#so her personality has been pretty vague to both the reader and the writer

[headfullof-ideas]

Finished outlining Defenders of Berk (FINALLY) and drew this. It’s all I got for now, I am exhausted. Hope to have more soon, or at the very least get started on writing again, but, who knows. One can hope

Figuring out these two’s dynamic and Ardyn’s personality has been fun to think about. Alas, this is all I have the energy for tonight. Maybe I’ll have more later

[natureboy96]

SJM, ACOTAR, Authorial Intent and what's "fair" to criticize/validate

So, the title of this post is, while accurate, a bit vague. I decided to put my two cents out on this because, since I joined the ACOTAR fandom a few months ago, I've found a lot of very harsh words being flung one way or another, largely based around the characters of the book or the direction people believe SJM has taken/will take the narrative. There's also been a lot of rather nasty attacks on people for their takes, their ships, and their criticism. I'm not an expert on writing, but I thought it worth having a proper, fleshed out discussion on these topics.

Author's Intent vs Reader's Interpretation

When it comes to understanding a text and gaining meaning from it, Author's Intent and Reader's Interpretation are generally the two fields which are subscribed to. Authorial Intent argues that the meaning of a text should be derived by what the author wanted the reader to take from it, and that a text is inherently connected to the intent of the author; for example, because SJM doesn't put as much emphasis on certain side characters, the reader shouldn't consider them important. Or, that SJM and the narrative intend and clearly state that the IC and Rhysand are the good guys, it only makes sense to view them as such. Reader's Interpretation posits that texts are meant to be interacted with, and that the meaning people can derive from them is subjective, because individuals have different life experiences and perspectives which can lead them to understand a text in different ways; A reader can see Rhysand's actions as hypocritical based on their interpretations of what he did and how in ACOSF. Or, coming at the text with a different understanding on trauma or sexuality, a reader can come away from a text finding Tamlin to be a more sympathetic character than hateful one. Both of these arguments have existed for decades, if not longer. And the thing is...

Neither of these are wrong or right ways to read a text

There is no "one right way" to engage with or criticize a text! If you believe that SJM is a bad writer because she uses characters as plot points rather than giving them actual growth/retcons things as needed for her narrative, or that Tam’s actions have earned him his redemption, that is a valid assessment based on what you read in a text. If you think Lucien and Elain have no chance because Elain has on multiple times been shown being friendly, even intimate (not romantic intimate, just close) with Azriel and that the author seems to hint towards a rejected mating bond, that is a valid assessment too. Anything in a text, written, implied or intended, is a valid avenue of criticism.

At the same time, people are fully allowed to have their own head cannons and fanfics about characters outside the written narrative. Just because SJM wants you to ship Feysand, doesn’t mean you can’t write or ship TamlinxRhysand, or Gwynriel or Rhysta. Art, including text, is open to interpretation and you are allowed to make it your own too, even if the text itself makes it clear it’ll never happen. Hell, shipping Elain and Tamlin because they both like flowers is entirely valid! Fan fiction and ships don’t have to be defended by the text/author’s intent, they are your own creation and can be based on whatever you want! Have fun, go crazy with em.

What isn’t ok for criticism

You can criticize the actions and choices and motivations of a book character all you want, using whichever method of critique you want. If you want to call Rhysand a pedo because he came to a pic of his child, you can make that take. If you call Tamlin a serial abuser who brought everything on himself, you can make that take.

What isn’t ok, is using your takes to criticize the people who disagree with you.

(These are just a few examples I’ve seen in the last few days, but I’m pretty sure everyone in this fandom has seen personal attacks along these lines, some far worse than the ones I grabbed. It’s also not a matter of degrees of bad faith criticism, all of these are of the same vein and one isn’t more ‘valid’ than others because it wasn’t as harsh.) Believing Rhysand is a pedo doesn’t make it ok to call people who like him the same. Believing Lucien is a terrible person doesn’t make someone who likes him a person of questionable morals. Having a different method of criticizing a text doesn’t make someone else’s different way of approaching the text wrong.

At the end of the day, these characters, this world, this narrative are all constructs, not people. You are not Feyre, you are not Tamlin, you are not Rhysand or a Valkyrie or Elain or Cassian. You do not deserve to be judged for the actions of fictional characters, and you should not be judged for your opinions on these characters either. And you need to let others have differing opinions on characters, even ones you dislike intensely.

Let people like the characters they want to like, let people criticize the characters they don’t like (or the ones they do) and for fuck’s sake, don’t take it or make it personal.

[filthyfluffyfantasies]

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . DL;DR - this fic is not meant for anyone under the age of 18 as it contains the following: dirty talk, use of petnames ( sweetheart, princess, etc ), unprotected p/v sex, -wrap it before you tap it, darlings, swearing, mention of oral sex, body fluids, creampie -because Harrington has a weak pullout game, kissing/saliva and just a pinch of biting/marking. writer does not give permission for her works to be reposted, with or without permission. ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

prompt two - lovemaking

character | fandom - steve harrington | stranger things

reader | original character - female reader, roommate & non -or vague, description.

words - roughly 4.2k

tagging - < taglist here >

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . a storm. your roommate Steve decides to take your mind off of said storm. just a lil soft and oh-so sweet tender lovemaking, ftw✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

❝ Its just a storm, woman.❞ Robin’s laugh on the other end of the line has you pouting. Holding a red telephone away from you as you flip it off.

As the lights flicker throughout the apartment, you shriek. . ❝ That was my freaking ear, good Lord. Relax.❞ Robin's coaxing doesn't do a thing to soothe your frazzled nerves though.

There's only one person who can but he's working late tonight and if I were to tell him storms freak me out -or anything I may or may not be keeping from him lately, pretty sure it's only going to mess up everything. - the thought is frustrating for you because lately, telling him everything is all you seem to want to do. The urge to do so has gotten so bad that you're trying as hard as you can to keep a healthy distance from Steve.

This storm just might have the potential to undo all of your efforts, especially if it worsens - and God forbid there's a blackout, you pause and glare up at the overhead lights in the kitchen as they choose that exact second to flicker even more. The loud clap of thunder and the way strong wind gusts send a branch right into the fire escape outside, a violent crash both ways is met with another scream from you.

❝ Steve should be there in another hour. With Keith in the store, it takes at least thirty minutes for Steve to close. But then your big, strong, manly man will be home.❞ Robin’s taunting you, snorting in laughter through loud static on the line, as she throws in, ❝ Y'know…you could do something. He's always been a sucker for the damsel in distress thing. He needs someone to do something. He's been real down lately.❞ she pauses.

 You sigh, shaking your head despite your best friends inability to see you. You know what she's saying is true. What she doesn't seem to understand is that you've tried. Too many times to count. But the words always get hung in your throat or it's not a good time, it's not the right time, he's heading out the door on another of his dating attempts. It's frustrating for you, but you have tried. In the only ways you know how. If only subtle worked.. - you think to yourself, pacing the living room of the apartment you share with Steve as the storm picks up even more outside, the lights inside the apartment flicker even more.

❝ Gee, I wonder why that is..❞ she hints again. 

But as usual, you don't pick up on the not-so subtle hint and you muse aloud, ❝ I don't know. Maybe his date with that girl he talked about didn’t go the way he wanted it to? He's definitely seemed moodier lately..❞ as you pout a little. 

You’re selfishly glad it didn't work out but you're also sad for him. You love him and you hate to see him hurt or upset. And Heidi had been all wrong for him from the word go, your own personal opinion.

 ❝ Or…hear me out, woman..❞ Robin counters, a pause to rub the bridge of her nose as she thinks of the best way to clue you in, hoping that maybe this time you'll believe her, ❝ Maybe it's because he thinks that you, the girl he really wants, isn't interested. Maybe that's the reason?❞

You laugh. ❝ Right. And I'm actually Madonna, I swear on the Bible. He doesn't see me like that, Robbie. If he did, it'd be painfully obvious by now how I feel about him.❞

Robin grumbles, it's something about how impossibly stubborn you happen to be and in the midst of all that, the power goes out. The bad storm outside is downright nasty now, winds howling as the thunder rolls, constant.

You don't even get the luxury of a dial tone when the power goes, you're left holding the landline in your hand as you jump at every single little noise.

❝ God I hope he's safe coming in. The sooner, the better.❞ you mumble to yourself as you flop back against the couch dramatically.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ･ ｡ﾟ ───

It felt as if Keith wasn't ever going to shut the fuck up. And then, because of course that's how it'd go, Steve thinks to himself as he rushes through closing procedure so he's not out in the worst of the storm that's rolled into town -and so he can rush home to you, where he'd rather be to begin with, Robin rushes in, whatever she's got to tell him is apparently life or death and no, it absolutely can't wait until their next shared shift.

❝ Steve!❞ Robin throws up her hands, exasperated because she can tell he isn’t listening to her, ❝ Were you listening to me at all?❞ 

❝ Yeah?❞ he replies, sheepishly. ❝ Okay, alright. Sorry! Look, can't you just try to tell me I'm wrong and I'm an idiot tomorrow? When there's not a goddamn storm outside?❞ 

He makes a step to the door but Robin blocks him and she's ranting, going on and on about how the two of you are the most stubborn individuals she's ever had the pleasure of knowing. 

❝ Just say it, Robin.❞ Steve murmurs, gazing at his best friend, throughly confused.

❝ She’s in love with you, idiot! ❞ Robin blurts it out as she thrusts a piece of  paper that you'd doodled on earlier in the week when you came in to hang out with her on his day off at him and nods to it, ❝ If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t constantly doodle her first name and your last all over everything! Girls..we don't uh..we don't do that unless we're head over heels, idiot! She does it all the time! And she's always waiting up when you’re out with the guys or some random girl. She constantly talks about you.. I'm telling you, she really loves you, shes just…scared.❞ 

Steve stares at the sheet of paper with the Family Video letterhead on top of it, dazed.

❝ She’s at your apartment and when I talked to her a few minutes ago, this storm had her freaking out. Do something, idiot. She won't because she's scared it's going to make things awkward.❞ 

❝ Wait…what do you mean, freaking out?❞ he's concerned as soon as Robin hints that there's something wrong, that you're even a little scared right now.

Robin shakes her head and laughs. ❝ Storms, Steve. She’s scared to death of storms. Kind of happens when you've lived through a hurricane and at least 10 tornaodes.❞ 

Steve gapes at this. One of his hands raises, fingers tug at shaggy brown strands as he inhales deep and then exhales slowly. Like he's just gotten the breath knocked right out of him. And in a way, he has.

❝ She’s there.. Waiting for me..❞ Steve questions. Robin nods, ❝ All alone in this storm. Scared.❞  she places heavy emphasis on the fact that you're alone and scared because she knows you both entirely too well at this point. He needs to feel strong. Protective. Whenever he gets all strong and protective, it melts you completely.

Steve blows out a ragged breath. A hand rested against the back of his head as he stares down at the doodled piece of paper. 

Your first name and his last.

It fits together so perfectly. Everything falls into place and he looks at Robin. ❝ You.. You’re not kidding.❞ 

❝ No, dingus! Just go! I'll take over tonight. Just go! Do something or I swear to God..❞ Robin laughs as Steve pockets his keys and grabs his jacket in a rush, nearly walking straight into the closed door of Family Video in his hurry to get to you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ･ ｡ﾟ ───

The power is out and the storm is getting so much worse. You’re pacing the living room, pausing every few seconds to stare out the big window that leads to the fire escape as you hug yourself.

❝ God, I just hope he's okay and he doesn't let Billy or Tommy or Eddie con him into going out in this crap after his shift.❞ you mumble to yourself, shrieking as the lightning strikes the tree across the street. 

You're so caught up in the storm and freaking out about it that you don't hear the door when Steve unlocks it from the outside. Or the way he pauses to call out your name because the rumbling thunder drowns out his voice.

But he hears you just as you've shrieked at how close the lightning is getting.

Strong arms circle your waist from behind and you jump, shrieking again with a dirty look as Steve turns you around and shines the old red flashlight beneath his chin, just barely illuminating the lower portion of his face. He chuckles and as the husky sound fades, you pout up at him.

❝ Are you okay?❞ - he's quieter when he asks, honey eyes so tender as they fix on you in concern. He’s chuckling too but only a little.

He doesn't like the thought of anything scaring you.

❝ Y-yeah.It's dumb.❞ you laugh, the sound quiet, a sheepish shrug as your head tilts just the slightest to look up at him. ❝ You'd think after I lived through a hurricane on the coast and at least ten tornadoes, this.❞ you gesture to the raging storm outside the big window, ❝ Wouldn’t bother me at all.❞ 

❝Hey, hey.❞ he coaxes as he pulls you against him, ❝ You’re okay. Its okay.❞ and the way his hand skims over your back sends a shiver racing through you. You pull away a little to look up at him and nod. Through shaky breaths, you mumble ❝ I..I know.❞ -the sound is muffled because a louder clap of thunder sends your head into his chest as you seek comfort.

His fingers drag through your hair and for a minute or two, he stands in the darkness, holding you close. He's not saying a word and neither are you at first but then the silence is too much, it's too thick and you just can't take any more. You pull away a little and he frowns to himself because he misses the soft warmth of you pressing against him. 

❝ I'm..❞ you pause. Take a deep breath or two and stare up at the way the moonlight and lightning highlight a strong and stubble-lined jaw. 

❝ You’re what?❞ Steve questions, fingers tuck beneath your chin to get you looking up at him again. ❝ C'mon. I can’t help if I don’t know whats wrong.❞

❝ I..I'm glad you’re here right now and...❞ you're stumbling over your words and trying to make your usual internal filter work but it's just about gone, you manage a quieter ❝ Nevermind..its probably dumb t' say.❞

He tilts your chin upward again because you're looking down, a steady gaze fixed on his chest. You can't help it, the more you look at him, the harder it is not to completely bare your soul. ❝ No, just say it.❞ he coaxes. When you try, the words that have been threatening to burst out, those three big ones, they're lodged in your throat and it's frustrating for you, so very frustrating.

❝ You are, huh?❞ he chuckles to himself after a few seconds of the thick silence, the sound dying out quietly as he stares down at you. What you said, that you're glad he's with you, that starts to sink in. And he’s on autopilot.

❝ Yeah. I was worried you'd be stuck driving in the worst of it. Or you'd let one of the guys talk you into drinks again tonight. ❞ you mumble quietly as you take a deep breath. ❝ I always worry about you when you're out...❞

His heart is so goddamn full when you say it that he thinks it just might explode. ❝ You were, huh?❞ he questions as he makes you look up at him all over again, ❝ I wanted to come home. To make sure you were okay.❞ he admits, going quiet for a few seconds.

You're the one stunned silent, you blink at him in surprise as you try to process what he's just saying. He wanted to come back. To the apartment. To make sure you were alright.

You try to give him just a little space as you tell yourself he obviously meant it in a friendly way, not the way you wish, the way a concerned lover would mean what he's just said. You pulling away has him frowning to himself in the semi darkness.

❝ Where are you going,hm?❞ his voice husky, full of affection that he can't just keep holding back. He pulls you close all over again and he can feel the fast thudthudthud thud as your heart hammers against your chest. He can feel the way you're shaking just barely.

Robin is right he thinks to himself one of us needs to say something. Do something. And I can't fight anymore.

You breathe in the scent of his cologne, the faint trace of cigarette smoke and buttery popcorn that clings to the scratchy green Family Video vest he's yet to take off. And you’re trying so hard not to invade his space any more than he allows but he pulls you even closer and before you can stop yourself, you're melting into him. Strong arms wrap around you tighter. 

❝ Nowhere, I..I just thought..❞ your words are cut off by his mouth as it crashes against your mouth, clumsy. Sweet. You can taste the cigarette and soda on his breath and it takes a second but you realize what's happening and melt into him even more, your hand raised and raking through damp brown hair as your mouth falls open, willing. 

Steve bends down slightly, hands on your ass as he pulls you up his body. The kiss deepens, you're breathing for each other now and one of your hands settles soft against his stubbled cheek. He nuzzles against your palm as he steps over to the sofa and sinks down, arranging you in his lap.

His hands are all over you, his nose brushes against your neck as he nuzzles some fallen hair out of his way. Your breath catches in your throat as rough lips dance hot against your pulse, latching against soft skin here and there. 

You're shifted forward in his lap as he makes a clumsy attempt to adjust himself and pull you closer at the same time. When you whine out softly against his neck as your lips stray from his, he pauses, staring up at the way you're perched on his lap. The moonlight highlights your delicate features and he’s mesmerized by you, a hand leaves its resting place on your ass to settle against the column of your neck. Before he can stop himself, he's leaning in, his mouth crashing against yours, devouring as a groan leaves his lips to hang in the air, followed by a whine from you as you squirm around in his lap, desperate for the friction you were getting a few minutes ago.

You're the one who deepens the kiss, your small, soft hand rested up against his neck to pull him in. His hand leaves your hip to card through and pull lightly at your thick hair as he deepens the kiss even more.

His other hand slips between your joined bodies as you pull apart to breathe, staring at one another wide-eyed and in awe. It settles beneath the hem of the shirt you've sneaked out of his laundry to sleep in most nights lately.

❝ Steve?❞ - you breathe his name out against his mouth as another loud pop explodes outside and sends you straight for the safety that only he has ever seemed to offer you. Your face is buried in his neck for a few seconds and he attempts to adjust himself, thick digits dig in against your thigh and lower back when you squirm a little, his cock pulsing, pushed against the zip of his favorite jeans. ❝ Yeah?❞ - his breath tickles your neck, the sound of his voice thicker, desire dripping from the word.

He tilts your chin, gets you looking up at him. He's barely hanging on, his restraint is a thin thread that frays just a little more every time you rub yourself against him or your lips graze his neck just right. ❝ What’s up, princess?❞

❝ I-I..❞ the words hang in your throat just shy of saying them. It's frustrating because all you want to do is tell him how much you love him. 

❝ You what, hm? C'mon, you can tell me.. I-I mean it. You can tell me anything, okay?❞ he mutters, dipping his mouth, placing soft little pecks against your face and neck as the hand on your thigh slips under the shirt you're wearing, tenderly caressing, the touch of his hand making you whimper and rock yourself against him. He bucks himself up into you, a hand raised to brush some hair out of your eyes. 

❝ I love you.❞ it finally slips out and as it does, so does the rest that you've held back for weeks now. ❝ I love you.❞ he mutters, his lips dance down your throbbing pulse as he murmurs quietly, ❝ I love you too, princess..❞ his lips latch against your skin, ❝ so, so much.❞ looking up to lock eyes with you before giving a glance to the marks he's left against your skin.

His hand creeps higher, when he starts to rub you through your panties, he growls quietly when his hand comes away wet, bucking himself up into you. ❝Want you so bad, princess.❞ he mutters, dazed as he stands, you wrapped around him, breathless. Muttering his name like he's your God and you're worshipping him. ❝ Lets see if we can take your mind off the storm, baby.. do you want me to help you do that?❞

You nod, back up against the cool wooden door, the knob poking at your side and your legs around his waist. His hands -and mouth, are all over you as he ruts himself into you, the battle with his restraint lost.

❝ Please?❞ you gasp out as you rub against him clumsily. He's marked up your neck and no doubt, come the morning, there will be a few handprints left behind against your skin because he's holding onto you and squeezing you like your lives depend on it.

The storm is forgotten, you're tossed gently onto his bed as he follows you down, his body engulfing yours, holding your legs apart by the way he settles between them. The Family Video vest finds its way to the floor and everything is happening fast and yet, not fast enough. He’s tugging down pretty pink cotton and as your panties settle on his bedroom floor, he leans down into you closer, a hand between your thighs, ❝ I did this..❞ he murmurs against your ear as soon as he feels the way you're already dripping for him. He's dazed, he hasn't really done anything to you yet and there's already a little wet spot forming below you on his bed. And you're so responsive, every touch or kiss, every time he squeezes and rubs your warm, wet sex you're whining, you arch yourself towards him like he's not as close as he can get already. 

❝ You’re wearing too much.❞ you whine out against the shell of his ear in frustration as your legs circle his waist and you keep trying to rub against him to chase the friction you've gotten so desperate for. Your hand finds the bottom of the snug fit brown and cream striped polo he wore to work and you're trying to tug it upward. Steve chuckles quietly as he raises up, pulling off his shirt.

The polo settles on the floor of his bedroom beside your discarded panties and he settles himself back down against you, his lower body keeping your legs open wide as his mouth strays from your mouth and his lips latch against your pulse, suction forming a bruise you can feel as he sucks your neck, marking you.

❝ — ah fuck.❞ he growls quietly as he ruts himself against you, chasing his own friction. ❝ W-wanna taste you, princess.❞ his breath is warm against your skin, soft pecks fall from rough lips, settling on your soft and warm skin. His hands linger at the bottom of the soft golden colored sweater you stole from him to wear. You bite your lip as you stare up at him, begging. His name falls out of your mouth like a prayer, urgent; needy. 

He chuckles to himself, pulling you up as he works the oversized sweatshirt over your head, letting it fall from his fingertips and settle on his bedroom floor with the other clothes. 

You go for the button on his jeans and there's this cute little shy smile you give as the two of you lock eyes while you're doing it that drives him wild.As you unzip his jeans, he gasps because your hand grazes against the way his cock is straining against soft navy cotton, begging to be freed. His head falls back for a second or two, honey eyes flutter closed as you just barely drag your finger over the thick outline. 

That's how you find yourself pushed back against the bed seconds later as soon as he's kicked jeans and boxers free from his ankles.

You swallow hard, eyes roam his body slow. Desire making your pupils big enough they blot out the usual color of your irises. It's the first time anyone has ever looked at him with more than temporary lust in their gaze. He’s pushed you against his bed now, you were so caught up in staring at the man you love that you never saw it coming when it happened.

One hand pins your wrists above your head as his other hand squeezes your curvy little body and he takes in the way it feels to cage you in beneath him, skin against skin and the cookie sweet scent of your cheap perfume filling his lungs as he nuzzles into your neck and breathes it in deep.

He rocks himself against you, the thick length of him dragging right between your folds and when you shiver and whine, he raises up, hand leaving your hip to caress your cheek as he stares down at you, in awe. ❝ So pretty, baby.❞ he mutters as he settles down into you all over again, the tip of his length teasing you, making that white hot ache that's built up inside of you boil over. 

❝ You’re the pretty one.❞ you mumble softly as your lips latch against his hot skin. Your soft,full lips against the top of his chest -right over the way his heart is about to beat right out of his chest, it feels so good that he gasps quietly.

He releases his hold on your wrists because he'd rather be holding your hand. His fingers lace with yours and he takes a little nip at your bottom lip when he goes in for another kiss, a string of saliva keeping your mouths connected after you break apart to breathe. 

❝ Don't let me hurt you, princess.❞ he mutters soft against your ear as he settles himself down into you fully, his thick length pushing into you, drawing a gasp out as you feel the burn of being stretched out. 

He feels you tense up slightly and he stops right away, making you whine in need as you pout up at him. ❝ I don’t wanna hurt you.❞ he murmurs as he presses hot and gentle kisses and bites against your bare skin, leaving his mark behind as many times as he can because he wants everyone to know you’re taken, you’re his girl now, absolutely no doubt.

❝ Please? I-I..I need you now, Steve.❞ you beg as you try to rock yourself up into him as the burning subsides and its replaced by all the dopamine you’re currently flooded with being thisclose to the man you love, the feel of his body engulfing yours. Steve starts to fuck into you and its slow, its gentle and so deep that every inch of him is felt as he buries inside you. 

You raise a hand, letting it catch against his cheek and he laughs softly, nuzzled against your palm. His forehead settles against yours.

The way you clamp around him so tight has him groaning your name with each lazy little thrust. He tries to speed up a little but he can feel himself getting closer so he comes to a slow stop, kissing you long and deep enough to totally steal your breath.

The nasty storm outside has been completely forgotten and it's come to a slowdown, the loud and angry thunder replaced by the soft pitter-patter of rain against the windows. Neither of you notice or care, too focused on what's happening between the two of you instead.

You meet his deep thrusts with clumsy little rocks, your hips meeting his perfectly in sync. ❝ S' good f' me, baby. So so good.❞ he grunts against your neck as he bottoms out, cock pushing against the spongy softness of your g-spot as your nails dig against his shoulders and rake over his back. ❝ Gonna cum f' me, princess? That's it, cum all over my cock.❞ and the command is all it takes to send you crashing, your orgasm blinding as it washes over you and you cling to his body, moaning his name as you clamp around his cock and nearly push him straight into his own orgasm.

❝ Let go, Steve. Cmon baby.❞ you coax because you're dying to feel him come undone, you want him to fill you up. He bites your lip and his thrusts get clumsy as he fucks through his own orgasm, hot seed painting your insides. He falls to the bed beside you, spent. You’re pulled on top of him and he wraps you in his arms, pulling you down against him completely. 

❝ You’re amazing, princess.❞ he mutters softly just as you're both starting to doze off..

[basedkikuenjoyer]

The one bingo card we’re obligated to see, and our girl gets a bingo! Her prize is being perfect. I mean, obviously I like her. A lot. What’s not to love about a 10ft tall samurai girl who’s a total sweetheart and cutie supremo? Well, there was that one aspect where she got done dirty by a lot of fans. I have to say it was pretty gross how many jagweeds just like...memory holed one of Wano’s core new faces and wrote her out of the arc in their minds rather than accept the “Conis” local girl for this arc happens to be trans. Which is even funnier when that’s barely mentioned, opting to tell a story beyond that basic “finding yourself” narrative. I like the subtle touch but it was clearly lost on a lot of people. Oh, and her song would be Metaphor by a fittingly-named band called The Crane Wives.

So...bottom left. I do actually think Okiku is one of the most well-written characters in the series. And earnestly one of the spots Oda flexed his skill as a writer to do something special. This could continue to grow if my hunch we aren’t entirely done with her story pays off, but even if it is done...

Just...look at her. This is perfection...personified. We meet a sweet young woman at the teahouse. It turns out she’s quite tough and shows that off in a way that sticks with Luffy. She hangs around a bit and...oh! You’re really close with Kin’emon but we’re keeping it vague? Okay, that’s why. I don’t mention it much, but the trans aspect and way it’s used are both incredibly clever. Saving the reveal until after she’s well established is one of those basic little things few authors ever do, but it completely changes how you approach her. Even better when you have a few breadcrumbs that make it possible to piece together beforehand and especially when you have a scene that’s perfect for a lowbrow gag at her expense...but choose not to. 

This “negative space” idea is something we’ve talked about a lot here on this journey. Making a character arc that’s fun on the surface, but very deep when you start thinking about the notes we don’t play. And you have enough context to have a pretty easy guess why we didn’t. What that says about her. Seeing it is a nice “test” of the reader’s maturity on the same lines the whole arc is running on, and it’s so sharp to staple that to a humble victim of circumstance. The type of person hurt by this culture who doesn’t hold a high enough station for those concerns to get time. 

Thing is, you could be done there and call it phenomenal work. But then we drop another huge hammer! Izo’s this dude we were wondering about. Juuust about getting to the point we’re wondering if that theory was a bust. Then, oh wait, there he is! But hey shouldn’t Kiku be in that scene? Weird. Oh my god!!!! They’re brother & sister!!! Adorable! This was a masterstroke. Ten years ago, sprinkle in a striking looking dude that doesn’t get a lot of focus but is in the right places you’ll notice him. He obviously looks like someone with the vibe of a place we mentioned. Quietly build a relationship with the little sister we’ll pay a bit more attention to, then bam! He gets to piggyback off of the fun we’ve been having with her, Kiku gets a wrinkle that once again opens up her character arc. I get why she seemed more fond of Kin’emon than Oden leading up to this point. Which gets even more clever when you bring in Toki and flesh her out by telling things that track with what we’ve been shown about Kiku. Duh, of course that’s an influence.

And we’re not even to the Raid, where she apparently “falls off” but I’m not exactly sure where. Starts it off really strong. Has the climactic gutpunch and following show of resolve for the samurai. That flows into Zoro/Chopper’s story beautify. Has a nice spot in the middle for Kanjuro round 2 followed by the rescue. Then you have Izo carry that story into a bizarre clash with CP0 that feels like a classic element of one arc more important for the next. All while adding another Straw Hat side story as Usopp makes the daring rescue. Every single part of that was elegantly done; quick and to the point but well woven into the core themes of the story. 

She goes through so much...but after all that she’s back to her sunny self. This is where the trans aspect is so fun because it makes being cute and girly lowkey rebellious. Girl knows exactly who she is, and even if she has to put it aside for a bit to play her part she does it and snaps right back to bein all cute and stuff. Sometimes seeking freedom looks like asking for a simple accommodation the people around you don’t really care about all that much, and it isn’t a big deal to flout convention. It’s a nice little aesop. That said...we should have gotten so much more. She should always be on screen and when she isn’t other characters should ask “Where’s Kiku?”

[separatist-apologist]

First off, I looked up Zodiac Academy because I was curious about the hate, and the description alone had me on the floor😂 Also, I don’t know if I could read a book where one of the mains is called Tory Vega, as I would literally just be thinking of Victorious the whole time.

Secondly, you mentioned how kingdom of the wicked had a watered down Rhys, and I think it’s super interesting to see so many books with fae/mates/fantasy pop up with the success of SJM. It reminds me of when dystopian books had a huge surge after Hunger Games became popular (I just dated myself, I know), and up until now, I feel like there hasn’t been a trend that has been as popular as that one was. I think it also being coupled with the rise in fantasy tv shows has helped too. I’m curious to see how long it will last!

Without touching on the ZA thing, because I didn't read past like, three chapters of zodiac hogwarts.

I do want to talk about the way this obsession with like, tropes/romance/dark haired enemies turned to lovers has caused a lot of people to write books that are just barely romance to begin with. Romance novels have structure, they have rules the same way ALL genres do. And because people are selling/recommending books based on tropes, I have been noticing a lot of the books I'm being recommended don't have the classic romance structure. They just BARELY have a plot at all- and lot of them read like fanfiction. And I'm not here to talk shit about fanfiction given how much of it I personally write, but if people are reading your book and thinking, "this feels like ACOMAF/Reylo fanfic", that's a problem.

And instead of like, engaging with what makes a book good or why people should read it, you're getting overlays of books with "spicy enemies to lovers" written on a pretty instagramable square, which tells me literally nothing. Three "spicy" scenes and a dark haired asshole aren't enough to carry your plot but a lot of writers think it is.

Oh he's so mean- there is a difference, I think, between a hero who is a jerk you spend enough time with to sympathize with, and an asshole who is an asshole and the heroine inexplicably likes it. That's also not enemies to lovers, which irks the fuck out of me. "He tried to kill me and now I'm wet between the legs" IS NOT ENEMIES TO LOVERS. There is also no transition between the hating to loving- what do they like about each other?

And I chalk it up to people seeing how popular ACOTAR is and wanting to capitalize on it, without understanding what so many people even like about Rhysand to begin with. At best you get ACOMAF fanfiction because the author can write witty dialogue and at worst you get a heinous abuser breaking his victim down to nothing so she has to love him because he's made her feel worthless but the spice is good, so it's forgiven.

And then it's "I read these for fun, I don't want to critique it" okay. but why not? Because you can actually do both, and it feels like people don't think that's possible. I like ACOTAR and I can recognize the problems and discuss them. ACOTAR is saying something- most books are. Even if its just a reflection of the authors beliefs, that's still a statement, like we should critique how quickly these books are being written, how poorly they're being written, and how very popular book influencers (because thats what they are) utilize very large platforms to both demand silence from critiques through toxic positivity AND reward authors for putting no care into the work they're asking people to consume.

