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tojisbbygworl · 2 months

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The Apartment Across The Street - Sukuna x Reader

In the short time he watches her, he learns 3 new things: 1. She has a mirror on the left side of the window. 2. She is completely unaware of how easily someone could see her in all her half-naked glory. 3. Sukuna could overpower her if it came down to it.

Or maybe it’s 4 things. From the beating of his heart and the warm rushing feeling heading towards his dick, he learns the drug he thought he needed might not be a drug at all.

Words: 6.7k

Tags - 18+ MDNI, No Use of Y/N, No Curses, Set in late 90s/early 00s, Smut, Angst, High Sex, Missionary, Degredation, Marijuana, Slight x Toji (I can't help myself)

WARNINGS - Dead Dove, Dark, Non-Con/Dub-con, Breaking and Entering, Sukuna and Toji are criminals, Sukuna's a hitman, Choking, Violence

AO3 Version

Masterlist

author's note: Heyyyy! Okay I went a little too hard like I always do so this is a bit long and (imo) it get's a little intense so be warned. I hope you enjoy hopefully I have some motivation to keep writing. art cred: @innaillus

That apartment used to be empty.

Sukuna hadn’t been home in a week. He doesn’t mind. He’s learned to not have too many hopes or expectations in this line of work. Besides, he prefers being his own boss. He accepts contracts when he needs money then he’s off until it runs out. Doesn’t matter if they take days or even weeks.

Shorter jobs like this one weren’t his treat. They don’t pay as much as he likes, but it works out. These apartments were a bit shitty, they didn’t cost too much. And, he was right in the middle of the city. Easy to meet clients. The clubs went on all night long. Which is exactly how late he was out when he was home. Actually, he was planning to go out tonight. Meet up with Toji and see if he can’t get a woman in his bed by 2 am.

He wondered how long it would take to see his newest neighbor. The way the apartments in the complex are built, you could easily see into your neighbor’s bedroom. 'State guidelines say blinds aren’t required. You buy them,' was the response he received when he brought the problem up to the landlord. A lot of people invested in curtains, maybe they hadn’t bought any yet. He saw a bed, but it seems to be the only thing they’ve managed to set up. There were a couple boxes with flaps wide open sitting beside it.

After a few more moments of rumination, he closed his curtain and laid down on his bed waiting for a text to come over. In truth, he couldn't wait to see who was unlucky enough to be his new window neighbor. The last one didn’t go too well. They also didn’t invest in curtains and he isn’t entirely sure if he’s the reason they moved out, but he’s sure they didn’t appreciate catching his stare multiple times a day. And that one time at midnight.

All it took was the next morning.

Sukuna’s eyes crept open and he stared towards the ceiling. The girl he brought home last night was dead asleep and naked on his chest. He yawned and wiped his face tiredly. He nudged the girl off of him a bit, then sat up on the side of his bed. Ugh, he felt like shit. Toji always went entirely too hard when they went out, but Sukuna doesn’t mind. He has nowhere to be. Nothing to do.

He got up and stretched then walked to the bathroom. As he completed his morning routine, he pondered about what today would behold for him. This is another reason he hated short jobs. Sukuna loves free time, but only if there’s something to do with it. There never really is.

He could kill that girl in his bedroom. In fact, he could have killed any girl he brought home since he moved in half a year ago. But the last time he made his job his hobby, it didn’t go so well for him. It was too close of a call, and getting arrested for murder just isn’t worth it. He could spend a couple months in the pen, not years at a time.

He spat out his toothpaste. Life was so fucking mundane. He had no life goals, barely any friends, his little brother hates him, and he works alone. All things he doesn’t actually care about, but shit, when is he going to get some excitement? Nothing gets him going anymore.

He needs something that will make him feel. A drug of some sort? But that doesn’t seem right to him. Even now as he walks back in the room staring at the woman in his bed, he feels nothing. If she woke back up and decided she wanted to have sex with him, he would say yes, but only because it’s something to do. He’s not feeling any particular way about her.

The moment he sat back down on the bed, she started shifting around. A few seconds later, she lifts her head and yawns. “Good morning.” She giggles, she leans over and kisses his cheek. Sukuna grunts.

The girl looks around the dark room. “It is morning, right?” She doesn’t let him answer before she stands up and opens the curtains. “Oh wow,” she exclaims. “I can see directly into your neighbor’s room.” She says. He still doesn’t get up, just hums at her.

“She’s cute though.”

Sukuna perks up upon hearing that. “Oh yeah? I haven’t seen her yet. She’s new.”

This was the first time since they’ve met that she said something interesting, but unfortunately for him, she drops the subject immediately and walks back into bed, leaving the curtains open. Sukuna holds back his sigh. Does he really want to spend the rest of his morning with this girl? It was half past 8. Way too early.

“I'm going to start getting ready for work,” he says without skipping a beat. She stops in her tracks and blinks at him, clearly not expecting that. It’s silent for a few moments. Sukuna’s not sure what she’s waiting on, but if it’s for him to say he’s kidding or let her stay, she’s sorely mistaken.

“Oh, I thought you were contracted,” she says nervously.

‘I only work when I feel like it, gorgeous.’ Sukuna inwardly curses himself for his suave nature. “Yeah. I got a contract. In an hour.”

His curtness and annoyed expression did good to make her feel completely and totally unwanted. The girl awkwardly smiled at him. “Oh, ha ha. Yeah…okay.” Sukuna got up and walked out of the room. Give her a little space to feel like shit while she gets ready to leave. He makes himself a cup of coffee, his face still that same blank expression even after he hears her rushing out the door from behind him. When she’s gone he takes himself back into his room.

He walks up to his window to close the curtains once more until someone catches his eye. He freezes and his eyebrows shoot upwards. That girl was right. She was cute. And he had the perfect view of her. She seemed to be posing or checking herself out. Sukuna wasn’t sure which one it was, but he hoped she didn’t stop. That bikini she had on was doing wonders for her, and him.

Something was off. Looking at her made him…tense. His hands were gripping the curtains, he was biting the inside of his cheek, his leg was shaking; Was it anxiety? No, she’s not making him nervous. What he’s feeling is euphoric. He likes it. He wants to grip her bare waist and squeeze her until she bruises.

In the short time he watches her, he learns 3 new things: 1. She has a mirror on the left side of her window. 2. She is completely unaware of how easily someone could see her in all her half-naked glory. 3. Sukuna could overpower her if it came down to it. Or maybe it’s 4 things. From the beating of his heart and the warm rushing feeling heading towards his dick, he learns the drug he thought he needed might not be a drug at all.

It doesn’t take long after that to finally meet her.

Before taking his most recent job, Sukuna had nearly consumed everything in his fridge. What was left was now finished and he spent a lot of his morning sulking at a half empty milk carton, his breakfast for the day. He hated eating out, it messed with his figure.

The local grocery wasn't too bad of a walk from his place, although he hated carrying everything back. He always bought a few necessities and a few ingredients to quickly whip something up for his dinner. Today, he’d have to bulk up if he doesn’t want to keep coming back.

As much as he hated the public, shopping never seemed to be a problem for him. He was tall and intimidating, he never smiled, he was always tense; people tended to avoid him like the plague. He appreciated it. But, as he enters the frozen meal aisle with his cart half full he wishes that just for a moment, he looked approachable. Then, this would be much easier.

There she was, in sweatpants and a cropped tube top, looking at the frozen pizzas. She looked like she had been home all day. She was much cuter now that he could see her better. A lot cuter. She’s pretty as hell.

Thank goodness, too. He already knew what her body looked like, what with her constantly taking pictures of herself in front of the window. She liked to play dress up, she would try on entirely different outfits before she was satisfied. Pretty soon, the colors of her bras and panties would be ingrained into his memory.

He stood there looking her up and down for a few more seconds before he started browsing once more. Although he really was looking for food he wanted, he used this opportunity to slowly get closer to her. He pretended to be interested in some frozen broccoli and he snuck a look at her. To his surprise, and enjoyment, she had done the same. When they made eye contact, she jerked and looked away. A couple moments after that, she grabbed her food and walked away into another aisle.

Sukuna chuckled to himself. She wouldn’t get away that easily. He dropped the broccoli in his cart and followed after her. He hadn’t seen which aisle she’d gone into, so he kept walking down and looking into each one until he found her trying to get some chips from a high shelf. He smiled upon seeing her struggle. Maybe this would be easier than he thought.

He managed to walk right up behind her and reach for the chips she was trying to get before she got startled. She gasped a bit and looked up at him. He looked down at her. Fuck, she was pretty. His heart started to pound, he could practically salivate at the idea of taking her home.

He hands her the chips before she can say anything, then walks away. Before he’s out of her sight he hears her say, “Thank you so much.”

Her cadence, the velvety softness of her voice; it made him want to drop to his knees. How sweet would she sound if he bit into her neck? How soft is her yelp when she stubs her toe? How shrill is her scream when she’s in pain?

Her appreciation made him stop in his tracks. He turned over his shoulder to look at her. She seemed nervous and her eyes were uncertain. Sukuna began to feel restless. So many ideas of what he could do to her if he got her alone were rushing through his mind and she was none the wiser. This aisle has been empty and no one has come by. He could take her right now.

Instead, he looks her up and down. “Yeah, sure.” And then he walks away with his shopping. He leaves wondering when next they’ll meet, she does the same as she watches his back.

“Still haven’t called the maintenance guy, huh? Lazy jackass.”

Sukuna turns his head to the side and glares at his unwanted guest. Toji may have been his best friend, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t want to break his fat neck and bury him in the park. Besides, that title meant jack shit. They met in jail and Toji helped him get on his feet when Sukuna’s sentence was up. Toji never really left him alone and Sukuna stayed because his family was rich. If anything, they were close acquaintances who had sex sometimes.

Speaking of Toji’s money, the asshole grew up in an affluent family which means his standards were a bit too high for the humble abode that Sukuna prefers. It was probably the most annoying part about him. He was complaining about the door to the bathroom. It didn’t close correctly so you had to force it shut. Something that just isn’t enough of a problem to be bothered to try and fix.

“Stop coming over if it annoys you so much,” Sukuna responds, taking another drag from their second blunt for the morning. He was finally starting to feel something from it and he didn’t want to hear Toji whining about bullshit.

“Nah, I think I’ll keep coming. Especially with your fine ass neighbor.” Toji walked away again, not seeing Sukuna’s head jerk towards him. What was he talking about? Sukuna didn’t tell him about her. Did he see her?

“Why the fuck are you in my room?” He gets up to follow behind him. Sukuna looks down the hallway and sees both his room and the bathroom doors wide open. The bathroom was empty. “Get out.”

He starts walking towards his room door but jumps back when Toji rushes out of it. “Come look at this,” he says, grabbing his arm.

Toji had this crazed grin on his face and he was tugging him along impatiently. “What the hell are you-” Sukuna’s words die in his throat as he gazes upon what had Toji so excited. It was his beautiful neighbor changing in front of her mirror again except, there was a big problem. She had never been completely naked before.

Holy shit, her body could stop a truck. Sukuna let his jaw drop. His eyes raked her from her breasts to her legs. She would turn around occasionally, walk back and forth in front of the window, oh he loved the way her tits bounced. He wanted her on top of him, his dick sliding in and out of her while he latched onto her nipple.

“She’s sexy as fuck, huh?” Sukuna’s unceremoniously snapped out of his trance by Toji’s comment. He turns his head towards him looking at his smile and twinkling eyes. “She do this all the time? Does she even know?” Toji gasps and looks him in the eye. “Does she do it on purpose?”

I’m that moment, a switch had flipped inside of Sukuna. Toji was watching her before he brought him in here. He saw her naked first. He shouldn’t have seen her at all. The warm swarm of butterflies in his abdomen had fluttered away, a feeling of rage building in his heart instead. She was Sukuna’s to look at, not Toji’s.

To answer his question, Sukuna shrugs. Then, they both turn towards her again only to make eye contact with her. They see her gasp, cover herself and shriek before running from the window. “Fuck,” they say in unison before shutting the curtain.

“I blame you for that,” Toji says despite both of them being at fault. He puts his hands in his pockets and walks out of the room. “Where’s the blunt?”

Toji may have forgotten about that little encounter, but Sukuna doesn’t think he can forget anytime soon. He hates that Toji got to see her like that. They still haven’t spoken more than once to each other, and now she knows he’s a pervert that stares at her through their windows. Sukuna scowls at the ground then slams his hand into the wall. She’ll leave soon just like the last one did, but this time, he doesn’t want to accept that as a possibility.

He gives himself time to calm down before joining Toji again. He can’t bring work home again.

It was over.

He saw her once after that incident. Waiting for Toji to pick him up for the night, he stood outside the local gas station smoking a cigarette. She’d been on his mind since. She invested in curtains, unfortunately. She was really uncomfortable. He’s not even sure if she’s left the apartment.

Thinking about what happened made him furious. If Toji hadn’t gone into his room he would have never seen her. Oh he just can’t shut the hell up about the shape of her ass and how he would let her suffocate him with her gorgeous thighs. Sukuna sighed, her thighs were gorgeous weren’t they?

She was a missed opportunity. There are so many ways he could have started something with her. It’s not like she didn’t like him, had they met again before that, he’s sure he could have gotten her number. Usually, missing out on a woman wasn’t that bothersome, but she was different for him. He looked forward to beating his dick under the windowsill while she tried on clothes. His imagination wasn’t bad, but by the time he came in his hands, his dick was red and sore and his arm was tired.

His memory is not enough. He wants her.

He looks at the time on his watch. A quarter ‘til midnight. He rolls his eyes. Toji’s always late. A quick snack is in order.

Sukuna mindlessly stares at the powdered donuts wondering if he really feels like fucking up his clothes and having dirty fingers. He hates club bathrooms, the one here is just as bad, and he doesn’t want to lick his fingers. Maybe he won’t. But right before he decides to leave, the door opens. He turns his head upon hearing the small ring of a bell, but doesn’t pay attention to the culprit until they’re in the same aisle. “Oh shit,” he said before he could stop himself.

He tries to look away before she notices, but it’s too late. He looks back at her and grimaces. The girl is shaken to her core. Poor thing is afraid. And while Sukuna feels a bit bad about making such a cutie so frightened, it kind of…warms his heart. She takes in a deep breath and twists back around. She doesn’t even buy anything. She just leaves.

He almost chases her. He stands in the aisle still reveling in her presence. He breathes deeply thinking about how nice it felt to have such power over someone. Hm.

Sukuna leaves the store only a few moments after her. Toji’s BMW was running next to a pump as he got out of the car. “Oh shit, there you are.” He grins. “Guess who I just saw.”

“I know. She was running from me.” Sukuna says, getting into the passenger seat.

Toji cackles while driving away. “Damn, so she’s scared of us, huh?” Sukuna shrugs. “She looked like it. Girl was huffing it. Actually…she ran down the street towards where we’re going.”

Sukuna raises a brow at him. Toji doesn’t say anything and just keeps smiling. “So?”

He turns on his beamers and slows down as he drives between the apartment buildings. Sukuna’s eyes widen as he realizes just what Toji’s trying to do. And soon his lips follow. Just up ahead was a figure with a hoodie walking very quickly. They turn around and immediately shield their eyes from the bright lights. It was her.

She seemed confused at first, and the bright light contrasted with the darkness of the night blinded her from seeing who was in the car. However, she didn’t stop walking or slow down. She decided to mind her business instead. It could be anyone. Anyone. Even though it was the same car waiting at the gas station.

Despite her telling herself that she’s okay, she couldn’t help but notice how they were matching her speed. And that once they had gotten right behind her, the window was rolled down. And that she still had a block left to go.

“Ay,” Sukuna shouted from behind her, effectively terrifying her. She turned to see his smile and upon further investigation, she saw Toji’s from the driver’s seat. Oh no. “You can’t say hi? You scared of me?” He taunts.

She ran.

And that was the worst thing she could have done.

There have been a few recent instances that made her question her move to this city. She was hoping to start a new life, away from her family, away from her ex, make some new friends; she didn’t think she would be planning to move out after a couple months.

That man…she didn’t know what the hell his problem was. Why did he and his friend follow her out of the gas station? Was he crazy? Did she do something to him? Since they followed her, she’s been racking her mind trying to figure out what the hell she did to deserve this. Before that, she had only ever spoken to him once at the grocery store. He was extremely intimidating, but she was intrigued by him. She didn’t mean to stare, but he was very attractive. Clearly he had seen it as some sort of invitation. Maybe he followed her into that aisle and it wasn’t just an act of kindness.

Coming home after work had become so much more nerve wracking. In fact, coming out of her unit brings her horrible anxiety. She’s constantly looking over her shoulder. Tries to pretend the building across doesn’t even exist. She doesn’t understand what took her so long to get curtains; it just wasn’t a priority for her. Either way, she didn’t deserve to be punished for her forgetfulness.

She’s in a weird position where the longer she goes without seeing him, the more worried she becomes even though she never wants to see him or his friend again. Currently, she was in the elevator heading up to her apartment. She was catching her breath and trying to relax now that she was safe. She does this everyday now.

She couldn’t wait to be home. The entire day she’s been feeling like complete crap. Her heart refused to leave her stomach. She dropped so many cups behind the bar that she spent more time sweeping and wiping up drinks than making them. And she was on the verge of tears the entire time. It was nice to be home, but she wondered how bad it would be tomorrow.

In fact, it was so bad today that although she was physically relaxed, her brain just wouldn’t be quiet. It kept telling her to stay alert, that there was still something waiting for her. She tried her best to ignore it and enjoy her night. She was going to kick off her shoes, rip off all her clothes, warm up her leftovers and hit her bong. She was off tomorrow and she is not planning on leaving her room at all.

She messed with her keys when she approached her door. All the apartments had two locks, a deadlock and a lock on the handle, but she was looking for another that she could attach herself. The home goods store near her didn’t have any promising ones, so she had to wait on a shipment.

She reached for the handle to unlock it. Her hand twisted the lever and she retracted it immediately. Her heart starts racing once more, but then she realizes the door was still closed. When she can’t get the door open, she sighs in relief. The deadlock was still intact and locked. The apartments are just shitty.

As relieved as she was in that moment, this just meant she had another problem to deal with. She couldn’t go with one of her locks not working, especially not the handle. In fact, maybe she’ll deal with it tonight. She does have tools and she can be pretty handy when she needs to be.

Like she wanted to, she kicks off her shoes and rips off her jacket. She almost takes off her clothes before she notices a certain smell in the air. Her apartment smelled of weed, but it smelled like someone was actively smoking right at that moment. Maybe it was her next door neighbor.

She walks through her silent home. Maybe she should get a cat. There are quite a few friendly strays around. She could afford-

What was that noise?

A bump. In her bedroom.

What could it have been? Had her worst fears come true?

