#the more accurate that he's exactly as I described him comes true

[tottymatsuno]

I think it's okay, I really do if people don't agree with my characterization tbh. But like ig what bugs me is being challenged on it by people who haven't put as much thought into him as I have.

So you're asking me for proof, me, who has tried to watch and read and listen to as much of the content as he possibly can, to rhe point of not only buying but actively distrusbuting otherwise Japanese exclusive content specifically because of this one character...as someone who needs to cite his sources?

I mean I can, and easily, and will, but like being challenged on it makes me go insane. I know more than you. It might not fit how you see him, but that's bc I know more than you.

[ro-is-struggling]

Safer In His Arms || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon

Summary: Since you were little you always dreamed of meeting a noble and brave knight, falling in love and marrying him to rule your kingdom together until the end of your days. But as you looked around at the men that had come to the banquet to ask for your hand in marriage, it was clear that those dreams were nothing more than a fantasy. Or at least that's what you thought until fate crossed your path with Geralt of Rivia. The witcher, with his hard expression and cold stare, was the last person anyone would describe as warm or chivalrous. But not you. From the moment you met him, you saw nothing but kindness in his eyes. And when he managed to rescue you from the hands of bandits, you knew that maybe there was still some hope that your fantasy could come true —just maybe not in the way you had always imagined. 

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of sexual assault (nothing happens but if it’s triggering for you I wouldn’t read it), protective!geralt, SMUT MINORS DNI, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, loss of virginity (not accurate this is just porn!), dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, creampie, aftercare, fluff

English is not my first language

Word count: 13500 (not even sorry)

Notes: I don't know why I keep giving every princess I write a sad/tragic story, sorry about that. Also this ended up being way more smutty than I anticipated, sorry about that too (not really). It was supposed to be a fun little hurt/comfort fic about Geralt saving the reader but it developed a mind of its own and ended up being another excuse to write more smut. I tried to make the smut a bit more fluffy than normal since it's supposed to be the reader's first time, but I didn't want it to be too fluffy given that they technically barely know each other, so there's no actual love between them (if that makes sense?). So, sorry if it's a bit all over the place!

The cold breeze of the summer night hit your skin the moment you set foot outside, reminding you that you should have taken a coat. While the days tended to be hot this time of year, once the sun set over the horizon a cool breeze embraced the entire kingdom, courtesy of the ocean forces that surrounded the borders of the land. It was quite peaceful. On a quiet night you loved to sit in the courtyard listening to the waves crashing against the rocks and smelling the scent of the salty water that was carried by the winds and mingled with the sweet perfume of the garden flowers. It seemed to always bring peace to your troubled mind, and that was exactly what you needed right now.

You could still hear the noise coming from inside the castle, though it was slowly getting lost in the sound of the sea. The laughter, the chatter, the joyful music, it all faded into the background as you plopped down on one of the seats in the courtyard, allowing yourself a moment to take a deep breath and let the beauty of your kingdom impart some of the wisdom you so desperately needed. All the guests were there for you —to talk and dance with you, to make unattainable but romantic promises in exchange for your hand in marriage— and yet all you wanted to do was disappear. You were tired of the politics, the diplomacy, tired of feeling the pressure of having to decide the future of your life and your kingdom in one night. The choice of a husband was very important to your parents, to your people and it should be to you too, but all you wanted was for the day to be over.

"I'm glad to see I'm not the only one feeling overwhelmed in there." A deep voice startled you. 

Looking up you were met with a tall man leaning against one of the stone pillars supporting the roof of the covered section of the courtyard. His arms were crossed over his chest, muscles showing through the fabric of his clothes. His white hair hid part of his face, though you could still make out his hard expression and defined jaw. But what caught your attention the most was not the size of his muscles or the fact that the clothes he was wearing seemed too elegant for someone like him. No, what caught your attention the most were the amber eyes that watched you, admiring you from a distance, hiding behind a few rebellious strands of hair. You had never seen such beautiful eyes before. They were piercing, and yet there was a softness in them. Like the sun on a summer afternoon, they shone with an intensity that would have blinded anyone. But you were mesmerized by them, unable to look away. 

"Though I must admit I did not expect to find you here, your highness, given that you are the center of the party."

"I needed some fresh air." You managed to say, forcing yourself to look away from his eyes. "I lost count of the number of men I danced with tonight...I just needed a break."

"That bad, huh?" His lips curved upward slightly, giving his hard expression a softer look. "I suppose if any of them had made a good impression at least you would remember their name."

"It wouldn't matter anyways. My parents have a very strong opinion about the one I should choose." You let out a bitter chuckle. "This banquet is just a formality, a contingency plan.... Give everyone a false sense of hope so they won't attack us for feeling left out."

"I'm sure you still have some sort of control over the whole thing. You're the one getting married after all."

"Since when does a woman's opinion matter when there's wealth and power involved? I'm just a pawn in their political game." Your gaze dropped, focusing on the embroidered details of your dress to avoid facing the intense gaze of the man in front of you. "When I was a girl I used to dream of growing up, meeting a brave and honorable prince and falling in love with him... now I know that feelings come after marriage, if they come at all."

Geralt watched you walk arround the courtyard, your fingers tracing the petals of the flowers that decorated the place without paying much attention to your movements. You had a blank stare and a sad expression adorned your delicate face. He was not a big lover of royalty —he didn't care about politics and didn't like the arrogant tone with which most of them used to speak—, but you were different. When he looked at you he didn't see a spoiled, arrogant princess or a manipulative political figure capable of anything to get their way. He only saw a sad and disillusioned young woman, confused about her future and the responsibility that fell on her shoulders. 

Geralt felt bad for you and had an inexplicable urge to hug you, though he restrained himself. He opted to move closer to you, just took a couple of steps forward and he was already able to breathe in the scent of your perfume. His nostrils were pleasantly assaulted by the sweet scent emanating from your skin and hair. It was special, a blend of jasmine, vanilla and a hint of sea water. It was like nothing he had ever smelled before and he was sure that your scent would linger in his memory for a long time.

"It is still your life." He spoke behind your back and you turned to look at him. He seemed much bigger now that he was closer to you. His figure towered over you imposingly, yet his eyes were soft. "You can always take back your control over it." Your lips curved upward slightly and Geralt thought the smile suited you much better than the grimace of sadness. 

You appreciated his effort to improve your mood. He was a complete stranger who had no reason to listen to your complaints about a life that many considered privileged. And though his words were simple, they accomplished their purpose. You felt so helpless and trapped that you were unable to see that things didn't end there. Yes, you were forced to marry someone you did not love for the sake of your kingdom, but that was not the same as giving up your life, your control and power over it. There was still hope.

"Thank you..." you trailed off, realizing at that moment that you had opened yourself so sincerely to a man whose name you didn't even know. 

But before he could introduce himself, a voice in the distance interrupted you, answering for him.

"Geralt! There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you. You are supposed to protect me, you know."

Geralt let out an irritated sigh as the man you recognized as one of the many musicians hired by your parents to play at the banquet approached you. You had to stifle a chuckle as you realized that rather than escaping the noise of the party, he had come there to get a break from his friend's vibrant and cheerful personality. They were an odd pair, but you had no doubt that there had to be trust between them from the way the bard addresses him.

“I’ve been doing the impossible to hide from Lord Kaius for ages! What the hell were you doing out her–” The artist's complaints were cut short when his eyes finally rested on your figure. "Your highness." He gave a subtle bow, the tone of his voice changing to a lower, more subtle one from one second to the next.

"I'm afraid it's my fault. I was preoccupying your friend with the problems that afflict my mind on this fine evening and he was too kind to interrupt me. He was a great help, but you can take him back now. You clearly need him more than I do."

"Won't you come inside, your highness? You wouldn't want to miss your own party." The bard asked and you smiled at him. 

"In a moment. I'd like to enjoy the peace and fresh air for a while longer."

Geralt didn't know why, but his eyes kept searching for you in the crowd of people dancing and eating like there was no tomorrow. After Jaskier dragged him back to the banquet hall —and after saving him from the fury of the man whose daughter had lost her innocence in the hands of the bard—, he kept his eyes on the big dark wooden doors, waiting to see you enter. But the minutes passed and there was no sign of you anywhere. He hadn't seen you come through the door and he couldn't find you in the crowd of people or see you at the royal table sitting next to your parents. You had disappeared and some people were beginning to notice.

For a moment, Geralt wondered if perhaps his words had encouraged certain behaviors in you. Maybe your way of taking control of your life was to run away from there, leaving your parents, your suitors and your responsibilities behind and start from scratch. He was wondering if perhaps he should go out to look for you, when his thoughts were interrupted by the sudden entrance of a man running towards the king and queen waving a paper in his raised right hand.

"The princess has been kidnapped." He announced loudly, causing the entire room to fall into a deep silence. 

The musicians stopped playing, the people dancing stood motionless in the middle of the room and the queen almost fainted at that very moment. There was a collective sigh and then nothing. Pure silence while the king read the note that had been left behind by the bandits, establishing a payment for the recovery of the princess.

However, the silence did not last long. It was a room full of princes, knights and lords who were there to win the heart of the princess —or at least, the political interest of her parents— so chaos was bound to break out at a time like that. Lord Einar, the one who had found the note in the courtyard, was the first to offer his services to save the princess. His bravery set off a chain reaction of man after man appearing before the king to justify why they were the best suited for the task and not their competitors. And as they fought among themselves, Geralt decided to take matters into his own hands. 

He finally felt comfortable as he inspected the courtyard and its surroundings for some sort of clue as to your whereabouts. For the first time since he had arrived at the castle he felt as if he actually had something to do there. Banquets and politics weren't his thing, but tracking down and hunting evil was. And while his area of expertise was monsters, he was willing to make an exception —anything to find an excuse to get him out of the political mess unfolding in the banquet hall.

His senses enhanced by the mutation allowed Geralt to follow the path that your scent had left in the air. He only had to take a couple of deep breaths and he immediately caught the fragrance of jasmine and vanilla that he had smelled on your skin. It stood out above any other scent near him, almost as if he had you in front of him once again. All he had to do was follow it to the outskirts of the castle, where his tracking skills allowed him to form a clearer picture of the situation.

They were heading north, away from the ocean and into the forest. The four pairs of footprints in the dirt indicated the presence of three heavy men who were accompanied by a fourth subject that was not so pleased to be there. The footprints were more shallow and imperfect. They belonged to a person of smaller build who was being dragged by those men. Geralt found no blood on the path, so he felt optimistic. You were conscious and had no serious wounds that would leave traces of your blood on the road, so there was a high chance that he would arrive in time to save you.

Following the path became a little more complicated the deeper he went into the woods, but fortunately for him the vegetation was not so lush and the bandits had not hidden very far away. Soon he was able to hear their angry mutterings in the distance. The night wind carried your sobs with it and Geralt followed them as if it were a map straight to your whereabouts. 

You were being held captive in what appeared to be abandoned land. There was a dirty old shack and behind it, in the distance, Geralt could make out a barn that he had no doubt was in the same condition. A dim light was escaping through the half-open wooden door, so he knew that was where he had to go. 

Two of the bandits scattered around the property to control the perimeter while one remained inside with you. Geralt was able to slip past them unseen with ease. Clearly, they were not men of great intellect and wisdom. Only a fool would kidnap a princess on the one night she was surrounded by strong and capable noble knights looking to prove themselves to her. Although glancing around, he was the only one there, so perhaps the bandits had a point.

Geralt was very careful with his movements, seeking to stay in the shadows as long as possible to assess the situation. He knew he could take out those men without breaking a sweat, even if they attacked him all three at once. But he had to consider that you were in the middle and any mistake he made could end badly for you. So he took his time, stealing a glimpse of the barn through the cracked door. His vision was limited by the odd angle from which he was forced to observe the scene, as well as the dim light that illuminated the room. Geralt was considering going in with his sword held high and end it all, when a sudden movement forced him to retreat so as not to be found.

Still, he got to see the way the man was mistreating you, pushing you violently against a pile of hay while you cried and begged for your life. And he got to hear the string of degenerate words he spat at you, enjoying the fear in your voice as you struggled to keep your distance from him. It made Geralt angry. Very angry.

The next sequence of actions happened so quickly that it was hard for you to process it. Although, to be honest, your mind wasn't quite there either. A part of you was completely missing, preparing to face the worst. When your captor lunged at you, effectively imprisoning you against the hay and almost completely restricting your movements, your mind transported you to another place. You could still hear his voice in the distance, smell his unpleasant odor and feel his weight on your body, but it all felt distant, muffled by the sounds of the ocean waves crashing against the rocks and the smell of salt water. Your body was still struggling to break free and tears were still streaming down your cheeks, but your mind was preparing to face the horror you knew was coming.

"You can cry all you want, no one is coming to save you." The man clicked his tongue, an evil smile forming on his lips. "A castle full of people and not a single man in sight, what a shame! But don't worry, princess, the time has come for you to know what a real man is." He moved his hands to the buttons of his pants, his leering gaze roaming over your body. You felt like screaming, crying and vomiting all at the same time, but you remained immobile, not knowing how to react. You simply closed your eyes, concentrating on the images of the sea you loved so much, waiting for the moment to pass.

But instead of feeling the weight of your captor's body on you again, you felt the splatter of warm liquid on your skin. Droplets rolled down your cheeks, mixing with your tears, and streams fell on your clothes. When you opened your eyes you found the sharp point of a sword poking out of your captor's pierced stomach. It was his blood that drenched your body, his blood that stained your clothes. It poured down on you from the wound in his stomach and from the cut in his throat that prevented him from producing more than broken cries as he drowned in his own blood.

It took you a few seconds to understand what was happening. Your confused mind, on high alert for new dangers, was not able to comprehend that the death of your captor was something positive for you. You only saw blood in quantities you had never seen before and could not help but scream as you watched in horror as the sword disappeared inside the bandit's body —splashing a few more drops of blood on its way out.

In the blink of an eye, the dying body of your captor was removed from above you and was replaced by a hand that pressed over your mouth to silence you. You struggled against it, your own hands snapping out of their state of shock to clutch at the arm of the new danger in an attempt to separate it from you. But then your eyes focused on the man leaning over you, the one who had saved you and who was desperately asking you to keep quiet.

A surge of calm ran through your body as you made contact with those golden eyes that intrigued you so much. You knew then that you were no longer in danger for Geralt had come to your rescue. Your heart was still beating almost inhumanly fast, pumping adrenaline throughout your body, and your breathing was still rapid, but you were able to calm your whimpers of protest under his hand. You stopped fighting him, trusting that you would be safe under his care.

"There are more-" You tried to warn him as he removed his hand from your mouth, but Geralt shushed you.

"I know, they're outside. That's why I need you to stay quiet and hide while I deal with them. Can you do that, your highness?" You nodded slowly, letting Geralt lead you to the back of the barn. He settled you behind a pile of hay that was large enough to hide your crouched figure, asking you to stay there until he came back for you, no matter what you heard outside.

"Wait! Don't leave me!" you panicked as he took a step away from you. Your hand flew to his arm, clinging to his clothes in an attempt to keep him from leaving. You knew what he had to do, but the thought of being alone again terrified you.

"Everything will be fine." Geralt tried to calm you, his voice a soft whisper. "I promise I will come back for you." 

He gave you a moment before trying to leave once again, waiting for you to let go of his arm willingly rather than forcibly push you away. Geralt knew you were terrified and needed support, and he was more than willing to give it, but first he had to take care of the bandits that were still on the loose. And it would not be wise to fight them while you were present. It would only distress you further and put you in unnecessary danger. So, with a slight nod, he left you in the barn once more, disappearing into the night to finish what he had started.

You curled up in your place, listening to the distant sounds of the fight as you let another wave of tears roll down your cheeks. The smell of blood and dirt surrounded you. You were covered in it —in dirt, from being pushed back and forth around the place; in your captor's sweat, after he threw his body over yours; and in his blood, thanks to Geralt's fierce but effective attack. It made you want to vomit. The reality of the situation was starting to sink in, and your mind was slowly beginning to understand the great danger you were in and how lucky you were that Geralt showed up when he did.

“Princess?” 

His voice brought you back to reality. He was kneeling beside you, looking at you with concern in those beautiful yellow eyes. The skin on his face was stained with a few drops of blood, as you imagined yours to be, but that did not lessen the softness of his expression. You threw yourself into his arms without a second thought, hiding your face in his neck as you sobbed in relief to know that the danger was over.

"It's okay, you're safe. I'm here, it's going to be okay." Geralt muttered against your hair, pulling you into his arms hoping that would be enough to help ease your nerves. 

He held you against his body for as long as you needed him to, stroking your back with his hand in a slow, delicate way to inspire some sense of calm in you. He didn't move for a moment, not even when your sobs began to fade and your breathing became regular. No, Geralt waited for you to make the first move, breaking away from him when you were ready to do so. 

"It's all right. You're fine. Just breathe with me. In...and out...in...and out. All right." 

You let the soft but deep tone of his voice slowly wash away the paralyzing fear and nerves that plagued you. You focused on the warmth of his body and the way his arms wrapped around you, making you feel safe. You mimicked the rhythm of his breathing, letting him slowly guide you back to normal. 

When you opened your eyes again the world around you was no longer spinning. Your vision was still a little blurry from the tears, but you could make out perfectly the yellow eyes, bright as the summer sun, watching you carefully.

"There you are!" Geralt gave you a small smile. "Did they hurt you?" You shook your head. Most of the blood on you at that moment wasn't yours, thankfully. Beyond a couple of bruises on your wrists from the bindings, and a split lip from a slap, you weren't injured. Your head hurt and you had twisted your ankle in an attempt to escape but it was nothing you couldn't handle.

"Who were they?" You asked in a shaky voice as you tried to stand up. You winced in pain as you put weight on your injured foot, but Geralt caught you in his arms before you lost your balance.

"Trust me, you're not going to like the answer to that."

A collective sigh was heard as you and Geralt entered the war room, where the king and queen were coordinating a rescue party with some soldiers and half of the suitors present at the banquet. It was a sigh of surprise rather than relief. It was clear that no one expected to see you there, much less with the disheveled appearance you had. 

Your mother was the first to react, running up to you with tears in her eyes. Although she couldn't bring herself to hug you, the blood that stained your ball gown was still fresh, so she settled for holding your cheeks in her hands while repeating over and over again how happy she was that you were safe. Your father reacted by sending the guards to arrest Geralt as his worried mind believed that the witcher somehow had something to do with your kidnapping. You had to stand between them, taking your savior's hand in yours to make your position clear. 

"What you imply is ridiculous! He saved me, father. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him." you stated firmly, keeping your head held high and holding back tears in your eyes. 

"He very well could still be behind all this. He's a witcher who wasn't officially invited to the festivities and conveniently vanished in the middle of the night without a word. No one can attest to him but that bard..."

"No offense, your majesty, but I just felt as though the situation was not being treated with the necessary urgency." Geralt interjected, speaking in a calm and slightly defiant tone. "I knew for a fact that she couldn't be far away and that time was of the essence, but everyone at that feast seemed more interested in proving themselves worthy of glory and respect than saving your daughter's life. I just did what had to be done."

"How dare you speak that way about these noble men, witcher! Any one of them would be more than willing to give his life for my daughter!"

"He is right, father. If you want to find a culprit, you should direct your gaze to Lord Einar."

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him. But his gaze was focused on you, staring at you with a fury you didn't know if the others were able to detect. He took a step forward and you tightened your grip on Geralt's hand, instinctively seeking his support. He stuck to your side, silently letting you know that he was ready to come between him and you if necessary —though he seriously doubted that Einar would be stupid enough to try to hurt you in front of the king.

"This is absurd!" Lord Einar complained with exaggerated outrage. "I will not allow myself to be disrespected in this way! I was invited to this feast to formalize my interest in the princess, which is greater than that of anyone in this room, if I may add. Have you forgotten that it was I who noticed the princess's strange disappearance? If I had not gone out to look for her, perhaps the news of her disappearance would have come too late. And may I remind you, your majesty, that it was I who first offered my services to bring her back safe and sound."

"That was the plan, wasn't it?" Geralt spoke through gritted teeth. "To pay some coins to a bunch of desperate bastards to take her so that you could rescue her and thus win her and the king's heart."

"I will not allow this... thing to disrespect me like this!"

"Your scent was on their clothes. Your name was the last thing they uttered before I slit their throats. You knew you didn't stand a chance with her, so you found a way to force your name to the top of the list."

Intimidated by Geralt's cold, hard stare, Lord Einar turned to look at the king. "These are nothing more than baseless accusations made by someone who clearly wants to distract us from his own guilt and involvement." he said, keeping his head held high as he lied through his teeth. "I beg you, my king, to consider punishment for this insolent witcher."

"Is this proof enough for you?" you snapped, tossing an object on the table. 

After the bandits were dead, Geralt had searched their bodies for some kind of proof that their words were true. That's how he had found a ring in the pocket of one of them that clearly didn't belong to them. It was made of a fine metal and in the center, engraved in gold, was the seal of a noble family: the Blakesley family.

The ring rolled against the dark wood, exposing Lord Einar's lies with each flick of the ring before the gaze of all present. There was nothing he could say to avoid the punishment that was coming, so when your father gave the order and the guards took him by force, he decided to take his rage out on you. His voice echoed through the corridors as he was escorted to the dungeon, shouting a string of insults at you. He questioned your honor and your ability as a ruler, claiming that he only wanted to marry you to ensure that the kingdom would not perish when your father died. 

Those were nothing more than the words of an unstable man who was filled with spite, angered by your rejection. You knew it meant nothing, but you still couldn't help but feel humiliated as he shouted all those things in front of so many people. Your eyes filled with tears and you clung to Geralt almost instinctively, hiding your face in his neck so no one would see you cry. He wrapped his arms around you, ignoring the very unfriendly looks that several of the men in the room gave him. 

Your mother ordered the room to be emptied, realizing that the crowd was doing nothing to help your condition. The last thing you needed at that moment was to feel watched and judged by a bunch of people, so she personally closed the doors behind the last guard to leave the room.

"You should take a long bath, my love. I'll send someone to prepare the tub and clean clothes for you. That will certainly make you feel better." Your mother spoke in a soft voice, placing a hand on your back. "And you, witcher, are more than welcome to stay tonight. I'll have a room prepared for you and bring you some clean clothes. We can talk more in the morning."

You gave your mother a smile as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, trying to convince her that you were fine. She knew you weren't, but she also knew you well enough not to push you at that moment. So she left the room without adding anything else, leaving you alone with Geralt once again.

"Thank you... for everything." Your voice broke the silence, your eyes traveling from the door to Geralt's face. "I just realized I didn't thank you yet." 

"You don't have to." He didn't need to hear it from your mouth, he could see in your eyes how grateful you were. Your expression hadn't changed much since he had found you, even though you tried hard to hide it, there were still traces of fear and distress in your eyes.

"Of course I have to! You have saved me from a terrible fate, not only at the hands of those bandits, but also at the hands of that... man." There were other words with which you would have liked to describe him, but you decided it was not appropriate for you to utter them. He didn't even deserve that from you. "I'm glad you were dragged here... I don't know what would have become of me without you tonight, Geralt."

The room fell silent as you looked into each other's eyes. You lost yourself in the amber that surrounded his pupils —which seemed to be more dilated, although it could well be an effect of the light, you thought—, trying to discover the secrets hidden in his eyes. Geralt was not easy to read, no matter how hard you tried, you had no idea of the things that could be going through his head at that moment. And yet, there was something in his eyes that calmed you. When he looked back at you, there was a softness in them that invited you to continue to admire them forever. It was a connection unlike anything you had ever felt before. It piqued your curiosity and some other things you didn't quite know how to explain. 

Your hand was still intertwined with Geralt's and you weren't entirely sure for how long. Although you weren't complaining, you found the warmth of his skin against yours extremely comforting. It made you feel less alone, less vulnerable. You trusted him with your life, you knew that as long as he was around nothing bad could happen to you. And boy did you need that at that moment. You were still quite affected by everything that had happened and the idea of being alone terrified you. You needed company, but not just anyone. You needed his company.

"Would you mind escorting me to my chambers?" you broke the silence, clearing your throat to make sure your voice sounded firm. "My foot still hurts a little and I wouldn't want to fall down the stairs."

It was a foolish excuse. You knew it. Geralt knew it. The twisted foot you got while struggling with your captors was not a cause for concern. It hurt a little, yes, but you could still walk normally. All you wanted was an excuse not to be separated from Geralt and luckily for you, he played along. He allowed you to take his arm for stability and walked with you to your quarters. You appreciated his proximity, enjoying the feel of his body pressed against yours as his warmth enveloped you. But unfortunately it only seemed to aggravate his absence when he pulled away from you, willing to leave you alone so you could rest.

