#he is pure innocent but creepy but so sweet and -

[fareehaandspaniards]

[lokischocolatefountain]

Warning || Men Like Me

Masterlist

Fandom: The Last of Us Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: girth age gap, virgin!reader, eventual loss of virginity (not in this chapter), gratuitous descriptions of Joel Miller's body, somewhat creepy!Joel, fetishization of youth, dom!Joel, breaking and entering, playboy magazine, objectification, fingering, sexual discoveries. Word count: 6.2k Summary: Joel's warnings about what men like him would do to girls like you only makes you want him more. A/N: Back in the depths of hell again, you guys. Now this isn't the most depraved thing I've written by any means but it's up there. Come say hi in my chat or inbox, I'd love to talk. Keep a look out for follow up parts and pleeeeease give me comments. I am very very desperate.

Joel Miller was a bad man. That much he knew. 

Even as he fixed taps and renovated houses that were falling apart, he could see the blood on his hands. The very hands that packed lunches for Ellie snapped necks, pistol whipped men, stole from a starving child so he could feed his grown brother. But there were lows even he didn’t stoop down to. 

Not that he didn’t have the opportunity. Men always did. And in this world, opportunities had only tripled. Even the Boston QZ, as strict as it was, had an underground brothel. He knew Tess to frequent it and never asked questions. Sometimes she needed to bury her face between a good pair of thighs and wrap her lips around a pretty pussy, and this wasn’t something he could give her. There was a lot he couldn’t give her.

Being in Jackson should’ve civilized him. It did in many ways. He’d reverted to the southern gentleman with table manners. ‘Yes, Ma’am’ spilled out of his lips effortlessly when he spoke to women. He held the door for anyone walking in after him. He even went to Church– sorry, the multifaith house of worship–to help renovate. 

That was where his troubles began. 

There was no point in him going where people prayed. Being back in civilization did not erase his decades of disbelief in a cruel God who would take his baby and keep him on this accursed Earth. But he did because he was back to being a contractor and Tommy asked him to go fix up the pews instead of him. He didn’t have much time, being a new dad and all.

He was on his knees checking out the rotting wood and evaluating how much wood he’d need for building new ones when he was confronted by a pair of legs and a sweet voice. Yours. 

“Lemonade, Mister Miller?” 

He looked up, his eyes traveling up your legs, bare until he got to your knees where the hem of your flowery skirt sat. Pure, unblemished knees, never taken a fall, didn’t fucking creak, and never knelt before anyone but God. You looked down sweetly, eyes wide and innocent like a newborn cow. Everyone had a kind of darkness about them in this world. Everyone except the kids who didn’t know a world outside the insular walls of Jackson. And you, it turned out, even though you weren’t a kid.

He wiped his sweat off with the greasy rag he carried and looked up at you once again. You had a pitcher and an empty glass in your hands. A sweet smile on your lips and hair falling down your shoulders and reaching your breasts. A yellow ribbon sat in a bow where your neckline dipped between your breasts, adding to the innocence of your look.

“Yes please, Ma’am. Thank you,” he said, giving you a nod. Your pretty plush lips curled up, a giggle escaping them as you poured him a glass of lemonade. 

His hand brushed against yours as he accepted the glass, his hand too large to curl around it without making contact with you. You giggled again before retracting your hand and occupying it with adjusting your hair. 

“I’m younger than you, you know? Don’t have to call me Ma’am.” 

“Just being polite. Ma’am.” He took the glass to his lips, mindful to take only a small sip instead of downing it in desperation. Another adjustment to make when food was no longer a scarcity. Sweet, sour, and salty danced on his tongue before it glided down his throat. Just a sip refreshed him. And the sight of a nice girl didn’t hurt the cause either. 

It’d been so long since he had a nice refreshing glass of lemonade. Summers meant worse infestations of infected, not the barbecues, lemonades, and swimming of past. When surviving each hour was under threat, small luxuries like this became out of reach of even one’s dreams.

“Well, guess I should call you Sir then,” you said, leaning against the wall. You held the pitcher up to your chest and the tails of the ribbon on your chest dipped into it, the soft shiny yellow turning dark, tainted.

His mouth watered and fucking hell, it wasn’t the lemonade you just gave him. He took a sip of the drink and licked his lips, imagining how you’d taste if he wrapped his large hand around your neck and pressed his chapped lips to your plush ones. Better yet, if he held your legs apart and devoured you other pair of lips until you were leaking down his mouth. Would you call him Sir then? His cock twitched in his jeans as he pictured you bent over one of these pews, your skirt pushed up and his hand in your hair as he slid his cock in your hole. 

Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Made the lemonade yourself?” He asked,  groaning as he managed to get himself back up on his feet. His knees creaked like the floorboards of the houses he renovated, but ultimately supported him as he stood. He towered over you, making you appear smaller, more fragile. 

“Depends. Do you like it?” 

“It’s wonderful, of course. Hot summer day like this…I really needed it,” he said, raising the glass up a little before taking another sip. 

“Well then yes, I did make it.”

He chuckled, feeling himself pulled in by your easy charisma. It was nice to have normal conversations like this once again. No agenda, no need for establishing himself as someone who wouldn’t hesitate to beat someone up if even mildly threatened. It was just…normal. 

“It’s very sweet, Ma’am. Like you I assume,” he added, mentally dusting off the part of his brain where he stored skills for conversing with pretty girls.

You laughed, holding your free hand up to your mouth to cover your lips that widened and revealed your teeth. 

“Is that the southern charm that I hear our townspeople talk about?” 

“They talk about my charm? I didn’t hear.” 

“Oh yes, they do… Joel Miller, charming pants off of everyone in town.”

“Pants? Well that’s disappointing. I was hoping I’d charmed some pretty skirts off.” 

“Lots of experience with that, Mister Miller?” you asked, sliding your hand over the soft fabric of the skirt of your dress. Such delicate fabric. He could fist the hem and give it one tug and it’d rip right off.

“More ‘n what you got for sure,” he said, loath to hint at how infrequent his encounters had become in the recent past. Tess died, he did a cross country hike with an annoying kid, he needed to maintain a good reputation in his new town. One buried after the other. Enough to leave a man with nothing but his fist and his imagination. He would kill for a fucking Playboy magazine. Literally. He’d killed for less.

“What do you know about how experienced I am?” 

“Been experiencing longer than you’ve been alive, Ma’am.” 

“Oh well. Nothing I can’t learn.” 

He laughed nervously and stuck his hand in his jeans pocket. Surely you couldn’t be flirting… Why would a young thing like this flirt with him? He was in his late fifties looking like mid sixties and you were… He didn’t know. Young.

“If you could teach me, Mister Miller. Give a girl some experience?”

“I’m sure you can find someone else.” 

“Oh. Not your type, am I?” you asked, and he deluded himself thinking you sounded disappointed. No chance. 

He didn’t have a type. Long time since he thought of frivolous shit like that. But you shouldn’t be his type. 

“There’s much more eligible men in town is what I’m saying,” he said, suddenly hesitant to lie. Lying had never been an issue for him. The right thing was to lie, say you weren’t his type so he wouldn’t cross lines. It’d been a long time since he did the right thing.

“I’ll be the decider of that,” you said with a shrug of your shoulder before taking the empty glass from him. “Have a good rest of the work day, Mister Miller.”

Later that night, he wrapped his fist around his cock in the privacy of his room. His mind flooded with images of you spread out for him, sweet lips and a sweeter pussy milking him. He couldn’t even recall the last time he was with a woman. It was Tess, of course. Sometime before she got thrown in FEDRA jail for the last time. Too fucking long ago.

Surely it was only because it’d been a long time since he got his dick wet. He’d never, in his entire life, pictured a woman so much younger spreading her legs for him. Sucking his cock. Crying out his name. How old was she even? Not past mid twenties for sure.

It was wrong, he knew, as white hot spend spurted out of his cock and covered his hand. A sour tang took over his mouth as the fog of unadulterated lust cleared up to reveal the ugliness in his head. He shuddered, feeling like something had crawled under his flesh. He hadn’t felt guilt like this in so long. 

Wrong, wrong, wrong. 

You weren’t even as old as his kid would be had she been alive. 

He’d known men like that back in the day. Grays in their hair and skin like old leather, but pretty young things old enough to be their daughter hanging off their arm. It was obvious that none of them kept these girls around for love or for their personality. It was always sex and the feeling of self-importance when a sweet young thing paid attention to balding heads, beer bellies and limp dicks that needed a blue pill to get up. 

Fucking disgusting. 

He began avoiding you whenever you happened to be in the same space. At the house of worship, the town clinic where you interned, trading days when people exchanged what they had for what they wanted. His eyes never met yours and he always quickly looked away when they stared too long at your uh…feminine features– pretty legs, cute ass, round tits. Where the fuck did you get sundresses anyway? Who kept that shit around in this world? 

He didn’t know that when he avoided you, you took note of him. When he took glances of your features, you memorized his for later in the night when you buried your head in your pillow and pushed your fingers inside your pussy to simulate what it must be like to be with a man. 

He was older. That much you knew from his grey hair, sun-damaged skin, and gait that exuded bone-deep weariness. You knew Tommy had just turned fifty. Hard to miss occasions that meant a free slice of cake from the canteen. Joel had to be in his mid-fifties at the very least. At first glance, he wasn’t what you’d consider handsome. There were younger men in town. Fit and muscular. Didn’t groan and scrunch up their faces when they got up. Didn’t have lines on their foreheads. No bags under their eyes. 

Yet there was something about Joel that was more entrancing. 

After your first meeting when you offered him lemonade, you made sure to visit under the guise of worship. You didn’t know much about religion and were conflicted about embracing a god. The only faith you had rested in your medical instruments and the medicines the town’s chemist concocted. But it was a nice place to meet people, to check on healing patients.

The visits were worth it for a glimpse of Joel’s large hands wrapped around his carpentry tools. When the sun was the hottest, he sometimes stripped down to his tank top, giving you a show better than any film played in the community theater. His broad back looked masculine enough in his flannel shirts. But you didn’t know desire like the first time you saw him in a white tank, showing off his muscular arms as sweat dripped down his tan skin.

When you pleasured yourself in your room, it took time, imagination, your fingers, and a lot of effort to make slick pool in your pussy. That day, all it took was the sight of Joel Miller working. You sat with your thighs pressed together, rubbing them against each other in the most inconspicuous little movements. 

Could it be blasphemy if the God who was supposedly orchestrating everything made this man take his shirt off in front of you?

It made no fucking sense. Joel was old. He looked like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed every goddamn day. He had been chewed up and spat out by whatever the fuck was outside Jackson these days. Hardened expressions, graying patchy beard, hands calloused from carpentry and decades of using weaponry. Features that only indicated a long life lived, not attractiveness.

You were supposed to be attracted to the soft, sweet ones like the guys in the worn out copies of romance stories that the previous inhabitant of your house stashed in the basement. Even his little brother would be a more reasonable target for your lust. Younger, taller, softer, head full of dark, silky hair with few grays. But you wanted Joel Miller with his rough graying beard that would prick your skin were you to cup his cheek like the women on the novel covers. 

Something about him just screamed Man. Something that none of the other guys in town had. There was nothing wrong with any of the other Jackson men, but none of them made you want to take the plunge and lose your virginity. It wasn’t the lack of offers, per se. You’d gotten looks from many eligible Jackson bachelors. You had drinks with a few of them. Dinner with fewer and shared a kiss with more than one. Alright, two. But anything beyond that had you trembling in anxiety. 

It wasn’t anything precious to you, virginity. But you’d waited so long. Focused so long only on survival and then helping to build this town and now training to become a doctor. Whatever passed for doctor these days. With all your life dedicated to everything but your love life, you simply had no experience. What if you messed up and they laughed? You knew anatomy, but that didn’t translate to practical stuff. What if you couldn’t make them feel good? You’d have to see the guy all the damn time in the small town. There would be no escaping the awkwardness.

Sure it was counterintuitive to keep pushing away sexual encounters because you had no experience. But you didn’t know what else to do. You were too old already to not have done anything. But each day that passed with you rejecting perfectly nice men meant you were getting even older for your first time. 

You didn’t know where Joel fit into your need for exploring your sexuality, but it didn’t hurt to stare. God knew everyone else in Jackson did. 

So you stared. Work with his carpentry tools. Riding on horseback into Jackson after patrol. Helping with the fucking sheep. Walking around with Tommy. Carrying his nephew around town. It should be inappropriate to be fantasizing about a man when he was doing something as innocent as carrying a baby. But seeing his large hand cradling the baby’s little head made you want to scream into your pillow and kick your legs. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” 

Your heart fluttered and you let out a nervous laugh at being caught. You smoothed out the wrinkles on your clothes just to make it look like you were alright. Unfortunately you were wearing a pair of fucking jeans. You didn’t even want to know how awkward you looked. 

“‘m alright, Mister Miller.” 

“Joel’s fine,” he said, rocking his nephew in his arms.

Oh fuck, his fucking arms!

“Oh I don’t know,” you said, fidgeting with a belt loop on your jeans. “Wouldn’t want to be impolite addressing you by your first name like that.”

He smiled, recalling your conversation from the house of worship when you called him Sir and had him fucking himself in the shower to the memory. “Ah. ‘cause I’m an old man,” he said, more as a reminder to himself to fucking behave. 

“You’re not that old…” you trailed, looking him over in a way that set fire to every inch of skin that you laid eyes on.

Behave, Miller. You’re out with your nephew. 

“That so?” he asked, eyebrow raised. 

“Mhmm. You don’t look a day over seventy.” 

He snorted, making Miles stir in his arms just a little. That stung a little. It shouldn’t. Your estimation of his age, whether you were serious or not, was reminder enough that he was too old to be lusting after you.

“Thanks. I’m actually eighty-two.” 

You giggled your pretty little giggle, lowering your gaze to the ground and looking back up only when it had turned into a wide grin. “How old are you actually?”

“Old. Fifty six.” 

“Fifty-six isn’t that old…” you trailed as you brought a hand up to his bicep. Joel gulped, praying to the non-existent God that you would stop before praying to the same God that you would keep your hand right there. God answered his second prayer. You squeezed, licked your lips and looked up at him with your doe eyes.

“Checking if the hardware is still working, Doctor?” 

“I’m not a doctor yet.” 

“When do you become one then? Ain’t no Harvard handing out medical degrees in this town.”

“Howard?” you asked, squinting at him. Ah, of course you didn’t know. Harvard didn’t mean the same thing to you. Now it was just like every other building in Boston. Run over by infected. These ones were just the nerdy kind with glasses on.

“That was a thing, too. But I said Harvard. They were big universities back then.”

“Ah. Did you go there?” You asked, with no malice or bite. Oh, bless your heart. No one expected a dummy like him to have gone to university at all, much less Harvard. No one in his family had gone. Sarah was meant to be the first.

“Yeah. Traded some oxy and threw molotovs at clickers in the campus.” 

You rewarded him with a giggle and that was incentive enough for him to keep going. “Guys like me didn’t get into Harvard. Or Howard. Didn’t even go to community college. I finished high school and got a job in construction.” 

“You didn’t go to uh…construction college?” You asked, cocking your head and raising an eyebrow as though testing out the term.

“No such thing. Well, there were civil engineering programs, but I just learned on the job.” 

“Like me.” 

“Guess so. I see you reading from all those fat medical books. But there’s no need to study any books in construction. ‘cept if you wanna be an engineer or architect or something, which I’m not.” 

“Maybe you should write one. We could all do with some knowledge from before. It’s important to document it, pass it on to Ellie and little Miles over there.” 

“I ain’t writing books, sweetheart. Don’t think I even remember how to write much. I’ll just keep to fixing things up in this town. So, if you need some help with your place…I’m happy to help.” It was the least he could do. Maybe as some kind of penance for having impure thoughts about you. Or as a fucked up trade for starring in the mental images he conjured to jack off in the shower.

“There is something, actually. But I don’t have anything to trade for, so I’ll wait until I do,” you said, clasping your hands behind your back and swaying in place in an endearing manner.

“Nonsense. You patched me up just last week. You’ve done enough for the town’s health to not have to trade for anything ever again.” 

“Well, no. That’s not how it should be… It’s people’s health. Can’t put a price on that.”

“Believe it or not, health had a steep price back in the day. Cost four thousand something just to give birth. Double that if they had to cut you open.” And that was just how much it cost when Sarah was born. He was sure it had only gone up by 2003. If he hadn’t worked his ass off, there was no way he could’ve escaped debt. It helped that his Ma and his then wife’s parents helped with childcare. Would’ve been even more expensive without that.

“Damn. I don’t know how much that is, since…y’know we don’t have money now. But that sounds like a big number. It shouldn’t cost anything just to be born.” 

“Tell me about it,” he said, shaking his head. “But listen. Anything you want fixed, I’ll help out. You can give me something later if you’re worried. I know Ellie’s always on the look for new books to read and you seem to have a lot of them.” 

“Nothing Ellie would like. Not like the special limited edition of Savage Starlight or anything. Just medical textbooks and romance novels.” 

“We could trade for the lemonade from that afternoon,” he insisted, desperate to do something for you. Take care of you as you took care of everyone who walked into the clinic be it papercuts or a fucking knife in their abdomen. 

“Alright. Trade for the lemonade it is then,” you said, giving in to his pressure.

“Now tell me. What d’ya need fixed?” 

⌘⌘⌘

It had been a few days since Joel promised to fix your shower for you. Each time he came by and rang your doorbell, you hid somewhere away from your windows. When he caught sight of you in public, you quickly walked away or engaged in conversation with someone else. You didn’t need shit fixed. Everything in your house was perfectly alright. Tommy and his guys had given the place a complete makeover just a couple months before Joel and Ellie arrived. 

You were no paragon of honesty, but you didn’t make lying a habit. There were a few white lies here and there and this was meant to be one of them. It just didn’t fucking hit you that if you lied to a contractor that your shower was broken, he would eventually come over to fucking fix it. All your desperate sex starved brain wanted that day was for Joel Miller to come use his tools in your room and flex those muscles while at it.

So invested were you in that particular fantasy that as you unwound after a long shift at the clinic, it was with Joel’s beefy arms in mind. You stood in front of your mirror, taking in your reflection. One of the magazines you’d found in a box under your bed laid open on the dressing table. Playboy. Entertainment for Men. Each had a scantily clad woman on the cover. And many more inside. 

You made comparisons to yourself and the woman in the center page of the issue.

She stood in front of a dressing table too, but much different from how you stood. Her legs were on either side of her dressing table chair and her hands on the top of it. Between her arms were breasts, big and round and with smooth skin. They didn’t have any marks on them like yours. No moles, no stretch marks. Just plain. And she just stood there, soft brown hair down, tickling the top of her breasts and her lips parted as she gazed at you. No, at the men she was meant to entertain in this men’s entertainment magazine. All she had on was panties that went high up to her flat belly that connected to high transparent socks.

You reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, wishing that you had something nicer like the woman on the cover of another one of the magazines. Bright red and showing off her breasts wonderfully, but pulled down to reveal almost everything. What was the point of a bra then if it didn’t cover or support anything? Entertainment, you decided. Men seemed to be very entertained by breasts. 

Many a man had stared at yours even though you had them behind layers of fabric unlike the naked women of the magazines. Many had conversations with them instead of your face. Some brushed up against them ‘accidentally’. Joel thought he was being covert, but you felt his brown eyes rove all over them. You thought maybe that he too would brush up against it sometime, but he never did. Maybe entertainment stopped at just looking, as in the magazines. 

You wondered if Joel sought out men’s entertainment magazines like this. He was from before everything went to shit, so it was very possible that he did. Did he like the women in these pages, sticking their asses out and looking through the pages at him? Would he be entertained if he saw you like this? 

You didn’t know that if you turned your head to your bedroom door, you would have your answer. Joel’s cock strained against his already tight jeans as he stood awestruck by your figure. He swallowed as you held on to the top of the chair and lifted your knees, one after the other and placed them on the plush seat. You arched your back, a little too much at first before reducing the curve. Your ass stuck out enticingly and he didn’t know whether to grab, squeeze, slap, or spread your cheeks apart and fuck your ass. 

He should leave. 

It was stupid of him to walk into your house with a box of plumbing tools to fix your shower when you hadn’t yet given him a date or time for it. Plus you were avoiding him. Running away with your little friends and picking up stuff to hide your face from his view. He was plenty sure that when he’d rung your doorbell, you weren’t always away from home. 

He should leave. 

Fixing the shower could wait. He could confront you some other day. 

But you were putting on such a pretty little show in nothing but your panties and he was only a man. A bad one. 

His boots stayed put on your hardwood floors as you enjoyed yourself in front of the mirror. You spread your knees and let your fingers between your thighs, eyes closed, lips parted and low whines escaping your lips in just a few minutes. He palmed his growing erection over his jeans, consequences of being caught be damned. He was a foul beast already. What bad was another sin on the list? Besides, you were the one who’d left the fucking door open. 

Your soft whimpers grew into moans as you brought yourself closer and he forced his feet to stay put despite their urge to walk up to you and give you something to really moan about. 

“Fuu– mmm Joel, pleeease.”

He let out a gasp, all his restraint flying out the window as soon as he heard his name from your lips. You couldn’t actually be doing this… There had to be another Joel in town. Younger, better looking, smarter.

Your voice grew needy and the pitch higher as you kept at it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Gimme it, Sir.” 

No, it couldn’t be anyone else. 

Joel toed his boots off and took quiet steps towards you, emboldened by the filth that spilled from your lips. If this old man was what you wanted, he wouldn’t stop himself from reaping the benefits. He wasn’t a goddamn saint. Never was. 

He stopped in front of you, surprised you still hadn’t sensed his presence. As though the universe heard his thoughts, it had you open your eyes. You gasped as soon as you saw him and buckled off the chair, but Joel caught you. You shuddered, unable to cope with the sudden touch. 

“J-Joel?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he said, touching your cheek with the back of his hand. You whined, your body molding itself against his chest. You brought a hand to his arm, feeling the rock hard muscles underneath his sleeves and your other hand worked between your legs.  

Your fingers no longer felt adequate as you felt his large fingers on your cheek. “Want you, please,” you whined, desperate to return to the edge where you had been right before you saw him. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me…” he spoke dangerously, soft brown eyes clouded with a kind of desire you had longed to see in him for weeks. 

“Want you…want you to be with me,” you repeated stupidly, your desperation clouding your senses too much for you to say anything else. While in the past you only wanted to get rid of your virginity, your goals had become more specific with his arrival. You wanted him. You wanted his big hands and broad shoulders, to hold on to them as you rode him. To watch his grumpy expressions turn to ecstasy under you. 

“Tell me not to touch you,” he said, his tone low and almost threatening. Any other threat from him, you would’ve heeded. But not this one. 

“Touch me!” 

It was as though something in him snapped at your words. While darkness only loomed over him before, it now completely took over.The hand that previously only caressed your cheek now wrapped itself around your neck. Before you could completely process the move, his other hand slapped yours away. He replaced two of your puny fingers with his middle finger, eliciting a strained moan from you. 

“Touching yourself to a Playboy magazine, huh?” 

You only nodded, unable to form words now that a fantasy of yours had finally come to life.

“Dirty little thing…Thought you were a nice girl and all. Helpin’ out at the clinic, head buried in books all the time. Turns out you actually got your head in dirty magazines.” 

You whined, your pussy clenching and gushing around his finger at the way he was speaking to you. The same man who insisted on calling you Ma’am despite your protests was calling you a dirty girl now. The veil of respectability seemed to have floated away at the sight of you naked and pleasuring yourself. Had you known that this was all you needed to get Joel Miller to touch you, you would’ve done it much sooner.

He added another finger, the girth of him enough to stretch you more than you had done for yourself. You brought a hand up to his shoulder and fisted his shirt, needing something to anchor yourself to. 

“You ever been taken by a man, sweetheart?” He asked, his tone too cool and casual for what he was doing to you. You shuddered, partly from his phrasing– taken, he said. Taken. Like you were a thing. Like the women in the magazines positioned so uncomfortably just so their breasts could look a certain way for the picture. Printed on the cover page with the words Entertainment for Men written on top. You shook your head, feeling small as you confessed it for the first time. 

“Any man?” 

“N-no,” you managed to breathe out, whimpering at the way the bulge beneath his jeans twitched at your simple answer. He took a step to position himself behind you, letting you lean your back against his chest. The angle at which he touched your pussy changed, opening your world up to a wonderful new kind of pleasure. 

“A virgin. Pretty young things like you ain’t for men like me,” he whispered in your neck, making you shiver. His thumb roamed between your legs as far as they could reach, caressed you gently, his softness with you contradicting his warning about men like him. The hand around your neck slithered down your torso, cold air forcing you to face your new desire of having your breath kept hostage. 

He took your left breast in hand, squeezing the flesh like someone starved would hold on to a piece of bread. It felt more like a punctuation to the warning he issued than a part of sex. Just then, his thumb between your legs stopped its search, stopping a little above the fingers inside you.

A moan you didn’t recognize as yours at first filled the room and you buckled forward. Blunt nails sunk into the flesh of your breast as he saved you before you could fall. He hauled you back up, making you collide against his chest. 

You gasped and quickly grabbed the hand between your legs, the sensation too intense for you to know what to do with. His thumb kept on, rolling over something there that set your person on fire. 

“Fuuuck! Joel– I– I– hnnng–”

“I know, sweetheart,” he crooned, keeping at whatever the hell he was doing to make you feel this way. 

“Please… I don’t– what was that?” 

You felt his chest rumble before you heard his laughter. Heat rose to your face and your throat felt strained though there was no hand around it anymore. 

“Never touched your clit? Do you even know what that is?” He mocked, the cruelty somehow not repelling you from him. He forced you to look up at him. Your heart lurched at how close you were to his face. You could see every gray hair, every minute blemish and line.

“Don’t know your own fucking body but you want a man? You don’t know what you’re handing me on a silver platter. I ain’t like the other guys in town. I walked across the fucking country and lemme tell ya, there’s no pretty things like you out there. I’m starved.” 

“Take me, then,” you begged, using his own words from earlier. “Please. Whatever you– a-aaah!” 

He ramped up the pressure on that spot– your clit– and with it, took your ability to speak coherently. It was as though he’d done it on purpose. You hated it. To be so bereft of control. To be a puppet in someone’s hand. For someone to acquaint themselves with parts of you that you didn’t know of. But it was too much to fight, so you let go. Let him play with you. Take you. Like a thing.

You renounced control of your lips too, his name slipping out effortlessly like it did when he caught you. Then you renounced what was left of your dignity and began begging relentlessly. For what, you didn’t know. In his hand, you’d gone from woman to pupper, your strings pulled by a man, your voice now his. Sounds that would be indiscernible from that of a wounded animal emanated from somewhere deep within you. 

