#no spoilers but let me just say i started this sketch last week so any posing is pure coincidence | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jikookiekosmos · 4 years ago

Text

Can You Feel Me || jjk

➥Pairing: best friend!jungkook/reader, stripper!jungkook/reader

➥Summary: It wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did: you slept with your best friend, Jungkook, and now you’re feeling confused. You want to take your mind off of things, so what do you do? Hire a stripper, of course! But when you leave the hiring to your roommate, you end up getting more than you bargained for.

➥Genre: best friends to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

➥Rating: 18+

➥Content Warnings: making out, marking/biting, dry humping, reader is blindfolded for part of it, jungkook is acting as a stripper (reader has no idea to start with), dirty talk, slight choking/breath play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cursing (fuck is said a lot), oral (f. receiving), fingering, jungkook has a big dick, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill), cumming inside, praise, aftercare (they take a shower, lots of cuddling), jungkook is actually the sweetest

➥Words: ~8.6k

A/N: this is the follow up chapter to Be Good For Me, but it can also be read as a stand-alone fic.

Thank you to Kenz for always supporting me and inspiring me to be a better writer. ❤

Also, thank you to anyone who reads this, I hope you enjoy it~

➥Masterlist

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It’d been almost a week since you’d slept with Jungkook. You hadn’t talked much – which was 100% your fault since you kept dodging most of his calls and texts. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

The look on his face when you told him the morning after that it meant nothing to you and that you both should essentially forget about it (spoiler: you couldn’t) was all you could see when you tried to sleep at night. He looked so crestfallen and it broke your heart.

But you kept telling yourself you were doing this for the best.

In your mind, he was confused. You thought that maybe he slept with you because he was horny and you just conveniently happened to be there. And hell, maybe that’s why you did it, too! You guys were just two consenting, horny adults, having a good time. There didn’t have to be feelings involved.

Which is what you kept instilling in your brain every day for the last 6 days. It didn’t make anything better. You kept thinking about how his hands felt on you when he was holding you up, how he took care to not hurt you and kept making sure you were ok with everything that was happening. How he looked at you like you were the only person in the world. It was driving you crazy.

Your roommate was tired of seeing you mope around your apartment, grumbling things about how you were treating this like a break-up and just needed to work it out with Jungkook already. She knew Jungkook, too, not as well as you, of course, but enough. She also tried to convince you that pushing him away wasn’t the answer but you were stubborn and didn’t want to listen.

It was Thursday night when she brought up the idea of hiring a stripper to help you forget.

“You’re kidding,” was your response as you closed your book you’d been reading, curled up on the couch. The look on her face told you she absolutely was not joking.

“Nope, I think it’s a great idea, and if you’re down you can just leave everything to me. I know a guy,” she responded nonchalantly and you just stared at her. When she didn’t elaborate, you sighed and agreed. Hell, hiring a stripper may be more fun that you thought. And you’d have a whole day at work the next day to think about it.

Work the following day went by much faster than usual, because you had been surprisingly buzzing with excitement about the whole stripper scenario that was supposed to go down later. You had decided to leave the hiring of the stripper up to your roommate and she had yet to actually tell you who she hired.

When she finally did, though, you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Okay so like I said, I know a guy, but his style is a little...unique.”

“That sounds kinda sketch,” you said with a tiny frown. You were still excited but also…it sounded extremely sus.

“No I promise he’s really good! His whole thing is just that you can’t see him, so you’ll have to be blindfolded while he does his routine. He has great reviews though, people say it brings this whole new level to the experience.” She grinned and it honestly sounded crazy enough to be true, and you figured your generation was known to be into crazy shit so you guessed it wouldn’t be too bad…

You sighed in defeat. “Alright fine, fuck it. I trust you.”

“Yay! I think you’re really gonna love this guy.” Her beaming face was enough to melt your worries away. That was, until you understood what she just said.

“Wait, why do you keep saying ‘you’ like I’m gonna be the only one. I thought this was supposed to be a way for both of us to relax after this hell of a week.” You were confused about why she kept talking like she wasn’t going to be around-

“Nah, I actually have some stuff to do so this one’s all you.”

“Wait, no-“ you started to protest, but there was suddenly a knock at the door.

“Oh, that’s probably him. You just wait here, I’ll be right back.” She ignored your shock, already heading to open the door.

“Hey,” you yelled after her, “we’re not done talking about this.”

“We are for now,” was her response before she disappeared.

When she returned a little bit later, you were still where she left you, this time with your arms crossed.

“I don’t know about this,” you expressed your worry again.

“Y/N. Please just trust me on this. It’s gonna be great, I promise.” She smiled and you couldn’t deny how that smile made you feel like everything would be alright. She really was a good friend to you, even if you didn’t understand her at times.

“Okay, so he’s all ready to come in and start. We just need something to blindfold you with.” She started looking around the room.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.” You left to go grab just what you needed from your room. You grabbed a tie - funnily enough, it was one of Jungkook’s. He was always leaving clothes at your apartment along with various other things he owned. You clutched the tie to your chest, trying to push your confusing feelings back down. Now wasn’t the time for that.

When you got back, your roommate excitedly turned you around, preparing to blindfold you. As you waited you held your breath, and when you felt the fabric on your face, you tried to open your eyes. All you saw was black and for a moment it actually kind of frightened you.

Your roommate told you to wait so she could go get a chair, and when she returned she held onto your hand which calmed you down some, guiding you so you could sit down. You heard her walk away to open the door, and soon after you heard her come back with what sounded like another set of footsteps.

“Alright well I’ll leave you guys to it. Don’t break anything in our apartment or I swear to God I won’t pay you.” Her tone was joking, and she almost sounded like she might know this person, if you didn’t know any better. She was probably doing it to make you feel better, though, and you had to admit it helped.

Once you heard her footsteps fade away, you were suddenly very aware that you were in the room blindfolded with a complete stranger. And as much as that fact scared you, it also excited you. Which probably wasn’t supposed to happen, but you know.

“So,” you started awkwardly. You heard the other person make a sound that was something like a sharp intake of breath but it was honestly hard to tell. Were they nervous?

They cleared their throat. “Your friend seems nice,” was the first thing they said, and it was so unexpected that you couldn’t help but laugh.

His voice also sounded really hot, it was deep and had a faint accent to it and you were somewhat sad you couldn’t see who the voice belonged to because you just knew he had to be attractive.

“Yeah, she’s the best. She also said you came highly recommended which I gotta say,” you tilted your head to the side, in what you hoped might be his direction, “I’m kinda curious to see why that is.”

He chuckled, the sound dark and mysterious.

“Well, I’ll be more than happy to show you.” More footsteps as he got closer now, and soon you could feel him close to you.

“What’s your name, babygirl?”

Oh fuck, you were in trouble. Fuck, that pet name, what the fuck-

“Y/N,” you stuttered out. It felt like he was standing right in front of you now.

“Mmm,” he hummed, that accent threatening to drive you crazy, “pretty name for a pretty woman.” You felt something brush against your knee, making you jerk slightly in the chair.

Yeah, you were liking this blindfold thing a little too much, probably.

You laughed. “Please, you can’t even see all of me to know that.”

“Don’t have to,” came his hushed response. “I can see everything I need to-“

He paused for a moment and when he spoke again, it was right by your ear.

“And what I’m seeing right now, tells me that you are very attractive.” His lips ghosted along the shell of your ear, never touching, and the teasing was making you hot.

‘For the love of god,’ you thought to yourself, ‘please do not already get aroused by this stranger in your home-‘

“That’s very kind of you, stranger who has a very attractive voice and is probably attractive in general.” There came that damned chuckle again.

“Hm, I’m glad you think so. How about I show you why I do my job the way I do now, yeah?” He sounded a lot closer now too, and you definitely felt something in front of your legs, probably his own.

“However, if at any point I do anything you’re not comfortable with, I need you to tell me, ok?” Even with that hot sounding voice you could still hear the concern. Which, of course, made him even more hot and you were so sad you couldn’t see him-

“Yes, of course, I’ll let you know. I’m fine right now, I’m enjoying all of this.”

“Good,” you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “First,” he continued, “blindfolding is effective because it takes away one of your senses.”

“Which means-“ his hand brushed against your cheek, “all of your other senses are heightened. Everything is more intense.” You felt as his fingers trailed from your cheek down to your neck before slightly curving around your throat.

You let out a quick gasp, your arousal from his actions immediate.

He gently squeezed, not really applying any pressure at all, it was more of just a touch, but it made you wet all the same. You tried to discreetly rub your thighs together because you didn’t want this happening so soon.

“I-I see,” you stuttered, his fingers still wrapped around your throat. He was applying feather light touches there, while simultaneously trailing the fingers from his other hand down your bare arm, since you were still wearing a sleeveless dress from earlier.

“So even though you can’t see me,” you heard him say as he removed his fingers from your neck, making you almost whine at the loss. “You can feel everything I’m doing to you that much more.”

It was then that you felt him close to your lap, and before you could process what was happening, he grinded down, close enough to where you could almost feel him, just as he said.

It felt like he was rolling his hips, and it was like he could see what you were thinking, because he used his hands to guide both of yours to his hips so you could feel exactly what he was doing.

“Wow, you’re really good at this,” you breathed out without thinking, and you were rewarded with another beautiful sounding chuckle from the man now above you. He sounded so hot, holy fuck-

“I’m glad you think so, because there’s plenty more where that came from,” was his response, and before you could question what he meant, he ground down again and this time you did feel it.

You bit your lip to hold in a quiet moan that threatened to slip out. Suddenly, a hand gripped your chin and tugged it down a little, making you stop biting your lip.

“Nuh uh, none of that, babygirl,” fuck there it was again, no pet name had ever had that effect on you before.

He was still rolling his hips and from what you could feel with your hands and in other places he seemed like a real fucking expert at it. It was getting harder and harder to hold in any sounds, but you really didn’t want to let any out just yet.

“I want to hear all the pretty sounds you can make,” he said, and he was just hovering above your lips now. God this stranger was going to be the death of you.

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath, turning your head to the side as you tried to concentrate on something other than the feeling of him so close to your clothed core.

“What made you want to hire a stripper, anyway,” the mystery man surprised you by changing the subject. “Your friend said something about you were having a bad week?”

All the memories of everything involving Jungkook came flooding back and it was the last thing you wanted to think about right now. But, you couldn’t blame him for being curious, and since he was showing you such a good time, it’d be rude to not answer him.

“Yeah, it’s – fuck – it’s been a week.” He was still rolling his hips and you made no attempt to stop him. If the small pants you could hear from him every now and then above you were anything to go by, he seemed to be enjoying it, too.

You wondered how much you should tell him, and you figured since he was a stranger, pouring your heart out wouldn’t really do too much bad to anyone.

“I did something bad, and it’s been hard to forget about it. I-I hurt someone I have really strong feelings for,” when you finished your sentence, he stopped for just a second before he kept going.

“Yeah? And that’s what made you want to go and hire a stripper to take your mind off of things?”

You nodded, your thoughts jumbled. “If I could take everything back I would, but it was one of those things – you ever think you’re not good enough for someone? I mean, hopefully you haven’t ever thought that you weren’t worth it because you sound amazing, but-“ you were cut off by the feeling of lips suddenly pressing against your neck, sucking lightly. You let out a small gasp, the feeling definitely more intense than it should’ve been.

You reached out involuntarily, and thankfully you found what you were looking for: his shoulders. He had broad shoulders and from what you could feel he seemed quite muscular. And god you wished you could see him.

“You’re more than enough, for anyone,” he said as he continued trailing down your neck toward your shoulder. His voice was quieter then, and almost sounded familiar…

You had Jungkook on your brain though, so that’s probably why you were imagining that.

“Do people pay you to say things they wanna hear alongside making them feel good,” you asked jokingly.

“Sometimes. But this one was on the house, babygirl,” you could feel him speaking the word against your neck as he continued placing kisses, almost like he was trying to brand your skin with it.

You couldn’t help it. You let out a small moan and heard him chuckle right by your ear.

“Ah, there it is. Seems like I’m finally doing my job right, huh,” that deep, deep voice was filling your head and all you could think about was -

- still Jungkook.

Now, this stripper in your apartment just doing his best was a great distraction, but lately almost all of your thoughts had been filled with Jungkook and how badly you had fucked up. You guessed the man above you could tell the shift in your mood, because he stopped everything he was doing.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Hm,” you muttered back weakly.

“What’s on your mind?”

You laughed. “Why, you curious?”

“Sure. But also,” you gasped as he started rolling his hips again, this time with more force than before. Instead of just feeling him, you felt something press against you. And if it’s what you thought it was, that made you even more excited.

“I’m here to show you a good time. So if you’re thinking about anything that’s going to upset you, I’m going to change that right now.”

He was essentially grinding down right against your clit now, and since your dress was thin you could feel everything. You let out a whimper because you didn’t have a choice.

“Oh my god, Ju- just do whatever you want to.” You had started to say a name - his name - and thankfully saved yourself in time.

At least, that’s what you had hoped.

He stopped moving, and it was then that you knew you’d fucked up.

“Babygirl?”

You gulped. “Y-yes?’

He slowly ground down and you felt something very hard press against your core. It felt amazing and you tried to lift yourself up to feel it again. His fingers were wrapping around your throat once more, keeping you from moving.

“It sounded a lot like you were about to say a name then,” he continued, drumming his fingers along your neck, squeezing every so often. His tone was low, dark, and sounded dangerous.

You gulped again. “N-no that’s not-“

He cut you off by another squeeze around your throat, this time with more pressure than before. You gasped, and you swear you heard him let out a soft groan.

“You know,” he said as he placed a kiss around your collarbone, “you can’t see me. So, if you’re thinking about someone making you feel good, you can call me by their name. If it helps.”

His logic made sense but also how weird would you feel calling this stranger Jungkook’s name? Your thoughts were indeed simply all about Jungkook right now, but would it be really ok to do that?

As you contemplated, he grinded down again, making you moan.

“What do you think, babygirl?” You started rolling your own hips as best you could in the position you were in. “How about you let me hear that name fall from those pretty lips of yours, hm?”

“I- are you sure?” Your eyes were squeezed shut from the pleasure that was building up, despite not being able to see anything due to the blindfold.

“Yes, if it’ll make you feel good, call me whatever you want, whoever you want.”

You could feel his lips hovering over yours again, and one particular thrust had you reeling and losing control before you could realize it.

“Jungkook,” you said it barely above a whisper, your lips brushing against his as you did so. His fingers were still wrapped around your throat, and he squeezed them with the most pressure he’d done for the whole night. You moaned again.

“Fuck, I knew you’d sound so pretty.” He suddenly stopped moving and you couldn’t feel him anymore. You started moving your head side to side to try and find him.

It was then that you felt yourself being lifted up and turned around, before you felt yourself sitting down again. He placed your hands on what you guessed were his shoulders, and you realized then that you had to be straddling him.

Listen, you’d never hired a stripper before, so you weren’t sure how all this worked. You didn’t know if they got intimate, and if they did, how intimate they got. You also weren’t sure if it was just different for everyone.

But whatever was happening now, he seemed to definitely be enjoying it, and you knew you were. And not seeing him was suddenly a blessing, because now all you could think about as you were straddling this ridiculously-attractive-sounding man, was the boy with the bunny smile that stole your heart.

Even if you realized it too late.

He used his hands that were now around your waist to roll you forward. You had momentarily forgotten how dresses work, and since you were straddling him now, you were rolling against him with just your panties as a barrier from his figure under you.

“Fuck,” you let your head hang as the pleasure washed over you, and with the sensitivity you felt due to your senses being heightened, you would absolutely cum all over this stranger in your apartment if you weren’t careful.

He, however, seemed very hard underneath you, so you guessed he didn’t mind much.

“Can you feel me, babygirl,” he asked breathlessly, panting as you kept moving against him. His small noises were almost driving you insane, and all you could see behind your eyelids was how Jungkook looked when you were on your knees for him that night.

You were also really grateful Jungkook never called you babygirl because you’d still probably be in your bed with him even now, almost a week later.

You nodded, moving faster on your own accord letting out moans as quietly as possible. Soon he started to let out sounds that matched your own, and it spurred you on to continue.

He trailed his fingers along your neck, which made you shudder in his hold. You heard him let out a soft chuckle and before you could ask why, his hand wrapped around your throat again.

Except this time, instead of just squeezing to apply pressure, he pulled you closer to him by the hold he had on your neck. He was basically manhandling you while you were straddling his lap blindfolded and holy fuck were you enjoying it.

“Do I make you feel good,” he asked against your lips, giving them a small peck, as if to test the waters. You nodded again, panting as you could feel your release approaching quickly.

“Jungkook,” you let the name roll off your tongue again because fuck it, why not, at this point. He groaned and squeezed around your neck, making you gasp.

“Please,” you breathed out. You felt him drum his fingertips against the pulse point in your neck.

“Please what,” he all but growled out, that deep accent as strong as ever. His voice seemed a little more strained now as he was coming undone too, but he was holding it together a lot better than you were.

You placed your hand on top of his and squeezed. “More, please,” you said weakly, hoping he’d understand.

“Fuck,” was the response you got, before he applied more pressure. It was getting harder to breathe, but never to the point where you felt like you were in danger or it hurt. He was giving you just enough of what you wanted, and it was bringing you to the edge very fast.

“You look so sexy like this, Y/N, fuck-“ he broke off and he definitely sounded a lot like he was losing his composure now.

“Jungkook, fuck, I-“ you stuttered as you kept rolling your hips on top of him as he guided you with one hand on your waist, the other still around your throat, a feeling you were now fond of.

“Come on, let go for me,” he spurred you on, and you knew it wouldn’t be long now. Especially not when you could feel him panting again by your ear.

“Cum for me, babygirl,” he said as he gently bit down on your earlobe, a harsh contrast from many of his other actions tonight.

“Fuck, Jungko-“ you were cut off as his lips crashed against your own , thankfully, because he swallowed all the sounds you made as you were experiencing one hell of an orgasm. His hands were gripping your hips so tight you felt like he could break you if you let him.

And maybe you should.

He was still panting below you, letting out soft moans as you started slowing down. You didn’t want to be the only one to reach your high, though, so you kept going.

“F-fuck, Y/N, you don’t have to,” his voice was low and didn’t have as strong an accent now, but you couldn’t focus on that. All you could focus on right now was returning the favor for this stranger that just gave you one of the best orgasms you’d ever had.

“It’s your turn to cum for me now,” you said against his lips, since neither of you had moved from earlier. He groaned into the kiss and you felt yourself becoming overstimulated at this point, but if you kept getting to hear the sounds he was making, you’d deal with it as long as you needed do.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he moaned and you swear you almost came again right then. You couldn’t help it, you wanted to see him, needed to see him. You wanted to watch this man beneath you fall apart.

“Can I see you,” you asked timidly, still rolling your hips forward, trying to bring him to that same euphoric state you’d just reached yourself.

His response was…not what you expected. Instead of a simple yes or no, he started slowing your movements until you were completely still on his lap. Had you done something wrong?

“Y/N,” he called your name. That voice…no way, it couldn’t be…

“Jungkook?” Your voice cracked as you called out his name, this time not out of pleasure, but out of genuine confusion.

You felt him remove his hands from around your waist, going now to the back of the tie still blindfolding you. You felt him untie it and suddenly it fell from your face and into your lap. You blinked to readjust your eyes to the light, and then you looked at his face.

Your heart sank.

“Jungkook,” you asked again. You saw him gulp and nod, so many emotions hidden behind his big doe eyes that you were sure mirrored your own.

“Hey” he tried offering you a small smile. Under normal circumstances, you would have returned it. But this was not a normal circumstance; in fact, it was anything but.

His hands hand gone back down to your waist, but he wasn’t touching you again yet. Which, honestly, you were grateful for right now because you had no idea what the fuck was going on.

When you made no attempt to speak, his eyes widened. “I can explain-”

“That would be a good idea,” you responded, trying to keep your tone under control because you really, really did not want to fight with him again. You’d been beating yourself up over how you treated him the last time you saw him, and the idea of pushing him away even more hurt your chest.

He sighed, the sound almost coming out shaky. “I just- I wanted to fix things. I know what you said about what happened between us, and that it didn’t mean anything,” hearing your owns words coming from him hurt more than you thought it would.

He looked into your eyes now, taking your hands into his own, rubbing gentle circles onto the backs of them with his thumbs. “But I know that’s not true. We’ve been so close for so long now, I can tell when you’re fighting something, especially when you fight your own feelings.”

You could feel yourself tearing up at his words, and is if on cue, he reached up and brushed his thumb across your cheekbone, catching a tear that hadn’t quite fallen yet.

“I know you’re scared,” his voice was soft, soothing. “Y/N, I’m scared, too. Fuck, I’m so scared of doing something wrong, so terrified of hurting you.” He cupped your face in his hand, making you instinctively lean into his touch.

“Jungkook, I just don’t know…” you trailed off with a sigh. And you were telling the truth: you didn’t know. You didn’t know why you were feeling this way. You knew that you loved him, that you would do anything for him, and that you never wanted to hurt him.

So why was this so difficult?

His eyes held yours and suddenly he looked more determined. “You may not know right now, and that’s ok. But,” he added as he leaned his forehead against yours, “I know.”

You held your breath while you waited for him to continue.

“I know that I’ve loved you for a long time. And not just as your best friend, but I’ve loved you for the person you are. The way you laugh, the way you smile, every little thing about you is something that I adore.”

Every word that fell from his lips made the feeling in your chest more overpowering, to the point where you felt like you may burst. Jungkook was confessing to you. Something you’d only ever considered would happen in another lifetime, something you’d wanted to hear for so long.

But you convinced yourself a long time ago that it would never happen, and that’s why you’d pushed him away.

Jungkook sighed after a few moments of silence, pulling away from you and giving you a sad, small smile. “It’s ok if you don’t feel the same, I understand.”

He couldn’t be any further from the truth. You loved him with everything you had, and you wanted to show him. No more holding back, no more fighting feelings. The only thing that mattered right now was Jungkook and that you were here with him.

You knew you had to act fast, or else he may try to leave and you didn’t know what would happen after that. He was looking down so when you suddenly moved to hold his face in your hands, his eyes widened with surprise.

You kissed him with all the sincerity you could muster, hoping he could feel how much you loved him with the way your lips were moving against his. His arms wound around your waist as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss and letting out a content sigh.

You pulled back for a moment to catch your breath. “I love you, too.” You felt him smile against your lips, but before he could kiss you again, you pulled back more.

“I love you even if you pretend to be a stripper and have me blindfolded to where I can’t tell it’s you.” His laughter made you smile, your chest feeling warm upon hearing that sweet sound.

“Jeon Jungkook, honesty what the fuck were you-” he cut you off by kissing you again, the kiss soft at first but quickly turning intense when he bit down on your bottom lip, swallowing a small moan from you.

“I promise I’ll explain later,” he started mouthing at your neck, your hands instinctively finding purchase in his hair. “For now, though, how about you let me do my job and take care of you, hm? Babygirl,” he added the last part as he thrusted upward to meet you again, the feeling still enough to overwhelm you since it hadn’t been that long.

“Fuck, I love it when you call me that,” your eyes closed as he stated to mark your neck, no longer holding back. He chuckled and you felt the vibration against your skin.

“I can tell,” he added, moving his hands up and down your sides as he continued rolling his hips forward. You wanted to wipe that cocky smirk off his face, so you met his thrusts with one of your own, pushing down hard enough to earn a groan from him.

“You know,” you added, “there’s probably somewhere much more comfortable where we can continue this.” He grinned at your suggestion.

“I like the sound of that. Lead the way.”

You moved to get off of his lap, but before you could do anything, he got up from the chair, picking you up at the same time and wrapping your legs around his waist. Your arms wound around his neck.

“I thought you said you wanted me to lead,” you quipped, raising your eyebrow. He gave you a quick peck on the lips.

“I just need you to tell me which bed I’m going to fuck you on, and I’ll handle the rest,” was his response, and his words had you becoming wet again at an embarrassingly fast rate.

“My bed, preferably.” He started walking to the staircase then, and you thought he may put you down, but as always, Jungkook managed to surprise you when you least expected it.

You knew he was strong. Jungkook liked to work out, he liked to stay fit. But him being able to carry you up an entire flight of stairs while mouthing at your neck, not bumping into anything along the way or missing a single stair? It had you feeling dizzy.

When the two of you reached your bedroom, Jungkook pushed you against the wall so that he could still hold you up and open the door with his free hand. The feeling of being caged between him and the wall was doing no favors for your arousal, and your panties were practically sticking to you now. You wanted them off, and soon.

You figured that it wouldn’t be much longer before you’d be getting your wish.

When the door was opened, Jungkook walked both of you through it before placing you on the bed, hovering over you as he captured your lips with his once again. You pulled him closer as his thigh parted your legs. He pressed against your core, making you gasp.

“I love you,” he said as he kissed down your neck, each kiss leaving you feeling like your skin was on fire. “Let me take care of you.”

You watched as he kept moving down until he was situated with his head between your legs, staring up at you as pulled up the skirt of your dress and played with the hem or your panties.

“Let me make you feel good,” he said in that same low tone from earlier, placing a soft kiss on the inside of your thigh. He looked at you now like he was asking for permission. You nodded, desperate for him to touch you again.

He started sliding your panties down your legs until they were around your ankles, removing them completely before tossing them over his shoulder. His eagerness made you giggle, causing him to look up at you with a smirk.

“What’s so funny, hm,” he asked, massaging your thighs but not yet providing you with any relief where you wanted it.

“Nothing, just you.” He hummed but let it be, inching closer now to your core, close enough you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

“You’re already so wet for me, babygirl.” There was that pet name again, the one that drove you insane, and you suddenly weren’t sure if you’d be making it out of this bedroom anytime soon.

“Jungkook, please,” you didn’t mean to let out a whine, but the sound that just came from you sure sounded a lot like one. Jungkook chuckled.

“As you wish,” he answered, giving your clit a quick lick that had you arching your back. He’d barely done anything yet and you were already overwhelmed.

Without a warning, he started tonguing at your entrance, moving it in and out slowly, his hands gripping your thighs to keep them apart as you were shaking.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you called out and your hands buried themselves in his hair. You felt more-so than heard him moan.

“You taste so good,” he said before he continued, going faster now. You chanced looking down at him and the sight made you shudder.

He was staring up at you, his lips wrapped around your clit, dark hair falling somewhat into his eyes. He looked like pure sin and you wanted him to devour you. And, judging by how he seemed to be enjoying himself, it looked like that’s what he wanted to do as well.

You felt him gently prod a finger at your entrance as he started licking your clit faster. You were more than wet enough to accommodate his long fingers, but as always, he had to make sure you were ok before doing anything.

“Tell me if it hurts, ok,” he was looking up at you again, his eyes focused on your face. You smiled.

“Kook, you act like I’ve never had anything inside me before,” you joked with him. He smirked.

“Just making sure,” he said as he plunged two fingers inside of you, the motion making you breathless. His long fingers could easily reach spots you couldn’t and the pleasure had you gushing even more.

“Oh my god,” you moaned out when he curled his fingers, finding your g-spot almost immediately.

He continued licking and sucking at your clit again, now trying to match the rhythm he had going with his fingers. Your hips were starting to move so much that he had to hold them down with his unoccupied arm.

“Please don’t stop,” you begged, hands pulling on his hair again, making him groan. He went faster now, and you knew that if you didn’t stop him soon, you’d be cumming in no time.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna- if you keep doing that I’m-,” the pleasure was so intense that you were having trouble forming sentences, your warning not coming out.

He understood, though, and that just made him go faster.

“Cum for me, babygirl,” he said it breathlessly, making sure to speed up his actions enough to push you over that edge.

You shuddered violently as you came for the second time that night, a string of moans and Jugnkook’s name leaving your lips as you rode out your high with his fingers still inside of you.

Once you started to calm down, he carefully pulled his fingers out and you watched as he sucked the fingers into his mouth before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coming back up to kiss you again. You could feel how hard he was as he was pressed against your thigh.

“It’s my turn to take care of you now,” you told him in a soft tone right by his ear, cupping him and being rewarded with a moan as you did.

He leaned up to take off his shirt, your hands going to work removing his jeans. When he had shed all of his clothing, he pulled your dress off as well, taking care to not hurt you in the process, despite his eagerness to see you naked before him once more.

He was sitting on his haunches now in front of you, pushing his hair out of his face as he looked down at you. You couldn’t help but moan as you looked at him.

He wasn’t just looking at you with lust, however; he was looking at you with so much love that you felt a warmth spread throughout your whole body.

“Come here,” you opened your arms, “please. Need to feel you,” you added and he smiled. He moved closer then, stroking himself, his cock leaking precum as he rubbed the head against your still soaked folds.

You both knew that you were on the pill and that you both were always safe with any previous sexual partners you’d had, so you had no qualms with him being inside of you unprotected and neither did he.

You always told yourself that this type of sex was something you wanted to experience the first time with someone you truly loved, and it looked like now was the time.

He pulled you further down the bed so he could line himself up with your entrance, just barely pushing in. He looked at you and it seemed like he was holding back.

“Y/N,” he breathed out, “I need you to tell me if it hurts, ok? I’m gonna go in slow-“

“Jungkook, it’s fine,” you encouraged him. You knew he was big – you remembered from when you’d taken him in your mouth that night – so you were aware of what you were in for. “I promise I’ll let you know.”

You ran your hand lovingly over his tattoos that extended from his shoulder all the way down his arm and over his hand as he readjusted his grip on your thigh. You gave him a nod and it seemed to be the last bit of encouragement he needed.

He pushed in and all but knocked the breath out of you. You weren’t sure when the last time you’d had something, or someone, so big inside of you – and you realized the answer may have actually been never.

He was stretching you out in a way that faintly hurt due to overstimulation from you having cum recently, but the look on his face and the sounds he was making made you forget all about that. His lips were parted, eyes half-lidded as he looked down at you. He licked his lips as he pushed in further, letting out a strained moan.

“You’re so tight, fuck,” he groaned as he finally bottomed out. His eyes were closed now and he didn’t make any attempt to move, probably so you could adjust to his size, but you wanted to tease him a little. You clenched around him and felt him twitch inside you.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he hung his head, hair falling into his eyes again. “Shit, don’t do that or I’m really gonna have a hard time holding back.”

“Then don’t,” you told him, clenching around him again. His grip on your thighs tightened.

He opened his eyes again and was looking at you know, his stare intense. You knew you were in for it now.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he growled, suddenly pulling out and slamming back into you with a force that had you shifting up the bed. Each thrust left you gasping, unable to form any sounds as the pleasure washed over you at a degree you’d never felt before.

“You feel so good around me,” Jungkook moaned out, his pace increasing as he kept pounding into you. He pushed your knees up to your chest so he could get closer to you, the new angle leaving you a moaning, panting mess beneath him.

He was close enough to you now that you could wrap your arms around him, your nails digging into his shoulder blades every few thrusts as the pleasure intensified. He was panting by your ear now, saying your name so sweetly, making you clench around him each time.

You could feel the familiar heat building up in your stomach again, albeit not as strong as before since you’d already cum a few times tonight, but it was still strong enough. It seemed like Jungkook was getting close now, too, and you wanted to help him over that edge.

As he felt your walls tightening around him, he leaned his head back, cursing before coming down to kiss you harshly. He was moaning into your mouth now, and you were swallowing almost every beautiful sound he made.

“I won’t last much longer,” he panted out, his kisses and thrusts becoming more sloppy.

“Me too, baby, me too,” you pulled him impossibly closer, wanting to feel him as much as you could. You saw as his brows furrowed together and listened as his moans started becoming louder and more frequent.

You had a thought then, and you figured now would be the best time to act on it. You took one of his hands and placed it around your neck. Jungkook looked down at you and you felt him twitch inside you.

“Y/N,” he moaned out, squeezing slightly, the pressure making your high start to approach much faster than before.

“You’re always so good for me,” he continued, praising you as he leaned down to kiss you and squeezed again. He was so careful, always applying the same amount of pressure, never too much. You could breathe easily, but just the feeling of his hand there was enough to push you over the edge for the third time.

“Jungkook,” you cried out, your orgasm less violent than before, but the feeling was different now, somewhat still heightened since he was inside of you. Your walls clenched around him hard, making him let out a long, loud moan. He moved his hands now to grip the bed sheets so he had some way to ground himself as he was coming undone.

“Y/N, fuck, I’m gonna cum, I love you so much, I-,” you cut him off as you pulled him into a kiss, one that you filled with as much love and passion as you could. He kept moaning as he continued his now uncoordinated thrusts, once, twice, three more times before he twitched inside of you and you felt him fill you up, cumming inside you with a loud groan.

He was breathing heavily, his forehead pressed against your shoulder, eyes closed as he came down from his high. You were rubbing his back and placing kisses on his temple, feeling as he softened inside of you but made no attempt to pull out just yet.

“Well,” you started to say, “that was nice.” You felt him chuckle against your shoulder.

“Just nice, huh,” he asked as he was still laying on top of you, leaning up on his elbows now so he wouldn’t crush you under his weight.

“Hmmm,” you pretended to ponder about it. Jungkook feigned hurt and the look on his face made you laugh.

“You made me cum 3 times in the span of like an hour. I’d say that’s pretty good.”

It was his turn to laugh. “Trust me, babygirl, I can do way better than that.”

The suggestion had you slightly throbbing again upon hearing it, but you knew you were done for right now. Perhaps in the future you could go for longer rounds without needing a break, but right now you just wanted to stay like this with Jungkook.

“I’m sure you can,” you agreed as you captured his lips in a gentle kiss. You felt him sigh against you, sounding completely content.

He grunted as he pulled away. “As much as I’d hate to move right now, we should probably get cleaned up. How does a nice, warm shower sound?” You nodded and he pulled out carefully, leaving you feeling slightly empty now that he was no longer inside of you.

He got off the bed first, legs somewhat wobbly from what you could tell, but he was probably in much better shape than you were. You actually dreaded getting up because you weren’t sure how well you’d be able to walk-

You didn’t have to think about it very long, though, before Jungkook was scooping you up and carrying you bridal style towards your bathroom. The gesture wasn’t grand or anything, but it made you fall even more for him.

You were so, so in love with him. And there was no use in denying it anymore.

During your shower, you both took turns cleaning each other off, sharing passionate kisses whenever you’d be facing each other. You ended up just staying under the water wrapped in each other’s arms for most of the shower, but you both eventually decided to get out when the water started to get cold.

Jungkook helped you dry your hair with a towel, his lips slightly parted as he focused on drying it carefully. As you looked up at him and saw his face full of concentration, you felt that familiar warm feeling blossom throughout your chest. It was a feeling you’d felt for quite some time now, whenever you’d catch him doing something endearing.

Once you both were clean and dried off, you settled back into the bed, you opting for one of his t-shirts and him in a pair of sweatpants. It was later in the evening than you thought it was, and you suddenly realized how tired you’d become.

Jungkook was lying on his back and you placed your head on his chest, his arm wrapping around you to pull you close. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, looking down at you as you sighed comfortably.

“Hey,” he said softly. You peered up at him sleepily, making him smile. “We don’t have to get into it now, but-“

He trailed off, seeming somewhat troubled. You figured it was probably because of what happened the last time you two slept together.

Except then, all these mutual feelings weren’t out in the open like they were now. You leaned up to kiss him, hoping to assuage his worries as much as possible for the time being.

“I love you,” you told him, not missing how his arm that was wrapped around you pulled you even closer. “And I know you love me. I think that’s all we need to know right now.”

Your answer seemed to help somewhat, but it looked like it wasn’t quite what he was looking for since his brows were still slightly furrowed.

“I know that, I guess I’m just worried about what happens now,” he said quietly as he rested his cheek on top of your head.

“Well,” you pulled back so you could look him in the eyes. “I figured maybe we’d date or something.”

Your answer took him off guard and the look on his face was too laughable you couldn’t help but giggle. A second later he broke out into a huge grin.

“Wait, are you serious,” he asked, his tone excited. You nodded and he pulled you into a kiss, hugging you tightly.

“God, I’ve waited so long for this,” he added, pulling away to leave a peck on your nose. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”

“Honestly, me too,” you added, giggling again when he brushed his nose against yours.

Before you got comfortable laying on his chest again, there was still something your were curious about. You folded your hands together and laid them on his chest, resting your chin on top of them as you searched his face. He was still beaming and the sight had your stomach feeling fluttery.

“So, this whole stripper plan. Explain.”

He looked taken aback and averted his eyes, only to have you turn his face toward you again.

