#this romance novel is driving me insane

[briarlily]

.

[luvbug724]

obsessed w jeanee Actually. she drove hours in the middle of the night for him. she organised a heist for him. she blackmails a university for him. she was willing to break into the nest w brute force for him. she was willing to rob a hardware store to do it. she seriously contemplates climbing over barbed wire fences to get to him. she handles diversions and distractions with grace for him. she has the invasive curiosity to want to know all abt his little knick knacks. she resorts to violence when someone tries to stop her from getting to him. she prays for him. she talks to him softly when the only feeling in the room is rage. she pushes his hair out of his face. she checks his pulse obsessively. YEAH………… are we all seeing this rn

its so wonderful to me too because like this is RENEE. renee, who is a bad person trying very hard to be good. there was a post going around maybe a month ago how empathy for everyone circles back around into empathy for no one i can't remember any of the specifics but it rlly did something for how i see renee because shes a protector. its defensive. its safe. she knows the limits, she knows the point of no return because shes been to rock bottom and clawed her way up but she's willing to do whatever she needs to to get jean out of the nest.

there is a big difference between cradling allison when andrew hurts her vs actively threatening eau, going on the offense to make sure jean leaves safe with her. there's something insane to me abt how a few months of texting and calling jean could push her to that point, the point where she needed to be talked down off the ledge before the plan was more natalie than renee because this was something she absolutely could not fuck up. she knew that her efforts would be worthless if she didn't create a plan that couldn't backfire, because the punishment for jean trying to leave and failing (and i'm sure that message to renee would be used against him) or leaving and coming back would be 1000x worse than whatever they could do to him from a distance.

and then when she has him in his arms and she knows he's going to be safe, he'll be okay as long as she can get him to abby, she can let herself be kind again.

[bloodybellycomb]

I am so, so, so, sick of seeing the trope in which a character—usually a woman—gets mad and goes on a #girlboss rant about how a man doesn't get to control her in a desperate bid to have the story be feminist™, while the man just continues to dominate her at every possible moment

you could just admit that you wanted to have a possession kink in the story and have the characters ponder over this and discuss their feelings and maybe even some boundaries but no. Instead, you have a story where a woman character will openly say that she doesn’t like being treated this way and then the male character will just straight up completely ignore her wishes. And that’s worse, you do realize that’s worse right

[bizaar]

🌻 If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your mentions, anonymous or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog 🌻

Lordt okay let me think… 💙

1.) I work for a literary agent who specializes in romance novels — to date I’ve written most of Cruel Summer at work when it’s slow.

2.) I have an art blog which is also technically my main (although i haven’t drawn anything in over a year so does it really count?)

3.) I’m getting ready to publish a horror novel 🫣

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

You seem like an incredibly well read person, plus someone with a lot of insight into intimacy because of your work. So, in light of your romance book reviews, which are an absolute highlight on your patreon, do you have any insight into what is needed/suggested for a good romance novel?

g o d this is so fucking hard and also really fun to chew on. I want to preface this by saying this is ENTIRELY subjective and based completely on what I *PERSONALLY* find that I enjoy in a romance. this isn't, like, an objective guide on how to write a romance that doesn't suck. that doesn't exist because people like different things, and I'm speaking from one perspective.

also I should say that my preferred flavor of romance novel is solidly contemporary. I haven't read many historicals, certainly not enough to opine well on them, I don't do those mafia dark romances or whatever the fuck, and I've barely dabbled at all in any kind of fantasy romance, whether they're full high fantasy or witchy urban fantasy stories. (although I'm about to do one of the latter next month, you can vote for a book on my patreon rn!)

having gotten all of those caveats out of the way, here's some shit I like and dislike:

there are exceptions to this but broadly, I prefer a POV for everyone involved in the relationship. to me a romance where we're only seeing events from the POV of one member of the relationship automatically makes it seem like one person matters more in a dynamic where everyone should be of equal importance. also, god, if the plot's really going to hinge on not knowing what's going on in one partner's head suggests that miscommunication is going to be a pretty critical part of the plot, and I hate that shit. TALK TO EACH OTHER. I'LL KILL YOU.

on that note, there needs to be an actual compelling reason why the characters can't be together, okay? the #1 driving tension of every romance is "why the fuck can't they be together yet" and you BETTER have a good answer. whether it's interpersonal or external forces, if there's a very easy solution to what's keeping them apart then your characters look dumb and I'm bored. one of the most frustrating romances I've ever read involved two characters who were mutually attracted to each from the JUMP, who refused to act on it because they were coworkers (neither of them in any position of authority of the other, nothing unprofessional or inappropriate about it) and they were "only" living in the same state for A YEAR. A FULL YEAR !!! shut up. get a grip and kiss each other.

now, having said that: whatever your bullshit reason is for these two characters to be interacting with each other, you need to COMMIT to that shit so hard that I, the reader, will feel silly for even questioning the logic. the worst offender I've ever seen on this front is D'Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding, which pulls its protagonists together via a reality TV competition and then just... promptly loses any interest in really dealing with the actual realities of being filmed 24/7? it's insanely distracting how little the book engages with its central hook, and was a huge point deduction for me. whereas you have, like, The Bride Test, a book with a premise that skirts dangerously close to a little bit of human trafficking but embraces the whole premise so wholeheartedly that you completely forget about the potentially horrific elements in there. who cares that Esme was bribed here with the promise of a green card if she seduces a man she's never met? there's whimsy happening! we've moved on! it's literally fine and she's in no danger except the danger of a BROKEN HEART.

this one is going to seem SO obvious but like. I need them to be actually like each other. I'm not saying they can't be mutually bitchy while they grow to like each other or anything, they don't have to always be NICE to each other, but there are so many M/F romances where the dude is just flat out fucking MEAN and condescending to the girl until he decides he wants to fuck her. and sometimes even after that! stop it! after a certain point I don't want her to fuck him I want her to run him over a car!!!! there's suuuuch a line between "guy I butt heads and exchange banter with but could fuck if we just got to know each other" and "man who hates me and is for real fucking bullying me."

"kisses only," "doors closed," whatever term they use for a romance novel without any sex scenes on page, I don't like it. listen: I know that they're not everybody's cup of tea, and I FULLY recognize that a lot of romance novel sex scenes are unfathomably cringe. and yet, I need them. partly because they're funny, but also because if this book wants me to be invested in the developing relationship between two adults who are supposed to be WILDLY sexually attracted to each other, then I want to see the damn sex. no matter how many bad similes or unfortunate adjectives it entails. and if you're not going to show me the sex, don't you dare have the characters gushing about how great it is. I'll be the judge of that, thank you very much. (I'm looking at you, Sorry, Bro.)

related: there's this thing that I call "Horny Wolf Syndrome," which is derived from this tweet:

initially I used it to refer to when previously sweet-tempered male romance protags inexplicably started talking like horny wovles during sex scenes - "LET ME SEE YOUR PRETTY CUNT ON MY COCK" and the like - but now I more generally use it to refer to scenarios in which characters of any gender completely dispense with their established personality while they fuck in order to fulfill a more broadly appealing, one-size-fits-all sexual fantasy. I hate that shit; if your characters act like completely unrecognizable people during sex, you didn't write very strong characters. one of my favorite things about writing sex scenes is that it's so SO interesting to see how their the characters' personal quirks translate into a setting that's very different from most other contexts, and it's deeply disappointing when authors take the easy route in favor of some pornhub dialogue.

one of the things that actually won my most recent read, Raiders of the Lost Heart, a HUGE amount of points with me was how frank the female lead was about initiating sex for the first time. it was completely in character for her and felt really different than any other book I've read, and honestly? it was a breath of fresh air.

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

Hiii I love your account! 🐇 with Rafe please and “You’re so annoying” and “you look pretty like this” if I can pick two hehe

Omg thank you so much!! Of course you can pick two! I hope you like it! Thank you to my angel @babygorewhore for beta reading🖤🤭

This is for my 1.6k celebration🎀🖤

Warnings: Reader is Topper’s sister, enemies to fucking?, blow job, hair pulling, face fucking, cum swallowing, a lil bit of degradation. 18+MNDI!! W.k: 1.7k

Rafe has been driving you nuts since, well, as long as you can remember, but he’s driving you especially insane today. All you wanted to do was lay by the pool with your fruity little drink and read your dirty romance novel. But no, apparently Rafe didn’t want you to have a moment of peace while you were home from college for the summer. Why your brother had to choose him as a best friend and then also choose to stick with it for this long is beyond you. So he was just always around and it seemed like lately you couldn’t escape him no matter what you did.

The minute they got to the house with beers you asked Topper if they’d fuck off and chill inside but Rafe insisted they hang out in the back.

“It’s nice out, and I just can’t pass up this view.” He smirks at you as he leans back in one of your mom’s plush patio chairs, his eyes drinking in your barely there bikini.

“Rafe, that’s my sister man, how many times do I have to tell you that she’s -“ Rafe cuts Topper off with a scoff and a roll of his eyes.

“She’s off limits, yeah, yeah, I know the fuckin’ drill Top.” That doesn’t stop him from glancing over at you every ten seconds. Sending you subtle little winks over Topper’s shoulder, practically fucking you with his eyes and you hate how much you like it. You can’t stand how much your body betrays you when it comes to Rafe fucking Cameron. He makes you want to rip your hair out, he’s arrogant, rude, and a classic spoiled preppy frat boy in every way. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s so god damn sexy.

“The fact that you guys are being so fucking loud that I can hear you with my music on full blast is actually insane to me.” You slam your book shut as you dramatically pull your headphones off your head.

“Maybe you should stop being so fucking boring and come chill with us then.” Rafe blows out a hit as he holds the bong towards you. “Wanna hit?”

“You? Never.” You scoff, crossing your arm as you glare over at him.

“You think you’re reaaal clever, huh? I know you’re lying, you want me so bad.” Rafe snorts, setting the bong down on the table before leaning back in the chair with his arms behind his head and his legs spread. Fuck.

“You know what? I’m over this. Bye.” You shake your head as you grab your things, making sure to send Rafe a death glare on your way inside the house.

You’re inside for maybe five minutes when there’s a knock on your bedroom door.

“Fuck off, Top! I’m changing, I don’t wanna hear how sorry you are for how much of an asshole Rafe is for the millionth time!”

“Exactly how big of an asshole am I? Huh, princess?” The sound of Rafe’s voice on the other side of your door has you practically growling as you storm towards it and rip it open.

“You’re so annoying, Rafe, you know that!? You’re like a fucking fly or some shit, always buzzing around with no real thoughts in your head!!!” You glare up at him as your eyes meet his own, stomping your foot in frustration.

“You look pretty like this, ya know?” He rests his hand on the side of the door frame as he smirks down at you.

“Like fucking what, Cameron!?”

“All pissed off at me n’ shit.” He chuckles, leaning down further so his face is only a few inches from your own. His breath smells like weed and beer but his lips are so fucking kissable that it actually just pisses you off more. “I think you’re just mad because you wanna fuck me and you’re in denial about it.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” You scoff and roll your eyes but you don’t even know if you believe yourself because you sound so full of shit.

“I mean, yeah. It also doesn’t hurt that you still have on that tiny little bikini…” He wets his lips with his tongue as his hand reaches out to cup your cheek. He drags his thumb across your glossy bottom lip before releasing it with a pop. “I don’t hear you denying it, baby.”

“I - You know what? Fuck it.” You practically lunge forward to lace your fingers into the material of his shirt using the grip to pull his mouth down to yours in a bruising kiss. He grips onto your hips, pulling you until you’re flush against him. He slips his tongue into your mouth and practically devours you before pulling away with a fucking smirk painted on his face.

“Fuckin’ knew it, knew you wanted me.” He bites his lip while he looks down at you like he won the fucking lottery.

“Shut up, don’t be a fuck boy about it or I’m not letting you anywhere near my pussy, Cameron.” You glare up at him with your lips set into that irritated little pout that makes him want to shove his cock between them.

“Your pussy? Shit, baby, you gonna let me fuck you? I’ve been wanting to wipe that bratty fuckin’ look off your face for years.”

“Yeah? Well maybe I wanna wipe that cocky fucking look off of yours.” You grab onto his hand, pulling him through the doorway, practically slamming it closed behind him. You push him up against it before dropping to your knees and making quick work of undoing his shorts.

“Shit, been fuckin’ dreaming about that pretty little mouth around my cock nonstop.” You pull his cock free and you can’t even hide the shocked look on your face at the sight of it. He was fucking huge. Long and thick and so fucking hard, god you can’t stand him.

“No wonder you’re so fucking arrogant, you would have a fucking monster cock.” You roll your eyes as you look up at him and you can tell by the look on his face that he’s about to say some smug bullshit so you grab onto his shaft and spit on it.

“Oh fuckkk, yeah, get it all fuckin’ wet.” He laces his fingers through your hair with a groan when you start to jerk him off. You pump him a few times before smirking up at him and taking him all the way down your throat in one motion. “God damn, baby, knew you had a mouth on you but shit.”