Your hand closed around his arm almost as an unwilling reflex. Your body craved his closeness. Your mind needed his company to be at ease. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't let Geralt leave. Not tonight at least. His eyes lingered on your hand, admiring how small it appeared when compared to his arm, before he looked up into your eyes, searching your expression for an explanation.

"Stay, please." Your voice was almost a whisper. Your eyes had trouble making eye contact with him for the first time since you had met. Geralt knew then that you were embarrassed of uttering those words. "I need you. I... I don't want to be alone tonight."

"Are you sure?" He said after a few seconds of silence, his expression firm but gentle. You nodded, looking at him with pleading eyes as you released his arm from your grip. Geralt sighed and finally crossed the threshold of the door, closing it behind him. 

Geralt allowed you to guide him across the room to a door that hid a large private bathtub on the other side. It was already filled with water and salts, ready for you to use it. Everything smelled of you, of that delicious combination of jasmine and vanilla that Geralt found so special. It was intoxicating, like he was breathing in your scent straight from the source. 

"Would you mind helping me with the lace?" Your voice brought him back to reality. Geralt watched as you turned around, gathering your hair over one of your shoulders to expose your back to him so he could unfasten your dress. He knew it was inappropriate and that he was probably breaking some rule —not to mention, taking advantage of the king's hospitality—, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Not when you were offering yourself to him like that.

Geralt's hands caressed your back first, his fingers slowly tracing a path from your shoulders to where the lacing of your dress ended. You closed your eyes, holding your breath as you felt him slowly loosen your dress. You could feel his imposing figure towering over you. He was so close that you could hear his breathing and feel the heat radiating from his body. You liked the proximity, probably more than you should.

When Geralt finished his work and your dress began to slide down your shoulders, you knew you should have been embarrassed. You were used to being naked in front of servants, but they were always women you trusted, handmaidens who had taken care of you since you were little and helped you dress or bathe. You had never been so exposed in front of a man before and you should definitely feel ashamed, but you were not. You simply let the dress fall to your feet and stepped into the tub as if there was no man present.

The water was warm and the tub was deep enough to hide your modesty if you sat in the right position. The dim candlelight also helped, though ultimately you really didn't mind feeling Geralt's gaze on your body.

"Join me, please. The water's nice and there's room enough for both of us."

Your curious eyes unashamedly traced the muscles of his arms and torso as he revealed himself to you. You noticed the scars that marked his skin, some smaller and some larger, and you couldn't help but wonder what the stories behind them were. Geralt was an exceptional man, unlike anyone you had ever met in your life. He was so rigid and reserved, and yet he had shown nothing but kindness and gentleness in your presence. He was a mystery and you wanted nothing more than to discover what he hid behind those beautiful amber eyes.

Out of respect —and some embarrassment—, you looked away as his hands undid the buttons of his pants. You focused your attention on the jasmine petals floating in the water, feeling your cheeks grow warm as a small voice in your head encouraged you to look up. 

Geralt settled next to you in the tub, avoiding being too close or sitting in front of you so that you wouldn't feel uncomfortable or self-conscious in his presence. However, you needed his closeness, so you shortened the distance as much as you could, pressing your arm against his. When he didn't complain, you went a step further and rested your head on his shoulder. Geralt stood still for a moment, debating once again whether his actions were appropriate, but in the end he relaxed. 

He put his arm around your shoulders, effectively pulling you closer to him. A smile formed on your lips as you adjusted yourself in the new position, hiding your face in his neck. Geralt's fingers traced soft lines on the skin of your arm, a caress that both relaxed and excited you. That kind of intimacy was something new to you. Feeling his naked skin against yours, inhaling that musky scent mixed with something you couldn't describe as anything but his own essence, feeling the soft caresses of his calloused fingers, everything made you feel a certain way inside. You didn't have the exact words to describe it. It was like a flame, a warmth spreading through you that was both comforting and exciting. Ultimately, you didn't care about being able to put a name to what you felt. You just wanted to stay close to Geralt for as long as you were allowed.

Without even realizing it, your hand traveled up to his chest, your curious fingers tracing the jagged lines that marked his skin. You used the scars as a map to his body, letting them guide your path as you explored his chest with your touch. And as your fingers moved, you imagined the heroic stories behind each one, wondering what kind of monsters had inflicted them and if there were any that were human-made.

"I wonder how many princesses you've saved to end up like this." You broke the silence, your voice soft as you got lost in thought. It was mostly a joke, but there was some genuine curiosity hidden in it. 

"Surprisingly, less than you're probably imagining."

You didn't quite know why, but hearing Geralt say that put a smile on your lips. It made you feel special, in a way. He hadn't been hired to save you —technically he hadn't even been invited to the party—, he had no obligation to you or your family, and yet he had risked his life to help you. There was something in you that awakened in him his noblest instincts.

"I'm sure that's what you tell everyone." You laughed, looking up at him from your position on his shoulder. You could admire his profile, his sharp jawline and the way his lips curved upward slightly as he let out a huff.

"Often delicate young women like you find my methods to be too... grotesque. They don't see me as being much different from the monsters I kill." Geralt spoke honestly, remembering the horrified expressions on the faces of the maidens he had sought to save from danger in his past, when he had little experience as a witcher. He was young and naive at the time and believed he could use his skills for more than just hunting monsters. After all, evil came in all shapes and sizes, even in humans. It didn't take him long to understand that humans didn't see a knight of noble spirit when he intervened in such situations, only a mutant designed to kill.

You noticed his thoughtful expression, his eyes looking straight ahead as if his mind was transporting him to another place. You wondered what kind of memories he might have swirling around in his head at that moment, outraged to think that someone could treat him badly after he saved their life. You admitted that he had quite an imposing figure and that his expression wasn't very friendly most of the time, but you still couldn't understand how anyone could be afraid of him. Even before he saved you —when he was just a stranger who took the time to listen to your problems— you saw nothing threatening in him. His beautiful yellow eyes inspired nothing but trust in you from the first moment you made contact with them.

“Then they were all fools." You sat up straight, one hand resting on Geralt's cheek to force him to look at you. "I don't understand how anyone could look at you and see danger in you. Even covered in blood, all I see is... safety and comfort." You gave him a small smile as your finger carefully wiped a small spot of blood from his cheek.

"Or maybe you're being naively nice."

Geralt took a cloth that rested on the edge of the tub and dipped it in the warm water. Then one of his hands cupped your chin, tilting your face slightly so he could get a better look at you in the candlelight. The flames danced in the air, creating shadows on your delicate skin. But even in the dim light he could still see the splashes of blood that stained your beautiful face. They made such a contrast that it was impossible to ignore them. The implication of such a violent act had no place on the delicate face of a princess like you. He hated to see the scratch on your lip, the dirt on your cheeks, the dried blood on your skin. You should not have been subjected to such horrors and he wanted to do everything in his power to erase the evidence from your body. So Geralt took the trouble to wipe the blood away, carefully running the wet cloth over your skin until it was all gone.

You remained silent as he worked on you, completely immobile while you watched him closely. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, but his expression was gentle. His hands moved delicately over your skin, as if he was afraid of breaking you if he wasn't careful. You could barely feel the cloth brushing against your cheek from how slow and gentle Geralt was being. But his fingers... his fingers were another story.

They were warm against your skin, caressing every little spot the cloth passed through to soothe any possible irritation the fabric might arouse. They awakened a tingling sensation as they traveled down your face. When they reached your neck, you knew that Geralt could feel the accelerated pulsing of your heart against his fingertips. It was impossible that he couldn't when you could hear the beating in your ears yourself. His hands felt so big against your neck. If he wanted to hurt you, he could probably do it with just one hand. That should have scared you, considering he was a man you barely knew, but it didn't. You knew he wasn't going to hurt you, not when he caressed the sensitive skin of your neck and collarbones with such gentleness.

"Maybe I'm naive," you broke the silence, your voice barely more audible than a whisper. "But I honestly don't think a mutant designed to kill, as you say, would go to the trouble of caring for me the way you are doing."

Geralt's eyes looked up at you, that intriguing yellow you loved so much capturing you in a transe. They were calling you, daring you to dive into the ocean of honey and mystery that was his gaze. And you obeyed without the slightest resistance, letting your heart take the reins of your body. You leaned towards him, slowly. His hands were still on your neck, but he didn't use them to stop you. On the contrary, he leaned towards you too and when your lips finally collided, he used his grip on your jaw to deepen the kiss.

The kiss started slow, a quick brush of your lips as you finally let yourselves indulge in your deepest desires. But as you became more comfortable in each other's arms, the kiss intensified. You let Geralt guide you, knowing that he would undoubtedly have more experience than you. You surrendered to his lips and the caresses of his tongue, giving yourself to him completely as you struggled to keep up with him. 

That wasn't your first kiss, however, it was the first kiss that felt like this, so... intense, passionate. You barely remembered the boy who had given you your first kiss, but you knew you would remember Geralt for the rest of your life. You didn't know how he did it, but the simple touch of his lips and the strokes of his fingers on your skin turned you to mush between his hands. You had never felt anything like it before and you didn't want to stop. But despite your protests, Geralt suddenly pulled away from you.

"What are you doing?" He didn't sound annoyed or confused, more concerned. 

"I'm taking control of my life." You leaned into him once more and Geralt accepted your kiss, his desperate lips demonstrating his true intentions. He let his desires consume him for a moment before regaining control over his body and pulling away from you again.

"Are you sure?" It wasn't that he wanted to stop, but the voice of morality in the back of his mind compelled him to make sure you wanted the same. He needed to know that he wasn't taking advantage of you, that you weren't throwing yourself into his arms as a result of your vulnerable state after the attack.

"For as long as I can remember, I have always dreamed of meeting a noble prince who would protect me from danger. We would fall in love and live a long and happy life together after our marriage. Now I know that is impossible. I cannot choose who I marry. I cannot choose to marry for love. There's nothing I can do to change it, that's just the way things work." You paused, your hands reaching for Geralt's to entwine your fingers. "But I can still choose who to give myself to, body and soul, for the first time... and you're the closest thing I have to that fantasy."

There was a sadness in your eyes that made Geralt feel bad for you. He didn't know you very well, but he knew you deserved better than a future you didn't want. The inability to choose your own path in life was something that seemed to affect you greatly, and if he was able to bring you some peace he was willing to do so. But the tub full of dirty water was not the place for it, much less considering it would be your first experience of something like that. 

"Speak freely." You said after a few seconds of unbearable silence. "If you don't want to be with me because you don't like me I'll understand. But please don't turn me down just because you think you're guarding my honor or something. I want this... I want you."

Those last words seemed to do the trick, because Geralt's lips joined yours once again. Only this time the kiss was different, much slower and more sensual, though just as desperate. His lips moved in time with yours, tongues intertwined in a sinful dance as Geralt allowed his hands to slowly explore your body. His fingers ignited flames on your skin in their path, pleasure and anticipation building inside you. 

The water in the tub swirled violently as Geralt lifted you into his arms, moving you to sit on his lap as if you weighed nothing. You clung to his shoulders for support, feeling his fingers dig into the sensitive skin of your hips. But it didn't hurt, at least not in a bad way. It was a pleasant ache that made you feel alive. Just like his kisses, which trailed down your jaw to your neck, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin. 

Geralt's kisses continued their way down and you couldn't help but buck your hips against his when his lips closed over your nipple. You pushed your chest into him instinctively, giving yourself to him as one of your hands got lost in his hair. Pure pleasure traveled through your veins as his tongue played with your breasts, giving attention to one before moving on to the other. He held you tightly against his body, one strong arm stretched across your back while the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his growing erection. 

You both moaned as your cunt made contact with his cock. The sensation you felt when the tip brushed against your little bundle of nerves was unlike anything you had ever felt before. The pleasure was much more intense, much more raw. You could feel it spreading through your body and into your bones. So, naturally, you sought it again, creating a rhythm that had you panting in no time. 

You were forced to stop when Geralt suddenly stood up, carrying you in his arms. Your moan of pleasure turned into a cry of surprise, the water in the tub moving violently, flooding the room as he moved towards the exit. You clung to his shoulders, afraid of falling, as you asked him what he was doing.

"We can't do it here. It has to be done properly, in a bed where you’ll be comfortable, and not in a bathtub full of filthy water."

You couldn't help but smile to yourself as you understood the meaning of his words. Once again, Geralt was looking after you, worrying about you and your well-being more than any other man in your life had ever done. He wanted to make things right, to make sure that your first sexual encounter was a positive experience. And while he wasn't exactly the man you had imagined doing it with, he was quite close to it. Every thing he said, every gesture he made to you, made you feel more confident in your decision.

Geralt carefully laid you down on the bed, making sure you were comfortable before continuing his assault on your body. He kissed you again and, as you let his tongue explore your mouth, you couldn't help but think how much bigger he felt now that he was leaning over you. He had one arm on either side of your head, holding himself up so he wouldn't crush you with his weight. One of his toned legs rested in between yours, keeping you open and exposed to him. You were essentially trapped under his body, completely at his mercy, and you liked it.

The pleasure building up inside you was starting to feel too overwhelming. As much as you enjoyed Geralt's wet kisses, you needed more. You needed relief. So you pushed your hips into him once more, seeking that intoxicating pleasure you'd felt in the bathtub. Your wet pussy slid easily up his thigh and a wave of pleasure coursed through your body. 

"Fuck!" Geralt moaned as he felt your wetness trickling down his leg. You looked so sensual moving your hips against him with adoring desperation, struggling to find some relief. The little moans that fell from your lips in between ragged breaths drove him crazy, making it difficult for him to control his instincts. He had to be gentle with you, it was your first time and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't pin you down and fuck you until your legs shook.

"Tell me, princess, have you ever touched yourself?" Geralt spoke against your skin as his lips continued their path of wet kisses down your body. "Perhaps when you were alone at night, hidden in the darkness of your chambers."

It took you a few seconds to process Geralt's words, your mind distracted with the way his kisses slowly trailed down your chest, barely pausing on your breasts before continuing to travel down. It made your body tremble with anticipation, wondering what he was up to. He was watching you from his position on your abdomen, lips barely pulling away from your skin so he could observe your face more comfortably, waiting for an answer. The color of his eyes had darkened, the yellow glowing like the flames of the candles that lit the room. There was hunger in them. Geralt was looking at you like a wolf at its prey. You couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, managing to answer him with a simple negative shake of your head. 

"So you don't know what real pleasure feels like, huh?" You weren't sure if it was a question for you, but you shook your head again anyway. You felt Geralt's lips curving into a smile against the sensitive skin of your lower belly and a shiver ran down your spine when you heard his next words. "I'm going to change that."

Despite the firmness in his voice, Geralt was slow and gentle with each movement he made next. He was careful to position himself between your legs, pushing them open and revealing your most secret part to his hungry gaze. He noticed almost immediately the way you tensed with embarrassment, feeling vulnerable, so he was quick to spread sweet kisses on your right thigh, while gently caressing the skin of your left. He could smell the scent of your arousal with every breath he took. It was intoxicating, the sweet nectar he had been waiting to taste all this time. But first he had to make sure you were comfortable. He was there to pleasure you, nothing mattered if you didn't enjoy it.

"It's okay, my sweet. You don't have to be ashamed, you're beautiful." He spoke against your skin, his voice a raspy, sensual, whisper. "I have to get you ready for my cock, all right? This will feel so good, I promise. But if it doesn't, I want you to tell me, can you do that?" You nodded, but that wasn't enough for him. "I need you to use your words."

"Yes, Geralt, I will."

"Good."

Geralt gave you a few seconds to relax before diving into your cunt, spreading wet kisses down your inner thighs as he got closer and closer to the place where you needed him most. When his tongue finally made contact with the sweet nectar trickling down your folds, he let out a sound that vibrated in his chest with force. All hint of self-control disappeared then, buried under the primal desire that the taste of your arousal awakened in him.

He ate you like a starving man, his tongue exploring your most intimate place with expert skill. Your hips jolted as his lips closed over your small bundle of nerves, your whole body convulsing as you felt pleasure like you had never felt before. It was so intense it was almost too much. It scared you in a way, as it felt like your own body didn't respond to you —like it didn't belong to you. It belonged to Geralt now, and only responded to the stimulation he gave your body.  You were torn between the need to pull away from his entrancing lips —which were no doubt uttering some spell to claim ownership of your innocence— and your body's carnal desire to surrender to his clever tricks in order to continue to feel such pure pleasure.

"Does it feel good, princess?" Geralt spoke between your legs, his warm breath crashing against your pussy and sending shivers down your spine. 

"Yes! So good... please don't stop." You didn't recognize your own voice as you spoke. It sounded raspy from all the moaning, and there was a hint of desperation you'd never heard in yourself before. It wasn't the first time you had begged someone for something you wanted, but it was the first time you actually meant it.

"I won't, I promise. I'm here to make you feel good." Geralt assured between slow, long licks, focusing his attention on your clit before continuing. "But if you're going to take my cock, I'll need to stretch your tight hole." You tensed again and once more he used his strategy of stroking and kissing your thighs to calm you down. You knew that penetration was an important part of the whole thing and you were ready to face it, but still, the unknown scared you a little. "I'm going to insert a finger inside you, is that all right my sweet? It might feel a little uncomfortable at first, but I promise it will feel great afterwards. But first I have to know that you still want this."

"Yes, Geralt, I want this. I trust you, please." You gave him a shy smile, looking at him with complete admiration. He saw the desire in your eyes, mixed with anticipation and a hint of fear. But you were confident in your decision, so he continued.

"Relax, I'm going to take care of you." He murmured against your skin, his kisses slowly moving closer to your wet cunt. "Just focus on the pleasure."

Geralt's voice echoed in your mind, your body obeying his commands as if he had cast a spell over you that left you with no other choice. You focused on the fire burning inside you, on the skillful way he flicked his tongue against your abused bundle of nerves and on the knot in your stomach that tightened with each passing second. You tried not to tense up as you felt Geralt's finger press against your entrance, biting your lip and taking deep breaths to calm your nerves. His tongue was doing a good job of distracting you, but you could still feel the slightly painful drag of his finger inside you. 

"You're doing so well for me." Geralt complimented you, keeping his finger still inside you to give you time to get used to the new sensation. You couldn't hide how much it pleased you to hear those words, because your walls clenched around his finger, revealing your deepest desires. Geralt grunted against your pussy, fantasizing about how good your tight hole would feel around his cock. 

It took you a moment to get used to the strange sensation of his intrusion. It wasn't painful exactly, mostly uncomfortable since your walls weren't used to stretching like that. But eventually the discomfort faded into pleasure, bringing new sensations as he slowly began to move his finger inside you. 

Your moans became uncontrollable, increasing in volume with each of Geralt's caresses. If you weren't so wrapped up in your own pleasure, you would have worried about the possibility of being overheard by some servant or guard walking down the corridor. You knew it might potentially ruin your reputation, but you couldn't focus on anything other than the way Geralt's long, thick finger stretched you, making you feel full in the most pleasurable way possible. 

"Geralt I-" You tried to speak, but the air caught in your throat as you felt the knot in your stomach becoming incredibly tight, threatening to snap.

"I know, my sweet, I know." Geralt interrupted you as he noticed your trouble forming coherent sentences. He could sense you were getting close to relief in the way your walls tightened around his finger, your juices dripping down your legs and soaking his hand. "Just let yourself go. I've got you."

Geralt added another finger inside you, stretching your walls even further. He was careful, his movements slow and precise as he both prepared you for his cock and brought you closer to the edge. His mouth focused on your clit, his lips closing around your sensitive pearl as his fingers explored your insides, reaching that spongy place deep inside you and rubbing it until your whole body shuddered with your orgasm.

It felt like your insides exploded, the tension that had been building in your core suddenly snapping as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body. Your mind went blank, eyes rolling back as Geralt did his best to hold back the violent spasms of your muscles. 

And then your body fell limp on the sheets. You could barely hear the world around you over your racing heartbeat that throbbed in your ears. You knew Geralt was muttering things against your skin as he kissed his way back up, but your mind was too lost in the pleasure to make sense of his words. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, your body desperate for oxygen as it struggled to regain control.

"There you are!" Geralt gave you a soft smile as you opened your eyes, his face slowly coming into focus on your clouded vision. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine! That was..." you paused, searching for the words to describe it. Although explaining your feelings proved to be more difficult than you expected. You were convinced that there were no words in any language you knew to describe what he had made you feel. So you let out an airy laugh, hiding your face in his neck and spreading small kisses over his skin.

"Do you still want to go through with this?" Geralt asked you, pulling away from you a little so he could look into your eyes. You kissed him back, tasting the sweet flavor of your arousal on his tongue. It was strangely erotic for you to feel your own essence on him, like a mark that, though temporary, showed to whom his lips belonged. It sent a rush of desire and confidence through your body, igniting the fire inside you once more.

The pressure of his cock was nothing like his fingers. While the stretching sensation was not completely foreign to you, Geralt's cock was much longer and thicker than his fingers so it hurt a lot more when he began to push it into you. The mixture of your arousal and his saliva helped his member slide more easily through your walls, but you still couldn't hold back the whine of pain, which vibrated against Geralt's lips. 

"It's all right... you're all right. Just a little more." He crooned as he rested his forehead against yours. His fingers caressed the skin of your hip, giving you comfort as you clung to his shoulders. "You're doing so good for me, my sweet." His voice was soft, but erratic, laced with the clear pleasure that sliding so torturously slow inside your tight walls brought him. 

Geralt remained immobile once he bottomed out, spreading kisses all over your face and neck as he gave you time to adjust to his size. It was the hardest task he had ever had to do in his life. Facing any monster was easier than staying still when your warm, wet walls wrapped around him so well. He was desperate to move, pull out of you almost completely only to slam back in, thrusting his hips against yours as he pinned you against the bed. But it was your first time, so he had to be gentle with you. You weren't ready for that kind of rough loving, so Geralt pushed his dark desires aside and waited for you to give him the signal to move. 

After a while, your moans of discomfort turned into whimpers of protest, not from pain, but from the growing fire inside you that wasn't being tended to. You experimentally moved your hips against Geralt's, just to see what it would feel like. It was a small movement, but it was enough to push his cock deeper inside you, sparking a pleasurable tingling sensation that spread throughout your body. So you did it again, moving with more confidence this time. And again, only this time, Geralt met you halfway, grinding his hips against yours.

Your walls tightened around his cock and the growl that escaped his lips was so deep and primal that it almost pushed you over the edge once more. Something about knowing that you were the cause of those moans, that your body, your pussy, your caresses, were responsible for such reactions was so arousing. Knowing that even though you were inexperienced you were able to elicit such pleasure in him made you feel more comfortable and confident. You were turning his world upside down as much as he was turning yours.

"You look so beautiful like this." Geralt said as he slightly increased the rhythm of his hips. "So small and fragile underneath me, eyes filled with lust as you try your best to take me in your tight hole." 

You moaned into his mouth, desperately searching his lips for something to keep you grounded as pleasure took over your body and mind. Your cunt clenched at his words, finding the mix of softness and roughness in his action incredibly arousing. His hips moved against yours in a consistent and deep, yet slow and sensual rhythm. His calloused fingers roamed over your body, caressing you in such a subtle way that it gave you goosebumps. His filthy words perfectly balanced flattery and roughness, awakening feelings you didn't know you had. It was all a dangerous, overwhelming mix, slowly getting to you close to the edge.

"Does it feel good? Do you like feeling me deep inside you?" You could only moan incoherently in response, hiding your face in the crook of Geralt's neck as your nails dug into his back. "I like it too. You feel so good wrapped around me, my perfect princess."

"Yes, I'm yours! I'm all yours, please..." You begged, for what, you weren't sure. But that didn't really matter, you just wanted Geralt to do whatever he wanted with you. You knew there was no future in your relationship, but this was no time to think about tomorrow. At that moment you were giving yourself body and soul to him, allowing him permission to use and explore your body as he wished.

"Yes you are, but not just for tonight." Geralt moaned in your ear, his voice a deep hoarse whisper. He sucked a mark just below your earlobe, nibbling the sensitive area playfully before continuing to speak. "You will always remember this night and think of me when your future husband takes you to bed on your wedding night. He's not going to compare to me... to how good I'm making you feel. But that's fine, because at least you had a chance to know what it feels like to be adored like you truly deserve, my princess."

"Fuck, Geralt! I'm-" Your warning was interrupted by a moan as you felt him sink his teeth into the sensitive skin of your neck at the same time he pushed his member incredibly deep inside you.

"I know, I can feel you squeezing me so tight. It's alright, just let go for me, my sweet. I want to feel you as you come undone on my cock." 

