#i get very riled up by stupid takes and have to write cause it's free therapy for me

[eromrevencrow]

Okay okay. Some are saying that iwtv is not about being in love with the monster, but the horror of the monster being in love with you, which I think it's too simple since it's more about 'the monster loves me, but what if I am a monster too? What if the monster is actually a mirror of everything I don't love about myself and the beauty of learning to love all this monstrous things about me, in you?'

[divinerulerluvr]

Lovers Rock

Where Warren Lipka decides to end your fight with the only way he knew how.

Pairing - Warren Lipka x fem!reader

Words - 2.0k

Warnings - smut, angst, slapping kink, idk it's just very dirty

A/N - I decided to do an angry sex fic today and figured I'll do a Stoned Kit Walker smut sometime over the weekend. So enjoy this filthy smut piece because had fun writing it :)

Inspired by Lovers Rock by TV Girl

- - -

It was around one in the morning on a Wednesday when you were hunched over your desk in your dorm room studying for your test.

A loud knock sounds through your room, causing you to jump. Standing from your chair, you open the door to your dorm room. Warren Lipka stands in your doorway, his lips pulled into a weak smile.

You sigh, looking off to the side as you prepare yourself for the future moments. “Can I come in? Please?” he asks, his voice softer than usual due to the fact you were in a community dorm hall.

Nodding, you let him into your room and close the door behind him. He sits on your bed, looking up to you with his beautiful, puppy dog eyes. You could tell he was tipsy. It had become a sixth sense to you. Detecting when he was drunk or high.

“What did you do this time?” you ask right away, your room still dark and the only light being from your desk lamp. Warren’s head falls and he stays silent. “I didn’t do nothing bad. I just… wanted to see you again. I needed some-some courage, you know?” he says, looking up to meet your gaze.

You cross your arms, feeling bad for having been so hard on him when you last saw him. “You gotta go, Warren. I have to study and I don’t have time for your shit today,”

Warren had been a completely different person lately. He gets drunk way too much, is stoned every hour of the day, rebellious, and plain old stupid.

“Baby, please,” he says, standing from your bed. “I was drunk and didn’t know what I was doing and--”

“That isn’t an excuse for cheating,”

He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “I dropped out of that scholarship,” he says, his voice flat and void of emotion. Your head snaps up, his words setting off an alarm in you. “Dropped out?” you repeat.

Nodding, you groan. “Fucking Warren,” you mumble. “Why did you do that? You’re fucking nineteen. You gotta find something to do with your life. Weed and alcohol won't always be there for you,”

“It was stupid. It’s not my fault I don’t wanna be at college on a fucking sports scholarship,” he rebuttals quickly, his voice rising to match your tone.

“You’re fucking stupid,” you insult. He glares at you briefly before closing his eyes. “I don’t want to contribute to corporate America, Y/n. I’m not a sucker like you. I’m not wasting four years of my life in school. High school was hell enough,”

“A sucker like me?” you echo, your eyebrows raised in question. Warren catches what he was saying and presses his lips together. His silence was patronizing. “Elaborate, please. You always talk about ‘contributing to corporate America’ and yet you’re the biggest contributor I know,”

“How’s that?” he asks, his head tilted in offense.

“You just are. Stop complaining and practice what you preach,” you huff, your voice raising even more as you get heated.

You stare at each other for a moment, the silence slowly cutting away at the words you both just said. “Get out, Warren. I was clear about what I wanted yesterday and I still feel that way,” you say in a quiet voice, your eyes failing to meet his.

He sighs, biting his lower lip. “Y/n, come on,” he tries.

“Get… out,”

Begrudgingly, he walks away from you and towards the door. You sit down on the edge of your bed, your head falling as you rub your dry eyes. Not hearing the door open or close, you instead hear Warren inhale sharply.

“I’m not fucking leaving,” he digs his heels in. Your eyes snap up to look at him, a look of both confusion and anger on your face. “What?” you ask incredulously.

“I’m not leaving because you clearly don’t want me to,”

“So the phrase ‘get out’ now means to be an ass and act like you know me?”

He stares at you for a second, his eyes locked relentlessly on yours. “You don’t want me to leave,” he insists. You roll your eyes, looking away from him. The next thing you know, he has his hand wrapped around your throat as he stares down at you.