This is a rant, but I find myself really frustrated seeing authors calling reviewers "bitches" for calling out their poorly written work. I'm tired of reading what often amounts to vague plagiarism, or being marketed books based on three tropes- it's very much giving, readers are too dumb for a synopsis, here quick, tell them it's enemies to lovers and there is only one bed!!!

And I'm tired of every man being a worse version of Rhysand. Dark hair, tattooed, brooding isn't a personality and if you can't explain what your hero likes about your heroine (or vice versa), stop asking me to believe he loves her for anything more than a wet pussy.

[yeojaa]

( DEVIL IN A NEW SUIT. )

Money’s something that makes the world go around.  There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag.  You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do.  

That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash.  You simply can’t let it go on.

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating.  idiots to lovers.  fluff, angst, smut.  the holy trifecta, babies!  explicit, obviously.  

tags / warnings.  mentions of infidelity, kook being adorable and sad, reader being a bit of a tactless butthole, a satin playsuit (very nsfw), kook does a 180, smut in the form of: a slight oral fixation, too much spit, overstimulation, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (pls don’t be irresponsible).

wc.  12.2k of nonsense.  pure nonsense, i tells ya. 

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ did what she always does aka read through this and made me a better writer and @yeoldontknow​ dealt with my big dumbass and let me cry about my pea brain to her.  i love you both sm!!!  ✨💜

author note.  the long-awaited fic is here!!  i really hope you enjoy it.  if you do, please maybe leave a comment or something?  i swung back and forth between loving and hating this so it’d really, really mean a lot.  anyway, thanks as always for reading and i adore you!  stay safe and happy and healthy!

He’s a sucker.  That’s what you think of him, despite the fact you’ve never met him.  It’d be impossible not to, given what you’ve heard. 

His girlfriend - or something - is in every other week, flashing his black card like she has something to prove.  Sometimes, she’s by herself;  often, she’s with another gaggle of girls that fawn all over themselves and shriek a little too loudly for your taste.  They’re vapid, snooty in a way that makes you cringe every time they step into the boutique.  Still, you’re nice because this is your job and you have to be.  You can’t exactly tell a paying customer to get lost - even if you think it at least six times each visit. 

“He has no idea.”  It’s always the same thing, a story that pulls at your heartstrings yet has you scoffing in equal parts.  “I told him we were doing a girls’ trip but Hyunjin’s going to meet me on his way back and we’re spending the week at the Ritz.”

How can he possibly be this dumb, you wonder.  How can’t he see past the pretty pink lipstick and perfectly coiffed blonde hair?  It isn’t even that nice of a colour job - too icy and reminiscent of Malibu Barbie. 

(She’d bragged about it once - how she’d gotten an appointment at one of the most coveted salons in the city, spending hours in the stylist’s chair to get this “perfect shade”.  Her words, not yours.)

You figure he must be some lonely schmuck, some poor old sap who can’t possibly get what he’s looking for anywhere else.  Maybe he had some weird spoiling kink - if so, where was your man like that - or he just wanted companionship and found it in the arms of girls who paid him any sort of attention.  Truthfully, you thought a lot of things about him.  Kind of had to, given how often his girlfriend was in, rambling about her exploits and snickering behind his back.

You’d never expected him to be like this.

Jeon Jungkook shows up on a Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch and with the dopiest smile on his face. 

Your colleague notices him first, nudging you to attention because you, unlike her, actually do productive things while you’re at work like go through layaways and make sure items aren’t sitting in the back gathering dust.

“He’s cute,”  she very poorly whispers, voice carrying because it always does.  She’s a younger girl - maybe a few years your junior, who’d gotten her job through pure nepotism - but she’s sweet enough.  Zero tact, though.  Never notices when she’s being just a little too forceful with her sales but her sweet smile and full rack seem to keep her from getting into any trouble.  You consider her a vaguely annoying sister, someone you love even when you don’t necessarily like her.

You glance up from the iPad balanced in your hands, disinterested.  “Who?”

There’s an older couple striding past the entrance, hand-in-hand with three Hermes bags.  (God, what awful taste.)  There’s another couple standing at the mouth of the Louis Vuitton boutique, bickering about which belt will best match the boyfriend’s tux best.  (The answer is neither, because those belts do not belong with a classic black tux.)

“Him.”

Yejin all but points him out, jerking her chin in his direction.  You don’t know how you hadn’t really clocked him in the first place.  Maybe because he’s so unassuming that you’d just brushed over him, noting his outfit before moving on.  When you look at him - really look at him - you can’t look away.

You think he’s handsome in that off-kilter kind of way, too-big teeth and too-wide eyes.  He’s terribly innocent looking, despite the fact that he’s wearing a gleaming gold Rolex and sleek black boots you recognise from Prada’s 2019 RTW.  Everything he wears is tailored, fitting him to the point you wonder who his seamstress  is.  

But then he speaks, and it’s not the suave, sultry voice you’d expect.  It’s featherlight and almost shy, bashful in its delivery.  

“I’m here to pick up a bag for my girlfriend?”  He upspeaks.  It’s stupidly adorable.

Bless her soul, Yejin throws a glance in your direction first.  A silent ‘yours or mine?’ that’s answered when you step forward, blindingly bright customer service smile in full effect.  “What’s the item and the name it’s under?”  You keep in mind he’s said girlfriend very clearly, even as you can’t help but trail your stare over his shoulders, the dimple that digs itself into his cheek when he speaks again.

“Oh, it’s under mine.  Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” 

You’re floored.  This is Jeon Jungkook?  This specimen draped in leather and fine Japanese silk is the poor idiot wrapped around Barbie’s finger?  You’ve got to be kidding.

You wonder whether the surprise is evident on your face.  It must be, given how quickly Yejin interrupts, piping up in that saccharine sweet voice of hers.  “I’ll grab it!  The Box bag in cloud, right?”

Jungkook can only nod dumbly.  He has no idea what he’s there to pick up - only that he needs to because his girlfriend is away on a trip with her two best female friends.  He tells you as much, chuckling at his own ignorance.  It’d be cute if it weren’t so sad, his eyes twinkling like the jewels set in your ears.  There’s so much love in his eyes it’s frankly sickening.  

It comes before you can help it, snapping off your tongue - an oil spill ready to drag him to the depths of hell.

“Oh - you’re Kiko’s boyfriend?  I thought you’d left for Hong Kong already.”  Your head tilts - the picture of innocence as you continue to spew things you shouldn’t, staining the innocence of his expression with each word that drops off.  “She said she was leaving on Friday.”  Even while you’re tearing this poor man’s life apart, you’re racking your brain for the off-handed comments she’d made.  “She kept going on and on about how she was so excited to be staying at the Ritz.”

It’s almost like you gain some sick sort of satisfaction in watching his face fall.  You’ve never seen someone crumble so quickly, every ounce of affection swept up and spat out in the time it takes you to take a solid, proper breath.  

You do feel bad.  Not for saying it, but for being the person to do this.  For hurting this stranger.  (At least he knew?)

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else.”  Gone is the sunny friendliness, the blissful geniality.  He’s very much uncertain, bunny teeth digging into the full swell of his bottom lip.  He’s pigeon-toed and round-shouldered, thick brows drawn neatly over his stare as he focuses on some indeterminate point somewhere by his feet. 

If Yejin were on the floor with you, she’d tell you to knock it off.  Chastise you for getting involved in something you had no business being in.  (She’d be right, but you’ve always been an advocate for tough love.)  As it stands, she’s still in the back finding that stupid girl’s bag and you’re here, shaking your head, weakening Jungkook’s resolve with the edge of your teeth.  “No, she definitely said she was going away with her boyfriend.  Did you maybe give us the wrong name?”

Maybe if he weren’t so upset, he’d be more offended by the insinuation he’s stupid.  Instead, he only falters further, head mimicking yours.  Poor guy.

“I—I think there’s been a mistake.”

Yeah, you dating that gold-digger, you want to say.  Instead, you meet his stare like you haven’t just dug a thousand holes in his foundation.  “Oh, maybe.  I’m sorry.”  The apology is honest, even if the meaning behind it isn’t.  That’s a thing, right?  Apologising to make someone feel better, even when you don’t necessarily agree with it?  

God, you’re an altruist. 

“It’s fine.”  When he stutters, adorable lisp coming out to play, you know it’s not.  You applaud him for his brave face, even if it’s very poorly offered - a makeshift mask you think you could tear off with just another well-aimed word.  (You won’t.)

“Here it is!”  Yejin’s back, bouncing out from behind the counter with the giant white bag in her hands.  If she notices the atmosphere, she says nothing.  You remind yourself to tell her good job once Jungkook leaves - and you know he’ll leave the moment he’s got those silk handles in his hand.  He looks about ready to cry - or ready to fight, you’re not sure.

Once the purchase is passed over, he nods his head furiously and you swear you see a tear go flying.  You don’t have time to ask before he’s hoofing it out of the store.  

He doesn’t even notice he’s left his wallet on the counter.

By the time you snatch it up and round the corner, he’s nowhere to be found.  Probably because running in stilettos is next to impossible and he’s gotten an embarrassed head start.  Well then.

“I guess we’ll have to call him,”  you hum, turning the Prada bi-fold over and over in your hands.  It’s practically brand new, stuffed with large bills, his driver’s license, and few credit cards, including a Hyundai black card.  The same one on file that his girlfriend - maybe soon-to-be ex-girlfriend? - uses shamelessly.

Yejin’s watching you carefully, silently.  You’re counting down how long it’ll be until she asks - because you can see the curiosity swimming in her eyes, practically bulging her cheeks with the effort of keeping her questions caged behind her teeth.

Finally, after a good three minutes, she’s at your side, bony point of her chin digging a grave into your shoulder.  It’s probably not the most appropriate thing but she’s never much been one for decorum.  (You either, but still.) 

“So… what was that about?”

You don’t bother to turn when you speak, back to running through order details and matching them with customers.  “What?”

“You know— that!”  She waves her wrist in a circle, gesturing toward the space Jungkook had occupied not five minutes ago.  “He ran out of here like he was scared for his life.”

“Scared of the truth,”  you correct. 

You hadn’t thought it was possible for her to get more pale - she’s already fine porcelain, perpetually slathered in sunscreen - but she somehow does, balking at your response.  There it is. 

“What?”  There’s a reproachful edge to her words, an uncertainty that tells more than the single syllable. 

“What?”  It’s mimicry and a challenge all in one, meeting her stare from the corner of your periphery.  You can read every emotion that runs through her expression:  shock, displeasure, confusion.  

She retreats a step, bottom lip caught between her teeth.  (She really does remind you of your little sister.)  “So, you told him?”

You shrug, a noncommittal gesture that disrupts the curtain of silk that falls over your shoulder.  You hadn’t laid it out for him but surely he had an idea now.  There was no way he didn’t. 

“I pointed out a few conflicting facts.  That’s all.”  You’re not ashamed about what you’ve done.  You’d want to know if you were him.  Consider it an act of goodwill. 

The silence that meets your ears isn’t surprising but you don’t pay it any further mind.  What’s done is done.  Now he knows, or something close to it.  The chips would simply fall where they were meant to. 

You have to admit - you’re rooting for him. 

Whatever Yejin’s thinking, she keeps it to herself for the rest of the shift.  She knows better than to berate you about something like this, not that she would anyway.  Obnoxious as she can be, you have an understanding.  It strengthens your not-quite-close-friends-but-more-than-colleagues relationship. 

It’s only at the end of your shift that she brings it up again, drifting over to you as you complete your cash count for the evening. 

She holds Jungkook’s wallet in her hand, mouth pursed thoughtfully as she taps it against the edge of the counter.  “You have to call him.”

You almost lose your count, finishing with a pinched expression.  “Whoever works tomorrow morning can call him.”  You’re not brushing off the responsibility - you really could care less - but simply passing it along to the next person.  Sensible. 

As it turns out, you’re the person who works the next morning, called in because another associate has come down with a cold.  

You’re two lattes deep when you remember the wallet, tucked neatly behind the counter with a yellow sticky note posted to the front.  You suppose it’s your responsibility now.  You know if Yejin comes in tomorrow and sees it, she’ll give you her childish brand of hell. 

The line rings twice before it picks up, that oddly familiar voice crackling through the speaker.  “Hello?”

“Jungkook?”  

There’s a beat of silence followed by a careful confirmation. “Yes, that’s me?”  Upspeaking again. How cute. 

“I’m calling from the CELINE boutique.”  You can practically imagine the look on his face, eyes as wide as saucers as he recalls the awful-to-him encounter.  “You left your wallet here and I wanted to make sure you got it back.”

“O-oh, uh—“  It’s like encountering a baby bunny - or deer or something equally adorable and vulnerable.  “Thanks.  I didn’t even notice.  Um, I can come pick it up today?”  There’s another pause, the sound of fingers over a screen, and then he’s back.  “Is that okay?”

Leave it to him to have lost his wallet and yet be worried about putting someone else out.  He truly was a sucker. 

“That’s fine.  We’re open until six tonight.”  

“I’ll be there before dinner.”  As if realizing how vague that is, he continues, words running headlong into each other like he can’t get them out fast enough.  “Before six, I mean.  Um, is around five-thirty okay?” 

You want to tell him to just come whenever, that it really doesn’t matter to you, but that probably isn’t going to help the situation.  Instead, you hum a quiet sound of confirmation.  “Of course.  We’ll see you then.” 

He hangs up immediately. 

The second time you meet Jeon Jungkook, he’s just as endearing as the last.  It’s actually surprising, if you’re being honest.  You’d thought he’d be resentful or mean or any other emotion better fitting someone whose entire world had turned upside-down.

As it stands, he’s just the right-side of anxious, a hundred little sparks of uncertainty flaring beneath his skin and lighting him up in neon.  You can see him from a mile away he’s lit up so bright, seemingly uncomfortable in his own skin.

Your heart aches for him - and then it skips, almost trips over its own two feet when he wanders into the store with his hands dug deep into the pocket of his pants.

How he looks tonight is nothing like how he’d looked yesterday.  Somehow, you like it more.  The undone head-to-toe Balenciaga, the unruly curl of his dark hair.  It’s effortlessly chic - though you think it might have something to do with the fact that he’s just an attractive person.  (Good-looking people could get away with anything - even god-awful fashion faux pas.)

At the sight of you, he seems to further lose steam, eyes widening to such an extent you briefly worry for him.  Surely they’ll fall out of their sockets one day.  

“O-oh.  It’s you.”  The moment the words come, he’s blushing the colour of your red-soled shoes, horrified.  “I m-mean, just—”  He takes a deep breath, finds his footing and tries again.  “You’re the girl that helped me yesterday.”  Spoken like you, the exact girl who helped him yesterday, wouldn’t remember that fact yourself.  

“That’s right,”  you say evenly, expression neutral.  It’s almost as if that surprises him more - as if he’d expected you to shy away from the knowledge.  

The two of you stare at each other for longer than is strictly speaking necessary.  Well, you stare at him and he kind of bounces his eyes around the room.  You know he can’t be that interested in the croc stamp Belt bag behind your head or the selection of small leather goods in the glass case.  

He’s so awkward.

(You did kind of ruin his day though, so you can’t blame him.)

“So, um, my wallet?”  He’s made barely any headway, still lingering awkwardly by the front of the store.  You can’t help your smile - it’s more of a smirk - as you raise the item in question.  

“Right here.”

Jungkook glances from it to your face, then back again.  He makes the same trip twice more.  “Can I have it?”  To your surprise, he’s taken two whole steps toward you, brow furrowed.  He’s still terribly soft, rounded edges and innocent eyes, but he’s making progress.  Good job, you think.

“Of course.”  You mirror him, moving out from behind the counter.  Somehow, that’s not the right move, because his features are breaking and rearranging, big bunny teeth worrying a hole straight through his bottom lip.  You’d think he’d be more confident, more demanding, more… everything.  (You quite like that he isn’t - a complete anomaly - but you also imagine it’s also to his detriment.  Too much honey, not enough vinegar.)

This time, he closes the distance with three long strides.  It hadn’t escaped you how tall he was, the length of his gait - after all, you’d tried to run after him - but you’re still a little surprised when he’s in front of you, not a foot away, arm extended.  Palm out, he asks again, all while refusing eye contact.  “May I have it, please?” 

You hand it over with a soft laugh, pressing the grained leather into his hand.  You expect him to retreat immediately and he does - but then he turns and his expression is inscrutable.  Is he going to say thank you?  Berate you for what you’d done yesterday?

Neither, it seems.  “Why did you do it?”  There’s no anger, just an abiding sadness that laces his words, turns them the saddest shade of blue.

“Do it?”  You know what he means.  You ask anyway.

“Why did you tell me?”  Jungkook’s doing that thing again, alternating between biting his tongue and chewing his cheek as he stares at you.  You can practically see the melancholy rolling off him;  it shines dark on the depths of his irises, how his fist trembles just barely at his side.  For all his good looks and leisurely charm, you can see the effort it takes to hold himself together now.

Guilt ascends, starts somewhere deep in your stomach and turns stomach acid to butterflies.  It creeps higher and higher over your spine, locking each vertebrae until you’re immobile, unable to tear your gaze from his.  “I thought you deserved to know.”

“But why?” 

“What do you mean?”  

It’s almost comical, how both your expressions descend into bewilderment - like looking into a fun house mirror.  He’s trying to wrap his mind around your actions and you’re just trying to make sense of his confusion.  

You anticipate a response - can see it tittering on the tip of his tongue - but he seems to think better of it, shaking his head.  It dislodges a wayward curl from behind his ear, silver twinkling with the movement.  

“Thank you” is all he offers before speed-walking away.

You don’t expect to see Jeon Jungkook for a third time.  

He’s waiting for you when you end your shift on Thursday, standing somewhere between the two boutiques, loitering like some kind of gremlin.  (Except he’s dressed exceptionally well, slick black jeans and a Balenciaga tee shirt that rivals the cost of your shoes.  Of course he’d get away with hanging out in the store without being told off.)

“Excuse me.”  For once, he doesn’t sutter.  The lisp doesn’t present itself, either.  Was this the same Jungkook?  You’re not sure until you meet his stare - or try, his own skipping away the moment you make contact.

There he is.

“Yes, Jungkook?”  He flinches, as if he isn’t expecting you to know or say his name.  How can someone so big, so broad across the shoulders with a face that belongs on billboards, look like such a terrified rabbit?  It makes no sense to you.

“Can we talk?”  The stare he levels you with is unfair, too sweet and coaxing for you to even consider saying no.  You’ll still mess with him a bit though.

“We are talking.”

He sputters at that, hacks out a cough that makes you snicker openly.  It’s just so easy with him, like taking candy from a baby.  

“I mean like— talk talk.”  The set of his jaw gives away the whisper of frustration, the fleeting touch of exasperation that doesn’t allow itself to live anywhere else.  His eyes are still soft, round and glossy beneath the fluorescent storelight.  

“Sure, we can talk talk.”  

“Did you, um, want to grab dinner?”

You don’t mean to mock him (at least, not really) but he just makes everything so easy. You hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way.  “Are you asking me on a date?”  

“W-what?  No!”  Despite the immediacy of his response - the look of utter shock that cracks the careful facade - he’s burning bright, cheeks aflame with colour that licks up and over his ears.  “I just— I thought you’d want to talk somewhere else—”

“I’m kidding.  Let’s go.”

You move first, stepping past him and onto the elevator without a backwards glance.  He scampers after you, trails like a lost puppy in the wake of your shadow.  Even while you stand in the corner, waiting for the lift to meet the main floor, he keeps a careful distance, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.  

“So, what do you want to talk about?”  It seems you have to take the initiative, throwing him a curious stare as the floor number ticks down.  His gaze is trained on neon digits, unmoving.  You repeat yourself, glancing up at him, half-tempted to nudge him out of his reverie.  It’s almost like talking to a really hot brick wall.  “Jungkook?”

He tears out of his thoughts like a wayward bullet, head swivelling wildly.  “Huh?”  

“What did you want to talk about?”  

“Um—”  He hesitates, not as if he doesn’t know the answer, but rather that he’s hesitant to speak it into existence.  There’s a tidal wave in the depth of his stare, a cresting wave that looks on the edge of breaking.  “—m-me?”

Brows furrow then amusement spills out.  “You want to talk about… you?”  

“That sounds bad.”  The shape of his grow prominent over his bottom lip, his mouth pulling and pursing with whatever maelstrom exists inside that pretty skull of his.  

“It’s fine.  We’ll talk at dinner.”  

He nods.  You think it means thank you.

Sitting across from each other in the Michelin-starred restaurant - a sought after spot that takes reservations weeks in advance - it’s easy to imagine Jungkook is just another guy.  Another bachelor with too much money and not enough sense, eager to sink his teeth into his next victim.  

It’s hilarious how far that is from the truth.

“What did you want to eat?”  He’s speaking into the pages of the leatherbound menu, half his face hidden.  Whether it’s a defense mechanism or just how he woos pretty girls, you’re not sure.  (You have a feeling it’s the former.)

“Whatever.”  Everything here is incredible.  You really don’t mind.

Jungkook’s face falls, folds in on itself like wet paper and you sigh a sound that further breaks apart the pillars keeping his composure in place.  His right cheek is hollowed, interior being shredded by enamel.  You take pity on him then, flipping open the menu with a great flourish. 

When the waitress - a lovely little thing whose gaze lingers on your dining partner for too long to just be polite - comes to take your order, you rattle off your usual order, doubling certain selections.  Soft-spoken as he might be, you have a feeling the size of his stomach makes up for all the mumbling and half-hearted glances.

“So?”  You level him with a stare over the rim of your glass, lavender and lemonade bursting across your tongue.  

He echoes you, wide-eyed and Bambi-like and stupidly cute.  “So?”  

“What did you want to talk about?”  If you’d had a worse day, if you were a lesser person, you might be irritated by having to repeat yourself so often.  As it stands, you’re only curious, your inquisitive nature outweighing your naturally short temper. 

“Oh.”  Poor boy looks like he’s been asked an impossible question, like what’s the meaning of life or the secret to eternal youth.  He fumbles with the edge of his sleeve, turns the plaid over and over in his fingers as if it were a puzzle.  You stare at him the whole time, unflinching, unrelenting.  He’d asked you here so you damn well expect an answer.

You’re about ready to repeat yourself - fourth time’s the charm? - when he finally finds his voice.

“I wanted to say thank you.”

It’s not the answer you’d expected.  It whacks you in the face, smacking your usual confidence out of place and shooting your carefully threaded eyebrows into your hairline.  “What?” 

He’s terribly uncomfortable, unhappy with being on the spot.  You watch the flicker of emotions through his face, the ones that creep into the delicate skin beneath his eyes, the wobble of his bottom lip.  Try as he might, he can’t keep the light from his eyes - twinkling stars that bloom like newly minted stars.

“Thank you.”  It’s just that much harder when he repeats himself, edges he builds with his bare hands and a clearing of his throat.

You’re silent for a long while - long enough for the first few plates to be set before you.  You gather up shredded radish and perfectly charred beef with your chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully on the morsel.  Jungkook doesn’t move - doesn’t even reach for his chopsticks - and simply stares at you.  You might find it off-putting if it were anyone but him.

You get through half the bowl of green beans, well on your way to finishing it, when he finally begins eating, deftly transferring little bites to his bowl.

The only sound is crunching - king oyster mushroom tempura, ice from your cocktail - and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it’s not uncomfortable.  A little different, sure, but altogether nice.  Like dining with an old friend.

You finally answer when half the plates are gone, another three laid out in their wake.  You’re careful not to speak with your mouth open - you notice Jungkook doesn’t either - and take a long sip of your water.  “You’re welcome, I guess.”  

Something tells you you’re always surprising him - whether intentionally or not.  His eyebrows have a tendency to shoot up, making him look even more shocked than he normally does.  (Seriously, how big are his eyes?)  You find that funny but don’t comment on it, opting to pop a silken piece of black cod into your mouth.  Your stare never falters, trained on his face as you chew thoughtfully.

“What?”  He’s had enough of your quiet observation, apples of his cheeks reminiscent of the tree in your parents’ backyard.  

“What?”  You parrot back, shameless, dark eyes twinkling at him.

“Y-you’re staring at me.”  

“You’re sitting in front of me.”

The line of his mouth hardens then, tongue rolling against his cheek in a gesture that stands out.  It’s the first glimpse of something rude, something not doe-eyed and innocent.  Oh?

“You don’t have to stare.”  Said with a speared piece of sashimi, the end of his chopsticks assaulting the poor piece of bluefin tuna like it has personally offended him.  

You reach for the same place, knock ornate wood against his, and quirk a brow when he meets your stare.  “Does it bother you, Mr. Jeon?”  The inflection is drawn out, almost mocking, only softened by the smile you offer.  

“That’s not my name.”  The bite disappears past his teeth.  You expect him to continue three chews later but he only goes for another, filling his plate and then his mouth.

“Sorry— Jungkook.  Does my staring bother you?”

It feels a little like playing with fire - holding your hand too close to a flickering flame, curious what it’ll do.  Juvenile in a way but enticing in another.  You’ve never met anyone quite like Jeon Jungkook.

“It’s rude,”  he reasons, glossy eyes meeting yours for perhaps the fifth time that evening.

“Maybe I’m just rude.”

He shakes his head then - dislodges untamed strands from behind his silver-lined ears - and sets his chopsticks down.  (Perfectly matched up, propped against the provided rest.)  “You’re not.”

You can’t keep the surprise away, the emotion threading through your brows to tie them into a little knot of consternation.  He says it so readily, as if he knows you and this isn’t one of a handful of very short, very unexpected conversations.  He’s not even looking away, meeting your stare with a confidence that surprises you.  

It lasts for all of five more seconds before he clears his throat and sips at his tea.  Anything to busy his hands, you think.

“You don’t know that,”  you finally return, after what seems like too long.

“I do.”  He nods - almost to himself - and continues, matter-of-fact.  “You care about people.  You’re… hard around the edges but you don’t mean to hurt anyone.  You want to do what’s right.  Sometimes it means you have to do things that aren’t easy.”

For once, you’re at a loss for words.  Really and truly silenced, unable to articulate anything that might beat back the kindness he’s offering.  

How the tables have turned.

He likes waffles with chocolate syrup rather than honey.  He doesn’t like whipped cream or citrus-flavoured desserts.  He has a tailor he’s gone to since he was a child, the same elderly woman he sometimes calls halmoni because she’s watched him grow up.  He decorates his apartment with the most random things:  limited edition KAWs figurines and the guitars he still hasn’t had the most practice with, one of a kind paintings from the gallery one of his best friends curates.  He buys the most expensive bottles of wine at any given restaurant not because his palate is so evolved it matters, but because it’s what he’s been taught to do.

He’s been in four serious relationships in his twenty-five years.  All of them have ended poorly, though his latest with Malibu Barbie is the first where he’d been cheated on.  (Somehow, you doubt that but you don’t voice this disbelief.)  He tends to lean towards long-term relationships with women who baby him (your words, not his).  He scoffs when you call him a serial monogamist, insists he isn’t even as you list out all the facts pointing otherwise.

“I just… don’t like wasting my time,”  he insists from behind his coffee cup.  

“You mean you don’t like the potential to be hurt.”  

Jungkook blinks at you then, Bambi eyes so big and bright you almost want to laugh.  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”  He seems confused - as if his reasoning is solid, irrefutable. 

“High risk, high reward, Jungkookie.”  It’s something your father had taught you years ago, the crazy old sap.  It’s probably why he’s had three divorces since you were seven years old, but you suppose it’s worked out for him now.  He’s been happily married for the last ten years - the longest relationship he’s ever had.  Youngin is good for him, though.  You like her - even if you sometimes wish she weren’t young enough to be your older sister and not his wife.

“You say that a lot.”

“I mean it when I say it.”

He’s quiet then, shoving a corner of his croissant past his lips.  When he speaks - starts to, anyway - his mouth is still full and you level him with a look that silences him until all traces of the pastry are gone.  “Girls are scary.”

You laugh.  Cackle, really.  You can’t help it.  He says it with a pout, the expression so utterly at odds with the offensively revealing shirt he wears, the smooth unblemished skin of his chest almost too much for such a quiet afternoon.  He glares at you across the table, shoves another piece of the flaky golden treat into his mouth, and waits for you to speak.  He knows you’re going to give him a piece of your mind because you always do, rebuffing 99% of the things he says.  (Sometimes for fun, often with good intentions.)

“Heights are scary.  Death is scary.  Leaving your wallet at home when you’re low on gas is scary—”

“Don’t you have Apple Pa—”

“Don’t interrupt.”  He clamps his lips shut, folding his arms across his chest.  From anyone else, it’d be a defensive gesture;  from him, it’s patient.  “Girls aren’t scary.  Having real feelings for people is scary, but that doesn’t mean you should just stay with people who don’t deserve you.” 

“Not all of us have cheater-sniffing noses.”  

You suppose he’s right but the fact still remains that he’s too nice for his own good.  Too trusting, too lenient, too blind to all the red flags.  Like he’s living life in greyscale. 

“Well, that’s what you have me for.”

The look Jungkook gives you then is incredulous, screwing his pretty face up as if he’s about to sneeze.  Instead, he laughs.  “I’m not hopeless.”

“Oh, but you are.”  You’re adamant, insistent.  He’s more comfortable with you now - sometimes teases you in a way you’d never have expected weeks ago - but he’s still so soft.  An absolute marshmallow dressed in designer duds, a heart of gold wrapped up in a bubble gum package.  

You want to protect him, teach him to fly.  Be his wingwoman until he’s soaring the skies on his own.  

You know it’s not his pride that keeps him from saying yes.  He doesn’t have an abundance of that, far too gracious to ever deny help when he really needs it.  He’s just shy, doesn’t know what he wants until it’s staring him right in the face.  

“Fine,”  he agrees after you’ve stared at him for too long.  It’s one of his weaknesses - his inability to handle attention when it’s laser-focused.  It makes him sweat, prompts his nervous habit of chewing at his bottom lip, long fingers picking at the peach fuzz on his cheeks.

“You won’t regret it.”

Jeon Jungkook has gone on six dates over the last ten days.  You know, because you’ve helped him pick out outfits for each of them, seated at the edge of his bed with your knees folded and a bag of white cheddar popcorn in your grubby little paws.

It’s not that he isn’t stylish - you both know he is - but there’s a certain finesse to dressing for dates, to knowing the likes and dislikes of your potential partner and playing to those.  

He, to no one's surprise, does not have this finesse.  If it were up to him, he’d wear his favourite clothes every day, different jeans and joggers in medium-wash denim and impossibly soft cotton.  He’d swap his Balenciaga separates in and out and stick with the finely tailored Gucci suit he calls his lucky ticket (ew).  He’d live in those stupid two-toned sneakers and barely do his hair, allowing it to become a powder puff reminiscent of old Hollywood movies.

The girls would probably still love it.  (It’s easy to love him.)

“What do you think?”  It’s low-cut black, relaxed in the shoulders and flattering in the torso.  It holds him just right, hugging the muscle that threads across his shoulders like armour, coils around his upper arms and makes his tattoos stand in stark relief where the sleeves end, mid-forearm. 