No. It’s not possible…so why had that sinking feeling returned in full force? There was nothing in her room. There was no one in her room…

Toji had broken the lock for him. 'Just record it for me,' was his end of the bargain.

The place was just as cute as he thought it was. She still had a lot of things unpacked, and she hadn’t gotten a couch for the living room. Hm. He wonders if she really is planning on leaving. That would not be good.

He would want her to stay, but if she can get away from him, at least he’ll get a taste of her.

She leaves her weed out. Hm…he would enjoy this better if he were high. And he’ll make her smoke too.

When he heard her coming closer to her room, he put the bong down and stood up. Her room was small and it was pitch black, the only light coming from the embers in the bowl. He hit her closet door and she heard it. Fuck. He hopes she doesn’t get a weapon out.

And she didn’t. This girl is…something else.

He hides right behind the door in between the wall and the hinges. Then, he waited quietly and patiently until she slowly opened the door and turned on the light. And before she could try to look around, he slammed the door shut behind her.

It all happened in a second.

She heard the door slam and time froze. She told herself then and there, that she was going to die tonight. She knew who her killer would be before she turned around. Did she even want to?

She didn’t have a choice, her body reacted before she could think. All she saw was a small scowl, he had brown eyes, but they looked tainted with blood. His hands, his large hands, shot towards her head and before she could scream he trapped her mouth shut. His other hand gripped the back of her head.

She fought him as violently as she could. She scratched his face, pulled his hair, tried to poke him in the eyes; but he was quick to show her that he was much stronger than her. He pulls his hand off of her mouth and smacks her across the face. She can only scream for a second before his hand is back on her mouth and he pushes her into the bed.

Sukuna takes his hand off of the back of her head and squeezes her neck. He still holds her mouth shut. She gets weaker and weaker as the oxygen leaves her brain. He leans down towards her face to speak to her. “You want to live?”

Tears had long been streaming down her face, but this is the point where she finally breaks down wailing. She lets her arms fall and Sukuna loosens his grip on her neck. But only slightly. She takes a deep breath and cries into his hand. “Answer me,” he says. “Come on, pretty girl.”

She cries a bit more before nodding her head in defeat. “I know. You’re gonna do what I say?”

She nods again. “You’re not gonna scream when I take my hand off?” She sniffles and sobs again. “Because you want to fucking live, right? Right?” He tightens his grip on her neck again. She kicks her feet and nods as best as she can. “Go turn off your light and turn on your lamp. You’re gonna smoke with me.”

He gets off her and watches her to make sure she does what he asks. It takes her a minute, she lays there quietly sobbing and wiping her tears while Sukuna takes another hit of her bong, but eventually she gets up to turn on her lamp, then flip her light switch. “Lock the door too. I like the feeling of extra privacy when I’m taking a woman to bed.”

He disgusts her.

He forces her to take several long hits that had her in horrible coughing fits. And of course, it wasn’t long before she was completely inebriated. She couldn’t really move too much, or think too much. But even though she was out of commission, she could hear every word Sukuna said to her.

He talked her ear off about how he’d been looking at her for a week before they met at the grocery store. All the way up until she realized just how exposed she was from catching him and his friend staring. It was her fault, is what he said. He said she was stupid to not think anyone could see her. She should have gotten blinds or curtains when she moved in. A fucking dumbass bitch.

That’s how she felt.

He taunted her as he watched her take her clothes off. His dick was already in his hand, he had been hard for a while. Imagining his dick finally pounding into her as he squeezes the life out of her.

‘I think you wanted someone to watch you,’ he said to her. She hung onto every word he said, answered every question he had. ‘You’re an attention seeking slut, aren’t you? Nod your head.’ And she did. ‘What’s your name?’ And she told him. ‘Take that shit off faster and come hit this again.’

She was completely out of it, but instead of floating, she sank. She sunk deeper into the bedsheets, Sukuna weighing her down with every word. Every stroke of his hand on her thigh, every lick on her neck and collarbone, every bite on her chest. When he reached down between her legs and stroked her clit, she moaned, then cried in shame.

“Shhhh,” he whispered in her ear from behind her. “You’re gonna love me. And if you’re good I won’t hurt you.” He kisses her ear, then nibbles on it. He leaves a trail of wet kisses down the side of her neck. She cries and shakes, twisting her head away from him as best as she could. Sukuna’s hands explore her body eagerly. He can’t decide whether he wants to grip her hips or play with her nipples. She was so soft, just as he imagined.

He flips her onto her back. “Look at me, baby.” She opens her eyes only slightly, her tears blurring her vision completely before falling. He takes his hand to cup her cheek and wipe them with his thumb. As she gazed upon his naked body on top of hers, she accepts her fate: this man was going to rape then kill her.

He looked deranged. His brows were knit together with a lopsided grin. Her body is racked with sobs once more. “It’s okay,” he tells her. “Shhhh.” He slowly brings his thumb wet with salty tears to her mouth. She tries to pull her head away, but he quickly attaches his hands back to her mouth and head then he leans down towards her. “I thought you said you wanted to live.”

She’s actually not sure at this point. Does she want to live with this trauma? Does she want to continue being this man’s neighbor for him to torture however he sees fit? Does she want to have to look at his building every single day living in fear that he’ll do it again? Living in fear of his friend getting any bright ideas?

“Just relax.” He lets go of her head and goes for her neck. She moans as he bites and sucks on it, making sure to leave a mark reminding her of what he did. It won’t be the only one.

Sukuna slowly takes his hands and lifts both of her legs in the air. He licks his fingers while looking at her, then bites his lip as he plays with her clit once more. She breathes harder and harder with every rub. They don’t break eye contact, it does something to him. He’s reveling in her fear. Her eyes were shot, her mascara and eyeliner running down her face. It made her look even more beautiful. She was making him feral.

Sukuna’s dick was an angry scarlet and dripped precum all over her leg where it rested. He was big and it scared her even more. As his eyes explored her body, he got hungrier and hungrier. He slides a finger inside of her and starts pumping. Her pussy was slick with her arousal.

“Fuck,” he whispered putting in another finger. He pumped his fingers hard enough to make her wetness splash. She threw her head back and arched her chest into the air. She sounded just as sweet as he thought she would. She was turning out to be everything he wanted and more. He wasn’t waiting any longer.

He yanked his fingers out of her and searched her bedside table for his camcorder. She whined when he removed himself from her and watched him. Sukuna pressed record.

“Say hi to Toji,” he told her, sticking the lens in her face. She closes her eyes and tries to avoid the camera. He grips her chin with his fingers and forces her head forward. “Ain’t she pretty?” Sukuna pulls away from her face to record her body. He takes her tit in his hand to play with. He jiggles and pulls on her nipple before smacking it. When she squealed he did it again.

“He’s gonna love watching me fuck the shit out of you.” Sukuna sat and balanced the recorder on her nightstand perfectly angled to show their torsos and hips. He gets back on the bed to grab her waist and pull her towards his. He groaned when he felt his dick rub against her pussy. “You know who I’m talking about, right? My friend? You know he saw you before I did.”

He pauses to spit into his hand and starts jerking his throbbing shaft. “I wanted to kill that fucker.” Sukuna leans over once more and kisses her several times before capturing her lips in one long and forceful kiss. He rubs his dick against her entrance as he does this, with a desperate moan from both of them to accompany it. Sukuna rests his forehead against hers. “Tell me you’re mine.” His eyes are fiery, and she doesn’t wish to find out what will happen if she fails to do what he asks.

His tip begins to poke through her entrance. She whimpers and he brings his head down and bites her lip. “Come on…”

“I’m yours-” He finally starts tucking his dick into her. The feeling of being inside her was heaven on Earth. He wasn’t ashamed of how loudly he moaned. She was louder anyway. They always are. Even when they don’t want it.

“My name is Sukuna.” She takes all of him like a fucking champ. And looks good as fuck while doing it. And her voice…

“I’m yours, Sukuna.”

A tear ran down her cheek. The dragging of his dick against her walls was nothing like she’s ever felt before. It felt so good, but she was the unhappiest she’d ever been. She’s terrified and unsure if she’ll live to see tomorrow. He says he won’t kill her if she’s good, but what does good even mean to him?

She knows there’s nothing she really could have done to avoid what was currently happening to her. This man- no, Sukuna, saw her when she was first moved in and decided then and there that he wanted to rape her. No matter what he claims about her being rude and ignoring him when he helped her. And yet, she blames herself.

If she had just gotten curtains or blinds early enough, then maybe she could have avoided him. Or maybe she wouldn’t have existed to him at all. At least he wouldn’t have known what floor she was on or her room. Maybe he wouldn’t have known what building she was in.

She was so fucking stupid.

He repeated that all night.

‘Stupid fucking bitch,’ he would mutter under his breath. ‘Changing in front of a window, thinking no one’s gonna see you? Posing in mirrors and shit?’ He fucked her at a smooth and steady rythym, she was soaking wet and splashing all over his stubble. The sheets were damp underneath. ‘Oh yeah. You like it when I talk to you like that?’ She couldn’t stop herself from crying in humiliation.

He asked her to cry louder for ‘Toji’, which she did, and he proceeded to smack her across the face for being too loud.

He felt amazing, he pushed her legs into her chest and hammered into her. She cried into his mouth as she came all over him. Her pussy squeezing his member drive him insane and before he knew it he was cumming inside her. ‘Fuck…’ He pulled out and jerked the rest of his cum onto her pussy and thighs. He quickly grabbed the camera to show Toji, with the flash on.

‘Look at that shit,’ Sukuna made sure to examine her at every angle. He pushed his finger into her and chuckled when she moaned. His index was covered with his cum and he brought it and the camera up to her body and face.

She was completely tired out. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak, she could barely even lift her eyelids. Sukuna kissed at her like a dog, then maneuvered the camera to her face. Her face was soaked with tears and spit. Her makeup had smudged everywhere and ran down her cheeks. Her hair was a mess, and she ached everywhere.

Her mouth hung open and Sukuna proceeded to jam his finger into it. He used it to pull her head back over to him and made out with her. Then, his dick started poking her ass.

She had no idea what time last night they were finally done, talk less of when she actually fell asleep. He smoked a blunt after the whole thing, sat her up so he could make her smoke too. He found her liquor cabinet. The night got worse.

She puked her guts out then fell asleep on the floor, but now she was in her bed trapped underneath him. They were both naked. She was sore as the day was long. He snores next to her. Holy fucking hell. She’s alive. Why is she alive?

She starts breathing heavily and looking around her room. She doesn’t know what to do. She didn’t think she would still be here.

In a flash, he’s up. His hand is over her mouth, and his eyes are staring into hers. He has a poker face. She shakes in his clutches and her eyes fill with tears already. “Relax. Listen to me. I know what you’re planning.”

What? What is he- “I dare you to fucking try and move away from me. I will follow you and ruin your life.”

“You said you were mine last night? Then you’re mine. You’ll do what I say, and I’ll do as I please with you. Do you understand?”

All she could do was nod. What could she say? She was planning on moving despite not having the money for it. She would have to save up. And now that he’s shown her what he’s capable of, why would she take the risk?

Why is this happening to her? What did she do to deserve this? Want a better life for herself?

Sukuna was pleased with how the morning was going.

She was sitting on a stool in her dining room watching him make them breakfast with an ice pack on her face and a blanket over her body. She didn’t know what to think.

Suddenly, he perks up and turns towards her. “You got a phone, pretty?”

She could throw up again. She swallows and points towards the hall . “My room,” her voice was hoarse and weak. “On the other side of the bed.”

He pauses and blinks at her. She gets scared again wondering what she did wrong this time. He turns the heat off. “You’re coming with me.”

Toji answers in a flash. “So, how was it?”

“You’re gonna like what you see.” He turns towards where she’s sitting on the bed. “Isn’t that right?” She’s not amused.

“Are you…are you with the bitch right now?” Toji asks.

“Yeah,” Sukuna makes his voice dreamy. “We’re going steady.”

ending a/n: Please lmk what you think ! Thank you for reading !

Masterlist

W E L C O M E P A G E

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader smut #sukuna x reader #dark content #very dark #be warned it’s dark #toji fushiguro #toji

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lunarmoves · 1 year

Text

for evermore

summary: you laugh—loud and carefree—and they have never wished so desperately before to be human. if only to love you for the rest of their life.

pairing: DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

mentions: gender neutral reader, possessive (obsessive) behavior, ruminations of a robot, dark thoughts ahead tbh (human mortality, fragility, death), oblivious reader if u squint, non-sexual intimacy, forehead kisses, mentions of blood and gore, moon is glitch'd, sun too tbh but its more subtle, sun's pov is like. sm lighter and then moon's is right out of an mcr song, unreliable narrator

a/n: this fic is inspired by @bamsara's iconic solar lunacy. sun&moon in this are very much deeply, irrevocably in love with u, but! when taken from the reader's pov, u can interpret that as you like! hope yall enjoy my silly little 4 am thoughts LMAO hope they make sense

word count: 2k

ao3 link

One of the kids has a bit of a crush on you.

It’s cute, really. Sun watches the way little Riley holds out a drawing to you—two stick figures holding hands together in a field of flowers colored lavender and cerulean. It’s clear that it’s supposed to be you and Riley, both of you happy as can be. You smile as you take the drawing, admiring the care Riley put into every stroke of their crayons.

“It’s us!” Riley says proudly, tiny fingers gripping onto your arm that holds the paper. Bright eyes look up eagerly at you for your reaction. “Do you like it?”

“I love it!” you reply with all the care and adoration you can muster into your voice. Your free hand reaches over to smooth down the hair on Riley’s head. “Oh, you’re so talented! Look how cute we are!”

Riley beams, bright and happy, and Sun thinks it’s so wonderful that you’re able to get along well with the kids. He twirls a crayon around in his hand, idly spinning it across metal joints and silicon, then returns to doodling across the paper in front of him. Long limbs have pretzeled their way into sitting at one of the kid’s tables not too far from your own.

“When I grow up,” Riley continues in a steadfast voice, “I’m gonna marry you. And we’ll get a biiiiig house with lotsa puppies! And kitties!”

“Lotsa puppies and kitties, huh?” you ask as you set the drawing down on the table and pull Riley closer so you can set them on your lap. You pinch at their chubby little cheek. “You ready for that much responsibility, squirt?”

Riley nods. Sun rests his chin on his palm, propped up on one of his legs. The hand holding his crayon continues to doodle. “Yeah! We’re gonna feed ‘em, and we’re gonna walk ‘em, and dress ‘em up!”

You hum out a response, but by then Sun is lost in his thoughts. It’s cute, he tells himself again, gaze not really seeing what’s before him as he glances at you and Riley. Humans and their little dreams. Their bonds and their emotions. The freedom they hold within their grasps. Silly, silly humans. Silly, silly, silly.

Sun looks down at his drawing. You and him, standing in front of a little house. Free as can be to live under a bright blue sky with puffy, cotton-candy clouds. He wonders what that is like. To live with someone so closely. Being there when they wake up and when they fall asleep. Seeing them at their highs and their lows. He wonders if that is even feasible, for someone like him. The freedom he dreams about rests just beyond the tips of his artificial fingers. He tilts his head to the side and releases the tight grip he has on his crayon.

Silly robot, he thinks to himself.

Then, he folds up the drawing and stuffs it into his pocket.

The pizzaplex, above all else, is a cold place.

Sun knows its lights are too bright and its colors too jarring at times. It’s something he has grown used to—the only thing he has ever known, really. He is not exposed to much, with how limited his boundaries are and how restrictive the access he has to the internet is. You give him new things to ponder about. You blow away the coldness like it’s nothing. And he thinks the warmth you bring along with you is something he has perhaps always craved, deep inside. Him, modeled after the sun. Ironic, he thinks.

You play around with the children as he tends to a checkout by the door. It’s quick work, it usually is, and he gives his regular old smile to the parents who pick up their kids and press kisses to their scrunched up little faces in greeting.

What a concept—kissing, that is. An action done by humans to express some of their pesky little emotions. He waves away the parents and closes the door, white gaze falling on you as you laugh while you chase a few kids around. The daycare was what introduced him to all the idiosyncrasies humans have—it is the only form of contact he has with people. And it is the only way he really learns about certain things he wouldn’t have known about otherwise.

He thinks back to Riley. He thinks about the rings he sees on humans’ fingers and the terms of endearment they call each other. He watches you spin around and lunge after another giggling kid who squeals and barely evades your grasp. You laugh—loud and carefree—then make eye contact with him for a split second. And Sun feels something strange in his chassis. Something that lights his insides on fire and makes his wires buzz in fervor. Maybe this is the warmth he’s meant to hold—that he is meant to be. His rays do a little spin.

Then Sun does what he does best. He swoops in, snatching you up from the ground and yelling out something-or-other about kidnapping you for his very evil, very nefarious plans. All in a day’s work, at the daycare. You smile up at him—so small, so tiny in his hold—and he thinks he wouldn’t mind seeing it again and again and again.

Moon thinks about the stars often.

He wonders what they look like, if they match the designs that dot his hat and pants. He thinks about you, standing under the night sky. Do you like the stars you see? Do you come to the daycare and compare the artificial ones plastered to the ceiling to the ones you experience every night? Moon doesn’t know if it is enough—if it will ever be enough.

He glides around the daycare on his cable, keeping a watchful eye on the slumbering kids below. You had been subjected to Riley’s grabby hands as they refused to go down without you by their side. So now you lay next to them, idly stroking their hair as they suckle on their thumb and snooze close to your chest.

Trapped now, he’d told you when he saw Riley latched onto your leg earlier. Bedtime for you. And you simply gave him a defeated smile and caved to the whims of the child.

Moon ponders about what that must be like—laying so close to another. Would you be as comfortable with him—with his body made of unyielding metal? Would you let him soothe you to sleep with the music box in his chest chiming out a gentle song that would waft through the air? Or maybe you would prefer another human. Hmm, another.

He remembers the kiss you had pressed to Riley’s forehead at their insistence and his fingers reach up to rub thoughtfully at his own. Pesky little emotions. His red gaze always finds itself trailing back to you, lingering on your form through the rest of naptime. And when the lights flick back on, he thinks that his time with you is always too short for him to bear.

It’s the middle of the night, long after you’ve gone home, and Moon stands in front of an arcade machine that’s turned off. He stares at his reflection in the dark screen, fuzzy red eyes lighting the space up in a hellish glow. One of his hands passes across his mouth smoothly—the sharp teeth that make up his grin. And he thinks back to the parents kissing their children on the cheeks. He thinks about all the ‘sweetheart’s, and the ‘baby’s, and the ‘love’s. He thinks about you.

Moon wonders what it would be like to be human.

To just—feel everything, all the time. To hear his heart pounding in his chest. He doesn’t have a heart—never will—but he wonders what it would be like to have one. He’d give you his heart without batting an eye, he thinks. Would you do the same for him?