“I hate you,” you seethe as he squeezes the sides of your neck. He smirks, chuckling softly. “I hate you more,” he plays along. Using his leverage on your throat, he pushes you back onto your bed.

You gasp, watching him tear off his shirt and undo his belt buckle. You pull your own clothes off as well, stripping until you were in just a bra and panties.

He wore just his boxers as he got on the bed and leaned over you, his lips sloppily meeting yours. You could taste the beer on his lips but you didn’t mind much. The kiss was hot and aggressive which only turned you both on even more.

Your hands go down to his waist but he quickly grabs your wrists, pinning them above you on the bed. His grip hurt but it felt nice. It had been a few days which was a long time in Warren’s world so he was especially riled up.

Using his free hand, he pulls off your underwear in one swift motion. You stay silent, not wanting to boost his ego by moaning, whimpering, or begging. He doesn’t do what he normally would do like tease you with soft touches or kisses and instead jumps straight to fucking you.

Your eyes screw shut as he pushes his dick into your pussy. It hurt since he wasn’t even trying to be nice. But you liked it. Hell, you enjoyed it. The way he was just using you recklessly.

Holding back from making noise, Warren starts snapping his hips back and forth, creating a brutal yet pleasurable pace. Your eyes flutter open as he groans softly, seeing the angelic look on his face that made you not want to hate him.

The way his brows furrowed and how he bit on his lower lip. The lust in his dark eyes and how his hair fell over his face.

Your hands squeeze into fists, his hand still binding your wrists together in a vice-like grip that would definitely leave a mark. A soft moan escaped your lips and you feel a sharp sting on your cheek where he had slapped you.

His hand grips at your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eyes as he fuck you mercilessly. You feel embarrassment flood your body as his eyes meet yours. “Shut up,” he orders darkly. You pathetically nod, biting your tongue.

It was difficult to keep quiet and Warren knew this. That was the whole point. He felt so good inside of you that you were destined to moan at least once.

And that’d just warrant another slap.

The bed creaks with each thrust he makes, the noise an obvious signifier to other kids in the dorm hall of what was going on. Warren liked the noise your bed made. Because he knew that in turn, you were embarrassed by how loud the creaking could get.

Your body shudders, each nerve ending electrified as you relax in an attempt to keep quiet. Warren made noises just to brag about being able to make noise. Soft groans and grunts and whispers of curse words.

“You hate me, huh?” he taunts, his lips grazing your cheek as he leans over you. “Why are you dripping then?”

Your eyes flutter shut, a heavy exhale through your nose being the only sound you could make. He appreciates your reaction, fucking you as hard as he could. Which, to be fair, was pretty hard.

“It’s because you love being used, isn’t that right?” he continues taunting, speaking in rhetorical questions to further agonize her inability to respond.

You were unreasonably wet for him. Being used like this turned you on more than it should. Anything Warren did was hot. Anything he said, anything he suggested. You were willing to do anything if he wanted to. Not because you’re a sucker, but because he’s so good at it.

The hand on your jaw trails down your body, his hot and possessive touch making your skin break out in goosebumps.

He presses a kiss to your jaw, his lips dragging across your warm skin until he reaches your ear. “My sweet, good Y/n,” he whispers teasingly. You let out a weak moan, only earning another sharp slap to your cheek, the opposite cheek from before.

Silencing yourself, you feel your orgasm coming with each thrust Warren made. He could tell, too. By how you began to thrash underneath him. He pulls your bra down, revealing your chest to him.

His lips meet your nipples, the sensation making it even more difficult to stay quiet. Your walls clench around his dick, your orgasm coming quicker than you expected.

“Do you think you deserve to cum?” he antagonizes.

You nod weakly, your breathing heavy as his thumb replaces his mouth on your nipple. “But I thought you hated me? If somebody hates somebody else, they usually don’t want to cum from them,” he counters.

Your skin had become sticky with sweat, Warren’s chest pressed against your only creating a furnace between you two. “I-I don’t hate you,” you try.

His thrusts slow down, edging you off the edge of an orgasm. You groan, looking at Warren who wore a snobby smile. “I said no speaking,” he whispers, his lips grazing yours. You rock your hips slightly, trying to take advantage of how he was still inside of you.