Perhaps none of this was real. Why else did your own voice grow so distant from you? Why did your vision become blurry? Your thighs shook uncontrollably and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. Your eyes clenched shut, depriving you of your blurred vision. Your toes curled. You wanted to shrink into yourself, shrink away from all this goodness. You went higher and higher, soaring like a bird. Every nerve ending in your body felt electrified, awoken like one switch turned on every light on last winter’s Christmas tree. 

You let out a loud cry, the soaring bird in you reaching its peak before beginning its fall to the ground. You could hear your breaths again, labored but doing everything to stabilize itself. Your thighs still shook. Your chest rose and fell. A hand caressed your hand. Behind you, something strong supported your back. Kept you from falling backward. 

“Joel…” 

“I know, I know…” he whispered into your head. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, surprised to see a softer visage. He picked you up off the chair like you’d seen him lift giant logs before. With ease. You didn’t protest as he carried you. Didn’t protest when he laid you out on your bed. 

He bent down and picked something up. No questions, no instructions. He simply spread your leg away from the other. Cold air touched the gushing mess dripping out of you and you shivered, feeling a sudden need to cover yourself but unable to defy him. His hand was on your pussy again. His hardened, calloused fingers behind a soft fabric this time. He wiped upwards, collecting the mess he made out of you. When he lifted the fabric up, you realized it was your panties. 

He tucked it into the pocket of his jeans and then looked back at your face, the intensity of his gaze making you want to run. Problem was your weak legs wouldn’t take you anywhere. You didn’t screw your eyes shut. You didn’t pull your blanket to conceal yourself. You looked back at him, defiant. Like you were trying to prove something. I can handle a man like you. 

“Be a good girl from now.” 

That and a condescending pat on your pussy and he was gone.

⌘

Part 2

[intermundia]

my favorite thing about anakin as a character is the inherent nuance lucas wrote into his story, like he's neither an innocent victim nor an inherently evil monster, he's just some guy put in a series of Situations and ultimately failing the test of his humility and self-control. he was certainly flattered and shaped by the devil, spiraling into something unrecognizable, but he chose to take every step down the pathway to hell. lucas knew he would lose a certain demographic by making him basically a greedy pawn in the larger story, not a righteous betrayed macho badass, but he did it anyway. he made him an awkward romantic and a loyal friend, a generous boy and a brilliant teen. he made sure he had all the positive qualities that meant that he had potential to be so much more than vader, but it was clearly his choice to lie, murder, and fully squander that potential. there are no excuses for what he became, no acceptable reasons to commit mass slaughter. he became an unbelievably selfish and impatient man, reckless and wantonly violent. hayden captured that nuance so well, nobody can match the sweetness of his smile and the absolute horror of his scowl on mustafar. to view him through a single lens as either pure victim of manipulation and (canonically unsupported) emotional neglect, or a creepy evil villain, denies the heart of his story and the weight of his tragedy. he's neither an angel nor a demon, he's both and neither, he's deeply human, a classical tragic hero with a flaw of greed. lucas made a choice with the prequels to tell a story that not everyone wanted to hear, and the result was a character that i think is one of the best of modern pop culture, mostly because he feels to me so very, very ancient and eternal.

[solxamber]

Helloo 👋👋

May I request vil with s/o who actually finds neige creepy??

Reference to me LOLL I can't with his eyes man, it's so creepy (for me) to look at.

Anytime Neige tries to be friendly s/o just gulps and hides behind vil, tremblingg 🤣🤣

Vil x Reader who finds Neige creepy

i actually like neige but he's so sweet and it scares me sometimes. sorry for the wait, i hope you like it <3

You and Vil were on what should have been a peaceful, elegant stroll through the gardens—Vil’s idea, naturally. Everything was perfectly curated: the flowers, the way the sun hit his face just right, the leisurely pace of his stride, as if he were gliding across the earth and not, you know, walking like a normal person. You were just enjoying the moment, admiring how ridiculously perfect your boyfriend looked when—

“Vil! Vil, look! It’s me, Neige!” A voice, too cheerful for its own good, cut through the tranquility like a chainsaw through butter.

Your entire body stiffened. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You knew that voice. You feared that voice.

“Oh no, not him,” you muttered under your breath, eyes wide as saucers.

Vil, naturally, sighed. “Oh, great,” he drawled, clearly in no mood for his perennial rival’s sunshine and daisies energy. “I suppose it would be too much to hope he hasn’t seen us.”

“Vil!” Neige’s voice was even closer now, bright and bubbly, like he was sprinting over at top speed.

You panicked.

Without thinking, you dove behind Vil, grabbing onto the back of his coat and peeking out like a terrified woodland creature. There was a moment of silence. Vil glanced back at you over his shoulder, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised.

“Are you hiding?” he asked flatly, as if you were a toddler clinging to their parent’s leg.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice shaking with pure dread. “He’s coming. He’s here.”

Vil’s expression shifted, fighting back an amused smirk. “You realize he’s just a person, right? Not a… a deranged stalker or a ghost.”

You shook your head violently. “No. He’s too nice, Vil. No one’s that nice. He’s hiding something. I don’t trust him.”

Vil sighed again, but before he could respond, Neige burst into view. He looked like a walking, talking Pinterest board—flowers in his hair, that cherubic smile plastered across his face, like he was auditioning for the role of "most wholesome person alive."

“Hi! What a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Neige beamed, completely oblivious to the fact that you were half-hidden behind Vil like he was your human shield.

You froze. You weren’t ready. Why does he always look like he’s going to ask me to join his cult?

Vil gave you a sideways glance, then cleared his throat, stepping forward just enough to completely block you from Neige’s view. “It was, until about ten seconds ago,” he replied smoothly, the venom in his voice wrapped in the velvet of politeness.

Neige, as usual, didn’t catch the tone. “Oh, I’m so glad I ran into you two! We should all hang out sometime! I’ve got the cutest picnic idea planned—it’ll be just like a fairytale!”

You, still hiding behind Vil, whispered, “Picnic? With him? What is he going to bring, cupcakes made of sunshine and the tears of unicorns?”

Vil didn’t even blink. “We’re very busy,” he said, with the same grace and poise as always, as though batting away Neige’s relentless niceness was a skill he’d honed to perfection.

Neige leaned over a little, trying to peek around Vil. “Are you okay? Why are you hiding?”

You stiffened again. He saw you. He saw you. Slowly, you peered out from behind Vil, meeting Neige’s wide, innocent eyes.

“Uh…” You tried to think of something, anything that wouldn’t sound like, “You terrify me with your eternal optimism, and I’m convinced you’re secretly plotting world domination.”

“I’m… just stretching!” you blurted out, bending one leg awkwardly behind Vil’s back, still clinging to his coat.

Vil gave you a look that screamed, Really? Stretching?

“Oh, okay! That’s great! Flexibility is important!” Neige nodded vigorously, his smile somehow growing wider. How was that even possible?

You felt a shiver run down your spine. “Y-yeah. Super important.”

Vil cleared his throat again, stepping subtly to the side so you were no longer hidden. You shot him a betrayed look, but he ignored it, instead giving Neige a tight-lipped smile that barely masked his impatience.

“We really should be going, Neige,” Vil said, his voice dripping with the kind of regal authority that made you feel like he was seconds away from telling Neige to bow down and beg for mercy.

Neige’s face fell slightly, but his eternal optimism quickly reasserted itself. “Oh, of course! We’ll hang out soon though, right? I’ll bring cookies next time!” He waved enthusiastically, his fingers wiggling like they were casting a spell.

You instinctively ducked behind Vil again, like his wave was a direct attack on your personal space. Vil, to his credit, didn’t laugh at you—yet.

“Sure,” Vil said, his voice smooth and absolutely lying. “We’ll let you know.”

“Great! Bye Guys! Have a magical day!” Neige practically skipped off, probably to go pet a deer or sing to squirrels or whatever it was he did in his spare time.

Once he was out of sight, you let out a deep breath, stepping out from behind Vil, your hands still gripping the back of his coat. “That was close,” you muttered, as if you’d just barely survived an encounter with a deadly predator.

Vil turned to face you fully, crossing his arms, an eyebrow raised. “You cannot be serious.”

You gave him a wild-eyed look. “Are you kidding me? That guy’s a menace! No one is that wholesome without having a dark secret. I bet he goes home and keeps a doll collection made of human hair.”

Vil’s lips twitched, fighting back a laugh. “A menace? Neige?” His voice was full of disbelief, like you’d just suggested that the sun was secretly a giant disco ball.

You nodded furiously. “Yes! He’s too cheerful. Too sweet. It’s unnatural!”

Vil finally let out a small chuckle, reaching out to adjust the collar of your shirt with a practiced hand. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m serious!” you insisted, glancing nervously in the direction Neige had disappeared. “He’s probably plotting right now, writing your name in some kind of weird glittery revenge diary.”

Vil shook his head, amused. “I assure you, the only thing Neige is plotting is how to bake you cookies shaped like bunnies.”

“That’s what he wants you to think,” you muttered darkly, still eyeing the path warily. “Next thing you know, we’re going to wake up covered in glitter, surrounded by singing woodland creatures, and he’ll be standing over us with that creepy smile.”

Vil sighed dramatically, slipping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “Honestly, I have no idea why I date you.”

You gave him a cheeky grin, finally starting to relax now that Neige was gone. “Because I make life interesting.”

He glanced down at you, his violet eyes glittering with amusement. “Interesting is certainly one word for it.” Then, with a smirk, he added, “Perhaps next time I’ll let Neige catch you. See how long you last under his unrelenting cheerfulness.”

You gasped, grabbing his arm in mock horror. “You wouldn’t!”

Vil smiled wickedly, his arm tightening around your shoulders. “Try me.”

“Fine!” you huffed. “But don’t come crying to me when he tries to recruit you into his sparkle cult.”

Vil laughed then, the sound rich and surprisingly fond, echoing through the garden. And for a moment, as you leaned against him, you almost forgot about the lurking threat of Neige—almost.

But not entirely.

Because you knew. You knew Neige was out there, waiting for his next opportunity.

And the next time, you’d be ready.

Masterlist

[anni1309-blog]

kinda thinking about stepbrother felix taking reader to the pub and noticing someone's hitting on her so he gets jealous and takes it out on her later if ykwim hehe

oh I love this, here you go 🎀

felix catton! stepbrother x reader

summary: felix is jealous and takes it out on you

warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, dom/sub, mean dom felix, size kink, slight innocence kink, dacryphilia, choking, spanking, slightly toxic felix, creampie

It was an usual saturday night at the pub. or so you thought. farleigh announced that an old friend of his is visiting and joining you tonight.

you were off-limits to everyone of felix's friends. he made sure of that. being your stepbrother, he was already protective by nature, so he would show that you were his with no shame whatsoever. he would never admit to his jealousy when boys where eyeing you too long but he definitely would pull you closer and shoot them a dirty look.

yes tonight was different.

normally you and felix arrive to the pub together, but since studies are getting tougher, he caught up to you during lunch and promised to join a bit later, pressing a soft kiss on your temple moving to place lots of little kisses on your face moving to your jaw and neck making you giggle.

to call your relationship purely sibling hood would be a big understatement. the way you are so close, students usually think that you were a couple. denying feelings for eachother would be futile.

entering the pub, you immediately spotted your and felix's friends including farleigh at your usual spot. smiling you greeted your friends, noticing a new face, you concluded it was farleighs friend.

greeting him, you politely extend your hand with a smile which he took looking you up and down holding your hand quite long, stroking the back of your hand.

"my my, good looks must run in this family, farleigh has told me so much about you, it's a pleasure, my name is marcus.”

his eyes set on you hungrily, giving you a slight shudder feeling a little uneasy in his presence, but choosing to ignore it for now you return a slight forced smile.

while you were chatting, you felt eyes watching you, knowing it was marcus starring. giving him the benefit of the doubt you still ignore the bad feeling, rationalizing it by you just being tense by all the studying that you've been doing.

you decided that a drink would definitely ease your agitation. you excuse yourself to the bar.

the moment you uttered that word marcus almost exclaimed that he would be joining you, attracting some strange looks.

before you could order something marcus barged in ordering two jägerbombs for you and him.

you hesitated "ah that's alright, I wanted to get a-" marcus interrupted you again "no need, this is waaay better and you owe me this one basically, since farleigh didn't tell me that he had such an incredibly hot sister, otherwise we would have met earlier for sure" he sent you a wink making your skin crawl.

chuckling uncomfortably you just stood there in silence looking at your feet. you are so overwhelmed by this situation, not having felix close. since it was also farleighs friend you wanted to stay friendly and polite, but marcus was making that hard for you and you were too shy to say something.

he was chatting on and on about his family's wealth, while you just nodded, wasn't like he was planning to ask you something or letting you talk. what you noticed was that he keep leaning closer and closer, his hand suddenly landing on your thigh alerting your attention.

"what a sweet little thing you are, hm? if we'd met earlier I'd definitely would have had my way with you" he whispered in a low creepy tone in your ear, his hand crept higher. you froze. forgot how to breath.

then you felt a big hand pulling you back slightly, looking back you were never so relieved to see felix. melting into his touch, you looked up to see his face. you've never seen him like this. to anyone else, felix might look normal to them, but you saw his concerned look, glazing back into your eyes, but changed immediately to a look of intense fury when narrowed his eyes at marcus. his jaw was flexing when he extended to introduce himself, knuckles white shaking his hand. it wasn't hard for marcus to be taller than you but felix stood like an intimidating dark shadow over him.

"I was looking everywhere for you sweetheart, are you alright?" felix sat down giving you loving and reassuring gaze while pulling you to sit on is lap gabbing your waist tightly. you were sure that he was having a hard time not losing it right now and punching that guy in his face for touching his girl.

I gave him a slight nod, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers to calm down a bit, not being able to fake it infront of felix, since you were still quite shaky.

marcus gave a condescending snicker "oh you're her step brother righttt, don't worry buddy I took good care of this doll" winking towards you giving your knee a squeeze.

this is what did it for felix. his eyes stared at him dangerously "well 'buddy' I'll tell you what" leaning towards him "if you don't put your disgusting little cubby fingers away from her in 2 seconds, I'm gonna break them off of you, do I make myself clear?" he almost growled.

marcus paled. he tried chuckling it off sheepishly putting his hands away "yeah, no dude, of course, didn't know it was your girl, my bad, I was about to leave anyways" and turned his back returning to the table more quickly.

you let out a breath, calming down immediately, turning to felix and smiling up at him to thank him "thank you-“ but he stopped you grabbing you by the upper arm and dragging you away while muttering "you shouldn't thank me, you'll be sorry for this" while still guiding you towards his dorm.

"wait what, lix this wasn't my fault, he came up to me and then-I" you anxiously tried explaining but he cut you off again stopping pulling you close to him and looking down at you furiously "I don't give a fuck, you could've walked away but no you decided to be a little slut, so now you have to deal with the consequences", you shivered slightly at his harsh tone. tears well up your eyes as felix continued walking down the hallway, his grip tight, you knew he got jealous quickly but this was new. "felix you are hurting me" you sniffed quietly but he ignored you.

he opens the door to his dorm, pulls you inside towards his bed and practically throws you on it. when he saw your tears, he cooed condescending "aww little baby cries now that she behaved like a whore but don't worry I'll give you an according punishment" he took your face in one hand and wipes the tears away while smiling down sardisticly and quickly slaps your face harshly.

shocked by this move, you take your red cheek in your hand, looking down with an ashamed gaze.

"what? you think l'd let this go? letting you flirt with all these disgusting men? just when I leave you alone for once. this will teach you a lesson" he said angrily.

you nodded and so you moved to remove your clothing slowly and resume to climb on the bed to sit on your thighs obediently. this wasn't new of course. felix let his anger out on you once before and he liked you following his rules so this was your way of obeying him. secretly you enjoyed this too as you soiled your thighs with your wet pussy, your nipples erect and cheeks blushed.

felix groaned at this sight. "well at least you are good for something, what a good little whore" he inhaled deeply as he removed his pants and underwear. so you instinctively moved closer to him to make him feel good. you reach out but felix slapped your hand away "no way, you don't get to touch me, this is your punishment remember?" you whine desperately as he spat in his hand starting to stroke his already hard big cock from base to tip, precum already oozing out as he gripped it tightly looking down at your body, groaning lowly.

feeling super needy at this sight you turn your heal to your sleek pussy to give it some relief, as you whined more and more. but felix noticed this instantly. he grabbed your waist turned onto you towards the end of the bed and spun you around, so your ass was presented to him. felix spoke harshly "you don't get anything tonight, no touching and of course not touching yourself." his hands landed on your ass cheeks "you're gonna count all my spanks, and if you're missing one we're starting over again" he promised darkly.

his first spank was so hard and fast that the sound jumped off the walls. you didn't expect it to hurt so much but also giving so much pleasure so you moan out a shaky 'one’. the other ones were equally as harsh till your ass cheeks were all red and bruised. he put his large hand on your cheek to finally take one in his hand massaging it tightly as he chuckled "what a dirty little thing, you enjoy this don't you? you enjoy when your big brother is putting you into place hm?" he moves forward to my face taking my cheeks in his hand squeezing till my lips puckered and placed a soft kiss on them.

you softened as your glossy eyes looked at him in desperation for some relief. he let out a patronizing snicker as he put his fingers between your legs letting them move easily through your puffy lips "fuck you're wet, someone's eager huh, I'm gonna take it out on you now and you will take it, won't you? you are my good girl after all." you wiggle backwards trying to get more friction crying out moans.

felix harshly put a hand on your throat holding you down firmly, restricting your blood flow making you dizzy as he spoke with a growl "no no, you're just gonna lay here pretty, and I'm gonna fuck you till I'm satisfied" he let go of your neck and you nodded obediently.

he took his hard cock to finally place it on your pussy and teasing your hole making hot tears fall from your face sobbing silently "please lix, I need it." he ignored you, stroking his cock through your wet folds, hardening further seeing your tears.

with one strong trust he rammed himself through your tight hole not going slowly for you, as he is so big and girthy he immediately hit your cervix going in balls deep as you felt them slapping against your pussy. you moan and mewl, he was stretching you out deliciously it almost hurt.

“stoo much lix, you’re so big I-“ you blabber out feeling overwhelmed with the feeling of fullness.

“I know y’can, your tiny hole is throbbing so much begging to be fucked, that’s what you wanted hm?” he hummed, looking down at your heat brushing his fingers over it , gritting his teeth he muttered “fuck you’re so tight.”

his pace was aggressivly fast to say the least. every time you would tell him to slow down, he'd only go faster, pounding into you, laughing breathlessly at your whines and the tears on your cheeks.

felix tugs your hair to force you to look up at him pushing you with each hard thrust deeper into the mattress and whispers in your ear.

"what would marcus think? seeing you like this? what would he think? would he still want your slutty little pussy knowing l've been inside it? knowing I owe you? knowing that l've cum so deep inside you? completely ruining you for you for anyone else huh? he could never satisfy you the way I can.”

you whimper at his words your cunt contracting around him, resulting into him rutting and forcing his cock even faster and deeper into you, groaning deeply.

"lix I can- can't" you stutter out, your mind completely empty and clouded by pleasure and feeling his dick so deep, you could feel it in your stomach. your head is buried in the pillows as your back arches and you swallow him deeper. you're utterly wrecked.

"you can. and you will" his pace becoming more sloppy as he ruts feral inside of you, as he uses you to to his own pleasure.

"please lix let me cum" you let out a high pitch moan

"and I need your cum please" you start to beg desperately to finish as you start to feel this familiar knot in your stomach.

he grips your throat and pulls you up tighter until you're wholeheartedly cut off from your air supply. "such a good girl for begging, maybe I'll give you just that" he says panting his orgasm close, as he puts his thumb on your clit pushing it harshly. "cum for me" he commands.

this was it for you as you started to see white and clamp and squeeze tight around him pulling your thighs together as this big wave of pleasure overcame you.

this reaction triggered his climax so he gave you one last really strong thrust as he let out an animalistic groan, his hips stutter against yours and you feel him twitch inside you and his cum coating your insides, making you feel so full and satisfied.

he stayed inside as he leaned forward and whispered, caressing your hair.

"remember you belong to me and only me."

aftercare in the next one <3

[yoon-kooks]

the lingerie era | myg

🦋pairing: neighbor!yoongi x reader (f)

🦋genre: smut, fluff, f2l, neighbor!au, childhoodfriend!au, best friend’s older brother, lingeriemodel!reader

🦋summary: Sending Min Yoongi, aka your ridiculously hot neighbor/childhood friend, a photo of yourself in lingerie might be the best or stupidest mistake you’ve ever made.

🦋word count: 10.1k

🦋warnings: fingering, oral (m receiving), corruption kink, gagging, deepthroating...? rough sex w/protection, implied masturbation (m), light degradation, the way oc becomes a slut for his cock so quick, yoongi touches boobies, nipple play, dirty talk, yoongi teasing reader for 4263 years straight bc he's mean

a/n: this is the extended version of the airdrop incident! if you haven't read that drabble already, it's fine bc that scene is included in this one!💖

An onlooker might be wondering why you’re standing outside your neighbor’s door at ass o’clock in nothing but an oversized tee, but the answer is simple. Mistakes were made. You’re an idiot.

Approximately five minutes ago, you thought it’d be cute to send your best friend Mo a photo from your first day at your new job. But it wasn’t just any photo. It was a photo of you in strappy black lingerie, lying on beige silk sheets all glowy and oiled up. You’re gazing up into the camera lens like it’s the dark eyes of a man about to rail you. 

As weird as it sounds to be sending that kind of photo to your best friend, you’ve known her your entire life and she’s always been the number one supporter of your modeling career. In fact, she’s the one who bugged you for the pics in the first place.

You have no regrets for wanting to share the photo with your best friend. You just hate yourself for thinking it’d be fine to AirDrop it since she lives right next door. In your defense, your company is paying for your work phone—the new iPhone—and you were eager to play around with all the random features you won’t otherwise be using. Besides, AirDrop has a small range and Mo is your neighbor, so it was the perfect opportunity to test it out. In theory, she would’ve received the photo no problem—if she were actually home.

But Mo wasn’t home. You’d realized that too late after the AirDrop had gone through to someone else. Mortified is an understatement of how you felt when she sent a text saying, “GIRL;;;; I’m at Namjoon’s place rn;;;; I  am NOT in AirDrop range🥲”

For a good two minutes, you were convinced it must’ve been some creepy stalker who’d accepted your AirDrop… or the sweet elderly lady who lives across the street and occasionally drops off a tray of baked goods. You could totally see her accidentally accepting the AirDrop, only to be blindsided and violated by that photo of you. There’s no way in hell you’ll be able to return her sparkly red reindeer platter from her last cookie delivery. Not after she’s seen you like that.

But then an even darker thought came to mind. And you’d take creepy stalker or innocent granny over that any day.

That’s how you ended up on your neighbor’s doorstep at ass o’clock.

After letting you stand out in the cold for a whole ass minute, he finally answers the door. “He” as in Min Yoongi, your childhood friend slash nemesis, the older brother of your best friend, or, in the simplest terms, your hot neighbor.

And when you say “hot,” you mean really hot. Your innocent little crush on him was cute when you were ten, but the admiration has since evolved into pure lust. You’ve admittedly thought about him in ways you should not be thinking about a childhood friend let alone your best friend’s brother. 

Whenever you catch a glimpse of his big hands, you wish they were on your body, you wish his long veiny fingers would curl inside you, and the tiniest part of you wishes he wasn’t someone you had a long history with. You always feel like you have to be on your toes around him because of that history. Because you know it can all fall apart with one wrong move—like accidentally sending him a suggestive lingerie photo. Oops.

“Yes?” he raises a brow, staring at the way you’re shivering outside his door, the way your perky nipples are most definitely poking through your shirt. You’re sure he sees it all. But given the fact that he’s practically seen you naked, you don’t even bother covering up. What’s the point?

“Did you, by chance, get an AirDrop like five minutes ago?” you get straight to the point. It’s fucking freezing, after all. He could’ve at least asked you to come inside for a sec. You would’ve declined to avoid the risk of temptation, but still.

“Depends,” he hums, eyes still very much on your chest. The boy has no shame apparently. You’re pretty sure he’s dating that pretty brunette you’ve seen sneaking in and out of his house lately, so why’s he looking at you like that? “What was the AirDrop?”

“A picture of me,” you mumble. It was freezing a minute ago, but now your face feels hot. That’s weird.

“Hmm, not sure if the one I’m thinking of is you or not.” The bastard puts on his most exaggerated thinking face—like that emoji with the hand on his chin. You hate him. “What were you wearing?”

“Nothing!” you squeak at him. Both of you know no one fucking uses AirDrop except old people. He’s obviously playing dumb and knows what’s going on. He just wants to hear it from your mouth to make his ego bigger than it already is. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Pretty sure you were wearing something…” he furrows his brow, unlocking his phone to “confirm” what he saw. You snatch the phone out of his hand, but he seems to remember the contents of the photo just fine. “Ah, yes. Black strappy lingerie, right? I didn’t know you were like that, Y/N.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss as you scroll through and search for the picture in question. AirDrop must have its own stupid section on the phone because you can’t find it anywhere.

“Relax, I already deleted it,” he chuckles at how determined you are. You’re not falling for it. Surely he’s already leaked the photo on OnlyFans. You don’t have a whole lot of faith in Min Yoongi. He’s never been The Nice Guy. “Who were you trying to send it to?”

“None of your business.” He has a girlfriend, after all. Why should he care about who you’re sending those kinds of pictures to?

“My sister?”

“Fine. Yes, her.”

“You’re sneaking around sending nudes to my sister? On AirDrop?” he narrows his eyes. Why does he seem more disgusted at the AirDrop part? You’d laugh if you weren’t so stressed. “She’s in a very committed relationship, you know.”

“I’m aware.” You don’t know what’s worse—him thinking you’re hitting on his sister aka your best friend, or admitting the pic was from a photoshoot for your new job. There are no winners here. Might as well come clean. “She’s the one who asked for pics so she could fangirl over her lingerie model best friend.”

“My little Y/N grew up and became a lingerie model?” He tilts his head, intrigued. He might’ve deleted the pic from his phone, but you bet the image is forever ingrained in that fuckboy head of his. You wonder how his girlfriend feels about him thinking of other girls in that context. You’d feel shitty. He’s a horrible boyfriend. “In that case, I’d also like to show support. Mind if you send the pic ag—” 

You cut him off with a growl. His eyes slowly work their way up your bare legs to your chest to your death glare.

“I kid, I kid.” He waves his hands like a white flag so you don’t pounce on him. But then something occurs to him. His smug look turns into a frown. “Wait, so AirDropping it to me wasn’t ‘an accident’?” he asks with air quotes.

“No, it was a real accident, Yoongi,” you scoff. You can’t believe he thought you’d intentionally sent that pic to him. He’s so full of himself. He’s the last person you’d ever want to see those pics.