You pull almost all the way off of him, just sucking his tip as you swirl your tongue around it, flicking it along the slit. You work the rest of him with your spit slick palm as you look up at him. And god. He drives you insane in every fucking way. He looks so hot, you hate him for looking so hot. His mouth is hanging open as grunts and profanities leave it. Those ocean blue eyes keep rotating between boring down into your own and rolling in the back of his head, that stupid ass button up he’s wearing is riding up a little and showing a sliver of his waist and his shoulders fill it out so perfectly.

“Take this shit off.” Rafe uses the hand not in your hair to grab onto the top tie of your bikini top and pull the knot loose. “Fuck, fuckin’ knew you had perfect tits.”

You pull off of him with a pop, a string of drool still connected to your lips from his cock. When it breaks it drips down onto your chest between your tits and the sight makes his cock twitch in your hand.

“Yeah? Bet you wanna touch them sooo bad.” You mock pout at him as you bring your free hand up to fondle your tits.

“Don’t fuckin’ tease me, princess.” Rafe’s grip on your hair tightens and it causes you to let out a breathy moan. “Oh? You like it rough? Open your fuckin’ bratty little mouth.”

You stick your tongue out for him and he uses his grip on your hair to pull your head back down to his cock. He glides it across your tongue a few times, hitting the back of your throat, causing you to gag. You wrap your lips around his cock and swallow causing your throat to constrict around him. He starts to thrust into your mouth while you continue to practically swallow his cock, swirling your tongue while you finally take what he gives you.

“Yeah, that’s fuckin’ it, little brat, your mouth feels so fuckin’ good.” When you reach up to fondle his balls he throws his head back and his free hand flys to his hair, tugging at the strands almost as hard as he’s tugging on your own. “God damn, keep doing that - fuck - you’re gonna make me fuckin’ cum.”

“Yo Rafe, where you at!?” Topper’s voice travels up from downstairs and Rafe’s grip on your hair loosens as his thrusts abruptly stop. But you’re not having that, you start to bob your head up and down, giving his balls attention as you deep throat him.

“Baby - shit - I’m gonna cum down that slutty little throat, don’t stop.” You don’t, you suck him off like your life depends on it, drool dripping down his balls, down your chin, all over your tits. God, your tits, they’re bouncing so deliciously and you look so fucking hot with your mascara running down your eyes like that, it has his cock twitching in your mouth. His cum spurts down your throat and you swallow every drop. “That’s it, good girl, fuckin’ swallow that shit.”

“Where are you man? You better not be fucking with my sister again dude!” You hear Topper’s footsteps coming up the stairs and Rafe turns to lock the door.

“Yeaaah, it’s a little too late for that, Top.” Rafe chuckles as he grabs you by the hips and throws you on the bed causing you to giggle. “I suggest you fuck off if you don’t wanna hear her screaming my name though.”

“Dude!”

“Goodbye, Topper!! Get away from my fucking door!!” You hear him scoff before his footsteps recede back down the stairs.

“Now, where were we?” Rafe smirks at you while he wraps his hand around your throat. “I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

[satorusugurugurl]

I Think He Knows: (Chapter Five)

Summary: When your novel takes off and becomes a best seller, doors of opportunities open for you. You can work on the series you have dreamed about all your life. And you’re also given the chance to stay in a tiny cottage in Europe for two years to help with inspiration! Your best friend, Geto Suguru, shatters at the news. How could he tell you how he feels when you leave him? His opportunity appears right before him when you confess that your editor thinks a change of scenery will help with your not-so-steamy romance scenes. They’re lacking a particular spice because you’re a virgin. So, Suguru does what any best friend would do. He offers to teach you how things work. Will you cross that line as friends? Or will you both say goodbye?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,197

Warning: Language, fingering, oral sex female receiving, horny reader, fuzzy feelings, pining!

A/N: Srry for the late update!! I struggled a bit with this chapter! But I hope y'all enjoy it!! 😘💚💚

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven

Sharing a bed with Geto was normal for you. He was always so courteous, snuggling when keeping his hands to himself. You always loved that about him. But as you lay in your bed, eyes focused on the morning rays of light peeking in through your blinds, you wished his hand wasn't under your pillow as he snored behind you. His other arm was draped over your body, his hand limply dangling close to your crotch, leaving a warmth tingling between your thighs.

Something was burning in your gut, a desire you’d never felt. You wanted Suguru to touch you and make you feel like he did the night before. To feel his lips on yours, to have his hand in your pajamas. Something had awakened inside you, and you weren't sure what to do with it.

A frantic feral desire urged you to rock back against your best friend. To have him touch you, kiss you, do so many other things to you. But how could you ask him to do that?! He was helping you with your book! Why the fuck were you being so weird? Why was your pulse racing? And why did you feel so wet?

Clutching your pillow, you fought against the urge to grab his hand and lead it between your legs. God, something was wrong with you. Amid your mental breakdown at eight in the morning, Suguru shifted, groaning as he moved his hips closer to you, making a slight moan sound in your throat. That sound, the feeling of your damp shorts, and the heat of Suguru’s body made you realize what was going on.

You were horny.

This yearning, the desire to have him touch you, the need to cum, was driving you insane. You shifted and squirmed, bringing your fist to your mouth and biting down on your knuckles. Of course, the first time you wake up uncomfortably horny is when Suguru is with you! You couldn’t just start rubbing your clit with him holding you or ask him for help. Because he wasn’t teaching you this ‘stuff’ because you were together, it was for research! You’d have to take care of this yourself!

Slowly lifting Suguru’s arm off you, you began inching towards the edge of the bed, but a hand grabbed you by the back of your tank top, pulling you back down. You yelp as his lark arm snakes around your waist, turning you so you are facing him, and god, he was a sight to wake up to in the morning.

Dark hair spilled out over your pillow; his eyes were slightly opened, dark irises searching your face as he licked his lips. He looked so fucking good; it made your wet shorts even wetter as he gently smiled, reaching out to brush back strands of your bed-messy hair. Your lips part before you shakily sigh, giving him your friendliest smile that doesn’t scream, ‘Touch me more!’.

“Good morning.” The tone of your voice is more breathier than you would have liked.

“Mornin’.” His voice is so grave and low that sounding that good this early morning should be illegal! “Where are you running off to?”

“R-running off!” You stutter, nervously laughing as you gently pat his chest. “W-What? Haha—no—no.” His chest vibrates with a low chuckle at your shy tone, and his muscles tense, leaving you wanting to touch him more.

Suguru’s hand rests on your hip, and he can feel you slightly jerk as if you are sensitive to his touch. Did you not want that? Maybe he should have checked before touching you so casually like that. Suguru slides his palm back, letting it dangle behind you instead.

The sudden lack of his touch makes your heart pot as you clear your throat. “Do you want to go get breakfast?” Suguru asks before clearing his throat. “Or do you have to get back to rewrites?” God, breakfast with him sounded so good, but you had so much editing to do. Plus, it didn’t help that you wanted to do nothing more than lie in bed with him and touch each other more.

Is fondling each other on the menu?

Suguru stiffens, and your eyes widen as he stares at you. Did you say that out loud? You open your mouth as he pulls back, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Oh my god—” he says softly. “Sorry, I probably—”

“I-I didn’t mean it!”

Suguru blinks, cocking an eyebrow, as you sit up. “Huh?” You realize you did not say anything when he just stared at you.

“I-I—”

“I was saying I should probably brush my teeth. What were you thinking about?” The smug tone in his voice has you scurrying away. You weren't sure what you were thinking. Because seeing you so flustered and jumpy had him following you close. A grin on his face as you scrambled out of bed towards the kitchen. “Where are you going? Come back here~!”

“I-I’m gonna make breakfast!”

Something in the way you rushed to the kitchen made Suguru’s heart swell. He flopped back down in bed, grinning happily. Suguru pictured waking up in bed with you, making breakfast, and being domestic. God, he could get used to this.

But if he wanted this to continue, he'd have to come clean and say that he didn't want to be your friend; he wanted to be more than that.

He'd get to that point eventually. For now, this was

good enough for him. Helping you out, in a strange way, was helping him build up the confidence to confess to you. Hopefully, he can do it before you leave for Europe.

Breakfast was terrific, omelets, coffee, and fresh berries. It was you, that was so strange. Suguru watched you closely, taking in how you shifted and kept your eyes on your plate.

“Hey,” he finally couldn't stand the standoffish behavior anymore as you stabbed a strawberry with your fork. “Are you okay?”

Oh, you were okay, aside from the undeniable horny fire and heat burning between your legs. “I’m fine, just tired.” Suguru didn't look at all pleased with your answer.

“Is it about last night?”

“Last night? No, it’s just got a lot going on.” in your shorts. “With the rewrites and plotting.” you took a bite of the juicy berry with a sigh.

“Oh, is there anything I can do to help out?”

If he could make you cum again, yes, he was more than welcome to do that. “No, I think I have enough uhm—” you cleared your throat, motioning between you both, “notes~ to help me with the next few chapters.” In reality, you wanted to do nothing more than stay in bed and have him show you what else he could do, like with his tongue and his coc—.

“Did—did I go too far last night?” You choked on a blueberry, eyes watering as Suguru looked off. You coughed and chugged down some coffee, trying to clear your throat. “Oh, shit? Are you okay?!” He jumped up, heading around the other side of the table, smacking your back as you coughed up the berry.

That was not what you wanted to choke on.

“Fuck—” you wheezed out, clearing your throat, “Oooh fuck.”

Suguru’s hands slid up, gently rubbing your shoulders, making you whine. “You okay?” His thumbs dug into your stiff muscles, kneading the soreness away.

“Mmm~ I'm good now.” you learned back, moaning softly. “A-And ahh~ to answer your question, you didn't go too far last night.”

“Oh, okay, good.” you could feel the relief in his touch as he squeezed your shoulders harder. “So, can I ask why you've been jumpy all morning?”

“No, you may not.”

“You’re no fun.”

You tilted your head back, staring at Suguru as he squeezed and massaged you. “I think you had a lot of fun with me last night.” Both his hands froze.

The tension from the night before began to build as Suguru smirked his hands, leaving the back of the chair and turning it for you to face him. He knelt so you were eye to eye, his bed-messy hair tied up in a bun, but his bangs fell in his face. Why did he have to look so perfect? So fucking glorious? Seeing him like this, cocky and knowing, had you pressing your thighs together.

You might not be able to actively tell him what you want. That was too embarrassing, especially when it was to benefit your book. But opening the door for him to make suggestions for you possibly wasn't something you were opposed to. Getting Suguru worked up might be the best way to get what you want without ruining your friendship.

“If I remember correctly, you had as much fun with me as I did with you.”

“Mmmm, if I remember correctly, you jerked yourself off mostly; I just rested my hand on top of yours.”

He closed the distance between you, his hands resting on top of your bare thighs. “Funny, I remember you pulling my hand off and jerking me off until I came all of your hand.” Your breath came out as heavy as his fingers slid under the edge of your shorts. “Is that why you’re so jumpy? Thinking about last night?” His whole hand slid underneath the edge of your shorts,

“M-Maybe—”

“Mm, soo if I did something like I don’t know—“ his hands slid to the inside of your thighs, “like this.” Suguru forced your legs open, making you gasp. “I wouldn’t see a wet spot on those pretty purple shorts?”

You knew there was a wet spot. You panted heavily, watching as Suguru's eyebrows rose at the sight of your arousal. Those dark eyes trailed up your body before he began massaging your thighs. They moved in slow circles up to where your thigh and hip connected.

“You’re soaked.”

“I am.”

“Thinking about your book?”

No, you weren’t, but he didn’t need to know that. “Yeah, thinking about the next chapter Sugu.” His fingers drew closer to your throbbing, dripping sex.

“Yeah? Need a little more help with research? I’d be happy to help; it’s for your book, after all.” Yeah, your book and nothing more than that. “So tell me, what happens in the next chapter?”

“Ilsan, uhm, licks her. Wanna help me?”

Suguru licks his lips, grabbing your shorts, hooking them under his fingers, revealing your dripping cunt to him. Suguru can’t help but groan, his fingers pulling your shorts off to the side as far as he can to get a good look at your pussy. It’s so wet and twitching with anticipation. He leans in, gently blowing in your sex with a grin as you jump.

“Princess,” he says in a deep, primal voice, “allow me to help you.”

“H-Huh?!” You flush as he tugs you towards the edge of the chair. “S-Sugu!”

“Shhh~ I got you.”

His tongue darted out between his perfect, pretty lips, licking at your folds. The sensation of his tongue running up and down your slick slit, your eyes rolling back. You thought last night with his hand felt good. This was a whole new level. His gentle, slow, and teasing, you cry out in ways you had never done before.

“O-Ohhh shit.” Your head tilts back as Suguru science, his tongue up higher and higher until the tip meets your clit. “Nnngh!!” You screamed much like you had last night, but this time, your whole body jerks forward.