He sighed. “I asked your roommate if she had any idea how I could fix things. It was mainly her idea, but the blindfold thing was something I suggested because I knew it’d probably be best if you couldn’t see me- which now in hindsight sounds stupid,” he finished with a groan.

You laughed. “You’re both idiots, but I love you anyway.”

“Hey!” Jungkook tickled your sides, making you squirm in his hold. “We should at least get points for creativity.”

“Fine, I guess I can give you that,” you finally relented as you laid your head on his chest again. You could hear his heartbeat, slow and rhythmic, also soothing. “Where’d you learn to dance like that, though? You certainly felt like you knew what you were doing, even if I couldn’t see you.”

Jungkook’s laugh was like music to your ears as he rubbed your back. “You know those dance classes I took as electives in college? I learned a lot more than you think.”

“Ooh, interesting. Perhaps you can show me some time,” you peered up at him again, your eyes half-closed from being sleepy, “and not under the guise that you’re a stripper.”

“You got a deal, babygirl,” he said softly, giving you one last kiss before you placed your head on his chest again. You fell asleep listening to his heartbeat, the sound lulling you into the most peaceful sleep you’d had in weeks. His arms were wrapped around you protectively, making you feel safe. You knew the road ahead might not be easy, but you had your best friend – the man you loved more than anything else in the world – by your side. You knew that in the end, that would make it all worth it.

#bts #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios

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middleearthpixie · 3 years ago

Text

Damaged Goods ~ Chapter Thirty-Nine

Author's Note: Just a reminder that this story takes place following the events of the miniseries Stay Close and will contain spoilers.

Title: Damaged Goods

Fandom: Stay Close

Pairings: Ray Levine x OC female Theodora (Theo) Bailey

Summary: Following the events of Stay Close, Ray Levine has come to the US to begin a new life and is staying with Theo Bailey, the friend of a friend, who is quickly becoming his best friend and Ray is starting to wonder if there isn’t something more there between them.

Like Ray, Theo has her own demons and although she wonders the same thing about Ray, fear of repeating past mistakes keep her from moving forward. Or do they? Somehow, these two damaged people will come together and discover that maybe—just maybe—second chances are worth the risk.

Before leaving the States, Ray has one last surprise for Theo.,,

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,071

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being @shalinizhara @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here and AO3

The apartment hadn’t looked this naked since the day Theo moved in five years earlier, and she hadn’t expected the lump in her throat as she stood in the living room, now void of all of her furniture, which had either gone into storage or would be shipped over later. The walls were bare, only outlines of where pictures had once hung remained as testament to something having been hung on the walls. They too were all packed away to be shipped across the Atlantic as well.

Donna gave her hand a squeeze. “You’re going to be so happy, Thee. And I’m so happy for you. You know that, right? And you damn well better ask me to come visit you.”

“You know I will. You have an open invitation.” Theo swallowed against that lump and nodded as she met Donna’s smile. “I know and you’re right. It’s just… it’s weird saying goodbye. I figured I’d be alone for the rest of my life. And when Ty asked me to do this huge favor for him… I had no idea what trick he had up his sleeve.”

“It’s a good thing he knew what he was doing.” Donna looked around. “Where is Ray, anyway?”

“He had a few last minute errands to run. Our flight isn’t until seven, so we’ve got some time.” Theo sighed softly. Ray’s room was empty now, except for the furniture, most his belongings had already gone on ahead of them, with Fester waiting for them in England. The walls were bare, the shelves were bare. It was as if he simply never existed.

The last six weeks had flown by, between packing and shipping, obtaining her passport and all of the other necessary documents she’d need. They’d gotten their marriage license two weeks ago, now they only needed a spare moment to go and make use of it. And when she woke that morning, Ray was already gone, a note by the coffeepot explaining his absence. He’d be home no later than three, he thought, plenty of time to hit town hall.

“Okay, well, I want to take you out to lunch, Thee. So, unless you’ve got any last minute packing to do…”

“I don’t,” she said softly. “I’m just waiting for Ray to come home and I’m ready to go.”

“Good. Let’s go hit the Sawmill because you know you’ll miss that most of all.”

Hints of spring were in the air, even if a good portion of the boardwalk was still closed for the season. The wind was light and playful, sunshine bathed everything with its warm rays, and Theo lifted her face to the breeze as she and Donna came up the ramp from the parking lot. She’d looked forward to showing Ray what the summer was like at the shore, and had to admit, she was sad that it wouldn’t come to pass now.

But as they crested the boards, she stopped. Out on the beach, a small archway had been set up and her mouth went dry as her gaze fell on Ray, standing there with Drew and another man she didn't recognize.

She turned to Donna. “What’s going on?”

Donna shrugged. “I don’t know. You should probably go ask Ray.”

“Donna.”

Donna smiled. “Come on.”

Theo’s heart beat faster as she followed Donna down to the sand, and over to Ray, where she said, “Ray? What’s going on?”

“One last surprise?”

“A surprise?” She looked from him to Drew, to the unfamiliar man, and back. “What kind of surprise?”

“We decided we’d get married before we left for the UK, didn’t we? And we haven’t really had a moment to do so, so I thought we could do it right here and now, instead of trekking to town hall.”

She stared up at him. “Here? It’s still so cold and windy out here.”

He offered her a level look. “Oh, don’t be such a wuss it’s not exactly cold, and this breeze can only barely be called such. Besides, it was far colder the night I proposed to you.”

“Well, that is true, but… here?”

He looked out at the water, the wind blowing his hair straight back as he squinted into the distance. “I like it here. It’s the only thing about New Jersey that I’ll miss.”

“Do you really want to be married here?”

“Yeah.” He looked down at her. “It’s been a rough few weeks and I thought this might be a nice way to end our time here in the States. A good memory to kick any shitty ones to the curb.”

“A wedding on the beach? In the middle of winter?”

“It’s almost spring.”

“Ray.”

“It is.”

“Ray.” She couldn’t hold back her grin.

He grinned back. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course it is.”

“Good.”

“But, there’s one problem.”

“What’s that, love?”

“I don’t have any of the paperwork.”

He shook his head. “Ah, but I knew about this, so guess what I’ve brought with me?”

“Are you serious?”

“Do I not look serious?”

“Ray.”

“Come with me. We have to sign this thing, don’t we?”

She tucked her arm through his, and as they neared the others, Drew said, “Please tell me she agreed to this, Ray.”

“Of course she did,” he replied, giving her arm a squeeze. “Why wouldn’t she?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“No, actually. I don’t.”

Theo smiled up at Drew. “Hush, you. And just sign where you’re supposed to sign.”

The third man introduced himself as Nicholas Mancini, the county clerk, and he smiled as he instructed everyone to sign the license, then he said, “Well, now that that’s out of the way, shall we begin?”

“I think we’re ready,” Ray gazed down at her with eyes so soft, they took her breath away for a moment, “aren’t we, love?”

She swallowed hard, her eyes unexpectedly stinging. “I think so, yes.”

“Okay, then here we go.” Mancini cleared his throat as he looked from her to Ray and back. “Welcome, everyone, and we are gathered here—such as it is—to witness the marriage of Ray and Theodora—”

“Theo,” she interrupted softly.

Mancini looked down at her. “I beg your pardon?”

She cleared her throat and managed a slight smile. “It’s Theo.”

“Oh… right…” He nodded, then glanced at Ray. “Ray and… Theo.” He waited a beat and when she remained quiet, he offered up another head bob. “Okay, then. Have you both come here of your free will to take these vows that will bind your lives from this day forward?”

Theo couldn’t help smiling up at Ray as they said, “I have,” in unison.

“If there is any reason why these two people should not be married, speak up now or forever hold your piece.” Mancini grinned as he looked from Donna to Drew, and then said, “Okay then… onward. Do you, Ray, take Theod—Theo as your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, forsaking all others, from this day forth?”

Ray gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “I do.”

“And do you, Theo—ah, see? I got it right—take Ray as your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, forsaking all others, from this day forth?”

She swallowed hard to get the words past the new lump in her throat, and nodded. “I do.”

“And have you rings?”

Ray nodded, releasing her hands to dig into his jacket pocket, where he came up with the simple platinum bands they’d picked out when they’d gotten their license. He handed the box to Donna after taking out the ring Theo had chosen.

To Theo’s surprise, Ray’s hands trembled slightly as he caught hers once more, and a sheepish laugh bubbled to his lips. “I can’t believe I’m actually nervous about this,” he said softly, his eyes locked with hers. “I know everything for us has been whirlwind and completely spur of the moment, from our first kiss, to a frigid, frozen night on the beach in the middle of January when I asked you to marry me. Hell, even this is spur of the moment. But, it feels so very right, just as every step we’ve taken together feels so right.”

He eased the ring onto her finger, and added, “I love you, Theo. So very much.”

She pressed her lips together as his murmured words brought tears to her eyes. Donna pressed the heavier man’s ring into her hand and she drew in a deep breath as she met his gaze once again. “Remember, I didn’t know we were doing this, so… you had an unfair advantage when it comes to this.”

She just gazed up at him for a long moment, trying to put her thoughts and feelings into words, which would have been difficult enough on a good day, but now? Under this circumstance, it was far more difficult. Ray’s blue eyes danced with mischief as she shook her head and began, “You know, I thought I just doing an old friend a favor when he asked me if I could spare a room for a buddy of his who needed a change of scenery. I had no idea what trickery Ty was capable of and I wish he was here to see how well played his trickery really was. I said I’d never do this again, but then you came into my life, Ray, and you completely turned everything upside down, and in the very best way. And now, here we are and I really can’t quite believe it and I know I’m babbling, but… I love you. I hope you know it because sometimes I know I’m not so good at emotions or putting them into words, but I do and I am looking so forward to what the next chapter holds for us.”

Her hand remained steady as she slid the ring onto Ray’s finger and he closed those fingers about hers.

Mancini looked from her to Ray and back. “Then, by the power vested in me by the State of New Jersey, I pronounce you, Ray and you, Theo husband and wife. Go on and kiss your bride, Ray.”

Ray’s eyes sparkled like the ocean beside them as he bent to her and Theo leaned in to meet his soft kiss. He slid both arms about her, tugged her flush against him, and when he broke the kiss, it was to whisper, “There is no getting away from me now, love. I hope you know that.”

“You say that as if I should be scared, but I’m not,” she murmured back. “And you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

The clerk smiled as he said, “Congratulations to you both.”

Drew engulfed both of them in a hug, much to Theo’s surprise and discomfort. “Just as he said, congrats, guys. And Ray, do you still want me to take you guys to the airport?”

Ray glanced down at Theo. “If you don’t mind?”

Theo shook her head. “I don’t. I’d appreciate it.”

“Then I’ll be by to pick you up at three-thirty or so? Give you time to get through security and all that?”

Donna came up to drape her arm about Theo’s neck. “We need to celebrate. It isn’t every day you get married, Theo. So, let’s go find a bar that’s open here and do just that.”

The Seaside Bar and Grill was open and quiet when they arrived, but it didn't stay that way. Drew seemed to know everyone working there, and anyone else who came in was automatically invited to celebrate with them.

Ray couldn’t remember the last time he smiled as much as he had that day, and every time his gaze alit on Theo, he felt like he should pinch himself to make certain he really hadn’t just dreamed up the last three months of his life. It was too hard to believe that he’d come as far as he had in such a short time period. It felt like just yesterday that he’d finally found Cassie and thought maybe—just maybe—they could pick up where they’d left off. He’d foolishly thought that could actually happen.

When she told him she was married, it was like a punch in the gut. And then she told him in no uncertain terms that she wanted him to leave her in peace.

“You owe me at least a why, Cassie,” he’d told her, trying to keep his temper in check, which wasn’t easy because, damn it, he felt he deserved answers.

“I—I was scared, Ray.” Her dark eyes were wide with an innocence he no longer believed was real. “I saw Green, saw all that blood and—”

“And you thought I killed him.” Not a question. A statement. He already knew she thought so.

“Well…” she hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I did, yes.”

“So, were you scared because someone had killed him or because you thought that someone was me?”

“Ray, I—”

He leaned against the fender of his fifteen year old red Mercedes. “Fuck me, Cassie, you were scared of me?”

“I needed to get away, to get away from all of it.”

“You could’ve let me know you were at least alive. Do you know what I thought… son of a bitch, you just up and fucking vanished on me. Just disappeared. And now, you think you only need say you were scared and I’d just forgive and forget? I loved you, you know. And I still do, if you want the fucking truth. But, you had that little faith in me, you thought I’d done it and now you’re telling me I scared you.”

“You shouldn’t love me any more, Ray. Get on with your life. I have a family now, and I’m not… I’m not walking away from it to go back to that life. Cassie is dead and she’s going to stay dead.”

“That life. You mean the life with me.” He pushed himself away from the fender. “Seventeen years, I waited, I hoped, I wondered. And then I saw you and I thought maybe I’d get an answer. And your answer is that you just didn't trust me. If you’d just asked me, I’d have told you I didn’t kill him. But, you probably wouldn’t have believed me.”

“Ray—”

“Go back to your life, Cassie, Megan, whoever the fuck you are this week. I wish you well. I truly do.” He skirted the nose of his car and climbed in behind the wheel, turned over the ignition, and pulled away from the curb without looking back.

Now, as he watched Theo and Donna laughing over something, then clink their beer bottles together, he realized he owed Cassie a huge thank you. If not for her faithlessness, he never would’ve approached Ty about getting away from England for a while.

He stared at the email for a moment. It had been a long shot, seeing if Ty could put him up for a few weeks in America. He needed the change, needed a chance to start over before he went fucking crazy. Broome convinced the Crown not to pursue charges against him in return for his help in locating what was left of Stewart Green, and all Ray wanted was to put as much distance between him and Blackpool—and to some extent Cassie, since once she resurfaced, it seemed he saw her all the fucking time now.

“Ray, a good friend of mine has an apartment with a spare room. She lives near the beach and she’s a cool person and I think you’d get on great with her. Her name’s Theo, she works as a personal trainer and if you’re interested in sharing her apartment, I’ll let her know and set up the details for you. Let me know. Ty.”

It took a few weeks to hammer out all the details and then he was on a plane. Six hours later, he saw Theo for the first time and had no idea how his life was about to change.

“Where are you?”

He jerked back as Theo plunked down in his lap and draped her arms about his neck. “I was back at Newark, that first day in the States. You weren’t what I’d expected.”

“Well,” her eyes sparkled with merriment as she slid her fingers through his hair where it curled over his collar, “is that good or bad?”

“It’s good. All good. I thought you were cute and I was hoping like hell you didn't have fifty cats.”

“Your standards weren’t really all that high, were they?”

He gave her a squeeze. “I trusted Ty.”

She smiled, leaning in to sweep her lips across his. “Ty is very trustworthy.”

“We owe him.”

“We do.”

He tightened his ams about her waist. She felt so good against him, he doubted he’d ever get used to the feel of her body flush against his. She had a way of making him feel like a nervous fifteen year old all over again, and somehow, he didn't think that was going to change.

Drew came over and draped an arm about Ray’s shoulders. “If you two lovebirds are ready, we should probably go and get the rest of your things and get to the airport.”

Ray didn't miss the flash of sadness that slid through Theo’s eyes. It was one he recognized and knew himself, and he gave her a gentle squeeze. “We can always come back if we wish,” he told her softly.

“I know… it’s just… I’ve never lived anywhere else. I’m kind of scared.”

“You’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

She leaned into him, pressing her forehead to hers, a gesture he’d come to love from her, for it seemed just so… intimate to him… “I know. And I will be, in time, but I’m still nervous.”

“I know that feeling all too well, love.” He tightened his arms about her. “But, we should get going. I don’t want to get held up at security.”

She sighed and slid down from his lap and as he shifted, the overhead lights caught the new ring that still felt odd on his finger, as it was far heavier than the one he was used to wearing on that hand. Still, he smiled down at it, then looked back over at Theo, embracing Donna now.

His wife.

He liked how that sounded.

#richard armitage #stay close #stay close fanfic #fanfic #ray levine #ray levine x oc #romance #friends to lovers #damaged people #healing #love story #some smut

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lluvguts · 4 years ago

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stargazing // byler

pairing: will byers / mike wheeler & eleven / max mayfield

genre/warnings: mainly fluff! some soft angst

word count: 2502

summary: Where the party goes laser tagging for Will's 16th birthday and something happens that Mike will never forget aka that first kiss no one asked for.

n/a: post season 3 spoilers!! you’ve been warned!

March 22nd, 1987

6:37 pm

“Lucas, I don’t even care if it’s Will’s birthday, so help me if you crash this car I’m making Eleven open the gate and feed you to the Demodogs,” Dustin yelled from the front seat of the Henderson’s van with the rest of the group piled in the back.

“El can’t do that anymore, genius.” Max had her hands clasped in Eleven’s lap.

“I have my license, Dustin. Stop freaking out,” Lucas groaned but still reduced his speed by a few miles.

“Lie-sense?” Eleven looked to Max.

“Can we please stop arguing?” Mike hollered over the shouting from the back of the van, as well as Max’s arm stretching across the console to crank the volume louder on the radio.

The party had decided to celebrate Will Byer’s sixteenth birthday in the most acceptable way possible: laser tag. The boys had outgrown Dungeons & Dragons—for the most part—but that didn’t stop them from pooling their money and planning on spending the night shooting each other with lasers and eating junk food like children; if anything it brought back the nostalgia of their middle school antics. The girls, on the other hand, didn’t care for the game as much—although Eleven had a difficult time wrapping her head around the entire idea of laser tagging—and they only went for the sake of Will and to spend time together.

The van slowly turned into the parking lot of the laser tag center and the chatter subsided.

“Is this what you wanted for your birthday?” Mike turned to Will. The other boy gave a shy smile and nodded. No matter how many weeks since they’d announced their relationship to the party and their parents—even realizing it themselves—Will’s affectionate gestures made Mike’s heart beat a little faster, and his eyes linger on the boy’s face a little longer. He wasn’t used to it yet, he’d never been in a real relationship. And his smile is driving me mad.

Will took Mike’s hand and pulled him out of the last row of seats. As he jumped down from the van Mike’s eyes flickered to his shorts. Only briefly. Were they always that..short? His heart leapt from his chest and he looked away, embarrassed, only to find their intertwined fingers. Will caught Mike’s flustered expression.

“What?” he laughed and held up their hands, “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Mike said, his face reddening. “Uh, I mean, you don’t have to. Sorry, it’s just all so new-“

“Hey! Birthday boy! Get over here! You too, stupid,” Max called, pointing to the Polaroid camera in her hands while the rest of the group huddled around the front entrance for the photo.

Will smiled up at the dark haired boy and lead them over to the others. Max held the camera out in front of her as the rest of the group filed behind her, grinning. Will snaked his hand over Mike’s shoulders and Eleven draped her arms around Max from behind.

“Cheese!”

“Mike, stop looking at Will, look at the camera,” Lucas snapped.

They all laughed as the light flashed.

“I took a few, so you all get a copy.” Max let the film develop for a few seconds and handed them each a photo. Mike took one and before he slid it into his pocket he showed it to Will, both staring at their cheeky grins. He already knew where he’d keep the photo—on the bulletin board in his bedroom, amongst ticket stubs, poems and sketches Will had done, and photos of the group when they were younger; right next to the many polaroids he’d snapped of Will. A collage of his hazel eyes. His beautiful, bright eyes.

“Cute, Mikey,” Will whispered. Was he talking about the picture? Or him?

Will briefly touched Mike’s shoulder then caught up with the rest of them, leaving him to stare at the smiles on the film, hiding his blush.

7:02 pm

“Boys against girls!”

“How is that fair?” Eleven hissed, “It’s just the two of us.”

“We can join a group that’s already in there,” Will added.

“You’re all such a headache. Let’s just split it into two groups. Me, Mike and Dustin on the red team. Will, Lucas and Eleven on blue. Deal?” Max counted off on her fingers.

Mike looked around the area as the others went with their teams and pulled on the correct vests and guns.

“Need some help?” Max asked and went to her girlfriend’s side, she was holding the gear in her arms with a startled expression like she was handling a bomb. She giggled as Max guided the heavy vest over her head and adjusted it to her small waist. Eleven watched it all in wonder, then looked up at her face.

“Pretty,” She said to Max and leaned in for a hug, their pink cheeks pressed close.

“See Will? It’s that simple,” Dustin whispered loudly and then chuckled while he watched the girls. Will punched Dustin in the arm and his eyes quickly met Mike’s from across the neon lit waiting room.

Will was about to say something to him, not in words. In his stare. But the booming voice from the overhead speaker filled the room.

“Game begins in five,” The announcer said.

“Alright. I’m going to go with my team. You remember the rules?” Max had her hands on Eleven’s shoulders, staring into her eyes.

Mike tried to make Will look again, but he was talking to Dustin as they headed into a different room. What was he going to say? What was so simple?

Eleven pointed to Max’s glowing chest, “Shoot the red vests. Hide. Be quiet.”

“See? You’ll do great,” Max hugged her one last time and went over to the door, “But, I am going to win.”

“We’ll see about that, Mad Max.” Lucas shouted and patted their shoulders companionably.

A buzzer sounded as the main doors opened; Mike’s team rushed inside to station themselves around the maze. The arena was pitch black save for the neon lights across the carpeted floor and a constellation of yellow artificial stars on the ceiling. He knew that Will’s team was somewhere on the opposite side, lurking in the shadows. Waiting to stake the perfect moment to strike. The visual made Mike’s heart race and he was drowning in worry.

He could only think of Will. It’s gonna be just like that time at the arcade. Just like Halloween. He’s gonna be walking and everything’s fine until someone jumps out and it triggers a memory in his mind. What if he can’t control it, and the figure in front of him suddenly turns into a Demogorgon? Or the Mind Flayer in his head?

Mike crept around the curved bend in the maze and quietly ducked into a dark alcove to think. A shout suddenly echoed and floated up into the air, the resonant cry drifting to Mike’s ears. To anyone else the sound only meant that someone had gotten caught off guard and a laser to the chest.

What if that’s Will? Is he okay?

Mike sat up slowly, hoping to find Will and make sure he was safe; he turned his head around the edge of the alcove and in the sound of slamming plastic someone crashed into him. He staggered back, registering the face.

“Oh. Will, thank God. I was going to see-“

Before he could get out the last of his sentence Will took the barrel of his laser gun and pinned Mike back against the alcove wall.

He couldn’t speak.

Mike only watched Will draw his lips up to his mouth, frozen in surprise. Will squeezed the trigger as their lips parted at the same time, as though they’d wanted this from the start. He kissed Will back and shuddered when he felt a brush of those teeth along the front of his flushed lips; Mike dropped his gun and grabbed at his face, embracing the startling sensation when Will pressed himself closer, trapping him. Oh God, don’t move. Don’t pull away, Mike pleaded.

The trigger went off and Mike’s vest buzzed and filled the space with flashing red light—but Will didn’t let go. He just rooted him in place by the tip of the gun, its weight carrying all throughout the plastic front of his vest and into his pounding heart.

Will sighed into his open mouth, making Mike shudder involuntarily before he moved his body away. The air was filled with the sound of their shaky breathing.

“That’s what I wanted for my birthday,” Mike’s heart sped up at his gruff, breathy voice.

Mike reached for him again, “W-Wait-“

“Shhh,” Will whispered and placed his hand on Mike’s face, smirking, “You’re dead, Wheeler.”

He rushed out of the alcove with a smile plastered on his face before Mike could run after him. The vest shook once more, signaling his loss, before the color faded and died. Mike slid down onto the floor and brought his fingers to his hot cheeks. His lips started to burn as the last few minutes replayed in his head, making his breathing turn ragged again and his stomach twist back into messy, feverish knots.

Mike felt the pulse roar in his ears, still staring at the empty space where Will was only moments before. Where he’d just kissed him.

What just happened?

8:49 pm

“Our team,” Eleven started, staring hopelessly out the car window into the night, “Lost.”

“Yep,” Dustin sighed, “That’s what happens when you’re up against the best.”

Mike ignored their arguing and stared out the back window at the stars. They covered the dark sky, too many to count, thousands of glittering and radiant sparks—they reminded him of Will’s eyes. So full of amber light and happiness, no matter the circumstance.

“Hey.” Mike flinched when there was a tap on his shoulder. Any touch from him and Mike turned into a live wire, his lungs forgot how to work and his heart thrashed wildly inside his aching chest. He longed to let Will’s touch linger, to sustain the burning, fluttering sensation.

“Yeah?” He whispered, taking the time to even his breathing before he looked at Will.

His eyes flickered between Mike’s, searching his face. “Was that alright?”

“Was what alright?”

“Back in the arena..you know..”

Mike’s cheeks burned tomato red as he remembered the softness of his lips and quickly murmured, “Oh, yeah. That was really nice Will, I just-“

“What?” He leaned in, as if getting closer would help to understand. Mike’s body tensed at the hurt beginning to show on Will’s face.

“It..kinda caught me off guard.”

Will paused. “Do you want me to ask you next time? If it’s okay?”

Mike nodded.

Will smiled at their bodies, intentionally placed as far apart as possible. “Can I hold your hand?”

He nodded again and Will slipped his hand into Mike’s, letting his fingers trail absently along the front of his knuckles.

“Mike, this is your stop,” Lucas said from the driver’s seat. Will held his hand tighter.

“Could I come too?” Will asked him quietly, “My mom wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course,” Mike hid his red face as he climbed over the back seat to the car door.

“Aight. Happy birthday, Will,” Dustin said and waved at the two.

He gave Dustin a shy smile. “Thanks, guys. It was really fun.”

“Don’t do anything stupid!” Max shouted out the window as the van sped away.

They stared at each other for a moment, in the quiet of the night, standing in front of the Wheeler’s unlit driveway. Until the front door swung open and Nancy was calling from the porch.

“Guess we better go in then,” Mike whispered, caught up in Will’s gaze.

He looked away, grinning. “Yeah.”

9:02 pm

“There’s so many photos here,” Will inspected the cork board on Mike’s wall. When they’d went inside Mike opened the window above his bed to let the peaceful night sounds in, and allow the stars outside to watch.

“Wait a minute,” Will touched a piece of paper tacked on the board, “I drew this.”

“I love your art, Will. How could I not hang it up?” Mike smiled up at him, so full of affection. He’s adorable when he’s flustered. Will muttered something under his breath and his face turned pink.

“Oh, right!” Mike got off his bed and joined his side. He handed over the Polaroid photo from his pocket, “You can pick the spot to put it up if you want.”

Will studied the picture, as if seeing it for the first time. He was close, close enough that Mike could see every detail of his face, see the curve of his lips that had fit so perfectly in his own.

“You’re so cute.” He pointed to Mike in the photo, then tore a piece of tape to hang the Polaroid next to a small drawing. A pencil sketch of Mike, with a caption at the bottom in Will’s handwriting: my Paladin.

“Y-you’re uh, pretty cute too,” Mike stammered. When Will finished hanging the picture he turned around and followed him to the bed, his head tipping up so their eyes met. The air suddenly felt very warm as they sat chest to chest—silent except for the crickets outside—until Will spoke softly.

“Mikey, can I ask something?” His hazel eyes never left his face.

Mike didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath.

“Anything.”

Will was leaning back on his hands, and decidedly scooted closer. “Can you..hold me please?”

His eyes widened. Will’s request was so gentle that it made Mike’s heart burn for him. The desire to have him in his arms. “Of course I will.”

Mike took his hands and wrapped them around his neck, leaning them back on the comforter, drawing him closer than they’d ever been before. Will nestled his cheek to Mike’s chest as he faced the stars out the open window, his legs eased down to rest snug by his sides.

“Is this okay?” Will asked, tilting his head up so he could nestle into Mike’s neck. His soft brown hair brushed Mike’s skin and sent goosebumps racing up his arms. He closed his eyes and rubbed Will’s back in comforting circles.

“It’s perfect,” He said.

Will yawned. “This was such a great birthday.”

“Yeah?”

“Duh, I had my first kiss.” Will murmured, his fingers under Mike’s neck started to play with his dark curls.

“Tired?” Mike asked, his hands never leaving his back.

“Only a little,” He replied with a drowsy smile against his chest.

He laughed and put a hand gingerly on Will’s face to move a strand of hair. In the minutes that followed he let Will fall asleep while he studied the stars outside, listened to the heartbeat of the boy on top of him, the drawing on the cork-board. The title scrawled beneath.

“My Cleric,” Mike whispered to the stars.

#byler #byler is canon #elmax #stranger things fanfiction #byler fanfic #byler fanfiction #elmax fanfic #fluff #first kiss au #fluff fanfic #st fanfic

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twdmusicboxmystery · 3 years ago

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11x02: Acheron, Part 2 - Analysis

Okay, let’s talk 11x02. And 11x01. Because it’s a two-part episode, it’s important to consider them together. I have a LOT to say about what’s going on in these two episodes, so I’ll have plenty to post all week. Let’s dive in!

***As always, spoilers abound below for TWD 11x02. Don’t read until you’ve watched! You’ve been warned!***

Maggie

The first thing we see is a point of view from under the train car. The instant I saw that, I knew how things would go. I never thought Maggie would die (if nothing else, there are scenes with her in the trailer we haven’t seen yet) but I was curious as to how she would survive. When I saw this POV, I knew she’d end up crawling under the train. Just as Glenn crawled under the dumpster. Massive parallels to Glenn. Which by extension, massive parallels to Beth. Major resurrection theme.

It's also important that when she reappears, she comes from underneath the car. Obviously, that’s logical given that she crawled underneath the car, but they make a point of asking if the pounding is coming from the roof. Gabriel says no and then they open the bottom hatch for her. Her coming up from the ground like that is a visual representation of a resurrection.

So we see Gabriel, Negan and the others enter the train car. The spatial details here are important, and I had to watch the episode twice to get them all straight. It’s a little confusing the first time. So, the group jumps down into the train car through a hatch in the roof because they couldn’t get the door open in the last episode. The thing is, if you watch closely, you come to realize they’re not in the train car on the end. They must have walked along the roof for two or three cars before finding a hatch that let them in.

So, when Gauge shows up, he comes behind them, and that confused me because I was thinking they came from that direction. And they did, but they entered through the roof, not the door. Anyway, they can’t get the door open. So honestly, even if they’d tried harder, I’m not sure they could have saved him.

This scene accomplished a lot of things, character-wise, that we need to touch on. It’s important to note that Gauge’s death happened due to his own choices. Does that mean he “deserved” to die or that they shouldn’t have tried to save him if they could have? Of course not. No on both counts. But that doesn’t change the fact that his choices sealed his fate.

It's especially interesting that he called Maggie a Liar. Not only is that a throwback to the Governor, but it’s a particular type of mentality they’re showing here. Even the fact that he didn’t shut the door behind him is really interesting. My first thought was to be annoyed with him. Why WOULDN’T you shut the door. You live in this world. You know better. But it’s all ego. He can’t imagine something bad will happen. He just assumes if it does, someone will save him.

But the most telling thing was how angry he got before saying Liar. It just shows very much how he approaches life. When he messes up, he doesn’t feel bad, and accept that it was his fault, and try to learn from it. No, instead he gets pissed and blames everyone but himself and his own actions.

If this had been Daryl or Gabriel or Alden or any of our other heroes, they would have recognized that opening the door would have gotten their friends and family killed and would have sacrificed themselves. Especially if they realized they’d screwed up. But Gauge became angry and defiant, even killing himself.

Anyway, I’m rambling. This really has nothing to do with Beth or TD other than perhaps being a future template for something. But I thought it was a really fascinating character sketch.

The thing is, this isn’t really a matter of Gauge being wrong and everyone else being right.

Maggie is…not doing so well either. As I told my fellow theorists, Paola Lazaro said in TTD last week that Maggie was kind of off the rails. I think she said that a little prematurely, because we really didn’t understand Maggie’s state of mind just by watching 10x17 and 11x01.

It's not until she tells that messed up story about the house she found and the people in it that we understand that her state of mind really isn’t at its healthiest. Even saying she wanted to kill Negan before is…understandable given their past. But it makes more sense now why Negan is so nervous. He’s sensing her state of mind that her moral conscience isn’t as strong as it once was, so of course he’s fearful for his life.

I don’t know where they’re going with this Maggie story line, but I have a feeling this attitude of hers will cause conflict down the road. Several of my fellow theorists believe it will cause a rift between her and Daryl. And we can see that somewhat through Alden. At first, he was very much defending Maggie, especially against Negan. He has a lot of loyalty to her. But he didn’t like her abandoning Gauge, and you can see his loyalties starting to waver.

At the very least, what she said about not feeling anything about it is the opposite of what Beth always stood for. Daryl was trying hard not to feel things during Still, in the wake of the prison going down. She made him feel things because that’s the only way a person is truly living, rather than just surviving. Now Maggie is in that state of mind.

And I’m gonna argue that makes it a prime time for Beth to return to help her. But of course I’m completely objective over here. ;D

Maggie’s Story:

Maggie’s story was definitely dark and horrible, but interesting to analyze. I’m assuming there was cannibalism going on there. That’s why the missing limbs. The men in the house were eating the female prisoners. No only a callback to Terminus, but remember that Bob’s leg was taken for food, so I’m sure that’s what we’re supposed to infer here.

She talked about no eyes, no tongue, no limbs, vocal cords ripped out. So definitely the see no evil, speak no evil themes. With the limbs, it’s also a matter of not being able to escape or save themselves.

In terms of the plot, I do have one question about this that I think may be significant. Maggie first talks about three deformed people (she says, “I wouldn’t call them men”) coming toward her. She kills them, and only after that hears the noise from the attic.

My question is, why were they deformed? If they’re “men,” then they must be at least Maggie’s age, if not older, which means they’ve been around since before the apocalypse began. Even eating human flesh doesn’t cause one to become deformed, so why the deformities? I have no idea, but I wondered if there is a radiation theme going on here. Something they’re hinting at, but not saying. Just thought that was intriguing.

After that, things go sideways and everyone almost dies until Daryl arrives to save the day. So, let’s skip to his story.

Daryl:

We first see him bust through a wall with Dog. So, dog took off in the last episode, but the first time we see Daryl, he’s already found Dog again. At least, the first time. This is where he sees the murals on the wall, the walker with the handcuff and the suitcase of money, etc. I already talked about most of that in great detail HERE, so I won’t rehash it, though it’s very important.

One thing I will say about the mural is that thematically, it’s a match to Still. So, in the golf club, we had lots of rich people who clearly hid there when the world first went bad. And I don’t remember this particularly, but several of my fellow theorists have told me they remember the TTD after Still and that the writers talked about how the golf club was a statement about the class system. You have these very rich people, but their wealth couldn’t save them. Death, walkers, the apocalypse…none of these things discriminate based on wealth or position.

On the wall, we see people with crowns standing at the top, but below, they are homeless, and one of them is being attacked and torn apart. Meanwhile, Daryl sees a line of text that says, “it comes for us all,” probably meaning death.

Well, guess what? Angela Kang, in talking about the murals, said that this, too, was a statement about the class system. So thematically, this is meant to be a parallel to Still.

It’s just interesting to contemplate because if you think about it, most of our heros—Rick, Daryl, the Greene family, etc—weren’t at all wealthy. Rick was humble and well-grounded. Hershel worked hard his whole life and never had any glory or fanfare. And then there’s Daryl, who was “nothing. No one.” They all survived.

So of course it’s a socioeconomic statement, but it’s also one about mindset. It takes not only grit to survive this world, but a certain amount of humility. Ego always gets you killed eventually, as it did with Gauge.

I’ll also mention that I thought the guy with the crown who was being torn apart was being set upon by walkers, but AK says they’re specifically not walkers. They’re people.

So, it’s not a coincidence that we see this juxtaposed with the Gauge situation. His ego gets him killed and we literally see him being torn apart because of it.

Moving on.

Daryl finds a bag with a $100 bill with a letter written on it. This is a massive TD clue from start to finish. 100 is an important number. The hundred dollar bill features Benjamin Franklin on the front and Independence Hall on the back. Look either of those up and you’ll find lots of fun parallels we could point to. I won’t go into all that today except to say it’s definitely part of the Revolution theme.

This is what’s written on the bill Daryl finds:

“Dear Dad, you always said if you don’t come back in a week to move on. Mom didn’t listen and went looking. It’s been three weeks, so we’re going next. I’ll watch Jesse and turn on the radio every day at 10. See you both soon. Love Tom and Jesse.”

He also finds a picture of two kids. So, the “three weeks” jumps out because of Rick’s line in 5x10, “it’s been three weeks since Atlanta.” It’s also about missing family members, going searching for them, etc. Possibly important that the mom is also missing. I can’t help but think of the song from Still. “Our mother has been absent, every since we founded Rome…”

There is a 10 in there, which is an important number. The turning the radio on every day is both the radio/airwaves theme (also a line from the song) but a callback to Rick and Morgan and their walkie talkies. So, really interesting symbols here.