His hand traveled south, calloused fingers pressing against your abused bundle of nerves, drawing circles over it. The way your pussy clenched around his cock made it hard to focus, his own orgasm approaching with alarming speed. But he kept a steady rhythm, his hips moving in a slow, sensual way to make sure his cock brushed that special place inside you without causing you any pain.

"That's it, keep making those pretty notices for me. You're doing so good for me, my beautiful, perfect, princess. Just let go, I've got you. You're safe with me, just let go."

It was the softness in his husky voice that finally pushed you over the edge, your whole body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. Geralt's name was the last thing you uttered before the world around you disappeared behind the waves of pleasure. It was a pathetic whimper, a plea for mercy as you felt frightened by the sheer intensity of your orgasm. Geralt was sure he had never heard a more sensual melody. The way you had uttered his name just before the pleasure exploded inside you was something he was never going to forget.

"That's it, my sweet. You did such a good job for me." He complimented you, slowing down the rhythm of his hips to give you time to recover. "You're alright. I'm here, I've got you. Just breathe... that's it." 

Geralt's voice helped you refocus on the real world, his sweet kisses slowly lifting the fog that clouded your mind. You could still feel him inside you, his cock throbbing desperate for relief. The shallow thrusts weren't enough and you needed to feel him falling apart inside you. You needed to know what it felt like to have a man —and especially him— come inside you. And you knew it was safe with him since witchers were incapable of fathering children as a result of their mutations.

"Geralt, please... I want to feel you." You managed to say between gasps, locking your legs around his hips to keep him in place, pressed inside you. He let out a deep growl as he understood the meaning behind your words, his eyes darkening with lust. You were definitely going to be the death of him.

"Of course, my sweet, how could I deny you anything?" He murmurs against your lips, slowly increasing the rhythm of his hips. "You want to feel my seed deep inside you, is that it? You want me to fill you up, leave a part of me inside you so you won't miss me so much when I'm gone?"

His words alone were enough to ignite that flame inside you again. Your body was tired, but still screamed for more. Geralt's thrusts became erratic with each passing second, desperate to reach his own relief. And in the search for his pleasure he was taking you with him to a new limit. 

"I will give it to you, my princess. I will give you all of me. I could never deny you anything, my sweet, beautiful girl."

His sweet words contrasted with the harshness of his movements, hips crashing against yours in desperate thrusts. He was getting closer to his relief and he could feel in the way your cunt clenched around his cock that you were too. His thumb focused on your clit once more, one, two, three strokes accompanied by his thrusts and you were crying his name again. But he didn't get to enjoy much of the way you tightened around him, because he came seconds later, shooting his load deep inside you.

Geralt collapsed on top of you, his body crushing you against the bed as you both tried to catch your breath. But even though he was much bigger than you, it wasn't an uncomfortable position. The weight of his body felt comforting against yours. You liked the way he hid his face in your neck, breathing heavily against your sweaty skin. It gave you the opportunity to stroke his back and run your fingers through his hair. It felt intimate, in a completely different way than the sex you'd just had. 

You whined in protest as he rolled to the side, feeling the mixture of your arousal and his sliding down your legs now that his cock had left you. It was a strange sensation to feel empty without him inside you. You didn't know such a feeling was possible, for you that used to be normal, the only way to feel. But now that you had had Geralt buried deep inside you, that you had felt his seed filling you to the brim, you would always be aware of that strange emptiness between your legs.

"How are you feeling?" you heard him say and you struggled to open your eyes, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion. He was standing at the foot of the bed, a cloth in his hand, and you wondered when he had moved from your side without you noticing.

"Great! That was... great." You mumbled, still unable to find an adequate word to describe how good he had made you feel.

Geralt gave you a small smile before lowering his face to your legs, placing small kisses on your skin as he moved closer and closer to your center. "Open up for me, my princess. I need to clean you." 

You reluctantly complied, feeling much more exposed and vulnerable now that the deed was done. However, he was gentle with you, moving carefully as he cleaned you so as not to irritate your sensitive, abused cunt. And when he was done, he kissed his way down your face, caressing your skin with his lips, culminating his journey in your mouth.

"What about you?" you tried to sound casual as you spoke, though you failed miserably. "Was it... good for you too?" You immediately regretted your choice of words, worrying that you had ruined the moment.

"I thought I had been quite clear if not with my words, with my actions at least." Geralt let out an airy laugh and you followed suit, feeling a little more relieved. 

Then the room fell into silence. It wasn't an awkward or uncomfortable one, but a peaceful one. You got lost in Geralt's eyes, admiring the yellow glow that was much softer now, though just as captivating. The candlelight reflected in them in a special way, highlighting their unique beauty. You could stare at them for hours if it weren't for the tiredness that was slowly beginning to take hold of you. 

You didn't realize you had closed your eyes until you felt Geralt move beside you. You stopped feeling the weight of his body on the bed, so you opened your eyes immediately. Your hand flew to his arm, fingers closing around his wrist. "Please don't go," you begged as you saw that he had sat up in bed. "I want you to stay with me tonight."

Geralt smiled, the corners of his lip curving slightly upward as he reached out with his free arm to grab the blanket that had been left forgotten at the foot of the bed. His eyes lowered to your hand and his expression turned hard as he noticed the ligature marks on your skin. He hated to know the horrible treatment that someone as delicate and beautiful as you had to go through at the hands of those bandits. Even though he had rescued you before something even worse happened to you, as he looked at the marks on your wrists he feared he had not been quick enough.

Noticing the change in his expression, your eyes followed Geralt's gaze with curiosity. You felt embarrassed when you realized what he was looking at with such intensity and released his grip on his arm, seeking to hide your injured wrist. But he didn't let you. Geralt intertwined his fingers with yours and brought your hand to his lips. His eyes didn't break contact with you as he scattered delicate kisses over the irritated area of your wrist, showing you that you had nothing to be ashamed of with him.

"I'm not going anywhere if you don't want me to, my princess. I'm here to serve you tonight." Geralt said as he lay down next to you once again, covering you both with the blanket.

You took advantage of his words and his desire to please you by curling up against him, resting your head on his chest. Geralt wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you even tighter against his body as he let his fingers trace invisible patterns on your skin. It was extremely relaxing, his gentle touch and the warmth of his body enveloping you was exactly what your tired mind needed to rest. All the fear, the terrifying memories of your attackers and the feeling of danger completely disappeared as he held you in his arms. 

"Good, because I feel safer when I'm in your arms." You mumbled as you closed your eyes, feeling sleep slowly overcome you.

It was hard to say goodbye to Geralt when the time came for him to leave. He had only stayed at the castle for a couple of days at your father's insistence, but that had been more than enough for you to grow fond of him. He was not a very talkative person, but that only made your conversations more interesting. He was intriguing, a closed book that only opened with the pronunciation of the right words. You had fun unraveling some of his history, hearing about his adventures and the monsters he had faced. He was definitely the most interesting man you had ever met - far more interesting and noble than most of the men who were competing for your hand in marriage. And now you had to see him go.

You always knew that your days were numbered, that Geralt would eventually leave and you would have to go back to reality. You thought you could do it, enjoy his company and the illusion of freedom you had created with him and then say goodbye as if nothing happened, but you would be lying if you said you weren't a little sad about his departure. Especially because you didn't know if you would ever see him again. Maybe on your wedding day, if you invited Jaskier to play at the festivities he would bring him as security again. Or perhaps, if the kingdom was haunted by some evil creature he would find his way back to you. But nothing was certain and that made you feel quite sad.

"I guess this is our goodbye." You watched Geralt settle his horse's saddle, tucking away his swords and clutching his bag as he prepared to leave. You tried to hide the grimace of sadness that wanted to form on your face, but the disappointment in your voice betrayed you. "I'll never see you again, will I?"

Geralt stopped what he was doing to look you in the eyes. You could have sworn you saw a glint of sadness in the golden fire of his irises, though it disappeared as he blinked. "It'll probably be a while, yeah." He sighed. "But nothing is set in stone. Maybe the search for a job will bring me back down these roads."

You smiled. Even moments before he left, he was still making an effort to make you feel good. "I'd like that." You took a couple of steps closer to him, taking his hand in yours to feel his skin against yours one last time. "The gates of this castle will always be open to you, Geralt of Rivia. And as long as I am alive, you will always find safe passage through these lands."

"Thank you, your highness. It is an honor." He bowed slightly even though he knew it was not necessary. Formalities had been forgotten between you since your night together. Then, he took your hand and brought it to his mouth. His lips caressed your skin gently, planting a soft kiss of farewell. "Until we meet again."

You held back the urge you had to taste the flavor of his lips one last time, knowing that there were too many eyes around you that would deem such behavior inappropriate. And perhaps they were right, after all, a respectable maiden like you, in search of a husband to marry and rule with, could not be seen kissing anybody. You knew you would probably regret it for the rest of your life —especially if Geralt never stopped by again—, but it was the right thing to do. Your days of freedom were over, now you had to resume your responsibilities as a princess and that meant holding back the urge you had to run after Geralt, get on his horse and let him take you wherever he wanted. So you just watched him leave, seeing how his figure became smaller and smaller on the horizon while you wished with all your soul that fate would cross your path again.

[charmercharm3r]

Dream You

BC

Masterlist

wc: 4k

Synopsis: He cheated on you— in your dreams, then took kiss it better too literally.

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, softdom!chan, light bondage, oral (m receiving), dacryphilia, pretty intensely fluffy they just rly love each other

☆ﾟ

4,000 followers! enjoy this lil idea as a thank you. i appreciate you!

You. Needed. Affection.

Just affection, and loads of it from one person in specific. Mostly because you were pretending to be mad at him and it made you miss him even more. Chan rarely makes you mad, he’s always good about communicating and listening, so the fact that you were mad at him and he didn’t even know why threw him off a little.

So there you were, sat on the couch wrapped in one of his hoodies eating straight out of the ice cream tub because you were too upset to do anything but count the seconds until he got home. You weren’t answering his texts, you picked up his call because you accidentally pressed the wrong button out of muscle memory and Chan could tell through the phone that today was just not a good day.

When he came home and found you sitting in the same spot that you were in when he called you– he knew this because you described it exactly as it looked, Chan almost collapsed at how cute you were. You had this ruffle in your brow and his hoodie looked like it was threatening to drown you in the black material. Gnawing on the spoon, your chest rumbled a little as Chan smiled his dimply smile and reached for the tub of ice cream to take away. “You doing okay, baby?” He chuckled trying to pop the spoon out of your mouth, wriggling it back and forth and swaying your head until you decided to let go.

“No, I’m mad at you,” there wasn’t much bite to the statement.

Chan pecked your forehead and ventured off to put the ice cream away, “oh yeah? Wanna tell me why so I can fix it?” He returned to stand behind you and lean over the back of the couch, wrapping his arms around your neck and nuzzling his cheek into the top of your head.

Upset but still wanting the physical touch, you pulled his arms tighter, “dream you cheated on me.”

He popped his head around the side of yours to come face to face with a look of genuine shock. “Did he?!” Chan hopped over the back of the couch to sit next to you.

“Yeah. I caught you in our bed and everything. Then you broke up with me and posted the bitch on your instagram the next day.” You huffed and pushed him away with no force, turning to lean on the armrest and lay your legs over his lap. Chan rested his head on your knees, looking at you with his big puppy dog eyes that never failed to make you melt.

“I thought I taught him better than that,” he gently scolded. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Is that why you didn’t kiss me back when I left this morning?

You nodded. “And why you weren’t answering my texts?” Another nod. “And why you can’t look at me because you know how ridiculous that sounds?”

You were half way through nodding for a third time when you caught his words, “hey! It’s not ridiculous! It could be a premonition, I could be psychic and get into fortune telling with how accurate I am.”

Chan closed his eyes and let his hands wander up and down your calves, lightly dragging his lips across the bare skin of your knees as he spoke, “mhm, mhm. Or it means that it’s never gonna come true. I like to think that, instead.”

It was getting harder to be mad when the feeling of his breath fanning over your skin made goosebumps rise, he loved watching the way your body reacted to him. It was never hard for him to work you up, physically and emotionally. Chan thrived on the effect he has over you, but it’s a two way street and you live for the way he’d do anything to please you. Even if it means apologizing for something he didn’t really do. In this reality, at least.

You wanted to be mad so bad that you debated on throwing him off you entirely, however his lips were just too plush looking and you craved to feel them on your own. Chan took his time to work them higher up your legs, eventually laying them and sticking his head under the hem of his hoodie you wore. He tugged you to lay flat so he could have more area to trace his pretty lips cross, the thoughts of being upset almost totally dissipating under his touch. Your leg instantly wrapped around his torso, to which he grinded lightly into the cushion. His hair tickled your bare chest as he peppers kisses across your belly, hands roaming your back to keep you near. He didn’t move as sexually as one might’ve thought from an outside perspective, it wasn’t to get into your nonexistent pants, you just got him so horny.

So horny to the point where he would’ve kept grinding against the couch if you didn’t feel like relieving him, he would’ve taken it like a champ if you denied him. You never do, though, as if you had the impulse control to ever tell him no.

Chan kept his movements slow, intentional, with the purpose of getting you to relax and see how much he loves you and how much an asshole dream-him was for cheating on dream-you. Big hands moved down to cup your ass under the fabric of your underwear, teething lightly above your belly button then soothing over the bite with his fat tongue. The wet muscle laved over the sore spots with the tip of his tongue, then flattening it, the tip, then flat again, alternating like he would if it were your pussy and were trying to get you to cum.

You wanted that, you always wanted his tongue on you. But now, you needed this more. The closeness and being able to keep him where only you can love and appreciate.

It felt so stupid to even be thinking that way, stupid that you had pulled such childish acts instead of just telling him in the first place. If you had just asked to be coddled, he would’ve given it to you without a second thought.

Chan needed this as much as you did, little to your knowledge. He could feel how off you were in the morning but really just didn’t have the time to fix it at that moment. It stung his heart hearing what dream-him did to dream-you, he couldn’t possibly imagine putting you through that, let alone move on so quickly if you ever were to actually break up.

No, he couldn’t even bear the thought of leaving you, it hurt too much.

His heart hurt for you, he could see the pain all over your face when he got home and it wasn’t even real life. Chan would rather die than ever let you go through something like that in this reality. In your dreams, well, there isn’t much he can do other than what he’s doing now.

Leaving chaste kisses anywhere along your torso he could, massaging your ass with his nimble fingers while heavily breathing in the scent of your skin. The quiet moans you were trying to suppress made him smile, able to feel your muscles tightening and loosening beneath his fingertips. He felt so warm against you, you wanted to thread your fingers through his hair and tried to from over the hoodie. Chan mumbled incoherently in protest and tugged the hem over his head again when you tried to tug it up.

“Wanna be close to you,” he murmured, going back to rubbing his cheek to your belly. You could only giggle and let him.

This was just Chan. Just purely and entirely him. Doing nothing and everything at the same time and making you melt into the palm of his hand, you’d forgotten why you were mad until he spoke again.

“Can’t believe I’d do that,” the barrier of material made it hard to hear him.

“Hm?” You hummed.

He slithered a little higher up your chest and you pulled the neckline to peak down into the dark shadows of the hoodie. You could see just one of his pretty brown eyes peering up at you sweetly, “who in their right mind would do that to you?”

Chan rested his cheek on your chest and stayed there, arms enclosing around your torso. “Dream-you did. And it really sucked.”

He whined this time, higher in pitch and wiggling to get comfortable. Your head back against the couch, you closed your eyes and let yourself calm down before you got worked up again. Chan could hear your heartbeat speed up, placing another soft kiss to the skin above it. You shivered and draped your arms over the back of his shoulders to succumb entirely to the feeling. Just as you finally relaxed, warmth engulfed your left nipple, wet and hot and being suckled into his mouth like a pacifier. “I’m trying really hard to be mad,” you admit while smiling to yourself, out of his field of vision.

“Please, don’t be,” he pleaded, “I’ll never hurt you. I’ll destroy anyone who tries.” It sounded silly coming from his mouth considering it was full of your tit, you couldn’t help a gentle laugh.

A few more moments of him playing with your breast, then switching to the other with no regard for the wet sounds that emitted from his suckling, you couldn’t take not seeing him anymore. You sat up as much as he’d let you and tucked your arms into the body of the hoodie, pulling your head through the neckline just enough so that the two of you were pressed chest to chest under the material.

It was dark and hot, you weren’t sure how he was able to stand being underneath it for so long. You couldn’t totally see him, but you knew he was looking at you– or at least, attempting to. You felt for his cheeks and held him just millimeters away, feeling his calm breathing over your chin. In almost total darkness, unable to see but could feel each other entirely, he whispered, “you’re safe with me. You’ll always be safe with me.”

You pulled him into you, savoring the fragile way he always tended to kiss you when you were particularly emotional, scared as if he’d break you. Handle with care, your heart said, and he did just that and more. Delicate. Do not touch, written outside the glass case he envisioned you in whenever something went even remotely in the opposite direction you wanted. It wasn’t that you needed the protection, by no means were you unable to handle yourself, but you invoked something in him that he couldn’t control. Fortunately for him, you let him smother you and baby you and wrap you in bubble wrap so tight you couldn’t breathe because it felt good to be seen. It felt good to be loved, and loved by him.

It was getting more and more difficult not to rut your hips against him, any part of him because he made you that insatiable. Chan could feel you trying to restrain and laughed against your lips.

“What if I want you to break me?” He glitched for a second, then went back to kissing you with a little more intensity.

“Then, I’ll just have to put you together again.” You ripped the hoodie away, leaving you naked in his hold aside from the underwear you were soaking through. “And break you, put you together again, and again, and again until you’re begging for me to stop.”

You felt the wave of butterflies flutter right between your legs and caved.

“Fuck– take me to the bedroom.”

Chan stood just to throw you over his shoulder effortlessly, entirely too excited for either of your own good. It wasn’t until now that you noticed he was still in those uncomfortably tight jeans he left in this morning, your mouth watered at the timely prospect of getting him out of them. You just couldn’t stop yourself from sending a light smack to his ass as he walked through the bedroom door, and he reciprocated with an even harder one to the bare skin of your own.

He laid you down gently just to cover your body with his own once again, not letting you strip him without your tongues laving against one another's. His shirt came off first, tossing it towards the headboard, your underwear, then his pants. Chan stopped you from reaching for his underwear so he could tease you, barely tugging the elastic down his hips and letting his erection catch in the fabric until he finally let it slap against his lower belly erotically.

Chan let them fall to the floor before kneeling tall onto the bed, “turn around,” he instructed. You followed and faced the headboard, seeing him reach around for his discarded shirt. Just barely could you feel his hot breath against your neck, “are you sure this is what you want tonight, baby?”

You hummed with desperation, “break me. Lovingly, please.”

Leaving a small peck to your cheek for reassurance, Chan grabbed your arms harshly and brought them behind your back. He used his forgotten shirt as a makeshift restraint, keeping you bound and tied up with no way of being able to touch him, you wondered what it was he had in store that required it.

Once he finished he sat opposite of you, falling on his back and watching the process of your mouth watering over seeing him in the perfect cock-sucking position. The redness of his tip, you would’ve thought it was painful if you didn’t know better. No, that’s a lie– it was painful. Painful watching you be so pretty and worked up and he was fighting the urge with everything in him not to untie you and lay you in the sheets like the pillow princess you so rarely got to be.

But it wasn’t what you wanted. What you wanted was to not think, be serviced and be of service, used to please. Tonight needed to end with you feeling weightless and not an ounce of sadness or anger left lingering to be found.

“Break you lovingly?” Chan called, tucking an arm under his head while the other stroked himself slowly. He swiped the bead of precum, beckoning you over with a single finger and forcing his thumb past your lips to taste. You hummed at the salty bitterness, the weight of him on your tongue and could feel yourself salivating. “Which do you want first, doll? Break you, or love you?”

Judging from the way you were practically drooling down his wrist, he took your lack of response as the former.

Stealing his thumb away, a thread of spit following, Chan laid back down and put both hands behind his head. “Go ahead. Be a good doll and suck.”

You folded so fast that it made him chuckle with pride knowing you were wanting him as much as he wanted you. Licking and twirling your tongue around the tip like hard candy, taking in as much of him as possible. Your own spit dripped down your chin and filled your mouth like a perfect hole.

Chan started to stutter up into you the further down you went. The more of him you took in, the harder it got not to thrust up. By the time you’d gotten to the point of lightly gagging, he was biting his lip to keep from losing all control. But then you looked up at him, eyes big and watery, tears already rolling down your cheek and you couldn’t even wipe it away. Nope, all self control completely obliterated by that single look. That fucking look, Chan physically felt his chest cave like crumbling sand between his fingers.

“I’ll fucking break you, baby. Don't worry your pretty little head, I’ll make you forget.” You couldn’t reply with his thick cock in your mouth, but could see you approve with the little nods you managed to give. “Be a good cocksleeve, yeah? Make me feel good.”

You took him as deep as you could, stilled as soon as your nose hit his pelvis and thought that was good enough since he groaned, loud and deep from within his chest. But you looked up at him again, this time just as the tears fell from your lash line. Chan tangled both hands in your hair and hooked his legs over your shoulders, cock still buried down your throat. He locked his ankles around the back of your head and pushed himself that much deeper to get you to gag harder. The sound that he emitted resembled that of a bear, hearty, unrestrained, feeling.

Oh, how he felt you. Felt the constricting of your throat around him, felt your tongue fighting to make room for you to breathe and failing, felt your tears wet the skin of his pelvis. Nothing but your safe word could have stopped him from pulling you off his cock for a split second to inhale a deep breath, then shoving you back down to abuse your throat like it was just a toy. For now, you were just a toy– his toy.

Lewd and adulterous squelching of your mouth slicking up and down his cock filled the room, overridden just by Chan’s moans of pleasure and your light humming to vibrate up his shaft. He was kind for a few moments– as kind as he could have been in this position, and eventually gave up seeing as you could still fight back. His lazy pushes and pulls of guiding your head up and down turned into him rutting up into your mouth in quick jabs, utilizing the headlock he had you in as leverage to move at what could have been neck breaking speed. His hands held you firmly in place as Chan did all the work now, focused on nothing but his own pleasure as your tears and spit mixed to puddle around his throbbing cock.

You were a gagging, crying mess and you loved every second. So much so that you spread your knees and tried to rub your puffy clit into the bunched up sheets. A few more upthrusts of his tip hitting the back of your throat, Chan let you go entirely. Without the stability of him holding you up, your weak body tilted to the side as you gasped for air, hips slightly twitching from the immense need built up.

He took a second to regain his composure while you caught your breath. Chest still heaving up and down, Chan forgot that your hands were still tied, wondering why you weren’t jumping his bones the second he let you free. Sitting up, he tilted his head at you with a sympathetic smile, “sweet doll, I haven’t even done anything to you yet. Anything left in here?” He mockingly tapped the side of your temple, to which it went unacknowledged. You just wanted him on you again, whining and trying to wriggle closer to him. “Hm, guess not. Did my job, didn’t I? Didn’t take very much effort, baby. You love me that much? Or you’re just a cockhungry doll.”

Through the soreness in your jaw, you managed to whisper, “l–love you.”

Chan chuckled, “I know you do. Love my sweet doll, too.” He leaned over to kiss your forehead, ignoring the way you puckered your lips for more. Chan manhandled you to the center of the bed, keeping you on your side with arms still restricted from touching.

There was nothing you could do but let him do what he wanted with you, but this was the lovingly part. This, although bound on your end, was where he showed you everything he couldn’t tell you. This was the putting you back together part, the safe with me part, the dream-me can go fuck himself because you deserve the best dicking down ever part.

And could you tell that’s what all of this was? Absolutely. Could you do anything about it? Not a chance. You couldn’t touch him, couldn’t form coherent sentences, couldn’t do anything but babble love you, love you, and more love you’s.

Chan pushed your hair from your sweaty forehead, memorizing your features for just a second before he lost himself again. Then straightening out your bottom leg for him to straddle while resting the top in the crook of his arm and aligning his cock at your entrance, just teasing your clit with the tip and spreading the perpetually leaking beads of cum. He would dip into your hole, hear you whimper, then pull away and do it all over again to keep you in a constant state of frustrated that he wouldn’t just fuck you already.

It was because fucking you wasn’t what he wanted, he hated calling it that. If it were anyone but you, calling sloppy sex for what it is wouldn’t have bothered him. But you weren’t just anyone, he wouldn’t dare call you anything less than what you deserved and that applied in the bedroom as well. That was, of course, aside from when you truly asked for it.

