable chair that he’s been glued to for two weeks. He’s currently zoned out while mindlessly drawing shapes on your wrist. His eyes are fixed on the western program playing on the outdated television across the room. Eddie is pulled back to reality by the twitch of your fingers in his grasp.

His heart leaps in his chest and his eyes switch to where his hand is joined with yours. Eddie holds his breath, sits up straight, and stares intensely. He’s convinced that he’s just imagining things until there’s another twitch. And another.

Eddie’s eyes dart between your hand and your face, whispering “C’mon, baby. You can do it.”

Your eyelashes flutter as your lids steadily retract, though they don’t open very much. It’s like the storm is dispersing and the sky is pulling itself together as you come to.

Eddie is elated, to say the least. He tries to stay calm because the last thing he wants is for you to be frightened.

“There’s my girl,” He says softly while stroking your arm. Tears of pure joy roll off his cheeks. “Hi, sweetheart.” Eddie sniffles, “I really missed you.”

Reblogs are greatly appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

★Ko-fi ♡

[tinyidle]

Too Good - JYH

literally based on a vision i had + something i watched at night 🤫

wc: 4k ( min reading time yay 😁)

WARNING: smut, pw/op, sex work au, foreplay, slight edging, oiling, safe sex (all sex workers must do this!!), rough sex, public(ish) sex, constant usage of the nickname "baby" (idk why av stars do this but they just do), multiple positions, multiple orgasms, degradation, praise, begging, dumbification, slight daddy kink, p*rnstar!yunho, bigd¡ck!yunho, charming!yunho, charismatic!yunho, dom!yunho, petite!reader, p*rnstar!reader, bigchested!reader, sub!reader, fem reader, yunho × reader, all fiction ofcofc

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a shortish man yelled loudly, jumping you right out your mindless daze. "alright, that's a wrap. thanks, folks!" you inwardly cringed from the amateur videographer's choice of words.

you've been in the adult film industry for five years, so you're basically considered a pro. you've heard how all types of av staff speak, and -- to be honest-- all of them have been nothing less than cringeworthy. ever since you started working at the young age of nineteen, you've also seen all types of "actors" and "actresses" come into and go from the av world. unfortunately there was a growing ratio of said actors and actresses leaving than staying. you, however, were one of the loyal ones who stayed, no matter how small the dick was or how unsatisfying the tongue felt. the job paid well, you've made some good friends, and you never had the urge to leave.

you always experimented and craved for more, though. you went from your more solo and vanilla scenes to kinkier scenes by the end of the third month of working. by the first year's end, you had three dps, five threesomes, and your first-ever "big dick". air quotes on the big dick because, even though it looked "big", it in no way felt big.

you knew that most men in this industry, like most women, feel insecure about their bodies and get work done. in the guys' case, they get steroidal drugs or penis enlargement surgery to get ridiculously huge. your body, however, knew real from fake, and your first big dick was fake. it was like a 'slim jim' in nature, and when you got it all in, it immediately felt limp by the second thrust. nothing close to how it felt with the dragon dildos and huge strapons you ventured with in the past. after the third year, you opted out of "monster cocks" and stuck to doing huge dildo solo shots instead.

it's now your fifth year, and you're being met with yet another amateur videographer and newbie producer who has begged you to do a monster cock special, with you refusing immediately. when they showed you the actor, however, you suddenly became interested. he looked much taller than the other men you're used to, and when seeing nude shots of him, you were surprised to see that his dick looked big even while flaccid. and he was handsome. you've never focused on the faces of the actors you worked with; only the actresses. but with him, he looked different. he seemed different.

"this guy," you started to inquire while hovering your painted fingernail over the picture. "this jeong yunho guy. how long has he been in the industry?"

"yunho's been with us for three years now. he tried finding success in the more popular companies but all the actresses there kept complaining about how he was too big. we thought they were exaggerating until he came to work for us. every actress he's worked with left sobbing about how he 'tore them apart'," the producer emphasized with air quotes emphasized by his rough-appearing fingers, clearly unamused from the past complaints. "we heard that you specialize in taking more than what you can handle, so we thought you'd be the perfect fit-"

"im in," you said cutting the chatterbox off which, to your surprise, made him smile widely. "this guy sounds like a challenge," you continued, "and i like challenges. when's the shoot?" you did impromptu filming, and you hoped that you'd get your hands on this man as soon as possible. you really wanted to see if he could give you what no other actor could provide.

"well, we hoped that you'd like to get to know him tomorrow, and then by the afternoon, we'd start filming. how does that sound?"

"perfect," you said, glad that you could get to meet up with him so soon. "just perfect."

--

you woke up early to get yourself ready and prepared for later filming. once you made sure no stray hair was in sight, you drove to the studio where you were supposed to meet your costar. upon arrival you were surprised at how homey the place looked. it was as if the studio was a two-story house instead of an actual workplace. it made you feel comfortable. you walked in and found yourself a couch to sit on, taking out your phone and mindlessly scrolling online in search of more toys to use for your personal use, since that's what you would get for the lack of pleasure you've been constantly craving for.

"hi, im jeong yunho. you must be the wonderful woman ill be working with later on, correct?" a huge hand was extended your way.

you looked up, locking your phone and putting it inside the small purse you came with. yunho looked much more handsome in person-- beautiful even-- and he was much taller than what you expected. he wore a plain black tee, loose jeans and a high top converse, yet his attractiveness seemed to shine past his apparel. you felt glad that he dressed rather casually since you had one of your older floral sundresses that showed a bit of your cleavage. the dress caught yunho's eye as he glanced towards it before he landed them back on your own eyes. you don't mind, especially when you stared at his clothed bulge before meeting his eyes as well.

you noticed that he only looked a centimeter shorter when you stood up than when you sat down before. you shook his hand and greeted him, telling him your full name. "people call me all types of names, though. my favorite is chem, short for chemistry."

"really" he stated, clearly interested in the story behind the nickname. yunho seemed to be genuinely interested in you, something you haven't had happen in a while. it made you feel appreciated.

"because i like to experiment in the industry." he hummed in understanding. "so three years and no proper satisfaction?" you plainly asked to the man in front of you. being blunt is common place in this work field.

yunho sighed, nodding slightly before taking your smaller hands in his bigger ones. bold, you like it. "and i heard you've been in the industry for five years and had no proper stimulation." you, being a bit embarrassed, looked away and bit your lip before nodding.

the tall man noticed that and lifted up your chin towards his face with his thumb and index finger, looking into your eyes with slight lust and what could easily be mistaken for love. "i can help you find that satisfaction all those other men couldn't give you," he promised, "i researched all about you the night before and i bet i have what it takes to get you going."

you let out a small gasp in shock and slight flattery. no one's ever taken the time to find out what you liked, even when you had it written down in your 'about me' on your website and portfolio folder. you always made sure to find out about your coworker beforehand, and you let them know that, but them feeling the need to research on you seemed to not be mutual. up until now.

yunho smiled, knowing he stunned you. you forgot that, while searching him up, he was described as "one of an unexpected charmer" who could get you to clean his shoe using his charisma if he wanted. you also forgot his general description of being a big guy with a soft heart; you thought that part was all talk. turns out that part was as real as when it said he's 185 cm but looks like 190.

you shook your head, fighting hard to not turn into jello by your costar before the cameras were even on. with the two of you sitting down, you both started talking. as you got to know more about each other and had a few good laughs, you just knew yunho was the perfect guy for you to film with today, and you secretly hoped that you'd get to work with him again sooner than later after today.

after initial conversation, you decided to ask yunho questions about his family life, hobbies and what he does in his free time. he answered eagerly: he has a good relationship with his inner family, but his extended family acts as if he's not doing sex work; he has seven other friends who work in the business but don't work half as much as he does; his best friend also works in the same company with him; and he likes to go to local singing and dance classes as well as play video games. while he was talking, you were shamelessly touching his chest and thighs, slowly trying to work him up for tonight, which was only a couple of hours away.

"and what do you do for fun, sweetie?" yunho said while his hand was softly massaging the left part of your chest. you, being used to this treatment yet loving it, nonchalantly answered that you were into cooking and yoga. "hmm, cooking. i just know that id love having you around." he smiled, hands traveling from your breasts to your clothed center. you smiled and let out a heavy breath from his ministrations before asking one last question.

"so, yunho," you started to question again.

"hmm?" he was in a trance with your body: circling his fingers around your clothed center, barely reaching the pleasure point he so desperately wanted to touch.

you bit your lip while holding in any groans. "you have any dirty secrets to share?" you took his hand that was playing with your pelvis and interlaced the fingers with your own to get the man to focus.

yunho smirked, looking down and gripping his hand a bit tighter around yours before leaning in and whispering in your ear. "i like when small girls take me on their knees. face-down, ass-up is my favorite," he leaned back while you looked at him wide-eyed, shuddering yet forcing a small smile. "i know im big. it's obvious," his other hand motioned to his hardening member, "but knowing that my cock can be sucked in by a tight and obedient pussy and a wet small, wet mouth makes me impossibly hard."

he groaned, and you can tell he was getting impatient and was in slight pain from his boner. your eyes widened even more as you saw his bulge get impossibly bigger, stretching against his pants, causing him to groan out again in pain and small pleasure from the slight friction. he really wanted to fuck you, you could tell. the thought of such a fat, long cock being forced into you made you pool your panties in a way that you've never have before. you felt uncomfortable now in your own confinements.

you massaged the hand you took from your crotch earlier and leaned your head against his neck to help him get some form of relief. you, however, were deeply affected by his words, clenching wildly on nothing, legs rubbing together with a damp undergarment in between them. you let out a shaky breath. "i like the thought of a huge cock tearing my pussy apart, if that helps anything," you half joked. he responded with low laughter, and you laughed along with him.

--

minutes turned to hours, and soon it was 4 pm. "alright guys! look who we have here." a voice and a camera reached your peripheral vision and you turned to look into the camera as you were trained to do tons of times before. "can you please introduce yourself? or are we intruding on a private moment?" the cameraman joked.

you and yunho laughed a bit before you spoke up, knowing you'd have to since recurring watchers would already know your costar's name. "im chem. im 24 years old, and this is my first time taking a big dick in three years." yunho eyed you with lust and amusement as you felt his hand pull away from your own and rest on your thigh, massaging the inner part of it. damn, you just love his hands touching your skin.

"wow! that sounds amazing," the cameraman responded. "so is yunho's your first real massive cock or one of many?"

"first," you smiled, looking at yunho and feeling the need to kiss him deeply. he has such kissable lips, you thought as the cameraman did his best to make small talk.

"and yunho," the camera directed to his frame. "when was the last time you had someone this petite in size?"

yunho smiled and danced the pads of his fingers on your inner thighs, making you giggle. "a bit too long. i have a feeling however that she might be the only small girl ill ever fuck," he laughed. you laughed as well, hoping that after this session you could get to know each other more as friends since he seems to be such a loving guy.

"by the end of this, viewers would definitely want more of you two, that's for sure," the cameraman said, being turned on by the way yunho seemed to avoid any more small talk by giving you small neck kisses, surprising you from the pleasurable gasp you let out. "ill stop talking and let you two do your thing before you get blue balls," he joked towards yunho, now training himself to keep quiet and focus on recording the action.

and action began. yunho lifted his hand to place it on one side of your neck while continuing his assault on the other side, sucking softly in small attempts to arouse you without leaving any marks that would be hard to heal the next day. you breathed heavily and let out low moans, grabbing his biceps in an attempt to grasp a sense of reality while remembering to stay pretty for the camera. yunho, disregarding the camera entirely and only focusing on making a mini mess of you, quickly trailed his kisses from your now cold neck by the saliva left from the kisses down to your chest, stopping at your cleavage before looking up at you so that you can pull the spaghetti straps down.

once you did, he took your bra-less breast in his large hand and began sucking. "f-fuck," you sputtered out in a shaky breath. your boobs weren't small at all, with you sporting a good c-cup, but under yunho's hands they felt like small dodge balls. you rested your hands on his head as he suckled on your breasts and flicked the nipples with the flat part of his tongue. somehow you kept leaking in your panties even though by now you would've stopped. he was that good.

yunho plopped off your boobs before looking up at you with glossy lips. "your tits feel amazing in my mouth, baby," he said with that charming, captivating smile of his, making you let out a moan and a small giggle. you, being almost too impatient and too uncomfortable in your underwear, instantly pulled it down. yunho chuckled at your hastiness. "look at that," he said, "chem wants me to fuck her that bad," he commented as if you weren't there, causing the rest of the crew to chuckle. his small humiliating stunt had you blushing, and yunho saw it. "i cant wait to fuck this tiny pussy open," he stated with a lick to his already wet lips, making you whimper slightly. "but first i have to stretch you out more."

yunho took his index and middle fingers in his mouth and sucked on it, getting cocky by the way you looked at him with reciprocated lust. he slowly slid them out his mouth before running them up and down your aching center, causing you to jolt. after a few more teasing strokes, he pushed them in. "ooh- fuck! f-uu" you cried out. the stretch of his two fingers alone felt like more than whatever toy or other fingers you could ever have had in you. you had to let yunho know that. "shit, you're so deep." you said, mouth agape as he added his ring finger in before experimentally wiggling them inside to help stretch you out, immediately reaching your g spot and he curled them up. your head hung back on the couch and you couldn't stop your heavy breathing as he began to thrust his fingers in and out of you.

"you respond so well to my fingers baby," yunho praised, making you feel proud of yourself. he kept his pace until he felt that you've loosened up for him, slowly pulling out. "let's show them how much i stretched out this tight cunt so far." you groaned aloud when you felt the camera zoom in on your dark pinkish channel that was being held open by yunho's long digits, arousal still pooling out of it. when the cameraman felt that he got a good enough view for the future viewers, he stood back into his preview spot as yunho lifted you up and gave you the first proper kiss in the entire time you two spent so far.

his lips were as kissable as you hoped. better, even.

"now i want to make you feel good," you smiled at him. apparently that grin went straight to his pants. "you cant seem to stop growing, can you?" you smirked. yunho could only groan and help you take off your now sweaty dress while he pulled off his top. you went to his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers and was comically smacked in the face with a cock that was impossible to naturally visualize.

yunho, seeing the clear shock on your face, smirked and tapped your cheek with his thumb. "told you im big," he teased. you came to your senses and stuck out your tongue to lick his head. usually you hated giving blowjobs because the actors barely took care of themselves as their dicks always felt rough, like sandpaper. yunho's head alone, however, felt soft yet rigid, and the feel around your mouth made you want to suck on it all day. "please, baby. take all of me in your mouth," yunho breathed out as he pushed your head forward. you relaxed your throat as you let all his girth enter your warm cavern. he filled all your mouth, and even though you could, it was difficult to swallow on him.

soon enough you used one of your unoccupied hands to wrap around the base so you could properly bob up and down while your other hand played with his balls. grunting, yunho took the back of your head and started thrusting roughly in your mouth, causing you to cough harshly.

when you pulled off for some air, yunho immediately rubbed your back. "shit, sorry chem," he apologized. "you alright?" you were glad he didn't want to hurt you or cause harm, even for porn. once you nodded yes, he smiled and continued in that manner: fucking your mouth harshly, your gag reflex retaliating hard, and him making sure you were okay to continue.

soon enough his moans got louder and louder until you felt a warm substance fill your mouth without warning. it tasted-- sweet. not necessarily like candy, but you were addicted. it overflowed your mouth and spilled on the sides, making you wipe that part off with your arm. "i could suck on you all day," you praised him with a plop, seeing how his once softened length got instantaneously hard again for no other reason than to feel you inside.

"before you guys get to the main course!" the cameraman interjected. you frowned and were about to protest until you saw him hand yunho a bottle of oil and an XL size condom. you almost forgot that 'big dick' men can cum a lot without knowing, and judging from his girth and the load you took on earlier, it was best they gave him the biggest condom size there was.

after rolling on the condom, yunho maneuvered you on the couch to have your hands on the back edge of it and your knees on the sitting part while he stood behind you, the camera moving in front of you both. he then took the oil from earlier and poured it on your round ass, you humming at the cool sensation on your heated skin. once he felt that he poured enough oil, yunho massaged it onto your ass and lower back to give the viewers a small example of how sexy you look. you knew that once you saw the cameraman move to where you and your costar would soon connect.

licking his hand, the tall man rubbed your core to prepare you still for his cock.

"ready, baby?" he asked.

you never felt more ready in your life.

"please," you answered while pushing your hips back, begging to be filled.

yunho angled himself to your bare pussy, rubbing the head up and down to collect your leaking arousal before slowly pushing himself in with a grunt. you surged forward, scared by how hard he seemed to be pushing in until he leaned whispered to you with a kiss to your back shoulder. "it's just the tip, chem. i haven't even gone in yet". you relaxed and let yunho continue.

you gasped loud and let out a high pitched whine once you really felt him push in. "fuck! fuck, fuck fuck fuck" you repeated as you felt more and more of his girth enter you. it was so much, you thought it would never stop. you even assumed that with a sharp pain you felt that he 'popped your cherry' (stretching you to oblivion) once more. he was that good. and that big.

once yunho was all in, massaging your hips in the process, he looked down and let out a long groan. the camera zoomed in to see his huge cock disappear in your tiny core, and you just knew then that the crew was in shock and arousal. all that could be seen was your oiled ass and yunho's hands holding onto your hips. your core clenched onto him like dath grip.

"im gonna move, chem. you feel so good that i might cum right away if i don't," yunho said rather breathlessly. you felt glad that you were affecting him as well as he was affecting you. he slowly slid in and out, small inches until he fucked half his length into you at a fast pace, with you screaming.

the more he fucked into you, the harder he bruised your spot, and your responses to his actions only made him go harder. "yunho! yun, baby i can't- im-- im-" you were slurring your words until you felt your more rare orgasm rip through you. "FUCK!"

yunho felt his thighs get wet and smirked once he saw the mess you made. he quickly pulled out and frantically rubbed your clit for you to squirt harder, which you did with a high pitched groan. you tried to push his hand away, but he just hooked your arms behind your back and continued his assault on your clit until you gave no more. he gave a slap to your ass and you moaned at the stinging feeling.

yunho turned you around and rested you on your side. he leaned forward and squished your cheeks between his fingers. "this pussy's mine for now, understand?" you nodded, whimpering once you heard him respond with "good girl". you wanted nothing more than to be a good girl for him and have his thick cock back inside you.

yunho oiled your ass again and rubbed it over you before lifting your leg up over his shoulder and once again breaching your hole, making you moan out loud. you were glad this was a studio and not an actual house. as the tall man went back to his brutal pace, he started to taunt you.