It looks good— but then again, a lot of things look good on him.  He wants great.

You answer honestly, because that’s what you do and that’s what he has you there for.  To knock him down when his (admittedly small) ego gets a little too big, remind him of his hubris like the summer sun upon his candle wax wings.  “Not bad…”

You don’t even need to finish the thought for him to be tugging the shirt over his head, back flexed, ink-strewn fingers gripping the hem.  

Not for the first time, you’re reminded of just how unfair life is. 

How had Jungkook - bona fide dork, certifiable shy guy - been gifted one of the best bodies in human existence?  (You wish you were joking.)  It was utterly absurd, a complete waste on someone who’d only learnt to utilise his good looks in the last five months you’d known him.  

“This one?”  He’s grabbing another hanger, all but thrusting it into your face.  Medium-weight cashmere.  Probably too hot for a night like tonight but you’ve seen it on him before and it hugs him like a lover, displaying his best assets (titties) and drawing attention to the narrow shape of his waist.  It’s the equivalent of a little black dress.

“Look at you go,”  you tease, mouth full of mirth and popcorn kernels.  “Throw that Juun.J trench you have overtop and you’ll be set.”

Jungkook nods sagely, as if your word is law.  You suppose it is.

“Thanks, ____,.”  He says it in that sweet way of his, eyes lost to the weight of his gratitude.  

Your response is a shrug.  “Bring me back some dessert and we’ll be even.”  You don’t know where he’s going tonight but you figure it’s one of the many restaurants you’d recommended earlier in the week when he’d started lining up his various dates.  You know there’ll be something good on the menu.  

He promises he will as he slides the turtleneck on, tucking it into the dark trousers he’d picked up days ago, and redoes the slim black Rag & Bone belt around his waist.  You have to admit - you’ve done another great job of styling him.  Simple yet painstakingly attractive, playing at all the little bits of Jungkook’s best qualities without outlining them in bright red ink.  Understated but elegant, effortless yet seriously hot.  

Maybe you should quit your day job and become the female Hitch.  That was a viable plan, right?

You’re mulling it over when you realise your walking Ken doll is making toward his bedroom door, wallet clasped in one hand and phone in the other.  “Hey!  You’re leaving already?”  It’s polite surprise that colours your words, stare drawn to the screen of your iPhone.  It’s only 6 PM and the reservation isn’t for another hour.

There’s a sheepish look creeping over his features, painting itself in delicate strokes that you spy past the line of his smile, how the skin crinkles around his eyes.  For a moment, he’s the shy Jungkook you’d met in your store and not the one that now bleeds careful confidence, filling his little black book (read: phone contacts) with names as easily as he breathes.  “I was, uh, going to stop and get f-flowers.”  A silver-lined hand scrubs across his nape, dislodges the carefully styled waves he’s settled for.

Flowers, huh?  Well, that’s certainly something new.  Good for him, you think. 

“Jeon Jungkook, going all out.”  It’s heavy on the teasing, playful mockery lending a warmth to your words.  “She’s special.”

Which you’d figured, given he was seeing her.  Repeats were rare for him now that he’d learned how to weed out the bad seeds, held his hand a little closer to his heart (at least, sometimes).  Since he’d started dating again, this would be the first time he’d be going on a second date.  It’s a big deal. 

“Yeah—“  Nervousness sparks across his face, lights up his stare like the stars in the night sky.  “I guess she is.”

You smile fondly, like a proud mother.  “Go get ‘em, tiger.”  

“I will,”  he promises, looking so giddy it makes your heart swell ten sizes.  

You don’t even think anything of it as you follow him out of his room, bag of popcorn neatly rolled under your arm and your socks slid back into place.  It’s only when he levels you with a strange stare, pauses in the shrugging on of his coat, that you return his look.  “What?”

“Where are you going?”

“Leaving?”  

“Why?”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question?  

You don’t normally leave, usually waiting here at home for him until he returns to give you a rundown of his date (and the promised appetizer/dessert/whatever).  It feels somehow wrong to stay, though, as if you’re taking up space that doesn’t belong to you.  He’s going on a second date, after all.  Soon enough, he won’t need your help picking out clothes or deciding on a restaurant.  You won’t get to curl up on your usual corner of his sectional, wrapped up in the obnoxiously soft blanket you’d convinced him to buy one night while online shopping.

But it’s fine.  Totally, one hundred and ten percent fine.  The two of you are friends.  You’d always expected - anticipated, hoped - this day would come.  Baby boy was growing up. 

“Y’know.”  You answer a second too late and he’s still wearing that odd expression, handsome face flooded with something that looks like disappointment.  It flickers in the bits of his stare you can make out past his fringe, partially concealed by the dark silk that you know feels as soft as it looks.

“I know?”  He never tries to read your mind - knows it’s utterly useless.  

You wiggle your hand dismissively.  “Second date and all that.”  

Jungkook giggles - the same deceptively sweet sound he always makes - and finishes tugging his jacket on.  It fits him so well it should be illegal, falling to his knees and ending just shy of the intricate laces of his boots.  “Just stick around.  I’ll drive you home when I get back.”

It’s something he always does - his way of saying thank you for putting up with all of his first date jitters, his outfit changes, his worrying over how to first approach a girl on Tinder - so you don’t doubt him.  “Fine.  I’ll stay.”

He beams, caught halfway out the door.  “Tell me to break a leg.”

“Go break her back,”  you retort to the sound of his laughter.

You’re almost asleep when your phone starts going off, the vibrations jolting you awake.  It rattles across the glass table, won’t shut the hell up until you’re slamming your hand atop it, glaring at the screen as it lights up with notifications.

It’s almost 2 AM and they’re from Jungkook.  This can only mean one thing.

from jeon jungkook:  Hey. from jeon jungkook:  I’m really sorry but I won’t be home tonight. from jeon jungkook:  If you want to stay over, I can drive you back in the morning. from jeon jungkook:  Please don’t be mad.

Leave it to him to apologise for getting his dick wet - to feel bad about having a successful second date.  It makes you laugh as you stare down at the texts, tap a quick response you know will have his heart racing.  (Even after months of friendship, it’s hard not to tease him just a little bit.)

to jeon jungkook:  i officially hate you

The typing notification gives him away immediately, but the moment you do the same, he stops.  Of course.  He hates confrontation - would rather leap off a cliff-face than deal with negative emotions.  (He’d told you that once, over a night of beer and fried tteok.)

to jeon jungkook:  it’s fine!  have fun! to jeon jungkook:  turn her world upside down 😏

He doesn’t answer after that but the read receipt pops up.  Good, you think.  About time he finds someone nice.  You wonder what she’ll be like when you meet her.  

Jungkook’s third date comes with another third - you.

He drags you along to dinner, insisting there’s nothing at all weird about the fact.  He has to repeat it at least four times during the drive there, head nodding like a plastic bobblehead as he weaves in and out of traffic. 

“I want you to meet her,”  he mumbles, like that makes it better.  As if bringing a friend along to a date with that reasoning means it’s totally acceptable and not on the list of Hard No’s When Dating.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?”  He’s too focused on changing lanes to answer you, signalling before seamlessly drifting over.  (He’s an impressively responsible driver, but that’s unsurprising.)  You repeat yourself.

“It’s not… weird.”  But you have a feeling that he knows how odd the request is.  Knows and doesn’t care, unfortunately.  “She wants to meet you too.”

(When had Jungkook turned into this person who argued with you?)

You somehow highly doubt that.  No girl in her right mind would leap at the chance to meet her potential beau’s wingwoman.  It’s something reserved for official status, when the foundation is set.  Still, you play into his hand, level him with a stare he should recognise.  It’s the one you throw his way any time he’s too nice, gives a mile when he shouldn’t even offer an inch.  (It doesn’t come as often anymore, but it still makes appearances once in a while.)  

“What does she even know about me?”

“That we’re friends.”  His vague response speaks volumes.  The look changes - grows into a glare that has him furtively peeking at you from the corner of his periphery.  When he speaks, it feels like a dead giveaway.  “That I really value your opinion.”

You groan, a noise so loud it rattles around in the car and interrupts the ballad playing through the speakers.

“She’s trying to figure out if I’m competition or not!”  Of course.  It’s obvious.  She wants to know what she’s getting into it before things get too serious, determine if her Prince Charming is really all that.  (He is.)  “I’m not coming to dinner.”  

“You’re already in the car,”  he reasons.  

You note he doesn’t deny your first statement, mouth rounding into a pout that should crush your resolve.  Instead, it drives you mad, irritation bubbling in your throat.

“I just won’t go in.”

“____,.”  When he says it like that, it’s hard to deny him.  Jungkook might not utilise his charms often but when he does, it’s lethal.  Undeniable with those dumb Bambi eyes of his.

“No.”

“____,,”  he repeats, almost pleading.  You can’t look at him.  You won’t.  The moment you do, you’ll be sucked into the swirling vortex that makes up his stare - a million pretty little lights caught in the brown of his iris, so many possibilities you’d lose yourself trying to explore them all.

You last a whole ten seconds before his staring becomes too much, those round eyes tracking you in the rearview mirror until you’re relenting, softening in the way that only he can cause. 

“Fine.”  You hate how it sounds rolling off your tongue, terse and a little pissed off.  You’re not actually mad.  Just worried.  You’ve seen situations like this play out - not that you’ve been in this position before - but female friends and potential girlfriends just don’t go hand-in-hand.  It takes a very special kind of person to facilitate a meeting this early and you are not that person.  You’re ragged edges, uneven temperament, distrust that you can’t help.

Jungkook knows that.  Should, anyway.  You’ve grown close over the last nearly half a year.  

When he mumbles a quiet sorry, turns to rest his chin against his knuckles as he drives, you know he means it.  He’d never put you in this position if it didn’t mean a lot to him - if his own happiness wasn’t somehow also on the line.  (Truthfully, it’s your fault.  All that self-love encouragement was coming back to bite you in the ass.)

You grumble an obligatory acceptance as the streetlights fly by.  You’ve got a reputation to uphold. 

“You’re paying for my dinner.”

“Of course.”

How many times have you pictured this same situation, watched it unfold on your television screen as the protagonist gasps wildly, hand at their throat?  How many times have you laughed at the exchange, snickering into your palm as the romantic interest makes some wild declaration of love and wins the protagonist’s heart?

Answer:  you’ve lost count.

Still, it doesn’t prepare you to be thrust beneath the spotlight, half-dreaming and terribly confused.  

“What’re you doing here?”  At any other time, it might be as reproachful as you want, full of disapproval and sleepiness.  Here and now, it’s slurred speech and the lines of your pillow dug into the softness of your cheek, lashes dusted with sleep and breath freshly minted.

Jungkook’s oddly surprised, considering he’s appeared unannounced at your doorstep at the crack of dawn (not really).  “C-can I come in?”

You don’t budge.  It’s not because you’re about to say no, but because you’re still really tired.  So tired you stare at him for a moment too long, zoning out as you drink in his appearance.  He’s wearing the clothes from last night - the same animal-print silk shirt that hangs obscenely low and reveals too much skin.  You recognise it because you’d picked it out for his date.  

(The one where he was supposed to ask Jiwon to be his girlfriend, you fail to note.)  

You repeat yourself around a yawn, ignoring the way your vowels crash into each other and barely make it to the light of day.  “What’re you doing, Jungkookie?”

“Please let me in,”  the doe-eyed prince at your door mumbles, gaze bouncing somewhere beyond your shoulder, over your face, to the wayward strands that’re the result of sleeping too well.  Everywhere but your eyes.

“Fine,”  you huff, stepping back to allow him over the threshold.  You don’t miss the way he smells - his signature cologne and something else.  If you had to guess, it’s her perfume.  It’s distinctly floral, drawing you into a garden of roses.  You don’t know if you like it.

Without a second glance, you’re shuffling away from him, dragging your slippered feet into the kitchen.  

You move on autopilot, spooning coffee grounds into the Chemex filter.  You don’t bother asking whether your surprise guest wants any - assume he does, because the fiend somehow lives on caffeine - and settle against the counter as you wait for your kettle to whistle.

You’re still so tired you feel like you might fall asleep standing up but you think you do a good enough job of levelling Jungkook with a solid stare.  “So?”

“W-what?”  

It’s been so long since you’ve last heard his stutter that it surprises you, recentres your attention from your own exhaustion and has you frowning.  Something’s happened.  Must have.  There’s no other explanation for it - for how he looks at you, so uncertain like all those months ago when you’d smashed his glass house to pieces.

“What’s going on?”  You’re demanding, full to the brim with concern as you round on him.  He flinches away as if your words have burnt him, leaning into the stainless steel side of your fridge.  

(Silly Jungkook - that won’t protect you.)

“What do you mean?”

The early hour has, luckily, dampened your usual aggression.  He’s stalling, you can tell.  You hate when he does this.  You tell him as much, glowering at him as he tries to shrink his nearly six foot frame into something small.  “You’ve showed up at my house unannounced.  What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?”

He looks as if he’s on the brink of repeating himself, biting it back behind his neat white teeth when your expression grows darker, more frustrated.

It’s impossible to stay dressed in red, lethargy swathing you up like a cocoon and softening your edges.  You sigh heavily - perhaps a little overdramatically - and go about completing your coffee ritual.  Patience works best with Jungkook, you’ve learned.  (Though, he sorely tests your own sometimes.)

With a steaming mug in your hand and the other passed over to him, you gesture toward your living room.

He nods once - a small up and down of his head.  

“So.”  You try again, softer this time, warmed by the heat that permeates ceramic and settles your sleep-ravaged nerves.  You’re seated cross-legged on your couch, facing him with your back pressed to the arm rest.  He’s half-turned to you, coffee cup slotted between his thighs.  Feet turned in, mouth wobbling with the intensity of how hard he’s chewing into his bottom lip.

“I couldn’t do it.”  The words rush out too fast, tumble into each other in such a way you have to take a second to comprehend what he’s said.  Couldn’t do… it?

You stare at each other for a long while, you trying to understand and him refusing to meet your stare.  

When realisation dawns on you, you can only imagine how you look.  It must be terrifying by how Jungkook practically tries to crawl into the cushions of your couch, shoulders rising around his ears like a turtle.

“You didn’t ask her?”  It explodes out, a question that demands an answer. 

He’s staring past your head, unblinking.  You’d almost worry he was a robot if his voice weren’t so damned human, full of melancholy and rounded by his lisp.  “I c-couldn’t.  It was just…”  The shrug he offers is half-assed at best, not nearly good enough to excuse him.

“Just what?”  

“Just—”  There’s the wiggly hand gesture you do that he’s adopted, his ink-strewn hand waving through the air like a floppy chicken foot.  He thinks it’ll earn him a pass but your unrelenting glare indicates otherwise.  He deflates, hand falling back to his lap, clutching his mug like it's a makeshift security blanket.  “It didn’t feel right.”

What did that even mean?  Feel right?  

Love didn’t just appear, fully-formed and complete.  It took work and dedication and the understanding it could all come crashing down.  Didn’t he understand that?  Hadn’t you drilled that into his head?

You exhale through gritted teeth, push breath past enamel that acts like a solid steel gate.  

“Jungkook, it’s not going to just ‘feel right.’”  You’re air quoting, all tact thrown out the window.  “You like her, don’t you?”

You expect him to nod immediately.  He doesn’t. 

“Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” 

“You like her, right?”  

“I think so.”

You want to tear your own hair out.  Instead, you press the pads of your fingers into your temple - apply pressure in hopes of alleviating the tension that settles there.  “So, you like her.”  It feels a bit bad, condescending in a way;  you don’t mean it in any way but supportive.  You just want him to be happy.  “But you couldn’t ask her out because it didn’t feel right?”

“She’s not you.”  

He’s looking at you now, looks like he might have a heart attack if he does so any longer.  But he doesn’t tear his gaze away when you meet it, entire expression warped into something you don’t recognise.  Hope, maybe?  Fear?   

“What?”  You wish it were hard rather than feather light, almost lost to the cacophony in your head.

The hollow of his cheek is thrown into stark relief, the line of his jaw clenched tight.  He repeats himself even as you’re the one looking away, shaking your head as if that might will away the irksome answer.  (It won’t.)

“Don’t say things like that.”  

It’s hurt that flashes through his expression and strikes you right in the centre of your chest.  His face crumbles, brows knit together beneath his mop of shiny hair.  He looks so terribly sad - a kicked puppy, an abandoned deer.  Bambi, through and through.

“You asked why I didn’t do it,”  he reasons in a voice far more solid than he looks.

“I didn’t think you’d say something so ridiculous.”  It’s cruel.  “You’re making a bad choice.  You’re into this girl.  Don’t be dumb.”

His features rearrange, then so do his limbs, entire body lifting from his seat in jerky, disjointed movements.  “I’m not dumb.”  There’s a reproachful quality to his words, a distaste he doesn’t bother to mask.  It’s not something you’ve ever faced, surprising you enough to draw your eyes to his face.  

He doesn’t look like the Jungkook you know.  

When he leaves - sets his cup in the sink and storms out the way he’d come before you have time to stop him - you wonder if you ever knew him at all.

“Okay.  Spill.”

Yejin’s tired of your abrasiveness, tired of having her head bitten off every time she tries to approach you with a question.  You can’t blame her.  You’ve felt like shit the last week, sleep-deprived and generally pissed off.  

All because of a doe-eyed idiot.  

“What?”  It’s less snark, more sigh.  You’re counting down the minutes until you’re free, until you can curl back up in your bed and try to sleep like you’ve done the last four days.  

“What’s going on with you?”  

“Nothing.”  

“Bullshit,”  she hums, trailing after you as you move behind the counter.  “You’ve been in a bad mood all week.  I’ve never seen you this upset like, ever.”  She’s right, of course.  You’ve always been very careful to keep business separate, pushing the customer service agenda no matter what.  “Did something happen?”  

You grit your teeth.  An expletive careens off your tongue when you slam the tip of your finger within the drawer you’d just shut.

“____,”  she tries again, concerned.  

“Nothing happened.”

“See, I don’t believe that because like, look at you!”  She gesticulates wildly, adorned wrists clinking loudly.  “You look like hell—”

“Thanks.”

“—and you’re being clumsy and like, I think I know you well enough.  So just tell me?”

You hate that she’s right.  It doesn’t mean you’ll relent, too caught up in your own strange brand of strength to unload.  (Maybe it’d be helpful.  Probably.  But you’ve never found comfort in other people.  At least, not like this.)

“Yejin.”  Her name stops her in her tracks, hurried and insistent as you pull your coat on.  “It’s fine.  Really.”  You’re swallowing your pride - practically choking on it - as you offer what you hope is a reassuring smile.  “I just need to get some sleep.”  And figure out what the hell to do about Jungkook, but that’s a can of worms you refuse to open and certainly not here.

Maybe at home, over a glass of wine, fueled by liquid courage.  

The bottle of Côtes du Rhône has aided you more than you’d hoped, offered an armour that slinks over your shoulders and drives your fingers to action.  It’s prompted something - started the ball rolling.

(Idly, you think that might not have been a very good idea, but it’s too late to care now.)

“You’re here.”  You being him and him being Jeon Jungkook, hair damp and imposing frame draped in an oversized sweater.  He looks terribly uncomfortable standing in your doorway - more so than he had days ago - hands shoved into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, dumb sneakers pigeon-toed as if he’s ready to take flight.

“Y-you asked,”  he mutters, refusing to meet your stare.  At least, you think he’s refusing.  It’s a little hard to focus when there’s this fine film turning everything hazy, the bitter taste of wine heavy on your tongue.  

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy then, though he never quite meets your eyes.  It’s a smart tactic - level you with a look then immediately bounce it away.  It has you coming back for more, eager to refocus his fretful gaze until it’s locked with your own.

“Will you come in?”  You sidestep, give him enough space that he can enter without feeling suffocated.  He still hesitates, takes a second too long in deciding.  “I won’t bite.”

You don’t miss the better promise that comes under his breath.

“So.”  This feels oddly familiar, him backed into the corner of your couch again while you settle across from him.  He hums a noise but offers nothing further.  

This is how it’ll be then.  Fine.  If he wants to be this way.

“You like me.”

He sputters - doesn’t mean to, by how big his eyes go.  He hadn’t expected it to come barreling out of your mouth.  “I—  I don’t—  I didn’t say that.” 

If it were anyone but him, you’d take his reticence as rudeness.  

“Tell me why.”

The poor boy blinks, stares at you full on now.  Can’t look away, locked in the intensity of your stare.  

“W-what?”

“Tell me.”  You sip carefully at the liquid in your glass, swirl it ‘round and ‘round.  “You said that girl wasn’t me but you haven’t made a case as to why that matters.  What have I got that she doesn’t?”  

“You’re serious?”  

“As a heart attack, Jungkookie.”

The brunet swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion.  You think he might say no, outright refuse.  You don’t expect him to start rattling things off like the list lives in his head, answers printed against the darks of his eyelids.  

“You’re funny.  You’re honest.  You speak your mind.”  You don’t mean to scoff but his reasons are so shallow - so easily found in other people.  He must read the doubt in your expression, pushing on to cut you off from doing the same to him.  “Y-you care about people even when you pretend like you don’t.  You’re just as scared of being hurt as I am.”  

For the first time in a long time - in years and years - you feel seen.  As if he’s pulled back the cover of your unpublished draft, memorised the redlines and notes in the margins.  

“I don’t—”

“You have this face you make when you’re proud of me.”  He’s turning his own fingers over in his lap, knuckles white from the strain of locking them together and undoing them again.  “When I do something you approve of or when I make you laugh.”  

There’s something thick in your throat.  

“You make me want to try.”  He clears his own, speaks so softly you have to strain to hear it.  “Y-you make things not so scary.”  

It grows heavier, harder to breathe as you stare at the man sitting across from you.  He’s focused wholly on his hands, too caught up in his words to help the way he plucks at his skin, fiddles with the silver chain that loops around his wrist.

“You know what I need, even before I know myself.  You make me laugh.”  He laughs, an almost choked sound that fizzles and rattles bashfully. “You look really, really good in your work skirt.”  You know the one he means - all black, pencil-fit.  Makes your legs look a mile long, despite the fact that they aren’t.  

You can’t help but join him, a little breathless, with a strange sensation behind your ribs.  Like sunshine on a cold day, filtering past the walls you’ve put up, streaming through the windows that’d replaced drywall when Jungkook had waltzed into your life with his fluffy hair and boyish laugh.

When you speak, you don’t even believe your own words.  They come of their own accord - a defense mechanism.  “I can’t.”

As if he knows - as if he’s got a polygraph going, Jungkook shakes his head, meets your eyes and holds you there with the intensity of his attention.  “Can’t or won’t?”

“I—”

“I’m not asking for the world here.  Just a chance.”  He’s got a peculiar look on his face.  “Don’t you think you owe it to me?”

“Excuse me?” 

All of a sudden, he’s close.  Closer than you’d expect, far closer than he should be.  There’s nothing beyond his expression, the way his eyes twinkle under the dimmed apartment lights as he stares you down.  The scent of his cologne is cloying now, the fading nectarine hint of his shampoo making your mouth water.  

“You kind of ruined my life.  I think this makes us fair.”

You sputter, gasp, make sounds that careen off your tongue and fill the air with nonsense.  You’d ruined his life?  (You’d made it better - made him see the light, you thought.)  You’re working to find your voice, ready to tear into him for this abrupt accusation.

Then he’s giggling, nose scrunched and delight filtering past his teeth.  

“I’m kidding.”  

It feels like whiplash.  You’ve created a monster.  

“But you do owe me, I think.  So why not?”

You only have yourself to blame when you say yes, conceding to his pretty eyes and sweet smile.

Dating Jungkook is easy - as effortless as breathing.  He’s a bona fide dreamboat plucked from your wildest dreams. 

He texts when he says he will and picks you up every night, stamping a kiss to your cheek the moment you’ve clocked out.  He holds your hand and refuses to let go, rubbing soothing circles over your wrist when you’re tired or stressed or annoyed.  He brings flowers to every date - insists on them even when you tell him they’re a waste of money.  He knows your coffee order, has learned the art of the pour over when he wakes up before you.  

You understand now, why he’d stayed with women who were terrible for him (to him).  If you were them, you wouldn’t have let him go either.  Would lock him up in an old tower like your own personal Rapunzel.

(You say that because you’ve been on a Disney movie binge.  He is, unsurprisingly, very into these sorts of things.)

“Open it,”  he pleads, pushing the luxurious pink box towards you.

You stare down at the lid, the Agent Provocateur label glaring back at you.  You can’t help how you laugh, sound bouncing around his bedroom.  “Are you trying to tell me something, Jungkookie?”

Your lover - not boyfriend, because you haven’t had the talk and it’s still new and you’ve never been this careful before - rolls his eyes, pushes the box closer with a huff.  It’s adorable.  

“Just open it.”

You finger the soft bow strapped across the top, play with the neatly cut ends.  You can feel the impatience radiating off Jungkook, feel those pretty doe eyes boring holes into the top of your head.  You take your time even more now, unravelling the ribbon with slow, measured twists of your wrist.  

Whatever you’d expected to find nestled among the tissue paper, this isn’t it.  

You’d imagined he’d be into something feminine, all pristine white lace and scalloped cups.  Something he could brush his cheek against, run his fingers over.  

Tucked within the box is something that doesn’t even earn the title of lingerie, a few flimsy straps bonded together.  Blush pink satin and dressed with buckles, you turn it over in your hands, trying to make sense of the way it all connects.  Surely there’s more to this.  Surely, darling innocent Jeon Jungkook doesn’t expect you to wear just this?

“Do you like it?”  You can sense the eagerness in his voice, that desire he has to please that seems to never go away.  

“What is it?”

“It’s a playsuit.”  

“A playsuit?”  You’re no stranger to experimenting in the bedroom but this— this looks like it’s meant to harness a dog in.  Would it even fit?  Soft as it is, it seems terribly restrictive, made for someone with model proportions and no body fat at all.

He nods, round eyes so bright, so hopeful, you can’t voice your concerns.  “Will you wear it?”

It fits you better than you’d expected.  Or at least, you think it does.  If Jungkook’s reaction was any indication, it’s heaven sent - the perfect gift wrapping for a present he’s been dying to claim. 

The buckles you’d studied earlier - that had taken you too long to strap together - dig into the tender flesh of your hips, the shape of his fingers imprinted along the metal.  He grips you so tight you think you might bruise, left with a reminder of his love for weeks.

“S-so wet,”  he groans, sound dropping into an almost whine as the swollen mushroom head of his cock brushes through your folds.  The satin of the playsuit has been long since tugged aside, stained with your arousal as it cuts into the softness of your thighs.  He repeats the motion once, twice, coats your clit in pre-cum that leaks out of the slit and adds another layer of slick.  “So ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod dumbly, drool around the two fingers he’s got slotted against your cheek, ring finger pressed down over your tongue.  

“Use your words, gorgeous.”  As if you can, as if you’re not riding the high of your last orgasm and about to come apart beneath his playful teasing.

The palm of his hand meets your overstimulated clit with a sharp smack, the cold of his teeth bared against your neck.  He doesn’t like when you don’t answer - much prefers to make an effort even if it’s indiscernible.

“What did I say?”  

Something garbled comes, a plea as much as a sob.  Another hit lands, just shy of the pearl that throbs with need and pain, landing instead on the sensitive, already red skin of your inner thigh.  He soothes it this time around, massages your own wetness into the roses that bloom beneath his touch.

When he speaks again, it’s so utterly sweet, tender as can be.  The Jungkook you’ve known for months and not the devil in disguise.  

“You like this, don’t you?”  His kisses are searing, laced with reverence that feels at odds with the way he forces your gag reflex, taps his curved cock against your pussy.  “You like what I’m doing?”

“Y-yes,”  you cry, spit pooling past the sides of your mouth, dripping lewdly across your breasts.  The hand cradling your chin is all but drenched, dark ink thrown into stark relief by the way it slides over his skin.  Jungkook hums against your cheek, licks a fat stripe from shoulder to ear.  

“Good girl.”  Two fingers spread across over your heat, pointer and index sliding over your lips.  You’re spread obscenely - can see it in the mirror that rests against the far wall.  Can see how the head of his cock peeks between your thighs, runs the same path over and over with each languid, slow roll of his hips.  “Such a good girl for me.  My perfect girl.”

Your shoulders shake with the effort you put into nodding, throat clenching on reflex when the three fingers in your mouth flatten over your tongue, hold you steady in place.

“Pretty girl wants more, doesn’t she?  Wants me to fill her up?”

He’s teasing you, the bastard.  Dragging his aching erection against your cunt as you writhe against him, desperate.  It’s amusing to him - you can read the delight in the reflection, see it shining bright like a beacon when he pulls his hand away and recentres it across your chest.  Digits tease at the already pebbled buds, swollen and sensitive from how hard he’d sucked them into his mouth earlier.

“Say it.  Say you want me.”

You do, without hesitation, without fear.  You know he’ll catch you.  “I want you.”  

He sinks into you the same instant the words fall, holds you tight against him when your entire body begins buzzing and threatens to do the same.  Your walls feel like a vice grip around him, greedily sucking in his cock as he slams home, ruts into you like a wild animal.  

Strong as he is, he’s weak to the noises you make - the broken sobs that spill off your tongue and make up the prettiest sound he’s ever heard - and how you feel absolutely perfect, wet and warm.  The muscle in his thighs strain, pleasure vibrating up the notches of his spine, setting every nerve ending alight with its ascent.

“B-be mine,”  he returns, practically begging as he spreads you wide, making you take everything he has to offer.  Heart and soul and stupidly huge, perfect cock.

“I am.  I am.  I am,”  you chant, tears welling along your lash line.  They fall when his rhythm stutters, when the heat overwhelms and you’re coming for the third time that night, crying his name like it’s the only word you know.  

They continue to pour, carve trails down your reddened cheeks as you reach nirvana, wait for moment he’s right there with you.  It doesn’t take long - a few more punishing thrusts into your fluttering heat - and then he’s found his bliss, crying into the silk of your hair, spilling inside you. 

It doesn’t happen how you thought it would - a shy question poised over dinner, sealed with a sweet kiss on the way to the car - but it means just as much.  Breaks you apart as it rebuilds you, fills you up as it splits your seams.

You’re his and he’s always been yours. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @shaybtsforever @we-found-wonderland-in-1989 @justanothergirlfromeurope @jalexad @bonnyskies @coffeeismylife28 @haeilove @purplespaceymermaid @sunsetsnsirens-blog @beingbeings​ @veronawrites​ @notmontae97​ @papillonsgf​ i’m really hoping i didn’t miss anyone e___e

[knivesareout]

Day and Night For You

Pairing: Steve Murphy x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Smut! (18+ ONLY!) Fingering, Oral (fem receiving), spanking, ass play, squirting, breathplay, cock warming, unprotected sex.

A/N: Aaaand another one. Started this on Tuesday and now we’re here. Am I a writer now? Who can say at this point- it’s only two fics and a couple drabbles. You can also read it on AO3 here.

Summary: Settling in to watch a movie with Steve takes a turn when you can’t stop your mind from wandering and he confronts you about it. 

Your husband coming home with enough time to eat dinner, watch a movie, and go to bed at the same time as you had become a rare occurrence lately. Having Steve sitting next to you on the couch was something you wanted to soak in, your body pressed tightly against his side as you two watch a movie. 