The two kids immediately reminded me of Noah’s twin brothers. I don’t think these two are supposed to be twins. I’m assuming the brother is older. But still obviously siblings. And it hearkens back to the last episode Beth was technically in. Which also had a lot of the CRM/Revolution theme in it. (X, X).

AK says this family probably didn’t make it, so I’m not expecting these kids to show up in the narrative. But it’s also important to note that the little girl is carrying the toy rabbit Maggie found earlier. So the rabbit also ties into all this symbolism. (P.S. I didn’t get to my rabbit post last week. I planned on it, but time got away from me. I should get it posted later this week.)

So, this is massive in terms of TD symbolism. I’ll talk about it fits into the bigger narrative in a minute.

Then Daryl kills the sleeping bag walker. I wasn’t sure the significance of this at first, but I think it ties to the tents and sleeping bags we saw in Atlanta in 5x06, Consumed. Daryl and Carol passed them while looking for Beth. So, this just shows us that this is tied to her storyline and Daryl searching for her.

You could also argue that the walker was “hidden” at first, and it’s significant that Dog found it/realized it was there before Daryl did.

The other thing is that as he’s looking at the sleeping bag walker, there’s a random shoe on the ground next to it. Missing Shoe/Foot theory, which is also indicative of Beth.

They hear another roaring sound and Dog takes off, running into the dark tunnel.

Here’s the thing. I think most people will assume the roar he heard was just more air being forced through the tunnels by the storm, as Alden explained it in ep 1. But I always watch with the subtitles on and I noticed at this part, the subtitles said, “Man Roaring.” So they actually did hear someone screaming. And that’s probably why Dog ran toward it.

After watching it again, I realized it’s probably supposed to be Roy. He’s the white-haired guy, played by C. Thomas Howell, who Daryl finds wounded after he emerges from the Tunnel. I think whatever happened to him when he went topside but then got attacked by walkers is what Dog heard and went running toward.

Maybe not terribly significant in the plot, but it’s important symbolically. Because once again we have something Daryl hears from a distance but doesn’t see. Dog (a proxy for Beth) runs toward it, and Daryl follows. When he does, he find someone who had previously separated from the group. They’re hurt, but alive. See the parallels?

I will say the Roy situation confuses me just a little. He’s clearly hurt, and when Daryl tries to bandage him, he refuses, saying, “just tell my kids I didn’t die a coward.” But then later he’s with the group, all bandaged up, and seems to be okay. (He dies when they reach the Reapers by taking an arrow to the head, so he still dies overall.) But it’s just weird that it seemed he would die, then seemed he was fine again.

It may well be something that foreshadows a future situation, and that’s why it’s not making tons of sense right now. Only time will tell.

Anyway, I kind of glossed over Daryl crawling through the dark tunnel. I don’t have much else to say about it except that it’s a SUPER potent symbol for Beth’s arc and very important that he emerges on the other side and finds this person. Annnd then goes to save TF. (Dark Tunnel Symbolism).

So, he hears the gunshots and finds the train they’re on. He comes up behind the walkers attacking them from the front, kills them, moves the bench blocking the door, and lets everyone through. Then he uses a grenade to blow up all the walkers. (Ew.)

After that they all get out of the tunnels and go topside. The next scene is also super important. We see the stars above. That’s partly to show that the storm has passed now, but also constellations = Sirius.

Maggie asks what he has and he tells her about it. There is one weird moment in this scene. When she tells them about the supply depot she wants to stop at, she says Georgie (from S8) set it up for emergencies, for people on the outside to use. When it says this, the camera focuses on Daryl for a LONG moment, and he looks almost sad. I’m not sure what they’re trying to tell us there.

Anyway, they all head out. Unfortunately, when they reach the right neighborhood, the Reapers are there to meet/kill them. And Roy is the first to go.

So, a couple of things here. I’ll probably do a details post because I’m leaving out MOST of the background details throughout the episode, and there are a lot of them. Lots of details to be gleaned in this scene.

But the second time I watched it, I was struck by the people hanging upside down. Obviously a grim sight, but it occurred to me that these people hanging this way look a LOT like the deer diagrams from Scars. Let me show you some pictures:

Top pick is 11x02. Middle and bottom one are from Scars.

See what I mean? So, chances are something about Scars foreshadowed the Reapers, which is interesting. They clearly see human beings in a certain way (as animals to be strung up and…perhaps eaten?) And that makes me think that what Maggie found in that house may tie into the Reapers as well. Just kind of interesting foreshadows of coming plots.

Eugene:

Let’s talk Eugene and then I’ll shut up for today. Eugene’s stuff was very intriguing. First thing you need to know. And understand, I didn’t know this. @wdway pointed it out. Some months ago, the actress cast as “Stephanie” was announced. This is her:

And that’s clearly not the woman who steps into the train car at the end. Which means this isn’t really Stephanie. She’s a decoy. In fact, the actress from this episode is billed on IMDb as “woman 2,” not as “Stephanie.”

Knowing that, if you go back and re-watch the parts with Eugene’s group, they mean something very different.

On the surface, it seems that Zeke, Yumiko and Princess are taken away in a sinister fashion. Then Eugene melts down and tells his story. (Note: while he focuses on his feelings for Stephanie and I think most of that is true, he still says he lied both to her and to his friends about being from a large settlement. So, he’s still keeping large chunks of the truth from them.)

Again, on the surface it seems that they accept his explanation and just decide to allow them all in. All the stuff with the other three is just a misunderstanding.

But if “Stephanie” is a decoy, that can’t possibly be the case. I think Zeke and the others told Eugene the truth as they know it, but they’re all still being manipulated.

After Princess left to pee, the guy told Eugene no one was in the room and acted like he had no idea who Princess was. They were definitely using psychological torture on him, trying to break him.

I think they know very well that Eugene's group is still lying about their settlement, and they're using a decoy "Stephanie" to find out the truth.

My point is that it goes back to the hallucination, making-someone-think-they're-crazy theme. It will be really interesting to see how this unfolds, because there's all kinds of psychological shenanigans going on here.

@galadrieljones made a really interesting connection some time ago. She noticed that back in 10x18, at Leah’s cabin, there is a metal, heart-shaped chair. The same chairs show up in the Commonwealth’s sales video from the trailer. So there’s some kind of link between Leah, Daryl’s memory of her, and the Commonwealth. We don’t know what it is yet, but all of this gives credence to the idea that she is either an outright hallucination, or Daryl is just remembering things wrong.

It also might mean that the Reapers are connected to the Commonwealth in some way. We don’t really know yet, but I’m having tons of fun trying to figure it out.

I want to touch briefly on the train car theme. Once again, there’s a parallel in both story lines (Terminus, and this one at the Commonwealth). Daryl’s group is in train cars this episode. And while Eugene’s group has been at a different compound, they started in the train yard and end in it here. But what I noticed is that Eugene enters the train car at the end, which is furnished inside, and finds his friends there. They all have a happy reunion.

It made me think of the fact that when Rick, Daryl, Michonne, and Carl enter the train cars at Terminus, there is also a family reunion. What happened beyond that was not good or easy. Clearly, Terminus was not a good place. Many of them almost died at the trough and they had to fight their way out through a walker blood bath.

I’m just saying that, while it obviously won’t play out exactly the same way, something similar is probably waiting for Eugene’s group outside that train car. Not good.

Acheron Overall:

Okay, let’s get to the big cheese, here. The overall narrative. The template.

These two episodes are called Acheron part 1 and part 2. So here’s the skinny:

Acheron = Underworld. Daryl’s group going into the subway tunnels (dark, underground) is what constitutes Acheron and why the episodes are called that. That’s why, at the end of this episode, they emerge from the tunnels onto the surface (i.e. the living world).

Given all the death, cemetery, and dark tunnel symbolism around Beth, given that she ventured into the land of the dead by being shot, maybe clinically dying for a time, and being thought dead for so long, what this tells me is that everything that happens in these tunnels is a foreshadow and template for what will happen this season.

I maintain that Dog = Beth and we will soon see something where Daryl hears something (not necessarily her; it was a man screaming so I still think it will be Rick he hears word of) and goes chasing after it. While searching for it, he stumbles across Beth. Then the two of them (both Dog and Daryl returned to the train car) go back in time to save TF from something.

This is most likely why the Roy thing is weird. In a super understated way, he represents Rick in the template. Daryl will find him, but only after he finds Beth. Even consider what Roy says. He says, “tell my kids I didn’t die a coward.” And that’s all well and good, but did we even know Roy had kids? No. Have we met them? No. But who has kids that Daryl IS concerned with? That would be Rick.

So I’m thinking that maybe when Daryl finds Rick, Rick will think he’s dying for some reason, and that’s why the dialogue here. But he won’t, which is why we see Roy with the group later.

And no, I’m not thinking that Roy dying via the Reapers will extend to Rick. It’s more like what they’ve done with countless characters that have been Beth proxies. Eventually, they kill them off. He’s a minor character they were using as a proxy, and when they are done with him in the narrative, he becomes walker chow. Or, in this case, Reaper fodder.

Anyway, I think everything will end up being a foreshadow for something. Maggie and Negan. The Gauge situation. All of it. I’ll try to keep coming back to this as the story progresses to show what everything foreshadows. I’ll stop there for today.

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

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a-crimson-lion · 4 years ago

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Ultimatum: The Art of Lying In A Made Bed

(Or Why My Experience With Chapter 285 Is Contrary To Everyone Else's)

[Manga Spoilers Ahead. Also Opinions. Feel Free To Ignore.]

After Chapter 284, many fans were wondering how the story of BNHA would follow up on Katsuki's development. Now that Chapter 285 is officially out, fans are clamoring about Katsuki's latest acts of heroism, about how his arc is finally kicking it into high gear.

I'd be inclined to agree, but… you know how these things go.

[Heads up fans/stans, if you like Katsuki you might wanna bail. The word vomit that follows is pretty much incoherent and reflects my disaster of a thought process.]

I was looking forward to Chapter 285. I had my reservations on the execution of Chapter 284, but if the next chapter could follow it up and then some, I'd be pleasantly surprised. But then the leaks came out. And then the fan translation. And as of today, the official VIZ translation.

While everyone else is cheering for explosion boy, I'm just… done.

285 didn't get me to see how far Bakugo's journey has come. 285 didn't get me to finally root for him. And maybe I am making this decision prematurely, maybe I am missing something, but…

...the way things are going in the story I just- I just CAN'T root for him.

And I'm not saying the rest of you can't, if you're still reading. Katsuki is definitely a different person compared to Chapter 1, a better person, and he's definitely been heading on the up and up! If you can and want to support him, then by all means, go for it, don't let me stop you! It's just…

For me, chapter 284 was a wavering torch: a flicker of hope that sometimes dwindled, but was still there. Chapter 285 was the moment where I wanted to jump on the Katsuki Development Train, to finally gain some semblance of respect for him. But when I jumped, I landed on the tracks, and had to crawl back onto the platform.

I missed my chance to jump on that train. Whether it's because of previous circumstances or recent circumstances, I'll never know…

You probably wanna ask me at this point, "But Crimson, why DIDN'T Chapter 285 make you see the awe inspiring pinnacle of character development that is Katsuki Bakugo???"

To put it simply: it's a culmination thing.

For starters, there's a sort of… whiplash with Katsuki's development in the last few chapters. People like me will complain that Katsuki's development is too slow, in the case of the last 2-3 chapters, it feels like a switch was flipped, and now it's become too fast. Perhaps it's a me thing, but let me try to explain…

Shoto starts out as a standard background character. By the time he gets his spotlight in the Sports Festival, he comes off as reserved and antagonistic. After the whole "it's your power" moment, Shoto is finally able to accept the side he always hated. Then Katsuki fights Shoto, and we're shown he still needs time to grow; his left side comes with a lot of baggage he can't just brush off in the span of a single sparring match.

Fastforward to Hosu. Shoto's starting to take other people into better account. He's starting to learn to better control his fire. He's reconnected with his mother. His goal is no longer one-upping his old man; he has goals, people, that he wants to protect. He's coming into his own and wants others to do the same, like Tenya.

He joins the Katsuki Rescue Squad because, like Izuku, he had an opportunity to save Katsuki, didn't, and now he wants to make up for it. When we get to the Provisional License Exam, we're yet again slammed with the fact that his growth is still not done via Inasa, that there's still a bit of Endeavor he has to shake off, even if it was in the past. And he does progress towards that with the Remedial Course Arc. And while I have my opinions on the Endeavor Agency Arc, I'll admit that it was another development opportunity for Shoto and the Todoroki family. Shoto's growth comes with setbacks, but overall it's consistent.

Let's shift gears to Tenya, who's characterization I find fascinating. He starts out opposed to Izuku when they first meet at the Entrance Exam. He sees how Izuku is (for lack of a better phrase) "better qualified" at heroics thus far, reassesses his position, and apologizes whilst making amends. When Tenya resorts to LITERAL MURDER against Stain, the narrative does not let him go off without reprocussions. His arms are damaged, his supervisor's teaching license is revoked, and while he managed to avoid legal charges via police cover up, it still came close. Tenya listened to Stain's words, and opted to improve himself by that notion. He tries to set a better example, be a better class rep. It isn't a one and done.

Him lashing out during the Hideout Raid Arc is an offshoot of that. He doesn't deck Izuku just to be a dick; he's trying to knock some sense into him. They're so focused on Katsuki that they're forgetting about everyone else. Their friends, their teachers, their parents. If they f*** up like Tenya almost did at Hosu, they'll have hell to pay, and he doesn't want that. Of course, once they explain that combat/murder is not their M.O., Tenya tags along, if only to ensure the operation goes smoothly without this hitch. And again, Tenya keeps up. He looks after his classmates, looks after Izuku during the Shie Hassaikai arc. His growth is also consistent.

There are probably more characters I could elaborate on (Ochako, Momo, Eijiro, etc.), but I'll stop there. So, what's the deal with Katsuki's arc?

Well, it's… frustratingly back and forth.

It's one thing to have setbacks like Tenya and Shoto. It's something else entirely to have multiple setbacks and to keep trucking on with only abstract signs of development, but otherwise feeling like a very similar character compared to several chapters ago.

This is (in my opinion) Katsuki's problem. If we're going by what the manga stated, his arc technically started in Chapter 11: "Bakugo's Starting Line." But this is a rocky start. Izuku tells him about OFA right from the getgo out of guilt, but this neglects the fact that he's technically lying to everyone about it (including his new friends Ochako and Tenya), that OFA is a world-shattering secret, and that Katsuki is likely the worst person to tell this to considering that Izuku just handed Katsuki's ass to him and Katsuki was willing to use lethal force in their Trial. That aside, instead of say, sucking up his pride and opting to try and learn from everyone else, Katsuki doesn't really change strategies or approaches. He essentially does what he was planning to do since the start of UA; he's only crying because, SURPRISE, people are better than him. You'd think he'd expect that considering he called his middle school crappy…

After the USJ, once everyone had their "Lol Bakugo sux" moment on the bus ride, we get to the Sports Festival and everyone is clamoring to join Katsuki's team despite his apparent unapproachability. This feels less like something happened in the two weeks leading up to the Sports Festival, and more like history repeating itself from middle school. Moving on to the tournament, we don't even get to see how capable Katsuki is at serious combat. Two of his matches resort to Deus Ex Machina pulls, and the other two are in his corner by principle instead of difficult.

First off, Katsuki vs Ochako. I don't know why people praise this fight. For starters, it makes Katsuki HEAVILY OoC. Ochako is the only person he asks if she wants to back out before the match even starts. The ONLY person, which kinda undermines the whole "he didn't underestimate her" thing. Then he takes a reactionary stance the entire battle. Like, I thought we were still dealing with the "fist first" Katsuki. He does this to Eijiro, Fumikage, even Shoto, but Ochako? Stay still and then attack. Even if he did get his gravity removed, couldn't he just… propelly himself and let her have it. If he was proactive, he could have ended the fight quicker. Instead, he just plays sitting duck and headless chicken. If you're gonna have Katsuki win the fight, don't bulls*** it.

Which brings me to the final bit of that fight: the meteor shower. Having Katsuki blow that away after supposedly expending most of his energy earlier in the match just does NOT sit right. Ochako gets the upper hand, and then you just… negate that? You expect me to believe that Katsuki could generate an explosion at that magnitude, if nothing else? And what exactly does that do for him in the end? No one else tires him out for the remainder of the festival, which is pretty sketch.

(And yeah, I know I know "What part of her was frail?" but that's more of a retrospective thing than in the moment, coupled with the facf that it's never elaborated on again in any capacity, with Ochako or with someone else. It's a throwaway moment; a waste. Moving on…)

You really can't say much about the matchups with Eijiro and Fumikage. With Eijiro, it's an endurance match, and Katsuki apparently has infinite stamina and is on the attack. And he just… rushes him, which I'm pretty sure anyone else would do. Then with Fumikage, Dark Shadow is weak to light. Katsuki's explosions emit light on contact. Do the math.

And I am especially mad at Katsuki vs Shoto because one, he stays in place yet again at the start of the match, and two, he can apparently ignore his Quirk' weakness to low temperatures. In a gym uniform. Against a glacier the size of a building. Even with his power output, you don't see his explosions dampening in magnitude. It's obviously in his favor, which defeats any tension the fight could have had. It sucks, and in the long run, as a wise man once said, "Todoroki should have folded [his] ass."

Then we get to the Final Exams (ABOUT DAMN TIME) and… Katsuki hits Izuku for trying to cooperate, nearly gets knocked out once, and gets knocked out the second time around. He does not want to work with Izuku despite it being All Might, is petty enough to consider losing, and actively grumbles against working with Izuku. And all of his supposed self-preservation goes flying out the window when he's willing to try and beat All Might, leaving Izuku having to come and carry this boy out of the gate, which should not have let him pass.

Then there's the Training Camp attack. The second Izuku is mentioned, Katsuki decides to go AWOL, and while being kidnapped sucks, I am less sympathetic when you're boneheaded enough to help them capture you because you wanted to fight villains instead of getting to safety like the professionals recommended, all because of your one-sided hatefest with one of your classmates. Congrats, you played yourself.

Then we get to the Provisonal License Exam, which feels like a step in the right direction… until you realize this will boil over into Deku vs Kacchan 2, which will get both of them in trouble, which will give Katsuki insight into OFA while Izuku gets shunned by his classmates, and which will prevent Katsuki from the one ass beating that could have potentially taught him something. It's essentially the narrative covering his ass, and then he has the gall to be happy about other people potentially getting set back just because he was set back. Geez dude.

The Cultural Festival essentially undoes what the Remedial Course Arc accomplishes, having Katsuki look down on the rest of UA when he said NOT to look down on people earlier. And then his speech is still heavily antagonistic to the rest of the school, and to the idea of basic human decency and kindness in general. And if I'm being honest, that whole "he can play drums" feels like a big ass pull to keep him in the spotlight. At least the story brought back his ability to cook down the line.

The Joint Training Arc is just shoe horning in regards to Katsuki. It acts like his gearing up towards saving, but the circumstances are heavily, heavily in his favor, and not in a good way. I've already brought up how Katsuki won't get "saving" until the Endeavor Arc, and how here he's just doing it to show off, so I won't go into it here. Then apparently he gets to outwit a recommendation student 'cause why not? It makes him look more impressive than he actually is, even though he outright states he hasn't changed much if at all. Not to mention the narrative makes it sound like he was some sort of underdog, even though he only got kidnapped and didn't get his license. And I know those are big things, but not enough to warrant his victory feeling that triumphant. I'd probably buy it if he didn't win the Sports Festival or pass the Final Exam. Keep him in that slump for longer than you actually do, or it lessens the impact. And let's not forget, he might have been willing to help Izuku with Blackwhip via fisticuffs, but the second he realized he wasn't getting anything out of it, he noped out. And it's been what, almost 200 chapters since his "starting line?"

I don't have much to say during the Endeavor Arc (that was its own can of worms), but as for the War Arc thus far… here's what I mean by "whiplash." The arc begins in Chapter 253. By Chapter 257, Katsuki will demonstrate how much he just does not give a f*** about Izuku's mastery over OFA so long as it looks like he'll come out on top. By Chapter 274, when Izuku's gotta split, it'll look like Katsuki has been thinking about some stuff, but by 275 he's gonna throw that out the window so he can attempt to one up Tomura and Izuku, and then he'll nearly get killed for it. And we won't know what exactly Katsuki is thinking until a flashback in Chapter 284 (which chronologically takes place after 257), where he has a conversation with All Might about his past with Izuku. Or at least the bullet points. If you're me, the start of the conversation feels less about Izuku and more so about his situation: his situation with OFA. And as much as I want to believe there was at least one good kernel in Katsuki that he was too stubborn to let out with Izuku, I feel like Katsuki only brings up him and his capabilities now because he got a Quirk. That's what put him on Katsuki's radar. That's what forced Katsuki to take notice of Izuku, what caused him to be unable to ignore his own weakness. Because of a Quirk. That's… borderline shallow, if not remarkably so.

And even when Katsuki is attempting to save Izuku in 285, his first thoughts are still on OFA. And even if we go by the line of thought that Katsuki is thinking "Even if OFA sucks, it's still Izuku's Quirk." And that's nice and all, but the flashback makes it seem like the Quirk is still All Might's Quirk as well. That all of Izuku's worth is hinged on the fact that he got a Quirk now and therefore can't be written off. Maybe he doesn't owe this to his accomplishments, but the narrative is terrible in its implications that Izuku wouldn't have gotten as much attention without it. At the end of the day, Katsuki is still associating Izuku's worth with his Quirk. And as much as I want to vaguely, vainly hope that this will change later on, I'm already at my limit

...and now that I've said my piece on almost the entire narrative thus far, let's shift gears to a few more tidbits in 285.

Again, the flashback. I think it's significant that they're shifting the focus briefly on middle school again. But you wanna know what sent me the wrong way? They didn't include the god forsaken suicide instigation. They can show Katsuki gloating. They can show Izuku up against a wall. They can even show a notebook and Izuku's face during the Sludge Villain rematch. But they can't show Izuku reacting with sorrow mixed with almost fury. That can't show Katsuki threatening him with a mere "What?" and the sparks on his palms. They can't show Izuku standing and crying, small and defeated.

"BUT HORI SAID HE WENT TO FAR WITH THAT SCENE!1!" Blah blah blah, doesn't change the fact that it still happened. Doesn't change the fact that it should be addressed, at any capacity. Doesn't change the fact that the story had the balls to recall middle school but couldn't bring itself to remember the one thing that could get its audience raising eyebrows.

But that's alright, it gave you the notebook; clearly it's done enough.

And maybe in another timeline, I could have let my jaw drop when Katsuki was hit and the chapter title was revealed. "Katsuki Bakugo: Rising" It would have been pretty damn powerful too.

...but with all the previous crap the narrative has pulled, it feels like more shoehorning. It feels like more Erasehead stepping in and shaming the audience. It feels like more All Might letting Katsuki in because he's not completely familiar with the finer details. It feels like more people. In narrative parroting that Katsuki changed when he does the bare minimum, as a hero or as a person. I can't treat this development legitimately, because so many other "legitimate" developments pulled a "psyche!" and headed out.

So, I'm done. I'm done with Katsuki, done with hoping his development will be done in a somewhat satisfying manner. Done with people telling me "it's actually good though!" like I'm blind and deaf or something, when I have enough brain cells to formulate my own opinions, and we both have enough brain cells to leave each other alone if we don't agree. Maybe when the series ends and we can all look at this in hindsight, and Katsuki has either found a way to redeem himself, or remain deplorable, I might talk about it then. But for now. I'm drawing the line. I might talk about what we've gotten up to this point, but everything past 285 I'm taking with a grain of salt. 'Cause I'm sick of hoping for something that obviously won't come through, and it's better for me and everyone involved if I just pack up and move on. BNHA isn't just Katsuki's story after all.

And if you made it to the end of all this… I hope you'll either respect my opinion, or respect my thought process. That's all I can ask.

-Crimson Lion (27 September 2020)

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

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Stark Spangled Forever

One Shot: Wings

Intro: They say that once you’ve been inked, it kinda becomes an addiction…

Warnings: Bad language.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR STARK SPANGLED BANNER

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Forever Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“Jamie, ”Katie sighed exasperatedly as her 9 year old looked up from where he was sprawled on the rug of the den, piecing his newest lego kit that Sam and Bucky had bought him for his birthday “You need to get your stuff for school.” “Don’t wanna.” he pouted.

“Tough.”

“I don’t feel well.”

“Oh no, really?” Katie bent down, feeling his head. “Hmmmm. You do feel warm. What’s wrong?” “Sort throat.” “Oh, well… that means no soccer practice tomorrow then…and you should go straight back to bed until I can take you to the doctors later today…”

Jamie paused and looked up at her and she raised an eyebrow “Nice try Pal.”

“Mommmm”

“Don’t make me shout your father.” she used her ace card.

Jamie gave an exaggerated sigh and stood up, rolling his eyes. Katie bit her lip to stop herself laughing at the utter indignation on his face.

“It’s Friday dude.” she smiled at him. “You got all weekend to play legos if that’s what you wanna do.”

“Does that mean I can stay up late tonight to work on it?” he asked hopefully.

“Define late.” Katie looked at him.

“11?”

“Hmmmm, I dunno.” she said playfully.

“Please?”

“I’ll speak to your dad.” she said and he smiled at her, the pair of them both knowing full well that Steve was a soft touch when it came to stuff like that. He’d probably be there helping him out with it anyway.

“Ok Mom. Can you make sure Harry doesn’t touch it whilst I’m at school?”

“I’ll keep this door shut, I promise.” Katie assured him.

He left the room and true to her word Katie shut the door to the den and watched him head up the stairs, passing Aurora who was on her way down with her rucksack, Steve right behind her with their youngest placed on his hip.

“Hi mammamama!” Harry babbled at her and she grinned, taking him off Steve and planting a kiss to his cheek.

“Hi baby!” she grinned as his hand instantly went to grab the chain of her necklace.

“Jamie not planning on going to school today?” Steve asked her with a grin as Rori headed off to find her shoes.

“Tried telling me he was sick so he could stay home and play legos.” she snorted “Soon decided he was ok when I told him that meant no soccer practice tomorrow morning.” Steve shook his head, smiling to himself.

“Daddy?” Rori tugged on his trouser leg and he turned his attention to her.

“What’s up Princess?”

“I can’t find my sneakers.”

“Where did you leave them?” he asked, his hand gently dropping to the back of her head.

“Erm…” she pondered for a moment, before she looked up at her mom bashfully.

“Somebody left them in the middle of the lounge…” Katie looked at her. “So the Fairies put them away.”

“Sorry…” Rori wrinkled her nose and blinked up at her mom.

“It’s ok. They’re on the shoe rack sweetie.” Katie nodded to the kitchen in the direction of the utility room located at the back of the house.

“Thanks momma.” she said, running off to retrieve them.

“What time does Emmy’s train get in?” Steve looked at Katie.

“Just after twelve.” Katie said, blowing a raspberry on Harry’s cheek. “I’ll meet her and then take her straight to get inked…” Steve let out a breath from his nose. All Emmy had talked about since turning 21st was a tattoo. Steve wasn’t particularly sure he approved but then what could he do? She was an adult now. Katie hadn’t been bothered, but then as she’d pointed out, she had a big enough one on her thigh so it would be fairly hypocritical if she had. Emmy had won Steve over though when she’d asked him to draw it for her. She’d described what she wanted, a small Phoenix type bird that would sit just above her ankle. So after a few designs and sketches she’d finally settled on something she wanted and after a consultation she was having it done this afternoon.

“You staying with her?” Steve looked at Katie, concern etched across his face. Katie gave a soft laugh.

“She’s a big girl now Steve but yeah, I’m gonna stay.” she said, tugging on his beard playfully.

“Good.” he nodded, jerking his head out of reach. “Do you need me to pick the kids up later or…”

“No, by the time their afterschool clubs are done we’ll have finished so I’ll do it.” she smiled as Rori came back, sneakers in her hand. She sat on the bottom step and proceeded to push her feet into the pink converse, Steve crouching down on one knee to tie her shoelaces for her.

“Thanks daddy.”

“You’re welcome sweetheart.” he said, dropping a kiss to her head before he turned to look up the stairs “Jamie! Come on!”

“I’m coming…” came the surly reply, and no sooner had they heard it he appeared at the top of the steps, rucksack in hand.

“Drop the attitude.” Steve said sternly as Jamie trudged down the stairs, scowling. Steve looked at Katie, raising his eyebrow as their eldest son stalked past them, heading to the door, Rori running behind him.

“Wait for me Jay…” she called, her small feet slapping on the tiles of the hallway as she went.

“Told you…” Katie said, smirking “He’s a mini you…”

“That filthy look he had on his face? That is a Stark expression.” Steve said, looking back at her as he picked Rori’s rucksack up.

“Is not.” Katie laughed “That’s the face you make whenever someone’s pissing you off.”

Steve gave a snort before he dropped a soft kiss to her lips, making Harry shriek.

“Kissy!” he laughed.

“See you later.” Steve smiled against her mouth “Love you.” “You too” she said, and with a last peck and a ruffle of Harry’s hair he headed after Jamie and Rori, barking out an instruction for them to quit their squabble over who was sitting in the front seat.

“Easy solution…” Katie heard Steve say loudly “You can both get in the back. End of discussion.”

Their protest’s died as the door snapped shut.

Katie chuckled to herself and looked at Harry “Shall we get you ready to go too baby boy?”

“Go!” he nodded, grinning.

*******

Katie’s morning was reasonably easy. A meeting and a manuscript to review which she’d managed to do by half 11. Changing out of her office clothes into a loose pair of sweats, trainers and a hoody she headed out and made her way to Grand Central.

She spotted Emmy emerging into the main terminal and swept her daughter up into a hug.

“Hey mom.” Emmy said, squeezing her back.

“Ready to go get inked?” Katie asked, Emmy grinned and slung her satchel over one shoulder, linking her arm through her mom’s.

“You eaten?” Katie asked as they walked out into the early April sun.

“Yeah, followed the instructions.” Emmy nodded.

“Good.” Katie said. “Nervous?”

“A little.” Emmy shrugged “It’s gonna hurt right?”

“It’s not so bad.” Katie shrugged, “Some places hurt more apparently but…most important thing to remember is if you need a break just ask.”

“Ok.”

The two women walked a few blocks, catching up. It had been a couple of weeks since Emmy was home, fast approaching the last few weeks of the semester at Harvard before her exams started. All of her marks so far had been sky high, leaving her parents immensely proud, although both had taken great pains to tell her that they didn’t care what the outcome was, as long as she tried her best.

Eventually they reached the place and Emmy opened the door, stepping in. David, the man that had done the consultation a few weeks back beckoned them both through.

“Ok, so…�� he said, tilting the screen to show Emmy the picture of her design he’d scanned “I gotta say I’m excited about this one, it’s pretty unique.”

“My dad drew it.” Emmy beamed.

“It’s phenomenal.” David smiled “I had to sharpen some of the lines up but there’s no major changes. Are you happy with it?”

Emmy nodded.

“Ok, and yours Mrs Rogers…” David clicked and the imaged changed. “The touches we’re adding to your thigh are fairly straight forward but this one…this is what I think it is right?”

Katie nodded.

“Awesome…” David smiled, and hit print and stood up to collect both the prints.

“Have you told Dad?” Emmy looked at her. Katie smirked and shook her head.

“Nope.” she popped the p on the word “Thought it would be a nice surprise when he gets to see it later.” “I’m not sure if I should be grossed out by that thought or not.” Emmy mumbled and Katie simply laughed.

Just over 2 and a half hours later they were done, leaving the parlour with strict after care instructions. Emmy had hardly flinched through hers, whereas Katie’s new one had been slightly uncomfortable due to the placing.

“Think that earned us a beer…” Katie said checking her watch. “Come on, we got time before we need to collect the heathens.”

***** “Show me! Show me!” Rori demanded.

“You can’t see it yet short stuff.” Emmy said fondly “It’s still wrapped up.”

“When can you unwrap it?” Jamie asked.

“Another hour or so yet.” Katie answered “So quit bugging your sister and go put your school bags away.”

“Emmy do you wanna watch Sponge Bob with me?” Rori asked.

“Only if we can sing the special song…” Emmy grinned, holding her hand out for a hi-five. Rori giggled, and slapped her smaller palm against her sister’s.

“What special song?” Katie looked at her.

“Oh just a variation on the theme tune we made up.” Emmy said, grinning mischievously

“I dread to think.” Katie muttered, watching Jamie and Rori head up stairs to deposit their rucksacks in their room.

Katie bustled around making dinner, simple spaghetti and meatballs as requested by all 4 kids…well, the elder 3…Harry merely clapped his hands and yelled “getty” in agreement. She was stood stirring the sauce when she heard Steve walk through the door an toss his keys onto the table in the hall little under an hour later.

“Daddy’s home!” she heard Rori shriek and a moment later Steve chuckled.

“Hey…” he said, sweeping her up and placing a kiss on her cheek. He carried her through to the kitchen where he greeted Harry with a ruffle of the hair as he sat by the table doodling on a pad with Emmy.

“Hi sweetie.” Steve said, as Emmy stood up to give him a hug. “How was the tattooing?”

“Good.” she nodded, “Oh, actually, mom….should I unwrap it now?”

“Errr, yeah.” Katie said, turning the heat down on the stove and accepting the kiss Steve offered. “Can you watch these 2. I’ll go help Emmy out…”

“Sure.” Steve said, “Where’s Jamie?”

“2 guesses” Katie grinned at him and Steve shook his head, smiling, knowing full well that meant he was nose deep in lego.

Katie and Emmy bounded up the stairs and returned about 15 minutes later, Emmy proudly showing off the design on her right ankle. Steve had to admit, it did look pretty good, but then he would say that, he drew it after all.

They dragged Jamie out of the den for dinner, where the boy managed 2 helpings before he ran off again, almost having a meltdown when Katie told him he had to share the den as Rori wanted to watch Cartoons. One stern look from Steve nipped the tantrum in the bud and the 4 kids departed once dishes had been deposited in the sink, Katie waving away Emmy’s offer to help, telling her to go spend some time with her siblings. It didn’t take her and Steve long to clear down and they were heading towards the living room to collapse onto the sofa together, but the shriek and cheers coming from the den made them both stop in their tracks.

“What on Earth are they watching?” Steve looked at his wife.

“Sponge Bob, apparently…” Katie said. The two looked at one another, before they headed back towards the den and peeked through the door which was open a crack.

Emmy was stood, swaying with Harry held on her hip, the pair of them laughing, whilst Jamie was doing some kind of strange running man dance as Rori bounced up and down on the sofa as the opening credits began to roll. Emmy opened her mouth and started singing along to the opening theme tune in a pirate voice.

Only she wasn’t singing the theme tune. They were completely different words.

“Who lived as a Capsicle under the sea?” Emmy paused to look at Jamie and Rori who both yelled back in chorus, Harry mimicking them as best he could whilst clapping his hands.

“CAPTAIN ROGERS!”

Steve blinked, looked at Katie, his mouth dropping open as she burst out laughing at the look of utter confusion and perplexment on his face. She pushed the door open further and all the kids turned to see their parents watching them. But instead of stopping, they continued to sing even louder at Steve as he folded his arms and leaned against the door frame.

“Saluting a hello and killing Nazis…” Emmy continued

“CAPTAIN ROGERS!”

“If patriotism be something you wish…”

“CAPTAIN ROGERS!”

By this point Katie was laughing that hard she couldn’t breathe. She doubled over, tears pouring from her face as the kids continued their relentless serenade to their father.

“Then throw a big shield and punch with your fist…”

“CAPTAIN ROGERS!”

That was it. Steve couldn’t keep his face straight any longer and he too started to laugh, grinning as Rori ran over to him and pulled on his hands dragging him into the room to make him twirl her round.

Eventually the song stopped and the room was simply filled with laughter which died down. Steve wiped his eyes and looked at his kids before he crossed his arms.

“You’re all grounded.” he smirked, and then ran as they started pelting him with throw cushions.

****

Later that night, as always, Steve couldn’t stop his eyes from roving his wife’s body as she walked out of the en-suite and into the bedroom, dressed in one of his shirts and a pair of sleep shorts ready for bed. As he lounged on top of the duvet, back propped up against the headboard, his gaze travelled down the lines of her body and he frowned as he spotted something on her thigh that looked different.

Suddenly it dawned on him what it was.

“Is that…is that a new tattoo?” Steve sat up, looking at her leg then to her face, and back again.