He ruminates on what it would be like to hold your hand. To feel the plushness of your skin against the firmness of his metal. To look and see the difference between the two. Unnatural, he frowns. Disconnected. Two puzzle pieces that don’t fit together—not in the way he would like. He doesn’t belong to you and the thought strikes him hard enough to frazzle his wires. He imagines you with someone better suited that can live with you, grow old with you. Someone that is not him—not like him, broken and robotic as he is.

And Moon wonders if this is what it feels like to die. To have the wires ripped from his body and turned into dust. Something nasty festers itself in his hardware, sears through him like a vicious piece of malware.

He stares down at his hands, fingers slim and painted blue. And he sees them doused in ruby red. He wonders what it is like to have it running through tiny, tiny veins. So fragile. He wonders what it is like to hold your skin between his fingers and feel it rip into shreds. His grin tightens and he shakes his head minutely. He looks back up at his reflection and a gleam of purple flashes across his pupils before he seizes it and locks it away.

Eclipse stands in the middle of an empty daycare and watches as you enter through the large, castle doors.

It’s you, you’re here. They missed you so much, you were gone for so long you were gone for so, so long. But you’re here, and you’re safe, and you’re you.

You freeze when you notice them—looking at you with a too wide smile and too sharp teeth. Their head tilts at you and before they can even process their actions, they’ve already taken several long strides up to your form. Because you’re here, with them, so close they can touch you.

You’re looking up at them with an expression they can’t quite decipher. But they know it must be adoration! It has to be, it must be, what else would it be? And they lean down and reach out two of their hands to grasp at your smaller shoulders. They can feel your heart beating through their fingers.

“I love you!” Eclipse chimes out, hunkered down over your smaller figure. Casting you in their deep, deep shadow. And then they curl down to press the gleaming metal of their grin against your forehead. Again and again and again. I love you I love you I love you so much it hurts what are you doing to us don’t you know this hurts? You smile (you’re smiling, right? You have to be!) at them—confused, sincere maybe—your fingers balled into fists. And Eclipse thinks that if they were to dig through their software, through lines and lines of code, they’d find a little version of you there. Infecting them—constantly there with your kindness and your adoration. Their grin twitches, their eyes upturn. “Marry me!”

You say nothing, only look up at them, but that’s okay! That’s okay, it’s okay it’s okay, right? They are bubbling and boiling alive with the fire that runs through their wires. And they have never wished so desperately before to be human. So they can be with you—outside, under the stars, under the sun the real sun—and hold you, and treasure you until the end of time until you both die.

They think about you and them, standing in front of a little house in a field of lavender and cerulean flowers. They think about waking up with you and going to sleep with you. They think about the softness of your skin and the brightness of your smile. The blood in your veins that can so easily spill over their fingers.

And they know they are not human. They know you will grow old and you will inevitably move on—leaving them for a place they cannot reach.

But still, they think, they will love you until the end of your life. And until the end of theirs.

#i cant draw and solar lunacy made me insane so this happened #solar lunacy #dca x reader #fnaf moon x reader #fnaf sun x reader #moon x reader #fnaf sb #running on fumes rn #i can smell colors bro #sun x reader #the daycare attendant #daycare attendant x reader #dca #dca fanfic #fnaf eclipse x reader #fnaf eclipse #eclipse x reader #btw i can take this down if bam wants sdksjfhf no harm no foul

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waitmyturtles · 2 months

Text

Turtles Catches Up With Old GMMTV: KinnPorsche, and Analyzing the KP Cultural Zeitgeist Edition (Part 1)

[What’s going on here? After joining Tumblr and discovering Thai BLs through KinnPorsche in 2022, I began watching GMMTV’s new offerings -- and realized that I had a lot of history to catch up on, to appreciate the more recent works that I was delving into. From tropes to BL frameworks, what we’re watching now hails from somewhere, and I’m learning about Thai BL's history through what I’m calling the Old GMMTV Challenge (OGMMTVC). Starting with recommendations from @absolutebl on their post regarding how GMMTV is correcting for its mistakes with its shows today, I’ve made an expansive list to get me through a condensed history of essential/classic/significant Thai BLs produced by GMMTV and many other BL studios. My watchlist, pasted below, lists what I’ve watched and what’s upcoming, along with the reviews I’ve written so far. Today, in a two-part series, I offer my thoughts on KinnPorsche, my very first Thai BL, and the impact that I think KP has had on the Thai BL industry since 2022.]

Hot damn! It has been a MINUTE since my last OGMMTVC review, so I'm glad to be back. I've been very much looking forward to writing my thoughts about my recent KinnPorsche rewatch: I enjoyed this ENTIRE process, especially in regards to watching KinnPorsche in the context and chronology of past Thai BLs, and man, did I ever see KP WAYYYYY differently than the first time I watched it.

Why's that? Welp -- *KinnPorsche was my first-ever Thai BL*. (Not my first BL drama ever; that award goes to the GOAT, Kinou Nani Tabeta?/What Did You Eat Yesterday?)

But when I joined Tumblr officially in July 2022, just about a year and a half ago (in the heat of passionately obsessing over Old Fashion Cupcake), my dash was awash, AWASH, in KP posts. AWASH.

I had no idea what the fuck the algorithm was telling me.

I went into KinnPorsche knowing absolutely NOTHING about Thai BL tropes, the history of the genre, the actors in the roles, what made KP so innovative by way of its storyline, NADA. Dudes -- I'm half-Malaysian, and I had never even watched a show from the Southeast Asian region, let alone Thailand, and I was unaware of how prolific the Thai drama industry was (at least compared to the Korean drama machine).

When I first watched KinnPorsche, my perspective was that I had watched a pretty good show, and I was left surprised back then in particular by the No Homophobia Bubble (well, almost no homophobia, Big) that I now know is so much more common in Thai BLs than I realized.

It was through KinnPorsche that I discovered Thai BLs, and it was subsequently through Bad Buddy that I realized that I NEEDED to understand the development of this national genre -- so back to the history annals I went, through my OGMMTVC project, starting from 2014's Love Sick, and here we are at this moment of the timeline, the hot hot late spring and summer of 2022, enjoying the ✨vibbbeeezz✨ between Mile Phakphum and Apo Nattawin, and leaving me wondering why there was a national shirt button shortage in the midst of a Thai mafia crime drama. I'm glad I have history on my side now as I think about KinnPorsche as a standalone drama, and as I also think about the impact it has had on the Thai BL genre and fandoms prior to its premiere, up to today's moment in time.

I took my time to draft this piece partly because I was busy watching Be On Cloud's second and latest serial drama in Dead Friend Forever. I think BOC is doing something very interesting by way of their acting and contracted scripting choices, which I want to ponder by way of the context and aftermath of KP's airing. As such, while I had intended to write just one post about KP, I have a bunch of thoughts that'll spill over to tomorrow. So here we go, a quick overall outline for the lovers for today and tomorrow on my ruminating thoughts:

1) My critical thoughts on KinnPorsche as a standalone drama in the context of the history of previous Thai BLs, 2) My thoughts on how new arrivals to the wider Thai BL fandom shaped the perception of KP vis à vis older Thai BLs, 3) How I think KP has impacted how other studios approach, market, and write Thai BLs now, and 4) A quick passing thought on BOC's own continued influence on the Thai BL genre and industry since 2022, particularly by way of Dead Friend Forever.

I'm going to concentrate on numbers 1 and 2 in this piece, and they're actually going to be a touch conflated, because I want to lean into a now-obvious fact that the BL Elder community knew all along about KP when it first aired in 2022: there was not much that was new about what KinnPorsche was doing. (This is not necessarily a bad thing, as I’ll get into below.)

When I was a newbie on Tumblr, and the algorithm was feeding my dash, I remember seeing posts about how Be On Cloud, the studio behind KP, was doing things differently than the rest of the Thai BL field -- I recall posts about the studio hiring the best acting coaches, how the cinematography was nothing like what we had seen in other shows, and how Be On Cloud was committed to creating safe environments for its actors, particularly Apo Nattawin, who had reportedly faced discrimination in his past acting career, reportedly leading him to leave the Thai drama industry for a number of years.

While some very early Thai BL studios were known to not have the safest or friendliest environments (the filming of What The Duck comes to mind by way of this lore), by the time of KP's airing, GMMTV had strongly established itself as the leader of Thai BL productions, and other players, including New Siwaj and Cheewin Thanamin, had produced quite the number of dramas under each of their respective studio outfits. The industry, by 2020 and 2021, when KP was in its development origins, wasn't new anymore. Acting coaches, such as Aof Noppharnach, were now also regularly writing, directing, and producing original shows, and major BL studios had introduced workshopping as a regular step to production. On the artistic end, studios and writers had established expected artistic tropes -- 2018's Love By Chance is the first example that comes to my mind of when the Thai BL genre crystallized in a structurally derivative piece of art by way of containing and using prior trope references and dynamics.

Be On Cloud, in picking up the KinnPorsche script from Filmania during the pandemic (I use these posts here and here for my non-primary sources of KP lore) clearly knew it had something innovative on its hands by way of producing the genre's first mafia-based BL romance.

But 2020's Manner of Death had already introduced crime and mystery to BL, and 2021's Not Me continued a multi-genre perspective somewhat successfully around romance. And regarding sex and heat: KinnPorsche didn't do that first, either. MaxTul brought it first in 2017's Together With Me, and MAME has owned this corner since 2018's Love By Chance and 2019's TharnType. (Props to MaxTul for being in both Together With Me and Manner of Death; MileApo owe those dudes some beers.) By way of cinematography, which KP does extremely well: we had already begun seeing prestige cinematography in 2020's I Told Sunset About You, and 2021's I Promised You The Moon and A Tale of Thousand Stars.

It was natural, I think, for much of the KP fandom to think that KP was innovative in a lot of these categories, because, like me -- KP was our first-ever Thai BL. By way of money clearly spent on the show, the directorial purview of the show, the utterly gorgeous cinematography (man, that nighttime pull-away shot when the guys are in the roof pool, oof, why couldn't I find a gif), a new fan might think, geez, this has never been done before! But it had, and not just in Thailand, but for years prior in Japan, and more recently in Korea.

This is ALL not to say that KinnPorsche “suffered” because of what I'm uncovering by way of KP's misunderstood innovation. I think a perception of KP being entirely “new” in the BL field has contributed to its lore and enduring influential status. On this rewatch, I appreciated the mafia-based storyline as a support system to the central KinnPorsche romance. Yok being centered as an important mentor to Porsche, played by the inimitable Sprite Patteerat, was refreshing to see. Porsche accepting his bisexuality, especially with Yok's support, without the typical BL head-spinning queer revelation, was a welcome element to the show. And, frankly -- I had, on my first watch, missed, of course, the clear references to Thai BLs of the past in this show, references that I really loved seeing this time around.

From the old school, we got Kob Songsit, the OG BL dad, no longer Tong's dad in the seminal movie, The Love of Siam, nor Dean's dad in Until We Meet Again. This BL veteran is now a damn dad don, weapons and all.

We've also got Na Naphat, who played important side characters in IPYTM and UWMA. We have former BL lead guys in Jeff Satur and Perth Nakhun. We've got guitars and singing, we have underwater smooching, we have a cute-cute first date. We arguably have questionable kabedon in Kinn's and Porsche's first intimate moments. We have cooking for your lover, we have feeding your lover, we have the towel-drying of the hair. KP, by 2022, keeps up with Idol Factory's Secret Crush On You in prominently featuring a femme-presenting side character in Tankhun, PHENOMENALLY ACTED by Tong Thanayut, who we had seen previously in TharnType.

KP was, in part, directed by Pepzi Banchorn, who served as an assistant director on 2019's Dark Blue Kiss and 2021-22's Bad Buddy, and had a quick guest spot in 2022's The Warp Effect. KP was also, in part, directed by Khom Kongkiat, who played Uncle Tong in Bad Buddy, and subsequently directed The Promise in 2023. AND, finally, one of the KP screenwriters is Bee Pongsate, who has co-written so much flippin' BL: Last Twilight, Bad Buddy, Dangerous Romance (😬), Vice Versa, My School President, A Tale of Thousand Stars, 2gether and Still 2gether, and that's not even scratching the list -- you get it.

KP's supporting cast and crew was simply stacked with BL vets, who clearly knew the scene, and who helped to support Mile Phakphum's rookie acting and Apo Nattawin's return to the screen. I'd posit that this group of people knew EXACTLY what references they were putting into KinnPorsche, from actors to tropes, and also knew when, where, and how to innovate around those references to still make this show unique.

Certainly, KP's approach to sex and heat -- by way of Kinn's and Porsche's first drunken encounters (hi again, MaxTul), the uncut intimate scenes between them, and Vegas's and Pete's union by way of, well, semi-torture and/or kink -- was bold enough to be overall quite notable. But again: Thai BLs had been pushing that envelope for years past, and it has continued to do so in shows like MAME's Love In the Air and GMMTV's Only Friends.

In other words: after this rewatch, with the history of the older Thai BLs I've watched under my belt, I don't see KinnPorsche as firstly innovative. But I appreciate the show differently now, in particular for how very obvious it worked to include past Thai BL references in its production, and I actually gained a different appreciation for it.

I also want to made a quick tangential note about Apo and Tong specifically by way of innovation. Dr. Thomas Baudinette, a long-time BL fan and academic researcher on Thai and Japanese queer media, notes in his book, Boys Love Media in Thailand, that an ideal trajectory for a Thai BL actor is to debut in BLs in order to transition to more popular primetime het Thai dramas, as Gulf Kanuwat of TharnType, and Ohm Thitiwat and Kao Noppakao of UWMA and Lovely Writer, respectively, are notably doing at the moment. Apo Nattawin did this the other way around: he had established his career in het lakorns, most notably in 2015’s major hit drama, Sut Khaen Saen Rak, and subsequently left the Thai drama industry after reportedly being discriminated against for his skin tone and fashion choices. And his way back to the industry was through BLs. Taking the lore of Mile Phakphum recruiting Apo for KP out of the picture for a moment: I think this indicates a shift in how BLs are increasingly perceived in Thailand, and even globally, as being a career-worthy genre of content on its own for actors. (Apo's exploding fashion career is proof of this.) And BOC has now recruited another lakorn vet in Jes Jespipat for its third upcoming drama, 4 Minutes.

As well, Tong Thanayut’s very public coming out after the conclusion of KP’s airing is notable for how Be On Cloud has continued to center Tong in its productions after that fact, most notably in 2023’s film, Man Suang, while other out BL actors are not as lucky by way of guaranteeing and attracting future work.

I have a lot more to say about KinnPorsche's and Be On Cloud's impact on the current Thai BL industry, and how I think that impact has affected the marketing and creation of more recent shows like 2023's Only Friends, and 2023-24's Playboyy. But this first post has gotten long, and I actually haven't written much about the actual show itself, HA. So let me say this:

I think it's notable that the first shows that played around with themes outside of romance, like 2020's Manner of Death, and 2021's Not Me, were not perfect shows. We see now how multi-genre BLs are just exploding, what with Dead Friend Forever and the upcoming slew of vampire BLs that are going to drop (and let's not forget the first omegaverse BL drama in Pit Babe -- or should we forget it, I dunno). Not all of these shows are perfect, but the genre has only been around for a decade. There's a lot of time, and a tremendous amount of interest and funding, that upcoming shows can leverage to become better, especially these multi-genre shows that we're seeing more of.

KinnPorsche as well, was not a perfect show. I have some thoughts particularly on VegasPete to offer tomorrow, and I think, overall, that KP could have easily been a shorter series with more impact.

But I'll still give the show some of its flowers, because I think, unlike MoD and Not Me, that KinnPorsche did a better job of centering the Kinn and Porsche romance for dramatic effect, particularly by leveraging comedy. Were there many moments of hibbly-jibblies? Oh, totally. Dudes, also, Kinn fucking forgot about Pete! Pete coming back to the house and reminiscing about Vegas while holding his neck? Eeeeyikes, no thanx. There were a number of these weird bumps that I think could be explained by way of intentional camp (which I think KP did pretty well), but I do believe the show could have been tighter with more editing.

But, I gotta admit: I had a great time re-watching KP. That says something. Was it the heat that tiddled my dopamine cycles? Probably, somewhat. (No shame in my game.) Or -- a more reasonable theory, ha, is that Apo, as a veteran actor, demonstrated more range than I originally remembered. He can really do comedy well, and he timed his comedy perfectly for the absurdities that peppered KP through the series (the bread crawl, the constant throwing of hands, the jumping-on-Kinn when the ghost of Pete showed up, oh shit we're in the forest now, etc). Apo and Tong, in particular, stayed true to the bit many times during the show, and I think the series benefitted greatly from their collective comedic talent and timing -- which I thought was nicely refreshing for the genre.

With that, I'll have more ruminating tomorrow about the show itself, about how I think the impact that KP and BOC have had on the genre after KP's airing, and other thoughts about the cultural moment that KP demarcated when it aired -- see you tomorrow!

[MORE MORE MORE KP tomorrow! And I'll have more thoughts about the watchlist then. But for now, here's the classic OGMMTVC list for you to chew on!

1) The Love of Siam (2007) (movie) (review here) 2) My Bromance (2014) (movie) (review here) 3) Love Sick and Love Sick 2 (2014 and 2015) (review here) 4) Gay OK Bangkok Season 1 (2016) (a non-BL queer series directed by Jojo Tichakorn and written by Aof Noppharnach) (review here) 5) Make It Right (2016) (review here) 6) SOTUS (2016-2017) (review here) 7) Gay OK Bangkok Season 2 (2017) (a non-BL queer series directed by Jojo Tichakorn and written by Aof Noppharnach) (review here) 8) Make It Right 2 (2017) (review here) 9) Together With Me (2017) (review here) 10) SOTUS S/Our Skyy x SOTUS (2017-2018) (review here) 11) Love By Chance (2018) (review here) 12) Kiss Me Again: PeteKao cuts (2018) (no review) 13) He’s Coming To Me (2019) (review here) 14) Dark Blue Kiss (2019) and Our Skyy x Kiss Me Again (2018) (review here) 15) TharnType (2019-2020) (review here) 16) Senior Secret Love: Puppy Honey (OffGun BL cuts) (2016 and 2017) (no review) 17) Theory of Love (2019) (review here) 18) 3 Will Be Free (2019) (a non-BL and an important harbinger of things to come in 2019 and beyond re: Jojo Tichakorn pushing queer content in non-BLs) (review here) 19) Dew the Movie (2019) (review here) 20) Until We Meet Again (2019-2020) (review here) (and notes on my UWMA rewatch here) 21) 2gether (2020) and Still 2gether (2020) (review here) 22) I Told Sunset About You (2020) (review here) 23) YYY (2020, out of chronological order) (review here) 24) Manner of Death (2020-2021) (review here) 25) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) (review here) 26) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) OGMMTVC Fastest Rewatch Known To Humankind For The Sake Of Rewatching Our Skyy 2 x BBS x ATOTS (re-review here) 27) Lovely Writer (2021) (review here) 28) Last Twilight in Phuket (2021) (the mini-special before IPYTM) (review here) 29) I Promised You the Moon (2021) (review here) 30) Not Me (2021-2022) (review here) 31) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) (thesis here) 32) 55:15 Never Too Late (2021-2022) (not a BL, but a GMMTV drama that features a macro BL storyline about shipper culture and the BL industry) (review here) 33) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) and Our Skyy 2 x BBS x ATOTS (2023) OGMMTVC Rewatch (Links to the BBS OGMMTVC Meta Series are here: preamble here, part 1, part 2, part 3a, part 3b, and part 4) 34) Secret Crush On You (2022) (review here) 35) KinnPorsche (2022) (tag here) 36) KinnPorsche (2022) OGMMTVC Fastest Rewatch Known To Humankind For the Sake of Re-Analyzing the KP Cultural Zeitgeist

...interrupting the OGMMTVC list here to watch War of Y (2022) (watching) in chronology to decide if it gets listed...