You were vaguely aware enough of the plot playing out on screen that if Steve were to ask you questions later on, you could answer, but your real focus was on him. The steady breathing of his chest, the roughness of his fingertips tracing along your bare thigh. The atmosphere had lulled you into a comfortable feeling- at least until you heard someone yelling on screen, your head perking up at the loud voice.

Watching as the male character pushes his wife against the wall with his hand around her throat, you swallow slowly. The scene was something you were no stranger to in your personal life; not with how dominant Steve was in the bedroom. But lately you’d barely managed a quickie most nights before he was out like a light, exhausted from work and snoring lightly in your ear. The fault was hardly his own; trying to catch Escobar was proving no easy task and you were willing to do whatever little you could to help Steve in supporting him.

Your thighs rub together as the scene escalates, the couple moving to the bedroom and you sigh, biting at your lip. The movement of Steve’s hand on your thigh stops and you peer up at him, a question in your eye.

“What’s wrong?”

“Could ask you the same thing, honey. You’re over there making all kinds of noises and I’m just tryin’ to watch this. Everything alright?”

You simper with a nod, looking pointedly at the screen. “I’m okay, promise. Let’s just finish the movie.” Patting his thigh, you turn your focus back to the screen where you’ve managed to completely miss the passionate scene between the couple and you make sure not to make a disappointed noise, less Steve question you again.

—–

The film ends an hour later and you’re no less horny than you were before. Nothing but images of Steve’s hand around your throat fill your mind and you can feel the stickiness between your thighs as you stand up and stretch, the oversized t-shirt from your alma mater lifting up around your hips before dropping down again. Steve’s yawning into his fist and looks exhausted, his body heavily pressed into the couch and if he could sink into it, you’re sure he would.

“Come on then big guy, let’s get you to bed before you fuck up your back by passing out on the couch,” you tease, offering him a hand that he takes gratefully. 

Steve grunts, reaching out to pinch your hip. “That was one time, damnit. Will you ever let me live it down?”

You bat his hands away with a grin, moving around to turn off the lights in the living room before heading towards your bedroom. “Nope,” you tell him easily, turning around as you stand in the doorway and wait for him to stand in front of you. “You alright though?” Steve’s looking at you with an expression you’re not familiar with, his eyes bright and posture stiff, almost like he’s vibrating with the need to move.

“You know I can smell you right?”

Your posture falters and you almost choke on your tongue, glancing up at Steve with a question in your eyes. The blunt query has your mind in a scramble as you try to find the words to answer him and he doesn’t seem to like that as he steps closer and you’re toe to toe. 

Steve inhales deeply before speaking, his hand coming up to take your chin between his fingers and lock your gaze with his. “Can’t even enjoy a movie without you being a needy little thing,” he tuts, dragging a thumb across your bottom lip and you have to stop yourself from pulling the digit into your mouth. “Have I been neglecting you?”

The question is a genuine one, no teasing tone to be found, and you’re almost hesitant to answer, hoping that maybe your explanation will shed some light on how you’ve feeling. “No, not really. I just miss you. Miss when we used to take our time with each other is all.” You shrug, hoping you give off the appearance of being aloof rather than touch starved like you actually were.

It’s clear Steve appreciates the honesty as he nods in understanding, gripping your chin a bit tighter. “M’sorry about that sweetheart. How about I make it up to you, yeah? Let me take my time with you tonight.”

Your head nods so quickly it’s almost comical, your body shaking with a need so overwhelmingly intense you could cry. The promise of relief, no matter how long it’ll take to get there, is something you’re willing to do anything for and Steve can see it written across your face as you watch his every move.

Steve walks you back into your room, your steps careful as you maneuver towards your shared bed, feeling the back of your calves hit the foot of the bed frame and you fall onto the mattress, hands reaching behind you to catch your fall. 

“You’ve been teasing me all night, honey. Shorts so short I can’t even see them under your shirt, your nipples hard all night. And then I realized half way through the movie I could smell you. What part turned you on so much that I’d bet you’re soaked between those pretty little thighs of yours, hm?”

The low timbre of Steve’s voice makes your whole body warm as he looms over you, waiting for an answer. His large hands are sat on his hips, gaze trained on you and the way your body shifts to seek any sort of friction. His eyes follow your every move and it makes you nervous, teeth tugging at your bottom lip.

Normally you would play coy with him, shrug and say you didn’t know, but with how worked up you were it seemed silly to do anything but be completely blunt. “His hand around her throat,” you explain, placing your hands on your thighs and moving them up until you reach the top of your shorts and tug them down along with your underwear. “It made me miss your fingers pushing into my neck, Steve. Squeezing so hard I’d soak the sheets when you make me cum.” Kicking the material to the side, you spread your legs wide for him, head pushed into the plush pillows behind you.

You watch his eyes as your hands trail along the soft skin of the inside of your thighs, anticipating his next move. It’s hard for you to tell what he’s thinking, his facial expression neutral and the lack of light in the room has you at a disadvantage. 

“Steve, please.” 

In a flash, Steve grabs hold of your ankle and yanks you down the bed as you yelp in surprise, your legs hanging off the side as his hand comes around your throat. “Still want to be a tease?” He growls, thumb pressing into the skin so hard you’ll be surprised if there isn’t a bruise there in the morning. 

The pressure is electrifying. Your whole body is lit up, every nerve at attention as he holds his hand there. You crave this feeling from time to time, the clear show of authority that Steve has over your body the biggest turn on. Managing to shake your head, he loosens his grip around you and you try to catch your breath before he’s on you, turning your body around and pressing your face into the mattress. 

“You know all you have to do is ask for what you want, honey. I know I haven’t been the most attentive husband lately but I’ll always make time for you,” Steve promises, words sweet and contrasting with the way he’s man-handled you on the mattress; your ass up high and cheek squished into the comforter below you. 

You don’t dare move as you hear the rustling of fabric, assuming Steve’s undressing behind you. It’s torture as you wait for him to do something, anything, your hands curling into the blanket beneath you so they don’t stray.  

Steve’s hands are rough against your ass as he palms the flesh, pulling apart your cheeks only to slide one of his hands away to slap it, jolting you forward at the contact. You whimper as he touches you, both of his hands back on your bottom and fingers inching closer towards where you need him most. The inside of your thighs are sticky with arousal and you push your ass out for more, a silent plea for Steve to do something. 

“So god damn needy, aren’t you?” Steve runs a dry finger across your exposed asshole and you let out a shaky breath, the feeling unexpected but pleasant. It’d been too long since you both had time for something like that but you don’t hold out too much hope as the finger then drops lower to slide between the lips of your soaked pussy. “You’re fuckin’ soaked, sweetheart. It’s all down your thighs. Pussy actin’ like I haven’t touched it in days.” You whine as he pulls his finger away but it quickly turns into a moan as his hand hits your ass again, the flesh stinging from where his palm hit you.

“Steve, please. Please, please, please,” you beg him, your voice desperate and needy as your hips sway in a taunt for him to give you more. 

His hands grip your hips tightly as he turns you over and presses you higher up on the bed, your body trying to orient itself as he crawls up the mattress towards you. It’s like a hunter stalking its prey, the way his eyes follow your every movement and you whimper, holding your body still as you wait for his next step.

Steve parts your thighs wide for him as he settles between your legs, the warmth of his mouth instantaneous on your skin when he drops his lips to kiss along the sensitive inner part of your thighs. The hairs of his mustache scratch along your body and you sigh into the feeling, your hand reaching out to card through his blonde hair. 

“Tell me what you want,” Steve murmurs quietly against your thigh, his mouth close to your throbbing cunt and you can feel the heat radiating from his breath as he speaks.

“Want your mouth on my pussy, want you to make me cum so hard I cry.” Your words are quick and almost sound like they’re meshed together, your tongue heavy in your mouth. 

You can feel the vibrations as Steve hums against your thigh, sounding like he’s considering your request. His fingers part the lips of your pussy, exposing your heat to the cool air of your bedroom. Your fists clench into the comforter beneath you, trying to ground yourself as you anticipate his next move and once his tongue laps at your clit in broad strokes, you cry out in relief. 

The feeling is like a match to gasoline, your body arching into his mouth in search of more. It’s hot and wet, the sounds of him lapping at your sex filling the room and you wail once a finger slips into you. Steve is relentless in the way his long, thick finger fucks into you and he easily slips in another two, stuffing you full. The pressure is too much, his hands working you like an instrument he’s played his whole life, plucking at your body like strings. “You gonna soak me baby? I can feel the way you’re tightening around my fingers.” Steve moves to sit up and you gasp as his fingers find the angle that you’d been desperate for him to touch. 

There’s a pressure building in your lower stomach, the feeling familiar. It swells, threatening to crash over you. You will your body to let go, to welcome the tidal wave begging to consume you.

It’s too much and not enough all at once as his pace picks up, your body all but forcing his fingers out as you gush over his hand, on the sheets, and across his chest. Your body shakes as you come down and you blink quickly, trying to clear your vision. There’s a dull throbbing between your thighs that are now coated in a light wetness and you sigh in satisfaction.

If you had the energy to reach up and smack Steve, you would’ve. The smug smirk on his face was infuriating but your orgasm had left you boneless and it was clear he knew that. 

“You’re not tapping out already, are ya?” He teases, fingers lightly trailing across the inside of your still trembling thighs. “Cause I was thinkin’ of how much I wanna slide inside your pussy and fuck you until I fill you up and just stay there, plugging you up with my cum until it takes hold. Do you want that, pretty girl?”

His words render you still. It wasn’t something you both had talked about recently- going bareback. You weren’t on birth control, something with your insurance getting mixed up on the move down to Colombia. And if condoms weren’t used, or Steve didn’t pull out, there was a high probability of you falling pregnant. The last time it’d been discussed was right before your move and how you two wanted to wait until you were back in the States before you started trying to start a family, not wanting to add a child into what was an already high stress environment.  

Tilting your head in question at Steve, you wonder what he’s thinking. He seems so nonchalant about what he’s said, his hand stroking along the hard length of his cock while he waits for your answer- almost like he’s thought about it before now. God, do you want it. There’s nothing better than the feeling of Steve’s cum dripping down your thighs, him stuffing you full of his seed and marking you as his. 

You nod slowly in answer, a breathy sigh passing your lips at the thought of him filling you up after months of shitty condoms. “I want that. I want you to fill me up, Steve. Please.”

The sound of him stroking his slick cock fills the room and you watch as he shuffles on his knees until he’s close enough to rub the wet head against your clit, your body instinctively scooting down in search of more. You’re still sensitive, chest shuddering as he continues to torture you. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked baby. Could just slide right in,” Steve teases, the head of his cock catching on your entrance only to slide back up to your clit.

“I want it. I want your cock. Fuck,” you groan, fisting the sheets in your hands. “Want your cum so bad, Steve. Come on.” 

The hand that was resting on your hip comes up to press against your throat again, your head tilting back to give him more room. Your body arches into his touch and Steve slowly puts more pressure against your neck as he finally slides his cock into the soaked walls of your pussy, the feeling nothing but euphoric. 

Steve’s cock fits inside of you like a glove. Long and thick, stretching you in the most delicious way. It’s intoxicating, the feeling of him buried deep inside of you and you relish in the feeling until he starts to move.

His thrusts are slow at first, the long drag of his dick making you shudder beneath him. The palm of his hand is still pressed to your throat and you push down on the back of his hand a little, silently asking for more. 

A dark chuckle escapes Steve’s lips and he hunches forward, pressing down against your neck. “My dirty little baby, aren’t you? Just wanted a dick inside of ya and my hand pressed to your throat, that’s all.” 

It’s difficult to nod but you manage, sucking in a breath as he lets off a bit and starts thrusting in earnest. Steve’s movements are languid, meticulous. He’s hitting every spot that makes your body feel electric, like a live wire ready to explode at the right touch. 

“Steve, touch me. Fuck,” you draw out, his hips pulling out just enough to leave the tip of his cock inside of you before thrusting back in to start a more brutal, rough pace. 

“You like that honey?” He asks, the hand not around your throat coming down between your thighs to rub at your clit in slow strokes. “You wanna cum? Want me to fill you up and put a baby in ya? Stuff you so full of me you’ll be dripping all night?”

Nodding, you cry out in need. It’s too much, the push and pull of his cock coupled with his hand around your throat and the rough pad of his thumb on your clit. Your body locks up and you start pulsing around him, your orgasm crashing around you like a wave, drowning you. There’s a ringing in your ears and you’re vaguely aware of Steve’s rough grunting as he plows into you in search of his own release. 

“Fuck, gonna fuck you so full of my cum that you’re leaking. You feel so good, baby. Pussy so tight,” Steve rasps out, his hips stuttering as he falls apart above you. Mouth open, eyes clenched shut, your husband is a sight as he cums deep and hot inside of you, shuddering through his release.

Your hands run up and down his back in a soothing motion as he comes down, his own hands falling to the sides to catch himself above you, head dropping to your shoulder. “Fuck that was good,” he laughs, lips kissing along your collarbone and up to your cheek where he rests the tip of his nose.

Turning your head slightly, you brush your nose against his. “So. A baby huh?” The question is teasing, light, but deep down you really want to know what was going through his head to bring that up in the middle of some long overdue sex.

“Just been on my mind a lot,” he sighs, sliding a hand underneath your back to pull your body with his as he rolls over, his cock still nestled inside of you. “With everything goin’ on it just makes me realize that shit isn’t guaranteed and I want that with you. Always have. A family; little ones with your hair and my nose.”

You listen, running a hand across his face- up the slope of his nose, smoothing out the furrow between his brow and then up into his hair where you scratch gingerly at his scalp. 

“I should’ve said something before instead of springing that up in the middle of sex but it was like something snapped in me. ‘M sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, baby. Was just a bit of a shock is all,” you promise, hand sliding behind his neck and rubbing under the base of his skull to further relax him. “You know I’ve always wanted that with you too.”

Steve nods, pushing his head into your touch. “I know.”

Shifting your hips, you grimace at the sticky feeling between your legs but make no effort to move beyond trying to get more comfortable as you sprawl across your husband’s broad chest and glance up at him, a fond look written across his face as he looks back at you.

“You know, if we sleep now I might wake up in time for another round before I have to go in for work,” Steve grins, wiggling his eyebrows. 

You don’t even reply, just lay your head against his chest where his heart lies beneath your ear and start to snore over exaggeratedly, giggling to yourself.

“I love you, baby,” he reminds you quietly, arms wrapping tightly to your middle. 

Yawning, you close your eyes. “I love you too.”

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Chapter 2)

Chapter Summary: You did make a deal.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 5.5k

Warnings:+18 only, smut, sex deprived reader, boytoy!Bucky, mention to break ups, mention to bad sexual experiences, casual sex, opened relationship.

A/N: You guys and all the feedback you’re giving to this story are just my everything. Thank you for your patience, if you follow my stories for a while you all know I’m a slow writer and not even social distancing seems to be changing that. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated. I was going to close the tag list for this series at 70, but you’ve been really amazing, so I’m extending it to 80 spots for now. All I ask of you is, if you’re tagged and liked what you read, please leave me a nice little comment.  Thank you, @lesqui​ 

 Saturday mornings have always been like any other morning to you. Waking up early, making some black coffee and fixing up something quick to eat . Then checking up on your schedule for the day, which more times than you dare to count consisted of working from home and that’s it. Nothing special.  

But this Saturday morning is nothing like the other ones, this morning has actually already passed since you wake up past noon, a lot later than you’re used to, take a long bath with all the pampering accessories you found in your bathroom - something you hadn’t done in a very long time- plaster your face with a moisturizing mask you’ve bought on a late night online shopping spree and has never used, wrap your body in a robe, your hair in a towel and go to the kitchen to make your usual black coffee but also a few chocolate pancakes as a treat to the atypical hunger making your stomach groan loudly.

ThisSaturday is nothing like the other ones because you have the memory, on your mind and your whole body, of three fantastic orgasms you were gifted with the night before. If it was up to you, Bucky Barnes and his sinful tongue would get all the awards in the world.

While you hum a soft tune and flip your pancakes, the night before replays like a movie on your mind, taking small giggles out of you and causing a warm rush to creep up your neck. The man sure knows his game, touching all the right places, playing with your body just perfectly, luring you into a very much needed and longed ecstasy.  On top of that, he was nothing but generous and seemed to get himself off by getting you off and, now that you’re thinking about it, a man acting that way in bed is something entirely new to you.

You have to send Natasha a present, maybe that expensive vodka she’s always drinking…

The memory of your friend quickly fades and the sinful picture of Bucky Barnes’s face between your legs pops back into your mind as you drop the pancakes on a plate and sit by the counter to devour them with your coffee. What a night you had. The whole no strings attached situation makes it even more… enjoyable, you dare say, much more than you thought it would be. There is no dwelling on whether you should text him to say hello, or call him, no need to hold back who you really are or what you really want in favor to make a good impression, nor to think about meeting friends, family, no fear of disappointments from both sides… it was just plain good old sex, which you’ve realized it’s all you need and are looking for.

You hum at the sweet taste of the pancake and take a sip from your coffee. There’s no worries in your mind, no regrets, nothing like that. Except for one thought: the fact you didn’t even get to see his cock. The bulge alone grinding against you was already impressive enough to make your mouth water… Everything was amazing, more than perfect, actually, and left you completely spent and utterly satisfied, more than you’ve been in a long time, if you’re going to be honest with yourself. But now you only get to imagine how it would be if you two had gotten to the whole package, the real deal…

Unless…

You had thought about that night as a one-time occurrence, something to take your edge off and move on, but...  He did propose a deal… And you did take said deal… to call him if you needed anything… You stare dreamily ahead as you take a fork filled with pancake to your mouth and flashes of the feeling of his bulge pressed against your back, grinding on your core take over your senses… it took your breath away then and just the memory is making a number on your lungs.

You sure have a need now.

Glimpsing your phone over the balcony, you reach for it, loving you don’t have to care whether it is too soon or not to do what you’re about to do…but a new message pops up on the screen as soon as you unlock it. Natasha letting you know she was sent away for a mission with Steve Rogers but should go back in a week and wanted to schedule dinner for you to tell her everything… You type her a quick answer, agreeing on dinner, before tapping on the brand new contact of your list, added by Natasha Romanoff herself.

Bucky “Soft Tongue” Barnes.  

You’ll change it. Eventually…

~~~

“So… my place this time, huh?”

The smirk on Bucky’s lips is cocksure enough to make you take a long sip of the beer he offered you, while he lazily leans his elbow on the backrest of his sofa, supporting his head on his hand. You're thankful for the alcohol and for the fact that, this time, he hasn’t gone straight to business. Yes, you’ve been feeling bold and excited in having those kinds of encounters with a - hot as fuck - guy you barely knew. But this is new, and you know you must be careful and gentle to yourself, so it doesn’t blow up in your face eventually. Thankfully, Bucky seems to read the situation just fine since he’s been in cue with your rhythm from the very first moment.  

“Did you have any other plans?” you ask, biting your lower lip and hoping your presence isn’t actually a bother.

“I was happy to see your text.” Even if his answer is kind of vague considering your question, it eases the tension on your shoulders at his wide and comforting smile, “We did make a deal…” His voice is a tone lower as he peeks at you from under his lashes, taking his beer to his lips.

You take in a deep breath as your gaze drops to his lips, “Yes, we did.” You gulp, as your body tightens, feeling the rise of the tension in the air, enhanced by flashes of last night when you two settled said deal. 

His chuckle is a tad dark and laced with mischief and oh, man it makes your skin tingles when he drags his body just an inch closer, his beautiful blue eyes fastened on you.

“Ahm, Bucky… can I ask you something?” You try not to let your voice come out too small, as the heat of his body rolls off to yours and makes your core flutter.

“Sure.”

“How does this work?”  

He frowns as his head tilts a bit sideward, “This what?”

“This… ahm,” you clear your throat, “Deal…  I mean, I’m pretty interested, pretty, pretty interested.” You stress the word and your eyes widen a bit at the honesty slipping out of your lips, but you realize that’s actually how being around Bucky has made you feel, giving his own honesty behavior with you, just like now when he expresses no kind of reaction that would make you feel embarrassed or anything of that nature, so you let yourself continue, “But you must know I’ve got out of a relationship recently. It was really serious …10 years.” You chuckle when he huffs and takes a sip of his beer, “Anyway, I’m not really sure how to handle this.” You gesture between you two, “Should we establish any sort of rules, or something?” You shrug questioningly. Every single movie you saw or book you read where the characters had a deal like that they ended up establishing some rules, you’re not sure if that’s what you’re supposed to do here, but…

“Rules?” His whole face scrunches up, “Let me tell you something, sweetheart,” he lets out a long exhale, “My entire life, all I did was to follow damn rules. Even to this day, I have to follow them all the time in my job, whether is from the fucking government, the pain in my ass which is Stark or Fury and, believe me, even from the giant asshole of my best friend who’s pretty jacked up now but was nothing than a skinny angry ass, like, yesterday… Yeah, you know the punk, don’t you?” He smiles when you hold back a laugh, “It’s all about rules, rules, rules… I have to endure them when it comes to work, but I don’t like them in my personal life.”

He smiles that dazzling smile and you can’t help to offer him a small one, too. You see where he’s coming from. Given what you know of his life, he lived a very strict, military life ever since an early age in the 30’s. You don’t even have to elaborate on what happened next and everything he endured… now he’s part of the damn Avengers… Just like that, you start to get a bit more of Bucky Barnes and why he seems to live his life so lightly and freely now…

“Listen…” he continues, after taking a sip from his beer, “Let’s just have some fun… I loved spending time with you last night, I love that you’re here now and I love even more the prospects of tonight…” He smirks and you gulp down at the promise that comes with it, “I just wanna enjoy our time together, I don’t need rules to do that.” He pauses, as his face turns a bit more serious, differing from the light demeanor he’s been showing so far, “Do you wanna set any rules, though?”

You ponder his question. You did bring the subject up, because that’s what you think you should’ve done, but, now that you think about it, nothing comes to your mind. You kinda love his philosophy. No overthinking, just fun and no rules… “No, actually. I can’t think of anything,’ you decide.

“Great.” He smiles and nods, before his face turns serious again, “There’s one thing I need to clear up, though.” He stops and looks deeply into your eyes, as waiting for your consent before continuing.

“Oh, alright.” You encourage him to elaborate.

“As much as I’m looking forward to getting to know you and spending time with you, there’s absolutely no prospect of this turning into some kind of romantic relationship. See, I like the way I live my life too much and chances are I won’t be exclusive to you,” he says fixing his gaze on yours as if gauging your reaction to what his words, “What I’m saying is if I feel like it, I’ll have sex with other people and I highly encourage you to do the same if that’s something you want. The serum made me immune to any disease, but I’m obviously not against protection,” he adds and you feel your cheeks burning, it still blows you away how comfortably he talks about sex and how blatantly honest he is. You like and are getting used to it, but you’re just not there yet, “We can be friends, or not, we can just fuck our brains out, but we won’t go further than that. I need to know you’re aware and consenting on this, I need to know you’re on the same vibe as mine before we continue… having fun together.” He speaks seriously, but you see the tiny and suggestive curl on his lips when he finishes and waits for your answer.

You let out a small laugh under your breath, “I wouldn’t stress about it… I’m still in love with my boyfriend, to be honest. So, don’t worry about me wanting to turn this into something ahm… romantical.” You wave your hand between the two of you.  

“Uh, ok,” He raises a brow and nods, pondering your response, “We’re cool then?” He checks again.

“We’re cool,” You nod and raise your beer.

He promptly bumps his bottle to yours as you seal your deal with a toast and a shared smile.

“So, still in love with him, huh?” He asks, absentmindedly, after you two take a sip from the beer, “Was it a bad break up?”

“Not really,” you answer, looking down at your finger circling the rim of the bottle, “I just wasn’t expecting it… I thought I was gonna spend the rest of my life with him… it was settled.” You shrug, “And then, nothing was certain anymore. I’m sorry,” you quickly add, shaking your head with a tight smile on your lips. The last thing you want is to talk about Eddie. And you’re pretty sure that’s not what Bucky expects from the night, either.

“Hey.” He hooks his finger under your chin, lifting it up so you look back at him, “No rules remember? We can talk, we’re not sex robots or anything.”

Your head falls back when you laugh, “Alright.” You nod as he smiles at you, “But I don’t really want to talk about my breakup, now.”

He nods back, accepting your position, “Can I ask you something?” He’s the one to talk again after you two drink from the beer, “Last night,” he continues when you give him your consent, “When I went down on you. Was that the first time?”

There he goes again, talking so freely... You don’t feel your cheeks burning this time, though.

“No,” you answer, and he lifts his eyebrows, showing a bit of surprise at the answer, “It was the second, actually…” You’re quick to add, tightening your lips, “That obvious, huh?” You laugh quietly as your shoulders drop a bit.  

Bucky shrugs, “It’s just that you seemed a bit self-conscious about it…” He brings his bottle to his lips, but stops it midair, “At first…” he smirks at you once again and winks.  

You let out a small chuckle, looking down, playing with the almost empty bottle in your hands, “And I was…” You turn your body to face him, folding your legs on his sofa and leaning your arm on his backrest. It might be the alcohol, or just his laid-back and comforting presence that makes you want to share it with him, “You see, I’ve dated Eddie since college and he was my first…you know?” You bit on your lower lip as he nods at you to continue, nothing changing on his expression at the information, “And what happened was that he was never really a fan of that… we tried once, years ago and that was it… I knew he was grossed out by it, so I never asked him again.”

Clearing your throat, you look away, bringing you your beer to your lips to conceal any sign of embarrassment your face might indicate, you can’t believe you just shared that with him, you know how pitiful that sounds and what a turn off that must be. You’re there to have sex and are sharing how unexperienced you are? Not cool.

You feel his eyes fixed on you, and, when your gaze is attracted to his like a magnet, the pity you thought you would see on his face just isn’t there. Instead, it’s something entirely different you catch on his expression and his eyes. Never parting his focus from you, he puts his beer on the center table and reaches for yours, placing it next to his. He drags his body closer, and his smell – no cologne, just his own manly smell with a hint of what must be a fancy shampoo-  fills in your nostrils, making you breathe in deeply the inebriant scent, “You know what came to my mind while I was listening to you?”

The sultry tone in his voice is almost hypnotic as your lips part and your gaze drops to his, “What?” you murmur.

“Last night…” He licks his lips before drawing his lower one between his teeth, “Your taste…” He leans forward, brushing his lips on your earlobe, causing your breath to hitch in your throat, “Your shaky legs around my shoulders…” His flash hand finds your knee before sneaking up your thigh, carrying goosebumps on its way, “And those sinful sounds you made while I had your pussy in my mouth.” He grabs your earlobe in a gentle bite at the same time his wandering hand grabs harshly the flesh of your thigh underneath your dress, pulling a breathy whine out of you.

He drags his lips to yours and the kiss is sensual, slow moves of his tongue against yours as his lips are a soft and breathtaking caress. You realize you would be willing to spend the whole night just like that… kissing him, as your tongue laces around his and he lures you to melt into him… But he seems to have other plans in mind. You can’t help but seek his lips again as he parts them from yours.  

“And this is what thinking about all of that does to me…” Boring his blue, now darker than ever, eyes on yours he grabs your hand from your lap and brings it to the bulge in his pants.

You gasp at the sensation in your hand as he guides your hand with his to brush the firm and large hardness. Everything about the situation is sexy and makes you light in your head and hot in your body: the way he moans as you move your hand, his warm breath slipping from his parted lips and fanning over yours, how his eyes flutter for just a second before fixing on yours again, his scent, his shameless words… 

“Just to think about eating your pussy…the mere thought of it…. Fuck, it turns me on,” he whispers and lets go of your hand, allowing it to move on its own as he lunges at you again, kissing and nibbling your lips a lot harder than the first time

You kiss him back fiercely while keeping your hand on his cock, palming it through his jeans. You already can tell how thick he is and a fluttering sensation bubbles down your lower belly as the desire to feel his cock inside you takes over your senses and makes you weak in your legs.

“Shit, I can’t wait to do that again…” He drags his lips down your collarbone, whispering between kisses and licks on your skin, “But right now, what I want is to feel your pussy around my cock. Is that what you want, too?”

“Oh, yeah,” you promptly answer, eyelashes fluttering shut at the thought as you press your hand harder against his hardness and digs your finger on his loose locks, “I want it… I want this cock so bad.”

“Bedroom,” he announces, swiftly getting up and pulling you with him.

By the time you get to his bedroom, he already has his shirt off and you’re only in your set of black lingerie, discarded clothes and shoes left on the short way from the living room. Peppering kisses down his neck, you unbutton and unzips his jeans.  

“Holy fuck.” It slips out of you in a breath when you look down and takes sight of his cock bobbing between you two as you pull his pants along with his underwear down his legs.

It’s big… and thick… and beautiful, you dare say…"Wow," it slips out of you unannounced as you keep staring down and you hear a chuckle from him, a tad too smug chuckle, because he damn well knows… of course, he does.

As he proceeds to ravish your neck, grabbing two handfuls of your ass through your underwear, you can’t help but wrap your fingers around him. You can’t take your eyes off your hand playing slowly with it, entranced by how thick and hard he is, anticipating the feeling of him inside you as you swipe your thumb over the tip...

“Stop, stop.” The rasped plea takes you out of your reverie as his forehead falls on your shoulder and his hand stops yours, “I’ll come all over your hand if you keep that up,’ he explains, laying a kiss on the crook of your neck.

You chuckle and bring your arms to circle his broad shoulders instead, peppering kisses on his stubbled jaw.

“Let’s go to bed, or this will be over too soon.” You can hear the smile on his lips as he squeezes your ass and steps out of his bunched jeans and underwear, guiding you to his bed.

Through kisses, licks, bites, and wandering hands on each other, he lays you down and positions himself hovering you after unhooking and taking off your bra with the same expertise from the night before. He focuses on your breasts, sucking each one of them with intense hunger before shifting on his knees, leaving your breasts and whole body burning for his touch.

He moves towards the nightstand and opens the drawer to get a condom. The position gives you a prime view of his fully erected cock. The little dark path turning into the well-trimmed little hairs right above it shows you how careful he is with himself and the thought of your tongue running down on it pops into your mind and sparks the electricity running down your inside. On its own will, your hand snakes down your stomach till your clothed mound.   

A particularly loud sigh of you is what catches Bucky’s attention as he rips the package with his teeth. His eyes drop to where your hand rubs you covered pussy and his cock twitches at the vision.

“Shit… yeah, touch yourself….” He breathes, as he rolls off the latex around his cock.

You promptly slide your fingers under your underwear and find out how wet you are. You draw gentle circles on your clit, never taking your eyes off his burly and beautiful figure, the tightness in your core is a crescendo as you catch every little detail of his perfect body and his hooded eyes on you.

Still kneeling on the mattress, he positions himself in front of your opened legs, but just stays there, hypnotized by the spot where you touch yourself, placing his hands on your knees and spreading your legs wider for him, his pupils growing darker and darker with lust.

You sigh and moan at the pleasure brought by your fingers, but the exposed situation you are in and the sight of him staring down so hungrily at your pussy prompts the tight coils flaming inside you. Just a couple of days and you’re finding out a few things you had no idea about yourself. One of them is that you actually love that kind of filthy exposition. It feels wrong and intimate and fucking sexy.  

He grips his cock, giving it a few slow strokes and it’s all a sweet torture that you can’t take anymore.

“Bucky…Please, fuck me.” Your voice comes out laced in a mix of plea and guttural groan you didn’t know you had in you.

Dark eyes flick to yours. “Oh, yeah? Do you want me to fuck you?” he teases, showing no mercy to your desperation.

“Hard…” you correct him, gritting your teeth, “I want you to fuck me hard.”

His eyes widen and his chest moves up when he sucks in a breath. You’re really that eager that you can’t control your words anymore, but you love the effect it has on him. He pulls your fingers from under the lace of your underwear and leans down to bring them to his mouth. Your lips part at the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen, his eyes fluttering shut as he moans sucking the two fingers clean. Your taste seems to stir something in him and the world around you spins when big strong hands turn you over roughly.

“On your fours,” he growls. The grasp of his hands on your ass tugs at your core.

You promptly comply, getting yourself in the position he wants you in as he keeps himself behind you. You yelp when he swiftly pulls your underwear down your knees, the lace stretching around them as he spreads your legs. Looking from over your shoulder you watch him cursing under his breath and gripping the base of his impossibly hard cock and guiding it to your slit, coating his hardness with your arousal.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper as the hardness brushes against your clit.

“In a second…” He smirks when his gaze crosses yours.  He leans over and pushes your back down, positioning your ass in the air as you lay your head on his pillow. Bucky grabs your hand and guides it to your pussy.

He doesn’t need to say what he wants you to do as your fingers quickly start working on your clit and he aligns himself with your entrance. He pushes the tip in and it knocks the air out of your lungs as you brace yourself on his pillows with your unoccupied hand, speeding up the finger on your clit.  Bucky groans as he pushes himself in, inch by inch. You’re soaking wet and he doesn’t find much resistance, but it’s been a year for you, so you’re very aware of the stretch on his way in.

“Shit,” you wheeze, loving how full you feel when he’s all his way in, both of his hands grasping your hips tightly.  

“Oh, damn, you feel amazing.” He groans and you clench around him, “Oooo, someone has a praise kink, huh?” A teasing tone in his words.

Do you? You wouldn’t know… all you know is how your whole body and mind respond to having him inside you and how his sultry words make your head dizzy. It’s an aching and floating sensation all at once.  You feel light and heavy and hot and eager for him to move.

Like he’s reading your mind, he starts his pace. His fat cock stretches your walls at every jerk of his hips, increasing in rhythm as it feels easier for him to slide in and out of you. It doesn’t take long before he’s pounding into you, a punishing hold on your hips to keep you steady enough to him. Being the discoverer of your weakness, he punctuates every pound with grunted words of praise, telling how good and wet you feel around his cock. 

He feels good, too. He feels so damn good, his cock brushing and hitting all of the sweetest spots inside you, the sound of skin slapping against skin... Your mind is a fuzz and your head sinks into his pillow, muffling your moans as you just take it, your body moving along with his powerful thrusts. The coil that’s been twisting your lower belly getting tighter and tighter. You want to come on his cock so bad, you press your fingers hard against your sensitive numb.

“Fuck, yeah, work on that clit, I wanna feel you soaking that cock,” Bucky coos, curling an arm around your stomach and, when you notice, you’re on your knees with your back to his chest. Slick skin burns against slick skin as he drags his metal hand over yours on your pussy, guiding your finger in a different direction, making you gasp at the new sensation the subtle shift brings.

“Oh, God.” You can’t and don’t want to hold back anymore as it’s all more than you can handle and the tightness inside your belly washes over your core in sheer ecstasy. Your back arches and your head falls back on his shoulder as you cry out a mindblowing orgasm.

“Shh,” he whispers in your ear, slowing down his pace, “That’s it, oh fuck,” he curses at the feel of your cunt gripping his cock.

Your senses aren’t fully functioning yet when he pulls out, throws you back on the mattress and flips you over, swiftly taking off the underwear that was stretched around your knees. A delicious smile curls your lips at all the manhandling because you want more and he’s giving it to you, driving himself inside you again, lifting your legs with his forearms, resting them over his shoulders and not holding back on the almost inhuman speed as he thrusts his hips.

He leans over, captures your lips and you curl your arms around his neck as he fucks you. Hard. Just like you said you wanted him to. You had no idea you were so flexible but what a way to find out, having the hottest guy you’ve ever met balls deep -really deep - into you while his tongue curls around yours.

Parting his lips from yours he releases your legs and they promptly wrap them around his hips as he supports himself with his forearms on each side of you and arches his back and to allow him to drag his lips to ravish your breasts, which he seems pretty fond of already. You push his thrusts impossibly harder and deeper with your feet as he alternates from sucking one and the other, licking and grazing his teeth around your sensitive nipples, your vision blanking at the light pain mixed with the pleasure he’s giving to you with his mouth and his damn perfect cock inside you. He doesn't give you time to cool down from the last orgasm as your mind freezes, focusing solely on the dazzling sensations in your body.  

“So fucking sexy.” The praise reverberates through your skin and it really seems to be a kink of yours as, joined with the expert roll of his hips, he brings you to another orgasm. A smaller one compared to the first, but powerful enough to make your body shake and to coax a series of moans out of you.

Bucky lets your breast go with a popping sound after a particularly hard suck and shifts back to his knees. 

Still in the daze of your second orgasm, a weak sound leaves your lips through panting breathing as your hips leave the mattress when, pulling your legs straighten up together and keeping them securely against his chest with one arm, he pounds into you until an guttural grunt rolls from his lungs and his hips still. He shoves his hips into yours a couple of times, deep and powerful,, spilling his own pleasure into the condom, before letting your legs loose and pulling out. The sensitivity etches a hiss out of you before his body drops next to yours. 

For a while, all that fills the room is the sound of sharp pants from both of you. In the past year, you came to think to think that maybe sex wasn’t that important to you and that maybe it wouldn’t matter if it happened or not…What a damn fool. 

You do like sex. Love it, actually. And it is fucking amazing and important to you, no doubt of that, you realize while your eyes shut and you allow yourself to drown into the delicious ache that covers your muscles while aftershocks of your orgasms cause occasional spasms all over your body.

“Holy shit.” Bucky’s the first one to speak, still fighting to breathe, “That was-”

“Fucking amazing,” you complete, breathing hard, but with a blissful smile on your lips you tilt your head towards him, “Thank you, Bucky. You have no idea how much I needed this.” You add, too deep in your daze to care whether you sound pathetic or not.

He laughs loudly and the corner of his eyes crinkle with it, “My pleasure, beautiful, my pleasure.”

A few more moments pass with both of you laying there and enjoying the after state of what you just did until the mattress moves when he gets up.

You gather your strength to lift your head enough to watch him walking towards the bathroom, rolling off the condom out of his semi hard cock.

As you’re alone in his bed, that’s when an awkward feeling freezes up your chest in contrast to the heat you’ve surrendered to so far. What the hell are you supposed to do now? Do you leave? Do you stay? Can you take a shower? You could definitely use one… You know he said no rules and you agreed, but some guidance would suit you pretty well right now.  

“Hey,” his voice takes you out of your own mind puzzle, “Your turn.” A soft towel is thrown at your face.

You grab it in your hands and look up at him with a glare. He’s laughing as he walks towards you, still butt naked, and your glare quickly dissipates into a playful one. “The bathroom is all yours now. There is liquid soap, shampoo and other stuff there if you need them,” he offers casually, sitting by the corner of the bed, “I’m starving, Chinese sounds good?”

You sit, too, holding the towel in your hand, “Yeah,” you frown before nodding “Sure, Chinese sounds great, actually.”

“Alrighty, then.” He taps on the mattress and gets up. You gaze falls down to his perky butt cheeks moving as he walks towards the door. He stops by the frame and looks back at you with that mischievous look of his, “Then, I’ll be ready for dessert.” He darts out that sinful tongue of his and runs it over his lips.  

The brief awkward coldness you felt is replaced by a flush of a welcoming heat creeping up your body.

You smirk back at him, “Can’t wait.”  