Even the sloppiest of sex with you wouldn’t be classified as just fucking. He felt every inch of you in every single one of his nerve endings, in his veins, pumping the blood through his heart straight down to the tip of his cock. Chan felt a little dumb just looking at you, like he’d lost his mind at the mere scent of your arousal, he felt like a lovesick puppy and if you’d ever decide to leave him, he’d die of a broken heart.

God, he loves you. He said it as he finally pushed into your pulsing, wet hole. He said it as he came to the hilt, he said it as he slipped the bondage off your wrists, as he grabbed your hand to hold and as he began to lazily thrust in and out, searching for the spot that would make you cry so hard you’ll pass out as soon as you cum.

And you did cry, not just from how good you felt physically but because even if he wasn’t mindlessly telling you how much he loved you, you could see it in the way he looked at you. He wasn’t looking anywhere but your face, straight into your eyes in a stare so intense it should’ve been uncomfortable. It was anything but, you shed a tear every time you blinked to see him still looking at you like he was sure you were the last thing he’d ever see.

God, you love him. You said it as your hand held his for dear life, as he pummeled the soft spot within you that made you see stars through the tears, you said it as you were curling your toes and arching your back at an unholy angle. You said it as coherently as possible as the butterflies in your belly swept you into a whirlwind of pleasure, as you milked him for everything he had, as you came back down to earth somehow laying on his chest and not at all in the same position as when the orgasm hit.

Gentle beating of his heart in his chest stirred you from the light daze you had fallen into, you don’t even remember doing it. “Hey there,” his chest rumbled. Chan kissed the top of your head, your forehead, then moved to lay your head in the pillows so he could kiss your lips.

As he tucked your hair behind your ear, you finally got to brush your fingers through his curls, so soft and pretty. His eyes closed as your nails raked across his scalp, letting his forehead fall against yours. The rumbling of his chest made you smile, “you purr like a cat,” you said through the sore scratch in your throat.

“Cats ward off evil. Real me is shooing away the nightmares for good. Let me purr.” Chan let you tug his head against his chest with a content him falling from your lips, where his purring turned into soft snores as the exhaustion finally hit him.

☆ﾟ

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @lvrhyuka @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @goblinracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @iadorethemskz @skyvastbunny @mamabymychem @katsukis1wife @woozarts @noellllslut

[freelancearsonist]

Whole

Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Rated MA for the most long-winded poetic smut i've ever written jfc 🤦‍♀️ slow burn fluff with a couple sprinkles of angst for flavor, reader uses fem pronouns and is described as having female parts, it's dirty y'all but at least they use protection

7,470 Words

A/N: you all know my mo by now i disappear for a year and then come back and lay down some god damned PORN. this fic is no exception to the rule. @shakespeareanwannabe requested this back in july and she literally just asked for a cute moment between steve and dustin, sorry you got 6k words more than you bargained for 😂 but also thank you for betaing and the constant validation you're the best ily 🖤

Steve’s not sure how it even worked.

He can still remember the look on Robin’s face when you agreed, how she was speechless for almost ten minutes because she couldn’t process what had just happened.

Steve’s reaction was about the same as hers, in all honesty. He’s gotten so used to striking out that asking people out has become something of a game to him. He knows he’ll get a no, and he knows Robin will laugh her ass off at him. But what can he say? He likes putting a smile on his best friend’s face.

Needless to say, you’ve shaken him. In the best possible way. Because your answer was three letters instead of two.

And now, he's a little bit in over his head.

Or, to be more accurate, a lot in over his head.

It seems like it’s been ages since he’s gone on a date, even though it’s only been a few months at most. He feels lost, like he’s completely unlearned everything he ever knew about girls.

He hates it, despises it with every fiber of his own being, but he also knows it’s true; he needs advice. And although he’ll never admit it to the little shithead’s face, there’s no one better he can think of going to than his very own protege. Who better to remind him of his own prowess than the person who learned everything they know from him?

One look at Dustin’s smug little face and Steve almost regrets it. Almost.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes and gives the younger boy a little shove, camouflaging it with an affectionate pat on the back. “This is strictly business, Henderson.”

“Oh, is it now?” The younger boy’s voice takes on a smug tone as he folds his fingers together and leans back in his chair. “Well then, why don’t you have a seat? Step into my office.”

Steve rolls his eyes and slides into the booth, shooting a smile and a “thank you” to the kind waitress who delivers two milkshakes to their table.

Dustin takes his time and makes a meal of unwrapping his straw, feeding off of Steve’s clear impatience Steve’s fingers tap against the table, reminding himself that patience is necessary when you come to someone for a favor. It’s just that it’s Dustin, and Dustin knows exactly how to get under the older boy’s skin in the most annoying-yet-oddly-endearing fashion.

“So…” Dustin finally says after a lengthy sip of strawberry milkshake. “What brings you so humbly to me?”

“I’ve got a date.”

And Dustin, the little bastard–he laughs. A deep, rumbling belly laugh, so pure and unfiltered that the three other occupied tables in the diner pause their conversations to get a look at the boy clutching his sides.

Steve’s a little embarrassed by the attention, but even more embarrassed that Dustin’s reaction is so genuine. The fact that the idea of him having a date is so laughable is a bit of a punch to the gut. It hasn’t really been that long, has it?

When Dustin’s laughter finally dies down he realizes Steve’s face is completely serious, and it makes him giggle even more.

“Wait, you’re actually serious? Who on earth did you manage to pull?”

Steve’s nearly bashful as he says your name, and even more bashful when Dustin’s jaw visibly drops.

“No fucking way. I’d believe anyone else, but her? She’s like… hotter than Phoebe Cates. There’s no way you wouldn’t strike out with her.”

Steve’s immediately on the defensive. Is it really so hard to believe that he, former king of Hawkins High, could pull the most gorgeous girl in town?

But that’s just it. There’s really no one like you, not in his eyes. He’s admired you since freshman year and never once even tried with you because he knew he wasn’t worthy. You were always in the background–a beautiful, kind, smart, funny girl just out of his reach. Part of the reason he even asked you out was because he was so sure he would strike out. In the end, losing his confidence was exactly what he needed to pull the girl of his dreams.

And that’s why there’s so much riding on this. You’ve always been his biggest “what if”, the girl he wonders about when thinking that maybe not trying has been holding him back. And apparently, it has.

“Look, I don’t even know how it happened, okay? But she said yes, and… and I really don’t want to blow it.”

“Well duh. You’ll have to leave town if you blow it with her, you know that, right? If she doesn’t think you’re worth it, no one else in this town ever will again.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!” Steve groans, slouching down so far in the booth that Dustin can just barely see his poor, overwhelmed face.

“Steve, listen…” Dustin’s voice takes on an almost fatherly quality, an omniscient tone that gives off the illusion of great hidden knowledge. He gets like this sometimes, and Steve’s not always sure that it is just an illusion. “Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re, like, one of the coolest guys I know. If she doesn’t like you… that’s her problem, not yours. Okay?”

Steve straightens in his seat, a little shocked to hear such kind words from a friend that he’s used to being mercilessly teased by.

“No, no, no, it’s going to your head. I take it all back. Forget I said anything.” Dustin’s hearty giggle makes Steve smile as he sets a wad of bills on the table and slides out of the booth.

“You’re not so bad Henderson, you know that?” He gives the younger boy’s full head of curls an affectionate ruffle. “Thanks, kid. I’ll radio later.”

Not that Steve didn’t have total faith in his young protege, but it’s still a relief that the pep talk turned out to be exactly what he needed to hear. Dustin’s right, after all. Steve’s worked hard to become the man he’s always wanted to be. He may not be dripping charisma or sex appeal the way he used to, but he’s much more comfortable in his own skin. That’s what counts, right?

And you really are his dream girl. The opportunity to take you out tonight, even if it ends up being your first and only date together, is an honor. He’s much less focused now on all the ways he could screw up, hyper-fixated on putting the effort in to make this the best night of your life.

That effort comes out in the carefully selected suit jacket he dons over his white button-up, the extra spritz of cologne, the careful touch-up shave to vanquish his five o’clock shadow, the extra ten minutes using the perfect amount of product in his hair so that it stays in place yet is still soft to the touch.

By the time he gets to Enzo’s (half an hour early, mind), he’s practically vibrating with nerves and anticipation. He’s never been much of an overthinker, but he sure is tonight. Is this place too much for the first date? Would you rather do something lowkey, like catch a movie or go for a walk in the park? He has to remind himself a couple of times that you agreed to this, that you wouldn’t have said yes if you weren’t interested in the arrangement.

To say he’s prepared for this is putting it lightly. He’s run through every possible scenario in his mind, gone over conversation starters and questions he wants to ask you over and over again until he knows exactly how he wants to phrase each thing.

And still, nothing could prepare him for when you walk through the door.

He has to physically restrain his jaw from dropping because in the moment he sees you, every well-planned thought and all etiquette is flushed down the proverbial pipes. You’re nothing short of breathtaking in a dress that hugs all the right curves and shows just enough cleavage to have him imagining what else there might be to see. Your hair is pinned back out of your face, eyes framed by just the slightest bit of makeup to make the color of your irises pop. He swears he’s never seen a shade quite like them. It’s like you move in slow motion as you approach him–he sees the entrance of the smoking hot love interest in every romantic comedy, complete with smoke and fireworks, as you move towards the table.

And then some sense of decorum returns to his addled brain, and he quickly shoots up so he can pull out your chair for you like a proper gentleman. He catches just the slightest whiff of your perfume, and he’s a goner. He’s ready to sign his life away to you, to yank his own heart out of his chest to offer to your careful hands.

He has to give his head a shake to compose himself before he goes any further off the deep end. No one’s ever thoroughly shaken him the way you have, and it’s been a matter of thirty seconds. It’s almost intimidating, the effect you have on him.

“You look… incredible,” he fumbles as he takes his seat across from you. “I mean, you always do, but… wow.”

The shy giggle you emit tugs at a heartstring he didn’t even know he had.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a genuine smile. “You clean up very well yourself.”

“I do like to put in some effort every once in a while.” He flashes the most charming smile he can muster, and just like that he’s back. His resolve to impress you is reinforced tenfold. You’ve shaken him, and it’s such an unfamiliar feeling that he’s practically bumbling. He wants to shake you just as badly.

The food’s delicious, and the conversation’s even better. He has a track record for taking out a more–for lack of a better term–bimbo-y type, and that’s definitely not you. You’re smart, you’re witty, but you don’t make him feel like an idiot. He’s so taken with you that he doesn’t even notice that three hours have passed until he looks around the room and notices that every table is now empty and bussed.

The waiter delivers the check, and Steve notices you gnawing on your lip.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, trying not to be too prying.

“I don’t want this to be over yet.”

Steve smiles. He’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. He’s never been so sure of anything, and that surprises him. He’s used to dates who are easy to read and even easier to take home, and those aren’t the impressions you’ve been giving him. To know that you’re feeling exactly what he’s feeling is a huge confidence boost.

“I don’t either.”

Your hand is so small compared to his. That’s all he can think about as he strolls next to you, his fingers intertwined with yours. He’s always considered hand-holding to be child’s play, it’s never excited him before the way it does in this moment with you.

It’s pitch black in the park and he can hear the overlapping chirping of summer cicadas and grasshoppers, the perfect background noise now that the conversation has died down. It’s less about getting to know each other at this point and more just basking in each other’s presence, prolonging the inevitable because neither one of you can bear to call it a night when it’s been such a good few hours.

You’re shocked, to say the very least. Steve certainly has a reputation, and it’s not for being a romantic. Yet everything tonight has flown in the face of all the rumors you’ve been hearing since junior high. You figured he’d be a fun fling, and probably only one night at that–you’d made your peace with the idea. To find that he’s kind, considerate, funny, and can match your intellect and quick wit… it’s a very pleasant surprise. And that’s what has you out well past a decent hour, giddy over simply holding his hand like you’re a damned school girl all over again.

“I should probably let you go home,” Steve sighs wistfully. He hates to be the one to bring it up, but you’re on your fifth lap around the park and about to circle back to where your car is parked so now seems the best time.

You’re chewing your lip again, a thoughtful habit that makes his heart pound just a little bit harder.

Here’s the thing: you’re really not the bold type. You act confident, sure, but in practice it’s a lot more difficult for you. So no one’s more surprised than you are when you say, “You could come home with me. If you want.”

Steve’s definitely shocked, too. Less shocked at your proposition and more at the fact that he’s tempted to decline. Because no matter how much he’s been running through the back of his mind what you might look like under that gorgeous dress, he doesn’t want this to end there. For the first time in his life, he wants to find more meaning than sex out of a relationship. He doesn’t want to take you home and never see you again. He wants to take you out again, and again, and again, and again after that. He sees a future, for once, that doesn’t look dim and hopeless. That fact alone scares the shit out of him.

He realizes he’s waited way too long to reply and fumbles for an answer. “Of course I want to. I’d be an idiot not to. But…”

You chew that cursed bottom lip of yours again, and Steve has to focus on the obvious cue you’re giving him rather than the fact that he wants to be the next set of teeth around that lip.

He stops in his tracks, gently pulling on your hand to face him so he can take your other hand in his free one. “It’s not a bad but. I mean, I’m going to go home kicking myself for saying no because I really honestly do want to… well, y’know. But… I want to do this right with you. I want to take you out again. I want to get to know you and see where this goes. I can’t… I don’t want this to end tonight.”

He’s eternally grateful for how dark it is as he feels a flush consume his face. He can’t remember a time he’s been so honest and open, especially on a first date; but the look on your face tells him he’s done something right.

“Okay,” you tell him, squeezing his hands in yours. “You… honestly have no clue how nice it is to hear that.”

“Of course,” he continues, “if you just want me for my body, no hard feelings.”

You laugh at that, genuinely laugh, and Steve thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

“No,” you reassure him. “No, I… I wanna see where this goes, too.”

You’re stopped only a few paces from your car, and Steve knows with a twist of his gut that this is the end of the night. It makes his gut turn with disappointment, but also with anticipation of when he’ll see you next. Already, his mind is flooding with ideas of where he can take you and what you’ll do together.

You drop one of his hands so you can walk but keep a tight grip on the other until you get to your driver’s side door, hesitating outside because you’re still not ready for this to be over. It takes every ounce of restraint he has not to kiss you, unsure of if that would be moving too fast.

Thankfully, you make the call yourself. Leaning up on your toes, hands against his chest for balance, you press your lips against his and he has to summon every mite of strength not to moan. No one’s ever tasted so sweet, molded against him so perfectly. His hands drift from your shoulders down your arms, coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you just a little bit closer. It’s a fight of will not to overstep, to break off the kiss before it can become too heated. His mind is spinning by the time you break away. He’s aching for more, and he hopes you are too. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

Your sweet voice replays in his mind all night, long after you’ve gotten into your car and driven away, long after he’s returned to his own vehicle and pulled the radio out from under the driver’s seat to check in with Dustin, long after he arrives home and soaks in a cold shower for longer than he probably should. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get your voice out of his head, and he couldn’t be any less upset about it.

He practically counts down the minutes until he sees you again. This time, he has a little less restraint. He greets you with a kiss–a sweet peck and a hand on your waist that leaves you aching for even more.

It’s a movie this time, a chance to enjoy each other’s company on a night you’re both too tired from working to engage in heavy conversation and getting to know each other further.

It starts with sharing popcorn, then holding hands, then somewhere along the way the film is completely forgotten in favor of your lips meeting his. His breath grows heavy as his hands hold your face, committing you to memory while resisting the urge to explore further. Your hands, meanwhile, are firmly on his thighs, gripping tightly to keep yourself steady as you do everything you can to keep yourself from crawling into his lap.

He whispers your name, and your grip on him tightens.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, then gives up on the futile attempt at finishing his sentence so that he can pull you even deeper into the kiss as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

It takes everything in him not to moan when your lips eagerly part to accept him.

Needless to say, once the credits start rolling you’re both more than a little hot under the collar.

“Let me buy you dinner,” Steve suggests as he woefully unwinds himself from you. Declining doesn’t even flicker through your mind as a possibility.

It’s not Enzo’s this time, but it doesn’t have to be. He could set a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of you at this point and you’d still thank him for it. This time around, you’re not really as interested in the cuisine as you are just simply getting through this meal to what’s next. Because what’s next is all you’ve been thinking about since you walked through the doors the night of that very first date and saw Steve Harrington wearing a blazer for you. It’s a level of effort he’s definitely not known for–in fact, he’s built a reputation for putting in so little effort that it nearly made your jaw drop to see him trying. And it certainly made your heart skip a beat.

But then again, the Steve before you carelessly wolfing down his bacon cheeseburger seems very different from the Steve you knew in high school, even if you didn’t know that iteration as intimately as this one. That one was cool, collected, snarky and pompous and maddeningly desirable.

This Steve, your Steve, is nearly an exact foil. Much less cocky, a little less confident but more self-assured in the ways that actually hold meaning, less worried about what the people around him are observing of him than what you’re observing of him. He seems happier, more carefree, more eager to please others than simply himself. He’s grown so much in such a short amount of time, and you feel proud just for having the honor to witness it. Significantly more proud to be on the receiving end of his affections now that they hold the kind of value you’ve always wished they would.

He looks up and notices you staring at him while lost in thought, a small smile spreading across his lips as your eyes quickly dart away.

“What’s on your mind?” He questions as he licks a stray bit of ketchup from his thumb.

“Just… happy I’m here. With you.” It brings heat to your cheeks to admit it, but you don’t want him to go unappreciated in this moment.

It’s the right thing to say, because his smile grows even wider. “I’m happy too,” he admits. “I… I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while. Could never work up the courage, I guess.”

“Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was intimidated by me?” You say it with a mock gasp, but your shock is more genuine than you give off. Never in a million years would you have thought that he, the man who could have whoever he wanted, would be worried over you saying no to him. It’s almost comical, especially considering the way you practically threw yourself at him on your first date. Of course then, you had no clue how much he’d developed as a person. You’re almost ashamed of your behavior now, as if you might’ve inadvertently been taking advantage of the new and improved Steve who isn’t just into you for a hookup.

He shrugs, nearly bashful at your teasing. “Never figured I was good enough for you. So I didn’t bother to try.”

You’re genuinely curious now, leaning in a little closer and brushing your fingers against his hand resting atop the diner counter. “What made you change your mind?”

“Honestly? I was so sure you’d say no that I asked just to give Robin a chuckle. She loves watching me get shot down.”

That makes you frown, and he’s quick to backtrack. “I wanted to! I just… I’ve had a bad track record lately. And you’re… you’re you. You’re the last person I should be worthy of.”

His eyes are quick to avert from your gaze, bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he contemplates whether he’s said too much.

“Steve…” you properly grab his hand now in the hopes that it’ll bring his eyes back to you, and it works. “You’re the only person I’ve deemed worthy in a long time, honestly.”

Steve Harrington is scaldingly warm. It’s one of many sensations forcing your mind into overdrive as he lays you delicately across the backseat of his beemer, one hand cushioning the back of your head while simultaneously deepening the already heated kiss and the other balancing his weight to lean over you in the cramped space without completely crushing you.

Your fingers tangle themselves into his soft brown locks, tugging ever-so-slightly as his tongue slips between your parted lips. He’s an eager explorer and you’re more than happy to let him take the lead, to show you all the skill you’ve heard so many whispers about.

You let out an involuntary moan as he wedges himself even closer to you, his body heat soaking through all the layers of clothing between the two of you and warming you all the way to your very bones.

You’re practically aching, ready to beg, and he knows it the second you wrap your legs around his waist in an attempt to get him even closer. If there’s one thing Steve Harrington’s good at, it’s assessing your needs. He pulls away just the slightest bit to adjust his position so he can get closer, wedging a knee between your legs to press right against your core, and it makes you jolt back against the car door at the same time his head hits the roof just a bit too hard.

You both pause for a moment, the reality of your situation hitting you simultaneously, and then you’re laughing. It’s light and edged with unresolved want, but it’s enough to fracture the tension of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Shouldn’t have gotten so carried away. This isn’t how I want to do this.”

“No?”

“No. You deserve way better than this old beater,” he chuckles, then leans down to kiss you. This kiss is lighter, no longer edged with tension and lust. He kisses you just to kiss you–there’s no end goal to it this time.

“What could be better than a BMW?” You tease lightly, trying to reassure him that you’re less disappointed than you really feel.

“You know. Something romantic. A proper bed, rose petals, maybe a few candles…”

“I don’t need all that,” you try to tell him.

“I think I do,” he admits. And that’s enough to pull you back, to remind you that you need to be patient and grateful that he values you so much as to want to do this whole thing properly. That his affection is something to be cherished, not taken for granted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to be pushy.”

“Please don’t apologize.” He hesitates to untangle himself from you, even though he knows he needs to. “I want this just as bad. I just… I need it to be right.”

“As long as I have you, it’ll be right,” you reassure. “I hope you know that.”

He presses his lips to yours again, a slow and passionate kiss that he hopes communicates every bit of adoration he feels for you in this moment.

