#by the same guy who did Antagonist if you’ve heard of that

[droppingartintotheinfinite]

concept sketches for some commissions i’m doing for Jackasses With Swords

[cxrdycxps]

Apologize • Abby Anderson

☢️ Canon typical violence • shitty friends • graphic depictions of injuries • AFAB reader • size kink kinda • Abby is huge • strap sex • thigh riding ☢️

Abby Anderson Masterlist • Main Masterlist

“I mean, I feel like we may be ignoring the elephant in the room?” You leaned back on your chair and looked around at the people gathered there. “Like realistically you all have to be thinking what I am?”

“Would you like to share?” Abby asked, her arms crossed and her glare leveled at you. “Seeing as you seem to be the only one who knows what you’re talking about?”

One glance at the others assured you that she was wrong. You weren’t the only one who knew. You were the only one brave enough to say it. Mel and Owen were avoiding your look and Manny was straight up staring at the wall.

“You want to travel for weeks, during winter, on some half cocked tip that the guy you’ve been looking for, for years, might be there? And you want to round us up to do this for you?” You asked her, voice growing in volume. “You’re asking us to risk our fucking lives for you to play executioner?”

“You don’t have to go.” Abby sighed, brushing you off. You hadn’t been part of the inner circle for long. Mostly because of your antagonistic relationship with Abby. Owen usually played mediator but right now it seemed he had given up that role. “Just leave now.”

“Abby, I’m gonna say this slowly. I’m going to tell you what we’re all thinking.” You stood from your seat, well aware of Abby’s strength and her abilities. You only had speed on your side if she decided to attack you. “Your dad was going to knife up a thirteen year old girl.”

“He wasn’t going to fucking knife her up.” Abby snapped, taking a threatening step towards you. “He was trying to save everyone.”

“There was no grounds for the studies.” You told her, taking a step back. “I’ve read them. I read every single page of what he had written. It was more than likely going to be a learning curve. He wrote that himself!”

“Joel Miller shot my father in cold blood.” Abby spoke through gritted teeth and you huffed a sigh, sick of the same rhetoric.

“Joel Miller shot the man threatening his little girls life. He felt that same rage you feel now. That little girl was obviously his world and your father was willing to take that from him.” You told her, stepping back again slowly. She was inching towards you. “I know why your dad was doing that. He was a good man Abby. But Ellie was just a child. She didn’t even know what they would have to do to her to get a chance of a chance at a cure.”

“I would’ve done it.” She told you and you saw your opening, grabbing at it with both hands when her shoulders sagged.

“I would have too. But I would never have let my child do it.” You told her softly and she relaxed her jaw before clenching it again. “If it was Owen or Mel or Manny, would you let someone unknowingly kill them?”

“We would’ve-” you held a hand up to Manny, silencing him.

“Would you let them do it to your father?” You knew Manny’s father was a sore spot for him and he fell silent again. “Joel did his duty as a father to Ellie. You heard Marlene’s tapes. You know what he felt for that girl, what he had lost before. He couldn’t do it again Abby and no one should’ve asked him to.”

“It would’ve saved the world!” Abby yelled, arms out wide. You winced and stepped back again. She was a formidable force to be reckoned with and you knew your odds were low if you even tried.

“It might have. It might have just been a dead thirteen year old on your father’s hands and a guilt he would’ve never absolved.” You told her and you didn’t even have time to throw up your hands to protect yourself. She closed the distance in two steps and threw a punch.

You took the hit, head snapping back. Owen stepped in at that point and you held a hand up to your throbbing cheek bone. “She’s not wrong, Abby. You know I loved your old man. But she’s got a point.”

You could feel the swelling starting, your vision blurry from the eye that took the hit. You couldn’t brush off the tears but it was more from the shock of the impact than the pain. “I would want to kill him too. I would want him to suffer for every moment I had to grieve. But you can’t do to Ellie what he did to you. He had a damn good reason.”

“It doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Mel stood, coming to Abby’s side. “We know that Abby. Knowing why he did it might make it hurt all the more. But this is the wrong path to take on. Vigilante justice won’t fix anything.”

“It’ll fix me. There’s a giant gaping wound in me. This will fix it.” Abby’s voice had lost the passion. There was no anger now, just a hollow echo of it. She had lost her fight.

Mel left Abby’s side to check on your face. She pulled your hand down slowly and winced at what she found. “Can you see?”

You didn’t know if you could or not. The eye had begun to swell, your lid barely opening. There was a trickle or warmth down your cheek and Mel’s hand came away bloody.

“Killing Joel won’t heal anything in you.” Your whole jaw ached to talk and you wondered how she could do so much damage with one punch. “It will only make that wound worse. You’ll have no one left to pin the root of your grief on.”

“Come on, let’s get you out of here before she stomps on your head.” Mel sighed, gripping your elbow tightly and leading you towards the entrance to the aquarium. “Good luck explaining this to Isaac.”

“Don’t suppose I can tell him I walked into a door?” You asked, your voice tight with the pain that was setting in heavy.

“Not unless that door was shaped like a fist. I can see each individual finger.” Manny tried to lighten the mood, his voice coming from behind you. You could hear the others talking with Abby and you hoped they would find a way to keep her off the ledge.

“You’re braver than I am.” Mel muttered quietly when you were far enough away from the main group. “I thought no one would say it.”

“You’re all at fault here. She’s been letting that fester for years and you just allowed it?” You asked, wincing when your words muffled. How big were Abby’s hands? Your mouth felt swollen. “You let her focus on that so she wouldn’t focus on you and Owen. Cause you thought she’d never find him.”

“That’s not entirely fair. She drove Owen away.” Mel snapped and you would’ve rolled your eyes if you didn’t think you’d damaged one of them irreparably.

“Into your open arms.” You sighed. “She needed a support system more than ever right at the moment you all let it fall apart.”

///

There wasn’t much to be done at the infirmary back on base. The swelling would go down in a few days, you could see light through the barely there slit when your eyelids where pulled aparet by probing fingers. It meant you probably weren’t blind or permanently disfigured. You did have a headache that seemed to be entering migraine territory.

Mel guessed at concussion on top of a stable fracture to your cheek bone. You knew she was probably right but it didn’t stop you leaving the infirmary and sneaking back to your room, dodging the questions from well meaning colleagues.

You had expected the knock on the door a lot sooner. Mel had been gone on break when you ditched the ward. You thought she would’ve come looking for you right away.

You groaned and pushed yourself out of bed. Your head felt so heavy that it hung forward and took effort to straighten up again. You massaged your temple gently, mindful of the bruising. When the door opened though you flinched and stepped back. Abby was standing there with her arms crossed.

She sucked in a breath at the sight of you and retreated back a step, letting her arms fall limply to her side. You were aware of how you looked and you knew it wasn’t pretty.

Abby didn’t speak. She stared at you, starting from your feet up to your face. Watching you as if she could catalogue your injuries through observation alone. And who knows, maybe she could.

After what felt like hours of staring you blinked your one eye that opened right now at her and held the door open further. She looked from the door back to your face and shook her head, stalking back in the direction of her own room that she shared with Manny.

You stepped out into the hallway and watched her go before shrugging and returning to your room.

///

The days that followed were hell. You didn’t know pain until the following morning when you rolled over as you were waking up and lifted a hand to rub your eye.

You hissed and then winced at the stiffness in your jaw. In the bathroom your mirror told you everything you needed to know that the throbbing in your skull hadn’t told you. You looked way worse, the bruising taking over half your face. You almost swore you could see her imprinted hand like Manny had joked.

Everything hurt and every movement pulled against it. You showered and the water pressure hurt your bruises. Opening your mouth wide enough to brush your teeth made you actually cry. Pulling your hair back even managed to make the pressure in your skull build so you had left it down.

You were pretty sure chewing was out of the question and you had no doubt you were going to have to make a pitstop and beg for one of those good pain injections you knew Mel had on hand.

Isaac had taken you off duty while you were recovering and you were more than grateful for that fact, donning a hoodie and pulling the hood up to cover your face from prying eyes.

Mel wasn’t working in the infirmary that morning but Nora offered a pain injection and some calorie packs to be dissolved in water. You shoved them in your pocket and sat still when she jabbed you with the pain relief.

The canteen happened to have soup on and you grabbed a bowl to take with you, returning to your room to wallow in your own pain and misery. You wondered again how one person could have such strength in them.

Late in the evening a knock came to your door. You opened it, expecting at least one of your friends to visit. Instead it was Abby. You didn’t flinch this time but she did, looking you over again. You opened the door wider again but she only made her observations and left, stalking down the corridor out of sight.

///

The pattern of your days continued this way for the first week. Mel and Nora allowed you three pain injections but you didn’t bother taking the fourth, just accepting calorie packs and retreating to your room.

Abby visited very evening, looked you over and then left. Every evening you offered for her to come in to your room. Every evening she turned on her heel. You were kind of getting used to watching her walk away.

Not for the first time in your life did you wish she was in some way queer. What you would give to climb her like a tree. But unfortunately her only relationship had been Owen and the rare times she had slept with anyone since it was always a man.

Not for lack of women trying. She had shot them all down stating she was in fact straight. It had probably caused more of the antagonism between you both as a means to keep yourself from getting hurt.

On the tenth day your eye was able to open all the way again. You didn’t seem to have any damage to your vision which was a lot more than you had expected if you were being truthful.

The swelling was going down in your face. It still hurt a little to chew and you hadn’t been speaking all that much but you’d soon be fit to return to work.

That evening you waited when Abby knocked instead of answering the door right away. She shifted for a minute, stepping closer to the door and further away again before knocking a second time.

You opened the door but turned away before she could look at you, returning to your bed and pressing play on the movie you had put in just before she arrived. “If you’re coming to have your nightly stare then you better come in and do it.”

Your voice was more of a croak and you had to clear your throat twice to get the words out. It was just from a lack of use because opening your mouth still hurt.

Abby lingered outside your door for a few seconds before she stepped over the threshold and shut the door behind her. There was no light on in the room but you knew the tv was bright enough to show her what she wanted to see.

“Looks better.” She spoke for the first time since you had left her in that aquarium. You hadn’t expected her to but it made for a nice change.

“It is better. No lasting damage to my eye, the headaches are gone and I can open my mouth again.” You didn’t tell her it hurt to open your mouth. She didn’t need to know that. “Just need to be careful with pressure or impact to my cheekbone. It’s a stable fracture right now but any further damage will need surgery.”

Abby flinched in the darkness, almost standing by your bed now. You didn’t look at her, not directly. She hesitated, hand reaching out and dropping back again. “I’m-”

“You can put the clothes on my desk and bring the chair over. Manny sent this movie up for me to watch. He knows I’ve always liked these movies.” You huff and hold the box out to Abby who took it from you. It’s one of those movies that leave you with more questions than answers. You have to ask the older people in the compound about certain elements of the movie and get them explained to you.

Wild Child came out in 2008, a whole five years before the outbreak happened. Watching how teenagers experienced lives back then gave you an understanding of what had been lost.

Abby sets the movie box down and moves to lift the pile of clothes from the chair and place them on your desk as instructed. The opening scene of the movie begins and you focus on it.

///

You woke alone the clothes back in a pile on your chair and the television switched off. An extra blanket had been placed over you and you didn’t have to ask why with the temperature of the room. Winter had landed in Seattle.

Your bruises were fading, mostly just the point of impact a weird shade just off your usual skin tone. The swelling had also receded and while opening and closing your mouth caused stiffness, it didn’t really hurt that much.

Nora’s probing fingers still made you wince in the infirmary, indicating the fracture wasn’t healed enough to let you back on active duty. Something she reiterated to Isaac who ordered you take a few more days. You didn’t argue with him even though you wanted to. You knew better than that.

That night you and Abbey watched Pitch Perfect. Another movie that left you with many questions. You had a fascination with high school and college. You would’ve been facing all of it right now had nothing happened.

Right as the movie ended Abby whispered your name. You pretended not to hear her, letting your eyes fall shut to see what she would do. She eased herself from the chair quietly and moved it back to its place. The weight of a second blanket landed over you again.

Most surprising was the delicate stroke of her finger over the point of impact her fist had made almost two weeks beforehand. “I’m sorry.”

You hadn’t let her say it. Interrupting her each time. Neither of you talked besides you telling Abby what the movie would be called. And her aborted attempt to apologize each time.

///

“Boo fucking yah, baby. Back and better than ever.” You swung yourself up onto the bed of the truck and slapped your hand down on Manny’s shoulder. “Get the fuck out of my seat, big man.”

Manny grunted but shifted over to the passenger side. Owen and Nora hauled themselves up onto the bed of the truck, Alice taking her place at their feet. “How are you feeling?”

“Nora, thanks to your excellent care I am a new woman.” You pumped your fist before revving your engine and tearing out of the compound as fast as you could with shouts of complaints from the others. “I’m so fucking excited to be outside that I think I’m actually high off fresh air.”

“You’re fucking crazy, is what you are.” Manny laughed from the passenger seat as you raised a gear and hit the road, swerving around abandoned vehicles. “You know people used to just drive all over the country and call them road trips? They’d just drive all day. For fun.”

“None of them ever drive with you. Nothing fun about it.” Owen called and you rolled your eyes at his withdrawn tone. You didn’t like Owen all that much. Mostly cause he had what you had wanted and had given it all up. For Mel. A downgrade if you were being honest.

“Shut up, Owen. She’s enjoying freedom and still having sight in both eyes.” Manny cheered and you pumped your fist again. “Both hands on the wheel!”

The patrol had been successful, scouting warehouses further out of the territory the WLF owned. There was great rewards in an old movie rental place and you even got to take down two runners.

When you returned the keys to the truck and your weapons you found Abby waiting at the door to the canteen, arms crossed. She barely spoke to Owen or Nora, slapping her palm to Manny’s when he held his out. She gave you the typical once over you had grown so used to.

There was no longer evidence of your injury. Your cheekbone had healed, you were as loud as ever and yet Abby still visited your room every night to check on you.

“I didn’t know Isaac approved your return to active duty yet.” It was the most she had said to you in a month and you froze in place like a scolded child.

“Last minute decision he made this morning. The others needed an extra set of hands and Nora signed me off two days ago.” You weren’t sure why you were explaining yourself. Or why you were so nervous when Abby stepped closer to you. You didn’t retreat though, not this time.

“How did it go?” She asked quietly, another step in your direction. You swallowed your nerves when she entered your personal space, the tip of her boots barely a hair’s breadth from yours. “See any scars or infected?”

“Um, a few runners. Nothing major.” You told her and she smiled blandly, her hand raising to your face. You flinched minutely and she froze but you moved closer, granting her permission to touch you. Her thumb soothed the barely these scar from where the impact of the very hand that she was being so gentle with right now had split your flesh that day.

“What’s on the watch list tonight?” She asked softly. You were too lost in the caress of her thumb to answer her and she chuckled, letting her hand fall. “You hear me?”

“Sorry, what?” You blinked at her and she laughed again, lowly so that only you would hear it. She took a step back and you snapped back to the present instead of floating above your body. “Oh, uh. I found the fourth Harry Potter movie. So now we’ve the full set and can watch them.”

“Eight movies to watch.” She hummed and you nodded. “That’s a lot of time spent together.”

“Mhmm.” You nodded and she laughed at how distracted you clearly were.

“I’ll see you later then.”

///

You knew how it looked. It looked bad. It looked desperate. It looked like you were the unluckiest bastard on this earth. It looked like you were an idiot.

A knock sounded at the door.

It looked like you were out of time.

Abby let herself into your room while you stood frozen with your back to her. You heard the steps she took and then how she paused a little away from you. Your shoulders tensed and she took another step closer.

“If you wanted me in your bed that bad you only had to ask.” She laughed quietly and your shoulders relaxed. The broken chair no longer an omen of all things bad. You had been standing on it while changing a lightbulb and the leg had given up.

The chair had been old when you had gotten it. That had been years ago. You weren’t surprised just more annoyed at the timing. “I was changing a lightbulb.”

“Is that right? You get it changed?” Abby asked as you turned to face her. Your breath hitched. It hadn’t been warm in months in Seattle. Especially not on base in the concrete rooms without insulation.

But there Abby was in a tank top and sweatpants like it was the middle of summer. You wanted the ground to open and swallow you now because you knew you’d embarrass yourself.

Her shoulders and arms were bared to you, the muscle definition making you feel physically faint. You wanted her to pick you up and toss you around. You were half tempted to piss her off enough that she’d punch you again.

“Well, did you?” You blinked at Abby for several long seconds before realizing she had asked a question. One you hadn’t heard because you were too busy wondering if there was a position that would let you grind on her bicep.

“Did I what?” You asked her, shaking your head. She looked up to the lightbulb and back to your hand. It was an empty socket and you had two bulbs in your hand. She held her hand out to you.

“Give it here.” You handed the new bulb over and she reached up, just barely stretching herself and slotted the bulb in. You reached out for the switch and grinned when the light came on just to turn it back off. It was too bright for movie night.

“You’re handy to have around, you know that?” You asked her with a smile and she laughed at you. You kicked the broken chair out of the way and crawled into the inner corner of your bed.

“I’ve got plenty more skills where that came from.” She assured you while you arranged the pillows. When you turned to look at her strained voice you found her staring at you. Or well, your ass.

You pursed your lips and tucked yourself into the corner of your bed, hitting play on the tv. Abby only hesitated for a moment before sitting down on the bed and kicking her shoes off.

She leaned back against the headboard of your bed, one long leg stretched in front of her, the other bent at the knee. Her muscle definition was apparent through her sweatpants and you wanted to ride her thigh so bad you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from saying it.

This pattern continued for the length of the eight days it took to watch Harry Potter. She sat the same way each night and each night you watched her thigh and her arm closest to you more than you watched the movie.

As per tradition at this point, Abby would say your name at the end of the movie and then usually tuck you in except this time she didn’t say anything when the credits rolled and you realized she was asleep.

You wanted to wake her, let her go back to her room. But she was fast asleep and she had slid most the way down the bed that she wasn’t going to hurt herself to sleep in that position. You turned the movie off and turned your back to her and let her sleep.

///

Warm. It was so fucking warm. Your body was melting, you were almost sure of it. You blinked your eyes open and groaned quietly. Was the compound on fire or something? What was with the heat?

Your body froze at the huff of breath against your neck. Abby surrounded you right now and you could feel her all over. She had managed to spoon you during the night, your head pillowed on her bicep, her other hand wrapped around your waist. Her big hand rested on your sternum, right between your breasts and you couldn’t help the pulse of arousal.

Her face was tucked up against your neck and her steady breathing let you know she hadn’t woken yet. So you did the cowardly thing and relaxed back into her hold, letting yourself enjoy it.

You drifted off to sleep again apparently because when you woke Abby was shifting around behind you but hadn’t actually moved away yet. “What time ‘s it?”

Abby froze when you spoke but you felt her twist to look at your clock. “Uh, early. Almost eight.”

“Got anywhere to be?” You asked, your hand moving to stop the slow retreat of her arm around your waist. She froze again and you waited for her to make a decision.

“Not until twelve. I’m headed out with Owen and Nora.” She was whispering right in your ear and you couldn’t help the shiver.

“Mm, you’re heading out with me, Owen and Mel.” You corrected her, shuffling back into her hold. “It’ll be fun, me and the love triangle that hates me.”

“Hates you? Does it look like I hate you?” Abby asked and you hummed, shrugging your shoulders. “I don’t hate you.”

“Then go back to sleep, Abs.” You huffed and she laughed against your neck, tightening her arms around you.

///

“Owen, get out of my passenger seat right the fuck now.” You pulled yourself up onto the bed of the truck and Owen looked panicked. Mel shared his look and you stared between them. “What?”

“Abby is coming with us.” Mel told you quietly like it was a secret. “We weren’t aware that you were driving.”

“I know Abby is coming?” You looked between them, confused. “That’s why I want Owen out of the passenger seat.”

Abby arrived on the scene and pulled herself up, looking between all three of you. “Am I interrupting something here?”

“We didn’t know you two had been cleared to work together.” Mel spoke up against the silence and you laughed. “She shattered your cheek bone, it’s a viable worry.”

“Firstly, it was a stable fracture. It’s all healed up and I’m not saying I deserved it but we all know why I got it.” You slotted yourself into the drivers seat. “Besides, Abby apologized.”

“Apologized?” Mel asked, dubious. Owen moved from the passenger seat, his eyes narrowed between you both as Abby took his place.

“That thing that neither of you ever did after screwing around behind my back?” Abby asked and the truck fell silent. You bit your lip to hide your smile before starting your engine.

Mel and Owen took their seats quickly and you tore out of the compound with a whoop and an accompanied bark from Shadow.

The patrol stayed quiet, moving from building to building in silence. It was driving you up the wall. You kept Shadow with you, moving around each room, checking for anything that might be of use.

“Think they might hate me as much as they hate you now?” You didn’t jump when Abby spoke but you did have to fight the urge. You turned from where you were rifling through a cabinet to find her leaning on the door frame. She took up the whole door way and you salivated just a little.

“Nope. Because you only repeated what I already called them out on.” You told her, returning to your cabinet which just seemed to hold old office supplies.

“You called them out on sneaking around behind my back?” Abby asked. You could hear her walking closer as you tossed decaying reams of paper out of your way.

“Mhmm.” You hummed, stuffing some markers in your bag. There were still in the packaging so you had high hopes they hadn’t dried out yet. She stopped behind you, you could feel her body heat.

“Why would you do that?” She asked and you shrugged, shuffling sideways to the next cabinet, she followed you. “When did you do it?”

“Like five minutes after you broke my face.” You shrugged and found bags of rubber bands that had all eroded with age. You tossed them all aside before standing up. You still didn’t turn around but you knew Abby was close behind you. She pressed closer when you were straightened up.

“Why would you come to my defense right after I had hurt you?” She asked, her large hands coming to rest either side of yours on the counter top. She was flush against you, her size difference almost overwhelming.

“Because no one ever seemed to come to your defense.” You told her honestly and you felt her huff a laugh against your hair. One of her arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you back tight against her. “I figured someone should.”

“Thank you.” You knew you probably weren’t imagining the barely there kiss to the crown of your head but a low growl from Shadow had you both spring apart.