~~~

[betawooper]

rating every demon fight in kny bc i can

non-biased, completely objective rating (more or less) of every significant demon fight in kny based on a number of factors, including:

cleverness of fighting tactics

placement in the story’s timeline

integration of character backstories

cohesive themes between characters

etc

by non-biased and objective i mean i’m not skewing the rating if a death felt fair or whatever

everything past where the anime ended will be under a read more so anime onlys who havent watched mugen train, youre safe lol

oh and i reread the manga like 20+ times (reread the latter arcs at least 40 times, haha hyperfixations am i right?) so be rest assured im not pulling these ratings out of my ass

also ill randomly be bolding certain phrases just to improve readability

anyways let’s gooooo

VS NEZUKO

[Image Description: Manga panel of Kamado Tanjirou and Nezuko. Tanjirou is fending her off by putting the axe handle in her mouth, keeping her from eating him. End Image Description.]

10/10

i like how realistic it is, because yeah tanjirou would react the way to he did with zero fighting skills against a demon

very clear why tanjirou is fighting nezuko and shows a bit of worldbuilding on how normal people react to their family becoming demons

always nice to see worldbuilding

giyuu is the perfect example of a seasoned demon slayer who’s good at his job, and he juxtaposes tanjirou very well in that aspect

my only complaint is not directly in this fight itself but how nezuko is handled throughout the story as a whole

like bro, it is literally never explained why nezuko is different from demons

could have been easily explained if maybe her family’s ghosts like slapped her hand every time she wanted to eat a person but nope

she’s just built different lol

so yeah youll see future ratings get points docked off bc nezuko unlocks some secret power with no prior explanation other than she angy >:3

VS TEMPLE DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panel of a demon. The demon has a sharp-nailed hand over his neck and there are four text bubbles around him saying “But a wound like this... will heal in no time! See? The bleeding already stopped!” End Image Description.]

10/10

may be more forgettable compared to like rui but still good

tanjirou did exceptionally well in this fight and his ability to think on his feet is once again beautifully illustrated here (trapping this dude’s head against the tree trunk with the axe)

very clever

again, establishes more demon worldbuilding regarding regeneration and still being able to move without their head

and the demons burning in the sunlight thing since nezuko wasn’t able to show that

the ending where tanjirou hesitates to kill the demon also serves to show his sympathetic nature towards demons that will last throughout the entirety of the first 60-ish chapters

:)

we’ll talk about what the hell happens to tanjirou after that

or not, it could honestly be its own post

VS HAND DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panel of a many-handed demon. He has six hands around him, three of them covering his mouth while he chuckles, two of them grabbing his cheeks, and one holding on to the top of his head. There are two text bubbles saying “That’s how many of Urokodaki’s students I have eaten! I’ve decided to kill all of his students!” End Image Description.]

10/10

ooooh probably the first big fight against a demon in the series

oh yeah not doing the two random demons tanjirou one shot in a single blow bc eh

anyways hand demon’s pretty goddamn scary, considering the fact that this is the 5th demon or whatever tanjirou has had to face so far

very nice way to show us how much tanjirou’s innate intuition and all his other random abilities (sense of smell, hard forehead) can come together and help him decapitate this guy

i liked the mini history with urokodaki this dude had and why he had beef with our favorite mentor figure, it establishes that urokodaki was in fact a super good demon slayer and its cool to see that actually shown

i also liked that small moment of compassion tanjirou gave this demon, staying consistent with tanjirou’s established kindness

the demon’s sad tale with killing his own brother very much humanizes him when all the reader has seen up to this point is that this guy is a monster who eats people

sets up the theme of demons just being humans but being victims of circumstance that unfortunately doesn’t hold up as well in arcs past mugen train

VS SWAMP DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panel of Kamado Tanjirou fighting off three horned demons as they appear from below. There is a spiky text bubble saying “Three of them!!!” End Image Description.]

10/10

not my most favorite fight but it still portrays everything alright and im not allowed to let my personal opinions mess with the rating so

i like how tanjirou mentioned the fact that he trained in conditions similar to the bog and explains how he pulled off the whirlpool form

using past experiences to aid him in the present, nice nice

tanjirou and nezuko dont quite work together very well but its yknow the first mission so ill chalk it up to simple inexperience

also the way the muzan curse thingie was hinted at here? fantastic way of showing that little bit of demon worldbuilding

...

oh god, it mentions nezuko being stronger than normal demons

ok its not a problem here per say since i can still suspend my disbelief, but later on it just becomes a glaring problem that gets worse over time

VS SUSAMARU AND YAHABA

[Image Description: Manga panels of Susamaru and Yahaba. The first one is a joyful Susamaru about to throw a temari ball. There is floating text saying “Is she one of Kibutsuji’s minions?!” The second image is an annoyed Yahaba, holding one of his eye-hands to cover himself. There are two text bubbles around him saying “My kimono got all dusty. Tch!” End Image Description.]

9/10

why dont these bitches have a good looking panel together dammit

anyways amazing entrance, the way yahaba used his hand eyes to track down tanjirou is really neat

the synergy yahaba and susamaru have is incredible, its awesome dude, they work extremely well together and it shows

tanjirou actually mixing his water breathing forms together is a god tier move and i absolutely love how he can show off his ability to think on his feet once again

establishing how yushiro’s bda works early on is really well done

establishing tamayo as a fugitive this early on is also super well done

not to get into spoiler territory but both these things pay off

how tamayo ended up defeating susamaru is literally awesome in so many ways

shows off both how smart she is by exploiting the muzan curse

and speaking of the muzan curse, we actually get to see what happens to demons who even say his name, back when it was hinted with the swamp demon

tamayo is amazing dude, and we get some real evidence of the horrible suffering demons go through if they even accidentally attempt to betray muzan :D

...

now heres what keeps this fight from being perfect

nezuko somehow grew stronger against susamaru’s temari

with no explanation

which could have been easily explained if tamayo was like “oh yeah the drug also boosts a demon’s strength temporarily”

but nope

god, i just dont like how gotouge handles nezuko’s power boosts throughout the series bc like i said before

no explanation is given anywhere

this is a huge issue, this isnt a pokemon game, you cant just kill demons and get exp at the end of every battle, level up, get some sweet stat bonuses and move on

(actually if gotouge established that this is how nezuko grew in power, than all my complaints about this would be gone, im not even joking)

anyways i get that nezuko is supposed to be “special” but thats too vague of a descriptor

how the hell is she special? ya gotta be more specific and stick with that explanation or that suspension of disbelief is going to disappear

VS TONGUE DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panel of a four-eyed demon with horns and a long tongue. He is crawling in an awkward position, one foot in front of his tilted head. There are two text bubbles around him saying “Heh, heh! I’ll slurpy slurp your brains out through you ear!” End Image Description.]

10/10

not much to say, showcases zenitsu’s true abilities really well

nicely done

VS HORNED DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panel of a big, single-horned demon. There are three text bubbles saying “You dodged! You’re awfully lively for a human! It’ll be a treat to carve away your flesh!” End Image Description.]

10/10

would have ignored this fight if not for the fact we havent seen inosuke fight before

it definitely shows how very fast-paced and wild inosuke is

no complaints here lol

VS KYOGAI

[Image Description: Manga panel of Kyogai, a demon with tsuzumi drums attached to his shoulders. There are four text bubbles around him saying “Why?! Why does everyone keep sneaking through my house? It’s so aggravating. It’s my prey! It’s my prey! Found in my territory!” End Image Description.]

10/10

establishes marechi blood pretty early on, once again expanding the worldbuilding of kny which is always cool

interesting terrain where it’s always shifting, tanjirou once again proves his ability to adapt really quickly by altering one of his forms to work with the turning room

(man, i wish the form mixing/form modification thing carried on throughout the rest of the story, but it really didnt which is just a shame)

the injuries tanjirou had prior to this mission actually affecting him was a nice touch

oh yeah, kyogai gives us more worldbuilding (which is always nice) regarding the 12 kizuki, and the aspect of him being cast out due to being weak shows a lot about muzan’s indifference towards his own demons if they arent strong

his backstory being a failed writer once again humanizes kyogai as a former human being and not just a monster

tanjirou shows his sympathy and compassion again by not stepping on his written work and complimenting his bda

well, tbh tanjirou’s actions kinda came out of nowhere but its a very minor thing and not enough to dock a point off, like it didnt affect the outcome of the fight that much if at all

(so if you see future battles where points are docked off for things not logically making sense, its bc whatever nonsensical concepts were integrated into the fight actually turned the tide of the battle and thats a big no-no)

very good fight and if you remember how kinda bad tanjirou was at accurately slicing the swamp demon, you can see that he’s already improved leaps and bounds

im so proud of him

VS MOTHER SPIDER DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panel of Kamado Tanjirou and the Mother Spider Demon. There is a light shining down from the top right on to the demon as Tanjirou slices her head off, rain following in his wake. There is floating text saying “Water Breathing: Fifth Form - Blessed Rain After the Drought!” around them. End Image Description.]

10/10

i mean does anyone disagree?

all the demon slayers getting their necks snapped by her threads was pretty horrific, probably more horrifying than anything else we have seen in the entire series if im gonna be honest

the death scene is probably the most beautiful one in the series

it reveals a water breathing form that we havent seen before thats the 5th form

as far as i know, no other breathing style has this merciful sword stroke so it shows a lot about the original water breather and what they might have been like

but enough about them, really the focus is on tanjirou bc this is like the best example by far of how kind and sympathetic he is to demons

dunno what else to say, its perfect

VS SON SPIDER DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panel of Agatsuma Zenitsu performing Thunder Breathing 1st Form: Sixfold on a spider-like demon. Zenitsu is crashing through the roof of a shed, and a zig-zag path is left behind. There are sound effects all over the panel, saying “Bam!” in large font. End Image Description.]

10/10

chose a picture without a huge spider on it bc i would like to not scare myself half to death

anyways extremely amazing fight, showcases zenitsu’s immense talent and skill, adapting the 1st form of thunder breathing to be a more versatile move

theres a moment where his backstory with kuwajima and kaigaku were revealed and his hidden insecurities are out in the open which is super nice and further develops a character weve only considered as comedic relief until now

the anime made the backstory scenes and the killing scene so much cooler

while there is no thematic connection between zenitsu and the demon, it really isnt necessary to keep this fight interesting

anyways another pretty much perfect fight

VS FATHER SPIDER DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panel of Kamado Tanjirou and Inosuke slashing at the Father Spider Demon. The demon has blocked Tanjirou’s sword with his arm, and Inosuke is slamming both his blades down on the demon’s other hand. End Image Description.]

10/10

again, not my most favorite fight but it does everything right

i do have to say it was excellent how gotouge hyped up the father spider demon to be the big bad, only just so the plot twist later takes the readers by surprise

nicely done

VS DAUGHTER SPIDER DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panel of Kochou Shinobu and the Daughter Spider Demon. Shinobu’s back is seen and her haori looks like a butterfly’s wings keeping her afloat as she holds her stinger blade out to the side. The demon looks surprised as blood gushes from her side, arm, shoulder, chest, neck, and forehead. There is floating text on the panel, saying “Insect Breathing - Butterfly Dance - Caprice!” End Image Description.]

10/10

first time weve seen shinobu and her fighting style

what i love most about this is how much it shows her true character, appearing as a carefree and naive individual so she seems underwhelming

then bam, reveals exactly how dangerous and uncaring she is of demons, listing out the specific ways she would torture the daughter spider demon in grotesque detail

her using poison to take demons by surprise is also super clever and brings back the worldbuilding established way earlier about wisteria being poisonous to demons

amazing integration of that concept

anyways this fight really encapsulates who shinobu is as a character and thats why it gets a perfect score

VS RUI

[Image Description: Manga panel of Rui holding his hand out directly towards the viewer. There are two text bubbles around him, saying “Give me your sister. If you hand her over quietly, I’ll spare your life.” End Image Description.]

8/10

not only is it a super scary fight but there is a deeper conflict between rui and tanjirou, what it means to be family

they are opposites in the sense that while tanjirou believes love is what makes a family, rui’s subconscious desperation for an unbreakable bond drives him to use fear to keep his “family” together

excellent juxtaposition of their values, and this is only further emphasized when rui expresses out loud what he was going to do to nezuko

i also like the symbolism regarding rui’s bda, how he uses threads or the “familial” bonds to cut up his fake family with it if they act out of turn or annoy him

super neat detail

alright what i dont like about this fight is nezuko (again)

mostly her unlocking her bda to turn the tide of the battle bc her mom was like “yo, wake up, your brother is going to be killed”

feels... forced ig

her bda in general is confusing and not consistent

man, i wish i could make a stronger argument for this but i do believe the problem stems from the fact that we dont ever know what nezuko is thinking, and what she thinks of tanjirou specifically

if she even cares for him as a sibling or if shes only going along with what her family is saying to her, things like that which would have been fixed if gotouge actually gave her thoughts some screen time

so the action feels pretty shallow

im also conflicted over tanjirou somehow remembering how dance of the fire god works

on one hand, hes using past information and applying it in the current setting so he doesnt die, which is understandable

but on the other hand, this was a teeny bit random?

i think what could have fixed this is if there was a scene in the beginning of the series where tanjirou was performing it himself, like practicing before he actually had to do it for new years

so that when the rui fight rolls around, it would have felt less like throwing dry spaghetti at a wall

but yeah

overall super good fight, giyuu ending up having to kill rui instead of tanjirou was super good in that tanjirou didnt become a pillar this early in the series and to show how strong giyuu is

there are some odd bits regarding the ultimate “beheading” of rui using nezuko and tanjirous supposed bonds but it doesnt kill the fight entirely so it deserves its pretty high score

***under read more is manga-only fights so beware***

VS ENMU

[Image Description: Manga panel of Enmu holding his hand out directly at the viewer, with a mouth on the back of it. There is floating text to the top right of Enmu that says “Whispers of Forced Unconscious Hypnosis!” End Image Description.]

9/10

id say this fight is definitely overshadowed by the dream stuff prior to this but its pretty good in its own right

enmu fusing with the train was kinda confusing, like when was it established that demons could fuse with objects?

this worldbuilding element doesnt even appear again so yeah thats why it loses a point

how the kmbk gang end up defeating enmu is pretty sweet though, tanjirou using dance of the fire god to sever the neck bone was really nice and shows that him using the breathing style in the rui fight wasnt a one time thing

while kyojuro’s role was smaller in this part, the next part makes up for it so i cant complain

anyways ye, almost perfect score but its pretty good

VS AKAZA (MUGEN TRAIN)

[Image Description: Manga panel of Akaza holding his hand out to the viewer’s left. There is a text bubble saying “Why don’t you become a demon?” End Image Description.]

10/10

this encounter is literally amazing okay?

after the crew kills the big bad, it seems like everything is fine

but plot twist, upper moon 3 appears out of nowhere

this is the first time the reader has seen an upper moon, let alone the 3rd/4th strongest demon in existence and the way gotouge handled this twist is fucking amazing

kyojuro’s death scene really shows just how human even the strongest pillars are against demons with incredible power

its just

amazing

VS OBI DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panels of the obi-like demon. The first image shows the obi hung in the air and strung over each other like decorations, with women-shaped patterns in its folds. The second image is Hashibira Inosuke fighting the Obi demon which now has lips and eyes. There is floating text in that panel saying “Breath of the Beast: Sixth Fang - Jagged Gnaw!!” End Image Description.]

10/10

on to red light district

this fight is admittedly super forgettable and not very interesting at least compared to the main fight with daki and gyutaro

but it wraps up the sub plot of the women and uzui’s wives going missing so it gets a perfect score for not messing that up

oh and it establishes the stretchy neck thing daki has going on which is very good

VS DAKI AND GYUTARO

[Image Description: Manga panel of Daki and Gyutaro. Daki is sitting on Gyutaro’s shoulders. There is a text bubble on the top right that says “The two of us are one, after all.” as well as floating text that reads “The power of the irregular siblings...!? Next issue lead color and the fight reaches its climax!!” End Image Description.]

8/10

love how this battle challenges tanjirou’s sympathy and kindness towards demons, just simply bc daki and gyutaro are horrible people

(too bad nothing came of this, which ill explain in the hantengu portion)

daki and gyutaro are very good villains and kept this fight super interesting from start to finish

uzui acting as a foil to gyutaro is nicely integrated and properly shown with how jealous gyutaro gets over seeing uzui’s perfect form and stature

tanjirou not only mixes forms but mixes breathing styles as well, which is so fucking awesome

(too bad it was only used like once throughout the entire series, its quite unfortunate)

the super high tension right after inosuke gets stabbed and tanjirou wakes up was expertly portrayed and handled, it felt like the kmbk gang and uzui were actually going to lose

super awesome

the tanjirou and gyutaro parallels are expertly portrayed, with how gyutaro taunts tanjirou over failing to protect his little sister, and the more visual thing where tanjirou imagined his own neck underneath his blade, that was super duper nice

the ending is extremely tense and emotionally gripping, gotouge did a really good job with that artistically too

the demon mark acquisition scene was surprisingly not frustrating, considering that it wasnt really explained prior to the battle

i do think it has to do with how it was explained later just exactly how they worked so its not just some random thing gotouge pulled out of their ass

so pretty good

/

what i dont like is nezuko and her full power demon form

first of all where the fuck did that come from? she just got angry and suddenly shes as powerful as an upper moon

like

how?

that doesnt make sense???

her extremely quick regeneration makes no sense

her ability to manipulate her blood’s properties makes no sense

and it doesnt even appear again so what was the point of that existing

none of this is even explained later which annoys me

that one part where tanjirou sings a lullaby to her to calm her down was alright ig but nezuko in this fight makes me extremely irritated and frustrated

just ugh

VS HANTENGU

[Image Description: Manga panel of Hantengu opening a shoji door. He is crawling inside, his hand in a gnarled, unnatural position. There is a text bubble saying “Eeeeeeek.” End Image Description.]

1/10

swordsmith village

this fight can go fuck itself /j

no but seriously it has so many problems that it would be shorter to name its redeeming qualities (which ill do later)

first off, the nezuko full power form thing again

i hate it so much with a passion

again, where did her ability to regenerate instantly even come from???? this is never explained, ever

and why did she cut herself on tanjirou’s sword anyway

did she somehow know that it was going to turn red if she burned it?

gotouge what the fuck, there is literally no reason why nezuko would do that and we cant even read her mind to see her thought process

gotouge hates nezuko, i swear

/

remember when i said uzui is meant to be a foil to gyutaro in the rld fight? its pretty obvious that those two are opposites, it was nicely done

... what the hell does mitsuri’s insecurities about strength have to do with whatever the fuck hantengu has going on (which is basically nothing)?

so no meaningful connection between mitsuri and hantengu

theres no meaningful connection between tanjirou and hantengu other than tanjirou getting pissed off for like the second time

also tanjirou’s thing with being kind and sympathetic to demons was entirely dropped at this point

but instead of it leading up to a corruption arc of some sorts, it just doesnt

like honestly if something actually came of that anger he exhibited in this arc and from red light district from this point forward story-wise, i would have counted this as an amazing writing decision

but it literally doesnt so who cares

(god, i really start to hate what happened to his character after this )

and genya’s revealed motivation also doesnt fit at all with hantengu’s thing, he’s not a foil, not a parallel, nothing, there is nothing

/

tanjirou being the catharsis for development for mitsuri and muichirou, who he has only talked to like twice

theres definitely a better way to handle those two’s developments without his help

like gotouge, you have a big cast of characters, use them lol

/

i want to kick hantengu in the face for being boring as fuck (at least his clones have cool looking weapons)

doesnt even have a proper backstory, just a single spread of him being blamed for shit as a human

like... thats it? this is upper moon 4 what the hell

/

theres no clever form mixing here at all (regarding tanjirou) which probably would have helped with foreshadowing the 13th form for dance of the fire god/sun breathing better

also gotouge established that as tanjirou’s thing and now he doesnt do that stuff anymore which sucks

/

oh hey remember when tanjirou actually learned how to do zenitsu’s speed boost thing?

if you didnt, i dont blame you bc it literally doesnt appear again, ever

you could argue that he adapted it into his “waltz flash” technique or whatever the fuck that is but the way it was integrated into this fight was like throwing dry spaghetti at a wall

which is just a shame bc its meant to be representative of how tanjirou and zenitsu are good pals but the way it was utilized is forgettable as hell

/

i absolutely loathe the crimson blade concept as a whole and im mentioning this now bc its going to come into play why future instances where this goddamn thing comes up again causes points to be lost

its inconsistent as fuck ill tell you that

/

at least some yoriichi stuff appeared here and not shoved into the final battle with everything else

so the yoriichi stuff later didnt come out of absolute nowhere

genya and mitsuri’s unique fighting styles expand the kny worldbuilding just a little more which is always nice

tanjirou got a cool sword out of this which would have been cooler if him and yoriichi had a deeper connection that was actually explored

but we didnt get shit so whatever

other people getting demon marks being revealed here is also okay so that again, the final battle isnt filled with absolutely everyone getting their marks at once

demon marks have their own slew of problems but its not as bad as the fucking crimson sword shit

god i hate the crimson sword shit

...

dude this section needs a tldr, even i cant sit and read through my shit

TL;DR - this fight sucks and crimson swords are bullshit (more on this later)

VS GYOKKO

[Image Description: Manga panel of Tokitou Muichirou and Gyokko. Muichirou is looking to the left while Gyokko is looking to the right, both with their backs to each other. There are mist clouds billowing in the foreground and background, as well as a slash mark going across Gyokko’s neck. End Image Description.]

7/10

this fight suffers from the same lack of cohesive themes through characters like the hantengu battle bc the antagonist is given nothing

but its better

we havent actually seen mui fight before so theres no consistencies that the reader has to keep track of for now

and there arent like 10 characters in the fight so this fight gets a lot of points just for being a lot more coherent

i do like that this fight shows just how good mui is that he can defeat an upper moon by himself

mui’s backstory is neat

gyokko’s bda is very interesting too

... thats pretty much it lol

ye, anyways not the best fight but not the worst fight either

VS KAIGAKU

[Image Description: Manga panel of Kaigaku holding the hilt of his blade with one hand. There is two text bubbles around him, saying “...As usual, you’re still shabby. It’s been a while, Zenitsu.” End Image Description.]

9/10

alright on to final battle arc

theres some good fights and then some really sucky ones, but this one was pretty incredible and very emotionally charged

theres a clear reason why zenitsu and kaigaku are battling each other (kai betrayed the corps and inadvertantly caused the only parental figure in zenitsu’s life to die, and zenitsu is rightfully pissed off about that)

the visual yin-yang symbolism is awesome too

zenitsu winning due to using the 7th form he created himself (which i have reason to believe was inspired by tanjirou) was the perfect ending to the fight, really couldnt ask for anything better and is a perfect example of how much of an effect tanjirou has had on zenitsu

the 7th form is what tanjirou’s waltz flash should have been lol

/

what keeps this fight from being absolutely perfect is lack of development prior to this conflict

(since the final battle arc is basically a culmination of all the hinted developments through the series, im going to actually factor in how much and how well these conflicts were foreshadowed)

anyways if we had actually seen zenitsu, kaigaku, and kuwajima actually interacting with each other and showing how they were essentially a family (not just through flashbacks), it would have made zenitsu placing the responsibility of killing kai onto himself a lot more tragic

but like, apart from brief flashbacks where zenitsu actually met kaigaku off screen and that one thing all the way back in natagumo where both kuwajima and kai were introduced, thats pretty much it in terms of thunder family development

so yeah its underdeveloped for sure

also one random thought, i personally think zenitsu should have gotten his demon mark in this fight, it would have been cool to see

VS AKAZA (INFINITY FORTRESS)

[Image Description: Manga panel of Akaza’s face. There are two text bubbles around him, saying “Okay, let’s get started. It’s time for the feast.” There is also floating text saying “The inspection of the strong has begun...” as well as a simple box on the lower left, denoting its the end of chapter 147. End Image Description.]