37) The Eclipse (2022) (tag here) 38) The Eclipse OGMMTVC Rewatch to Reexamine “Genre BLs” and Internalized/Externalized Homophobia in GMMTV Shows 39) GAP (2022-2023) (Thailand’s first GL) 40) My School President (2022-2023) and Our Skyy 2 x My School President (2023) 41) Moonlight Chicken (2023) (tag here) 42) Bed Friend (2023) (tag here) 43 La Pluie (2023) (review coming) 44) Be My Favorite (2023) (tag here) (I’m including this for BMF’s sophisticated commentary on Krist’s career past as a BL icon) 45) Wedding Plan (2023) (Recommended as an important trajectory in the course of MAME’s work and influence from TharnType) 46) Only Friends (2023) (tag here) (not technically a BL, but it certainly became one in the end) 47) Last Twilight (2023-24) (tag here) (on the list as Thailand’s first major BL to center disability, successfully or otherwise) 48) Cherry Magic Thailand (2023-24) (tag here) (on the list as the first major Japanese-to-Thai drama adaptation, featuring the comeback of TayNew) 49) Ossan’s Love Returns (2024) (adding for the EarthMix cameo and the eventual Thai remake) 50) Dead Friend Forever (2024) (thoughts here) 51) 23.5 (tag here) (2024)]

#kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #be on cloud #mileapo #mile phakphum #apo nattawin #kinn x porsche #porsche x kinn #tong thanayut #bible sumettikul #turtles catches up with old gmmtv #turtles catches up with thai bls #turtles catches up with the essential bls #the old gmmtv challenge #ogmmtvc #pond krisda #dead friend forever #kinnporsche meta #kinnporsche the series meta

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lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit · 1 year

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Hello!

I would like to request a Rocky x reader (romantic) oneshot. A fluffy one with a bit of spice would be nice ;) I don't really have a specific plot in mind, but maybe something on the topic of affection? Whatever the story, i'm sure it will be amazing ❤

Thank u, and have a nice day/night!

Hello, Anon!! Thank you for dropping by!! Your request just so happened to align with an idea I've had, and... I got a bit carried away, I suppose. This is well over three thousand words.

Hope you'll find as much entertainment in reading as I did in writing, anyhow!! (I missed crafting dialogue for this silly cat, even if it's equal parts shameless purple prose fun and an absolute pain in the neck.)

“Absolutely not.”

The pose of cheerful enthusiasm he presented the idea with didn’t falter, although his grin seemed to by a sliver.

“Aww, why?”

“It’s not gonna work.”

“We can’t know that until we try!”

You’d come down before opening hour, when many of the lights framing the red-curtained stage and finely carved pillars hadn’t been ignited yet in order to lessen electricity bills, leaving the grandiose speakeasy hall to ruminate in a mellow, warm late afternoon dusk. Leaning against one of the pool tables webbed with gilded patterns on the sides, you glanced him up and down in half-lidded skepticism. It was brief, yet defeating.

“I say this with all the love in my heart,” you prefaced the ruthless confession with a teasing smile, “but you don’t look like you could lift a cornstalk.”

“And you have a point! But consider this,” he countered, gesturing passionately with his hands as if materializing a vision of success before the both of you, and that’s when you recognized this conversation was about to shimmy beyond the bounds of reality. “What wonders can be achieved through the power of love? It can avail you to weather a sea of infernal blazes, crumble ancient mounts to their innermost cores, compel the course of celestial bodies–”

“But it can’t give you muscles.”

The conjurations of poetic fancies promptly shattered, and he gave you a disheartened look.

“Oh, come on, dearest,” he pleaded, all gleaming blue eyes and droopy ears. “Have you no faith in your one and only chevalier?”

“Concerning any other situation… a hard maybe. Depends if anything flammable’s involved.”

You put a finger to your chin in lighthearted contemplation.

“But this… well, I trust you in pulling this off without either of us getting hurt about as far as I could throw you with one hand.”

“I don’t weigh much,” he perked up assuringly. “You could toss me a good few feet, I reckon.”

“So then we should try this the other way around.”

A glint of curiosity hinted he may not have been entirely opposed. Nonetheless, you could tell he wouldn’t let himself be so easily shot down in his steadfast ambitions, about which you happened to be right.

“Your suggestions are appreciated,” he placated upon your prompt sigh of disappointment, “but in the name of chivalry I must persist with my vision. Because I am certain that there is a way, as there is a will, to achieve it.”

He pondered aloud whilst leant against the pool table opposite to yours, tail swishing figure eights in the air as if stirring up the brainworks.

“Just let me think about it…”

A bit to the left, two of the local employment were spectating from their usual spots by the bar. Zib, who had draped himself half-across the counter while Viktor was cleaning it around him, regarded the scene from under his hat with a caustic glance. The smoke simmering from the cigarette he was languidly tasting occasionally wafted your way.

“Looks like chivalry’s not dead yet after all,” he grumbled, the corners of his lips teasing amusement, “but he’s about to be.”

The burly slovak continued with his somewhat menial task in dutiful disinterest, intimidating all unsightly dirt spots off the wooden surface with an effortless glare.

“Idiot vill break own spine vid effort,” he stated matter-of-factly, then after a thoughtful pause, shrugged. “Saves me the trouble.”

“Oh, such searing pessimism!”

Rocky turned to theatrically retort, rejoining your circles from the far reaches of whatever realms his mind had been venturing.

“Well I regret to inform you, gentlemen,” he gave an easygoing little smirk, “that the only sort of spectacle you’ll be getting today is the glorious display of romance’s incandescent triumph.”

“You should heed your sweetheart’s advice, kid,” Zib warned over his glassful of a somewhat suspicious golden beverage. “Artists like you and I just weren’t built for these kinds of strenuous feats. You’ll get a hernia and then the boss lady will be down one questionable bootlegger.”

“Pff… Nonsense talk!”

He waved off the notion as if swatting away a bug, and you pinched your brow in exasperation.

“Waste not such paltry concerns on me, my friend! You see, it might not leave that impression at first glance…” he flexed a bit to show off his bicep then stared at it with a blank expression once it failed to strengthen his argument, “nor perhaps second… but these spindly sinews are rife with untapped potential! Why, you think the Atlas of mythology had trained in advance to support the whole world on his shoulders? And yet, it still goes ‘round smoothly to this day. Which is to say that, hopefully helped by Fortuna’s favor, the release of a comparable innate strength shall aid me in this fated task of carrying mine.”

Despite his conspicuous lack of visible musculature he gave a grin of such radiant certainty it could’ve powered the rest of the lights. Zib blinked slowly, unimpressed in his fermentative, cigarette-stink skepticism. Viktor kept cleaning.

“Albeit I suppose there’s more point in a show rather than tell.”

Rocky stretched his arms in a somewhat comically overstated manner.

“So the old-fashionated way it is!” He then took up a stance and spread them in anticipation. “Come hither, my darling love, let’s prove those naysayers wrong! Leap into the arms of your favorite bard!”

“I still don’t condone this idea.”

You crossed your arms, resolution as hard as the wood digging into your lower back. Unstoppable force smiling baffledly at the inmovable object.

“You don’t?”

“Not really.”

He pouted. Oh, how you couldn’t stand it when those gorgeous sapphires looked at you so coyly despondent. And of course, he was aware.

“You mean you won’t even give it a chance?” he implored, tail gingerly lowering. “Not even if I’ll sooner have my organs be crushed into a fine sludge than let one hair on your head bend the wrong way?”

“Especially not then.”

Patiently, you stood, the twitch of your ears and your own tail’s gentle whipping behind your legs and brushing up to the smooth block of wood being your only movement. You watched him deflate in a slowly progressing manner not unlike that of a balloon animal leaking from a small opening; you could even imagine the characteristic sound to go with.

You tried not to laugh.

“Not even if,” he attempted once more, “it could be a most passionful pageantry of courteousness?”

“More like foolishness.”

Irritated by his snark for a change, you tilted your head in Zib’s direction. When he earned both of your attention by extension the resident nicotine eater, chin resting on the heel of his palm, flicked a huge ear and leisurely presented his back to you as though he’d never cared.

“Just picture it for a second!” Rocky suggested, snapping back to the conversation and taking your hand in his to help transmit the mental imagery through skin-to-skin contact. “A most consummate culmination of chivalrous custom!”

“Certainly,” you rolled your eyes yet didn’t resist when he snuck up close to grab a hold of your waist with an almost imperceptible delicacy.

“I’d gather you in my arms,” he narrated, “a most beauteous royal rose, pooling in your eyes the glimmers of a star-speckled galaxy, a divine black ether brimming with a variegated, dazzling cavalcade of celestial hues… oh, what fair nobility of ephemeral grace, molded in the realms above from the finest marble and ambrosia by lilium-scented, angelic hands…”

His face was close to yours, and your gazes intertwined; you could be quite sure he was just describing what he saw. You averted your eyes, slightly flustered.

“You sure know your words,” you nipped without any real teeth to it.

“I try,” he acknowledged cheerfully, nonetheless keeping proximate. “And me, no more than a humbled troubadour, a mere mortal permitted by Providence to embrace salvation itself,” you made an inarticulate noise of incredulity, “gentle tethering of your mass serving to remind that this resplendent scene is no meager illusion, a cruel trick of the light, but bona fide reality…”

You squirmed half-heartedly away in your chagrin, yet each bit of distance you created between the two of you he kept closing just as effortlessly, drinking in your expressions.

“In rapt entrancement we’d behold each other’s countenance,” you could feel his words on your whiskers, “honey-glaze lusters dancing across our lips in nectareal beckoning, your arms entangling my nape with fervor as you pull me under to merge our souls by way of osculation in the heart of the Earth–”

“Enough rhapsodizing,” you entreated with a wide, mildly embarrassed smile you couldn’t fight, “you poetaster.”

“Now, don’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy that.”

You exhaled in a burst, gripping the wooden brim you were leant on. Tail curling and uncurling in thought.

“It sounds fine,” you emphatically minced, “but I don’t require it. You know you can just talk sweet to me like that or give me a kiss when I’m still on my feet and you’ll just as easily sweep me off them.”

“But there’s no harm in experimenting, right?”

“That’s… a very dubious statement.”

“Well, if it does work, it shall surely be memorable.”

Across the way, over ornate red carpet and leather seats, Viktor had since taken to polishing glasses while Zib ever-industriously continued to metabolize the establishment’s embalming fluid reserves in spite of the hour.

“…And if it doesn’t,” Rocky proposed the possibility with great hesitation, “as far as I can recall, bone fractures actually heal a lot quicker than you’d expect.”

With the band backstage, that’d be only two direct witnesses to your loss of dignity.

“You’re not about to let this go until I oblige,” you observed with a heavy heart and patted his arm, “so go ahead. I’ll give you a chance to enter history records as the world’s first cooked pasta-based organism to princess carry a whole person.”

You adjusted yourself in front of him at a roughly ninety-degree angle and put your arm around his shoulders. Enthusiasm flawlessly rekindled he took swift hold of your back in return, biting his lip in anticipation like a giddy kid.

“But if you sprain a muscle, I’m not bringing you the ice,” you stated firmly to his face.

“You can’t sprain what’s scarcely there,” he beamed back like it was of any reassurance.

“Well, alright.”

That obnoxious smoke hit your nose again. Beneath the golden glow of red lampshades, Zib had unexpectedly honored your ambitions by sitting marginally more erect, pushing up the brim of his hat to ensure his sight wasn’t failing him.

“Wouldn’t you look at that,” he grunted, pointy eyebrows raised. “They’re doing it for real.”

Viktor stopped in his surprisingly gentle handiwork and fixed a sharp, singular eye on the pair of you. When your clumsy preparations and nervous fidgeting painted a confirmatory enough picture, he set the glass and rag down with a thud, leisurely slapping two huge paws on the clean oak counter to lean on it.

“Dis vill be amusing.”

You gulped at the audience, blooming in your chest a severe doubt. You squeezed Rocky’s shoulder and felt the pointed conjunction of bones digging into your palm without any real effort.

“Whenever you’re ready…”

He smiled at you with those sweet blue eyes that drew your attention like a magnet, adamant on dissolving your worries within themselves. It almost convinced you that what you were about to do wasn’t both ridiculously asinine and physically unsafe… albeit still rather mild by the standards of dating Rocky Rickaby.

You looked at one of the curling, wrought iron chandeliers and sucked in a resolute breath.

“…Here goes nothing.”

In clenched-fist concentration, you jumped and threw your legs in the air for him to catch. He grabbed after them in wide-eyed startlement and as the momentum flung you at him, you prayed.

There was a grunting noise. Something in-between the squeak of a strangled rubber chicken and the aghast chuff of a scuffed, abused bagpipe as every last square inch of air is violently crushed out of it; you’d heard naught of such a combination before yet were instantly able to identify it. Arms clasped tight around his neck you hung on for dear life whilst he gripped your side and thighs in a no less firm desperation, fingers unintendedly clawing into tense flesh. He stood taut as a bowstring, you could feel as much beneath the clothes, though unfortunately nowhere near as straight and with every slight tremble and corrective squirm you feared yourselves tipping over in his direction and giving the carpeted limestone a sore greeting.

Time collapsed to a halt under the weight of anticipation. Cautious in your breaths, wide-eyed and blatantly uncomforted by his palpable quaking, you watched as his rigid expression of concentration strained on a half-hearted grin for your sake to mask what very much still was mortal terror hatching from amongst the shards of hubris.

And then… nothing.

You blinked a few times. Other than your own heartbeat, and what amounted to the whimpers of a heavy wooden chair being dragged across the floor that you soon confirmed to be coming from him instead, all sounds of impending doom receded. You took a deep inhale of the stagnant cave air and held it in bewilderment, knees squished close to one another.

Well, you’d be damned.

Flush to his torso and clutching the cheap fabric of his shirt, you stared on, trying to comprehend the situation. As was he, evidently, with how amidst his tight-lipped yet valiant bearing of the ramifications his eyes darted around the room as if disaster was running unusually late. No gears turn at such a pace however, for when at last the ice in your tendons began to melt in contemplation of asking whether he could move enough to put you down safely or if you should just jump for it, he exerted a small huff of accomplishment and it changed something, because you began to dip rapidly forward. Some indiscernible profanity escaped your mouth.

At least he gallantly broke your fall… and a rib as well, by the sound of it.

The ground was about as soft as you’d imagined when it kissed your limbs and left you with your hands splayed on velvety carpet. You caught glimpse of your audience and, lo and behold, Viktor for a brief second appeared to possess something of a smile behind the bar. Of schadenfreude, naturally. Nonetheless the witnessing of such an evanescent miracle left you nothing short of humbled.

“Well, that surprised nobody,” Zib sneered, a whiff of smoke leaving his nostrils. “We’ll hold him a tasteful funeral.”

“He’s not dead,” you indignantly countered, blowing tousled locks of hair out of your face, then turned to your knight in shoddy armor just to be sure. “You’re not dead, right?”

With that, you recognized that the reason your posterior ached less than the rest of you was his organs still being smushed under it, so you hastily clambered off. Sweetly enough, he hadn’t mentioned, though it may have just been that he’d yet to recover from getting the wind knocked out of him enough to form a sentence.

“Never felt more alive,” he wheezed in affirmation, clutching his torso. “I’ve come to sense fibers of my physique I didn’t know existed.”

“No wonder. Did you dislocate something?”

Crouched over your boyfriend on all fours, you scrutinized him whilst your tail lashed back and forth in acute concern regarding his lack of attempts to get up despite having him practically caged under you. Considering his talent for looking pathetic while curled up on the floor, you couldn’t be blamed.

“Well, all of my bones are still inside,” he tilted his head without raising it to look over himself. “That’s their designated place, I believe.”

“You’re such a twit.”

Bright blue eyes flicked up at you innocently, arms clasped together in a protective self-embrace. Your features softened with a sigh.

“I heard a crack,” you explained, gaze lingering over his ribcage. “I thought I’d hurt you.”

“Oh, that was just my pride,” he dismissed jovially. “Nothing worth the bewailment. Poor thing wasn’t about to survive the winter anyhow.”

That restless, puffy tail of yours came to a tentative pause upon his knees, drawn only halfway up to accomodate your presence as he squirmed lightly in his restricted position. Though the barely lit murk of underground, his grin still shined as disarming as any other.

“You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

Whether he meant that remark as a pacification or a challenge, you preferred not to dispute. You let go of the tension in your shoulders however, easing off to settle down next to him and allow him some space to do the same.

“Well, this was just stupid,” you concluded, listlessly examining your bruised appendages. “I have no idea what drove you to something so pointless.”

He carefully rolled up off the ground then simply sat there, blinking at you in a way that betrayed neither any particular discomfort nor the absence of it. You observed him in ponderance. Due to the lack of any concrete signals from upstairs you decided you’d just have to assume the best.

“Unless,” you teased with a squint of suspicion, minding your volume, “you just wanted me on top of you that bad.”

Now that definitely reached the headquarters. When it did, he responded with one of those downright sinful grins that made the notion of punching him in the face sound vastly appealing.

“It wasn’t according to my plan, per se,” he gestured in a sly manner, “but it’s certainly not a development you’ll catch me complaining about.”

“You cad.”

You regarded him with a scolding glare you didn’t really mean but perhaps should’ve. He stood or, well, sat his ground, and it didn’t take a medium to guess anymore what newfound visions might’ve been stirring on behind that striped forehead of his; you only hoped he wouldn’t start waxing poetics about it.

“Could’ve just asked me nicely,” you murmured with a smirk.

You noted the proximity all of a sudden; his nose couldn’t have been two inches away from touching yours. He peered down at you in awareness, chuckling.

“Ah, but the overture's half the merriment.”