“Technically it’s an addition to an existing one.” Katie grinned as she made her way to the bed and knelt up in front of Steve. His hands gently fell to her hips as he examined the new ink. The area surrounding one of the 4 stars that formed part of the original tattoo had been shaded with red and gold in a water colour effect. He didn’t need her to explain, but she did anyway.

“That’s for Tony.” she said softly, “And these…” she pointed out 4 additional stars she’d had placed within the existing design “One for each of the kids.”

“Not one for me?” he eventually pouted playfully, looking back up at her.

She bit her lip and grinning slightly, pulled his shirt over her head leaving her top half naked, and she turned her torso slightly the left, holding her arm over her breasts so he could see. His eyes widened as he saw the design that was now etched onto her skin just underneath her left breast on her rib cage.

It was his wings. The wings he had worn on his helmet. The wings adopted by the Howlies as their symbol in the war. And above that sat a star that was the same as the others on her thigh.

“That’s for you…” she said softly.

Steve was struggling for words. There was something he was finding outrageously sexy about the fact she’d had that placed somewhere that no one would really see other than him. And something ridiculously sentimental about the design she had chosen.

“Do you like it Soldier?” she asked softly, biting her lip.

He looked up at her, smiling as his hands gripped her bare waist and he pulled her down with him so she was led on top of him. “I love it.”

“I love you…” she grinned, melting into his arms as his hands ran up her bare back, her nose nudging his softly.

“Back at ya pretty girl.” he smirked, before his lips claimed hers in a heated kiss.

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled forever #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fic #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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absoluteindulgence · 5 years ago

Text

Vacay Away

A/N: OKAY SO LET ME START BY SAYING, THIS FIC IS 2 1/2 MONTHS LATE. I originally wanted to post this for Black History Month. But I'm black all year so better late than never! Also, I apologize to all those waiting for me to upload, I've been consumed by Sims 4 and even made Mirio in-game lmao. If you have not finished MHA Season 4, there's a mild spoiler. Lastly, this is smut, so read at your own horniness risk.

Pairings: Mirio Togata X Black/POC!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Cursing

Word Count: 5.1K

As new graduates, the world was bright and shiny, like an apple ripe enough to bite. You decided after all the hell you and Mirio went through this year; it would be enough to graduate and offer Mirio a well-deserved rest. Too many nights went on with sweat induced nightmares with tears flooding from his despairing blue eyes; Reliving the horrors of fighting Chisaki, losing his quirk and his mentor who always showed him promise until his last breath.

Although you were at another agency during the ordeal, you always kept in contact with Tamaki and Nejire. At first, Tamaki didn't want to share any information, because he knew how it would tear you apart, but after he saw where your loyalty stood, he had to. You spent the rest of your days taking care of Mirio. By his side as soon as you knew his whereabouts. Staying in the hospital overnight, even going home to get a spare change of clothes, just to come back. You watched as he vented what it felt like for him. Not a single bone in your body blamed Eri; she was a child after all.

You still trained with him and even accompanied him on his internship. You knew he was capable of hand-to-hand, but what mattered was the villains with quirks that were life-threatening. Eventually, you laughed with each hospital visit and became well acquainted with the staff. After graduating with just above average grades, the two of you felt a sigh of relief: no more pity parties and sad looks. You two had to get away from it all.

And so, the voyage outside of Tokyo began. Originally you were going to celebrate by staying over at one another's home, but that wasn't fun enough for you; you wanted to feel free. Not just for yourself, for Mirio. He deserved to feel like himself even though he said he wouldn't cry over spilled milk anymore. You wanted to be by his side.

And so the bustle outside the city proved to be challenging. It took more buses than trains to leave. And even then had to take the abstract route to get outside of the town and into the country. Your breathing was more steady with the air being exceedingly more lucid, camping out to watch the stars shine, even being cheesy, mentioning the shapes found in the midnight sky. And the impromptu sexy times would be something you two take to your graves.

When you finally got close to the hot spring you were planning to surprise Mirio with, you admitted into the closest hotel. Luckily, the staff knew who you two were and gave you a week free, along with benefits like the perks of free food and massages. Unsure if that was related to filling a quota for the month or if they loved LeMillion as much as management said they did.

You two were starting to look like people who lived in the forest, eating off the land. So, of course, you were going to take advantage of the salon there as well. But you knew better than to go in expecting them to know what to do with your hair. You had your hair products tucked away neatly in your oversized backpack and had even taught Mirio how to handle your naps. He liked playing with your hair because he found it therapeutic and saw it as another way to bond with you.

Mirio's face of content made you beam with hope into his recovery. You were pushing yourself to get him out of his rut. You weren't sure if he knew how much you still worried about what happened. But you wanted to make up for the time that you weren't able to be by his side during the life-changing experience, apart from blaming yourself, because he told you what had been plaguing him.

As his partner, you did your best to assert the situation and go based on logic instead of emotion. But the look on his face, knowing that he let Eri out of his sight, spoke louder than any words. Having obtained Eri, and getting to spend time with her to build morale, was challenging at first as she was hesitant when looking at you. At first, she thought you were dirty due to Chisaki's influence.

After realizing that's just how your skin looks, she apologized profusely — not wanting to hurt your feelings and be accepted by you. You worked your way into taking care of her, although not great with kids. And since she was a particular but essential case, you wanted to make your imprint on her memory. She began to ask you questions about yourself and Mirio. At times asking the dreaded ones related to sex since she was around Deku and his friend Bakugou. You kept calm but wanted to dropkick the self-proclaimed hero with murder in his name. Aizawa made sure to scold him and tell him not to slip up on the foul language around Eri again.

As you entered your hotel room, you dropped off all the luggage you brought — yearning for the chance to feel warm running water. Mirio's breath lightly fanned over you as he rubbed your shoulders for you. He insisted on carrying your belongings before the trip, but you ran ahead of him with all your things. Even though your bags were more substantial than his one.

"See Sunshine; I told you to let me carry them. And now you're rolling your shoulders to relieve the tension." It was clear that he was smiling, with every grip on your muscles.

Your moans were soft, reassuring he hit your tense areas, "And yet I didn't complain at all like you thought I would."

"Because I was watching you." His light chuckles tickled the back of your neck, "And you're too stubborn sometimes."

You giggled under his touch, eyeing your heap of bags near the king-sized bed, slowly undressing. Slipping out of your boyfriend's gentle hold, you placed your dirty clothes in a laundry bag you brought. You needed to take a shower soon; you were getting antsy and anticipating fresh water from a showerhead instead of a stream. The life of hiking in the wild could only be so good for so long. Especially with your hair not getting enough moisture in the fresh air.

Fully nude, you turn to look at Mirio with a playful smile, "Oh, you think so?"

You were pulling your hair out of its messy afro bun while Mirio ogled your hair defying gravity as it did, it left a pleasant grin on his face. You gave him a quick peck on the lips before you searched through the bags. Looking for your tried-and-true skin and hair care products that were placed throughout your belongings. Speeding into the bathroom, you turned on the cold, metal dial to hot water. Awaiting the warm water, you tried your best to detangle your hair, barely succeeding.

Assuming the water warmed up enough, you step into the shower and let the water run through your hair and down your body. An exhale leaves your body as you peaceably scrub your skin of scum. You inhale the smell of your favorite soap, and your mind clears with a serene smile. After lathering and rinsing yourself off, you gently detangle your hair, working the shampoo through it.

The door to the ugly white bathroom swings open slowly, enters your buff boyfriend. Undressing to get in with you, he yawns as he wraps his arms around you. You hastily scoff and turn to him, his sleepy smile says it all. Mirio pulls you closer as he kisses your neck.

"You took too long to get out, Sunshine."

"Because I'm at war, right now."

"Is that right? Well, you could have asked for my help."

Mirio lightly patted your curly locks, patting them down and occasionally scratching your scalp. The feel of his fingertips was enough to make you doze and lose balance. Catching you with his free hand and pulling you closer to his defined chest. With a little giggle, you smile and gaze into his eyes, looking at the water dripping off his hair.

"You know, I just finished cleansing my body, and now I'm getting back to square one."

Humming a tune, "Is that so?" he replied lazily with his chin resting atop your head, "I'm sorry, Sunflower."

You turn your body around to cross your arms over his broad, muscle-bound shoulders, sketching out the scars littering his body, some light scratches others with a firm texture. Your eyes lingered all over him as you slowly caressed the back of his head, placing kisses all along his collarbone and neck. Stopping at his jawline, Mirio cups your ass with his strong hands.

He leans down to reach your ear, "If you start, I'll finish."

You raise up your head innocently to look at him, eyes armored with honesty and lust. Pushing your luck, you lather him in soap and rubbing his chest in circular motions, moving lower to his abs. Pretending to graze his cock, then lather his shoulders down to the wrists and giving eye contact through the whole ordeal. Your lips curve into a sweet smile that causes him to groan.

The motions are simple yet affect him like the ripples from a waterfall. You lightly graze his collarbone with kisses as his muscles tense, placing your hands low to his sides, tracing his adonis belt. A light sigh leaves his thin lips, instantaneously, he picks you up, pushing your tiny frame against the cold wall. The chilliness gives you goosebumps all over, erecting your nipples — Mirio's grip firm around you and his breath heavy on your wet shoulder.

"See, you're pushing it, Princess." His chuckle fanning over your ear.

A tiny snicker escaped as he pressed his lips close to yours, smothering you in kisses, eliminating any free space between you two. His cock stood at attention, the tip tickling your flower. His soft, thin lips left no part of your neck and collarbone untouched. Your nectar seeped onto his thumper as you whimpered with impatience.

"Fill me up, baby."

"Be patient, my Sunflower," He hooked his arms under your thighs, positioned himself to kneel under you while gently sliding you down where your inner thighs touched his cheeks.

Facing your pretty essence, he bulldozes his tongue into your bud. The instant tremor to your clit as your legs quiver as his tongue swivels and explores every part of you. The jolts in your legs leave your voice hoarse as moans break out from your lips. His obligation to pleasure you is selfish and greedy as if his way of controlling you is to give you what you want. Your body rolls as his grasp around your plump thighs tighten, keeping you in place.

Your soft whimpers leave him to groan against your tingling golden arches, "You taste so good, baby." He gives a quick love bite to your shaking thighs, still balancing you against the cold wall as you thrust into him enthusiastically.

His body tenses under yours as he pulls your body close from your ass. He takes hold of your soft cheeks and does a solid lick to your clit, making you quiver. So deliberate with his actions as he purposefully teased you close into edging. You start to whine uncontrollably and grab hold onto his hair to push him closer to you. Resulting in a chuckle that reverberates through your bud, your cry is sensual as you let go of him and hold onto your breasts, playing with your nipples.

"Fuck, you look so hot." Mirio looks at you from between your legs, his blue eyes peering into your glowing, erotic ones. "I'll give you what you want Sunflower, but do me a favor: Don't hold back. I don't care who hears, let them know who you belong to."

You stare back at him flustered, the fault of hot water, or the excitement your powerful boyfriend brings to your flesh cavern. Your nod is subtle, but he catches it quickly, sparking him to make you lose your mind as Mirio dives back in. Without haste, his tongue thrashes around, promising with each taste of you he'll leave you screaming out his name.

The morning after, your body felt tight near your thighs, wishing you washed your hair instead of getting thrown off. Looking a mess, but filled with leftover pleasure. Your voice was loud since you lived to the expectations Mirio requested. Clearing your throat did nothing for you, either. You tried sitting up in the king-size bed but was wrapped in a firm bear hug and a kiss to your fuzzy mane.

"Where are you going, Princess?" His morning voice groaned into your ear.

"Nowhere now with your thick arms around me."

"Because there's no reason to stay up, right? This is where the trip ends, and I'm happy with this."

Mirio snuggles closer to you, your heart flutters, and your smile stretches wide and goofy-like. You're happy that he's in a state of happiness, you can feel the radiation more than usual. "Well, actually, this isn't where the trip ends; I have one more surprise for you."

His messy blond, bed head shuffles behind you; he rotates your waists to stare at you, "What are you talking about, Sunshine?" He tries to rest his shoulder on the pillow while the other hand lays tenderly.

"Get dressed, and I'll show you exactly what I mean."

There was an exception in getting ready; you took your time fixing your hair into a comfortable style deciding whether to leave it in or out, Mirio being a sweetheart asked you to keep it simple to avoid what may come of the day. After leaving the room, you made your way to the massage rooms. The masseuse present was fair and gentle. Making small talk with you, one of them mentioned a noise complaint from an older man. He was complaining about his hotel neighbors yelling about mangoes and cereal in the middle of the night.

"I believe it was the third floor he resided in," The masseuse cooly responded while working the muscles in your calves.

A shock shoots through your body as the dots connect, you try to hide your face further into the cushion. Mirio laughed out loud, "I guess he was hungry but had to wait till the morning, you know?"

"I guess so."

The rest of the massage went well, laughing here and there. It was the most relaxed you had been in a while. You remembered to check in on Mirio since he wasn't used to massages and was prone to outbursts of laughter since he's so ticklish. After the massage, he pulled you into a bear hug and smothered you in kisses, declaring, "I wish it were you that touched me like that."

With more trekking, you reached your final destination. Mirio blissfully bounced about, continuously looking at you and back at the environment. "Hot springs? Oh, babe!"

He was so excited; he couldn't form any other words other than how much he loved you. He pulled you close, littering your face with kisses and tight hugs. Couldn't even break his grasp or stop him from being excited, Mirio treasured the way he would love loud, concretely when targeted to you. His smile was just as infectious as your boyfriend made a scene in front of the entrance. Older couples passed by with sweet looks, whispering to themselves, 'the enchantment of young love.'

Management provided a private unisex bath usually reserved for a group of four or less that pass by. Mirio separated from you with a quick peck to the cheek and sprinted into the changing room for something more comfortable for the water. Women mainly littered the hot spring except that not a lot of people occupied the space today. Leaving the worry of interruptions or disturbances to diminish. You were the first to leave the changing room, wrapped in your bathrobe given to you by staff, and you brought your favorite towel for whenever you would go to the beach or spa.

You walked into the unisex area, finding the way into the pool of warmth. As you found your spot, you took off the towel revealing your nude body. Sinking slowly into the hot water, the sensation of heat traveled throughout your being. You took your time getting used to the pool of warmth, making gracious moves to familiarize yourself with the temperature and size of the domain. Momentarily wrapped into a warm blanket of water before you could be covered in the embrace of your sunny beau.

As you looked around, the space was stunning; a subtle but luxurious set up outdoors littered with banzai and bamboo trees all around the wooden barriers. The stones around the water resembled ashy grey marbled crystals, exquisitely scattered. Swishing in the water, you laid onto a pile of smoother rocks. The rocks were gracious to your back as you rested against them. As you reached comfort, the blond-haired man entered the serene environment. His beam caught your attention as he admired you from outside the water. Your smile allured him as your fingers motioned for him to come closer. Not wasting any time, Mirio recklessly dived into the steamy water.

Face colored in horror as he sloshed his way to you, still smiling. Mirio used his body to cloak yours as he grabbed your ass, sneaking a kiss to your cheek. "Who knew you could make the water look so good, Sunflower."

"Since we took that long shower last night, you don't remember?"

"Perhaps, but every shower you take is noteworthy."

You giggled softly in his embrace as he chuckled in response. Hearing his laugh was too divine, while the smile on his face is sickly sweet. He pulled you by your waist, eliminating the space in between you and his muscular figure. He feels warmer than the pool of water you are standing in. You look up to allow him to peck your lips, his index finger traces your jawline, thumb tickling your neck with subtlety. The touch is simple but intensifies the pleasure forming between your legs. He pays attention to your face, knowing it's hard for you to hide your need for him.

"Are you that anxious to be touched?" His question was hiding a seductive undertone. He peers into your eyes while holding your waist with his other hand, pulling you into his thighs, not shying away from how you're making him feel. His hardon grazes against you, "Can't say you're alone in that, my love."

He trails his hands down your body, kneading his fingers into your inner thighs, rubbing any tension he knows the masseuse didn't work out. The motions are gentle but firm as he hums a little tune. It's corrective in further easing your mind. Mirio came closer to your ear with his hums, placing sensual kisses on the sensitive spots of your neck. Freeing one hand, he takes your breast in his grasp, lightly pressing into it. The grip is just how you like it as he pulls his lips away from your neck and hunches over to meet your nipple with his tongue. The first flick leads to a sharp breath of air. He sucks in your supple flesh circulating your sensitive nerves.

Drowning in the feeling of him touching you, it's reminiscent of the first time you became intimate, and your body is over the moon. His other hand cups your free breast as he smothers them in the kisses they deserved when he wasn't able to see you and had to heal. Mirio's sensuality builds within as he's already beading precum from his love throbber. The eagerness to touch you as he feels your heart beating out your chest eggs him further, challenging himself to grab both with one hand as he rubs your inner thigh in circular motions.

Too anxious to neglect or half-ass any part of your body, he brushes against your dripping essence, still rubbing circular motions into your thighs, pulling his right hand back close to your face, "I know I'm keeping you in suspense, Sunshine. But I can't control how much you're affecting me right now."

Staring into his eyes, you saw a light that was once dimmed, almost dying to a burning lustful glaze. Nearly intimidating as his hands roamed all of you since he could no longer pay attention to just specific parts of your body, he made a swift move to lift you. No longer on your feet, your legs rest at his sides as he pulls you close. Your legs wrap tightly around him as he places kisses between your nipples, breasts, and neck. Airy moans leave your lips that only he could hear, purposefully grazing his ear with your sweet sounds. Heightening his sense and forming goosebumps on the traps of his neck and ongoing down his arms. A deep grunt escapes from Mirio's thin lips as he balances himself with you.

You rub the back of his neck, a trigger that always sets him off. He breathes in through his nose controlling his urges. Whether the reason is the way you would tip-toe to do it, the feel of your hands caressing him or the glow within your eyes that makes him grip you carefully. No way would he drop you, but you could feel his urge to melt. While preparing you for what's been on his mind since entering the luxury hot spring, he prods you with his cock. Pressing into your bud to tease, almost tickling. Still breathing down the side of his neck, you whimper, "Mir, please..."

"Nice try my sunshine, I'm just feeling how ready you are for me, I'll give you exactly what you want."

Deliberately and poise is the impact Mirio places into the junction of your thighs. Your arms wrapped around his shoulder blades, daring to bite at his shoulder to make contact quicker. His thrust made the perfect adjustment to your sopping core. You are gasping harshly into a sensual moan, as he licks the side of your neck behind your ear. The sensation makes you shiver close to him.

"Damn, Sunshine, you're sucking me in. I feel so connected to you."

"I agree, baby. Now, are you gonna move?"

A low chuckle escapes as he grins, "You're so greedy."

His thrusts are scarce as he relishes your inner muscles squeezing onto him tightly, refusing to let him go. Without warning, Mirio thrusts deeply within you. You grip onto him tightly as he licks the sensitive spots on your neck. The thrusts match how quick his hips roll into you, stretching your flower out with ease. The muscle memory of him coming into play as the sensuality leads to chill all throughout your body and hardening your nipples.

Mirio's passionate grunts reverberate through your ears, sending the shock waves straight to your silk igloo. The divinity in hearing them makes your moans louder and higher in pitch. He holds onto your frame like he'll lose you all while hitting your cervix, insanely intoxicating. Your legs tremble as you feel your body ready to give out.

"I hope you're not trying to cum just yet, my Sunflower." Pushing his cock further into you with each bounce, fucking you speechless. "I haven't even fucked you into every nook and cranny here."

His voice in your ear made your pussy turn into a waterfall. The sloshing rampage in your pink pearl wouldn't stop as Mirio kept a pace matching each broken moan coming from you. Your thighs were a clear indication when the coil within you read itself to be snapped. There was no letting up and stopping yourself from crying out his name or how hard the pounding jogged your brain.

With his rod expanding within you by another inch, you knew he was close. Readjusting his hands to grip your thighs, not before a playful smack to your ass. You wasted no time hooking one of your arms behind his neck before he pounded your flower. Too delicious to feel anything but pleasure, reaching your peak, you take soft nibbles into his shoulder in hopes for the coil to pop and overrun you into oblivion. Your body shivers within his hold as your cup begins to overflow. You grasp desperately to Mirio as he maneuvers your body to bounce on top of him, continuously smacking your ass.

You jolt from each smack as you tighten around Mirio's love rod, making less than unintelligible noises. His smirk is hidden from you, but you know it's there as his voice reaches a level of cockiness, "I feel how close you are, Princess."

No time to respond with a smartass remark, you're too enveloped in the sensations given. Short of breath, eyes closed tight as your chest tightens, the pressure rises until it's too much to bear, alluding to the build-up of your cream canal. The coil pulled so tightly finally snaps, as your body unravels within your buff boyfriend's arms. The orgasm hits and sticks, achieving the takeover of your nerves and sinking your body low into Mirio as he finishes inside of you, spreading both your cheeks to gain control.

His growl fluttered your pussy as he filled you with his seed, his hands imprinting your pert ass as the force of his thrusts stopped his touch from being gentle at the moment. You wince from the impact of his tense fingers against your supple skin, knowing a bruise will linger soon. You let out a deep gasp as you stare at your boyfriend. He regains composure quickly while holding you, making a noble face, with a goofy smile as he stares back. You shy from him as his face is too angelic compared to what you just finished doing.

"Hey babe, could you let me down?"

"Of course, Beautiful."

He rests your feet back into the warm, soothing water. You cup his face gently, pushing him into the corner where your towels and bathrobes laid. Your legs wobble as you push him back onto your robes, eager to drop to your knees. The water rushes through your thighs, tickling you, sensationalizing your clit in the process. There's no other way to stop it than to stand, and yet as you're steady in crouch form, your mouth envelops onto Mirio's love rod. A sharp gasp escapes and a fist clenches as he restrains himself from pushing your head down.

His gasps are loud with each soul-suck you perform, even yelling out your name at times. Surely some neighbors are above and below, but there are not enough hands in the world to cover your lover's mouth. He stares intently at you as his throbber expands with each slurp you provide. You return his gaze, his face is overly flushed as he calls out to you, fiercely.

"Fuck, you look amazing, babe. Your eyes are so beautiful." The passion he feels within achieving all the pressure you put and knowingly feel like he's curling his toes underwater. He's so close you can feel his balls twitch, even his growl is becoming more prominent. You push to get him to finish in your mouth, and yet he advances beforehand, raising your mouth off his cock and turning your body around to lift you and rest your tush onto his wide thighs.

"Not so fast my Sunflower, I'm not ready to blast off." Mirio easily controls your body, keeping your frame close to his throbber near your slit, dripping with essence, causing him to slip in with ease. You gasp in unison as your rosebud tightened around him, "Damn, there you go sucking me in."

"At this rate, I have to make you scream and shout to the whole world." Wasting no time, Mirio planted your face down, ass up into your robes while still inside you leaving little time to react.

Without warning, he propelled deep into your dripping flower. The impact indeed rough was enticing as he bent over close to your ear, breath huffing as he kissed your neck. Jittery to your sweet spot being acknowledged, he stands to smack your ass listening to the echo through the resort. It's enough to rattle you into oblivion. His hips roll fiercely into you as if the spanking was the sound to begin a race: Whether it was against himself or you was the mystery.

On the verge of tears, you felt your body surge with mighty ripples of water controlled by earthquakes. A well-acquainted feeling, and yet it was estranged. You murmured how close you were, and Mirio's grunts shook you to your core, tightening around him. He groaned rather harshly as he smacked your ass again, loading you up with all of him. The coil within you once again burned, binding brashly.

"Babe, I can't hold back," Your legs tense as each of your moans shudders out your full lips, "You feel so fucking good."

The master of positions, he places you onto the flat surface of the hot tub. His intent to drive you mad working as his hands lay firmly at your sides, to rub into your thick, soft ass. He holds you from behind, drilling his love rod into you deep. Your pussy clenches to him with unfailing devotion, as your final moans end your build-up. You stretch your hands out to grab Mirio's wrist as he deeply grunts for the last time as he finishes inside of you again. His cock twitches with ferocity as he clenches your hips. His breaths graze the back of the neck roughly, you stand slowly to gather feeling back in your legs.

Your body tries to adjust to the position as you stretch as high into the sky as possible. But your thighs hysterically give out, and you stumble into the embrace of Mirio. He's holding you from behind with a tired, yet satisfied smile. It's enough to release a light chuckle as sweat drips from his now messy hair. You lean back onto his chest with a huge exhale.

"Did I go overboard, Sunshine?" He crossed his arms around your waist.

"Not at all, you went above and beyond. I can stand now, but when we get back to the room, I think I might pass out."

A hearty laugh erupted from your blonde beau, loud enough to echo, and you could have sworn you saw a tear from his cobalt eyes. The vibration of his laughter traveled to his chest, feeling like the ground under your feet would crumble, jumping your heart rate.

"I'm sorry for laughing, Princess, but I just think you're so funny."

"What did I say that made you laugh?"

"The fact that you thought you would be sleeping when we're back at the room."

#mirio x reader #togata mirio x reader #mirio imagines #bnha Mirio #mha x reader #smut #mha smut #bnha smut #absoluteindulgence stories

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zacc-attacc · 4 years ago

Text

Nature: A Javid Oneshot

A/N: My first ever oneshot on this website! I hope y’all enjoy!

Word Count- 1.2k

Jack loved the open sky. He loved the stars, the sounds of nature, and everything in between. But, more than anything, it calmed him, something that not many things were able to do. As a kid, he had always dreamed of falling asleep under the stars every single night. And when he was bounced around in foster care, the night sky had been the one common variable. Always there, like a blanket. Luckily for Jack, Some of the Newsies had put together a camping trip in the woods near campus. They had tents (from the Dollar Tree, probably), a bunch of marshmallows, some hotdogs, and a whole lot of energy. And Jack? Jack an invite and a limited will to live. At least Davey would be there, which, to be honest, had its ups and downs.

Ups, because Davey was single-handedly the sweetest human alive and a fun dude to hang out with. And downs, because Davey was Mom Friend Supreme™ and also had an annoying tendency to make Jack’s normally stoic heart do a tap dance in his chest. Which really was inconvenient because Jack’s last relationship had ended only four weeks ago. It wasn’t a nasty breakup, he and Katherine were actually still friends, but the boys still expected him to be depressed about it. But Jack didn’t like to linger. He was upset for a few days, but now he was over it. Katherine obviously was as well, since she was seen going on a few coffee dates with some girl.

But tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, he could be whoever he wanted to be because that’s just how it was with the Newsies.

Tonight, he could eat bargain hot dogs and s’ mores, and avoid the fact that he was hopelessly in love with the only man he couldn’t have; because god forbid David Jacobs dated a mess like him.

Jack knew exactly where he lay in David’s mind. He was a close friend, maybe a sort of Uncle to his future children with his perfect little life with his husband in the suburbs. David liked him well enough, but he would likely never love him. And Jack had tried to accept that, even though, thus far, it had only made it much worse.

“Ay! Jack! You packed?” Crutchie yelled from his lower bunk. Jack was stretched out on the top bunk, staring at a half-finished political cartoon for his class.

“Yeah… What time’d the guys say to be there?” Jack sat up, hitting his head on the low ceiling. He wasn’t even that tall and it managed to injure him on a daily basis.

“...In five minutes.”

“Shit-” Jack muttered, scrambling to jump down the bunk, only succeeding in hitting his head yet again on the ceiling. After hitting the floor in the heap, all Jack could hear was Crutchie’s cackles.

“Just kidding, It’s actually in 20- I just wanted to see your reaction,” Crutchie wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Yeah, real funny, Crutch,” Jack mumbled, rolling his eyes and smiling. As much as he loved his little brother, he, unfortunately, knew exactly how to get Jack riled up quite easily, which normally ended in Jack running into a wall or stabbing himself in the arm with a pen in a panic.

“S’funny to me,” Crutchie choked out, still laughing. Jack pushed himself to his feet, brushing off the assorted chip crumbs that had migrated from the shitty shag carpeting of his dorm onto his shirt.

“I know, I know,” Jack muttered, grabbing Crutchie’s crutch from the wall and handing them to him. Looking at his laughing face, Jack couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“Alright, let’s get a move on… You ready?” Jack shook his head while still grinning, snatching his duffle bag and Crutchie’s backpack from beside the door.

“Ay! I can carry that!" Crutchie protested, making a grab at the bag.

“Wow, brother dearest, won’t even let me carry a bag,” Jack joked, sticking out his tongue and popping into a dead sprint down the hallway.

“NOW THAT’S JUST UNCALLED FOR!” Crutchie yelled from the hallway.

“LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU, STUPID HEAD!” Jack shouted back, slamming open the door for the stairs and sliding onto the railings down the flights. Once he reached the bottom, he pulled out his phone.

“Text RaceyBoi.”

“What would you like to say?” that stupid automated voice asked back, not fully human or robotic.

“‘Can you go walk Crutchie to the campsite? Left him for CPS reasons.’” CPS was not, in fact, Child Protective Services, but instead Crutchie Protection Squad.

Smiling to himself, Jack started walking towards the woods on the outskirts of campus. He thought he saw Kid Blink and Spot at one point, Heely-ing towards the woods. He couldn’t help but wonder how the wheels would hold up amongst all the vegetation, and quietly hoped he wouldn’t have to call an ambulance tonight.

“Hey, Jack!” came a familiar voice from behind him. His heart automatically deciding to kick into overdrive, Jack turned around to see none other than David Jacobs, grinning and clutching a duffle bag.

“Whaddup, Dave,” Jack grinned back, clapping the taller boy on the shoulder. Seriously, who gave him the right to be this tall? He was like a noodle with a head and arms.

“You heading down to the campsite?” Davey asked, falling into step with Jack.

“That’s the plan. Race is taking Crutchie so that idiot won’t try to carry his backpack again.”

“...You realize he can carry it perfectly fine, right?” Davey said, looking slightly confused.

“Yeah, but I just feel like doin’ something nice for him, y’ know?”

“You may be stupid at times, but you are a good brother, Jack Kelly,” Davey chuckled, taking off his hat and flipping it backward.

“Ey, now don’t get to tellin’ the boys that, I have a reputation as a jerk to keep,” Jack couldn’t stop smiling. Why couldn’t he stop smiling? He felt like someone had turned him into the fucking sun from the Teletubbies.

“I don’t think you could pass as a jerk if you tried,” Davey shrugged, looking into Jack’s eyes so he could get the point across. God, his eyes were brown. Beautiful, chocolatey, perfect brown.

“You would be surprised,” Jack said, tearing his eyes away.

Don’t let yourself get attached, dammit.

“Hey,” Davey stopped. Jack stopped too, staring at him. He put his hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“Don’t… Don’t talk like that. I know you, Jackie. Okay? And you aren’t an asshole.”

“Jeez, David, only a few minutes into the trip and you’re already on the late-night talks-” Jack turned away, hoping Davey couldn’t see that he was blushing.

“I need to hear you say it, okay?” He turned Jack around, forcing him yet again to look into his eyes.

“Fine. I… I ain’t an asshole. Ya happy?” Jack bit his tongue forcefully. That almost physically pained him to say.

“Yeah. I… I’m sorry Jack,” Davey said. Jack still wasn’t looking at him.

“Don’t apologize for caring, Davey.”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

It was late. The shitty fire that had taken them almost a full hour to make was burning low, and Jack had to keep prodding it with a random stick to keep it lit. Most of the boys had already retired to their tents and sleeping bags, and Davey was fast asleep on his chair. Race was the only one still out.

“Do you think we should wake him up?” Race said, tossing the remains of his s’more into the fire.

“What? Oh, nah, I’ll wake him up when I head in. Poor kid, being a pre-med student probably never sleeps,” Jack pointed out.

“How long do you think you’ll be staying out?” Race asked, standing up and stretching.

“‘Till I get tired,” Jack prodded the fire again, before throwing in another stick.

“Then he’ll be out here all night,” Race joked, cracking a smile.

“I’ll wake him up before then. Wouldn’t want him to get hypothermia or some shit.”

“It’s the middle of April, I highly doubt he’ll get hypothermia, Jack.”

“...Did Racetrack Higgins seriously just say an educated statement?”

“Goodnight-” Race turned away suddenly, seeming intent on changing the subject.

“YOU CAN’T CHANGE IT NOW, WE KNOW YOU’RE SMART,” Jack whisper-shouted, not wanting to wake any of the boys up (especially not Davey).

Race replied with his silence.

Sighing, Jack sat back in his chair. Not having any will to sleep, and nothing more to do, he grabbed out his sketchbook. Nature was always good for inspiration.

Well, it could’ve been nature, or it could’ve been Davey. Because, without even realizing it, Jack had started to sketch the sleeping boy’s figure. His right fist was supporting his cheek, his hat was half-tipped onto his face, shading it slightly. His legs were crossed, and his left arm was set on top of them.

Behind him was a backdrop of pine trees, and, even though that wasn’t the actual view, a full moon, and stars. So many stars. All spelling out little words of love in Spanish, Jack’s first language.

Precioso. Bonita. Perfecto.

His hair was mostly tucked under his cap. His eyes were softer when he slept. A ghost of a smile played at his lips.

Increíble.

Perfect.

Just as Jack was signing his name and dating the piece, Davey began to stir.

Quickly shutting the book, Jack simply stared up at the stars he could see despite the light pollution and thick trees.

“Hey, Jack, saw you drawing there,” Davey said, quietly.

“Oh- uh- yeah, just… lookin’ through some old pieces,” Jack stammered.

“Can I see?”

“Uh- no, this isn’t my graded stuff, it’s all just sketches-“

“Y’know, for an art student, you really don’t like showing your art.”

“Uh- Fine.” Jack gave up and strode across the fire to hand him the book. It was mostly drawings of the boys, maybe he wouldn’t look that far.

...Spoiler alert, he looked that far.

“...Is this me? Right back then, when I was sleeping?”

“Uh-“

“You really made me look better than I’ve ever seen myself.”

“Well, that’s how I see you,” Jack said before he could think about his words. Y’know, like a normal person who is trying to hide a massive crush that could end one of his best friendships.

“Th-that’s… how you see me?” Davey was blushing now. Blushing. Not disgusted.

“Uh… yeah. Y’see here, th-the moon behind ya, the way it… it focuses on you.” Jack said, kneeling by his chair and pointing to it.

You are digging your own grave, Jack Kelly.

“Jack, I… that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Davey was still blushing. He turned his face to Jack’s. He was so close…

“Well… I draw what I think, Dave, ‘cause words… they ain’t my strong suit,” Jack chuckled, pulling back. But Davey leaned forward.

“Your drawings don’t need words, Jack. But the artist of them… That is a man that deserves millions of words said about him.”

“D-Davey… Don’t. Please, don’t do this,” Jack shook his head, standing back up.

“Did I make you uncomfortable? I- I’m sorry, I thought that we-“

“No, David. You didn’t. That’s the exact issue! D-d’ya really think I want to end up breaking your heart? We… We can’t do this, ‘cause it’ll end with me hurting you just like I have a million people! And you don’t deserve that fate! You’re too good for me, David,” Jack might’ve been crying. He wasn’t sure. But he sure as hell was ranting.

“Jack-“

“Don’t Jack me, don’t try to act like it could be any different. We know exactly how this is going to end, and I- I can’t stand losing you, Dave.”

There was a moment of silence. It was obvious Davey was picking his next words carefully.

“You won’t.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“You won’t because I won’t let it, Jack Kelly. I won’t let you lose me as a friend, ever. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

“Da-“

In two strides, Davey crossed the circle of chairs and shut Jack up with a kiss, half-crushing him with how tightly he was holding him.

He did this… this thing that made it obvious this wasn’t his first kiss. The way he moved his head up and down just a little bit. The way he seemed all in but ready to pull away if they needed to at any second.

But more than anything, there was a definitive Davey-ness to him that made it all perfect.

So Jack had found one more reason to like nature. It was where he shared his first-ever kiss with his boyfriend, David Jacobs.

#javid #javid fanfiction #jack x davey #jack kelly #newsies #david jacobs #racetrack higgins #newsies the broadway musical #musicals #musical fics #oneshot #dice writes

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ravenbrenna09 · 4 years ago

Text

Jij Verliest - Chapter Eight: Clips 3&4

master list

...

note: decided to drop two clips today because one was just texts; also as much as I want to italicize the texts, I’m not going to because Tumblr never gets all of them :/

also, mild spoilers for the the first part of Pokémon Sword and Shield

...

Maandag 14:11

Broerrrs + Luc

20 July, 14:11

Robbe: What are you guys doing on Wednesday?