“There’s something in here with us.” Abby muttered, loading her gun. You copied her actions and backed away from the door, maneuvering to the left of it while Abby took the right so you could both see either angle.

Whilst you and Abby had never gotten on, you were flawless patrol partners and it was evident in how you both worked, taking out two runners and a clicker with enough time for you to be sitting on a table, legs swinging and Abby to be thumbing through a magazine so weathered she couldn’t possibly be reading it.

That was how Owen and Mel found you both and they shared a look between themselves at both of your casual displays and the pile of infected between you both.

“Everything okay?” Owen asked cautiously. You looked up at him and smiled, hopping off the table. “Any injuries?”

“Nope. I got one runner and Abby got the other two.” A fact she was annoyingly proud of and you were irrationally bothered by. “You did good, Abs. I might let you be the little spoon tonight.”

Everyone in the room froze but you and Shadow who followed you out past a frozen Mel and Owen toward the truck. Soon the other three followed you, Abby slipping into your passengers seat. She was fighting a smile so you knew you weren’t in trouble with her.

///

You had gotten so used to Abby letting herself in that you had kind of forgotten that she did it. So when you stepped out of the bathroom with just a towel on and found her sitting on your bed, you didn’t really know what to do.

She gave you the usual once over before smiling at you. It wasn’t a nice smile. It was mean. Something that made your stomach fill with nerves and a wet pulse start up between your legs.

She was sitting on your bed, both legs stretched out in front of her. She patted a hand to her lap and you stared at her, incredulous. “Come on sweetheart, we both know you want this.”

You moved towards her hesitantly and paused a few steps from the bed. “You came early.”

“I did. I was hoping to talk about that little spoon comment but right now I don’t care. Sit on my lap.” It wasn’t much of a question, not the way she phrased it. You swallowed roughly again, looking back to the bathroom.

Abby wouldn’t hurt you. She also wouldn’t judge you if you wanted to retreat right now. You knew both of those things to be fact. The truth was that you didn’t want to retreat. She knew that.

It was an awkward shuffle getting onto her lap but that’s where she took over, maneuvering you so that you were straddling one thigh, one hand on her shoulder for balance and the other holding your towel together. “You don’t think I know that you’re watching me all the damn time?”

“I thought, I didn’t think you were into women.” You told her, suddenly shy in the face of this abrasive, domineering Abby. She only huffed a laugh and shook her head.

“I’m not. Never have been.” She told you and you froze in place, unsure where this was going. She bent her knee, her thigh tensing and you couldn’t help the moan, falling forward so your face was in the curve where her neck met her shoulder. “I’m sure as fuck into you though. I don’t know what it means but I know what I want to do about it.”

“Abby.” You whispered and her hands landed on your hips, pushing and pulling you into a slow grind against her thigh. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it. I’m gonna fuck you.” She promised. When your hips had taken the rhythm she found acceptable her hands began to move. One travelled up the length of your back, up your neck, to cup the back of your head, holding you in place against her. The other tugged your towel free. “Gonna let you hump my thigh first like a bitch in heat. Then I’m gonna get my fingers into you, see how tight your little hole is.”

You whined against her neck, the friction of her sweatpants and the heat of her words had you burning up. “Please.”

“Yeah, you’ll beg me so pretty. Cause once you come on my fingers I’m getting down there to taste you. Cause I know you’ll be the best fucking meal I’ll ever have.” She groaned in your ear and your hands travelled to her biceps, your nails digging in. “And once I’ve done all of that? I’m gonna fuck you with my strap.”

“You, where’d you?” You were barely able to get your thoughts together enough to ask her about the strap. “Why?”

“Just cause I wasn’t fucking women doesn’t mean I wasn’t fucking anyone.” Your head tipped back when your breathing sped up. You lost the rhythm on her thigh just bucking against her as your orgasm washed over you. Abby leaned forward and the harsh bite of her teeth made you scream. “Not over yet, Sweet Girl. Just getting started.”

///

“Abby, Abby, Abby.” Every stroke of her cock had you chanting her name. She had you on all fours, her large hands on your hips and pulling you back on her forcefully. You weren’t sure if you knew words other than her name and please. She had fucked it all out of you.

One hand slid from your hip up your front and with a hand around your neck she pulled you up so your back was flush against her chest. Her grip on your neck was loose but you felt your breathing hitch. “Oh you like that.”

Her hand tightened around your neck and you gave in entirely, your orgasm washing over you and your mouth falling open in ecstasy as Abby wrung every last drop of pleasure from your body.

She pushed against you, friction from the strap driving her towards her own orgasm as she humped against you desperately. She some how managed to control the fall after coming so that you were both on your side.

“Thought you wanted to be the little spoon this time?” You asked her breathlessly and she huffed a laugh from behind you.

“Thought I fucked that attitude out of you.”

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 

You’re not so sure. 

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 

Oh, you loved this man. 

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 

“I thought he was cool before.” 

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he���s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 

Of course. 

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 

And you’re all too ready to act on it. 

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true. 

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[thesolferino]

⤷ note: apologies for losing your request, anon, but thank you for requesting! this is my first time writing a full fic in second person, so bear with me, and i hope this is what you were looking for <3

The Great American Bake Off

pairing: corpse husband x gn!reader

word count: 3.6k

genre: fluff

summary: you’ve been jealous of rae and her closeness with your boyfriend since the dawn of time, but things change and friendships are made once she comes over for one hell of a cooking video.

Corpse, among many other things, was a man many wished to have.

It’s the truth; even if he didn’t have a YouTube channel through which millions kept up with everything from horror stories to Among Us gameplays, people would still turn heads and whisper whenever he spoke - that attention more than multiplied when he started blowing up and his social media presence grew.

With growth come numbers, and there are always people behind said numbers. Through them, Corpse makes wonderful friends - through them, you had met him, too. All the way back, during his horror narration days, you had grown to like him - really, who wouldn’t?

A DM you once sent after a few drinks, when you claimed to your friends you’d get the “deep-voiced man of your dreams” you often talked about and they, in turn, challenged you to message him, was nothing short of a joke and the idea of him responding was merely a pipe dream. What you hadn’t expected, however, was a response, which wrecked your brain at noon the next day, where your head throbbed with embarrassment, guilt, pride, happiness, a melt of hatred and gratefulness for your friends, panic and the remains of alcohol that tugged at every part of your skull.

It had turned out to be more than a great idea, though, because for the next few weeks you were constantly talking. You learned so much more than he let on in videos, and during late night calls you found out everything from his favorite clothing brand to his favorite color to his thoughts about his own mortality and then back to his favorite cereal. Audio calls and short voice messages turned into hours long FaceTimes that led you from friends to something more. And after a year or so of dating, you packed your bags and made it to sunny San Diego, ready to lay in his arms and sweat bullets.

Safe to say Corpse’s social media presence had its good sides. However, with all good things come bad things too, and you weren’t sure if the bad things were bad at all or you were simply too jealous.

Corpse made wonderful friends thanks to his YouTube channel. He met people he could confide in, meet, people he could talk to about his worst problems, people who would listen - he met people he could have fun with, with who he could forget all about the real world and his own issues, and simply laugh his heart away, play games until the late hours of the night.

If he had to name his closest ones, they would have to be Dave, Loey, maybe Mykie, possibly Jack, and Rae. And that is exactly where the root of the problem stood.

Rae is beautiful, and everyone who denies it must be either dumb or blind. She’s drop dead gorgeous, and funny, and kind, and smart, in a way that made you want to rip your hair out. You wanted to hate her so bad, because the jealousy ate away at you like a damn disease, but you couldn’t, because she was perfect Rae, and as much as you hated the fact she seemed to be perfect inside out, you just couldn’t hate her as her. It was impossible, you concluded.

You convinced yourself you weren’t jealous every time you heard him yelling or laughing at her from his office room - or at least you attempted to do so. Your lunch would turn sour and end up forgotten because you’d be way too focused on listening in on what he was doing and trying to make out what she was saying to even eat at the same pace you previously were. Jealousy ate away at you, no matter if you admitted it to yourself or not.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Corpse, of course. On one late night when you couldn’t sleep and neither could he, as per usual, you turned on a random comedy that you half-heartedly paid attention to, his fingers combing through the knots in your hair peacefully and the slow pace of the movie lulling you to sleep slowly. That is, before his phone rang and lit the mostly dark room. You managed to sneak a glance at the notification before he had, and the familiar bitterness seeped between your ribs as always upon seeing the name displayed at the top of the message, more than awake now.

You visibly stiffened when he laughed at the message and typed something back, shifting your head in his lap as some subconscious attempt at getting him to pay attention to you instead. He put his phone down and you huffed, eyes locked on the TV screen as you pretended to be extremely absorbed in the movie even though you weren’t quite sure of the difference between the protagonist and antagonist anymore. His hands didn’t return to your hair, and that somehow made you even more annoyed.

“What’s up?” Corpse quietly spoke up, barely over the volume over the already quiet movie.

“Nothing.” You said, quicker than you wanted to, and you bit your tongue in cringe when you realised it was an awful lie. Corpse seemed to think the same.

“That’s bullshit. Seriously, what’s wrong?” He asked, and was met with pure silence. In reality, you were hoping he’d simply never realise you were somewhat jealous, because you knew you were being stupid and unreasonable, but you couldn’t help wanting him all to yourself. Admitting it out loud made it so much more real, and so much more embarrassing that you would rather bury yourself alive than admit to being jealous of Rae, of all people.

After a few seconds of silence, save the laughter of characters on screen, he spoke again.

“Are you jealous?” The hint of a teasing tone in his voice made you want to rip your hair out of your skull. Was it really that damn hard to believe that yes, you were jealous of an extremely close friend of his? Was it a crime?

The clenching of your jaw seemed to give Corpse enough of a response, and his hands returned to running themselves through your hair as he giggled to himself. 

“What’s so damn funny?” You borderline spat, causing his movements to halt for a second before continuing with even louder laughter.

“I don’t know, just the idea of you being jealous of Rae is so funny. I’ve noticed the way you roll your eyes whenever I text her in front of you. You’re not exactly sneaky, you know?” His words made blood rush straight to your face, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. How long has he known this for?

“Sorry. I don’t…” you exhaled and attempted to smile. “I don’t know what’s up with me. I’m so jealous nowadays. I don’t even know why.”

“There’s enough of me to share with everyone, no worries baby.” he replied, teasing tone still yet to dissipate as you slap his knee in mock offense and he starts wheezing.

“Absolutely not! Fucking excuse you, I’m not sharing with anyone!” you gaped at him as he kept laughing.

That was the end of it - or at least Corpse thought so. Needless to say, he was wrong.

Your mood would instantly turn sour whenever he’d laugh at one of her messages, and you attempted to push down every eye roll whenever he’d sit on his phone, between your legs, back turned to you so you could see everything, and open Rae’s DMs again. Sometimes you managed, sometimes you couldn’t help it, but you did your best to do it whenever he wasn’t looking. Because you truly knew you were being unreasonable, especially whenever you have to relay situations like how he had to postpone a date one time because Rae asked him to play Rust for a bit longer and you almost ripped all your hair out of your skull in frustration back to your best friend who just turned Rae and Corpse into the villains in the situation because that’s what best friends are supposed to do.

Not like he was going out of his way to talk to her a concerning amount, they mostly talked in groupchats and on streams and that was only a few times weekly, but it did absolutely nothing to calm the green monster growing stronger in you every day, fed by every laugh she got out of him.

The green monster fucking loved it when Corpse excitedly announced to you that he’s finally meeting his friends for the first time, and by friends meaning Rae, Sykkuno and Karl. You, however… were far from impressed.

He paced around the room in excitement, a mix of obvious anxiety and joy evident on his face, and he fiddled with the strings of his hoodie with shaky hands as he very proudly announced that he would be the second tallest person in the room through a blinding, pearly grin, and seeing him so electrified couldn’t help but make you shut your jealous thoughts up, even if just for a little bit, and mirror his grin back to him.

What did, however, make you as anxious as him was when he announced they’d a) be coming to your shared apartment and b) making a cooking video - it sent you into a panicked mom mode as you dusted every corner of every room and vacuumed everything from the kitchen to the balcony and Corpse did nothing but record you as you anxiously rambled and laugh at you from his place on your bed.

When the dreaded Saturday finally came, and the first person to arrive, Sykkuno, rang your doorbell, you squeezed Corpse’s hand to stop him from nervously toying with his rings and opened the door, and you greeted the man like he was your own brother and not a person you’d seen probably a total of three times through the computer screen and someone who’s seen you maybe two times, from the pictures Corpse sent him, in your best attempt to make both of them more comfortable. It actually kind of worked - turns out Sykkuno is a pretty affectionate guy, too, and a conversation started as soon as he stepped in. Corpse gave you a look when you pulled away from Sykkuno’s half-hug, and you almost laughed out loud at the irony when his phone lit up with a notification from Rae announcing she was almost there at that exact moment.

She had kept true to her word; ten minutes or so later, another ring was heard and you gestured to Corpse to open it this time as you gave Sykkuno his cup of water and resisted any and every urge to roll your eyes or do something otherwise bitchy and stupid. Corpse did as told, and you watched them hug and listened to Rae squeal in excitement through the open door of the living room and decided to plaster a smile on your face for as long as you could muster before you remove yourself from the situation when they start filming.

Unfortunately for you, the first person she locked eyes with was exactly you, and they lit up an even prettier brown (if that was even possible) as she beelined to you and you barely got a greeting out before she engulfed you in a large hug, arms wrapping around your neck as she swayed both of you side to side.

“Oh my God, you must be Y/N! I’ve heard so much about you, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” Rae cheered into your ear before she finally pulled back, before shooting an infectious grin at you that you couldn’t help but return back.

“All good things, I hope.” you chuckled as she moved to greeting Sykkuno, and nodded her head with an enthusiastic giggle of her own. You eyed Corpse for a second who simply leaned against the door frame, watching the whole thing unfold with somewhat of a proud smile on his face, before Rae turned back to you and your attention was on her again.

“Of course! Corpse is very much a simp for you, you know that?” She said and both you and Corpse laughed, especially him, who nodded his head in agreement as she sat back down, still beaming at you.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that.” you respond before turning back to Corpse. “Where’s Karl at?”

“He’ll be here in half an hour or so, he only landed recently.” he said. You nodded and moved to sit on a nearby chair to leave space for the guests on the couch.

Karl ended up arriving in twenty minutes and apprised everyone of the information that “his taxi driver is a psycho that, apparently, doesn’t fear stop signs or the police” before setting up the camera in your kitchen and tried his best to attach lapel mics on everybody (admittedly, it took way longer than it should’ve, but he eventually managed and that counted as a win in his book). You reluctantly agreed to be the judge of the finished product when they’re done cooking, and Karl was there for the purposes of being a cameraman and making jokes off screen so he agreed too, albeit way more enthusiastically than you.

The two of you sat behind the camera as the three of them lined up, Corpse wearing a mask and his signature eyepatch (that he didn’t really need, but those two did their job in preserving his privacy) and introduced what they were doing. Corpse was obviously very anxious, hands fidgeting constantly and shivering like a dog after a bath despite the hoodie he was wearing in 100 degree weather because of the shower of sweat that was now drying on his body, and that was partly why you were there, supportive smiles, encouraging cheers and all.

They were making Mexican ground beef tacos, and despite knowing Corpse can barely make a sandwich without setting at least two dishes on fire, you still cheered him on proudly and repeated he was part Mexican himself roughly 5 times a minute, claiming he was going to kill it.

“Kill it? More like kill one of us- CORPSE watch what you’re doing with that fucking knife! You’re proving my point!” Rae yelled at him as he giggled in delight, watching the woman gape at him in pure horror and Sykkuno watch his movements completely entranced as he played with the knife in his hands.

“You’re just mad that he’s going to make tacos fifty times better than you.” you said to Rae, chewing down on some M&Ms that Karl and you shared (both of you decided on a genius plan - you’re going to eat the whole bag before they’re done with cooking so you can claim you’re full and therefore can’t eat the atrocity that will most likely be the tacos).

“Don’t gas me up like that, Y/N, you are well aware I’m shit at cooking. Expect absolutely nothing from me.” he replied over the sizzling of the meat on the pan, throwing a whole spoonful of chili powder into it, earning loud yelling and scolding from your side and loud laughter from Rae.

“HALF A TEASPOON! Half a teaspoon, how have you not remembered this already?! We’ve made tacos a million times now, oh my God, you’re actually stupid.” you yelled at him, arms flailing in the direction of the seasoning to emphasise your ‘half a teaspoon’ point as Rae doubled over in laughter and Sykkuno looked into the pan with a concerned and somewhat afraid look. Just as he peeked in, the overwhelming smell of chili powder started biting away at his eyes, and he jumped away with a yelp.

“Jesus, Corpse!” he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes with his forearm as the whole room burst into laughter and Corpse suspiciously inspected his beef.

“What were you saying about your ‘Mexican king’, Y/N?” Rae asked, pulling out a few tortillas and putting them on the table. You huffed, grabbing another handful of M&Ms.

“Giving him up to God. He’s the only one who can help, at this point.” you said. She giggled in response and Corpse let out some sort of protesting sound and waved his knife around in complaint. “I don’t know who this man is. He broke into my kitchen and now I’m here.”

“Hey, I pay half of your rent!” he said, and you were about to reply but Rae dropped her meat into a pan full of overheated oil, and a loud hiss and some sort of a scream overtook the room as a cloud of steam shot into the air and she frantically looked around for the wooden spoon so the meat wouldn’t stick to the pan. You simply sat and laughed, eating the candy like it was popcorn and you were watching a shitty cooking show - it wasn’t that far from reality, really.

“Um, I just realised I don’t make many tacos, actually.” she said as she helplessly stirred the meat, turning to you with pleading eyes. “What seasoning even goes into this? Y/N, will you help me? Let’s team up against Corpse!”

You tilted your head in thought, but before you could even speak, Corpse spoke up.

“That’s not fucking fair, that’s-that’s against the rules.” he turned to you. “You won’t betray me, right?”

You laughed at him, adjusting in your seat. “I gave up on you ever since you added, like, 3 kilos of seasoning into the meat for no reason.” then you turned to Rae. “Sure, let’s do it, babe.”

Their loud yelling immediately started mixing, Rae’s cheers contrasting Corpse’s protesting. She stuck her tongue out at him meanwhile Corpse shot her the middle finger, and she turned back to you with a grin.

“Alright, what do I put in?”

Roughly twenty unnecessary and extremely long minutes later, the tacos were done, two each for each of them. Rae’s looked the best - probably because you guided her through the whole thing - next to Sykkuno’s, whose you were genuinely intrigued to try. While Corpse was arguing with Rae, he burned roughly half of his already ruined beef, and Karl made the very nice observation that it looked like a bird shat in a tortilla, which you proclaimed as the highlight of the video.

Since you and Karl claimed you were full, the three of them simply swapped tacos between each other as to be unbiased, and the two of you watched in amused suspense. You were actually quite interested to see what the end results were - you were first anxious and quite annoyed you even had to participate in the first place, because it meant losing your mind from jealousy, watching Corpse and Rae giggle and act all domestic while cooking, but jealousy simply dissipated somewhere half through the video as you watched the three argue if cheddar cheese belonged on tacos or not and Rae laugh at every stupid joke you cracked. Now, you sat, fully immersed as you stared at Sykkuno’s face; the poor guy ended up with the misfortune of having to try Corpse’s taco first.

“Zoom in, zoom in!” you whispered into Karl’s ear who complied and zoomed into Sykkuno’s face. He bit into the taco, chewing for a second before his face twisted in disgust and you began wheezing when he grabbed a tissue and spit it out, immediately grabbing his glass of water. Rae laughed at him as well, mouth full of his one, which she claimed she actually liked but it wasn’t as good as the “Y/NRae-co” as she proudly called it. Corpse silently ate Rae’s taco and refused to give a review on it because he was upset he got defeated, but the fact that he scarfed down the whole thing in a minute or so was enough of a review.

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.” Corpse exclaimed when he saw Sykkuno’s bite in the tissue, grabbing the second taco he made and biting down on it. The whole room burst into laughter when he roughly swallowed, tears obvious in the one eye that showed, because of the overly spicy beef.

“What are you motherfuckers laughing at? It’s not that bad, I stand by tacorpse.”

“Tacorpse is actually genius. The one good thing you came up with during the entirety of this video.” Rae said and Corpse mumbled a fuck you in response.

“Well, I think we can all agree that me and Y/N’s taco was clearly the best.” she said, clasping her hands together.

“I actually think mine was better.” Sykkuno said, to which she pushed his plate out of the frame.

“Nobody asked you anything.”

“Don’t bully Sykkuno, I’ll fucking kick you out.”

“Oh yeah? I’m pretty sure Y/N would kick you out before they’d let you kick me!” Rae said, accusingly pointing her taco in Corpse’s direction.

“Alright, let’s wrap up the video.” Karl laughed behind the camera, and the three of them all turned to properly face it and end the video.

“Thank you all so much for watching, this has been an… interesting video, to say the least. Uh, thank you to Karl for filming this whole disaster, thank you to Corpse,” Rae gestured in his direction, “for lending us his kitchen, thank you to Sykkuno for probably getting us more views on this video, and also a big thank you to Y/N, Corpse’s better half for making this video way more interesting and helping me make probably, like, the best taco I’ve ever made.” she grinned and you shoved a peace sign in front of the camera.

“If you liked this video, check out Sykkuno and Corpse’s channels, they will be linked down below, and please click like and subscribe to support the channel! Again, thank you all for watching, see you later, bye!” she finished, and with that, Karl turned the camera off.

Silence engulfed the room. You sighed.

“Alright, who’s gonna clean this shit up?”