“This place has marvelous acoustics, by the way,” Zib spoke out of nowhere and made every bone in your body flinch, “so you might wanna consider taking this somewhere else before our sparse patronage arrives–”

“Oh, shut it, Zibowsky.”

You snapped at him, ears pinned, feeling rather deserving of some soap in your mouth. Rocky got over the interruption with a more careless ease and disregarded the air of awkwardness he helped create in favor of lighting up in triumph.

“But our labour for love wasn’t in vain, after all!” he exclaimed over your shoulder. “We all saw it, right? My romantically inspired exhibition of unprecedented prowress? I must’ve held on for a good minute there!”

“How long did it last, by the way?” you inquired, watching as Viktor continued cleaning glasses. “I was too busy panicking to count.”

“Two seconds.”

Your face stretched in astonishment. Zib took out a lighter.

“You’re pulling my leg.”

“No, really,” he reiterated, igniting another cigarette with a series of clicks while the previous butt laid crumpled beside him on the counter, “two seconds. I was just about to congratulate you.”

You stared on at the sprawling carpet, befuddled, yet the intricate patterns held no explanation for this anomaly. Time does simply happen to slow to a crawl when you’re fearing for your life, as it turned out. Rocky slumped in dejection.

“Ah well,” he lamented, bushy brows descending. “It would appear that my hopes to beguile you with a debonair display could not come true after all.”

His tail gingerly curled around him, saddened to an equal degree. You pouted along in playful endearment.

“You’re so silly,” you ascertained. “I don’t mind that you’re a weakling.”

You took his hand balled up on the ground, enveloping it with your own. He watched in slight trepidation.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

The two of you locked eyes amidst the magnificent cavern of bygone extravagance; the ‘heart of the Earth’, as he’d put it. Decked in hues of crimson and gold and marinating in a mystiqueful twilight, a regrettably vacant wonder of architectural design honoring the arts décoratifs, all the dazzling sights of the establishment couldn't have hoped to draw you away from the one instrictic extension of it you delighted in looking at the most.

“And I wouldn’t trade you in for the brawniest of gallants,” you pressed a tingling kiss on his cheek, “my noodle-limbed prince.”

#{💌 mod rory 💌}#{didn't remember my mod tag being so extra hahhah}#Oneshot On The Rocks #lackadaisy #lackadaisy x reader #lackadaisy reader insert #lackadaisy rocky #rocky lackadaisy #rocky rickaby #rocky rickaby x reader #{feels good to have made something for you all again. hope you enjoy <3}

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cutiecorner · 7 months

Text

Boats

Ficlet • Regressor! Bruce, caregiver! Alfred

@todayimfour said: "This is probably more of a doodle promt than writing but I feel like Bruce would have a blast with those lil bath toys that are the stacking boats"

In LOVE with this prompt!!! It can be a doodle AND a fic :3c enjoy!

“Bruce, poppet, don’t you think it’s time for a bath?”

Bruce stewed in his chair in front of the bat-computer. There was no doubt about it, he was kind of filthy. After a long mission in Gotham’s sewers to look for Killer Croc’s latest hide out, he went directly for the computer to catalog his findings. Not the best plan, but the one he decided to pursue in the moment. That moment was four hours ago, and he still hadn’t showered. Alfred had exhausted all of his avenues to get Bruce up and clean, but none had pulled him away from the computer. Except his last resort. Bruce was well aware that Alfred doesn’t call him pet names for just any reason. ‘Master Bruce’ was enough affection for the both of them, direct sweetness was a little much for daily happenings. Things had gotten particularly serious, Bruce thought, for Alfred to “poppet” him. He considered the possibility of going along with it, but he simply had too much work to do. He grunted to communicate as much. Alfred frowned, but was quickly hit with an idea.

“Well, I suppose we’ll have to save my special surprise for another night then.”

Bruce was being baited, he could tell, but… a surprise was kind of like a mystery. Bruce loved mysteries. He just couldn’t resist.

“... what kind of surprise?”

Alfred smiled, “I guess you’ll have to come with me to find out.”

Bruce let out a long sigh, hating to be pulled from his work, but he had to admit - he kind of wanted to get clean. Not to mention, a pleasant surprise never hurt anyone. Once he was up from the chair, he pulled down his cowl to release his messy hair. Alfred reached for his hand, taking it to Bruce’s shock. This was serious business.

Alfred led Bruce to the bathroom, and Bruce quickly took off his dirty suit to deposit in the laundry basket. He was starting to realize that he really did feel icky. Icky? He thought, surprised at his internal choice of words. Was he…

“I’ll start the water, dear, you go potty”

Bruce pouted. He did not go potty, he was far too big for potty. He ruminated on his big-ness as he did what Alfred told him anyway. After all, he would never outgrow taking orders from Alfred. Alfie knew everything.

“All done?” Alfred asked.

Bruce nodded in response, taking a seat in the bathtub. Alfred ran the showerhead over him to get the worst of the grime off, then started to fill the tub. Bruce always felt awkward waiting for the water to fill up, but was soon distracted by the bubbles forming. Alfie put some bubble bath in, it smelled nice too. He took a deep breath, taking in the lavender scent. He felt relaxed, fuzzy…

“I suppose it’s time for your surprise, hm?”

A bath surprise? Strange… Bruce wondered. What could be a surprise for the bath?

Before he could ponder, Bruce was presented with a pack of brightly colored boat toys.

“A bath toy? Don’t you think I’m a little old?” Bruce whined.

“Oh, never.”

Alfred set a few of the boats in the now-full tub.

“Look, they can float, and you can fill them up with water, they even stack,” Alfred grinned.

Hrn, Bruce responded, not wanting to give in to a baby toy. He scrubbed at his hair as he tried to ignore the floaties… but they were so pretty. He bet they could go pretty fast if he pushed them. He thought about the splashy water and the ripples… No! He thought, Don’t get distracted. One of the boats floated over to him. He flicked it away. It did go pretty far! He found himself smiling. He grabbed another boat, skipping it across the water. Now he was laughing. Soon, he was playing. He filled the boats up with water till they sank, he raced them, he sorted them.

“Alfie, look how many boats! They’re all stacked up and they still go!”

“Oh wow,” Alfred chuckled.

Bruce continued to play as Alfred finished washing him.

“Alright, pumpkin, you’re all done.”

“No!” Bruce cried, “my boats…”

Alfred smiled.

“I promise you can play with your boats tomorrow, love.”

“You promise?”

“I swear,” Alfred smiled.

#agere #fandom agere #agere fandom #dc agere #batman agere #dadfred & babybat #agere fanfiction #agere fanfic

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shxtodxroki · 8 months

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𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜

Summary: You’re cuddling with Jihyun, but he’s oddly quiet, as if he’s listening to something specific. And when you eventually ask why, you learn about your boyfriend’s biggest joy in life (aside from you, of course).

Flufftober Day 8 Prompt: Rainy Day

Warnings: Mentions/hints towards depression, mentions of V slowly losing his eyesight

Pairing: V ( Jihyun Kim) x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Check out my full Flufftober masterlist here!

The room is silent, almost eerily so, as you sit beside your boyfriend with curious eyes and a mind full of wonder. You’re cozily cuddled up to his side, the fireplace running as you wrap both of your arms around one of his and press your cheek into his sweater. But for some reason, neither of you have said anything at all for the past ten minutes, your lover silently staring at the roof as if listening for something, or perhaps listening to something? You’re not particularly sure, but he seems more at peace than he hardly ever does, leaving you hesitant to disturb his clear serenity and risk wiping the soft, barely-there smile clean off his face.

Though you don’t wish to interrupt the silence of the room, you do slowly begin to sneak one of your hands down towards his palm, carefully linking your fingers with his. He lets you without a second thought, always open to your touch even when he’s not particularly paying attention, though your movements don’t seem to draw him out of his thoughts or his listening in the slightest as he remains quiet and stoic. Your cheek nuzzles against the fuzziness of his wool sweater in search of warmth despite the fire going at the other end of the room and the blanket currently being shared across your two bodies, as his warmth is like none other to you. A blanket and a fire can only warm your surface, but he’s able to get rid of the chill in your bones, able to make your soul feel light and airy to your core even with his own demons.

The fingers of your free hand slowly begin to dance up his sleeve, mindlessly playing with the soft fabric in your hands as your eyes turn up to his face. You could study him all day, you really could. He’s a living work of art, a being somehow painted perfectly, or photographed by an eye even more meticulous than his own. There’s not one feature of his that you don’t love, from his striking, vibrant hair to his soft, plush lips to his short, gentle fingernails that he lets you paint whenever you ask. He’s more precious than diamond or gold to your aching heart, and as he stares at nothing at all and finds himself lost in sounds unbeknownst to you, you find yourself thinking that he looks even more statuesque and gorgeous than usual as he sports one of his increasingly rare grins.

Though you’re desperate to hold his peace, to let him ruminate in this happiness that he’s so visibly experiencing for once, your curiosity eventually wins out as you ponder what could possibly be enrapturing him so much. Your hand gently squeezes his as you silently plead for his attention, gently snuggling into him once more as you look up at him and meet his gaze with soft, questioning eyes.

“What are you thinking about, love?” You ask quietly, careful to keep your voice low in hopes of preserving this moment’s serenity. “You seem really lost in something, but I can’t quite figure out what.”

Jihyun can’t help but let out a soft chuckle to your words, his free hand gently moving to trace along your knuckles as he responds. “....Can you hear that, angel?” He asks with a soft smile, and when you stop to listen, you can’t seem to hear much aside from a small, distant pitter-patter.

Tink. Tink. Tink. The sound barely echoes through the room, and for a second you think that can’t possibly be what your boyfriend’s referring to. You have no clue what it even is, how could it be significant enough for him to comment on?

But then, like a strike of lightning in your neurons, you realize that the sound is the soft patter of rain against your roof, your eyes glancing towards the window as you watch the droplets race down the glass panes and fill the sky with a grey smog. You had never known your lover to be particularly fascinated with the rain, but many people enjoyed the sights and sounds of fresh rainfall, though you were still curious if there was a deeper root as to why he seemed so utterly lost in the echoes of the downpour.

“The rain?” You ask for confirmation, your fingers squeezing his hand once more as he wordlessly nods in response. “I suppose I can, it’s pretty quiet though. I didn’t know you liked the rain so much….” You mutter, prompting him for further elaboration, if there was any to discuss in the first place.

He doesn’t answer right away, simply giving you another soft smile as he pulls you closer than before. He was being awfully generous today, showing off the beauty that is his smile more frequently than he had ever since you had met him, and the mere sight makes your heart swell to the brim. You suddenly find yourself incredibly thankful for the rain, your gratitude for the way it’s brightened your lover’s attitude pouring out of you and rivaling the steady downfall outside even if you can’t understand it. Until he finally explains it to you, the best he can, and gives you a window into his mind.

“Well… my eyesight is nearly gone now.” He starts with a sigh, though he doesn’t sound as melancholy as he typically does when the topic is brought up. That mention instantly piques your curiosity further, however, and you listen with rapt attention as he continues as the pads of your fingers mindlessly grip his sleeve. “So I can’t enjoy many of the things that used to calm me down before. The sight of flowers in a vibrant garden, the fireplace flaring up on a cold night, the thrill of getting to photograph a precious sight… honestly, I was starting to think I had nothing besides you that made me feel relaxed anymore.”

Of course you knew he had been suffering as the deterioration of his eyesight progressed. Anyone in his position would, and you had witnessed firsthand the simple pleasures of nature in his life slowly decreasing as his vision went more and more. But you hadn’t realized just how bad it had been mentally wounding him until this moment, and your heart aches for him as you patiently wait for him to continue at his own pace.

“But…. I can still enjoy the rain. Rain has never been about the sight for me, unlike most things that soothe my mind. It…. it’s more about the sound of the rain hitting the house, the smell of the mist in the air…. I guess I’m just happy that I haven’t lost all of my favorite parts of nature. That I can still enjoy things like this with the senses I do still have.”

Though your heart still holds a crack in response to his troubles, you feel tears of relief begin weighing down your waterline as his smile grows wider than it’s been all day. You suddenly shift your weight to meet him eye-to-eye after taking a moment to compose yourself, taking your sweet, fragile man’s precious face in your hands as you stare at him with a cheesy, lovestruck smile.

“You know, I think you’ve made me love the rain too.” You whisper, before leaning in and connecting your lips in a tender, gentle kiss. It’s brief, a few seconds at most, but he’s able to understand without words just how thankful you are for this moment. How thankful you are that he’s smiling again, that he’s found something besides his lover that still brings him joy. You’ve had to watch him lose so much along with his eyesight, sticking by his side through all of his worst moments along this journey, and through this kiss he realizes that you dream of him never losing joys like the rain ever again.

You’re unable to resist the urge to brush your thumb against the soft skin of his cheek as you pull away from this kiss, your finger slowly tracing along his sharp jawline as you press another peck to his cheek. “If it makes you happy, then I hope it rains every day. Anything to see you smile. “ You tell him with a voice full of fondness, and right then Jihyun knows that he could lose every other pleasure in life - rain included - and still be perfectly satisfied, as long as he still had you to love and hold throughout the rest of his life.

Request - Anonymous said: hello, darling! how are you? for your flufftober could you write something for v from mysme, please???

A/N: Ahhhh so sorry for my absence during my school-related slump, but I am STILL going to catch up these next few days because I REALLY want to see this event through to the end since I’m having tons of fun with it! Honestly I don’t know much about V (haven’t been down his route yet, and there’s been very little about him in the routes I’ve been down so far) so I hope this is okay! I think it turned out really sweet at least, I’m pretty proud of this so I hope you guys enjoy it as well! :> Also my requests are currently open, so if you have any requests for any fandoms I write for feel free to send them my way!

Taglist: @flufftober

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

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starburstfloat · 2 months

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Coming of Age Storytelling in TXT's Quarter Life (aka let's talk about korean grammar!!)

Quarter Life is one of my favorite tracks off minisode 3, not just for its coming of age theme but also the raw, unfiltered way their voices carry the message.

A closer look at the Korean lyrics led me to understanding the song anew so I wanted to share that with you guys.

What struck me most was the narrative shift in the song. Beomgyu, Taehyun, and Kai all transition from a contemplative, somewhat hopeless state of mind at the beginning of the song to an empowered and motivated mentality during the second half.

Admittedly, you don't need to pick apart the nuance of the conjugation patterns they're using to grasp this - listening to the song alone will give you a sense of it. But I think knowing the grammar a bit more just makes you feel it more deeply and helps the song feel that much more alive and inspiring. At the same time, I'll weave together my observations on the (wonderful!) storytelling/narrative flow. Let's go!

Beomgyu starts the song with:

A quarter life / 누군가가 나의 나이를 부르는 말

A quarter life / This is how someone calls my age

Note how this opening line establishes a distance from the protagonist: we're not centering on what he thinks at first, but rather how other people perceive him. Perception vs sense of self is a big coming of age theme. In the following lines, he alludes to having walked through a long long (긴긴) tunnel, and in explaining it to us, we get a sense for how the world has shaped him (or more specifically, worn him down). He may be young, but he is so so tired.

Kai reiterates this sentiment by saying:

좋을 때래 아름다운 청춘은 지금뿐이래

(People say) these are the good times, that the beauty of youth is only now

followed by him adding: I ain't happy at all

Once again, the focus is on perception. Their disconnect between how other people think they should feel versus how they actually feel builds a sense of lack and sadness.

The first narrative shift happens right after this, when Taehyun poses a pondering question:

혹시 어두운 이 턴널에도 끝은 있을까

(I wonder if) this dark tunnel even has en end?

-을까 verb endings paired with 혹시 (perhaps/maybe) add a contemplative tone to the question, thus indicating our first transition from Beomgyu and Kai's solemn defeat about youth being exhausting to wondering, maybe there's a way out of this?

Then we dive into the pre-chorus, which gets even more reflective:

어디로 가야 하는 건데

Where do I have to go/should I go?

-ㄴ데 endings are frequent in both spoken and written Korean and depending on context have several meanings. Here it leaves the listener with the knowledge that something has been left unsaid. I often think of it as ellipses that have a slow fade effect. In terms of the song, this line here emphasizes the pondering moment of taehyun earlier, kind of like "where do I have to go....?"

Kai mentions he's lonely, just walking in circles, it's a full quarter life crisis

The chorus hits with its instrumental - a release of all their frustrations and confusion for the tumultuous feelings.

The second half of the song gets interesting. It's here that each line slowly gets more optimistic and empowered. Taehyun says he refuses to say that he fucked up his life. This one thought keeps him grounded and makes him want to keep trying.

Kai's lead into the second pre-chorus is almost exactly the same as the first (on first listen I didn't hear a difference) but he actually changed one of the verb endings: instead of saying 건데 again (that ...? feeling grammar point) he uses an -는 지 ending:

어디로 가야 하는 건지

Where do I have to go/should I go?

Note that the translation is exactly the same as the pre-chorus earlier, but there's a slightly different feeling attached. The -는 지 conjugation poses a "whether this or that" setup, once again showcasing uncertainty, but this time instead of pondering and ruminating, it's acknowledging the presence of options. He's getting closer to stepping into a decision - a decision he gets to make now, not something dictated by the perception of others.

Taehyun adds:

Don't look back / 돌아갈 순 없지

Don't look back / You can't go back

Many of you may already know -ㄹ 수 없다 conjugation as "cannot do something". Notice how the center is 순 instead of 수. 순 is used as an emphasizing marker, and the conjugation of -지 adds a feeling of someone going "right?" or "of course." There's a slight sense of urgency to it all. Knowing this, I hope you can feel the weight of Taehyun's lines here: he's urging himself to embrace what he has in the moment because he can't go back and he knows it and doesn't want this moment to escape him.

Also noteworthy is the lack of 요 endings to indicate higher formality. All of the song is in banmal, which suggests they're actually talking to themselves/in their own head. Very touching :')

The song ends on a determined high: Beomgyu and Kai affirm they are going to keep wandering through this quarter life crisis. I love the choice to finish the song with their raw vocals and the high of the instruments long gone. It centers us so much on their determination. Absolutely beautiful song and I hope I could give you some insight into the grammar and the feelings it captured.

#idk if i managed to capture this as well as my other posts but i hope this could let you feel the song more fully #txt analysis #media analysis #tomorrow x together #language study #korean #txt minisode 3

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ladyhindsight · 10 months

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So, God definitely exists and Lilith is having her own fashion show whenever she appears. That’s cool. Anyway. It has taken ages to even summon any will power to finish the book, the whole year so far has been personal chaos, but now as the storm has ceased and I had couple days off to just lay down on my sofa to power through this monstrosity, all I am left with is a major what the fuck. Expectations were close to zero and Chain of Thorns still went right under it.