"i bet no one's ever made you feel half as good as this, have they?" he said. "such a tight little pussy that barely gets properly fucked. no wonder you're all over the place fucking different guys-- you needed dick from a real man. don't worry, baby. ill be the only man you'll want to ever fuck you."

yunho's dirty talk along with the delicious drag from his cock along your walls made you go completely dumb, nodding to whatever he said. you babbled incoherently, and a thin line of drool left your red lips. the crew were equally as turned on, very happy that they paired you two. he has to fuck you at least more than once now; you're too good to him to not.

yunho wiped off the saliva that left your mouth and wiped it on your erect nipples, making you whimper. "aww, is chem getting close from yunho's fat cock inside of her?" he angled his thrust to directly slam into your spot, causing you to jolt and cry out. "i want you in tears before you cum."

he again pulled out, making you whine at the loss. yunho smacked your reddened ass before sitting on the couch and lifting you on his lap. after re-oiling your ass for the third time, he allowed for the cameraman to move where the viewers could see where your shiny bottom would sit on his juice-covered cock.

you hummed and grunted a bit at how he didn't fit from you sitting by yourself, so when he forced himself all the way in you by pushing you down by your hips, your hands flew to his shoulders and shook violently. "yun, baby. fuck me, please. i need your cock," you begged.

your begging made yunho immediately fuck up into you as you began to incoherently babble again, along with your high pitched whimpers. despite your attempts to hold off, you found yourself wanting to let go after two minutes of yunho's thrusting. "i wanna cum," you whined out, brows furrowing from the intense pleasure. "please let me cum. daddy, please."

yunho almost stopped then and there. once he heard that word, his brain short-circuited as he then started thrusting roughly like a mad man. "cum for daddy, tiny."

"shit, daddy~~," you whined out while you felt yunho brutally assaulting your spot. you breathed out a satisfied moan as you felt yourself clench and cum once again on yunho's cock.

the grip your core had on yunho's lower self made it hard for him to move, causing yunho to feel the pleasure of your pussy practically trying to milk his cock dry. although he felt himself cumming, he needed to let go on your body for the camera view. he pulled out the best he could, discarded the condom in the near trash bin and jerked off to your spent body until he came with a loud moan. you felt ropes and ropes of thick cum land on your chest and pelvis. you were so glad he didn't cum in you unprotected. yet, since you plan for him to some day.

the cameraman allowed a few more moments to pass before speaking up. "so you're both spent, huh?" you and yunho both chuckled before nodding. "let's see the results of big boy here," he joked. you opened up your legs while the camera zoomed in once more. your pussy was red and a bit agape, your engorged clit visibly throbbing. "he fucked you good, didn't he." the cameraman commented mindlessly.

you nodded and chuckled before closing your legs. "yeah, he did." yunho sat next to you and pulled you up for another kiss. "no way am i leaving him. that cock was way too good," you stated half jokingly.

yunho laughed before rubbing your hips. "im glad because i don't want you to leave either." you both made out with each other until the producer wrapped up the scene.

you both got blankets from to wrap around, and after asking how the session went, yunho invited you to lunch. you were excited to see if his friendship skills were as good as his sex skills. but you had a feeling that they'd be better than you'd expect.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

would you believe me if i said that ive had this in the drafts since late july? yeah, and i kept revising it... hope you liked it!

[donutloverxo]

His queen

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Note - An anon asked for an au sequel to first night with no stucky but this can be read as a one shot. Thanks to lizzygal(link to ao3) for her advice on this! This is written for @sweetlyscared's 1k angst challenge! Congrats boo! I used the prompt 'Do you love her?' Although this is hardly angsty but it's as angsty as someone as soft as me can get🥺 Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Summary - Married life with Steve was amazing (although with a few bumps in the way) until you discovered a heartbreaking secret.

Warnings - explicit sexual content, painful sex, innocent naive insecure reader, dub con/noncon, soft dark Steve, jealous Steve, ooc villain Sharon, like a little breeding kink, some angst.

Pairing - soft dark king!Steve x reader

Word count - 5.3k

Steve jolted when your palm hit him across his face, his hand circled around your wrist, ready to fight whatever it was that slapped him off, his grip loosening when he realised it was just you. You wiggled your hand away from his grip, mumbling incoherently before turning away from him, so that he could only see the silhouette of your nude back in the dim light.

Although he had been with a handful of women, he never had to share a bed with one. He didn’t think he’d ever have to, he was born in royalty, raised to be a king. While he liked having your soft warm body in his arms, he maybe could live without your hands slapping him, or both your legs over his thighs and hips.

It was customary for wives to have their own chambers after the honeymoon period was over. And with a heavy heart he had sent you to your own chambers, he made sure you were treated to the best luxuries possible.

But he found himself missing your presence soon enough. Your legs over his, you annoying him for attention whenever he was working, the way you hummed a song in your head, how you often clumsily bumped into things, your sweet beautiful voice, your scent, everything about you.

So he went to your room, told you that you were to live with him in his chambers from then on. You were hesitant at first, but didn’t say no to him.

You could never deny him anything. He loved that about you. How subservient you were despite being so fiery.

He was grateful to have made you move in, in times like these, when his cock was hard and achingly pressed against your thigh, he had you right where he wanted you.

He softly called out your name, he’d rather have you awake for this. He loved listening to the sweet sounds he could pull out of you. When you didn’t so much as stir he decided he would just have to wake you up another way.

Pushing your legs off his, spreading them apart to make room for him as he hovered over you, pressing soft kisses, rubbing his beard against your skin, he made his way down to his destination, he was parched for your nectar.

He kissed your petal, your cunt already oozing with need, your body would always want him even if you weren’t awake. He frowned when you didn’t move at all. He had been a bit too rough with you that night, exhausting you, making you pass out as soon as he was done, but he was growing more and more impatient.

Scraping his teeth over your clit, he bit it ever so lightly as you yelped awake.

“Oh!” you gasped when you looked down to find the king between your legs.

Swallowing a lump, because this was still so very strange to you. Your mother had told you how a man and woman make love before your wedding, but she never mentioned anything like this.

From your knowledge the king putting his mouth there wouldn’t result in you getting pregnant. But it did bring you great pleasure, to the point where it was maddening.

Sometimes it was the only thing on your mind.

It was as if you were addicted to it.

“My king...” you squirmed when you felt him push his fingers inside you, “I’m so tired... I have court tomorrow...” How he managed to do all his duties and still have you at least thrice everyday was beyond you.

“You don’t have to go. You’re the queen, the future mother of my children, you deserve a day off. Besides I do work you a bit too hard, don’t I?” he asked before plunging his tongue into your heat.

“Huh? No... I’m glad to be serving you...” And you had yet to give him any heirs.

It wasn’t long before you released all over his mouth, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard coated with your slick as he wiped it off with the back of his hand.

“You can stay in bed all day tomorrow. That way you’ll be strong and ready by the time I’m back.” He told you before capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, as you tasted yourself on his mouth.

Turns out a day off was everything that you had needed. You were born a princess, albeit of a kingdom standing on its last legs, you were the youngest of six sisters, your prospects weren’t all that great.

Your mother told you that you’d be lucky to get a rich lord, let alone a Duke or a prince. A King was out of the question. She taught you how to handle a household, she never could’ve prepared you for court or to be a queen. You always dreamt of marrying for love. Of running away after falling for a stable boy and living far away and being free.

But you married the King of the most prestigious kingdom in the whole world. While you had grown to love Steven, you didn’t love all the responsibilities that were thrusted upon you so suddenly, you didn’t like how you were always under scrutiny. Every move you made was watched and judged by others. You still couldn’t believe your life sometimes.

So it was nice to have a day to yourself. You had slept in till late in the morning, having your breakfast in bed before taking a leisurely bath and then decided to go for a walk in the garden just before the sunset before you’d have to go back up and have dinner with your husband before having to perform your wifely duties.

“Your grace,” you smiled upon hearing the familiar voice, turning around to see Lady Sharon approaching you.

You hadn’t seen her in over a month. She had been so kind to assist you and help you get acclimated to your duties, you’d always be grateful to her.

“I thought you were under the weather,” she frowned. It was the excuse you had given to skip court with your ladies that day. Which wasn’t a complete lie. You were a little sore between your legs. But a warm bath had fixed that.

“I’m feeling quite better,” you said, standing upright, a dignified smile on your face--formal and curt.

Always be formal and curt with everyone. Your instinct was to hug her when you saw her after her month long trip, like you would to any of your sisters or friends, but you must always act like a queen since you were one.

“How was your trip?” you asked her as she hooked her arm in yours so you could both resume walking.

“It went alright. Mama wants to marry me off to the Duke Stark, the trip was some sort of matchmaking ploy,” she snorted.

“What’s wrong with Stark? He seems so charming.” You remember meeting him at your coronation ceremony. Where he had got you beautiful pearls from an exotic country.

“He maybe charming, but at the end of the day - he’s manwhore.”

You gasped incredulously, your hand over your mouth as you looked around to make sure your maids didn’t hear you, “Lady Sharon,” you chastised her, “We can’t use that sort of language.”

“Forgive me, your grace,” she apologized, “I often forget how naive you are.”

“What? Naive?” you huffed. “Not using such filthy language hardly makes me naive.”

“Live a little, all royals are debauched in one way or another. I’m surprised to see just how much of a square you are.”

“Is... is being a square a bad thing?” You wanted to know. You never thought of yourself as a conformist, in fact your mother used to tell you you’ll die an old maid if you didn’t start acting more like a lady and less like a spoilt brat.

“Sometimes it is...” she pondered. “Well, for instance, being a square in bed might be boring for some men.”

“What?” you gasped again. Tightening your grip on her arm and walking at a faster pace to put some distance between you and your maids, “Give us a minute,” you told them.

“Lady Sharon,” you looked into her blue eyes, much like your husbands but a little darker, “Have you ever been with a man?”

“I have,” she shrugged. “Just the one. He was my true love.”

“Bu – but you aren’t married.” You frowned.

“So?”

“So, how can you make love to anyone if you aren’t married...” Your mother had told you that making love only ever happened between a man and his wife.

“I... you do know what making love entails right? This is what I meant when I said you were too much of a square,” she chuckled.

“Don’t... don’t make fun of me...” you pouted.

“I’m sorry, your grace, it’s just,” she put a hand over her mouth as she cleared her throat, “Really funny. Two people, who aren’t married, can make love. Being married is good but not a requirement.”

“I suppose that makes sense, me and his majesty could do it even if we weren’t married...”

“Is he happy with you?” she wanted to know.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just, you don’t know much about physical relations, and there needs to be a certain level of knowledge and experience for it to be good at it.”

“Do you think he is unsatisfied with me?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she shrugged. “Does he seem unsatisfied?”

He was always asking for it. Which you preferred, because you’d die of embarrassment if you ever had to initiate it. You couldn’t go for too long without it either. He had went on a hunting trip for just a couple of days and you wanted to jump on him and keep him in your bed as soon as you saw him.

Why would he ask for it again and again if he was satisfied?

“I’m not sure... since you know so much about it would you give me some advice?”

“My, I would’ve thought you’d call me a harlot or a whore instead you’re asking for advice...” she smirked.

“Oh, I would never. That is what my mother would say, probably, but you’re my friend. Besides, I would want to make love to Steve even if we weren’t married, and if he was a stable boy.”

“A stable boy?” she quirked a blonde brow.

“Yes! And I would be me, a princess. It’s just a silly dream I used to have,” you shrugged. “What happened to your love? The one you lost?”

“He got married to someone else,” she stated. And although she was firm and sophisticated as always, you could hear his voice wavering and how much pain she was in.

“Oh my... I am so sorry, Sharon,” you said, engulfing her in a hug to comfort her, now that you do actually love someone, now that you know what loving someone deeply means, how overwhelming it can be, you couldn’t even imagine what losing that love would feel like. “You’ll find someone better.”

“There is no one better, your grace. But I’ll give you some advice,” she pulled away from you, putting some distance between you both, “You have to pay special attention to his balls. Many ladies tend to forget them.”

“Ball...? Like toys? I don’t believe he has any.”

“Your grace,” she rolled her eyes as she snickered, “He does have them. That is where your children will come from.”

“Um... what? Wouldn’t they come from...” you looked down, to the place between your legs. That’s where kids come from. That’s what you had been told.

“Well, yes, that is where they will pop out of. But the balls... the ones right behind his manhood, that’s where his seed comes from.”

“Oh...” you nodded as you realised what she was talking about. “So... what about the... balls?”

“Just pay special attention to them. He would like that. Suck on them, tug on them... but gently!” she chuckled as she realised she would have to talk down to you since you were so inexperienced.

“Oh... alright... anything else I can do?”

“Try to be more... active... instead of just sitting there and taking it you know?”

“Alright. I think I get the gist of it.”

“You ready for me, petal?” Steven asked as he looked down at you, naked and vulnerable, so beautiful and all his. He nudged his cock against your intimate lips, prodding at your entrance as he awaited your answer. He knew he could be too much for you sometimes, he was trying to do better. So he could make you love him at least half of as much as he loves you.

“Mm-hm... but um...” you trailed off. Not exactly knowing how you would go about asking to suck his balls.

“What?”

“I was just wondering if... I could... do that...” you fluttered your lashes, that usually got you whatever you wanted from him.

“And what is ‘that’?”

“You know... when you make me put my mouth on you...”

He didn’t usually make you use your mouth.

Most of the times Steven had a strict unofficial schedule he followed when it came to lovemaking. He wasn’t someone who liked or embraced change, he was always strategic, as a king and as your husband.

He’d kiss you till you were out of breath, then your neck, and then your breasts, he’d spend a long amount of time there, maybe because you liked that the most probably. And then he’d use his fingers to work you up, tasting you, eating you out and drinking your nectar.

That drove you mad, till you were on the brink of insanity.

You loved it as much as you hated it. You had never felt so out of control in your entire life. Not even when your parents told you they were going to marry you off to a kingdom far away, to a man you had never even met before.

Steven would complain that you thrashed and moved around too much, although he would encourage you to make all the noise that you wished. He pinned you down by your hips. Sometimes he’d make you make once, twice, thrice, it depended on how desperate he was to get his own release.

And then he’d have you on your back. Whispering the filthiest things to you as he fucked you, filled you up with his seed.

He’d hold you close to him, kissing your hair, kissing your cheeks and touching your ever so intimately. That was when you were the most clingy, you’d hold on so tightly to him. You were more vulnerable than usual. You would tell him about how, even though you love being the queen and his wife, it was so new and overwhelming, how you miss your family and your old life. How things had changed and so drastically. He’d always tell you that it would all be okay. That he would take care of you and never let anything bad ever happen to you.

Then he’d have you on your hands and knees. He told you he liked looking at your behind and spanking it.

After that you’d both fall asleep. Sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night and nudge you awake to love you some more. But he rarely ever made you suck him off.

“You wanna suck my cock?” he smirked as you meekly nodded. “Go right ahead then, petal. It’s all yours now, you don’t have to ask,” he told you as he sat up on his knees.

You looked at his cock. Hard and standing tall and proud up against his stomach. You now knew that being aroused made him hard and much much bigger. Maybe that’s why it’s often such a tasking job to take him--often leaving your cunt so sore.

Soft dark golden hair, much like that of his beard, and then you noticed them. His twin balls.

You took a deep breath as you took him in your mouth, suckling on his head, following your instincts and what he had taught you.

Your hand coming up and cupping his balls, massaging them gently in your hand. You stopped when you felt him go stiff.

Pulling his cock out of your mouth you looked up at him. “Did I do something wrong?” as you wiped your spittle and his preejaculate off your mouth.

“No,” he shook his head. It wasn’t often that he was stunned. Not ever really. But you, taking that kind of initiative, to touch him without him asking for you to, did shock him just a little.

He held onto the back of your head, bringing his balls just next to your mouth, against your soft lips, “Suck on them,” he told you.

You suckled at one, working the other one with your hand as he pulled at the roots of your head.

“Fuck! Stop!” he heaved, pulling you away, “I have to save it for your beautiful cunt, my queen,” he told you as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before he pushed you back down on the mattress.

Swiftly entering you, you were still as tight as the night of your wedding, which meant he had to be patient while fucking you, and he tried. He really did. But he was not a patient man. Especially not when you had just put your mouth on him and worked your magic in mere seconds.

He put most of his weight on you as he slowly pushed in and out of you, your face scrunched up in pleasure as you dug your nails into his shoulders.

With your pussy hugging him so well, almost as if it was made for him, as if you were made by the gods just for him.

“What have you done to me?” he rasped, touching his damp forehead to yours. You had weaved some sort of magic on him, making him crazy for you. Now it was hard to tell where he ended and you began.

You pressed a hand against your mouth to stop from giggling or making any sort of noise. Resting your back against the cool surface of the throne. You chose the back of the throne in the court as your place of hiding. Maybe it wasn’t the most strategic ploy but you were playing against a six year old.

Lila Barton had asked to play hide and seek with you. Only to receive a scolding from her nanny--to not bother the queen with such trivial matters.

It was as if you were reliving your childhood. You always felt you were made to grow up and be a lady too fast. With your mother and sisters telling you how important it was to act mature and be a lady, or you wouldn’t be able to marry well. Or marry at all.

So you jumped at the first opportunity to play with the kid. Making her count to twenty before looking for a place to hide. You had to go get your lessons for sewing so you didn’t have a lot of time, you hoped she would find you soon.

“But you’re not even considering it!”

You perked up when you heard the familiar voice, it was Lady Sharon! You had to thank her for all her advice, things had been going great with Steven ever since you listened to her. He had been opening up to you as well, although he was still as voracious in his love making. If anything... he wanted you even more now. Which you didn’t think could even be possible.

But some part of you absolutely loved it. And you knew you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You peaked out to see her, to maybe call her to join you on the floor, hiding behind the large throne. You frowned when you saw that she was holding onto Steven’s arm, looking up at him with a certain desperation in her eyes.

“There is nothing to consider. I’m a married man. It would be adultery – a crime,” he stated.

“Bu – but you promised, you told me you didn’t love her. You said you didn’t have any other choice. I’m not asking you to leave her for me, I know that’s not possible. I’m not a fucking idiot like her.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth again to keep your sobs in, tears streaming down your face as you watched your husband, and his lover, have a lovers quarrel.

You couldn’t hear any more of it. Couldn’t bear it breaking your heart anymore than it already had. You quickly got up, fleeing out of the room by the back entrance - which the servants often used.

“You watch your mouth when you speak of the queen,” he yanked his arm free of her, putting some distance between himself and her, “I didn’t make any promises like that. I told you I intended to be faithful to her even if I didn’t love her.”

He knew it was a mistake to ever get involved with Sharon. He never wanted to be a womanizer. But he had his needs. He didn’t think she would become so obsessed with him. He had broken off their short fling as soon as he became betrothed to you.

He felt responsible for all the rumours about him and her and her ruined reputation. So he had arranged for her to marry his good friend Stark but she had her mind set on him.

“I like the queen. She’s a good friend of mine. I don’t intend to replace her,” she explained. She had no interest in being a queen and having such tedious and boring responsibilities anyway—the power and the status that came along with it just wasn’t worth the hassle. She pitied you and how you just weren’t made for the job.

“But she can’t satisfy you, she can’t give you what you need-- What I can give you,” Being the Kings mistress would probably be better than being a Duchess and marrying some boring old man.

“Won’t you even think about it?”

“No I won’t. And you are to never speak of this again,” he warned her.

“Your grace...” Lydia was completely confused. Standing there with your dress in her hands as you frantically stuffed your clothes in a chest.

She had never seen two people as in love as you and the king. When she first met you, it didn’t seem as if you and Steven would make a good couple. She assumed your marriage would be like any other she had seen. Cold and distant.