Jens: Uh, I’m working that night. But not until like 19:00.

Lucas: I’m working that morning.

Jens: Really?

Lucas: Yeah.

Aaron: I don’t have to work.

Moyo: Me either.

Jens: Lucky you.

Lucas: Why?

Robbe: Because Sander wants to meet you guys. And he gets off at 16:00 on Wednesday.

Jens: Wait really?

Robbe: Yeah. Do you have a problem with it?

Jens: What? No, of course not. I guess I just didn’t expect it to be so soon. Especially after everything that happened.

Robbe: I know, but I want him to meet you guys. Officially. As my boyfriend.

Aaron: Awww, Robbe has a boyfriend.

Robbe: I’ve said he’s my boyfriend multiple times.

Lucas: Yeah, he literally won’t shut up about it.

Robbe: I’m sorry. How many times do you talk about Jens?

Lucas: :)

Aaron: I know, but it’s still new and I’m allowed to be excited.

Moyo: That’s true. We’re excited. And Wednesday sounds good to me. Noor and I are going out tonight.

Jens: Have fun! Wednesday sounds good to me too. Am I going to like him still after everything?

Lucas: Yes.

Jens: Oh really?

Lucas: One look at how he makes Robbe happy and you’ll like him again.

Robbe: I didn’t realize you stopped.

Lucas: He didn’t. He just says that he does. He’s gotta be all macho and protective.

Jens: You like me when I’m macho and protective.

Aaron: VDS at it again.

Moyo: You’re still in the group chat?

Jens: And? I can flirt with my boyfriend when I want to. Even in the group chat.

Robbe: I’m screenshotting that.

Aaron: What for?

Robbe: For when we eventually add Sander to this chat. And Jens tells me not to flirt with my boyfriend. I have proof that I can flirt in the group chat.

Jens: Are we adding Sander to the group chat? We haven’t even met him officially yet. And we never added Thomas to it.

Robbe: I know, but I have a feeling about this one. Plus, I know you guys already like him anyways. Especially Aaron.

Aaron: That’s true.

Jens: In love Robbe is my favorite Robbe.

Moyo: Yeah.

Lucas: Agreed.

Robbe: Thanks guys.

…

Dinsdag 19:25

It had been on Robbe’s mind for awhile—days, weeks even. It was time for something different.

At least for Tuesday.

Tonight, Sander was going over to Britt’s parents’ house. It had been an unexpected and last-minute invite from her parents and Sander was asked to come. Britt had messaged Robbe about it, asking if it was okay, and Robbe had said that it was. It still felt a little weird—as weird as his boyfriend pretending to be dating his ex-girlfriend could be—but that wasn’t why Robbe was upset. But, Robbe didn’t even know if ‘upset’ was the word he should be using… Disappointed? Maybe.

It wasn't about Sander going over to Britt’s. It was Sander going over to Britt’s tonight.

Changing up his streams had been on Robbe’s mind for a few weeks and yesterday afternoon, after playing numerous matches that were just like all the others, he finally decided that he wanted to do it. At least for one day. When Britt had asked—followed shortly by Sander’s call—he thought of pushing the change off until later but, at the same time, Robbe didn’t want to.

Since that Friday night, Robbe had been itching to play Pokémon Sword and Shield, the newest generation in the franchise. With their buzzed and love-drunk minds, they hadn’t really gotten very far into the game. Every once in a while, they would pause to kiss and it would end up a little more handsy than originally planned. Once they managed to pull themselves away, they would barely make any progress before they would tumble back against the bed, kissing each other.

So Robbe went out and bought a Nintendo Switch after his Monday night stream. Because Sander had a copy of Pokémon Shield—he remembered the opening title scene quite vividly—Robbe chose the opposite version before looking through to see what other games were compatible with the console. Once he got his new purchase home, he spent the majority of the evening setting it up with the help of YouTube videos. Zoë had brought him a plateful of spaghetti as he was knee-deep in cords.

Once he woke up on Tuesday morning, Robbe put the finishing touches to make sure that everything would run smoothly—or as smoothly as it could without going live. Even though Robbe had informed them that he was going to do something different, his nerves were still running high, bouncing in his chest. For years, Fortnite had been the only thing that Robbe streamed. So the bulk of his audience would expect Fortnite from him.

Before he started the stream, his phone vibrated loudly against the desk, pulling his gaze from the computer in front of him.

Sander: Have a good stream, baby. I’m hoping to catch the end. If not, I’ll watch it before bed.

A flood of warmth shot through Robbe and soothed all of the erratic nerves in his chest. Unconsciously adjusting his headphones, Robbe typed out a quick message.

Robbe: Have a good dinner. Text me when you get home.

Sander: I will <3

Once Robbe placed his phone to the side, glancing at Sander’s framed sketch, he started the stream. Even though he was still nervous, it was all for nothing. To his surprise, a majority of his regular audience were excited to see him play through Sword for the first time. On the other hand, there were still a handful of people who weren’t excited. Before they left the chat, they made passive aggressive comments about going to watch a Fortnite streamer, and the comments stung a little. Thankfully, the majority of his audience encouraged him and he started the game with little fuss.

On that Friday evening with Sander, they had chosen the water-type starter, Sobble. While Robbe thought that the anxious salamander (or chameleon?) was adorable, he ended up choosing the Scorbunny this time around, which he named Flint. The white bunny with a bandage on his nose had interested him. Plus, if he and Sander were going to continue with Sobble, he wanted to do something different with this one. Once he hit the first route of the game, Robbe caught a Rookidee, which he named Alloy. It was a small bird that looked angry but would eventually evolve into a Corviknight.

When Robbe finally reached the Wild Area, the vast area between cities—and, he learned, Pokémon’s first step into an open world—Robbe paused to consider getting the online services to connect with his viewers who had Pokémon. After a few minutes, he decided to wait until later in the game before he got the online services. Plus, he wanted to look into the other games on the Switch so he could do what they were temporarily dubbing “Nintendo Tuesday.”

As Robbe prepared to enter the Opening Ceremonies for the first time, his phone vibrated against the desk, drawing his attention. Rebel, Rebel played again as Sander’s text message popped up on the screen.

Sander: Baby, buzz me in.

Pulling down his headphones, he barely could make out the buzzer in the hallway. It was still going—which meant that no one else was home. “Umm,” Robbe said, placing his controller on the desk. His character was mid-conversation with a stadium worker and his chat was moving very quickly. “Sorry, I’m going to take my five-minute break now.”

Muting his microphone and placing his headphones on the desk, Robbe shot out of his bedroom door and hit the buzzer on the front door. It only took nearly a full minute for Sander to arrive at the front door, knocking lightly, and Robbe opened it impatiently to find him there on his doormat. Sander was dressed in a long-sleeve black button-up with a pair of skinny jeans. His cheeks were flushed, likely from the heat.

As soon as the door opened, Sander stepped into the apartment and kissed him hurriedly. His skin was hot to the touch—and a little sweaty–but Robbe didn’t mind, bringing him closer against him. Sander wrapped his arms around Robbe’s waist before pulling back. “Hi, baby.”

“Hey,” Robbe said, beaming.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your stream,” he said. “I just really wanted to see you.”

“Is everything okay?” Robbe asked.

“Yeah,” Sander said, squeezing his waist. “Everything is fine. While we were at dinner, her parents asked us if we were really dating because we never kissed in front of them. When her father tried to force us to kiss to prove that we weren’t faking it, Britt exploded. She got into a fight with her dad and I could only watch with her mom as they fought. In the end, she came out to her parents.”

Robbe felt his eyes grow wide, pulling back. “What?”

Sander nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t tell you before because she wasn’t ready yet. But when I took her to my apartment and was going to come over here, she let me know that I could tell you. She’s been in a relationship with her girlfriend for six months. Her parents were always a little overbearing and controlling in her life and tonight was the last straw. She packed a bag and she’s staying in Noor’s bedroom until she figures out what to do.”

“Wow,” Robbe said. “I’m so sorry.”

Sander shrugged with a sad look on his face. “It’s been a long time coming. Since she’s found out, she’s been a ticking time bomb with her parents. They always talked about her being with a good guy—even when she was with me, both real and fake—and she internalized all of it. Every time, she got a little closer until it was too much.”

Robbe nodded. He understood that feeling. In high school, he exploded at the Broerrrs. He had been going through so much—his mother in the hospital and his repressed feelings that he refused to acknowledge to even himself—until one day it was too much. Thankfully, he had Milan and Zoë to help him. The Broerrrs forgave his explosion and changed when they realized how much Robbe was hurt by their words. Avoiding Sander’s gaze, he mumbled, “I know what it’s like… to explode.”

Sander nodded, pressing a kiss to Robbe’s forehead. For a second, they simply rocked in the silence of the foyer. Soon, Sander ducked his head down to press a kiss against Robbe’s lips and he arched against Sander’s chest. Robbe stood on his toes, wrapping his arms around Sander’s neck, and kissed him back. Sander wrapped his arms tighter around Robbe, bringing him flush against his chest, as he dug his fingers into his hair.

Pulling back, Sander kissed his nose. “You better get back to your stream. I just really wanted to see you.”

“They can wait a little more,” Robbe said.

“Yeah, but you don’t want to keep them waiting forever,” Sander said grinning. Placing one more kiss on his lips, he moved back to the front door. As Sander reached to open the door and step outside, Robbe tugged him back against him and Sander looked at him confused. “What is it?”

“You don’t have to leave,” Robbe said. Sander stared down at him with half-lidded eyes and Robbe swallowed his nerves. “You can stay here and come on the stream with me—or hang out in my room if you feel more comfortable with that.” A small smile grew on Sander’s face. “Besides, I need your expertise about my stream and I’d love to have you with me.”

“Didn’t you say last week that I would be distracting?”

“Maybe,” Robbe said, tilting his head back. Sander stared at him with a sly smile on his face. “Maybe I also changed my mind about you being distracting. But you have to promise to be on your best behavior.”

“Okay,” Sander said, gripping his hips tightly. “I’d love to join. But I don’t know how much help I’m going to be with Fortnite and online matches. All I know is what you’ve told me or I’ve heard on your streams.”

Robbe smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips before moving to the kitchen. “I’ll be back soon. I still need to grab a glass of water or I’m not going to be able to make it the rest of the stream without another break.”

When Robbe returned to his bedroom, Sander had kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt, exposing the black shirt he had beneath it. His bag had been discarded at the foot of the bed. There was an emotional look on his face as he turned to Robbe who stepped into the doorway.

“You’re playing Pokémon?” Robbe nodded, relishing when Sander closed the distance and pressed another kiss to his lips. Even with a full glass of water in his hands, Robbe wasted no time in wrapping his free arm around his shoulders and kissing him back. When they separated, Sander grinned. “Lucky for you, Mr. IJzermans, I’m quite the Pokémon expert.”

Robbe smiled, stealing another fleeting kiss. “Lucky me.”

#wtfock #wtfam #jij verliest #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #twitch streamer!robbe #tattoo artist!sander #sobbe #rosander #they're in love

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muilkyu · 4 years ago

Text

Treasure's Types of Dates

🐷 Hyunsuk

"This would look so good with the new shoes I got last week." Hyunsuk gushes while picking up a pair of shades.

"Hyunsuk, that's amazing, but my feet hurt now. Can we leave now?" You whine.

"Just one more store babe. I saw this dress the other night that would look adorable on you," he says. Then he walks away, spotting a different pair of shades that he just needs.

Thrifting dates are a must for both of you

You both drag each other to underground fashion shows when you can

If you are staying home you decide to have a runway date with both of you just playing around with different types of styles

For lazy nights it's just face masks and a Netflix movie party

🐼 Jihoon

"Tilt your head to the left!" Jihoon yells from across the field of wildflowers he's crouched down eyes squinted holding his camera trying to get a good picture, "Extend your foot. A little more! Okay perfect!"

The sky is a beautiful orange shade that compliments the wildflowers and your sundress. Jihoon was right about this being the perfect place for a photo.

"Okay. You look gorgeous. Come look," He says again. You make your way over to him looking at the photo. He really does have a talent for photography. "These are my best ones yet. I don't know if it's the sun or the model I should be staring at more."

Jihoon likes to visit places where you can get a pretty picture

He finds the best cafes for dates. Even though he wants a picture before you can eat which can take forever

You often travel outside of Seoul to see even more of Korea

You got to Busan often for your dates just spending a day walking around and enjoying the city

🐯 Yoshi

"If you fall I will catch you."

"I trust you, but I also can't take the chance of that happening," You say placing a foot on the skateboard. It's staying still for right now, but any second it also could move forward, "Just hold my hands and guide me."

Yoshi was 100% determined to teach you how to skate. Even though you told him you had no interest in skating. When he told you he wanted to teach you his face lit up so you agreed.

The type that wants to share his hobbies with you so that's usually your date idea

Yoshi likes to make you laugh on dates

You don't do too many dates at home unless you are playing a game or something

Sometimes you spend time helping him make art which leads to a big mess and paint staining both your cheeks and clothes

🐨 Junkyu

"We have been here before," you point out as Junkyu lays out a blanket on the grass.

"I know, but it gets even prettier every time we come back." He says laying down on the blanket.

"Don't you think we should go somewhere else next time? We have been to the Bank river on just about half of our dates."

Junkyu shakes his head patting the blanket, "Nope. Now let's lay down and watch the clouds."

Not the best at planning dates at all

You can tell he tries however so you let it slide

Dates are usually more relaxed than exciting

When you want to have full-on fun he makes you do something 'crazy' aka roller coasters

🐹 Mashiho

"Bend your elbow a bit more so you can aim properly," Mashiho says pushing your wrist back.

"I won't make it either way."

Mashiho smiles, "Exactly why you have me as a teacher. Now bend your knees and shoot."

You do as he says. You watch as the ball hits the back of the rim and then slowly falls into the basket.

"You did it! I told you I was a great teacher."

Dates with Mashiho are always playful

You end up either playing a game outside or shopping for cute toys and plushies around Seoul

You pick up hobbies together that interest you both

You rarely go out to eat or order food for dates, but when you are getting food you stop at a bakery for sweets

🦁 Jaehyuk

"We will take whatever the chef recommends," Jaehyuk tells the Waiter. He's decided to bring you to a very fancy restaurant, definitely one that you don't deserve to be at, but he insisted.

"This is all so amazing Jae." You say looking around. You're sitting right next to the window which allows you to look out into the Seoul nightlife.

"I know right. I've always wanted to eat here and now I can with you it makes it all that more special."

Fancy dates. At nice restaurants and cafes.

He likes to pamper you when you go out together so he doesn't hold back

All of the money he has saved up goes towards making you happy

A true romantic at heart he loves to spoil you and make you feel loved

🤖 Asahi

"Which color should I use for the flowers?" You ask digging through the pencil bag of markers.

"Why are you adding flowers on my self-portrait?" Ashai questions. He's still sketching he's very focused on his drawing.

"I know, but I went above and beyond and gave you a background. I should get extra points."

He chuckles at that remark, "I'm highly doubtful you can beat me, but you should do pink."

Homeboy dates

You end up trying to cook homemade pizza which turns out horribly so you just order in

One time he built a fort and you snuggled inside with a movie marathon and hot chocolate

🦊 Yedam

"We should get green tea and a banana nut muffin," Yedam suggests as he looks over the menu. You're at your favorite cafe that's just down the street from your dorm. Yedam suggested you have a study date today which is exactly what you agreed on.

"I want a muffin, but order a different drink. I'm not in the mood for tea."

"Okay," he circles the option on the menu and sets it aside. A worker will walk past soon and pick it up. He unzips his bookbag pulling out a binder and a workbook ready to work, "What are you going to study?"

"I think I am going to start on my Language Arts report. I just need to decide on a topic." You say pulling your laptop out from your tote bag.

Yedam smiles, "I can help you with that."

Study dates happen often because grades are important to you both

Sometimes you end up at a Karaoke bar because you would be a fool to not love his voice

You walk around in parks often just looking at the scenery and enjoying nature

🐰 Doyoung

"Are you sure you should be adding so much salt?"

"I'm only adding a little bit. Trust me It Will taste amazing." Doyoung smiles.

"After your strawberry jam disaster, I don't think I should trust you." You say looking down into the pot at the bright red liquid boiling.

Shrugging off the comment Doyoung reaches for the sesame oil adding a teaspoon, "It will taste fine. Now can you please set the table?" He pushes you towards the table so you leave him to his work.

Doyoung is a wildcard for dates

At times he will bring you to a restaurant for a nice dinner

At other times he will insist on cooking something

Sometimes he finds really weird places for dates such as going to a token food market or he books a ceramics class

One time he tries to teach you a dance one can only imagine how that went

🐏 Haruto

"So what do you have planned for me today?" You ask pulling off your crossbody bag hanging it on your chair.

"I was thinking we should watch a horror movie." He says.

You laugh, "No seriously what are we gonna do?"

"I am serious we should watch a foreign film together and eat popcorn."

"Are you sure this is a good idea? The last time we watched one you wanted to be the knight in shining armor, but I had to walk you home." You point out recalling the memory from a few months ago.

"I promise I can handle it. Let's pop some popcorn."

Spoiler Alert: You only made it 15 minutes into the movie before you had to turn it off. You ended up watching Wreck-It Ralph instead.

Haruto doesn't really plan for dates be just goes with the flow

Most nights you just enjoy the presence of each other talking for hours

Haruto seems quiet but when he is comfortable he loves to sit and talk with the people around him

🐺 Jeongwoo

"Why did you tell me to wear pants?" You ask as you meet Jeongwoo.

He just smiles, "With what I have planned you'll be happy you wore pants."

"You're not going to win!" You shout while running after Jeongwoo. He's decided to bring you to an indoor jumping park. The floor is filled with trampolines and there are sections for different games.

He has a head start already making it to the jumping area, "Hurry up. I want to beat you in dodgeball."

Jeongwoo has a lot of energy so most of the time he has you moving around when you meet to go out.

Sometimes you're screaming your lungs out on a roller coaster other times you're racing him just to see who will win

When you want to just stay home your still moving around either just singing and dancing till you can't anymore or eating ice cream and watching YouTube

🐮 Junghwan

"There is a zombie behind you!" Junghwan shouts. He's right next to you, but he still feels the need to shout.

"Kill it more me I'm still smelting the iron!"

He shakes his head, "No you do it I have to go look for more diamond."

"Wow, you're not gonna protect me from a zombie. I'm gonna take all the diamonds and leave you then." You say turning your character around to kill the zombie.

"I was just kidding. I'll kill any monster that tries to hurt you."

Video Game dates at home

You both enjoy taking each other down or working together to meet a goal in a game

When your not gaming for a date you just walk around Seoul till you find something fun

Him being from Iksan he's only really looked at bits and pieces so you just walk to you find interesting shops and stores

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed!

100 notes · View notes

davidmann95 · 4 years ago

Note

So... Morrison’s 10 part interview on All-Star Superman, along with all other older Newsarama articles, just seem to have ceased to exist. One does not simply live without having those interviews available to reread... Can I find them anywhere else?

Rejoice! I finally borrowed a computer I could put my flash drive into, and emailed myself my copy of the Morrison interview. Here it is below the cut, copied and pasted direct from the source way back when, available again at last:

Three years, 12 issues, Eisners and countless accolades later, All Star Superman is finally finished. The out-of-continuity look at Superman’s struggle with his inevitable death was widely embraced by fans and pros as one of the best stories to feature the Man of Steel, and was a showcase for the talents of the creative team of Grant Morrison, Frank Quitely and Jamie Grant.

Now, Newsarama is proud to present an exclusive look back with Morrison at the series that took Superman to, pun intended, new heights. We had a lot of questions about the series...and Morrison delivered with an in-depth look into the themes, characters and ideas throughout the 12 issues. In fact, there was so much that we’re running this as an unprecedented 10-part series over the next two weeks – sort of an unofficial All Star Superman companion. It’s everything about All Star Superman you ever wanted to know, but were afraid to ask.

And of course there’s plenty of SPOILERS, so back away if you haven’t read the entire series.

Newsarama: Grant, tell us a little about the origin of the project.

Grant Morrison: Some of it has its roots in the DC One Million project from 1999. So much so, that some readers have come to consider this a prequel to DC One Million, which is fine if it shifts a few more copies! I’ve tried to give my own DC books an overarching continuity intended to make them all read as a more coherent body of work when I’m done.

Luthor’s “enlightenment” – when he peaks on super–senses and sees the world as it appears through Superman’s eyes – was an element I’d included in the Superman Now pitch I prepared along with Mark Millar, Tom Peyer and Mark Waid back in 1999. There were one or two of ideas of mine that I wanted to preserve from Superman Now and Luthor’s heart–stopping moment of understanding was a favorite part of the original ending for that story, so I decided to use it again here.

My specific take on Superman’s physicality was inspired by the “shamanic” meeting my JLA editor Dan Raspler and I had in the wee hours of the morning outside the San Diego comic book convention in whenever it was, ‘98 or ‘99.

I’ve told this story in more detail elsewhere but basically, we were trying to figure out how to “reboot” Superman without splitting up his marriage to Lois, which seemed like a cop–out. It was the beginning of the conversations which ultimately led to Superman Now, with Dan and I restlessly pacing around trying to figure out a new way into the character of Superman and coming up short...

Until we looked up to see a guy dressed as Superman crossing the train tracks. Not just any skinny convention guy in an ill–fitting suit, this guy actually looked like Superman. It was too good a moment to let pass, so I ran over to him, told him what we’d been trying to do and asked if he wouldn’t mind indulging us by answering some questions about Superman, which he did...in the persona and voice of Superman!

We talked for an hour and a half and he walked off into the night with his friend (no, it wasn’t Jimmy Olsen, sadly). I sat up the rest of the night, scribbling page after page of Superman notes as the sun came up over the naval yards.

My entire approach to Superman had come from the way that guy had been sitting; so easy, so confident, as if, invulnerable to all physical harm, he could relax completely and be spontaneous and warm. That pose, sitting hunched on the bollard, with one knee up, the cape just hanging there, talking to us seemed to me to be the opposite of the clenched, muscle-bound look the character sometimes sports and that was the key to Superman for me.

I met the same Superman a couple of times afterwards but he wasn’t Superman, just a nice guy dressed as Superman, whose name I didn’t save but who has entered into my own personal mythology (a picture has from that time has survived showing me and Mark Waid posing alongside this guy and a couple of young readers dressed as Superboy and Supergirl – it’s in the “Gallery” section at my website for anybody who can be bothered looking. This is the guy who lit the fuse that led to All Star Superman).

After the 1999 pitch was rejected, I didn’t expect to be doing any further work on Superman but sometime in 2002, while I was going into my last year on New X–Men, Dan DiDio called and asked if I wanted to come back to DC to work on a Superman book with Jim Lee.

Jim was flexing his artistic muscles again to great effect, and he wanted to do 12 issues on Superman to complement the work he was doing with Jeph Loeb on “Batman: Hush.” At the time, I wasn’t able to make my own commitments dovetail with Jim’s availability, but by then I’d become obsessed with the idea of doing a big Superman story and I’d already started working out the details.

Jim, of course, went on to do his 12 Superman issues as “For Tomorrow” with Brian Azzarello, so I found myself looking for an artist for what was rapidly turning into my own Man of Steel magnum opus, and I already knew the book had to be drawn by my friend and collaborator, Frank Quitely.

We were already talking about We3 and Superman seemed like a good meaty project to get our teeth into when that was done. I completely scaled up my expectations of what might be possible once Frank was on board and decided to make this thing as ambitious as possible.

Usually, I prefer to write poppy, throwaway “live performance” type superhero books, but this time, I felt compelled to make something for the ages – a big definitive statement about superheroes and life and all that, not only drawn by my favorite artist but starring the first and greatest superhero of them all.

The fact that it could be a non–continuity recreation made the idea even more attractive and more achievable. I also felt ready for it, in a way I don’t think I would have been in 1999; I finally felt “grown–up” enough to do Superman justice.

I plotted the whole story in 2002 and drew tiny colored sketches for all 12 covers. The entire book was very tightly constructed before we started – except that I’d left the ending open for the inevitable better and more focused ideas I knew would arise as the project grew into its own shape...and I left an empty space for issue 10. That one was intended from the start to be the single issue of the 12–issue run that would condense and amplify the themes of all the others. #10 was set aside to be the one–off story that would sum up anything anyone needed to know about Superman in 22 pages.

Not quite as concise an origin as Superman’s, but that’s how we got started.

NRAMA: When you were devising the series, what challenges did you have in building up this version of the Superman universe?

GM: I couldn’t say there were any particular challenges. It was fun. Nobody was telling me what I could or couldn’t do with the characters. I didn’t have to worry about upsetting continuity or annoying people who care about stuff like that.

I don’t have a lot of old comics, so my knowledge of Superman was based on memory, some tattered “70s books from the remains of my teenage collection, a bunch of DC “Best Of...” reprint editions and two brilliant little handbooks – “Superman in Action Comics” Volumes 1 and 2 – which reprint every single Action Comics cover from 1938 to 1988.

I read various accounts of Superman’s creation and development as a brand. I read every Superman story and watched every Superman movie I could lay my hands on, from the Golden Age to the present day. From the Socialist scrapper Superman of the Depression years, through the Super–Cop of the 40s, the mythic Hyper–Dad of the 50s and 60s, the questioning, liberal Superman of the early 70s, the bland “superhero” of the late 70s, the confident yuppie of the 80s, the over–compensating Chippendale Superman of the 90s etc. I read takes on Superman by Mark Waid, Mark Millar, Geoff Johns, Denny O’Neil, Jeph Loeb, Alan Moore, Paul Dini and Alex Ross, Joe Casey, Steve Seagle, Garth Ennis, Jim Steranko and many others.

I looked at the Fleischer cartoons, the Chris Reeve movies and the animated series, and read Alvin Schwartz’s (he wrote the first ever Bizarro story among many others) fascinating book – “An Unlikely Prophet” – where he talks about his notion of Superman as a tulpa, (a Tibetan word for a living thought form which has an independent existence beyond its creator) and claims he actually met the Man of Steel in the back of a taxi.

I immersed myself in Superman and I tried to find in all of these very diverse approaches the essential “Superman–ness” that powered the engine. I then extracted, purified and refined that essence and drained it into All Star’s tank, recreating characters as my own dream versions, without the baggage of strict continuity.

In the end, I saw Superman not as a superhero or even a science fiction character, but as a story of Everyman. We’re all Superman in our own adventures. We have our own Fortresses of Solitude we retreat to, with our own special collections of valued stuff, our own super–pets, our own “Bottle Cities” that we feel guilty for neglecting. We have our own peers and rivals and bizarre emotional or moral tangles to deal with.

I felt I’d really grasped the concept when I saw him as Everyman, or rather as the dreamself of Everyman. That “S” is the radiant emblem of divinity we reveal when we rip off our stuffy shirts, our social masks, our neuroses, our constructed selves, and become who we truly are.

Batman is obviously much cooler, but that’s because he’s a very energetic and adolescent fantasy character: a handsome billionaire playboy in black leather with a butler at this beck and call, better cars and gadgetry than James Bond, a horde of fetish femme fatales baying around his heels and no boss. That guy’s Superman day and night.

Superman grew up baling hay on a farm. He goes to work, for a boss, in an office. He pines after a hard–working gal. Only when he tears off his shirt does that heroic, ideal inner self come to life. That’s actually a much more adult fantasy than the one Batman’s peddling but it also makes Superman a little harder to sell. He’s much more of a working class superhero, which is why we ended the whole book with the image of a laboring Superman.

He’s Everyman operating on a sci–fi Paul Bunyan scale. His worries and emotional problems are the same as ours... except that when he falls out with his girlfriend, the world trembles.

Newsarama: Grant, what are some of your favorite moments from the 12 issues?

Grant Morrison: The first shot of Superman flying over the sun. The Cosmic Anvil. Samson and Atlas. The kiss on the moon. The first three pages of the Olsen story which, I think, add up to the best character intro I’ve ever written.

Everything Lex Luthor says in issue #5. Everything Clark does. The whole says/does Luthor/Superman dynamic as played out through Frank Quitely’s absolute mastery and understanding of how space, movement and expression combine to tell a story.

Superboy and his dog on the moon – that perfect teenage moment of infinite possibility, introspection and hope for the future. He’s every young man on the verge of adulthood, Krypto is every dog with his boy (it seemed a shame to us that Krypto’s most memorable moment prior to this was his death scene in “Whatever Happened To The Man of Tomorrow.” Quitely’s scampering, leaping, eager and alive little creature is how I’d prefer to imagine Krypto the Superdog and conjures finer and more subtle emotions).

Bizarro–Home, with all of Earth’s continental and ocean shapes but reversed. The page with the first appearance of Zibarro that Frank has designed so the eye is pulled down in a swirling motion into the drain at the heart of the image, to make us feel that we’re being flushed in a cloacal spiral down into a nihilistic, existential sink. Frank gave me that page as a gift, and it became weirdly emblematic of a strange, dark time in both our lives.

The story with Bar–El and Lilo has a genuine chill off ammonia and antiseptic off it, which makes it my least favorite issue of the series, although I know a lot of people who love it. It’s about dying relatives, obligations, the overlit overheated corridors between terminal wards, the thin metallic odors of chemicals, bad food and fear. Preparation for the Phantom Zone.

Superman hugging the poor, hopeless girl on the roof and telling us all we’re stronger than we think we are.

Joe Shuster drawing us all into the story forever and never–ending.

Nasthalthia Luthor. Frank and Jamie’s final tour of the Fortress, referencing every previous issue on the way, in two pages.

All of issue #10 (there’s a single typo in there where the time on the last page was screwed up – but when we fix that detail for the trade I’ll be able to regard this as the most perfectly composed superhero story I’ve ever written).

I don’t think I’ve ever had a smoother, more seamless collaborative process.

NRAMA: The story is very complete unto itself, but are there any new or classic characters you’d like to explore further? If so, which ones and why?

GM: I’d happily write more Atlas and Samson. I really like Krull, the Dino–Czar’s wayward son, and his Stalinist underground empire of “Subterranosauri.” I could write a Superman Squad comic forever. I’d love to write the “Son of Superman” sequel about Lois and Clark’s super test tube baby.

But...I think All Star is already complete, without sequels. You read that last issue and it works because you know you’re never going to see All Star Superman again. You’ll be able to pick up Superman books, but they won’t be about this guy and they won’t feel the same. He really is going away. Our Superman is actually “dying” in that sense, and that adds the whole series a deeper poignancy.

NRAMA: Aside from the Bizarro League, you never really introduce other DC superheroes into the story. Why did you make this choice?

GM: I wanted the story to be about the mythic Superman at the end of his time. It’s clear from the references that he has or more likely has had a few super–powered allies, but that they’re no longer around or relevant any more.

For the context of this story I wanted the super–friends to be peripheral, like they were in the old comics. The Flash? Green Lantern? They represent Superman’s “old army buddies,” or your dad’s school friends. Guys you’ve sort of heard of, who used to be more important in the old man’s life than they are now.

NRAMA: Some readers were confused as to how the “Twelve Labors” broke down, though others have pointed out that Superman’s actions are more reflective of the Stations of the Cross (I note there’s a “Station Café” in the background of issue #12). Could you break down the Twelve Labors, or, if the cross theory is true, how the storyline reflects the Stations?

GM: The 12 Labors of Superman were never intended as an isomorphic mapping onto the 12 Labors of Hercules, or for that matter, the specific Stations of the Cross, of which there are 14, I believe. I didn’t even want to do one Labor per issue, so it deliberately breaks down quite erratically through the series for reasons I’ll go into (later).

Yes, there are correspondences, but that’s mostly because we tried to create for our Superman the contemporary “superhero” version of an archetypal solar hero journey, which naturally echoes numerous myths, legends and religious parables.

At the same time, we didn’t want to do an update or a direct copy of any myth you’d seen before, so it won’t work if you try to find one specific mythological or religious “plan” to hang the series on; James Joyce’s honorable and heroic refutation of the rule aside, there’s nothing more dead and dull than an attempt to retell the Odyssey or the Norse sagas scene by scene, but in a modern and/or superhero setting.

For future historians and mythologizers, however, the 12 Labors of Superman may be enumerated as follows:

1. Superman saves the first manned mission to the sun. 2. Superman brews the Super–Elixir. 3. Superman answers the Unanswerable Question. 4. Superman chains the Chronovore.  5. Superman saves Earth from Bizarro–Home. 6. Superman returns from the Underverse. 7. Superman creates Life. 8. Superman liberates Kandor/cures cancer. 9. Superman defeats Solaris. 10. Superman conquers Death. 11. Superman builds an artificial Heart for the Sun. 12.Superman leaves the recipe/formula to make Superman 2.

And one final feat, which typically no–one really notices, is that Lex Luthor delivers his own version of the unified field haiku – explaining the underlying principles of the universe in fourteen syllables – which the P.R.O.J.E.C.T. G–Type philosopher from issue 4 had dedicated his entire life to composing!

You may notice also that the Labors take place over a year – with the solar hero’s descent into the darkness and cold of the Underverse occurring at midwinter/Christmas time (that’s also the only point in the story where we ever see Metropolis at night).

It can also be seen as the sun’s journey over the course of a day – we open in blazing sunshine but halfway through the book, at the end of issue #5, in fact, the solar hero dips below the horizon and begins the night–journey through the hours of darkness and death, before his triumphant resurrection at dawn. That’s why issue 5 ends with the boat to the Underworld and 6 begins with the moon. Clark Kent is crossing the threshold into the subconscious world of memory, shadows, death and deep emotions.

Although they can often have bizarre resonances, specific elements, like the Station Café, are usually put there by Frank Quitely, and are not necessarily secret Dan Brown–style keys to unlocking the mysteries. I think there might be a Station Café opposite the studio where Frank Quitely works and the “SAPIEN” sign on another storefront is a reference to Frank’s studio mate, Dave Sapien. At least he’s not filling the background with dirty words like he used to, given any opportunity

NRAMA: For that matter, do the Twelve Labors matter at all? They seem so purposely ill–defined. They seem more like misdirection or a MacGuffin than anything that needs to be clearly delineated.

GM: They matter, of course, but the 12 Labors idea is there to show that, as with all myth, the systematic ordering of current events into stories, tales, or legends occurs after the fact.

I’m trying to suggest that only in the future will these particular 12 feats, out of all the others ever, be mythologized as 12 Labors. I suppose I was trying to say something about how people impose meaning upon events in retrospect, and that’s how myth is born. It’s hindsight that provides narrative, structure, meaning and significance to the simple unfolding of events. It’s the backward glance that adds all the capital letters to the list above.

Even Superman isn”t sure how many Labors he’s performed when we see him mulling it over in issue 10.  When you watched it happening, it seemed to be Superman just doing his thing. In the future it’s become THE 12 LABORS OF SUPERMAN!

NRAMA: And on a completely ridiculous note: All–Star Superman is perhaps the most difficult–to–abbreviate comic title since Preacher: Tall in the Saddle. Did you realize this going in?

GM: Going into what? Going into ASS itself? In the sense of how did I feel as I slowly entered ASS for the first time?

It never crossed my mind...

Newsarama: I’d like to know a little more about Leo Quintum and his role in the story. He seems like a bit of an outgrowth of the likes of Project Cadmus and Emil Hamilton, but in a more fantastical, Willy Wonka sense.

Grant Morrison: Yeah, he was exactly as you say, my attempt to create an updated take on the character of “Superman’s scientist friend” – in the vein of Emil Hamilton from the animated show and the ‘90s stories. Science so often goes wrong in Superman stories, and I thought it was important to show the potential for science to go right or to be elevated by contact with Superman’s shining positive spirit.

I was thinking of Quintum as a kind of “Man Who Fell To Earth” character with a mysterious unearthly background. For a while I toyed with the notion that he was some kind of avatar of Lightray of the New Gods, but as All Star developed, that didn’t fit the tone, and he was allowed to simply be himself.

Eventually it just came down to simplicity. Leo Quintum represents the “good” scientific spirit – the rational, enlightened, progressive, utopian kind of scientist I figured Superman might inspire to greatness. It was interesting to me how so many people expected Quintum to turn out bad at the end. It shows how conditioned we are in our miserable, self–loathing, suspicious society to expect the worst of everyone, rather than hope for the best. Or maybe it’s just what we expect from stories.

Having said that, there is indeed a necessary whiff of Lucifer about Quintum. His name, Leo Quintum, conjures images of solar force, lions and lightbringers and he has elements of the classic Trickster figure about him. He even refers to himself as “The Devil Himself” in issue #10.