[thatbangtanbloom]

petals | bts [1]

petals | bts

teaser | [1] (could be read without the teaser)

characters: kim namjoon, kim seokjin, min yoongi, jung hoseok, park jimin, kim taehyung, jeon jungkook, reader

pairings: ot7 x reader

categories: angst, fluff, (light???) smut

genre: idol!bts, idol!reader (fem!reader)

warnings: reader is a bit sensitive but comes out of her shell slowly,, uhh,,, grinding???, making out ;) , sad kissing????, hoseok is lowkey whipped for reader, so is jimin,,, taehyung is a little mean for like 2 sentences

a/n: this first chapter introduces the reader, j-hope, and jimin! more members will be introduced with reader next chapter :]]

❀

The seven of them may not have been bound by blood, but they were in every other way. Their interests often aligned and common actions were shared where sometimes they did not know where one began and one ended. They began their days together as they made their way to the practice room and ended it when they loaded into vans to make their way back to their shared dorm.

It wasn’t as though they had never noticed the fundamental difference between the seven of them and you. They were keenly aware of it whenever the stylist squeezes you and your other girl group members into shorts opposite to their pants or the added slits to accentuate your figure when suits were the dominant style. Yet, your performance was the tipping point.

Each of them had drawn silent as they watched you move like a siren across the stage. The male dancers seemingly falling at your feet while your white chiffon hugged your every curve, floating like water with each move to the beat. Never mind that you were in a group with seven other girls, all of their eyes could only be glued to you.

They would like to think that it were the performances that had them glued to your every move - that it wasn’t the remnants of false dreams that led them to watch you like a hawk. Almost like wolves, they would be eager to pounce at you if there was one misstep. Yet, you made none.

Hoseok was the proudest of them all. He purposely would stay up to watch you practice, giving helpful tips to evoking further emotion.. but this? Seeing you move this sexily as an enchantress almost made him feel weak in the knees.

They had attempted a lot to make you feel welcomed into their tiny home of seven. When BigHit informed them that the top trainee from Produce 101 would be joining their company left a sour taste in their mouths, but after learning it had been you who captivated millions, their worry lessened. BigHit had provided themselves on growing from the ground up - working organically to cultivate each trainee with precision, sincerity, and perseverance. Their own premonitions of how you functioned as an artist did make them question your credibility. It was only a matter of time before their watchful eyes looked after you since your pre debut days. The trainee girl division of BigHit had been long gone, but BigHit could not let go of you, not after so many monthly evaluations, tearful performances, and years going down the drain.

It was not as though you were coming into the group empty-handed. You had your own fan base from the show and project group who swore to stay by your side no matter what. Admittedly, your fan dynamic was a bit more mixed - guys eagerly flicking to see you and the other girls in school uniforms while you belted your heart out. The latest addition was the reassurance that BigHit needed to their girl group that they intended to put together.

“She doesn’t belong here.” were the first words you heard when your bags finally were placed down. It had been Taehyung who had uttered such words. You instantly find your blood run cold from the words. You could not quite understand why Taehyung was so against you. The two of you had never spoken more than three words to one another outside of promotional shoots where you were slated as an MC for the few shows variety was on.

Nevertheless, you tucked your head down and followed your other group members to the practice studio where you would dance for hours on in. You would practice until your limbs ached, taking every moment of a break as one step closer to the solace of your bed when comeback preparations were soon approaching. But every time you rested for just a moment, you could remember the echo of Kim Taehyung’s words. She doesn’t belong here.

Unbeknownst to you, not every member of BTS was antagonistic towards you. In particular, Jung Hoseok admired your tenacity more than anything. The two of you spoke in quick words, him congratulating you on your variety show appearances and complimented the way your freestyle had improved over the years. He was in complete awe of you.

“You’re here again?” His soft voice greets you at seven in the morning on the fifth-floor practice room of BigHit Entertainment. You would be embarrassed that you are currently laying on the floor looking utterly disheveled with your gray sweatpants loosely hugging your hips and the way your shirt is drenched with sweat if this were the first time.. but it had not been. He has two iced Americanos in hand and his lovely heart-shaped smile to match. “I swear.. you’re one of the hardest working people I know.”

His words lift your heart and you scramble to stand up and bow deeply to him, “Thank you, senior.” You say before bending a full ninety-degrees to show your respect.

“There’s no need for formalities… aish… are we not close?” Hoseok teases playfully as he places his keys onto the television monitor’s counter and shrugs off his jacket. He has always been one of the more friendly members of your senior group. Most likely because he catches you in the practice room four days out of the week when your leader, Roa, has not realized you snuck out of the dorms in exchange of the four walls. “You can just call me Hoseok. Or j-hope if it makes you feel better.”

You shyly rub the back of your neck, “I.. I suppose we are.” You admit sheepishly as you watch him pass you the iced americano into your hands. His hands are soft and gentle as they overlap over yours. “Congratulations on Billboard and the Grammy’s…. It must be very exciting,”

“Yah, yah, you said that yesterday.” Hoseok has always teased you as his hand raises to your head and pats it gently. In particular, Hoseok has always found your shyness cute. He thought it was sweet that despite years of being an idol, you still never lose the softer parts of yourself. “Let’s talk about you. And Reverie, huh?”

Your girl group, Reverie, had ultimately been a successful feat despite Korean netizens eager to question the validity of putting former IOI members and BigHit trainees as the first girl group the company would produce as opposed to using ‘fresh’ talent. Reading article after the article had made you insecure when they commented on your rather ‘boring’ facade compared to the other members that had charms that seemed to overflow. Were you that bad?

As though reading your thoughts, Hoseok gently clears his throat. “You should show me your dance.” He contends with a warm smile.

Despite only having these secret times in the practice room, Hoseok felt as though he could read you. He noticed your demure way of approaching things that were unfamiliar to you - the sharp contrast for when you performed on stage. If anything, he wanted to help you find the same confidence you felt on stage. He wanted you to find it with him.

“I can do that,” You say as you take another sip of your iced Americano and rush to place it in front of the mirror. You steal a peek from the corner of your eye as the older man settles into the chair and shrugs off his jacket. The other members (most likely Jimin since he tended to be as much of a practice fiend as he was) would not join for another half an hour, so Hoseok was eager to spend this time with you.

His eyes follow your every moment as he leans forward like a man entranced. He’s always admired the fluidity in your movement; the way that you texture changes without warning and how sharp each move is when it needs to be. Like water, you move as one with no disconnecting movements until you want it to be. Quite literally, he thinks your poetry in motion.

The latest comeback is equally as alluring as it is power-based. BigHit quantifying that girl groups should not be held to a double standard meant the choreography being just as difficult as your male counterparts. More than satisfactory for you, it let you feel a greater sense of accomplishment when you hear Hoseok’s claps of approval.

“You’ve improved a lot.” Hoseok remarks with a bright grin as he stands to his feet before walking over. “Though… I would say that this one move could be drawn out more. You’re focusing more on the timing rather than the execution.” He watches as your features contort at his words as you try to piece together what move in particular was he talking about. Could it had been the pas de bourrée? “Here,”

He moves closer to you with a reassuring look in his eyes as his hand rests on your shoulder and slightly presses down, “You’re supposed to have your shoulder go slack, right? You shouldn’t be so tense. Relax.” He says as his fingers trap down your arm to graze over your elbow and tuck it in more. “Your arm was taking away from the focus on your legs. You know the choreography, so why do you dance like you don’t?”

“Ouch,” You say with a forced laugh. You knew he meant well, but from to time, Hoseok did tend to critique you more like you were a member of his own group rather than a junior. Regardless, you were still thankful for his key eye for detail. You never would have deduced it was because he was looking out for you far more than just as a senior, but as something more. “You said last time you wouldn’t be so harsh,” You joke after mustering the courage after fixing your posture and your eyes reclaiming Hoseok’s.

Hoseok chuckles softly, “If I knew you couldn’t take it, I wouldn’t say it,” He remarks gently before turning on his heels beside you. “You’re practicing for the partner stage within the comeback, right? Then you should do it properly.” His voice lowers ever so slightly when he speaks, “With me.”

This hadn’t been the first time you had practiced with Hoseok. Early morning practices often consisted of him arriving at roughly the same time each day, if not earlier, with his small critique prior to him opting for a more hands-on approach. You saw it as nothing more of a senior looking after his junior, but Hoseok saw it as far more than that. How could he not when you were this cute without realizing it?

He wanted to ruin you.

Your thoughts melt away when you feel Hoseok’s hands settle onto your waist, pulling you closer to him as the two of you make eye contact. The way that he looks at you, his pupils slightly dilated with an intensity you can not quite discern, makes you let go of the breath you had not realized you were holding. How come it never felt like this when you were dancing with the actual backup dancers?

“Your leg should rest on my hip, like this,” Hoseok says as he purposely tucks his hand in the dip of your waist to press your waist against him. He’s warm to the touch, much like the sun itself and you have to bit back the blush that threatens to paint on your cheeks. “There, you’re doing good. You’ve always been good at listening.” He praises you as he guides you through the next move. Each moment you spend closer to him has you nearly buckling in the knees when his voice tickles your ear. Did he have any clue what the hell he was doing to you?

You may not have realized it, but Jimin ultimately did. The shorter man has grown familiar with the scene as he tucks his bag under his arm and lingers by the door to watch. He’s not surprised that Hoseok had shown up an hour early for practice in the wrong practice room when he leads you across the room. Jimin has to wonder if being attracted to you is infectious when it seems he is equally infatuated with you. Perhaps even more than Hoseok.

Jimin chuckles to himself as he pauses the music and leans against the door frame with an amused grin. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two were star-crossed lovers.” It’s almost biting the way your face changes of recognition when your eyes meet Jimin.

You immediately pull away from Hoseok to bow deeply to Jimin out of respect, “It’s not like that. He was helping me-“

“You should let me help you too,” Jimin almost pouts as he repeats the familiar action of discarding his jacket and strolling over. “I can dance too, you know?” He teases as he notices the chuckle that Hoseok had been holding back. Both of them found you being flustered adorable, especially when this normally wasn’t like you. What happened to the alluring siren on stage? They practically craved to have you put them in their place.

Unlike Hoseok, your history with Jimin runs deeper than your ties to BigHit Entertainment. The younger man had known you at your lowest point, kissed away your tears on the night that your first group, I.O.I, had disbanded after the project’s deadline came and went.

You had never mentioned it, but you remembers the last night in the IOI dorms like it was yesterday. You had never wanted to know the pain of your group disbanding again. You had called Jimin that night because you didn’t know who else to call. Somi had been crying in the bathroom for hours, saying how it felt like SIXTEEN all over again, and you could only console your dongsaeng for so long. Kyulkyung and Nayoung already were going to be debuting in PRISTIN with eight other girls as though IOI never existed and was another project group. The time zone left you unavailable to call you parents and Jimin was all you had…

“I’m always going to be here, you know that, don’t you?” Jimin had whispered into your ears as his fingers gingerly stroked your cheek. He looks into your eyes, hoping that your words give some semblance of comfort when your heart ached to no return. How many times would it be that you had to build yourself up to be strong just for everything to fall apart outside of your control?

You sniffle when Jimin makes you look into his eyes, “I-I-I know,” You stammer out as you try to regain your control over your emotions, but it hurt. It hurt so bad that your head was pounding and it felt like you could hear the blood rushing to your ears. “It just.. I just want it to stop hurting, Jimin..” You grip the fabric of his shirt as though he were the one person in this world that piece you back to gather.

“It will take time.. but I will be here until the very end.. you hear me?” He whispers as he stares into your eyes. His soft monolids drip honey when they meet yours. “YN-ah… look at me.”

With a sniffle, you nod, “I am.. I am…” You whisper as your eyes scan his own. You never quite realized how long his eyelashes are or the way he holds the entire galaxy in his eyes up so close. You never have clung to him this much either, so it leaves you a bit breathless when Jimin says nothing for a while, just admiring you. “Jimin?”

“Mmm?” He asks as he does his best to wipe away your tears and not think about how pretty you look right now. He was here just to comfort you, but why can he not stop himself from looking at your lips? From thinking about how badly he wants to help you forget and kiss you?

“You’re pretty,” You say simply as you sniffle slightly and wipe away a stray tear with your sleeve.

“You’re prettier,” He tells you with a soft laugh as his thumb brushes against her chin. He wonders how close it would be for him to close the distance between the two of you with just a kiss.

Jimin has always complimented you, reassuring you of your every perfection, but this time he seems to mean it a little bit more as he presses you tighter against his chest to hold you close.

“Jimin…” You whimper as you hug him closer to you. “Please.. please help me forget,” you whisper softly for just the two of you to hear.

So without thinking, you cup both of his cheeks to close the distance between the two of you. Your arms snake around his shoulders to pull him closer as his arms instantly wrap around your own waist. He is warm to the touch, but fits like a perfect puzzle piece.

Jimin can not say how many times he had thought of this moment - the way you would fit around him like missing puzzle piece. The way he would kiss away every worry from your pretty little head as his hands bunch up the sweatshirt at your waist as he would kiss up your stomach before peppering kisses along your thighs. He’s dreamed of what it would feel like to finally hear your soft moans for him and him alone, but he still holds back as he lets you take the lead. Especially when you are this sensitive.

His lips are soft and pouty; they feel like the inside of a rose as his jaw slacks to let your tongue brush against his own. The taste is sweet with a bit of a tangy flavor: much like that of strawberry lemonade when each finger that presses against your side feels like keys being paid against a piano. For the first time in a while, things feel stable, sure, certain.

You’ve never wanted anything more in your life. You have no doubts as your hips grind against his own on the floor of your dormitory. His moans are soft each time your hips rhymically brush against the hardening tent within his pants. You like this reaction from him, the way his hips buckle into your own as your own teeth begin to nibble along his plump ones to elicit another mewl of pleasure from him. He feels like a dream, the way his hold on you tightens to bring you closer to him ; a sneaky hand that brushes along your hip to graze against the strap of your bra and tug it down in anticipation. You’re thankful that your door is locked in case one of your fellow members were to walk in on you grinding against your best friend after a fit of tears. God, you want him. You want him. You want him.

“YN-ah….” He groans as you begin to paper kisses along his neck. “I.. I want this… you have no idea how badly I want this… but I don’t want this if you’re just trying to forget,” He whispers as he forces you back to look at him. “Do you understand that?”

You grow silent as you watch his chest pant up and down in excitement. You know he wants it as badly as you do. You would be a fool to not see the way that he looks at you like you are the only one in the room. But you feel ashamed from how quick you are to close the gap between friends and lovers in the blink of an eye. Would crossing this boundary ruin things for you?

Jimin wonders if you remember those memories as vividly as he does. Sure, it had been a couple of years since that time, but he could not forget the way you fit perfectly around his lips. The memorable roll of your hips that nearly had him crying for him to be inside of you. He could remember all of this when you stared at your figure years later no longer as just friends, but with you as his junior and him as his senior.

Was it incomprehensible that he would wish to cross those paths again?

- - -

Don't be a silent reader! Let me know what your thoughts are! How do you feel about Taehyung not liking the reader very much? What do you think about the reader with Hoseok and Jimin? Let me know your thoughts :)

[true-blue-megamind]

What Makes Hal a Great Villain?

Okay, I’m saying it upfront: this one is going to get a little dark and very real.  Potential triggers for harassment, stalking, sexual predation.  Nothing graphic or heavy, of course, but if these are especially highly sensitive subjects for you, please proceed with caution.

Also, SPOILER ALERT for anyone who has not yet watched the animated awesomeness that is Megamind.  (If you are that person, the DVD is on sale on Amazon, and the movie is available to stream on NowTV.  Go watch it.  I’ll wait.)

We all know Megamind is an awesome protagonist--multi-layered, relatable, and surprisingly complex-- but, truthfully, his antagonist is just as interesting.  In fact, when compared with other animated villains of the early 2000′s, he’s by far the most memorable... and the most terrifying.

Many may question my assessment.  I mean, let’s be honest: this guy doesn’t exactly look like the face of evil.  But make no mistake: Hal, who later becomes Titan, is an extremely scary person.

I don’t want to leave readers with the impression that this character is one-sided, however, so before we get started on just what makes this fellow complete nightmare fuel, let’s look briefly at a few of the other reasons that Hal makes a fascinating Bad Guy.

One of my favorite things about Hal’s character arch is that it defies expectations.  Superhero comics have a long tradition of Average Nobodies who somehow receive extraordinary powers and go on to save the city.  Or the world.  Or the universe.  You get the idea.  Many comic book fans, upon watching Megamind for the first time, probably expected Hal to do the same, but he doesn’t.  In fact, he goes rogue, choosing to use his newly-obtained gifts for wanton destruction.  Thus the film inverts the established trope.

Like the protagonist he faces, (and is thankfully conquered by,) Hal is complex, and his true nature reveals itself slowly.  I’ve heard some people say that they actually felt a bit sorry for him in the first scene he appears, as he awkwardly tries to express his feelings to reporter Roxanne Ritchi.  At first he seemed like nothing worse than a socially inept and sexually frustrated nerd.  Only as the move progressed, and the aforementioned viewers saw his creepiness more clearly, did they begin to revile him.  One of the many clever things about the movie is that the gradual development provides audiences with the experience of slowly getting to know the characters.  While Megamind is the somewhat anarchical Goth who worries you a little at first, but whose heart of gold has you loving him once you really understand him, Hal is that guy you really, really regret talking to at a party.  You know, the one who quickly starts sending your internal Creep-o-Meter off the scale and persistently follows you around for the rest of the night.  This is, indeed, part of what makes Hal disturbing; just like real villains, he hides in plain sight, wearing the guise of an ordinary fellow.

Which brings us back to the scary part.  Even before he gets superpowers, Hal is bad guy deep down.  He’s a creep and a stalker.  He harasses Roxanne at work and keeps pestering her for a date no matter how many times she says no.  Either consciously or unconsciously, he assumes that she’s shallow, and that once he has a muscular body and a bevy of godlike abilities, she’ll fawn on him.  The idea that he himself might be the problem never seems to occur to him.  In fact, he seems to feel that she will then owe him her affection.  This is because, even before becoming Titan, Hal appears to have an overblown sense of self-importance and an unrealistic concept about what he deserves.  (I go into detail about that in an earlier post, Megamind and Identity, which you can read here.)  The fact that he doesn’t get what he feels is his right seems to have created a deep-seeded bitterness in him that rises to the surface once he obtains power.

But Hal really is the problem.  His combined possessive harassment and complete lack of empathy are exactly why Roxanne neither likes nor trusts him.  And she’s right to feel that way.  Almost immediately after gaining his powers, now feeling that he is above society’s rules, Titan begins revealing just how terrible of a person he really is.  He uses his supervision to spy on Roxanne while he and Megamind (disguised as Space Dad) are in the park, and that must not be the only incident because he later tells Roxanne: “I know everything about you.”  This is just before he grabs her off of her balcony, without her consent, and begins throwing her around like a rag doll, terrifying her and putting her life in real danger because, apparently, he thinks she’ll be impressed.

Yeah.  This guy is pretty much human garbage.

Once he finally understands (more or less) that Roxanne really means it when she says she’s not interested, Hal/Titan reveals himself to be a man-child.  He  begins by using his abilities for selfish and criminal reasons, essentially stating that he doesn’t feel heroism is worth his time.  When he learns that Megamind has been dating Roxanne, (albeit in disguise,) he reacts with violence.  This is because Megamind, like Hal himself, is an outsider: unpopular, unwelcome, and considered unattractive by most of the population of Metro City.  In Hal’s mind, this revelation highlights the fact that none of these factors were the cause of Roxanne’s rejection, leaving only he himself to blame.  (In fact, the movie contrasts Megamind, who, although imperfect, respects Roxanne’s wishes and intelligence, with Hal, who basically views her as an object to be won.  Again, you can read more about that in Megamind and Identity.) Hal can’t handle that.  He can’t accept it.  So instead he turns his rage on the city as a whole.  (This is despite the fact that, deep down, Hal knows he is the problem, hence why he rejects his identity as Hal and fully embraces the new one as Titan.  That’s illustrated by his final line before abandoning Roxanne on Metro Tower: “It’s Titan, not Hal!”)

Hal abuses his power, and society suffers as a result.  Even then, however, Hal/Titan still tries to lay claim to Roxanne.  He accuses Megamind of “stealing his girlfriend,” and later tells Roxanne: “Let me guess, after seeing how awesome I am, you’ve come to your senses.”  All the way to the end, Hal still can’t quite seem to accept that reality is not following his design.

If the idea of a man who lets power go to his head, objectifies women, won’t take “no” for an answer, and reacts violently when denied what he feels he’s owed sounds familiar, that’s because it is.  Humanity has a huge problem with these sorts of behaviors, ranging from sexism and sexual predation to unfeeling abuses of power.  The Sarah Everard case in London, and the fact that several officials essentially blamed the victim, asking why Sarah was walking home alone rather than asking why some guy felt he had the right to attack her, is the most recent well-known testament to this, but it’s sadly far from the only one.  A.J. White said it best in his YouTube video, The Terror of the Incel Superman, when he expressed that news archives are full of stories about women being murdered by the sort of overgrown boys who can’t accept their refusals.  And although men of that sort do not have the ability to fly or shoot lasers out of their eyes, some of them do rise to social and political power.  They are Hals. 

That is exactly what makes this character so especially scary.  Unlike more farcical supervillains, he is based upon something that truly exists.  Preternatural abilities aside, Hal is terrifying because he is very real.  Let’s just hope our world will see more Megaminds willing to stand up to them. #BeMegamindNotHal

[jayoctodot]

The Silent Patient vs The Maidens

I will start by saying that I understand the appeal of these novels as page-turners. They are easy to read and if you want a twisty reveal at the end, you will probably be entertained and satisfied. That being said, I am SO CONFUSED by the near-universal adoration of The Silent Patient and the reasonably positive reception of The Maidens. The weaknesses of the two are strikingly similar, as well, which doesn’t give me much hope of seeing improvement from this guy, though I am intrigued to see whether he keeps repeating the same (apparently successful!!) patterns. These books were at least super fun to hate.

(For context, I read The Maidens for a bookclub I'm in, because several of the members had read and loved The Silent Patient, and one of them gave me a copy of the latter to read on my own time. I loathed The Maidens and then read The SP for comparative purposes. And because I'm a masochist, apparently.)

SPOILER WARNING! Do not read on unless you've finished both books (or unless you care not for spoilers). Sorry if it gets a bit shouty.