Steve had never been smitten with a woman, she always felt there maybe something wrong with him. But he had grown so fond of you in such a short time. Even going as far as asking you to live with him in his chambers. Having the king around often made her duties to you challenging. But she was happy for you.

“I don’t understand. What wrong? Why do you want to leave so suddenly.” Does the king approve of your sudden departure? If not would she get in trouble for it?

“He lied to me,” you sobbed. “I thought--” you let out a hiccup.

“Calm down,” she said as she rubbed your forearms. She wasn’t afraid to touch you in such friendly ways, you weren’t as stuck up as most royals.

You took a deep breath as you tried to explain to your handmaiden why you both had to leave as soon as possible. Before Steven gets back. You’ll move all your things to the room you were supposed to live in and just lock him out of your chambers.

“I would’ve been fine living on my own. Just being a wife and a queen. But he made me believe... that we could be more. That he loved me. It’s not true,” you shook your head. “He lied. He has another lover.”

“Oh,” she let out. She was disappointed on your behalf but not surprised. It would be strange if the king didn’t have any other lovers. “I’m sorry, your grace.”

“I’ll be fine,” you sniffled. “This'll be a good lesson for me. My mother always told me I have my head in the clouds and should live in reality. That’ll teach me to dream.”

It was almost funny for her to watch you babble nonsense, stable boys, princesses and backstabbing friends, take a break to cry your heart out and then resume packing and trying to order all the other servants.

“What’s going on here?”

Everyone stopped moving as soon as they heard the kings voice. He of course looked at the Lydia for an explanation.

“The queen wants us to...”

“I’m moving back to my old chambers,” you briskly walked to him, standing right in front of him, looking him in the eye. He was much taller than you, making you crane your neck to actually get a good look at him, but you still tried to look intimidating and confrontational.

“Why?” he frowned. “Put everything back just as it was,” he ordered everyone.

“No!” you stomped your foot, looking very much like an indignant child who had his toy taken away, than a queen, “Don’t! We’re moving!” But of course nobody would listen to you over Steven. Not just because he was their king, but also because he was much more intimidating than you.

“Stop it!” he reprimanded you. “Whatever troubles you may have, we can sort them out together, but you are not moving back. And that’s the end of that.”

“No! I’m leaving! I’d like to see you try to stop me!” You hmphed. Pushing past him and making way for the door. You didn’t need to take your things with you now, you could just send for them later.

You screamed bloody murder when you felt Stevens arm around your stomach, as he threw you over his shoulder in the blink of an eye, “HELP!!” You yelled at the guards and your maids, who didn’t want to get involved, quickly scurrying out of the room.

“Ring the bell if you need anything, your grace,” Lydia said on her way out to you before she closed the door. It didn’t seem as if the king intended to do any real harm to you so she wasn’t that worried about you.

You kept on hitting his back, thrashing around his hold to break free, “Put me down!”

He threw you on your marital bed, his fingers making quick work of ridding him of his clothes so he could show you how he was just never going to let you go.

“Why do you even care? If I leave or not? You can just call for your lover!”

“My lover?” he frowned as he tried to push your skirts up your legs, which was proving to be a difficult task. Maybe he should’ve asked the maids to undress you before making them leave.

“Do you love her?” you asked, looking up at him and stopping your futile resistance for a few moments, your lips wobbly as you felt your vision blue with tears. You were born a princess, living a relatively sheltered life, never knowing pain so unbearable. As if you would never recover from this, you would never be the same.

You would never believe in love again.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, petal,” he said, getting frustrated with all the buttons and ties on your dress and ripping your skirt apart. Which he regretted, just a little because you started crying again.

“No! I like this dress.”

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you a hundred more.” He said as he hovered over you, diving in to kiss your beautiful lips and make you stop saying such preposterous things.

You sniffled as you tried to push him away, making him gather your wrists in one hand and pinning them above your head.

“Stop it,” he told you. “When will you understand that you belong to me now? If I say you have to live with me, here, then that’s what you’ll do.”

“I’m not your slave,” you retorted as you tried to wiggle your hands out of his grip.

“Stop listening to rumors! There are plenty going around. I do not have a lover.”

“No. I saw it with my own eyes. You and Lady Sharon. Just this afternoon.”

“What did you see?”

“I... she said she was your lover...?” You tried to think of what exactly had been said between them. But you couldn’t remember. You were blinded by your fury and your sorrow.

“We used to be lovers, before you and I ever met, but not anymore. I could never think of another, I could never love anyone else,” he said softly as he touched your cheek with his other hand, “You want to know why?”

“Why?” you pouted, feeling a little stupid now.

“Because you’ve ruined me, my queen. You’ve made me a lovesick fool. I could never love anyone else the way I love you. Do you want to know how much I love you?” he asked as you meekly nodded.

Pulling his cock out of breaches, he pushed your skirts up, exposing your thighs to him, he rubbed his cock along the slick of your pussy.

“Did fighting with me make you wet, my queen?” he asked, making you avert your gaze.

“I...” it was the way he had simply thrown you around, how he just wouldn’t let you leave, “Maybe...”

“Hm, don’t start picking fights with me for no reason though. My poor heart won’t be able to bear it,” he cooed as he kissed your cheeks, wet from your tears. “You look beautiful when you cry, love, but I only want you crying when I’m fucking you, you understand?”

“Yes...”

He pushed inside you, you were tighter than usual, it was difficult to even properly enter you. The pain of it of course made you cry again. You sobbed into the crook of his neck as he shushed you.

“You feel my love, darling,” he asked as he was buried to the hilt inside you, “I’ll give you a child soon enough. Then you’ll have a living breathing proof of it,” he whispered in your ear as he started steadily moving, making sure that he won’t hurt you.

“I wish... I was your one and only... like you are mine,” you sniffled as you held on to him, soon it is wasn’t hurting as much, it was a little uncomfortable but you could bear through it.

“You are my one and only. You’re the only woman I have ever loved. Do you love me, petal?”

He looked down at you, wanting you to say it. He needed you to love him, for you to say it to him, he needed to know you weren’t here just because you were scared of him.

“I love you, Steve,” you sniffled, rubbing your runny nose with the back of your hand.

He smiled at you, his hand trailing down both your bodies as he twisted your pearl between his fingers.

“It’s okay... it’s okay...” He kept telling you as you screamed at the top of your lungs, your climax making your mind and your vision fuzzy.

“I’m going to fill you up, petal,” he told you as he finished inside you, staying inside you for a long while after he was done just to make sure you knew how he belonged to you just as much as you belonged to him.

[peachycoreroo]

hii love i just read the morning wood thingy and i loved it especially tori's part, could you please do kageyama and lev/hinata

characters: kageyama tobio, haiba lev, hinata shoyo

genre: fluff? crack? i don’t even know tbh

word count: 0.9k

warnings: talk about morning woods, fem! reader but can be read as gn!reader, oblivious!reader?, all three being dumbasses bc i can’t help myself<3, established relationships

authors note: who would've thought i'd become the morning wood girl JEFHKHWE pretty proud that someone would request i do this with other characters, thank you sm love!!<3 here's a link to my masterlist

pt. 1: kuroo tetsurou, sugawara koushi, oikawa tooru, tendou satori

kageyama tobio:

you were currently sitting at dinner with your boyfriend, keeping your gaze on him while he inhaled his food like it was nothing. you guessed it was a habit that formed way back when him and hinata would make a competition out of everything, but it was still quite strange to see the habit stick so many years later.

when kageyama turned his attention to you, while simultaneously eating his meal, he couldn’t help but wonder why you were staring at him so intensely. without swallowing, he asked: “wha’?”, with his mouth still filled to the brim.

“why do you get morning woods, tobio?”, you absentmindedly wondered, just to snap out of it as your boyfriend started to choke.

immediately jumping to your feet, you walked around your dinner table and gave him a few slaps on his back, as he started coughing. without a word, the setter quickly got up and ran to the bathroom as his coughing fit continued.

feeling guilty about being the cause for your black-haired partner almost chocking to death, you started pacing around your kitchen, hoping to calm yourself down.

a whole five minutes later, the 6’2’’ man slowly made his way back, almost bumping into the door because he was staring at his phone.

“tobi’! i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to- “

“’morning wood’ is a slang term that refers to a person having an erect… penis when they wake up in the morning. the medical term is nocturnal penile tumescence”, he read out loud, completely butchering the scientific name. “some call it having a nocturnal erection. NPT is not- “

looking at him as if he lost his mind, you tried to interrupt him. “tobio, wha- “

“a result of sexual- “

“did you just spend five minutes in the bathroom googling what a morning wood is?” at that, he finally stopped reading, avoiding eye-contact with a bright blush on his face.

“…maybe.”

 haiba lev:

“truth or dare?”

it was kuroo’s turn to ask, so of course he directed his question at yaku. the 5’5’’ man knew exactly the question would suck, no matter if he picked truth or dare, so with a sigh, he uttered: “truth.”

the nekoma reunion party the guys would throw once every year, had a tradition of playing ‘truth or dare’ and, of course, it got suggestive at times, especially when kuroo was the one asking questions. seeing as you were also invited, as their former manager, you knew a lot more personal stuff about the boys then you sometimes would like.

you sat beside your boyfriend lev; your hands intertwined in his lap as you watched kuroo’s signature cheshire grin spread on his face.

“did you have a morning wood today?”, the former captain provocatively inquired, knowing it would annoy yaku to no end.

“no”, morisuke shot back while glaring at kuroo, completely done with his bullshit. and as the two started bickering back and forth for the nth time that day, you turned your gaze towards your oversized boyfriend, before wondering: “why do guys get morning woods, lev?”

if the room was quiet enough, you might have heard how the gears started to turn in lev’s head, as he tried to come up with an answer. “uh… biology?”, he retorted a few seemingly endless moments later, even though it most definitely sounded like a question.

“so, you don’t know”, you deadpanned.

“…no”, he confessed, making you turn your attention to kuroo, knowing that the rooster head would have the answer unlike your handsome and cute dumbass of a boyfriend.

hinata shoyo:

this was the first time you actually stayed over at your boyfriends, or at any man’s house for that matter. when you usually had one night stands before getting together with him, you always dipped right after the main event, not wanting to deal with the awkward morning after.

as you laid there beside him at 8a.m., you realized that you never felt more relaxed. the sun shining through the curtains, the peace and quiet of a sunday morning and you, in the arms of a certain ginger man.

smiling softly, you slowly turned around to face him, only to freeze as you felt something poke your thigh. of course, you knew morning woods existed, you weren’t living under a rock. but you did always wonder why guys had that problem.

as your thoughts circled around whether it had something to do with him being unsatisfied from the night before, hinata finally woke up.

“hey there beautiful”, he rasped in his morning voice, tightening his arms around you, resulting in his erection to press against your thigh even more.

“morning sho’”, you softly responded, only to seize up at the added contact.

frowning, hinata turned to lay on his back, asking: “why are you so stiff? did you not sleep well?”

“why are you hard, shoyo? i mean, why do you get erections in the morning?” hinata looked down at his erect dick pressing against his sheets, before focusing back on your face.

“uh… good question? it kind of just happens.”

intrigued, you pressed: “so, you’re not horny right now?”

“not really, i kinda need to pee though”.

“so, you get an erection when you need to pee?”, you wondered, now only more confused than before. “yeah, guess so. you want me to google real quick?”

damn, you thought. you completely forgot google existed. not the way you thought your boyfriend would help you with your curiosity, but this’ll do.

what’s more romantic than searching ‘why do guys get morning woods’ with your significant other on your first morning together?

[caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma]

Caught Recommendations

Author’s Note: I’m trying to keep track of the amazing BTS-themed series and fics that I’m reading on Tumblr, so I decided to create this post with some short reviews (so I can have them all in one place). These writers are amazing and they keep me coming back for more. They are all smutty as hell and full of amazing characters and conflicts.  This is by no means a comprehensive list, and I will be adding them as more catch my eye. Check them out if you get a chance!

Mafia AUs

The Birdcage  & the sequel The Lion’s Den by @untaemedqueen

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Mafia AU; Jimin x Reader

What You Need to Know: Jimin-heavy series (and sequel) that dives into Seoul and Busan mafia underground, violence, guns, knives, bombs, pregnancies, and OH so much drama - the writer creates some fascinating characters that we root for and fall in love with over and over again.   

Thou Shall Not Steal by @xherxx

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Mafia AU, OT7

What You Need to Know:  The richest mafia lord in the industry throws a huge yet twisted deal before he retires and every gang out there wants to get their hands on his riches. - The drama is real in this one and there is plenty of hot, steamy scenes that will make you tingle. 

Don’t Care If It Hurts by @hollyhomburg

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Mafia AU, Jimin x Reader

What You Need to Know: After a rival gang makes an attempt on your life, Your older brother, the infamous leader of Seoul’s largest gang; Kim Namjoon, gets you a guard hybrid; Park Jimin, The reigning champion of Seoul’s underground hybrid fighting ring. - Yeah, this is also a hybrid series, but the mafia background is much more prominent. The OC is also smart as a whip and Namjoon as the angry leader and older brother is something to behold. The other members feature as well skilled companions and are very good at their jobs.

Omertà by @lamourche

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Mafia AU, Namjoon x Reader

What You Need to Know: A story about an unlikely mob boss and his mafia princess wife. This is a love story set in a brutal world. - Namjoon and his crew are tight knit and set to take over the mafia underground. In a true Romeo and Juliet twist, you are from an opposing family and are desperate to get away from their oppressive clutches. As an added bonus, you and Namjoon fall in love and build up his empire together. 

Blackjack by @kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Mafia AU, Jungkook x Reader

What You Need to Know: Bangtan is one of the most vicious mafias on the west coast. Only six members are known by name though, with a mysterious seventh member dubbed only as 'the shadow.' When you become indebted to the worst of the worst - how, exactly can you find a way out? - Jungkook is such a gem in this fic and the action is amped up to 11 throughout the series. 

College/Business AUs

Thesis-It (and the sequel) Prove It by @xherxx

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, College/Career AU, OT7

What You Need to Know:  “When life gives you lemons, make cocktails! It doesn’t solve any problems, but then again neither do lemonades. Besides, it has the word cock in it, just like what the Bangtan boys have on them. So, why don’t you just suit yourself?” - This series was a ROLLERCOASTER of emotion, even when it hurts, you keep going back for more. The sequel takes place AFTER college, but the characters still act like college idiots. LOVE THEM!

Fear & Dumplings by @softyoongiionly

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, College AU, Yoongi x reader

What You Need to Know: You’re in your final semester at University when your Abnormal Psychology professor assigns you a partnered project surrounding your greatest fears. Lucky for you, your partner just so happens to be a cute boy named Min Yoongi. - The build up to this relationship is just wonderful and you will be completely enamored by Yoongi in this fic. He’s such a soft precious bean and I want to ruin him. 

The Gentlemen by @honeymoonjin

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Reality Show AU, OT7

What You Need to Know:  Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now! - BEST REALITY SHOW EVER! The characters are vivid and entertaining and the smut scenes are on point. I dare you not to fall in love with every single one of these eligible bachelors. 

Tease by @adonis-koo

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Stripper AU, Jungkook x reader

What You Need to Know:  You came with the intentions of your best friend landing a job as a stripper. You never meant to catch the eyes of the king stripper of the establishment- Jeon Jungkook, yourself. With what was supposed to be a harmless way of paying off college debt faster you find yourself falling into a very odd and passionate relationship with your new mentor. Between infidelity, passion and jealousy there’s never a dull moment at Cherry Bomb. - Jungkook starts off arrogant and difficult, but as the relationship progresses, he starts embracing his softness for his new trainee. There is also some hot Big-Little action going on here. 

No Strings by @kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, College AU, Jimin x reader

What You Need to Know:  You voice your concern that you are bad in bed and Jimin offers to test that theory. What ensues is an angsty friends with benefits situation that threatens to tear your friend group apart. You may want to smack Jimin around a bit, but I promise you will not be disappointed in the end. 

The Holi-Date by @kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Career AU, Taehyung x reader

What You Need to Know:  When your ex-boyfriend becomes engaged to his new girlfriend at your annual Holiday party, you admittedly are not in the best place. Which explains why you down six shots of alcohol, enthusiastically drop it low on the dance floor and - oh, yeah - tell everyone you are also dating someone. The only problem? You are obviously not. Good thing your neighbor happens to be cute and in need of a ride to work every morning. - I absolutely LOVE Taehyung in this fic; he’s playful, sweet, passionate, and funny. 

Hybrid AUs

The Mark of Yun-Ki by @ladyartemesia

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff; Historical Hybrid AU; Yoongi x Reader

What You Need to Know: This story was wonderfully crafted and if a Tiger-hybrid Yoongi full of ferocity and passion and admiration doesn’t do it for you, I don’t know what will. 

Reasons Wretched & Divine by @hollyhomburg

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff; Hybrid AU; Namjoon x Reader x Jimin x Yoongi

What You Need to Know: You live on an isolated but sprawling farm with your abusive husband, but things start to change for the better when your husband adopts a retired police dog hybrid named Namjoon. - There are definitely some trigger warnings you should read at the top, but the series is full of mental and physical healing that endears the characters to the reader. The other members are also present as side characters and are hella sweet. 

Abundance by @angelicyoongie

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff; Hybrid AU; OT7

What You Need to Know:  You never expected that you would end up adopting a hybrid, and if someone had told you that you would end up with seven? Well, you would have thought they were crazy. But here you are, with three different packs of hybrids that don’t get along – but all want to stay with you. Yeah, turns out crazy is an understatement. - This is a sweet complicated hybrid situation where three different groups have to find a way to live together. It takes some time, but they all eventual pull together as a family. 

Jackrabbit by @jamaisjoons

Genre: Pure Smut; Hybrid AU; Jungkook x reader

What You Need to Know: On a university-wide Easter egg hunt, Jungkook decides to educate you on just how wrong you are about him. - this one shot will have your thighs rubbing together vigorously wishing that you could get a few minutes alone with this domineering bun (just don’t call him that unless you want to get punished).

Strawberry Cream & BBQ by @thatmultifandomhoe

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut; Hybrid AU; Hoseok x reader

What You Need to Know: Your best friend knows she can count on you for anything, so when she asks you to watch her hybrid while she’s gone for a study abroad trip for four months, you can’t say no. But when these four months are over, things have changed in a way no one expected. - The relationship between Hoseok and the OC is so sweet and the drama that erupts after they get together pulls on the heartstrings. 

Sci-Fi AUs

Void by @btssavedmylifeblr

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Space AU, OT7

What You Need to Know:  You are the only female crew member on a 12 year space mission with seven handsome men. - The sexual tension is real, y’all. The OC is sassy and hilarious, the other crew members provide colorful commentary and conflicts that keep the reading salivating for more. 

The Turing Test by @fortunexkookie

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Android AU, Jungkook x reader

What You Need to Know: You are an engineer who created an advanced form of Artificial Intelligence named Jungkook, but with every technological advance, there are always some bugs to work out (and not all of them deal with the creator or the creation). 