Just minutes before I finally finished Chain of Thorns and I don’t even know what it all was for. The major things holding this story together is everyone’s damn pride and fear of being pitied—obstacles which all of them have to overcome. James and Cordelia are both too proud to be pitied, but narrative-wise there is this perpetual pity party going on. All this ruminating over Things That Never Were and Stuff That Is Forever out of Reach is just whole lot of words for whole lot of nothing, especially when the ending to their relationship is nothing if not predictable. The purple prose doesn’t make me feel anything, doesn’t resonate with me on any level, and I can’t connect to it because in the grand scheme of the story, it is based on false perception created by the unwillingness to be truthful. In the end, all that angst and wondering about the feelings at every turn, it is a waste of time.

Every character is so driven by their self-loathing, seriously bordering on self-pity, and pride that all their motivations blur into the same mess. The unwillingness to be truthful, powered by the pride of each character, is the force for which the plot can even reach the points it wants. Clare truly is a master of creating this endless but absolutely done-to-death emotional circle she just keeps recycling in every trilogy she manages to publish. Writing is the same as ever, dialogue is a pathway to always just tell things, it’s also hand-holding and over-bearing: “It seems the Inquisitor has hurt his right arm.” “He was branded on his arm by Belial.” “So that’s why he was holding it like it hurt!” No shit?! Stop it. On a positive note, I think the series is more emotionally aware and intelligent compared to The Mortal Instruments and even The Infernal Devices, where the emotional awareness only encompassed Clary, Jace, Will, Jem, and Tessa. Not completely without its grievances, but when are these books ever?

The plot served its purpose, I guess. Cordelia becoming a paladin of Lilith served its role in saving James and defeating Belial. Others had their own stories and relationships but were helpful and sometimes integral for the story to progress. It’d be otherwise fine if the book didn’t forget the actual plot for a major part of its duration and exchanged it for useless inter-character dramatics and constant cliffhangers. Additionally, it’s just that the whole Watcher thing (like the Grigori?) was clear from miles away. Whenever Clare introduces a new but a very basic element to the Shadowhunter world THAT SHOULD HAVE EXISTED ALREADY and explains it through a character (this time Cordelia), it’s a dead giveaway. So the tease They wake + the Iron Tombs = waiting two thirds of the book for the characters to catch up with you. The story is so infected with repetitive narrative, drama and self-loathing, pseudo-profound ponderings on love and pride, and I am sick of even thinking about any of it.

Maybe one day I have something else to say about the book in general, but not today. My brain has once again been obliterated. So, as usual, some thoughts and notes and more in-depth grievances:

CORDELIA CARSTAIRS AND JAMES HERONDALE. They come together, because I have no coherent thoughts about James or Cordelia. They were there and did their protagonist duties. Of course there was a love triangle. Blah, blah. I just didn’t like Cordelia in this installment as much as the previous ones. Maybe her pride took so much center stage that her previous kindness and compassion were overshadowed by it and self-righteousness. Her bravery is no longer bravery but same thoughtlessness of every other Clare heroine. James was there, hoorah. No, but seriously. James’ trauma was so in-depth analyzed and told, his feeling of pain and anguish and anger relished in so much that the writing was incapable of coming up with anything new to say instead of regurgitating same things over and over again. Also, Cordelia was constantly aware of James’ bracelet when he wore it, but never mentioned it once he stopped wearing it for good?

THOMAS LIGHTWOOD AND ALASTAIR CARSTAIRS. They worked out, yay. Don’t know why they love each other, but okay. Their romance was a nice and carrying force through some bleak scenes in the book. Alastair becoming more open and comfortable in showing affection was lovely. Turned out great.

ANNA LIGHTWOOD AND ARI BRIDGESTOCK. See the above. Same sentiments. But much like with Thomas and Alastair, most of the development happened in this final instalment and pretty hastily too. And like the above pair, I feel like a lot of the progress came with transforming the characters into unrecognizable version of themselves too quickly. I was happy that Ari was able to connect with her mother again and Flora could flourish (lol) without the stifling presence of her husband, but I also feel like I’ve seen this setting where a bad and homophobic husband and father gets a metaphorical kick to his ass and goes away in order for the life to be better for his family without him.

LUCIE HERONDALE. Lucie was generally great. No hard feelings. It’s a bit contrived that it is precisely the canoodling of Jesse that brings her closer to the dead, but whatever. Love that her weapon of choice is an ax.

MATTHEW FAIRCHILD. Matthew’s story ends on a somber note. While Matthew definitely was not one of my favorite characters, I hoped he could’ve had something more to him than James and Cordelia. His journey to sobriety continues, which was great that it wasn’t over just like that, but the reason for his drinking was such a huge thing that was carried throughout the books, so it was disappointing to see it quickly addressed in the epilogue. Matthew deserved more than a hasty redemption in the end.

CHARLES FAIRCHILD. There are other people that are dying, Charles!! is what I am left with. I am absolutely aghast how Charles’ character was treated. I can’t believe that Clare still managed to write one more let’s push this character out of the closet because it is The Right Thing to Do scenario in her books. Charles has to brave the world and lose what he has to lose because his dreams and aspirations, according to the narrative, are worth nothing because he is more privileged than other people. Charles coming out with his sexuality is set against the choice of standing with or against his family as if there was no other way to solve this but guilt Charles into doing the right thing so he can’t be blackmailed anymore. Nobody cares, your family loves you—then what are the stakes here then, in their homophobic society that time and time again fails to deliver any consequence while existing as this ostracizing boogeyman?

I hoped there was some sort of ploy that Charles intended to execute in order to remove the thorn from his mother’s side and replace the Inquisitor with someone who was more fair and just and capable. At once, when Tessa said that Charles is just misguided, I knew it wouldn’t be because Tessa is never wrong. So all there is this dumb blackmailing plot whose only merit is to have Maurice Bridgestock removed from his position as Inquisitor. It did not serve Charles’ character in any way nor were his story with his family or Matthew in any way concluded.

GRACE BLACKTHORN. While discussing Grace, Christopher says that Grace was just a child when she was forced to act on James. Thomas says it doesn’t matter with anger and fury. Matthew equates Grace’s actions to a murder, as you do. While Will’s actions against Tatiana are in no way comparable to Grace’s, it is strange how Will being twelve is mentioned as if in order to act as an extenuating circumstance, while this doesn’t apply to Grace. It is also weird how everyone else’s torment is mulled over, used as an excuse for some type of behavior, but Grace's abuse and manipulation at the hands of Tatiana and Belial isn’t taken into consideration by anyone else than Jem? Also why did Cordelia get to vanquish Tatiana and not Grace? Grace’s treatment in this book, along with Charles, was just painful.

JESSE BLACKTHORN. Much like James, he is a stale piece of wheat bread. Only thing I have in mind about Jesse is that I found it a bit over the top, out of the little character he had, that he was so angry at Grace so that he left her. Jesse reacted exactly the way I feared Cordelia would react to Alastair. I was hoping for angry but sad and disappointed approach since Jesse knew better than anyone what Grace has lived through. Also, why Jesse (or Grace) wasn’t given time with his uncles who had wanted to get to know him for ages?

CHRISTOPHER LIGHTWOOD. My sweet cheese, my goodtime boy. Characters Clare writes most often only know the strongest of emotions. They always react with anger, defensiveness, and passion; by shouting, by self-righteous fury, by everything that is so exhausting to always read. Most of the characters are that, and am I so happy how Clare stayed true to Christopher’s temperate and serene nature, even when his cousin/best friend has been greatly wronged. And when everyone was so angry at Grace, Christopher was the only one to see reason. So, WHY THE FUCK HE DIED? No one, but most of all Cordelia herself never acknowledge that Kit died protecting her.

The “false” family tree lead the story on how Kit and Grace would probably become a couple, and would’ve made sense since they bonded over science and their minds were alike while they were so unalike in other ways, but boom. Kit dies, and Grace is left to figure out the fire messages on her own, because otherwise there wouldn’t be that obstacle of not being able to reach the Shadowhunters in Idris. Kit died for a shock value and so that a measly little plot point could work. Also great how the Lightwoods always have their children killed?? We never even see Gabriel and Cecily mourning?? Eugenia was weirdly chipper after just losing another one of her family members?? All these pages dedicated to romance bullshit that will solve itself but not for this.

TATIANA BLACKTHORN. Tatiana is a fiend, a terrible demon-worshipping, toddler-kidnapping fiend, but also a cartoonish one at that. It’s just overdone. She was made uglier and uglier, the machinator of evil things, and then she died. Voilà. There is one narrative aspect that was weird though. The Herondales and the Lightwoods insist on having tried their all to help Tatiana who always refused, but when Jesse confronts his mother, he says:

“I have come to know them by now. There is truth much harsher. One I think you know. They have not tried to ruin you over all these years. They have not plotted your downfall. They have barely even thought of you at all.”

Sick burn, but which is it? Adamantly trying to help her or not thinking about her at all?

MAURICE BRIDGESTOCK. A cartoon character with a cartoon ending. A homophobe bigot who got what he deserved, but a cartoonish character still. He was jealous of the Herondales and thus was an antagonist. Why is everyone obsessed with the Herondales in every damn book?

ESME HARDCASTLE. Esme was shoved in there in order to explain the “found family tree”, which at some point, I have no doubt, was how things were supposed to be, until Clare had more ideas for the Edwardian kids. No other characters in whole of TSC have gone through so many changes as these characters have. And as such, to keep the predictability at minimum—which isn’t a lot—the old family tree is made up by Esme, so Clare can spin this tale why it wasn’t accurate. Grace didn’t marry Christopher, Alastair didn’t have children (probably?). Then Clare had all these surprise babies coming because the way she chose to end the story for the Edwardian kids would mean no Emma, no Clary as we know them. So new Carstairs baby, new Fairchild twins.

i. The beginning of the prologue is over-saturated with flowery prose and similes that the narrative gets buried underneath.

ii. James is worried about Lucie, but more importantly needs to find her so he can go back to worrying about Cordelia and Matthew.

iii. The whole series has been a barrage of period typical social etiquette and decorum fed to you with a spoon. Even The Infernal Devices wasn’t this intent on it. Men did not usually accompany even wives or sisters into a dressmakers shop. What do you care about mundane decorum, you are Shadowhunters! Have some etiquette of your own.

iv. “…one of the modistes attacked the closures at the back of Cordelia’s dress without requiring any instruction—clearly she had done this before—and pushed and pulled at Cordelia as if she was a stuffed mannequin.” CcLeEaRrLy. You just told she didn’t need instruction, the rest is rather obvious. And I hope she knew what she was doing, she works there!!

v. Then there is this ridiculously complicated sentence: “Madame Beausoleil, who kept her salon on the Rue de la Paix, where the most famous dressmakers in the world—the House of Worth, Jeanne Paquin—were situated, was, according to Matthew, well acquainted with the Shadow World.” Like, what. Honey. Darling. “Madame Beausoleil kept her salon on the Rue de la Paix, where the most famous dressmakers in the world—the House of Worth, Jeanne Paquin—were situated. She was, according to Matthew, well acquainted with the Shadow World.” Or does that info about the location have to be there at all? Surely there were plenty other paragraphs where you could’ve stuffed that.

vi. Apparently this, apparently that, apparently everything! Whenever Clare uses such a word, it is a sign that she is unnecessarily feeling the need to justify why she is giving some particular piece of information or why a character is making an observation they could realistically make.

vii. Cordelia’s savings to pay Matthew for the dresses? What savings? From what and where?

viii. There are so many parentheses explaining things

ix. There is not a one scene in Paris where Cordelia doesn’t think how other people might see her and Matthew as a couple. Every time, which is in basically every scene they have in public, someone watches them and admires them and their “young love.”

x. “I have never heard anyone sound as if they were in such pain. Jamie, you must talk to us.” Yes, no one has ever been in greater pain than James Herondale, and that has the stamp of approval of Will Herondale so it really means something.

xi. a lot of the gray is gunmetal gray

xii. Having Tatiana comment on Jem’s appearance as Silent Brother and call it privilege for knowing the Lightwoods and Herondales doesn’t take away the fact that it is awfully convenient that Jem isn’t bald or his face isn’t sown shut. Though I get the intent behind this was to elicit such reaction as how awful of Tatiana! She doesn’t know anything Jem has suffered! It was not his choice! and the like. Blah.

xiii. What is it with these YA books in which waiters always give the characters their unsolicited opinions on people’s orders?

xiv. I assume Madame Dorothea of Brooklyn named herself after this famed Madame Dorothea of Paris. Why didn’t Malcolm go to her about Annabelle? I don’t remember if there ever was a mention of it.

xv. When Lucie tells the truth about Jesse and her powers to Magnus and Will, the PoV changes from James to Lucie with no indication of PoV change:

xvi. “James thought of the box of matches in his pocket, each one a sort of signal light that, when struck, summoned Jem to his side. He did not know how the magic worked, nor did he think Jem would tell him even if asked.” Just leave this part out, readers will think it’s just magic and that’s it. Now this just sounds that you couldn’t bother to think about it and just tried to explain possible scrutiny away. This instead just points more to the fact that you have no clue how the magic in your world works.

xvii. “James returned to the house, crawling into bed with his coat still on.” James can’t return to the house and crawl into his bed at the same time.

xviii. Take a shot every time the same steel and temper as Joyeuse and Durendal is said in TSC

xix. It’s annoying how Matthew speaks so lowly of Charles wanting to keep Alastair a secret when their own society supposedly sucks ass and enables shame and discrimination

xx. Cordelia only accepts Matthew’s affections once she thinks she has truly lost James. Why did she want to kiss Matthew if she didn’t even fancy him? She just selfishly used him and his love to forget her own mistakes, which I didn’t like about her at all. But that of course just fed into the love triangle that Clare is so insistent on writing in each one of her series, and the end couple is always obvious.

xxi. “…and James could remember, painfully, what kissing Cordelia was like, hotter and better than any fire.” I don’t think being burned by fire is good?

xxii. It’s torturous—and not in the good giddy way—how Clare finds even the tiniest excuse to prolong James and Cordelia finally getting together. “I should tell her the truth but Cordelia looked so happy with Matthew, so I didn’t.” Good grief.

xxiii. “Pity and kindness were not love. Only free choice was love; if he had learned nothing else from the horror of the bracelet, he had learned that.” Only a free choice to those who are free to love and go for that love and their dreams without having to make a choice between either. So fuck that.

xxiv. Ari didn’t bring any clothes with her when she left her parents. “She’d have to buy new things.” WITH WHAT MONEY? FROM WHERE? HER “STIPENDS” WENT TO LIVING EXPENSES! EXPLAAAIN

xxv. “At the breakfast table sat Anna’s brother Christopher, and, of all people, Eugenia Lightwood.” Yes, out of all the people in this world that is sitting at the table is Anna’s cousin. Truly odd.

xxvi. “The Institute is the safest place in London when it comes to demons; if he did somehow attack, the whole Enclave would retreat here as a matter of policy.” Not when it comes to the Jack the Ripper one in The Whitechapel Fiend.

xxvi. Will discusses Tatiana’s vengeance for being wronged: “Will sighed. “That was me. I read her diary out loud at a Christmas party, long ago. I was twelve. And I was quite severely punished, so in fact, the Enclave was on her side.”’ No, he wasn’t. And the whole Enclave punished Will? Please. There was no culpability, no apology, and no admission of guilt. And he also broke Gabriel’s arm. This is an attempt afterwards to alleviate the guilt on Will’s end when it comes to Tatiana’s madness. More realistic approach, less let’s-make-Will-more-shiny-and-not-at-all-a-participant-in-Tatiana’s-insanity would be something like: “That was me. I read her diary out loud at a Christmas party, long ago. I was twelve, but that’s on me.” And they would’ve gone on that it didn’t matter because in grand scheme of things it was such a miniscule thing.

xxvii. Take a shot every time the writing tries to stealthily prop up Will and Tessa as good and kind. Clare is really adamant at making the Herondales victims at every turn.

xxviii. “Benedict Lightwood brought down vileness upon his family, and Tatiana could not accept either his culpability or her own.” True, yet funny how the same does not apply to the ones who are on the right side of things. Accepting culpability on all that…

xxix. “He thrust the hand at James, who slashed an iratze across Matthew’s palm, followed by two Energy runes. He would not normally give Matthew, or anyone, more than one, but they would act as knives, cutting through any fog in Matthew’s brain.” One very profound problem (which I will bring up with TMI in time) is that this excerpt reveals that Clare thinks we know how runes work, when she has in actuality laid no groundwork for it. Is there a limit how many runes one can bear at once? What are the adverse effects of too many energy runes? What if you use iratze when you don’t need one? Are there runes that, when used at the same time, might hinder the effect of one another?

xxx. Take a shot every time a character narrates other characters on how much they have changed.

xxxi. “Now, Thomas has lost a sister and a friend as close as his brother, all in one year.” Weird way to say a cousin. You surely mean his cousin as close as his brother??

xxxii. “Grace said, not unkindly, “I’ve come to know Lucie quite well, you know, the last months. She was probably as close to a friend as I ever had.”’ Christopher was her friend, hellooo???

xxxiii. There seems to be a theme that whenever things are getting hot and heavy, something abrupt happens and interrupts the scene. Not that I am complaining, interrupt that awkward shit.

xxxiv. The bodies of the Iron Sisters and Silent Brothers don’t decay, but so what? Everyone else gets burned after dying, why not them also? Are they not inflammable? Also, what a great opportunity to mention Abigail Shadowhunter and David the Silent, but did we just once again wave at that opportunity as it passed by? Yes, we did.

xxxv. “Alastair waved his hand. “Yes, yes. It has been Roman and Saxon and now it will be demon. It has survived plague and pestilence and fire—”’ Best quote.

xxxvi. “It is easy to confuse monstrousness and power,” said Cordelia. “Especially when one is a woman, as one is not supposed to possess either quality.” Again, a weird fucking take for people whose numbers are dwindling and need all the fighting power they can get and half of that power are women

xxxvii. “he had been sure, somehow, that Cordelia would come after him, would find a way. And it did not surprise him at all that Lucie had not left her side.” James sure has faith in his sister to rescue him in dire need. No, Lucie came because Cordelia came. Whatever, what do I care.

What, in the end, was the true purpose of this trilogy? What merit is to it that it exists? How has The Wicked Powers become richer for having The Last Hours precede it? It’s actually devastating how inconsequential all of this is. The true Belial has been vanquished, but another demon has taken his place as Belial. Is this new Belial even a fallen angel or just some demon? Because otherwise he is not like the rest of the Princes at all. I would’ve hoped that at least one thing, like Emma getting to finish Belial with Cortana, would’ve given this trilogy even a little bit more purpose. 700+ pages and all is still left rather unfinished. Nothing at least feels concluded other than James and Cordelia’s love for each other being stronger than a Prince of Hell is capable of breaking. Blergh.