“Well that’s no fun.”

“Elaborate.”

“It would’ve been kinda cute if you did it to get my attention,” he shrugs, leaning his head against the doorframe. “Just like when we were younger. Remember how you’d always tug on my arm and pout until I acknowledged you?”

“No, but it’s kinda weird that you remember it.” You finally cross your arms in front of your chest. “It’s also kinda weird that you want my attention when that’s what your girlfriend is there for.”

“It’s kinda weird that you keep up with my love life and know I have a girlfriend,” he fires back at you in his usual arrogant tone. “I’m breaking up with her, by the way. Just in case you wanted to know.”

You pause the petty war for a second. Min Yoongi is breaking up with his girlfriend because you accidentally sent him one (1) risqué photo of yourself? To be fair, you do look pretty hot in that photo. But still! You’ve known the guy your whole life, and all it’s ever amounted to was banter with a hint of feelings and dirty thoughts on your end. You’d always assumed Yoongi thought of you as nothing more than his little sister’s friend. Surely he’s just toying with you right now. Because that’s what fuckboys do. 

That’s what Min Yoongis do.

“Good to know,” you nod, the cold breeze coming back. You better leave now before you do something stupid again. Stupid AirDrop. “Well, I’m gonna go now. It’s fucking cold.”

You drop his phone into his palm, your fingers grazing his in the process. They’re so warm. But your fluffy blanket is warmer. And it’d never betray you.

“Thanks for only being a slight dick about the pic,” you say, scurrying off to your doorstep.

“Anytime,” he smirks. Asshole. “I’ll AirDrop you later.”

“I don’t want your dick pics, sir.” You hear his laugh before closing the door.

A minute later, you get an AirDrop of what you hope is not in fact a dick pic. You accept it immediately. It’s a blurry selfie of him on his bed, flipping you off with an emphasis on how much extra mattress space he has. That has to be the quickest breakup of all time. They don’t call him a fuckboy for nothing.

He accompanies the selfie with a simple text:

Yoongi🗿 [2:03AM] “Your loss”

The rest of the night is spent staring at the extra space next to him on his bed. He’s taunting you. Teasing you. Tempting you to do something you’ll surely regret. Well, you’re not taking the bait. The accidental AirDrop was an honest mistake, but this one would be all on you. Because you understand the risks.

It’s best to keep things how they are between you two.

After a night of tossing and turning, your week somehow gets worse. Your car decides to malfunction fifteen minutes before you’re supposed to be at work. You swear it was working perfectly yesterday. Then again, you don’t know shit about cars.

Your first instinct is to call Mo. You like to think of yourself as a prepared person, but shit happens. And when shit happens, Mo is your person—your one phone-a-friend. But you know she’s with Namjoon, and you know she’d drop everything including him for you—you’d do the same for her. You’d rather not be a cockblock when things are going so well for them.

Alternatively, you would’ve borrowed your parents’ car, but they moved into a nicer place a few years ago and reluctantly left you behind after a lot of convincing on your end. You can handle yourself, you told them. And it was going great—until The AirDrop Incident happened and your car refused to start up for no fucking reason. 

Uber and public transportation are other options, but you don’t have time to wait for those rides to arrive. You need to leave in the next 30 seconds or risk being late. Your new job is on the line here.

And that’s why you find yourself, once again, at Min Yoongi’s doorstep. You hate it here.

He opens the door and blinks his heavy lids at you several times before saying anything. Poor boy. The morning sun is too bright for him, like a cat waking up from its first nap of the day. And yet, he still manages to look so attractive with that messy hair and furrowed brow. You bet the raspiness in his voice is even more seductive in the morning. It is.

“Are we really doing this again?” he asks, pointing his finger back and forth between you and him. At least he’s awake enough to realize shit like this shouldn’t be happening two days in a row. You’re sick of it too.

“I need to be at a shoot in like ten minutes, and my car is fucked up right now, so…” You wish the boy would finish the sentence for you, but he’s just standing there like a smug ass. You’d shove him over, but you’re going to be late and he’s your only option. So you swallow your pride, just this once. “Do you think you can give me a ride?”

He makes some sort of grunt and says, “I’ll be out in a sec,” before shutting the door in your face. You’ll take that over the teasing you were expecting. Must be too early for the banter.

As soon as you get into his car, you realize you were horribly wrong. The false sense of security got you good. Apparently, it’s never too early for banter.

“What would you do without me, hm?” he asks, looking more awake and alive than ever before. Glowing, even. You knew it. He gets a kick out of you needing his help. He’s always been like this. One time when you were seven, your dumb ass climbed up a tree and got stuck up there like a cat. He’d only helped you down after you begged him for ten minutes straight. And although he stood right below you to break your fall in the unlikely event that you slipped, he also had a big fat smile on his face the entire time. He’s the worst.

“I’d manage.”

“I’m sure you would, Y/N.” He doesn’t sound very convinced. Kind of like your parents before they agreed to trust you on your own. “So, what’s this about lingerie and modeling?”

“Got a problem with it?” you challenge him. The very reason you haven’t told anyone else about your job aside from your best friend is that fear of judgment. As far as your parents know, you do modeling for a trendy clothing brand (you do). They just don’t know about your side hustle. You’re sure a guy like Yoongi has no problem with it, though. In fact, last night he sounded awfully eager to support your new job because it just so happens to center around two of his favorite things—tits and ass.

“Not at all,” he hums. “Just curious how it happened.”

“My ex had connections to the company,” you say.

“And you dumped him after he got you a job?” He raises his brow and laughs. What’s he so amused about? “Kind of savage, Y/N.”

“Actually, he broke up with me,” you correct him. How dare he assume you’re the savage one.

“Why would he do that?” he asks, as if it’s not normal for people to break up. Maybe it’s just his protective gene kicking in. He was the same way when he heard about your first breakup years ago.

“He said I wasn’t giving him enough,” you shrug. You’re honestly not too upset about it. It’s not like you had enough time to get attached to him anyway.

“Giving him enough what? Head?”

You glare at the boy even though you really want to laugh. He’s not entirely wrong.

“Sorry.” He does a quick glance at you as he turns the corner. Still smiling, though. “Well, if I had to guess, it had something to do with you playing hard to get.”

“I do not play hard to get,” you say with a firm hmph. 

“You’re certainly not making it easy now,” he frowns. Okay, maybe he has a point. But in your defense, the trait rubbed off on you from Yoongi himself. You spent your entire childhood chasing after him and wound up with nothing. You worked your ass off for any sort of reciprocated feelings from him, only for him to continue to treat you like an annoying child as you both grew older. 

By the time college came around, you were tired of doing all the chasing and thought you’d finally outgrown that neediness for him. You told yourself it was better that way, to keep him as nothing more than a bittersweet childhood memory. And you moved on. For once, you just wanted to be desired and admired by someone as deeply as you’d felt for Yoongi.

And when you think about it, all of your past relationships might have relied too much on the thrill of the chase. You never thought about what came after. You never envisioned a future beyond the chase. That’s why those relationships were so quick to fizzle out. You didn’t give them a reason to stick around. 

You didn’t give them enough.

Yoongi unlocks the doors as he pulls up in front of the building for the shoot. You unbuckle your seatbelt and thank him on the way out like he’s your Uber driver.

But then he goes off script. “When should I pick you up?”

You weren’t expecting a ride home. After your car died on you, you’d immediately changed from your cute ankle boots into sneakers in preparation for the long walk home after work. In fact, you would’ve opted to walk to work too if you had enough time. Like you said before, you can handle yourself just fine. Ever since you found your footing as a model and started living alone, you’ve stopped relying on anyone else.

“No need. I’ll walk home,” you gently decline, kicking your white sneakers up for him to see. 

Still, you can’t pretend like it doesn’t feel nice that the boy offered you another ride. It’s a subtle gesture, but it lets you know he’s watching out for you. There’s at least one person you can count on, even when your best friend and family aren’t around. And that’s already more than you could ever ask for.

“We can grab dinner after,” he suggests, leaning his arms against the steering wheel. You know exactly what he’s doing—playing to your weakness and bribing you with food. Because that’s the one thing you rarely ever say no to. You’ve always been that way.

“Okay, sure. I’ll be done around six.” 

It’s fine. You’ll pay for his meal as thanks for the rides. Then you’re even. 

The first half of the shoot goes well. The lingerie they’ve picked out for you is super pretty, and the assistant said you get to keep your favorite set after the day wraps up. Right now, you’re feeling pretty fucking good despite the stressful night and morning you had. 

During your lunch break, you find some shameless texts waiting for you.

Yoongi🗿 [10:34AM] “My friend would like you to send pics of your wardrobe😌”

Yoongi🗿 [10:34AM] “For science”

For science. Your smile flattens just a little. You get that he’s just teasing you, but part of you really wonders if he’s only paying this much attention to you because of your job and the picture you’d AirDropped to him. All you are to him is a hot body to look at. That’s the only reason he broke up with his girlfriend, isn’t it? 

If you hadn’t been a dumbass and sent him that photo, he would’ve simply dropped you off at work like the silent Uber driver he was supposed to be. And that would’ve been the end of it. There wouldn’t have been a “let’s get dinner after” or a “send pics of your skimpy lingerie.”

And yet, this is exactly what you’d been yearning for since age five—his attention.

If you really wanted to, you could play along and send him a teaser of the lingerie you decided to take home—a polka-dot mesh set that is very seethrough. You could even drop it in his lap when he picks you up later and tell him it’s a souvenir. That’d get his attention for sure. 

But you’re not going to do that. Obviously. Instead, you send him a boring pic of a rack with empty hangers. Because that’s playing it safe.

Yoongi🗿 [12:58PM] “Going nude today?”

Yoongi🗿 [12:58PM] “Or are those micro thongs getting smaller?🧐”

Yoongi🗿 [12:59PM] “Hello”

You wheeze. He’s lucky you’ve known him since birth. If it were any other guy, you’d ghost him for saying shit like that. Then again, he’s only saying it because he knows he can get away with it with you. 

Y/N🐣 [1:00PM] “i have to get back to work now🫡”

When you finally reach the homestretch of the shoot, you’re tired and more than a little hungry. It’s been a long day, but you want to finish strong before indulging in a nice dinner with you-know-who. You decided you want to take him to your favorite new sushi spot. Not because you know he loves sushi but because it’s what you happen to be craving today.

While sitting down on the fluffiest rug your ass has ever felt, you model a pretty white set with lots of ties like a bikini. Just a few more photos to go, and then you can get your sushi with your Uber driver. But then your starved brain starts to fuck with you.

Just off to the side behind the camera, you see a shadow that looks a lot like Yoongi. You know it’s not actually him, though. It’s just a hallucination spawning from your cravings. Your cravings for sushi, you clarify to yourself.

Then the shadow crosses his arms and smirks as you get on your knees and press an innocent finger to your bottom lip like you’re just asking for your mouth to be filled. As soon as the camera captures a few shots, your eyes dart back to check on the shadow. He gives you a thumbs up.

That’s not a shadow.

Suddenly, your cheeks are hot and your chest is pounding. He’s not supposed to be here. How are you supposed to focus when you know your childhood friend is watching? You have all these eyes on your body as it is, but he’s the only one that really gets you flustered. More flustered than your first day on the job here.

“Can we redo that shot one more time, please?” the photographer asks. “Relax your shoulders a bit, honey.”

You drop your shoulders, but that’s not going to hide the way your heart is practically pounding out of your chest that you know he’s got his eyes glued to.

“Actually, can I take a quick water break?” You shoot up from the rug, take a long sip of water, grab your thin little robe, and drag your unwanted visitor off to the side.

“Hi to you, too,” he says, glancing down at the way your fingers wrap around his wrist.

“What are you doing here?” Your shaky tone screams of unease. When he said he’d pick you up, you weren’t expecting him to actually go in like a parent picking up their kid from school. He was supposed to stay put in his car where you’d meet him after work. That was the plan. Not this.

He studies your face as if he’s debating whether or not you’re being serious right now, as if he expected you to be happy to see him. After building up the anticipation for several seconds more, he has the audacity to say, “Just here to show my support for my lingerie model neighbor.”

Why did you even bother asking? You should’ve known. He just confirmed what you’d hoped wasn’t true. He’s only paying any attention to you because of that dirty image you ingrained in his head with that dumb AirDrop.

And to be honest, you’re kind of over it. Maybe it’s just your empty stomach raging, but he should know that this is crossing the line. He’s your neighbor for crying out loud. He’d seen you lose your two front teeth, gone trick-or-treating with you, witnessed your awkward teen phase, and all that other wholesome childhood shit. Sure, he gave you a hard time every step of the way, but his presence in your life and the memories you made together were all you ever wanted to protect. 

That’s why you chose to stay behind when your parents moved away. You were fine with being away from your own family, and you were even fine when Mo started spending more time with Namjoon. But Yoongi has always been a different case.

You gave up on seeing him in a romantic way after realizing it just wasn’t realistic. If you’d let yourself feel that way any longer, he’d eventually have to reject you, and then that would be the end of it. And you’d much rather keep him in your life than risk it all with a dumb confession of unrequited love. He doesn’t love you, and you’re okay with that.

You just wish he wouldn’t make it so painfully obvious that it’s only your body that he’s after. Because that’s when it might be easier on your heart to cut ties with him.

“I work better when you’re not here.” You let go of his wrist and don’t look up from the red mark your tight grip left on his pale skin. You’re not going to let his charm sway you. He needs to leave. Nothing good can come out of him being here.

So he backs away and leaves.

As you tie your sneakers and refill your water bottle in preparation for the long walk home, you let out a big sigh. Looks like you won’t be getting your sushi fix tonight. Stupid AirDrop.

You wave bye to the crew and claim your free lingerie before stepping outside. To your surprise, it’s already dark out even though you thought the sun wasn’t supposed to set until seven. If you squint hard enough, you swear you can see Yoongi’s car parked in the lot. 

So you try not to squint.

But as soon as you walk past the car, your feet make a u-turn until you can see the boy leaning back in his seat, eyes closed and arms folded against his chest. You might still be upset, but you can’t deny how good-looking he is. It’s not fair. The only reason you stop staring is to avoid judgment from anyone passing by. And because you kind of need to talk to him.

You knock on the window on the passenger side.

He doesn’t even flinch.

You knock again. Still nothing. Either he’s dead, or he’s just fucking with you. He better not be fucking with you when you’re mad. Read the room, asshole.

Trying your best not to throw your phone at his window, you instead use it to call him. His phone screen blinds you as it flashes on in the darkness and vibrates against his thigh.

This time you catch the slightest twitch of his pretty pink lips. They’re glowing in the light of his phone screen.

You walk around to the driver’s side and get a better look at his glowy handsome face. “I know you’re awake.”

Now he has a full smile to accompany his closed eyelids, cosplaying as a happy corpse.

You roll your eyes at him and start walking in the opposite direction. “All good, I’ll just walk home.”

The doors unlock real quick. The corpse snaps out of his eternal slumber. “Hey, I was kidding,” he calls out the window. “Come back here.”

For the second time in the past three minutes, you make a u-turn toward his car. But this time, you hop in, hesitant to look him in the eye.

“I didn’t think you’d still be waiting here…” You bite your lip. You wish he weren’t still here. Then you wouldn’t be forced to talk about what happened earlier. It’d be much easier to not talk about your feelings.

“You agreed to grab dinner with me afterward, didn’t you?” He’s acting like you didn’t banish him from the building twenty minutes ago. He’s acting like you could’ve told him to never speak to you again and he’d still be waiting here because of some promise you’d both made earlier in the day. He would’ve been waiting here for you no matter what. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten that upset. Time to go in over-two-decades-of-history-preservation mode.

“Yeah but… I kind of overreacted earlier. Then again, I don’t know how else I’m supposed to react when my neighbor sees me half-naked,” you say, shrinking in your seat. “I still meant what I said, though. I work a lot better when you’re not around because you make it hard to focus.”

You immediately regret admitting that last bit.

“It’s understandable that you get so flustered around me. Kind of cute, too,” he hums like he just won the lottery. Mother fucker. “But I should’ve just been honest with you earlier.”

“What do you mean?” You tilt your head like a lost puppy.

“Someone obviously hasn’t checked their phone in a while,” he chuckles, pointing to the pink phone resting atop the mesh lingerie in your bag. You grab your phone and shove the lingerie deeper into your bag until it’s out of his view. Hopefully, he didn’t notice.

Sure enough, you have more unread texts waiting for you beneath the thirsty ones from lunch.

Yoongi🗿 [6:29PM] “Is the shoot running late?”

Yoongi🗿 [6:29PM] “No rush btw. Just want to make sure you didn’t die in the bathroom or something haha”

Yoongi🗿 [7:01PM] “So should I be concerned or”

Yoongi🗿 [7:02PM] “Just to clarify, I don’t believe you’re deceased in the bathroom”

Yoongi🗿 [7:02PM] “But I am gonna go in and check lol”

Then you realize how late it is. It’s over an hour past the time you told Yoongi you’d be done. No wonder it’s fucking dark out.

Your whole mind is spinning, and you have a lot of questions. You turn to him, and the first thing you ask is, “You thought I died in the bathroom?”

“You were running late, not responding, and, well… I had to check,” he shrugs his shoulders. “I didn’t know the lady at the front desk was going to bring me right to the shoot.” So he had good intentions after all. He wasn’t just after your body—far from it, in fact. He was genuinely worried about you. 

Well, shit. Now you look like the asshole for telling him to fuck off after he thought to check up on you like a guardian angel. He should’ve just said so in the first place. But maybe it’s hard for him to admit that sort of thing, too. You can relate.

You still feel bad, though. Doubt had clouded your better judgment because of your own insecurities. You didn’t believe what he was doing for you was unconditional. But the truth is, he cares about you more than you know. He always has.

Was Yoongi completely and utterly crushed after you’d asked him to leave your photoshoot? Yes. But he wasn’t going to show that to you. After all, as far as you knew, he’d only dropped by to check you out in that pretty lingerie. That’s always been his biggest downfall. He’s never been fully honest with you. It’s understandable that you’d be frustrated with him.

You had every right to be mad at him for interfering with your work. You had every right to walk away right past his car after the shoot. And yet, you still chose to sit down beside him to salvage whatever it is between you and him. It’s always been complicated like this, but it’s worth all the petty bickering you guys do on a daily basis. Seeing you so flustered and cute makes it all worth it.

The last thing he wants is for you to slip through his fingers. Because a world without you would just be weird. And boring. And lonely.

And now you’re rambling on about sushi—his favorite food. You claim you’ve been craving it all day, but it’s not very convincing.

“Hey, the sushi place is the other way,” you frown as he turns left instead of right. “You’re the worst Uber driver ever. I’m leaving you a one-star review.”

“I thought you didn’t like sushi,” he points out, completely ignoring your Karen threat.

“Yeah, when I was like ten. I’m allowed to change what I like, aren’t I?” You make a good point. Maybe your taste buds have changed and you aren’t just catering to his preferences. But it’s in his nature to keep pushing your buttons, to keep getting a reaction out of you. That’s the one thing he knows will never change between you and him.

“You were cuter when you didn’t like sushi.”

“Fuck you.” You turn your head away from him and toward the window to hide your face. He can still see your reflection, though. For such harsh words, your expression is soft. 

It’s funny because that’s what Yoongi has always liked most about you. You’re a tough cookie—you know it, he knows it, everyone knows it—but the best cookies are the ones with soft centers. And he loves to devour and savor that soft side you only seem to show him.

About ten minutes later, he pulls up to a drive-thru you’ll surely recognize. He doesn’t go there often himself, but whenever he does, he’s reminded of those Halloween nights spent scaring the shit out of you before spending his allowance to buy you a kid’s meal with a dumb light-up pumpkin toy. He’s reminded of the time you broke up with your first boyfriend and needed someone to rant to over vanilla milkshakes and fries. He’s reminded of the past two decades the two of you shared together, no matter how silly or short-lived the moments were. He’s cherished all of it.

It might not be the sushi you’d hoped for, but your eyes light up when you see the fast food sign. You lean in closer to him to get a better look at the menu. Today you smell like fruit and—he goes in for another sniff by your neck, purely to identify the intoxicating scent you’re wearing—something floral. 

“Ooh, order me the nugget combo with an iced coffee,” you finally glance at him, mid-sniff, with the eyes of an angel. He knew you’d appreciate the fast food.

“You and your nuggets. What are you? A baby?” he chuckles before being greeted and prompted to order over the speaker. “Can we get a burger combo with iced coffee, one kid’s meal with nuggets and milk—” 

You give his shoulder a small shove. 

He smirks but otherwise continues on as if nothing happened, “—and a nugget combo with iced coffee.”

“So a total of two combos and one kid’s meal?” the employee double-checks.

“Actually—”

“Yeah,” he cuts you off and drives to the pick-up window before you could protest and cancel the kid’s meal order.

“Why do you need a kid’s meal?” you mumble as the employee hands off the big bag of food to Yoongi. You’re so cute when you’re pouty.

“It’s for you, obviously.” He pulls into a spot in the empty lot and takes a sip of his coffee.

“Why do you always treat me like a baby?” That’s the question you ask as you take the kid’s meal box from his hand and start snacking on the few nuggets it comes with.

Because you’re tiny and cute and need to be protected at all costs, he wants to say. Instead he goes with the safer option. “Because you’re my little sister’s friend.”

“But Mo’s rarely ever around anymore. I feel like I’m spending more time with you than her at this point.” That’s true. Her and Namjoon have basically become inseparable. That must suck at least a little for you. 

“I personally wouldn’t let that slide.” As much as Yoongi loves his sister and knows she’d do anything for you if you asked, he also knows you’re not the type to reach out unless you really need to. If Mo understood you the way he understands you, she’d know to check in with you, to send you the occasional random meme in case you’re having a bad day, and to remind you that you aren’t alone. 

But that’s where he comes in. 

“It’s fine, I’m happy for her and Namjoon. Last I heard, she’s waiting for the proposal.” You set down the empty kid’s meal box and move on to your actually dinner. He has to resist the urge to pick the little nugget crumb off the corner of your lips.

“You don’t feel left behind?” he asks. It’s crazy to think his little sister could be getting married soon. Meanwhile, he’s watched you cycle through several boyfriends without much luck. His own love situation isn’t much different, but that’s what happens when no relationship has inspired him to do the things he does for you. Your presence in his life is more than just love and lust. 

Everything you are to him is unconditional.

You shake your head at his question as you glance up at the stars through the windshield. “There’s only one person I’d ever feel left behind by.”

If it’s not Mo or your family, then surely it’s the guy you’ve been chasing after all these years, the guy who teases you because you have a cute pout, the guy who’s been with you every step of the way. The one guy you didn’t want to see your lingerie photos in fear of ruining everything. Surely it’s him you’d be hurt by most if you lost him.

“He’s not going anywhere, Y/N,” he assures you.

You continue to study the stars in silence. There are no shooting stars out tonight, but what you’re looking for isn’t a wish. “Is that a promise?”

He nods. The easiest nod of his life. “That’s how it’s always been, right?”

You nod back. It’s always been you and him. Nothing could ever erase that history you’ve both been trying so hard to protect. There’s no need to play it safe anymore. The history between you and him is stronger than that.

As a way to transition out of the sappy stuff, you reach down and grab the toy from the kid’s meal—a tiny soft cat, probably from a baby cartoon or whatever. You have an awfully big smile on your face for someone who complained about ordering the kid’s meal in the first place. 

Without thinking, Yoongi snatches the cat out of your grasp and dangles it by the tail in front of your eyes. “I’ll be keeping this.”

“I thought you said it was my kid’s meal.” You swing your little paw at him to reclaim your prize, but he’s too quick, holding the cat captive just out of your reach. It’s incredible how easy you are to taunt, especially over something as silly as a toddler toy. Maybe he’s just become a pro at it with over two decades of experience.

After unbuckling your seatbelt, you practically lunge over the center console and lean your weight on the edge of his seat with one hand while the other reaches for the cat, now pressed against the window on Yoongi’s side. He can smell your pretty perfume again, and he’s going to make it last as long as possible.

He brings the cat forward until it’s an inch away from your hand to encourage you to stretch just a tad closer to him. It apparently works, because the hand supporting your body has moved onto his thigh to give you the extra bit of reach. 

If you’re both not careful, you might fall into his lap. He wouldn’t mind it of course, but then you’d feel how hard he’s getting just from having your hand on his thigh like that. Your sweet scent isn’t helping his situation either.

“Say please and it’s all yours.” He lets out an awkward half-cough after inhaling a large dose of your perfume. Very smooth, Yoongi.

You narrow your eyes at him before backing off. His thigh can finally breathe, not that it wanted to. “I don’t need it that bad.”

Aww, you’re acting all tough again. Yoongi slips the cat plush into his pocket with a smirk. “See? Playing hard to get.”

“I swear I’m only like this with you. You drive me mad,” you let out a dramatic sigh.

That’s right. He affects you in a way no one else does. “Good.”

“No, not good.” You wiggle a finger at him as you scan the receipt and pull out your phone. Several seconds later, he gets a notification of you sending him money for all the food.

“You could’ve at least let me pay for the kid’s meal.” Especially after he pocketed the cat.

“I’m just paying you back for all the rides so far.” So far? Interesting choice of words.

“Does that mean you’re going to need another one tomorrow?” He takes another sip of his coffee.

“I don’t know, maybe. I’m getting my car looked at tomorrow morning before work, but…” You have that ashamed look on your face again for having to ask for another ride. You’re not a burden to him. Ever.

“Got it. I’ll be on standby. Just AirDrop me if—”

“Enough with the AirDrop.” You give him another feisty shove and almost knock his coffee out of his hand. Even if the coffee had stained his whole car, he would’ve forgiven you immediately because your smile is so pretty. He’s just happy you’re back to being playful with him. “If I need anything, I’ll let you know. Thank you, Yoongi.”

On the drive home, you tell him more about your job with such a glow. The days might be long sometimes, but the crew has been so sweet, and the photographer “knows how to make you look good.” The photographer could be terrible and you’d still look amazing. There’s no doubt in Yoongi’s mind about that.

You also mention something about special little perks, too.

“Special little perks like what?” he asks, more curious than he’d like to be.

“Guess.” Why are you tempting him like this?

“Does it have something to do with the lingerie in your bag?”

You blink at him like a deer in headlights. Uh oh. “You were supposed to pretend like you didn’t see that.”

“See what?” he plays along. Good save, Yoongi.

You give him a thumbs-up and smile the rest of the way home.

After parking in the space in front of his house, Yoongi takes a five-second look at your car right behind his. It looks perfectly fine. Whatever the issue is, it’s not visible from the outside, but hopefully it stays broken for a while.

“Is it actually broken or did you just say that to score a ride from the handsome guy next door?” he teases.

“The latter, obviously,” you deadpan before switching over to the most precious giggle ever. You’re so fucking cute. “Thanks for the ride, Handsome Guy Next Door.”