Parenting AUs

Gingerbread Man by @btsracket

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff; Jungkook x Reader

What You Need to Know: Jungkook (a recent widower) is a fantastic baker who owns his own shop. The reader bounces in to place an emergency order and fate takes over from there. Jungkook’s son, Jude, is absolutely adorable and all of the angst and drama derived from moving on from an unexpected spousal death makes for one incredible recipe for success. 

The Stand-In by @yoonia

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff; Namjoon x Reader

What You Need to Know:  Gaining the courage to leave a loveless marriage was hard enough, but is it really a good idea to run to your best friend for help? And would you refuse him when he offers you another kind of ‘help’? - The themes revolving around infertility and then a sudden pregnancy catapult these characters into a wonderful relationship full of love and possibilities. Plus, Daddy Joon is always a yes on my list. 

Intro: Her by @jamaisjoons

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff; Namjoon x Reader

What You Need to Know: You enter Namjoon’s life in the most unexpected of ways, but will you be able to stay, especially when he comes with three adorable but chaotic children, even more chaotic best friends and a bitch of an ex-wife? not to mention your own emotional baggage. - Namjoon is raising his three boys Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook as you enter his life as a marine biologist. The kids are sweet and sassy, Namjoon is a total mess, but a sweetheart. I never wanted to be a mother to children more than these tots, and the bonus would be snuggling into Daddy Joon’s arms. 

Idol AUs

Let Me Hold Them by @jjungkookislife

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff; OT7

What You Need to Know: An OT7 series that includes mxm, threesomes, open relationships, polyamory, and angst.  Please read at your own discretion & the warnings on each chapter. - It starts off small, and then it escalates quickly. I promise, you will not be disappointed. Read on!

Slight Changes by @jiminimoon

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff; Taehyung x reader; Jimin x reader

What You Need to Know: Your relationship with Taehyung takes a nose dive when his infidelity is exposed. Luckily, the other members (especially Jimin) step in to make sure you don’t suffer alone. Prepare for angsty chapters and a lot of soul searching in this fic. 

The Studio Sessions by @getitinbusan

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff; Yoongi x reader; OT7 x reader

What You Need to Know: It’s Min Yoongi’s birthday and you’re ready to give him whatever he wants. When he makes a sarcastic wish while blowing out the candles he didn’t think you’d take it seriously. But he’s glad you did. When word spreads about these special “Studio Sessions” everyone wants to collaborate. - You start with one and work your way through the rest without blinking an eye. It’s a smutty paradise. 

Love Well Done by @oraclemarie

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff; Yoongi x reader

What You Need to Know: You are the executive chef of your very own fine dining restaurant. A big company makes you the offer of a lifetime, setting you on a path straight to Min Yoongi-your drunken hook up. - once these two start admitting their love for one another, it ups the drama; people can let jealousy turn them into monsters. 

Soulmate AUs

A Thousand Springs by @whitesparrows97

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, OT7

What You Need to Know: Life is short. Eternity is long. Why you in particular are approached by a super attractive man in a club, you did not understand. You understood even less why he wanted to kill you. Fortunately, seven young, also incredibly handsome men show up to help you with this little problem. Purely by coincidence, of course. Or do you really believe in fate? - This fic is action packed with crazy conflicts, special powers, and spicy smut scenes. 

The Immortals by @bang-tan-bitches

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, OT7

What You Need to Know: Sometimes, you find your destiny. And sometimes, your destiny does whatever it takes to keep you. - There are some amazing things happening in this fic and I just want to crawl onto that giant bed with all of them and their mysterious golden powers.

Fantasy AUs

Blood Moon Rising by @yoonia

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff; Vampire/Werewolf AU; Jimin x Reader

What You Need to Know: As beings from ancient times, the Vampire Clan has undergone numerous changes to thrive in the Modern Age after surviving the Ancient Blood War. As a part of the traveller family in his clan, Jimin has parted ways from the coven until the day his Lords warned him of the lurking danger from inside the clan. And all so suddenly, he was pulled out of his solitary, only to have given the responsibility he had never wished to have, along with the threats that come as a part of the deal. 

Born as youngest yet having lost so much, you have given your family your loyalty, your protection, and had been given their love and support that had become the only thing that keeps you going. But what happens when the only people you have put your trust in only repay you with betrayal?

This series expands beyond this world and into a whole universe of shifter characters. This storyline also includes characters from her other Shifter Series. The storylines are rich and beautifully crafted, and you will love the way the characters stick together on this magnificent adventure.

Of Fire and Love by @hollyhomburg

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff; Dragon-Hybrid AU; Yoongi x Reader

What You Need to Know:  When Dragon Yoongi finds baby Jungkook in the wreckage of a house he burned down, he can’t bring himself to kill the child. Months after someone drops off a baby at your door, you start to notice something- or someone, lurking at the edge of the woods. - This fantasy world just keeps growing in each chapter and you also get to enjoy a baby Jungkook and a baby dragon Hobi. Beware of fairy Jimin - they’re a sneaky one. 

Faerie Realm by @ddaengyoonmin

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff; Fairy Video Game AU; Jungkook x Reader

What You Need to Know: Your mother gifts you a video game set that allows you to fully enter the brand new virtual world of Faerie Realm on the first day of its launch. You lack any of the skills or knowledge of playing video games, but you end up having fun thanks to skilled player you meet named Kookie! You are lucky to have met him, because this deadly game is not what it seems.- Based on Sword Art Online, but I think it’s better. The other members become a part of the group and drama ensues. 

Sweeter than Sweet by @gimmesumsuga

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff; Vampire AU; Jimin x reader; OT7, eventually

What You Need to Know: You never would have expected someone like Park Jimin to notice you. As handsome and beguiling as he is deadly, you’re enthralled from the very moment you meet. Addicted to his kiss and his bite, Jimin opens up your eyes to a whole new world of love, lust and seduction. - this is a LONG series, but it is TOTALLY WORTH IT. Once you dive into the story, there is no resurfacing until you finish. 

A Court of Curses & A Court of Moonlight by @readyplayerhobi

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff; Vampire/Witch/Werewolf AU; Hoseok x reader; Yoongi x reader

What You Need to Know: (ACOC) For millennia, the vampires and witches have hated one another and war has raged between the two. When tensions flare up once more and spill into neutral land, peace is forced upon the two by the faeries. The price of peace sees the Witch Queen married to the Vampire Prince. One hundred years later, how have things changed? (ACOM)  As Prince Hoseok’s personal attendant, you travel with him on a diplomatic visit to Lunatis, home of the werewolves. There, you meet the enigmatic and intriguing werewolf prince, Min Yoongi, and discover more than you expected as a mere attendant. - this world is so full of magical wonder and I am so invested in seeing how everything comes together. It also makes me soft when I see how loving Prince Hoseok is toward his family. 

Caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma’s MASTERLIST

[justasimplesinner]

Oh how eddie and jon react to meeting someone that is "too good for them", but that person invites them to a date or just hung out? They get suspicious and all but the person really wants to know them? Poor insecure babies. (Can i smell some angust in here? But happy ending because yes)

Ed not knowing how to handle being treated well hcs:

it's incredibly cliche, but you two met in a coffee shop. Ed functioned on copious amounts of cafeine, and more often than not, his lunch break was spent in your workplace. he didn't waltz up to the counter and flirt with you as you made your drinks though, nor did you slip your number along with the receipt to him. he was probably the most annoying client to walk into that shop and you were the only one to get his ridiculously over-complicated orders right

it was a mystery how you two even started talking. it just... happened, somehow. one day, it was your snide remark about the concering amount of coffee he drinked. another, it was him (unprompted, of course) telling you the answers to the daily crossword you were trying to solve. then suddenly, there was some banter and at some point, he was chatting you up so much you were getting chewed out by your boss for not doing your job

Edward didn't know what it was that made him gravitate toward you, but at some point, he couldn't stay away. despite rolling your eyes, you always listened to him. you gave him a nickname. you always greeted him. and even if you tried to act like you didn't, he could see you enjoyed talking with him. he once made you laugh and the sight of your bright smile and the amused glint in your eyes has haunted him since. he never wanted to stop making you laugh. because of his insistency on talking to you, he always held up the line, and at some point, he earned himself a spot behind the counter. you didn't shoo him away, and instead made sure you two could talk without it having negative impact on your job. you gave him the time of day and you indulged him, and you even reluctantly admitted he must've been the smartest person you've met

it was only natural for him to grow... fond of you. he liked to think of himself as someone special - he had his own spot behind the counter, after all. he liked to think of himself as someone who... had a chance. but then he watched you get constantly flirted with by customers, he watched you flirt back, he watched all those people like him trying their luck with you and getting shrugged off, and it made him realise that you probably didn't value your relationship with him as much as he did. he was clinging onto you because you were the first person to truly listen to him, and he was probably just another idiot shooting his shot to you. although he never really shot his shot. and he didn't plan to. you probably weren't interested anyway. you never asked him about his personal life, you never offered to go out for something more than a smoke on your break, you never expressed any desire to see his pestering ass outside of work

he stopped coming for a while after that. he didn't want to talk to you more and fall harder for you if it was so clear he didn't stand a chance with you at all. but he couldn't deny that he... missed you. those banters with you were the best part of his day, and now he was going to a different coffee shop with stupid bartenders and his drink tasted so bland and unsatisfying when they made it. you always got it right, they never did. he stopped meeting up with you to stop thinking about you so much, and yet, now that you were gone, you occupied his mind even more. he missed your snide remarks and your eye rolls, he missed your smile and the way it made him feel, he missed talking with you and having you listen avidly to what he had to say, he missed you

he never expected you to miss him back though. he never expected you to chastise him for leaving you alone for so long after getting you accustomed to his presence. he never expected you to practically force him to make it up to you with a coffee that wasn't from your workplace. he almost didn't register the fact that you've just... asked him out. you. him. out. you were always turning down all the date offers, and now you were asking to take him out on one

he didn't expect you dragging him off to another part of town right after your shift ended. he didn't expect you finally asking about him and trying to get to know him. he didn't expect to impulsively invite you into his home and spending hours talking on the couch. he didn't expect you to kiss him when he drove you home. but he didn't dare complain about any of it

Jon not knowing how to handle being treated well hcs:

you and Jon had a very weird friendship, if it could even be called that. constant bumping into each other at the same bookstore couldn't be really called a friendship. he noticed you even before you two first talked, how could he not? you were the type of person that turned heads whenever you walked, the one you couldn't just pass without sneaking in a second-glance. so eye-catching and unique, of course he noticed you. and then started noticing you more often. and then suddenly, you noticed him

it was just nerd talk at first. you inquired about the titles in his hands, and he provided you with an answer. then you two started talking, sharing your tastes. then suddenly, you were standing between the bookshelves, discussing how Stephen King has a very specific classification of fear and that it's a little restricting, even though he is a good writer. somehow, it turned into shitting on Sigmunt Freud together. the next time you two crossed paths, you didn't act like you didn't know him, you chatted him up more, you made him late for class, he made you buy a book you didn't even consider reading before. and before Jon knew it, he was coming to the bookshop with the sole intention of 'accidentally' bumping into you because he would never gather the courage to even take you for a coffee just across the street from the store

every time he talked to you, he realised how much he didn't stand a chance with you. how far out of his league you actually were. so what if you two had some shared interests? that wasn't fucking enough and you never expressed any desire to talk to him outside of the shop. he probably didn't even cross your mind, especially not as much as you crossed his. he was just a stranger that you talked to every now and then, not someone you'd seek out on purpose, just a small distraction in your regular routine that you'd brush off as soon as you exited the bookstore. your meetings were something he wished he could brush off because it was stupid to even think about asking you out because he never even had a chance in the first place. someone like you probably already had dozens other men fawning over you, what was just some random creep to you?

until suddenly, you were standing before him in the bookstore, asking for his number so you two could hang out sometime somewhere outside the shop for once, and he couldn't comprehend a single word you were saying. you wanted to get to know him? why? Jonathan wasn't one to be asked out. at all. ever. not once in his entire life. he wasn't a man people wanted to be around. why would you? you, of all people?

he almost didn't give that number to you. a part of him didn't want to. a part of him was suspicious, scared, believing in some ulterior motive against all logic. when he saw your caller id pop up on his phone, he almost wanted to ignore it, to never go into that bookstore again, because his stupid heart was hoping for so much and he didn't want to be faced with the harsh reality. he didn't want to go there just for you to reveal it was some stupid prank or for him to fuck up and push you away - and those were the only things he could see happening

but he did go on that stupid date, and he... didn't regret it, for once. he didn't regret the take-out shared with you in the park. he didn't regret the endless conversation that made time fly by so fast he didn't realise when it got dark. and he especially didn't regret the kiss you two shared by the end of the day that he almost ran away from

[mittensmorgul]

it has been bothering me all morning but like

we saw bobby in heaven, and he looked like bobby always has, yet when sam got to heaven he was reset to what he looked like before dean died

REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE IMPLICATIONS AHEAD:

to be clear, I have no opposition to the concept of Heaven, and to the soul earning some sort of peaceful and comforting rest in an afterlife, but I’m really gonna have to politely ask people to stop coming directly to my inbox attempting to convince me that this was a “happy ending” for Dean. He deserved to LIVE, because no matter how perfect heaven was tailored to him personally, to feel satisfying and fulfilling to him, that... almost makes it even worse to me.

I’m not expecting people who are happy with it, or who did manage to find something good in it to actually read this, or to really consider the way I (and from what I’ve seen, most everyone I know) see this. But attempting to convince people who are horrified by it all, or arguing with people who are attempting to reconcile what we see as utterly baffling or entirely unsatisfying about this ending (or worse, actually traumatizing) is unnecessary and unwanted. Please stop trying to make people who are processing the end of a show we’d hoped would have the guts to finally free the characters through something other than death, and trying to reconcile the fact that the story of hope, of found family, of free will over destiny they’d fought the entire series for was not a lie, as the finale made it feel to us.

If people are finding inconsistencies in the story (because hooBOY was it inconsistent), if they’re arguing against details in the story, it’s not because they want folks who are happy with the story to come around to being unhappy with it. It’s because THIS IS HOW WE PROCESS TRAUMA. We explain, we justify to ourselves, so that we can actually continue feeling good about this story in our own lives. For some of us, this means actually coming to a point where we can feel the story had no power to continue to actively harm us. If you don’t feel bad about this finale, then consider yourself lucky, and maybe sit down rather than continually attempting to invalidate why we feel traumatized in the first place.

Okay, that’s out of the way, on to the ridiculousness of my brain:

1. if the idea that everyone in heaven gets reset to a more youthful state, then why not bobby? so that’s out as a theory. I mean, it’s kind of a surface-level nice theory that you wouldn’t have to spend heaven eternity bedridden and sick and dying, but as a basepoint for Heaven this is... it’s got a lot of ableist undercurrents to it and I don’t think there was actually a satisfying way to handle/depict this on screen to start with... the whole “all your problems will be fixed in heaven” is right below the surface here, and I’m not even gonna start explaining how disgusting that is as a message to be sending...

(that said... was sam’s blurry wife un-blurred in heaven? or was she even ever real at all and would Sam even look for her in Heaven now? asking the real questions here... >.>)

2. is this actually a heaven where people take on the appearances that dean specifically recalls them with? or does this effect possibly work for everyone that way, and what we see is only Dean’s pov? Like... would Dean himself possibly see something different than say, John would if he looked at Sam? Would John see the last version of Sam he remembered from s1, and Sam see himself completely different in a mirror or something? This falls into my previous understanding of Heaven-- the memorex version-- where everyone sees what they want to in a dimension that really doesn’t translate to a human’s perception of space-time. And I mean, if that’s actually the case, then I need people to recognize that this isn’t really any different than Old Heaven, except for the cubicle farm aspect and being able to make new memories with people. But that it’s still effectively an isolating experience if each soul’s reality is just... slightly off, even in these seemingly minor ways. It’s dimensionally enforced peace through manipulation of perception. And thanks, I hate it. It’s not true free will, but the pacifying enforcement of a perception of it as being free will.

3. Was this actually just a production choice so they wouldn’t have to drag the party city wig out to the woods for the final day of filming? Which, lol that has some potential for hilarity as a crack post, but also... as a production choice just has the greater effect of breaking the fourth wall (which that final drone shot effectively did anyway), which in turn renders the entire episode one long series of production choices rather than narrative consistency choices, and is all the more reason we have to just... not care about any of it if we’re actively choosing to do that.

All of these sorts of inconvenient facts and readings are there, in canon, for us to consider. The most unfortunate implication of all for me is that the episode as a whole then becomes suspect as “reality” for the characters, and therein lies my actual problem with the finale. The details are rendered irrelevant, the characters themselves are rendered irrelevant, and the story ultimately had no meaning whatsoever. And for those of us who cannot reconcile these things, we’d rather just be able to toss the finale out and keep the 326 episodes that did actually have meaning for us.

[cozycryptidcorner]

The Mad Prince, Chapter 13 (slightly nsfw)

tw: alcohol/drinking, drunken consensual groping.

“What are you doing?” Clementine asks, almost amused.

You’re busy rummaging around all available cabinets in the kitchen, several of them open, plates, glasses, and other kitchenette stuff laid out on the counter. While you’re pretty sure there’s a far better kitchen below your feet, this one appears mostly for aesthetic and midnight snack reasons. You, though, have a very intentional way of searching, fingers nimble as you run your hands over the inner panels, just one.

“I’m bored,” is all you say, as if that’s the only explanation she needs. Unsatisfied with what you’ve found so far, you begin to put everything back, sealing the cabinets firmly on the latch. Jumping down from the upper counter, you continue on your quest on the lower compartments.

Once you resume your rummaging, it doesn’t take you too much longer to find a strangely shaped bottle, glass long and ornately spun around a strange purple liquid. All you have to do is unlock the seal at the top, and the scent of the thin, violet liquid makes your eyes water. You haven’t had a single thing to drink with any kind of percentage since the Starward Matchmakers™ took you into their loving flock, and to say you’ve been itching for a goddamn shot would be an understatement.

“Holy shit,” you half gasp, half wince. Whatever is in the bottle smells like paint stripper, your body is already trying to cough back up the liquor you haven’t even had a chance to drink.

“What are you going to do with that?” The shell slips as a touch of her real personality peeks through, her face scowling before she catches herself.

“Drink it, duh,” you can’t read the label, the large, swooping lettering elegant and filled with opulent promise.

“Is that a good idea?” Clementine prods further, arms on her hips.

“Oh please,” you glance over your shoulder just to make sure no one else is eavesdropping on the conversation, “if I couldn’t keep my mouth shut while drunk, I’d never have a job. Besides, I have a super fun idea.”

“Super fun,” Clem echoes, eyebrows arching.

“Come on, bestie, let’s go find two other players.”

It doesn’t take a lot of time to locate the prince, in his own makeshift office he’s turned one of the rooms into. The desk has a holographic screen hovering just slightly over the slab of dark metal.

He looks at the crystalline bottle in your hand, then back up at you. “Yes?”

“I thought we could have a fun game night.” You say, gently swirling the bottle around and offering it up like a vicious cat bringing its master a dead thing as a gift. “Involving liquor, of course.”