6/10

oh god please dont hate me for this

ill list the good things first how about that

this conflict was foreshadowed perfectly in mugen train, you bet the readers were expecting a tanjirou vs akaza battle after the death of kyojuro and gotouge delivered

akaza’s power is shown extremely well with how many close calls tanjirou and giyuu had while fighting him

akaza eventually giving up on his own volition was really nice and fit into the context of the battle very very well, like sure tanjirou and giyuu wouldnt understand why he gave up but us readers do know

akaza is a really good character and a good villain

/

now notice how im only mentioning akaza and not giyuu or tanjirou in the good aspects

bc those two are eh

no form mixing at all from either tanjirou and giyuu

i know i said form mixing was kind of tanjirou’s thing but you’d think giyuu would have gotten more creative with his moves once akaza said that he was getting predictable

(well he said he “ran out of water breathing forms” but same thing)

so its kinda bland lol

speaking of giyuu, his whole thing with his insecurities of being weak wasnt handled well (it was sort of immediately brushed off in pillar training, and its unclear what part of his character arc he was in)

like sure him announcing that he’s going to protect tanjirou is cool but it feels like he was haphazardly dropped into the tanjirou and akaza conflict

isnt he supposed to be both their foils? that wasnt really explored that well in this fight and theres no deep meaning behind him even being here just analyzing what he did in it

he could have been handled better or even given more focus is what im saying

the anatta state came out of nowhere, im sorry okay? just bc inosuke like barely hinted at not being able to sense grandma hisa bc she had no fighting spirit and tanjurou magically taught his son how to achieve this state doesnt mean it was properly integrated into the fight

if the anatta state was actually explored prior to this battle, i would have given it a pass but it just feels like a cheap and poorly developed trick to get around akaza’s technique development (which is overpowered as fuck might i add)

gotouge should have just given akaza a plausible weakness to his technique development instead, especially since they dont use or even mention the anatta state after this

the transparent world shit makes no sense but ill elaborate on that in the koku battle analysis

oh and this thing doesnt affect the score but why wasnt there a “yoriichi visage overlapping” moment when tanjirou was fighting akaza? hes an upper moon, he should have gotten those visions but he didnt

for some reason

anyways this battle was alright and has good set up but the middle and end parts didnt hold up as well bc random concepts were thrown at us without prior explanation or development

VS DOUMA

[Image Description: Manga panel of Douma licking Shinobu’s butterfly pin. There are two text bubbles around him saying “Anyway, tonight is a good night. Such fine feasts keep showing up one after another.” End Image Description.]

9/10

damn, such an amazing fight

the build up to this was properly foreshadowed

shinobu finally showing her true anger after hiding it for so long is amazing

douma is a super interesting character and fantastic villain

shinobu showing off her true power and determination against douma was sooooo nice

shinobu’s poisonous body plan is so clever and so interesting

if i was to rate the shinobu part of the fight alone, it would have gotten a 10/10 no question

the reason why its knocked down a point is because of the kanao and inosuke part

dont get me wrong, the way kanao is able to hold her own against douma by herself is pretty cool, how shes meant to parallel douma with their similar struggles surrounding human emotions and demonstrate how she has grown as a person, how she regains the ability to cry

that shit is cool, inosuke also getting in touch with his emotions after learning what happened to his mom was super neat as well

however

bc this battle takes place in the final arc with everything else, there wasnt proper build up regarding many things, the kotoha reveal especially

so inosuke feels kinda forced into the kanao shinobu and douma conflict, similar to how giyuu felt forced into the tanjirou and akaza conflict

its quite unfortunate bc if the kotoha stuff was actually explored prior to the confrontation, this “forced” feeling would have disappeared

i know some people have suggested that the douma fight should have just been its own arc, and i very much agree, it would have certainly helped fix this problem regarding inosuke and kotoha

last random thought, i wish shinobu, kanao, and inosuke got their demon marks

VS KOKUSHIBOU

[Image Description: Manga panel of Kokushibou looking directly at the viewer, holding the hilt of his blade as if he’s going to pull it out. There are text boxes around him saying “This... is Upper Moon One... He’s so different compared to the other Upper Moons. He looks so dignified and majestic.” The text boxes are narrated by Tokitou Muichirou. End Image Description.]

5/10

this fight is... mediocre

at least theres a more tangible connection between muichirou and kokushibou

even though that was handled kinda poorly

tbh there really was no point to revealing that mui is koku’s descendant like at all, it just had no significant bearing to the plot of the fight

sanemi’s backstory being here is... okay ig?

idk the whole shinazugawa conflict has fundamental problems that i just cant think of any other place to put it without changing the entirety of canon

the marechi blood concept coming back was nice though

genya is there

him getting his bda was cool and helped turn the tide of the battle in a satisfying way (before kicking the bucket but thats not the focus here)

gyomei is a hollow husk of a character who barely got anything at all

but his fighting style is extremely cool and conveys his immense power very well

oh and him and sanemi are amazing at working together, like better than giyuu and tanjirou, and better than kanao and inosuke

theyre that good yet pretty much nobody acknowledges it which is sad

koku himself is pretty interesting and pretty tragic, very nice villain

but everyone together?

gonna be honest but this is such a random collection of characters, there was basically no foreshadowing that these four were going to go up again kokushibou, they are not that connected very well

i know there was this one post that focused on the theme of family that was common in all 5 characters in the fight but its just not enough

it would have been more cohesive if gotouge emphasized gyomei, mui, sanemi, and genya being like different aspects of yoriichi coming together to kill kokushibou hundreds of years after yoriichi failed to kill him

lmao its not like the 4 of them defeated koku with the power of family or friendship, they just smacked him over and over with a flail, shot him with magical bullets, and stabbed a crimson sword into his abdomen

wouldnt have been too hard to switch over to koku’s pov and go “damn these bitches are like my stupid brother”

...

speaking of crimson swords

i fucking hate the crimson sword concept oh my god can i complain about it now? im gonna complain about it now

unlike demon marks, the crimson blades werent even given any proper conditions, you just hold the stupid thing hard enough and it somehow imbues it with magical properties with no logic behind those properties

what part of crimson swords completely destroys a demon’s body in an instant? even muzan didnt go through that process when he was almost killed by yoriichi so where in the goddamn fuck did it come from

it could be explained bc the sword was left in the same spot for a long time but this tactic doesnt even appear again in a meaningful way (didnt kill muzan when tanjirou and giyuu held the sword together) so what the fuck was the point of having this even exist

its so underdeveloped and confusing and i hate it

the transparent world stuff is also confusing as shit and its pretty much never explained how they work aside from the vague “close your mind” advice, like why did it exist, it did nothing to help the present day demon slayers

its just so... poorly integrated

yeah anyways this is around the same rating as the akaza fight but a little worse bc there wasnt that strong set up beforehand

VS KOKUSHIBOU (SENGOKU ERA)

[Image Description: Manga panel of a bag getting ripped open, pieces of a wooden flute tumbling out. End Image Description.]

10/10

easily 10/10

this fight shows the tragedy of kokushibou giving in to his envy and hatred, when yoriichi cries over seeing his own family commit terrible attrocities against the people he wanted to protect

and yoriichi dies, now carrying the fact that he couldnt even save his own brother from the influence of muzan on his conscious forever

what a sad ending for yoriichi

and after koku angrily slashes apart yoriichi’s corpse, having him find and keep the flute he gave to him when they were kids to the present day gives him a small shred of humanity in the midst of his monstrous anger

VS NAKIME

[Image Description: Manga panels of Nakime. The first one shows a low quality version of her playing her biwa. The second one is a close up of her eye. There are spiky text bubbles saying “It’s Upper Rank... 4!” End Image Description.]

0/10

no nakime backstory

not even a goddamn fight

forgettable

useless

VS MUZAN

[Image Description: Manga panel of Kibutsuji Muzan in his white-haired, mouth-covered form. There are text bubbles around him saying “Not a single one was of use to me. I will crush the demon hunters tonight. I’ll massacre them all right now.” End Image Description.]

1/10

._.

i have many complaints but ill try my best to not make this another hantengu rant section lol

first off, obanai deserved better

im serious, this poor dude was forgotten until pretty much the end when we finally get a backstory out of him

and then he died

what a waste of a potentially amazing character

mitsuri getting taken out early was ehhh

pretty sure someone else made a post about her supposedly being extremely strong but she was nerfed in this battle which i agree with

literally none of the pillars work together very well, like remember how i praised sanemi and gyomei for being super coordinated? lmao that doesnt exist anymore

you could say this is caused by desperation though and you wouldnt be wrong, its just boring to sit through

that causes issues bc this now basically requires the crimson sword and transparent world concepts to be there to spice things up

but in this fight, they do nothing in the long run (except for tanjirou using the crimson sword at the very very end)

youve already heard me talk about why those two things are super shittily integrated and i cant be bothered repeating myself so moving on

kanao, inosuke, and zenitsu

they... exist? they didnt do much tbh, which i guess is the point but like, now its boring again

nezuko could have been used as a potential way to raise the stakes and make things interesting again (like “ah shit, muzan might actually be unkillable if he gets nezuko but its okay bc shes not here- oh fuck shes here this is not good”)

but nothing came of her running off except confirmation that she became human again so whatever

uzui and shinjuro are useless, why werent they at the fight?

like they could have followed nezuko and contributed to the battle even a little but they just didnt and now theres literally no point to them appearing in this arc at all

wasted potential

tanjirou

i wish him going absolutely apeshit had actual substance behind it, like it being a part of his character arc or something

i remember having this one theory that he had a corruption arc (due to dropping his kindness thing towards demons) and i wanted this to be true so badly

but it doesnt exist

not with how the series ended

god

the only thing that saves this fight from being complete trash is tamayo’s poison thing being amazingly executed

and the part where everyone got blasted away, losing limbs and shit, that made things a little more interesting again

but thats it

VS MUZAN (SENGOKU ERA)

[Image Description: Manga panels of Kibutsuji Muzan, Tamayo, and Tsugikuni Yoriichi. The first one has Muzan and Tamayo, while the second one has Yoriichi pulling out his sword. There are text boxes saying “And the moment I met him, I understood that I was born into this world to defeat this man.” End Image Description.]

9/10

finally something good again

while short, that’s just the nature of all of yoriichi’s battles with demons

anyways pretty nice, theres a clear reason why this battle exists (shows the scenario that made the original breather get super close to defeating muzan in detail)

adding tamayo here was a nice touch

my only complaint is that it seemed extremely coincidental that yoriichi somehow developed a breathing style specifically countering muzan’s multiple organs without even knowing prior that he had all those brains and hearts floating around freely in his body

like thats kind of ridiculous, even for yoriichi whos supposed to be “blessed by the gods”

could just be me though

VS TANJIROU

[Image Description: Manga panels of Kamado Tanjirou in his demon form. The first image has his eyes closed. The second image has his eyes opened and the tumor on his face almost completely faded. There are text boxes around him saying “You will destroy the demon hunters in my stead.” End Image Description.]

1/10

hoo boy

ok first off, demon tanjirou lasted for 2 chapters

thats it

2 chapters

so thats already a problem

i am aware its meant to parallel the beginning of the series but also its ridiculous how completely vague and rushed this entire thing was

nezuko doesnt do shit through not just this battle but this entire arc which i already explained so not gonna go into it further

kanao magically having a demon cure on her made very little sense

the scene where tanjirou leaves muzan in purgatory is pretty but if you look at it in the context of everything else, its ambiguous and confusing

(if someone could explain it and see how it connects to the original theme of “demons just being victims of circumstance,” i would love to hear it)

/

actually you know what makes me so mad about this “fight” as a whole? there was so much potential to do more with this concept

and im not talking about him escaping and nezuko becoming a demon slayer roleswap au (even though its a pretty cool concept)

him becoming a demon could have been a metaphor for his lost kindness and sympathy towards demons halfway through the series

it could have been a punishment for letting his anger towards muzan cloud his judgement

it could have symbolized literally anything about him losing his humanity as he got stronger

but those three things are just scenarios from my head, they dont exist in this series just based off of what weve seen from these two chapters

its disappointing

the only thing keeping this from getting a 0 is the one part where inosuke couldnt chop off tanjirou’s head bc he cared about him too much

that at least shows inosuke had grown as a character

everything else is just meaningless and convoluted garbage and “convoluted” is not what you should be aiming for if this is supposed to be the ending of your series

IN SUMMARY

early kny is very good, later kny is questionable and the ending is just a mess of wasted potential and disappointment

i get why gotouge had to have the transparent world ability, crimson blade ability, and the demon marks appear before they all appeared on yoriichi but theyre all just so underdeveloped and terribly handled in the battles they are used, it makes me want to kick a wall

like lmao, i could literally think of so many ways they could have been properly integrated, hell, im even writing a whole goddamn rewrite using my ideas for these three things (link to that is in my pinned)

just, god

if you want to debate over these ratings, my ask box is open ig? idk

[luke-patterson-owns-my-soul]

Unsaid Emily

Title: Unsaid Emily - Charlie x Reader

Words: 4,698

Summary: Y/N is one of the songwriters working on Julie and the Phantoms and cowrote Unsaid Emily. When she has to work with Charlie, sparks fly.

Requested: Only by my idiot brain

TW: None

Author’s notes: I mean no offence to the writers of Unsaid Emily, but I needed it to be this way. Also, I know Charlie just got his car, but it fit my timeline.  I hope you like it.

Credit: @nikascott​

Receiving the call from Netflix to write a song for a kids’ TV show about a ghost band, you were hesitant, but your friend Dan talked you into it. You had written as a duo before – you wrote lyrics while he conjured up what you personally considered the most beautiful melodies – but this job was just for you. 

The brief you’d been given by the show runners didn’t give much away. A song for a runaway son to perform for his estranged mother after his death. The only other information given was that his mother’s name is Emily. Usually, you like vague briefs such as this, but without knowing more, you struggle. 

After speaking to one of the showrunners, you’re invited to meet the writers for more information, so you drive down to where the legendary Kenny Ortega is putting the cast through their paces at a band bootcamp. You’ve worked with Kenny before, so when you arrive, he welcomes you with a smile and a hug before the two of you disappear to discuss the song you’re struggling with. 

“Why don’t I introduce you to Charlie who’s playing Luke. He’s had intensive discussions with the writers and myself about his character and may have some insight on what kind of things Luke would want to say to his mom.” Kenny suggests rather than only speaking to the writers. 

“That would be great, but only if you can spare him for a few minutes.” 

“It’s not a problem. Hey, come and grab some lunch with me, I’ll introduce you, and then you can get the information you need.” You loved Kenny and wanted to write the best possible song for his show you could. Standing, you grab your bag before following him out and over to catering. 

As soon as Kenny enters the large room, he’s called out to and waved at. With a wide smile, he responds to everyone as the two of you grab some food and sit at an empty table. While you eat, you discuss the show, and Kenny’s hopes for it. 

“It may be aimed at a younger demographic, but I want it to appeal to all ages.” He stated as you’re joined by a group of kids so good looking, they can only be the cast. “Hey guys, this is Y/N. She’s one of the songwriters we’ve commissioned. Charlie, once you’ve finished up with lunch, could you spare her ten minutes to chat with her about Luke?” The cast members all say hi before returning to their food. It’s clear to you they’re all creating friendships as they laugh together. But Charlie isn’t getting involved as he looks at you. You can’t help but stare at the actor as his hazel eyes lock onto yours, a small smile on his face as he nods. 

“Sure, no problem.” He smiles wider and you almost choke on your food. Kenny looks over at you, a strange smile on his face. 

:: :: 

“Hi, you needed to talk to me?” Charlie moves along the table once everyone has left to get back to work. You look over at him, noticing how young he looks. From what Kenny’s told you about the cast, you’re not much older than him, but with his short hair and boyish smile, he looks a lot younger than he is. 

“Hey, yeah. I just want some insight into the character of Luke.” 

“Which song are you writing?” He asks, genuinely interested. He leans his chin on his hand waiting for you to answer. 

“The one he writes for his mom after he runs away.” 

“Oh, wow. Tough break.” You can’t help but laugh. 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

You pull a notebook out of you bag and open it to a page where you’d scribbled some questions about the character. 

For half an hour, the two of you sit, chatting about the show, about Charlie’s character, and by the time you finish up, you’re pretty satisfied that you can head home and make the song work. After thanking Charlie for his time, you pack your notebook away, ready to go out to your car and drive home. 

“Do you fancy coming and watching a rehearsal before you leave?” He asks, rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand. You really shouldn’t, you need to get back home to start working, but you’re intrigued by him. Throughout your talk, you were impressed with the passion he has for both music and acting, but more than anything, the character he’s going to be portraying. 

“Sure, but I can’t stay long. I have a song to write for you.” You grin as you follow him out of catering and into the rehearsal space. Immediately, Kenny calls you over where he’s sat with the young girl playing the lead role. She’s listening to a piece of music you don’t recognize. 

“All good?” He asks when you join him. 

“Great. I should be able to get a rough cut over to you by the end of the week. Is that okay?” 

“Fabulous, I look forward to hearing what you come up with. Ready to see these amazing kids rock out before you go?” 

“Am I ever.” 

“Guys, let’s run through Now or Never.” Kenny calls out. Charlie and his bandmates grab their instruments while the young girl you now know as Madison turns the music off and leaves the stage area. 

As the three guys rock out, you can’t help but watch Charlie. He’s a natural lead singer who commands the stage, even in rehearsal, and you know his fanbase is going to explode once the show airs. You take note of his singing range, mentally adding it to the notes you made earlier. 

“Kenny, you’re onto a winner with this show,” you tell the director as the song ends. “I’m gonna head out and get started. I’ll let you know once we have something for you.” 

Kenny hugs you before turning his attention back to the actors and starts directing them to lead into another track as you exit the room. As you reach your car, you hear footsteps behind you. 

“Y/N, are you leaving?” You turn to see Charlie standing behind you. 

“I have a song to write, the final one y’all need if I might add.” You smile at him, pulling your keys out of your bag. 

“I can’t wait to hear it.” 

“Well, I better make it a great track then, huh?” Your words made Charlie grin widely again and you couldn’t help but think how beautiful it was. 

“You’re the only one to ask about the characters, so I have no doubt it’ll be amazing.” 

His words didn’t surprise you. You were a bit of a method songwriter, needing to get into the correct headspace when writing emotional songs. 

“Let’s hope I don’t disappoint.” You bit at your lip as the ever-familiar seed of doubt began to grow in your mind. It happened every time, but you always managed to ignore it. 

“I’m sure you won’t. Hey, I was wondering if you’d let me hear it before you send it to Kenny.” That did surprise you. You’d been hired by Netflix, yet the lead actor was asking you to share something with him first. 

“Er… I’m not sure if I’m allowed. I mean, what if they don’t like it and don’t use it?” 

“Oh, right. Okay. Anyway, it was nice to meet you.” He held out his hand for you to shake. When your hand was in his, he lifted it and placed a soft kiss against your knuckles. A flicker of heat shot up your arm and your eyes shot to lock onto his. Judging by how wide they were, he’d felt it too. Eventually, you withdrew your hand from his, even though you didn’t particularly want to. 

“You too. Good luck with the show.” Unlocking your car, you climbed in, and started the engine. With one last look at Charlie as you pulled the door closed, you forced yourself to pull out of the parking lot and drive away. 

:: ::

          |@charles_gillespie started following you

 You stared at the notification on your Instagram account. It had been two days since your trip to meet up with Kenny and the cast – well, Charlie in particular – and you’d been working hard on the song. Intrigued, you clicked onto his profile and scrolled through his photos. He clearly loved the outdoors and spent a lot of time hiking or camping. You can’t help but smile when you see photos of him with his family and friends. 

You follow him back and put your phone down to pick your guitar back up to continue working. 

         |@charles_Gillespie sent you a message 

Hey 

Hi 

The app indicated Charlie was typing, then he wasn’t, then typing again, but no message came through. Shrugging, you put your phone back down and continued working. You had a title, a melody, and had almost finished the lyrics. It was full of emotion and if asked, you’d totally admit you had cried more than once while writing it. 

How’s the song coming? Another message from Charlie. It made you smile, but you needed to finish working. You turned your phone off and focused. 

Finally, the song was finished. All you needed to do was to record a rough cut to send over to Kenny and the writer so they could see if it needed any amendments before sending over the final version along with the chords and lyrics. You head into the tiny studio you have set up in your apartment and record the song. It takes three takes for you to get through it without crying, but once you do, you send it straight over and stop working for the night. 

Turning your phone back on, it buzzes insanely with a slew of notifications. Friends checking up on you, your parents inviting you to dinner, an email from Kenny telling you they love the rough cut and asking you to send a cleaner copy tomorrow, and a couple of messages from Charlie on Instagram. Now you’re able to respond properly, you open the app. 

Sorry if I’m disturbing you. 

I hope the song’s going well. 

Hey, sorry. I turned my phone off while I was finishing up. Kenny has the rough cut, so I’m about to chill out and watch a movie. Hope all is well at bootcamp. 

You worry the message you reply with is overly formal, but it’s too late as it’s showing as being seen. You busy yourself making some food and picking out a movie to watch. Settling on your couch to watch the first To All the Boys movie, your phone begins to buzz. 

Charlie 👅🍀

Instagram video 

With a slightly trembling finger, you accept the call and soon Charlie’s face fills half of your screen. 

“Hey, Y/N.” he smiles brightly at you. 

“Hey.” You’re a little confused about why he’s calling you, but you decide to go with it. 

“Kenny played me the rough cut of Unsaid Emily. I just wanted to tell you it’s beautiful and I can’t wait to sing it.” 

“Thanks, I’m glad everyone seems to like it.” 

“Y/N, we didn’t just like it, we all loved it. So many people were crying when they heard it.” 

“I would apologize, but my mom taught me not to tell lies.” His laugh burst out of the speaker on your phone. 

“Don’t, it’s great. It’s gonna be a great addition to the show.” 

You grab the remote for the TV to turn the volume down as the film you’d picked to watch was starting. 

“Hey, what movie are you watching?” he asks when you apologize for the interruption. 

“Oh, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before.” You can’t help but notice he scrunches up his face, and you also can’t help but notice how adorable it looks. “What was that face for?” 

“I didn’t think you’d be a chick flick kinda girl…” 

“Oh, I don’t watch it for the story.” You can’t help but laugh as he tries to work out what you mean. 

“What’s the point of watching it then?” 

“Because Noah Centineo’s pretty to look at.” You don’t add the fact he’s not as pretty as Charlie. It’s not exactly something you can admit on a first Instagram video call – not that you’re expecting there to be more. 

“I’m not going to disagree, but is he prettier than me?” You laugh and roll your eyes at him. 

“I’m not going to answer that question on the grounds that I barely know you.” 

“I can see you blushing, Y/N. I think you think I’m prettier, but don’t want to admit it to my face.” He’s full on laughing now and you can’t help but join in. 

“Carry on teasing me, I’ll end this call.” You threaten, making his eyes widen slightly. 

“I’m sorry. So, tell me about yourself?” You see him getting comfortable on what looks like a bed. He’s soon lying sideways on the screen in front of you. You decide to mimic him, propping your phone against a glass candle holder on the table next to you. You lie on your side facing both your phone and the TV. 

“What do you want to know?” 

“Well, for starters, how old are you?” 

“I’m twenty-five. You?” 

“Twenty-one.” 

For two hours, the two of you throw questions back and forth as the movie comes to an end without you noticing. 

“Do you think you’ll come to set?” He asks you, surprising you. 

“I think it’s doubtful. Once I record a cleaner version of Unsaid Emily, my job’s done. I’m not needed anymore.” 

“Oh…” Did you detect a hint of disappointment in his voice? No, you didn’t. 

“Well, this has been fun, Charles Jeffrey Gillespie, but I have an appointment in the morning, and I really need to get some sleep.” You sit up, take hold of your phone, and walk out of the lounge to your bedroom. 

“Taking me to bed, already? Haven’t even had to buy you dinner.” Charlie jokes, making you roll your eyes at him. “Okay. Maybe we can do this again? Bootcamp lasts for a while longer yet, then we’re going to film in Vancouver.” 

“That would be great. And thanks again for being nice about the song.” You both say your goodbyes and once the call has ended, you collapse back on to your bed, unsure exactly what has happened. 

:: :: 

It’s been three months since you had Unsaid Emily accepted by the show, and in that time you and Charlie have video called on Instagram a few times, but you’re both crazy busy. You’re working on a score for a videogame while he’s finished up with bootcamp and has relocated to Vancouver to start filming. The entire time, neither of you suggested meeting up even though you both lived in L.A. 

You’re just leaving your parent’s home when your phone rings in your bag. Not recognizing the number on screen, you debate not answering it, but brush your thumb across the screen anyway. 

“Hello?” 

��Y/N? It’s Kenny. Are you okay to talk?” 

“Hi Kenny, I’ve always got time for you.” You hear him laugh down the phone. “What can I do for you Mr. Ortega?” 

“I was wondering, because you did such a great job with Unsaid Emily, if you’d like to come on set to watch it being filmed? See how we’ve adapted it?” Well, that wasn’t what you expected to hear. 

“I’d love to. When do you film?” 

“The day after tomorrow. I’m sorry it’s all so last minute, but I’ve been busy.” 

“I can just about manage it. I’ll book a flight when I get back home, then I’ll message you for directions to the studio.” 

“Sounds great. See you soon, and I really think you’ll love what we’ve done with the song.” You reassure him you will and end the call and get into your car to drive home. 

After juggling a few things around, you’re able to book a flight to Vancouver for the next afternoon. When You message Kenny, he reassures you there’ll be a car waiting for you. You decide to book a hotel for two nights and a flight back the next day. You’ve never been to a TV set, and don’t know how long these things take. As you pack an overnight bag, you realize you’re excited, not only about seeing your work come to life, but seeing Charlie again, in the flesh. 

:: :: 

Arriving in Vancouver, you walked through the airport and out into the arrivals lounge, looking for the driver Kenny had sent to pick you up. You were able to bypass having to wait for your luggage thanks to only having a small carry-on bag so made it through the crowds pretty quickly. When you emerged, you saw a row of drivers holding signs, but none had your name on. Deciding to find somewhere to sit and call Kenny, you move past the drivers in black suits. Directly in front of you is Charlie wearing a wide grin. 

“Hey you. Moonlighting as a chauffeur to make ends meet?” You tease as you approach him. He surprises you by pulling you into a hug. 

“It’s weird not seeing your face on a small screen.” He jokes as he leads you outside, taking your bag from you. You can’t help but notice he’s been working out and his biceps are looking impressive. Well, you knew he had anyway thanks to his constant posting on Instagram, and from your video calls, but seeing it up close makes your mouth go dry. 

“I’ve had to put make-up on. No filters in real life, Gillespie.” He rolled his eyes at you as he unlocked his car, an orange Nissan Juke.

 “Some car there…” You struggle to hold in a laugh and his mock hurt look. 

“Look, it may not be pretty, but it’s great for camping and heading out of town to go hiking.” He was almost pouting when he finished speaking. 

“Okay, okay. I give in.” you climb into the car. “Why aren’t you on set?” 

“I wasn’t needed for a couple of hours, so I offered to come and meet you. I have to be back once you’re checked in at your hotel. Sorry it’s a bit of a rush.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I can go out sightseeing while you’re working hard.” You grin at him. “I’ve never been to Vancouver, or Canada, before.” 

“You’ve clearly lived a very sheltered life.” He’s teasing so you just stick your tongue out at him before turning your attention out of the window as Charlie maneuvered the car out of the parking lot. “Have you even left California?” Again with the teasing. 

“Not only have I left the state, but I’ve also even left the country.” 

“That’s cool, where did you go?” 

“I studied in London for a year, then I backpacked around Europe for another, before coming home and becoming a functioning member of society.” 

“That’s actually pretty awesome. I’d love to do that, just travel around for a year and get to see so many amazing places.” There’s a look in his eyes you recognize. Wanderlust. 

Before long, Charlie’s pulling up outside your hotel and helping you out of the car. 

“I would make sure you get checked in okay, but I need to jet. I’m sorry, shall we meet up later, I can introduce you to the rest of the cast.” 

“That would be great. Message me so I know when to be ready and where to meet y’all.” He agrees, places a soft kiss against your cheek and gets back into the car. You watch him drive away before going to check in. 

:: :: 

When you took the job of writing a song for a TV show, you never expected to find yourself out to dinner with the cast of said show, watching them do karaoke. All of them have included you, which made you feel as if you’re part of their circle, despite their many in jokes and stories from set. Madison greeted you like an old friend, telling you she’d head a lot about you from Charlie. That surprised you because you hardly knew him beyond the few video calls you’d had. 

“He talks about you all the time, and Owen says he can hear his side of the conversations. He teases him about it all the time.” You stare at her, confused. 

“That’s crazy. We hardly know each other.” 

“Doesn’t stop feelings from happening.” She laughs at you, before dragging you up to perform with her. 

The entire evening is a blast, but you all have to call it a night early thanks to their early call to set. You plan to call an uber back to your hotel, but Charlie insists on making sure you get back safe. As you say goodbye to the others, Madison give you a look you don’t even attempt to try and decipher. 

“Thanks for tonight, I had a great time. You’re lucky you guys are so close.” You tell Charlie as your uber moves through the dark streets. 

“Yeah, they’re great and we’re like a family. I know it sounds corny and cliché, but it’s the truth. I think that’s why Kenny set up bootcamp. It makes going to work so much easier.” 

Silence falls over you, but it’s a comfortable one, and all too soon, you’re pulling up outside your hotel. 

“Thanks for making sure I got back safe.” You say as you get ready to climb out of the car. Charlie surprises you by following you. “Oh, you don’t need to see me inside, I’m a big girl.” 

“I know, but my mom would kill me if I didn’t. I was taught to make sure pretty girls got home safe.” You laugh but are filled with warmth at him calling you pretty. 

“I bet you use that line on all the girls.” You give him a nudge with your shoulder which makes him laugh. 

“Not really.” He holds out his elbow for you to tuck your hand through as he walks into the building. 

Once you’re outside your room, you turn to face him and thank him for inviting you out again. 

“It was a pleasure. I just hope you had a good time.” 

“I really did. I’ll see you in the morning, then.” 

“Yeah, see you.” 

:: :: 

The following morning, you’re up at what feels like the crack of dawn. You’re regretting the shots you had the night before as you climb into an uber to head over to the studio. The closer you get, the more excited you become. You’ve seen your songs brought to life on screen before, but you’ve never been there for the filming. 

As you climb out of your car, you hear someone call out your name. You turn to see Madison and her dad walking toward you. 

“Hey Y/N. How are you feeling after last night?” She asks, giggling slightly. You’re more than a little jealous of the fact she’s a minor and is unable to drink any alcohol. 

“A bit delicate, but nothing a strong coffee won’t cure.” You smile as she introduces you to her dad as the three of you walk inside. They stay with you as you’re signed in and given a visitor’s pass. 

“What do you know about this scene you’re watching today?” Madison asks you as you follow her through the hallways. 

“Not a lot if I’m honest. I know a little background to the song and Luke as a character, but nothing else.” 