“No problem.” He watches, amused, as you dig through the lingerie in your bag to find your keys. He’d turn on the flashlight on his phone to help you see better, but he’s supposed to be ignoring that mesh polka-dotted lingerie. That’s what a good and respectful neighbor would do. 

Fuck it. He immediately breaks down and shines a light on the sheer bralette and g-string (and your keys). It’d look so pretty on you.

You grab your keys and shoo away his shameless horny eyes. That’s his cue to leave things as they are, just as he had the night before. If you wanted something more, you’d let him know. He’s already assured you everything will be fine between you and him no matter what.

Just as he unlocks his door, you stop him in his tracks.

“Yoongi, wait.”

He turns around, a little too eager some might say. You haven’t even said anything else, but he’s already ready to say yes to whatever it is.

You dig around in your bag again. He catches a glimpse of the mesh fabric between your fingers. He’ll take a souvenir any day.

But then you toss it back in your bag and hum an innocent, “Never mind, it’s nothing.”

You’re such a tease. Oh how the tables have turned.

As soon as you close the door behind you, you kick off your white sneakers, and take the teeny tiny lingerie with you to your room.

You saw how quick he was to turn around when you called out to him. You saw how he practically drooled at the lingerie in your bag. He wasn’t ready for the night to end either.

Piece by piece, you toss your clothes aside and replace them with the mesh polka-dotted triangles. Your little nipples are so visible through the thin pieces of cloth. Good.

Then you take a quick bed selfie, just like Yoongi had one night ago. And you lay it all out there. You’re done hiding and suppressing your feelings for him. Because no matter what happens between the two of you, even if the night doesn’t go the way you hope, you’re not going to lose him. That’s what was promised in his car.

So, one last time, you AirDrop him a photo of yourself in lingerie. He accepts it immediately.

Then you text him.

Y/N🐣 [8:18PM] “you asked for a pic of my wardrobe earlier didnt you?”

Y/N🐣 [8:18PM] “btw knock on my door rn or youre a coward😡”

You’re really doing it. There’s no going back now.

You throw a hoodie over your shoulders and leave it unzipped as you pace back and forth in the hall. You always wondered why you get so antsy when it’s just Min Yoongi. It’s literally just the guy you’ve lived next to your entire life. But that’s the hold he has on you. The mere thought of being with him never fails to excite you. Those are the kind of butterflies you get with him.

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest when you hear his knock. You swing the door open before you can chicken out.

Of course his eyes immediately fall on your chest. He almost forgets to speak.

“What pic were you talking about? Did you send something?” he asks, still very much concentrated on your nipples.

Wait.

“You didn’t get the AirDrop?” Not this again. The granny across the street probably did get it this time. You want to wrap yourself up in your fluffy warm blanket and permanently disable that stupid phone feature once and for all. No, it’s not a stupid feature. You’re just stupid for using it.

“You’re so fun to fuck with, Y/N,” he laughs right in your face. “Yes, I got your cute little photo.”

“Stop teasing me,” you pout. Here you are, trying to look all hot for him, and he’s still finding ways to fuck with you. He’s so mean.

“I could ask the same of you.” Yoongi slips his index finger into your bralette between your breasts. He tugs on the stretchy band until it snaps back against your skin. “Or maybe you don’t realize what you do to me when I see you like this.”

“I don’t,” you play innocent as you pull him inside and shut the door behind him. You’d love to be enlightened about what your body does to him just by existing. A demonstration would be much appreciated. The more detail, the better.

He pushes you back against the wall in the narrow hallway and pins you there. You try to distract yourself by staring at the tiny speck of coffee on his white sweater but a strong hand cups your chin and lifts it so you can’t run from his gaze. His eyes are dark.“It's so fucked up how many times I’ve gotten off at the thought of my little sister’s friend in nothing but lingerie.”

Funny, you’ve always thought it was fucked up of you to lust over him given how close you’d been throughout your childhood. You cringe at the thought of Mo learning about all the unholy fantasies you’ve had of her brother—him fucking you against the wet walls of his shower, him shoving his cock down your throat until you cry, and even him tying you up on the bed and doing whatever he wants with your body. Your delusional self has thought about it all with him.

But now you know he’s felt the same way all along.

You slide your hands up his chest to his neck as your eyes hone in on his glossy lips. For as long as you could remember, you’ve always wondered what Min Yoongi tastes like. In your dreams, he tasted of creamy vanilla milkshakes. But now, in this moment…?

You lean in and press your breasts into his chest, but he pulls back just before you can get a taste of those lips.

“I always knew you had a thing for me,” he smirks. The teasing never stops. But that’s what you’ve signed your life away for. “If you want to kiss me so bad, say it.”

The stubborn you who “plays hard to get” would never admit that. The you right now, on the other hand, is yearning, desperate, and painfully horny. In this state, you’d get down on your hands and knees so quick.

“I want to kiss you, you ass—” Your mumble is cut off by his lips. They taste like the iced coffee from earlier with a hint of salt. You want more of it.

Your tongue gets tangled with his. It’s sloppy, but you’ve had enough of keeping it clean with him. You’ve played it safe for far too long.

His hands grab your breasts as he lets out a low moan inside your throat. Funny how perfectly your chest fits in his large hands. When he gives them a squeeze, you lean into him more. Anything to get more of his touch.

But then he slides a hand down your belly and works a few fingers around the fabric between your legs. They glide between your folds so smoothly.

“Did you get this wet just from a little kiss and touch? Poor thing.” He holds up the proof of your lust before licking it off his fingers with that tongue. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

The next thing you know, your hoodie is gone and he’s carrying you off to your room. As soon as your back hits the mattress, he climbs on top of you, bombarding you with more kisses until you’re out of breath.

Your hands fidget with the hem of his sweater until he gets the memo that you want it off. Seeing him shirtless is nothing new—you’ve seen him casually walk out of the shower in nothing more towel on multiple occasions while hanging out with Mo next door, hence all your the shower fantasies. But in this context, with him on top of you on your bed, the butterflies just keep coming.

As the two of you continue to makeout, you unzip him. It’s your turn to slip your hand into his pants. He’s huge, just like your fantasies. You’re not sure your inexperienced throat can handle it.

“You haven’t even seen it yet, and you’re drooling,” he purrs when he leans back to get a good look at your current status—starved for his cock. “Does my cute little neighbor love having her mouth filled with cock?”

“I haven’t…” Your words trail off when you see his erection in full. Your hands latch back on to it like gravity. There’s no way this’ll fit down your throat without making you gag. You lick your lips.

“Wait, this isn’t the first time you’re—”

“I’ve had sex,” you clarify. “Just haven’t given a blowjob…” 

It still feels weird to admit these kinds of things to your neighbor. You’ve always been more careful and closed off about your sex life than him. Meanwhile, you swear you’ve heard the whimpers and moans of all the girls he’s pleasured on the other side of your wall. You’ve never heard the sounds he makes during sex, though.

“How innocent. Depriving yourself of tasting it for this long.” Now he’s got a big ol’ smile on his face as you lie on your stomach and kiss along his length. “You won’t be so innocent by the time I’m done with you.”

You don’t want to be innocent with him anymore.

When you finally take him into your mouth, it’s easy. You swirl your tongue around as you bob your head up and down him. The taste isn’t nearly as bad as you’d thought. In fact, you kind of like it. Or maybe you’re just too horny to care. 

But then you decide you want to gag. So you push your mouth further down his length. The slightest tickle against the back of your throat practically has your whole body jerk in protest. You pull back and let yourself breathe before wrapping your lips back around him.

“Hey, easy,” he chuckles, holding your hair back. “Deepthroating is too advanced for you. You’re still a baby.”

You’ll let the baby comment slide only because you’re too focused on sucking his cock. You wouldn’t mind doing this all night. It could easily become your new addiction.

“Mm,” you moan as flick your eyes up at him. His mouth is open, panting, still trying to fight off the feral instincts you so easily gave in to. Whatever you’re doing, it’s working. Not bad for a first-time blowjob.

“So good,” he praises as he watches your mouth working so hard along his length. You’ve finally earned some praise from him. After all these fucking years. “Fuck, you’re so good.”

The next time you come up for air, he wipes his thumb along your lip to clean you up before flipping you over onto your back. You’d love to suck the glaze off his thumb, but the selfish bastard does it for you right in front of your face.

“I know you’ve grown quite attached to sucking my cock, but I’d like to know how your other hole feels, if that’s alright with you.”

You nod, knowing just how soaked your g-string got while sucking him off. After wiggling out of it and tossing it aside, you spread your legs out for him like a well-trained slut.

He uses his fingers again to make sure you’re coated enough. You feel two curl inside you. Then a third. His thumb brushes gently over your clit exactly one time.

“Fuck,” you whimper from the jolt of pleasure. He needs to do it again.

But he doesn’t.

So you run your own two fingers around your clit as his slip in and out of you. He watches the rhythm of your fingers going around and around like a hypnotic spiral. That smirk is creeping back up again.

“So that’s how my neighbor touches herrself,” he nods like the enthusiastic spectator he is. “That’s how you touch yourself for me.”

You continue to tease your little bud as he grabs a condom from the ass pocket of his jeans and slides it down his length. Finally. Fucking finally.

Your horny little body pounces on top of him, your thighs straddling him beneath you. His cock presses against your ass as you strip off your bralette and lean over to kiss him some more. You’d leave him a nice hickey, but you hate the thought of Mo bringing it up as “a byproduct of another one of his meaningless flings.”

Instead of thinking about that, you grab his cock from behind and ease yourself onto him. You’re sure his ego just got a boost from the amount of time it took you to adjust to his size.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna be That Guy who comments on your tight little pussy.” Asshole.

Then you start sliding yourself up and down his cock. You gasp immediately. It feels so fucking good to finally have him inside you.

The boy doesn’t waste any time, either. His hands work their way up your waist back to your breasts. He gives your nipples a few pinches and is delighted to learn just how sensitive you are over there. You toss your head back with each little pinch.

As the pleasure builds, you feel him thrusting back beneath you. Your ass is practically bouncing off his thighs with each thrust. If you don’t hold onto his shoulders, you might fall off of him, which would be quite the tragedy because you happen to like the feeling of his cock pounding inside of you. 

“More…” you huff against his neck. “Harder…”

At your request, he gets back on top and takes the lead, ramming himself in and out of you. You knew Yoongi was a strong guy, but you’ve never been fucked this hard before. Perhaps this is what years of all that sexual tension have amounted to.

You let out another loud moan, this time crying out his name. You should be afraid of Mo coming back from Namjoon’s and hearing the way you cry her brother’s name with such lust. You shouldn’t show what a dirty little slut you’ve become for him. But you’re mind isn’t functioning anymore. Not with him fucking you silly like that.

“I’m gonna—” you yelp.

He speeds up and pounds harder into you until you’re overcome by your orgasm. The wave of pleasure washes over you as you feel your walls tightening around him.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groans, feeling just how tight you can go. He should be grateful for your tight little pussy. Especially if his high was as good as yours.

As you catch your breath, your thoughts start to come back to you. You’re certainly not looking forward to the conversation you’re gonna have to have with Mo later. But you know it was worth it. And you know you don’t regret anything that happened tonight. It was long overdue, anyway.

Yoongi, on the otherhand, might still have his head in the clouds because he’s just lying down on your pillow with the goofiest smile. He’s been smiling a lot more lately.

“Do you remember that time you invited me to your little tea party in here?” he asks out of nowhere.

“No,” you lie. 

Of course you remember it. You were probably five or six and you’d just watched some teen show where the main girl asked her love interest out on a lunch date. Your naive self was inspired to do the same, but with your love interest—your Yoongi. And initially he said no because he’s mean like that. That was your first heartbreak.

But then he turned around later and crashed the tea party you’d set up for your sobbing self and your teddy bear. He claimed he’d only stick around for the shortbread cookies, but you’re starting to think there was more to it.

“Well I do,” he admits. “That was the first time I thought you were kinda cute.”

“Kinda?”

“Yeah, kinda cute. Because you were also an annoying little brat, you know that?” This is just slander.

“Well I appreciate you putting up with this kinda cute annoying brat for all these years,” you mutter. “No one was forcing you to.”

“I know, that’s my point.��� He pinches your cheek. “Even if I tried to run, you always somehow found a way to cling onto me. Like a leech.”

“Okay, buddy, I’ve had enough of this slander,” you hiss in his arms under the blankets. “If you’re going to say something nice, just say it already. No more of your dumb leech metaphors.”

“You’ve always had a hold on me, Y/N.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead—the first of many, you hope. “And I feel like a lot happened in the past day, but that’s only one small part of what this is.”

“This” as in you and him.

“Like one page in a history book,” you chime in. “Or like a chapter in a memoir, or the chorus of a song, or—”

He chuckles at your rambling because it’s apparently “so fucking cute” to him. What else would you expect? If one page in the history book is dedicated to the past 24 hours, 10,000 pages are filled with him teasing you, you chasing him, and everything in between. 

Today simply marks the start of a new era.

[sinsirellaxx]

How could he not(t)?

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Innocent reader is in love with Theodore and Theodore thinks about taking advantage of her. No smut – sorry if y'all expected some. 👀

How could he not take advantage of her? With the way she smiled, the way her cheeks flushed whenever he spared her a glance or even walked past her. The way she eagerly reached for her notes, almost dropping them in her haste, whenever he asked for them – which he frequently did.

The way he felt her eyes burn into him in class, desperately waiting for him to notice her, while twirling locks of her hair in her fingers. Only for her big innocent eyes to light up with a pretty blush spreading across her cheeks.

How could he not take advantage of her, if she so desperately wanted – needed his attention, always waiting with an eager smile for when they finally crossed paths.

“You know – I heard that Y/N is still a virgin.” Mattheo smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at Theodore. Theo just scoffed, lighting a cigarette before taking a drag not at all interested in what Mattheo has to say.

“Come one … I know she isn’t exactly your type – but she’s like obsessed with you.”

It was true, you weren’t his type; you were too sweet – too pure for him. The way you adored him felt borderline suffocating and he couldn’t help but be annoyed at the way you followed him like a lost puppy, thinking that he wouldn’t notice.

Breathing out, the tall Italian stared at his friend, as he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“I bet she’d willingly fall right into your bed if you tried a teeny tiny bit.”, the other boy cackled at the thought.

“Don’t wanna.” Nott shrugged his shoulders as he took another drag, staring into the distance as he leaned against the wall.

“Why not? She’s sweet … might be fun to break her in.”

Theodore shook his head, a mixture of annoyance and disdain evident on his face. "I said I don't want to, Mattheo. What don’t you get?"

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by Theodore's response. "Seriously, Theo? You're passing up a chance like this? She practically worships the ground you walk on."

"Exactly," Theodore replied, his voice tinged with bitterness. "I don't want someone who worships me like some kind of deity. It’s lowkey creepy, dude – and she seems kind of boring.”  

Mattheo chuckled, shaking his head. "You're one strange dude, Theo. Most guys would kill for the kind of attention Y/N gives you."

"Maybe I'm not most guys," Theodore retorted, stubbing out his cigarette against the brick wall. "Besides, I have no interest in taking advantage of her just because she's infatuated with me. That's not the kind of person I want to be – I have my standards."

Mattheo shrugged, conceding defeat in the argument. "Suit yourself, man. But mark my words, someone else will swoop in eventually and that someone might just be me." Mattheo winked as pushed himself off the wall.

Theodore didn't respond, his thoughts drifting to Y/N and the way she looked at him with such earnestness.

With a heavy sigh, Theodore pushed himself off the wall as well and started walking away, following Mattheo as they both walked back to their dorm.

Theodore's mind buzzed with anticipation as he made his way to the Slytherin common room later that evening. The dimly lit room was alive with the sound of music and chatter, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and excitement. His eyes scanned the crowd as he finished his second drink of the day until they landed on her – Y/N, with her eyes already trained on him, batting her long lashes as their eyes connected.

Theodore had to admit she looked her hair styled perfectly and her outfit accentuating every curve. Her dress was shorter than anything he had ever worn before – it was rather risqué and not like her at all.

Instead of annoyance, Theodore felt a rush of desire course through him as she smiled softly at him before turning around laugh and chat with her friends, not sparing him another glance.

Unusual. Very unusual.

Mattheo sidled up next to him, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence. I must say, Nott, she cleans up quite nicely, doesn't she? Look at those hips! Can’t take your eyes off her, huh?"

Theodore's gaze remained fixed on Y/N, his mind racing with possibilities. He could feel his resolve waning with each passing second, the urge to actually listen to Mattheo for once growing stronger.

Placing a firm hand on his shoulders, Mattheo spoke with a wide smirk on his lips, “I think I’m gonna go talk to her –“

Without a word, Theodore made his way over to her, ignoring his friend’s words with a charming smile on his lips.

Y/N’s friends noticed him first, as he walked up to the group of girls, motioning for said girl to turn around. Her eyes widened slightly as she looked up into his eyes, standing closer to him than she ever has before.

"Y/N, fancy seeing you here. You look good tonight."

A blush crept onto her cheeks at his words and close proximity. "Oh, uh, thank you, Theodore.”

Theodore could see the hint of nervousness in her eyes, and it only fueled his desire further – shy as always. He leaned in closer, his voice low and seductive. "Care to dance?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment, clearly taken aback by his forwardness. But then, with a shy smile and a pretty blush, she nodded, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor.

Theodore’s hands boldly flew up to hold onto the girl’s waist, pulling her closer to him as they swayed to the music. Y/N’s blush darkened at the way their bodies touched, her beautiful eyes looking into his shyly from underneath her full lashes.

Theodore couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph wash over him, as his eyes raked over her curves – his eyes narrowing as he watched the way she pressed her chest, which was almost spilling out of her tight velvet tube dress, against his. His eyes lingered on the smooth skin before they wandered to her smooth neck, swallowing harshly as his throat suddenly went dry. His hands slowly moved down to her plush hips, gripping hard as he pulled her closer – his fingers slowly inching towards here round bottom.

Tilting his head back slightly his hot gaze was met with big innocent eyes watching him lovingly.

How could he not take advantage of her? With the way she batted her lashes at him. The way she was eagerly pressing her body against his, her glossy lips slightly parted as his fingers squeezed her plump bottom, her eyes fluttering in anticipation.

She was eagerly waiting for Theodore to make the first move, to show her he wanted her just like she wanted him.

And he would show her. The whole night. Until he disappeared in the morning, leaving her to wake up alone in his bed with his smell lingering on the once clean sheets.

[zweiginator]

Stepbro!patrick having to spank reader’s ass after he let her come to a club with him and his friends and she kept grabbing him and biting his neck in front of everyone🙂‍↔️ like wtf are you doing girl

this happened early on; you had just met patrick three weeks prior. one of those weeks was pure. patrick opened doors for you and pulled your chair out for you at the dinner table. tried to impress upon you that patrick is a nice boy. that he is respectable. he thought it would help get you in your panties, ironically enough.

and it did. it was easy to give you a lopsided smirk, to lean over you with just his little tennis shorts on after a match one night in early june and tell you how pretty you looked. he fucked you in his car that night, rocking you on top of him and neither of you really had to worry because it was all so new and it was late at night in an abandoned waffle house parking lot and the talk of boundaries was far, far into the future.

except it never happened.

patrick invited people over; some friends of his who were in college were back in town. they shook your hand, told you it was nice to meet you. whispered in patrick's ear.

your step sister is fucking hot.

patrick bit his lip. he joked being upset with them.

"hey watch it, perv."

in reality, patrick was feeling like shit. for obvious reasons. because his eye twitched when his friends ogled at your body when your back was turned and you were laying a towel out by the pool. you looked innocent and sweet, wearing an old bikini of yours that was a bit too small. your skin was sunkissed and you clutched the book you were reading under your arm as you straightened the towel out, your lip tugged between your teeth.

he was feeling like shit because there were plenty of girls out there for him. young and pretty and obsessed with him. girls who batted their eyes and twirled their hair and pushed their tits out. it was a fucking joke that the physical embodiment of his dream girl was sucking on a grape popsicle in his backyard, his step sister.

so he told his friends

"we should go out tonight."

they agreed. and patrick thought he would put all this behind him. he would tell you this was over and your eyes would grow glassy but he would rip the band aid off and that would be that.

but as they were leaving just before midnight, you came out of your room, tugging on the hem of a tiny black mini skirt. your lips were an iridescent sheen of vanilla lip gloss and patrick rubbed his temple.

"where do you think you're going?" patrick asked, gesturing to your outfit.

"out with you guys." you blinked up at him, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. you weren't even in the room when he had brought the plans up.

patrick's friends didn't care, in fact they welcomed it. but patrick was searching for an excuse to get you to fucking stay home. he saw right through your facade. you knew how he felt about that mini skirt; he fucked you in it last week. bunched it around your waist and told you not to wear that skirt around unless you want me to fucking fold.

so he knew you were full of shit. but it was getting late and his friends didn't see the big deal and it's not like he could've explained his reasoning. so he said fine.

you were drinking too fast. guys were lining up to buy you shots and you happily accepted every single one. to the point where patrick couldn't flirt with anyone else. he couldn't fucking do anything because you were being stupid. pushing all his buttons to see which one was the detonator.

and you were so drunk that patrick coming to save you from the eyes of a creepy older man ogling you made him your knight in shining armor--and you just wanted to thank him. so you hung all over him. held onto his bicep and stood on your tippy toes to press kisses to his neck.

patrick's friends looked at him quizzically and he yanked you away from him but you were fucking velcroed to him.

you whispered in his ear, pulled him by his belt. ghosted your palm over his growing erection.

"want your dick in my mouth. we haven't done that yet. you wanna fuck my mouth?"

it wast too loud for anyone else to hear it. but patrick's cock twitched and he blushed.

"she feels sick. she's drunk." patrick explained to his friends, as if that answered their slew of questions.

he dragged you to the bathroom, cutting everyone else in line. he could do that, when he had you in a death grip and he told you to act sick. you felt it. you had never seen him this pissed.

patrick locked the door and sat on the toilet.

"what're you doing--" you asked, giggling.

patrick pulled you over to him.

"bend over my lap."

"why?"

he forced you to.

"you wanna be a slut in public? i'll treat you like a dumb little slut."

he pulled your skirt up.

"you're a dirty fucking girl."

you were still confused and the room was spinning but then patrick spanked you. yanked your hair back, and delivered them one by one. he wasn't gentle; every smack was done with every ounce of his strength and he told you to fucking take it.

this would teach you, he thought. but as he pulled your skirt down over your red cheeks, his finger brushed against your cunt. it was the wettest he had felt you--which was saying something.

[arsonlookers]

Devotion [part 1?]

YAN! Fox God! Childe x reader warning: yandere, obsession, no beta we die like Folcalor,

For over a thousand years since he met you that day, an innocent child who unknowingly helped an injured Fox God of the woods.

That day he met you, he knows, deep inside something changed. His dead eyes met with your pure innocent eyes and got himself, a God, entangled in your life, your fate, until your unfortunate end. He promised and devoted his life to searching for you, to love you, to devote himself to the bone for you,

A God who unknowingly falls in love with a human child, and chains him to his destiny. At first, he actually does not even acknowledge this... feeling...yet, he just thought that it would be fun to tease and scare you in this deep forest, which you are always intrigued to visit.

You were always, always warned to never enter the forest alone, tales of merchants and woodcutters telling stories about the mischievous Fox God that loves to play tricks, pranks, lies, and possibly eat mischievous or scared children who visit his Forest. Alone. It's also in the tales that he is merciless, bloodthirsty, and a crazy God.

As a child at the age of 11, you were always the type of child where your imagination and curiosity clouded your judgment or fear. That is why you always do the opposite of what the adults around you says because you love how it feels new, exciting, and how amazing it is when they say it's dangerous when it is actually not. You want to see it for yourself before you decide or act on it.

There is this one tale that always intrigued you as a child, some people are said to praise the Fox God who brings blessing and abundant wealth to those who he favors, but there are also those who are scared, hate, and reject the Fox God for he is said to be someone who enjoys eating young children and loves young maidens, and Absolutely Loves war, battle, and blood of the people who does not worship him. That, they are a victim of his wrath and prejudice. Or a god who grants wealth and wishes to those he likes.

All tales are said. About the mysterious Fox God who lurks in the Forest just behind your sweet abode.

All the time your parents warn you to never, ever step foot inside the forest. Whatever circumstances, if you ever hear whispers of invite and giggles, you shall not entertain or respond to the said voice.

But have you ever listened?

No...

You never did, One particular winter day your parents were busy with the festival, and you were left alone to guard the house for they believed that you were old enough to do so. your parents raised you responsibly, except for that mischievous side of yours. though for you to learn and grow, they have left you with a big responsibility to guard the house and dont ever leave the house.

It was a simple task, a very simple one that you ended up enjoying your warm abode for yourself. Knowing that even if you are very curious about the forest since your mother always tells you tales of merchants and from fellow woodcutters about the Fox God, you are just also too busy playing with yourself to be curious. Yes, you love the thrill but leaving the house alone in a very cold winter is not a very wise idea even as a child knows that, You convinced yourself that.

That is until you heard a cry. whimpers. can be heard outside your house.

A cry of an animal?, you ran outside your house as you heard the loud cry. and when you were faced with the forest, it was cold, creepy, and scary, but the cry slowly echoed and disappeared inside the forest. These cries now picked your interest, your hands started to shake and you kept looking between your house and the forest in front of you.

But you decided to turn around and go back to your comfortable house until you heard whimpers. again. soft whimpers. this time its closer, still inside the forest but it's like closer.

"what?...whimpers?" You said to yourself

Slowly you decided to get close, and this time you walked and walked, entering the forest hesitantly, you kept looking back to make sure you were not that far away so that if anything happened you could run for your life. As you got closer you could hear the whimpers of a cry clearer and nearer. few more steps in and brushing the bushes away from your vision, there... behold an injured fox.

"a fox?" You asked tilting your head to the side as you approached it slowly and letting yourself not be noticed.

but then the foxes head turns to you...its eyes looks at you...as if pleading, scared, cautious, and curious in its eyes. it has such deep blue eyes, as you stared at it more.

"you ok?" you grabbed a stick and slowly sat a meter away beside the injured fox and started to poke it gently "Are you hurt?"

The fox whimpered, closing its eyes, and looked at its injury. There is a patch of blood on its ankle and a bear trap on its leg and looks back at you pleading... you think.

"that looks bad," you come closer to the injured fox hesitantly, but then start to be not scared to touch his soft fur anymore you examine his actions cautiously and touch its fur more gently and pat his head as if trying to comfort it. "dont worry! mama can help your bubu!" you said excitingly as your eyes shines in determination

"mama always helps with my bubu! maybe she can help you!" You said patting its head gently he was docile as it acted, it just kept looking at you as if observing you closely, and every time you touched a sour part of its injury it started Whimpering again

"oh, sorry sorry, we should get you to Mama!" You stand up from your squat position and try to open the bear trap gently and cautiously so you won't injure yourself, your father always teaches you survival skills and basic hunting since you are their only child, after the successful opening of the bear trap for a few minutes you then try to lift the fox up, but without any strength enough to lift it up, you just worsen and touch the injury which causes the fox to cry louder, so you let go of it, so you get back to your previous position squatting beside it.