His eyes widen as his brow arches, a quizzical gesture, you’ve come to learn, and you feel his gaze flicker over your shoulder and land on Clementine, who is probably doing her best to appear like she thinks that this idea is the motherfucking best. Then he looks back at you. “And what games are you thinking?”

“Well…” you try to wrack your brain, “I was thinking poker, but I’d be fine with blackjack, diamonds five, lemon lemon…. Or like, old maid. Monopoly, even, if you like.”

The prince blinks. “Most of those are forms of gambling.”

You feel Clementine’s aggressive aura on your back, but you offer up a nonchalant shrug. “I suppose so, but like… we don’t have to play for money or anything. Winner or loser, doesn’t matter.”

There’s a beat of silence, you can see the synapses firing within his brain as he thinks over the suggestion. Then, calmly, he suggests, “I suppose that there are things we can gamble other than money.”

“I like your style!” You shake the bottle, “I was thinking about inebriation.”

”Babe,” Clem says, her voice slightly grated, “fun idea… but no.”

Oh, now it seems like the prince is very much interested, but only on account of Clem’s quick attempt to shut it down. “What do you mean?”

You’re quick to talk over Clem’s continuing protests, “instead of gambling money, the loser of the round takes a shot. Uhhh, but since your body’s like three times bigger, you get to take two.”

“Oh, I get to take two?” He asks, cocking his head with a slightly amused look. And he’s not immediately refusing, either, you knew he wouldn’t, but you supposed he wouldn’t actually consider it so seriously. “Is this something humans do?”

“Yes,” you say, nodding, “for fun.”

“And you would like to play it with me?”

You nod again.

He mulls it over, looking back at a now-silent Clem, and says, “and will you be playing.”

“I suppose,” she says, pursing her lips.

“We were also hoping that Elias would play as well,” you say, almost slyly, “to make it an even four.”

“I will let him know.” He says, completely serious, as though he’s talking about affairs of the state, and not about getting drunk while gambling.

“Okay,” you say, bouncing on the edge of your toes in excitement.

“Okay,” he echoes, as though tasting the word on his tongue.

“See you later, then,” you take a step back, trying really hard not to smile.

“Oh my god,” Clementine mutters as you turn around, quietly enough for only you to hear. “You two are ridiculous.”

“I hear most couples are,” you whisper conspiratorially back at her as the door to the office closes.

“And here’s to thinking you were at your wit’s end just a day ago,” she says, and you can feel the motion of her eyes rolling even though you’re not looking at her. “I can already see you making out with him in your head.”

“Okay but also consider: inebriation makes for honest conversations,” you say, running your fingers along your scalp, “and I plan on having a very calm and collected conversation about things like how many people he thinks are planning to kill me, while you, my dearest and most precious friend in the entire universe, are going to be keeping Elias distracted with your fantastic tits.”

She chokes, scrabbling for words, voice cutting in and out as though her brain is fried. “He does not think my-”

“You may be trained to clock someone’s fighting style twenty klicks away by the way they shake their ass, but I,” you turn around and walk backwards to drink in her glaring face, grinning, “have been teaching myself to recognize carnal lust on sight.”

“Princess,” she says, her voice full of warning, “you’re on thin fucking ice right now.”

“See you later!” You sing, escaping into your room before she sees fit to smack you into the next century.

---------------------------------------------_

“Okay,” you say, shuffling the cards between your fingers, “rules are simple.”

To your right side, the prince, and to the left, Clementine, with Elias sitting across the table. The bottle of liquor is in the center of the table, four shot glasses in front of each person as a grim reminder that you’ll have to drink the moment you lose your hand.

“So the loser of each hand has to drink the shots placed in the betting pool,” you say, cheerfully, “except for Aksanos, who has to take an extra two because his blood alcohol level is more difficult to raise since he’s bigger than my first studio apartment.”

Their first mistake: letting you deal.

“We bet with alcohol shots based on how confident you are with how good your hand is.” You begin to deal out cards, mentally counting to five for each stack. “High card is when you have no matches, two of a kind is when you have two of the same numbers, three of a kind is the same but with three-” etcetera, etcetera. The winner isn’t the important hand, here, it’s the loser. “Folding in this context means that you take the shots you threw into the pot. Any questions?”

“I don’t understand why I have to be here,” Elias says, holding his cards like this is a game of Go Fish.

“I mean any questions in regards to the game rules?” You skip over him, just for the sake of being annoying.

“What does the winner get?” Clementine asks, lounging with one arm swung over the back of her chair. “I think the person who wins first the most should get something.”

“You mean besides an intact liver?” You ask, taking a peek at your cards. Nice, unless everyone has a really fortunate hand, you should be alright this first round. “I don’t know, I’m not exactly in a position to hand anything out.”

All eyes turn to the person with the fattest wallet, and, to his credit, the prince actually looks like he’s pondering the question. “A favor,” he seems to conclude.

“From you?” Clementine asks, sounding suddenly like she’s ready to put her competitive hat on.

“Yes.”

“And what if you’re the winner?” She asks, prodding.

“I suppose that my prize will be peace of mind.” He says, looking at his cards. “Since I won’t have to offer up my services otherwise.”

“Awesome,” you say, reaching over and pouring the potent liquor in every single one of your shot glasses, sliding one into the center of the table. “Let’s begin.”

When you first pitched the game, you thought your only real competition would be Clementine. After all, you’ve seen soldiers like her lay waste to the poker tables before, especially since ceasefires make for bored tacticians with little outlets for their strategies. As predicted, Elias continuously seems to either fold or lose, he doesn’t seem to have much of a grasp for the game in general, nor does he even care to try. The prince, however?

He starts out slowly, cautiously. Like he’s testing his boundaries. He folds once or twice, watching you closely as he throws back his shots of purple liquor. After you’ve leapt into a significant lead, the thrum of hot alcohol from your folds burning through your blood, he seems to take a sharp turn and starts winning, as in, beating you as time eats into the night.

As you shuffle the card stack once almost every hand possible could have played, you observe him closely. He’s staring at your hands, intently, watching the way your thumb flicks one half into the other, head shifting slightly as you twist your wrist to part the deck once more. Almost in an accusation, you don’t look down at your hands as you shuffle, knowing this movement by heart, and then begin tossing everyone their cards.

Elias doesn’t even look at his hand as he folds, face and ears a mottled blue as he nurses a glass of water. Clementine is ‘resting her eyes’ for ‘just a minute,’ head slumped over on the table, her bra hanging from the side of the chair (when did she even take that off?).

The prince has already learned to only look at his cards once, hand over the backs, then gauges you for any sort of reaction as he pushes his filled shot glasses in. Luckily, though, the more you drink, the less your face works, so all you offer up is a resting bitch face that would kill any human man, matching him without hesitation.

You lay your cards out, revealing a four of a kind.

He lays his out, revealing the same hand… but with straight aces.

Four shots. You have to take in four shots.

“Careful,” he says, as though he has no cares in the universe, “I hear alcohol poisoning is a terrible way to go.”

You drink the first, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and refusing to give him the satisfaction of wincing from the burn of the liquor. “I’ve had worse.”

The second shot is harder to drink without making a face, you think your nose twitches despite your attempts not to move.

Your body is sending warning signals to your head as your fingers wrap around the third shot glass, not exactly nauseous yet, but with the knowledge that you definitely will be if you finish what you started.

“I fold,” the prince says just before the liquor hits your lips.

“What?” It takes you a moment to process what he just said.

“I fold,” he repeats, pushing his winning hand to the center and grabbing the remaining shot glass.

“You can’t fold after you’ve played the round,” you say, though your body screams in relief at not having to finish the shots.

“I don’t remember that being in the rules,” he says, “besides, it’s not going to be fun if you’re passed out on the table like your friend here.”

“-’m wrake,” Clementine mumbles, her words so slurred you can barely recognize their meaning.

You wait for a beat, then put the glass down and push it in his direction. “Fine. Here, don’t forget the extra.”

“I would not dare,” he says, amusement in his tone. True to his word, he pours another shot, drinking all three in quick succession.

For a while, you didn’t think he was getting drunk, blaming his more spidery bits for his supposed immunity to alcohol, but the more you stare, the more you notice unusual symptoms in his body. Like the flushed skin around his eyes and nose. Or the way his shoulders slant as he sits. How he’s started to rest his chin on his hand.

Slowly, you begin to shuffle the cards, keeping an eye on how he seems to be watching you with more intensity than before, and you realize something. Oh, oh, for fuck’s sake, you should have noticed it before, but now that he’s drunk, he’s not hiding it so much.

“You’re counting cards,” you accuse.

“And you’re playing with a marked deck,” he responds just as snidely.

You hesitate for just a moment because you hadn’t expected to actually get caught, and then you realize; oh. OH. That’s how he started making a heavy-hitting comeback, he figured out the almost nonsensical pattern on the back of the cards is actually a code.

Fuck.

And then you think further, hands folded like you’re praying. Yes, your mind is clouded with drink, but you’re still capable of weighing the pros and cons of an extremely critical concept. It’s not about the how he figured it out, you decide, but the fact that he quickly adapted, continued playing, and even started winning… without saying anything. He could have demanded a new deck in the face of fairness, but he didn’t.

That’s so…

So…

“Hot,” you say out loud.

“What?” He sounds confused.

“I mean,” you lean back in your chair, clarifying, “if you’re going to continue being so smart and attractive, I’m going to have to have sex with you.”

Elias coughs into his glass, bless him, you forgot he was even there, with his eyes bugging out of his skull. ”Keias,” he almost sounds like he’s begging, “please excuse me for the night, I’m afraid in order to best serve you, I will need to rest and recover.”

“You are dismissed,” the prince says, face a shade of blue you didn’t think he was capable of having.

And oh boy, does Elias leave like the entire goddamn room is on fire, though with the efficiency of an incredibly drunk individual. Even though his first few steps are wobbly, he still manages to flee the thick sexual tension your aura is probably emanating through the air, shooting out the door and disappearing into the ship.

Mercilessly, as soon as the door shuts, you turn back to the large drider at the receiving end of your arousal. To his credit, he seems to be so unused to blatant invitations to use someone’s body like a goddamn carousel that he’s at a loss for words. On the other hand, you have a variety of positions you would like to try out if what the anatomy charts they showed you back at the Starward Matchmakers™ are accurate.

But first… you need to take some measures to dull the oncoming hangover.

“Let’s raid the kitchen,” you say, knowing the sudden change of pace will give him whiplash.

“I’ll call someone to carry her to bed,” the prince says, gesturing to Clem’s body, “someone who isn’t inebriated.”

“Excellent idea,” you say, knowing full well you would drop her halfway through the hallway and somehow end up breaking both your noses in progress.

A servant is ridiculously quick to retrieve her, as though they had been lying in wait just outside the door at the prince’s beck and call, but you find yourself not caring about that creepiness factor in the face of food.

“Shall I call the chef?” He asks as you push through the doors leading into the kitchen.

“Nah,” you say, “they’ll need all the sleep they can get for the breakfast we will collectively want tomorrow. I can cook, I’m not an animal.”

Already, your vision blurs as the last two shots fully hit your system. Even with the glass of water you absolutely chug like a dehydrated lava scrapper, you know it’s going to be a hot minute before you start seeing straight again if you don’t start shoving carbs down your throat. So, quick as you can, you start rifling through the many different cabinets and the three (?!) refrigerators to locate something that your drunk stomach positively craves.

“Normally,” you say, “during my nights out, I go to one of those hover-stands that park out by the clubs and stuff specifically for the drunk hungry people leaving. I don’t know how to describe just how good Abuelita’s Tacos are when it’s three am, and you’re stumbling out of the club, exhausted.”

“And is that something you often do?” He asks, voice slightly slurred.

“It’s a good way to meet people,” you climb up one of the counters, rifling through bags of food with labels you can’t read. “Especially if you’re freelance. You never know who needs to transport cargo if you don’t start asking around.”

“Mmm,” he muses, “and do many pilots tend to frequent bars for customers?”

“Only the ones that aren’t in a guild or privately hired,” you say, hopping down from one counter and heading for the other.

“And you’re not?” He’s wheedling you for information, but you’re comfortable with offering up more than usual.

“Do I strike you as someone who likes being told what to do?” You ask instead of answering. “Oh, my god, the guilds have so many rules. Cut your hair like this, wear these clothes, go to those places, don’t do drugs. Gets old fast when someone is in charge of how you live your life.”

“Hm, we will have to agree on that.” The way his hands are cradling his head is… cute, you think. “Unfortunately, sometimes we don’t have a choice.”

“Yeah I’ve heard that your mom’s a mega-bitch,” you say, surprised that you’ve never outwardly spoken against the queen before.

For a moment, you think you’ve gone too far, but then he laughs. He laughs. And it’s a beautiful laugh, you think, head empty but for the warmth of the sound. Sweet. Gentle. Nothing like the stories of a cruel, maniacal shriek, you have to stand there, speechless, committing that fucking delightful voice to memory.

“What?” He asks when he notices you’re uncharacteristically still.

“You’re cute,” you say, resuming your hunt. Aha, bread! Finally! Your stomach gurgles with joy, and your liver sighs with relief.

“Oh,” you can hear a bashful tone tangled with his words. “Thank you. It’s not every day I am observed to be so.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll just tell you every day from now on.” You find a knife and a slab of plastic you assume is a cutting board, and unwrap the bread from the clear wrapping plastic. Everything in your body screams for protein, so you begin to rummage through the fridge for anything that smells vaguely like it will satiate the craving.

Once you bring a pile of stuff to the counter, the prince says, almost like he’s taking a gamble, “you’re not exactly what I was expecting.”

You start cutting slices of bread. “You mean today? Or just in general.”

“You were such a meek little thing when we first met,” he says, almost dreamily, “I was afraid you would be so easily crushed by my enemies, and so I tried to protect you like a little, delicate flower.” He holds his hands out, as though simulating how he might hold the aforementioned plant.

“But?” You prod, adding a slab of… meat? Maybe. Cheese? Also maybe. It’s a gauntlet of stuff you’re adding to your strange sandwich.

“But, I now see that you’re a manipulative, lying cheat.” Even though those words should make your heart sink, he says them with such fondness you don’t feel an ounce of rejection. “It takes a very smart person to outdo my careful planning, and you’ve done so many times.”

You lick your thumb clean of a spread you found in the door shelf, finding it strangely savory. “And… you like that?”

“Absolutely,” he says with no hesitation. “You challenge me in all the best ways. No one does that, not anymore.”

Trying to come up with a response that doesn’t involve crying on the floor, you slide the finished sandwich in his direction. “Oh.”

“That wasn’t very romantic,” Aksanos seems to realize, eyes snapping back into reality. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound so terrible-”

You kiss him. Hard. Without the tentative shyness you had kissed him with before. Oh, no, this kiss is hungry, it’s starving, it’s full of desperation and adoration, laced with heated attraction and stifled desire. It doesn’t take long for you to introduce a tongue to this equation, and even though you don’t think he’s familiar with that concept, he’s a fast learner.

The cold metal of the counter presses up against your ass as you use it for leverage, lifting one of your legs and slinging it over his waist, pulling him closer. His hands come to rest on your hips, gilded claws pressing through your clothes, you can tell that he’s unsure of what your boundaries might be. So you help him out, breaking the kiss long enough for you to find the hem of your shirt and lift it up over your body. Just as quickly, you unclasp your bra, tossing it to the side.

He stares at your breasts like he’s never seen a pair of naked tits before, and you suppose that anatomy differences between your species might be throwing him for a loop.

“Wow,” he says, and immediately looks like he regrets it.

You laugh softly, tracing his jawline with your fingers. “Thanks, I grew them myself.”

And then you’re kissing him again, guiding his hands up to your chest as a way of encouragement. He’s careful and slow, the cool sharpness of his claws ghosting over your skin, lips and fangs so eager to please. There’s a heat building between your thighs, one that the seam of your pants only marginally relieves as you grind up against his waist.

“Give me your hands,” you manage to whisper, breaking away from him long enough to draw breath.

He’s a tad confused but obeys.

“I’m going to show you where to touch me,” you murmur, “but those knives strapped to your fingers need to be off.”

“Good idea,” he breathes in agreement.

You take his dominant hand in both of yours, taking a quick moment to kiss the heel of his palm. Then, carefully, you reach for the piece of clawed jewellery on his index finger, picking at the clasp with your fingernail until it comes loose, pulling it off and setting it to the side. You keep your hands as steady as you drunkenly can, knowing each individual ornament is worth more than what you would make in a year.

Next, pants- you need to get the last barrier between him and you off and gone. Hands shaking, you manage to undo the button just above the zipper, clasping that tiny piece of metal between your fingers-

The door opens to someone who looks like they immediately regret every single life decision that’s led them up to this point. And, in fact, they look like if you and the prince weren’t staring at them at this very moment, they would duck out and act like they never laid witness to this mess.

“A- a thousand and million apologies-” they begin.

“State your business.” Like a switch is flipped back on, he’s a regal and terrifying monarch again.

“It’s first shift for the kitchen staff, my keias, I didn’t- if I had known-”

You look up at the clock, realizing just now how late- or early, really, it is. If you were still on the planet, the prince would be getting up to start his duties soon, so... conceivably? A cook would need that head start for a fancy breakfast.

“Yeah, thanks,” you say, twisting your body to protect your nakedness as you find your shirt. Though, through your panic and drunkenness, you can’t seem to locate your bra. Oh well, the sooner you’re out here, the better. “Sorry we wrecked the place, this should have been a bedroom activity, anyways.”

And then you drag the sole heir of Lolth’s monarchal throne out of the kitchen before he decides to kill that poor cook.

[meear]

it’s me, bitching about Bertholdt again

“there is no time for Bertholdt it’s the end of the world” no fuck that noise, there was time. one could MAYBE accept that excuse to explain the way everyone ignored Porco and Colt after they died (and I still think it’s an awful dumbass choice because there was nothing preventing Isayama to explore it for a little bit anyway. if there is room for Marco, there is room for that, he just needs to write it in. it’s not like anyone would’ve called it unrealistic if Pieck had mentioned Porco once or if Falco had mourned his brother for more than one panel). 

But Bertholdt died in chapter 84. this is bullshit. 

Isayama had 50+ chapters to give us a satisfying closure. Erwin and Bertholdt died at the EXACT same time and yet he made sure to make room for Erwin. it’s just a really bad excuse. there was time in Marley, before the Liberio attack. There was the time when Armin blew up the port as the Colossal. there was the time when the alliance joined Reiner, or when Reiner and Annie saw each other again. there was that time in the forest when they were talking about Marco, or when Yelena mentioned Bertholdt and there wasn’t even a shot of Reiner’s face(wtf). there was the time when Armin got shot and he was literally healing in front of Reiner. opportunities were clearly there, Isayama just didn’t take them.

now that there are two chapters left, yeah NOW there is no time no shit. even if isayama was somehow saving Bertholdt to give him a moment at the very end, it doesn’t erase the fact that Reiner and Annie (who are just people inside the story) basically forgot about him until this point. it doesn’t explain the weird way they treated bertholdt’s death. 