What he’s doing at the end of the story should, for all its gee–whiz futurity, feel slightly ambiguous, slightly fake, slightly “Hollywood.” Yes, he’s fulfilling Superman’s wishes by cloning an heir to Superman and Lois and inaugurating a Superman dynasty that will last until the end of time – but he’s also commodifying Superman, figuring out how it’s done, turning him into a brand, a franchise, a bigger–and–better “revamp,” the ultimate coming attraction, fresher than fresh, newer than new but familiar too. Quintum has figured out the “formula” for Superman and improved upon it.

And then you can go back to the start of All Star Superman issue #1 and read the “formula” for yourself, condensed into eight words on the first page and then expanded upon throughout the story! The solar journey is an endless circle naturally. A perfect puzzle that is its own solution.

In one way, Quintum could be seen to represent the creative team, simultaneously re–empowering a pure myth with the honest fire of Art...while at the same time shooting a jolt of juice through a concept that sells more “S” logo underpants and towels than it does comic books. All tastes catered!

I have to say that the Willy Wonka thing never crossed my mind until I saw people online make the comparison, which seems quite obvious now. Quintum dresses how I would dress if I was the world’s coolest super–scientist. What’s up with that?

NRAMA: Was Zibarro inspired by the Bizarro World story where the Bizarro–Neanderthal becomes this unappreciated Casanova–type?

GM: Don’t know that one, but it sounds like a scenario I could definitely endorse!

Zibarro started out as a daft name sicked–up by my subconscious mind, which flowered within moments into the must–write idea of an Imperfect Bizarro. What would an imperfect version of an already imperfect being be like?

Zibarro.

NRAMA: I’d like to know more about Zibarro – what’s the significance of his chronicling Bizarro World through poetry?

GM: It’s up to you. I see Zibarro partly as the sensitive teenager inside us all. He’s moody, horribly self–aware and uncomfortable, yet filled with thoughts of omnipotence and agency. He’s the absolute center of his tiny, disorganized universe. He’s playing the role of sensitive, empathic poet but at the same time, he’s completely self–absorbed.

When he says to Superman “Can you even imagine what it’s like to be so different. So unique. So unlike everyone else?” he doesn’t even wait for Superman’s reply. He doesn’t care about anyone’s feelings but his own, ultimately.

NRAMA: The character is very close to Superman, so what does it say that a nonpowered version on a savage world would focus his energy through that medium? Also, does Zibarro’s existence show how Superman is able to elevate even the backwards Bizarros through his very nature?

GM: All of the above. And maybe he writes his totally subjective poetry as a reflection of Clark Kent’s objective reporter role. The suppressed, lyrical, wounded side of Superman perhaps? The Super–Morrissey? Bizarro With The Thorn In His Side?

But he’s also Bizarro–Home’s “mistake” (or so it seems to him, even though he’s as natural an expression of the place as any of the other Bizarro creatures who grow like mold across the surface of their living planet). He feels excluded, a despised outsider, and yet that position is what defines his cherished self–image. He expresses himself through poetry because to him the regular Bizarro language is barbaric, barely articulate and guttural. And they all think he’s talking crap anyway.

It seemed to make sense that an interesting opposite of Bizarro speech might be flowery “woe is me” school Poetry Society odes to the sunset in a misunderstood heart. He’s still a Bizarro though, which makes him ineffectual. His tragedy is that he knows he’s fated to be useless and pointless but craves so much more.

NRAMA: Zibarro also represents a recurrent theme in the story, of Superman constantly facing alternate versions of himself – Bar–El, Samson and Atlas, the Superman Squad, even Luthor by the end. Notably, Hercules is absent, though Superman’s doing his Twelve Labors. With the mythological adventurers in particular, was this designed to equate Superman with their legend, to show how his character is greater than theirs, or both?

GM: In a way, I suppose. He did arm–wrestle them both, proving once and for all Superman’s stronger than anybody! And remember, these characters, along with Hercules, used to appear regularly in Superman books as his rivals. I thought they made better rivals than, say, Majestic or Ultraman because people who don’t read comics have heard of Hercules, Samson and Atlas and understand what they represent.

For that particular story, I wanted to see Superman doing tough guy shit again, like he did in the early days and then again in the 70s, when he was written as a supremely cocky macho bastard for a while. I thought a little bit of that would be an antidote to the slightly soppy, Super–Christ portrayal that was starting to gain ground.

Hence Samson’s broken arm, twisted in two directions beyond all repair. And Atlas in the hospital. And then Superman’s got his hot girlfriend dressed like a girl from Krypton and they’re making out on the moon (the original panel description was of something more like the famous shot of Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr kissing in the surf from “From Here To Eternity.” Frank’s final choice of composition is much more classically pulp–romantic and iconic than my down and dirty rumble in the moondirt would have been, I’m glad to say).

Newsarama: Tell us about some of the thinking behind the new antagonists you created for this series (at least the ones you want to talk about...): First up: Krull and the Subterranosaurs...

Grant Morrison: We wanted to create some throwaway new characters which would be designed to look as if they were convincing long–term elements of the Superman legend.

We were trying to create a few foes who had a classic feel and a solid backstory that could be explored again or in depth. Even if we never went back to these characters, we wanted them to seem rich enough to carry their own stories.

With Krull, we figured a superhuman character like Superman can always use a powerful “sub–human” opponent: a beast, a monster, a savage with the power to destroy civilization. For years I’ve had the idea that the familiar “gray aliens” might “actually” be evolved biped dinosaur descendants, the offspring of smart–thinking lizards which made their way to the warm regions at the Earth’s core.

I imagined these brutes developing their own technology, their own civilization, and then finally coming to the surface to declare bloody war on the mammalian usurpers! It seemed like we could develop this idea into the Krull backstory and suggest a whole epic conflict in a few panels.

Dom Regan, the Glasgow artist and DC colorist, saw the original green skin Jamie Grant had done for Krull, and suggested we make him red instead. Jamie reset his color filters and that was the moment Krull suddenly looked like a real Superman foe.

The red skin marked him out as unique, different and dangerous, even among his own species. It had echoes of Jack Kirby’s Devil Dinosaur that played right into the heart of the concept. A good design became a great design and the whole story of who Krull was – his twisted relationship with his father the Dino–Czar, his monstrous ambitions – came together in that first picture.

The society was fleshed out in the script even though we see only one panel of it – a gloomy, heavy, “Soviet” underworld of walled iron cities, cold blood and deadly intrigue. War–Barges that could sail on the oceans of heated steam at the center of the Earth. A Stalinist authoritarian lizard world where missing person cases were being taken to work and die as slaves in hellish underworld conditions.

NRAMA: Mechano–Man?

GM: An attempt to pre–imagine a classic, archetypal Superman foe, which started with another simple premise – how about a giant robot villain? But not just any giant robot – this is a rampaging machine with a raging little man inside.

Giving him a bitter, angry, scrawny loser as a pilot turned Mechano–Man into a much more extreme and pathological expression of the Man of Steel/Mild–Mannered Reporter dynamic, and added a few interesting layers onto an 8–panel appearance.

NRAMA: The Chronovore – a very disturbing creation, that one.

GM: The Chronovore was mentioned in passing in DC 1,000,000 and would have been the monster in my aborted Hypercrisis series idea. It took a long time to get the right design for the beast because it’s meant to be a 5–D being that we only ever see in 4–D sections. It had to work as a convincing representation of something much bigger that we’re seeing only where it interpenetrates our 4–D space-time continuum.

Imagine you’re walking along with a song in your teenage heart, then suddenly the Chronovore appears, takes bite out of your life, and you arrive at your girlfriend’s house aged 76, clutching a cell phone and a wilted bouquet.

NRAMA: One more obscure run that I was happy to see referenced in this was the use of Nasty from the old Mike Sekowsky Supergirl stories. What made you want to use this character?

GM: I remembered her from the old comics, and felt her fashion–y look could be updated very easily into the kind of fetish club thing I’ve always been partial to.

She seemed a cool and sexy addition to the Luthor plot. The set–up, where Lex has a fairly normal sister who hates how her wayward brother is such a bad influence on her brilliant daughter, is explosive with character potential.

They need to bring Nasty back to mainstream continuity. Geoff! They all want it and you know you never let them down!

NRAMA: Speaking of Mike Sekowsky, I’m curious about his influence on your work. I have an odd fascination with all the ideas and stories he was tossing around in the late 1960s and early 1970s – Jason’s Quest, Manhunter 2070, the I–Ching tales – and many of the characters he worked on, from the B”Wana Beast to the Inferior Five to Yankee Doodle (in Doom Patrol), have shown up in your work. The Bizarro Zoo in issue #10 is even slightly reminiscent of the Beast’s merged animals.

GM: Those were all comics that were around when I was a normal kid, prior to the obsessive collecting fan phase of my isolated teenage years. They clearly inspired me in some way, as you say, but certainly not consciously. I’d never have considered myself a particular fan of Mike Sekowsky’s work, but as you say, I’ve incorporated a lot of his ideas into the DC Universe work I’ve done. Hmm. Interesting.

While I’m at it, I should also say something about Samson and Atlas, halfway between old characters and new.

Samson, Atlas and Hercules were classical mainstays of old Superman covers, tangling with Superman in all those Silver Age stories that happened before he learned from his friends at Marvel that it was possible to fight other superheroes for fun and profit, so I decided to completely “re–vamp” the characters in the manner of superhero franchises. Marvel has the definitive Hercules for me, so I left him out of the mix and concentrated on Atlas and Samson.

Atlas was re–imagined as a mighty but restless and reckless young prince of the New Mythos – a society of mega–beings playing out their archetypal dramas between New Elysium and Hadia, with ordinary people caught in the middle – and Superman.

Essentially good–hearted, Atlas would have been the newbie in a “team” with Skyfather Xaoz!, Heroina, Marzak and the others. He has a bullish, adolescent approach to life. He drinks and plunges himself into ill–advised adventures to ease his naturally gloomy “weighed down by the world” temperament.

You can see it all now. The backstory suggested an unseen, Empyrean New Gods–type series from a parallel universe. What if, when Jack Kirby came to DC from Marvel in 1971, he’d followed up his sci–fi Viking Gods saga at Marvel, with a dimension–spanning epic rooted in Greek mythology? New Gods meets Eternals drawn by Curt Swan/Murphy Anderson? That was Atlas.

Samson, I decided would be a callback to the British newspaper strip “Garth.” Although you may already be imagining a daily strip about the exploits of time–tossed The Boys writer, Garth Ennis, it was actually about a blonde Adonis type who bounced around the ages having mildly horny, racy adventures.

(Go look him up then return the wiser before reading on, so I don’t have to explain anymore about this bastard – he’s often described as “the British Superman,” but oh...my arse! I hated meathead, personality–singularity Garth...but we all grew up with his meandering, inexplicable yet incredibly–drawn adventures and some of it was quite good when you were a little lad because he was always shagging ON PANEL with the likes of a bare–breasted cave girl or gauze–draped Helen of Troy.

(Unlike Superman, you see, the top British strongman liked to get naked. Lots naked. Naked in every time period he could get naked in, which was all of them thanks to the miracle of his bullshit powers.

(Imagine Doctor Who buff, dumb and naked all the time – Russell, I’ve had an idea!!!! – and that’s Garth in a nutshell.

(Sorry, I know I’m going on and the average attention span of anyone reading stuff on the Internet amounts to no more than a few paragraphs, but basically, Garth was always getting naked. In public, in family newspapers. Bollock naked. Let’s face it, patriotic Americans, have you ever seen Superman’s arse?

Newsarama Note: Well, there was Baby Kal-El in the 1978 film...

(Brits, hands up who still remember the man, and have you ever not seen Garth’s arse? Do you not, in fact, have a very clear image of it in your head, as drawn by Martin Asbury perhaps? In mine, Garth’s pulling aside a flimsy curtain to gaze at the pyramids with Cleopatra buck naked in foreground ogling his rock hard glutes...).

Anyway, Samson, I decided, was the Hebrew version of Garth and he would have his own mad comic that was like an American version of Garth. I saw the Bible hero plucked from the desert sands by time–travelling buffoons in search of a savior. Introduced to all the worst aspects of future culture and, using his stolen, erratic Chrono–Mobile, Samson became a time–(and space) traveling Soldier of Fortune, writing wrongs, humping princesses, accumulating and losing treasure etc. Like a science fiction Conan. Meets Garth.

Fortunately, you’ll never see any of these men ever again.

Newsarama: How have your perceptions of Superman and his supporting characters evolved since the Superman 2000 pitch you did with Mark Waid, Mark Millar and Tom Peyer? The Superman notions seem almost identical, but Luthor is very different here than in that pitch, and so is Clark Kent. Did you use some aspects of your original pitch, or have you just changed his mind on how to portray these characters since?

Grant Morrison: A little of both. I wanted to approach All Star Superman as something new, but there were a couple of specific aspects from the Superman 2000 pitch (as I mentioned earlier, it was actually called Superman Now, at least in my notebooks, which is where the bulk of the material came from) that I felt were definitely worth keeping and exploring.

I can’t remember much about Luthor from Superman Now, except for the ending. By the time I got to All Star Superman, I’d developed a few new insights into Luthor’s character that seemed to flesh him out more. Luthor’s really human and charismatic and hateful all the same time. He’s the brilliant, deluded egotist in all of us. The key for me was the idea that he draws his eyebrows on. The weird vanity of that told me everything I needed to know about Luthor.

I thought the real key to him was the fact that, brilliant as he is, Luthor is nowhere near as brilliant as he wants to be or thinks he is. For Luthor, no praise, no success, no achievement is ever enough, because there’s a big hungry hole in his soul. His need for acknowledgement and validation is superhuman in scale. Superman needs no thanks; he does what he does because he’s made that way. Luthor constantly rails against his own sense of failure and inadequacy...and Superman’s to blame, of course.

I’ve recently been re–thinking Luthor again for a different project, and there’s always a new aspect of the character to unearth and develop.

NRAMA: This story makes Superman and Lois’ relationship seem much more romantic and epic than usual, but this one also makes Superman more of the pursuer. Lois seems like more of an equal, but also more wary of his affections, particularly in the black–and–white sequence in issue #2.

She becomes this great beacon of support for him over the course of the series, but there is a sense that she’s a bit jaded from years of trickery and uncomfortable with letting him in now that he’s being honest. How, overall, do you see the relationship between Superman and Lois?

GM: The black-and-white panels shows Lois paranoid and under the influence of an alien chemical, but yes, she’s articulating many of her very real concerns in that scene.

I wanted her to finally respond to all those years of being tricked and duped and led to believe Superman and Clark Kent were two different people. I wanted her to get her revenge by finally refusing to accept the truth.

It also exposed that brilliant central paradox in the Superman/Lois relationship. The perfect man who never tells a lie has to lie to the woman he loves to keep her safe. And he lives with that every day. It’s that little human kink that really drives their relationship.

NRAMA: Jimmy Olsen is extremely cool in this series – it’s the old “Mr. Action” idea taken to a new level. It’s often easy to write Jimmy as a victim or sycophant, but in this series, he comes off as someone worthy of being “Superman’s Pal” – he implicitly trusts Superman, and will take any risk to get his story. Do you see this version of Jimmy as sort of a natural evolution of the version often seen in the comics?

GM: It was a total rethink based on the aspects of Olsen I liked, and playing down the whole wet–behind–the–ears “cub reporter” thing. I borrowed a little from the “Mr. Action” idea of a more daredevil, pro–active Jimmy, added a little bit of Nathan Barley, some Abercrombie & Fitch style, a bit of Tintin, and a cool Quitely haircut.

Jimmy was renowned for his “disguises” and bizarre transformations (my favorite is the transvestite Olsen epic “Miss Jimmy Olsen” from Jimmy Olsen #95, which gets a nod on the first page of our Jimmy story we did), so I wanted to take that aspect of his appeal and make it part of his job.

I don’t like victim Jimmy or dumb Jimmy, because those takes on the character don’t make any sense in their context. It seemed more interesting see what a young man would be like who could convincingly be Superman’s “pal.” Someone whose company a Superman might actually enjoy. That meant making Jimmy a much bigger character: swaggering but ingenuous. Innocent yet worldly. Enthusiastic but not stupid.

My favorite Jimmy moment is in issue #7 when he comes up with the way to defeat the Bizarro invasion by using the seas of the Bizarro planet itself as giant mirrors to reflect toxic – to Bizarros – sunlight onto the night side of the Earth. He knows Superman can actually take crazy lateral thinking like this and put it into practice.

NRAMA: Perry White has a few small–but–key scenes, particularly his address to his staff in issue #1 and standing up to Luthor in issue #12. I’d like to hear more about your thoughts on this character.

GM: As with the others, my feelings are there on the page. Perry is Clark’s boss and need only be that and not much more to play his role perfectly well within the stories. He’s a good reminder that Superman has a job and a boss, unlike that good–for–nothing work-shy bastard Batman. Perry’s another of the series’ older male role models of integrity and steadfastness, like Pa Kent.

NRAMA: There’s a sense in the Daily Planet scenes and with Lois’s spotlight issues that everyone knows Clark is Superman, but they play along to humor him. The Clark disguise comes off as very obvious in this story. Do you feel that the Planet staff knows the truth, or are just in a very deep case of denial, like Lex?

GM: If I had to say for sure, I think Jimmy Olsen worked it out a long time ago, and simply presumes that if Superman has a good reason for what he’s doing, that’s good enough for Jimmy.

Lois has guessed, but refuses to acknowledge it because it exposes her darkest flaw – she could never love Clark Kent the way she loves Superman.

NRAMA: Also, the Planet staff seems awfully nonchalant at Luthor’s threats. Are they simply used to being attacked by now?

GM: Yes. They’re a tough group. They also know that Superman makes a point of looking out for them, so they naturally try to keep Luthor talking. They know he loves to talk about himself and about Superman. In that scene, he’s almost forgotten he even has powers, he’s so busy arguing and making points. He keeps doing ordinary things instead of extraordinary things.

NRAMA: The running gag of Clark subtly using his powers to protect unknowing people is well done, but I have to admit I was confused by the sequence near the end of issue #1. Was that an el–train, and if so, why was it so close to the ground?

GM: It’s a MagLev hover–train. Look again, and you’ll see it’s not supported by anything. Hover–trains help ease congestion in busy city streets! Metropolis is the City of Tomorrow, after all.

NRAMA: And there’s the death of Pa Kent. Why do you feel it’s particularly important to have Pa and not both of the Kents pass away?

GM: I imagined they had both passed away fairly early in Superman’s career, but Ma went a few years after Pa. Also, because the book was about men or man, it seemed important to stress the father/son relationships. That circle of life, the king is dead, long live the king thing that Superman is ultimately too big and too timeless to succumb to.

NRAMA: There is a real touch of Elliott S! Maggin’s novels in your depiction of Luthor – someone who is just so obsessive–compulsive about showing up Superman that he accomplishes nothing in his own life. He comes across as a showman, from his rehearsed speech in issue #1 to his garish costume in the last two issues, and it becomes painfully apparent that he wants to usurp Superman because he just can’t be happy with himself. What defeats him is actually a beautiful gift, getting to see the world as Superman does, and finally understanding his enemy.

That’s all a lead–in to: What previous stories that defined Luthor for you, and how did you define his character? What appeals to you about writing him?

GM: The Marks Waid and Millar were big fans of the Maggin books, and may have persuaded me to read at least the first one but I’m ashamed to say can’t remember anything about it, other than the vague recollection of a very humane, humanist take on Superman that seemed in general accord with the pacifist, hedonistic, between–the–wars spirit of the ‘90s when I read it. It was the ‘90s; I had other things on my mind and in my mind.

I like Maggin’s “Must There Be A Superman?” from Superman #247, which ultimately poses questions traditional superhero comic books are not equipped to answer and is one of the first paving stones in the Yellow Brick Road that leads to Watchmen and beyond, to The Authority, The Ultimates etc. Everyone still awake, still reading this, should make themselves familiar with “Must There Be A Superman?” – it’s a milestone in the development of the superhero concept.

However, the story that most defines Luthor for me turns out to be, as usual, a Len Wein piece with Curt Swan/Murphy Anderson– Superman #248. This blew me away when I was a kid. Lex Luthor cares about humanity? He’s sorry we all got blown up? The villain loves us too? It’s only Superman he really hates? Genius. Big, cool adult stuff.

The divine Len makes Lex almost too human, but it was amazing to see this kind of depth in a character I’d taken for granted as a music hall villain.

I also love the brutish Satanic, Crowley–esque, Golden Age Luthor in the brilliant “Powerstone” Action Comics #47 (the opening of All Star #11 is a shameless lift from “Powerstone”, as I soon realised when I went back to look. Blame my...er...photographic memory...cough).

And I like the Silver Age Luthor who only hates Superman because he thinks it’s Superboy’s fault he went bald. That was the most genuinely human motivation for Luthor’s career of villainy of all; it was Superman’s fault he went bald! I can get behind that.

In the Silver Age, baldness, like obesity, old age and poverty, was seen quite rightly as a crippling disease and a challenge which Superman and his supporting cast would be compelled to overcome at every opportunity! Suburban “50s America versus Communist degeneracy? You tell me.

I like elements of the Marv Wolfman/John Byrne ultra–cruel and rapacious businessman, although he somewhat lacks the human dimension (ultimately there’s something brilliant about Luthor being a failed inventor, a product of Smallville/Dullsville – the genius who went unnoticed in his lifetime, and resorted to death robots in chilly basements and cellars. Luthor as geek versus world). I thought Alan Moore’s ruthlessly self–assured “consultant” Luthor in Swamp Thing was an inspired take on the character as was Mark Waid’s rage–driven prodigy from Birthright.

I tried to fold them all into one portrayal. I see him as a very human character – Superman is us at our best, Luthor is us when we’re being mean, vindictive, petty, deluded and angry. Among other things. It’s like a bipolar manic/depressive personality – with optimistic, loving Superman smiling at one end of the scale and paranoid, petty Luthor cringing on the other.

I think any writer of Superman has to love these two enemies equally. We have to recognize them both as potentials within ourselves. I think it’s important to find yourself agreeing with Luthor a bit about Superman’s “smug superiority” – we all of us, except for Superman, know what it’s like to have mean–spirited thoughts like that about someone else’s happiness. It’s essential to find yourself rooting for Lex, at least a little bit, when he goes up against a man–god armed only with his bloody–minded arrogance and cleverness.

Even if you just wish you could just give him a hug and help him channel his energies in the right direction, Luthor speaks for something in all of us, I like to think.

However he’s played, Luthor is the male power fantasy gone wrong and turned sour. You’ve got everything you want but it’s not enough because someone has more, someone is better, someone is cleverer or more handsome.

Newsarama: Grant, a recurring theme throughout the book is the effect of small kindness – how even the likes of Steve Lombard are capable of decency. And Superman gets the key to saving himself by doing something that any human being could do, offering sympathy to a person about to end it all.

Grant Morrison: Completely...the person you help today could be the person who saves your life tomorrow.

NRAMA: The character actions that make the biggest difference, from Zibarro’s sacrifice to Pa’s influence on Superman, are really things that any normal, non-powered person could do if they embrace the best part of their humanity. The last page of issue #12 teases the idea that Superman’s powers could be given to all mankind, but it seems as though the greatest gift he has given them is his humanity. How do you view Superman’s fate in the context of where humanity could go as a species?

GM: I see Superman in this series as an Enlightenment figure, a Renaissance idea of the ideal man, perfect in mind, body and intention.

A key text in all of this is Pico’s ‘Oration On The Dignity of Man’ (15c), generally regarded as the ‘manifesto’ of Renaissance thought, in which Giovanni Pico Della Mirandola laid out the fundamentals of what we tend to refer to as ’Humanist’ thinking.

(The ‘Oratorio’ also turns up in my British superhero series Zenith from 1987, which may indicate how long I’ve been working towards a Pico/Superman team-up!)

At its most basic, the ‘Oratorio’ is telling us that human beings have the unique ability, even the responsibility, to live up to their ‘ideals’. It would be unusual for a dog to aspire to be a horse, a bird to bark like a dog, or a horse to want to wear a diving suit and explore the Barrier Reef, but people have a particular gift for and inclination towards imitation, mimicry and self-transformation. We fly by watching birds and then making metal carriers that can outdo birds, we travel underwater by imitating fish, we constantly look to role models and behavioral templates for guidance, even when those role models are fictional TV or, comic, novel or movie heroes, just like the soft, quick, shapeshifty little things we are. We can alter the clothes we wear, the temperature around us, and change even our own bodies, in order to colonize or occupy previously hostile environments. We are, in short, a distinctively malleable and adaptable bunch.

So, Pico is saying, if we live by imitation, does it not make sense that we might choose to imitate the angels, the gods, the very highest form of being that we can imagine? Instead of indulging the most brutish, vicious, greedy and ignorant aspects of the human experience, we can, with a little applied effort, elevate the better part of our natures and work to express those elements through our behavior. To do so would probably make us all feel a whole lot better too. Doing good deeds and making other people happy makes you feel totally brilliant, let’s face it.

So we can choose to the astronaut or the gangster. The superhero or the super villain. The angel or the devil. It’s entirely up to us, particularly in the privileged West, how we choose to imagine ourselves and conduct our lives.

We live in the stories we tell ourselves. It’s really simple. We can continue to tell ourselves and our children that the species we belong to is a crawling, diseased, viral cancer smear, only fit for extinction, and let’s see where that leads us.

We can continue to project our self-loathing and narcissistic terror of personal mortality onto our culture, our civilization, our planet, until we wreck the promise of the world for future generations in a fit of sheer self-induced panic...

...or we can own up to the scientific fact that we are all physically connected as parts of a single giant organism, imagine better ways to live and grow...and then put them into practice. We can stop pissing about, start building starships, and get on with the business of being adults.

The ’Oratorio’ is nothing less than the Shazam!, the Kimota! for Western Culture and we would do well to remember it in our currently trying times.

The key theme of the ‘Dark Age’ of comics was loss and recovery of wonder - McGregor’s Killraven trawling through the apocalyptic wreckage of culture in his search for poetry, meaning and fellowship, Captain Mantra, amnesiac in Robert Mayer’s Superfolks, Alan Moore’s Mike Maxwell trudging through the black and white streets of Thatcher’s Britain, with the magic word of transformation burning on the tip of his tongue.

My own work has been an ongoing attempt to repeat the magic word over and over until we all become the kind of superheroes we’d all like to be. Ha hah ha.

Newsarama: The structure of the 12 issues involves both Superman’s 12 labors and his impending death. Do you feel the threat of his demise brings out the best in Superman’s already–high character, or did you intend it more as a window for the audience to understand how he sees the world?

Grant Morrison: In trying to do the “big,” ultimate Superman story, we wanted to hit on all the major beats that define the character – the “death of Superman” story has been told again and again and had to be incorporated into any definitive take. Superman’s death and rebirth fit the sun god myth we were establishing, and, as you say, it added a very terminal ticking clock to the story.

NRAMA: When we talked earlier this year, we discussed the neurotic quality of the Silver Age stories. Looking at the series as a whole, you consistently invert this formula. Superman is faced with all these crises that could be seen as personifying his neuroses, but for the most part he handles them with a level head and comes across as being very at peace with himself. You talked about your discussion with an in–character Superman fan at a convention years ago, but I am curious as to how you determined Superman’s mindset.

GM: I felt we had to live up to the big ideas behind Superman. I don’t take my daft job lightly. It’s all I’ve got.

As the project got going, I wasn’t thinking about Silver Ages or Dark Ages or anything about the comics I’d read, so much as the big shared idea of “Superman” and that “S” logo I see on T–shirts everywhere I go, on girls and boys. That communal Superman. I wanted us to get the precise energy of Platonic Superman down on the page.

The “S” hieroglyph, the super–sigil, stands for the very best kind of man we can imagine, so the subject dictated the methodical, perfectionist approach. As I’ve mentioned before, I keep this aspect of my job fresh for myself by changing my writing style to suit the project, the character or the artist.

With something like Batman R.I.P., I’m aiming for a frenzied Goth Pulp-Noir; punk-psych, expressionist shadows and jagged nightmare scene shifts, inspired by Batman’s roots and by the snapping, fluttering of his uncanny cape. Final Crisis was written, with the Norse Ragnarok and Biblical Revelations in mind, as a story about events more than characters. A doom-laden, Death Metal myth for the wonderful world of Fina(ncia)l Crisis/Eco-breakdown/Terror Trauma we all have to live in.

The subject matter drives the execution. And then, of course, the artists add their own vision and nuance. With All Star Superman, “Frank” and I were able to spend a lot of time together talking it through, and we agreed it had to be about grids, structure, storybook panel layouts, an elegance of form, a clarity of delivery. “Classical” in every sense of the word. The medium, the message, the story, the character, all working together as one simple equation.

Frank Quitely, a Glasgow Art School boy, completely understood without much explanation, the deep structural underpinnings of the series and how to embody them in his layouts. There’s a scene in issue # 8, set on the Bizarro world, where we see Le Roj handing Superman his rocket plans. Look at the arrangement of the figures of Zibarro, Le Roj, Superman and Bizaro–Superman and you’ll see one attempt to make us of Renaissance compositions.

The sense of sunlit Zen calm we tried to get into All Star is how I imagine it might feel to think the way Superman thinks all the time - a thought process that is direct, clean, precise, mathematical, ordered. A mind capable of fantastical imagination but grounded in the everyday of his farm upbringing with nice decent folks. Rich with humour and tears and deep human significance, yet tuned to a higher key. We tried to hum along for a little while, that’s all.

In honor of the character’s primal position in the development of the superhero narrative, I hoped we could create an “ultimate” hero story, starring the ultimate superhero.

Basically, I suppose I felt Superman deserved the utmost application of our craft and intelligence in order to truly do him justice.

Otherwise, I couldn’t have written this book if I hadn’t watched my big, brilliant dad decline into incoherence and death. I couldn’t have written it if I’d never had my heart broken, or mended. I couldn’t have written it if I hadn’t known what it felt like to be idolized, misunderstood, hated for no clear reason, loved for all my faults, forgotten, remembered...

Writing All Star Superman was, in retrospect, also a way of keeping my mind in the clean sunshine while plumbing the murkiest depths of the imagination with that old pair of c****s Darkseid and Doctor Hurt. Good riddance.

Newsarama: This is touched on in other questions, but how much of the Silver/Bronze Age backstory matters here? What do you see as Superman's life prior to All-Star Superman? (What was going on with this Superman while the Byrne revamp took hold?)

Grant Morrison: When I introduced the series in an interview online, I suggested that All Star Superman could be read as the adventures of the ‘original’ Pre-Crisis on Infinite Earths Superman, returning after 20 plus years of adventures we never got to see because we were watching John Byrne‘s New Superman on the other channel. If ‘Whatever Happened To The Man of Tomorrow?’ and the Byrne reboot had never happened, where would that guy be now?

This was more to provide a sense, probably limited and ill-considered, of what the tone of the book might be like. I never intended All Star Superman as a direct continuation of the Weisinger or Julius Schwartz-era Superman stories. The idea was always to create another new version of Superman using all my favorite elements of past stories, not something ‘Age’ specific.

I didn’t collect Superman comics until the ‘70s and I’m not interested enough in pastiche or nostalgia to spend 6 years of my life playing post-modern games with Superman. All Star isn’t written, drawn or colored to look or read like a Silver Age comic book.

All Star Superman is not intended as arch commentary on continuity or how trends in storytelling have changed over the decades. It’s not retro or meta or anything other than its own simple self; a piece of drawing and writing that is intended by its makers to capture the spirit of its subject to the best of their capabilities, wisdom and talent.

Which is to say, we wanted our Superman story be about life, not about comics or superheroes, current events or politics. It’s about how it feels, specifically to be a man...in our dreams! Hopefully that means our 12 issues are also capable of wide interpretation.

So as much as we may have used a few recognizable Silver Age elements like Van-Zee and Sylv(i)a and the Bottle City of Kandor, the ensemble Daily Planet cast embodies all the generations of Superman. Perry White is from 1940, Steve Lombard is from the Schwartz-era ‘70s, Ron Troupe - the only black man in Metropolis - appeared in 1991. Cat Grant is from 1987 and so on.

P.R.O.J.E.C.T. refers back to Jack Kirby’s DNA Project from his ‘70s Jimmy Olsen stories, as well as to The Cadmus Project from ’90s Superboy and Superman stories. Doomsday is ‘90s. Kal Kent, Solaris and the Infant Universe of Qwewq all come from my own work on Superman in the same decade. Pa Kent’s heart attack is from ‘Superman the Movie‘. We didn’t use Brainiac because he’d been the big bad in Earth 2 but if we had, we’d have used Brainiac’s Kryptonian origin from the animated series and so on.

I also used quite a few elements of John Byrne’s approach. Byrne made a lot of good decisions when he rebooted the whole franchise in 1986 and I wanted to incorporate as much as I could of those too.

Our Superman in All Star was never Superboy, for instance. All Star Superman landed on Earth as a normal, if slightly stronger and fitter infant, and only began to manifest powers in adolescence when he’d finally soaked up enough yellow solar radiation to trigger his metamorphosis.

The Byrne logic seemed to me a better way to explain how his powers had developed across the decades, from the skyscraper leaps of the early days to the speed-of-light space flight of the high Silver Age. And more importantly, it made the Superman myth more poignant - the story of a farm boy who turned into an alien as he reached adolescence. I felt that was something that really enriched Superman. He grew away from his home, his family, his adopted species as he became Superman. His teenage years are a record of his transformation from normal boy to super-being.

As you say, there are more than just Silver Age influences in the book. Basically we tried to create a perfect synthesis of every Superman era. So much so, that it should just be taken as representative of an ‘age’ all its own.

In the end, however, I do think that the Silver Age type stories, with their focus on human problems and foibles, have a much wider appeal than a lot of the work which followed. They’re more like fables or folk tales than the later ‘comic book superhero’ stories of Superman when he became just another colorful costume in the crowd...and perhaps that’s why All Star seemed to resemble those books more than it does a typical modern Marvel or DC comic. It was our intention to present a more universal, mainstream Superman.

NRAMA: In your depiction of Krypton and the Kryptonians, you show the complexity of Superman’s relationship between humanity and Earth even further. Krypton has that scientific paradise quality to it, but the Kryptonians are also portrayed as slightly aloof and detached, even Jor-El. But from Bar-El to the people of Kandor, they’re touched by Superman’s goodness. What do you see as the fundamental difference between Kryptonians and Earthlings, and how has Superman’s character been shaped by each?

GM: My version of Krypton was, again, synthesized from a number of different approaches over the decades.  In mythic terms, if Superman is the story of a young king, found and raised by common people, then Krypton is the far distant kingdom he lost. It’s the secret bloodline, the aristocratic heritage that makes him special, and a hero. At the same time, Krypton is something that must be left behind for Superman to become who he is - i.e. one of us. Krypton gives him his scientific clarity of mind, Earth makes his heart blaze.

I liked the very early Jerry Siegel descriptions where Krypton is a planet of advanced supermen and women (I already played with that a little in Marvel Boy where Noh-Varr was written to be the Marvel Superboy basically). To that, I added the rich, science fiction detailing of the Silver Age Krypton stories and the slightly detached coolness that characterized John Byrne’s Krypton, which I re-interpreted through the lens of Dzogchen Buddhist thought, probably the most pragmatic, chilly and rational philosophic system on the planet and the closest, I felt, to how Kryptonians might see things.

We also took some time to redesign the crazy, multicolored Kryptonian flag (you can see our version in Kandor in issue #10). The flag, as originally imagined, seemed like the last thing Kryptonians would endorse, so we took the multicolored-rays-around-a-circle design and recreated it - the central circle is now red, representing Krypton’s star, Rao, while the rays, rather than arbitrary colors, become representations of the spectrum of visible light pouring from Rao into the inky black of space. In this way, the flag, that bizarre emblem of nationalism becomes a scientific hieroglyph.

Showing Krypton and Kryptonians was also important as a way of stressing why Superman wears that costume and why it makes absolute sense that he looks the way he does. I don’t see the red and blue suit as a flag or as rewoven baby blankets. There’s no need for Superman to dress the way he does but it made sense to think of his outfit as his ‘national costume‘.

The way I see it, the standard superhero outfit, the familiar Superman suit with the pants on the outside, is what everyone wore on Krypton, give or take a few fashion accessories like hoods and headbands, chest crests and variant colors. In fact, all other superheroes are just copying the fashions on Krypton, lost planet of the super-people.

Superman wears his ’action-suit’ the way a patriotic Scotsman would wear a kilt. It’s a sign of his pride in his alien heritage.

Newsarama: Although All–Star Superman ties in with DC One Million, you style of writing has changed dramatically since then. How do you feel about One Million now?