"I cant lift you UP!" You whine and pout "Your fat and too HEAvy for me!!" you touch its fur patting it again

You didn't notice it but the fox gave you a looks as if it was offended by what you said, it started to wiggle gently and tried to stand up from its position only for it to fall into the thick snow and back from it laying in the snow whimpering.

"dont! you will hurt yourself more..." you stood up from your position and looks at it.

"I'll be back! I promise! wait here" You walk away quickly and go back to your house, you search for your sled which you always use to carry your heavy things, you take it out and tie a rope in the front and go inside your home and grab plenty of cotton and your favorite warm thick blanket and put it inside the sled.

You quickly go back to the forest with the sled in hand "I'm back! I can help you now!!" you said excitingly

you moved the sled closer to the fox and gently pat its fur again asking for permission "Can I carry you, mr. fox?" you said with your child tone, the fox looked at you and gently moved and rubbed its head in your hand as if confirming to you that it's ok to hold him.

You carry the fox gently in your small arms, supporting it with your small body, and gently place the fox in the sled after some bloody moving, you immediately start your journey back home with your small injured fox in your sled.

After a lot of walking, from afar you can hear someone calling your name.

"Y/n! Y/n! Where are you!?" it sounded concerned and worried as you come closer you can see you parents searching around the house and keeps calling you in a panic.

"Mama! papa!" you called out cutely with you sled in hand you never let go.

They heard you from afar and after seeing you exiting the forest they immediately rushed by your side and hugged you asking you questions about what happened and why did you came from the forest.

your father who looked at you closely sees that you had a sled with you and sees an injured fox

"Y/n! What is this?" he pointed out and tried to distance you from the injured fox

"papa! it needs help! he is injured!" you said rather pitifully

"I wanna help it!" said pleading your father and looking at your mother also pleading

"no, we can't! Y/n! you know how dangerous the forest is and Foxes!" your mother scolded you and tried to make your grip on the sled lose and take you away far distance from the injured fox.

"Mama!" you whined clearly saddened and pleading

"I can treat him! you can help it! pleaseee!" you said looking at her now teary-eyed

they tried to make sense out of you when suddenly the pick up of the snow and the wind started to becomes stronger.

"y/n, we need to go back now" your mother once again tried to take you away but you persisted

"pelasseee pleasseee pleaseeeee" this time you are crying not caring about the cold just crying with the sled in hand, iron gripped.

your father sighed in this sight and admitted defeat, after all its starting to become colder and dangerous the more time all of you are outside, on this upcoming winter storm

"ok, ok but, once it starts to attack I will not hesitate to kill it... understand?" your father warns and glares at the injured fox

You smiled brightly and answered, "yes!, he is a very calm Fox! he didnt hurt me at all!"

after entering the house with your new injured friend you welcomed it inside and looks at your father with pleading eyes

"he is hurt...he needs treatment pleasee" You pleaded again

your father looked at your mother who was now in the kitchen and has a medicinal kit in her hands, she walks in front of you and patted your head.

"I'll try my best, honey. I won't promise anything, understand?" she said calmly with only a small smile in her face

but with her words you smile brightly and goes back to the injured fox side and beamed

"mama! agreed! I'm so happy for you fox!" you said happily

throughout the session, your parent were at first hesitant, and your mother was petrified on the inside since it would be her first time treating a fox. Still, shockingly whenever the fox snarls, and once you pat and hum to the injured fox it immediately calms down, as if understanding that it is fine and nothing to worry about.

After all the treatment your parents tried and practically begged you to leave the fox alone and go back to your room to sleep, but to your stubbornness you didn't.

"I want to stay here, with Fox! I don't want him to be alone here" you said looking at him with sad eyes and looking at your parents with a pleading one

After all the reasoning and banter they gave up on it and ended up all of you sleeping in the living room that night.

You were snuggling yourself gently against the injured fox and talking to the fox as if it understood you it kept its attention fully focused on you, and your stories. until you have fallen asleep and your parents put a warm blanket for the two of you. As they sleep on the couch watching intently, they too fall asleep.

For the past few days a week to be exact your parents just end up trusting you with the fox, after all, they can't always be by your side all the time. They just hoped and always told you that whenever the fox acts violently go to the neighbors' house immediately. And in the night they too just gave up reasoning with you to sleep in your own room, they just always leave a warm and big blanket for you and the fox and two pillows.

for over two weeks now, you have become really close with the fox that you ended up giving him a name.

"Tartar! you can do it" you called to him

right now he is trying to stand up with his injury since it started to heal but the fox however, he still limps every time he walks towards you which makes you worried whenever he falls on the ground.

And this routine repeats the next day, spoiling Tartar and him being sooooooOOOOOooo cuddly with you, to the point that sometimes he growls at your parents when they try to take you away from him, whenever you are asleep. he is watching.

the next morning you keep cuddling him too, he is so warm that you just want to stay cuddling with him. You are very affectionate to him too, you love his eyes, his fur, his warmth, well practically everything. though your parents found it odd and well-protective of you, though it really didn't stop you from spoiling and cuddling with the fox.

as Tartar is recovering fully, it made you sad that your parents told you to let it go, and it made you cry when your one last sleepover with Tartar tonight.

"you-you should take care of yourself out there ok?" you said sniffling and in between your hiccups as you hugged him tightly and snuggles your face and body on his fur

"I'm gonna miss you" you pulled out from his body and offered him a sweet but messy smile, thanks to your snot and tears all over your face.

your snot and tears and a little bit of drool are all over his fur, you just swipe a towel over it and go back to snuggling him again, until you have fallen asleep with your tears.

That night, the fox... or Tartar didn't fall asleep, he kept watching you and your small body thinking

'you should take care of yourself, little child' he snorted though he had this soft gaze on you. he couldn't stop looking at you.

something in his ears picks up sounds upstairs, after all his hearing is pretty good.

"at ...he....the....is going to be released..." you father said

"his eyes..... terrify... and how....it growls... it's weird" your mother's worried, scared, and relieved voice

The fox already knows that both your parents are well, protective, and terrified of him, though he can really see why. You are so sweet, so kind, so cute, so....lovable. over all understandable.

'if only I could take you~' he said in his thoughts planned for you and him, though he could clearly see how terrified and sad you would look if he ever took you away from your parents. You are only just a child, after all, a sweet and ignorant 11 year old human child~

'I can wait~ I promise to wait for you~ my mate' he smirked and snuggled his face into yours, rubbing it to your soft and warm cheek.

A promise he made that night, he will always not break promises since he rarely promises someone after all.

though you will never know that, for now.

[wegc]

You can obviously ignore this if you’re not doing requests or ideas or anything rn, I absolutely understand. I’m just OBSESSED with your perv scenarios because mm perv!chan >> but also 👀 perv!felix?

I have little to no ideas for him other than maybe him taking you out as excuses to get photos of you, like going to a cafe in your cute lil sundress and him taking photos under the table in hopes to catch your thighs parted or the likes. Maybe bringing you to the park afterwards because he’s knows it’s windy out and it’ll give him a chance to see what’s under your skirt without seeming too creepy. Ugh. (I’m not good with perv ideas I’m so sorry LMAO)

PERV FELIX AAAA i think this is one of the first felix asks i’ve ever received.

AND YES YES YES you are so spot on for felix’s perv tendencies. who would’ve guessed that sweet little felix could be so perverted? he definitely knows his image is very innocent and pure, so he most certainly takes advantage of that. you’d think he’s being so sweet, offering to take photos of you whenever the two of you go out, suggesting different poses—asking you to cross your legs, spread your arms out a certain way—oh! maybe lean over the table y/n!

you have no idea that each pose and each facial expression he suggests to you are all very calculated efforts of exercising his fantasies upon you. do a pouty face, y/n, you’d look so cute!

sure it’s all in good fun in the present time, but he’ll never deny groaning into his pillow late at night, fisting his cock at the photos he took of you, imagining what your face would look like beneath him or on top of him; the way he’d lift your skirt to your waist to fuck you nice and good, or the way he’d rip your cute buttoned shirt open to bury his face in your tits.

bonus points if you guys are having a picnic and the wind brushes against your skirt to reveal your panties a tiny bit. the average person wouldn’t really notice and you wouldn’t pay too much mind to it because after all, it’s just felix, right? but felix saw it alright. white and lace, he’d observe. you wouldn’t notice at all, but he’s not actually as cold as he says he is when he drapes his hoodie over his lap. he’s not cold at all—actually, he can feel himself sweating quite heavily, all hot and bothered, trying to hide his growing bulge from the mere sight of your crotch.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Crps x reader who does horror podcasts

Just got done watching creep casts left right game videos and it gave me an idea for this post WOOOOO

Characters: jeff the killer, ticci toby, Laughing jack

Notes: reader is GN, established relationship, reader mostly reads stories and stuff for their podcast

CWs: horror talk, talk of canon typical violence

Laughing Jack

He provides sound effects for you!

if you're reading a scary story he kind of just... pops in add to the story telling

if your podcast is purely audio he's going to be lingering around so he can just wait for the opportunity to butt in

sometimes does some voice acting for you if you ask, thrilled that you want to do something with him

actually pretty good at offering unique voices for each character though he does tend to get... very in character... like horrifyingly so, especially if the character in the story is really... not having a good time

clown logic lets him make most sounds accurately, many of your listeners think you're using a sound board or are a really really good foley artist... glass shattering, bones breaking, or something as innocent as a car honking.. its actually a little interesting to watch jack make the sound effects live because they just.. happen

Jeff

i mention somewhere that hes not much of a reader- not because hes not interested in it but because he just struggles with reading. no real reason yet but he just struggles with keeping track! listening to you read things out loud actually help a lot if you're also reading creepy stories

loooooves when you read gorier stuff, for... obvious reasons

hes not very interested in joining you on your little show, though, hes content with being a listener

a little sweet that you sometimes catch him listening to your recordings, will deny it though

if you ever talk about crime stuff and happen to talk about his murders hes definitely going to be giving you information and correcting details from the news and reports

may or may not make you look unreliable or even suspicious...

Ticci Toby

not much of a reader but thats because he just doesnt have the time or patience or desire to sit down and read something... but listening to something while doing his thing? now he can get behind that! and your storytelling is the perfect thing to listen to!

loves how deep into the storytelling you get into as well as generally just loves hearing you talk about something that obviously interests you

similarly to jacks part, if your show is only audio he may be inclined to do an episode with you! you guys switch off and take turns

oh he would 100% save funny bits from your episodes so he can go back to them

gets a little jealous if you often have guests on your show, but he tends to internalize those feelings

[neobomb]

give into things i (dont) want to [lee jeno]

(yandere ish) creep/stalker! popular fuckboy/badboy!jeno x christian!reader, hints of shy boy! (kinda dumb) naive! christian!mark x reader. Part of the give into things i (dont) want to series. Warnings: mature themes, toxic behaviour, manipulation, stalking, forcing??, inappropriate behaviour, choking, menstions of perv behaviour, MDNI, there will be smut in part 2 Word Count: 2.3k Summary: Jeno is on a mission: to assist his friend Mark in getting with you. But is he genuinely helping Mark or leading him down a questionable path? © 2023 @neobomb. Unauthorized copying, translation, manipulation, or alteration of this work is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.

“Would you really do that for me?” Mark's eyes sparkle with hope. The excitement bubbling within him was palpable, but Jeno knew he had to temper it. For the longest time, Mark has had a crush on you, yet never mustered the courage to approach you. It was heart-wrenching to see, truly pathetic. 

“Don’t worry, you can trust me.” Jeno assures with unwavering confidence. “She will be head over heels for you if you just do as I say.” 

Mark is overly trusting to believe that Jeno, of all people, will help him get with you. You, L/N Y/N, the one Jeno has been hopelessly in love with over the years, the one who captured the heart of THE fuckboy Lee Jeno. Jeno's deep feelings for you are something he'll never confess. He's vowed to himself to admire you from a distance, never allowing himself to get close. Jeno understood his nature, believing that a pure, innocent soul like you shouldn't be entangled with a bad boy like him. However, that doesn't mean he'll let anyone else get near you, especially not Mark. 

“I trust you, Jeno. You’re the rizz king after all.” Indeed, Jeno had been with more girls than most guys his age. With his captivating looks, undeniable charisma, and seasoned charm, he can enchant just about anyone he desires. Flirting was second nature to him. For Jeno, it was not just about the sex; it was a way to establish himself as the school's most sought-after boy. A simple power move. 

“I’m just… a bit uncomfortable with some of your suggestions.” Mark says, sounding skeptical as he scratches his head. “It just seems a bit… odd… maybe creepy even.”  

“I promise you, girls love that shit.” Jeno takes a step closer to the clueless boy. “Haven’t you read Twilight and all those cliché romance novels that girls love? Girls are fucked up enough to eat that shit up.”

"You're right." Mark concedes, deciding to place his trust in Jeno. After all, Jeno has no reason to lead him astray, does he?  

"Let's do it then," Jeno says, extending his hand towards Mark for a handshake, to which Mark readily reciprocates with a firm handshake.

The deal has been sealed. Jeno has Mark right where he wants him. Mark was just dumb and naive enough to believe the bullshit Jeno has been telling him. 

—

A handwritten note was attached to the string of the bouquet with tape. 

Dear Y/N, Not a day goes by that you don't cross my mind.  Your lover, lee. 

It began innocently enough – with sweet intentions and harmless beginnings.

Then there were the photographs — snapshots capturing moments in your bedroom, some pictures intimate, others harmless.

new message from lover lee: new image has been sent

Then, items began to vanish — your favorite cherry-flavored chapstick, your bra and your panties were the first to go.

What started innocently has now morphed into something more ominous.

In your room, a place that is supposed to be your safe haven. An unsettling feeling grips you—a paranoia over who might be watching. A faceless someone, so infatuated that they'd shadow your every move. You find yourself overly aware of your surroundings, constantly casting a discreet glance over your shoulder, wishing for no one to be standing right behind you. Thankfully, it is clear. It always was. 

It's become so unnerving that sleep eludes you. Night after night, you retreat to the corner of your room, ensuring every window is securely fastened, window blinds down, your gaze fixed intently on the doorway that separates your sanctuary from the main hallway. Clasping your cross necklace close to your heart, you'd whisper prayers, hoping fervently that no one lurked nearby. It had become a routine at this point. 

–

The bell chimed resonantly through the corridors. Finally, a reprieve from these tedious classes, Jeno mused. He strides down the hallway, eyes darting to the windows of each classroom, searching for a glimpse of you. 

There you are, seated at a desk away from the windows, with sun rays casting a gentle glow on your delicate cheek while you hold a book. To him, you are the epitome of beauty, with an innocence in your eyes that captivates as you survey your surroundings. You appear deeply fatigued, as though you haven't had a moment's rest in the past month.

“Y/N, I’ve noticed that you look very tired lately. Is everything ok?” Lifting your gaze from your desk, you find Jeno looking at you with evident concern. 

"Uh, yeah, I'm okay. Just some trouble sleeping," you reply, your voice carrying a hint of surprise at the sudden attention from Jeno, the school's renowned handsome bad boy. You rack your brain, realizing you haven't actually spoken to him since preschool days.

"Hey, Y/N," Mark says, appearing behind you with a wide smile that briefly startles you. "I noticed you at church last Sunday. I didn't want to intrude… you seemed deeply engaged in prayer…. as one should be..." Mark winces slightly at his own awkwardness. Your presence has a way of making him momentarily lose his grasp on social cues.

“Anyways…” Mark casts a meaningful glance at Jeno, hinting that he should give the two of you some space. “I’ve been wanting to ask you… if… you might want to… maybe… go… uhm…. I’ve been wanting to tell you something and it’s very important.” 

“Uhm… ok” you respond in a confused tone, looking back at Jeno. “I want to do it somewhere, preferably more private… uhm… maybe dinner at Kun’s… this evening…” Mark stumbles over his words, stuttering through the simple sentences.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" you clarify, boiling his words down to their clear intent. “Yes…” the shy boy confirms. 

Mark is undeniably cute — a devoted Christian, diligent, yet reserved. You have always had a little crush on Mark, but you never anticipated that he would make a move. The realm of dating had always seemed uneventful to you; you felt as if you were invisible to boys. But not until this very moment. Going out with Mark couldn't be harmful, could it? At the very least, it might provide a welcome distraction from your current stalker situation.

“Yes, I would love to.” you answer with a radiant smile, sending the timid boy into cloud nine.

Mission one complete. And so Mark thought…

–

On this typical Friday evening, the restaurant buzzed with activity, patrons streaming in and out. Amidst the bustle, you notice Mark seated at a table tucked away from the main dining area. 

"Hi there," he greets, rising to envelop you in a friendly hug. "I got here a bit early and took the liberty of ordering for us — Peking roasted duck… I hope that's alright… it's your favorite from the menu." His remark piques your curiosity. It's oddly specific knowledge for him to have. You have barely talked to Mark. How did he know your preferred dish? Strange.

"Please, have a seat," he offers, pulling out the chair for you. With a moment of hesitation, you take the offered seat.

“I’m curious about what you’ve been wanting to tell me. Seems like you were very eager to spill it out.” Perhaps it was premature to confront him, but your curiosity was too strong to resist. But with your question, you can almost feel Mark's panic. His hands tremble slightly as he opens his can of soda. 

He inhales deeply, steadying himself before he responds to your question: “I have to confess something. Uhm… I wanted to … uhm tell you … that I’m … lee, your lover” 

You stare at him in stunned horror, mustering all your composure to prevent yourself from trembling with fear and revulsion. The revelation hits you like a thunderclap — Mark Lee, the same person sitting across from you, is the stalker who has been haunting your nights with fear.

“I can’t fucking believe it. You scared me shitless.” You immediately rise from your seat, getting yourself ready to leave the restaurant. 

“What do you mean?” Mark says in a confused tone. 

“The letters, flowers, …. the creepy text messages, … the photos of me in my room, … my fucking missing underwear, constantly feel like I’m being followed, it’s all you??” Struggling to keep your voice level, the sense of betrayal washing over you was unparalleled.

“What?” Mark yelled in question “What do you mean photos?? missing underwear? All I did was send you secret letters.” 

“I swear to God it’s not me, Y/N.” Mark pleaded with you, his eyes imploring, begging you to believe him.

“Nothing you say can change what I’ve heard.” You declare, swiftly collecting your belongings before storming out of the restaurant. 

It had never crossed your mind that Mark, the quiet, church-going boy who seemed devoted to his faith, could be capable of taking such extreme actions. The revelation seemed surreal, almost too contrived to be true.

 —

A few months have passed since the unsettling discovery of Mark's unsettling behavior. Every ounce of your bravery has been summoned just to face him at school each day. Whenever he attempts to draw near, desperately trying to weave a tapestry of excuses, you fend him off with the threat of a restraining order. There's nothing he could say now to sway your resolve.

In the span of those tumultuous weeks, you found solace in Jeno. As the days passed, you and Jeno grew increasingly close, an unforeseen twist given that the popular boy had seemingly never noticed you before — or so it had seemed.  But his kindness and understanding provided comfort, especially when others doubted your account of events. 

"Thanks for walking me home from church, Jeno. You really don’t have to do it again. I promise you this will be the first and last time." you say, casting a wary glance at Mark, who lingers near the church entrance. Having Jeno's company is a source of comfort amidst the chaos, even if your home is just a two-minute stroll from the church.

"Of course, it's the least I can do to ensure you feel secure." Jeno says, casually draping an arm around your shoulders while guiding his bike with his free hand. His steps seem confident, almost familiar with the path to your home, despite the fact that in all the years of your acquaintance, he has never once been at your house, or even close to it. You try to dismiss the peculiar sense that he knows the way a little too well, reminding yourself that he's never been invited over, but the thought lingers, troubling in its implications. Strange, you thought.

Just as you near your house, the skies open up, unleashing a sudden downpour. You urge Jeno to come inside, suggesting he wait out the torrential rain before he ventures back home. To pass the time and since Jeno had never been to your place before, you decided to give him a tour.

"Oh here is your favorite place to sit and read" remarks Jeno, his tone carrying a hint of familiarity as he observes the cozy corner of your living room. How did he know it was your favorite reading spot? His ease within your home is uncanny, almost as if he's retracing well-known steps rather than discovering them for the first time, inadvertently reversing the roles of guest and guide. Strange.

The final stop of the tour is your room. Pointing to a large photo album, you say, "Here are snapshots from my childhood," and you flip it open to share a visual journey through your past. You point to a cherished childhood photograph, depicting a younger you, grinning with abandon, your face comically smeared with Peking duck sauce, as you gleefully twirl noodles around your chopsticks.

“Oh you looked so adorable while eating peking roasted duck. Must have been your favorite dish for quite some time. I guess some things never change.” He smiles at a particular photograph of you. It was a response that strikes you as odd. You hadn't mentioned your favorite dish to him before. Strange. 

“How did you know about my favorite dish? I’m pretty sure I haven’t told you about it.” you query, attempting to piece together the perplexing puzzle that has been preoccupying your thoughts. Upon hearing your question, a shadow flickers across Jeno's features, replacing the cheerful, lively demeanor of moments ago with something more somber. The spark in his eyes dims, giving way to a serious, almost foreboding intensity.

“What do you mean?” He inquires, his lips curling into an uneasy, almost disconcerting smirk.

“I… I just think you’re acting a bit… uhm… strange. It’s the first time you’ve ever walked me home, and you seem oddly familiar with the area I live in…. and you seem to know my house like you've already been here before … uhm … and you pick up on these small things I haven’t told you about before.” As you address his odd demeanor, a growing sense of regret takes hold with each passing second; his eyes darken, casting a shadow of menace that chills you to the bone.

In that instance, Jeno aggressively pins you down onto your bed. One hand holding your wrist, the other at your throat. 

“You know too much, Y/N. You should’ve just kept your pretty little mouth shut.” He whispers in your ear before tightening his grip around your neck until you are no longer registering his words. His voice faded into a muffled echo as your thoughts withdrew into a separate reality. Your hands clutch at his wrist, attempting to loosen his hold, while your eyes nearly close from the sheer force of the moment. His grip on your neck slackened, and he watched as you sucked in breath, your complexion regaining its normal hue as vitality slowly reclaimed your shaken form. As you caught your breath, Jeno abruptly pressed his lips against yours. The fervor of the kiss was overwhelming. Saying hello to lee, you did.

[lizzybeth1986]

Drake and Kiara: When You're Fucking Racist

Series - TRR's Alternative LIs - The "Romances" that Didn't Happen

Previous - Hana and Madeleine: When You Reward Your Favourite Bully with One of Her Victims

A/N: Again, apologies for the length. There was a LOT to unpack in this one!! I'm really, really not going to be nice to Drake here. It was harrowing to go through a lot of these scenes again and I honestly don't have the patience or inclination to sugarcoat any of it.

CW: Mentions of gun violence and minimization of trauma. Mentions of racist fan vitriol towards a black character. Examination of the Jezebel stereotype.

Whenever I think about how unhinged the hatred towards Kiara (and especially towards Kiara's attraction to Drake) was, a specific edit comes to mind.

On the surface, it looks quite simple. Kiara in a white wedding dress, Drake right next to her in his blue formal suit. Both of them are smiling at the viewer. The background is a beautiful forest, and the entire picture is bathed in a lovely, muted sepia tone. A sweet, simple wedding scene.

The caption underneath this edit?

Classify under things no one asked for.

Kiara's dream come true!

The tags read "#i barf a little looking at this" and "#i must post to share the suffering". You find out in the comments that the OP created this edit inspired by one of the many fics where Kiara was Drake's stalker, and intended to make her creepy and deranged (but ultimately failed).

The comments are...tbh, things that this fandom has long since normalized and shrugged at when it comes to Drake stans. Multiple puke-face emojis. Multiple gifs signaling disgust. One stan even equates the ship name (Driara) to the word diarrhoea.

"She looks very stalkeresque and white "I drugged Drake so he's marrying me" wedding ready!"

"Well it's close to Halloween so we should expect scary shit"

"THAT is why I made that bitch my Maid of Honor...so she got the message LOUD AND CLEAR...it ain't NEVER gonna happen honey" (right below a barfing gif)

I wish I could say this example of Kiara hatred was the worst of the lot, or even the only one. It wasn't. I'm not sure even an entire essay would be adequate space to explore the sheer levels of vitriol, hatred and double standards dumped on this one character.

Until now, we've seen examples of alternative LIs that were treated with respect. With adulation. Often with kid gloves in case we hurt their poor lill fee-fees. Up until now, no matter what an alternative LI may have done, the LI matched with them wasn't allowed to treat them badly, nor was the MC able to get away with hurting them without punishment.

But in this series, Kiara was, is, and will always be an anomaly.

The Jezebel Stereotype

In most media, black women in particular tend to be subjected to a variety of stereotypes that often have serious, real-world implications. The Mammy, the Sapphire (that over time evolved to what we now know as the "Angry Black Woman" stereotype) and the Jezebel, being the most prominent ones among them. In this essay, I will be focusing specifically on the last.

An article in the Black Then website explains the definition and history of the trope this: "The portrayal of black women as lascivious by nature is an enduring stereotype. The descriptive words associated with this stereotype are singular in their focus: seductive, alluring, worldly, beguiling, tempting, and lewd. Historically, white women, as a category, were portrayed as models of self-respect, self-control, and modesty – even sexual purity, but black women were often portrayed as innately promiscuous, even predatory. This depiction of black women is signified by the name Jezebel."

So it isn't altogether uncommon to see stories where black women are juxtaposed against "pure", "innocent" white/white-passing women, and viewed as lesser. PB hasn't exactly escaped these stereotypes in their stories either - though there are a variety of characters and character types, we can't deny that there was a time when a black woman was made the antagonist, often in ways that were meant to measure her up to the MC/another white woman to her detriment.

(VoS screenshots from the HIMEME YouTube channel, ACOR screenshots from Vika Avey's YouTube channel)

Two very prominent examples of PB using this trope are Scarlett from VoS, and Xanthe from ACOR. There are other black women who serve as antagonists but in a more professional space, but these two particularly are measured on their attractiveness, sex appeal and "purity" in the narrative in comparison to either the MC, or someone close to them.

In VoS, Scarlett Emerson and Kate O'Malley are the sisters of the two male LIs (Grant and Flynn), but their treatment couldn't be any more different. Scarlett's role in the book is pretty short-lived. She's very prominent in the first half of the book as Kate's potential MOH who secretly hates her, before it's revealed in Ch 5 that Tanner was cheating on Kate with her (and that she'd loved him since she was a child). Notably, in that very scene, the MC places most of the blame on Scarlett (rather than on Tanner for choosing to betray his fiancée) by labelling the act as her seduction of him.