Here are the similar weaknesses I noticed in both:

PSEUDO-PSYCHOLOGY

-> Weirdly similar “group therapy” scenes early on where a cartoonishly unstable patient arrives late, disrupts the meeting by throwing something into the middle of the circle, and is asked to join the group after the therapist(s) speechify on the importance of boundaries (HA! None of these therapists would know an appropriate boundary if it kicked them in the ass) and debate whether to “allow” the patient to join. Both scenes are so transparent in their design to establish the credibility/legitimacy of the narrators as therapists, but instead both Theo and Mariana come off as super patronizing. The protagonists are less and less believable as therapists at the stories progress (though at least Theo’s incompetence is explained away by the “twist” at the end; Mariana, on the other hand, is confronted in the opening pages of the novel by a patient who has self-harmed PRETTY extensively, and rather than ensure he get proper medical attention, she essentially throws him a first aid kit and tosses him out the door so she can pour herself a glass of wine and call her niece... and it devolves from there).

-> Ongoing insistence throughout the narrative that one’s childhood trauma entirely explains the warped/dysfunctional way a character behaves or views the world, which is why the books go out of their way to give EVERY potentially violent character a traumatic childhood; when Theo insists that no one ever became an abuser who hadn’t been abused themselves, I wanted to throw the book across the room. (That is a MYTH, SIR. GET OUT OF HERE WITH YOUR ARMCHAIR PSYCHOLOGY.)

-> Female murderers whose pathology boils down to “history of depression” and “traumatized by a male loved one/family member.” Because, as we all know, depression + abuse = murderer!

-> The “therapy” depicted in both books is laughable and so so unrealistic, mostly because neither narrators function as therapists so much as incompetent detectives, obsessively pursuing a case they have no place pursuing (or skill to pursue - both just happen across every clue mostly by way of clunky conversation with all the people who can provide precisely the snippet of info to send them along to the next person, and the next… until all is revealed in a tired, cliched “twist”). Their constant Psych 101 asides were so tiresome and weirdly dated (also, the constant harping on countertransference got so ridiculous that at one point during "therapy" Theo literally attributes his headache and a particular emotion he feels to Alicia, as though the contents of her head are being broadcast directly into his mind... and I'm PRETTY SURE that's not how it works???)

CHARACTERS

-> Psychotherapist narrators with abusive fathers and pretensions of being Sherlock Holmes, which results in both characters crossing ALL KINDS of ethical lines as they invade the personal lives of everyone even tangentially connected to their cases (and, in Theo's case, violate all kinds of patient confidentiality. Yeah, yeah, by the end, that's the least of his offenses, but before you get there, it's baffling that NO ONE is calling him out on this).

-> All female characters are either elderly with hilariously bad advice, monstrous hulking brutes, or beautiful bitches (except for ~MARIANA~, who is Bella Swan-esque in her unawareness of her own attractiveness, despite multiple men trying to get with her almost immediately after meeting her. I'm so tired of beautiful female characters being oblivious to their own hotness. Are we meant to believe all mirrors and male attention have escaped their notice? If it’s to make them “relatable,” this tactic really fails with me).

-> All characters of color are shallow, cartoonish side characters, and most of them are depicted as unsympathetic minor antagonists (the Sikh Chief Inspector in The Maidens continuously drinks tea from an ever-present thermos, and his only other notable characteristic is his instant dislike of Mariana, whom he VERY RIGHTLY warns to stay out of the investigation that she is VERY MUCH compromising… the Caribbean manager of the Grove is universally disliked by her staff for enforcing stricter safety regulations at the bafflingly poorly run mental institution, because HOW DARE SHE. There's a very clear vibe that we're supposed to dislike these characters and share the protagonists' indignation, but honestly Sangha/Stephanie were completely in the right for trying to shut down their wildly inappropriate investigations).

-> "Working class" characters (or basically anyone excluded from the comfortably upper-crust, educated main cadre of characters) are few and far between in both stories, but when they show up, he depicts them as such caricatures. We got Elsie the pathologically lying housekeeper in the Maidens, who is enticed to share her bullshit with cake, and then a TOOTHLESS LEPRECHAUN DEALING DRUGS UNDER A BRIDGE in the SP. I kid you not, a man described as having the body of a child, the face of Father Time, and no front teeth, emerges from beneath a bridge and offers to sell Theo some "grass." I was dyinggg.

-> There are no characters to root for. Anywhere. Partly because they’re all so thinly drawn — and because we’re clearly supposed to view almost ALL of them as potential suspects, so they’re ALL weird, creepy, or incompetent in some way.

-> The flimsiest of flimsy motives, both for the narrators and the murderers. Theo fully would have gotten away with his involvement in the murder if he hadn't gone out of his way to work at the Grove and "treat" Alicia and his justification for doing so is pretty weak; his rapid descent into stalking and murder fantasy and his random ass decision to "expose" Alicia's husband as a cheater with a spur-of-the-moment home invasion and staged attempted homicide is ONLY justified if the reader hand waves it away as WELP, HE'S CRAZY, I GUESS (after all, he DID have an abusive father and a history of mental illness, and in Michaelides novels, that's ALL YOU NEED to become a violent psycho). I guess we're lucky Mariana didn't also start dropping bodies (because the logic of his fictional universe says she should definitely be a murderer by now... maybe that'll be his Maidens sequel?). But she especially had NO reason to randomly turn detective - and she kept trying to justify it by saying she needed to re-enter the world or that Sebastian would want her to (??), even though she had no background in criminal psychology... or even a particular fondness for mysteries (really, I would've accepted ANYTHING to explain her dogged obsession with the case. WHY were Sebastian and Zoe so certain she would insert herself into the investigation just because one of Zoe's friends was the first victim? WHY?). As for Zoe and Alicia, their motives are mere suggestions: they were both abused and manipulated, and voila! Slippery slope to murder.

WRITING STYLE

-> Incessant allusions to Greek tragedy and myth, apparently to provide a sophisticated gloss over the bare-bones writing style, which opts more for telling than showing and frequently indulges in hilariously bizarre analogies. Credit where credit is due — the references to Greek myth are less clunky in the SP, and I liked learning about the Alcestis play/myth, which I hadn’t heard of before - but OMG the entire characterization of Fosca, who we are meant to believe is a professor of Greek tragedy at one of the most respected universities on the planet, is just absurd. His "lecture" on the liminal in Greek tragedy is essentially the Wikipedia page on the Eleusinian Mysteries capped off with some Hallmark-card carpe diem crap. The lecture hall responds with raucous applause, clearly never having heard such vague genius bullshit before.

-> Super clunky and amateurish narrative device of interludes written by another character; Sebastian’s letter reads like a mashup of Dexter monologues and Clarice’s memory of the screaming sheep, but by FAR the worse offender is Alicia’s diary, where we’re supposed to believe she painstakingly recorded ENTIRE CONVERSATIONS, BEAT-BY-BEAT DIALOGUE, even when she’s just been DRUGGED TO THE GILLS with morphine and has mere moments of consciousness left… and even before that, she literally takes the time to write “He's trying the windows and doors! ...Someone’s inside! Someone’s inside the house! ETC ETC” when she thinks her stalker has broken in downstairs. WHO DOES THAT?)

-> Speaking of dialogue, the dialogue is so bad. Based on his bio, Michaelides got a degree in screenwriting, which makes his terrible dialogue even more baffling.

-> HILARIOUSLY rendered voyeur scenes where the narrators spy on couples having sex. Such unintentionally awkward descriptions. First we had Kathy’s climax sounds through the trees and then the bowler hat carefully placed on a tombstone before the gatekeeper plows a student. Again, I died.

PLOT/"TWIST"

-> The CONSTANT red herrings make for such an exhausting read. Michaelides drops anvils with almost every character that are so obviously meant to designate them as suspects in our minds. There is absolutely no subtlety in his misdirections.

-> The “crossover” scene between the SP and The Maidens makes no sense - when in the timeline does Mariana’s story overlap with Theo’s? They confer just before Theo starts working at the Grove, obviously (though Mariana appears to be the one who alerts Theo to the job opening there? Whereas in the SP, Theo has been obsessively tracking Alicia since the murder and had already planned to apply to work there?), but then are we supposed to believe that while Theo has been psychotically pursuing his warped quest to “help” Alicia, he’s also been diligently treating Zoe, so invested in her case that he repeatedly reaches out to Mariana to get her to visit Zoe and even writes Mariana a lengthy letter to convince her to do so??? And then a couple days after The Maidens ends, Theo is arrested???

-> But the thing I really did hate the most is how Michaelides treats his female murderers (who are both also victims themselves) as mere means to deploy a “twist”; there’s no moment spared to encourage our sympathy for Zoe, who was groomed and manipulated by the only trusted father figure in her life, and even after spending a decent amount of time getting to know Alicia via her ridiculous diary, where it’s so apparent that she’s been demeaned, objectified, manipulated, gaslit, and/or used by EVERY man in her life, she’s sent packing to spend the rest of her days in a coma… HOW much more satisfying would it have been for her to succeed in exposing Theo and reclaiming her voice? But no, she basically rolls over when he comes to finish her off (SPEAKING OF — ARE WE SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE THERE ARE NO SECURITY CAMERAS IN THIS INSTITUTE FOR THE CRIMINALLY INSANE????), writes one last diary entry, and drifts off forever. And then a couple pages of nothing later, the story is over. GOODNIGHT, ALICIA!

Both books kept me rolling throughout (by which I mean eye-rolling but also rotfl). Maybe I will check out his next effort — I’m morbidly curious what he’ll turn out. It does leave me wondering whether I should give up on thriller novels entirely, though. Are many of the weaknesses of these novels just characteristic of the genre? Maybe I'm just holding these books to unfair standards? I'm mostly only familiar with thriller films — many of which I think are amazing — but maybe you can get away with more in a film than you can in a novel.

...I really only intended to write a handful of bullet points, but more and more kept coming to mind as I wrote, to the point where subheadings became necessary. Whoopsie.

[backtobackbakubabe]

Speak Easy Part 11

Dabi x Reader , Bakugo x Reader

Words : 4125

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together.

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

****************************************************************

The longer you sat in the car the more uncomfortable you got. You knew you looked like a mess, and by the way Dabi was trying really hard not to look at you, it must be really bad.

“I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure you have… doesn’t make me okay with it.”

You would have rolled your eyes if you didn’t think the action would hurt your head. “I’m fine. You’ve literally stabbed and drowned me before.”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “How long are you going to throw that in my face? They were both in your best interest and I’m done apologizing for them.”

His anxiety and anger were written all over his features from his tense shoulders to his cold stare at the road in front of him. You reached over to run your fingers through his hair, knowing the simple action would help ease his nerves. However, your sore muscles and possibly bruised ribs throbbed in pain and made you hiss through your teeth and your hand ended up gripping his elbow instead.

“What was that about being fine?” His tone wasn’t as antagonistic as you had thought it would be. Instead it sounded a little distressed.

It finally clicked why he was so upset. He had told you before you left that he would keep you safe. In his head he failed. You knew he had a rough time coping with failure thanks to Endeavor’s less than ideal parenting. Dabi can pretend that his childhood doesn’t affect him anymore all he likes, but you saw through it.

“None of this was your fault. You know that, right?”

The car remained silent as he continued to stare ahead.

“I’m serious. I’m not just saying it to make you feel better. If anything, it’s my fault. I let go of your hand after you asked me more than once not to. I froze when he attacked me.” Now you were just working yourself up. “And holy shit was I rusty with my quirk. Like I may as well have not used it at all. He was able to shake out of my word binding like it was nothing.”

Back in your prime you would have been able to take a guy like that down with little to no effort. You looked down to your scraped hands and knees. Felt the pain in your ribs with every breath you took. And you knew there was a decent chance you had a concussion. “How did I manage to slip this far?”

Now it was his turn to reach out and put his hand on your thigh. It was almost humorous how quickly he could shift moods when he thought you needed him. “Just a small hiccup. It was your first real fight in years. That guy was a trained assassin, and you still managed to incapacitate him. Next time you won’t hesitate. We’ll work on it at home, if it makes you feel better.”

You intertwined your fingers with his and nodded. “I think I’d like that.”

The rest of the car ride was quiet as you both let yourself stew in your own thoughts. Your thoughts were a dangerous place to be. Not only where you having a minor melt down about your recent fight, but you were still trying to cope with the fact you just watched Dabi murder someone.

As a hero that was something that was a massive taboo. You only did it if you absolutely had to and even then, you were still scrutinized. The man was paralyzed and couldn’t mood. You could have called one of the guys to come pick him up. Dabi insisted that if you let them put the man in prison, it would just be handing him over to the same people who were looking for you. Right now, no one knows that you’re with Dabi. That kind of information would be invaluable to both heroes and villains who were currently looking for you.

There was a sick feeling of despair that was settling in your stomach as you started to realize that Dabi might have been right. You didn’t want to accept it though. Your whole life you were trained to value human life, even if that life belonged to a bad person. But at this point you couldn’t figure out how much of your life as a hero was even real. How much you still agreed with. You were finding it was hard to even differentiate who was bad and who was good. It was enough to make your head spin.

Closing your eyes, you leaned your head on the cold glass window as the spinning only seemed to increase.

“Hey… Hey don’t do that. Keep your eyes open and stay awake. You probably have a concussion.”

“If I keep my eyes open, I’m going to throw up. My head is spinning.” You put your head in your hands and rubbed your temples.

“Okay… so you definitely have a concussion. Hold on we’re almost home.” You didn’t open your eyes, but you could feel the car pick up speed. For a while the only sound in the car was the low hum of the engine as Dabi sped home. He knew it’d be easier to calm down once you were safe within it’s walls.

Before long the car slowed down as it approached the garage. You kept your eyes closed as you listened to Dabi’s quick steps around the car. He opened your door gently to keep you from falling out of the car. You heard his breath catch and you wondered if you really looked that bad.

“Let’s get you inside and cleaned up.” Out of instinct, you reached your arms up to him just like you did when he carried you everywhere. Without a moment’s hesitation he slotted his arms under your knees and behind your back and pulled you out of the car. It sent jolts of pain through your ribs, but you bit your lip to keep yourself from making a sound.

The trip from the garage to the bathroom was shorter than you would have liked. You were enjoying the feeling being caged in his strong arms, snuggling into his warm chest. He gently set you on the toilet, brushing some hair away from you face, careful to avoid any area that might be bruised or bleeding. “I’m going to turn the water on, but real quick, while the water heats up I’m going to go get the groceries out of the car.”

If your eyes were open, you would be narrowing them at him right now. “…You’re worried about the ice cream aren’t you?”

There was a moment of silence that just confirmed it. “Shut up…Don’t pretend you wouldn’t be sad if you couldn’t have ice cream after the shitty day you’ve had.”

You snorted, “I’d rather have a shot… but I have a feeling you won’t let me because of the whole mild head injury thing…. So…” You opened your eyes and waved towards the bathroom door. “Go get it before it melts. I can take it from here.”

He sprinted out of the bathroom yelling “Don’t fucking move until I get back!” as he left. He said not to move, but you could at least try to start undressing yourself. That shouldn’t be too hard.

You started with your shoes. Easy enough, just kicked them right off with no problem. Now it’s time for your dress. That was a whole different story. You tried several times, but you couldn’t seem to be able to pull past your chest without some part of you hurting.

You desperately wanted to get undressed and into the shower yourself. There was probably some part of you that was still feeling a little defeated and insecure after your fight. You had this weird need to prove you could do it by yourself even though realistically you couldn’t, and not only that you didn’t have too.

You knew Dabi would help, hell he would probably be pissed if you tried to do this without him. Just as much as you wanted to do this alone, he wanted to take care of you probably even more. He was also still feeling the sting of perceived failure. So, what were you going to do?

You surprised even yourself when you sighed and leaned back deciding to wait for Dabi. Logically you knew the only you were going to do this without hurting yourself further was to let him help. It was what was physically best for you. It also would help him get over his own pity party, so in a way it was what was best for him too.

“Oh wow… you actually listened.” Dabi was back and making his way towards you with a first aid kit that looked like it had seen some shit.

“Not on purpose. I tried to get my dress off… but it just hurt, so I gave up and decided I’d wait for you to do it for me.”

He placed the kit on the counter and squatted between your legs. “I’m about to say something that I know you’ll think is sarcastic, but I promise it’s not… Thank you for giving up.” He gently pulled the hem of your dress up until he could pull it over your front. If he was affected by the fact that you were sitting in front of him in only a pair of underwear, then he didn’t show it.

He quietly appraised your injuries with a serious face. “Other than your head and your ribs does anything stand out at overly painful? Can you rotate and bend all of your joints?”

One by one you checked your wrists, shoulders, ankles, knees, and lastly your neck. “I think they’re all fine. Sore in some spots, but nothing too bad.”

He nodded as he started to clean the dried blood off of your forehead. “You have a lot of scrapes, but those will be fine. I just want to get this nasty cut on your forehead cleaned up.” He bit his lip, “I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m supposed to do for your ribs though… or what you’re supposed to do for concussions.”

You winced as he pressed a little too hard onto the gash in your forehead, “It’s fine… that’s what Google’s for right?”

He apparently didn’t think that was very funny. He just grunted as he continued his dabbing. When he considered himself done, he put a bandage over it. “I was kinda hoping you could show off your surgical staple skills. We could be twins.”

“That’s not funny.” His blue eyes fixed on you, you could see something cracking in them. “Okay maybe it’s a little funny… I might laugh about it tomorrow… but right now… not funny.”

He reached a hand into the shower to test the temperature. “Alright, let’s get you cleaned up. We just need to try and keep your bandage dry, if that’s even possible.”

He was helping you stand up to get into the shower, but you stopped him right before you got in. “I’m sorry… I feel like ever since I got here all you’ve done nothing but take care of me.” You took a step into the shower. “I promise I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

He quickly stripped out of his clothes and got in behind you. “Stop with that shit. It’s like I said earlier today, just because you can doesn’t mean you should have to.” His fingers started massaging into your sore muscles in your back, “I promise I don’t mind. I know you’re a big girl, I know you’re capable, but you’re also mine. And I take care of what’s mine.”

His fingers moved to base of you scalp and started rubbing firm circles, and you practically purred at the action. It felt so damn good. He leaned over your shoulder and pressed a kiss just below your ear. “I know you got a little beat up today, and I know you’re a little disappointed, but at the end of the day you’re the one who walked away. I’m still proud of you. You fought hard against someone who has been trained to kill top ranked heroes. Next time I’m sure you won’t even need me.” He kissed your shoulder and his hands ghosted around to your hips. His fingers so soft you almost couldn’t feel them. “I’m going to start training with you.” His fingers brushed up your sides, his thumbs brushing the sides of your breasts. “We’re going to turn you into someone they wouldn’t dare fuck with again.”

His hands heated up slightly as they very gently hovered over your ribs. The warmth felt great against your aching bones. You closed your eyes and leaned back against him and let him take his time rinsing all the blood and dirt from your body. Every once in a while, his hands would linger, rubbing small circles or massaging your sore muscles.

When he turned the water off it felt like it had been hours since you stepped in and your limbs felt like jelly.

That’s how you ended up wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, lying on Dabi’s chest with his arms around you. You don’t know when you drifted off but thankfully there were no bad memories waiting for you when you did. You slept deeply and soundly, making up for the restless sleep you had last night. When your little mid-day nap ended you woke up still feeling sore, but well rested.

You stretched the best you could, before blinking your eyes open. You had expected to see Dabi curled up next to you, but was surprised to find an empty bed.

He better not have snuck out again to track people down. You weren’t in any shape to take care of him if he came back hurt again.

Something felt weird as you sat up, there was a weird pressure on your neck, almost like you were wearing a heavy necklace. Your fingers flew up to find a collar and your eyes immediately welled with tears as the memory of have having the medical collar on in the lab pushed to the front of your brain. Your fingers dug into it trying to rip it off, but you couldn’t. In your panic your nails dug into the skin of your neck. There was no latch that you could find, and it was leading to a gnawing fear in the pit of your stomach. “DABI!!”

Your voice sounded hysterical and terrified even to you. But you couldn’t help it.

The door to his room slammed open a few seconds later as he ran inside. His eyes assessed the situation and settled on the source of your panic. His hands replaced yours pulling your nails away from your neck. “Hey shhh, calm down. You’re safe. Just breath.”

You tried to do what he said, but your breathing was getting tighter. “I-I need it off! I cant- I cant breath!” You felt a tear slip down your cheek. “Please! Dabi get it off of me!”

His hands came up to cup your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “No… no you are stronger than this. It’s just a glorified necklace. It can’t hurt you. Look at me y/n!” Your eyes met his cool blue ones. “It’s just a pretty collar for my pretty girl. I told you earlier today if you let go of my hand again, I’d put you in a collar. You did, and it ended up in you almost getting kidnapped.” His thumb rubbed your cheek, soaking up some stray tears you weren’t aware you had shed. “I don’t make idle threats… and besides if you let me show you, I think you’ll actually like it.”

Your breathing slowly started to even out as your eyes started to look more focused. “Good girl. See there’s no danger here.”

When you felt yourself come back to reality you slapped his chest. “Asshole! You had to have known that wasn’t going to go well! You should have asked first!”

He grabbed your hand before you could slap him again. “I mentioned it earlier and you didn’t say anything. If anything, you looked turned on… so sue me.” He took your hand and led you over to the bathroom.

He placed you in front of him so you could see. It was a pretty shade of pink with a metal heart looped in the front. From the heart hung a tiny Sakura flower. It really was pretty.

“It’s not just a fashion statement okay, it’s functional. Consider it support gear. It has a chip in it that can only be tracked if you turn it on and only by people that have the code. Don’t worry it’s currently turned off.” He pointed to a little metal button on the side. “There’s another button over here that lets you record something and then play it back louder so it reaches more people. It also acts like a communication device. You can connect with me, Minimight, Squirt, and the angry Pomeranian. It’s voice activated.” He tapped the button and held it down until you heard a beeping noise. “Call backup plan.”

You heard a ringing before an angry Katsuki answered the phone. “Who the fuck is this?”

“Hey! Lose the tude it’s just me!”

Before he could answer you, Dabi cut him off. “It’s her new com device. Save it.” Then he clicked the button ending the call.