“It’ll be perfect. I swear,” he vows. You’ve never believed anything more whole-heartedly than you do this promise. 

~~~

“Wait, you’re telling me that you literally had her under you and you stopped?” Robin’s halfway through chewing a mouthful of popcorn and the absolute carnage inside her agape mouth makes Steve give her a light shove.

“It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full, y’know.”

“It’s not polite to blue-ball either!” She shoots back in utter disbelief.

“How do you think I felt? I was this close,” he holds his thumb and index finger barely millimeters apart, “to sealing the deal.”

She just shakes her head. “You, Steve Harrington, are a genuine, bonafide idiot.”

She’s not telling him anything he doesn’t know. It’s been three days since the aborted fling in the backseat of his car, and he’s barely thought of anything else. Especially since you’ve been away from home both of the past nights when he’s called. He’s starting to worry you’ve gotten the wrong impression, that he’s not interested or that he’s toying with you. It’s the exact opposite. He wants nothing more than to know you in the most intimate way he can know you. But he needs it to be flawless. He needs it to be well thought-out and precisely planned, the most romantic event in the history of copulation. He won’t settle for anything less, not with you. You deserve perfection, and he won’t give you anything less.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he tries to explain. “I want to more than anything. But if you’re gonna go to town on a goddess, you need to do some worshiping, y’know? I don’t feel like I’ve done enough.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear this admission. You weren’t sure what to expect–worried that maybe visiting him at work was an overstep–but hearing him call you a goddess certainly wasn’t on your radar.

“You’ve done more than enough, Steve.”

The sound of your voice makes Steve jump and whirl around, oblivious to Robin’s sly smirk and mumbled excuse of needing to attend to something in the back room.

“H-hey!” He squeaks, then clears his throat in an attempt to get his tone back to its normal octave. “What… what’re you doing here?”

“Oh, just came to pick up a tape,” you tease. “But mostly I came to see you.”

“Me?” He takes a moment to ground himself, loosening his too-tight grip on the counter. “I mean… I tried to call you last night. And the night before?”

Your brow furrows. “Really? I didn’t get your message.”

Because he didn’t leave one. He clears his throat and says, “I just figured you were busy.”

“Oh, well, I volunteer at the animal shelter on Wednesdays, and last night was my friend’s 21st birthday. I’m sorry I missed you, though.”

He can tell that you’re really remorseful, and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest a little bit. He plays it off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No, it’s fine, it’s… are you free tonight?”

You giggle at the abrupt redirect, but he’s played directly into your hand.

“Yeah, actually. I was hoping maybe you could help me pick out something for us to watch tonight? If you’re free too, that is.”

His dark eyes blink slowly, wondering if you’re aware of the implication behind your completely innocent words. You. Him. A movie. Alone. It’s enough to make his head spin. 

“I’ve never been freer.”

Conveniently, you’ve come in close enough to the end of his shift that by the time you’re done combing through Family Video’s vast selection for the perfect film to use as background noise, Steve’s ready to clock out. And since you walked over after finishing your own shift at the local dollar store up the street, it works out perfectly that he can give you a ride straight to his place.

You only glance in the backseat once, but it’s enough to get your mind churning. Remembering the feeling of him, of what could’ve been. Anticipating what will be.

“Parents home?” You ask as he pulls into his driveway and parks, trying to sound casual and utterly failing.

“Nope,” he answers easily. “Took a detour to Cabo on their way home from Hawaii.”

“Sounds glamorous. You opted out?”

“I’d rather be here in Hawkins with you than on a beach alone anyday.”

He must know the effect his words have on you. Surely he can hear the way your heart picks up pace as he looks at you with those dark, affectionate eyes.

“So… this is home.” He waves a hand around the entrance hall like it’s a shabby nightmare, not the grandest house you’ve ever been in.

“I’m starting to understand why they used to call you King Steve.”

He’s almost embarrassed at the mention of that old high school nickname. “Trust me, this isn’t why.”

“Well, a palace does befit you,” you tell him with a smirk.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush.” The wink he shoots you makes your gut erupt with butterflies, a sensation that would normally make you a little uncomfortable. With Steve, you’d take the butterflies all day long.

He gives you a cursory and oversimplified tour of the ground floor before leading you upstairs, and suddenly he’s sheepish. It’s been a few moons since he shared his room with a girl, so the nerves are justified. But that’s too simple an explanation. You’re not a girl. You’re his dream, his muse, his–to re-quote himself–goddess. No one he’s ever cared about more has stood where you’re standing, and it terrifies him.

He hides it well, though, busying himself with making a comfortable nest for you in his bed before setting up the television set on the dresser against the far wall. If ever there was a time to regain his confidence, it’s now. He curses whatever god there is that he feels like a fumbling virgin in this moment when nothing is even happening, when just the anticipation is enough to make his hands tremble.

There’s no more stalling once you’re comfortable and the tape is set to play. His heart pounds to the steady and frantic rhythm of one of those heavy rock songs Dustin listens to now as he sits next to you, hands itching to take a hold of you but also eager not to move too fast.

Almost as if you can sense his hesitation, you reach over and take his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, and the second his lips slot to yours all the worry and anxiety is gone. He’s Steve Harrington, and he knows what he’s doing. You’re you, and he’s wanted this for so long. After years of being lost, he deserves to finally find the love he’s been looking for. He’s never been so sure of anything as he is, in this moment of initial clarity, that he’s in love with you.

He can’t say it, not yet. He’s sure it’s too soon, and the last thing he wants is to scare you off. But he’s determined to prove it to you, and the only way besides words is action.

He can handle action.

There’s no more restraint or hesitation behind his touch. This is it, this is what you’ve both been waiting for. There’s no way in hell he’s not going to deliver now. He’s desperate for you, and it shows in the heavy way his hands drag along your curves whilst committing you to memory; the way his tongue languidly swipes across your bottom lip; the way he shifts effortlessly to hover over you even while deepening the kiss.

He’s overwhelming every single sense of yours in such a sudden fashion, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Especially not when his hips meet yours in a deliciously slow grind and you finally get your first little taste of what’s to come.

He keens at the little breathless whimpers that leave your mouth, reading every single signal you provide him with and accommodating each. Moaning? He continues what he’s doing, intensifying if deemed necessary. Whining? He adds something, because he knows it’s hard to use your words when you’re wanting so badly. Squirming? He pays attention to the direction of your movement and pulls away or presses closer depending on necessity. It’s down to science for him; he only really cared about extracurriculars in school anyway, and this was certainly his favorite.

But then he comes to his senses–while he doesn’t pull away completely, he needs to clear his mind and he does so by letting up a bit, allowing the kiss to become languid and the heat to extinguish a bit. It only makes you whine more, and Steve curses his damned formula. You shouldn’t be part of an equation. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, and every aspect of your relationship so far has been a new experience for him. He needs this particular activity to be different too. No formulas or calculations. Just you and him and whatever happens naturally.

Clearly you can hear the cogs in his mind turning. You pull away with a concerned look on your face and ask, “what’s on your mind?”

Now’s not the time to hide anything from you, he reasons with himself. He wants to be authentic with you, and part of that means telling the truth, even if it’s not something particularly comfortable.

“I’m… falling into a routine. And I don’t want to,” he admits. He sighs and leans back, one hand dragging through his shaggy and disheveled hair, sure that he’s going to ruin the mood if he carries on like this. But he refuses to back away from the truth now. “This… it’s always been like…. Like a series of checkpoints. Boxes to check, y’know? Kiss you, take your clothes off, make you come, fuck you, say goodnight. And I don’t want… I can’t let it be like that with you. I need this to be… real. Not just some list to cross shit off of. I don’t–”

Steve takes a long, shaky breath before he can ramble on anymore. Never has someone so thoroughly gotten under his skin. He’s never felt so insecure, so unsure. It’s terrifying. The most terrifying part of it all, though, is that he likes it. He loves the feeling of the unfamiliarity, of doing this right. In a way, it’s almost like he’s doing all of this for the first time all over again. You’re his first date, first kiss, first time. All because he’s changed so drastically, because he’s not even remotely the same person he was just a year or two ago.

Your hands are so gentle as you cup his face, tenderly forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Steve… we don’t have to do this, not if you’re not ready. I want to be with you, not just for this, but for everything. Everything that comes with you… that’s what I want. There’s no pressure. I would wait a hundred years for you to be ready so long as I could still have you.”

Steve’s breath shakes a little as he comprehends the gravity of your words. There’s nothing he can say that can properly convey the gratitude he holds for your words, so he says nothing at all.

In his silence, you continue. “You’re more than a body, you know that, right? You’re funny, and kind, and smart. Yes, smart, don’t look at me like that. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to be close to. I just… I want to spend time with you. I want to watch stupid movies and eat diner food until we get sick and laugh at your stupid jokes… and maybe make love with you, sure, but that’s pretty low on the list as long as I just get to be with you.”

He doesn’t notice the tears until it’s too late–by the time you’re wiping them from the apples of his cheeks it’s far too late to take them back or hide them. With anyone else, he would be angry; at himself, for allowing himself to be so vulnerable. For allowing himself to be so emotional. With you, though… with you, his emotions make him feel strong. 

For the first time since you walked into his life, he’s not scared of losing you.

“I love you,” he tells you. His voice is firm, as fierce as the kiss he presses to your mouth, as powerful as the waves of emotion vibrating through his very soul. “I love you so much.”

He barely gives you a chance to reply, as keen as he is on physically proving his love to you through myriad passionate kisses that leave you breathless. But when you finally get the chance to use your voice after a barrage of kisses that start to trail down your neck, you whisper, “I love you too.”

Four words, and they’re all he needs to quell every worry or fear he’s had over doing this relationship properly with you. Why should he have to worry, after all, when he’s already succeeded? 

“I love you,” he whispers as he trails down your neck and to your chest, leaving tender love bites on the tops of your breasts once he’s properly liberated you from your shirt.

“I love you,” he mumbles through sucking a mark a few inches north of your navel.

“I love you,” he murmurs when his lips meet your waistband. His fingers make quick work of your pants as he scatters kisses over your stomach, unable to part his mouth from your skin for even a moment.

“I love you,” he affirms as his mouth meets your hot and waiting core.

There’s no more checklist. Because this isn’t simply sex, as it always has been for him in the past. This is love-making: the kind of sappy shit they talk about in all those Hallmark movies that he rolls his eyes at the sight of. It’s like losing his virginity all over again.

He understands the old adage of “the other half” now. You’ve ripped him to shreds and sewed him back together with strands of yourself. The end result is better than the original ever could’ve even dreamed to be. He’s sure he couldn’t possibly live without you now, that losing you would be like ripping out fresh and unhealed stitches.

You’re not sure how long he camps out between your trembling thighs, but it’s long enough for you to lose count of the number of times he pulls you apart–first with his languid tongue; then his long, curved fingers; then a combination of the two. It’s like he loses himself completely in your pleasure, not a single thought in his head except what he can do to bring you to the edge again, and again, and again.

You’re trembling with oversensitivity by the time his own needs overtakes his desperation to unravel you. So out of it that you feel drunk, like Steve’s laced you with absolute bliss so pure you can barely stand it.

You’re hardly present enough to appreciate the adonis before you when he finally undoes his own jeans, and that’s a damned shame because he’s so damned pretty. Long and thick, flushed at the girthy tip from his hitherto unacknowledged arousal. His lean thighs are pure muscle, and the dark thatch of hair that trails south from his navel makes your mouth water. He’s everything you dreamed he’d be and so much more.

“Steve…” You don’t know what else you can possibly say. All you can do is vainly hope that one whine of his name can convey all of the heat, frustration, tension, and above all longing, swirling through your head in the moment.

He breaks from his lustful reverie for a moment to smile as he leans in for another heated kiss; you think it’s safe to say you’ve gotten your point across.

He slows from his mania for a few moments, lips tender as they explore against yours once more. These kisses are languid, slow, yet no less heated. Even now, he’s trying to prove his love to you. As if you could somehow not believe him after everything that’s happened, every small moment you’ve spent with him witnessing how hard he’s trying for you.

Somewhere in between kisses he manages to wrestle a condom out of his nightstand, miraculously without ever breaking from your lips.

Now is where you cut in, finally fading out of your over-pleasured fugue and back to reality. You take the little foil packet from his hands and tear it open, eager for this small chance to finally get a hand or two on him.

He lets out the most gorgeous noise you’ve ever heard as you roll the rubber down his length; a deep, earthy, diaphragmatic moan just from the simple touch of your hand. You want to touch him even more, to wrest out more of those sounds from him; to see what other undiscovered responses you can pull from him as you pleasure him. But you know that now, he needs to set the pace. He believes he has something to prove, and you’re more than happy to let him prove it. There will be plenty of other opportunities to have him completely at your mercy, anyway.

There’s no way to describe the feeling as he slides into you. It’s more than bliss, more than euphoria, more than earth-shattering toe-curling mind-altering pleasure. It’s nothing more than feeling whole. Of never knowing you were missing a part of yourself until it’s suddenly returned to you. Of never knowing what home felt like until this exact moment.

Maybe it’s overdramatic. Maybe it’s outlandish and outrageous and a million other adjectives to feel something so overpowering and overwhelming from such a seemingly simple physical act. But in this moment, you know you’ve never felt anything as right as being connected to Steve in this way.

His lips hardly leave yours while he rolls his hips against you, easily finding the perfect angle to make your breath hitch and your hands scrabble for purpose.

It admittedly doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t have to. Once you start to tighten and pulse around him, he’s a goner–deep purposeful thrusts turning to hard, arrhythmic plunges in desperate search of release.

You’re still shaking from your high when he slowly pulls out of you. He keeps you close, arms linked around your waist and dragging you to lay on his chest as he flops back against the pillows. 

You’re not sure how long you lay like that, with Steve whispering sweet nothings into your hair and pressing absentminded kisses to your face. All you can really focus on is one all-consuming, life-changing fact.

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

“I love you too,” he whispers back. He kisses you again, just a simple peck on your lips, and you know that he’s telling the truth. It’s an eternal truth: one that can’t be changed or altered in any way. Steve Harrington loves you with every fibre of his being, and he will for the rest of his life–even if you’re both blissfully unaware of it for now.

THE END

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[reccyls]

Beyond the Merging of Then and Now (Leon story)

Leon's 4th anniversary story sale, where child Leon is brought to the future to meet Emma and current Leon

---

It was a morning just like any other, and as Leon and I returned together to our room with breakfast... We found a small boy in Leon's room.

Emma & ???: ......

(Black hair and amber eyes... he looks exactly like Leon!)

Leon: Are you--

(Does Leon know him?)

Leon: --Leon Dompteur?

("Leon"!? They do look identical, true... so is this...?)

Young Leon: ...That's right. And you are?

Leon: I'm also Leon. More accurately, an adult version of you.

(...It's something right out of a novel. But seeing it happen right in front of my eyes, I have no choice but to believe it.) (And now that I think about it... I can believe it. This lonely looking boy really does seem to be Leon as a child.)

Young Leon: You're an adult me...? Do you have any proof?

Leon: Proof? Well, you must have already realized, but we look nearly identical. Leon: There is nobody else here who looks like us. After all, isn't that the reason you came here in the first place?

Young Leon: ...I'm the only person left in the whole world who knows "that secret." Young Leon: So you must be telling the truth. And that means... I'm in the future?

(He's able to accept such an unrealistic situation so calmly. I guess Leon is Leon, no matter what age he's at.)

Leon: Seems like it. Ah, one correction, though: I'm not the only one who knows our secret anymore. Leon: Emma here also knows.

Young Leon: ...Who is she?

Leon: Emma is...

Emma: Hi there, Leon. I'm your future self's fiancée.

Young Leon: ...You know everything, and you still want to marry me...?

(He looks like he doesn't believe me. Considering his situation, I suppose I should have expected that.) (But... I've always wanted to meet Leon when he was younger.) (To be there at his side. To support him, to hold him close.) (...So I want him to believe me.)

Emma: I do. Because I love you.

Young Leon: ...

Leon: Leon, your future fiancée is an amazing woman, you know? Your future will be bright, and full of happiness. Leon: Well, that's future talk. For now... how about we go play outside?

(....Play?)

Young Leon: I can't. As long as I'm Leon, I have things I need to do.

Leon: But here and now, I'm "Leon". You are just a kid. Leon: And there's only one thing that kids need to do: play and have fun to their heart's content.

(Right, he is just a child...)

Leon: This kind of chance doesn't come around very often. We've got to make the most of it, don't we?

(Leon has never had the chance to be "just a kid".) (And that's why, he wants to give this child version of himself the opportunity he never had.) (So in that case...)

Emma: Hey, why don't we go out and have a picnic together? We can play a lot, and we can enjoy lunch and snacks outside too. Emma: I'll make the best lunch you've ever had. We can have a lot of meat, how does that sound?

Young Leon: Meat...

(Looks like he's interested! One more little push...)

Emma: I'm planning to make some roast beef sandwiches, and some thick cut steaks... Emma: And maybe some stewed meats, and lots of other meat-based dishes too.

Young Leon: ...It sounds tasty...

(Aww, how cute!)

Leon: So we're decided. Leon: Emma's cooking is the best in the world. Look forward to it, Leon.

--scene change, meadow--

Leon: Looks like great weather today. Perfect for a picnic. So, let's start with having some fun.

Young Leon: What things do to have fun?

(Looks like Leon isn't sure what he should be doing.) (But he's fidgeting like he's excited.)

Emma: I found a book that describes a bunch of games we can play outdoors like this. Let's start with reading it together.

Young Leon: ...A book?

Emma: I know you're not great with books. But I'd be very happy if you listened while I read. Emma: So, I'll start now. "There are many games perfect for the outdoors, where you can feel the wind whipping around you..."

...

Emma: Okay, I'm going to throw this acorn over there. The first person to find it, wins. Everyone ready?

Leon & Young Leon: Yes!

Emma: Ready, set, go!

Leon: I'll be going first.

Young Leon: He's fast... But I can run too...!

(Leon's running with all his might, and little Leon is too!) (I can't let them show me up, I've got to step it up too!)

...

(...I'm... so tired..........)

Leon: Well, it's about time for lunch. I'm eager to try what Emma's made for today.

Young Leon: Me too... I'm hungry too.

Emma: I've unpacked everything, so come on and sit.

Leon: Everything looks delicious. That's my Emma.

Young Leon: .......I can really eat this?

Emma: Of course! I made enough for all of us.

Young Leon: Thank you. .....It's really good. It really is the best in the world.

(His eyes are sparkling... I'm feeling a little embarrassed.)

Leon: Told you. Everything's delicious, but this one especially. It's definitely my favorite.

Young Leon: Hey, I wanted that! ...You eat too much, Leon. Young Leon: And... you're more childish than I thought you would be. Young Leon: I always thought that "Leon" should be really mature...

Leon: Yeah. I thought the same. However... I'm really happy about being childish.

(Because Leon can be his true self. I'm glad.)

Young Leon: ...Why?

Leon: You'll understand one day. When you meet Emma in your world, and fall in love.

(Leon looks so gentle right now.)

Young Leon: Okay... Well, whatever. Anyway, that flower...

(Why did he suddenly stand up? Hm?) (....My head? Aw, he tucked it into my hair!) (What a lovely gift. Leon really is Leon, after all.)

Leon: Heh, trying to steal Emma from me? Looks like I can't let my guard down even around myself.

Young Leon: I'm not trying to steal her. You look after my future self, right? Young Leon: I just want to say thank you... I thought the flower would look nice with your hair...

(Oh my gosh, how adorable...!)

--scene change, leon's room, sunset--

Leon: And to bed now... there we go.

Emma: He really is sleeping deeply. He probably isn't going to wake up until next morning.

Leon: I've never played this much when I was young. It probably tired him out.

Emma: He's so cute... He seems a lot more mature when he's awake, but he is much more relaxed when he's asleep.

Leon: It's because you accept him as he is. Leon: He can relax because he doesn't have to put up his guard around you. I know, because I'm him. Thank you for today.

Emma: Don't thank me, it's something I'm happy to do. He is you, after all. Emma: ...I've always wanted to meet you when you were younger. Emma: So I'm very happy he's here today.

(...You aren't alone anymore, little Leon. Leon and I are both here for you.) (So be an ordinary child. Be yourself.)

As I stroked his hair, hoping to convey to him my feelings, his little body curled closer towards mine.

[atrophiedemotion]

Castor how do we. How do we convince everyone in the whole wide world that Ivan isn't a masochistic individual that only wishes to gratify himself. How do we convince everyone that he wasn't trying to kill Till in round 6. How do we convince everyone that he didn't want to do anything to Till in that casino-karaoke-bar and was just trying to comfort Till and himself from what they just had to gone through. How do we convince everyone that Ivan is actually just very mentally ill and has trouble when it comes to interacting others and Till

Good anaylsis posts btw

*cracks knuckles* you came to the right place, fellow ivan understander. that's honestly the main reason i make my analysis posts, to try to express the humanity in ivan. because he is an incredibly written character and all of those mischaracterizations you're describing are so far from the truth it hurts.

at a base level, there’s a whole thing to be said about the way people treat/view mentally ill individuals (especially those with stigmatized disorders) that plays into this (ivan has undesirable traits due to mental illness that many just decide to write off as him “being a freak” and romanticizing/sexualizing it instead of trying to understand) but i won’t get it into that here

i think the thing with ivan is that because he can't experience emotion or express himself in conventional or "normal" ways, it takes proper reading into (cough. media literacy) to understand his character. you can't just watch the content and immediately get his motivations and personality, it takes multiple watch throughs, knowledge of the extra content, and taking his past into consideration to get a clearer picture.

this is true for every alnst character and video ofc, but the reason it's such a big thing for ivan is because his outward personality post meteor shower incident is a fabrication. the entire point of us getting glimpses into ivan's mind is so that we can see that he ISN'T what he portrays himself as. and this goes for more than just his charismatic personality- it goes for the unusual ways he expresses himself.

we see ivan as a contradiction. we see both the 'perfect' person he wants people to see and the extremely flawed person he sees himself as. neither are completely accurate. ivan's view of himself is so skewed it's unreliable. the only way to truly understand him is to put the work in to find out why.

this isn't exactly an answer to your question/plea, but i've been asking myself the same thing for months. ivan is a really complicated character, more complicated than most people care to fully dig into. in fanon (from what i've seen) he seems to fall into two categories: the persona he puts on, and an "obsessive insane freak". both are very baseline things we see, because that's how ivan sees himself. fake on the outside and a 'shitty' person on the inside.

to me, the point of ivan's character is to look past both of those. to question them and his actions, to wonder what his motivations are. once you get to the point of "oh wow, this was all either for the purpose of survival or because he literally has no idea how to interact with people", things become a lot clearer. we just have to hope people can make the effort to read into things, i guess.

(thank you! great ask, i've been rotating it around in my head for like an hour lmao)

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

BFTC isn’t really a case of terrible characterization for Jason so much as it was a terrible case of victim blaming. Like yeah, some of the things Jason did were a bit extreme compared to his “better” appearances, but that’s nothing new and pretty much true of many stories that aren’t utrh or lost days. The bad parts are are also definitely exaggerated by fans.

The story isn’t centered on Jason. Of course every other character’s description of Jason would be knee-jerk dismissive and misunderstanding, since (again) the intention was to make Jason out to be the cartoony bad guy villain. But if you look past the layers of grime they added, the bare bones of his characterization are not entirely incorrect. It’s a biased story in which their intended criticisms of Jason’s morals often fell short, so to compensate they deliberately cranked up his motivations to be more extreme and unrealistic (but one which, nonetheless got Jason’s overall thoughts and goals relatively consistent with stories that portrayed him accurately).

Yes, him shooting Damian was out of character, but granted we’re all in agreement that it was a true case of “bad writing decision”, I don’t think it’s hard to look past. The only other bit people probably complain about (which felt iffy at worst) was him being “a bit enthusiastic” at times in trying to convince Dick to become another lethal Batman (you can just as easily say Jason wouldn’t have been personally invested enough to have acted in the way he did). I don’t care though because he was probably doing it for shits and giggles, and it was funny watching him push their buttons on his spare time while being excellent at his job. Same old ‘none of them deny that he’s effective, they just can’t get behind the killing’ conflict.

Looking past the fact that Jason still had a valid point, the “he’s the bad guy” plot falls apart for other obvious reasons, which happen in the 3rd issue. It’s kind of hard to focus on how much of a bitch Jason’s being when the other characters are written in an infinitely more problematic way (which ends up happening in most “hate Jason” stories). Not only did they heavily imply Jason is a victim of SA, but the way Dick/the batfamily treats Jason about this is … horrible. Arguing that this was a case of character assassination for Bruce and Dick would be more realistic than using this story to claim Jason is a Bad Person™.

Even though Bruce does have a bad track record with his perspective on victims of SA.

Hey. Maybe listen to the living person begging you to turn it off.

Geez. I wonder why he never felt safe enough to confide in Bruce or any of the rest of them. Implying that enduring what he did made him “broken beyond repair”, that he needs to be “fixed”, and saying verbatim, “you are my greatest failure”, not “I failed you greatly”. Then deciding on behalf of Jason that a bunch of people who weren’t involved in what happened to him should all know about this so they can decide what should be done. And everyone agrees with this garbage. Unbelievable.