Thereafter she is either only mentioned, or has blink-and-you-miss-it appearances in one or two chapters. We see her in the "memory" portion of the bonus scene, but we are never shown what her future is like (even as minor characters like Miss Harleney get one!). Her bonus scene shows us how her bracelet ended up on Tanner's boat, and it is an uncomfortable scene to get through. Tanner berates Scarlett for having sex with him a week before his wedding, but it is she who points out that he asked her to come there! Yet the MC and others view her as the temptress who "seduced" Tanner, as if the man had no mind of his own.

The narrative often juxtaposes her with Kate, the pure, innocent, sweet fiancée (and she actually is! No pretence there) and the fandom lapped it up. There were many demands for Kate to be upgraded to LI status, which eventually resulted in PB allowing us to marry her if we chose. As I mentioned earlier, both Scarlett and Kate are sisters to two of our LIs - but one is made an LI, while no one bothers to even imagine what the other's future entails.

An even worse fate greets that of Xanthe, the sole female antagonist in ACOR. The slut-shaming and disgust over her overt sexuality is far more blatant here. And it is extremely ironic for Xanthe to be viewed in this way, because the MC herself is a courtesan and uses wiles to get men to do her bidding. While Xanthe herself is not perfect by any means - she is depicted as xenophobic and callous, going as far as to mock Syphax when he is sent away to a possible death as a gladiator - the MC's targeting of her goes beyond just her "righteous indignation" and develops into a form of hypocrisy. She has no qualms mocking Xanthe for her direct approach or her skimpy red dress (even though the MC herself wears a skimpy red dress and can seduce a man in a temple not too long after).

The end Xanthe meets is horrific in its implications - the black matron of her scholae (who began by promising the MC herself that "you need do nothing against your will") sends her away to sexual slavery in Sicily, while the black man who was one of the few bastions of morality in the book, escorts her, smiling, to the ship that will take her there. As far as the narrative is concerned, the end was well-deserved...even though PB has had no issues allowing white women to do far worse without any punishment.

We cannot view what ACOR did with Xanthe in isolation. They had built up to it early on - from the MC's reactions towards her, her patrons' dismissiveness of her, the MC's LIs' viewing her with derision and zero respect. The MC - despite her own unscrupulousness - is viewed as the "noble whore" to Xanthe, yet it is clear on even a surface read that there is not much difference between the two women.

The Jezebel stereotype, ultimately, is about dehumanizing the black woman it focuses on, so that her actions and choices are viewed as deviant from what is "normal" - feeding into either responses of disgust and derision, or a desire to objectify her. To some readers, it makes whatever awful or comparatively unfair end they meet, more palatable. Scarlett and Xanthe are not viewed as people by the narrative - especially not the way the MC of their books or even white female antagonists are. No one cares for their backstories, coos over their losses, wonders if they are okay. When they meet their inevitable end, the characters and so many in the fandom alike just shrug and move along.

How does a character like Kiara fit into this? Her smarts and linguistic talents are her most prominent traits, and while she does have feelings for Drake, she never really acts out-of-pocket towards him (more on this later). So at least from what we see in canon, there's very little about her that seems to apply to the Jezebel stereotype. Yet, the fandom is not only inclined, but eager, to view her as one. Kiara's feelings have been viewed in a far more predatory light, perhaps more often than any other female character in the series. Why is this so?

A response I have often seen - on reddit, on Kiara's wiki page, at times on Tumblr too - is how there is a "certain something" about Kiara that people "just don't like". Many players who prefer Penelope to her are often very aware of what she has done, but still insist they like her far more than they do Kiara. On a reddit thread about questioning the logic of having Kiara and Penelope as options for the MC's MOH in TRR3, certain players commented thus:

"I don't know why, I just dislike her a lot. Penelope is fine to me, but Kiara irritates me." (said commenter is an Aerin stan)

"I liked Penelope, I thought she was nice. But Kiara got on my nerves."

In her book, The Sisters Are Alright, Tamara Winfrey Harris makes an eye-opening (to me at least!) observation about how misogynoir works:

"Misogynoir, abetted by dehumanizing caricature, is like water. It fills its vessel, taking many forms, and then overflows, creeping unnoticed into the cracks of things, rotting the foundation. It spreads a belief in Black women’s inherent wrongness." (Italics mine).

Now of course, if I were to ask the current fandom, they would come up with a range of reasons. Some that emerged from fandom myths and became more popular than the truth in time, some from PB's excessive pandering to players that hated her. But the root of it all is in a certain "je ne sais quoi" that makes her automatically unappealing, resulting in those readers leaning towards misreading or misremembering her scenes, misrepresenting her motives, or watering down the impact of worse actions from whiter women. It results in a group of writers (who have thus far gone to the extent of retconning the worst of a white woman's actions just to make her look good) leaning into such readings, even when they're not true.

TRR1 Kiara: Pragmatic Courtier or Backstabbing Snake?

"Kiara is fake", "Kiara is a snob", "Kiara is self-serving", "Kiara promised to be friends with us but dropped us like a hot potato the moment we became unpopular". These are some of the most enduring takes about Kiara in the past few years, and readers who say this usually bring up a vague recollection of TRR1 and 2 as proof. Mostly that "Kiara was our friend" in the first book, and left us hanging at the beginning of TRR2.

Is that reading based in fact, though? Let's take a look at TRR1!Kiara and find out.

We are introduced to Kiara (along with Penelope, and standing next to Hana) in TRR3 when we meet Liam's other suitors. Olivia introduces each woman differently, and the descriptor she uses for Kiara is that she is the "daughter of a diplomat and fluent in ten languages" (note: Kiara never boasts of her linguistic skill, Olivia does. Nor are there any scenes of her looking down on anyone who doesn't speak her mother tongue French, unless of course you accidentally ask her to sleep with you).

Both she and Penelope note immediately that the MC doesn't quite fit in - if the MC questions the women about being allies with Olivia, a woman who calls them "harpies", they view that as an overreaction. When the MC tells the ladies at the Derby about getting lost, Kiara finds her tardiness and inability to fit in, a sign that she cannot keep up with the competition. Until the chapters in Lythikos, Kiara's and Penelope's characterizations are almost interchangeable, personality-wise. It is likely the team envisioned them more as European nobility rather than specifically Cordonian (based on Olivia's introductions), and they are both depicted as poised, refined and aware of their place in court.

It's in Lythikos that Kiara, at least, begins to show a more distinct personality (for Penelope it's after the Regatta). Unlike the rest of the court, who watches Olivia's unwanted kiss on Liam with either mild shock or disinterest, Kiara is angered by what she sees as a very obvious power-play - which gives the MC the opening she needs to gain an alliance.

Now this "alliance" scene of Kiara's is interesting, for two reasons. One is that fandom often uses this scene to establish her "double standards" in TRR2, claiming that Kiara opted to be friends with the MC. Yet nowhere in the scene does the MC or Kiara ever suggest a friendship with each other - they both agree to an alliance. Furthermore, this is an arrangement that benefits the MC more - there isn't exactly anything she contributes (or is expected to contribute) to Kiara from her end. Kiara's promise is that she will put in a good word in the MC's favour, and she upholds that promise throughout the social season.

Another is that among the courtiers, Kiara herself is the first person to identify and respond to the MC's potential if she shows it at the Derby and the tea party (though Hana is also a courtier, I view her strictly as an LI in this context - since her support is by default and is founded on a more emotional basis). Not many nay notice this, but there is a distinction between how Kiara responds to an MC in a successful play vs a failplay...in a way that none of the other suitors do. Take note of the screenshots below:

The top two pictures in this collage are dialogues that feature by default. The bottom two, however, are dependent on branch-coding. They only appear IF the MC has managed to win the approval of the King, the Queen and the press. If you don't succeed in the same, she will not mention your performance in the social season at all, nor will she say anything about the value of your alliance.

That is a far bigger deal than most players of this series realize. It means that Kiara has been watching us closely, and has understood our potential over the course of just three court events. Only two other characters are shown tracking our progress this way: Bertrand (who is our sponsor, so he has to keep track) and Queen Regina (who can guess already her stepson's feelings for the MC, which automatically makes her a person of interest). For Kiara to understand the MC's capabilities, and to openly admit she has potential this early in the competition - it takes a high level of rationality, honesty and pragmatism to come to such a conclusion. Unlike Olivia (who lashes out in jealousy at the MC), Penelope (who has to be told why exactly it's good to have allies), and Madeleine (who dismisses us as competition until it's too late), Kiara actually views the MC with a discerning, impartial eye and an objective approach.

So on the surface, it appears as if Kiara is written by a team that likes her! You could almost be convinced that they thought she was cool but were forced to pander to "crazy Drake stans" in their writing later (which is an argument I have heard often). After all, she's established as beautiful, skilled, smart and observant. You wouldn't do that for a character you don't like, right?

But even as early as TRR1, a disdain for Kiara creeps in from the writing that you rarely see for any of the others.

This is especially apparent when you look at how Kiara's proficiency with language is spoken about. It is supposed to be her most visible skill - Olivia identifies her by it, we see her peppering her English sentences with French words (of course, many may argue that she doesn't exactly sound like an actual French person...but let's remember that her writers aren't exactly very used to the language themselves or interested in doing extra research for authenticity!). As we approach the end of the first book, there are at least two dialogue options that result in people doubting her abilities or mocking her for speaking only English and French most of the time.

In TRR1 Ch 16, Madeleine optionally speaks to the MC over phone (believing her to be a reporter taking her interview) about her thoughts on Kiara. Kiara's tendency to speak mostly in French and English is supposed to be a sign that she "exaggerates her accomplishments". Mind you, this is from the same woman who claims to be the best choice for Cordonia despite her poor strategies and her antagonizing potential allies during the engagement tour (TRR2); who complains if the MC doesn't compliment her for mediocre work as a press sec (TRR3). The MC can also choose to diss Kiara in a similar way, treating Kiara like she is a circus performer and her skills as if they are meant for the MC's entertainment. The only solace I could derive from this dumpster fire of a dialogue option, was that Kiara managed to shut the MC up with her multilingual response.

No other time are we allowed to call a courtier's abilities and skills into question. The MC accepts on faith that Olivia is a badass with great fighting skills. Same with Penelope's ability as a seamstress. The MC is never even allowed to have legitimate complaints about Madeleine's work as press sec, besides maybe that she could "be a little nicer". So the fact that the writers not only have other characters doubt Kiara's talent, but also allow people to mock her about it in all three books...is really something.

Another possible indicator of this disdain is the fact that Kiara is the only suitor who never gets a chance to actually interact with Liam on-screen. Even Penelope, a fellow minor character, can approach and talk to him twice...and her gift to him is shown in Ch 18 whereas Kiara's and Hana's aren't. Despite the fact that Kiara is a potential suitor, the story never allows her to interact with Liam. She doesn't exactly have any interactions with Drake in this book either, but honestly nor does any other couple have much time together besides Liam and Olivia.

Drake and Kiara hardly seemed to be a possibility back in TRR1. Drake himself didn't seem to associate with anyone besides the MC and the group in the first book (and even with the group his interactions were infrequent). Kiara herself doesn't have many scenes that aren't related to the court or to the competition, even once she is no longer participating. The closest she comes to any sort of association besides Penelope, is a friendship with Hana that begins sometime before the Fox Hunt. Drake and Kiara never actually have any scenes together, or interactions, or references. It is likely that the idea to pair them up was entirely a Book 2 thing.

On a fandom level, neither Kiara or Penelope garnered much attention or fan reactions. They weren't noticed much, nor did you see their scenes too often. Probably that is why it was so damn easy to remember Kiara's entire equation with the MC wrong. Why certain stans of the book were able to get away with misrepresenting the relationship between her and the MC in TRR1, to hate on her in TRR2. I will not deny, though, that certain dialogue choices from PB (like "I thought we were friends!" in the Fydelia scene) may have had a hand in those beliefs becoming the "truth".

TRR2 Kiara - Pragmatic Courtier or Backstabbing Snake (Part 2)

I plan to get into the way the Drake and Kiara angle is framed in canon, but before that it's important to tackle that one elephant in the room - Kiara telling the MC the alliance is over. Because very often, people used this scene (coupled with their misinterpretations of Book 1) as their "justification" to hate her. Often, people would choose the ruder options (such as the Christmas card dialogue) and assume that Kiara was rude by default, rather than as a consequence of the MC's behaviour towards her.

Kiara and Penelope are the first to express surprise at the MC's return (and their reactions are shown as representative of the rest of the court). Kiara in fact is shocked that the MC dared to return (which is kinda warranted! Several people in these early chapters view that as a risky move, a gamble that could backfire on her. That's why Bertrand gets her a press secretary). Their scene with the MC immediately follows the MC's conversation with Liam and Madeleine (and mind you, in the option where the MC can tell her she was set up, Madeleine herself voices disbelief of the same. Conveniently, this is never used as a reason to hate her). Both women let the MC know of their change in status, and therefore the change in their relationship with her.

What gets missed overall, is that Kiara is a lady-in-waiting (which is an actual role with specific duties) to Madeleine, which means her loyalty now has to lie with this woman whether she likes it or not. For her to even agree to approach the MC and explain the situation, is a risk. In at least two dialogue options in this scene, she tells the MC straight-up that they will be in trouble if they're even seen talking to her (this becomes a moot point by Ch4, mostly because Madeleine herself is shown talking to the MC and allowing her into conversations in public, once Hana arrives).

Penelope is often viewed in a better light in this scene because of her obvious friendliness and her sadness at no longer being the MC's friend, but once you have the reveal of her being a traitor, her behaviour in this scene seems wildly disingenuous, and I'm surprised more people didn't call her a fake when the reveal came out. She had to know the allegations against the MC were fake when she rushed to hug her, having been an integral part of that fabrication. It makes her lament when she's caught, in the failplay, ("I can't do anything right. You were never supposed to find out!") that much more chilling. She is eager to have the benefit of the MC's friendship and emotional support, without ever being honest about her role in smearing her reputation.

The other was that - no matter what you may choose to think of this scene - Kiara was placing herself at risk to let the MC know it was over. Approaching the MC was the right thing to do, but what is never spoken about is the fact that it was also a brave thing to do. Rather than ghost the pariah of the court and never give an explanation, she tells her honestly what the situation is, and strives to protect her impulsive friend (who could get both of them in trouble) at the same time.

When you view Kiara's actions from that lens - when you look at the facts - suddenly the claims that Kiara was "fake", "a flip-flopper", "a backstabber", "unscrupulous and self-serving", sound pretty hollow.

TRR2: The Drake x Kiara "Romance" Begins...and So Does the Vitriol

So...an interesting thing about the general reaction to Kiara in the early chapters of TRR2. I was new to the fandom when this book was released. There was an annoyance at Kiara when the first chapter came out, but to my surprise it didn't exactly become full-blown hatred until she started showing an interest in Drake in Ch 3.

This book is often used as a reference by Drake stans when they speak of Kiara as an obsessed, stalker-type, sex-hungry woman - often in contrast to their "pure", "innocent" MCs. Basically...the Jezebel. But the five scenes we see of this ship in the book itself tell a completely different story:

1. Drake Helps Kiara Lift A Heavy Beam (TRR2 Ch 3)

Chapter 3 is perhaps the first time we see an indication of Kiara's attraction to Drake on a physical level. The scene takes place at the barn raising, but only if we choose to stay with Drake over Hana for the barn raising activities. Kiara shows up in a rather pitiable state - her friend Penelope abandoned her for thirty whole minutes, leaving her to lift incredibly heavy beams alone. Drake helps Kiara and mildly chides her for not asking for his help, and Kiara stares at his bare chest, mesmerized.

She isn't exactly alone in this - the MC herself ogles at his bare chest at one point (if we go by the lines in the narrative that read "his muscles glisten in the sunlight" which is def from the MC's PoV). This scene was meant as fanservice for stans who wanted to drool over Drake's physique for a bit, and belatedly build up an alternative (at least for all three male LIs, they were trying to do this in TRR2).

The MC can either point out Kiara's obvious attraction towards Drake, or suspect her of being part of the plot. This will not be the last time the MC or the group will view her with suspicion, with little to no basis in fact. In the option that calls attention to Kiara's attraction to Drake, she is shown covertly sneaking a second look at him. Drake is shown with a visible discomfort at even the idea that Kiara could like him, one that only the MC notices considering she is working in proximity with him.

The reaction to this was instantaneous from several Drake x MC shippers. One or two glances at Drake's chest was enough for Drake stans to begin typing posts in capslock, screaming "BACK OFF KIARA HE'S MINE". The excuses given at the time were that the MC didn't get much opportunity to romance him (Drake was trying to refrain from kissing her in Ch 2 because he felt guilty), and largely-inaccurate judgements of Kiara's character. Jealousy of this kind is sometimes seen as the norm when you have a popular ship and a third angle is created, but this was about to take form in some...very disturbing ways in later chapters.

2. Kiara was Once Savannah's Friend/Kiara's long-standing crush on Drake (Ch 4)

A misconception I often see in the fandom (particularly in relation to how Kiara's feelings for Drake aren't given the same level of consideration that Olivia's for Liam is) is that Olivia's are "more genuine", and Kiara's are "mere lust" or "only physical" and this is probably why she's not given as much respect as Olivia was. Even though, tbh, Kiara was far, far more respectful of Drake and his personal space, than Olivia was of Liam in TRR1.

Leaving aside the obvious problems with that train of thought (viewing sexual feelings as "lesser" just because they're not rooted in some intense emotion), this is not even true, and the first part of the Driara garden party scene is proof enough. Kiara says, straight up, that Drake had been "such a good friend to [Liam]. It's part of why I always liked you." (Bold mine). If the MC voices doubts about this (likely incorporated for readers who would question it as a retcon...and it was a retcon since they didn't interact in TRR1), Kiara tells her that she doesn't wear her heart on her sleeve, which actually matches her practical approach to most things. In fact just a few scenes earlier, when the MC questioned her about wanting a husband (when she'd mentioned earlier about wanting to join the ministry), Kiara informs her that it would never hurt to have both. So it makes sense for her character if she's someone who kept her feelings for Drake a secret, especially while in a competition for winning the Crown Prince's hand. But we cannot, in any honest capacity, claim that Kiara's feelings for Drake weren't deep enough, or lasting enough, or genuine enough. At least based on the evidence we have.

Another point this scene brings up is Kiara's friendship towards Savannah. Up until this point, the only people who did reference her were Olivia, Drake and Maxwell - and Olivia's mockery of especially seemed to imply that the ladies of the court weren't very nice to her. Kiara's account is very different from this, and actually quite affectionate ("she was one of us", "she was coming along so well in learning French"). It's not the closest friendship, but Kiara did care enough to tutor her in the language and clearly missed her. It is possible that this scene was positioned to both build up to the alternative romance and foreshadow Savannah's presence in Paris. There is a lot more that could have been done with this angle, but perhaps that is a discussion for another section.

3. Never-Have-I-Ever (Ch 9)

This is a small option in a drinking game - the MC can get to say "never have I ever had a crush on Kiara", and loses, because Drake says she isn't his type (ironically he claims he isn't her type in the next chapter). It's interesting that he does consider her as not as bad as some of the others in that group.

3. Flirting with Drake in Paris (Ch 10)

For five chapters, we don't see any more hints of this romance. We see Drake in plenty, and we see quite a bit of Kiara. But none of it shows them together.

Kiara's scene with Drake at the tea party, is in some ways a continuation of his diamond scene with Savannah. He knows now where his sister is and what her big secret was, but this scene is where he realises how little he actually knew about her, if even her "noblewoman friend" knew she had intentions to go to Paris and he, her brother, didn't. This scene also takes place at what I call a "rest period" in the story - the group has just come out of a high-intensity altercation with Bastien, and it is one chapter before the major reveal about Constantine. So the MC can relax a little, some of the loose ends of previous stories can be tied up, and we get a vibe check on at least two alternative ships.

Drake is rather civil to Kiara in this conversation, mostly because he's trying to get information about his sister out of her. There isn't much he contributes besides this - it doesn't seem to matter much to him that Kiara was a rare friend among the court to Savannah (tho TRR3 would later retcon this), and when she talks about herself he doesn't pay much attention. Kiara does make an attempt at a light flirtation which goes largely unnoticed.

The MC's response when she first sees them goes three ways - a neutral comment about the petit-fours, a "matchmake-y" comment that points to them that they "look cozy", and a "jealous" comment about interrupting them. The third one especially results in Drake inadvertently confirming he doesn't think of Kiara in a romantic light, and Kiara appearing disappointed. Remember, at this point she doesn't see much evidence that Drake and the MC romancing him are an item.

The follow-up conversation with Drake, too, follows along similar lines. The neutral comment just asks him about the information he gathered from Kiara, the "matchmake-y" one points out she has feelings for Drake and the "jealous" one is... something.

The third response is very obviously crafted for the more possessive Drake stans to get satisfaction from dissing Kiara, perhaps in a more aggressive way than the Maxwell stans could. While the Maxwell MC can pass an insult or two to discourage Penelope, the Drake MC will go as far as to tell him he belongs only to her, and can threaten to "push her into the petit-fours".

Ironically, this scene follows a scene with Olivia about her lingering feelings for Liam - and Olivia's grief, the MC's clear sympathy and Liam's concern for Olivia are all by default. There is a certain level of sensitivity the Liam MC is required to have for Olivia that is never once expected of the Drake MC, and that plays out in very dangerous ways in the next book.

This scene, again, brought forth rather violent reactions, and in fact the language of the MC's responses itself seemed to encourage that kind of response. A poster later compiled an entire set of these responses ranging from mocking, to "back off, Kiara!" to straight up demands for murder (I couldn't link to this post because the names of the people involved were included in it, but I do have quite a few of those screenshots for reference).

After this point, you don't see any more scenes where Kiara actively flirts. In fact for most of the second half you see her and Penelope very rarely. So it does feel really wild in retrospect that "obsessed Kiara" became such a popular interpretation, after one checking-out scene, one flirtation and one rather sweet and genuine compliment of him as a person.

4. Pranking Kiara (Ch 17)

A pattern you would have noticed by now is that there is a bit of a mean streak in Drake for Kiara that is either very dominant or latent, based on whether the MC tries to encourage him, or shows jealousy towards her.

And this isn't necessarily an indicator that he can never be interested in Kiara. A distrust for nobility is almost a norm for him at this point, and let's not forget that Drake's first few interactions with the MC too didn't exactly leave her with the best impression of him either. Kiara initially being on Madeleine's side at the beginning of the story could be a factor in some level of disdain too. Such complications could - in a good story - add layers to a potential romance in the future if that was the direction the writing was going for.

Around the MC who doesn't mind them as a pair, he shows a small sliver of an inclination towards Kiara herself. His response if the MC points out that Kiara was flirting with him (Ch 10) is that he doesn't believe he is Kiara's type, not the other way around. In this scene, a drunk Drake who is encouraged to write a "nice note" to her as a prank, can write "your hair is pretty and your French is totally not stupid". Both of these lines present a sign of a possibility that a romance could happen. His behaviour when an MC casually hints at this possibility, is of someone who may like this woman deep down, but show it in very strange ways (akin to the age-old metaphor of the "boy who pulls the pigtails of the girl he has a crush on"). They wouldn't have even needed to show his responses in this way if they weren't trying to hint at a possibility.

His response to a "jealous" MC is to delightedly bask in her possessiveness of him, and to go hand-in-glove with her as she insults or suggests violence on Kiara in any way. Now one could perhaps headcanon this as a behaviour that comes from being unused to female attention focused on him, coupled with his affection for the MC - but when you take into account his behaviour towards Kiara herself in TRR3 as well, there seems to be a blatant lack of consideration or compassion towards her as a human being. Compare this, again, to the way Liam's behaviour towards Olivia is written in canon, and interpreted by the fandom. Liam is expected to be kind to her, even if he's clueless about her feelings or if she is harming him (eg. Even when she kisses him, he cares enough to opt for a reaction that will not publicly humiliate Olivia).

Not so for Drake. He is very happy to follow in the MC's lead, even in hurting Kiara. And in this scene, he pretty much kickstarts it with the suggestion of a prank.

Drake knows where Kiara's room is (thanks to a nameplate on the door, and the familiarity of the hallway, which he likes for the view outside) and wants to prank her. The MC can either accept or refuse. If she accepts, there is one nice option, and two distinctly mean-spirited ones. The first proposes to mess up her book organizational system, and the narrative describes the attempt as "ruining any semblance of order to Kiara's bookshelves". These are materials she likely requires for her career as an aspiring diplomat, or even books she uses to update herself on the world. But to this MC and Drake, her work and interests are little more than a joke.

The second one is not only aggressively mean - it also is an attempt to ruin her personal space with her personal items. Going by the array of haircare the narrative mentions, maintaining her hair is very important to Kiara (I am not equipped enough to speak about black women and their relationship with their hair, but this option did make me very uncomfortable, because of the little I've seen on how essential regular haircare and good products can be for many black women). Not only does the MC suggest using all that product to render Kiara's bed practically unusable, she also insists Drake waste the full bottle of said product. Because, yknow. "It's a prank. Go big or go home". Drake has one moment where he tries to be less mean in this option (when he attempts to use less of her hairspray), but the moment the MC encourages him towards a crueller direction he does not hesitate. In fact, when the MC first suggests this option, he regards her with something approaching awe, and praises her as "an evil genius".

There's a mean streak in Drake here no matter which option you choose. If you do go for the nicer one, he complains at first that it's not exactly a prank and in fact does claim that they "could still put glitter in her cupboard" as an alternative prank. But the other two options encourage the player to give full vent to whatever underlying frustration/enmity/hatred one could possibly have against Kiara, goading a drunk Drake to be merciless towards the things in her room, in her absence.

Maybe, perhaps, one could just view this as a "fun vent" for the "possessive stans". It allowed the Drake MC and her LI the chance to gang up on her, mock her and cause her discomfort through things that were clearly important to her, treat her like the butt of their joke, and get away with it. When you encourage that kind of hatred with your writing, it can go into some very dark, disturbing places. And it did, especially in TRR3.

The overall response to this scene didn't show much, since it was just one small sequence in a larger scene - and most of the focus was on the heartfelt bonding between Drake and the MC when he takes her to his "special hideout" and his reveal about his motives behind calling the MC by her surname.

Many Drake stans, however, took note of this specific section, and took their interpretations in a completely different direction. Questions were asked about why Drake knew about Kiara's room - completely ignoring that he frequented the hallway regardless for its view and her nameplate is literally placed outside her door - and several fans suspected the two to be involved in an affair just on the basis of him knowing where her room was. These suspicions, again, would crop up from the fandom in a more dramatic way in TRR3.