Suguru groans against you, tasting your sweet, sticky essence, his eyebrows furrowing together and pure concentration. He doesn’t want to lose himself in your taste. But fuck is that hard to do. Tasting you, hearing you, being the one pleasuring you, had his dick throbbing in his pants.

He wanted to hear more of you, to make you scream, to taste you when you came on his tongue. So he slid his tongue down, caressing your entrance with a groan before sliding it inside of you. You squeaked, gripping his hair and tugging on the dark strands as he shoved his tongue deep inside of you, his eyes rolling back as he lapped and teased your walls. The sweet tang of your juices flooded his mouth like the most decadent wine. If it weren’t for your taste alone, your sounds would have urged him to continue to lap at you as if you were his last meals

Your fingers gripped the long, dark strands of hair as you felt your eyes fill with tears. The feeling of his tongue was much more intense than you ever imagined. You felt so full as his nose brushed against your clit, rubbing it as he furiously ate your pussy. It felt like you couldn’t breathe as Suguru ate the life out of you.

“S-Suguru!” You cried out, trying to close your legs around his head as the pleasure became almost too intense for you to handle. “S-Sugu! Suguru, p-please I-It’s so intense.”

“Mmmpmh—” he moaned into you as you clamped your thighs around him harder. “Mmm, princess, gotta stop that—trying to help you~.”

“I-It’s r-really intense!” You yelped as his tongue pressed up against your g-spot. “Oooh fuuuck! Su-Suguru!”

“Want me to stop?” His tongue flicked devilishly over your swollen clit. “I can.”

Your legs squeezed harder around his head. “D-Don’t stop! Please, I—” In one swift movement, Suguru yank your shorts down, holding them just above your knees. Your body curves as your ass is being lifted, causing your back to lean awkwardly against the back of your chair. It’s almost like he has you in a forty-five-degree angle. “S-suguru! A-Ahh!” His mouth latches onto your clit, sucking on it gently as he shoves two fingers inside of you, curling them up against your g-spot as he holds your legs up by your shorts.

Fuuuck why was this so hot? Your body felt like it was melting as you grabbed onto the sides of the chair, clinging to it for dear life. The man knew what he was doing, and he did it well. Between his mouth and his tongue, he left you a babbling, heaping mess of twitching limbs.

The low whimpers and the way you jerked against his mouth had Suguru humming around your sensitive clit. He was determined to make you feel so good that no one would compare. So with his eyes focused on your’s he curled his fingers inside of you, rubbing your g-spot as he sucked roughly on your clit. Your pretty eyes went wide, mouth falling agape into an ‘O’ as you focused your attention down.

”S-Suguru—wait a second!” The coil in your abdomen was tightening, like the night before, but it felt different. “Oh wait, wait—“ He pulled away from your twitching bundle of nerves, tilting his head to the side to look at you. “I uhm—I think I’m going to cum—“

”Cool, cum on my face.” He goes to bury his face between your thighs, only for you to pull away just a bit. “It’s okay—I want you to—“

“N-No, that’s not it! I feel different!”

”Different?”

”Yeah, I need to pee—so maybe we should stop.”

After hearing you say something like that, there was no way in hell he was stopping now. “You’re not going to pee; just let it go, princess.” Without so much as an explanation, Suguru’s mouth is back on you, swirling his tongue around your clit like it is the tastiest candy he’s ever eaten.

“S-Sugu!’ His fingers rub your g-spot, massaging the spongy tissue, making your toes curl as your chest heaves. “Fuck, oooh fuck, Suguru, please!” Your legs are shaking as he feels your walls fluttering around his middle and ring finger. “Please, fuck ohhhh fuck please!”

You weren’t entirely sure what you were begging for, but Suguru did. He picked up the speed of his fingers fucking into you as his mouth continued suckling your pretty clit. Toes curled as your eyes rolled back into your head. You had always wondered if getting eaten out was as good as it looked. From the one time you walked in on Suguru in the past, you assumed it was good. But now you were beginning to wonder if it was just getting eaten out that felt so good or if it was Suguru. If you were a betting woman, you would spend all your money on it, being Suguru.

The man was licking and lapping at you like it was his job. Like he was at risk for a promotion, making sure he put all his effort into it. It wasn’t just his technique that got you trembling and crying out; it was his pure enthusiasm that was getting to you. He was enjoying this as much as you were and wasn’t even getting touched.

That in itself was true; Suguru did love eating pussy, but never in his whole sexual experience had he ever gotten this into it. He was swirling his tongue, dipping it down to lap at the ring of slick forming at the base of his fingers. He never thought he would get the chance to be like this with you. And now that he had been given an opportunity to taste you firsthand.

He wasn’t sure he could ever let you go now.

Not when you. were screaming his name, one hand gripping the side of the chair while the other grabbed his bun, yanking it as your legs violently shook in the air above him. You were so close, oh so fucking close, he could taste it. His tongue started working faster, his fingers following their lead, slamming into you until you saw stars. Your back arched off the chair, a silent scream forming in the back of your throat as you inhaled sharply.

The coil in your lower stomach snapped with a release of pressure. Screaming his name as you came as a stream of clear liquid splashed against his face. His cock twitched twice before he felt himself cum; feeling and tasting your release had sent him over the edge. He was so into it that he dropped the hold of your shorts, freeing his hands to grab your hips, pulling you tighter against his mouth, allowing him to drink everything you were giving him in entirely. His mouth worked you through your most intense orgasm (your second one), not stopping until your legs were shaking and your hands were trying to push his head away from your oversensitive sex.

“Haaah—haaaah—“ you wheezed from the chair, your hands resting against Suguru’s head as he finally pulled away. “Oh, fuuuck.”

Your best friend chuckled, nipping gently at your inner thighs before he helped tag your pajamas back up your legs. “Feel good?” He asked as he gently massaged your upper thigh, trying to ground you as you came down from your high.

“Felt so fucking good.” You slowly slid out of the chair, joining him on the ground. “That felt so good.”

“It looked like it did, and hey, looks like you’re a squirter, that’s fun.”

Your cheeks burned as you noticed the mess of droplets on his shirt before covering your face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I could do that.” His hands gently grabbed your wrists, pulling your hands away.

“Don’t apologize for feeling good, I loved seeing you cum like that.”

“That’s good to know, uhm so—“ You pulled your hand away from him, sliding it up to grope his thigh. “Can I help you? Maybe you could tell me how to use my mou—” Suguru’s hand grabbed your wrist again, halting your advances toward his crotch. For a second, you thought maybe he wasn’t interested, but from the flush that spread over his cheeks, you assumed it was something else.

“I uhm—I came already.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, I came while eating you out,” he motioned to the wet spot on the front of his shorts. “But thank you for offering.”

“Oh,” you were slightly disappointed, “Okay, well, uhm.”

Suguru interrupted your lack of words with a happy hum. “Are you free on Friday?” You blinked before nodding.

“I just have a meeting with Utahime to give her the newest chapter, but I’m free after that.”

“Great, how about dinner at my apartment on Friday night? Then, if you’re up to it, we could go over more ‘stuff’ for the book.”

You beamed up at him, nodding your head. “That sounds like a plan! I’ll make dinner.” His hand reached out, caressing your head with a fond smile as he shut his eyes.

Things between you two didn’t change after he returned home. You both were busy, so you didn’t have much time to hang out in the next few days. While you worked on your rewrites, he was busy working on a couple of commissions. But you always found time to text each other, ensuring the other was taking breaks and drinking plenty of water. Things weren’t different at all.

Aside from the fact you found yourself grinning like an idiot at your phone each time he would text or call you. For the first time in the years that you had been friends, you felt your heart race every time he’d text you. Was it the research you both had been doing? Or was it something more?

Even more strange was that you wanted it to be something more. You should have been terrified about a couple of folding sessions ruining your friendship, but you weren’t. What was happening between you and Suguru felt so natural and genuine. Like you both were growing and for the first time in your relationship, you were growing closer together.

That in itself was both terrifying and exciting.

Friday afternoon finally came around, and you were grinning at your phone

Suguru: Tell Utahime you have a date 😩 why does she need to read your rewrites in person?

You kicked your feet under the booth. He was so cute when he was impatient. With a quick bite of your lip, you quickly shot him back a messages

You: because she’s my agent. And strange, you never said my coming over was a date. 😏

Suguru: We’re eating food, drinking wine, and are going to snuggle. It’s a date with your best friend, as always. 🙄

You were about to ask what he would say if you wanted it to be a ‘date date’ when Utahime slammed the papers you handed her down. You winced quickly, putting your phone away. Her eyes were glued on the pages before she smiled wide, leaning back in the booth.

“This is some of your best work yet. It felt so real! Your writing has improved!”

It was funny how a little experience could go a long way! “Thank you. I had some help.” You glance back down at your phone.

“Oh my god, I’m so excited to see what you have planned for Oaklynn and Ilsan next! Can you get me the next couple of chapters in two weeks?”

“You got it!”

Utahime straightened the papers, sliding them into a binder before getting up. “Keep up the good work, sweetie; this will be big!” You followed her, fixing your bag. “Seriously, whatever you’re doing, keep it up.”

“Oh, I plan it, by the way. About the cottage, could you maybe do me a huge favor and ask the owners if it would be possible for me to stay a month? Uhm, I don’t need to stay the full two years.”

Utahime eyes you, fixing her baseball cap before chuckling as she flags down her Uber. “I’ll see what I can do for you.” She approached the back door and opened it. “They must be special.” Cocking a brow at your agent, you blink several times as she gets in the back.

“What do you mean?”

“Whoever had you grinning at your phone like a teenage girl. They must be special if they’ve become your muse. I’ll see you later!”

Utahime was right; Suguru was important to you. He always had been, and he always would be. He had been selfless enough to offer to help you when you needed it most, seemingly leading to a more profound relationship between you.

That prospect of what might come to be had you happily skipping back to your apartment building to the third floor. Tonight might be the best night to tell him how you had been feeling and how you wanted this best-friend date to be more of an actual date. The unknown was terrifying and exciting as butterflies swarmed in your stomach as you knocked on his door. As the door creaked open, you adjusted the brown bags full of groceries for your dinner.

“Oh,” a woman’s voice scoffed, “it’s just you.”

Your stomach dipped as Manami Suda leaned against the doorframe, looking down at you as if you were garbage. You usually liked a lot of people and rarely had issues with anyone. Manami Suda was the one person you couldn’t stand in the world, but you had to put up with her because she was Suguru’s agent.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks

Tag List (TO BE ADDED AGE MUST BE IN BIO)

@lemonintrovert01 @spankmydepression @renttheannihilator @witchbybirth @missmuffinr @lialia3945 @theobsidianempress @aquasan29 @toffeebrat @aussiemeerkat @chimichangagirl @zoroisminty @spankmydepression @em-aizawa @gojosimp26 @moonlightazriel

[bangchxnnie]

how long will this last? (pt. 1)

pairing: felix and fem!reader

tropes: friends to enemies to lovers, idiots in love, brother’s best friend if you squint? , college!au?

content warnings: 3rd person writing, reader is nicknamed barbie, felix is stupid, cursing, orange cats, shitty writing, bin being bin, massive miscommunication, what can barely be considered angst, some suggestive elements (but as always, read at your own risk buddy!)

chapter word count: ≈2.7k (they won’t all be this small promise <3)

hlwtl masterlist || part 2 ||

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

As long as she’s known Changbin, she’s known he’s good at getting his way. And that he’s great to go to when you need advice. But at this particular moment, she absolutely regrets asking for his help. He can be such a pest.

“Barbie, I hate to say this, but enough is enough.”

Barbie rolls her eyes. The name doesn’t phase her anymore. When she and Changbin met at a Halloween party freshman year of uni, her Barbie costume matched his accidental Ken costume (he honestly doesn’t remember what he was going for that night). And they’d hit it off. Three years later, the nickname is still stuck.

“No, okay! I don’t know what I would say to him. But please don’t make me do this, it’s weird.” She whines, flopping down into the couch of Bin’s living room. “Making me practice…confessing like we’re in high school or something.” Her grumbles are met with a chuff.

“It’s more like theater, but alas. Either you rehearse or I’ll just out you, I’m tired of having this conversation every other week.” His threat isn’t hollow. He’s practically been begging her for weeks to just fucking tell that idiot already but she’s threatened his life if he did anything. And he fears her just enough. But not quite enough. So. Here they are.

“You say that it’s impossible to do this. I’m showing you that it’s easy. Look,” Bin sets himself next to her on the couch, guiding her up into a sitting position. He takes her hands in his and sighs when he notices her eyes are closed. He squeezes her hands. “Yah! Pay attention.”

Her eyes open, only to roll the next moment in annoyance.

“Ugh, fine. Hey, we have to talk.” The words are pulled from her mouth with great force. She’s not looking at the man across from her. “This is so cringey.” She whispers to herself, shaking her head.

Why she’s acting like she’s being forced when she asked for his help is beyond him.

Women.

Bin clears his throat. He drops his voice to an awkward octave, attempting to imitate the man in question. “What’s up, buttercup?”