[Additional notes]

#Cordelia Carstairs #James Herondale #Matthew Failchild #Thomas Lightwood #Christopher Lightwood #Alastair Carstairs #Anna Lightwood #Charles Fairchild #Grace Blackthorn #Jesse Blackthorn #Lucie Herondale #Chain of Thorns #The Last Hours #Anti CC #Anti Cassandra Clare

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missstellaron · 1 year

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⌧ HOME. ⮞ CONTACTS. ♡ PROFILE. ✧ " DROPS OF JUPITER . " ─ a series. dark au. ╰ dark ! slightly unhinged ! dan heng x female ! reader. a/n: contains dark, nsfw content. read at your own discretion. if you want to make a request, nsfw or otherwise, for any other characters, please send me an ask in my inbox!

The concept of suggestion was a precarious thing, like the spun glass wings of dragonflies. Each border of dark truth was lined with the clear, rainbow tinted expanse uncertainty, lies, and deceit, that allowed the flight of doubt and naive belief—quiet in its destruction, ever so careful and delicate with its perception. To suggest one thing was to mean another, and to mean one thing was to suggest something completely different; parallel concepts, side by side, following truths that were opposite in direction of corrupt moral compasses that held right and wrong on each end.

Valiant, though the dragonfly would be, in trying to reassert its place, its certainty in existence, there is little for it to do once trapped within the massive, elegantly wrought lines of silvered crystal and silken dewdrops belonging to the spider. And so the dragonfly is prey to the spider, but the spider is also prey to the swallow, and the swallow is prey to the cat, and the cat is prey to the hawk—or perhaps it is a similar idea, in reverse, where the cat eats the hawk, and the swallow devours the cat, and the spider sunders the swallow, and the dragonfly breaks the web and gluts on the spider.

Prey wins.

Predator sinks.

It is this conundrum that reminds Dan Heng of you, when his thoughts are less agreeable and his mind content to dizzy itself with nothing but flashes of your face in the parlor car, the scent of your skin after returning from a training session with Welt, the way your fingers wrap around the width of the porcelain tea cups that Himeko fills with coffee instead of tea, gently following the decorative lines painted onto the sides. Mind, it’s not these particular facets of memory that brings to mind the issue of dragonfly to spider, or spider to dragonfly; rather, it’s a precursor to the rather dark path his thoughts like to venture when he is alone, cracking open old tomes from various worlds to archive the information into the Astral Express’s date archives.

He is not oblivious to the strange workings of the Vidyadhara power seeping through his veins. While it is pinned up, locked tight somewhere behind his heart, nestled close to his spine, it isn’t a completely contained—no power ever truly is. It niggles at the back of his head like a sentient thing, whispering, coaxing, shifting within him, dragonic in nature. Possessive, tranquil, chaos all at once. He can sit, and think, and ruminate, endlessly, for hours on end, persuaded to do so by the power’s intoxicating lull; or, maybe, it is because he has no desire to stop it at all.

It wouldn’t take much, he supposes, as he slides his fingers across the gilded edges of a book. A touch of his fingers against your elbow to move you out of the way; an accidental, but firm grip on your waist during training to slide his spear under your chin; an inquiring shift of the eyes, sliding over panels of exposed skin; a friendly hug where his hands slip low, to the small of your back, each touch pushing more and more of his power into you, altering your senses just slightly in favor of him.

He resists, for a time. You’re too sweet, too kind, too caring, too smart, to take advantage of like that. The power within him isn’t convincing enough to make him want to ruin the light in your eyes just yet, to wonder at the way your tears would look if they were running down your face while his fingers were buried deep inside your cunt. And, really, he found it more entertaining to leave it a mystery for a while, while his mind wandered, conjured up fantasies difficult to distinguish from reality.

You were easily fooled, in hindsight. Almost so easily it made him ponder if you really were as intelligent as you seemed.

Dan Heng found it a small task to keep his thoughts in his head and his lies straight. Little white lies, rather, but they were lies whether they were small or large in severity. No, he didn’t want tea with you; no, he didn’t feel up to training today; no, he didn’t want to push you to your knees and see what sensations your pretty little mouth would conjure up for him while he slid the length of his cock into the back of your throat; no, he really, really didn’t want to hear you cry out his name in garbled moans and cries while he shoved his fingers in your mouth.

His mind, he found, grew increasingly creative the longer he let that power sit and brew within him.

The day he finally snapped—a metaphorical snap, as this mental snap was completely silent and deliberate—was a normal day, one of the few where he’d let himself accept your invitation to spar. The Astral Express was quiet, chugging away through the stars to the next world, the majority of its occupants sleeping. You, though, you were up, and had been for the last several hours, unable to sleep. Dan Heng had glimpsed the frustration on your face when you had knocked on his door, the exertion in your breath when you requested him to spar with you, and he couldn’t very well turn you down.

Sleep was not easy for you to have, you had revealed during one of the dozens of rounds of spars you’d wheedled him into, which had taken little convincing to begin with. Your mind was too busy, your body too energized, and more times than he could count, he’d wondered what that energy could do if he used it for his own gain, his own desires.

“There!” You slid the wooden pole home in his gut, just below his navel. Sweat slid down your temple, your throat, vanishing into the oversized white shirt you wore to train in. He followed its path, unbidden, watching as it soaked into the hem of your bra underneath, his power giving him that much ability. “I win. That makes us even.”

“Not even,” Dan Heng replied, using his finger to steer the wooden pole away from him and to the side. You let it lower and scrape the foam mat on the floor, your lips forming into a confused pout. “You’re one down. I caught you on the last round in the femoral artery; that’s one point.”

Your pout turned into a faint scowl. “I forgot about that. Damn. Go again?”

Dan Heng felt something twist and turn in his mind, a palpable feeling that he had no comparison for. He waited for a few moments, watched your eyes widen expectantly, and sighed, moving to take the wooden pole from you. As he did, his fingers brushed yours, the spider weaving its web for the naive dragonfly, and a careful thread of power drew from him to you, miniscule but potent.

He saw the way the pulse in your throat picked up. Your tongue darting out to wet your lips. The slight, but heavier inhales you took to regulate your shallow breathing. The subtle flexing of your thigh muscles, visible under the spandex leggings you wore.

“Best out of three,” he replied, his voice neutral. When you made a small whimpering noise as he knocked the wooden pole against your side to get you moving, something hot worked its way down his spine, his cock stiffening. “Come on, I don’t have all night, unlike some night owl I know.”

You glared at him fiercely, shook the haze from your mind, but it was there—the suggestion, the barest hint of manipulation of your emotions and hormones.

Tonight, the predator won.

@yevene @dreams-n-dystopia @vvyeislazzy @cloverstarxx @nerdiel-has-no-braincells ( if your username is in red, i could not tag you. taglist is still open ! )

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #dan heng x reader #honkai star rail

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juupiterfig · 3 months

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Achilles’ repression of grief?

Thinking about The Song of Achilles (again), I was ruminating over why Achilles had allowed himself to become so blinded by his pride to the point where Patroclus could barely recognize the man he had loved since boyhood.

This is purely my speculation, but when we read the book through Patroclus’ eyes, it’s easy for us to become consumed with grief and heartache over Achilles’ prophesied death. These are all the feelings that Patroclus shares with us and the tragedy is so viscerally apparent.

But I don’t really think we see much of Achilles’ grief at all. In fact, I’m not certain Achilles spends much time being aware of it. From the moment that young (and reckless) Achilles had chosen the path of glory over obscurity, it was the beginning of his path toward death. I wonder whether his revelry in his ruthless conquests was his way of drowning out his sorrows.

I wonder whether it was much easier to willfully blind himself with continuous fame, power, and victory, than to ponder on the fear of his own inevitable mortality.

It’s tragic how he could neither see nor share in Patroclus’ sadness. Perhaps Achilles was so afraid of losing the luster of godhood that had first made Patroclus aware of him, that he could not appreciate his humanity that had made Patroclus truly love him.

#patrochilles #the song of achilles #tsoa #achilles #patroclus #juupiter is rereading #juupitermuses

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thistoowillpasss · 6 months

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I used to take pictures of Heartstone extractions, specifically the end result.

It was something I pondered afterward, the same way the image of used flares pooling in the valleys and pits of caves would allow rumination, seeing the plastic waste filled with who-knows-what kind of chemicals seeping into the soil, the rock, the bones and dust that we churned hostiles into. No one ever asked what happened to those.

Maybe it is because the glyphids themselves never stayed long after death, usually evaporating to save memory/resources for more pertinent things, so perhaps considering the destruction isn't always in the forefront. But the heartstones were integral to the cave itself, which meant when it was all said and done, everyone congratulating and calling in for extract, calculating pay stubs and rubbing their bellies for the round of drinks ahead, I was left facing the corpse of something that wanted to be left alone, and fought to the bitter end for that.

Quite a bit of Deep Rock's aims and goals are money-oriented. We are there to do a job and not ask questions. But,

I cannot help but look back on the poison we leave, the blood we wash out of our hair and skin, the pay that is clearly a sliver of a margin, the dead peers that have been left behind, and wonder if we ever will know the cost of it all.

#deep rock galactic #it's just a goofy game stop takin it so seriously 🙄#well yeah. it's silly. don't worry about what I think.

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anonymityisfunwriter · 2 years

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Two Sides of The Same Coin - Chapter 11: "So it Goes..."

"You make everyone disappear and cut me into pieces. Gold cage, hostage to my feelings..."

Pairing: Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Bucky Barnes

That’s how the two of you end up at a bar, a beer in front of Bucky and a mixed drink in front of you, it’s a nice enough bar that Bucky doesn’t have to worry about creeps staring at you all night, but dive-y enough that it’s enough for the bartender that Bucky vouches for your age.

"You alright?" he asks after a moment.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good."

"Thank you, by the way. For being there. And not looking at me like a kicked puppy."

"That's what friends are for," he offers, giving you a small smile. What you don't see is Bucky's thoughts running rampant, now questioning if friendship is all that exists between the two of you. Then it's silent, and while he's okay with that, he doesn't want you to ruminate on the events of today, not while you're still this emotionally raw.

“So what do you want to do?” he awkwardly asks, desperately trying to remember how to make small talk with a woman.

"What do you mean?”

He shrugs, fighting the urge to cringe at himself. This was never him, he'd never had a problem talking to people before. Even though he made a conscious choice to close himself off, to be the quiet, brooding type, he was satisfied in knowing that he could talk to people if he wanted to- he just never did. Until now, and somehow the words of the smooth talking man from the 40's were all lost on him. “Like what do you want to do with your life? Your future, all that affirmational bullshit?”

“Well, Nick wants me to join the Avengers officially. And Sam-”

“I didn’t ask what Fury and Sam wanted for you,” Bucky interrupts. “I asked you what you wanted for yourself.”

You take another large drink from you beverage as you think about his question. “I don’t think I understand the question.”

“You may want to take it easy there," he says, nudging his head to the two already empty glasses in front of you. You brush it off because you feel fine, good even. "And I don’t know. I guess… like some people want the whole white picket fence thing?” he rambles, doing his best not to think of Steve's suggestive comments. There's no reason he wants to know about your hopes for the future- no reason at all. You're friends, Bucky silently reconciles, friends talk about their aspirations and if maybe someday you'd want a husband and kids. This is just friendship.

“Why would I care about a fence? Is that something that people worry about?”

He chuckles. “No, you’re missing my point. What do you want?”

Your eyebrows furrow, but your smile remains on your face as you ponder the question. “Yeah, I don’t think I like this question.”

“You don’t ever think about your future beyond the Avengers? You don’t want a husband or kids someday?” he adds, unable to censor his wandering thoughts.

“Oh,” you audibly wonder. “I’ve never thought about it, but I think so. Someday. It’d be nice to have a place to call home. Someone to share that with. I guess I’m trying to figure everything out right now.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere!” he laughs, feeling relief that the conversation is becoming effortless again.

“Well, what about you? Do you care what kind of fence you have?”

“Okay, remind me to explain that to you again," he chuckles, smirking at your flushed face in the dim bar light. "But I guess so. Never thought I’d have that, but it’d be nice. I guess that’s one more thing we have in common, I’m really just trying to figure it all out.”

After taking a large gulp of the beverage in front of you, you hum in approval, “Sam said we’re two sides of the same coin, you know?”

He huffs out a laugh. “I know. I don’t really see it.”

“Why not?”

“I’m just - I’m not a person you want to share a coin with. I can promise you that.”

“I don’t believe that,” you object, playfully pushing his arm. “I think you’re better than you give yourself credit for.”

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” he argues.

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

His eyes flicker up to meet your gaze. And suddenly you feel a lot closer than you were when you two arrived. “I’m starting to get that. You surprise me every single day.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” you quietly ask, returning Bucky's intense eye contact.

“In a surprising way,” he mutters, feeling his phone vibrate over and over. He sighs, having to tear his eyes off of you as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Hold on, Sam’s blowing up my phone.”

“I almost forgot about that,” you mumble, feeling the guilt start to prick at your subconscious again. Bucky lightly rests his hand on yours as he sees the guilt forming on your face. You look down and smile at the feeling of his warm palm resting on the top of your hand.

“Sam! You found us!” you cheer upon seeing a frantic Sam walking into the bar. “James, look who found us.”

Bucky laughs. “Yeah, Sam finally found us.”

“Well don't you two look awfully cozy,” Sam remarks, equal parts relieved that you're okay and annoyed at the never-ending events of the day.

“I told you that Bucky was the better choice to watch me today,” you drunkenly laugh.

“She wanted to spend the day with me?”

“Has everyone lost their minds in this Compound?” Sam asks, rubbing his temples in exasperation. “First, Steve and Tony. Then you get her drunk. What next?”

“Hey!” Bucky playfully defends, not in the slightest bit drunk, but definitely feeling a little lighter than normal. “Tony told us that she’s 25. That’s well over the drinking age. And what I did wasn’t nearly as bad as what Steve did.”

“Mhm, and what do you have to say for yourself?” Sam pointedly asks you.

“James’ pretty,” you coo, lightly poking at Bucky's cheek.

Bucky heartily laughs, moving your hand away from his face. “I’m not pretty, I’m a guy. Guys can’t be pretty.”

Your smile drops. “Why not?”

Sam urges with a smirk on his face. “Go on, have fun explaining societal norms and gender roles in society. I want to see how long it takes you to explain why men can’t be pretty.”

“You know what?" he says, clearing his throat. "How about we take her home? I think she had a little too much.”

“Really?” Sam sarcastically remarks.

“You can put her on the couch if you want,” Sam sighs, unlocking the door to your apartment.

“Shouldn’t I put her in her own bed?”

“I think you’ve learned enough about her for one day,” Sam cryptically says.

“What else am I going to learn, that she has unicorns and rainbows on her walls?” Bucky sarcastically remarks, though now his little snide remarks lack the certainty, the conviction that he once clung to.

“You know what?” Sam retorts. “Go ahead and put her to bed. I’m going to find some aspirin for her.”

“Fine,” Bucky mutters, carrying your sound asleep self up the stairs and to your room.

He opens your door, faltering when he sees exactly what Sam was referring to. Your room was not the flowery, bright room he expected, not by a long shot. The walls were painted a bright yellow, but that was the only personal touch in the entire room.

And he was even more shocked to see the absence of an actual bed. Just like him once upon a time- unable to sleep on a bed after not having one for so long. In its place was a thick foam mattress topper, one in which he was certain that you could still feel the hardwood flooring through.

“Thank you for making me feel better,” you sleepily smile, gently stroking Bucky’s face as he places you on the pseudo-bed.

“Any time,” he whispers, shuddering as your fingers trace his cheekbone and jawline. “Now get some sleep.”

“Told you,” Sam nonchalantly remarks, seeing the strange look of realization on Bucky’s face as he exits your bedroom. “Two sides of the same coin.”

“She doesn’t have a bed?” Bucky sighs, pretending like he didn't hear Sam.

Sam shrugs. “She can’t sleep on one. It took forever to get her to sleep on that.”

Bucky nods, unsure of what to say. He himself was still unable to sleep on anything except the flimsiest of mattresses, and it had taken him a lot of time and therapy to get to that point. It just didn't make sense to him- if Sam was right, if you'd gone through hell and back like he had, there was no logical reason of your positive outlook and endless optimism.

"Do I want to know what happened to her arm?” Sam asks interrupting Bucky's run-off thoughts.

“The training-” Bucky starts.

Sam immediately cuts him, “Stop, right there. I don’t need any more reasons to want to kill Tony and Steve right now.”

“You can add Clint to that list too,” Bucky grumbles, still pissed about Clint's tirade from earlier. He understood what it was to be fiercely loyal and protective, and despite Bucky's own rationale in trying to put himself in Clint shoes, his own need to protect you superseded it all.

“Why?” Sam sighs. “What’d Clint do?”

“Tried to rally the team against her. Said she tried to kill Wanda.”

“And now I need a drink,” Sam sighs, walking to the kitchen to pour himself the first thing he finds.

“Sam,” Bucky interjects, following Sam into the kitchen. “She said some pretty messed up things...like she deserved getting hurt.”

“Yeah,” Sam bitterly chuckles. “Surprising isn’t it? The personification of Sunshine thinking she deserves punishment like that. It used to be worse. Like when we first got paired together, she’d do something ‘bad’ and she’d lock herself in her room for days. No food, no water, nothing. It didn’t take me long to figure out that she was punishing herself. But have you ever tried to force a person with powers like that out of her room? I’ve tried to get her out of that, but old habits and all that…”

But Sam leaves out the worst of it, loathing the memory of your first days with him. You were harder on yourself than any rule or boundary that Sam could ever set. It was only a few weeks into you staying with Sam that you’d accidentally set something on fire. You panicked, panicked so badly that Sam had to put out the fire. While he was getting everything cleaned up, he found you in front of the stove- holding your hand over the open flame. It was easier to break the physical punishment habit, but the psychological torment, the guilt- that was much more difficult for your mind to let go.

“She tried to kill herself.”

Sam exhales deeply, taking a large swig of his drink before even attempting to respond to Bucky's inquisition. “You learned a lot about her today.”

“Yeah, guess I did. She told me about a caretaker?” he says, though it sounds more like a question than an actual statement.

“This stays between us, you got it? She likes you, she trusts you, and I don’t need you messing that up because you learned things that are hard to hear.”

“Okay,” Bucky quietly agrees.

“Yes," he solemnly admits. "She did try to kill herself. She blames herself for a lot of what happened to her. She thinks-”

“She thinks she’s an abomination,” Bucky finishes.

“Exactly. It's one thing being told there's some evil somewhere deep down inside of you. It's another to have the one constant in your life killed right in front of you and then to be blamed for it? Honestly I’m surprised she even talked about it.”

Once again, this was one of those things that Sam learned from your file, but you refused to talk about. You’d given your entire story to SHIELD when they first found you, but since then you always managed to redirect the conversation away from your caretaker - it didn't really matter what anyone said to you or no matter how hard everyone tried to convince you otherwise.