5. Drinks at Homecoming Ball (Ch 19)

This scene takes place in the finale, just before Kiara and Penelope apologize jointly to the MC for their comments in the beer garden.

Drake is, quite predictably, at the bar in this scene. In some ways one could draw a parallel between this one and the "bar" scene between him and the MC in TRR1 - the only differences being that the two were alone in the first, and that he and the MC are free to romance each other now. However this time, the two ladies of the court could also communicate with him about drinks, and he could use his knowledge of alcohol to guess their preferences.

The scene with Kiara is, again, written to be both a possible sign of familiarity and a diss (mostly the second, I think). With Penelope he just vaguely mentions cocktails and focuses on the decoration for the drink - with Kiara he is able to name the specific wine even though in TRR3 he has no idea what tannins are. There are ways one could envision that as a sign that he notices more about Kiara than he lets on.

The diss, of course, comes with his claim that no matter how top-shelf the wine is, it will still always be "old grape juice" (which is a very strange thing to say because most alcohols are fermented from basic ingredients be it fruit or grains - where did he think his high-quality whiskey that he regularly carries around in his personal flask came from??).

Kiara's attempt to impress him is pretty obvious, but the diss isn't something that weighs too much on her mind. There are less indicators here of a dejection if he brushes her aside, unlike the scene in Ch 10 - she just looks a bit surprised he could guess the exact drink she wanted. Kiara in this scene is more likely to shift gears to something more important. In this case, that is apologizing to the MC for what she views as poor behaviour that sprung up under the influence of alcohol, and offering her an olive branch (the specific apology is for her asking the MC if she came to gloat, not for telling her the alliance was over at the beginning of the tour. In that scene specifically she feels she has nothing to apologise for, and I'm inclined to agree for the reasons I stated in that section).

The overall pattern for this ship seems to indicate that it's...kinda there in case the MC doesn't want to pick Drake, but I always feel like they focused a lot more on the jealousy options and didn't spend enough time to see what a possible relationship could look like. They do claim later that Kiara's affections were supposed to be one-sided, but the buildup at least seemed to indicate some small baseline of interest from Drake's end, even if shown in some rather bizarre ways. However, because there seems to be very little respect for this character already, having the MC threaten violence and having her and Drake overreact over what were essentially harmless interactions from Kiara's end really does indicate that the writers didn't mind taking potshots at her whenever they felt like it. Like I've said before, the trashfire that was Kiara's treatment in TRR3 didn't develop overnight.

Smart, Skilled...Disliked?: Kiara and the Writing Team in TRR3

On 25th Sept 2023, PB released a two-chapter series on Storyloom called "Choices Secrets", which involved at least three writers (Andrew, Kara and Chelsa) talking about ideas and plots and backstories that didn't make it to the released book. In one section, Kara Loo speaks specifically about the ending of TRR2:

According to this account, the original idea was to kill off Olivia and possibly use that as a segue into the Nevrakis plot of the book, since her aunt and Justin were the real villains at the end of the series. When they decided to keep her alive in the series, Kara mentions finding "more members of your group get injured, like Drake".

Interestingly, Kara referred to "members" in the plural, and Drake is the only person from the core group to get shot. So it's just as possible that the choice to have Bastien, Justin/Anton and Kiara sustain injuries, was made once they decided to do away with the storyline about Olivia's death.

Olivia got spared because her writers cared for her. Kiara was likely one of the people injured in her stead, and probably the only one out of them (except for the one who was the main villain) who wasn't getting a prominent scene that focused on her being a survivor of the attack until some readers protested (the entire intro of TRR3 was dedicated to Drake recieving tender care from the MC, Bastien gets showered with concern and care from Constantine, Liam and optionally the MC. The MC comes to the estate, makes a perfunctory mention of the injury once and proceeds to emotionally blackmail Kiara into joining the tour. Let's not even talk about Lythikos. That shit warranted its own essay). No matter how much you downplay the situation, the truth is that Kiara got grievously hurt in a terrorist attack and her writers didn't think it was important enough to address.

I often wondered in the beginning, why Kiara was chosen for this. A close friend at the time theorized that perhaps it was done to ensure Madeleine would become our press secretary, because there was no way the MC would be considering her for this position if someone less hostile (like Kiara) was around. Another wondered if we might get opportunities to address palace security through the experiences of the survivors. Being a Drake x Kiara supporter at least by the end of TRR2, I wondered whether it was a coincidence that they both were injured at the same ball, and the possibility of the two bonding over such a painful experience.

Well. Boy was I about to be disappointed.

Because why did Kiara have to be so badly injured, if it was going to amount to nothing? If they weren't even going to address it in her own home? If - after even players who didn't care much for her, noticed the silence around that attack - the best you could offer was a scene that followed the MC and her friends suspecting the victim of this attack??

Had I looked at Kiara's narrative treatment (from TRR1 onwards) closer back then, perhaps I wouldn't have expected so much. It would have occurred to me that maybe they hurt Kiara the most, because they cared for her the least. Kiara is viewed as smart, poised, talented. Madeleine even calls her "one of the more competant courtiers" at some point. But that doesn't always mean that the team that writes her deems her worthy of respect.

For one, the writers tend to lean more into fandom perceptions of her in this book, rather than looking at their own canon. Kiara being a snob is not canon - that is ridiculous considering that she was such good friends with Savannah, and her support of the MC when she fits in well. Kiara acting like her linguistic skill makes her better than anyone else isn't canon either - nor is she obliged to speak in all ten languages on a loop just for the MC's or Maxwell Beaumont's entertainment. Kiara being perpetually mean to her best friend is inaccurate at best - she is often frustrated by Penelope, sure, but she spends far time and energy helping her than anyone else in that court.

Yet the narrative gives both these statements as dialogue options for the MC, where she can bitch about Kiara...but somehow only ever allows the same MC to be nice and caring and loving to Penelope - never once reminding her of the hell she'd put the MC through in the past. And because the fandom expected the Kiara-Penelope friendship to focus only on Penelope, PB got away with having Kiara's "best friend" stay conveniently silent as the MC berated her in her own home. The narrative even threw Kiara under the bus in TRR3 Ch 16, in order to make Madeleine look better in Hana's memories of the TRR2 bachelorette, claiming falsely that Kiara shouted at Penelope so much while drunk, that the latter was brought to tears. There is way more energy spent in painting an inaccurate and negative portrait of Kiara, than there is in showing the truth.

For another, the way the courtiers' and their parents' agreement to join the tour is coded...is extremely suspicious. When you compare both a successful and a failplay, you will find that all the parents have the chance to reject the MC's proposal to join the tour...except for one. Kiara's father, Hakim. In a failplay where you purposely do all the wrong things...out of the entire group of people who are still doubtful about supporting you, only Kiara and Hakim join your tour by default, without any expectation of a reward (Madeleine demands her own department after the wedding). They will be a part of it no matter what you do, no matter your failures, no matter how badly you treat them.

Hakim may have joined mainly to confront his old friend the King, but he still stays on even after Constantine dies. The writers made sure to branch-code things in a way that Kiara and Hakim could never drop out even if the MC was awful to Kiara, and never once acknowledged what it must take for them to do that. After Kiara herself had been fucking stabbed!!!!

Joelle, Kiara's mother, and Ezekiel, Kiara's brother, can reject the offer if they aren't impressed with the MC, but out of these two characters only one is viewed with respect - the one they were going to pair up with Penelope.

The narrative doesn't mind letting the MC mock Joelle for her passionate support of the arts if she doesn't win her approval, and her insistence that it is the sign of a thriving kingdom...and they make her sound petulant and churlish in response to that mockery. This despite the fact that in a successful route, she says one of the most profound political statements in the books:

"Hakim and I don't just want Cordonia to remain stable and peaceful. Those are blessings, naturallement, but our kingdom can do so much more than just survive."

In contrast, when you look at the same failplay, Emmeline and Landon are treated with far more respect from the narrative, even though Hakim and Joelle's plans for the country would benefit Cordonia as a whole. Drake looks up to Penelope's parents as an inspiration, especially if he's going to become a duke. Meanwhile Hakim actually acknowledges Drake and his bravery in a way that none of the other dukes and duchesses did, and Drake never gives a shit.

Emmeline can accuse the MC of not taking their situation seriously, if she does a bad job at the polo match, and the MC only has the grace to look contrite rather than lash out at her. Landon himself is never judged for coddling his daughter the way he does. Their focus on Portavira rather than the country is respected, and the MC not meeting their demands is viewed as her weakness, not an overreaction from their end. They never get the snarky responses Joelle gets, where the MC can outright call her "a handful" in front of her own husband.

And then there is the matter of how PB deals with the problems of all the court ladies.

(Screenshots from the Skylia YouTube Channel)

The period of the Unity Tour isn't exactly an easy time for anyone. The LIs each deal with their own shit, and the ladies of the court themselves have their own reasons for being reluctant to return. The entire point of this tour is to address their specific concerns as well as that of their families', because without the courtiers themselves we wouldn't have as strong a court.

In Madeleine's case, we have to talk to her through a diamond scene and then educate her mother on her ways of mourning lost opportunities, among other things. In Penelope's case we are required to give her complete protection and emotional security, for her to even bother joining the tour (there is branch coding where she can refuse to be a part of the tour at all). Even for Olivia - who is already an ally - the diamond scene encourages us to stand up to her aunt, by letting Olivia know that it is valid for her to lean on others for support without being considered weak.

But for Kiara? The best we can come up with, while in her duchy, is some version of - "You're smart. You'd know that if you left now, people will say bad things about Cordonia and then it would be your fault". You either manipulate her, or insult her as being a useless excuse of a diplomat. As I mentioned in another essay, Kiara's comfort is a non-factor. The gap between the care we were expected to give to Madeleine and Penelope, and what we deign to give Kiara in Castelserraillan (which is...well...nothing), is massive. And this gap would only increase - not reduce - in the books to come.

It might seem a bit irrelevant to talk about this, especially when this essay is about Drake and Kiara. But it's important to take note of this inherent disdain the writers had towards this one character - and people close to her. Because it is only too easy to pretend that the writers "got scared of the crazy stans".

Of course the stans had a huge, huge role in this. Of course their vitriol and racism succeeded in bringing about (what I consider) one of the most disgusting dialogue options in this series...or perhaps in any series. But I doubt those "crazy stans" would have gotten this far, without a team that didn't mind being cruel to Kiara.

When the Fandom and Canon are both Heartless: Drake and Kiara in TRR3

As I've mentioned in previous essays in this series, playthrough divergences truly begin in TRR3 (eg. While the playthroughs acknowledge who you chose as endgame by end-TRR2, you can still access diamond scenes through a small tweak that allows you to romance other LIs). And whichever LI didn't get engaged with the MC had indications of a new romantic possibility coming up. These were scenes you wouldn't find in your own playthrough with that LI as your fiancé/e.

Kiara doesn't appear in TRR3 until Ch 7, when the entourage comes to her estate Castelserraillan. There aren't a lot of Drake and Kiara scenes themselves, and I will get into why, section by section.

1. Kiara Greets the Group at Castelserraillan (TRR3 Ch 7)

Many Drake stans - once they found their MCs engaged to Drake in TRR2 - seemed to be practically giddy at the prospect of showing off their newly-engaged status to Kiara, and hurting her through the news. They were perhaps more excited about this than their upcoming wedding.

Well, they got that chance in Ch 7. In every other playthrough, she still holds the same feelings for Drake, and compliments his suit as Drake awkwardly fails to meet her eye. In his specific playthrough, Drake defiantly shows off his relationship with the MC, and Kiara shows a slight wistfulness before she forces herself to be normal then wishes the happy couple well. You'd think that would be enough to satisfy the stans who had been baying for her blood all of the previous book.

A throwaway line about Drake knowing where Kiara's room was, had already raised the heckles of a whole bunch of his stans. Kiara's "wistful look" in her first TRR3 scene somehow added fuel to that fire. Suddenly, you got to see a raging torrent of posts demanding to know if Drake had had an affair with Kiara. Fanfic had already been written about Drake cheating on the MC with Kiara by this point - and some of those headcanons and fanfic hinged on making Drake the innocent/vulnerable one, taken advantage of by this sexy, obsessed woman who would be either a danger to him or would be juxtaposed with the "pure", "virginal", "perfect" MC. Drake would never be the problem here, and none of the stans screaming over the possibility of Drake sleeping with Kiara would dream of blaming him for it. No, Kiara was predatory, Kiara was obsessed, if anything happened between them it would be likely Kiara's fault.

This is where it's important to note, again, that none of the more obvious signs of the "Jezebel" stereotype seem to be used in canon for Kiara. While cruel in her own way, the TRR MC doesn't exactly slut shame her or believe Drake will be unfaithful to her, Kiara isn't accused of seducing (or even trying to seduce) anyone, and she actually places respectful personal boundaries for herself in her attraction to Drake, that she never crosses. She may indulge in a light flirtation with him, try to impress him or simply talk to him - but you will never catch her forcing her sexual attention on him like Olivia did with Liam. Yet in popular fanlore, even Olivia's feelings were often cast in a far more noble light in contrast to Kiara's.

In her essay, The "Offending" Breast of Janet Jackson: Public Discourse Surrounding the Jackson/Timberlake Performance at Super Bowl XXXVIII, Dr Shannon. L Holland explores the historical and contemporary uses of the Jezebel stereotype in depictions of Black women in popular culture and discourse, especially in contrast to white masculinity (which in these contexts, is often viewed as innocent and blameless - and much of the blame lies with the Jezebel figure). The "Jezebel" stereotype "has come to symbolize both a malign, cunning sexual object and an autonomous, liberated sexual agent" - she is at once an independent sexual being making her own choices, and someone who is "incapable" of reining in her sexual appetite...and is therefore often depicted as not only a threat to the "purer" (and often "whiter" or "lighter skinned") woman, but also dangerous for whoever she is "obsessed" with. And we see this time and again in the discourse around Kiara - the fanfic that depicts her in a range of scenarios (stalker, obsessed lover, abusive girlfriend who will break a bottle over Drake's head, at times even descending into murderer to get the man she wants). Which is how we wound up in a position where Kiara even breathing the same air as Drake was viewed as a threat.

It didn't matter that he was flaunting his love for the Drake MC in that playthrough to send a message to Kiara, or that he stayed silent with the others as his wife badgered her into joining the tour. It didn't even matter that Kiara never got a diamond scene the way the two other women did, despite being the most harmed among the ladies. What mattered was that Kiara existed. Her damn existence was the threat.

2. Cheering for Drake's Victory (Ch 10)

Ch 9 of TRR3 was released to players on April 27th, 2018. Immediately after, a mid-book hiatus was announced, mostly to work on some new art (very possibly the red pandas), work on the wedding, and make changes (such as shifting diamond scenes from character-centric ones to LI specific - they'd already started making changes to LI diamond scenes). The book would return 2 months later, in June.

In a livestream before the hiatus ended, the writers had made it very painfully clear that Kiara's feelings for Drake was one-sided. And by that I mean they really emphasized on the one-sidedness of her affection, almost as if to reassure the panicking stans. This would manifest in any future interactions between the two - both in Drake's single and engaged playthroughs - and any hope that such a pairing would even be hinted at was over. But there was one variation that the team had perhaps neglected to edit out.

A small one-word depiction of Kiara cheering Drake when he wins his duel against Neville, joining his friends to praise him. It really isn't much - just Kiara saying "bravo!" before Savannah rushes up to hug him, which is replaced by a scene of Drake himself going up to the MC and passionately kissing her in his own playthrough. What is definitely striking about this depiction is that Kiara was clubbed with his close friends and his sister, rather than the second group of people that largely represented the larger court (Rashad and Queen Regina) who offer their congratulations.

Given the way the writers wrote any remaining interactions between Drake and Kiara, and the fact that this small appearance doesn't really amount to anything, it is possible that this variation was part of an earlier draft that involved other hints, that the writers failed to notice when they put up Ch 10. If they had, I'm pretty certain it wouldn't have stayed in the book.

3. Leaving Court + Wedding Conversations

Remember how I kept stating in this essay that the narrative was going to take their enthusiastic pandering of the "possessive stans" end of the fandom, to some dark, disturbing places? Well, here we are.

Tbh, the writers could have just stopped showing any interactions between the two, or given Kiara another boyfriend if their aim was simply to show that Drake and Kiara would never be endgame. They had done that with Maxwell and Penelope already...oh. I forgot. They actually wanted us to care for Penelope.

Up until this point, Drake's mean streak re: Kiara was present, but not really as obvious as it gets here. PB takes that cruelty several steps further in these two chapters, starting with Ch 11. Ch 11 was fanservice to the people who shouted abuses and "joked" about killing Kiara in every chance they could get. Ch 12 showed this sentiment at its worst, covered it up with enough fluff so it would be harder for people who liked Kiara to notice...and let those players get away with it.

In Ch 11, Kiara approaches the MC and her group to inform them that she is withdrawing from the tour. Drake is the first to respond to this, remaking at the suddenness of the departure. The MC can speculate on a couple of things, ranging from sympathy (that she might be afraid), selfishness (that she is "bailing out" on the MC) and suspicion (that she is hiding something).

In all three options, a pensive Hana expresses sympathy and encourages the group to "reach out". In all three options, Drake will only view Kiara as a suspect.

Mind you - according to Ch 12, Drake is saying this knowing Kiara was injured at Homecoming Ball...and knowing exactly which weapon she was injured with. Aware that she has gone through an event as traumatic as that (if we go by his "just one step at a time" monologue to Kiara), better aware than most how it would feel...he still opts to act like her motives should be suspicious.

This is further emphasized in the Drake playthrough, through the armory scene that the MC takes with Maxwell.

As I've mentioned in the post on this scene, it is divided into three halves. The first half deals with whoever the MC rejected (either Liam, or Drake in Liam's playthrough). The third is buildup to Lucretia's plans to usurp the throne. The second is supposed to be about the excitement among the members of the court for the wedding, and of course as the only people who come for the tour by default (and Madeleine is already taken for the first scene), Kiara and Hakim are used for this scene!

I will only focus on the Drake version of this scene today. There are a few things you notice straight off the bat:

1. Since this is Drake's playthrough, the narrative seems to do away completely with any lingering feelings Kiara may have had are done away with. In this scene she is quite happy about Drake's wedding - in fact, practically chipper. Literally nothing about her behaviour here serves as a reminder that she once had feelings for him.

2. Drake's response to Kiara attending his wedding ties in pretty well with his earlier default suspicion of her. Unlike Hana who is surprised but also happy that Kiara is attending, he seems to voice it as a doubt or a question. While that makes sense and there is continuity, it's pretty awful that he is allowed to suspect her like this and feel no remorse when the truth about her is revealed.

3. Now as I said in the post, this scene is meant to be a buildup to Drake's ice-palace scene. He speaks about wanting a private, country-style wedding in a natural place there, and Kiara's gentle teasing in this scene is supposed to be an indicator of how much he dislikes the usual fanfare. Okay. Fair enough. You're uncomfortable with the fancy decorations and the insane planning, fine.

4. But it's Drake's attitude towards Kiara in this scene that leaves a bad taste in the mouth (unless you were one of those Drake stans that liked to threaten murder on this character ig). The narrative really went out of their way to make him sound uncommonly angry with her, just for asking about his wedding. He angrily hisses at her to keep her voice down the moment she asks about the wedding, and then lashes out the moment she teases him about his love for the MC and his reluctance to be very public about it in that context. Of course, people who either liked Drake or hated Kiara would downplay this scene - either blaming Kiara for not magically knowing his likes or dislikes, or acting like Drake's behaviour in this scene is no big deal.

And his explanation in the ice palace scene really doesn't cut it as a reason for why he should be this pissed off at Kiara's excitement. There is no real bitterness or resentment tied in with the fancy trappings that are mentioned in that specific scene - it's just that he likes simplicity better. If Kiara doesn't know him well enough to understand that - it's because he has never properly talked to her. She made attempts to converse whenever she could. You can claim he never owed her a conversation - but in that case she doesn't owe him a complete understanding of his wants either. He could have just politely answered the question and changed the subject, or quickly took his leave.

He is well-versed enough in court etiquette by this point that he could have managed to sound civil enough. That he could have made a quick, polite exit. But no, he gave her the kind of anger that one reserves for someone who is kicking a puppy or stealing candy from a child, instead. And it was Kiara's grace that allowed her to view that awful behaviour in a more positive light.

It's pretty clear this scene - and to some extent the framing of the next - was made specifically for those Drake stans who were screaming and throwing tantrums about a possible affair. It was to highlight that there was no way Drake could ever return Kiara's feelings - and the only way they could do that was by making sure he treated her as rudely and inhumanely as possible.

I didn't think it could get any worse than this, when I saw this version of the scene...but then I saw Ch 12.

The Talk

If you were to speak just about fandom reactions to this scene...the responses to Kiara chronicling her trauma after Homecoming Ball, were pretty positive. Plenty chose the middle option "You're suffering from the trauma of the event. You need help", and cooed over Drake's touching little monologue about "taking it one day at a time".

I admit at the time I was fooled too. But one thing did niggle at me as I played both this option, and the "understandably cautious" one (I would later understand that the latter was not very good either - it has a thin veneer of "validating" Kiara's feelings, but it still has the MC and Drake expecting her to put their needs before her own safety and sanity).

Drake was reassuring to an extent in both options, sure. But why were his responses so different? Why was his answer to Kiara so closely tied to whatever point the MC was making, rather than independent of it? After all, he was the one who should be able to better relate to Kiara - wouldn't he have thoughts of his own here? If the MC chose that horrible final option, Drake would correct her and comfort Kiara instead, wouldn't he? Wouldn't he???

It was only when I (reluctantly) pressed that third option ("not as driven as I thought you were") that I understood what Drake's role in this scene was.

He wasn't going to be there for Kiara. He wasn't even sympathetic to her! It wasn't even going to be about two traumatized people connecting over their trauma. Drake was a puppet. He was there to parrot whatever garbage came out of the MC's mouth.

Because in the third - and most horrific - option, the MC is allowed to minimize Kiara's trauma, and mock her ambitions in the face of what she has just gone through. Drake is allowed to agree with her ("sometimes ambassadors have to work in dangerous areas"). Kiara is forced by the same narrative to find value in these words.

And all of this, stems from a scenario where Drake and the MC go in suspecting this woman from the jump. Where Maxwell is happy to make jokes about her being a suspect. Where the only two decent people in this group - Liam and Hana - are conveniently written out of the scene, ensuring that these ghouls can act the way they want around Kiara, and get away with it.

Not once is Kiara herself ever allowed to know that the group suspected her by default, nor is she allowed to go through with her intention to leave court. The very roots of this scene are rotten.

Very often, when this scene in particular is addressed, not many people actually address Drake's behaviour here - or in the previous chapter. Stans will vaguely, and conveniently, blame the group as a whole rather than their favourites. Such a tactic allows them to never name the specific people or specific actions, and therefore the main people involved in speaking to Kiara the way they did never have to be held accountable. This is particularly relevant in the case of Drake.

It was Drake's idea to interrogate her. He was the one constantly harping about her "suspicious behaviour". He was the one aware of what happened to her yet chose to think of her as shady. He was the one who should have known better, yet was absolutely game to minimize her trauma or engage in emotional blackmail. And neither he nor the MC came out of this conversation feeling anything resembling remorse. Because, apparently, they never did anything wrong.

They got what they wanted. At best, Drake and the MC manipulated this woman (again) into returning to their court. At worst, they badgered and bullied her into that decision. Either way, she was going to return, and the narrative was going to pretend that the MC and Drake were great people for making it happen.

I have heard some justifications over the years for Drake's behaviour here. One is that he "tends to act like an asshole to everyone". Another is that Kiara is a noble so he was never going to see her in a positive light. Which is hilarious to me, honestly, because in the same book you have Drake reassure Penelope - the woman who had made the MC the target of a reputation-ending scandal - and comfort her when she sees Madeleine. If this was really about the chip on the shoulder he had for nobility, why was he so kind to Penelope? And if Penelope's mental health warranted a change in mindset and behaviour from Drake's end, why was Kiara not worthy of that as well?

The truth is this. Drake was allowed to express his mean streak to a black woman, bully a black woman (the pranks), lash out at a black woman (the conversation at the Lythikos Ball), suspect a black woman, and finally minimize her trauma if the Duchess he had a crush on wanted to. While being overly protective and chivalrous to the white woman who actually did harm her. No matter what way you spin it, that is what Drake's behaviour - especially in TRR3 - is.

The way the team trampled over this "pairing" post that miniscule hint in TRR3 Ch 7, would make a rampaging elephant look like a ballerina in comparison. They wanted to make it clear after the hiatus that Drake x Kiara would never happen, in any eventuality, in any future, in any universe. And no matter how much we pin this on "crazy stans" (who do hold some responsibility for sure, for their own veiled racism), it's a fact that the writing team was comfortable doing this. They had already found other ways to pile disrespect on their sole recurring black female character - what was a little more?

TRH and Beyond: Taking Away What Was Left of Kiara's Remaining Fanbase

Given all the narrative back-and-forth and shadiness, I'd have to say the end Kiara got in TRR3 was comparatively...decent. Not great...not exactly satisfying...decent.

Her fighting off the assassins at the boutique ("not again...not again!!") was the highlight of that scene. In Hana's playthrough, Kiara was her MOH by default, and the lines the MC could give if you chose her in other playthroughs was pretty sweet. At the end of the book, her father would make Kiara his heir, after her older brother Ezekiel abdicated. There were still things I was always going to hate (such as the fact that we could lie about "having Kiara's back" - we absolutely did not) about the aftermath, but all in all as a fan...I could maybe envision a fairly happy ending for her with what we got.

The next series, The Royal Heir, would debut on June 2019, almost a year after TRR3's own debut. This would be the first series that would go completely LI-divergent, spanning four books. It started out as an attempt to envision the future (and pasts) of the main characters, as well as tie loose ends...but descended into an incoherent, retconning mess with each book.

Kiara doesn't feature much in Book 1, but is pretty prominent in certain chapters like Ch 7 (Savannah's bachelorette), Savannah's wedding, and the Apple Ball in the finale. You'll often find a marked difference between the way she is looked at for most of the book, and how the MC speaks to her in TRH1's finale.

Savannah's bachelorette, for instance, features all the ladies of the court in Texas, with new "country" looks and engaging with Texan culture. Here, too, you see a sign of PB leaning into popular perceptions of Kiara rather than remembering their own writing, when we see how Savannah praises the MC by default but has very little to say about her former friend Kiara. Since Savannah's return to court in TRR3, the team seemed to have forgotten that other ladies of the court weren't very nice to her, and Kiara was the only one concerned for her. They have Olivia act sweet and caring towards Savannah in both TRR3 Ch 17 and TRH1 Ch 7, conveniently forgetting the insults she piled upon Drake's sister in the first book. Savannah never has to talk about Kiara's friendship at all, other than a teasing comment hinting at her French lessons. Savannah was never expected to have any gratitude or affection towards Kiara even though she was the only woman who cared about her in court before she left.