“Okay, no. He doesn’t call me that.” She makes a disgusted noise and pulls her hands from his. Bin smirks.

“What does he call you, then? Baby? Princess? Sunshine?” He’s teasing, allowing her the momentary deflection. “Ooh, I know! Darling. Yep. You look like a darling. I’m sure he’s all over you, calling you his darling left and right.” She shoves at his chest-face flush from embarrassment.

“Shut up.”

“Okay, fine. Skip the role play, let me just tell you what to say.”

He tries again, reaching for her face instead this time. He stops just short of actually touching her to ask, “Is this okay, B?”

She nods hesitantly. He smiles reassuringly, gently cupping both cheeks, thumbs caressing along her cheekbone. She just looks at him, unsure of where he’s going with this.

“This is weird. You’re cool and all, but I don’t know how I feel about this.” She can’t help her thoughts tumbling out, but he doesn’t fault her for it.

“Trust me.”

He winks.

She gags.

“Pull something straight from your heart. Or that romance novel you hide in your dresser due to its surprisingly large smut content.” A choked laugh leaves her mouth. He grins.

“Listen and learn. And try not to fall in love with me.” He clears his throat once more, and looks her dead in the eyes. “I’m in love with you. So desperately in love with you. I have never felt this way about anyone, and it’s driving me absolutely insane not knowing if you feel the same.” Bin’s face inches closer, and he’s trying not to giggle at the confused look on her face.

Wait…is he quoting that book? B laughs, incredulous.

“I love you. Hear me. See me. Please.” His pleading almost sounds sincere. “Let me show y-“

A loud slam interrupts him and they jump apart. “What the fuck was that?” Her heart is racing from the fright.

“Who knows. The complex ghost is probably out and about again.” Bin shrugs, as if it’s the most obvious answer. The tension slowly leaves her body, his ease calming her as well. “Or the AC kicked a door shut. But somehow that feels like the less likely option.”

She nods.

Makes perfect sense?

“Right…Thanks for the dramatic reading, but I probably should head out before Bobby Pin tears up my new shoes or worse, uses my new dress as a scratching post.” She glares at him with her last few words.

Changbin laughs at the memory. She swats at him. “I’m sorry! How many times do I have to apologise!” He guards his body by twisting away from her, but it’s no use.

He’d been tasked with babysitting Bobby Pin, her 1 year old orange tabby, for the weekend while she went home to visit family. Apparently he didn’t understand the rules about orange cats (you have to watch them because they’re fucking crazy). Bin owed Barbie a new dress and BP a new scratching post for his folly.

She gathers her things and heads to the door. “Thanks for nothing! Love you!” She calls him as she leaves. She doesn’t wait for his response before closing the door behind her. He’s probably too busy complaining back to notice.

She starts down the hallway, goofy smile on her face. While Changbin is not always the…brightest bulb, and he can be a huge pain in the ass, he has a good heart. And he would never intentionally let her get hurt. So the fact that he’s pushing so hard must mean something, right?

Unfortunately, she’s not really paying attention to anything, instead wrapped up in her head about it all. She’s walking toward the front exit of the apartment building on auto-pilot, until her body collides with the person in front of her. Her head snaps up, eyes wide and apologetic.

“Oh my god, I’m so-Felix?” Her gaze immediately softens on her best friend. Her eyes are drawn to his freckles. Always. She loves the way they compliment his face so delicately. His eyes, so soft and sparkly. She can’t help the way her own eyes fall further still to his mouth.

God. I’m so fucked.

“Hi.” His voice is meek, like he was the one who ran into her.

“Are you just now getting home?” She asks, gesturing to the backpack on his shoulder. He nods.

“Yeah, I, uh, was headed home, but then I realised I, uh, forgot something…” He seems distracted. Irritated? She can’t really tell.

“Are you okay?” She takes a step toward him and reaches for his hand. He backs away from her. She frowns for a second but doesn’t push him further.

“Yeah, I’m fine, B.” The hand he pulled away from her runs through his blonde fluff and he huffs.

“Are you sure?” She’s careful with her tone; afraid that if she’s too loud or sharp, he’ll scare away. Any onlookers would sure note how awkward this interaction looks. It sure feels like it.

“Yeah, I just hate realizing now I left my laptop.”

Oh.

“Well it’s right-“

He cuts her off. “I’ll find it.”

“Yeah, but Lix, it’s-“

He immediately shakes his head, stepping aside. “I’m fine!” She takes a step back from him, a bit shaken from his tone.

Felix takes a steadying breath. “I mean, no, it’s fine. I’ll find it on my own. I’ll, uh, I’ll call you, okay?” He flashes her a short smile, turns on his heels, and scurries out the front, leaving her standing in the hallway.

She’s left wondering why her best friend just blatantly lied to her face. Because his fucking laptop is tucked under his arm.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

The rest of the week feels…off. Felix doesn’t call. Or text. And after two days of nothing, when she reaches out to him, his responses are short or evasive. She outright asks him what’s wrong but he just keeps saying that he’s just ‘busy’ or ‘tired’. Which could be true, but it’s a horseshit copout of an answer, and everyone knows it.

What the absolute fuck is happening?

Changbin says he’s been grumpy all week and has been giving him and their other roommates much of the same treatment. Nobody can figure out what crawled up his ass and out his mouth. She offers to go over there and force an answer out of him, but the idea is shut down. At least, the forcing answers part. She still goes over there anyway. And every time he’s either leaving or gone when she does.

By the end of the 3rd week of silence toward her, she decides she’s over it all. Since he’s apparently talking to the rest of his friends again but not her. If he wants to be a dick and not talk to her, he can be a dick and not talk to her. She can do the same. She can be just as petty.

Changbin, Jisung, Seungmin, and herself are all splayed around the living room in various stages of lay. Bin is sitting on the couch, she’s on the floor in front of him, leaning against the couch. The remaining boys are fighting over a blanket on the floor beside her. The movie on the tv is basically background noise while the Loud Ones argue.

Typical.

“For the love of God, just get a second blanket!” Bin groans, throwing the one in his lap at Jisung’s head.

“Separate. Now.” Barbie echoes, her irritation evident. The men mumble and mutter things under their breath, but her command is obeyed.

Bin chuckles, leans down over her so he can speak into her ear. “Teach me your magic, Barbie. I’m begging.”

She laughs and turns her body to face him. She pats his cheek lovingly and simply responds with a big smile and a, “Then what would you need me for?”

They hear the front door shut. Well, slam, really. Her hand drops from Bin’s face and their attention switches to the intruder. Well, it’s not exactly an intruder, because he lives there. But with how icy he looks at everyone, he may as well be.

It makes her heart ache. Only for a second, though.

Whatever.

“Hey, Lixie.” Jisung volunteers a smile.

“Hi.” He kicks his shoes off, before turning his head toward his alleged friend. “I didn’t know you’d be here?”

Are you fucking kidding me? This is the first thing he’s said to me in weeks, and that’s all he has to say?

She rolls her eyes and doesn’t respond. Felix makes his way to the couch, bag still slung to his shoulder. “It would have been nice to know.”

Her head snaps toward him. “Oh, so you’re talking to me now? How noble of you to make that sacrifice after three weeks. Go fuck yourself.”

The room goes silent for a beat.

Changbin breaks it. “I think I, uh, need help moving my furniture. You two,” he points to the men now on opposite sides of the living room. “come help me.”

They both begin to protest but something in the look Changbin gives them makes them stop immediately and follow him. “Don’t get the cops called on us, B.” Is all he says as he passes her.

It’s not until he closes his bedroom door that Felix tries to head for his room.

“That’s really all you’re gonna say to me?” She stops him in his tracks. He doesn’t turn around, but he’s listening. “You have been blowing me off for weeks and the first thing you fucking say to me is that?”

Felix’s jaw clenches. “I don’t want to do this right now. You’re right, talking to you was apparently a mistake.”

Her arms fold across her chest. “That’s not an option. You don’t get to finally say something to me and then decide that’s it.”

“Leave it alone. I’m not going to say it again.” His fist joins his jaw in its tension, balling up at his sides.

“When are you going to stop being a massive dick?!” She shouts, and he finally turns to face her. Every emotion from the past month is bubbling to the surface, pettiness be damned.

“Fuck, when are you going to learn to take a fucking hint?!” He shouts back, bag falling off his shoulder to the ground with a loud thud. “God damn it B, I don’t want to talk about anything with you!”

“Why not?! What did I do?!” She takes a step toward him with every word, ready to get in his face. Somehow, she’s able to breathe her way to a normal volume, but tears are welling up in her eyes. “Please, Felix. Talk to me. You’re my best friend. I don’t understand. Let me help you, I can-“

“I just don’t want you around anymore!” He blurts it out, effectively cutting her off.

“What?” Her voice cracks. The tears are winning this fight. “Why?” Her throat feels so dry all of a sudden. She can barely get anything out, voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s just not worth it.” His voice sounds strangled, like he’s fighting something back himself.

“What isn’t?” She knows what he means. But she wants him to say it. She needs him to say it.

It is quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time before he looks her in the eyes and says, “You.”

She doesn’t say anything else. Just grabs her keys and leaves, slamming the door as loud as she can behind her.

She doesn’t let herself cry until she gets to her car.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

It’s incredibly hard to drive when you can’t stop crying. Like, really hard. But she manages to make it, thanks to luck and the lack of drivers on the road.

She ignores every call anyone makes the rest of the day. Not one from Changbin, not one from Seungmin, not even one from Chris. She just can’t do it right now. BP snuggles up in her bed and the two commemorate the shitty day with a seemingly endless nap.

By the time she wakes up, it’s well past sunset. And there’s someone..in the apartment?

Holy fuck, there’s someone in the apartment. She rises in a panic, grabbing the bat she keeps by her bed for emergencies and tiptoes out of the room toward the noise.

This is how people get killed in horror movies. Felix had said it to her once, when they’d heard a strange noise outside his own apartment and she’d gone to investigate. He’d looked so pretty that night. His freckles always welcomed her, his smile always warmed her, his voice…

Ugh. Fuck no. Don’t be a fucking simp.

She pushes the thought of him away from her mind and focuses on the task at hand. She grips the bat harder when she spots someone down the hallway, in her kitchen. She slowly approaches the figure as quietly as she can, steadying her breathing before she lifts the bat and prepares to strike.

“What the fuck are you doing.” It’s not spoken like a question and it scares the absolute shit out of her. She screams, bat flying across the room, clattering on the hardwood floor of the living room.

“What is wrong with you?”

Without her weapon she decides to use the next best thing: her fists. She swings at the intruder with full force, over and over.

He tries to shield his body, protesting the attack. “Hey! Fucking stop! Stop!” She recognizes the voice, but that doesn’t matter. Now she’s mad at him for scaring her.

He changes tactics, and instead restrains his attacker, wrapping his arms around her from behind and pulling her to his chest. “Would you chill?”

“Chris, I swear to God. I didn’t give you a key so you can just let yourself in whenever you want!” When he’s sure she’s not volatile, he sets her free.

“Call it family perks. Brother gets special privileges, especially around his birthday.” He grins.

She scoffs.

Yeah, I’m about to give his face the privilege of meeting my fist.

“Do better.”

B smacks his arm.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ꜰɪᴄ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ꜱᴏ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ꜱᴏᴏᴏᴏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ, ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇ! ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2 ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ꜱᴏᴏɴ! xᴏxᴏ, ᴢ

[billkaulitzwife]

The Outsiders Coping With a Breakup

(ps guys im not over it leave me alone(i also watched the notebook and i hate myself))

Ponyboy

Reading or writing.

How could you ever hurt this little freshman boy he‘s such a sweetheart

He would probably silently cry into a pillow until he thought his lungs were about to collapse or cave in

if this was now … he‘d chain smoke and listen to lana del rey while looking out a moonlit window

he definitely listens to Elvis to get over it.

I don’t know what exactly he would read to get over it but probably some sad ass Edgar Allan Poe. Annabelle Lee lookin ass.

He‘d write the most heart breaking

tear dripping

heavy breathing sad poetry ever.

show him a romance novel.

he’d never stop reading them until he got over it.

just the bare thought of it drives him nuts.

so he reads.

Johnny

if you hurt this man he would probably hurt himself.

he would dream bout it and wake up in cold sweats, tears running down his face.

in all honesty

i think he‘d be artistic with it

he’d somehow turn each and every single tiny thought into something about you

whether it be thinking about a teddy bear then contorting it into nothing but an image of you and him.

he would never be able to look at the places you went together the same.

he would be an artist.

hand him a pencil and he’ll make your heart break and ache.

might etch and sketch on himself to see if you still care.

ps you obviously do.

Dallas

Doesn’t know how.

All this man does is sleep, drink, fuck, repeat.

being honest this manwhore is probably gonna screw every hoe in Tulsa to try and get his mind off of it,

but every path leads back to what he knows best.

he would smoke more,

party more,

drink away all his problems, etc before facing a problem head on.

people may see him as this

uhh

violent gang member hoodlum kid guy man

but deep down hes really just a kid who wishes he couldve given his momma one more hug

a kid that needed to be loved.

a kid that was never taught how to be loved.