It’s still bad writing even if the last two chapters were somehow about Bertholdt and Bertholdt only (lmao) because not only the journey to get there is absolutely ridiculous, to have ONE big scene to solve everything is unsatisfying. to cram the whole conflict in a few pages, even if it’s solved in the end, that’s unsatisfying.

I’m not explaining myself very well but I think the way Porco/Reiner was handled is a good example.

the first time we meet Porco, he is established as having a grudge against Reiner because of what happened to Marcel. the flashbacks tell us that they also had a rivalry over the armored titan before that. in this conflict, though Reiner used to fight back, he grew up to be more passive and accept Porco’s hostility because of his own guilt. 

so how does this get solved? do we just take a few pages the next chapter to let Reiner tell the truth to Porco, Porco forgives everything and then they never mention it again? no because that’s boring and it would ruin their whole dynamic

the next time we see Porco, Reiner interrupts him before he says something incriminating when marleyan officers are listening in, which Porco notices 

the next time Porco and Reiner’s relationship is showcased, Colt worries about Falco becoming a titan, which make Porco say that “the conditions for becoming a titan are quite vague”, a throwback to his own conflict with Reiner, and the grice brothers parallel the galliards. we can see Porco is a bit upset after this conversation.

after that, Reiner saves Porco’s life, and him waking up from a nightmare is a direct reference to their 1st scene together, except this time Porco is facing Reiner and he offers him something to drink. 

at the very end, they fight together and after seeing Marcel’s memories, Porco gets eaten to save Reiner and someone else’s little brother which is a very nice conclusion to his character arc, using the themes of sacrifice and protection that surrounded their whole relationship. Galliard even does it again when he returns from the dead. good writing Porco 10/10

basically their conflict was given time to breathe and change, and it made chapter 119 that much more rewarding. it’s thanks to all those little scenes scattered through the whole arc. Kaya and Gabi were also done pretty well

... now let’s compare that to Jean and Reiner’s resolution over Marco. I don’t mean to say it was bad btw, because I don’t think it was at all and I enjoyed it. It’s actually one of the chapters I read most often. but the method was very different : this time it was more “one big conversation to solve everything”, when it’s way more satisfying to see a relationship evolving over the course of several chapters instead of having one chapter where they work everything out, move on to something else and never address it again because “they already did that”... like that’s not how human beings function??? we had Jean beat Reiner up, violently wake him up and tell him he’ll never forgive him, 10 chapters later we see Jean still cares a lot for him, but there was nothing in between?? it’s not that I think it’s impossible but why can’t we focus on the journey a little more?? 

Which is why I think it’s too late for Bertholdt to be properly addressed no matter what Isayama does, for the mere reason that there are only 2 chapters left so it’s impossible to have a fulfulling build up. Not when Reiner missed literally every key moment to remember his existence. at best Bertholdt will get the Marco treatment. which was more than fine for Marco. not Bertholdt. im not done complaining about this

[elizabethrobertajones]

Hello there. I have a question (more like a thesis): What would have happened if Cas told the Truth anywhere between season 7 and 15? Do you think it would have had the same impact on Dean? Logically speaking Cas could have told him anytime.

Oh gosh, yes. I mean Dean’s reaction in season 15 is still the best it could have been really :P He was in the best place and most accepting of himself and he still had a BSOD for a moment and then Cas had to shove him away so he could go die... (Assuming you take the on screen boring presentation of what happened as canon and not throw in the reciprocation, tears, pull in for a kiss, etc that we know exists either in our hearts or on Jackles’ phone.)

I’ve been thinking about this and the parameters we’d have to apply if we were gonna get something like the show being self-healing back to its self as we know it but we were allowed a confession. Also the show has to be as punishing as ever. So these are my personal theses on each season... 

Season 7 the confession would have to be after Cas comes back, and everything in 7x17 that looked like Dean was jealous of Daphne and Meg textually was meant to be read that way in the set up for the confession. To make it the most painful obviously we still get Cas exactly as he was all through to the end of the season and he never really says anything too different but then right when they’re having the “cursed or not” discussion he’d bust out of nowhere that he supposes it is inevitable Dean would talk him into going on this dangerous mission to get Dick because obviously Cas loves him. And Dean, who is in a weirdly zen sort of place in the remaining minutes of season 7 after Bobby’s send off and final words that helped him go make up with Cas, is in a similarly season 15 oddly okay spot, mental health wise. At least. COMPARED TO ALL THE REST OF SEASON 7. But I still personally have always read it as a genuinely good place for him that could have endured much longer if not for *gestures everything that happened after stabbing Dick* and obviously making up with Cas was step one and a huge part of his process. 

(idk if you’ve noticed but 7x23 pretty much has no Sam and Dean interaction after Bobby’s send off, and their last good broments are really scarce; it feels sort of natural for abrupt calamity and no time for teary farewells in a season with a strong commentary on grief, which also hyperfocuses the attention on Dean n Cas there.)

So I think Dean would maybe be stunned but maybe quirk a sceptical smile like “He can’t mean it like that and anyway he’s currently coo-coo, this doesn’t mean anything hahaha oh Cas :)))” and then idk shake his head and move the story on and Cas just turns one longing look after him like “dammit that didn’t work out like planned” 

Anyway then the exact plot beats of 7x23 follow, exactly as seen on your screens, but we’re left going into season 8 and Carver era with Dean far far more messed up about Cas and it can force clarification in 8x02 in Purgatory where Cas is entirely adamant he meant what he meant and furious at Dean for being mad at him and Dean’s mad at Cas for all the season 8 reasons so they continue angsting at each other but Benny’s reaction shots are just 10x funnier. This is followed by Dean’s reciprocation of “I love you” instead of “I need you” in the crypt scene in 8x17 and from there honestly it’s been built up into canon in such a way that the emotional arc of the show has to go off the wheels and I can’t keep to the self-healing model to continue following the “real” plot and contain this much raw power.

Coincidentally, if the first confession is in season 8, it would be “what broke the connection” after a season 8 where nothing was different up until that point. Cas flaps off while Dean is still processing that the answer was “You. I love you.” and Dean is left yelling at the empty crypt like “What the hell, Cas?!” 

Then he’s as mad at him as he was in canon except instead of being borderline a really bad overreaction into his anger phase which we have to weather as miserable fans tethered to this ship who know sometimes Dean gets mad and yells at Cas for no reason, he’s reacting proportionately. It’s always seemed like 8x22 only makes sense if Dean is furious at Cas for confessing and fleeing except, obviously, in our “”real”” canon, it can only be like Cas confessed and Dean took it that way and also felt embarrassed how far he went with his own feelings only for Cas to run. 

This would make the bar scene with the cupids in 8x23 make a lot more sense too, and after they get the cupid bow Dean’s going to turn to Cas and give him a nervous smile, and then - Naomi flaps in like she does and distracts them away from reciprocation. 

I think this one could go long - maybe even season 13 Cas being dead and Dean being like “FUCK I never got a chance to work things out with him” and 13x06 onwards is where we get any actual work on the ship, because Carver era was so determined to be emotionally gruelling and unsatisfying and relentless from one issue to the next. And the confessions are so bound up specifically in the moments of miscommunication or failed attempts, cut off conversations etc that whether Destiel is canon or not, they’re never gonna get to talk it out under those conditions. Cas is only explicitly the grieving wife and jealous ex to Crowley’s smug take over of Dean’s affections rather than subtextually. 

The season 9 confession... I feel like we’d come perilously close to the Monkey Paw curse we once envisioned of Buckleming making it canon because they love jumping the gun on plot points and making them too obvious. So the end of 9x03, Cas is really blatantly angling to come in with a big “Hey I’m human can I live in the Bunker look at me I learned to do The Sex can we do it now” kind of vibe. All the enthusiasm he was giving to eating that burrito in the background while “Zeke” was trying to get him kicked out, but with lusting over Dean :P 

If we avoid that we can leap to Mr Bobo Berens and his first episode, and have this thing handled by a pro, as it’s already very much about Cas as a homeless queer man with a bad ex he still loves rolling into town where he’s just trying to make a new life and play straight - I mean human - for his own survival. I suspect the confrontation with Iphraim would make it really obvious that Cas didn’t just want to live as a human but had an eye for living as a human with Dean, and then he’d attempt a confession right before Dean would accidentally talk over, like, the L in “love” honestly, to tell him that sorry things do still stand that you can’t come back with me. Leaves Cas utterly devastated but Dean is none the wiser and he drives off and Cas pines piningly at the pine trees in his Gas n Sip. 

Again the end of season probably would force the real confession, since there’s a ready made moment in 9x22 where Hannah tries to force Cas to kill Dean and he gives it all up for one man. Cas can just lower that knife and be like, “No, I love him,” talking to his shoes and Hannah rather than meeting Dean’s eyes. Mark of Cain Dean is fuuuucked up at that point but we still get the moment where Dean carries Cas’s bag into the bunker and sits down with him and tries to care about his health and now also this confession. Sussing out what the heck is up with Cas, and maybe he looks like he’s playing it cool and is still so messed up but Cas is vulnerable, and finally Dean starts to reach across the library table for his hand, and it’s a moment where maybe things could have started to go better for them...... Cue Gadreel walking into the library, Dean going feral, blah blah demon!Dean, blah blah explicitly stated Drowley, blah blah muuuch healing and Cas giving Dean a wide berth for a lil while. Though, in this scenario, 10x22 is far worse but has the reverse crypt scene moment, so Dean can be more obviously unable to kill Cas because he loves him, and then he walks out, followed by season 11 and Cas being returned to them. Unfortunately. Yep. Another finger curls on the Monkey Paw... 11x03 by Buckleming would absolutely be where Destiel goes undeniably canon as it is their first real interactions post Mark of Cain. Our only consolation - directed by Jensen Ackles.

Season 10 confession, hm. Poor Cas. He has the option of 10x03, of confessing and then immediately apologising and walking off to handle stuff with Hannah (thanks Buckleming!) or the Burger Date, where Dean may be slightly less stunned stupid but still likely to laugh it off and not believe it. There’s not much heavy tension between them most of the season so it’s possible that the only time Cas would really get is to confess in 10x22 while telling Dean that he would have to watch him murder the world, and that would suck because I love you. At which point the story dictates that Dean beats Cas to paste so it’s a very bad look. Season 10 destiel confession is the worst. 

Season 11 may be better because Cas has options to be jealous of Crowley and Dean’s connection to Amara multiple times and then Casifer happens and that can really play up things in a season where a confession is coming. 

I think the Beer Run in 11x23 might be the only viable place, where Dean grabs Cas and takes him out for that drive for last drinks before the end of the world. Cas gets the “you’re our brother” thing and just lays into Dean with the certainty of someone who knows this is it - now or nothing - with “You know that’s crap, Dean. You wait until the end of the world and you can’t even say it. Well I can; I love you.” 

Cue awkward tension, well-placed interrupting Moose, and then the world very much not ending so that when Dean n Cas hug and kiss in front of Mary in 12x01. Well. There’s even more explaining to do to her. Since we’ve made it to Dabb era, I believe any confessions from this point onwards can just slot into the show as we got it from there since it’s entirely compatible to start season 12 assuming Dean n Cas are literally married and never be contradicted by the text in their behaviour. But since we’ve had canon Destiel since whenever, obviously the final episodes are good instead of. That.

Season 12... Going to have to go with the first sniff of true canon coming in Lily Sunder with just a few lines leaning even further in the Cas’s Angel Family Are Homophobic Assholes metaphor, leaving Cas’s relationship with Dean even more live wire exposed. Followed by The Mixtape Scene where Cas is going to confess to Dean and get him startled up out of his seat, accidentally knocking the mixtape to the floor and for a moment it’s like, did he throw it is he mad? but then he’s smooching Cas, fade to black, return to scheduled programming but the whole line about Cas stealing the Colt from under Dean’s pillow makes fuckin sense, as well as the fall out argument and how mad Dean was at Cas followed by how devastated he was at Cas’s death. This just means Dabb era continues as planned except we get a kiss in 13x06 under that big glowy cross, and some more smooching here and there when things are good from then on. 

Season 13... Hm. Cas has to do the confessing and I don’t think he’d throw that at Dean on return from death so unlike if Dean was the one who was being made to confess obviously the aforementioned glowy cross scene obviously would be it for him... Cas could keep that bottled up much longer, especially as he has so much to do with Jack this season. It’s entirely possible we go through the whole season and then Cas lobs it at Dean as a final card when he’s making his Michael decision and we actually see the scene that we didn’t get, where Cas has to watch Dean getting possessed. Except Dean is like, tearful and furious like why would you tell me that now, and anyway i’m doing this for you as well dumbass but fuck you but also how dare you anyway I need to be an archangel now and save our - your - son, bye. Cue Cas sitting there not just in total horror at what happened but also kicking himself for fucking up the moment :P I guess this way at least we can have that moment where Dean is un-Michaeled and tells Cas he’s going to shower and finger guns at him, and now we can have Cas wordlessly and furiously follow him. 

Season 14, we get Cas at Rocky’s bar confessing to Dean while figment!Pamela cheers the whole thing on. If there was EVER a time to use the power of love to snap Dean out of it, Cas upsetting his cosy routine with “this isn’t real, I’M NOT HERE IN YOUR FANTASY” is absolutely the time to pull a reverse crypt scene which has such low stakes in terms of neither of them needing to punch each other when Michael is an external aggressor.

My ONLY issue with this is that Sam has to witness the whole thing and we would get reaction shots and I am a weak mortal who will start cackling at them when I’m supposed to be having the transcendent moment of canon and the whole thing would be ruined just because of the way Jared gurns when doing reactions to dean n cas interacting. Wow thanks. Thanks a lot. 

[thefandomsinhalor]

Title: What the Heart Misses

Author: thefandomsinhalor

Written for: @destielsecretsanta2020​ 

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Castiel/ Dean Winchester

Word count: 5K

Rated G | No Archive Warnings Apply | Canon Divergent | Dean Winchester Loves Castiel | Gift Exchange | Sam Knows | S15E14 - Last Holiday | Fluff | Christmas | No Empty Deal |

Summary: 

After learning that the Winchesters and Jack celebrated Christmas with Mrs. Butters, Castiel takes the opportunity to give Dean a Christmas present. Which then prompts Dean to reflect on the nature of their bond.

Merry Christmas to @castielsbeeslippers​​  😊💜💙 (surprise!!) who wanted a fluffy fic with Cas and bees! I hope you like it!!

Read on AO3

----

“What the hell is this?”

“It’s a gift. For you.”

Dean, sipping on his morning coffee in the bunker’s kitchen, shot a suspicious glance at Castiel when his friend placed a flashy green box with a big red bow on it in front of him.

“Yeah, I got that, Cas. I mean, why are you giving me a present? It’s not Christmas or my birthday.”

“That’s true. But Jack mentioned that you celebrated the holiday the other day with Mrs. Butters. We were discussing the concept of Christmas and that got me thinking. I realized that I had never taken part in the tradition before. So, I thought of changing that even if I missed the celebration the other day.”

“That’s, um, nice.” And then, Dean immediately felt the need to add, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“And yet, I did,” he said calmly.

Unsure what to say, Dean simply nodded at him, and after gently putting down his cup, he began undoing the bow. He had to admit that he was partially curious to see what Castiel, of all people, could have possibly thought of giving him as a Christmas present.

Almost nervous about it, he was surprised, however, by the actual contents of the box.

Ties.

Three of them.

Made of soft woven silk.

And all three of them had bees depicted on them.

A golden yellow one, with honeycomb print at the bottom and a few bees near the top.

Another one that was a charcoal color, with tiny bees serving as pattern all over the tie. So small, in fact, they barely seemed like bees, which rendered the tie surprisingly classic-looking.

And one blue tie, with a few doodled bees on it.

Which was instantly Dean’s favourite.

Smiling at the corner of his mouth, after eyeing Castiel briefly, he picked up that last one to examine it closer.

It was far from being something he would have selected for himself. After all, flannel and jeans were more his style over suits to begin with, even less so the overly fashioned ties.

And yet, the fact that Castiel had apparently taken the time to choose these specifically for him could not do anything short of bringing a smile to his lips.

“Bees, huh?”

“I tried to find ones with patterns of pies, but I didn’t succeed. I thought—you don’t have to wear them if you feel they will clash with your suit. I simply wished to offer you an alternative.”

Keeping his eyes on the tie, Dean said, “I like them, Cas. Thank you. Can’t wait to try it on.”

And Dean had meant every word. Just over a week later, when he and Sam were sharing a quick lunch with Donna, while reviewing a possible case involving a wraith down in Rochester, Dean had made sure to tuck a napkin into his collar to not soil his blue tie with bees. Once he was done with his bacon cheese burger, which had been delicious, and wanted to study more properly the files Donna had brought them, he pushed his plate aside and freed himself of his napkin.

“Oooh, that’s a neat tie you got there, Dean,” said Donna.

Mildly grinning, he said, “I know.” He lifted his eyes from the document and added, “Cas gave it to me. I know it’s not super ‘professional-looking’ but I thought, what the hell? Why not?”

“He also kind of really likes it,” said Sam, harboring his most serious expression that Dean and everyone else knew was fake. “Like, really likes it. He wore it every day this week.”

Smirking, Donna nodded. “Gotcha.”

Suddenly feeling somewhat exposed, Dean cleared his throat. “I—so? What if I did?” Then, as he fixed his tie, he added, more to himself than to the others, “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Of course, there’s nothing wrong with that, Dean. I wasn’t suggesting there was. Quite the opposite, actually.” Seemingly about to elaborate further on his viewpoint, Sam then turned quiet and stabbed his salad with his fork, adopting a casual attitude.

Dean frowned at his brother. His patent change of behaviour hadn’t fooled him. It was clear that Sam had more to say on the subject and Dean was now curious to hear his opinion. He let the matter go, however, when Donna received a phone call informing her that another body had been found, thus prompting the trio to abruptly end their lunch and return to work.

He came back to the topic by the evening though. With the case closed and behind them, they warmly said goodbye to Donna, and soon after they hit the road to return to the bunker, Dean asked, “Why were you giving me crap about liking my tie?”

“I wasn’t. I’m honestly glad you’re enjoying it.”

“Good. Because I am. It was really thoughtful of him to do this.”

“No argument there. I don’t want to say I’m surprised, but…yeah, I really like the book he gave me too.”

“What?” Dean glanced at him, while also carefully keeping an eye on the road. “What do you mean? What book?”

“For Christmas,” said Sam as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“He—he gave you a present too?”

“Yeah. And Jack.” Sam observed him for a moment and then, assessing Dean’s mild confusion, he asked, “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” His eyes back on the road, he fell silent for as long as he could, until he blurted out, “What kind of book? And what did he give Jack?”

“Um, he—he gave Jack a Star Wars movie collection. He’s been going through them again all week long in—”

“—in the Dean Cave,” said Dean, now understanding where the kid disappeared to in the evenings. “Good thing Mrs. B. fixed the TV.”

“Yeah.”

“And what was yours?”

“I got a book about the most notorious serial killers of the past decade.”

Dean blinked. “Wow. That’s—yeah. That’s…tell the truth: had you read it before?”

“No. It just came out a few weeks ago. And it’s really cool. I’m on the chapter about H. H. Holmes, and I gotta say, considering our insight about the guy, it’s riveting.”