Aka, any sort of healing he may have tried to accomplish was ruined by you lot. When exactly am I supposed to see that Jason was evil all along.

The story collapses in on itself in the third issue because where Dick is supposed to be at his prime within the arc, he just sort of rambles about how Jason was a shitty victim and then awkwardly shifts to talking about personal growth and coming to accept his own heroic destiny.

I do resent this, but not because “Jason sucks here”. Jason’s “bad portrayal” pales in comparison to the problematic mindsets given to the other characters (namely Dick) which were framed as good-natured intentions and “tough love”. As for people who describe this as “vilifying Jason to prop up Dick” … I don’t really know what to make of that.

[lakesbian]

what are your animorphs thoughts on how the characters have been changing over the course of the series so far? also, do you have a favorite animal moment in the ones you’ve read?

okay this got long due to my rambling so its going under a cut

well i can't say i have any profound analysis on how they've been changing but it's fun...jake rocks because he very rapidly went from "why are you guys saying im the leader im not the leader stop saying im the leader" -> someone has to be the leader, they want it to be me, i'll take the responsibility for making the calls that could get people killed and he Is becoming more repressed and solemn over time about it but he's also great at like. having internal spirals over it and shaking like a leaf and becoming very reactively resentful of both himself for not knowing what to do and everyone else for expecting him to know what to do. & sometimes people are like aww jake it's not your fault but sometimes they yell about how he's the one that got them into this mess so he has to get him out of it while internally regarding him as genuinely being the facade he puts up (<- even marco does this it's dire for jake) so you know. he's not doing so hot. shoutout to when cassie is like so what you're not supposed to be human? and he's like that's exactly right i'm not supposed to be human. it's fucking over for him marco has started calling him Prematurely Middle-Aged. he is turning into brian laborn. i like how they know they can still strategically coerce Whimsy and Immaturity out of him (e.g. 'letting' them sneak into a hollywood concert thing) by appealing to specific teenagerisms of his (shaq will be there).

veryfunny how they. put an arc about tobias navigating [checks notes] accepting his therian identity in the 90s children novels. just straight up. they gave birdboy a stomach-fluttering creeping lack of ability to stay in denial while a higher being was showing him his ideal body moment. They gave birdboy a "rachel is forced to accept who he is and stop solely thinking of him as a human tragically locked away by finding that only appealing to his true self as a red-tailed hawk rather than as a human can bring him out of being lost in a morph" moment. Also, he was autistic about dinosaurs as a child. i fear perhaps he'll have less focus for the rest of the series because his personal arc has like. more or less been sorted already. he's good now. there is the chosen one™️thing coming up still but i like that significantly less than him being just some guy so that's not really exciting. it's nice for him that his life is cool and awesome now though. i will say it's funny how almost every time the animorphs describe each other in their books they're just so wildly off-base (generally in the 'falling for the facade' way but it was funny when marco just confidently rattled off statements about rachels purported secret insecurities that were not even remotely accurate) and with tobias everyone is still like. poor soul. forever trapped in the body of a hawk. and then you cut to tobias and every time he's not in hawk morph he's complaining and bitching and moaning about how he wants to be back in his REAL body with his REAL eyes because they're SO MUCH MORE AWESOME. he's good, guys. he's fine. he's chill.

i am on the. checks notes. second chapter of the Cassie's Spontaneous Mental Break Over Doing Violence book. i like how she had an entire book dedicated to that one specific experience some kids have of being A Kid Who Loves Animals (TM) and then processes that bad things happen all the time in nature + human morality with regards to caring for animals is complicated and biased and gets really distressed about pondering the matter. like you know that type of experience. love that she gets an entire book dedicated to having it. fantastic character trait that she's the most prone out of all of them to having morality debates with herself and distress over the idea of choosing wrong to the point where she genuinely needs someone (marco) to explain to her that inaction is in itself a decision. girl who is very sick and tired of bloodshed, and also keeps accidentally murdering people. remember when she's like [trying 2 joke] i dont want to decide...could you just decide for me jake and jake is like [seriously, completely aware she wasn't kidding on a deeper level] do you Want me to decide for you? it is perhaps most necessary for her over all the other morphs that she gets to Not Be The Person Making The Final Calls. this does not stop her from having increasingly many little moments of nervous breaks before she gets so upset she tries to hard-quit though. should be interesting to see where that goes over the course of the entire series because she has a lot more books to suffer badly through

rachel is like. i think she's the slowest boiling pot here. she's had one (1) moment of really getting snappish about her role being The Brave One but other than that she's largely going "unfortunately i cant stop talking (instinctively immediately calling marco a pussy when he says something is scary and then throwing myself into it to motivate everyone even if i am also so very scared)" and then continuing to play out her role. it's been cute to watch her friendship with marco develop they're by no means each others favorite but they're playful with each other and they're learning how to read each other. i like when rachel is like hmm i think i hear your mom on a submarine and hes like thanks rachel [thinking] if she says youre welcome shes lying to be nice and shes like. Thank you for having better hearing than you? Loser. and hes like oh thank god. it's also very cute when he steals the tv remote while they're all hanging out in a hotel room and acts like he's gonna turn it to baywatch and she gets annoyed and then he puts it to xena warrior princess for her and shes like oh ok :). she is always getting ripped and torn to shreds and almost dying and it may actually be traumatizing the other animorphs marginally more than it traumatizes her. i think thus far my favorite scene with her is when she's traveling with tobias during megamorphs 2

aximili is like. he can be kind of nothing when it's not his book but his characterization is overall really solid. kind of enamored with how much having dinner with cassie impacted him. i want to see more of his developing friendship with tobias...i like how in his head he's like "and we're Best friends :)" without checking to see whether or not tobias also thinks this. deeply deeply funny character in terms of literally being a jock who didnt pay very much attention in school sent back 400 years and expected by everyone he meets there to, like, explain how to invent electricity when all he knows is what electricity is. i think during the dinosaur episode he should have started insufferably asking the other animorphs to explain how to invent a cellphone/water purifier/etc to make a point. bonus points because he comes from a society where being considered more technologically knowledgeable than other warriors is literally a huge diss. he wants to be a jock but he's being considered a nerd by all of his friends just for knowing what is to him basic fact. which obscures the truth that cassie is the real nerd of the group. sad! i disagree with the people who think he's genuinely weird compared to other andalites and not just on earth btw. just a side note. i really like his character development and internal struggles over geopolitics while being Extremely Fifteen. he is fifteen and they are making him undergo the horrors. i would like to see more scenes like where he's invited to dinner at cassie's or where he remembers the dinner at cassie's as smth very fond/important to him but at the same time i can get behind him having a like...undersiders-type relationship to the other animorphs where the connection is simultaneously very superficial and very deep because he wouldn't be in proximity to them if not for Being In A War Together and they don't really have any intimate interactions with him but they still have the intrinsic closeness of constantly fighting for each others lives. i like how he's objectively rachel's least favorite & least trusted and they would still bite claw maim for each other!

marco is becoming increasingly complicated 4 sure. kind of enamored with his character trait where he's completely fine with going "ATTENTION EVERYONE: i am so terrified and scared and afraid that i am shivering and crying hysterically and peeing myself and i've almost fainted as well" but he simultaneously considers the idea of anyone finding out about deeper emotional vulnerabilities of his and pitying him to be intolerable. which kind of clashes in an interesting way w/ how the other animorphs are all pathologically obsessed with the notion that it's fine for anyone Else to be afraid, but They can't be afraid or they're a coward and should be ashamed of themselves. i forgot the specific context but shoutout to when marco fully genuinely says that something is very scary/he's very scared and he wouldn't blame anyone who decided to go home and then cassie projects her own insecurities onto the statement and makes a kind of snippy remark about how she's not going to back down despite the fact that it was in no way targeted at anyone. i like how it's sort of his job to be The Sensible One (although this has shifted over the course of the series now it's more his job to be The Funny One i.e. the emotional medic) but his brain just completely shits out when he's scared and he frequently has to be reminded of common sense things during fights. i like how this does not stop him from being extremely impulsively angry and violent and poorly restrained around things that hit home for him. i like how when jake tries to go "are you ok? asking because you have not made a singular jest and thats worrying to people" marco takes it as "alright fucking fine i'll do better at doing my job and making jokes" instead of emotionally engaging. it's gonna be interesting to see where he goes he's one of the more complicated ones to see the perspective of

[ohnonotthehorrors]

Right, walk with me as I dive into Canary Curse/SecretLife Martyn lore.

The current working theories are:

A: Jimmy is a sign of doom to his allies. Most of his allies have done poorly when partnered with him (Scott, Mumbo, Tango, Joel, and now Martyn), at least in reference to their usual abilities.

B: Watchers dislike Martyn. (And Jimmy)

These are valid in my mind and pair well with the phenomenon. However, I don't think it's exactly what is happening.

Which leads me to a mildly popular theory I'm still debating about (which will be my main point of this post):

Martyn is actively sacrificing himself for Jimmy.

It's not a poor theory, but I don't think it's accurate. For one, it doesn't fit wonderfully with Martyn's character (in game), which is untrustworthy, turncoat, and survivalist among other things.

But lets talk about why I DO like it first.

So this theory is similar to a different situation that happened in limited life. When Joel famously said after Jimmy died 'I was going to sacrifice myself for him, so he wouldn't go out first.' Most people have taken that to mean 'I was going to give him my time/let him perma-kill me.'

What's interesting about this is Joel is going about it in a very productive way. He is gathering time from other players, which he will then give to Jimmy to further Jimmy's odds. It could technically also imply that Joel doesn't plan to die instantly. If he has enough time he can share with Jimmy without full sacrifice.

Joel never got a chance to do this. Making the words tragic and full of broken hope, especially considering how he was then hunted by the majority of the server. Soon dying near where Jimmy fell.

Martyn's actions would be tragic in a very very different way.

This isn't a man being productive. this is a man actively self destroying. looking the universe in the face as he chooses to beat it just seconds before it can kill it's favorite punching bag.

I can not begin to describe how much this feels like a man clawing victory out of a race only he knows he's participating in. (Only he knows hes Winning)

Martyn is not Helping Jimmy's case. He isn't somehow giving him more time on earth or showering him in diamond armor until he's safe. This is not a story where the victory will come sweet, this is one where the victory is death. Not more time with friends and family. Death.

I genuinely love imagining that. Full stop.

However, I don't think it's the Reasoning behind Martyn's actions. (at least partly)

Martyn is known partly for Rebellion. Or at least, THINKING about rebellion. (see, that's an important detail)

Character Martyn always planned on betraying Ren. Always. He was going to mutiny, coup, whatever you want to call it, from day one.

In Double life he doesn't live with his soulmate. Actively, killing them at one point. In Last life he begins talking to Them, beginning his journey into becoming a Listener agent.

In Limited life he actively disobeys the unspoken rules of conduct. (Which, to be clear, I do not think actually EXIST). He steals peoples kills, he acts amicable only to knife people in the back seconds later, he killed people that are supposed to be his allies. In a game where everyone was loyal he he betrayed his closest ally to win the game.

Now. Here's where the Thinking comes into play.

Martyn is never actually rebelling.

Not in any meaningful way at least. It's like the crab in the bucket example, he's pulling other crabs down to get to the mouth of the bucket (winning) and in doing so he Thinks he's rebelling. But he's actually just playing into the Death Game.

throughout this whole thing the ONLY thing he can do to rebel would have been to simply not play the game.

(Which is technically true from a Meta stand point as well)

Martyn could have let himself die. Could have refused to kill. In doing so he is causing the most active form of rebellion against the people Watching, in that he is giving them nothing to watch. He is refusing to PLAY the Death Game.

Now. He didn't chose to do that...

But what if he did THIS time?

Martyn has succeeded his goal, he's won. He is the fourth winner of the life series. And guess what?

It got him SHIT.

An hour and a half of abject loneliness in an abandoned war torn server, all while he slowly waited to die. And after? No escape. No nothing, just right back into the Game.

It's a little like the universe is laughing at him.

"Oh, you thought this would make you Special? You thought this would beet us? This is exactly what we always wanted"

So that one goal Martyn's had since the beginning? Gone. Out the window. And if THAT option is gone, there's really only one left:

I don't think Martyn is trying to die first to save Jimmy. I think Martyn is trying to die first to beet the Watchers/Universe.

(After all. What's a bigger fuck you than breaking the most solid curse in the game?)

[milflewis]

✄ DVD BONUS: pick a fic and I’ll describe or write a deleted scene!

Telepathy au pls

fic ask game

the way this isn't even an actual fic. let alone one that has deleted scenes. i don't think about it apart from when i'm like what should i write for mark lol. but! my forensic lecture was so boring yesterday that i spent the hour thinking about if it WAS a solid fic then what would be a scene i'd chew over and probably end up deciding nah this doesn't work or say what i am trying to have it say. so. long story short here is valtteri and george talking about fucking and being mind-bonded with lewis but fucking doesn't actually mean fucking or smth like that

"What?" 

Valtteri's voice is hammered flat and low. This is the time for George to brake. He is about to end up in the wall, missing the racing line, tyres spinning.

He keeps going.

“Did he have sex when you were, uh, bonded with him? Or be with anyone?”

It is a little embarassing that he stumbles over Valtteri being bonded with Lewis, and not, more normally probably, his teammate and friend having sex. George tries to be glad that he actually gets the question out at least semi-coherently this time.

Valtteri stares at him unblinking. It is a heavy thing, heavier even than Toto’s. His eyes really are blue, George thinks, a touch hysterically, blimey. 

He feels like he sometimes does after a particularly hot shower; raw and cooked and unpeeled at the edges, like a frog.

georgie, Alex texted him once, sick of George talking about sharing his mind with Lewis, or more accurately, sharing-but-not-sharing, it could be worse yeah.

And then: just think about it mate

Alex believes proper punctuation, or really, any punctuation at all, only belongs in things like job contracts and historical romance novels.

u could be paired w bottas

Oh, fuck off.

George remembers that now, blood gone cold.

Valtteri blinks. 

“Are you really asking me this?” 

George doesn’t think he’d understand Valtteri any better if he shared a mind with him. Not that he understands him at all now.

He can see Lewis laughing from inside the garage, surrounded by his mechanics. George and Valtteri are tucked away in a walkway leading off of it. Perhaps not the best place for a chat like this but the question, well chewed over, slipped out before George could help himself. When Lewis first spotted them, the sea in George’s head didn’t even ripple as Lewis made a questioning face at him. George only shrugged back.

“I just,” George starts, and then stops again. He is crossing a line, he knows he is, even if he doesn’t know exactly where or what that line is. This is something he should probably only be asking Lewis, if he is allowed to be asking at all in the first place. George’s head spins. His throat has gone dry. “You don’t.”

He inhales deeply, and lets it sit in his chest before breathing out. He does it again.

He glances over in Lewis’s direction to see him trying to make eye contact.

“I don’t get him,” George admits finally. It feels like he is showing Valtteri a hole in his chest and shining a light through. “I’ve tried – but, it’s just. He is just, I don’t know. Is he holding back because of – Is this how he is?”

The sea in his head wavers, shivering.

What George didn’t tell Alex is that sometimes it feels like he does share a mind with Valtteri. He isn’t sure someone could be in Lewis Hamilton’s head and not feel connected to Valtteri Bottas.

George knows he is crossing a line, mentioning this to someone other than Lewis, but this is Valtteri. He can hate it all he likes, covet it in a way that he wishes he never found out he was capable of, but it is true. When it comes to Lewis, Valtteri doesn’t really count. Or maybe, he counts for more, somehow.

George has never forgotten the sting in his hand after smacking that helmet, or the plane rides before and after. He once woke up two seats over from Valtteri with a blanket tucked around his knees, despite having fallen asleep without one.

“It is not you,” Valtteri tells him like that is not the best and worst thing George has ever heard. “Lewis isn’t.” He frowns here, careful. There is a slight colour to his cheeks.

George might actually be dying.

“This is not what Lewis does. He tried, I think, before, but it didn’t suit. He needs, um.” Valtteri rolls his eyes fondly. “It’s not about you. He is just Lewis. This is how he is.”

“Okay.” George clears his throat. “Okay, okay. Yeah, alright.”

“Alright,” Valtteri says, only a touch mocking.

“Yeah,” George continues, ignoring him. “I can work with that. Okay.”

Valtteri rolls his eyes again. George decides it is still fond.

[grigori77]

Movies of 2024 - My Summer Rundown (Part 2)

10.  BOY KILLS WORLD – Turns out this was a really GREAT SUMMER for action cinema, and the first genre entry here is EXACTLY what you’d expect from the true master of anarchic movie mayhem, Sam Raimi, here producing the feature debut of ambitious young German visual effects artist-turned writer-director Moritz Mohr.  The newcomer’s crazy PERFECTLY compliments our veteran’s crazy, because this is like if The Raid movies had been made by Don Coscarelli (see John Dies At the End for reference) – basically a geeky love letter to classic 90s 16-bit beat-‘em-up video games, it follows the bizarre misadventures of Bill Skarsgard’s “the Boy”, a traumatised deaf-mute orphan raised and trained to become a lethal living weapon by a mysterious (and genuinely WEIRD) jungle shaman (The Raid’s own Yayan Ruhian) in order to avenge his family’s brutal murder at the hands of the Van Der Kroys, the bloodthirsty organised crime family holding their dystopian city under a cruel thumb of violent oppression.  The film has been described as a “fever dream”, and honestly that’s a pretty accurate assessment – this is a COMPLETELY FUCKING MENTAL film, frequently spiralling off on surreal flights of fancy as its already pretty bonkers plot starts to unravel in truly WEIRD directions, but thankfully this adds to the unique charm a lot more than it ever threatens to alienate the viewer, sticking to JUST the right side of satirical parody while delivering a consistently winning line of jet black comedy.  Besides, the MAIN attraction here is EXACTLY what most viewers come to this kind of film for, and Mohr EASILY delivers in this venue – the action sequences are INCREDIBLE, flawlessly executed even as they frequently become as downright INSANE as every other aspect of the film, and without pulling ANY punches to deliver some of the year’s most gratuitously GRAPHIC blood-and-guts.  Skarsgard is, like always, thoroughly BRILLIANT throughout, effortlessly proving what an incredibly expressive physical actor he can be since he never speaks a word throughout the entire film … but that doesn’t mean the Boy doesn’t get his point across just fine, the film delivering a pretty ingenious conceit by having him speak to us through his “inner monologue”, using the announcer voice from his favourite arcade game when he was a child (voice actor extraordinaire H. Jon Benjamin, star of Archer, Bob’s Burgers and Dr Katz, Professional Therapist).  Then there’s the top-notch supporting cast, featuring the likes of Michelle Dockery, Stranger Things’ Brett Gelman, Sharlto Copley and Famke Jansen as the uniformly despicable Van Der Kroys, Jessica Rothe (Happy Death Day and its sequel) as their lethal enforcer June 27, and Andrew Koji (Warrior, Snake Eyes, Bullet Train) as Basho, the affable oddball resistance fighter the Boy befriends and enlists into his crusade along with Benny (the Old Spice Man himself, Isaiah Mustafa), a mighty warrior with a thick beard and moustache who provides some of the film’s biggest belly-laughs (for reasons it’s best for you to find out for yourselves, trust me).  Relentlessly ridiculous, unflinchingly messy and frequently laugh-out-loud hilarious, this is definitely one of the year’s most unapologetically ODD films, but also definitely one of the most FUN too, as well as a spectacular showcase for the talents of a VERY fresh new filmmaking talent who is doubtless destined for great things in the future.  Just be forewarned, it definitely AIN’T one for the faint-of-heart or weak-of-stomach …

9.  THE MINISTRY OF UNGENTLEMANLY WARFARE – Once again Hollywood is making it ABUNDANTLY clear they just DON’T LIKE Guy Ritchie any more, and I have NO IDEA WHY … despite 2020’s The Gentleman becoming a modest box office hit and signifying what many considered a triumphant return to form for the man who brought us the likes of Snatch, RocknRolla and the Sherlock Holmes movies (although personally I never thought he actually really fell off, despite what Swept Away and Aladdin might have made us think), his subsequent releases all got largely BURIED online – granted, some of it was down to COVID, but even after everything started to get back to normal the inexplicably disrespectful treatment continued, with Wrath of Man and The Covenant, both impressively well-executed and evocative cinematic features in their own rights, getting released straight to streaming with frustratingly little fanfare to drum up the attention they clearly deserved.  At least this one made it into theatres, but with a lacklustre advertising campaign and stiff competition from much more high profile fare it sank like a stone, almost like Lionsgate didn’t even WANT IT to succeed.  Even worse, for some unbelievably stupid reason it didn’t even RELEASE

in the UK, meaning I had to wait until it subsequently hit Amazon for me to finally get to check it out.  The most frustrating part, though, is that the critics CLEARLY feel the same as I do about the film we actually received – this is a TOP DRAWER piece of work, further proof that Ritchie never actually LOST a step, another genuine belter of a flick which takes a brilliant premise and crafts an offbeat and deliciously entertaining cinematic caper than really deserved to be seen by a really big audience on a proper big screen.  Taken from Winston Churchill’s declassified WWII files, it follows the true life exploits of special forces commando Gus March-Phillips (Henry Cavill) as he put together a covert team in order to execute a highly classified raid on a German U-boat outfitting operation in the hopes of crippling the subs long enough to help bring the Americans into the War.  The only problem?  March-Phillips was a disgraced loose-cannon, a fiercely independent troublemaker with a reputation for going off-mission and a major dislike of authority figures … he was also the original inspiration for James Bond, then mid-ranking SOE-officer Ian Fleming using him as the basis for the mercurial protagonist of his best-selling spy novels (and the rest, of course, is history).  Needless to say, it looks like this will be the closest Cavill’s ever gonna get to actually playing Bond, and he really sank his teeth into this opportunity, clearly having the time of his life investing the character with his trademark twinkle and roguish charm (as well as an amusing appreciation for fine men’s fashions); he’s the ironclad backbone of the film, driving the action and story with typical aplomb, and is ably supported by a winningly motley collection of misanthropes, the gang of miscreants March-Phillips put together to execute Operation Postmaster brought to life in pitch-perfect performances from Alan Ritchson (Reacher), Alex Pettyfer, Eiza Gonzalez, Henry Golding and more, while there’s an enjoyably NASTY turn from Inglourious Basterds’ Til Schweiger as the film’s dastardly big bad, SS Commandant Heinrich Luhr, and Ritchie regular Cary Elwes brings his classic stiff-upper-lip to bear as the operation’s top CO, Brigadier Colin Gubbins, while an all-but-unrecognisable Rory Kinnear portrays a suitably gruff Winston Churchill.  Ultimately, Ritchie delivers an enjoyably fiendish heist movie masquerading as a war flick, the plot snaking with crafty glee through a series of expertly executed set-pieces and ingenious little twists before finally landing a brilliantly cathartic climax which pays winning respect to the real life heroes that inspired the film, along with one of the greatest espionage thriller franchises OF ALL TIME.  That alone should have won this movie some respect, at least enough to raise its profile, and it’s a criminal shame it’s been treated with SUCH glaring disrespect.  Here’s hoping it earns the cult classic status it deserves, that might redress SOME of the balance …

8.  THE FALL GUY – Stuntman-turned-director David Leitch’s latest film (following on from well-deserved previous successes co-helming the first John Wick film before striking out on his own with Atomic Blonde, Deadpool 2, Hobbs & Shaw and Bullet Train) is not only a genuinely EXTRAORDINARY big screen adaptation of one of the classic old school action adventure TV shows I grew up watching (alongside Knight Rider, The A-Team and Airwolf), but also raises one of the great unanswered questions of cinema – why isn’t there an Academy Award for stunts?  Anyway … turns out that Ken, in last-year’s runaway hit Barbie, wasn’t the only role that Ryan Gosling was born to play – he’s equally perfect for the role of Colt Seavers, the seasoned “unsung hero” who makes all those action hero movie stars look so awesome, at least until an on-set accident left him with a near career-ending back injury which forced him into semi-retirement.  He’s brought back into the game, however, when the action movie star he used to double for, Tom Ryder (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), disappears midway through the production of the debut directorial feature of his former lover, camera-operator Jody Moreno (Emily Blunt).  On paper he’s here to fill in for Ryder, but he’s really been brought in to find the missing star before the studio gets wise and shuts down production, but as he delves into what turns out to be a pretty tangled mystery it becomes clear that Colt might not really be the right man for the job … unfortunately he’s all they got … Gosling may be a master of understated performance, but as I’ve learned over the years (particularly from the criminally underappreciated The Nice Guys) he’s ALSO a master of comedic acting, and he’s really firing on all cylinders for this one, frequently damn near stealing the show from a high class cast who are nonetheless all equal to the task.  Blunt is, as always, as flawlessly charming as she is STUNNINGLY beautiful, while Taylor-Johnson is clearly really enjoying playing a supreme douchebag of a preening self-promoting prima donna, Ted Lasso’s Hannah Waddington frequently walks off with her scenes as supremely oily producer Gail Meyer, and Everything Everywhere All At Once’s Stephanie Hsu and the great Winston Duke both hold their own admirably as Ryder’s put-upon personal assistant Alma and Colt’s long-suffering best friend, stunt coordinator Dan Tucker.  Needless to say, Leitch has long since proven that he is a MASTER of on-screen mayhem, effortlessly ushering in some of the very best action sequences we’re going to see in the cinema this year, but he also once again proves he’s ALSO a master of big screen comedy, bringing the pitch perfect screenplay from Drew Pearce (who previously wrote Hobbs & Shaw, as well as Iron Man 3 and his own directorial debut Hotel Artemis) to effervescent primary-coloured life as a gleefully anarchic and thoroughly irreverent celebration of action cinema excess and the gruelling hard work that it takes to actually make it all possible, all done with barely ANY digital trickery at all.  All round, then, this was some of the most fun I’ve had at the cinema this year (so far), and once again, it really does raise that all-time great question – why isn’t there an Oscar for stunt work?  Gods know this one would definitely have been a shoe-in next Awards season …