He looked smug. You’d have to figure out how to reprogram the names later. “It also can track your vitals, but before you give me the look I know you’re going to give me. It only sends updates to the people you have programmed into it, and only if it registers that you are in critical or life-threatening conditions.”

Your fingers came up and touched the flower that dangled from it. “Ok… but how do I take it off?”

Happy you were warming up to the idea of it, “Voice command. Just push the button and say ‘naked’ and the latch will open. You can also say ‘attack’ and some pretty little spikes come out, keeping anyone from putting their hands around your neck. Pretty cool right?”

You sighed, “I can admit it’s cool… but can you please admit you should have asked first? I had to wear a collar for years in the lab… it’s what kept me under their control.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off the way you looked in the mirror. Totally naked other than the collar. His eyes looked practically feral. “I regret that it scared you. But I warned you and you didn’t tell me it was a limit. That is due to a lack of communication on your side.” His hands slid around to your front pulling your back against him so you could feel how hard he was through his pants. “God you look so fucking hot. Bruises and all.”

He began to grind against your ass, and you found yourself leaning over the sink and pushing back into him. You knew you were already wet, and you needed some friction to relieve the ache between your legs.

“Oh fuuuuck baby girl. You want it? You want me to bend you over this counter and take you?”

You whined and pushed back into him harder, “Please… but- but.” You groaned as his hand came up to tweak your nipple.

“What was that? Come on use your words.”

You arched your back, pushing your breast further into his hand. “Be gentle...”

His lips found your neck, “Of course baby. I’m not a monster.”

You felt him push his shorts down to his ankles and moments later you felt the head of his cock teasing your entrance. “You’re already so god damn wet.” He pushed into you slowly. Almost too slowly. It took everything in you not to shove yourself back onto him. You had asked him to be gentle, and that’s what he was trying to do.

You let out a moan of relief when he was fully inside you. His chest pressed tightly against your back his hands reaching out to yours and lacing your fingers together.

It was slow, it was slow and sweet. You thought at first it would drive you crazy, but you were eventually overwhelmed at the intimacy of it all. He wasn’t just fucking you. He wasn’t just chasing his own high. He was gentle, and loving, and every stroke felt like a promise. His lips were kissing every part of you he could reach. Your temple, your cheek, your neck, your shoulder.

“So perfect.” He groaned at the effort it took to keep his hips from picking up their pace. “Such a perfect girl for me. So fucking pretty and strong. Ahhhh” His hips stuttered just slightly. “Fuck baby, you have no idea what you do to me.”

You tried to control it, but it was almost impossible. Your quirk activated. Your feelings spilled over through your touch. His gasp got stuck in his throat. “I’m sorry I can’t control it right now. I just feel – ah- so fucking good.”

You were both sweaty messes at this point, practically glued together. “Shit don’t apologize. It’s crazy how much I love that. I love making you feel good, show me how good I make you feel.”

You hummed at the pleasure that was singing in your veins. You were so close and Dabi could feel it. Both through your quirk and the way your walls started to flutter around him. You were about to beg for him to let you come when a beeping sound came from your collar making him slow down nearly to a stop. “Fuck.. no no no. I was so close, please.”

Dabi chuckled. “Someone’s calling you, say hello.” Your eyes bulged open as he hit the button to answer the call.

“Uh.. hello?”

“Y/n? What the fuck was that earlier? Did staple dick get you a phone?” This was not good. You looked at Dabi’s devilish grin in the mirror as he slowly started thrusting into you again as he mouthed, ‘talk to him’

You bit a moan back absolutely mortified. “Hey Kats. Something like that.” Dabi’s hand wrapped your long hair around his hand and pulled to make you look at him through the mirror. His pace picking up. You could hear your breath begin to sound labored and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he pieced it together. “Now’s not the best time, can I call you later?”

“Y/n… are you okay? You sound like you’re out of breath?”

You coughed in an attempt to cover up one of your moans, “I’m fine, just tired. Dabi and I are… training.”

There was a beat of silence on his end as Dabi continued his hard, slow thrusts into you. “Training my ass. Call me when you guys are done fucking… The mic on whatever you’re using is really good. I’ve already heard more than I want too.”

You went to hit the button to end the call but Dabi grabbed your hand and put it back on the counter preventing it. “Ah- Sorry Kat-SUKI!” Dabi pinched your clit with his other hand causing you to moan in response. Your face turned a dark shade of red at the fact that Katsuki had just heard that.

“Dabi… I know you’re listening and you’re a fucking asshole.” You sighed in relief when you heard the sound signaling that he had hung up.

Dabi started laughing loudly as picked up his pace just slightly. “Teach him to want what’s mine.”

You felt tears start to leak from the corners of your eyes as your orgasm built to its breaking point. “DABI! I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum. AH!”

You felt your orgasm rip though you and it was intense. Dabi cooed praises in your ear that you couldn’t quite hear as he continued to ride you though it. “Good giiiiiirl!”

“I’m close doll, where do you want it?”

Your eyes almost rolled back, “Inside. Cum inside me please.”

“My baby girl want’s my cum. Of course, she does. What my girl want’s she gets!” He slammed into you a few more times before you felt his hot ropes coating your insides. “Gonna bread my pretty girl one of these days. Gonna put a fucking baby in you.”

He collapsed but managed to keep his weight off of you. After a few moments of the both of you panting he sat up, pulled out of you and kissed the back of your neck. “God I love this collar.”

************

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime @klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe@unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry@dabislittlemouse@aimee1602@pinkhatlizzy @kunaigirlx44 @nii-sanfucker@bestgirlb @silver-stardrop@bakubby99

[mintchocolatechipnut]

bakugou cooking for his crush

Okay I just had the cutest idea: Bakugou falling for a classmate that's a really good eater. One day she stumbles across his food in the common fridge without knowing he cooked it. She steals a bite and is smitten with his food. And Bakugou, having seen the whole thing, becomes smitten with her.

Note: How this idea came about I have no clue... I just remember writing the entire thing on my phone at my grandparents’ house and really having fun writing it. To be honest, I don’t have the best grasp on Bakugou’s character, but I tried... For all my fellow food lovers out there!

Tags: more tooth-rotting fluff (the domestic kind), attempts at showing character development through cooking, Bakugou’s tough love (but of course, you’re here for that)

Word count: 3.5k

So I'm imagining that Bakugou likes to keep his cooking skills on the down low, because who knows if idiots like Kirishima and Kaminari show up and start whining at him to cook them food, and he doesn't want to be teased as being 'domestic'

He doesn't think there's anything wrong with cooking since he's able to take care of himself and his health, but if his squad saw him in the kitchen in his apron he wouldn't ever be able to live it down

That said, he brings his freshly cooked meals into his room and opens his windows so the smell doesn't linger, and he stores his leftovers in the deep recesses of the fridge where no one would ever think to look, not even food thieves

Luckily or unluckily for him, you were no ordinary food thief.

Bakugou is on his way downstairs because he's feeling peckish and wants to heat up some of the leftovers of his favourite dish, so imagine his shock and anger when he sees you and Sero poring over the blue Tupperware housing his food

Before he can take a single seething step, though, you've already spooned a bite into your mouth

His eyes widen, and now he's really mad that an extra like you had the audacity to eat his food

But then you let out a near inhuman noise, and it sounds… intensely satisfied?

'Oh my god, who cooked this?' Unable to contain your excitement you're shaking Sero by the shoulders, lips drawing up in a contented smile. 'This is the best thing I've ever tasted!'

For some reason, Bakugou's not so mad anymore. Obviously because for an extra like you, at least you had taste

But something about the pure joy in your expression made Bakugou feel… guilty that he was going to stop you

It's absurd because if anyone should be feeling guilty, it's you

As he's thinking this, the snap of the closed Tupperware brings him back to his senses, and all of a sudden he's fleeing the scene so he's not discovered

He's even more bewildered because there's no reason for him to be running away, and he hates running away

But somehow he felt a bit awkward and… embarrassed after hearing what you had to say about his food

With that he decided that he'd let it go once, and maybe seal his container a bit tighter

But he's sorely mistaken the next morning at the breakfast counter when you begin gushing about his food once more

Remember when he thought that you should've felt guilty for eating his food? There's not an ounce of shame in your words, though.

You tell the story of your tastebuds' meeting with heaven when you and Sero found a container full of something inside the fridge, and out of curiosity, you decided to take a peek

'I didn't mean to eat it, I swear I didn't! But it just looked so good, and I could imagine how it tasted… but boy did it taste so much better than that!'

Bakugou's left reeling at this praise, and there's an uncomfortable feeling upsetting his stomach as he tries to wolf down his cereal, trying not to think about how your words made his ears burn

Then the punchline: 'If we have a guy in our class who cooks like this, I'd marry him in a heartbeat!'

Bakugou nearly spits his milk

Luckily no one notices, and are instead calling you out for your food thievery or watching your animated hand gestures

On his walk to class, Bakugou has no idea how he feels about this; he just wants to banish it to the corners of his mind so he wouldn't have to waste time thinking about something that shouldn't have mattered so much before

Right before he steps into class he's met with a flashback of your smile when you ate his cooking, and suddenly a plan pops into his brain

…

You show up in the kitchen the next few days, wanting to see if the 'blue Tupperware man' struck again with his fantastic dishes

More often than not, you're met with disappointment, but your eyes light up when you see the familiar blue sticking out in your vision when you open the fridge one day

You're shocked to find a note attached: 'To Y/N: I know you've been eating my food. You can only have a bite of this, but not one more. Don't think I can't tell if you do, I WILL know.'

You're all around mortified, though you realise you really shouldn't be: practically everyone heard your declarations of food thievery that day

But the last line drove home the fact that the person who cooked this was here, and was indeed a student

The first thing you do is scan the area behind you for any immediate signs of life, in case the chef had been watching you

But when nothing turns up, you shrug, and rub your hands together in excitement

You swear you could hear stifled laughter, but the lure of the food in front of you was too much to overcome in favour of an investigation

As you eat and, once again, fail to be disappointed, Bakugou's eyes are trailing your face

There it is: the same expression, if not even better than he remembered, that you put on when you ate good food

And suddenly, Bakugou wants to see that expression more

The next few times a similar note addressed to you accompanies every meal, but when you tried to reply you wouldn't get an answer back

Then one day, the notes just stopped. You felt sad for a while, but then perked up when you saw the contents of the Tupperware, containing some of your favourite ingredients

From then on it was a given that you could eat from the blue Tupperware, and not more than three bites

You still cringe at the stinginess, leading to Bakugou muffling his chuckles every time

He doesn't come and watch you eat every time, because it's creepy, for one thing

But sometimes he'd be in his room, just knowing that you'd be tiptoeing down the stairs in anticipation of what's in the fridge, and a small grin would tug at the corners of his mouth

He'd also made it clear that no one else would attempt to try his food. Once Kaminari tried to sneak a bite, but when he opened the container the stench of rotting beans knocked him out

Bakugou cackled as he dragged Kaminari back to his room, but not before switching out the containers with the one meant for you

He's also quick to throw anyone who's out to discover him off the scent (ha)

Besides doing so in the literal sense, as with Kaminari, Bakugou makes sure to stay out of everyone's radar in the kitchen, and even goes as far to put your portion in a separate pink Tupperware, with your name on it

Yeah, no way would such a sappy move be from blasty boy Bakugou, right?

You'd been playing this game for a few weeks now when you just can't take it anymore

Bakugou awakes one morning to discover a text message from you in the group chat:

'To the person who always leaves me food (aka blue Tupperware!!), please PLEASE show yourself! I really want to get to know the person who makes such wonderful food!'

He felt his heart swell, and he's painfully reminded of your first words of how you'd marry him for his cooking

He's grateful he's blushing alone in his room

At this declaration in the group chat, however, more and more 'investigations' are popping up

Deku is a particularly difficult person to distract and Bakugou hates it

But so far he's been keeping it together, all he has to do is stick it out a bit longer

That's when Mineta of all people tries to impersonate him

Bakugou's infuriated when he's checking on you one night and you fish a note out of your container

'What's this?' you muse aloud, and begin reading it out aloud, much to Bakugou's benefit, 'Meet me behind the dorms tomorrow after school. I'll show you who I am.'

Bakugou knows it's definitely not him who wrote it, but he can't stop the rage arising in his chest when he sees your eyes light up in excitement

Who is this impostor and when and where would they like their ass being whooped?

Bakugou decides once again to investigate in his usual ninja fashion that he's perfected from watching you

He follows you to the back of the school discreetly, where you bounce on the balls of your feet in impatience

Suddenly a familiar purple head emerges from the bushes, and Bakugou has to physically restrain his palms from crackling

'Mineta?' He's happy that your eyebrows furrowed at the sight of him, but he's suddenly left reeling when he has an introspective moment about why he's been playing this game all along

He felt too afraid to face you. Too afraid to show his domestic side, and too afraid to come clean and say he cares. He knows he doesn't have the best personality in class, but he really wants your impression of him as ‘blue Tupperware’ to stay untainted and pristine

What would you think, then, if you discovered that your mystery chef was the abrasive, antagonistic Katsuki Bakugou, who didn't seem to have an ounce of empathy for anyone? Even worse, would you believe him even if he told you?

More than what it would do to his reputation, he realised that he didn't want you to see him in a bad light at all.

However, he's also mentally kicking himself because now bastards like Mineta can come and impersonate him

However, the words that leave your mouth makes him still

'You're the Blue Tupperware guy? Prove it.' There's a challenging smile atop your lips as you stare down Mineta, who falters from his previously smug swagger

'What do you mean? I cook you food, you love it. That's all there is to it, right?' A derisive laugh leaves you.

'Then tell me the names of the dishes you've made for me.' Mineta stands stock still, trying to comprehend what you've just asked of him. The beads of sweat now trailing down his neck don't escape your notice.

After some painful stammering and guesswork, then a beat of silence, you sigh. 'I kind of thought this would happen.'

'However, if it really honestly had been you, I wouldn't be mad. Because if I knew you were the one cooking with so much care and love, I'd still thank you for the meals.'

Bakugou's head goes blank. His hands begin sweating uncontrollably, and he's brought back to his senses when he hears his palms pop.

As he controls his quirk he's desperately trying to make sense of what you just said, but only one word rings out clear and true in his brain.

'Love'.

And suddenly he's trying not to grin at your epic shutdown of Mineta, trying not to feel his heart flutter when he pictures your multitude of expressions in all their glory, and trying not to remember the feeling of when he'd lie in his bed at night, the last thought he has before he drifts off to sleep being 'what should I cook next?'

He's in love with—

The sounds of footsteps coming in his direction shake him out of his reverie and he all but dives behind a pillar as you march off, leaving Mineta in the dust

Before the purple-haired pervert can leave, however, he's suddenly held up by the collar of his shirt, eyes wide before a murderous red gaze

'Try one more thing with her and I'll make sure you don't wake up the next day.'

…

From then on, Bakugou's mood lifts considerably.

Not only is he confident Mineta wouldn't rat him out (all he has to do is shoot him a glare), but he's eternally proud of how you stood up for him

Speaking of which, can he take your words you spoke to Mineta that day to mean that you wouldn't at all feel uneasy with whoever Blue Tupperware was, as long as you knew it was really him?

Now he's stuck with thinking of ways to shoot his shot

Little does he know that chance might come sooner than he thought…

One day he's running late because his work studies ran overtime

He'd planned to make something a little more complicated and out of his repertoire, though it may take him longer than usual

Though when he'd discovered what you liked to eat through your conversations with friends and what you ate in the cafeteria, he didn't mind, couldn't mind the extra hassle at all

It's not a difficult recipe, but he knows that it'll be dinnertime soon and that'd be dangerous

He looks at the clock, noting the twenty minutes he has before the first students come trickling into the common room. You won't be here until thirty minutes after. So he locks himself in the kitchen and gets to work

(yes I now know it doesn’t make sense for him to not be discovered in the kitchen during dinnertime, so let’s just say no one usually wanders in because all the meals are usually laid out in the common room when dinner rolls around)

He's smiling as he spoons the freshly cooked food into the Tupperwares, letting it cool for a bit as he washes up

But when he turns around holding them in his hands to put into the fridge, he freezes

There you stand in the doorway, eyes wide

'... Bakugou?' Damn, he would've relished the sound of his name on your tongue if you hadn't been looking at him like… like that. 'Are you Blue Tupperware?'

As much as he wants to laugh at the stupid nickname, he knows how straightforward and sharpshooting you can be with your words and intentions. And so the only thing that comes out of his mouth is:

'So what if I am?'

A beat of silence, then two. And suddenly your face morphs from bewilderment to pure joy, maybe even purer than when you eat his food. God bless his eyes that could bear witness to that moment.

'It's you!' you exclaim and a laugh as hearty as your appetite leaves your lips, and he's just awed, amazed. 'Thank you for the food!'

…

The immediate aftermath was everyone gaping at the both of you as if you each grew two heads as you ate from your respective containers

Sitting across him, you ask, 'Well… why did you do it?'

He’d imagined that you’d ask something like that, and he’s prepared an answer for it, but the eagerness in your smile, along with every other eye on him, prompted him to instead blurt:

'To… to stroke my ego and shit.'

Everyone goes painfully silent except for you, who leans back and laughs, 'As expected of you, Bakugou! But either way I get to eat really well, so thank you!'

You've been saying thank you for a while now, but what he can't get out of his head is that you expected him to be all narcissistic about cooking you food for his own selfish reasons? Man does that hurt.

But somehow, the others buy it too (which just really goes to show how much of a jerk the class paints him out to be), and the case of Blue Tupperware is solved

Now all that's changed is you pop in occasionally when Bakugou's cooking, and there are nights where you eat together

Oh, and the fact that he now knows you can’t cook for shit

You’ve tried to help Bakugou cook before, but at the time he'd felt as if he was in for a very rude awakening

However you are a god at cooking instant noodles of any shape or kind, so much so that when he misses you (or craves you lol) he eats instant noodles

Then again they'd never taste quite the same as when you cook them asifkajdks

When he actually confesses it's when you, out of the goodness of your heart, ask if you can help him out once more

He always finds himself giving in btw

But then you burn another pot and it's tough not to get frustrated

He's under stress, the weight of his sweat on his brow coupled with his ever growing feelings for you leads him to have even less of a filter on his mouth

'You obviously suck at this.' he says, noting your sad puppy eyes and willing himself not to surrender. 'Just let me do it.'

'But I feel bad that you're always cooking for me, and all I do is enjoy it.' You're biting your lip now, and it's all Bakugou can do before he starts thinking about what it'd be like to push you against the sink and kiss you senseless.

'Nonsense. It's enough that you enjoy my cooking, so let me do it. Let me take care of you.'

That last part did slip out, as denoted by the look on your face

'Wow,' again your straightforwardness comes into play, 'that sounded like a confession right there if I've ever heard one!'

Before he can stop himself—'do you wish it was?'

'Huh?'

'A confession—do you wish it was one?'

He watches your cheeks go tomato red and you purse your lips

'Do you wish that I wish it was?'

Aw, now you just playin

'I'm not hearing a no.'

'Neither am I.'

And then you nerds proceed to stare each other down in a palpable silence, the only sounds being the bubble of the soup in the pot before you

Who confesses first?

'Dumbass. I like you.'

You instantly beam, and you jump into his arms, even though you're dangerously close to the fire. Bakugou blanches, then draws you away from the stove

'Oi, watch it! You could get hurt, idiot,' but you're too focused on the way his arms had naturally wrapped around you to keep you safe and shielded

'You'll protect me, won't you?' you say, smushing your cheek against his chest. Bakugou sighs and places a hand on your head soothingly

'You bet I will.'

Bonus scene! “And that's how your father and I got together,” you say with a smile, as your four year old son bounces excitedly in your lap, while your six year old rolls her eyes at the amount of times you've told this story. “Yeah, we get it Mom.”

Your son has a different take on it though. “Start again! Again, again!” You let out a sigh mixed in with a chuckle at his insistence, but just then the wafting aroma of shrimp hits your nose. You close your eyes as you feel footsteps coming closer, and the warmth of your husband leaning in close to you as he sets the table leaves you giddy.

“Okay, that's enough storytelling for today,” Katsuki grumbles, placing the shrimp pesto on the table. Your daughter instantly perks up at the sight; she might not be as good an eater as you are, but she has a particular fondness for pasta. “Yay! It's pasta time!”

You set down your son in his chair as his eyes gleam at the feast in front of him, then walk up to your husband. 'Thank you so much, babe,' you relish the sight of Katsuki's ears, previously stained red from listening to your 'story', turning even redder.

“If you really want to thank me, there's something you need to do,” Katsuki mutters in a low voice, his gaze surreptitiously looking down at himself. You follow his eyes, and immediately burst out laughing.

“You're wearing it for us!” You'd really like to capture a photo of him in the 'Kiss the Chef' apron you'd gotten him for his birthday last year as a gag gift. Could Katsuki turn any redder?

“Shut up! Who burned my other apron the other day, hmm?”

This time you blush. “Maybe it was an expert ploy to get you to wear this,” you laugh, and before a snappy retort can leave his lips, you're smothering them with your own mouth. “Love you.”

You embrace him, arms lazily reaching for the apron strings in order to tug them undone, but your husband is pulling you in too, hands on your waist as he tucks your head in the corner of his neck so you can't see him or hear his next words too well. But you hear them nonetheless.

“I love you too.'”

[ddarker-dreams]

Icebreaker. Giorno x F Reader 🎀

a/n: i wanted to show more of SR reader’s personality here! i had a lot of fun playing around with this scene, i really just wanted to show her she goes about talking with the others. reader and giorno try to understand people in different ways. :’) 

[Scarlet Ribbons description]

There’s only so many times you can count the birds overhead before it becomes a dull affair. 

Still six of them, you think. Fugo had caught onto your fascination of the sky a few minutes prior. He offered some knowledge on the creatures, which admittedly, was rather enlightening. Should you ever be quizzed on random trivia involving birds, you’ll do better than most. Fugo’s wide array of knowledge on various topics never failed to impress you. 

“That brings me to seagulls, which black-tailed gulls are often mistaken for. Seagulls are one of the few animals capable of drinking seawater, possessing special glands that filter out excess salt.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows at the revelation. “We really got handed the short end of the evolution stick.” 