Amused at his brother’s weird interest, Dean shook his head. And while he had other questions regarding Sam’s opinion on Castiel’s presents, his train of thought took a turn when something else occurred to Dean.

Particularly once he compared the gifts.

“You okay?”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah. Just—it’s been a long day and I can’t wait to be home, that’s all.”

On the following morning, after a few not-so-restful hours of sleep, Dean got frustrated from all the tossing and turning, so he left his warm bed and hurried to the kitchen in order to get the day started.

The room was spotless, and just as he had predicted, he found Mrs. Butters already waiting for him.

“Good Morning, Dean.”

Wishing her the same, he took a seat at the table. She quickly put down a plate with a western omelette and fruits on the side, as well as a cup of freshly brewed coffee for him.

“Thank you,” he mumbled. But despite being famished, Dean froze, utensils in hands, and simply stared at his plate.

“Not hungry this morning?”

“No. I am. I—I don’t know.” He put down his fork and knife and let out a deep sigh.

“Oh, dear. Would you like a grilled cheese instead?” she asked and seemingly manifested another plate out of thin air.

“For breakfast?” he said, trying to contain his glee (and failing at it).

“Why not?” She delicately dropped the plate in front of him. “You look like you could do with some cheering up.”

“Is this your way of telling me I look like crap?” he asked her, already chewing on his sandwich, which prompted Mrs. Butters to squint at him about manners.

“I feel like a few additional hours of sleep would have done you good, yes.” She returned to the stove where a few pots and pans were sizzling and boiling. But she kept her stare on him. “Anything the matter?”

That was the question.

He didn’t want to admit it, but his conversation with Sam had bothered him. While he was delighted at the thought that Castiel had been generous with Sam and Jack as well, something that didn’t surprise Dean that profoundly, this revelation had forced him to re-evaluate his own present.

And the more he thought about it, the more it left him with a pit in his stomach.

What Castiel had chosen for Sam and Jack had been perfect for them. If he was honest, Dean wasn’t sure he could have done better himself. Jack had been geeking out about Star Wars since basically his fourth day on this earth, and Sam had his odd fascination about serial killers. Perfect.

And then, there was his present.

Ties with bees on it.

Not exactly something that “screamed” Dean.

And yet, for some reason, Dean had genuinely enjoyed the ties. He had been touched by his kindness and attention. And while ties and bees weren’t things Dean held a deep fascination for, he knew that it was, in some ways, an interest to Castiel.

And that had meant something to him.

Until, that was, he learned of Sam and Jack’s presents.

Now, he felt like his gift was impersonal. Like Castiel hadn’t know what to give him, so he had picked the first thing he had thought of.

And that, above all, bothered Dean. It saddened him, even. Not that he believed himself superior to the others, but Dean, for quite some time now, had been under the impression that he might be something else to Castiel.

“What’s the matter, dear?”

“Oh, um, no—nothing.” He took another bite of his tasty grilled cheese.

Mrs. Butters left her pots once more and joined him at the table, sensing his hesitation.

“Now, now. Something is troubling you. What is it?”

Shifting on his seat, he said, “Not important.”

Unsatisfied with his lie, she took his plate and the second half of the grilled cheese with it.

“Hey!”

“You will get it back as soon as you answer truthfully.” She gave him a menacing look.

Annoyed, Dean momentarily considered abandoning the rest of his grilled cheese to save himself from an awkward conversation.

But his stomach growled and he knew it was a lost battle.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll tell you. Can I have my sandwich back though? Please?”

She held her severe stare for a little longer, assessing his words, and once she judged his tone to be honest, she nodded and returned his plate to him.

“So, I have this—you know who Cas is, right?”

She nodded. “Your friendly angel. Jack’s third adoptive father.”

“Um. Yeah. I—I—him.”

“What about him?”

“Well, he—after you made Christmas happen, Cas gave me—us—Christmas presents.”

“How kind!” she said joyfully.

“Yeah.”

He swallowed hard.

“It wasn’t?”

“It’s just…I’m—I loved the gift—I’m just confused as to why he gave me this.”

“May I ask what it was?”

Dean told her.

Mrs. Butters studied him for a moment and then said, “Were you hoping for something else? Something specific in mind?”

She had said it in such a playful tone it had almost made Dean feel uncomfortable.

Transparent, one might have said.

“I wasn’t expecting anything at all. So, no. No—nothing specific.”

“But you are disappointed.”

“I—I don’t know. No. I’m just…I was happy about it because I—I thought it might have meant—but now I feel like I may have misunderstood.”

“Hmm.”

Desperate to avoid her stare, Dean returned to his grilled cheese, feeling embarrassed by the nature of the discussion.

It was too early in the morning for this.

He remained with his eyes glued to the table for a short time. Once his plate was empty, however, he had no choice but to glance at her.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” she finally asked him.

“What?”

“You say that your friend gave you a present, which you really loved, but that you are now questioning the original intent of the gift. Correct?”

He nodded, determined to not lower his eyes.

“It seems to me that you need to shed light on the situation. So, how do you suggest to go about it?”

This question brought Dean a worrisome thought. Exciting, in parts, but worrisome.

“I—I was thinking that, um, maybe—” he started saying, but the rest of his sentence died in his throat.

“Maybe what?”

“I—I was just thinking that maybe I should do the same. Maybe I should get him something.” He cleared his throat and awkwardly looked to his left, even though nothing remotely interesting was happening there. “Maybe that will, um, help clarify a few things that I—yeah.”

“That’s a wonderful idea.”

Dean let out a short laugh, feeling embarrassed more than ever, as he was deeply praying that Sam—or anyone else, really—would never hear of this conversation.

“What kind of gift were you thinking of?” she asked, utterly invested.

“I—I have no idea.”

“Do you intend to give him something practical? Something he may need?”

Dean pursed his lips. “Not really. It’s not like he really needs anything…he’s an angel.”

“I see. Then, something he enjoys, perhaps? Does he have any type of hobbies?”

“Not…that I know of. He likes bees. And emoticons. And…yeah.”

After a short pause, she then said, “If Castiel doesn’t need anything material, perhaps you can offer him something else, then?”

Swallowing, Dean said, “Like what?”

“I don’t know, dear. He’s your friend. You should know what would please him. As they say, it’s the thought that counts. You are worried that you might have misunderstood something. Perhaps you didn’t. So, think back on the present he gave you and how you felt about it. A nice gesture to symbolize how you feel? That might be a step towards the right direction.”

Following Mrs. Butters’ advice, Dean took time to reflect greatly on the matter at hand. Gifts. Feelings. Meanings.

Which made him even more confused than before.

The fact was that he had previously given Castiel presents. He had even done so on a few occasions, actually. Just never on Christmas. He had done so randomly and simply because he had felt like it at that moment.

Like when he had gotten him a cowboy hat in Dodge City.

And the mixtape.

Of course.

Which Dean didn’t want to dwell on too much. Even if he had meant it. And had certainly not regretted it.

But now, in this context, remembering what Mrs. Butters had told him about his intentions, Dean found the task rather pressuring.

The main problem was that most of everything that came to Dean’s mind that could qualify as “a nice gesture” were things that he would have no problem doing under any circumstances. Which, in his opinion, lessened the effect.

Well, almost everything.

There were certain ideas that could potentially work. They would definitely make some things clear. Be that as it may, Dean wasn’t entirely sure that was the way he wanted to go at this. Mainly because he wasn’t convinced that Castiel would necessarily find it charming—for the lack of a better word—nor did Dean, for the time being, want to get ahead of himself.

One problem at a time.

From the moment the darn ideas had set into his head, however, it had been difficult to get rid of them, to the point that it had rendered him distressed.

Which was why he decided, quite beside himself, to ask Sam for help.

“So, I was thinking,” said Dean, attempting to sound casual, but inevitably failing at it, “since Cas’s been through the trouble of getting us something, maybe we should do the same.”

Sam, not lifting his eyes from his book, nodded. “Cool.”

In the hope that his brother would share a little more insight on the matter, Dean remained still, waiting for Sam to start his usual brainstorming session.

But nothing.

He simply turned the page of his book. He continued reading, sitting across the table. He didn’t say anything.

Annoyed, Dean said, “Any ideas?”

“What do you want to get him?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m talking to you right now.”

Finally looking at him, Sam said, sighing, “Dean, I’m sure Cas will be happy no matter what you give him.” When it was evident to Sam that Dean hadn’t liked his answer, he added, “You know that you don’t have to get him anything, right? It’s not an obligation.”

Shifting in his seat, Dean said, “Maybe…. maybe I want to. Maybe I—I’ve been meaning to for a while.”

Diverting his eyes, as he knew full well Sam was most undoubtedly staring at him, he waited for him to comment, perhaps tease him, even. But to Dean’s surprise—and relief—Sam did no such thing.

“Dean, if you’re getting at what I think you are—and about freaking time, by the way—I’ll help you. But I really think it ought to come from you. You know?”

Dean nodded shyly, agreeing with Sam’s point.

They remained silent for a brief moment, until Sam, taking pity on his brother, shut his book and said, “How about we go into town? You can check out a few of the local shops on Main Street? I was gonna go later this afternoon for a bit of groceries anyway. Browsing might give you some ideas.”

Dean let out a massive sigh of relief and thanked his brother.

Even though he had difficulty believing that he could find something worthy of an angel of the Lord at a local gift shop.

And his assumption turned out to be correct.

Clothing stores. Bakeries. Electronics. And so on.

None were offering him good ideas.

Some options? Yes.

But again, not the best ones. Not what Dean wanted to convey, at the very least.

Getting slightly discouraged, he was about to leave a quirky coffee shop he had stopped by for refueling, when something on display caught his eye next to the cash register.

A tiny object. An ornament. It wasn’t jewelry. Not exactly. Nor was it flashy. It was simple and effective.

And, more importantly to Dean, it held a sort of statement. Perhaps in an old kind of way. And yet, Dean liked it.

It was perfect.

And then, he spotted another item, which he believed could be complimentary. And Dean knew this was what he needed to get Castiel.

The only aspect left to figure out was when to execute the gift exchange.

Of course, Dean could have simply waited until the next time they saw each other or simply called him on his way back to the bunker.

And while that was what he ultimately did, Dean was then blessed with another idea that could make the exchange far better and less random.

But for that he needed the help of Sam, Jack and Mrs. Butters.

And so, a few hours later, after the others had agreed with his plan, he dressed up—wearing his tie, of course—called Castiel and invited him to the bunker.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Nothing’s wrong. We just—come by. We have something planned.”

Puzzled at the mystery, but nonetheless inclined to oblige, Castiel joined them a few hours following Dean’s call.

And witnessing Castiel’s surprised expression when he entered the bunker had been worth the effort and the wait of the first part of his plan, Dean thought.

“What’s all this?” said Castiel, pointing at the garlands on the ramp. And the Christmas lights around the ceiling. And the large tree in the middle of the war room.

“Mrs. Butters was about to move on to the next holiday, but, um, I—I was hoping we could get a redo before that. So you could enjoy it with us this time around, I mean.”

“That’s…very considerate and inclusive, as it was unnecessary,” said Castiel, nearly apologetic.

“Dean’s right,” said Sam. “Although we hadn’t planned to celebrate, it was kind of a bummer that you weren’t there when we did.”

“And then you were nice enough to offer us presents, which you really didn’t have to. So, I—we thought we could have another go at it. With you this time.”

Castiel, now at the bottom of the stairs, was staring at Dean with a warm expression. His eyes fell on his tie, and he smiled shyly.

“It won’t be an exact replica of how we celebrated the first time around—”

“Mainly because we didn’t want to seem either ungrateful and too capricious to Mrs. Butters,” said Sam, cutting his brother off.

“I would have done it properly, Samuel!” she exclaimed, sounding offended.

“Though she keeps insisting she would have done it,” said Dean under his breath.

“But close enough,” said Sam firmly over his brother’s voice, wanting to put the matter to rest.

After taking another look around the room, with a genuine grin on his face, Castiel thanked them. “That’s very kind of the both of you.”

“You’re welcome,” said Sam. And as he offered him an eggnog, he added, “Just also want to let you know that, while this,” to which he gestured to the room, “was also Jack’s and Mrs. Butter’s doing, as much as mine and Dean’s, it was primarily Dean’s idea though.” And then he added in the most awkward way, “I’m gonna go check on Jack now.”

And made himself scarce.

Mrs. Butters along with him.

Thus, leaving Castiel and Dean alone.

“Is what Sam said true?” asked Castiel, taking a step towards him. “You did this?”

“It was about time we had Christmas together, no?”

Taking a deep breath, Castiel stared at him for a long time. “Again, thank you.”

“No problem. But this is just the beginning.”

“What else have you planned?”

Smiling mischievously, Dean said, “You’ll see.”

The next few hours were filled with jubilation. Mrs. Butters had them carolling, they nearly fell into a sugar coma, and participated to a gingerbread house contest, dutifully orchestrated by Mrs. Butters.

Everyone had a great time. Beaming at one another, they shared a sumptuous meal, which had been prepared by the Winchesters and Jack—not just Mrs. Butters.

They also played games afterwards. Mrs. Butters beat all of them at cards. Sam dominated in Trivia. And while Castiel and Jack failed to understand the concept of Mad Libs, they had both somehow managed to create the most hilarious and nonsensical stories Sam and Dean had ever had the pleasure to hear.

Enjoying himself as much as he was though, Dean felt jitters multiplying within his chest as the evening progressed. He caught himself staring at Castiel more times than would be deemed acceptable, and when they exchanged looks, Dean wasn’t able to do anything but beam at him.

He eagerly awaited an opportunity to give Castiel his present in private.

He almost had done so when everyone had busied themselves by bringing back the dishes to the kitchen. Pulling Castiel aside for a brief moment would have been plausible.

But not ideal.

He seriously contemplated the option to do the same when Sam went to help Jack find some additional board games that they had stashed in one of the storage rooms, but he doubted that they would be gone for very long. And sure enough, Dean had barely had the time to pour himself and everyone else another eggnog before Jack burst into the room, carrying an impressive number of boxes.

But at last, Dean got his chance during Monopoly. Despite everyone’s investment into the game, the general vibe surrounding them was of a mellow mood. So, after retiring from the game because of bankruptcy, and noting that Castiel was soon going to suffer the same fate, Dean momentarily left the room to fetch his present.

He had carefully left it on his bedroom’s desk.

Biting his bottom lip, he stared at the small red box. He pondered one last time on his choice.  

It was a common enough item, like the ties.

And like the ties, to him, it meant something.

And more than anything, Dean couldn’t wait to see what Castiel would think of it.

The anxiety rose within him.

He was satisfied with his choice.

And there was now only one thing left to do.

Dean needed not venture too far though. Just as he exited his room, Castiel turned the corner in the hallway.

“Hey.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“Sam and Jack got the better of you too, huh?”

Castiel came to a halt once he had reached him.

“It appears that I lack financial skills.”

“It happens to the best of us,” said Dean, smirking. But after noticing a hint of uneasiness in Castiel’s eyes, he said calmly, “Everything okay?”

“More than okay. I really enjoyed the evening, thank you.”

“Awesome. I’m glad, Cas.”

“I simply wanted to let you know before you decided to turn in.”

“Oh,” said Dean, glancing behind him. “I wasn’t. Not yet, anyway.” And then at Castiel’s mild perplexity, he added, “I—I actually came to get this.”

He retrieved the little box from his pocket where he had stashed it moments ago, took a look in the hallway, wanting to be sure no one else was seemingly listening, and presented it to Castiel.

“It’s for you. Merry Christmas.”

As his eyes fell on the present, Castiel seemed genuinely surprised by this.

“You didn’t have to do this. The evening was wonderful, I told you.”

“You got me something. I wanted to do the same.” He slightly lifted his hand to incite Castiel to take possession of it.

Which he did, right after returning a warm smile at Dean.

He observed the box for a second, almost as though he was trying to guess what was in it, and began pulling on the thin string.

“Oh, just—before you open it, can I ask a question?”

Castiel stopped and nodded.

“Why did you give me ties? I love them,” he added promptly. “I just—why?”

“Why do you ask?”

After a short hesitation, but determined to be honest, he said, “I heard about what you gave Sam and Jack. I was just curious how you came to decide on that.”

Castiel nodded once more, now understanding Dean’s question.

“Well, the truth is that it was very difficult to find something for you.”

“How so?”

“There are many things that you enjoy, such as alcohol, food, car related items, pornographic magazines,” to which Dean lowered his eyes for a moment, “firearms and so on, that I could have given you. But I deduced that it was…too practical? Or—most definitions of ‘gift’ in dictionaries suggest that it is simply the act of giving something willingly and freely. Almost none speak of the emotional intent of said act, which I thought was unfortunate. I was under the impression that the intention behind a gift mattered more than the gift itself or the very action of giving.”

Shifting on his feet, Dean said in an even voice, as much as he could master, “So, why the ties?”

“I—I was trying to mirror the cassette tape you had given me.”

This was not the answer Dean had expected.

But he liked the way it was going.

“How do you figure that?”

“Rock music is something you adore. You had wanted me to have something you enjoyed. I saw it as something you wanted to share. And it always reminded me of you when I listened to it.”

And with that, Dean knew he had picked the right present.

“Was I wrong in my assessment?” asked Castiel.

And Dean shook his head, feeling his chest swell with fuzzy feelings.

“I know it isn’t the same,” continued Castiel, “but it was more or less what I was trying to convey with the ties. I cannot always be hunting with you as much as I’d wish, but I figured, that way, the ties might remind you of me.”

Dean swallowed hard before saying, “I don’t need the ties for that. You know that, right?”

After exchanging a deep, lingering look, Castiel gave him a shy nod. Feeling the awkwardness rising between them, despite being appeased by Dean’s words, he then finally took it upon himself to open his present.

He momentarily froze, staring at it after the reveal.

It was two small, delicate pins.

A tiny golden bee.

And a colorful piece of pie.

Castiel stared at Dean, stunned, which rendered the task of holding down his grin very difficult for Dean.

“So, the idea was that this one was intended for you, and I—may I?” asked Dean, as he stepped closer.

Castiel nodded.

Taking hold of the golden bee pin, he said, “I didn’t exactly mean to go all fifties with this, but I—I don’t know, I liked it and thought you might as well.”

“I do like it,” he said earnestly.

Glad, Dean took a deep breath and with a short nod at his upper chest, he silently asked Castiel if he wished to wear it now.

Castiel stepped forward.

As Dean delicately pinned the golden bee on Castiel’s jacket collar lapel, he heard him say softly, “Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“When you say ‘going all fifties,’ are you referring to courtsh—what did you mean?”

Done with his task, Dean gently pressed on the pin to make sure it was safely attached, and stepped back. And met Castiel’s eyes.

“It’s as you thought. That’s why I got another one. That one is for me.”

He processed what Dean had just told him, and as he was reaching out for him, Castiel began saying, “Dean, I—I want—”

Unfortunately, something interrupted him. A loud horn was heard, making them both jump. Unfamiliar with the new alarm, Castiel questioningly frowned at Dean. Amused at his confusion, Dean explained, as loudly as he could over the horn, “Mrs. B.” and “Monster radar.”