7.  MARS EXPRESS – My animated feature of the summer is a pretty singular work which came out of leftfield and really took me by surprise, a science fiction murder mystery thriller of rare vision, inventiveness and beauty which is tempered with a fascinating and more than a little troubling thematic message which raises far more questions than it answers.  Marking the feature debut of French writer-director Jeremie Perin (Crisis Jung, Lastman), it chronicles the investigation of two very unusual private investigators – world weary former soldiers Aline Ruby (Lea Drucker of Fox’s War of the Worlds TV series) and Carlos Rivera (The Crimson Rivers’ Daniel Njo Lobe), the latter of whom is now a kind of simulant android whose recorded consciousness was uploaded into an robotic body after he was killed in action – on a colonised Mars as they hunt for the cause of a supposedly harmless robot’s sudden malfunction and subsequent violent rampage.  As they tumble deeper down an alarmingly perilous rabbit hole, they uncover a terrifying clandestine conspiracy involving corporate malfeasance which may include their sometimes employer, tech billionaire Chris Royjacker (the great Mathieu Almaric), rogue AI and a looming technological revolution which could spell disaster for the Red Planet … this is a genuinely INTRIGUING film, Perin and co-writer Laurent Sarfati (who previously worked with him on Lastman) weaving a seductively labyrinthine detective story which works magnificently well as an ingenious sci-fi take on the classic Noir formula, but also delivers an equally fascinating Philip K. Dick-esque treatise on the potential dangers of the unchecked development of artificial intelligence and far more fundamentally challenging questions about what it really means to be alive, and to be human.  It’s also genuinely THRILLING, propelling the story at a furious pace generously peppered with a string of intensely full-blooded action sequences, as well as a genuinely GORGEOUS work of animated art, the exquisite mixture of 2D and digital animation (looking like a slicker version of Titmouse’s work on Scavengers Reign) rivalling some of the best anime I’ve seen but nonetheless somehow carrying a conspicuously FRENCH vibe.  Altogether this is a magnificent achievement for an up-and-coming filmmaking talent whose work I will DEFINITELY be keeping an eye out for the future, as well as a BREATHTAKING masterpiece of this cinematic artform.  I highly recommend hunting it down.

6.  TWISTERS – Back in 1996, Jan de Bont’s man-against-nature action thriller Twister turned out to be one of the most undeniably enjoyable summer blockbusters of the 90s, and it’s one of those rare CGI-heavy features from the fledgling digital days that STILL holds up impressively well today.  It also DEFINITELY worked perfectly well on its own merits, with no need for a sequel and CERTAINLY not a remake … so when it was announced that there was going to be one after all, like many I was suitably dubious.  I mean the story was told perfectly well in the original, there’s nothing new that could really be said in a follow-up, right?  Turns out there actually IS, though, and I’m pleased to report that Minari director Lee Isaac Chung’s new film lives up to its predecessor in fine style, thanks in no small part to him and screenwriter Mark L Smith (The Revenant, Overlord and The Midnight Sky) clearly taking the lessons of the 1996 film very much to heart and bringing us a fresh serving of everything that worked so well last time round while carving impressive fresh ground for a genuinely rewarding original story moving forward.  That being said, the greatest strength of the original wasn’t the effects anyway – it was the wonderfully well-rounded, fully-realised characters we followed into the film’s myriad dangers, and this one definitely pulls off the same feat, introducing a new generation of tornado chasers out to pioneer new scientific tech and hopefully save the lives of people living in the strife-torn environs of America’s Tornado Alley.  Glen Powell (hot off major career-making turns in Top Gun: Maverick and Hit Man) may be the heavyweight star power in this particular cast, and he’s definitely great, scene-stealing fun as Tyler Owens, the self-proclaimed “Tornado Wrangler” of YouTube, but the true heart of the film is Daisy Edgar-Jones (Fresh, Where the Crawdads Sing, Normal People) as meteorologist Kate Carter, who’s looking for redemption for past mistakes which led to the deaths of most of her old storm-chasing team, while Anthony Ramos (Hamilton and In the Heights) is certainly the soul as Javi, Kate’s former colleague who’s looking to help her realise her goal through his new tech venture Storm Par; there’s also hefty support from the likes of Brandon Perea (Nope), Sasha Lane (American Honey, Daniel Isn’t Real), David Corenswet (soon to be the new Superman in James Gunn’s DCU reboot) and even my girl Katy O’Brian (Love Lies Bleeding, Z Nation, The Mandalorian)!  They’re all just as fleshed out as Bill Paxton and Helen Hunt’s crew were back in the day, a compelling collection of lovable misfits we’re happy to go on this crazy death-defying adventure with, which of course does SO MUCH of the heavy lifting with regards to the tension-building because we get so deeply invested in them all.  That being said, the film definitely doesn’t scrimp on spectacle, the visual effects work having improved SIGNIFICANTLY on what was already impressively high quality work back in ’96, leading to some truly TERRIFYING set-pieces that would definitely surprise anyone who only knows Chung for his critically acclaimed and award-winning dramatic work (but less for anyone familiar with his work on The Mandalorian), which means I am VERY curious to see what he’ll deliver this Christmas on the highly anticipated Star Wars-based Skeleton Crew TV series.  This is a far cry from just pure by-the-numbers summer blockbuster fare, then, a heavyweight event pic with a surprising amount of substance and a hefty dose of proper FEELS to go with all that adrenaline and eye candy, and it’s MORE THAN worthy successor to an already rightly beloved classic.

5.  FURIOSA – 2015’s Mad Max: Fury Road was not only one of the greatest films of the last decade, but was also the undeniable MASTERPIECE of director George Miller’s career, even managing to (almost) eclipse his classic FIRST sequel, The Road Warrior.  It was a triumph of visual storytelling, two hours of furious all-action mayhem with barely any digital trickery in evidence, and brought us one of the greatest female protagonists of all time in the irrepressible warrior woman who managed to overshadow Max Rockatansky himself – Imperator Furiosa, perfectly brought to life by an ON FIRE Charlize Theron.  It was, quite simply, A PERFECT FILM.  So did it really NEED a prequel, chronicling the story of what led such a badass lady to undertake the gruelling crusade of that most exceptional of cinematic extravaganzas?  Honestly?  Not really.  But does that matter?  No, not at all.  As soon as Miller started touting this as a project those of us who flipped out SO HARD over Fury Road IMMEDIATELY started frothing at the mouth at the possibilities … it was just that the more pragmatic among us were also a little worried that he might not be able to capture lightning in a bottle all over again.  Well, we never should have doubted him, Miller was definitely equal to the task – Furiosa may not be QUITE as good as the film it chronologically precedes, but as an origin story it is MAGNIFICENT, a sprawling, gruelling, exhausting post-apocalyptic action epic that definitely does flawless justice to such an incredibly strong character.  I don’t want to give too much away plot-wise, it’s better to just jump in and ABSORB it all, suffice to say that this does indeed reveal how the child Furiosa was stolen from her seemingly idyllic life in an oasis in the middle of the radioactive Australian wasteland, dragged out into the middle of a brutally hostile desert filled with warfare, insanity and SERIOUSLY POWERFUL VEHICLES and forced to forge herself into an indomitable, merciless and uncompromising living weapon in order to survive, thrive and find her way back to her long lost Green Place.   Anya Taylor-Joy is a fine choice indeed for a more youthful Furiosa, subtly nuanced and filled with simmering intensity buried under a haughty mask of righteous untouchability,

but she doesn’t even TURN UP until the midway point of the film, the lion’s share of the work to establish her unbreakable character through her lost childhood ultimately going to The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart’s Ayla Browne (who previously performed for Miller on Three Thousand Years of Longing), and she is nothing less than a TOTAL FUCKING REVELATION in the role.  Chris Hemsworth frequently steals the film as the best villain the franchise has EVER HAD (and that says a lot in a series that includes Hugh Keys-Byrne’s Toecutter), self-aggrandising preening peacock Dementus, who gleefully tips from adorably camp to chillingly monstrous to pompously flamboyant at the drop of a hat, effortlessly holding court over the likes of Nathan Jones’ spectacularly ridiculous Rictus Erectus and Romper Stomper’s Lachy Hulme as a more youthful incarnation of his tyrannical father Immortan Joe, while The Musketeers’ Tom Burke is equal parts heroic and stoic as Praetorian Jack, the doughty War Rig commander who takes Furiosa on as his protégé, and model-turned actress Charlee Fraser (Anyone But You) rules over the opening scenes as her ferociously protective mother, Mary Jabassa.  Miller delivers in fine style on the action like always, the War Rig chase in particular sure to go down as the year’s most memorable action sequence, and once again there’s a pleasing reliance on physical stunt-work, practical sets and good old fashioned elbow grease over CGI throughout that does its predecessor proud.  That being said, this one is NOT a breakneck movie-long chase, its more leisurely, sometime quite introspective pace instead going a long way to let the story breathe and the peerless world-building develop, although there is still a characteristic relentlessness to the tale which means that, despite its two-and-a-half-hour runtime it never feels overlong or outstays its welcome.  Then again, it once again deploys Fury Road’s secret weapon – another throbbing, propulsively atmospheric score from Tom Holkenborg – to create another very pleasurable ride through the irradiated hellscape of Miller’s Outback.  I for one would be very pleased to return to it someday …

4.  KINGDOM OF THE PLANET OF THE APES – Matt Reeves is a tough act to follow, even before The Batman he was already blowing us away with his star-making directorial breakthrough helming Dawn of the Planet of the Apes and its follow-up War For the Planet of the Apes.  The conclusion of that latter film put a very definitive exclamation point on the franchise as a whole, making ANY attempts to continue the saga a tough prospect indeed, and something that even a seasoned filmmaker might balk at.  But when I heard the proposed new trilogy, set hundreds of years after the events of War, would be directed by Wes Ball, I breathed a big sigh of relief – he did an INCREDIBLE job with the sci-fi trilogy adapting YA novelist James Dashner’s popular Maze Runner series, so I knew the saga was in very good hands indeed.  Having come up in visual effects, Ball’s always maintained a very strong balance between physical and digital filmmaking, so he was certainly up to the challenge of bringing a new generation of photorealistic, vitally ALIVE super-intelligent talking apes to the big screen, as well as putting his flesh-and-blood actors through their paces with similar skill and flair.  Most important, though, this film introduces a new lead protagonist who’s definitely got what it takes to succeed Andy Serkis’ mesmerizing Caesar in a new story, Owen Teague (It, I See You, Inherit the Viper, Black Mirror) thoroughly impressing in his first lead role as Noa, an uncertain young chimpanzee from an isolated tribal clan forced to grow up fast when his people are stolen in one terrifying night by masked ape raiders, leaving him to follow their trail with only intellectual orangutan Raka (The Orville’s Peter Macon) and an unusually smart “echo” (basically what humans have become since they lost their speech and intelligence) named Mae (The Witcher’s Freya Allan) to count as allies.  Macon is a thoroughly endearing presence throughout, while Allan delivers a fascinatingly complex performance that fuels many of the film’s most interesting twists (although I’m sure you can spot one or two coming ahead of time); and then there’s Kevin Durand, who’s clearly having a whale of a time getting his teeth into a rewardingly robust screen villain in the form of Proximus Caesar, an ambitious bonobo warlord who’s using a corrupted version of his namesake’s teachings to build a tyrannical empire of oppressed apes – he’s not quite as compelling an antagonist as Toby Kebbell’s Koba, but he serves most admirably indeed here.  Altogether, this film definitely had A LOT of heavy lifting to do to even APPROACH the heights of Reeves’ tenure on the franchise, and Ball and screenwriter Josh Friedman (War of the Wolds, Terminator: Dark Fate, Avatar: The Way of Water) have risen to the task in fine style, delivering a thrilling, affecting and inventive epic action adventure which skilfully builds on the framework provided by the previous trilogy while courageously forging ahead into the future, leaving room to venture forward into exciting further instalments.  Ultimately this isn’t QUITE as good as Dawn or even War, but with this the saga remains as rewarding, compelling and majestic as ever before, and I see great things indeed in its future.  I can’t wait for whatever comes next …

3.  A QUIET PLACE: DAY ONE – It’s interesting, most of the time when you get a really great movie that becomes a big hit and spawns a franchise, THE LAST THING it needs is a prequel, and oftentimes when it DOES happen it feels like a shoehorned mess or even a total disrespectful retcon (they can’t ALL be Furiosa, after all).  A Quiet Place was never one of those – right from the start it was clear that how it all began was going to be JUST as interesting as where the original story was going, a fact which was DEFINITELY reinforced when Part Two dropped that TERRIFYING flashback cold open.  So when this finally arrived I was FIRST in my local queue, raring to go and so unswervingly excited that anything less than amazing was liable to be a disappointment.  Thankfully it turned out to be EVERYTHING I was hoping for – this is a super trim 99 minutes of knuckle-whitening terror with a (by now, not really all that) surprising amount of emotional power packed in, one of those films that brings you to tears when it’s not scaring the living bejeezuz out of you, just like the first two.  Lupita Nyong’o is a breath of fresh air as our new lead protagonist, Samira, a world-weary young New Yorker who’s been beaten down by a life of tragedy and chronic pain from the very same kind of advanced cancer that killed her beloved father, only to find a reason to stay alive (at least for a few more days) when the sound-seeking murder-beasts crash-land in the middle of the loudest city in the world and instantly go apeshit from all the noise.  Stranger Things’ Joseph Quinn, meanwhile, puts us through the emotional wringer right from his entrance as Eric, a timid Brit law student whose anxiety is going THROUGH THE ROOF as this all goes off around him, forced to find inner reserves of courage he never knew he had after he latches onto Sam as she makes her way across the city in search of the last slice she’ll ever be able to get from her favourite Harlem pizzeria.  There are equally heartfelt turns from Alex Wolff (Hereditary, Jumanji, Pig) as Reuben, Sam’s put-upon hospice nurse, and Djimon Hounsou, showing how his character started his own apocalyptic struggle as Part Two’s Henri, but perhaps the biggest stars of this film are, unsurprisingly, Nico and Schnitzel, a pair of tuxedo cats who perfectly portrayed the role of Frodo, Sam’s service cat, who’s probably THE MOST CHILLED-OUT feline I have EVER SEEN in a movie, and definitely one of the cutest.  Ultimately this is an absolute TRIUMPH for its breakout writer-director, Michael Sarnoski, whose INSANELY impressive feature debut Pig already made him one to watch back in 2021, and he definitely did the original property justice while carving his own equally impressive path in the franchise.  The end result, then, is a welcome addition to an already INCREDIBLE horror movie series, and definitely a strong contender for the genre’s movie of the year.

2.  DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE – Damn … if ever there was a movie that I really can’t say much of ANYTHING about for fear of dropping spoilers, even if most of the fandom has already gone to see it … this is an IMPORTANT MOVIE, maybe the most important of the year, because the MCU has been on the rocks of late, despite Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 going a long way to setting its fortunes back on the right track (but then that one has very much been considered a BLIP, really), and this one looks to have SINGLEHANDEDLY knocked the whole mess back on the right track while simultaneously mercilessly ripping the piss out of the whole debacle.  No, I mean IT REALLY DOES, there isn’t A SINGLE STONE that the Merc With a Mouth leaves unturned in his quest for meta-fuelled irreverence here (except maybe that dead Celestial poking out of the Pacific that nobody seems to be talking about after Eternals … or maybe I missed a joke somewhere).  Anyway, this is EVERY BIT as good as James Gunn’s third and final feature for the franchise, as well as another SUPER-solid entry in what was already Fox’s now expired X-Verse’s most popular series, but most importantly it’s also an EXTREMELY successful bridging film between that and the flagging Marvel Cinematic Universe, the perfect way to bring Mutantkind into the franchise with the least amount of fuss.  That being said, the BIG attraction here is, of course, getting to see two of Marvel’s biggest heavyweights going head-to-head in one movie, and of course beating seven shades of shit out of each other while they’re at it.  If you will … yeah, if you haven’t seen it yet and don’t want to get spoiled, you really should jump off at this point and just GO SEE IT while they’re still milking it for every cent they can in theatres, safe in the knowledge that it’s a fucking AWESOME movie and you won’t be disappointed.  Now SHOO!!!  Be off with you … okay, still here?  Right, then, watch me try to be as spoiler-light as I can moving forward … as much as Wade Wilson and Logan may be the very EPITOME of chalk-and-cheese onscreen, behind the scenes Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman have got on like a house on fire for a while now, ever since the former started lovingly teasing the latter in the first Deadpool movie and started his long-running campaign to lure the original Marvel Movie superstar into a big screen team-up, so it comes as NO SURPRISE that they’re both clearly having the time of their lives working together now.  Their chemistry in this is OFF THE CHARTS, the pair trading razor sharp quips, dirty looks and well-deserved face-punches with gleeful abandon from their first scene together RIGHT to the end, while the incredibly strong screenplay from Reynolds, series regulars Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick, Robot Chicken’s Zeb Wells and the film’s director Shawn Levy (who previously worked with Reynolds on Free Guy and The Adam Project, as well as Jackman on Real Steel) definitely gives them a really big Multiversal playground to let loose in, all while doing a really beautiful job of taking the baggage that the current condition of the MCU property’s left the franchise in and stuffing it all into what’s always been a much more stable if also far less RESPECTFUL cinematic sandbox.  There are easter eggs galore, both overt and a whole lot more subtle

throughout, especially during an extended sojourn into the Void (the TVA’s pruning dumping ground) which not only introduces a few fun new faces (including at least one X-Men franchise missed opportunity AS WELL as the VERY welcome return of my very favourite Marvel mutant of them all – so nice to see you back, Laura!  Sure hope you get to stick around for more) but also a bunch of fan favourites from across Fox’s Marvel pantheon, and as far as I’m concerned there ain’t a single bum note in the entire symphony here!  Certainly this is BY FAR the funniest Deadpool movie so far (which is saying something), but that’s not really surprising since Shawn Levy has consistently proven to be one of the VERY BEST cinematic comedy directors out there (especially with his consistently high quality Night At the Museum series), so this is just another day at the office for him, and he definitely delivered something TRULY SPECIAL here.  This is THE MOST I have laughed at the cinema so far this year, but thankfully like its predecessors it’s also got plenty of feels on offer too, meaning that it definitely fits in JUST FINE with the best that its new peers in the MCU have to offer.�� Topping this off with a selection of genuinely BRILLIANT inspired soundtrack needle-drops (particularly in the thoroughly irreverent and MASSIVELY disrespectful opening title sequence which sees Wade mercilessly desecrating one of Marvel’s most sacred cows) and a genuinely moving closing credits farewell homage to Fox’s Marvel legacy, the filmmakers have done their material so very proud as well as opened the door to so much fresh possibility in the Marvel Cinematic Universe going forward, and I for one hope this is a sign that things really are FINALLY back on the right track for the series.  Now if they could just get that Blade reboot out of Development Hell (wink wink) …

1.  ALIEN: ROMULUS – Ultimately landing JUST BEHIND a certain other major genre heavyweight entry on my list for the year so far, my (current) number TWO science-fiction film of the year is also easily one of the SCARIEST movies I’ve seen so far this year.  It’s also a very interesting and IMPORTANT film in that it goes A LONG WAY to knocking yet another major cinematic franchise back on track after spending a long while spiralling further and further out of true alignment.  Okay, I admit it, I LIKE Prometheus a whole lot as an actual FILM, but even I can admit that IN UNIVERSE its attempts to connect with Ridley Scott’s own original masterpiece and James Cameron’s (even better) follow-up were clunky at best and downright EMBARRASSING at worst (and in the end, the less said about Alien: Covenant the better, really).  So I guess it’s actually A GOOD THING that Scott took a step back into more of a producing role to allow somebody else to take the reins of this sort-of soft reboot, and it turns out that Fede Alvarez, writer-director of the first Evil Dead remake and Don’t Breathe (as well as the CRIMINALLY underrated The Girl In the Spider’s Web), was the PERFECT CHOICE for this job.  Fitting in somewhere between the events of Alien and Aliens, Romulus sees the dastardly Weyland Yutani Corporation find the blasted remains of the Nostromo floating in deep space, as well as traces of the original xenomorph itself, which they then transport to the film’s eponymous space station, in the orbit of the colony world of Jackson’s Star, in the hopes of exploiting the organism’s unique properties for their own gains.  Something clearly goes HORRIBLY WRONG in the interim, because when a gang of opportunistic young colonists, looking for a chance to jump ship to a freer life in another system outside of Corporate control, sneak onto the station in the hopes of scavenging some cryogenic resources for the journey, they find it derelict and ravaged by some kind of horrific disaster.  Then their poking around sets loose some of the fruits of the scientists’ biological labours, and before they know it they’re neck-deep in facehuggers and more than a few of their bigger brethren too …

Cailee Spaeny (Priscilla, Civil War, Bad Times At the El Royale) makes for a surprisingly robust action heroine in the classic Ripley mould as Rain, her diminutive size belying her character’s feisty determination and wily resourcefulness; Archie Renaux (Shadow & Bone) and Isabel Merced (Sicario: Day of the Soldado, Dora & the City of Gold, Turtles All the Way Down) are both extremely likeable as Tyler and Kay, respectively Rain’s ex-boyfriend and best friend, while Spike Fearn (Tell Me Everything) is kind of a prick as their cocky cousin Bjorn, and newcomer Aileen Wu is standoffish but precocious as talented young pilot Navarro.  The real breakout star of the piece, however, has to be Rye Lane’s David Jonsson, who delivers a spectacularly complex, multifaceted turn as Rain’s adopted brother Andy, a former Weyland-Yutani android dug out of a scrapheap and reprogrammed to protect her by her late father.  They’re all put through hell by the events that unfold within the faltering station, Alvarez turning the screws and fraying our nerves with his characteristic masterful skill as their situations progressively go from bad to worse to truly fucked, all while paying loving homage to the first two movies while also creating something new and fresh for the series if they do decide to move forward from here.  Best of all, though, as he’s always done in the past he largely eschews digital effects, preferring to do as much as he possibly can with physical effects, which makes the impressively icky creature work and seriously NASTY gore all the more delightfully gnarly throughout, with the film’s ONLY bum note being a particularly problematic “resurrection” choice which has already had a great deal made of it in the press, but which I, ultimately, found was actually handled surprisingly well in the end, so that it really didn’t detract very much from my personal enjoyment of the film as a whole.  Rounded off with an evocative and enjoyably old school score from Benjamin Wallfisch (who clearly had a great time channelling both Jerry Goldsmith and James Horner here), this is a rousing success for me, a phenomenal return to form for one of my very favourite sci-fi cinematic franchises and yet another standout offering from one of the very best fresh talents working in horror cinema today.  If he does indeed choose to stick with the property, I think Alvarez could well keep this series fresh and exciting for a fair few years yet.

[pumpkinsy0]

OMG HI!!! I’ve been reading ur blog for the past hour and I’m absolutely thrilled to see it lol. I’ve always been a big papercut shipper and seeing other people ship them is a dream come true for my 13 year old self. I wanted to dump some of my headcanons for the outsiders/S.E Hinton Verse mostly because it’s so rare to find people who also like it

I personally see most of the greasers as white. Mostly because of what type of greaser culture the book describes, it’s leant towards white kids back then in the 60s rather than kids of color. But I’ve never seen the Shepards as white. It’s just never something I’ve seen. I grew on a block where everyone raised eachothers kids, as we grew older we joked we were one big mixed family. Ive always see the shepards as that Mexican-American family that I spent my after schools with while my parents were busy.  But that could totally be me projecting Idk

for Johnny I’ve always pictured him as mixed. Probably African American-Italian. He’s described with features that look like people of that heritage look and in my opinion it’s probably one of the main reasons he was targeted. 

For Two-bit I’ve always seen him as a super pasty, always sun-burnt white boy who is super into his European heritage. Like this man can’t deal with school but he’ll do deep dives on Scottish mythology and Vikings any day of the week.

Steve definitely has always looked like he does in the movie to me. He’s definitely a hillbilly, I have cousins who act exactly like him and it’s absolutely hilarious because the deep southern accent just makes them not understandable. I’ve personally viewed Steve having that deep accent and also having a lisp (wowza I’m just projecting on him lol) so no one understands him besides from Soda and the older women who come to the DX.

I’ve always viewed Dally as Italian also but he is the type that can not tan to save his life. His nearly white blonde hair is not just from the bleach he puts on it but from running around in the sun all day every day. There is this one artist that draws him like a gremlin that I love I’m pretty sure their @ is something among the lines of crow1121? I can’t find rn and it’s killing me lol. But the other artist is @/ nutsackx and I absolutely love their interpretation of the gang 

Honestly with the Curtis’s I love ur interpretation of them being Arab-American but my little projecting heart (wow I do that a lot) always have viewed them as a German-Jewish and Romani as that’s what my family is and they lived very similar lives back in the 60s. It’s a small little head cannon I’ve always had and I’ve always held onto for the Curtis family. I can’t ever view them as non-immigrants tho. 

Sorry this is so long sweetie. I just got super caught up in rambling and your blog really inspired me 🫶

HELLLOOOOO!!! glad u found this blog!!! we r all here for funsies and just doing whatever, glad to have u onboard<333

OKOK NOW LOOK☝🏽☝🏽i knooowwww SE Hinton wrote the outsiders w everyone but johnny being white in mind, but honestly i think what makes me change them some of em into poc instead is just bc i want to and its fun to me!!!! tbh, i like having different ideas on characters than others, plus part of it is just inspired by the ppl around me!!! at the very least tho, i do tryyyyyy to make it more historically accurate so its not like i just SHOVED them in there and i dont get 100% attacked by the “this isnt historically accurate grrrr” brigade, for example my haitian shepards, at the end of the day its mostly a self projection but i do have lore for them as to y theyre even in oklahoma, yknow??? doing things like that is fun to me!!!

WHEN IT COMES TO THE SHEPARDS, i will say, whenever i would see white shepards im like “oh i thought we all saw that they were poc guys</333” EVEN W THE MOVIE i was surprised tim wasnt a poc but whateverrrr we move onnnnn