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Fugo sighed, and placed a hand on his hip. “What even goes on in that head of yours?”

“Too much or nothing at all. There’s no in between.”

Truth be told, it’s not really birds that you’re mulling over. 

As subtle as you can manage to, your eyes shift to the latest recruit Bucciarati brought in. Giorno Giovanna. He is currently standing farthest away from the group. Not that you can entirely blame him, as Abbacchio has made a point of shooting him dirty glances on occasion. 

When you had been introduced to the others, you were immediately able to mentally place them. Bruno was someone who commanded respect. Fugo was rough around the edges yet meant well. Narancia brought lots of energy with him. Abbacchio felt prickly, but wouldn’t be antagonistic unless provoked. Mista… well, Mista was just an easy going guy. Within minutes of meeting him you were talking and laughing like old friends. 

So what does that make Giorno? 

You honestly have no idea, and it’s bothering you. He felt like a walking contradiction. There was no getting a read on him, no understanding what he’s thinking. In theory it should be easy enough for you to talk to him. Giorno’s very polite, and doesn’t give the same standoffish vibe you used to get when speaking to Abbacchio. All the methods you utilized to befriend the others feel like they won’t work with him. You're of the inclination that even if your attempts at conversation bothered him, he’d never voice it, for the sole sake of remaining courteous. 

Sitting here and worrying about it won’t do me good, you decide, standing from your seat. Now might be the best time to try and understand Giorno better. Everyone is spaced out on the yacht, doing their own thing. Maybe he’ll feel more inclined to speak his mind without the others lurking around. You find yourself walking towards where he stands, peering over the Tyrrhenian Sea, golden hair illuminated by sunlight. There’s no plan in your mind. Your improvisation rate has at least an 80% success rate, far higher than Mista’s. Hearing your approaching footsteps, Giorno turns, greeting you with a nod of his head.

You stand by his side, looking in the same direction he was. “Are you a fan of the sea, Giorno?” 

“It has its draws,” Giorno responds. He then pauses, as if deliberating for a moment, and poses you the same question. “Do you like it?”

“To be honest, it’s a little nerve wracking. I’ve seen those videos of waves taller than buildings crashing down onto boats before, and I’ve never looked at the ocean the same,” you admit with a shiver. Giorno blinks, and you realize your comment is akin to talking about a plane crashing when you’re on a plane. Whoops. “Not that I think that’ll happen. We’re not far out enough.” 

“That’s a relief.” He replies. 

You’re grateful for the grace he extends to you. “Anyways… I wouldn’t mind seeing the faraglioni while we’re out here. I’ve heard it's quite a sight.” 

An idea had popped into your head. A small benchmark, to get a better understanding of Giorno’s character. You placed the incorrect emphasis on the end of faraglioni. Instead of finishing the word with the short vowel ə, you ended it with the long vowel i: to see if he’d point it out like Fugo or Bucciarati would. The latter in a far more considerate manner. 

Giorno doesn’t acknowledge it, choosing to overlook the minor error. “I’ve never seen it myself, but I’ve heard tourists enjoy it.” 

That small interaction gives you a better feel for who he is as a person. Giorno is a person who is considerate of others. Whether it be for maintaining peace or some other goal, you’re still uncertain, but it feels better having at least some understanding now. For good measure, you place a finger to your cheek in thought. Giorno watches your actions with curiosity. 

“Say, Giorno, did I pronounce that right...?” You wonder aloud in a pensive whisper. 

“It was very close,” he clears his throat. Giorno thinks for a moment, before continuing. “Faraglioni.”

Giorno ends the word with the proper long vowel. His correction is as well-mannered as he is. You nod your head, pleased with this knowledge on the new recruit. Repeating the word as he did, you let it roll off your tongue with ease. Not one of the more difficult Italian words you’ve had to wrestle with, in all honesty. 

He’s trying to get a read on you the same way you are with him. The inquisitive side of you wonders what conclusions he’s drawn from speaking to you, in comparison to the others. Well, at least you’re not as standoffish as they are. It must be a guy thing, you decide. I’ll ask Fugo about it later.

The two of you return to looking over the sea in a comfortable silence, basking in the sight of never-ending blue. Every now and then you’ll throw in a comment, to which he’ll respond in kind, if not a little stiff. It’s still an improvement over earlier. 

You have a gut feeling that you’ll get along with Giorno quite well. 

[mc-critical]

[2/2] i was reading one of your posts about dilruba & something about it made me wish dilruba had more screen time because she’s the only princesses who was extremely dutiful towards her mother & brother but also managed to achieve her own happiness through her marriage. also, one more thing which i wish was done with her character... so like we all know how safiye sultan practically worships hurrem, w/ always remembering her, showing her ring off etc. the way she talks about hurrem is very exaggerated, “hurrem sultan was head to toe power.” which is true but at the same time, the show really didn’t show her full & complete power like it was historically and we all know 2 seasons of hurrem went in being immature & not really regal or completely power [& she was still constantly overshadowed by the sultanas of blood]. however, hurrem was still almost like a goddess type figure in mc:k and despite safiye’s strained relations w/ nurbanu, she still praised her a lot. basically, the two figures of the sow & the ring holders from the first show are remember in the second show. but what about mihrimah? she was a vital figure in history & in mustafa’s downfall & in the last season of the show even though she didn’t receive the ring to signify her as a part of the sow. what i wished for is dilruba idolising mihrimah, aspiring to be a protector of her brother like she was & exaggerating her power like safiye did w/ hurrem. this way, mihrimah could also be remember. also, dilruba’s character was more of what i had imagined for mihrimah. i didn’t imagine her to love rustem like dilruba loved davut but i expected mihrimah to be more powerful & dutiful towards her mother [more compared to dilruba but ofc also not to the extent of wanting to kill kids who were part of the dynasty]. anyhow, dilruba could’ve really taken mihrimah as her idol imo as her, halime & davut were a parallel of mihrimah, hurrem & rustem. sorry for the long post! but this is something i wish mc:k had done. [worth nothing that rustem & davut were also similar villanish type guys who’s only redeeming qualities could be their toxic love for their sultanas & their loyalties towards hurrem & halime, though rustem did waver in his loyalty whilst halime sold davut like the dog he is lol]

Dilruba's character development was truly very condensed in these 9 episodes, so there was never going to be enough of her, from whichever angle you look at it. I kinda cut the writers slack, because I know the ratings played a considerable part in MCK's script and they had a lot to do and a lot to rush (whereas in MC they could practically do whatever they wanted, because their ratings were perfect, I guess that's why they had so many concubine arcs hehe), but I love Dilruba and I would've loved more screentime with her. The time we spent with her could feel so minimal to the point we get the impression that we got to know little Dilruba a bit more than the older Dilruba. (the opposite case of little Mihrimah, who was almost a completely different character with a different thematic set-up, her childish love for Bali Bey aside. The older Mihrimah went on a completely different path as a character.) This isn't a bad thing, per say, because little Dilruba had already set the foundation of the character as a whole and we didn't need much more context for her actions than what we already got, but this little amount of screentime could limit her role to a simple, a bit flanderized antagonist to Kösem, which is honestly a trend for all of Kösem's antagonists in S01.

{Safiye's cult for Hürrem is one of the most interesting things about her as a character, but it is over exaggerated for the reasons you mentioned just as it simply isn't real. Safiye has never met Hürrem in person and even if MCK didn't call back to that, Mihrimah actually played an important part in establishing that cult in her training of Safiye. Safiye knows of this powerful S04 Hürrem who makes everyone tremble before her and considers "survival of the fittest". (MCK Safiye shares the exact same philosophy) What she worships in Hürrem is rather a picture she has formed in her head, the figure from Mihrimah's stories. This aspect of Safiye's character is used to form her own path in the evolution of power in the SOW, so we could see symbolically how much of what Hürrem represents has she moulded to her own agenda, it's indeed not presented as the actual truth. It also brings the question and perspective of what fragment of Hürrem Mihrihah herself sets as an example for herself and others, knowing that she does not completely idealize her own mother in the show. She was perfectly able to call out Hürrem's own flaws as much as she could openly take Hürrem's judgement.}

That worshipping of Hürrem in MCK truly sounded far too ideal and almost god-like, but in reality, not so many people in the show actually practice it. The only person who actively does, is Safiye, a main antagonist. Ahmet only mentions Hürrem when he gave her crown to Kösem. The references to the MC characters and especially the SOW in MCK is fascinating because you can see how you get only the accomplishments of people you've only heard narratives on, but never their actual stories, their actual struggles. People who were actually around the worshipped people and knew them personally obviously have a clearer understanding of who they truly were, like how Safiye called Nurbanu the most beautiful but also the cruelest sultana she's ever known, which makes perfect sense, knowing their rivalry and enmity. Nurbanu is inspired by Hürrem, but still stood against her with all her might. The people who have heard only basic facts of the more unrealistically idealized sides of those they worship praise merely the symbols of these people, what they were known to represent. Ahmet wants to be as accomplished as Süleiman, but we, as audience, know of Süleiman's detrimental flaws as a person and a padişah and we see that, he isn't exactly a person to be praised, let alone worshipped. It's interesting how the SOW call each other back in different ways, but it's all the more interesting that neither Kösem, nor Turhan call back to their predecessors. Is it because they've known each other closer than any of the worship? Is it simply because their characters have a different purpose? Is it because the theme of letting go of the past reached its fullest peak? I definetly can't say for sure.

That said, MC Mihrimah isn't from the SOW in the show both symbolically and arc-wise, but having a character that is not from the SOW (Dilruba) worship another character from the other show that also isn't from the SOW (Mihrimah) would be intriguing, judging by their similarities. However, these exact similarities prevent me from assessing this idea entirely, because I don't think it would do the show many favors. It could add even more depth to Dilruba: her willingness to protect Mustafa at all costs would be even more understandable then, knowing how the person she worships did the exact same thing in her eyes - it would turn not into a necessity, but into an ideal to live by, something that not only she has to do, but considers as honorable to do and loves it. But Dilruba is close enough to Mihrimah along with the traits and conceptual differences that set both of them apart - having the parralel be "addressed" in-universe through a direct worship would remind the audience even more that Dilruba is similar to Mihrimah and that may prevent endearment to her character. There are people that consider MCK so similar to MC already, that would be the last nail of the coffin. It may have been a risky move because of the ratings? Safiye worships Hürrem, but Safiye has a different narrative role than Hürrem and a more distinct personality, while Dilruba is a more obvious and open parallel. Not to the point of repetition, of course, but it's still close enough for a possible worship for Mihrimah in the show itself to be a dealbreaker for some. I wouldn't mind such a thing for Dilruba at all, but I can see why it possibly wasn't the case.

I'm satisfied with what we got with MC Mihrimah, but I can understand why you would want more power and agency from her. She could be very clueless sometimes which contrasted with her moments of perceptiveness. That was a solid character flaw of hers, but it could be very annoying. But then again, I also get why Mihrimah was the way she was, because MC put the personal motives of a character before any kind of power (or a character wants power for personal motives). Dilruba was perhaps way more ruthless, because MCK itself was more ruthless and it built on the MC themes. Power was already for the sake of power, the time period was more ruthless, everything was happening instantly and there wasn't a place to breathe. While with Mihrimah we got a deeper exploration where we saw more vulnerable sides, Dilruba had both her screentime and this ruthlessness stopping her from developing more and letting her be who she is. I guess both characters had their reasons to be who they were thematically, but writing improvements could still be made, of course.

[algernoninwonderland]

So the Shanghai Special wasn’t nearly as terrible as I had feared it would be!

The good:

Superhero stuff that doesn’t involve fighting off villains. At last. Only took us 3 seasons but that finally happened.

The Cheng family. Well, Wang Cheng. He’s really a good guy. They hired Bing Yin, an actual Chinese actor to voice him instead of the white VA they had in season 1. That’s the bare minimum and I shouldn’t be praising this, but at least they did it.

All that sweet sweet Cheng family history. I loved every second of it. Cheng Xia Ping.

Bastille the Cockatoo.

All the background characters. Their models look actually finished, and good, with varied fashion choices, unlike these monstrous Parisians (though to be fair, we Parisians are a terrifying people). The Mandarin they speak isn’t gibberish, they hired actual Chinese-speaking people for that. Once again, bare minimum, it’s not praise as much as me noting this.

Some of the sets actually look like Shanghai! That hadn’t really been true of the New-York special, but here, the Bund actually looks like the Bund! Good job on that!

Some of Fei’s characterisation! There’s this nice internal conflict within her that I quite enjoyed (even though the way it’s shown… But we’ll come back to that later). Her character animation is pretty good which almost makes up for the more caricatural parts of her character. Thank you SAMG!

Expressive lighting. So much of it. It’s nice, and something the regular show was lacking. It’s genuinely good!

Some of the soundtrack is fitting and moody and isn’t orientalist nonsense.

These three kids. I want a spin-off series starring them and Fei.

Wow, antagonists who are adults and capitalists who exploit vulnerable kids are the bad guys and join forces. You know, not angry teenagers. Accumulating large sums of money is only truly possible through the exploitation of other people. Yes. I agree with you there, person that wrote that part of the script.

The Renlings and the Prodigious, from an entertainment standpoint. Cool concept, cool powers, I quite like that.

Hawk Moth getting vaporised. Take that, sucker.

Fei doesn’t turn into a blonde after all! They changed it! Wow! It’s the very bare minimum, once again.

The noodle thing is true!

The bad:

This whole eclipse thing. Was it really necessary? Sort of. Are we made to care about it? Sort of. Not really. Unfortunately not very compelling.

Why Marinette Goes to Shanghai in the First Place. I get that she’s a teenager with a crush but come on. 

Some directing observations: Marinette looking at pictures of Adrien on her phone while her uncle is introducing her to their family. That would be fine if she weren’t the audience surrogate, really. The thing is, if she isn’t shown to care all that much about her family and only wants to see Adrien, if she doesn’t ask to know more, the audience is encouraged to feel the same way, i.e. to not care.

She isn’t shown to be spending time with her uncle at all. We get like two minutes at most with only these two alone. Because apparently Marinette getting acquainted with her Chinese family is not that important to her character. Newsflash, when you make a show, you get to decide what is important or not, unless the producers really force your hand. And so what’s important is that Marinette has a crush on Adrien. Wow, never heard about that one before.

All That Kung-Fu nonsense. Is every Chinese character playing a prominent role in this show proficient in martial arts in a way or another? In 2021? Could we stop making Kung-Fu this thing with sort-of-mystical elements in it, and chi strikes and whatnot? Xu Xiaodong would like a few words with you. Yes the fight choreography is decent, but c’mon.

All that “ancestral values” stuff. I mean, really?

The Ugly:

Not specific to this episode, but Marinette really knew nothing about the Chinese side of her family before? Her parents only planned on saving money to travel with her one day but nothing beforehand? Really? That’s terrible writing.

Fei’s backstory is a cliché wrapped inside another cliché from old Kung-Fu and Wuxia movies, and that’s because the special isn’t long enough to do everything it wants to do properly in just 50-something minutes.

These stupid voice-over moments. It feels almost amateurish. If your directing is strong enough as is, the images should be able to do the talking themselves.

Part of the music is good. Part of the music is utter rubbish with all the musical clichés about China you can think about wrapped into one neat package.

Yes it’s a show for children, but the moralising aspect is really shoved in our faces in an unsubtle way this time, and, more annoyingly, it’s very superficial. The whole “purity” thing… What is that even supposed to mean? The show doesn’t do its work, it doesn’t define what that is supposed to mean.

The Prodigious and the Renlings only raise more questions that probably won’t be answered ever, this worldbuilding continues to be a mess.

It’s always about the Love Square, isn’t it? It can’t not be about the Love Square. When some things happen that aren’t Love Square-related for more than five minutes, the special is yanked back to that. Yes, we know Marinette is infatuated with Adrien. Yes we know Adrien is kind of oblivious. We know that. You’ve been telling us that for three seasons straight. We haven’t forgotten. Now do something else for fifty minutes please, since this isn’t following the show’s regular continuity, this would be the perfect chance, right?

Overall, it’s pretty good, for Miraculous, but Miraculous shouldn’t be your standard for goodness.

Not unsalvageable/10, not a complete catastrophe but not nearly as good as it could have been.

[chalkrevelations]

Episode 32 of Word of Honor, and once again, this is just. A LOT. A LOT is happening, and all of it is A LOT. Also, show, what is even happening? I have questions. A LOT of questions.

(Spoilers. Go ahead and scroll on by, then come back later, if you want to watch it unspoiled.)

BUT FIRST, before anything else, you know I have to yell about this for a minute because we once again see that the Gu Xiang/Cao Weining relationship and the Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishou relationship are the same relationship. We get the same scene with A-Xiang and Cao Weining – again – that we’ve already seen with Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu, this time from Ep 27, with Fan Shishu in the role of Ye Baiyi. Fan Shishu (YBY) asks “Do you know who she (he) is?” and this time, Cao Weining knows, just as ZZS knew in Ep 27. Cao Weining (ZZS) literally throws himself in front of A-Xiang (WKX) to protect her (him). “Kill us both” (Ep 27). “If you’re going to hurt her, kill me first” (Ep 32). Fan Shishu, like YBY, eventually lets A-Xiang and Cao Weining go, despite having them in a position where he could do them in. Color palettes between the two couples in these scenes match again, with the younger couple being more intense this time – A-Xiang and Wen Kexing in pinks, Cao Weining and Zhou Zishu in blue. (ZZS is mainly in creams and grey, but the piping on his robes is a very light blue, I think the greys have a blue undertone to them, and when you stand him next to Chengling in more intense blue while he’s wearing that particular outfit, it really starts to pull out the blue of ZZS’s outside robe – you can see this at the end of Ep 26.) Between the way these relationships continue to mirror each other and the hairpin scene from the last ep, I honestly don’t know what our takeaway is supposed to be, other than that WKX and ZZS are essentially married.

I also find it interesting - although this almost seems like too much of a stretch to be anything other than coincidence - that we get a specific callback to Ep 27 in this episode, as Ep 27 is also when WKX talks about not wanting to lie to Chengling about who he is anymore, and this ep is when they finally (apparently) meet again after Chengling learns the truth.

Aaaand now A-Xiang is crying, so of course I’m crying. Aaaand then we have the mournful montage. Give me a minute. And some tissues. I notice how much of this mournful drunken montage is ZZS remembering all the times he was cranky with WKX. Oh, honey. No. That’s what you’re remembering, because you feel bad, but it’s not what he would remember at all, if he was looking back over his time with you. And even if he did, it would be with great fondness.

Yeah, so, if I haven’t mentioned, this episode is a LOT. We get a big confrontation between WKX and half the jianghu/the Scorpions/some of the Ghost Valley contingent, ZZS showing up to support his man, Fantastic Cranky Grandpa of my heart getting in his eleven cents, Chengling shooting one of his dads, and two yeets off a cliff. And that’s only 15 minutes into the episode. This is too much, show. And I have too many questions. Also some observations. Also some wild speculation, not just about the fact that Wen Kexing is not dead but also about how he may have (not) got that way. And not just because there’s still four episodes left, and it’s too early for him to be dead.

First a small observation but pretty significant, I think: WKX is NOT in his blood-red Ghost Valley master robes during this confrontation. In fact, I think we’ve seen this set of robes in happier days with Zhou Zishou and Chengling. Just noticing this. Also noticing WKX’s face when Shen Shen starts going on about WKX’s parents and how omg if they could see WKX now they’d die all over from the shame, and WKX’S expression is like, the fucking audacity of Shen Shen saying this, and if he could actually kill people with the power of his mind, Shen Shen would be twitching and frothing on the ground. Also noticing the complete change when WKX sees Chengling – it’s like Shen Shen ceases to even exist for him. Gong Jun, your face, it’s killing me. Anyway, I’m going to start wildly speculating here for a minute, because WKX is willing to let Chengling kill him, because he’s so tired and wants to stop fighting, but he’s going to kick everyone else’s ass who even tries it? And then Chengling is actually the one who shoots him and yeets him off the cliff? Is this a set up? Is Chengling in on this? Is he the one who’s supposed to “kill” WKX? If so, at what point did we get Chengling in on this? And who did it? Did Chengling send what’s his name, Jing Beiyuan’s guard, away on purpose at this particular point, because he knew ZZS would show up in time for this confrontation if he heard about Chengling’s reaction to the news about WKX? And do I actually believe Chengling is smart enough – and a good enough actor – to pull off any of this? (Look, I love our little goldbean plenty, but let’s face it, he’s not the brightest kid running around here.)

Also, my dudes. My clever little killers. Xie Wang and Wen Kexing. I am unwilling to believe that you two aren’t somehow still together on this in some way in order to fuck over Awful Yifu. Your antagonistic back and forth seems a little bit like playing roles. Xie Wang gives Awful Yifu a weird side-eye a few times when Awful Yifu talks about how tricksy and cunning WKX is, like maybe he’s reconsidering, and do not tell me you’re questioning and reconsidering whatever deal you’ve made with WKX, little gambler. Why does your Awful Yifu’s bs always work on you? This is really not the time to roll the dice again. I’m assuming A-Xiang is still the only one who knows about their tete-a-tete? If so, this is a side-take I never would have expected on “you don’t fail me, and I won’t fail you.” Honor among thieves? Stick to the plan, Xie’er, whatever the hell it is. Do not blink.

So then, Ye Baiyi shows up, and my immediate reaction is NO. My beloved cranky grandpa, don’t fuck this up, because whatever is going on seems to already have a lot of moving parts with a lot of places for things to go wrong! But … are you in on it, too? Have YOU coordinated with Chengling? (If so, maybe you should have warned him to expect ZZS’s wild-card self-yeet over the cliff’s edge, since you’ve already seen how self-destructive self-sacrificing these two can get over each other.) Making me even more suspicious, Ye Baiyi later proceeds to walk out of a banquet before even eating anything. This guy is walking away from food? There is no clearer sign in this ep that something is up.