Adelaide

crier.

she’s a big ol’ crier, but it doesnt matter since thats not the only way she copes.

she loves to paint and puts every emotion into her paintings.

she may’ve become a kleptomaniac since she needs the supplies.

the curtis boys would

PERSONALLY

kill you if anything happened to her

one heartbreak and shes done for

love? whats that? it isnt real?

dont hurt her no matter what.

she would also turn to cigarettessss (as if she doesnt smoke enough).

adelaide would develop stage five lung cancer before even admitting that love could in the slightest exist anymore.

Sodapop

working.

soda seems like the kinda guy to go through a breakup and cry a lot

but the only thing that really helped was work.

he’d probably get a raise

yk with how hard and how much he’d be working to get over it.

his siblings would warn him about not overworkimg himself

and guess what.

he didnt listen and got really sick from all the stress.

i know for a fact he would keep away from cigarettes even if someone said they help and he believed it

he would only ever listen to the radio

hoping and praying that when he’d hear a love song he‘d hear your voice

Darrell

probably the most sane of everybody while dealing with his bs

he wld obviously be heart broken

but not to the point he needed some insane coping mechanism.

he would probably meditate.

i mean this is the sixties cmon he’s either gonna do wxxd

or meditate.

as soon as a thought of you came up and his mind started to panic he would sit on the couch and

well.

relax.

he probably has the healthiest coping mechanism he’s definitely got his life together

the others are jealous as fuuuuck

Steve

bro wouldnt eat.

every time he thought about the breakup

he thought it was because he was strong enough

or that he was too chubby for his girl.

one time he passed out while on the way to work and the gang freaked out so bad

they couldnt take him to the hospital so they carried him home and stuck a juice box in his mouth

eventually his ass woke up and they all cheered like the war had just ended “HIP HOORAY!”

but then in all seriousness

he needed to get his weight back up so the curtis kids make him eat at their house

even if he says he ate.

theres always snacks for him laying around thay house from then on out

Two-Bit

drinking.

do i have to explain.

in the novel pony said two-bit was famous for shoplifting and his black-handled switchblade…

but for some reason i know he wouldnt shoplift any more.

(he sure did teach adelaide how to tho)

along with his love for “shopping” you gotta remember he’s a heavy alcoholic

he’d drink away all of his problems and thoughts until he blacked out.

his buddies would think its just your average keith

but in all reality he’s really struggling

even though he seems like the usual drunk happy joking guy

HE IS HURTTT.

okay thanks for watching todays vlog

if u ever need to vent please dont be scared to message me bruv im sure Ik how to help.

[perseephoneee]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓘𝓘𝓘

In which, you, a lady of the ton, are forced to participate in courting season. Except that courting season comes with one particularly silver tongued Prince who is making it his mission to drive you absolutely insane.

↳ fic masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

a/n: sorry for the delay!! i'll try and get chapter IV out much faster

“He’s so infuriating,” you groaned, flopping down onto Ivy’s bed as she sat at her vanity, peering at you with amusement. 

“But how was Thor–”

“He insults my wit, my wit,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “My wit is what makes me interesting.”

“I think it’s interesting you’re focused on Loki when his brother is the one that’s courting you,” Ivy mumbles, looking at her nails. You send her a glare, biting the inside of your cheek. You had come home from the races coursing with adrenaline. It was a lot more exhilarating than you expected, even if the company was lackluster. You hated the stares from the rest of the ton as you sat with the two princes. While you appreciated Thor’s company, having a verbal sparring match with Loki was not on your agenda for that day. Which is why the second you got home, you ranted to your sister. 

“This whole courting situation is rather tiresome,” you groan, holding a pillow over your face. Ivy chuckles, grabs the recent gossip column (Lady Valkyrie), and sits beside you on the bed. 

“You’re the talk of the ton,” Ivy sighed, slight envy in her tone. You sat up, looking at her curiously. “Everyone is gossiping about you and Prince Odinson.”

“I don’t want to be the talk of the ton,” you rub your eyes, glancing at the words on the page. Lady Valkyrie talks about your ‘spitfire personality’ in a way that gives you slight satisfaction. “Why can’t you be the talk of the ton?”

“Because I am not as interesting as you,” Ivy says, eyes bright as she looks at you. “And that is alright.”

“You deserve it more than me.”

“It is not a matter of being deserving; it just is.” Sometimes, Ivy could be wiser than you gave her credit for. You wrapped her up in a hug, resting your head on her shoulders as she patted your head. “There’s another dance happening today if you want to come?” Ivy looked at you expectantly, but you just shot her a look. “Or not.”

“Why are there so many events?” you inquired.

“I assume people are desperate to meet the one,” Ivy sighed, getting up and returning to her closet. She held up two different gowns, raising an eyebrow in question. You pointed at the right one and then went back to scowling. “You should go.”

“I’ve done enough socializing for one lifetime,” you curled into a ball facing the window. “I’m going to stay home and read.”

“Fine, have it your way,” Ivy hummed, already messing with her hair. 

The truth was that you needed more books to read, having already exhausted your collection. Which in and of itself was a feat, considering you seldom ran out of books to read. You decided to take a self-care day, heading to the town and finding a new novel to distract yourself. The town wasn’t that far of a walk, and you needed the space to think critically about your situation.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Thor; you did. He was kind and courteous and found you attractive and not at all crazy (or he found you crazy but didn’t care). Still, you didn’t feel that spark. That sense of electricity that was described in your romance novels. You just felt…the same. You had never been in love, though; there was no barometer. 

The air was crisp, and you enjoyed feeling the wind tossing your hair around. You gave polite nods to anyone you passed but generally kept to yourself. The bookstore was close ahead, though, and you were anticipating your next novel. Unfortunately, any chance of solace you had was ruined by the sight of a familiar raven-haired prince exiting the shop. You felt yourself glower as you approached, and he shot you a smile that read as anything but happy. 

“All alone?” Loki asked, raising a brow as he looked you up and down. You huffed, rolling your eyes. 

“I’m allowed,” you went to move past him, but he blocked the entrance. “Is there something the matter, your highness?” Loki shook his head, moving out of your way. You pushed into the store, hearing the bell ring above your head as you headed straight for the section in the back left. You felt Loki follow you inside, trailing behind you as you started looking at different titles. 

“I didn’t take you for a romance reader,” he said, voice close to your ear. It made you jump, and you turned to find him directly behind you. 

“Do you have no sense of personal space?” you hissed, but he ignored you. Loki grabbed a book from right above your head, grimacing as he flipped through the pages. 

“Terribly drab.”

“Bold of you to comment on what is romantic,” you snatched the book from his hands, hiding your grimace. It wasn’t a novel you would’ve chosen of your own volition, but you felt insistent on not letting Loki know that. You put the story back on the shelf, grabbing a different title instead from an author you admire. You appreciated that while the book involved romance, other storylines were going on that didn’t make it dreadfully dull. There was adventure, treasure, and more. Loki narrowed his eyes at you as you held the book to your chest. 

“For a lady being courted by a prince, you don’t seem to be excited about the ordeal,” Loki exclaimed, startling you. 

“That’s none of your business–”

“It’s my business when it involves my brother,” Loki leaned against a shelf, arms crossed and head tilted like you were a fascinating creature. You hated how relaxed he seemed, even as there was a split-second thought that he looked good posed against the various hardcovers. 

“You don’t seem that interested in any of this, either,” you shot back. 

“I’m not; people are boring,” Loki chuckled, a dark sound that sent chills down your spine. You fought the urge to shiver. “Let me help you.” You narrowed your eyes, unsure what he was getting at. “Whatever reason you are participating in the season, it’s not because of personal want. My father is eager for one of us to get married, and it won’t be me,” Loki sighed at this point, turning so his back was against the shelf and looking up at the ceiling. “I’ll help you secure my brother, and in turn, you help me get out of my familial expectations.”

“I don’t need your help with your brother,” you scoffed. 

“Sure you do,” Loki smiled like he knew a joke you weren’t a part of. “Considering he could be courting another lady at any moment, your obstinance won’t get you anywhere. You’re also the…best choice.” He had to spit out his words at that like it pained him. 

“Best choice?” Your words caught in your throat when Loki stepped closer, towering over you with the haughty air of someone who knew they held all the power. 

“I don’t like you,” Loki murmured, close enough for you to hear every word. “But you’re more interesting than the rest of the ton. If anyone will join this family, I would hate for it to be one of them.”

“It sounds like you do like me,” you replied, heart beating slightly faster. 

“Careful what you say, pet,” Loki stepped back, taking the heat from the air with him. Clutching the book to your chest like a shield, you carefully observed the prince before you. You didn’t need help, or at least, you didn’t think you did. You were under no illusions that you’d experience a love match. Still, perhaps Thor was your best option. It would satiate your grandmother, and you wouldn’t have to see her disapproving gaze daily.

“If I say yes…what do I have to do?” You whispered, eyes looking down. You could almost feel Loki’s satisfaction in a way that made you grit your teeth. 

“Just wait,” he hummed. “You’ll know soon enough.”

“You’re terribly ominous.”

“Perhaps,” he grinned, his smile half-cocked and a serpentine glint in his eyes. It felt like making a deal with a demon, a promise that would only do more hurt in the long run than good. You can’t help thinking about your grandmother and this ridiculous expectation she put on you. You didn’t want to get married; you didn’t care. But the woman was more impatient than not, and you hated how she beat down Ivy for her inability to secure a match. It took you several seconds to meet Loki’s green eyes and even more before you could steel your mind into an impenetrable fortress. 

“Then yes,” you mutter, eyes narrowed. “I say yes.”

Loki just chuckled. “Then let the games begin.”

taglist:: @gruftiela @eleniblue @iwrite-things @youneedanap @huntress-artemiss @linaax @pisces-celeste @marygoddessofmischief @saay-karani @choki.laufeyson

[bloodbrown]

I'm gonna offer a little morsel to chew on that's been driving me insane😳 for your consideration, imagine on the off chance P manages to take an actual break at the hotel, not just a quick round of chats with everyone, or weapon/strength upgrades, but a full on extended break.

And during that break he discovers he's got a love of reading, and just so happens to gravitate towards the sweet and sappier type of books! (He of course reads anything that piques his interest, but for the sake of this thought I'd imagine that he keeps to these softer books as a sort of escape from the horrors beyond the hotel!🥺)

And in these books he keeps learning about all the ways in which humans and characters show affection: The plethora of darling terms of endearment or the meaningful warmth that comes from a special nickname, the endless tiny ways to show concern or care. It's the gentle kiss placed on the inside of a wrist, giving someone your umbrella/overcoat when the rain or chill is too much, looking into someone's eyes and being so whole heartedly lovestruck it makes your chest ache and heart thump a fierce pace.

(I think he'd get really caught up on the concept of when a couple is heading to bed one will often sleep on the side closest to the door, that even when asleep they want to shield their beloved🥺)

After his discovery I honestly think he'd become a bit of a mother hen, doting and even a dash fretful at that! He once saw you make your way down the stairs of the hotel without holding onto the railings, nearly tripping and straining your ankle. You try to pull that stunt after he's read his books? Right in front of lover boy? You are getting a glower and have a choice to make, either the railing or his hand, you have to hold one! >:(

I'm telling you, he may be made out of rigid cogs and unfeeling metal, has single handedly ravished droves of enemies and terrors, but this man has sugar glass ribs and a jelly heart, so unendingly sweet and warm, and if he could I bet he'd open his chest and give you his very own heart, hoping you'd see how the pace of its ticks speed up, just for you.

I have so so many more sappy sweet thoughts, and I hope it wasn't an annoyance to get such a behemoth of an ask, but from one P enjoyer to another I wanted to send something in! <:) I hope you're doing well, and have a wonderful rest of your day/night! ^^ (Oh and!! just wanted to say that I love all of the writing and hc's that you do for the mad lad, you capture him wonderfully!🥺)

I absolutely love the idea that P realizes he should get a day off like everyone else. He's worked to the bone every day, poor guy. And can't imagine Geppetto would be too happy about his Ergo-harvesting puppet realizing that he can take breaks lol

And P would totally take romance novels to heart, I bet he'd also take to writing little love letters and leaving them around for you to find... even if his handwriting is less than stellar 🥺

He is such a bleeding heart of a man, and I say this with the ultimate amount of affection.