BUT I DO LIKE UR ETHNICITY IDEAS!!!!, once again ANOTHER version of the characters put into my little multiverse right there w arab curtis family<3333

personally i hc dally to b italian, but considering the demographics of brooklyn back then, yea it is 100% possible he couldve been italian, and w johnny to me hes mexican/bengali, so i think its pretty cool that u see them as both being italian, im def rockin w it, it gives them something they can connect over a bit!!

and im happy to say we both see the curtis’ as being jewish, to me theyre ethnically jewish, i based the curtis’ off my gf im ngl

BUT ANYWAYS NO WORRIES!!! i love answering long asks and so happy my blog inspired u to share ur thoughts<333

[sectumsempress1]

Good Omens Season 3: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Sectumsempress1, Hag

Or that one time I watched Good Omens, felt the claws of hyperfixation sink into my flesh for the first time in years, re-watched Good Omens more times than I care to admit and then drowned in a mind palace of analysis and delusion, resulting in this season 3 predictions bingo card coupled with unnecessarily long explanations for each square.

I'm gonna post these explanations one or two squares at a time, and honestly my first theory (probably not mine, I'm sure others have also come to this conclusion) deserves its own post because wowee I'm insane about this one.

Let's talk about why I think Crowley may have been Jophiel or Jeremiel before they fell.

I have seen endless theories about who Crowley could have been before The Fall; Lucifer, Barachiel, Raphael, Samael... and I see some evidence for all of these. However, I raise you;

Great question babygirl.

Okay me when I lie.

Yes, I took this throwaway line and went insane over it don't worry about it. Anyway. First J angel that I think could make sense is:

Jophiel "Beauty of God"

Jophiel is described in some texts as the guardian of wisdom and a teacher of languages to souls at the dawn of creation. She is also recognised as a teacher to Noah's children (specifically Shem) by C.E. Clement, Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa and Thomas Rudd.

And yes I am aware this is post-Fall Crowley and not the angel they were, but it's interesting that Shem was mentioned specifically regardless. Neil has wounded me so, I just feel that nothing is unintentional. Anyway, any iteration of Crowley as a teacher just feels right based on all we've seen of them.

(How he acts with Muriel, answering Jim's questions, showing Jesus the kingdoms of the world.)

Jophiel is also heavily associated with beauty and creativity.

Okay Mr. 'Pointedly Unusual Imagination.' Bit beautiful and creative of you.

Now here's where it gets buck wild. So Jophiel is not explicitly mentioned in the bible (in fact only Michael, Raphael and Gabriel are consistently mentioned) but scholars interpret Genesis 3:24 as referring to him.

"He drove out the man, and at the east of the garden of Eden he placed the cherubim and aflaming sword that turned every way to guard the way to the tree of life."

Yeah. It is widely agreed upon that Archangel Jophiel wielded the flaming sword and cast Adam and Eve out of Eden. Now, obviously, in Good Omens canon, Aziraphale did this. But... what if that wasn't the original plan? What if, after Jophiel and the others were cast out, the work rosters in Heaven had to be shuffled around a bit? And what if Aziraphale, having met this beautiful, curious starmaker so long ago took on their role himself?

What if Crowley and Aziraphale began the arrangement long before either of them had the words to understand what it was? All because the angel couldn't understand why he felt so drawn to the Fallen who couldn't remember.

(Edited because I've already come up with a new theory. I still stand by all of this and want it to be true so badly, but I think that Crowley does remember. I think Aziraphale is the one whose memory may have been tampered with. That doesn't change the core of the Jophiel theory, I just think that upon reflection, a personal relationship with Crowley is not what caused Aziraphale to take his old job.)

It also makes sense to then make Crowley the Serpent of Eden, if they had perhaps already planned to go to Eden anyway.

Jophiel is also widely known as Metatron's companion, which explains why he is so aggressive towards Crowley in a really cold, personal way. Yes, Metatron knows of everyone and everything so him knowing Crowley's story isn't odd in itself. But the glare...

To me, this reads as "I know you. I've known you. I know exactly what you're capable of and I will not take it. Not again. Behave." It's like a glare a parent would give their toddler for misbehaving in public. It feels pointedly personal. Almost as though they've worked together in the past in a way that ended badly for Metatron and he is on high alert to ensure it doesn't happen again.

Again here. Metatron doesn't speak about Crowley in a general 'all fallen angels suck' sense. It's personal. His choice of words, the tone, everything points to him having been personally wronged by the angel Crowley was.

Also just look at Jophiel's goddamn curly little red hair are you kidding me right now Neil Gaiman I am in your WALLS.

Also some more fun facts: Jophiel is shown as male and female presenting, leads people to a deeper understanding of the beauty of the universe, is regarded as an angel of wisdom, is known to protect those who seek truth, battles against forces of darkness and ignorance... and is strongly associated with the colour yellow.

Nice eyes babe.

Anyway, I am so delulu about this specific theory because if it is true it would show Aziraphale and Crowley's grand cosmic connection in a way that is honestly just ineffable.

But however much I long for Jophiel to be it... there is also some evidence for it being:

Jeramheel/Jeremiel "God shall have mercy"

In religious texts, Jeremiel is known as the angel who presides over true visions, often appearing in dreams and visions to bring truth. He appears to decipher Baruch's visions and give him a tour of heaven in the book '2 Baruch', and God sends him to answer the prophet Ezra's questions regarding the apocalypse in the book '2 Esdras'.

He also served as an angel of death, watching over and guiding souls to heaven and helping them learn from their earthly experiences.

This again goes back to Crowley's belief that everyone has the right to answers and being a good teacher because of that. It would make sense for them to have had this role in their angelic days as well, despite it eventually coming back to bite them.

Jeremiel is often depicted with a book or a scroll, symbolising the importance of knowledge.

Also, while Zadkiel is known as the angel of forgiveness and mercy, many people also consider Jeremiel (god shall have mercy) in this role... which would make Aziraphale's constant attempts to forgive him and his insistence that he is unforgivable even more devastating, and why I have ongoing theories about a role reversal occurring when it comes to this theme of forgiveness (more on this later).

Right. So I am obviously clutching at my delusion of it being Jophiel, but Jeremiel is a wider known angel with more canonical basis for actually being an archangel, which is why he also makes a lot of sense to me.

Thank you for joining me in this downward spiral into insanity. Look forward to part two!

[mercillery]

If this kind of request interests you...I'd like to see what songs you think fit Lucius, lyrically 😩🫶

I COULDN’T THINK OF MORE SONGS IM SORRY ANON AND ANOTHER SORRY IF THESE ARE NOT ACCURATE…🫡

1. The Devil Within - Digital Daggers

If we set aside the chorus of the song, which starts with "you'll never know what hit you" and ends with the same line, the rest of the lyrics seem to fit Lucius remarkably well. Given the limited interactions we've seen between Lucius and Julius, it doesn’t appear that Lucius harbors any deep-seated grudge against Julius. In fact, Lucius explicitly tells Julius, "No one’s ever been closer to me than you, and yet you don’t understand." This line alone suggests a complex relationship where Lucius values Julius's proximity and connection but feels misunderstood by him. So although Lucius doesn’t feel understood by Julius, he doesn’t hate him or anything. Additionally, the song frequently mentions being hidden and unnoticed, which aligns perfectly with Lucius's actions. Lucius has been concealed within Julius all this time, moving undetected and working behind the scenes—and I think the song captures this element beautifully. Furthermore, when the song says, "Now I'm the heavy burden that you can't bear," it can be interpreted as—well, Lucius’ plan of taking over the world, all because Julius didn’t know that Lucius was residing within him this whole time. Overall, while certain parts of the song could describe the relationship between Lucius and Julius, you mentioned focusing solely on Lucius. In that context, I think it's safe to say that the lyrics encapsulate Lucius's character as a whole.

2. Laplace’s Angel - Will Wood

Alright, hear me out. I know the rest of the lyrics might come off as random and not exactly fitting Lucius' character, but it's the chorus of this song that I think truly captures his essence, especially the line: "Am I bad, am I bad, am I bad, am I really that bad?" Despite being aware that everyone opposes his grand vision of reshaping humanity and transforming them into their true forms, Lucius remains steadfast in his belief that he is doing the right thing. He genuinely believes that his actions are for the greater good and that he knows what's best for everyone, even if they can't see it themselves. I think, deep down, Lucius comprehends why people resist his plan. He understands their fear and their reluctance to change, but at the same time, why would people reject a world where everyone is equal in every respect? To him, it's a noble and just cause—creating a better world for all. Yes, his methods are extreme. The choice he offers is stark: either be forced to become a Paladin against your will or willingly embrace the transformation for the greater good. To Lucius, this dichotomy is a necessary means to an end. He sees the transformation into a Paladin not as a loss of individuality but as a path to collective enlightenment and unity. In his mind, the end justifies the means, and he struggles to understand why others can’t see the benevolence behind his actions.

3. Disciple - IAMX

I think the lyrics speaks for itself.

4. The Great Soul Destroyer - I Monster

The lyrics speak for themselves as well, just like Disciple by IAMX. Despite his fanatical devotion to creating a world where everyone is equal, there’s an undeniable arrogance that runs through his character in the manga. Lucius truly believes he is the only one capable of ruling over humanity, and his conviction in this belief is palpable. This is evident in his declaration that he will become the Final Wizard King. His confidence in his vision and his role in it is absolute, to the point where it borders on hubris. He doesn't just see himself as a leader; he sees himself as the ultimate authority, the one destined to guide humanity to its next great stage. This arrogance isn't just a character flaw; it’s a fundamental part of who Lucius is. He views his mission as not just necessary but inevitable, and he considers himself uniquely qualified to execute it. In his mind, he is not just a reformer but a savior, destined to bring about a new era of equality and enlightenment. Everything I just said for this song could be applied to Disciple by IAMX too. I HOPE THIS IS ALL MADE SENSE.

[the-fiction-witch]

You and I P2

Media - Nowhere Boy Character - Paul Couple - Paul X Reader Reader - Y/n Rating - smutty ish Word Count - 3090

After a few moments of contemplating whether or not it was a good idea to go to Y/n, Paul couldn’t take it anymore. He jumped up and left the room, quietly heading down the hall to her door. He stopped in front of it and hesitated for a moment, a mixture of excitement and nerves filling his body. Steeling himself he raised his hand and knocked on the door,

"come in!" her voice called,

Paul headed inside seeing the room the same size as John's, with soft lavender-coloured walls littered with monster movie and hammer horror posters, a wardrobe vanity desk and mirror littered with items, a small chest of drawers by the window with a record player that wasn't spinning anything, ans a box of record's by the floor, her bed against the wall that she shared with John, with a soft set of white sheets, a fluffy blanket and a teddy bear on the pillow, Y/n sat on her bed leaning against the wall with a book in her hand,

Paul’s eyes darted around the room, taking in the surroundings. It was so distinctly Y/n. He could tell that the room was 100% hers and that nobody else could ever make it their own. He smiled slightly before looking over at her where she sat, feeling a tug in his heart at how relaxed she looked,

“Hi,” he said quietly, walking further into the room,

"hi," she smiled setting her book down in her lap, "something I can help her with?"

Paul came closer to the foot of the bed where she sat and paused. He honestly hadn’t thought this through. In theory, it seemed like a good idea to come to her room and spend time with her, but now he was here, he didn’t know what to do, He leaned against the vanity, his hand resting on it and his eyes on her “What were you reading?” he asked, trying to get the conversation going,

"grim fairytales, it's for my literature class."

Paul smiled, still a little bit nervous. This was the first time he’d been completely alone with her, and he had no idea how to behave, He looked up at the horror and monster movie artwork on the walls hoping to spark discussion, “you uhhh like horror movies?” he asked

"I do,"

Paul chuckled, smiling at that. “I’ve never met a girl who’s into these things before,” he said, thinking out loud

"I think most girls are far too... Pink and primrose, most girls in my classes just want to go to the cinema to watch Elvis on the newsreels"

Paul couldn’t help but roll his eyes when she said that. It was all very true. Most girls just wanted to swoon over whoever the most popular heartthrob was, and he had seen many newsreels involving Elvis. “I agree with her there… pink and primrose is a very accurate way to describe them” he chuckled

"I think I prefer being dark and rose-like with sharp thorns" She smiled, briefly baring her fingers like claws and growling a little “Rraw” At him,

Paul smiled at the way she’d described herself, finding the imagery quite fitting. He found himself becoming more and more enamoured with her, but tried hard to keep that fact hidden “I think that sounds much more interesting than pink and primrose,” he said in reply

"I think so too" she chuckled "I take it John's off to see Alice and her undergarments?"

Paul chuckled along, rolling his eyes when she mentioned Alice. “Yes, unfortunately, he’s gone there now, to do exactly that,” he said in a slightly annoyed tone

"I see, well her welcome to stay as long as you like" she smiled

Paul smiled in response, his heart beating faster at the prospect of spending the evening with her, away from John “Yeah… I’d like that. I’d like that a lot, actually” He fiddled with his hair, the nervous excitement starting to show through

she smiled "Have a seat, at the vanity or..." She suggested briefly tapping her bed

Paul felt a tingle of anticipation at her suggesting that he sat on her bed, a little surprised that she was being so forward with it, He stepped forward and sat down on the bed, feeling the soft sheets and letting himself sink into the mattress slightly

As Paul situated himself on the bed, his thoughts began to wonder as to what this would potentially lead to. It was the first time he’d been on her bed, and the first time that they were alone together, with no fear of John walking in on them. A small but excited feeling filled his stomach at the possibility of what could happen. Paul leaned back slightly on the bed, shifting so that he was sitting with his back against the wall. He didn’t know if it was the right thing to do, but in a moment of bravery he patted the empty space next to him, inviting her to come and sit next to him,

she chuckled and shifted slightly closing the gap between them, their legs touching, feet dangling off the side of her single bed, backs against the wall, shoulder to shoulder,

Paul could hardly believe how close she was to him, how her side was practically pressed against his. It felt amazing, but he was trying not to get too excited. Even their legs touching was sending tingles through his body, He tried to control his breathing but was struggling to keep cool and stay composed He looked over at her and watched silently for a moment, his eyes taking in the way her hair fell forward over her face and the way her soft skin glowed in the light He wanted to say something to her, but his brain felt fuzzy from having so much of her body pressed against his. Paul had to stop himself from sighing out loudly from the sensation

"You alright?" She cooed

Paul was shaken out of his thoughts when she spoke to him and nodded slowly in response. He opened his mouth to speak but his mind had gone a little blank. All he could think about was how nice it was to be this close to her “Yeah… I’m good” he finally forced out, sounding a little bit strained

"did you want to put a record on? Sit in silence? Or... you could coming play something if you wanted, unless you’re tried.” She smiled, “Which is fair you and John have been strumming away the last like four hours"

Paul realised that he was feeling slightly tired. All the strumming on his guitar today had worn him out a little, and he was feeling a tad fatigued now. He yawned slightly before turning his head to look at her again “Playing might not be a good idea right now. I think I’m kinda tired” he admitted sheepishly

"Alright," she smiled shifting across her bed grabbing a soft gentle song on a record and setting It up to play slow and low for just a gentle background music to play before she returned to his side "No worries you rest those poor working fingers" she cooed taking his hand,

Paul’s breath hitched in his throat as y/n took his hand. He just stared down at their intertwined fingers with wide-eyes, his heart beating fast in his chest at the fact she’d just taken his hand in hers own so easily, He wanted to say something, to comment on how nice it felt, but he was speechless, so all that came out of his mouth was a faint exhale of air

she smiled playing with his fingers and giggled a little as the callus' on his fingers from his guitar, "aww you poor thing do they hurt?"

Paul had to try hard to control himself when she played with his fingers, the action almost sending a shiver through him. It was a small and innocent act, but it was affecting him far more than he cared to admit, He was a little embarrassed at her comment about the calluses on his fingers and shrugged, trying to seem indifferent about the whole thing “They do… a bit” he mumbled

"ohh noo" she cooed taking his hand closer and kissing his calluses and string cuts on his fingertips "That a little better?"

Paul just about stopped himself from moaning out loud, He’d never experienced something so affectionate before, and it was taking all his willpower to keep his composure, He was almost rendered speechless by the fact that she was kissing and caressing his rough and blistered fingers, and he had to blink hard to get his brain to work again “Y…yeah better…much better”

"good" she smiled intertwining her fingers with his and holding his hand in hers against the sheets and their own legs,

Paul gazed down at the intertwined fingers, marvelling in how perfectly her hand fit against his. Her fingers felt so soft and smooth against his rough skin, and he was struggling to process the fact that her hand so casually and easily held his hand. He tried so hard to control himself, to try and act like this situation was normal, not wanting to ruin the moment, but his heart was beating so hard he was certain she could feel it through his hand. He slowly and subtly moved himself a little bit closer to her, enjoying feeling her body against his. The only thing separating her skin from his was the fabric of their clothes. He felt every point where her skin met his, and a warmth spread through him, starting from his chest and going down to his stomach. He tried to remain composed but it was getting more difficult to control the thoughts he was having

He felt an immense need to touch her. To feel her skin properly, without the barrier of clothes. He wanted to hold her close to him and feel the heat of her body, to have as much skin touching, to have her wrapped up in his arms and against his chest. He wanted to kiss her more than he had ever wanted anything before

As Paul’s thoughts spiralled he realised that he was starting to give into the urges he was feeling. He couldn’t help himself when he very slowly began to move his fingers so that they were tracing circles over her skin, barely registering the movement but feeling the electric sensation at the feel of her against his hand

she giggled and smiled at his fingers before she shifted a little and rested her cheek on his shoulder with a sigh of joy

Paul’s heart stopped completely. Her head on his shoulder was almost too much to take. The way her hair brushed against his jaw and the way he could smell her perfume, her hair, her skin, all of it was sending tingles through his entire body. He felt the need to have more of her, to hold her closer to him and have her body pressed against his. He tried to force himself to stay still, to stay composed and keep his hands from moving away from hers in favour of wrapping them around her and pulling her into his lap. He took in deep, even breaths to try and calm his rapidly beating heart, but he knew that it was a futile attempt to keep himself under control

"her cosy and comfy, I could just fall asleep right here" she cooed

The word “cozy” coming out of her mouth was enough to make Paul’s toes curl. Even the thought of her staying in his arms and falling asleep against him was enough to make his breath hitch. He desperately wanted her closer now, he needed to have her held in his arms, and to have her head lying on his chest. He knew that it was time to take a risk, and that if he didn’t do something soon he would probably explode out of excitement. He very slowly and cautiously began to move his hand from hers, gently pulling away from her grasp

she whined a little when he moved his hand away

The whine her let out when he moved his hand was almost the breaking point for him. He wanted her to whine for other reasons entirely, to plead and beg and to look at him with pleading eyes He wanted to do things to her that he never dreamed he’d do to a girl before. He settled his hand awkwardly on her hip.

She giggled as it ended up on her hip, she shifted a little to be more comfortable her head now more against his collarbone than his shoulder

He slowly began to use the hand on her hip to guide her across the bed, gently bringing her onto his lap, she whined a little at being moved clearly cosy where she was, her hip shifted and she slightly whimpered realizing where he placed her, as she sits now with her head on his chest, her legs across his, her feet on her bed, sitting on his thigh, When she shifted on his lap and he felt the weight of her body against him he realised what a huge step this was. Having her sit on his lap was almost a fantasy come true, and he was enjoying the feeling of her soft body against his, her head on his chest, his hand around her hip

she giggled a little looking up at him "Hi"

He looked down to meet her gaze and smiled back at her “Hi” he breathed

"Is there a reason I've been moved over here?" She asked raising her eyebrow

Paul’s hand, which was currently around her hip, gripped her a little tighter as she asked him that question. He had to think quickly to try to come up with a reason for how he’d moved her onto his lap, that wasn’t “I just really desperately wanted you as close to me as possible and couldn’t control myself” “I just… wanted you to be more comfortable” he said, sounding slightly strained, not realising how his hand was holding her against his thighs

she nodded nuzzling into his neck a little bit,

Paul felt as though he was in heaven. Y/n had her head tucked into his neck, her legs were over his, the feel of her body against him was overwhelming his senses, and he loved every second of it, He began to run his hand from her hip across her thigh, his fingers tracing up and down, feeling the soft material of her dress, his breath catching in his throat as his hand continued to move over her, He tried to control himself as he continued to stroke her thigh, his hand still tracing circles and lines over the material of her skirt and he was revelling in every second of it, how her body was pressed up against his, it was almost too much his hand stroked up and down her thigh feeling the soft cotton, the warmth of her skin, the way the petticoats sat under the dress, she giggled as his hand met her knee the warm skin with only the sheer stockings between them.

Paul’s hand felt like it was on fire when it reached the skin of her knee covered only by her stocking. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt the way her skin was so warm. The feeling of her stocking for the first time like this was almost too erotic and only made him feel more excited, The fact that he could feel her knee against his fingers, could feel her body, and then could feel the sheer fabric of her stockings was almost sending him into a frenzy of desire. He had to bite his tongue to keep from making an incoherent moan at the sensation of her being here like this with him, against him

"Everything alright?" She cooed pressing a kiss to his jaw

Paul had to stop himself from letting out a gasp as she kissed his jaw, the feeling of her lips against him making his head spin. He was having a hard time controlling himself, to not pull her completely onto his lap and start having his way with her right there and then.

He exhaled shakily before looking down at her “Yeah… everything’s good” he forced out through his strained and excited voice

she nodded and nuzzled a little closer petting his shirt with her fingers,

Paul’s breathing had become ragged as he slowly slid his hand up her leg, under her dress and petticoats, the feeling of her warm thigh against his hand as he went nearly driving him over the edge. He knew that he was pushing his luck, that he was taking a huge risk by putting his hand up her dress, but he didn’t care. He was desperate to feel all of her, to have his hands all over, to take it further

Y/n didn't really notice as she was so cosy and sleepy, and by the time she noticed pauls hand was completely up her dress the hem of her dress was around his mid-forearm, and she gasped "Paul!"

He was so lost in the sensation that he didn’t realise that she’d noticed his actions until she gasped his name, He looked down at her with a sheepish look, realising he’d been caught. And he couldn’t really explain his way out of his as he sat on her bed with the hem of her dress almost to his elbow, He should have been sorry for going too far, for being too eager, but he didn’t. He just gazed down at you, the feeling of his hand on her thigh over her stocking nearly overwhelming him

"enjoying yourself?" She chuckled

Paul’s hand slowly began to move back and forth again, caressing the silky warmth of her thigh, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he did so He had to control himself from moaning at her question, his brain struggling to work as he tried to string words together “Immensely” he croaked out

she chuckled and laid her head back on his chest "Alright then"

His fingers continued to move along her leg, tracing across her stockings, the feeling of her so close to him, the way she was sat atop him, the way she was letting him do this, it was nearly going to send him over the edge. He needed more, he needed more of her, but he knew he had to be careful or else he’d risk scaring her away. His hand suddenly met lace on her mid-thigh finding the top of her obviously thigh-high stockings, beyond the lace was nothing but bare skin…

Tags - @matthewsturniolosgirlfriend101

[5and3nevermind]

I have to ask I've seen a lot of people make a big deal about that Jimin going to Jon bellion (it was in a naver article where I think Pdogg was talking about the album) and telling him what he wanted to express in the song Who and being shy or embarrassed about it as meaning something in the sense as Who being personal to Jimin's love life somehow and I know a lot of people are puzzled by that and him having no credits on the song itself if he was so embarrassed about the concept in the first place to share it with Jon bellion. Can you give your thoughts on this? Because I'm also kind of confused by it myself.

Hi, anon! Yes, I know exactly which interview you’re talking about. I saw various translations (both “shy” and “embarrassed”), so I’m not sure which is most accurate.

To be honest, I wasn’t surprised to hear that Jimin acted shy while speaking with JB. Remember Jimin on Ddeun Ddeun? He seemed quite shy that day, and two of the four people on the show were people he’s close with.

In terms of the song itself: it’s important to remember that one word Pdogg has mentioned numerous times in these various interviews is “conceptual.” He sees Muse as a conceptual album and has mentioned the Beatles’ Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band as an inspiration.

In the album exchange, Jimin used the word “vague” to describe Muse, compared to Face which connected more closely to real events in Jimin’s life.

When Jimin talked about Muse as a whole, he said:

He says about tracks 1-5:

He is comparing the excitement of artistic expression to having a crush. He then says about Who:

Again, in my opinion, he is comparing his search for excitement and inspiration to finding a lover/partner.

To me, the function of Who is to make us question the narrator. “Was what we just heard true and genuine? Or not? Is he talking about love? Or is this an analogy?”

And this is where the conceptual aspect comes into play.

What is real? What is literal rather than symbolic? Jimin is trusting us to decide. And based on what he said in the jacket shoot, I think he sees these multiple theories and interpretations as part of the fun. “Please get the wrong idea,” he said in the jacket shoot.

In terms of credits, I do think it’s important to note that Jimin did not write Who. Looking at the other tracks which he did write, I could not find another “she/her” anywhere on the album. The only gendered term I saw was “yes, sir” in SGMB.

Anyway, anon…you said you felt a little confused, and I think that’s by design. This was Jimin’s intention. 😉