Which only brought Castiel additional questions.

The moment the racket was over, before Dean even had time to utter another word, Sam, coming from down the hall, called for them with a sense of urgency in his voice. Castiel turned himself in that direction, while remaining at Dean’s side.

With their shoulders touching.

When Sam finally appeared before them, he said, “So—sorry, I’m sorry. I hope I—I didn’t mean to barge in—”

“It’s fine,” Dean told him. “What’s up?”

“Rugarus. Almost half a dozen of them in Concordia according to the radar.”

“Awesome.”

“I know it’s late and that you—but I don’t think we can wait any longer. And I—I’d go with Jack, but he has to stay hidden because—”

But Dean cut him off. “It’s okay, Sam. No worries. We’ll be there in a minute.”

Sam gave them both an apologetic nod and turned on his heels, eager to leave them be.

Once he was sure that his brother was out of earshot, Dean refocused his attention to Castiel. “What were you going to say?”

“It can wait. Duty calls.” His tone hadn’t been grim. Or even with a hint of disappointment. Simply as a matter of fact.

But he stayed put, facing Dean, with no effort to leave.

“You’re right,” said Dean. “It can wait. There’s just one—a couple of things—I’d like to cover before we join Sam though.” He lowered his eyes to the box Castiel was still holding.

Letting out a faint laugh, Castiel said, “I’ll put it on you right now if that’s what you want. But considering where we are heading, shouldn’t we wait? I don’t want you to lose it. Maybe I should even keep this one safe.”

He lifted his hand to reach for his pin, but Dean stopped him. Holding his hand, he said, “Don’t worry about that, it will stay on.”

“Aren’t these fragile? I told you, I don’t want to break it or lose it.”

“You won’t. I took care of that. I—Mrs. B. helped me. She—just trust me, the only way this is getting off your coat is because you, and no one else, wills it.”

There was a short pause. “Then you are right. It will stay on.”

He lifted the box and installed Dean’s pin in turn.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

“Dean, will you let me know when you will celebrate the next holiday? I’d like to be there.”

Giving his hand a squeeze, he said, “No way we are doing this without you. I’m looking forward to experiencing the rest of them with you.” And knowing that Sam was waiting, he said, “Just one last little thing before we end this one though.”

“What’s that?”

And Dean, slowly leaning in, breathed, “A kiss.”

And he was granted his wish.

                                                        THE END

[kittyprincessofcats]

RWBY Volume 8, Episode 14 - The Final Word

Thoughts on the final episode of RWBY Vol 8 under the cut.

Also, I will from now on reblog spoilers for Volume 8, which will be tagged with “RWBY v8 spoilers” if you want to blacklist them.

tw: Since the episode itself had the same content warning, I should mention that I will be discussing themes of suicide in this post.

Also, everything I’m about to say is *my* personal opinion. I’m not trying to tell anyone else that they’re supposed to feel the same way about anything in this episode. In turn, please don’t tell me how to feel about it either.

- I should start by bringing up what I said in my post about episode 13, because all of that is going to become relevant now:

So... that all aged... interestingly.

- Next, I should say that I actually did end up getting spoiled about Penny’s death. I was trying really hard and didn’t go into any tags, but literally one day before this episode was released to the public, Tumblr recommended me two blogs with the titles “Penny deserved better” and “Justice for Penny Polendina”… so I drew my conclusions from that. And while I think those blog titles are valid sentiments, I do wish people would wait a week before putting spoilers in a blog title. But then again, I was weirdly glad to get spoiled this time, because it meant I was more emotionally prepared.

- And now, on to my very controversial opinion about this finale: I… uhm… I actually liked it. There, I said it. I liked it. I’m seeing a lot of takes from people who hated it, and that’s totally fair, but personally, to my own surprise, I liked it. (It’s kind of interesting that last time I said it would be “awful writing” to kill Penny now, then it happened, now the whole fandom is complaining about it being awful writing… and I’m here going “actually… that wasn’t so bad”.) That’s not to say that I’m a fan of everything in this finale, especially re: Penny – but overall, the good outweighed the bad *for me*. (Stressing again that this is just how *I* feel.)

- I think the main reason I feel that way is because I honestly expected way worse. If you read that thing I wrote last week^, you see I expected multiple character deaths. I was incredibly nervous. And after I’d already spent a few minutes genuinely thinking Yang died (because of a badly worded episode 13 spoiler I accidently saw), I had to think about the kind of deaths that would be a dealbreaker for me and make me drop the show. (Let’s say it like this: If either of Bumbleby ever died for real, I would be done with this show immediately.) So, in short, I was terrified of the finale and expected it to be the kind of finale that ruins the show for me (which has happened in far too many fandoms so far) – and it wasn’t. I have mixed feelings about how they handled Penny’s story, too, but this finale didn’t ruin the show for me and I honestly felt way worse after the Volume 3 finale. Maybe that’s because I wasn’t prepared for it at the time, but this time I spent a whole week being super anxious, so when I’d actually finished the finale, I just felt overwhelming relief.

- Okay, so let’s talk Penny: Back in Episode 12, I already wasn’t a huge fan of the idea to make her human (if that even is what she was?), but I think I said I’d reserve judgment on it until we see where they go with it. Obviously, it feels unsatisfying to have the show just kill her off after everyone’s been trying to save her all volume. And of course, it’s never fun to see a favorite character of yours (and Penny is definitely a favorite of mine) get killed off. The way it happened (a character who’s been trying to sacrifice herself the whole volume finally doing so through assisted suicide, even though there could have been several potential ways to still save her) feels incredibly unsatisfying and depressing as well. The “heroic sacrifice” cliché isn’t new, but there’s still a difference between a sacrifice that feels necessary and like it really was the only way (Hazel, Vine) and one that feels more like a character being over-eager to sacrifice themselves even though there might have been alternatives (Penny). So really, I understand why people don’t like this, especially because the narrative, so far, seems to validate Penny’s choice by having her plan work. And that does send the opposite of the “fight for every life”, “no one is replaceable” message this volume had been going for until then.

- And this is why, I think Penny’s death is meant to be awful. Volume 9 might prove me wrong on this, but I think we haven’t seen the end of this storyline yet. For me personally, it’s too early to judge this plot-point by itself because it depends a lot on how they deal with it in the aftermath and how things go from here. (For instance: I hated Pyrrha’s death at first because going into a fight she knew she couldn’t win also felt like a needless heroic sacrifice to me. It was only how the aftermath of it was handled from there that made me be okay with it.) So basically, what I’m asking is: How will the other characters handle Penny’s death now? Will Ruby (or anyone else) get angry at Jaune for agreeing to kill her? How will Ruby grieve in general? And, most importantly: Will the narrative really treat Penny’s choice as the “right” one or will it challenge that view? (And was there maybe more going on that we know because I’ve been reading those “Penny is alive” theories and… oh boy.) So yeah – for me it depends on how it gets handled from here.

- Also, I just want to say that I really appreciate RT putting a suicide trigger warning in the beginning of the episode and I wish people wouldn’t twist that into a bad thing. (I’ve seen some takes along the lines of “If they had to put a warning, that means they were aware it’s a harmful message, so that makes it worse” and… please don’t do that. Content creators putting trigger warnings on things is a good thing. Also, this might be a controversial take, but I don’t think fiction always has to “send a good message and teach you a lesson.” The important thing is that RT were aware that this episode could be upsetting/distressing to people and that’s why they put a warning and the suicide hotline’s number in the description.)

- Anyway, I’ve been rambling for too long. My point is: I understand the criticisms and agree with some of them, but I hope the writers know what they’re doing here and I want to believe that they do. I also love all the theories about Penny coming back (in Winter’s mind, for example) and I think they’re not actually that unlikely. And if Penny doesn’t come back, then honestly, I’m okay with that, too. At the end of the day, she’s a fictional character. I can always go and read fanfictions where she’s alive and lives happily ever after with Ruby and nothing that happens in canon can ever take that away. Canon only has as much power as you want it to have. I can enjoy the canon show and the story they’re telling (even if Penny is dead for good this time), while still also enjoying my AUs where she’s fine. One doesn’t harm the other.

- (Also, let me take this moment to shamelessly promote my favorite cartoon show because I think this is relevant to the interests of anyone who hates the “person who’s been trying to sacrifice themselves the whole time ends up doing just that” story: The main character in She-Ra and the Princesses of Power is self-sacrificial to the point of it being unhealthy, but the show explicitly doesn’t treat this as a good thing. When she tries to sacrifice herself for the greater good in the final arc and says it’s better that way, this is treated as a problem, and the lesson she ends up learning in the end is her life has value, too, and that she deserves to be happy. (The show’s also very gay.)

- I don’t know if brought any of this across properly. Basically… I’m not happy about where they went with Penny either, but I am okay with it. I still enjoyed the finale and will continue to enjoy the show. And I want to focus on the things that make me happy about RWBY and made me happy about the finale, so I’ll talk about the rest of the episode now (while rewatching it because I’ll forget stuff otherwise):

- Have I mentioned I really love the Volume 8 opening? Because I really do.

- That shot of the destroyed whale is still awesome.

- I love how the episode opens with all the fights we left off with (Winter vs. Ironwood, Penny vs. Cinder, Harriet vs. Qrow, Ruby vs. Neo) and cuts between them. Also, the music is amazing!

- Elm admitting that Harriet is their friend and that being what finally gets through to her was a nice conclusion to their little arc, I guess. Vine’s sacrifice and his admittance that they’re his friends and he’s doing this for them were touching. Honestly, Harriet is right to blame herself for his death. That said, while this volume made me strongly dislike her, I do hope she now gets an arc about actually dealing with her grief and changing. I think that would be way more interesting to see than still having her be bitter, especially after what happened in this episode.

- Qrow causing good luck to stop the bomb was a nice little moment and honestly makes sense. Good luck and bad luck are just a matter of perspective, after all. What’s bad luck for yourself will be good luck for your enemies and vice versa. So, maybe Qrow technically caused “bad luck” for the bomb? Either way, I like the idea of him realizing that his semblance is more than what he thought.

- Cinder breathing fire during the fight was awesome. I need GIFs of that.

- Blake was amazing in this episode! I love that she didn’t let her grief over Yang consume her, but got up and kept fighting, kicked Cinder in the face and told Weiss to get up. Good stuff!

- I wonder if Cinder’s “You should have never been born” line to Ruby was just a generic “I hate you” line or meant something more.

- Do people honestly think that Cinder betraying Neo was unexpected or like… super unreasonable for a villain? Neo did threaten her – most typical villains don’t react well to their underlings threatening them, so I really don’t see why some people are so shocked or downright offended about this (is it just because they like Neo?).

- Weiss being the last one standing and using Blake’s weapon in the fight was absolutely amazing.

- The tragedy of Jaune sending Nora to bring the Huntsmen and Huntresses back through the portal while not knowing the portal is a one-way deal…

- Cinder knowing that Salem is back because her Grimm arm started hurting was a super interesting moment. And Weiss’ shocked face in that moment was quite interesting, too.

- I wonder if Penny really meant dying when she said “Let me choose this one thing”. To me, it sounded more like she meant choosing the next Winter Maiden. Also, her “trust me” to Jaune is an interesting line. Between that and us not seeing how that conversation goes on, I wonder if there’s something we don’t know here. (*puts on my “Penny is alive” tinfoil hat*)

- I’m glad they at least didn’t graphically show Penny’s death – which is an interesting choice again, because this show doesn’t usually shy away from making deaths graphic and portraying them in all their brutality. So, the fact that we don’t see the act itself and then just cut to Penny’s conversation with Winter was interesting. (But I am glad about it because I didn’t want to see that.) It might honestly just be because of the nature of Penny’s death that they didn’t want to show it too much (and that’s fair).

- “You were my friend.” Gosh, this rewatch is making me cry now 😭. (I also think it’s interesting that Winter calls herself a machine and Penny is now the one who corrects her. It’s a nice callback to Ruby telling Penny she’s their friend and “not just a machine”.)

- I was also just reminded that Penny died thinking Ruby was dead… ouch. This possibly hurts me more than Penny’s death itself.

- People have also pointed out that when Penny transfers the powers to Winter, her aura looks yellow (like Jaune’s) with only some green sparks (like Penny’s). Hmm… I really wonder if there’s more going on here.

- “I won’t be gone. I’ll be part of you.” Who’s cutting onions in here?

- Honestly, the main reason I kind of forgave them for killing Penny was because THAT MOMENT of Winter opening her eyes with the powers while that epic music plays was just amazing to witness. And her fight with Cinder? EPIC. BREATHTAKING. BEAUTIFUL. I’m not even that into the idea of Winter as the Winter Maiden (I honestly thought Penny, the robot girl, becoming the Winter Maiden was a much more interesting plot), but the way it was done in this episode was great. I’m glad we’re finally getting that rivalry between Winter and Cinder, because their arcs parallel each other in so many ways. And I love the symbolism of Winter only getting the powers that Ironwood chose for her after she betrayed Ironwood. I like the idea that she only became worthy of them after turning on Ironwood (which does work well with her Volume 7 arc).

- Oh, by the way, I really hate the “Team RWBY will become the four maidens eventually” theory. Even if it didn’t require characters to die, I just think it would be cheap and way too obvious, and I think it’s boring to throw all the magic powers at the main characters. So, if they only made Winter the Winter Maiden so she can eventually die and pass it on to Weiss, I’ll be very annoyed. (But I hope that’s not where this is going.)

- I’m also just realizing that Cinder asking “How am I supposed to take her power if she’s dead?” about Penny a few episodes ago was foreshadowing… damn.

- Jaune’s sword breaking was a really cool and symbolic moment, too.

- Winter trying to save Weiss from falling and not reaching her in time really got to me. I’m mostly not that affected by any of Team RWBY falling into the void because… come on, we know they’ll be fine. But Winter thinking her little sister just died is… oof. Maybe it’s because I have two younger sisters, but stuff like that really gets to me.

- Also, Winter going through that portal and seeing her family after she just (as far as she knows) lost Weiss… ouch. They never got to all reunite with each other (yet).

- I absolutely LOVED that final scene between Salem and Cinder. They’re both such fascinating characters and I just live for their interactions. Cinder talking herself down (even though she got the relics, so she knows she succeeded at the most important part) was amazing on her part. She did learn from Salem! It’s also interesting that even though she got what Salem wanted, Cinder didn’t get what she herself wanted (the Maiden Powers). I feel like that’s eventually going to become important.

- I wonder if Salem believed Cinder’s lies or not. I’ve seen some interesting opinions in both directions here. (Also, again, I don’t get why some people are so shocked and offended about Cinder lying? I’ve seen so many “I hope she pays for her lies” takes and… really? That’s her biggest crime in your eyes? Lying to another villain?? I don’t think any of you villain-haters feel bad for Salem here, so why… oh. Oh, nevermind, I just understood. They’re not mad that Cinder lied, they’re mad because they wanted Salem to kill her. Gosh, that’s so dumb. Face it, people: That’s not going to happen because Salem still needs the Fall Maiden’s powers. She’s not going to kill Cinder anytime before Cinder opens the last vault.)

- Cinder killing Watts with the staff was kinda funny, tbh. Also Salem’s proud little smirk in that scene kills me.

- “And that’s checkmate.” THAT. Okay, THAT was the best line in the entire episode, I don’t make the rules. What an epic moment!! Gosh, have I mentioned I love Cinder to death? What a queen! This volume really completely changed my opinion on her. I’ve already said that she’s my standout character of the volume, and I stand by that. It was her volume in so many ways and it’s so fitting that she gets to say the last line. It’s also such an interesting line in so many ways: 1) Because this episode is called “The Final Word”, is the only episode in this volume that doesn’t have a one-word title, and the actual final word of the episode is “checkmate”, it implies that “Checkmate” is the real, hidden title of the episode. And that fits so well! They could have easily just named the episode “Checkmate”, but revealing it like this works even better. 2) I also love the chess symbolism in this volume in general. There was a really great analysis about it on here somewhere, but basically: Salem is the king, Cinder is the queen (the king can’t die and barely moves, the queen is out there getting rid of opposing player pieces). And the interesting thing about that here is that the king can’t actually checkmate anyone else, only other chess pieces can. So, it’s very fitting that Cinder is the one who says “checkmate”. Also, in a game of chess, you often have to sacrifice your own pieces to win, which is what Cinder did. 3) I also LOVE the realization on Ironwood’s face when he realizes that he’s been so paranoid about Salem, but he’s actually been playing Cinder all along. (Someone else on here pointed out that there’s something super poetic about Cinder, someone who was very much a victim of Atlas’ systemic problems, being the one to defeat Ironwood and destroy his kingdom. Ironwood was ready to sacrifice all the poor people from Mantle for his own goal, and a poor person who was hurt by people in Atlas is the one who destroyed him. Yeah, yeah, Cinder’s evil and all, but I love it! 4) It’s also really interesting to me that Salem said “This game is not yours to win, it’s mine” to Cinder in the first episode of this Volume, but in the end, Salem ended up being gone for the entire last part of the volume and Cinder is the one who got to say “checkmate.” IT’S JUST SO GOOD.

- And ngl, I’m super happy for Cinder. She really got it all. Yeah okay, she didn’t get the Maiden Powers (and I hope she never does, because one person being two maidens at once is lame), but she got the relics, got rid of her enemies and co-workers (or so she thinks), destroyed the kingdom that she was a slave to, got back into Salem’s good graces… good for her! And apparently one of the buildings that you see being flooded was the Glass Unicorn? Amazing. Love that.

- (Yes, I’m team “redemption for Cinder please”, but come on… it was never going to happen this volume. And if it never happens, that’s okay, too – I’m loving her as a villain as well!)

- Also, I hope that all the people who were specifically criticizing Cinder for not being a competent enough villain are very happy now. Because there you have the competent villain you said you wanted! I mean, I’m saying this as someone who used to criticize Cinder’s character for not being interesting/deep enough. I used to say that I’d like a backstory or something that makes her more interesting/compelling to me. But as soon as we got that backstory, I happily switched sides to team “I like Cinder now”. So, I better not hear any complaining from the “I just want her to be a more competent villain” faction now!

- Yeah, I admit I’m getting annoyed with the Cinder hate. Everyone has a right to their opinions, but it gets frustrating when you’re going through the tag of a character you like and half of the tag are people talking about how badly they want that character to die. (Maybe use a seperate tag for it?)

- (I’m just realizing that I said “Well, at least it was only one character death” earlier, but people like Ironwood and Watts actually did die… I just didn’t count those because I don’t care. Sorry not sorry.)

- We decimated Salem’s faction quite a bit this volume, didn’t we? There’s only Cinder, Tyrian, and Mercury left. I wonder if Salem will get some new people on her side.

- Overall, while I did like this episode, I feel like Volume 8 got weaker towards the end. Most Volumes were at their best towards the end, but I feel like episodes 8-11 were the strongest parts of Volume 8, while episodes 12-14 were still good, but not as good.

- My prediction is that Volume 9 will (of course) be Tearm RWBY’s way out of the void (or whatever that place where they ended up is called) – And I quite like the theory that we won’t see the other characters at all and it’ll be focused only on what’s happening in the void.