Also I'm never annoyed by asks, even long ones, most of the time they make my day 🐸

[gooselycharm]

hi there! i'd just like to say that your kris and noelle "something else" comic has been driving me insane /pos and i'd love to hear more of your thoughts on those two!! their relationship is one of my favorite things in deltarune and your comic just got everything about them so right 🙏

thank you for reading "something else"! oh man, [more of] my thoughts on kris+noelle.... i sure got some of those.

this was one of the first tweets i made after finishing chapter 2 nearly... freaking 2 years ago. and basically i've just been saying that over and over again in different ways because i'm still not tired of the concept yet and probably wont ever be LOL. i'm obsessed with how badly the narrative wants to force them into an easily categorizable dynamic, especially the romantic one in snowgrave. the literal THORN RING, the more possessive dialogue options, spamton calling noelle a side chick LOL... it all creates this unnerving visual novel bad end atmosphere that feels manufactured by someone who's only ever learned about romance through secondhand sources. they're two queer teens trying to navigate their changing relationship with the only role models they know being their parents' own failed heterosexual marriages. they're so divorced² (divorced children of divorce).

i also like that for being so tragically doomed coded they can be funny! both in a dark humor way and also like, genuinely funny, like the stories of them as kids with kris covering themselves in ketchup and hiding under noelle's bed lmao. i mean there's even something funny about the romantic trappings of the snowgrave route, like trying to put wedding cake embellishments on a crime scene... you know, funny like kids trying on their parents clothes but they're too big and for some reason they're also crying and covered in blood? um.

i'm also SOOOO interested to see how snowgrave will continue in chapter 3! i really liked the hopeful note chapter 2 ended on (well. i took it as hopeful anyway). there's that bit where noelle is talking to herself and she says something like "recently kris has been acting so strange and no one else has noticed... i have to figure out why" and then kris jumpscares her LOL but i think i took that one line and really ran with it. noelle really is the one who knows kris best and despite how scared she is, she's still determined to help them... i like the little subversion of victim/hero going on, the implication that kris might be the one who needs rescuing.

the additional story/lore that came with the spamton sweepstakes made me CRAAAZYYYYY like my GOD... it's cute that noelle likes glitches/creepypasta when kris is kinda a walking creepypasta <3 also, god, noelle falling asleep listening to kris playing piano in the other room... there's so much like. wistfulness and nostalgia and this like... distant/detached intimacy packed into how noelle narrates that scene. it's kind of funny how much there is to dig into when like on a surface level they're just fairly regular childhood friends who grew apart LMAO they're extremely deep to me okay...

on another note i guess i do ship them? i like their dynamic whether it's platonic or romantic (the best is a weird mix of both 👍). it just can't be boring LOL like... this is one ship where trying to apply cookie cutter tropes to them really falls flat and the game is ahead of you on that anyway. in terms of romantically shipping them, i honestly don't think they're doomed to repeat patterns forever... i think they could actually be good for each other! but that's not really the aspect of their relationship that interests me akldjf;alk;sdg maybe i will make 60 page comic of kriselle going to couples counseling some other time

ANYWAY i'm going to cut myself off here, because i really could go on forever lol. i'll give you some links for further reading though

hellspawnmotel's deltarune art

lula pillowbug99's deltarune art

this art by raspbearis which features prominently in my internal kriselle bible

my own unfinished kriselle playlist

my own essay on gender & allegory in deltarune if for some reason u are not tired of hearing me talk yet

okay bye now & thanks again for reading my comic!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[wynndigogh]

Bring me a dream...

You stand brushing your teeth in an outdated bathroom. 

The light over the vanity appears to be from the sixties and considering the way the bulb flashes and surges every few seconds with a zz-ut-zhut sound, it may be that old as well.

The light it gives off is yellow and dull; however, you aren’t very sure you’d like a bright view of that bathroom anyway.  The tub, sink, and toilet have more rings than the Olympics logo and the faucets are pockmarked with rust.

The tiny mosaic flooring tiles are missing in random spots and the bold floral designed wallpaper, which you are sure at one time contained bright yellows, oranges and greens, is now a faded façade that is barely clinging to the walls.

You roll your eyes and spit the last of the toothpaste foam from your mouth, “Not exactly the Hilton, but a bed is a bed.”

With a sigh you exit the small washroom, opting to leave on the flickering yellow light and close the door just enough to for it to act as a nightlight.  You are single, traveling alone, and unfamiliar dark rooms are intimidating. The sliver of light from the bathroom brings you some small amount of comfort, no matter the poor quality.

You walk stiffly through the small motel room.  After two straight days of driving, with little rest, your body feels like stone.  In your overly caffeinated, yet insanely exhausted, state you are trying to remember exactly why you thought driving from Georgia to your job interview in Oregon would be a good idea.

Ah, yes, Skinwalker Ranch. 

You started watching the spooky series on the History channel months ago and have become obsessed with the thought of other-worldly portals that connect our world to places unknown.  In a misguided a-ha moment you decided to drive, instead of fly, so that you could pass through Gusher, Utah just to be close to the supposed interdimensional portals. 

You know getting on the actual ranch will be a no-go, but you want to be in the town, as close as possible to the actual ranch, just to see if anyone has tales of their own to share of extraordinary happenings in the area.

So, that is how you ended up in this rundown motel pretty much in the middle of nowhere. 

With a sigh, you pull back the old comforter on the bed, noting the dingy sheets with a shutter.  You hesitate for just a moment, contemplating if you should put leggings under your oversized tee shirt, but your tired body encourages you to tough it out.  Reluctantly, you crawl into the bed. 

Since your last coffee was only an hour ago, a desperate attempt to make it to Gusher before your heavy eyelids forced you to stop, you are a little too wired to just drift off to sleep.  So, you pull out the latest creature-feature romance novel that you’ve been reading and turn to your ear-marked page.  You will read until the caffeine-kick wears off.

The small room is quiet except for the faint zz-ut-zhut from the blinking bathroom light. 

In fact, the whole motel is as quiet as a graveyard.  You doubt any of the other rooms have occupants in them.  The parking lot was empty, and the front desk clerk seemed genuinely surprised to be checking someone into the establishment.

You twist to your left side, trying to get the aged lamp beside your bed to illuminate your book’s page.  You need to see the details clearly; the story is just getting spicy. 

The story’s heroine has been fighting a growing attraction to her Centaur field-guide, whom she hired to lead her through a dangerous forest.  A recent Trogg attack has the suppressed protagonist clinging to the Centaur’s broad equine back as he races her to safety.  The author is detailing the baritone sound of his huffs of exertion, the heated moisture coating his muscles, and how the heroine is enjoying the bouncing rhythmic friction of the chaotic ride just a little too much.

You subconsciously swallow and rub your stacked legs together out of need.  You feel a slight ache in your nether region followed by the tell-tale sign of slick starting to gather at your entrance.  You shift your position, and the bedsprings protest with a squeak and a hiss.

You flip the page in your book, and you are halfway through the first sentence at the top of the page when the thought finally registers in your tired mind, did the bed just hiss?

You lower your paperback book to scan the bed and the dimly lit room.  The fossil-age lamp beside your bed and the sliver of yellow bathroom light illuminates the area around the bed decently enough but they do little to chase away the deep shadows in the far corners of the room. 

Oh, how you hate the dark.  Ever since you were a child, you always felt like the darkness itself was watching.  Watching and waiting. 

The longer you look at the shadows of the room, the more your skin wants to crawl with goosebumps.  You know it’s silly and that it is probably just your anxiety of being alone in an unknown space, but that same feeling of being watched surfaces in the back of your mind.

However, after a moment of observation, nothing seems amiss.  With a shiver and a shake, you turn your attention back to your book.

By the middle of the page, the heroine is reaching her peak bouncing up and down on the Centaur’s back.  You are fully invested in her ride, fantasizing about riding astride the strong creature yourself.  As your mind wanders, your body reacts to the imagery.  Your nipples harden under your nightshirt and your internal temperature peaks causing you to sweat.  You throw off your covers and start to fan yourself with your book, when you hear a muted in-take of breath, like a soft gasp.

In shock and fear, you bolt into a sitting position, “Who’s there?”, you call out in panic.

Your eyes and ears strain for clues.  The only movement and sound coming from the flickering bathroom light. 

Seconds tick by, counted off by the zz-ut-zhut of the old light bulb. 

The stillness growing into an uneasy stalemate.

You shift nervously on the bed.  Preparing, waiting.  Yet, nothing happens. 

Slowly, your racing heart begins to ease.  The muscles around your eyes begin to relax as your body adjusts to burning through the last of your caffeine-high just now. 

As your eyelids grow a bit heavy, a yawn surfaces.  Your face contorts in the yawn, your eyelids shielding most of your vision.  That’s when you see it, a flash of light deep in one of the room’s shadows. 

No, that isn’t right.  It wasn’t a light, there were two.  You saw two flashes of light, almost like the blink of dual fireflies, in the corner across from you.

You quickly stifle the yawn, blinking back the reflexive tears from your eyes, and stare hard at the space.  Only, the lights don’t reappear. 

Was it your imagination?  Is your fatigued brain experiencing hallucinations? 

You focus hard on the corner, and you see something…at least, you think you do.

Is that…a shadow? 

For a moment it’s there and then, with the next blink of your eyes, it’s gone again.  Was something there?

You strain to see.  Your eyes sting with dryness and feel gritty, even as tears from your yawn leak from the corners.  You squeeze your eyes shut repeatedly, trying to lubricate them.  Surely, you’ll be able to blink away the fog that seems to be forming on your pupils, obscuring your vision.  However, no matter how many times you try, your eyes refuse to focus.  You use the heel of your free hand to rub one orbital, in a pitiful attempt to literally wipe away the opaque quality of your vision.

Deep in the corner, the shadow flickers into existence and two glowing orbs reappear.  The orbs aren’t the luminous bottoms of bugs, they are two glowing eyes staring straight at you.

For just a moment, shorter than a gasp, your heart stops.  Pausing in stillness, preparing for the surge. 

Then, with the quickness of a lightning strike, the adrenaline jolts through your system.  Your heartrate spiking, sending blood to your muscles, preparing you for fight and flight.

You instinctually shriek and fling the book in your hand at the tall form in the darkness while simultaneously rolling off the far side of the bed with a resounding thud.

“Tsk, tsk, is that any way to treat a coveted possession?”

The voice that you hear from your hiding spot beside the bed is masculine.  It has an elegant cadence with an accent you can’t place.  It sounds otherworldly, almost ethereal, and yet hollow, like it’s muffled.  The sound of a male voice inside the room with you triggers the third fear response, freeze. 

You are utterly frozen in place on the grimy carpet, your mind racing.  Who is it?  How did he get in?  What does he want?  The sound of soft footsteps interrupts the chaos storming through your mind.  The footfalls are coming closer. 

Over the lip of the mattress, you see a dark hooded figure leisurely making his way around the bed.  You just stare with wide eyes as he comes to a stop at the foot of the bed, stares down at you, and tilts his head to the side inquisitively. 

Is it panic or shock that has your back glued to the floor, your body unable to move, or is it awe?  

The man, no – that isn’t right, it can’t be right. 

The being standing over you has swirling, glowing eyes.  You watch as the color of those luminous orbs shift and twirl in tones of blue, white, violet, and gold.  They are oddly mesmerizing and unnerving at the same time.  Just as your mind starts to get those in their depths, he breaks eye contact, and you watch those shimmering rings of light trace a line down your body, lingering with interest on the peaks of your nightshirt and the exposed swatch of your lacy underwear.

After a long pause at your lacy covered apex, those shining eyes blaze white and lift to make eye contact with you, “My lady, I do believe you are in need of my assistance”.  His eloquent, ethereal voice placing emphasis on the word ‘need’. 

The bedside lamp casts enough light to reveal his face beneath the hood. His eyes aren’t just floating orbs, they are pupils set in a pair of elongated eyes, framed high and tight by steep cheek bones.  His skin, a deep velvety blue with sparkling specks that catch and reflect the light, resembling a starry night sky.  You can only see a small portion of skin around his eyes, and you understand why his voice sounds muffled, he’s wearing a mask over the lower half of his face.

You hear screaming.  It takes you a moment to realize the sound is coming from yourself.  Your voice sounds so far away, like you are having an out-of-body type of experience.

The creature…being…man, whatever he is, raises his finger to his masked mouth and issues a command, “Shhhhhhhh”.  

A glimmering tendril of some type of floating substance, ribbons out from his hand, wafting over you, and stealing your panic.  Like a drug, your body starts to feel heavy and your voice stalls in your throat.

“Allow me to help you”, his foreign accent drawls out from behind his mask.  The shapes of his swirling eyes pinching thin, in what could be a cheeky grin, as he reaches down and takes your delicate hand in his indigo colored one, pulling you to your feet, your body just obeying.

Standing toe to toe it is apparent that this being is tall, at least 6’4” because your petite frame is only reaching the top of his chest. 

You are staring up into those hypnotic eyes when you feel him grip your chin.  His fingers are tipped with dark claws, and he is careful not to stab them into the tender flesh of your face.

“Are you hurt?”, he questions behind his barrier, “Maybe I should check, eh?”

His long eyes turning cheshire-shaped from another impish grin.  You are feeling too dazed to protest when his free hand glides over your shoulders, down one of your sides, and pauses on your hip, gripping into the amp flesh.

“Who-what are you”, your words come out slow and groggy.

“Hmmmm, I am called many things by your kind, faerie, demon, Sonnaya Tuchka, Ole Lukøje, Pesochnyy chelovek, we call ourselves Zeez; however, my favorite is your tongue, what you called me when you were youngling.”