Also, while we’re on the banquets, listen. I cannot be the only one who wants to punch Zhao Jing in the face during his interminable yapping during both post-fight banquets. This is one of those places where the show and the actor have done their job too well, because he is so dislikeable and so off-putting that I almost can’t bear to actually watch him. And yet, I can’t fast-forward, because what if I miss some info? Like the fact that … you know, I went back to watch this bit three times, and that is a very … interesting series of camera shots during the second banquet - after the toasts, just as a couple of randoms start advocating for Zhao Jing as head of the Five Lakes Alliance, and we move from Xie’er to Shen Shen to Chengling, all of them still standing, facing Zhao Jing after their individual toasts, all of them in a formation that’s almost caging him in from the front and both sides. It gets more interesting every time I watch it. Is … is Shen Shen also in on this, somehow?

See, I know that is a lot of wild speculation. I know Wen Kexing got yeeted off a cliff, and Ye Baiyi was busy catching Zhou Zishu. And we saw a body. And ZZS set that body on fire. But I also know that Liu Qianqiao was the person holding vigil outside the shed where the body was being held. And I know she’s the other person, besides ZZS, who we know of that knows the facemask disguise technique (in fact, didn’t she learn it from ZZS’s shifu?) We actually get reminded of this later on in this very episode. Which makes me wonder if that was actually WKX’s body, or somebody else, in the shed. Who “found” that body and recovered it? Was it a Scorpion or one of the Ghost Valley contingent? Also, where’s that key WKX was waving around, and why does no one seem to remember it?

 Other things:

lol at A-Xiang’s reaction to Jing Beiyun talking about how ZZS used to ask him to set ZZS up with girls. Further lol at Jing Beiyuan, “And funny enough, he was NEVER interested in them. Welp, time for another drink!” Seriously, Qi Ye, we like you, you can absolutely stay.

Still at the banquets, Xie Wang seems discombobulated during a lot of this. And then when Awful Yifu calls him Zhao Xie’er in front of everybody, holy shit, he’s getting everything he ever wanted. Xie’er, you … you’re not going to fall for this again, are you? Please tell me you are not falling for this again, at what is likely a crucial moment. This is NO TIME to take another roll of the dice, little gambler. Stick with the plan, whatever the hell it is.

Oh, hey! Are we finally getting some backstory on Fantastic Cranky Grandpa? Oh. OH. “Our child?” What is up, my friend? (I did go back to Ep 16, when WKX calls Chengling “my child” while defending him against Ye Baiyi, and looking at the Mandarin subtitles, I can’t entirely figure out (with my Level 2 Duolingo Mandarin) all of the nuances of these two references, but it doesn’t look like they’re using the same words to describe these relationships.) So some further wild speculation: Apparently, Cranky Grandpa Fantastico is solitary drinking in the dark instead of feasting at the banquet, over someone who (he feels) foolishly wanted to save the lost souls in the Ghost Valley? And now he feels like fate is making fun of him? And he’s asking Dead Beloved what he would do in Ye Baiyi’s position? Ye Baiyi, is it possible that fate is making fun of you because you have found yourself in the position of saving a lost soul from the Ghost Valley? Also, Ye Baiyi, I’ve noticed the children have been turning you grey. I don’t think you had that grey streak when you showed up for the first Hero’s Conference, did you? In fact, I feel like you got offended when WKX talked shit about possible grey hairs on your head. 

Duan Pengju, this asshole, omg … OMG. Well. I guess you got your confirmation, Xie’er. Were you really considering rolling the dice again? AT THIS POINT?

[crystalelemental]

Since @patchun brought up Hugh as a rival, here’s my personal take on each rival character in Pokemon, because I’m bored.

Blue - I actually do like the guy, and I think that overall he’s a solid rival.  Story-wise, he’s one of the few that is always one step ahead of you, and clears the entire league before you.  His team is solid, and he makes adjustments based on the starter Pokemon he picks.  I also think he’s just kinda fun.  He’ll make excuses about why he lost (”I picked the wrong Pokemon!”) and gives you shit as someone he considered less than him, but there’s still some level at which he’s like “Oh hey, you’re improving!”  He’s a solid rival character.

Silver - I kinda feel like Silver isn’t really your rival, he’s just someone that shows up a lot that you have to deal with.  Like it’s never entirely established that the two of you are competing, he just wants to kick your ass for funsies in all his earlier encounters, and only comes to respect you at all at the end of his entire quest.  Which is cool!  I actually like Silver a lot, I think he’s got a ton going on and is a pretty unique change from Blue.  Blue was super invested in the League and being the best, while Silver’s also about being the best, but seems to have little interest in the League itself.  His motives are outside of the League, and frankly outside of your own.  He grows into the role of rival to the player more as a result of Lance’s comments to him and his own soul-searching.  I think that’s great.

Brendan/May - And then there’s these two.  I’m not entirely sure what the plan was behind these two.  I’ve heard they shifted off of the antagonistic rivals because bullying was a problem, and that’s why every rival since has been your friend rather than an opponent, but these two aren’t even that really.  They barely exist.  As characters, they rarely show up and don’t really do a whole lot at any point, and as a rival trainer, they’re so bad they never fully evolve their starter.  Brendan and May are, to me at least, the worst rivals in the series.  If it was because they thought early rivals were too mean and toned it down, they did so without accounting for any alternative traits to make them interesting, but at least they started getting it right soon after.

Barry - I actually really like Barry.  Initially, he was a bit annoying with the whole “I’m fining you!” gimmick, and being supremely absent-minded half the time, but he grows on you a lot.  Kinda like Blue, Barry spends most of the game ahead of you, and is a pretty competent trainer.  But instead of being aggressive in his rivalry, he is your friend and acknowledges how good you are.  He never seems to even acknowledge his defeat to any extreme degree, he’s just having fun and doing his own journey while using you as a point of comparison, while still taking this really seriously, in part because his father is a renowned trainer that he wants to live up to.  Which is solid.  Also I gotta admit, the situation with the lake guardians was really cute, how Rowan recognizes him and gives him the tougher mission, how into it he gets, and then how hurt he is that he wasn’t able to protect Uxie.  Barry just a sweet kid and a solid rival.

Cheren - Cheren is much like Barry, in that his focus is on battling at its core.  Contrary to Barry though, Cheren is actively irritated that he can’t seem to beat you.  He keeps pace with you, but I don’t think actually gets ahead of you at any point in the story.  If anything, he’s interesting because he’s someone driven by the same journey to be a great trainer that you are, but is coming face to face with the realization that he’s not making the same gains, and may not be able to achieve that initial dream.  He has to adapt, and ultimately settles into the Gym Leader role, and is a bit of a mentor in BW2, which is really cool.  That’s really what makes the BW rivals so good, is that instead of just being another super good trainer who’s ahead of you all the time, they explore the idea of someone who wants to be the best but isn’t, and how he handles that.  I like it a lot.

Bianca - Best rival, fight me.  What makes Bianca interesting is that she’s kinda like Brendan and May, in that she’s not...really here to be a spectacular trainer.  She is but she isn’t.  She starts out on her journey to become a trainer, but isn’t super motivated by competition like Cheren.  In fact, Bianca doesn’t really know what she wants to do at all.  What makes her interesting is that change from being just another trainer to battle, to finding her own path in life that doesn’t involve the competition.  It’s not what she wants to do, and I always really liked that.  She eventually settles on being a professor’s assistant, and I think it’s great seeing her settle into a role that makes her happy.  The series has always posited this idea that people exist with Pokemon in different ways, but this is honestly the first time we really get a rival who comes to engage with Pokemon and battling in a different way from the usual.

Hugh - I don’t like Hugh.  I get the attempt with him, and appreciate it.  A lot of Gen 5 centers around Team Plasma, and in this case, Hugh is a character who was directly impacted by their actions when they stole his sister’s Purrloin.  He was a child and couldn’t do anything, so he’s grown up resentful of Team Plasma and determined to become strong enough to protect his sister and those he cares about.  He’s along on your journey to improve, but never once does he seem all that invested in the League itself.  He’s more invested in taking down Team Plasma and getting his sister’s Purrloin back, and all of that should come together into a really cool rival for this generation’s thematic narrative.  His problem is really just that he talks.  “You’re about to feel my rage!”  Hugh, please.  You’re embarrassing me in front of Zinzolin.  I can’t say I hate Hugh, but I feel like he’s a character who just missed the mark they were aiming for, largely by being more of an edgy nuisance than an interesting character study.

Serena/Calem - I am only talking about these two because fuck the XY friend group.  Honestly, they’re...pretty forgettable.  Like I honestly can’t remember any significant personality traits from them at all.  They’re like Brendan and May, only slightly better because they keep at it even if they’re constantly behind you.  I think by biggest problem is how they never feel like they amount to much thematically.  A big focus in XY is meant to be on scarcity.  Mega Bracelts are rare, and not everyone can own one or utilize mega evolution.  You battle them to get one, which by default means they don’t.  And that sets up some interesting ideas, right?  Like, how does that impact things?  When there’s legitimate scarcity and not everyone can make use of this, are you willing to crush the dream of your childhood friend to make your own come true?  Well actually it doesn’t matter because it’s never really brought up.  The great tragedy of XY was lost potential, and the rival’s a big source of that.

Hau - Hau is...a mixed bag for me.  On the one hand, SuMo.  On the other, USUM.  In SuMo, I like Hau a lot.  He feels a lot like Barry, if Barry didn’t give a shit about competition.  Hau is very laid back as a rival, and challenges you while attempting to keep pace, but ultimately exists to have fun and enjoy his journey.  This is the trait that makes him and Gladion such fun counterparts.  But then USUM rolls around, and makes up this whole subplot about how he’s not actually trying and that this is a betrayal of his Pokemon?  And then it leads to this whole crisis where suddenly he’s super invested in competition and being the best, and ends up as your Champion battle?  And it just doesn’t feel as interesting.  If anything it feels like USUM’s eternal Gen 1 dick sucking coming back to reference your rival as the champion, rather than actually focusing on the character’s development.

Gladion - Okay, I really like Gladion.  He’s a bit more like Silver than anything else, in that I don’t think he ever like...expresses wanting to be your rival?  He just shows up and challenges you because fuck you in particular.  But through interactions, and your eventual assistance with stopping his mother and breaking down those emotional walls, Gladion grows into someone who still wants to be a great trainer, but is no longer driven by the need to be the best to protect his sister and stop his mother.  Rather, he just learns to enjoy competition for its own sake.  And I really like that!  I feel like he’s Silver, but refined to be a more interesting character.

Hop - Okay stop me if you’ve heard this one.  Hop’s a rival who’s invested in the competition, and is largely driven by living up to a family member’s legacy.  He’s generally friendly, but expresses intense dissatisfaction with his performance because he can’t beat you or Bede.  He’s been competitive, but ultimately very laid back until a sudden realization that he needs to try harder and is suddenly super driven to become the best.  His post-game arc is entirely about finding out that maybe he doesn’t want to be a trainer all that much, and finding his own calling, which is a professor’s assistant.  That’s Barry, Cheren, Hau, and Bianca, in that order.  I do not love Hop.  I don’t hate him.  There are definitely worse rivals with less going on.  But Hop feels like an amalgamation of previous rivals rather than his own being.  He goes from laid-back but invested in your rivalry, to super serious and determined to be the best, and ending on maybe not even wanting to be a trainer that much.  It’s a weird shift in his journey that I don’t think meshes as well.  He takes the parts of these previous rivals that made them interesting, but it turns out slapping them all together makes a character that’s less than the sum of its parts.  However, I will give points for one thing I actually love about Hop: when he keeps losing, he completely changes up his team.  That’s something no rival has done.  Minor adjustments, like Blue dropping Raticate, have happened, but we’ve never seen a complete shuffle in who they lead with or what the team composition is.  So I do think there’s merit to Hop, even if he’s not my favorite.  It could be worse.  It could be...

Marnie - A literal nothing.  She does announce that you are her rival, so I guess I have to talk about her.  She’s nothing.  Like, I kinda have to give more points to her than Brandan/May solely because she does at least try, but she never really has anything going for her.  Her brother is more compelling than she is, being a gym leader in charge of an area that is really struggling, and trying to showcase that Dynamaxing isn’t required to be a good trainer.  Marnie...has none of that.  At all.  She just has the freedom to be a challenger for the Champion title, and the town is insistent on her winning to prove...something.  I honestly do not understand the plan.  It wouldn’t change that their territory has no ability to Dynamax, and unlike Piers, Marnie has no qualms about using Dynamax to win.  She has no real convictions, and if memory serves only battles you twice.  And she’s not exactly that good either time.  I never once felt like Marnie mattered.  People just liked her design and decided she was great, but she...she doesn’t do anything.

Bede - I’m hesitant to count Bede, but you battle him more often than you battle Marnie, and he does eventually consider you an obstacle to overcome so I’ll count him.  Honestly, don’t like him that much, but he’s better than nothing.  Bede’s interesting in that he’s kind of a rival that’s ahead of you?  At least implicitly.  I don’t think we get hard confirmation that he’s beaten any of the challenges before you, but a lot of his battles involve him being in a location before you got there.  I do kinda like his arc, in that he’s a bit of an inverted Cheren?  In the sense that his ultimate endpoint is as a Gym Leader, but not because he’s looking at things in terms of adjusting his goal due to always losing, but adjusting his goal because it turns out that’s just really what he wants to do.  At first he hates it, and his final challenge to you is a means of saying he’ll quit forever if he can’t win, but ultimately he settles into an appreciation for being a Gym Leader, and I really like that.  While I dislike him more on a personal level, I will say I think he’s a better rival than Hop.  Has more going on for himself, anyway.

[malfoymuch]

“Rivals Don’t Look At Rivals That Way” pt. 2 [draco x reader]

Pairing; Draco x Reader 

Genre; ANGST, with uh, some fluff

Prompt: Part 1 Inspired by “THAT WAY” by Tate McRae 

Word Count; 4k+

A/n: Hey everyone, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for posting this WEEKS later, after the first one. To be honest, things are getting a little hectic and the workload for school is only increasing (it’s insane really, at least to be). Anyway thank you for all the love and support you gave to me, especially for the first part!! It may seem a bit rushed so I apologize, and it is a lot of ANGST, so yeah...thank you guys and love you!! 

Warning; idk major angst, and it’s a bit rushed so i apologize (there also may be a few grammar errors but i always miss them) 

Part 1 || Masterlist

_________________________________

Previously: 

“Rivals don’t look at rivals that way… rivals aren’t supposed to feel jealous when the others dating someone else…” you droned on, ignoring the look of astonishment Draco had. “I don’t think we’re rivals, because if we were, then I’ve read everything wrong. And so are my feelings…” 

So you looked back up to him teary-eyed, clutching his robes and pulling him closer to you. 

“Tell me the truth, I want to know whether or not there was a possibility we have something… tell me if you feel absolutely nothing so I can stop-- there’s no point of me continuing on if nothing’s going to happen so tell me, Draco. Do rivals look at rivals that that?”

_________________________________

Now: 

He felt comatose, not from your hinted confession, but the reality he cloaked suddenly unveiling. Complexion faded, his lips quivered and his throat unbearably tight. It had only tightened more as he watched as your face begin to form tears, sniffles already beginning. He was always a malefactor, wasn’t he? 

“I can’t,” Draco lamented, inspecting your deepened expression. 

“The last thing I want is for you to be mocked by all these students…” a frog caught in this throat as the three next words passed his lips. “...from my father.”  His eyes widened as he left a cool drop fall stream down his face and drip off his chin, landing on the ground. The sudden moment he couldn’t restrain his emotions… he didn’t even know he felt even an ounce of melancholy.

“So you admit that we’re more than rivals?” You whispered, stirring Draco from his unsettling behavior; a frown quickly cracked through, despite his oblivious state.  

“I never said that, don’t put words into my mouth. Plus, you know better than anyone that we couldn’t possibly--” 

“What’s stopping you?” You grilled, quickly overlooking his (weak) counter, stunning him for a moment. “Why is there always something stopping you Draco? Someone?” 

The interrogation seemed to madden him. Out of the blue, a harsh growl erupted from his throat; harsher than he’d ever done before. Of course, he knew what stopped him, what always stopped him. Merely the thing that daunts him every day, makes him question himself and his actions… 

“Nothing...” Draco snarled, laced in displeasure.“Nothing is stopping me.” 

“There is something...” you pressed on. In this exact moment, you could’ve been deemed the antagonist, forced to alienate everyone around you. 

You didn’t want to, but you knew that the exterior front he seems to maintain isn’t his true nature; you knew that deep within, everyone is a bit broken inside, and there was a nagging feeling in you that he was much more broken than anyone you’ve ever seen… maybe even more than you. 

“I know there’s something Draco, whether or not you want to tell me about it.” You didn’t want to, but if making him angered was the only way to see his genuine emotions, you’d do it in a heartbeat. 

Draco’s jaw clenched at your words, resisting the urge to snap. He should be open, he wanted to do nothing more than surrender. To you, to everyone, he trusted, to everyone who deserved it. He’s done already to you, partly. Accidentally, but was it worth it? It was, it always was, so... why can’t he go further? Why were so many things prohibiting him? And why were they all linked to the same thing? 

“You don’t understand, you don’t see the world I do (Y/N). You’ve managed to see through people, and believe that every person should have a chance. I didn’t get to, you haven’t seen this school as I have… being a Malfoy. People change, and not for the better, sometimes... You can’t fight for me for too long, (Y/N), you’ll end up giving up too.” 

His eyes glistened with fresh pools fell down, uneasy hands bringing themselves up to cradle your weeping face. A thumb, calloused, guardedly moved higher, pushing the water threatening to flood. He watched as the spark in your eyes dim, and he knew he’d done it again; he’d break another one. It was heart-wrecking. 

“You mean more to me than anything, (Y/N). I mean it…” he started, stepping closer and bringing you to his chest; shielding him from seeing the agonizing expression, guilt beginning to already eat him alive. 

“The last thing I’d ever want to see, is for you to be shattered… and for it to be all my fault,” he choked out, knowing very well you were already tattered… much less than what could happen later. His hand slowly went up to place itself on the back of your head, soothingly rubbing and playing with the strands. Not to calm you down, but for him. 

With his words, time seems to stop, as well as your heart; no words formed. 

How could he? 

You’d known for some time rejection was an option, but it was before his feelings… before the pain knowing how close you were; seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, reaching for it, grasping what it seemed to be it, and falling through the seams. 

Blame is all that seemed to loom him, clouded by what he convinced himself to be responsibility.

How do you persuade someone damaged like that? Reassure him that he didn’t have to worry about your well-being? About the world around him? 

That simply having him near and embracing you, knowing how he truly felt was all you needed; his mere existence was enough, his worth didn’t need to be proven. That the feelings were both mutual, was all he needed. The world’s view shouldn’t matter, because it was the two of you… not them. 

He didn’t need the world to love him, because you did. And even if you weren’t enough, he’d have others, family, friends… but did he really? 

For once, in your entire life and being, you felt… defeated. Taunts and arguments were small failures, but resulted in your victory… for the first time, you didn’t know what to do… how to make a comeback.  

“So there’s nothing? We’re destined to be stuck like this?” you sobbed, arms encircling his torso, pulling yourself into his chest deeper, a habit to muffle the cries escaping from you; a tactic you developed as a kid. Draco only pulled you closer, silent; chewing on his lip hard to the point he could begin to taste the metallic fluid oozing from it. “I don’t want it to end… anything at all is fine.” 

He knew what you meant or what you were getting to… It was either going back to being the world’s little display of chaos or having a secret little love affair. 

Now usually, he’d be head-over-heels at the idea, the moments of cuddling or secret rendevous in the garden or past curfew. Stolen times under the moonlight or just with the two of you, it sounded like bliss. 

But there was a possibility that it could all end in an instant. The moment he’d become extremely attached, to the point where a mere sideglance from another male could send him unhinged. Or someone catching the two of you, unfolding the curtain for all to see; backlash was his first thought. 

The thing was, he was untouched. Draco Malfoy was taken to such a high degree that most didn’t want anything to really do with him-- get on his bad side. The only people who’ve ever given him a run for his money was the Golden Trio, other than that, he was fine. 

You were the complete opposite. Yes, you have held a stable title of being strong, a determined and bright-minded individual. But people would still gossip, attempt to enrage you, simply because they could. You would fight back, that was definite… but there’s only so much you could take. Only so much before you either become numb or do something near expelling-worth. 

He didn’t have the courage. Call him a wimp all you want, but Draco Malfoy wasn’t going to hurt someone else ever again. He’s already done enough to himself.

Cut ties, to have you blame him and move on. Hate him, mock him, he’d heard it all before-- but with time, you’d be happier. It would hurt, more than anything, but he’d rather have it from you now than having it all, still brawling students will a weak caliber. God, he’d never forgive himself for that. His selfish acts weren’t going to be at the price of your glee.

“We can only be what they see us as of now,” he retaliated, hearing another choke from you; the heartstrings pulling excruciatingly tight. “For both of our sake, for your sake, especially.” 

“Draco--” 

“Please, do it for me. Stop trying to reason with me, because I’m doing what’s best for us, for everyone. For you.” 

Anger. 

For you… for you… why was it always “for you?” 

Why was it that everyone’s decision revolved around what’s best “for you?”  

No one ever asked, but it was always with the best intention “for you.” But who knew if they left before they could? 

The saying made you sick to your stomach, but you couldn’t retaliate. Instead, with a shaky breath, you took everything left of you and removed his hands from you, already missing the warmth from him. You didn’t need a second opinion to know you were an absolute wreck; the feeling already weighed you.

You held onto his hands in yours, just blanking out, staring at it. The sheer touch of his hands made butterflies explode within you, the frog trapped within your throat refused to budge. The grooves of his hands were intricate, you could hold onto it for forever, intertwining it with yours.  Instead, a few more tears plopped from your eyes and onto his hands. What a silly thought… 

Holding his hand out to him (with yours in it), you pushed it towards him, staring at him. This was your last attempt. Draco’s eyes bore into the hand holding his, signaling you were complying while saying, 

“If you truly feel that way… take these back too.” 

Draco didn’t want to… it was too nice. It felt right, like home. A safe one. Maybe even an escape. But if it didn’t, and let his heart voucher for him, all that he’s said, all he’s done, would’ve been for nothing; the struggles. 

So, he made his decision. 