Grant Morrison: I just read it again and liked it a lot. Comics were definitely happier, breezier and more confident in their own strengths before Hollywood and the Internet turned the business of writing superhero stories into the production of low budget storyboards or, worse, into conformist, fruitless attempts to impress or entertain a small group of people who appear to hate comics and their creators.

NRAMA: Obviously, this book is the most explicit SF–Christ story since Behold the Man, only...happy. Superman/Christ parallels have existed for decades, but this story makes it absolutely explicit, from laying his hands on the sick and dying to...well, most of issue #12. You’ve dealt with Christ themes before, particularly in The Mystery Play, but outside of the comics, how do you see Superman as a Christ figure for the “real” world?

GM: The “Superman as Christ” thing is a little too reductive for me, and tends to overlook the fact that Superman is by no means a pacifist in the Christ sense. Superman would never turn the other cheek; Superman punches out the bully. Superman is a fighter.

When did Christ ever batter the Devil through a mountain?

The thing I disliked about the Superman Returns movie was the American Christ angle, which reduced Superman to a sniveling, masochistic wreck, crawling around on the floor, taking a kicking from everyone. This approach had an odd and slightly disturbing S&M flavor, which didn’t play well to the character’s strengths at all and seemed to derive entirely from a kind of Catholic vision of the suffering, martyred Jesus.

It’s not that he’s based on Jesus, but simply that a lot of the mythical sun god elements that have been layered onto the Christ story also appear in the story of Superman. I suppose I see Superman more as pagan sci–fi. He’s a secular messiah, a science redeemer with tough guy muscles and a very direct and clear morality.

NRAMA: Continuing the religious themes, in issue #10, you have Superman literally giving birth to himself, both philosophically and as a character – a nice little meta–moment showing how Superman inspires a world where he is only fiction. How did that idea come about?

GM: It came from the challenge we’d set ourselves: as I said, issue #10 had been left as a blank space into which the single most coherent condensation of all our ideas about Superman were destined to fit.

I wanted to do a “day in the life” story. So much of All Star had been about this threat to Superman himself, so we wanted to show him going about a typical day saving people and doing good.

Then came the title “Neverending,” which comes from the opening announcement – “Faster than a speeding bullet!...” of the Superman radio show from 1940, and seemed to me to be as good a title for a Superman story as any I could think of. It seemed to distil everything about Superman’s battle and his legend into a single word. And the story structure itself was designed to loop endlessly, so it went well with that.

On top of that went the idea of the Last Will and Testament of Superman. A dying god writing his will seemed like an interesting structure to use. Then came the idea to fit all of human history into that single 24 hours. And then to show the development of the Superman idea through human culture from the earliest Australian Aboriginal notions of super–beings ‘descended” from the sky, through the complex philosophical system of Hinduism, onto the Renaissance concept of the ideal man, via the refinements of Nietzche and finally, down to that smiling, hopeful Joe Shuster sketch; the final embodiment of humanity’s glorious, uplifting notion of the superman become reduced to a drawing, a story for kids, a worthless comic book.

And also what that could mean in a holographic fractal universe, where the smallest part contains and reflects the whole.

Of course the next panel in that sequence is happening in the real world and would show you, the reader, sitting with the latest Superman issue in your hands, deep within the Infant Universe of Qwewq in the Fortress of Solitude, today, wherever you are. In “Neverending,” the reader becomes wrapped in a self–referential loop of story and reality. If you actually, seriously think about what is happening at this point in the story, if you meditate upon the curious entanglement of the real and the fictional, you will become enlightened in this life apparently. According to some texts.

NRAMA: On a personal level, you’ve explored all types of religions and philosophies in your work. What is your take on religion and how it influences humanity, and the Christian take on Jesus Christ in particular?

GM: I think religion per se, is a ghastly blight on the progress of the human species towards the stars. At the same time, it, or something like it, has been an undeniable source of comfort, meaning and hope for the majority of poor bastards who have ever lived on Earth, so I’m not trying to write it off completely. I just wish that more people were educated to a standard where they could understand what religion is and how it works. Yes, it got us through the night for a while, but ultimately, it’s one of those ugly, stupid arse–over–backwards things we could probably do without now, here on the Planet of the Apes.

Religion is to spirituality what porn is to sex. It’s what the Hollywood 3–act story template is to real creative writing.

Religion creates a structure which places “special,” privileged people (priests) between ordinary people and the divine, as if there could even be any separation: as if every moment, every thought, every action was not already an expression of dynamic ‘divinity” at work.

As I’ve said before, the solid world is just the part of heaven we’re privileged to touch and play with. You don’t need a priest or a holy man to talk to “god” on your behalf: just close your eyes and say hello. “God” is no more, no less, than the sum total of all matter, all energy, all consciousness, as experienced or conceptualized from a timeless perspective where everything ever seems to present all at once. “God” is in everything, all the time and can be found there by looking carefully. The entire universe, including the scary, evil bits, is a thought “God” is thinking, right now.

As far as I can figure it out from my own reading and my own experience of how the spiritual world works, Jesus was, as they say, way cool: a man who achieved a state of consciousness, which nowadays would get him a diagnosis of temporal lobe epilepsy (in the days of the Emperor Tiberius, he was crucified for his ideas, today he’d be laughed at, mocked or medicated).

This “holistic” mode of consciousness (which Luthor experiences briefly at the end of All Star Superman) announces itself as a heartbreaking connection, a oneness, with everything that exists...but you don’t have to be Superman to know what that feeling is like. There are a ton of meditation techniques which can take you to this place. I don’t see it as anything supernatural or religious, in fact, I think it’s nothing more than a developmental level of human consciousness, like the ability to see perspective – which children of 4 cannot do but children of 6 can.

Everyone who’s familiar with this upgrade will tell you the same thing: it feels as if “alien” or “angelic” voices – far more intelligent, coherent and kindly than the voices you normally hear in your head – are explaining the structure of time and space and your place in it.  This identification with a timeless supermind containing and resolving within itself all possible thoughts and contradictions, is what many people, unsurprisingly, mistake for an encounter with “God.” However, given that this totality must logically include and resolve all possible thoughts and concepts, it can also be interpreted as an actual encounter with God, so I’m not here to give anyone a hard time over interpretation.

Some people have the experience and believe the God of their particular culture has chosen them personally to have a chat with. These people may become born–again Christians, fundamentalist Muslims, devotees of Shiva, or misunderstood lunatics. Some “contactees” interpret the voices they hear erroneously as communications from an otherworldly, alien intelligence, hence the proliferation of “abduction” accounts in recent decades, which share most of their basic details with similar accounts, from earlier centuries, of people being taken away by “fairies” or “little people”.

Some, who like to describe themselves as magicians, will recognize the “alien” voice as the “Holy Guardian Angel”.

In timeless, spaceless consciousness, the singular human mind blurs into a direct experience of the totality of all consciousness that has ever been or will ever be. It feels like talking with God but I see that as an aspect of science, not religion.

As Peter Barnes wrote in “The Ruling Class”, “I know I must be God because when I pray to Him, I find I’m talking to myself.”

Newsarama: When we spoke earlier this year, you talked about some of your ideas for future All Star stories. Are you moving forward on those, or have you started working on different ideas since then?

Grant Morrison: I haven’t had time to think about them for a while. I did have the stories worked out, and I’d like to do more, but right now it feels like Frank and Jamie and I have said all there is to be said. I don’t know if I’m ready to do All Star Superman with anyone else right now. I have other plans.

NRAMA: You end the book with Superman having uplifted humanity – having inspired them through his sacrifice and great deeds, and with the potential to pass his powers on to humanity still there. Do you plan to explore this concept further, or would you prefer to leave it open–ended?

GM: I may go back to the Son of Superman in some way. At the same time, it’s best left open–ended. I like the idea that Superman gets to have his cake and eat it; he becomes golden and mythical and lives forever as a dream. Yet, he also is able to sire a child who will carry his legacy into the future. He kicks ass in both the spiritual and the temporal spheres!

NRAMA: The notion of transcendence – always a big part of your work. But the debate about All Star Superman is whether or not it "transcends its genre." Superman becomes transcendent within the series itself, and inspires the beings on Qwewq, but does the work aspire to more than that? Is it simply the greatest version of a Superman story, and that’s enough?

GM: That would certainly be enough if it were true.

It’s a pretty high–level attempt by some smart people to do the Superman concept some justice, is all I can say. It’s intended to work as a set of sci–fi fables that can be read by children and adults alike. I’d like to think you can go to it if you’re feeling suicidal, if you miss your dad, if you’ve had to take care of a difficult, ailing relative, if you’ve ever lost control and needed a good friend to put you straight, if you love your pets, if you wish your partner could see the real you...All Star is about how Superman deals with all of that.

It’s a big old Paul Bunyan style mythologizing of human - and in particular male - experience. In that sense I’d like to think All Star Superman does transcend genre in that it’s intended to be read on its own terms and needs absolutely no understanding of genre conventions or history around it to grasp what’s going on.

In today’s world, in today’s media climate designed to foster the fear our leaders like us to feel because it makes us easier to push around. In a world where limp, wimpy men are forced to talk tough and act ‘badass’ even though we all know they’re shitting it inside. In a world where the measure of our moral strength has come to lie in the extremity of the images we’re able to look at and stomach. In a world, I’m reliably told, that’s going to the dogs, the real mischief, the real punk rock rebellion, is a snarling, ‘fuck you’ positivity and optimism. Violent optimism in the face of all evidence to the contrary is the Alpha form of outrage these days. It really freaks people out.

I have a desire not to see my culture and my fellow human beings fall helplessly into step with a middle class media narrative that promises only planetary catastrophe, as engineered by an intrinsically evil and corrupt species which, in fact, deserves everything it gets.

Is this relentless, downbeat insistence that the future has been cancelled really the best we can come up with? Are we so fucked up we get off on terrifying our children? It’s not funny or ironic anymore and that’s why we wrote All Star Superman the way we did. Everything has changed. ‘Dark’ entertainment now looks like hysterical, adolescent, ‘Zibarro’ crap. That’s what my Final Crisis series is about too.

NRAMA (aka Tim Callahan): Continuing with the theme of transcendence: The words "ineffectual" and "surrender" are repeated throughout the book. Discuss.

GM: Discuss yourself, Callahan! I know you have the facilities and I should think it’s all rather obvious.  

NRAMA: What was the inspiration for the image of Superman in the sun at the end? (I confess this question comes as the result of much unsuccessful Googling)

GM: I didn’t have any specific reference in mind - just that one we‘ve all sort of got in our heads. I drew the figure as a sketch, intended to be reminiscent of William Blake’s cosmic figures, Russian Constructivist Soviet Socialist Worker type posters, and Leonardo’s ‘Proportions of the Human Figure‘. The position of the legs hints at the Buddhist swastika, the clockwise sun symbol. It was to me, the essence of that working class superheroic ideal I mentioned, condensed into a final image of mythic Superman, - our eternal, internal, guiding, selfless, tireless, loving superstar. The daft All Star Superman title of the comic is literalized in this last picture. It’s the ‘fearful symmetry’ of the Enlightenment project - an image of genius, toil, and our need to make things, to fashion art and artifacts, as a form of superhuman, divine imitation.

It was Superman as this fusion of Renaissance/Enlightenment ideas about Man and Cosmos, an impossible union of Blake and Newton. A Pop Art ‘Vitruvian Man‘. The inspiration for the first letter of the new future alphabet!

As you can see, we spent a lot of time thinking about all this and purifying it down to our own version of the gold. I’m glad it’s over.

NRAMA: Finally: What, above all else, would you like people to take away from All Star Superman?

GM: That we spent a lot of time thinking about this!

No. What I hope is that people take from it the unlikelihood that a piece of paper, with little ink drawings of figures, with little written words, can make you cry, can make your heart soar, can make you scared, sad, or thrilled. How mental is that?

That piece of paper is inert material, the corpse of some tree, pulped and poured, then given new meaning and new life when the real hours and real emotions that the writer and the artist, the colorist, the letter the editor translated onto the physical page, meet with the real hours and emotions of a reader, of all readers at once, across time, generations and distance.

And think about how that experience, the simple experience of interacting with a paper comic book, along with hundreds of thousands of others across time and space, is an actual doorway onto the beating heart of the imminent, timeless world of “Myth” as defined above. Not just a drawing of it but an actual doorway into timelessness and the immortal world where we are all one together.

My grief over the loss of my dad can be Superman’s grief, can trigger your own grief, for your own dad, for all our dads. The timeless grief that’s felt by Muslims and Christians and Agnostics alike. My personal moments of great and romantic love, untainted by the everyday, can become Superman’s and may resonate with your own experience of these simple human feelings.

In the one Mythic moment we’re all united, kissing our Lover for the First time, the Last time, the Only time, honoring our dear Dad under a blood red sky, against a darkening backdrop, with Mum telling us it’ll all be okay in the end.

If we were able to capture even a hint of that place and share it with our readers, that would be good enough for me.

#All Star Superman #Grant Morrison #Superman

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allycryz · 4 years ago

Text

WOL Challenge #7: Want

[Prompt List Here]

[Filled Prompts Here]

Early Shadowbringers spoilers, companion piece of sorts to Day 4: Outrage

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Nerys x Haurchefant

Summary: Nerys and Haurchefant’s reunion on the first. Sometimes, bodies and minds don’t cooperate and even though you’re horny and can’t keep your hands off your lover.

(Basically–I wanted to write about how things going “wrong” in the bedroom is not an indictment of your relationship. Sometimes there are a million little factors that get in the way.)

They cannot leave Eulmore fast enough.

Neither speaks as they hasten over dirt roads and dry, brittle grass. Gatetown grows smaller and smaller but somehow, the tiered city only looms more. When will they send someone to hunt them? The way those girls in harlequin motley moved–Nerys saw the training in it. Should they need to, that pair can kill. And quickly.

Reason prevails by the third hill along with the chilling memory of the singer. Her patron’s promise of ascension. She’d had an uneasy feeling before and now, after seeing the tame sin eaters in Vauthry’s chamber…

“They don’t kill where others will see,” Nerys says aloud. “Into the sea or fed to their monsters. I think we’ll be alright.”

“...Twelve preserve,” Alphinaud murmurs. “I knew there was something terribly wrong, but I had no real notion. It’s the one place the Exarch hasn’t sent spies.”

“That is telling. About their security and about what could wait inside.”

Alphinaud scrubs a hand over his face. A rare nervous gesture for him, even in front of close friends. He strives to appear cool and calculating in all things. She clasps his shoulder and squeezes. “We’ll figure this out, Alphi. How to help them.”

He huffs a laugh. “Do you know...I actually missed you calling me that.”

“You didn’t like it before? I’m so sorry, I would never have-”

“No, no, please Nerys. I didn’t dislike it so much as...felt it was undignified. But now?” He looks up at her. Smiles. “I’m glad to be with my friend again, and I want her to use it.”

“Alright,” she grins back. Grateful for the spot of warmth after the utter horror behind them. “But if I ever do anything-”

A shadow falls over them.

Nerys’ gaze jerks up as she reaches for her lance. Not a sin eater but something coming from the monstrous cliffs, circling once. Twice. And then it dives down towards them.

Her thighs and calves sing in anticipation, ready to leap. Beside her, Alphinaud murmurs a spell. The dark shape becomes the silhouette of an amaro, becomes a more defined beast, and the rider–

The rider yells something. Unintelligible, and then not. It is her name. It is her name and the voice is–and the rider is–

“Nerys!” He calls again. His blue cape streams behind him as the amaro dives. Unceasing light gleams against his golden armor. To her eye, he looks like a hero summoned out of an ancient tale to offer aid.

“Haurchefant!” She rushes forward and he jumps from his mount, the beast landing seconds later. It’s not clear who touches who first–her arms thrown about his neck, his about her waist. He lifts her off the ground and spins her about, his laughter the purest music to her ears.

Nerys cradles her leather-clad hand against his cheek and kisses him. It has only been weeks for her, but losing him atop everything else had near broken her.

For him, it has been two years. No wonder he kisses her so fiercely, so deeply, the rest of the world falls away. She feels him tremble against her. Tears fall down his cheek.

“My Haurchefant,” she says, wiping beneath his eyes. “I missed you so much.”

“I’ve ached to see you again.” And then he resumes their kiss, crushing her tight against him. It’s possible he will never let her go again. It’s possible she won’t either.

At last he lifts his head and turns to Alphinaud, eyes bright and shining. The young man pointedly watches the ocean with red cheeks. “Good to see you, Alphinaud. It’s been an age.”

“Yes.” Alphinaud clears his throat. “I wasn’t aware you were around?”

“Mm. Playing the diplomat in the settlements above. You can only get there by amaro.” He gestures to his mount. “Luckily, I’m allowed to partner with Yami when I need wings.”

The amaro in question grants them an unimpressed yawn and turns to sniff at the brush and dirt.

“I was only told you were on a covert mission,” says Nerys, arms staying firmly about his waist.

“And so I was. No doubt Eulmore would be displeased to learn of any alliance that doesn’t funnel more bodies their way.”

At that, Nerys shudders. Does he have any idea how right he is? The grim expression says he might. “But you two seemed set out for somewhere. May I offer my aid?”

“We’re for Cracked Shell Beach,” says Alphinuad. “Our rides await us to return to the Crystarium. It is best that we don’t linger here overlong.”

“It’s safe to say we’re not welcome back to Eulmore.” Nerys tries to keep her tone light. Her right hand clenches and then flexes, directing the tension out of her.

“Say no more.” He brushes his lips against her forehead. “To the beach then. Once you debrief, we will catch up.”

“Indeed.” Alphinaud begins walking again. “If you’ll forgive the turn of phrase, it has been an extremely long day for the both of us.”

“Forgiven,” says Haurchefant with a glance at the undying light above. He clicks his tongue and Yami leaves his foraging to stand beside him. Elezen and beast escort them to the shore.

Nerys feels some of the dread and horror eke away as they walk, their hands brushing against one another.

A long day indeed. Their report takes time, weaving the state of Stilltide and Wright into all the details they might remember from Eulmore. The harlequins, the meol, the singer, the entitled lord surrounded by Sin Eaters. Haurchefant is a steady presence at her side, his hand pressed against the small of her back.

Alphinaud’s findings are more limited, having been occupied with the Chais. But with pen and paper he is able to sketch near accurate renditions of the layout and positions of the guards. He recalls the naivete of some servants versus the abject fear he witnessed in the shopkeepers and merchants. Those people were not beholden to individuals with fickle tastes. How many servants had they seen come and go?

“Tomorrow,” says Nerys. “I’ll find Alisaie. As it stands, I need some rest before I leave again.”

“Of course, of course.” The Crystal Exarch nods. “I’ve arranged a suite for you at the Pendants. Pray, go eat and rest. Just tell the Manager your name and he’ll take care of things.”

She nods. “Thank you. Haurchefant, I’ll tell them to expect you?”

“Yes, love.” He kisses her, chaste and gentle before their audience. “I won’t make you wait too long.”

As promised, the Manager brings her to one of the largest suites she has ever seen. Far larger than some apartments in Revenant’s Toll. She must look like a fish, gaping as she does. He smiles and rises to every inch of his considerable height.

“The Exarch asked for my best, dare I assume you like it?”

“I do,” she says, walking over to the long dining table. Nerys could easily host a supper party here. “May I trouble you for the time?”

Her chronometer is wildly out of sync with this timestream. On her way here, the streets had seemed more empty but a city rarely sleeps. A truth both here and the Source.

The Manager glances at his own device. “Fifteen minutes past the eleventh bell. We keep the shutters closed for our new guests but they are free to open them as they like. Can I get you anything?”

“It looks like there is plenty of food and drink for the next few days. Ah, my companion Lord Haurchefant will come through shortly. He’s allowed to know where my room is.”

“Oh! That’s right, he is another from the Exarch’s homeland…” The man looks thoughtful. “Such a nice man, from what I remember. I’ll point him in the right direction.”

Blessedly, he does not linger. Nerys immediately avails herself of the restroom and then strips off her leathers. She is unbelievably parched and feels dirty, despite her mandatory shower at Eulmore. The perfume they provided is still too cloying upon her. First will be another rinse, and then drinking a carafe’s worth of water to make her feel whole again.

It hasn’t been that long for her since she saw him. Not really. They had been separated far longer–during the campaigns in Ala Mhigo and Doma. But that had been different. She knew he was safe in Thanalan, under Urianger’s watchful eye. He had fought during their final push, that harrowing night with Zenos and Shinryu. Even then–it was different knowing he battled alongside Aymeric and Lucia.

But when Maxima returned with him as still and waxen as the others, breathing but unresponsive…

Something broke in her that day, against the Ascian wearing Zenos’ corpse. It was not one thing but likely a host of cracks and fissures from near-constant struggle and battle. But if there was one moment that started the chain reaction...it was seeing Haurchefant trapped in his own body.

Having him back feels like the day after her harrowing experience in The Vault. Letting herself into his room and finding him alive and, if not hale and whole, at least recovering. The relief of it threatens to send her crashing down if she thinks too long on it.

Sometimes, Nerys wonders if there is something wrong with her. One person is not meant to feel this much, to have emotion so fierce it seems to course all through her. Years of learning to keep it below the surface only does so much. It doesn’t stop her from experiencing it.

She steps out of the bathroom in a robe and Haurchefant is there, slicing up an apple at the long dining table. He still wears the golden armor and cape–a design, she realises, is very close to what the Crystarium guard wear. Though she has seen none with that color of plate.

“You could have changed clothes,” she says. “You still can.”

“Ah but…” He rises. “That would have prolonged returning to you. And maybe I want you to see me in my ‘official’ uniform again.”

Nerys walks towards him, taking in the sight, He is always lovely and she suspects he always will be. Fortemps men age extremely well. The ensemble does add a certain...magnificence to him. He might be a prince in such armor, if they still had such titles in Ishgard. “You look amazing. You said you were forming alliances?”

“Mm.” He meets her in the middle of the room, wrapping arms about her. “The dwarves of Tomra are excellent smiths. I thought to impress them with meticulously crafted armor. Different from what I might use to treat with the Night’s Blessed.”

These are all terms she doesn’t know outside of the Exarch’s explanation of where her friends are. He speaks them with such ease, as if he is a son of the First and not a visitor who arrived two years ago.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” She asks, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.

He smiles. “Oh plenty. For instance, I cannot keep my hands off of you.”

“Good.” She releases his cape from his armor and watches it pool on the ground. “Then don’t.”

Thus permitted, Haurchefant kisses her as fiercely as he did in Kholusia. His armor presses against the fluffy white material of her robe, her exposed skin, and she doesn’t care. It is a welcome prod against her fatigue along with the aching need clenching at her center.

He tilts up her chin and presses a hungry mouth to the underside of her jaw, to her throat. She shivers as his gauntleted hands cradle either side of her neck. Haurchefant knows she cannot abide pressure at her throat stronger than a bite or kiss. Cold metal laying atop her shoulders is different.

Nerys doesn’t know what it means that it’s affecting her so. That can be worked out later. She wants him now.

Haurchefant tosses her belt aside and pushes the robe open and off of her. It lays gathered their feet along with his cape. “Give me a moment, love. I’ll have this armor gone.”

“Don’t bother.” Nerys slides her hands to his belt, finding familiar straps and catches. Armor is armor, most of the time. She’s well-acquainted with removing certain pieces for a fuck after a battle. To her disappointment, he does remove the gauntlets but leaves the rest. In the moment he promised, she frees his cock.

“The bed.” He says, voice urgent. Punctuating it with a harsh, brief kiss. “Go lie down.”

“My lord.” She rushes to cross the room. He is like a shadow, just behind her by a step as she moves. Watches her lay down for him. When he adjusts her–draping her legs over the side of the bed and sliding a pillow beneath her–she is breathless.

Haurchefant is often bossy with her in bed. Including one memorable afternoon in Ala Mhigo, when he tied her to the cot and ordered her to be quiet. (Tent walls are thin, after all). What drives him now is as fierce as she has ever seen, a consuming hunger that rages just below the surface.

Nerys swallows, throat still unbelievably dry. Water will wait till after. Everything can wait till after. Her tongue grazes her cracked lips. “I missed you.”

“You…” He plants his hands on either side of her, his greaves grazing her shins. “I wished for your arrival as often as I dreaded it. I wanted to see you and yet, I did not want to drag you across worlds for another conflict.”

Haurchefant shifts his balance to one arm–the non-dominant hand–and slips his fingers between her legs. She has no idea if the scars from the Vault transferred to this body, though she sees the telltale signs of fatigue. The pain must still-

Nerys sighs as he spreads her folds, two fingers easing into her. “You know...I would cross all rifts to find you.”

“I know.” His lips brush her forehead. “And I know you will face whatever comes and win, as you always do. Even so, would that I could grant you a reprieve.”

“This,” she says, spreading her legs wider. “This is respite. This is what I need.”

He creates such need in her, an ache that demands satisfaction. Especially with the intent look in his eyes, the passion trembling just below the surface. The kind of intense, overwhelming desire that keeps her awake at night until she reaches for her toys.

His touch is direct and purposeful. All the right movements, the right pressure–he remembers it all. Nerys tilts her head back, eyes closing as she sinks into the feel of it. The building in her. A slight cramp forms in her left calf and she lifts that foot to rest on the bed, rocking in motion with his fingers.

It’s there. It’s right there. She just needs to push further in that direction and he’ll have her in pieces.

“Haurchefant.” Nerys lifts her head. “I need you.”

It is as much for him as it for her–he is tense with the force of holding back his passion. Relief crosses his noble brow and he nods, slipping his fingers out of her. The sight of his tongue tasting the slick on them sends a new flutter through her.

“At your service,” he murmurs, wrapping a hand around himself. He takes a moment to find the notch before pressing in, slow at first and then all at once. The angle is...she shifts herself until it feels right, sighing. Draws her other foot up. Turns out her hip more so her bent outer thigh touches the mattress. Better, but...

Still as a cat, he looks down at her. Holding himself in place, unwilling to move though the need in his cerulean gaze is almost painful. “Is this alright?”

Nerys nods. “This is alright. I’m alright. Let me…”

She lifts both feet, resting her ankles on his shoulders before extending her legs. She is tall but so is he, not much further to go. Much better. This is a position she knows and one she always likes. Especially with him in armor like this, fierce and strong and overpowering.

“Go on,” she urges, rocking against him. "Please."

He requires no further coaxing and begins moving inside her. Nerys grips at the sheets, sliding her hips in tandem with him. There. Right there. If he just drives at that spot...

Even his finger on her clit can't distract from the returning cramp. She flexes her foot a few times, annoyed with herself. She has him back and he is a magnificent, golden knight before her; and her body creates obstacles. The growing cottony feel of the inside of her mouth. The warnings of a headache along the too-tight muscles at her nape and temple.

Nerys bats these annoyances out of her brain and sets her focus to him. The thick, hot length of him sliding into her. The gentle and insistent pressure of his thumb. The blazing blue of his eyes as he looks at her like she is a precious treasure.

It's there. She can see the edge of relief.

She can also feel her body refusing to move past this stage, the artful touch at her clit moving from delightful to numbing.

"A moment," Nerys gasps. "Sorry, can we…"

"Anything. Anything." His voice is a near growl in contrast to his words. He seems liable to fall apart at any moment.

"Just-fuck me right now, no hands," she says. Sometimes the nub needs a brief reprieve before she can come.

The hand at her clit disappears, splays instead on the bed beside her head. His hips snap back into motion and she gasps at the jolt of it.

Twelve. She is slick and needy and has wanted this for weeks now. The feel of his heavy cock. The utter surrender to him, a man who owns her soul and heart and-

"Shit!" The cramp blossoms at once into a throbbing, consuming pain. Too much to ignore. "Sorry, sorry, it's not you, my leg-"

Haurchefant trembles above her, leashing his desire. It takes him some time to speak. "Per...perhaps a different position? And I'll remove the armor."

With other men, this is the point she would have carried on and faked her climax. But he would not thank her for such deception. Too empathetic by half, too much of a gentleman.

"Just...put my legs down and finish in me." She says at last, frustration prickling at her eyes and throat. This is their reunion and she can't even-

"My heart." Reverent, gentle, he slides her legs back down. His breath is so ragged. "I can-"

"Please." She adjusts herself against him. "Let me do this for you? You're trembling."

He sighs. There is a faint shudder as he holds himself back. "I am not so green I can't control myself."

"I know. But I'm saying you don't have to." Nerys tightens around him. "Come for me, please."

Haurchefant shudders as her inner walls clench around him, stuttering out a breathy moan. One nod, then he moves in her again. The leg has a brief spasm and for a moment she fears it will be too much-

And then he slides deep into her, shuddering and filling her and gripping the blanket by her head so tight he might rip it. The feel of him falling apart re-kindles some of the heat in her. It is not satisfaction but it is nice, seeing him like this.

Haurchefant kisses her, a mindless, fierce claiming of her mouth. She groans as he stutters inside her with the aftershocks.

"Nerys, dearest…" He whispers like a prayer. The tone and the care in that settles her. The love in his eyes settles her.

The armor does come off. Another time, they’ll figure that out. It was...well it isn’t funny that she’s had sex when both parties were armored but this was beyond them. But it’s a cousin of humor, at least.

And at least she can smile. Keyed up as she is, it is a blessing to feel some contentment about the whole thing. And Haurchefant is gentle as he cleans her up, warm hands soothing over her until she relaxes. Carefully kneading at the interfering calf.

They lie naked in the cool, crisp sheets. Skin against skin, calmer now. Haurchefant slides a hand through her hair. "By the by; I should have said this, the moment I saw you. You look utterly beautiful with this new cut."

Warmth flares in her cheeks and chest. "You like it?"

"Mm. Exceptionally pretty." He kisses the tip of her nose. "Somehow you are the Most Beautiful Lily in Ishgard no matter what you do with it. As well as other countries and worlds, naturally."

"Oh now you're just exaggerating." She kisses his shoulder. Her stomach chooses then to growl, loud and angry.

"...beloved," says Haurchefant, brow creasing. "When last did you eat?"

"Far too long ago," she admits. "I was going to eat and drink but...well, you put your hands on me and that was that."

He sighs and sits up. "I even cut up fruit for you before I became a distraction. Come, let's take care of you."

Nerys slides her arms around him. "I like the sound of that. Do you have to leave the Crystarium again any time soon?"

Haurchefant smiles, eyes a little sad at the notion. “Likely. Let us make the most of this time, ere we must part again.”

“I can do that.” She relaxes in his grip, curling up against his warmth. For the first time that long, interminable day: peace settles upon her.

#seaswolchallenge #nerys eluned #haurchefant greystone #wol x haurchefant #duskwight elezen #duskwight warrior of light #dragoon warrior of light #alphinaud leveilleur #crystal exarch #///////explicit fic #ally writes

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marciaownsmylife · 5 years ago

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purly hc - “what could go wrong”

curly sneaks ponyboy out to a concert that he is not supposed to be at

•ponyboy is stupid in love exhibit A

•the entire town was buzzing for spring break because there was a rock concert being held at the drive-in

•concerts didn’t happen often in tulsa and when they did they were usually some boring old people music the parents went to

•so just about every teen in tulsa had a ticket or knew someone or was gonna sneak in

•except ya boi ponyboy

•darry said no, and ponyboy begged for weeks and weeks but darry was not budging in the slightest

•soda was going tho, but he didn’t have school and he could pay for his own ticket

•practically everyone in the gang was going, except for darry and ponyboy

•pony was so upset over this, he had been sulking anytime anyone mentioned it, and it’s all everyone talked about, so that was a lot

•even dallas has gotten johnny a ticket, darry wasn’t too keen on that but it wasn’t his place to judge

•curly however was not only certain that he was going, this bitch had a whole ass plan to get on the stage

•and pony was apart of this plan

•so it came quite a shock to him when he tried to explain what pony had to do, that ponyboy told him he wasn’t going

•”what tf do u mean you’re not going?! how am i supposed to become tulsa’s next rockstar if ur not there????”

•pony was already in a bad mood because of the concert being mentioned so he wasn’t humouring curlys jokes (curly was dead serious tho, we been knew)

•but curly always got his way so he decided that he would just have to do a little more thinking than he was used to

•which was any sort of thinking in the first place

•curly suggested to pony that he’d just sneak out

•pony pointed out that he still didn’t have a ticket

•”leave that part to me, baby curtis, all you gotta do is be at your window”

•and so it was settled ponyboy was going

•but he made curly promise not to get on stage because if ponyboy was going he had to be careful not to run into any of the gang,

•darry had personally told them that there would be a cash reward for anyone who snitched on ponyboy, and this wasn’t just for the concert this was in general

•most of the gang didn’t really snitch that often but they all knew that the cash would be high if pony was caught at the concert

•curly was fine with it, as long as he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing, whether that be sneaking pony out or getting up on stage, he was cool

•the night of the concert came and pony had gotten dressed with his pyjamas over his clothes and gotten into bed, he’d also made sure to be extra pissy that day so everyone knew he was pissed off because he ‘wasn’t going’

•which was pretty easy because being a brat was like his specialty with him being the youngest child and everything

•soda and steve has already left, so all pony had to do was wait until darry went to bed

•darry was a heavy sleeper, once he was down he wasn’t getting up until tomorrow

•but of course, he went to bed late tonight to make sure pony was asleep before him, or so he thought

•tap tap tap

•right on cue, that would be curly

•pony stripped off his pyjama layer until he was in his normal clothes and tugged on his shoes

•he opened his window, with as little squeaking as possible, to see curly with his signature grin

•”why ponybabes you look stunning,”

•”it’s the same thing i wore to school today,”

•”did i stutter,”

•they hurry to the drive-in because darry had made them late by going to bed later

•by the time they get there they missed the first song but it didn’t matter to them much, now at least all the flashing lights were already going and it would be harder for people to recognize them (more so ponyboy)

•pony had obviously forgotten his jacket because it’s what he does, so he grabs curlys because it’s fucking freezing

•after they had shown their tickets to the guy at the door, he had put X’s on their hands to show they were under 21 and shouldn’t be served at the bar

•curly wasn’t happy about this, he tried to convince the guy that he was 22, it didn’t work for a second

•they get in and decide to stay around the edges of the crowd to avoid people they knew

•pony was having the time of his life, the adrenaline of sneaking out and the excitement of being able the feel the guitar solo shake the ground was the best thing he had ever felt (bc he’s a virgin lol)

•curly was happy because pony was happy, he even managed to convince him to dance

•as the night went on the boys hadn’t seen anyone they knew, and they had even been to the bar to get water (to curlys disappointment), so they started getting closer to the middle

•curly really wanted to show ponyboy the pit before the show ended so they made their way there for the last couple songs

•this is where it gets tricky

•as another song started the singer instructed for people to get on eachothers shoulders

•curly thought this was a great idea

•and they had managed to sneak a beer each from the bar in the end so ponyboy wasn’t really at his best thinking capacity

•so pony got on curlys shoulders and it was all going fine until he looked to his right and saw johnny about three feet away from him on dally’s shoulders

•johnny didn’t see him yet so pony still had a chance, tugged on curlys hair to get his attention and motioned for him to let him down

��curly did so straight away because he thought pony was about to fall, when pony was down he pointed out johnny and dallas to curly, they were still pretty close to them

•they pushed through the crowd and we able to get away

•until pony bashed straight into his brother soda

•pony thought they were done for, his whole life was gonna be spent locked up in his room because darry was never gonna let him out again

•but he didn’t have long to contemplate his doom, before soda hurled on the ground next to him, and pony quickly put together that sodapop was absolutely shitfaced drunk, he probably didn’t even recognize ponyboy

•pony wanted to help him, but he knew if soda was here steve wasn’t far behind and he didn’t want to push his luck so he left his poor brother heaving up his dinner on the ground

•he raced after curly to catch up with him

•once they had evaded the gang they made a stop a the port-i-loos and decided they would leave now before the last song so ponyboy would be home in bed before soda stumbled in, ponyboy wasnt so sure that soda was even coming home that night but they had to be sure they weren’t caught

•two-bit finally made his appearance when they were on their way out, he was also on his way out but it wasn’t his decision

•he was getting dragged out by security for being too drunk. two had a surprisingly good memory so if he saw them he would remember it, no matter how drunk he was

•curly had spotted him just before two-bit looked their way, he was going to see them either way, so the only chance they had was to make sure he wouldn’t recognize them

•so curly did what any rational tipsy teenager would do, he shoved ponyboy up against a wall and started making out with him, covering ponyboy from view in the process

•it took ponyboy by almost complete surprise, almost because curly was a sucker for spontaneous kisses, pony just wasn’t expecting him to be so rough but then again curly had to make it look like it was some random broad he was with

•it worked, but pony and curly had forgotten all about two-bit by the time they were done, and two-bit was long gone by then

•they got back to pony’s house and snuck him through the window without waking darry and they kissed goodbye and that was that

•it like 5am when they got back and pony had to get up for school 2 hours later and he was not feeling it fam, let me tell you, this boy had never felt to tired in his 14 years of life

•darry was suspicious but pony had the perfect excuse that he didn’t sleep well because soda wasn’t there and he got a nightmare so he was covered on that front

•school however he had no choice but to go or darry would have known, it wasn’t too bad since most of the school were either taking the day off or in the same boat as him since they were all at the concert too

•the teachers knew what was up too so they didn’t really bother much that day

•he was walking home with johnny, he was honestly surprised johnny went to school today until johnny told him that he wasn’t actually at school

•he just showed up to talk to ponyboy after

•now ponyboy was like (nervous laugh) hehehehe whaaaattt ???