The creature pauses staring at you; your transfixed dreamy stare telling him that you were not processing his words as quickly as he is speaking.  He watches patiently as the information clicks into place in your mind, your eyes widening ever so slightly with the realization that you two have met before.

“You, my desert flower, called me The Sandman.  But, if you wish, you may call me by given name Der.”

Der’s face loses its brash flirtatiousness and takes on a more somber look, his eyes phasing more blue, as he releases your chin to run his outside of forefinger down the side of your cheek.  The action doesn’t feel intrusive or offensive, it feels more familiar…sad.

Your gaze swipes lazily across his face as your mind tries to fight through the haze clouding it.  You take in the colors and reflecting light of his skin, those enthralling eyes, and then your sight slides down to his covering.

“Why do you wear a mask?”

You watch the tall being’s shoulders shake with a huffing laugh, “Always the curious one.  You asked me the same thing when you were much smaller.” 

He lifted a claw tapping the hard mask, the sound telling you it is made of some type of hardened leather or shell of some kind, “This is the burden of my kind, if we wish to remain culturally acceptable and welcomed in our world.”

Your forehead draws together in confusion. 

Der’s eyes twinkle with mischief as he continues, “My kind’s verbalizations can be very persuasive without a filter to cushion its affects.  The other species of my world grew tired of losing partners to my kind’s talented tongues.”, he finishes with a wink.

Ah, his words are as beguiling and seductive as his eyes and the mask acts as his muzzle.  Interesting.

Maybe it’s the fact that you were nose deep in a creature-feature smut book just prior to his arrival, or the fact that you haven’t been laid in longer than you’d like to admit, but your mind betrays you.  An intrusive thought pops up out of nowhere, and your inner voice wonders just how tantalizing a sexual experience with this Zeez would be.

You feel Der’s glowing eyes on your face and, almost as if he reads your mind, the swirling vortexes of his pupils surge from a golden hue to bright white.  You watch the glowing whirlpools circle into ever deeper depths, pulling you under with their currents.

One moment you are standing in a dingey motel room with this otherworldly creature, the next you are sinking in a sea of sand.  The particles rush up your body as you sink further into the abyss.  Your nightshirt is lifted from your body and pulled away by the grit’s undertow. 

Down you slide through the bottleneck of the sandy spiral, landing carefully on a bed of dark mist.  The hooded Zeez astride above you, smiling like a cat who ate the canary, behind his thick face mask, at the sight of your topless form on display for him.

“I have waited a long time for you to ask this of me”, Der purrs in his ethereal accent.  His indigo hand reaches up and detaches the muzzle from his lower face, revealing the remainder of his deep velvet skin and a wide fanged smile framed by a delectable set of dark blue lips.

Feeling self-conscience and exposed under his blazing glare, and his smile that is barely hiding some vicious looking teeth, your arms crisscross over your breasts in a protective manner.

“I-I thought you couldn’t remove the muzzle.”

Der opens his mouth, and a tongue of sand licks the tip of one fang, "Ah, but we are not in my world, my little desert flower, we are in your inner world.  Welcome to your dreamland.”

Without his face mask filtering his essence, the full force of the Zeez’s influence slides over you making you feel heady and drunk with euphoria.  The effect steals the air right out of your lungs, causing beads of sweat to pebble across your skin, your muscles to twitch for release, and your back to arch from the cool dark mist.  With just two short sentences, his words alone have you teetering on the precipice of an orgasm. 

An unguarded moan slips past your lips causing him to chuckle.  The sound of his chuckle, much like that of sand flowing through a wooden cylinder ‘rain-stick’, is its own form of a soothing aphrodisiac.

He leans close and whispers into your ear, as your eyes flutter in ecstasy, “Hold on, my flower, I’ve waited too long for this opportunity to pluck you.”

The inner walls of your pussy twitch in rhythm to his vocal cadence.  To keep from crying out you bite hard into your bottom lip, breaking and bruising the delicate skin.

“Tsk, tsk, is that any way to treat a coveted possession?”, he growls at you in his thick accent. 

You squirm as the slick between your legs becomes so abundant that it is pushing forward, up around your clit, “You-you, sa-said that about my-my book”, you stutter as your mind’s focus splits between talking and the throbbing of the delicate nub in your apex.

Der literally purrs.  His body vibrating above yours, tickling your exposed skin, he’s so close to your ear you can feel his lips brushing the shell with each word, “I was never talking about the book, Love.”

His purring, his lips caressing your ear, along with his declaration pushes you over the edge.  Your inner walls clinch in release.  Your hands forget their mission to guard your modesty and reach out fisting his hood cowl as your body shivers in release.

Der sighs in slight disappointment.  “Next time I will need to keep the mask on until we are further along, you are delightfully sensitive.”, he chides with a salacious grin.

Your release subsides and he slides your hands from his cowl.  As you lay cool in the swirl black mist of your own dreamland, the Zeez releases the clips of his hood cloak, shedding the heavy covering and exposing a torso that you were not expecting. 

Instead of a swath of blue, speckled skin, you are shocked to see short sleek indigo fur coating his neck, the backs of his muscled arms, across his stout shoulders, and down his strong back.  The inner portions of his torso, his chiseled chest, and washboard stomach, sport that starry skin that matches his face.  A face that, now you can see, has a pair of long pointed ears on each side of its head.

Farther behind him a new astonishment swishes through the air, catching you off guard and causing you to jerk in surprise.  A long thin tail with a furry tuft at the end whips back and forth in anticipation.

You are in a state of shock and awe, staring mesmerized at the unique being above you.

“What are you?”, is what slips out of your mouth without going through your internal filter.

That same raspy chuckle of his, slides over your skin like a caress, “I am a Zeez.”

Seeing the lack of recognition, or satisfaction, on your face from his answer, he pauses a moment to rethink his approach.

“I guess your kind would most closely associate my species with your mythical Sphinxes or Manicores. We are timeless creatures with no natural end.  We originate from a cold dark desert in my world”, you watch his eyes dim a deeper hue of blue than you have noticed previously, “but that area is no longer ours.  We now live among tribes and clans of many.”

His long tail gives a sharp whip, creating a snapping sound and breaking his reverie.  Der’s eyes shift back into their golden, white tones as he stares down at you.  His fanged grin grows wide, and his purr returns tenfold.

Suddenly, you feel like a cornered mouse.  Plump and ripe for the devouring.

“You smell delicious”, he rasps out above his vibrations.

TO BE CONTINUED if you want(because it is time for me to catch some Zeez 😘)….

@thelaundrybitch @leoandraphssoulmate @kokosworld95

Author Note: There are three points to know about this story.

1. You may be surprised to learn that Der (and his species) are a MINOR character in my main book series that I'm trying to finish. I wanted a way to expand and explain more about Zeez and this story was born.

2. The book that Der's human is reading in this story will be a vehicle that I will use to introduce other MINOR characters/species from my books as well. So, yes, you will get the read the Centaur's story too, which will feature many of my own creature creations.

3. There is SOOOO much more to Der and his human's story. I am happy to tell it if anyone is interested. The amount of detail and I have created for all the characters still amazing me. (I have no life LOL).

Eh, let's throw a 4th point in here. Der's species was born from an a scene in an actual dream I had. It may not come across as well here in this story, but in further expansions of the story, it explains that humans can only see Zeez when they are tired or sleepy.

Hence the phrase...."catching Z's".

[the-fluff-piece]

A Delicate Dance of Swords, part 3

Previous parts:

Part 1

Part 2

Also check out my masterlist!

So after open communication from the last part didn't work, Zoro tries to play the game romance novel style. The ship stops at a small island and replenishes their supplies, giving him the perfect opportunity to seduce you like a true romance hero! He also drives you insane because he is just hot and a total idiot. Still sfw and funny fluffy! CW: Y/n gets a bit hurt and is in pain

"Land ahead!" Namis voice could be heard all over the ship.

"We need supplies" Sanji chimed in.

"Lots of meat!" Luffy screamed.

"And medicine" Chooper added.

"But most of all, we need cola! We only have enough for a tiny coup de burst, we have to restock." Franky reminded everyone.

Everyone gathered on deck. Zoro's cheek was still a bit red, but he looked cocky as ever.

Nami was handing out money and to-dos: buying supplies, ship parts for repairs and all of the other necessities on sea.

"I will have some of my own business to attend to" Zoro said mysteriously.

"No, you have to do some shopping as well. Next island is far away, we have to split up and get lots of stuff." She shoved a shopping list into his face. "And you can carry a lot of stuff."

Their eyes met for an unnerving moment. "So it's settled, Zoro will go and get barrels of cola for the ship." Luffy's matter of fact order came through to Zoro and he snatched the paper from namis fingers. "Ok, just that, than I have some private business."

"Whatever. And take y/n with you so you don't get lost" she said and tossed you a purse with beri. "They are counted, change comes back here, understood?" She wagged her finger like a mom.

"Why do I have to go with him?" You said with a pout, remembering what he said to you earlier.

Zoro seemed pleased. "Let's get that cola!" He growled with unexpected enthusiasm and took your hand, leading you to the wrong side of the ship, opposite of the dock. You looked at him. He looked at the sea, puzzled. You kick his muscular ass in the ocean as revenge.

"Hope you manage to find the harbour or I will have to ask Sanji to help me carry the barrels" you teased and strode off.

"Oi, for what was that???" You heard his protest as you reached dry land. You waited a few minutes for him to crawl out of the harbour, completely soaked. You were smiling at him maliciously as his own scowl turned to a mischievous grin. "You wanted it" he announced - getting rid of his coat. "Guess I'll have to go like this". His bare chest was as formidable as always and the glistening water didn't help. Small, glinting drops were caught in his chest hair and made him sparkle like a stripper. Goddamn that man and his perfect body! You thought as you closed your mouth again and tore your eyes of that hot mess. "Let's go to town" you said and moved away from him. Seconds later his huge, wet hand caught yours. "I don't want to get lost. You will have to guide me" that evil smile was there again as he enclosed your hand in his iron grip. "Nami said so."

Grunting angrily, you made your way to the city centre with a dripping, half naked muscle man practically fused to your hand. It was a shame - the city was built on a hill with beautiful, narrow streets and terraces full of flowers. The people on the island wore colorful clothing and showed lots of skin - no surprise with the hot weather. You could already see heads turning and hear admiring whispers from the surrounding women as Zoro followed you through the small streets with its beautiful houses.

You looked around for some kind of shop and asked where to get the supplies. A slightly shocked clerk gave you directions to a place where you could get the quantity the ship needed for fuel. He wrote it down on a slip of paper that you stuffed into your back pocket.

"Alright Zoro, up the hill, there should be a store that sells whole barrels and not just bottles."

"Aye, my lady" he said with a low voice.

What's up with him, has he made it his life's goal to irritate you? His hand was still firmly closed around yours, it had to look like you were a couple holding hands. You just hoped no one of the crew would see you.

Determined to get it over with, you made your way through the small streets like the clerk told you, with Zoro following you like a sexy shadow. His thumb had begun to stroke your hand, only unnerving you more. In fact, it distracted you enough that you walked into a dead end. Great. You tried to get the paper out of your pocket, but it was hard with just one hand.

"Zoro, I need both hands for a second, let go" you wiggle your imprisoned hand around. He doesn't let go.

"I'll get it" he said, his hand already moving to your trousers, you try an evasive manoeuvre but he pinned your hand above your head to the wall of the alley. It wasn't painful, but you felt that there was no escape. His good eye was fixed on your face as you felt his hand caress your hip before diving into your back pocket, searching a bit too long for your taste, his thick fingers searching around and stroking your butt cheek in the process.

"Got it" he held the description up between his fingers and you took it, awkwardly fumbling the folded paper open with one hand. This was ridiculous. He was so close now you could feel the heat radiating off his exposed torso, so close you could make out the texture of his tan skin in enough detail to make your mouth water. Why does this brute idiot have to be so hot?

"So, where are we going? Or do you want to stay here a bit?" His voice was a low whisper as he inched his body closer to yours, already moving to place his leg between yours. The shift in his posture made all of the muscles in his torso dance under that sunkissed skin. Your heart began to pound - it felt like a great idea to just let him do what he obviously wanted to - but his strange little speech about your lacking body made you mad, especially when he presented himself like a perfectly chiseled statue. The memory of your hand on his scars came crashing back into you mind. But all that hotness, all that beautyful strength, it was worth nothing if he was not genuine. If he was not meaning it, only playing with you for fun, this wasn't worth it.

Just as you wanted to ram your knee into his crotch, he moved to place his hand on the wall just next to your head, effectively trapping you between him and the wall in a delicate cage. His hand, however, came in a bit too fast and forceful and before you could stop him you heard the impact of his steel hard fist with the wall, bits of brick and dust rained down on you.

"Oh fuck sorry" Zoro shouted through the hole he had made, apologising to the now surely traumatised family, whose living room now had an additional opening.