An interesting thing to note in the diamond scene of the bachelorette is the way the courtly ladies' previous/current "romances" are framed. Kiara's, in particular, warrants a lot of discussion. Unlike Olivia (who can address her feelings for Liam regardless of playthrough, if asked, and can actually show some level of resentment towards him for not picking her), Kiara's feelings are addressed only if the MC isn't married to Drake. If she is, Kiara mentions a fondness for "rugged, down-to-earth men" (which the MC and Penelope perceive to mean hunky and muscular), and avoids mentioning his name at all.

There are two very interesting things to note about this sequence. One is the pattern of how, and how far, are Olivia and Kiara are allowed to address their feelings for these men. Not only is Olivia allowed to be open about her feelings and her bitterness (despite Liam actually romancing her in TRR3!), the narrative demands our respect for her position and plight. The Liam MC lauds her honesty and her decision to move ahead, unfazed even by her anger for something Liam didn't even owe her. In contrast, in the Drake playthrough, the writing makes sure Kiara never mentions him by name. And not only that, when the MC and Penelope tease her about her romantic preference, she is shown to stammer and seems downright afraid of the MC.

The fact that there is such a gap in how Olivia and Kiara are allowed to act about the men they love, and the fact that this gap was normalized so much in fandom discourse that it didn't even warrant a discussion, tells us plenty about the fandom too. The fandom position has almost always been that Liam owes Olivia love, appreciation, kindness. And that Drake owes Kiara nothing, not even common human decency. Which is why the fandom wants Liam punished for the high crime of not loving Olivia back. Which is why Drake is allowed to treat Kiara like an irritating pest at his best, and like utter garbage at his worst...and almost no one so much as bats an eyelid.

Since most of the story of TRH1 seemed to revolve around the ranch, the ladies of the court made minimal appearances and most of those were in keeping with patterns established in TRR3 (except for maybe Olivia's spy scenes). Some of their parents - too - feature in Royal Council scenes: Godfrey and Landon are part of this council and are seen during the MC's announcement - no one from Kiara's family, besides her brother Ezekiel who is dating Penelope, make any appearances in this book. Towards the end of the book, however, you suddenly find a scene or two where the narrative is suddenly, and inexplicably, syrupy sweet to Kiara:

(Screenshots from the Skylia YouTube Channel. 1-5 are from Ch 18, during the council meeting. 7-10 are also from Ch 18, at the start of the ball. The last two are from the finale as buildup for the pregnancy photoshoot)

There are indications of Kiara's diplomacy and good advice in other parts of the book too (such as her suggestions for dealing with the foreign royals at the baby shower) but never were the praise and compliments as obvious as they were in the last two chapters of TRH1. Kiara was given a quippy dialogue to spout at Godfrey, who would later be revealed as the murderer of Queen Eleanor. All three of the MC's dialogue options in response would praise Kiara by default (a rarity). King Bradshaw would shower her with compliments too about her talent and expertise. And when Kiara approached us with an offer for a pregnancy photoshoot, the MC could cheerfully say "for you, Kiara? Of course!" as if they'd been bffs from the beginning.

There isn't any obvious reason why we saw this sudden change, but I can make an educated guess or two. A pattern that commonly emerges with attempts to address something that would benefit Kiara, is that the writers often only do it when enough people complain; that was how we got the horrible Lythikos sequence. Midway through TRH1, I managed to put up an essay exploring Kiara's treatment (centered around the Lythikos sequence in TRR3 Ch 12) in comparison to Penelope's and Madeleine's. It did not receive an immediate fandom wide response, but several readers did come away from that essay feeling like Kiara really got the short end of the stick, compared to all the other court ladies. I'm not sure whether that essay had a direct impact, but those three scenes PB added to the finale chapters do make me wonder. Was the team trying to prove to the fandom that they did like Kiara and wouldn't personally sabotage her, either for their own enjoyment or to pander to a section of the fandom?

If they did, then that plan didn't last beyond these two chapters.

Another possibility of course was to give Kiara something slightly positive before they did her dirty - again - in TRH2 and 3. Because in those two books, they managed to first make her - along with the rest of the council - party to a vote (that everyone was involved in, including the LIs!) that would later prove detrimental for the country. They would then have her be the only heir involved in the notorious Coventus Nobilis, which ensured that anyone who wanted to hate Kiara could tie her to her vote in favour of Bartie Sr, without ever asking any further questions. This was a far more successful attempt, because most of the fandom already believed the misconceptions of Kiara's characterization to be truth, and these storylines simply added fuel to the fire.

Kiara's biggest supporters tended to be a section of the Liam fandom, as well as wlw stans who tended to like most of the courtly women. Having her vote for Bartie at the end of TRH2, and her explanations in TRH3 about the "MC's ruling style" (which was really canon's way of making sure she did more a silent diss on Liam) was written specifically to place a serious dent among her fans who liked Liam. And sadly, it worked in part. Because even if one considered Kiara's thoughts on "reactive ruling" accurate, it was a fact that the nobility (she included) would have to be blaming Liam for something that the entire Council voted for, and that Liam and his friends fixed on their own.

Making Kiara the lone person to voice this argument, made her a target in this fandom. I mean, people were ready to praise Madeleine and speak of her as loyal (eagerly ignoring that she was actively involved in the child's kidnapping if you didn't coddle her enough), and badmouth Kiara in the same breath, claiming that Kiara wasn't worth forgiving and people should just get over Madeleine's deeds in the past.

This resurgence of hate didn't just erupt out of nowhere. Once they finished spending two chapters on two-second compliments to Kiara, PB reverted in the next two books to some of their usual patterns with her. For instance, remember how I mentioned that PB had an obsession with never letting Kiara and Liam interact? In TRH, they repeated this pattern, but with the Heir. The only scene Kiara has where she can so much as touch the heir is in the last part of TRH3, if you choose for Kiara to read to her. Penelope is regularly allowed to hold her even though she has often placed this child in dangerous situations (on one occasion, Kiara herself had to stop her) - even Madeleine is given an entire babysitting scene to win her favour. But Kiara is the only lady of the court who is made to stay away or care for the child from a distance.

Kiara's family (besides Zeke, and just because he is Penelope's fiance/husband) is subject to disrespect in this book too. Hakim and Joelle were both conspicuously absent from the pregnancy announcement presscon in TRH1 (where Landon, Godfrey and Bartie Sr somehow featured!!), and future books would either retcon the family or force them to do things the other families didn't have to do. In TRH2, the MC takes a tour of the Great Houses with her newborn daughter, and each house is expected to pledge loyalty to her and the crown in different ways. Hakim is written as "bending to his knees" for the child. This is something only Adeleide and Madeleine - whose house, might I remind you, are considered the house of traitors at this point - have to do. Landon and Emmeline are never expected to express their loyalty to this extent.

In TRH3, the narrative callously pushes the Therons under the bus to make the Ebrim family's reluctance to help the MC make sense - the Therons are now "traditionalists" who frown upon scandals and may not allow Zeke to marry Penelope on the account of her past annulled marriage (this makes no sense when you take a closer look at the Therons themselves in TRR3 - they're a far more balanced, far more progressive family than any of the other Great Houses. They even took Zeke's abdication well!). Furthermore, you'll notice that the framing of Penelope's past with Guy is worlds apart from the disdain the narrative shows for the Therons during the flower festival. It is notable that in the latter, the black women are depicted very negatively - Kiara is shown unable to manage her own competition, Joelle is depicted as pompous and incapable of losing gracefully, Drake gets to take sarcastic potshots at Lerato for trying to charm the MC into voting for her and Drake into convincing her to vote. Meanwhile white people like Landon and Marguerite are presented in a just as humourous but less mocking light (eg. Landon moving his table courteously before flipping it in the flashback).

Even into TRF (Ch12), the narrative gives us choices where we can stand up to people criticizing Landon and Emmeline's parenting ("Duke Landon and his wife raised a kind, generous daughter..."). We are allowed to be far less critical of the Ebrims overall, we are allowed to be more charitable even in the dialogue options for suspecting Landon than we are of Kiara (think of how Maxwell can suspect that Kiara was planning to betray us all along). At the end of the Flower Festival, Kiara is made to appear contrite as the MC can choose to either demand she make this right before the latter can forgive her, or indicate that she never will. Ironically, a Penelope who can choose her fancy wedding over the safety of the MC's child never has to face words that harsh.

You will also notice if you look more closely, that the narrative continues to frame events surrounding Penelope and Kiara in opposing ways. Penelope is perpetually viewed as a victim, and Kiara constantly as a suspect.

We are expected to support Penelope, and to mistrust Kiara. And even though Kiara's feelings had long since become a thing of the past, Drake still maintains his animosity towards her and her family. And like everything else, it is so normalized at this point that you barely even notice it anymore.

In TRH2, Drake is allowed to tar all nobles with the same brush because of Godfrey's actions. Though his statement about the nobility ("We can't trust any of them to have Liam's back...not unless it's in their own selfish interests") is about the entire nobility, it is striking that he says this just before they go to Castelserraillan. The Therons are also the only noble family that Drake makes sarcastic comments about (in reference to Liam informing us that their province is a trade hub, Drake quips that "they are going to want to trade babies with us"). These snide comments he rarely makes about other noble families, and serves as a sharp contrast to how he treats the Ebrims (during Penelope's wedding festivities, he is unnaturally invested in Penelope getting a happy ending with Ezekiel). We can't even claim that his behaviour towards Kiara is in line with his disdain for nobles, because Penelope is proof that he is perfectly capable of showing compassion to most of them!

TRH3 ends with Kiara doing an apology tour of sorts - diplomatic missions aimed at improving Cordonia's international relations. TRF finds almost all the ladies of the court - even Olivia - in very minimal roles, as the focus shifts to the Via Imperii. Still, the narrative makes more references to Penelope than to Kiara, to the extent that the epilogue ends on both the MC and Penelope celebrating their pregnancies (Penelope's first and the MC's second) together.

Overall, you will find that the narrative repeated certain patterns with Kiara - the tendency to find her suspicious, purposely limiting scenes with important characters like Liam (TRR) and the heir (TRH) while the white courtiers get almost unlimited access, the discrepancies in expectations for her vs other ladies (eg. Madeleine is hailed for being "good" even though that is solely dependent on how you treat her. Kiara is largely ignored whenever she does help, and attacked when she is written to support the enemy). Drake - even as a former alternative to her, who should have gotten over whatever nonsense beef he'd had with her earlier - is allowed to make snide remarks about her home and family.

It's pretty clear they could do this because they could get away with it... because most of the fandom made it so easy for them to get away with it.

Fandom

When I look back at how the perception of Kiara in the fandom progressed over the years, I find it half-amusing, half-sad how much of it is rooted more in fanlore, and how little in actual fact. And this is something you couldn't just pin on "crazy Drake stans" - they were the biggest promoters of these lies and misconceptions, sure, but normally analytical, commonsense readers often believed that Kiara was fake and a snob and awful to Penelope too.

I get some of it, given the timing of Kiara and Penelope's scene at the beginning of TRR2. It takes place at a low point in the MC's story, a time when she isn't even sure the LIs want to support her. Coupled with that is the lasting image of Penelope hugging you and complaining about Madeleine, making you feel like she's more willing to give you a sliver of solidarity. Coupled with that, is Olivia's newfound popularity in the fandom - once she emerges in Ch 5 of that book, fans believed they found their wildcard who would stand by them in complete solidarity among the ladies of the court (did they ignore Hana's already massive contributions to the investigation? Yes they did. Yes they did). Madeleine herself is shown giving quotable quotes about female solidarity and Tariq's guilt in TRR2 Ch 7, which - coupled with Justin's high praise of her - made people want to find things to like about her too. Penelope's own betrayal was overshadowed by an expectation to support a person with serious mental health struggles.

Kiara's the only one who doesn't get such backstories or explanations. So at least in the heat of the moment, in reading those chapters between weekly gaps, it makes sense that a false impression of her got somewhat solidified.

But when you build your interpretations out of lies and misinterpretations, how does it become so valid that even the writers bend to it and prefer to show that?

Every fandom has its "crazy stans". And this instance wouldn't be the first or last time they are pandered to. But when the same stans get backed up by the "saner", more commonsense members of fandom; when even neutral readers promote versions of a story without actually looking at the scenes in question - that's when a fandom is in danger of turning a "headcanon" into canon.

Kiara being a horrible friend to Penelope wasn't canon. Kiara being a snob was not canon. Kiara being creepy towards Drake wasn't canon either. Especially when you take the fandom response to Olivia's forced kiss on Liam into account.

And that brings me to another point. I had been asked once why I felt the need to compare Kiara to the other ladies in my defenses of her. It's important, when we speak of the kind of hate Kiara received, to understand how a lot of flaws that the entire court has (eg classism) is often pinned onto a lone person, and how several white female characters could get away with worse behaviour while Kiara alone was slammed for harmless interactions.

This is most apparent when you look at how Olivia's violation of Liam's consent is perceived, vs Kiara's harmless flirtation with Drake in TRR2. Which woman had fans foaming at the mouth and wanting to kill her? Which woman was given dozens and dozens of fanfic and content that depicted her as creepy, desperate, downright obsessed with their man? Which woman got the "oh well, he doesn't owe her anything 🤷🏽‍♀️" vs a "he doesn't love her back?? WHAT AN INSENSITIVE ASSHOLE!!1111"?

Perhaps this Olivia/Kiara comparison is where the fandom's tendency to cast Kiara into the Jezebel stereotype is the most visible. Kiara's very act of talking to Drake sometimes is registered as a threat to those stans, and it reflects in the way they speak of her, the way they speak of their MC's own relationship with Drake in association with her (eg. the number of posts rejoicing at the thought of showing off their "engaged to Drake" status at Kiara's estate), the way they're allowed to dehumanize her and villify her (eg. The edit I mentioned at the beginning). This is often encouraged by their friends who are fans of other characters, and you can see that in sharp contrast, Olivia - despite her actions in Book 1 and her resentment of Liam for not loving her back in other books - is still often viewed with sympathy and respect. Her feelings - still viewed as genuine, even pure. To the point where PB eventually allows Olivia to constantly address her feelings about the MC's and Liam's relationship, while forcing Kiara to not even utter Drake's name in his playthrough.

But you see this with other characters, and in other contexts too. Particularly how Madeleine can be duplicitous, hypocritical, and power-hungry, and it's Kiara who is called these things despite her actual honesty in canon. Madeleine can get away with actually helping Bartie Sr kidnap the MC's daughter in TRH3 without a murmur, in the same fandom where people can curse Kiara for voting for Bartie Sr "to take the child away" (despite her telling the MC and spouse that she was promised they would have custody of the child, therefore the claim that she "voted to take the child away from their parent" is inaccurate).

You saw some of these discrepancies in how Penelope and Kiara were spoken about too - Penelope's crime in TRR2 was considered easily forgiveable, while Kiara's innocence is constantly called into question. Kiara was often viewed negatively for what the fandom perceived as "meanness" to Penelope (when it was in fact Kiara worrying about how Penelope would fare when she wasn't around) while Penelope herself was never expected to be a good friend to Kiara. An interesting thing to note about the fandom response to Penelope and Kiara showed that often when posters wanted to hate on Penelope, she and Kiara would be clubbed together, almost as a unit. This was especially prevalent in TRH3. It was easy to express hatred for Kiara independently, but most posts that showed a dislike for Penelope (besides from specific Kiara stans) would often tie her with Kiara, as if there wasn't much to hate about her otherwise.

It is important to line up whatever hate Kiara gets with the responses to the other women - especially in the face of what the latter are allowed to get away with. In doing so, you get a better sense of what is allowed for a certain subset of women, and what isn't allowed or permitted for black women specifically.

Often, the fans who would not hesitate to call her alone fake, opportunistic and creepy were WOC, and there have been cases where some would use their identity as WOC to shield themselves from the criticism concerning their vitriol. It would often descend into "I don't hate her because she is black, I hate her because {insert inaccurate/false/convoluted justification here}". It didn't matter that much of this information wasn't based in fact, or had a heavy bias that they never applied to anyone else. It only mattered that because they were WOC, somehow that meant that they couldn't possibly be racist. That their unfounded hatred for Kiara had to be legitimate. As if there was no chance that someone who was WOC couldn't be antiblack too. I mean, the ultimate proof of this could be found in TRR itself - the two head writers of the TRR/H/F series' are Asian women - who have a pattern of liking mean (white) women, and who didn't mind throwing the black woman and her black family in their story repeatedly under the bus, who didn't mind minimizing and retconning the abuse and childhood trauma that the darker-skinned Asian woman in their story went through.

Overall, it is possible that the fandom did take some of their cues (for their impression of Kiara) from the inherent disdain found in canon itself. But many of them also misinterpreted several things about Kiara, then didn't bother to revisit those biases with a critical eye, or even try to see if they were wrong. And that baseless hatred fed the already-existing disdain that Kiara's own writers had towards her. Resulting in the kind of horrific, racist garbage that we got to see in TRR3, and the constant attempts in canon to pull her down in TRH.

Did Drake and Kiara Ever Have A Chance?

There have been various opinions - from both Kiara fans and haters - for why a Driara ship would never work. He hates nobles, she won't like his disdain for art and culture, he likes the simpler life, she's a snob...so on and so forth. Many people will agree it's not a great ship, but of course with differing opinions on why.

I, however, often wondered at possible scenarios where such a pairing could work. The magic of shipping is often that you can play around with personalities and pair almost anyone, and find enough reasons to explain why they would tick. And in Drake and Kiara's case, personally, I do feel like it's a complicated question to answer - primarily because I feel like the authorial intent at the beginning may have been very, very different to what finally happened in Drake's story.

A lot of Drake's early writing focused on the reasons behind his mistrust of the court and his tendency to view the people he loves who are part of it (eg. Liam and later the group) as anomalies. There are two ways you could take such a story in TRR2 - you could either get him to admit to the flaws in his own thinking (thereby providing a more nuanced insight) and allow him to grow from there, or you could just have him double down on his biases and never change beyond the superficial. The team of TRR - esp the head writers, Kara and Jen who were both v fond of him - definitely seemed to go in the latter direction.

Drake's prediction in Coney Island does indicate that he should let go of the past, and I honestly feel like the sequences where he learned about Maxwell straining House Beaumont's finances to help her, and Kiara and Savannah's friendship, could have been turning points for him if the writers weren't so obsessed with proving him right all the time - even when he was supposed to be wrong. Maxwell and Kiara, in their own ways, were proof that not every noble was the same, nor would every noble treat the commoners around them all the same way. However, the narrative trampled all over this possibility in TRR2 Ch 9, where Drake could optionally claim that the Beaumont brothers (among others) were "just looking out for themselves, no matter the consequences", or later when the narrative had Savannah be grateful to him for breaking her confidence to Bertrand, and have Maxwell try to earn his forgiveness in Ch 12 rather than the other way around. It allowed Drake to be selective about the nobles he admired or defended, while still free to treat certain others like garbage.

I could easily envision a Driara pairing for most of TRR2. I could even see it as potentially salvageable in certain parts of TRR3. But the moment they had Drake readily suspect her, the moment the team thought it would be okay for Drake to even suggest minimizing her trauma...that option was no longer worth seeing. Not for Drake, but for Kiara. Drake would have to be the worst possible guy I could find for her, in such a scenario.

But I could see potential in a storyline that had Drake understand that some of these people weren't the monsters he so desperately wanted them to be. In one where he could hear about Kiara's friendship with his sister, and learn about a whole new side of her. One where he maybe felt insecure ("I'm not her type") and could be reassured by a woman who had likely held a torch for him since they were teens/young adults. One where they could reach out to each other in their pain and trauma, and find solace. One where Drake knew that the family he may be marrying into would respect him, and his father too. There were possibilities there.

It would still take more work - his mean streak for one would need to be reduced by more than a half. A lot of it, of course, was kept for the Drake stans, but it really doesn't add much to Drake's character besides making him a mean-spirited, hypocritical bitch who only targets the lone black woman this way (and Olivia occasionally, if she goads him). If the narrative did want to keep a characterization where Drake acts weird around the girl he likes, they could - but that story would need a lot more work to be palatable.

All of this is to say that regardless of personal bias, there were possibilities there. There was a sliver of potential. And if they wanted to let go of that potential midway, they didn't have to go about that the way they finally did. They could have just worked on creating another love interest for her. They managed to create a brother for her overnight just so Penelope could have a boyfriend; they could have easily done the same for Kiara.

Multiple factors went down that explain why the Driara ship didn't take off. But many of them boil down to one specific root cause - the white women (whether they caused actual harm or not) needed to be protected, needed to be cherished. The black woman who dared to ask for the same things from their pet LI, would be viewed as a threat, a villain, a creep...just for breathing in his direction.

And her writers cared so little, that they took the fanon perception for her and stamped it onto their canon, like it was the truth.

They didn't do any of this for the woman who forced a kiss on a prominent LI. They didn't do this on the woman who betrayed the MC and set her up for assault. They didn't do this to the woman who bullied the lone female LI, and swore to continue doing so till she broke.

They did this for the one woman who was fairly innocent of most of these crimes, actually respected the LI and treated him well.

They did this because they could get away with it. Because they were confident that the fandom they wrote the story for, would let them get away with it. And tragically...they were right.

--

Resources I used to learn about the Jezebel stereotype:

The "Offending" Breast of Janet Jackson: Public Discourse Surrounding the Jackson/Timberlake Performance at Super Bowl XXXVIII by Dr Shannon Holland

Janet Jackson, Justin Timberlake, the Jezebel and white masculinity by Khadija Mbowe (I actually got the recommendation for the first paper from this video essay).

From Mammy to Jezebel: The Portrayal of Black Women in American Cinema from the BlackThen website

[depravitymoon]

I love the thought of yandere bruno and yandere melone setting aside their differences and unite because of their huge breeding kink. Can you write something around something like that? Thanks, sorry if this is confusing

Context: Everyone Lives AU. Through the power of GER’s BS, Bruno got revived and so did La Squadra. La Squadra got paid a better income and Bruno became Giorno’s Sottocapo (2nd in command). 

I dont see them cooperating over the same darling, because I think there would be too much bad blood between them.  While they wouldn’t share a darling, their darlings would be similar in that they’re motherly. Bruno and Melone would totally help each other out so their future babies have childhood friends. After all, friends AND family are so important for a child’s development…..but not a willing mother, apparently!

Melone would be able to stalk their darlings when Bruno is too busy being Sottocapo. Meanwhile, Bruno actually has the manpower to kidnap the darlings and/or blackmail them. Bruno will tell Melone to keep the creepiness down.

Yan!Melone x Reader:

Bruno has a talk with Melone about his obsession. Bruno didn’t like it. He already had to have your brother assassinated. However, you were innocent of all his wrongdoings. You were already grieving over the loss, even if it was good riddance, you didn’t deserve to be more involved with mafia things.

Yan!Bruno x Reader:

Unfortunately, Bruno is a hypocrite. When he sees you caring for the local kids, especially those from broken homes, you had captured his heart right there. It would scare him when you would bravely go into dangerous neighborhoods for these kids. While it is noble, you’re gonna get yourself hurt and it causes him anxiety.

Melone saw this as an opportunity. Bruno didn’t want you hurt, but as Sottocapo he’s busy and can’t always stalk like you he wants to…. But Melone can. Besides, who better to protect you from danger than a hitman ready to kill at a moment’s notice. There’s plenty of vile women in that neighborhood you frequent he can use for baby face.

Darlings unite!:

Perhaps the two darlings become friends or were friends, finds out Melone is stalking them and killing people, so they somehow kick his ass. In comes Bruno to the rescue. Bruno's impressed, despite how wicked the people were, his darling still wept for the lost of their lives. So pure, sweet, naive, and foolish. This is why darling needs to be in Bruno's care. Melone’s just very impressed. Humiliated but impressed. You two outsmarted him. Such smart darlings would make wonderful mothers. He’s analyzed you two quite alot since his deal with Bruno. Even if you two will never forgive him and Bruno, you would NEVER take it out on sweet innocent bambini. Bruno attempts to comfort the both of you by explaining that he and Melone have the money and resources to raise a family, which wasn’t comforting at all. You two knew that it meant they have the power to keep you in place and there would be nothing you can do. Afterall, Passione basically controls Italy in the shadows. What chance do either of you have against them, stand or no stand?

[hypocrisyofandrewdobson]

It’s mildly interesting to me how so many people were wary when Dobson got so heavily into yuri, considering how many highly successful yuri artists and creators there are. I think with Dobson it felt creepy because of his bring a 40-something man, how he seemed to EXCLUSIVELY care about wlw and not mlm, plus the whole “pretended to be a teenage girl” thing, which none of the aforementioned artists did.

The way he talked about and portrayed women/lesbians as completely pure and innocent being that would only do chaste sweet things like hold hands and kiss was also a sort-of red flag to some people.

He was also really bad at hiding when he was just doing something to pander.

[the-24-7-lawlu-library]

What a wonderful library! I’ve been having a hard time finding good stories for these two fools.

I was wondering if you had any recommendations for fics that have family aspects? Like meeting the family type fic?

Thank you so much for this blog, it’s definitely a must have for fic readers.

Hi lovely anon, thank you so much! We hope we can make it much easier for you!

Yes, we got you! Here are some suggestions for you:

Menace by chenziee (T)

After finding out their sweet, innocent little brother is dating the creepy, dark, and mean Surgeon of Death, pure, honest dread descended upon Sabo and Ace. Someone was going to suffer in this relationship. And it sure as hell wasn't going to be Luffy.

All I want by betsib (G)

Luffy invites Law to spend Christmas with him and his brothers. Written for Truffyfest Secret Santa 2023

Calendars for the Doctor by Raiya (T)

„Ah, I almost forgot. Here that’s for you, Merry Christmas.“ Luffy grinned broadly and handed a flat, wrapped gift to him. It felt like a magazine. „We made that for work actually but each of us got a special one, Iva said we should give it to our special person, and with you saving my life and us becoming friends I thought it would be you for me right?“

Grandfather's love by chenziee (G)

"Why didn’t you tell us who your grandfather was?” For years, Law's lived his life alone without a family, only accompanied by his friends and crew. He was pretty damn sure he had no living family to speak of, and he most certainly had no grandfather.

How to get an A in Biology by Mischa_L (G)

Luffy convinces Law to come over to his place to help him study for his biology exam... chaos ensues. Modern AU.

Song for Someone by Dawn_Twilight_Harlequin (T)

It's now winter break at New World University, and many of the students are expected to go home. Law however, not really having any family, wanted to stay at the college dorms. But his roommate Luffy invited him to come over his house for the break. Well, there goes his peace and quiet.

-Mod Raiya