“Woah, you’re in for a treat. I hope you didn’t wear any eye make-up.” Mr. Reyes laughs at his daughter’s words as you reach the catering tent. The aroma of coffee is calling you. “Well, I’ll see you soon, I’m first in hair and make-up.” The young girl gives you a tight hug and leaves you to fuel your need for caffeine. 

By the time you’ve finished your drink, and a bagel, the tent is filling up around you. You spot Kenny entering and he makes a beeline for you. 

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you again.” 

“Thanks for having me. I’m honored to be invited. I know this is a bit unusual.” 

“Honey, you don’t need to thank me. It was this guy’s idea.” He stepped aside to reveal Charlie, in full Luke costume. 

“Oh…” 

:: :: 

Standing next to Kenny, you’re silent as the opening bars to your song start to play. A lump has already gathered in your throat as you watch Charlie as Luke singing to his mother who can’t see him. You knew it was an emotional song, but hearing it sung live and in context of the show, you can’t quite believe it’s yours. 

You know they have some scenes to film that will be cut into the scene, but you can’t help being mesmerized by the tone of Charlie’s voice as he sings a song of regret. 

You feel tears pricking at your eyes as rounds a corner of the set, belting out the final pre chorus, the rasp to his voice, and tears flowing down his face. Kenny takes a look at you and grabs hold of your hand, giving it a squeeze. 

“You did good.” He compliments you. Wiping at your eyes, hoping your mascara isn’t running, you shake your head. 

“No, that was all him.” Once filming’s over, you make an excuse to Kenny and head outside for some fresh air. You’re feeling overwhelmed and in awe of what they’ve done with your song. 

“Are you okay?” Charlie’s voice is soft as he walks up to stand next to you. 

“I’m fine, just a bit overwhelmed. I never expected it to… to be that good.” You realize you could have offended him and begin to stumble over your words. “Not that I mean… you’ve got an amazing voice, and you injected so much hurt and pain into the song. It sounded better than I ever imagined it to.” 

You feel like a bumbling idiot and turn away from Charlie so he can’t see the embarrassment on your face. He moves to stand directly in front of you, using his hand to gently lift your chin so you have nowhere else to look but directly into his eyes. 

“If the song wasn’t right, I wouldn’t have been able to do what I just did, so it’s all on you too.” It feels as if his hazel eyes are looking deep into your soul. 

“Thank you.” You finally accept a compliment, making him smile. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.” 

“Why did you ask for me to be here today?” 

“Because the moment I heard the rough cut of Unsaid Emily I felt it was only right you be here. There something in your lyrics and melody that will truly have an affect on the audience, and I felt you needed to see that for yourself.” He suddenly let go of you and looked away. 

“Why do I feel like there’s an ‘and’ coming?” 

“And… the moment I heard that rough cut, I needed to know more about you. That’s why I followed you on Insta and started the video calls. I needed to know you.” 

You don’t know what to say, not that there’s time for you to. Charlie looks back at you, places his hands on your waits, and bends his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss. It’s quick, but gets your pulse racing. He pulls away, slowly. 

“Is Noah Centineo still prettier than me?” 

You laugh before crushing your lips against is again, this time not so softly.

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Tags: @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @xplrreylo​

If you’d like to be tagged, just drop me a message.

[aseriesofunfortunatejan]

I read Volume 1 of Danganronpa Togami.

Yay. I did it, folks.

So, uhm...

:|

Here’s my spoilers free opinion, right as I finish it. I’d listened to @/drmedicsgamesurgery’s audiobook almost to the end already, though (I’m guessing you’ll see this post anyway, but I didn’t want to go out of my way to tag you since I believe our opinions differ). (Unrelated, but listen to their Danganronpa Kirigiri 2 audiobook, btw, Part 1 is up on their YouTube channel)

I’d say I’m on the fence. This was a fun read in many ways. There are a lot, and I mean a lot of references to both Japanese and international culture, which were helpfully explained by the translator, and they were rather entertaining. A lot of dialogue is, on its own, very quotable, and the Byakuya Togami himself is very diverting throughout.

(More under the cut. My opinions will be entirely spoilers free, save for a few vague indications of plot points which will be introduced in all caps and put in parentheses to allow readers to avoid them if they so prefer.)

I definitely can’t ignore those qualities - the new characters are enjoyable, and the already-established Danganronpa characters are fun and true to themselves (to the extent allowed by the concept of DRT). I wasn’t all that interested in Blue Ink, but I don’t mind her either. The bait using her near the end worked well enough that it tricked me, not that I found that scene enjoyable to read, lol. (More on that in a bit.) The second protagonist, the “mole”, was also a very interesting concept.

Speaking of, Danganronpa Togami explores interesting themes. This probably contributes to how quotable a lot of lines, even those that aren’t dialogue, are. I’m pretty satisfied with having a piece of Danganronpa media touch on those.

... Still... It was a little difficult to read.

This isn’t coming from someone who dislikes reading at all. In fact, I love reading. As a kid, I used to say “it’s my passion”! Pretty passive passion to have if you ask me. Either way, I’m pretty good at reading. The SHSL Reader if you will (no, you won’t). I have to admit that I dislike reading on a screen, but I can handle it.

Basically, I’m being sincere when I say that it wasn’t easy to read. Everything goes all over the place... which I believe is the intended effect, so it might not objectively be a flaw, but I personally didn’t enjoy it! Blue Ink’s narration was especially boring to me, though I can’t put my finger on why yet - I’d hasard a guess that it has something to do with Borges’ regular interruptions, but that might not be all it is.

Again, I don’t necessarily mind those concepts, they didn’t specifically click with me is all. Honestly, it’s pretty artsy, and I appreciate that. I feel like I could have loved it, but it just happened to land right where I didn’t.

I guess I’m ultimately not that big of a fan of its narration and, most importantly, events “going all over the place”. I found it boring, or even a little embarrassing at times, which was a shame when segments with the mole often explored many interesting concepts. I know Danganronpa Togami is already not the most popular Danganronpa spin-off there is, so I’m not trying to kick it while it’s down - since it has so much potential imo. I can see how someone with slightly different tastes from mine would love it, so definitely give it a try and construct your own opinion.

What I seriously disliked was the ending. It literally ruined the one thing I’d actually liked about the novel. I appreciate that an earlier line of dialogue set it up (those who read DRT probably know what I mean ; POTENTIAL VAGUE SPOILERS IN THESE PARENTHESES something about a date)... But to me personally, that’s not enough. I feel like that’s a pretty shitty move to pull as a writer. I’ve seen it done before and I typically dislike it, and I especially wasn’t going to like it this time.

I guess it’s good enough of an ending in that I’m curious about what comes next, but... I don’t know if I’ll feel like reading an entire volume again with this bad taste in my mouth - even though I know that due to the story’s very concept, some things may not be what they appear to be. It doesn’t help in my case, because it taps into something else I dislike, at least that’s the impression I have (POTENTIAL LIGHT SPOILERS IN THESE PARENTHESES: though it’s maybe not literally what’s going on here, stuff similar to “real” alternate universes are usually not my cup of tea.)

I don’t even want to hear any “that’s not exactly what it is, though”, because whatever it is, I’m already bored by it. Sorry (/gen).

Anyway, when I said “more on that in a bit”, earlier, I meant that the scene in which that efficient bait took place was the one that set up the plot twist I hated, so I hated it altogether. I guess I was a little relieved at least because if that one thing hadn’t been bait, I would have had things to say. (I’m being vague so for more clarity, POTENTIAL SPOILERS IN THESE PARENTHESES: the bait I’m talking about is that you believe one character is being attacked, when it really was another).

Ironically enough, I’m all over the place right now, so to wrap this up... The ending ruined it for me, but it’s very subjective. Danganronpa Togami just so happens to do like, at least two things I specifically dislike, but that is by no means an objective review of its writing. (Though I might expand on how the plot twist could actually just be bad in another non-spoilers-free post later on. Might.)

Byakuya and Junko were fun, and I took screenshots of a bunch of fun quotes, so that was cool.

One last thing - a new character is introduced near the end whose talent is like. The worst fucking “talent” ever? What the hell? Please tell me their writing in the next volumes somehow makes it better? At least Kodaka didn’t pull that shit? That’s one more thing I seriously disliked.

Even though Danganronpa Togami undeniably has qualities, it’s to be noted that I rarely actively dislike anything in Danganronpa, so I can’t just ignore those elements in my review... Which ends now. xoxo

[deberiaestarescribiendo]

Bloody is the path for revenge. An Oberyn Martell x GN!reader. Game of thrones Space AU.

#Writer Wednesday 05/05/2021

Thanks again to @autumnleaves1991-blog for this, I’ve never being this prolific in writing in my life and actually have been more consistent in it thanks to this

Summary: King’s Landing is a ruthless place, a big mass of a planet city where the less fortunate tries to survive in the lower levels and the rich thrives on the top playing their dangerous games. Many years ago, the Lannisters claimed the power from the Targaryens killing everyone in their way men, woman and children even if they were innocent of their family’s crimes; Ellia Martell and her children were amongst them, and since then his brother has tried to bring to justice those who ordered her killing. But you know there’s no justice in this world and if Oberyn tries to do anything to the Lannisters they will respond in violence and threatening his life. The life of the one you love the most

Word count: 4,4 k (One day I’ll write something short for Writer Wednesday but today it’s not that day)

Warning: Cannon divergence from the show and the books, violence, mentions of blood, shots, and explosions. +18 SMUT light descriptive sex (mention of penetration, orgasms and kissing but nothing too explicit)

A/N: What the fuck is this? You may ask, well I don’t know what to tell you, my friend. I swear I didn’t smoke anything writing this just thought how to twist a little the image we got for this week. I decided to change Ellia’s murder by the way, she’s shot dead, plain and simple, I’ve always been left with a terrible sensation every time I read/watched the show or books and they mentioned how she died. If you feel the same just know there’s no mention of rape in this or any kind of sexual violence. This is my first time writing for a gender neutral reader PLEASE PLEASE, let me know if there’s some mentions of the readers gender or something I have not seen. The only detail is that Oberyn is bigger and taller than you, the rest is pretty vague.

“Don’t leave me alone in this world”

“Never”

He says that but he kisses you as if it is his last day on earth. His plump lips force yours open until he’s caressing your mouth with his tongue. A moan resounds in his chest over yours and you feel you heart beating fast, he always ignites a fire inside of you as the blazing core of the earth burns and moves creating earthquakes and changing the shape of the earth. And he has change you, shape you into a different person, you’re wilder, more sure of yourself, passionate and freer, embracing all of you without shame. His love has burn you new as a phoenix. So because of it all, you cannot possible let him leave your bed, you cannot let him die or even come close to it. There’s no way.

You open your eyes when he separates himself from you and you see a sweet smile shining on his face, his eyes still close lingering in the pleasure of having kissed you, of being held in your arms, locking your hands on his strong and broad shoulders with the remaining heat between your bodies. You woke up crying, dreaming of blood and violence and before you opened your eyes, he was hugging you so tightly that all you could think and feel was him and his warm skin.

“My love” he whispered in your ear and then you turned desperate to kiss him to feel that he was still there with you

“I had a nightmare that you left me before I woke up” you cried and brought his weight over your body

“Shh, shh” he hushed and kissed your forehead “I’m still here and...” your lips cut whatever he was about to say and you held his handsome face in your arms and then you let your hands wander over his body: his tense muscles, his scars on his tanned skin, he tried to stop you feeling how your tears still rolled over your cheeks but you begged and plead “Love me please, please I need you in me” and he can’t refuse. You made love slowly, deep and precise thrusts, mouth over mouth murmuring sweet nothings and praises. You fell asleep as soon as he finished, feeling so full of him, so relaxed and warm, relishing in the heat he has left in you.

Hours later, you felt how he moved and that he was about to get up, but you reached for his arm and now here you both are, your nails pressing deep on his arms.

“Let it go, please. You can stay with me, find another way. I don’t want you to die”

“Today it’s not the day I die” he smiles at you fondly brushing his knuckles over your face

“You don’t know that” you shake your head, your voice sound squeaky “Those bastards don’t know what honor is, Oberyn, you keep thinking you will find justice. There’s no justice in this dreadful place”

“I will make my own and please, my love, don’t underestimate me. I know my enemy, I’ve known them since they decided to kill my sister and his children, observed them patiently and now it’s time for them to pay for their crimes” when he mentions his family his jaw clenches and his deep eyes somehow become darker glowing with sorrow and anger.

“We could think of other way...”

“There’s no other way”

King’s landing is a massive chunk of metal, of buildings that top one another until the city raises kilometers away from the ground, leaving a clear distinction between the lower levels where the poor people survive and the highest part where the elite look upwards always climbing to the sky above and the stars crushing and stomping on the less fortunate. You’re somehow in the middle of it. You live in a beautiful needle like tower, a golden palace called Sunspear, in the south part of the town from your apartment balcony the impressive domes of the Red Keep shine from afar and your stomach turns.

The gigantic castle is the center of all, a bleeding heart in the middle of the immense planet city and it harbors the Government, the Power, the Judge and Punisher of this terrible place: the Lannisters. A criminal family wrapped up in golden clothes, golden hair and melted gold in their jewels. But criminals nonetheless, just rose in the right moment and killed the right people; one of them your lover’s dear sister, Ellia and her children.

The late rulers of the city, the ones that conquered and settle on this earth on the first place, the Targaryens, ruled with an iron fist with their Dragons technology, metallic robotic beasts that surveyed, killed and control the city without the need of any man and soon only their shadow over the sky made people tremble and any thought of protest, criminal plans or illegal activities remained on the lower slums where they could not reach as freely.

But crime grows like an infection and soon enough there was a Targaryen king that thought that the end justifies the means and that there’s only one way to get rid of a putrid member; amputating it. So the Dragons did control the slums, burning them down to the ground. Those drastic measures had consequences and of course soon the protests against their cruelty grew stronger, and the protests leaded to insurrection and the Lannisters presented themselves as the golden saviors only to be even crueler than those they had usurped.

And those who were related in any way to the Targaryens were killed without a trial, like Ellia, trapped in the Red Keep by an unsatisfactory marriage to one member of the family. And Oberyn tried, ran to the castle to beg mercy for her innocent sister when the Coup succeeded but ended just collecting her corpse. “She was caught in cross fire” they said but her wounds were clearly a mark of an execution, and seeing himself alone in a chaotic world without allies and without enough power, Oberyn waited, observed and mourned, let his rage grow stronger and deep, a pain like thorns in his chest that even though it hurt, it didn’t compromised his kindness.

He found you in that state, a broken man with a warm smile like the sun, and you were a street rat, a slum orphan kid that lost everything even before you were aware of what family, love or possessions meant. You survived however you could, you were not proud of your beginnings, you were not proud of how you met him: trying to rob him.

“I don’t have much, love” he had said, not threaten at all of your weapon pointed at his chest

“You’re one of those top bastards, of course you have. Give me your rings” you blurted. He complied with a smile and tossed the golden rings to you; but the one on his thumb. “All of them” you spat

“This one, if you please, I’d like to keep. It was a gift from somebody that it’s not longer with me” he said and something in your chest moved after years and years of creating a hard armor over your feelings.

“Alright, now empty your pockets” you said bending down to gather his rings and in that he moved faster than you had seen anybody react and in a swift movement he got you cornered on the wall and disarmed.

“You have to always choose your opponents wisely, my sweet” he said really close to your face. You moaned, tried to think that the sound coming from your mouth was out of fear and his bigger and heavy body over yours, but deep down you knew that his amber perfume, his deep voice and those eyes had awaken something else in you. “You look positively famish and neglected of many things, my sweet. Come with me” And you did and you will always follow him since that day. But today he has chosen a path that you cannot keep. Today your fears had come true, you have always think that your love could cure him, that it could be stronger and enough to calm his need for vengeance. But it is not.

History tends to repeat itself and now the Lannisters are suffering the same fate they created for their predecessors. They’re in their lowest point and they’re destroying themselves from within, betraying their own family members, and when Oberyn saw this as his perfect chance to finally plot his vengeance, you saw that dark pain eating the light, the love, the passion and the kindness, dominating everything else that was in his heart. Now he only sees vengeance and the cold blade of justice cutting their throats.

The sun pierces the pollution and the clouds in an orange and pink palette announcing the beginning of a new day and the trial starts at midday. They’re accusing Tyrion, the youngest of the Lannisters’ siblings, and demanding the death penalty for killing the heir to the throne. And Oberyn in a surprising turns of events has accorded to represent him on the trial or that’s what everybody thinks. The oldest law in the planet, one settled since Aegon Targaryen, the conqueror, is that a defendant can have a final statement before his sentence and everything he says in that moment must be taken in to account if he, by any chance, confesses other crimes or accomplices in the crime being judged.

Oberyn could never bring Ellia’s murder to justice but if Tyrion confesses that he heard his father give the order to kill Ellia and her children then he cannot be killed until that crime is investigated and judged thus saving, for the time being, his life and giving Oberyn the chance of presenting his case against those who killed his family. In a fair world, that could work. But you know his honor and idealism clouds his judgment, they will never let Tyrion confess in public how they ordered to kill innocent children in cold blood, they will never let Oberyn win. They’re desperate now, less concern about their public image and much more drastic in their measures; another thing they have now in common with the past rulers. They’ll do anything to remain in power, and those little legal tricks won’t be enough to stop them. They will take any means necessary to remain in power. Anything.

“We should be going, sir” the security guard announces from the digital pad on the door

“My love” Oberyn adjusts his tunic, an old gold fabric that resembles the million sun panels that covers Sunspear and he looks as the sun, he warms your life, gives you the energy to wake up and you wish this sun, your sun, never sets and leaves you in the dark “If you don’t want to come, I’ll understand”

You run to him and grab his forearms “I will never leave you. I’ll be there as long as you need me”

Weeks before the trial

Even though you’ve climbed on the social ladder and also in a literal way, you are and you will always be a street rat, a lower scum and in that you know many like you. And they’re useful, you know people that could do anything, that know how to find anything or anyone. The lower levels are a wild jungle of metallic junk, holograms screens selling whatever you wish for and dangerous people. But you know your way there and navigated the streets until you found what you wanted.

“So it’s pretty damaged, I had to reprogram everything and search for parts anywhere and those I didn’t find I had to customize” Chips explained uncovering the thing inside his garage. Chips is your friend, shared the same dirty full of lice bed in the orphanage, he didn’t have a name and was given one by the caretakers but preferred the nickname you gave them. He was always since he was a little kid playing with some wires, chips and computers parts and now he had created a place in the slums, mainly because of what he did it’s not really legal. He hacks technology, can get himself inside any web, any software and devastate any system he wants. He does it all in this dirty garage, lighted in neon lights that you don’t know you he stands it, every wall is covered in screens, old technology and devices you don’t understand.

“You know anything you need I will pay double, Chips. I need this working properly, it’s extremely important” you said

“Thank you, Chips” you nodded

“And it will, you will have complete control over it on your holo bracelet” he assured and gave you the small black device that you tied around your wrist “When it is time, you just have to activate it” and he showed you the control app on the floating screen over your hand

“Do you really want to do this? You can’t control the consequences once you active it” he asked eyeing the thing with a worried look

“The consequences if I don’t use it will be far worse”

The trial

“Father, I wish to confess” the short blond man says on the stand, he’s secured inside a protection field that is otherwise invisible except when the neon lights from the ceiling hit it and it shines with a bluish light.

The hundred something audience member gasp in unison and you know the whole city has had the same reaction whilst watching in it live stream in the millions of holoscreens around King’s Landing.

“I didn’t kill Joffrey, but I wish that I had” he spats and the people present scream and insult him. Oberyn stands by his side and you cannot see his face from your seat in the grandstand but his fists are clenched and his posture is tense. “He was a vicious demon, a murderer and sadist as every member of this family”

“Tyrion if you do not wish to confess this is useless” Tywin Lannister, the patriarch, moves in his seat uncomfortable.

“As I was saying, father, he was a murderer like his family, like you” people rise from their seats now, you stay in your little corner while the crowd waits for the rest of the confession with their mouths wide open “You ordered, years ago, to kill in cold blood innocent people, you ordered your beast” he points to the corner of the big throne room where the tallest man you’ve ever seen stands among other guards “to kill every woman, children or baby that was related to the Targaryens, servants or noble; like Ellia Martell and her children”

“Silence!” Tywin raises from his seat, his pale skin is red, a sharp contrast to his all black tunic “Take the prisoner back to his chamber until a sentence has been declared”

“Wait!” Oberyn walks towards the center of the scene with his hand raised “The defendant has confessed being witness to a crime, by the old law of Aegon, the conqueror; he cannot be put to sentence until that crime has been judged. And you, Lord Tywin, will have to address those accusation in a proper trial” You see from the corner he has a smirk on his face while the older man glares at him with his eyes full of hate.

“Isn’t it that convenient for you?” Cersei Lannister cries from her seat, the mourning mother has been quite the whole trial but her eyes red and weeping had been fixed on her brother and now Oberyn with the same anger. “You’ve spreading those lies and accusations for years and now you conspire with my murderer brother to hurt my family” her voice break and the audience gasps again clearly entertain with this turning of events

“Accusations that now have to be clarified in a trial as it was always dismissed by your authority” Oberyn responds pointing with his finger to the whole Lannister court

“It was a time of war, an unfortunate accident” Tywin hisses

“Well now you could prove it and end those accusations, don’t you?” Oberyn smiles wildly but it feels like more like a viper openning its mouth to show you its weapons before biting.”I demand that the defendant is released from your custody and it will remain with me until trial”

“That’s surprising, are you accusing us of plotting to hurt him in anyway?” Tywin tilts his head to Oberyn, challenging him, and you know he has something in mind. You’re so tense that you don’t realize you were not breathing until your chest hurts. You activate your holobracelet looking at the small bottom waiting for the perfect moment.

“I’m saying he’s accused of a heinous crime and clearly has gained the hatred of the people, being here could make it really easy for anybody to hurt him while on custody. So I suggest a secured and secret location for the moment”

“Tyrion has the means to escape and leave the planet; we could not possibly let him go” says an old man from the Council

“He will remain in the Red Keep” Tywin states

“I think I still have my right to testify, father” Cersei raises from her seat with a coy smirk

“You can give a final statement, yes” he agrees

“Oberyn Martell has agreed to defend my brother from this terrible murder, has been seeing with him before in very dubious places and now he accuses us of murder and plot to kill a prisoner in custody in order to keep Tyrion on his care. I think it’s fair to think that he could have some interest in this, maybe even be part of a larger plot against us, he has always hate our family for a crime we didn’t commit”

The uproar in the room is way stronger this time, some assistants can’t even be kept on their seats, and the guards form a line between the grandstand and the platform were the trail is taken place. You move, your heart beats are loud in your ear, as you go down the stand closer to where Oberyn stands.

“I firmly believe we should have a line of investigation on this, so you, Oberyn and your client should stay on the Red Keep until everything is clarified” Tywin doesn’t hide his pride. You knew that this will happen; they have neither honor nor a care for justice. And you knew they will find a way to hurt him if he ever became bolder in his way to get justice for his sister.

Oberyn is screaming something but you cannot hear him with all the crossed accusations and the audience, but the guards had walked towards him, they’re moving Tyrion from his stand and cornering your lover.

“Raise your hands, sir” they scream at him “Calm down”

You know their tactics, you know that any movement he will do can justify that they shot him down or hurt him. If he raises his hands they can say he was about to punch them, if he doesn’t he didn’t comply. Anyway Oberyn’s life is threatened. So you know it’s time.

You open the hologram screen on your bracelet and tap on the small logo with trembling fingers, until the screen shows an ACTIVITED sign in green.

You were a small child, probably a baby when you were met with one of those things, so you don’t remember how silent they are. It was made like that so they could strike any possible threats without given them the chance to escape. So the dust hits you first, before you or anyone could hear it. The right wall of the throne room collapses and you see the screens and the wires and the metal breaking and the ancient brick walls inside of them. A blazing sun hits second, a red and orange light until you feel the heat. That’s not the sun. It’s fire.

The beast enters and now you can hear it, its motors propel it inside the room and in doing so completely destroy the west side of the Keep. It actually looks like a dragon; a fearsome large metallic face spitting fire but the rest of its body is a triangular black shape more like the commercial flight transports but way bigger.

The clouds of dust makes it impossible for you to find Oberyn, you just hope he hasn’t been hit by the debris in the explosion.

“Oberyn” you scream and cough

You find some guards on the ground some of them evidently dead others are just knockout, and in the middle of it you find him, he had protected his head with his arms, his golden attire is dusty but you don’t see signs of bleeding. You bend down and try to get him up, but he’s heavy

“Come on, my love, we have to go!” he doesn’t respond and your heart skips a beat what if you killed him trying to save him?

But he coughs softly at first and then louder and raises his face confused and wander his eyes until he finds you “We have to go Oberyn, come on” he moves slowly but you gather strength and get his arm over yours and push him towards the abyss on the west wall. And you jump.

Being a slum rat you had always fear being on the top of the buildings, never actually looking from the border of the balcony when you moved with Oberyn, but now you jumped with your eyes closed, holding his body, the body of your lover, your whole life tightly against yours. For a moment you feel the emptiness of space and air until your body hits something hard.

“We have to fly faster; I think the whole building is going to collapse” Chips helps you take a seat on the flying car and you secure Oberyn on the seat beside you. He’s still dazed so he doesn’t say a thing; clearly he doesn’t understand what’s going on. You hope that you hadn’t inflicted some brain damaged. Chips speeds up the vehicle going in a sharp line downwards making the rest of the traffic move to let you pass and avoid a crash.

“We will have to hide on the slums for a moment” he screams over the speed breaking the air

No brain damage, his eardrums are broken but they will heal fast with the drugs Chips has bought in the dark market. He has a great concussion on his back and some scratches on his face, legs and arms. But he’s alive and well. You wait on a very uncomfortable chair looking at him, his tall and broad body doesn’t fit in that small cheap bed but for the moment it will have to do. He has been sleeping for a few hours now and when you’re about to doze off, he coughs trying to call your name.

“Sh, sh, calm down my love” you say when he tries to get up “Drink some water” you serve him in a plastic cup and approach the bed

“What?” he screams and contorts his face once he feels the pain

“Your ears” you pronounce every syllable so he can read your lips “Rest now, it will heal in a few hours”

He drinks looking at you confused over the cup and lies down again but he looks at you intently “what have you done?” he murmurs

You sleep a few hours, Chips keeps doing his thing drinking too much of those energy drinks. At least twenty screens shows different news reports, the images of the trial and the “terrorist attack” as they’re calling it thereafter.

“What have you done with it?” you ask

“I programmed it to self destroy after you deactivated it. Too dangerous on the wrong hands” he explains

“And who are you referring to with “wrong hands?” a deep and husky voice says behind you.

You see the horror in his eyes when he watches the images of the Dragon entering the throne room and burning and destroying everything on its way.

“Oberyn” you whisper

“What have you done?” he asks again, his brown eyes glow in tears

“I did what I have to do” you simply shrug “I couldn’t let you get yourself killed, those people were about to lock you on the Red Keep and next thing I know they will give me your dead body back as they did with your sister” your voice cracks once you try to approach him and he recoils in fear

“You’ve killed innocent people” Oberyn lets his body hit the wall and you see his legs shake still too weak to stand

“They were enjoying that mockery of a trial seeing a poor man being sentence to death” you defend

“And now they’re all dead”

“We’re still waiting for the reports but...”Chips adds but shuts it once you both look angrily at him

“Oberyn” you come close your hands open to him, begging to touch him but he shakes his head

“Oberyn please” you say again

“No” he refuses and now you see he’s crying, his shoulders shake and he covers his face on his hands

“Then listen to me” you face him still letting him have his space “I couldn’t live in a world where you’re not with me. I knew they will try to kill you and I felt powerless, I had to do something, I have to save you as you saved me years ago. I love you, Oberyn, more than my own life, more than my heart, my eyes and my soul and if I have to burn empires to the ground for you, I will and I did”

[scripttorture]

Any tips for handling a character who believes the stereotype that "no scars = no harm" when it comes to prison abuse, and is convinced b/c of this that they have no right to be upset about their own abuse cause their friends got physically smacked around, and they "only" got tazed/ humiliated by the guards? (They were in solitary too but they don't think that counts.) Any way to show that their treatment, while different, was just as harmful, when they themselves don't think that it could be?

Yes, I think I can help you out. :)

 I think the key to this one is giving all of these characters space in the story and signalling to readers that this particular character is an unreliable narrator.

 It’s easier to establish a narrator/character as unreliable if you’re writing using a third person perspective or switch perspectives throughout the story. However it is perfectly possible to do it from a first person perspective as well.

 I’ll come back to that in a moment but I’m going to start with things that I think will help no matter your writing style.

 The masterpost on common symptoms of torture is over here, and the post on memory problems specifically is over here.

 If you haven’t already take a look at both posts. There’s a lot of variation in survivors: we know the possible psychological symptoms but survivors don’t typically experience all possible symptoms. We don’t know why some individuals experience specific symptoms and others get different symptoms. Which means that as writers there’s a lot of scope to choose the symptoms your characters experience.

 You have multiple survivors here. The easy first step is to make sure they all have similar numbers of symptoms at similar levels of severity.

 I think it’s also worth having some overlap in what the characters experience.

 I don’t know how many character’s you’re planning to have but let’s say there are four, the one who survives clean torture and three others.

 Let’s say that the symptoms you pick out for the character who survived clean torture are: depression, panic attacks, learning difficulties and intrusive memories. (I picked these at random.)

 Showing variety in survivors is a good thing, so I wouldn’t suggest giving any of the friends exactly the same symptom pattern. But there’s no reason why one of them shouldn’t also have depression. The second could have panic attacks. The third might have learning difficulties and intrusive memories.

 This gives you a way to encourage the readers to question this character’s interpretation of events. They’re saying they didn’t suffer ‘enough’, however the reader should be able to see that each of their friends is going through something similar.

 If you’re writing from a third person perspective, or switching perspectives between the characters you can describe these symptoms in the same way for every character. Literally verbatim the same. Repeating it in this way should reinforce to the readers that this is the same thing and it’s just as serious for every character.

 No matter what the characters themselves think.

 Writing from first person perspective make things a little trickier but you still have a couple of options.

 The most straight forward is to have other characters call them out. It doesn’t have to be the other survivors doing this (though it can be). Doctors, friends, family, any character who has the opportunity to see all of these survivors afterwards and witness their symptoms can call bullshit on any one of them trying to downplay their own symptoms.

 Another option is having the friends talk, perhaps because the character who is downplaying their own symptoms is trying to be supportive. Having them sit there while their friend describes something that’s horribly familiar and letting them slowly come to that realisation on their own is a possibility. It would take a lot more time narratively.

 If these characters have access to medical treatment or mental health services afterwards that’s another good way to bring this up.

 People/characters can dismiss the opinions of experts. But this does very clearly tell the reader that clean torture is just as serious.

 You can also use these similar symptom patterns without any overt conversations on the subject. Describing characters with similar symptoms showing similar behaviours and coming up with similar coping strategies can help underline that they’re experiencing the same thing.

 For instance if you pick panic attacks as a symptom for the solitary survivor and one of the others, describing the way both of them flinch or freeze, the way they hyperventilate and shake. They could both (independently or together) discover that breathing exercises help.

 They could both go to the doctor (one saying they were tortured and the other complaining of vague chest pains and heart racing) and walk away with the same medication.