•johnny doesn’t fuck around, he gets to the point

•”so like are you and curly a thing??”

•ponyboy is just kinda like ‘deny until you die’

•”what? no, i don’t even know him, like, curly who???”

•spoiler it doesn’t work

•turns out johnny and dallas had seen them in the pit, they were gonna say hi after the song but curly and pony had sketched before then

•pony was like “shit when are you gonna cash in to darry and snitch on me then,”

•he had accepted his fate

•”nah man i’m not gonna do that, and it took me all morning to convince dal not to either,”

•pony’s like tf?? why not?? because if he’s being honest if he were johnny he’d be cashing in as soon as he could

•but what ponyboy didn’t know was that before he saw johnny and dallas, curly had.

•but not in the pit, behind the bar

•they had been making out

•so curly had this information that johnny had assumed he told pony about but clearly he hadn’t

•by now pony caught on to the fact that johnny thought he knew something so he played along

•they switched the subject after that, but johnny hadn’t forgotten that pony still hadn’t answered his previous question about him and curly, he decided to leave it for now

•soda had stayed at steve’s the night before and when ponyboy got home, darry was too busy lecturing soda on his drinking that night to even notice ponyboy practically passing out as soon as he got in the door

•but in the end, curly and pony counted this as a win

anotherrr purly hc because i love these boysss, my online school started back from easter break today so there might not be any more hc too soon :(((

but i have 2 more ideas lined up, one for jally and one for johnnyboy

i also kinda want to do a point of view from jally of this night at the concert idk we’ll see

#purly hc #purly #ponyboy hc #ponyboy x curly #ponyboy curtis #ponyboy #curly #curly shepard #jally #johnny cade #dallas #dally winston #the outsiders hc #the outsiders #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #steve randle #two bit mathews

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blossom-hwa · 4 years ago

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Repeat [Epilogue] - Mark |Swing!|

And so it ends! Thank you everyone who made the journey with me, ESPECIALLY @deathbykpopboys FOR GIVING ME THE IDEAS TO WRITE ONE OF THE STORIES I’M THE MOST PROUD OF <3 <3

Fair warning: this might be confusing to readers who aren’t into the Marvel cinematic universe (MCU). There are spoilers for the movies! I do have some of my personal headcanons in here, so if they bother you, just don’t read it!

Pairing: Mark x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, Spiderman!au

Triggers: a lot of cursing :)

Word Count: 6.9k

When the rogues move back into society, there are suddenly a lot of new people looking into the relationship between Stark’s personal interns. Luckily, they’ve only got good thoughts about it, even if the kids are a little mushy sometimes.

Alternatively:

Five ways the Avengers see (and love) the spiderkids’ relationship.

Release >> Epilogue: Repeat

NCT Masterlist | Swing!

Steve doesn’t have too many hobbies. This came as a result of being sick all the damn time during his younger years at the height of the Depression. He was always in bed, and he never really knew when he was just going to keel over and kick the bucket.

Art, though, is something he’s taken with him from younger self to his Captain America days. Especially in this modern age, there’s so much more to sketch. Steve takes interest in the tiny things – glitter pens, microwaves, things that other people have taken for granted as ordinary parts of their lives. He didn’t have those in the Depression, but now he does.

It’s weird.

When he moved back into the Compound, he spent a lot of time outdoors. He wanted to talk to Tony, to apologize for his secrets, thank him for his work on the Accords, maybe clear the air a little, but Tony would just disappear into the lab where only he, Banner, Pepper, and the interns are allowed. So he just picked up the sketchbook Bucky bought him for his last birthday, some pencils, and a Dodgers hat, and went out to observe the city.

It took his fingers some time to figure out how to shade the way he did when they were slim, translucent things. They’re bulkier now, thicker and stronger, and if he isn’t careful, he sometimes snaps his pencils in half. But as the days go by, his fingers gain back some of the delicacy of touch that his younger, sicklier self had.

Art is how he can express himself, now. Even though Nat and Sam like to tease him (what is it that kids say now? Clown him? He thinks that’s it) for having a speech ready for every occasion, Steve finds himself tongue-tied a lot more often than he can admit. Art is how he finally confessed to Bucky – a simple portrait of his long-time best friend turned crush, done with the pencils he’d bought Steve for Christmas.

A lot of the Avengers deal in things that could be considered delicate – archery, knife-throwing, cooking – but only Nat really does any form of art. She dances ballet, but even that’s something very defined, very precise. It’s razor-sharp, the way she does it. And her art form carries a lot of bad memories for her, whereas Steve’s mostly brings back good times. The days where he felt good enough to go outside. The days before the war, when Bucky would bring him onto the fire escape of their shitty little apartment and they would just stare at the city in front of them.

Soft things and sharp things are very separate in Steve’s mind. Art is something soft. Something pretty, something beautiful, something nice. He hesitates to call fighting or sarcasm or weapons evil, exactly, but they aren’t very beautiful, either.

For this reason, he doesn’t understand, at first, how the two Stark interns ended up together. At first glance, they’re polar opposites – one a spitfire, the other always calm. Loud laughter and a cutthroat tongue coexisting with quiet words and a thoughtful mind.

It doesn’t make sense to him, until he walks in on a scene one day that almost makes his heart melt.

He’s on his way out of the Compound to go outside and maybe people watch. Sketch a bit. He has his pencils in one hand, sketchbook in the other, when the strumming of a guitar sounds from farther down the hall. Steve walks out to investigate.

Mark is sitting on the couch, guitar in hand. Steve briefly remembers Mark playing it before, but not too much. It’s beautiful, really, and he stops just at the end of the hall to listen for a bit. Mark’s hands strum the guitar in quiet chords. They’re delicate, Steve realizes – thin, lithe, graceful. Soft. Similar to his own when he was younger, just minus the boniness and sickly white tinge.

His eyes then focus on the girl sitting next to him, head leaning on Mark’s shoulder, typing with razor concentration on the laptop in front of her. Sharp, precise, focused.

But though Y/N’s eyes are steely, her body language is anything but. She leans into Mark with an undeniable softness, a pliability that lets her sink into the couch and his body. Mark, meanwhile, sits up, his back straight, though his hands move delicately over the strings of the guitar.

In this moment, Steve feels dumbstruck, almost. The interns combine sharp edges and rounded curves into something that, even to his eye, is truly beautiful. They’re not solely delicate and soft. They’re not solely refined and precise.

They’re both, jagged points fitting perfectly into smooth curves. And there’s beauty in that.

Quietly, he walks back to his own room, the image of the interns on the couch burned into his mind. His fingers start moving his pencils back and forth on a fresh page.

Neither of them will probably ever know, but they are the reason Steve now sees beauty in sharp edges and precision. Perhaps he still prefers the delicacy of sunsets or the gentle waving of leaves in the breeze, but he understands it, understands the way Y/N and Mark come together. He sketches more – one of Clint’s arrows stuck in a target, one of Sam’s wings slicing through a block of concrete, Natasha’s ballet.

There’s beauty in everything, Steve realizes. Not just aesthetics and pretty things.

He likes this point of view. He likes it a lot.

Smiling, he sketches some more.

ii.

Bucky Barnes has often showed his love through food. It was the way he knew his Ma loved him, even if her face was drawn in most of the time and she didn’t smile a whole lot. None of that mattered, not too much. Bucky knew he was loved in the way she scraped away from her own portions and put them onto his and Becca’s plates, in the way she would give them the best bits of bread and the meat on the few occasions they could afford it.

So when he found Steve, that was the way he showed his care. Showed his love. He shared his meager lunches with the sickly kid who had a penchant for art, bought him medicine and swiped apples for him. He cooked for Steve in their ratty apartment, made him something extra nice to cheer him up a bit when his mom died. And when Bucky went off to the war and couldn’t take care of Steve upfront anymore, he sent back his earnings with explicit instructions for Steve to eat as much as he could.

He wouldn’t say he’s really good at cooking, at least not at first. His meals on the front could barely be called meals – some bully beef, bread, and biscuits. He tried, sometimes, to make things look nicer, make them look more palatable. In the end, though, he gave up. There wasn’t any point.

Then Steve came, newly muscled and broad. He saved Bucky’s regiment and formed the Howling Commandos, and Bucky had someone to care for again. Someone to love. Because even though Steve was physically stronger, to Bucky, he was still the reckless kid from Brooklyn who kept getting up after he got knocked down. He needed someone to protect him.

So Bucky started cooking again, trying to put together edible meals from the few rations they had. He cooked not just for Steve, but for all the Commandos – Dugan, Morita, Jones, everyone. It was the best way he knew how to show he cared, something beyond slaps on the back and teasing jokes. He got better at cooking, at making food that wasn’t just edible but also tasted good.

Then he became Soldier.

After all those mind-numbing decades, he might have thought his cooking skills would have disappeared. Being a highly trained assassin who slept for long periods of time in a cryochamber after each mission didn’t usually leave much time for fucking around in a kitchen. But surprisingly, when the rogues went on the run and Bucky landed himself in various safe houses around the country, he found he could still work his way around a kitchen, even though his metal arm overheated sometimes. Wanda helped, then, using her telekinetic power to airlift things in and out of ovens. Slowly, his cooking skills improved. And when he made the old meals, better versions of the special things they sometimes ate during the depression, Steve would tear up. Because Bucky remembered.

Then he moved into the Avengers Compound.

Tony never really lashed out at him like he sometimes did to Steve. No, Bucky hadn’t hidden things on purpose from Tony. He knew what he had done as Soldier. But somehow, the silent, awkward treatment he got from Howard Stark’s son was worse than if he’d yelled at him.

So for the first few weeks, even though he was itching to cook something just to keep his hands busy, he couldn’t bring himself to enter the kitchen other than to get some snacks. Raisins, usually. Raisins are good. Bucky has no idea why Steve hates them so much. Or why Wanda calls him a grandmother for liking them.

Then Y/N comes into the picture.

Bucky’s been alone in cooking for so long that he’s almost forgotten that other people can express care in the form of food as well. None of the rogues can cook too well – Steve is terrible in the kitchen – and even during the war, he was the one who took care of the food.

So when he finds one of Tony’s interns in the kitchen, soup boiling on the stove, he’s almost blown away.

From his first impression, Y/N was snappy, quick-witted, and fast on her feet. That’s how she landed a black eye on Clint fucking Barton before Nat took her down with the thigh-hold. And yeah, now he knows she’s Silk, apparently, but her reaction time is scary.

That first impression changes the moment she smiles at Bucky and invites him to sit at the kitchen island. He comes in, a little scared (he feels like one of those characters in that game Wanda plays – Simps? Sims? Something like that), but she just laughs and tells him Mr. Stark won’t murder him for sitting in the kitchen. “I’ll give you some soup too, so you have an excuse to be here,” she grins.

Jokes like that don’t usually go over him that well (murder is a bit of a touchy subject, especially with regard to Tony), but the teasing glint in her eyes somehow gets him to relax. So he sits and listens while she talks.

As the soup boils, she explains that she’s making it for Mark, who has a slight headache. It’s samgyetang, a broth with chicken, garlic, rice, and ginseng. Her parents used to make it for him when he was sick and Aunt Mei had to work, and when they died, she took over the job.

Bucky listens mostly in silence, reforming his opinion on the abrasive girl he met a month ago. She’s less snappy now, and though she quips a little about how bad Mark is in the kitchen, she’s quieter. Softer, out of worry.

It hits him as she’s ladling the soup into bowls, one for her, one for Mark, one for Tony, and one for him. She’s expressing her love in a way that Bucky knows and understands – food. She loves Mark and she loves Tony, and though she probably doesn’t feel the same way towards him, she still cares. She cares enough to fill a bowl for him, to place it in front of him with a spoon and fork and not the chopsticks he isn’t accustomed to.

He almost cries, looking down at the bowl of hot soup. It’s nothing like the simple meals his Ma used to make for him and Becca, but the meaning is the same. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

“You’re welcome.” The smile on her face reminds him of Becca, and maybe what his Ma’s smile would have looked like if he remembered more of it.

The soup is delicious. Rich broth, tender meat, rice that melts in his mouth. For a moment, he forgets himself as he tells Y/N that she has to teach him how to make this. Then he snaps his mouth shut, afraid of having overstepped.

She just laughs in delight, promising that she will the next time she comes to the Compound. Then she traipses off with the other three bowls on a tray, reminding him that there’s more soup in the pot if he or anyone else is still hungry.

Bucky slowly eats the hot soup, savoring each bite on his tongue. He’s long expressed his care through meals of his own, but only now, decades after his Ma, has someone done the same for him.

It feels strange. But it feels good, to know that someone can understand him in this way. Even if that someone is an almost stranger.

(Later, she comes back out again with Mark, both of them talking quietly about something or the other. Bucky’s just come out of his room to find Steve, but he finds himself stopping for a moment just to see the worry in her eyes as she looks up at him, the love in Mark’s eyes as he kisses her cheek. In that moment, he knows – it is love. It’s true love, real love, even though the two are only in college. It’s the way he feels about Steve, and the way Steve feels about him. It’s something beautiful.)

He starts using the kitchen, at first while Y/N is in there, and then he starts venturing in on his own. With time, Tony starts coming in too, and accepts Bucky’s apologies in the form of soups and meals and desserts.

Y/N brings Mark into the kitchen too, eventually. Bucky worries at first that he’s intruding on time with her boyfriend, but he quickly realizes that isn’t the case. Somehow, the love between Tony’s interns isn’t something that isolates others, that forces people away. Instead, it’s something nourishing, something that brings him in and makes him feel comfortable and peaceful even as they bicker in the corner.

Through the kitchen, through Y/N’s loud laughter and later Mark’s petulant whining at how she clowns him too much when it comes to cooking, Bucky learns once again how it feels for someone to care for him in the language he knows.

The interns’ love is the kind that Bucky has always wanted, the one he hasn’t allowed himself to have. He loves Steve and Steve loves him, but Bucky’s always been terrified that something will tear him away from Steve again. So he’s kept his distance a bit, even though Steve keeps trying to pull him in.

But as he starts laughing with the interns as he and Y/N work on new recipes, Mark and eventually Steve acting as the taste testers, he allows himself to believe that he and Steve can have this love too.

iii.

Natasha’s spent her entire life reading people. She didn’t used to be so good at it, not in the Red Room (the knives Irina snuck into fights and the subsequent scars are proof of it), but she’s learned. She’s adapted. Reading people, she has learned, is a survival skill.

Most people she’s worked with wear masks. They don a smile, cordially shake hands and speak with pleasant words, but they don’t mean any of it. They’re always looking for something, whether that be power or wealth or whatnot. Natasha’s learned to figure out what that something is, very quickly.

She’s naturally suspicious of people. And though that might not be the nicest trait for someone to have, it keeps her safe. So she doesn’t care.

That’s why she keeps a close eye on the interns. It’s just for a bit, anyway. She’s curious how two teenagers got so close to Tony, even if they are Spiderman and Silk – after all, Tony has never been the warmest person to strangers.

But these kids, they’re so unapologetically honest (brutally so, sometimes, especially with Y/N). Natasha’s only caught them with little white lies, like who ate the last Oreo (that was Y/N) and that I’m not really injured, Ms. Romanoff, seriously (that was Mark). The only thing they’re really hiding from people is their alter egos as spider vigilantes, and that’s understandable. Natasha herself would really have liked to keep her Black Widow identity a secret, but, well, certain events made that impossible.

They’re honest in everything – their lives, which haven’t been the greatest, their studies, which are top-notch, and most importantly, their love. It takes a special type of courage to display their kind of love so freely, so openly, when they’re so close to the public eye. Sure, Tony’s gone to great lengths to keep the press away from them, but it demonstrates the trust they have in each other, to defend, to protect.

At first, Natasha doesn’t think it’s real. They have to be faking something. She’s seen too much of the world’s darkness to blindly believe their love is as deep as it appears to be. They’re so young. It doesn’t make sense.

Then the Stark gala rolls around.

Officially, it’s to welcome the rogue Avengers back to society. Unofficially, it’s a networking opportunity – people get to scope out new competition, maybe make some promises or some trades (or some bribes). Some people will get “poached” by other companies. Others will be doing the poaching themselves. Or losing employees to the poachers.

Natasha doesn’t particularly love this environment, but she does enjoy putting leering men in their places. So she’s going.

The interns are too, apparently. This will be their first time out in the open with reporters and journalists, and Tony’s been going nuts trying to make sure they won’t get harassed. Natasha knows this because FRIDAY sometimes bitches to her about her boss.

She wouldn’t worry too much. If someone gets too overbearing, she’s been teaching Y/N and Mark better self-defense. They’ll be fine.

It’s the night of the gala, and Natasha’s waiting around with the other rogues in the ballroom. A few people have approached, but nothing too terrible. In fact, as she holds a champagne flute between her fingers, she feels kind of bored. No one’s acting out yet.

Then the interns walk in.

The first thing Natasha registers is how they’re just looking at each other. To Mark, it’s like Y/N’s a piece of gold and glass, a star pulled down from the sky to rest in his hand. Meanwhile, Y/N looks at Mark like he hung the moon in the sky, plucked the stars from the galaxy and put them in her eyes.

Natasha won’t lie – Mark cuts a striking figure in the suit of Pepper’s choosing (because Tony is a fashion disaster, if left alone). Pepper’s stylist has put together Y/N’s look in a way that makes her literally shine. But the way they look at each other isn’t just admiration for each other’s beauty – it’s something much, much more.

Hm. She still doesn’t completely believe it, though, and as reporters start swarming into the ballroom, she loses sight of them anyway.

Several glasses of wine and champagne later, Natasha feels sufficiently loosened up to tolerate more human interaction than the minimum. She slips away from the rogues, indulges a politician or two in a dance, and eats all the hors d’oeuvres off of a platter. If anyone wants to point that out, they can get a six-inch heel to the face.

(Fights almost always break out at a Stark event. Either physical or verbal. Tony’s used to it. He probably wouldn’t care, especially if she was fighting some asshole like Ross.)

Somewhere in the pleasant slight muddiness that comes with her tipsy state, Natasha sees the interns again. Neither are twenty-one yet, so Tony’s forbidden them from imbibing any alcohol (and has probably told the servers not to give them any). Knowing them, though, Natasha expects Y/N will probably find a way to steal a glass of wine or something at some point.

But they’re not drinking now. They’re not eating, indulging reporters, or fending off over-curious business owners. They don’t look tired from the evening. They don’t even look bored, like Bucky does on the other side of the room.

Natasha watches them idly, fully ignoring the conversation that she’s supposed to be participating in. Dr. Phelps can talk to the Surgeon General. She’s not interested, especially when Mark drags Y/N, protesting, to the dance floor.

Really, Natasha would have thought Y/N would be the one dragging Mark there. She’s always been the more outgoing one, the more confident and mouthier one. But as Mark starts leading her in the figures of the slow dance, she can see why the roles have been switched.

Mark is a natural dancer, not the best Natasha’s seen, but good enough to not bump into anyone around him. Y/N, on the other hand, is barely above having two left feet.

It’s strange. Y/N has always had faster reflexes in training and is far lighter on her feet. But it’s not too weird. Yelena was always better at fighting than Natasha, after all, but Natasha was always better in ballet. She supposes this is something similar.

Dancing, to Natasha, has always been something precise, something sharp. In the Red Room, one leg an inch too low merited a slap on the backs of the thighs. But Mark, even though Y/N’s stepping on his toes every two seconds, is only smiling. There’s no sign of irritation on his face, just pure, utter adoration and awe as he looks into her embarrassed expression.

That’s when it hits her. She might not have believed it before, but this is the love she’s read about in story books. Plain and simple, intricate and complex. It’s just love. That’s it.

So it is possible, she muses over her latest glass of wine. It is possible to love someone so deeply that it doesn’t matter how they inconvenience you. It is possible to love someone so much that their faults just become things to love, not things to hate.

Y/N accidentally bumps into some important-looking man in a business suit who snaps something at her. She bites right back before turning to Mark again, the snark on her face melting into adoration.

Mark looks like he’s never been happier.

Natasha smiles, slipping away from her boring conversation with the excuse of needing more wine. She’s happy for the spiderlings.

Because if anyone in the world deserved this happiness, she thinks, it would be the two pure hearts stumbling gracelessly around the ballroom floor.

iv.

Wanda misses Pietro. But it doesn’t do anyone good to lie around missing someone, does it? So, true to herself, she takes the pain, buries it deep in her chest, and does what she believes is right – she follows the rogues.

Her sense of right and wrong has been askew, before. She will admit that. Blinded by her desire for revenge, she allowed Hydra to experiment on her. She ignored the dozens of other dying experiments, focused only on hers and Pietro’s survival. She sided with Ultron, wrought havoc in the world until she found his true plans.

But then she joined Stark.

Wanda may never admit it, but she thinks that was the single best choice of her life, aside from keeping Pietro alive with her for sixteen years. Her moral compass righted itself when she joined the Avengers, when Clint Barton took her aside in Sokovia and told her to choose – stay a child, or become a hero. Because she couldn’t be one or the other.

(A child who has seen war becomes an adult overnight, after all, no matter how young they are.)

Sure, Stark essentially imprisoning her in the Compound was a factor in her choice to join Cap. But she also remembered Sokovia, remembered the death and destruction of her home country, and knew how much more would have taken place had the Avengers not had free reign to do what they must. The Accords were drawn in a time of necessity, she knew. But they were too strict. Too harsh.

The world has made (relative) peace with the rogues, now. She’ll take it. Cap’s team has more or less earned their place again among society, after all, what with taking down most of the Hydra bases left in the world.

But she doesn’t feel comfortable in the Compound, not at first. Stark’s renovated it, made it look very different from the prison it used to be for her, but she still doesn’t harbor the kindest feelings towards the man. He’s changed – there’s no doubt about that. She believes he truly means to stay out of the weapons business that killed her parents and wrenched her life in the opposite direction. However, the fact still remains that he took it upon himself to decide what was best for her, without taking her opinion into account at all.

There isn’t much to do. There’s only so many times she can spar in the training room, even after meeting Dr. Strange (she’s very thankful for him, of course, but he’s also kind of mean even if he means well). Hydra didn’t neglect her schooling too much when it became clear she and Pietro were going to survive, and she’s smart, so Stark enrolls her in online college, just for a couple of years. “You can transfer to a physical college if you want, then,” he promises.

Online school is boring, though. She’s responsible, of course, but pre-recorded lectures suck and the homework is more or less a breeze.

And what is there to do during her non-busy hours besides curl up on her bed and try not to think of her deceased twin, her other half, her older brother by twelve minutes?

(By God, she wants to hear him say that to her one more time. Just once more.)

She knows Dr. Strange worries about her on the days she walks into his mansion on Bleecker Street, eyes downcast and face pale. She knows Clint sends her concerned looks when he visits with his kids. Stark even awkwardly mentions therapy, and though she brushes away the offer, a part of her wonders if she should’ve taken it.

Then the interns crash into her life. Literally.

She met them, briefly, that first time Stark forgot to inform the rogues of his interns and forgot to inform the interns that it was moving day, but the fight was a blur and then she was busy trying to get her life together for a couple of months, so she never got to meet them properly.

They meet properly when Mark trips over one of Morgan’s toys on the floor, sending his tray of foam coffee cups splattering to the floor. A spray of liquid lands on Wanda’s feet as she’s walking into the living room.

“Shit,” Y/N says eloquently. Then – “Mark, you idiot.”

“Sorry.” Mark hastily stands up, sending Wanda a very apologetic look. “Let me get a napkin or something. Burn cream?”

Wanda waves away the offer. “It wasn’t too hot,” she says. “Here, let me help.”

“No, no.” Y/N snatches the napkins from Mark before she can take them. “You’re the victim of Mark’s clumsiness, we can do the honors.”

Then she slips on a puddle of coffee and lands on her ass.

Mark starts snorting. Wanda doesn’t know if she should be calling for an ambulance or laughing.

A pained “I think I broke my ass,” rises from the floor.

Wanda settles for laughing and decides in that moment that she likes the interns very much.

It’s the right thing to do, she thinks, liking Mark and Y/N so much that she starts feeling like her life has a bit of meaning again.

(She’s never the third wheel – it’s always the three of them. Together.)

They run around Stark Tower, playing harmless pranks on the Avengers who can take it – not Bucky, not yet, and Natasha would probably hunt them down – but Clint and Steve are fair game. Y/N and Mark make her listen to their favorite songs, playing them until two a.m. on the nights they stay. With their help, she finishes her coursework even faster than she used to, but even though she’s got more free time now, there’s so much more to do. Read books, play games, go thrifting (and teach Y/N how to have a better fashion sense, Jesus). There’s so much, now.

There’s even more when Y/N and Mark slowly introduce her to their other friends. Haechan is a sarcastic piece of shit but Wanda loves him for it, while Jaemin’s a little quieter but definitely far more affectionate. Yeri is a beautiful specimen, out of this world (yeah, Wanda definitely has a crush on her), and Jihyo has the best sense of humor.

Wanda doesn’t know how she lived before she met the interns, really and truly. From them, she sees that her existence with Hydra was just that – existence. Not living. Even when threats hit New York and they all have to fight together, it’s still living. Because Wanda now has something to protect, to defend again.

(Privately, she admires them, wonders how such pure-hearted people could be friends with someone as broken as her. She admires that their first instinct is to protect, not to destroy. In battle, the spiderlings take the job of protecting the civilians, evacuating them, using their abilities to defend.

Wanda can’t. Her power is more destructive than protective, and many people balk at her ability to see into their minds. So she focuses on tearing down buildings, breaking apart killer robots, throwing aliens onto the ground and twisting them so they won’t be able to hurt anyone anymore.

Y/N and Mark are Avengers, though they sometimes joke that they’re not really true Avengers. Avengers work out the large-scale events, Y/N says. She and Mark just look out for the little guys. That’s how Spiderman and Silk got their start, after all, and even now, they haven’t left behind their day-to-day duties in Queens.

Wanda thinks that makes them truer Avengers than the rest of them. She and the others? They only destroy, sworn to protect Earth at all costs. But if Y/N and Mark weren’t there to protect the people? Well, Earth wouldn’t be Earth without the humans who populate it.)

The rest of the Avengers hate them. Sam relentlessly yells curses when another bucket tips over and douses him in freezing water. Clint groans when he finds his arrows covered in webbing (“I thought I hid them well this time!”). Dr. Strange loathes it when the interns come to pick Wanda up from training (“Put that down, Ms. Y/N, or so help me –”). Steve literally leaves the room whenever the three of them are together because he knows they won’t stop making references to his old Captain America PSAs (the day Y/N and Mark sat down to show Wanda all of them was the greatest day of her life).

Oh, but Wanda loves it. She loves the life that the interns have given her once again, the freedom to act her age and not so much older. With them, she learns to cope. She goes to therapy at their suggestion, citing the help they received with their own troubles. She gets better.

Sometimes, though, she feels guilty, that she’s enjoying life so much when Pietro is gone. She still has bad days where she lies on her bed, unblinking, thinking these thoughts, staring at her ceiling plastered with little glow-in-the-dark stars, wishing with her entire heart that her other half was still alive. And even on her good days, where she and Y/N and Mark and Haechan are fucking around at a coffee shop or something, she’ll look out at the sky and think, I wish you were here, Pietro.

But it’s okay. In the end, she knows that he’s there. Watching, listening, smiling down on his baby sister by twelve minutes.

(By God, she can still hear his voice saying that.)

And he’s happy for her.

Tony, by nature, is a forgetful person. Or at least he likes to say so. It might just be the result of purposely forgetting too many family dinners or Stark events, to the point that he’s just become forgetful. And who can blame him for not wanting to see Howard Stark any more than he actually had to?

It’s not too bad when it comes to the science stuff. He’s got a pretty good head for remembering what needs to go where, whether or not DUM-E needs greasing again, and oh fuck, I need to put this thing in before that thing otherwise the house will explode. Sometimes there are minor accidents, but he doesn’t talk about those.

(His interns do. They’re terrible teenagers, those two, in particular Y/N. Mark’s a little nicer. But he loves them anyway, even though they give him gray hairs.)

But when it comes to people? Social situations? Telling other living human beings things?

Yeah, he’s not the best at that.

To be fair, he’s been making progress. Every single year he’s managed to remember that Pepper is deathly allergic to strawberries (he doesn’t need a repeat of that time he fucked up and brought them as an apology, which only made things worse). He remembers date nights, he remembers (more or less) when he has to attend a meeting about the Accords, he remembers when Pepper sets up dinners with him, Rhodey, and his interns’ families.

So he’s been doing better. And if he “forgets” one or two meetings with Fury or that nitwit Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross, no one gives him too much shit for it. It’s not like he’d care, anyway.

But sometimes he still forgets extremely crucial information, and the aftermath makes him suffer dearly for it. Like now. It’s been months since The Incident, and he already thinks he’d like to be six feet under.

Because ever since the newly pardoned no-longer-war-criminal Avengers moved into the Compound, Tony has had a permanent headache (not that he didn’t already have one, what with Morgan learning to walk, but now it’s worse) in the form of his interns mixing with the newly reinstated Avengers.

In all honesty, he should’ve known this would happen since the day he forgot to inform the new freeloaders that he had two new interns and consequently forgot to tell the interns that it was moving day for the former rogues. But since he was woefully shortsighted, the ensuing chaos resulted in a broken table, a knife in the wall, a chokehold, a thigh hold, a black eye, and an arrow embedded in a bookcase.

Well, the table needed replacing anyway. And the most important thing at the time was that somehow, amidst the chaos, Morgan didn’t wake up.

After that disastrous first meeting, though, they’re all getting along surprisingly well. Sam likes to rib on Y/N, who just snaps right back. Steve likes to draw while listening to Mark play guitar. Nat and Clint have taken it upon theirselves to teach them both more self-defense, Barnes sometimes cooks with Y/N (and the food is surprisingly good), and Wanda gets along with them like a house on fire, which results in far too many pranks and broken items around the Compound.

(It’s not even just the pranks. It’s the sheer chaos that the three young adults bring when they put their minds together. They yell the randomest shit even when they’re beating off attackers and it drives him and the others nuts.

Example A. After Wanda enrolled in the kids’ university, they had a chemistry test at some point and got called to battle immediately after.

“WANDA, WHAT DID YOU GET FOR QUESTION TWELVE?” Mark yells as he rounds up a group of civilians.

“298!” she screams back.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Y/N pauses in webbing an alien to start yelling. “I GOT 312!”

Tony thinks his brain is going to explode. “Kids, please focus on the fight –”

“Y/N, DID YOU FORGET TO CONVERT CELSIUS TO KELVIN?”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then a loud “FUCK” sounds over the comms, and Tony isn’t kidding when all the Avengers wince or flinch at the pure chaotic rage exuding from Y/N’s person.

Scott Lang, who literally just came by for a visit, later asks Tony if it’s going to be like this when Cassie gets older. Tony just pats the poor man on the back and wishes him luck.)

It’s part of the spiderkids’ charms, Tony thinks. Despite their different personalities, they fit together like positive and negative, like two opposite poles. And in this, they drag other people into their bubble of laughter and joy. Like they did with him.

There’s been a lot of bad in Tony’s life – Howard, the party years, his parents’ deaths, all the death threats he’s gotten from others (and himself – that palladium wasn’t doing good things to his blood). But there’s also been a lot of good – Jarvis, Rhodey, Pepper, Badassium, the other Avengers, and the latest additions: his interns, and now Morgan.

There isn’t anything specific that Y/N and Mark do that make him feel good about life, he thinks. It’s just the way they fit together so well, the way they bring a sort of comfort to his own fucked up existence. It’s there in the way Mark will hold out a hand for a tool in the lab and Y/N will immediately hand the correct one over. It’s there in the way Y/N makes soup for Mark when he gets a headache. It’s there in the way they play with Morgan, two college students laughing and smiling with a babbling baby with sticky, messy hands.

Tony hasn’t always been able to recognize love. It took him a long while – his childhood didn’t have a lot of it, and what little he got was from either Maria, who was often cowed by Howard’s presence, or Jarvis. Rhodey was the first to introduce him to something other than distant familial care – love between friends. Then Happy came along. Finally, with Pepper, he found someone he wanted to wake up to every single day.

That’s how he zeroed in on his interns, the day he drove up to their little apartment and flipped their lives inside out. He was taking a break with Pepper, but he could recognize the aura between them. The way Y/N looked at Mark, the way Mark squeezed Y/N’s arm when she started getting agitated.

Tony knew, from the start, that these were two kids who had seen each other at their best and worst points in their short lives and had made the conscious decision to keep caring for each other, to keep loving each other. And from the biographies he’d pulled together when he first started searching them up, they had had a lot of bad points in their lives to see each other at.

He couldn’t believe they weren’t dating. It wasn’t possible. But at the time, that hadn’t been the point, so Tony had just assumed that they’d figured things out and finally gotten together sometime after Germany. They certainly looked it – even through the dark circles and stifled yawns and half-lidded eyes, they never strayed from one another.

Imagine his surprise when they told him months later that they were finally fucking dating.

Honestly, Tony thought he was going to have a fucking aneurysm, but he stayed himself. But after the panic attack (and the resulting scene where he nearly cried in front of his two high school interns, one of whom had just had said panic attack, what a fucking mess), he’d immediately gone off to Pepper to rant. When she kicked him out a half hour later, he went to Rhodey, who was much more obliging (mostly because he ignored Tony the whole time).

And as the years passed, as he watched them transition from awkward high school students to awkward college students, their friendship and love only grew into something more beautiful that Tony never actually thought he’d see. Two brilliant minds who stayed geared on kindness and love and protection even after years of heartbreak.

What more could Tony ever want to see?

(Well, Morgan growing up. That, he wants to see more than anything ever. But that’s beside the current point.)

Tony walks into the living room to his favorite interns sitting at the piano. Mark’s holding the guitar Tony got him for his nineteenth birthday after finding out his old one broke and Mei couldn’t afford to replace it. Y/N has her hands on the piano that Tony got her for her twentieth after she mentioned she used to play, but Johnny had to sell their keyboard when money got tight. Wanda’s flicking through her phone on the couch, Johnny’s trying to keep Mei from experimenting in the kitchen, while Clint plays with Morgan and Nathaniel in the background.

Despite this, Y/N looks at Mark like he’s the only person in the world, while he looks at her like she hung the stars in the sky. The living room is quiet, broken only by Morgan’s and Nathaniel’s babbling, but it could be silent for all his interns cared.

He just watches them with a smile on his face as they begin playing in tandem. Tony knows Y/N is primarily a classical pianist, while Mark likes to learn pop tunes on his guitar, but when they come together, it really is something beautiful. Neither are perfect players, but when they begin a song, it’s like everything else disappears, and only two things exist – the music and them. Even Morgan and Nathaniel stop babbling to listen.

Eventually, they’ll finish the piece. Maybe they’ll play another one together. Y/N might show off the latest Chopin she’s been working on, or Mark will play a song he’s just finished composing. They’ll look at each other with those dopey smiles and star-crossed eyes, and they’ll kiss.

Wanda and the kids will probably groan in mock disgust. Johnny and Mei will exchange smirks. His interns will just laugh it off, maybe start a tickle fight with the kids or a brawl with Wanda. There’ll be a lot of kicking and yelling and laughing, and then they’ll tire and raid the cabinets for snacks.

It’s Y/N and Mark’s world, Tony thinks, and the rest of them are just living in it. It’s a messy existence, and Tony knows his headache isn’t going to go away anytime soon. In the face of this chaotic peace, though, he can’t bring himself to care at all. He can only be grateful to be a part of it.

The love between his favorite interns brings people together. And as he watches them smile at each other across their instruments, listening to the music they make under their fingertips, Tony wouldn’t have it any other way.

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