As his hand withdrew and landed to his side, you had sprung forward. Grabbing the collar of his robes, you pull him down and peck his forehead. Draco’s body turned crimson, his body hot; if it was possible, steam would’ve been blown out from his ears. Just as quickly as it happened, it was gone. 

Putting on the best smile you could muster, which you knew wasn’t much, you pulled away with another few inches of distance; the wood creaking beneath your feet. You didn’t know why you did it, maybe for once, you wanted to be selfish… you wanted to take something, a memory before it all ended. 

“I should go before someone comes to check out the books in this section.” You didn’t want to leave, his eyes were telling you to stay, but if you did your heart would’ve split into two. You made your lips smile wider, almost maniacally, as more tears cascaded down your face; everything you could see started to blur. Turning away, you scurried off, resisting the urge to turn back. 

Something overcame Draco. He sunk onto his knees, against the bookcase, ignoring how loud it must’ve been. He leaned against the bookshelf, his lip quivering more than ever as all his emotions poured out; by himself, once again. His knees came to his chest as he flicked his wrist with a series of words. Books encompassed him, cloaking the withering Slytherin, finally expressing his emotions… with no one to hold. 

_________________________

You stared off into space, elbow digging into your thigh, despite the thick robs above it; you rested your head on your chin as everything around you seemed to be in a blur. You were so wrapped up in your mind the stem of your apple was barely between your fingertips, dangling. 

“You shouldn’t look so glum, people might get the wrong idea,” Dean teased, nudging your shoulder as he stole the apple from you, taking an enormous bite out of it. You gasped and punched his arm, screaming at his stupidity for eating your food, and finishing it off. Grinning the best he could, he threw the apple core to the side and folded his arms over his chest, making a sad face. 

“Now what’s the problem?” He questioned, in a childlike manner, his bottom lip popping out to create an (almost) irresistible pout. The action made you roll your eyes, giving Dean his answer. 

“Geez, it’s the same thing… well, if you want, we could do something to get revenge.” You gasped in exaggeration, eyes blown wide as a hand came to your chest. “Did a Gryffindor just suggest revenge? What’s the world coming to?” 

“Oh, put a sock in it. You’re simply just rubbing off of me too much for my own good,” he mocked back, smirking. Shaking your head a bit, you stealthily grabbed the sketchbook from him and flipping through the pages. His eyes bulged. 

“What are you doing?! Are you mad?” 

“You know...” you trailed off, scanning through the context. “You really shouldn’t draw people without their permission. Especially if you’re drawing the same person.”  You taunted, displaying the picture of Ginny. Dean’s face grew red, taking the initiative to take the book back and hide it under his robes. He groaned aloud, revealing it once more. 

“First off, I don’t only draw her, I draw all my friends.” He muttered, flipping through the pages irked until he found it. “I drew you too,” he finished, displaying the specific drawing.

Honestly, you were surprised. Shockingly enough, Dean Thomas was in incredibly talented kid, believe it or not, especially in art-and-crafts. You never belittled his talent, unlike the other Hogwarts students, you just teased him from drawing his little crush for an unspeakable amount of days, months. But seeing you made you crack a smile, even with the thought of Draco’s denial. 

It had already been two weeks. Fortunately for you, Dean was about the perfect person you needed, a supportive, caring friend. It was well reciprocated, it seemed Dean was completely in love Ginny; he didn’t even talk to her much. He had tried countless times, but there were a few moments filled with stumbling over his words, walking off embarrassed. You didn’t know if Ron had noticed Dean’s fascination with his sister, you just hoped he wouldn’t chop Dean’s head off. 

“Why draw me? I mean, that sketchbook’s pretty much occupied with one person inside. You could dedicate the entire book to her.” Dean rolled his eyes, clutching the sketchbook against his chest tightly. “I draw everyone I hold dear, (Y/N). And if you didn’t know by now…” Dean’s voice began to come softer, leaning close. “... you’re apart of that list now.” 

“You’re too goofy sometimes,” you laughed. Both of you smiled brightly as laughs were exchanged, gaining the attention of a few students, who began to babble. Dean stopped before you did, gazing at everyone.

“Hey, don’t listen to them. They have nothing on you,” you whispered, ruffling his hair. “Entitlement only gets you so far, you need brains to get anywhere, and a majority of this school doesn’t really have any.” You continued on, knowing that a few students must’ve heard. 

“You’re going to get in trouble for saying things like that, y’ know.” He whispered. “It’s the truth, and maybe for once, the school would shut up and mind their own business.” You spoke a bit too soon because a bundle of boys came trudging their way over.

“I heard (Y/N) and Dean are really together, look they’re all touchy and--” 

“Crabbe, Goyle. Do me a favor and put a cork in it.” Draco sneered, leaning against the pillar as he watched people from a distance.

Yes, most would find it creepy. But Draco was much more observant to the people around the two of you rather than just you. Keen to people’s words, the way they spoke hollow lies, yet it seemed it mattered more than the value of truth. Deception and myths blinded people, false hope. He stares too often, but it’s mostly the people around rather than the person. He did it with Potter, got him in trouble more times than he could ever count. 

But Draco knew the truth, he did it to help him. It was the only time he could ever see you, without other’s wandering eyes. He just didn’t feel the overwhelming need to do anything or desire. Crabbe and Goyle still praised him, always as countless other Slytherins, but it didn’t help that he himself felt guilt. Felt like a complete blistering idiot for rejecting probably the best opportunity he could’ve had, but he made his word of it to never come in contact if there was a chance of it down spiraling… if things were to get out of proportion.

You made sure to give the biggest grimace to the leader of the boys, looming over you as he shifted his weight on his back leg. 

“Heard you two were together,” he jeered, his misshapen finger pointing accusingly at Dean. “the muggle-born.” The attempt to belittle your friend made you scoff aloud, unlike Dean, who’d kept his head down to avoid the spur of conflict. 

“Obviously you’ve heard wrong because we’re not together. That or you’re just plain stupid.” The male looked baffled before he stomped closer to you, a poor attempt of intimidation. “What did you just call me?” 

“(Y/N), quit it.” Dean tried to reason, finally looking up from the ground. 

“I think you heard me, or are your eardrums clogged? You know what, don’t answer that, we all know the answer to that,” you taunted. “The latter one, if you didn’t already know.” You saw red. That and the sudden silence of everyone nearby, practically gawking at the scene before them; it even caught Draco’s full attention, making a beeline straight for you. 

The boy suddenly grabbed the collar of your robes, his other hand reaching down to reveal his wand, you let out a maniac laugh. 

“Are you that embarrassed that you attack a woman? Especially one unarmed as you reach for your--” 

“Oh shut up!” He screamed, his wand pressing against your chin, making an indent on your skin. “You just wait and see you--” 

“I dare you to finish that sentence,” someone grunted; a wand pressed against the male’s head, who shivered. You didn’t need to look twice to know it was Draco, though you were more irritated that he came to help you now than relieved. 

Doesn’t give you a glance and suddenly came to act like your knight in shining armor out of the blue? 

“Go on,” Draco rasped, “get on with it. Finish what you were going to say before I came here.” You felt the pointed piece of wood disappear, a slight tremble in his hands as he placed his wand to the side. 

“I can’t...” the student croaked. Draco’s furrowed his eyebrows and twisted his face, adding pressure. “And why can’t you? Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly chickened out, have you?” He remained silent before Draco finally released him with a quick click of his tongue. “Beat it, coward.” 

As if on cue he scurried away, not once looking back. Draco gave you a steady look, scanning your face for any sign of injuries, mutely. 

“If all you’re going to do is stare, I’m going to leave,” you said, patting down the wrinkles in your robes. Draco didn’t say anything as he grabbed your forearm, tugging you along to who-knows-where. Stopping in front of Goyle and Crabbe, he growled. 

“By the time I get back, I demand to know everything about that tosser, clear?” The compliant nods cracked a small smile from Draco, before whispering something to the boys you weren’t able to catch. He turned back to you and gave you a hard stare, turning around and yanking you with him. 

The walk overall was uncomfortable. You were petrified to try and break the heavy silence, knowing Draco was still full of steam. The doors to the library swung open as he made his way inside, his grip as vicious as a viper, tightening at the slightest struggle. 

“Are you always trying to get yourself into trouble?” He snapped, pushing you towards a bookshelf, and trapping you with his arms. You hated this. Being stuck beside him, near him, when he hinted there was nothing he could do to change anything between you. 

“I don’t want to talk to you, Draco. I have nothing to say to you, so let me leave.” You ordered, searching for a way to flee. 

“I don’t care if you don’t have anything to say to me, because I know you’re lying and I have things to say, so you’re not going anywhere until we sort this out.” A pained laugh followed from his words finally decided to stare up at him and into his eyes. 

“I think we’ve already sorted it out, you established that weeks ago, if you’ve forgotten,” you chided, ignoring your shaky breaths. “There is nothing to sort out, ‘cause we aren’t any--” 

“Don’t finish that sentence.” 

“And why not, huh? Afraid it’ll hurt your ego if I might?” You wanted to stop, you really did. You didn’t understand the words coming out from your mouth, but in that second everything within you just broke. 

“We are nothing, you made it crystal clear, Draco. Don’t tell me you’re suddenly backing out on your word--” 

You felt something on your lips. Something soft, wet. 

He was kissing you. Draco Malfoy was kissing you. It wasn’t happy either, it was vulnerable. His hands intertwined with yours desperately, assertive and fragile. It wasn’t until then you realized he had been crying from your words, his actions. 

When he pulled away his head hung low, ashamed. 

“I’m sorry. If you still hate me you can hit me, do whatever you want. I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry, for everything.” His eyes pierced into yours, another tear forming on his tear-streaked face. “You deserve much better than me.” 

Again, you were in a tight spot. 

Could you accept him? This time? 

You got what you wanted, he finally decided to open himself up to you, after months of trying, months of failures. But now… you didn’t know. He was so distracted by everyone around him, would it work? The two of you? 

Weeks ago, you would’ve been all for it; ready to face the world if it meant he was by your side every time, both thick and thin. 

But now you were thinking, actually taking the time to think it through… were you going mad? You loved him to death, without a doubt, but what would happen if his father did find out? It would be an emotional hell for him. 

What if you weren’t enough for him, and he realized that? 

“(Y/N), nononononono don’t you ever discredit yourself… ever.” He panicked, taking your face into his hands and raising your eyes to him. You didn’t even realize you voiced out your thoughts to him.

“You are everything, (Y/N). Nothing would change that, you did nothing wrong. I did it, okay? It’s my fault.” And there it was...

It’s my fault. 

“Why are you so persistent in everything being blamed on you. Why do you intentionally make people blame you?” 

“Because it’s easier to have everyone hate you then knowing your true intentions… your true feelings. It’s been easier, until now,” he explained, muttering the last part under his breath. “When you asked what was stopping me…” Draco trailed on. “...It’s been me. I know, it’s stupid but… I don’t want to be broken again, (Y/N). Not again. So I tried to push you away, evidently, that didn’t work.” He joked, stroking your hands. 

“I’m not asking anything of you, (Y/N). I just wanted to say I’m sorry; I won’t ask for your hand, just know that you mean more to me than anything. Whether we’re rivals or more.” 

He said gingerly, a little grin forming on his face. 

You thought again. 

Was it really okay for him? Was he really all right with everything? With the thought of you hating him and moving on? Being nothing more? 

“Draco…” you whispered, you didn’t believe the words coming out from your mouth. “Will you go out with me?” 

Draco was speechless for a while, before kissing the top of your forehead. “Only if you’ll have me.” 

You’ll take a chance, if he was willing to, you’d take it any day. 

_________________________

Tags: 

(those who asked for a tag and then wanted a part 2)

@dreaming-legend

@swonpl

@blisfvll

@s-njj

@that-weird-kid-charlie

@paaaam97

@simple-live

@jiminie-slytherin

@jadewestwriter

@lumbs17

@un-limit-edd

@blue-and-yellow-jjk-pjm

@theres-a-dog-outside-omg

@fire-in-her-veinz

@zphyersworld

@babyde-er

I think that’s everyone, thank you for reading and I hope you all are healthy and safe !!! 

[acephysicskarkat]

Redemption, Forgiveness and She-Ra S5

So just to spite the anon who told me to stop posting my opinions, I’m gonna post another opinion!

This will contain spoilers for SPOP, Avatar: the Last Airbender, The Good Place, and Steven Universe.

So the most common take that I’ve heard about S5 from Catra stans is that it’s a story about redemption and forgiveness and that if I’m in any way critical of it then I’m saying abusers can never redeem themselves.

To which I say: the second part is a strawman argument, and the first part doesn’t help because it’s a bad story about redemption and forgiveness.

Part 1: Redemption

The problem with S5′s stories about redemption is that they are, universally, undercooked.  For things that the fanbase had been wanting for months, they’re surprisingly lacking in meaningful impact.

Catra’s is the least bad, because Catra is at least on-screen long enough to tell us that it seems to be sticking, but it’s still not good.  It’s rushed, it’s weightless, and it feels like they didn’t even check what she’d done in the past three seasons that she would need to find redemption for.

At no point does she meaningfully confront her actions (which, in case you’ve forgotten, ranged from bringing about the death of Queen Angella (S3E6), to repeated attempts to murder or permanently harm Adora (S1E11, S1E13, S2E5, S3E4-6, S4E3), to bullying Scorpia (present throughout but most obvious in S4E6), to taking part in a war crime (S4E8)), nor does she really confront the jealousy and spite that drove them.  Indeed, the episodes that could have been spent showing us her character development are spent showing us that she still has a very unhealthy attitude towards Adora (S5E6) and telling us that she underwent her character development offscreen, while we were distracted by Double Trouble (S5E8).

Hordak’s is even worse, because Catra at least admits she wronged people, even if the focus is put almost entirely on Catra feeling bad about it.  Hordak realises, accurately, that being made into a cog in a machine of conquest is bad (S5E13)...but he never makes the leap onscreen to it still being bad when he did it to other people, as he did to Adora and the other Horde kids (S2E7).  It treats Hordak’s decision to break free of Horde Prime as if it in and of itself makes him good, overlooking that the life he’s trying to go back to was the one where he ruled over an empire of stolen children.

I don’t even want to get into Shadow Weaver.

AtLA gave a compelling redemption arc to Zuko by having him confront the consequences of his actions.  SU gave a compelling redemption arc to Peridot by showing us, in great detail, her evolution from antagonist to ally.  SPOP just kinda tells us that characters are good now and expects that to work out okay.

And the really depressing thing is that both these characters actually could have sustained really compelling redemption arcs!  I would have loved to see Hordak meaningfully realise onscreen that the universe does not consist of him, Horde Prime, Imp, Entrapta, and a bunch of largely interchangeable pawns for him to treat as he sees fit.  I would have loved to see Catra wrestle with and overcome her resentment of Adora, maybe come to understand that being Shadow Weaver’s favourite fucking sucked actually.  The show just didn’t bother, and so what we got was on par with a bad fanfic or the backstory for a D&D character.

Part 2: Forgiveness

For my money, one of the best stories about forgiveness in modern media is in a third season episode of The Good Place called “A Fractured Inheritance”.

Explaining it with as few spoilers as possible, protagonist Eleanor Shellstrop discovers that her cartoonishly neglectful mother Donna faked her death and seems to have built a new life where she’s a good stepmother to a child.  Eleanor spends most of the episode convinced that her mother is running a scam, but eventually concludes that this does appear to be sticking and gives up her plan to reveal Donna’s secret, cautioning her not to go back to how she used to be.  At the end, she opens up to a friend about the trauma she sustained as a result of her upbringing.

SPOP could never.

"A Fractured Inheritance” tells a more compelling story about forgiveness in 15 minutes of screentime than she-Ra S5 managed in four and a half hours because The Good Place cares about Eleanor’s trauma.  It’s portrayed as pretty understandable that she has a grudge against her mother, and working through that takes time and sustained proof that Donna has changed.  More than that, forgiveness isn’t portrayed as a magical button that instantly solves Eleanor’s issues; just because she’s letting go of her anger towards Donna doesn’t mean that the harm she suffered as a result of Donna’s neglect goes away.  Her fear of opening up or being vulnerable, stemming from a childhood of constantly being shat on when she did, is still there, even after reconciling with her mother.

Contrast this to She-Ra S5.  The second Catra says she’s sorry, Adora is willing to forgive her and go across the universe to help her (S5E3), even though in their last interaction, back in S4E3, Adora actively tried to kill her for pretty darn compelling reasons (you may remember those reasons from S3E4-6).  Adora gets, like, a brief rant in S5E4 where she seems to be confused about this, but there’s never a point where she meaningfully seems to process the trauma she’s suffered as a result of Catra’s treatment of her, which we know has been toxic, controlling and unhealthy since they were kids (S5E3).

More than that, there’s never really a point where any of the people Catra victimised in the first four seasons gets to deal with that.  Glimmer seemingly never realises that Catra is why her mother is dead (S3E6), which is especially jarring given that the effects of Angella’s death on Glimmer drove the entire previous season; Entrapta barely remembers that Catra betrayed her and sent her to her presumed death (S5E6); Bow thinks someone who’s done nothing but attempt to hurt his friends for as long as he’s known her is adorable (S5E8); Scorpia forgives her before she even finishes saying sorry (S5E13); and both Frosta decking her in S5E9 and Perfuma’s understandable irritation with the woman who bullied her GF in S5E10 are portrayed almost as jokes, the latter never escalating beyond mild rudeness.

This also extends to Hordak, who, after his tissue-thin face turn in S5E13, gets a baffling montage that tries to portray his picking up an abandoned child and indifferently turning her over to an abusive sorceress (S2E7) as somehow heartwarming and a big bonding moment, and then the notion that Mermista might have some grudges against the guy who burned down her home and displaced her people (S5E7-8) is framed as comic.

I’m not even saying that neither of these characters should never be forgiven by anyone!  Just that the forgiveness they get in the show is lacking in dramatic weight, because the actions that are being forgiven don’t feel like they mean anything.  Catra has hurt Adora, Glimmer, Entrapta, Scorpia, Mermista and countless unnamed innocents, and it’s all treated like it has the same impact as borrowing Adora’s Xena DVDs and forgetting to give them back.  Hordak should be considered Etheria’s greatest monster given the number of people who’ve died as a result of his actions and maybe one person is slightly irritated at the prospect of having to send him a Christmas card this year.

(This is without getting into the fact that Glimmer and Entrapta are expected to deal with the consequences of their actions to some degree, with each getting an episode focused around that (S2E2, S2E4).  It’s kind of wild that Glimmer nearly destroying the world because she took a reckless risk in a desperate gamble to try and save the people she cares about from the Horde blitzkrieg, a gambit that she immediately tried to fix when she realised she’d fucked up (S4E10-13) is treated as something that causes a notable rift in her friendships, but Catra nearly destroying the world because she was just that jealous of Adora (S3E3-6) is breezed past with an “I’m sorry.”  Entrapta building the robots causes the Alliance to hold grudges; Hordak waging 25 years of warfare is [shrug] Just Horde Clone Things.)

3. Salvaging These Plot Points

Now, as I implied above, the notion that I think these characters are irredeemable is a bullshit strawman, a thought-terminating cliche that Catra stans use to dismiss criticism without processing with it.  So how would I go about it?

Catra

I would start by having Catra and Glimmer be in the same escape.  Having her attempt to sacrifice herself in S5E3 had some weird thematic issues given her previously established self-destructive streak (S2E5, most of S3).  If we have to keep the bad plot point where Adora recovers the friend who loves and cares for her and immediately goes “well, we gotta leave our friends back home to deal with a colonial invasion while we charge across the universe to save my abusive stalker ex who’s never respected my personhood or autonomy”, I’d probably look at the two biggest missed opportunities in the season: S5E6 and S5E8.

S5E6 is terrible, and should just be expunged mercilessly with fire for its baffling endorsement of the sentiment “yes i abused u but now u hate me so i’m the victim really”.  Its replacement should probably be focused around Adora genuinely processing the harm she’s sustained as a result of Catra’s treatment of her, probably deciding at the end that she’ll accept Catra’s help but is still understandably suspicious of her given the established mistrust (S1E8) and hostility (S4E3).

S5E8 is easy to fix, though; instead of it mostly being the characters bumbling around a haunted house, I’d make the setting actually do stuff for the characters’ arcs.  We already know that First One ruins can bring up memories, so I’d turn it into a reversal of S1E11 where Adora and Catra’s friendship can actually be rebuilt, probably culminating in Catra saving Adora from falling off a cliff as a symbolic rejection of the resentment she would have been struggling with throughout the episode.  This is probably where Adora starts to actually believe that Catra has become a better person.

Basically, the goal here is to show the audience that Catra is working to overcome her issues and become a better person, instead of telling us that it happened offscreen.

Hordak

The problem with Hordak’s face turn is that at no point in the show, including after we’re supposed to treat him as Good Now, does he seem to give a shit about anyone not on a list that contains maybe 4-5 names.  I’d probably put in some scenes earlier where his experiences seem to be actually changing him for the better: maybe his response to Entrapta asking him to spare Catra isn’t to commute her sentence to a suicide mission, or he feels a sudden sympathy with a captive Etherian after the fall of Salineas, as the shared feelings of loss line up, and orders their release.  Basically, the idea is to put in some groundwork so that it actually feels like he might be safe to have around, instead of him betraying his tyrannical overlord because he misses his life where he was, himself, a tyrannical overlord.

I also would not play the idea that people might be a little bit suspicious of a man with a 25-year history of ruthless oppression, colonial violence and unprovoked warmongering as a joke.  Just one of those personal quirks.

4. Summary

In conclusion:

S5 is a bad story about redemption because it doesn’t give the characters being redeemed engaging or compelling redemption arcs, favouring a blind rush to the ending, and it’s a bad story about forgiveness because it treats the actions that are being forgiven as though they don’t mean anything, even when episodes or entire seasons have been built on the effects of those actions.  It’s not that these ideas are bad in general, that these characters axiomatically couldn’t be redeemed or that forgiveness is problematic; it’s just that the execution is bad.

Anyway, thanks, jackass anon, for inspiring me to set down my thoughts in detail like this!