"I'll fix that!" He frantically screamed.

"We'll send in our builder, he'll have that fixed in no time" you added through the whole, making a mental note to tell Franky to come by.

He immediately backed off, although he didn't let go of your hand. "Uhm, let's go" he growled through gritted teeth. You finally got the chance to study the paper and find the right way.

You made your way up the hill where the store should be. The way lead up a cliff and had a beautiful view of the beach and ocean below. A light ocean breeze refreshed you as you looked over the water.

"So when's sunset?" Zoro asked from behind you.

"In a few hours?" You answer.

"Like 1?2?" He asked again.

"More like 4 or 5. Why?"

"Nuffin'" he mumbled and tugged at your hand. "Let's go a little slower." Unable to pull his weight, you slowed down.

"Why?"

"I'm tired"

"You're not tired, you can run for hours. This was a slow walk."

"Let's just take our time..."

"Why do you want to wait until sunset? Is it this business of yours?"

"Curious?"

"NO"

"You are curious"

"We can complete our assignment, get back, and you'll have all the time in the world to get back here until the sun sets." You turned around to look at him. "Than you can attend to your business."

"Fine." He moved at normal speed again and seemed to decide to quit this strange demeanor and did his best to get the barrels on a cart and pull the whole thing through the city and back to the ship as fast as possible.

But even with the barrels in the ships storage rooms - you just lend that cart and had to bring it back - again with Zoro in tow. What a nuisance. He seemed lost in thought, though, like this strange business of his was so distracting. Once again you passed the cliff with the breathtaking view and you couldn't help but look out to the sea. Your mood has significantly increased since Zoro quit his strange behavior.

Without further incidents, you gave the cart back and were done for the day. You relaxed and walked down the path again, already looking forward to a delicious dinner on the ship.

"You can attend to your business now" you told Zoro.

"I'm heading back to the ship." with a wave you went down the road.

"Oh great, I will get right to it" Zoro answered and walked beside you.

He looked at you with that unnerving stare again. You stared back.

He gave you a confident grin.

"Oopsie!" He said before he - clearly deliberately - let himself fall towards you, catching you with his hands around your waist and burying you underneath him. It was like being knocked out by solid stone. Lots of it. Fuck, that guy was heavy! As you fell onto cobblestone, you felt your ankle twist - sharp pain shot through your leg as this massive hunk of a man landed on you and put your body through a bit too much force.

You barely registered his face landing in between your breasts as you screamed "OUCH FUCK" and just kept cursing because of the pain, tears shooting into your eyes.

"Oh my god what happened? Did I hurt you?" He said, panic in his voice as he knelt over you, his hands hovering helplessly over your body.

"I didn't mean to hurt you!" He assured you.

"Well you broke my leg you giant, stupid....meatball!" Your head was spinning with the sharp pain and unable to give you a better insult. Zoro moved to examine your leg, and, upon remembering that he didn't know much about medicine, picked you up, which caused you to scream again.

You cursed and cried in his arms as your unsupported injury dangled in the air, causing him to lay you down again. "Why do you hate me???" You demanded, screaming.

His face absolutely fell apart and rearranged in an expression of utter panic.

"I don't hate you!" He shouted.

"Then why do you hurt me? Why are so mean to me all day? WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU?" all the frustration and pain broke through and big tears dropped from your eyes in a stready stream.

"I didn't want to hurt you! And I didn't want to be mean. Fuck, I don't hate you - I fucking love you!" Zoro was now close to tears, too, and he howled the last part as if it caused him pain. His big hand tried to cath the tears from your eyes, as if that somehow helped.

"...what?"

"I love you! I was trying to get you to like me back all day, it was the perfect plan. I thought you wanted this!" He shoved his hands into his haramaki and for a second, you feared that he would whip his dick out.

Instead, he held up a messy conglomerate of dirty paper. On second look - it could almost be mistaken for a book. An antique one. The pages were dirty and looked like they had been soaked more than once, the cover was almost unreadable- until you noticed the picture.

"You little fucker stole my book?" Rage was taking the lead now as you snatched it from his hand, staring at the sorry pile of paper in disbelief.

"Why do you have my book?" You asked angrily.

"You obviously love that shit! I just wanted to give you what you wanted!" Zoro pleaded.

You looked through the pages. Some were marked: the bandit king is teasing the princess, telling her that she is flat as a pancake. Another marker, he's trying to protect her and makes her hold on to him tightly in a crowd. He pinned her against a wall and they...

Realizing what this idiot's head has produced, you have to laugh.

"You just did what was in the book and expected it to work?!"

"You looked so happy reading it! You obviously like that stuff." he explained miserably.

"Yes Zoro, I like to read it. Not live it." You tried to explain to this hot idiot.

"Isn't that the same?" Zoro asked, already kind of realizing that he made a mistake.

"No! I don't want to be chased by assassins while relying on a guy that I don't trust! It's only suspenseful and sexy when I can read that while relaxing in my chair!" you scream the obvious at him.

"Oh." He seemed to think hard. But at least he acted like the old Zoro you knew again.

"I am sorry" he said, kneeling in front of you. "I am sorry that I was a stupid...meatball" he said, already goofing around again.

"Apology accepted" you said.

"So...we good now?" He asked relieved.

"We still have some things to talk about" you said.

"Yeah, maybe." Suddenly he appeared more like an insecure boy than a grown swordsman. He couldn't look you in the eye, fumbling around in his hair.

"So yeah, I like you. A lot. I think your figure is just perfect and that you're really cool" he chose his words carefully and talked slowly. It wasn't a great speech or an original confession, but the words were all his and that was all you needed.

"I like you, too" you confessed. For the first time in days, the tension between you two dropped and he showed you an honest, happy smile.

"So, can I kiss you now?" He already leaned forward and pursed his lips.

You nodded and enjoyed the feeling of his lips on yours as he carefully held your head in his hand. He was far more cautious than you would have expected, clearly holding back. His hot lips cautiously brushed against your and just the tip of his tongue danced between your mouths. Since he was into sexy games now you softly bit his lip, teasing, asking for more. He moaned and got more passionate - but you had to stop him as he started to give the rest of your body more attention.

"Zoro" you whispered as his tongue trailed down your neck, "we're still on a street. Maybe we should go back to the ship. And my ankle still hurts."

With a frustrated moan, he stopped and picked you up, taking great care to prop up your ankle against his arm. Lifting you up was nothing to him, his hands carried you as surely as the thousand sunny did.

"I learned from this book of yours that waiting can be hot, too. Although I hate it right now" he growled into your ear.

You chuckled. "Didn't you want to watch the sunset?"

"Fuck that sunset. Let's patch you up and get dirty, that book has some crazy ideas I want to try out. Like what they're doing when she bathes and there's some hot stuff she does to him when they..." his voice trails of and his face got a lewd expression.

So that's part three! In the next Part, Zoro will further explore the sexy ideas the books give him - getting a bit more 18+. Or do you people have other ideas?

And here are the dear people that left nice comments on the previous one so I tag you

@zorosbigbootyassgirlfriend

@shadowywizardarcade

@gondriasblog

@dizzy08

[mabelpodcast]

some (non-Mabel-related) news

I went to a bookstore.

It’s a beautiful bookstore, maybe one of the world’s perfect bookstores. It sells used and new books, and there are comfortable seats and beautifully-curated collections created by the people who work there, people who obviously love books, and there are nooks and crannies and secret rooms and areas for children and art and bathrooms and no one will bother you if you want to wander and read first chapters for three hours, which we did. I bought a signed copy of a Caitlín R Kieran book for four dollars. I loved being there.

I also hated being there. This bookstore is Instagram famous. A solid fifty percent of the customers were influencers. They blocked aisles to stage photos. They pretended to read in the most aesthetic poses, with books whose covers complimented their outfits. There was an entire section of the store dedicated to “Book-Tok faves”. I tried to read some of these books, and found them unilaterally depressing - not because of their subject matter, or even because of their shocking lack of copyediting, but because of the clear and heartbreaking hoops each and every author so obviously had to jump through in order to sell their work. The game, as my wife put it, they all had to play. Social media. Followers and likes. The cultural capitol of diversity points. The apologism for lack thereof.

For the past year I have been writing romance novels. I’m going to be painfully honest about the three reasons I’ve been doing so: first, because I’m good at it (I’m a fast, skilled writer); second, because I like romance novels; and third, because I wanted money. I believe in the sanctity of art but also in the bills I have to pay. I wrote these books in a way that meant I would not be ashamed of them, nor of my attachment to them. They are not deeply, religiously personal, like HETTIE AND THE GHOST, but they are about flawed and damaged people trying as hard as they can to find one another, and that is a story-arc I will always stand behind. Also? They are funny. And I write good sex scenes. They are good books.

For the past three months I have been working towards publishing them. It’s been going well. I have had some meetings. Of the twelve literary agents I queried, three have offered representation. I have enough familiarity with the publishing industry to understand what this means: my work is considered marketable enough that I could, with a lot of work but with definite feasibility, make a career from these novels.

Here’s the problem. It’s come to my attention that I hate this industry. I hate the pandering, the reduction of story down to audiences and trends. I hate the “elevator pitch”, I hate the lack of ethics and environmental consideration in printing mass quantities of books, I hate advertising and marketing myself and making sure that I am palatable - just queer enough, just marginalized enough - to sell rather than put off. I hate participating in a system that I fundamentally despise; I came up with Cantrap Press’s barter system because I hate it. On a long journey home at night, surrounded by suburban sprawl, I realised that I couldn’t make this my career. It would drive me insane. These stories will not change the world but all stories are alive and to pinch and snip them into shapes palatable enough so a Big Publishing Company can successfully pimp them to a world of Book-Tok influencers sounds, to me, like a living nightmare. I won’t do it.

But: I have another problem. I do believe with all my heart that art should be accessible. At the same time, I also believe with all my heart that artists should be fairly compensated for their work. Running a small press is a wonderful and worthwhile endeavor, but it is a labour of love, like putting out a podcast entirely for free. It’s also a labour of money, and the rising costs involved mean that I wouldn’t break close to even if I were to print these books myself.

So what’s the solution? Here’s mine. I’m giving them away. I’ve done this before, and it felt like the purest form of myself. The books will be, always, entirely free to whoever wants them, under the domain of a Creative Commons License. There will be a donation button. You can pay what you like for them, pay what you think they’re worth, pay what you can afford, or pay nothing at all. No pressure. No judgement. My barter policy will apply to these, too, if you want to compensate me but don’t have the funds. I’ve come to terms with the fact that refusing to play the game means I’ll never make a lot of money from these books. I may not make any at all. But these are my beliefs. I have to abide by them. I’ll be able to look myself in the eye; you’ll get fun fiction for free.

In a post-apocalyptic society maybe I’d be riding a donkey around the countryside telling stories, and you’d repay me for my skills by making sure I had enough turnips and deer jerky and tinder and donkey medicine. Instead I’m a person who lives in a house with electricity and gas bills. The farmers I buy my vegetables from at the market deserve to be repaid for those vegetables and the weight of labour, capitol and resources they represent. I don’t resent anyone for their participation in the system. I resent the ever-tightening ropes around us all. The ways we are tracked and compelled and sold to, the advertisements masquerading as entertainment, and worse, as art, how it seems we are being moved increasingly towards a model of consumption as definition, but only under very specific umbrellas - four companies own all stories, now what will you buy to define yourself by their characters and worlds? If I choose not to participate, no company can own my stories. And now, neither can you.

Introducing Anarchic Candy.

And my first book to be released, COMEBACK.

PS: in a twist of fate that, as my wife put it, would be completely unbelievable if it appeared in a story, one of the agents who enthusiastically offered representation also represents the author of one of those Book-Tok-famous books I saw at the used bookstore. This didn’t make up my mind (I’d already made up my mind before that agent even contacted me) but it’s an ironic coincidence I really can’t ignore.

[caecilian-king]

I saw wuthering heights in the ‘romance novels’ section of a bookstore the other day and its just sort of weird to me.

Like the pretty quotes about soulmates and cathy and heathcliff’s fucked up relationship are absolutely romantic in a sort of dramatic ‘wouldn’t be romantic irl but makes for excellent fiction’ kind of way. Like i don’t think there’s no romance in the book. I adore heathcliff and cathy’s relationship. They’re insane about eachother and i wanted them to live happily ever after, getting married and being total jerks to everyone else they meet.

But i also feel like it makes up like… less than half of the book? Putting the book in the romance section feels like… it feels like putting Hamlet in the romance books section because hamlet and ophelia were dating. The book feels so much more about family and childhood and race and wealth and cycles of abuse and codependency and miscommunication and the way that the drive for revenge corrupts the mind. I feel like making Heathcliff and Cathy just friends would leave the book mostly in-tact (it would mess up the timeline a bit in terms of heathcliff’s motivations for things he does as an adult, and it would be less interesting … but like you could still make it work if you changed some stuff). If you did something like make romeo and juliet just be friends there wouldn’t be much of a story left. Do u get what im saying.