You'd never stopped blaming yourself for what happened to her.

Next Chapter

"Two Sides Of The Same Coin" Chapter List AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

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lunarmoves · 11 months

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mentions: blood, injury, horror themes. sorry LMAO. they care u?

you were taught—like all others at a young age—that the word 'friend' has a positive connotation.

friend, best friend, work friend—they all have positive associations with them. it's only natural, you suppose, for humans to crave close connections to others. after all, you've experienced it your whole life, not only with yourself, but when looking at the people around you and how they interact with the world.

friends are good, simple as that. and to be called someone's friend means that you'll always be there for them. that you care about them and crave their presence in your life.

so when sun calls you his friend for the first time—your first day on the job, in fact—you're a bit surprised and maybe a little weirded out. you've only just met him and frankly, you hadn't been aware that this applied to robots as well. it's something you find yourself ruminating upon later.

he uses the title very often, you've noticed. not only with you, but with others as well. mostly the kids at the daycare, since they are whom he interacts with the most on a daily basis. you figure it must be part of his programming to make people more comfortable with him, so you let him call you whatever his little robot heart desires. not like it was really bothering you or anything—though you certainly grow more accustomed to it the closer you get to him.

part of you wonders if he puts any weight behind the word—if by calling you 'friend' he truly means it. maybe he doesn't understand the concept—made, as he is, from metal and code. perhaps it is just an empty word. perhaps it isn't. you're not sure if you'll ever know.

moon doesn't call you 'friend', not really. he's quite quiet when he wants to be and sticks to calling you other names that make your eye twitch sporadically on more than one occasion. what he does do relentlessly is tease you, and you figure that's his way of getting close to people. or driving them away, whichever comes first. you get used to him like you get used to sun's openness.

you find yourself pondering upon the relationship you form with the daycare attendant over time, analyzing and picking them apart in your mind in the nights you spend at home. they seem to have an affinity for your presence, seeking you out the moment you step into the daycare. they talk to you, they laugh with you. they show genuine interest in the things you have to say. they hug you and spin you around. they pat your head and pinch your nose.

and so you conclude, one night after returning from the pizzaplex, that sun and moon are your friends. a strange thought, you muse, to be friends with robots. it makes you happy, you admit.

so then why are you so afraid right now?

you swallow heavily as you try to level your shallow breaths, heart pounding a harsh beat in your chest. you need to calm down, you need to calm down or they'll hear you. their sensors allow them to pick up on irregular rhythms, they'll find you if you don't calm yourself. deep breath in, deep breath out. breathe.

perspiration slides down the side of your face as you hunker into yourself, curled underneath a party table with cloth adornments that conceal your form from the outside. you're safe here for now if you don't disturb the fabric around you. your legs curl farther into your body—squishing yourself into as small of a ball as possible. darkness surrounds your figure, interrupted by the dim light you can see filtering through the table cloth.

your right hand grips at your left shoulder, wet with a thick liquid that spills between your fingers and coats the inside of your shirt. it hurts, god, it hurts so much. you're confused, you're scared. you don't know what's going on—only that something is so very, very wrong. wrong from the moment you'd stepped into the daycare, and the moment you'd ran out.

your throat aches when you swallow, a dryness coating it like there are cotton balls instead of mucosa lining it. you lick your lips in a vain attempt to wet them and close your eyes to suppress the way your vision swims before you. deep breath in, deep breath out. you're not calming down, why aren't you calming down?

your heartrate spikes abruptly when you hear a slow, dull clanging sound somewhere to your far left. it's loud—getting louder with each beat—and makes you cover your mouth with your unoccupied hand as best as you can. something wet slides down the curves of your cheeks and drips onto your collarbones. you still your breaths and do your best not to make a sound.

the clanging gets louder and a glitched, warbling voice calls out over it in a way that makes your stomach drop down to your feet. "f-friend! friend!" it cries out desperately, static lining its voice. the word makes something icy coat your insides and seizes your guts in an iron grip. "w-where a-are you hi-hiding, f-friend?"

your teeth clench together so harshly you swear something in your jaw creaks. your eyes dart around, wishing you can see beyond the table cloth. but you're forced to rely on your hearing as the clanging—heavy, metallic stomping—moves somewhere behind you. "f-friend! we-we are s-so sorr-r-y for hur-hurting you!" the voice gets closer, like it's right on top of your head. "come out, pl-please?"

fat chance, you want to say, but you don't. your lower lip trembles minutely and your eyes catch onto a shadow that moves on your left. just beyond the table cloth. you don't move. you don't breathe. if you listen close enough, you can hear small clicks of metal against metal. little jerks and twitches.

a beat passes. your muscles tense.

a scream leaves your lips as cloth rushes over your head. the table gets flipped—thrown to the side like it weighs nothing—and you're left exposed to the chilly air of the pizzaplex. you scramble backwards, but feel something latch onto your ankle and drag you down until you're flat on your back and staring up up up. at the towering figure of metal and silicon crouched over you, three arms crooked towards you in a way like they are about to grab you.

its shadow casts itself over your prone form, interrupted by an iridescent purple that gleams across the pupils of its eyes—faint.

"f-friend!" it says excitedly as its grip tightens around your ankle. another one of its arms latches onto your uninjured shoulder while a third lifts its sharp claws up to wipe at the tears running down your face. "th-there y-you are! found you, we f-found you~! why did you h-hide from us?" its grin seems to widen and thins at the edges, voice dark with a static you've never heard before. your heart stutters in your chest, a sob lingers in your throat.

it's sun. it's moon. it's both of them. it's neither of them. it's your friend. it's not your friend.

you don't know who they are anymore. you don't know why them calling you their friend has turned that previously warm feeling in your gut into something much, much darker.

you were friends. you were friends.

you stare up at them and flinch when their hands tighten over you to bring you closer to them.

...right?

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hg-deranged-edition · 10 months

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Harringrove AU Set in the 1500’s, where Steve is a prince and only heir to the throne and Billy is his royal knight.

———————————————

Billy was born to Neil who was a soldier, and who signed him up for work early. Billy displaying incredible talent in sword fighting, motivated by his desperate need for independence. Having it beat into him that the royals are something out of reach, to be distantly worshipped.

Steve who was the only son the king had left (all the others died young) and was terribly spoiled, never knowing a day of hard work. And still having the audacity to think himself a tragic figure!

Billy quickly shoots up the ranks and gets kinghted, eventually being entrusted with the task of ensuring the last prince’s safety. Disturbing many nobles when he stopped being low-nobility. (The scandal!)

At first Billy is disillusioned by Steve, the sight of his soft hands scratching a tender wound in his psyche.

Steve in turn is repulsed by a commoner given high ranking and tasked with protecting his life.

Steve and Billy slowly having small moments of mutual tolerance. Their first moment of connection sparked by Steve mocking a shoddy advisor, and Billy letting out a startled laugh despite himself. Steve starts willingly taking Billy along, realizing he likes Billy when he’s subtly degrading someone other than himself.

Billy who slowly starts seeing the softer parts of Steve, when Steve opens up and shows that childish side of him desperate to entertain. Slowly having a sense of wonderment by the presence of a person so secretly kind, so attentive and tender.

Steve finds himself letting loose with someone his own age, who’s intentions he doesn’t have to second-guess. Someone who’s honest, truly clever and who humors him instead of scolding him.

Steve actually seeing the errors in his perspective, reassessing his view of the masses, and resolving to lead the country into good health and prosperity. Thinks of the past version of himself who didn’t ponder on his future much at all.

Billy who slowly finds himself beguiled by Steve, enraptured when he murmurs his vision of the future. A king who’d give up his pride for the greater good. A king who would prioritize citizens over conquest- the thought too good to be true… yet he convinces him at every turn.

Finding himself truly worshipping royalty this time, for surely their destiny was to create a man so wonderful.

Steve shutting up and actually listening to Billy talk about his past, who isn’t perfect about his plans and perceptions but willing to learn. Steve being unable to look away from him, finding himself noting every detail of his face.

Steve having a moment of enlightenment when he realizes that he fell in love with Billy at some point, and musters up the courage to proclaim his love for him.

Billy who was tortured and terribly aware of every second he spent falling in love with Steve, baffled by the man realizing his feelings, getting over his self-loathing and confessing his love all within the same week.

Billy, devoted to his prince, unable to accept his advances, dread at his insistence that they’re equals; that he’s attainable, and not just looking for an ephemeral connection- or somehow being tricked into finding Billy delightful.

Steve ruminating on all the well-bred men donning lovelocks, single strands of hair signaling their devotion. Thinking “Fuck it” and starting to grow his hair out, no matter the consequence.

Billy getting choked up and increasingly flustered by the prince’s actions, hung up over not being worthy of love. Mortified at his determination. Collapsing to his knees and begging his lord to stop lowering himself, stop bowing down and looking at him. Eyes alight like he’s seeing something precious.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #steve x billy #I mulled over this a while. yeah it ends abruptly what about it I ran out of steam #never really thought about how this would end…

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lilyrachelcassidy · 2 years

Text

Lift-Me-Up

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: When a Valentine’s Day goes wrong but right at the same time.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: language, undertones of sex hehe, and graphics! Loads of graphics (only kissing tho so that’s PG-13)

_____

"...that arse."

"So let me get this straight," said Draco with whom you were speaking on the phone. Well, not speaking really; most of your words consisted plainly of a maudlin wail, while Draco made a putative attempt of comprehending you. Yet still, he was too forbearing to tell you that, and you, on the other hand, were far too shaken for that realization. "He left you a mere post-it on a rose. In front of your house. Saying that 'he's not ready for that kind of commitment'."

"Yes! On a fuckin' Valentine's Day," you added, feeling utterly contemptible about the fact that you were crying yourself into a pillow over a guy who could give less than an eye bat for you. Rather lamentably, your body was overreacting as well, a bizarre fist-sized lump forming in your throat and the chest heaving. "I could only wonder why I come across such guys. Is it bad luck? Or maybe there's something wrong-"

"There's nothing wrong with you," Draco butted in, preventing you from careening into a self-driven criticism. His tone was low and collected but, at the same time, you could make out a hint of pique. He hated when you bad-mouthed yourself in his presence, and you were keenly aware of that. "It's just that you are oblivious to what's in front of you."

"What do you mean?"

A sigh escaped from a speakerphone, and you could imagine that he shook his head upon your question. "Nevermind."

You waited a few jiffs for him to elaborate, but he remained silent. "All I mean is that I'd like to have a normal relationship - go on romantic dates, kiss, feed each other cheese. Like you and Pansy."

"You think that's what we do? Feed each other cheese?" You could basically feel his smirk next to your ear, and his voice was permeated with mockery. On a mental note, you appended to smack him the next time you two meet.

"Well, don't you?"

He made a skeptical sound, followed by a grunting one. "We ended things a couple of days ago."

Strangely, your heart made a couple of spins in your chest and relished the information with latent satisfaction. Or was it satisfaction? You weren't sure about that fact as much as for the startling reaction your body had decided to evince upon hearing his words.

One thing you were sure about, however, was that for a moment you were too dumbfounded to respond to that with a wholesome uplift of compassion.

Seemingly detecting your hesitance, he carried on. "It's nothing, really. We both decided that it'd be probably for the best if we, you know, split up. It wasn't going anywhere, and we thought to just stay friends."

"Oh..." was the only thing that managed to leak out of your mouth.

Say something! Anything! He was so understanding about your breakups, and the best compensation you can give him is a fucking 'oh'?

"Are you ok-"

"Yes!" you said quickly, hoping that it didn't sound as desperate as it did in your head. "I mean, I'm just so sorry about Pansy, Draco. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, not really." Another sigh tumbled from his lips, but it didn't appear eggy as you had expected it to be. Rather jaded.

A profound silence ensued between the two of you, and you pondered whether the upraised topic had made Draco feel reticent. You had known each other for longer than the depths of your memory could reach, but maybe it was too distressing, too fresh to talk that over.

Maybe he would open up about that one day. At least, you hoped so.

"Listen, I have to go for a moment. I'll talk to you soon, yeah?" he said after what seemed to be a brief rumination.

"Sure."

And with that, there was a click, and he was gone.

For quite a period, you just laid in the exact spot, staring at a weird, circular dot on the ceiling, thoroughly immersed in thoughts. With a painful admission, you had to say that Draco and Pansy seemed to make a perfect, consummate duo. Happily. Torridly.

But they have parted too. Why?

Perhaps a whole concept of a romantic relationship was just shitty. A shitty, shitty business.

You decided to stick to that assumption as you rolled over on your tummy and pulled out a 'Weekly Witch' magazine before flipping over the pages with a particular lethargy.

A quarter later, a knock came on the front door and, warily, you wondered who would find the worst of moments to bother you during your mid-breakdown stage.

You soon were faced with the answer when the door swung ajar, and no other than Draco Malfoy was standing on the front porch.

In the freaking tube socks, to top it all. And he looked singularly hot in them.

No one is supposed to look that hot in the tube socks.

Heck.

"Surprise!" he said, simultaneously raising a plastic bag that he was soundly clutching in his hand. A wide beam was spreading on his face.

"Draco, what are you doing here?" you asked, oscillating, although there was a certain cheerfulness raising in your chest. After a quick reflection, your gaze wandered over to the plastic bag. "And what's that?"

"Cheese." He dismissed your first question and, instead, opened the bag a little wider so you could see its contents.

Indeed, cheese. Two big-ass blocks of cheese.

At once, an amused smile washed over your features. You felt an odd urge to just sit on the floor and laugh at the whole weirdness of the situation.

Stepping aside from a doorway, you silently let Draco into a house. Tacitly, you took over the bag, which he passed on with a knowing grin, and while he settled himself on the countertop, you started cubing the cheese.

"Thank you for coming," you said finally, and in the peripherals, you could make out that he was staring the entire time. For a second, you ceased the cutting and gave him a once-over with a coy smile. "I don't know what I would have done without you." You paused for a moment but then remembered. "And, you know, your cheese."

He grinned. "My pleasure."

You sent him a thankful smile. Reaching to the top shelf, you attempted to get a grasp of a plate but only met with a great disappointment against your height. And as you were about to give up and go to fetch a chair, Draco's voice rang up again:

"Need some help?"

Without waiting for an answer, he moved so that he was towering over you from the back, his lissom fingers grabbing a plate with exceptional grace. You turned, inanely, towards him, your faces mere centimeters apart from each other. Your breath hitched at once; you weren't actually aware of the proximity that the two of you shared.

From here you could make out the scent of his cologne - pleasant sandalwood with a whisper of citrus. It suddenly felt intoxicating.

It wasn't like the two of you hadn't hugged before; indeed, you had. Plenty of times actually, losing hours of slumber on cuddling and late-night talking.

This time, however, it felt a tad different. Maybe because it was so unexpected, so unforeseen. Or maybe it happened right on Valentine's day and, subconsciously, the two of you were painfully mindful of that.

Either way, your position caught you by a great surprise, and not really sure of what to do, you gaped into his simmering eyes that traced circles on your face. You could swear your heart did a double backflip, and at that very moment, and your stomach imbued with butterflies that flittered rather fervidly whereas your mouth went dry.

And when Draco's eyes fell onto your lips, for a millisecond (but still), not quite able to resist a charm, you yanked him by the collar of his shirt to pull him down to kiss senselessly. For a moment, you were scared that he would push away, blatantly judging your mistake with a scathing sneer.

But none of that happened as he was desperately returning the kiss, his arms wrapping around you tightly, and his body aligning with yours. His fingers pressed into your back, inducing a surprised gasp from you and allowing him to kiss you deeper, his tongue slinking into your mouth and battling for dominance.

You gave in. His hair. His face. His jaw. You couldn't get enough of the touch of his skin, and your fingers were everywhere, every fiber of your body set ablaze. Your heart was pounding like a drum against your ribcage, and you were almost positive that so was Draco's because your fingers momentarily traveled to his chest, and you could detect an abnormal judder.

Draco released something resembling a groan - you weren't sure - when your fingers started tugging on the end of his strands and then gliding in line with his jawline. His large hands were cupping your face, possessively, pinning you between him and the shelves. He ducked his head, nibbling your earlobe, painstakingly kissing you down your neck. You stilled, and when he reached your clavicle, you threw your head back.

It happened so quickly when he grabbed you and lifted you off the floor, that an audible gasp escaped your mouth.

"Should we move that upstairs?" he asked then, grinning. His cheeks were flushed, his sliver orbs almost gone and replaced by dilated pupils, the connotation of lust in them.

You smiled. Even if you wanted to turn the offer down, it wouldn't have been achievable with him looking like that.

"Of course."

___

Much later, after an indeterminable amount of time, you rolled off Draco after a number four, and for a long while you both just laid there, attempting to catch your breaths and return to your senses. Adrenaline and exhilaration were coursing through your veins.

There's an irresistible smile on your face as Draco drew his arm around your shoulder, tugging you closer, and you laid your head on his bare chest with a small sigh. His fingers were drawing smooth circles on your exposed skin.

"No more," you warned with a light chuckle when you finally found your voice. "I can't feel my legs. Four times's absolutely enough."

He began to laugh. "For the first time," he adds, affectionately squeezing your arm.

For the first time...

Heretofore, you hadn't thought of that, really. Your heart jolted suddenly, and you jutted out your chin so that you could get a better sight of him. His eyes were already flickering on your face.

"Draco..." you started. "Do you think it was worth it? I mean..."

With your hand, you gestured the rest of the crumpled bed where your bodies were dangerously tangled in one another.

"Definitely." He raised his eyebrows, grinning widely.

You lowered your gaze and sighed. "All I mean is that I don't want to...you know, lose you."

His hand traveled over to your chin, his index finger lifting your head up so that you were forced to look him straight in the eyes. Then, he planted a chaste kiss on your nose. "And you're not going to," he said. "Y/N, if I haven't made this lucid, I want us to be... something more." He paused. "And don't be scared. We've always been close. We've always spent a lot of time together. So this wouldn't change anything. Besides that." He teasingly did your previous hand gesture, motioning at your naked bodies. Rolling your eyes, you slapped him on the arm. "Which would only widely enhance our life expectancy and, you know, mood. So I have no reason to complain."

Giggles erupted from your mouth, and Draco grinned at that but then continued a bit more earnestly. "And one more thing, of course, is that I'll tell you how much I love and adore you. Every single day. But that's all and otherwise, we can just go on as we always have."

"Sounds good to me," you said, snuggling under his chin with a satisfied smile.

And so Valentine's disaster turned into something exceptionally different for you. Something with a new beginning.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco x you #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x y/n #draco Malfoy's cheese #cheese #sexy times with draco malfoy #Harry Potter #one-shot #draco malfoy #draco #x reader #let's say a very early present for valentine's #lol

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