 Another possible approach is to pick out some symptoms during solitary and some long term symptoms afterwards that are… culturally regarded as more serious.

 Most cultures find it a lot harder to dismiss hallucinations (which solitary can cause) and self mutilation then things like depression and anxiety.

 I get the impression that in western cultures most people are primed to think of self harm as cutting. In reality there are a lot of behaviours people can engage in which leave them in pain and can cause serious injury. Repeatedly punching a wall for instance.

 Having this character walk into a clinic, hand bruised and swelling up, find they’ve broken several fingers- And then having the doctor, still looking at her clipboard casually say ‘How long have you been self harming?’ That can really drive home, for the reader and the character how serious this is.

 Self harm isn’t something that every writer is going to feel comfortable tackling. If you feel like it isn’t a good fit for your story and character then don’t use it.

 But the hallucinations that can occur during solitary confinement tend to stop once someone is out of solitary. Which let’s you put in a symptom that is usually taken seriously without it becoming long term.

 The hallucinations I’ve read about have been quite varied. The majority of them were unpleasant. A few were neutral. Many read a little like waking dreams. They varied in intensity from occasionally hearing voices in the pipes to fully blown immersive ‘worlds’.

 There are quite a few examples in Shalev’s Sourcebook on Solitary Confinement. It’s available free on line and there’s a link in my source’s page and in the masterpost on solitary.

 The final thing I have to suggest won’t necessarily be a fit for your story. I don’t suggest it very often. But there’s one kind of serious injury this sort of torture could cause that won’t necessarily be obvious straight away and would underline that these clean tortures were bloody serious.

 Brain damage.

 If someone is hit with a Taser or stun gun while standing then falling injuries can cause brain damage. Even mild brain damage can be incredibly debilitating.

 I’ve actually been working on a story with a character that has a mild brain injury and I’ve found this website incredibly helpful for describing the effects.

 Now the reasons this wouldn’t necessarily be a good fit is because brain damage can cause some pretty drastic behavioural and emotional changes. People with brain damage tend to be a lot more impulsive, have trouble identifying and controlling their emotions, difficulty communicating and planning. The list goes on. And it includes a lot of things that might make your character… Well something other then what you intended when you created them.

 If this kind of disability moves the character too far away from your conception of them you don’t have to use it.

 But they’re frightening words aren’t they? Brain damage. They underline the severity of the scenario in an undeniable way. Which makes it a possible answer to this writing problem.

 Wrapping up I think it’s important to consider the kind of plot, characters and character interactions you want when you choose your strategy.

 Some of these techniques work well together in a story. Some of them are probably better on their own.

 Hopefully there’s enough varied suggestions here that you can find a good fit for your story. :)

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

[scribeofred]

Thanks to @onereyofstarlight for the tag!

 1. What fandoms have you written for?

This is embarrassing but I actually had to look at both FFnet and AO3 because I couldn’t remember all of them. TRON: Legacy, Assassin’s Creed, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit, Sherlock, Final Fantasy VII and XV and Kingsglaive, Voltron: Legendary Defender, Merlin, Skyrim, and, of course, Thunderbirds. I have a couple other fandoms that crop up in various wips, including a Tom Swift/Thunderbirds crossover that I really should finish.

2. How many works do you have on AO3 &/or FFNet?

FFnet has 45, and AO3 has 41. There’s also a couple stories lurking on tumblr, notably a final chapter for Reflection.

3. What are your top 3 fics by kudos on A03 &/or Favs on FFNet?

AO3 dominates in this area, if I can use a word like “dominates” for stories that have less than 125 kudos each haha. Oh well, the numbers don’t matter!

1.     118 kudos on tell the shades apart (my world is black and white)

2.     94 kudos on Reflection

3.     91 kudos on The 43rd Hour

4. Which 3 fics have the least kudos & Favs?

Again on AO3:

1 kudos on I Am You (And You Are Me)

5 kudos on The Dragonborn Chronicles

6 kudos on cynosure

5. Which Fic has the most comments and which has the least?

Reflection has the most at 29 threads, and I Am You (And You Are Me) has the least at zero.

6. Which complete fic do you wish had gotten more attention?

Lodestar, definitely. Sure, it’s for something of a rarepair, but they aren’t that rare, and I just really really like the way the story came together. On the other hand, of course my unfinished Merlin fic has gotten probably the most attention, because that’s just the way it goes, eh?

7. Have you written any crossovers?

None that I’ve published! I have various crossovers lurking in mostly unfinished states, including the aforementioned Tom Swift/Thunderbirds crossover, and an Assassin’s Creed/Thundeerbirds crossover that is very good and I should also finish. There’s an Expanse/Thunderbirds fic lurking in my brain that I may or may not ever commit to paper, who knows. I’ve also very vaguely toyed with a Batman/Thunderbirds crossover, in the sense that “nebulous” is too strong a word for the kind of toying I’ve been doing.

8. What is the craziest fic you’ve written?

I don’t really write crazy or crack or humor in general, so probably the closest thing to “crazy” is On the Lam, which was the result of wanting to throw Scott and Penelope toward an Egyptian stud farm. It ended up being the host for a bad joke about that, courtesy of one @thebaconsandwichofregret, who consistently gives some of the best dialogue advice I’ve ever encountered.

Actually, the true answer is probably a chapter in Glimpses into a Supernova, maybe the one about blood? It seems bonkers when I think back on it now, but I admittedly haven’t read it in many years. Possibly I am misremembering. Glimpses has some weird ones, though.

9. What’s the fic you’ve written with the saddest ending?

It’s a tossup between The Painting and a place where the water touches the sky. The former deals with a prior off-screen death; the latter is (maybe??) an on-screen death. People seemed upset by it, at any rate. I said it was ambiguous!

10. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

“Happy” is probably a matter of perspective? Depends on the overall reading experience and the ending within that context. Either septet or Three Towels and a Tracy, they’re both pretty fluffy overall.

11. What is your smuttiest fic?

protoinstincts, which I completely forgot I wrote and then rediscovered like a year later and realized “hey, this is actually pretty good” and you know what, despite it not being overly spicy, it is pretty good.

12. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not hate, per se, but someone left a review on Less Than Nothing saying they “didn’t like” that I “wrote the story as a series of drabbles.” Cool, I didn’t write the story for you, random guest reader, and the back button exists, friend 😂 It didn’t bother me on a personal level because I wrote the fic for an audience of one (incidentally, not myself and rather the recipient of a secret santa event), but I was mad because the reviewer had no way of knowing where I was at as a writer, and I know from longtime observation how that kind of comment can crush less experienced or confident writers.

Don’t leave flames, kids, you don’t understand the power your words have. Don’t like, don’t read.

13. What is the nicest comment you’ve received?

The nicest? Goodness. Hmm. I’d have to go hunting to find the nicest, but in recent memory, @ayzrules sent me a couple passages from Spanish texts she’s been studying that reminded her of my writing, and I was honestly so touched by the fact that she even thought to make such comparisons, much less mention them to me. Taking the time to familiarize yourself with someone’s style until you can make comparisons between it and someone else’s work is so much more meaningful to me personally than a basic “Nice story!” or “Loved this!” type of comment ever could be. <3 Ayz <3

14. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of, but I’ve never gone looking on any sort of copycat site or whatever either.

15. How many fics do you have marked as incomplete?

Two. First is The Dragonborn Chronicles, which is a retelling of Skyrim from Lydia’s perspective via her journal, to complement the in-game journal. It’s a slog of a style to write, though, even for someone who loves writing first person and doesn’t really want to write a lot of dialogue, and the outline is huge, and the story will be many times more huge, and just. Some day. Some day.

Second is tell the shades apart (my world is black and white), which has always been unfinished because the outline itself is over seven thousand words and the fully written story would undoubtedly land between 100,000 and 200,000 words, and there’s no way I’m writing that. I’ve always meant to upload the outline, but I got kind of self-conscious about the way I formatted it, and ugh I just haven’t bothered. One day, one day, right?

Moral of the story is I’m intensely a short story writer, and I’ve really found myself settling into that role over the last couple years. Better a clipped, punchy short story than a bloated slog of an epic.

16. Which of the WIPS will most likely be finished first?

Literally no one knows that. I wrote 95% of the observable entropy of a closed system over five years ago, and then I proceeded to pull it out roughly once a year and write and rewrite various endings until last month, which was when I finally figured out how I wanted to end the story. septet, too, languished for about five years before I finally remembered it existed and managed to wrangle an ending. Endings are hard, man. So are those third plot points. Terrible creatures, those, bog me down every time.

17. Which WIP are you looking forward to finishing?

Uh... mm. See. If I were looking forward to finishing any of them, I’d be actively working on them. At this moment, writing fic isn’t exactly high on my list of priorities, but I am also coming off a four-day idle game bender, so I still feel like I haven’t quite reengaged with myself as a living person. Give me another few days and I might have an answer.

(I am always most looking forward to finishing this ridiculous Ignis-drives-the-Audi-R8 fic that’s been languishing in my wips for literal years. As mentioned above, third plot points. Killer, man.)

(oh and also the working-titled the art of murder. Scott and Penny attend a private art auction. Things don’t go to plan. It, too, is stuck at the third plot point. I know, I know I have a problem, shush.)

18. Is there a WIP that you’re considering abandoning?

Any wip has the potential to be revived—this year and the old wips I’ve unearthed, dusted off, finished, and posted have been proof of that. I don’t intentionally permanently abandon anything for that reason, some stories just probably will remain dusty old wips forever because I didn’t actually need or want to write the full story for one reason or another.

19. Which complete fic would you consider rewriting?

Now that’s an interesting question. Hmm! Honestly? None of them. Once I finish a story, I’m not inclined toward rereading it again any time soon, to the point of years in some cases, and I feel like I’ve moved on from the stories I wrote one, two, five, eight years ago in the actual writing sense. They’re finished stories, and on top of that are relics of their time, which doesn’t mean the stories don’t have any ongoing significance on a reading level—I just don’t have any interest in rewriting those particular stories. I’ve gotten them out of my head, to the point of not remembering at least a third of them on demand anymore, and I don’t have any desire to “retell” those exact stories. I do tend to tighten the wording and fix perceived errors/weaknesses whenever I do end up rereading an old story, and I usually silently update the AO3 version if I make any significant changes because AO3 makes it a breeze to update a posted fic. I might do FFnet too if I’m feeling up to it or have the time.

20. Which complete fic is your favourite?

Once upon a time I would’ve said Holding On, but I honestly find it kind of unbearably melodramatic now. the observable entropy of a closed system is equally melodramatic, as it was written in the same era, but at least it has the excuse of being told in second person and via a style that is a half step away from being poetry. Possibly I will reread it in a few years and find it equally obnoxious and overly dramatic, but it received some shockingly positive comments, which I wasn’t expecting at ALL, and I’ve been honestly blown away by the amount of praise it’s received. <3 to everyone who’s said anything about it!

21. What’s your total published word count?

141,000 on AO3, 160,000 on FFnet, but technically the light of my life SS wrote fifty thousand words of each. It’s too late for math.

 I tag @velkynkarma, @lurkinglurkerwholurks, @writtenbyrain, @thebaconsandwichofregret, and anyone else who wants to play!

[whetstonefires]

Hi Whetstonefire. I have a question about the comic where Nightwing cheats on Starfire with Barbara: What happens directly after that? Does Starfire find out that Nightwing cheated on her? And, if so, how does she react? I've read online that (according to Marv Wolfman) Starfire is the opposite of everything Batman taught Nightwing to be and that Batman taught Nightwing to be repressed and cold. What did Nightwing contribute (emotionally) to the relationship between him and Starfire? (Cont.)

(Cont.) From what I can tell, from online, Nightwing was adamant about standards of mercy and monogamy - how do you think, if Starfire were to be written as her own character and not written around Nightwing and his emotional needs, she would handle and react to that? (This bit is an FYI for other readers: this is just speculation, not hate. Sorry about that.) Sorry about the questions! Have a nice day! 

Okay there are so many separate questions packed in here! I may miss some of them lol and I do not want to put in the hours it would take to produce an orderly response to all this, so this post is going to be a mess.

Initial query and important point: the cheating story was out of continuity. Like, literally, not just by ‘being rejected by the fanbase,’ it was just this weird retcon oneshot that seems to have been some sort of fuck-you to Nightwing or his fans or something. So no, it had no in-setting fallout lol. It, in more ways than most comics, didn't exactly happen.

It was just this weird thing where Dick hooks up with Babs before giving her a wedding invitation, which is both out of character for him in general and out of step with where he was leading up to the wedding--he was desperate to get married so they could have some Normal Stable Adulthood Happiness; the choice to recharacterize him as a fuckboy who regards it as a loss of freedom isn’t congruent, on much more than the level of principle.

As far as how Kori would feel about it, if she had learned...that is very hard to say. Apart from how it would require her to reinterpret everything about where their relationship stood at that point, the data is very unclear, and I don’t even have all of it. Gonna back up to cover some of the rest of the ask, get some context here.

So this actually brings up two of my biggest gripes with Wolfman’s NTT--weird Kori characterization and the weirdly negative interpretation of Batman as parent that backwashed heavily into other titles and influenced the character for the worse, in ways we're very much still dealing with today. 😩

The latter is pretty self-explanatory, though Wolfman’s take that the main thing Bruce taught Dick was repression does shed light on some writing choices and make others funnier. But Kori. Oh my lands.

So, item one, I wouldn't say that Kori is overall opposite Bruce, or even of his philosophy? There are just some very major points of opposition. She isn’t emotionally buttoned-down like at all, especially about positive feelings, although considered realistically with all the bullshit they’ve piled into her backstory she absolutely leans on repression to cope and stay positive, which makes her a lot like Dick actually.

To an extent, she was clearly written around foiling Dick’s Batman-derived traits in the same way that Robin was written to foil Batman, bright and glad and aerial. A Flamebird to his Nightwing in theme if not in name.

You could do some interesting stuff with that, and the bildungsroman aspects of this period of Dick’s life, like he has two roads forward in terms of how he’s going to define ‘adulthood’--does it necessarily require becoming more like his mentor-father, for good and ill, or can he make Kori in part a destination, as it were, and create an adult self that is derived from who he has always been as well as the man he’s modeled himself after?

To an extent I think this even was one of the things going on in ntt but like. Only a little bit.

(Given how much like Bruce Babs is in most of the ways Kori isn’t, especially once she’s Oracle, you could make a case for her as love interest being like. Symbolic of his not being in a rebellious phase? That gets weird and oedipal really fast tho lol.)

Okay stepping down one meta level lol, the thing about answering the 'what would kori' question here is that her character is deeply bound up in her culture, about which we are told and shown a great many contradictory things. Any attempt to read her as an independent character has to tackle not only the gender stuff you allude to and these inconsistencies, but how much of the sheer mess of her is rooted in racism.

'Fantastic' racism, technically, because Tamaraneans aren't real, but the 'taming the savage' narrative that kept surfacing between them and the language used in reference to it is just. The existing racism of presumably the writers, placed in Dick's mouth, and it's super gross. I hate it so much.

(I had a faint hope when they cast her for live action it was with a deliberate intent to directly tackle and better that history, but lollllllll nah. At least they didn’t double down in it tho! Can you imagine, with a black actress, in this day and age....)

So to predict and comprehend Kori, you have to make a lot of calls about Tamaran as a civilization. I like to slightly privilege stuff established earlier if there's no good reason not to, so while much is made over time of her inappropriate rage and the violence she was raised to normalize, I think what she says in her first appearance is good to keep in mind: in her culture, kindness is for friends and cruelty is for enemies. She doesn't understand why the Titans seem to have this backwards.

Kori is not a merciless person. She’s very empathetic, as a rule. With people she loves, she is self-destructively forgiving. That's not a trait only Dick benefits from--her family keeps betraying her in new exciting ways, and she keeps letting them.

Her arc of growing away from that habit is however greatly crippled by centering Dick in the narrative and by the awful 'civilizing' overtones that keep coming into it. When she comes back after the 1986 breakup, still married to Karras, she brings with her a commitment to doing things the Earth way--to eschew lethal force as more than a compromise with her friends’ values, but as a deliberate choice.

This deserved a lot more space and time than it got, and the fact that it didn’t get it is only somewhat due to her being subordinated to Dick and to general writing fail; a lot of it’s just the team book problems of everything happening to everybody all at once.

I mean, Dick’s journey later on to deciding he loves her enough to date her even though she’s married and it’s technically against his principles was packed into this absolutely heinous issue where he was inspired by a woman refusing to separate from her husband who’d just threatened to kill her and their kid with a knife, until being stopped by Nightwing. Because he’s apologizing for what he did.

This is his inspiration for accepting Kori’s marital status! It’s supposed to be heartwarming, as far as I can tell! Not heavyhanded messaging that this is a self-destructive terrible choice in which Kori will inevitably harm him somehow! This issue is pro ‘consensual open relationships under certain circumstances’ and also ‘giving abusers another chance’ as expressions of love. Welcome to the 80s ig.

(Notable is that the wife in this issue was black and the husband and son both looked very white, so it’s probably her stepkid and she probably wouldn’t get to keep him if they separated; this is not even vaguely treated as a factor.)

Point is, everyone was getting too little space to actually go through the amount of development they were getting, and it was clumsily handled; it’s not just her.

In an overlapping period Gar processed his issues with his adoptive father with whom he constantly fought and their shared trauma over the rest of their family (the Doom Patrol) having died violently not long ago via a batshit several-issue storyline where Mento went crazy, created supermutants, and abusively mind-controlled them to attack the Titans. It is literally all like this.

Back to the infidelity thing, now. So much to unpack. So like I mentioned above, their first big breakup, while partially driven by Dick’s existing conflicted feelings about their different ideas about things like ‘killing in battle’ and ‘her identity and loyalties being tied up with her home planet,’ is explicitly over different takes on monogamy.

When Dick is breaking up with her, Kori makes it clear she thinks it’s totally reasonable to have both a husband and a love, since Karras also has someone he loves and they’re both fine with it, but the story doesn't really explain how nonmonogamy works on Tamaran, or even if it's practiced outside the context of political marriage. They do do a sort of...soulbond fusion dance...thing, as part of the ceremony, so marriage is definitely serious business. There are so many levels of cultural difference that get poor to no development.

But to return to the weird ooc retcon cheating story: because of this context, no matter what her personal norms are, Dick specifically casually sleeping with someone else would be something for Kori to be mad about, because of the hypocrisy.

Then there’s the Mirage Incident, which I haven’t read through properly and which was very poorly handled by the writers. Kori is upset about Dick having slept with someone impersonating her and there’s a general vibe of this being treated by Dick’s social circle as unfaithfulness even though he was in fact sexually violated by deceit; it famously sucks.

We still don’t learn a lot here about Kori’s ideas about monogamy, from what I have seen, because her focus is mostly on feeling like Dick doesn’t care about her enough or in the right way since he couldn’t tell the difference. Which is an understandable feeling, even if it’s not an appropriate reaction to have at him at this time.

What Nightwing contributed emotionally........hm. This is a mess, honestly; he was all over the map, and not just because of having Brother Blood in his head. I cannot speak definitively on this, it’s too inconsistent.

For most of their relationship, Kori was the more intensely invested one, the one to initiate and the one who was shown at length to be excited to come home at the end of the day to their shared apartment because her boyfriend was there to see and talk to. If we set aside his more egregious white male bullshit, Dick was pretty emotionally available most of the time, though? They were cute.

Since they split up a lot of ink has been spilled making him less into her in retrospect, but he was pretty invested--leaving her coincided with mental breakdowns both times, and it wasn’t even mostly because she was doing his emotional processing for him, because she wasn’t, although it’s fair to say he often fell into using the relationship as an emotional crutch. Kori was definitely doing the same thing though so...it wasn’t the most balanced relationship in fiction history, but apart from slight codependency and the racism, it was decent enough.

She gets more evenhanded development than most superhero love interests, honestly, because she was costarring in a team book. She had her own storylines. She had other friends.

Mostly both of them just needed some space to finish growing up and stop being retraumatized long enough to process some of the existing trauma better, and I think they could have gone on being good for each other for a long time.

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

Gonna make full use of my ‘comic rant’ tag and roast Future State: Superwoman.

Spoilers! And yelling! Of the disgruntled kind!

So a few things at the start here: 1.) I wanted to love this book. I wanted it to be great. I wanted to give it the benefit of the doubt, in spite of some iffy stuff in the solicit text. So this rant is not coming from a place of having decided this was going to be awful ahead of time. 2.) My tolerance for bad Supergirl comics is pretty high! Takes a lot for me to actually come out and say that a particular issue is trash. Reader: This story is trash.

It’s not ‘middle-aged white guys writing/drawing a story about sending a minor to a potentially hostile planet fully nude’ trash, mind you. It’s the compost bin, rather than the landfill. Slightly nicer trash, but it still stinks to high heaven. Allow me to expand!

PROLOGUE - SUMMARY: ...I actually can’t summarize this comic b/c it would devolve into a lot of senseless yelling. We’ll just have to tease out this terrible plot as we go along. 

PART I - DEAD DOGS TELL BAD TALES: The comic opens with Kara standing at Krypto’s grave. That’s not why this comic is trash, but it bears mentioning. Because why. Why would you do this. 

PART II - IN WHICH IT ONLY GETS WORSE: So, Kara has a running inner monologue, and the main thing we gather from Kara’s thoughts is that it was Krypto who taught her to be a hero. On paper, that sounds very sweet! In practice, it reads as Kara having no moral center whatsoever—whatever good qualities she might possess, she did not learn from her parents, or her foster parents, or friends, or fellow heroes. Nor do they come from within Kara herself. Nope, t’was Krypto who taught Kara not to be a jealous rage monster. That is not hyperbole--Kara’s walking around angry about her cousin all the time and she’s like, ‘It was you, Krypto, who taught me not to judge, and to let go of anger.’ Listen, I love Krypto, but this? This is, as the youth would say, a bad look.

PART III - THOSE CERTAINLY ARE...SOME THEMES: The set-up here is that Kara is on the moon, and has established a sanctuary for alien refugees. That’s a dynamite idea! I love that! Buuuuut Kara didn’t look at the plight of alien refugees and say, ‘I want to help!’ Really, she didn’t even look at herself and say, ‘I don’t want others to feel like I’ve felt.’ No, she said, ‘Earth won’t accept me as a hero, and Clark didn’t name me protector of Earth, so. I’m out!’ (Honestly, if your moral compass is so whack that you need a dog to walk you back from Hulk-Smashing...can’t say I blame Clark for not picking you, Kara!) But apparently, the people on the moon don’t really like her either. And it is literally never explained why. There’s a whole montage of Kara fixing stuff and saving lives and all the moon folk just glare at her. This makes both the moon people AND Kara look like a**holes, because they come across as ungrateful, and she comes across as a glory hound. Thanks! I hate it! So the ‘peace’ Kara’s found on the moon isn’t really peaceful at all, cause she still resents her cousin, and people still don’t like her, in spite of the fact that she’s constantly performing acts of service for them. 

Also, side note, I’m just now realizing this is an entire population of alien refugees...and Kara is somehow still the odd one out. Like, Earth I get, because everyone else is a human and maybe freaked out by the super powers. But a bunch of aliens? WHY. Why did you do this. Why did this need to be set on the moon with alien refugees if you’re not going to interrogate Kara’s identity as an alien refugee herself AND all of the aliens are inexplicably humanoid in appearance and utterly ordinary in terms of power levels.  

Like. This is not the CW show, where they have a budget, and a huge ensemble cast to serve. YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE. AAARRRRRGHHHH.

PART III CONT’D: There’s also this weird ‘birthright’ element introduced...like, Clark and Jon stole Kara’s ‘right’ to be earth’s defender which is...a terrible reading of Kara’s modern origin. It brings in the idea that Kara is a ‘chosen one’ and because she didn’t get to be that chosen one, all of her hero work is for nothing. Never mind the whole central conceit of what makes Clark and Kara heroic...that they have this incredible power, and choose to do good with it. Nah...it’s all about her ‘right’ to protect the people of Earth! And mean ol’ Clark took that away! THANKS. I HATE IT. 

PART IV - A POOR USE OF SPACE: So, all of the Future State books kind of struggle with the issue of too much exposition, which is understandable. They have to introduce an entirely new status quo in a very limited amount of literal page space, so you *really* have to have a handle on how you allocate your time and focus.  

Introducing a brand new, lore-heavy heroic character who gets all of the development and dynamic art and pulls focus away from the character you’re meant to be writing is a bad use of a two issue limited series.

Like, this is a crappy Supergirl comic but it’s a great backdoor pilot for a Lynari ongoing, I guess. 

Imagine if in the Jon Superman book, they introduced a random, brand new best friend for Jon, and he got the big character arc instead of Jon. That’s something you save for an arc in an ongoing title, NOT A TWO ISSUE EVENT COMIC.  

Back to said new character, there’s a lot of forced attempts to parallel Kara and Lynari, but Lynari’s backstory is so confusing, rushed, and poorly explained that it’s like: okay, they’re both...angry? And the moon jerks hate them? ...uh. Okay.

(I’m gonna bring back my ‘why is this set on the moon, even’ question so that my ‘poor use of space’ header becomes a better joke.) 

PART V - I'M HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO...B/C THERE SURE AIN’T ONE HERE: I’ve already mentioned that Krypto was apparently Kara’s conscience so when Lynari’s aunt arrives to...kill them? (again, everything about Lynari’s backstory is rushed and poorly explained) Kara gets real mad and basically pulls a Gothel: ‘You want me to be the bad guy? Fine! Now I’m the bad guy.’ But thank goodness Lynari is there to tell Kara no! Don’t murder the giant aunt eel! Lynari then steals Kara’s powers and gives up the swamp jewel that’s been hidden inside their body and now their aunt is less murder-y!

WOW. Couldn’t even give the big damn hero moment to Kara in her own book, huh?

So the day is saved. It takes Kara a while to regain her powers, and it’s only then, when she’s no longer ‘above’ the moon jerks, that they’re like, ‘oh, we like her!’ There is a bit of narration about how that attitude is awful. But that narration is provided by Lynari. See, the inner monologue is no longer Kara’s thoughts, but rather it has switched to Lynari’s point of view. They’re telling us this story. And do you know why?

PART VI - WHY THIS COMIC *SUCKS*: KARA DIES. SHE’S THE FRIGGIN’ ‘SECOND GRAVE’ OF THE TITULAR ‘TWO GRAVES’

Fudge this comic to heck.

See, Kara dies on the moon, presumably of old age. She’s buried next to Krypto. And this random character who we’re suddenly supposed to care about tells us her story. Not Clark. Not the Danvers. Not Brainy. Not even one of the supporting cast members from her solo title. No one from Kara’s life is mentioned at all, save for Jon and Clark, and they’re pretty much relegated to flashbacks of Kara punching them. 

PART VII - TIME TO COMPARE DEATHS, I GUESS: First and foremost can I just say that I hate that’s a sentence that I’m typing about Kara in the year of our lord, 2021. But okay: Kara’s big famous death in Crisis stopped the entire DC universe cold. Everyone paused in the middle of the destruction of the multiverse to mourn her loss and honor her (GENUINELY HEROIC) sacrifice. Clark and Barbara--two established characters with a strong connection/relationship to Kara--offered lovely eulogies. 

This one: Kara gets to die of old age in obscurity after a lifetime of striving to be recognized and only achieving it by de-powering and serving a population of jerks. 

Not the warm and fuzzy ending you think it is!

(Meanwhile, Clark lives for millennia and spawns an entire dynasty of Els, all of ‘em out there, protecting the cosmos. I was looking forward to House of El in the hopes of maybe seeing some Kara stuff but NOPE. Thanks to Superwoman, we’re probably not gonna see any future Kara stuff beyond this! G R E A T)

And like, the argument could be made that this ending makes Kara happy. This is the life she chooses! She wants to be alone and garden on the moon! Except, we get zero insight from Kara regarding the remainder of her life. We only have Lynari’s narration and some montage shots...nearly all of which focus on other characters. But honestly, even if we did get Kara’s side of things, I doubt it would shed much light on her feelings, bEEECAUSE...

PART VIII - SUPER BLAND: This Kara really has no personality outside of ‘detached and vaguely bitter.’ I like Sauvage, I think she’s an incredibly talented artist, but here, Kara is stiff and her expression often reads as aloof. She’s very pretty, but it comes at the expense of being expressive. (And I know Sauvage can do expressive stuff...because Lyanari gets to be expressive.) Like...I love that shojo manga vibe but this is a Kara devoid of spark and warmth. 

...Like...Melissa Benoist’s portrayal of Kara is right there... 

I’ve already sort of touched on this but her inner monologue doesn’t have much personality either. She’s just parroting the same, ‘I need to do as Krypto taught me!’ nonsense for both issues. Until, of course, we shift to Lynari’s narration, and lose Kara’s thread entirely. 

PART IX - LET’S WRAP THIS UP: This book frustrates me to no end because it had a lot of stuff going for it. It’s got a female writer and artist--still a rarity for the Supergirl book--it’s a limited series mostly free of continuity and character baggage, and it’s not tied down to the grimdark cyberpunk stuff happening in the Gotham books. YOU COULD’VE DONE ANYTHING. And, once again, DC goes with a pitch that’s: Kara is angry, Kara resents Clark...and Kara dies.

It’s also happening...right as Kara has no dedicated ongoing title, the movie’s been shelved, the TV show is entering its sixth and final season, and all promotion has shifted to new CW and HBO shows. 

*screams into the void* 

MAAAAAAN I hate this book. I hate that it retroactively makes me hate the Andreyko run a little bit--a run that I took to be about a traumatized young woman forced to confront her grief, and who leans on a beloved animal companion for comfort. Here, Krypto is L I T E R A L L Y the reason Kara’s not constantly frying folks with her heat vision. 

I hate that this book has made me use the word ‘literally’ so much in this rant.

I hate that this could possibly be more in continuity than Millennium.

Remember Millennium? Where Kara was in like...five pages? And she was warm, and kind, and promised to help Rose because it was the right thing to do, and oh yes, WAS PRESIDENT OF EARTH?!??! AND A CLASSY OLD LADY!?!?!?!?! WHO WAS STILL ALIVE AND KICKIN’ IN THE FAR FLUNG FUTURE!?!?!?!?!

I hate that I’m using my lunch hour to rant about how much I hate this comic.  

I hate that DC editorial seems hell-bent on erasing the interesting aspects of Kara’s character to sand her down to ‘the angry one’ or ‘Batman 2.0′

PART X - LET’S END ON SOME (?) POSITIVES: Don’t read this book! Don’t do it! Don’t waste your time and money!

Instead, check out ANYTHING ELSE. If you want mom!Kara, read Tom Taylor’s ‘Last Daughters of Krypton’ in the DC Nuclear Winter special. If you want heroic oldlady!Kara, read Millennium. Honestly? Pick up anything by Bendis that has Supergirl in it. It is miles away better than this. You want angry Kara working through her grief? Andreyko, Red Lantern, even Infected. ANYTHING BUT THIS. HECK, grab Superman of Metropolis instead! That has bad Kara characterization but at least she doesn’t end up dead. 

Anyways. This comic is bad. I wish it wasn’t! And this is now the SECOND TIME IN A ROW that Kara’s book ends on a terrible note before the character disappears from monthly comics for an unknown period of time.  

*screams into the void again*