Removing his hand from around your wrists, he snakes his hand under your back and flips you around so he’s laying on the bed and you’re saddling his waist. “Work for it and you can make all the noise you want, pup,”

With a quiet whimper, you start moving your hips back and forth instead of up and down due to how tired you were. “No, no, no. Do it like you mean it,” he corrects by grabbing your hips and guiding your up and down movements.

A cool burn spreads through your thighs as you ride him. Warren removes your bra completely as your head falls back and breathy moans leave your lips.

He watches you ride him with a proud smile, his hands roaming your body freely as you indulge in your own pleasure. You bring yourself to the edge, a wave of pleasure consuming your body as you orgasm.

A moan of relief falls from your lips as you collapse on his chest, your legs feeling like rubber underneath you. You felt bad about not letting him finish so with the little bit of energy you had left, you trailed your lips down his body until you reach his dick.

His head falls back as you start giving him a blow job. His fingers thread through our hair as you bob your head up and down on his dick.

It didn’t take long for him to cum in your mouth. A sharp exhale leaves his lips as he places his finger under your jaw and pulls you from his legs so you’re back on top of him. He pulls your chin down, opening your mouth to see his cum pooling on your tongue.

With a smile of satisfaction, he pushes your mouth closed. “Swallow,”

You obey his order, swallowing his slightly salty cum. He runs his thumb over your lips, pulling your mouth back open to make sure all of his cum was swallowed. When he saw it was, he pulled you off him and into his side.

Resting your head on his shoulder, your hand traces his defined abs. “My parents got a divorce,” he says randomly. You look at him, your brows furrowed in question.

“You wanna stay with me for a bit?” you offer.

“Nah. Spencer and I have some plans we’ve been going over. We’re about to come into a lot of money,” he smirks at you.

You smile thinking it was something good.

It wasn't.

[mandoalorian]

Obey Me [Dark!Ezra Prospect x F!Reader] SMUT

Summary: After you run out on a trading discussion with other Prospectors, and embarrass Ezra, he is left no choice but to punish you for your bad behaviour.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, dark!Ezra, unprotected p in v, fingering, edging, slapping, spitting, choking, bondage, very rough, degradation kink, dom/sub dynamic.

Word count: 2200>

Author’s Note: I say this every time but I truly do have a hard time writing for Ezra so I’d like to thank my best friend @honeymandos​ for tolerating my questions and helping me gain a better understanding off the Prospect universe. Also there’s a very high chance we will both work together in expanding this Dark!Ezra type thing in the future so let us know if it’s something you’d be willing to read more of. <3

Masterlist

“Are you mad at me?” you asked Ezra after approximately an hour of silence. Stupid question. He was about five feet ahead of you, trudging through the long grass as he headed back to the tent. He was definitely mad and he hadn’t said a word to you since he dragged you out of the mercenaries’ camp. You’d caused a scene— but it wasn’t your fault.

The mercs were disrespecting you, and Ezra had messed up. They had offered aurlac at a good price, almost too good to be true. You’d illustrated your concerns to Ezra from the get-go but as always, he didn’t care what you thought. He pushed your feelings to one side, choosing to listen to himself and himself only. He never played by anyone else’s rules.

When the mercenaries began to call you, part of you waited for Ezra to intervene. Once upon a time he would’ve, but either obtaining aurlac was too important to him, or he’d been so caught up in his ability to use you and degrade you in your private time, he’d become accepting of others treating you that way too. If that was true, you weren’t happy. You could take care of yourself, but still, part of you wished that Ezra would just defend you when scoundrels and crime syndicates such as the mercenaries tried testing your patience.

Another hour passed by and it irked you that he was giving you the silent treatment. He couldn’t be mad at you for running off. Yeah, he hadn’t secured the aurlac like planned, but you were convinced he wouldn’t have ended up with it anyway. They were too suspicious and they displayed the weirdest cult-like behaviour. If it wasn’t for you trying to escape the camp, who knows what would’ve happened.

But according to Ezra, you had sabotaged his whole plan.

He didn’t say a word to you until you had finally arrived back to base.

“I warned you,” Ezra growled, pushing you into a corner. His sudden application of force made you stumble and knock over a few ornaments and items of clutter that decorated your shared pod. With a series of loud crashing sounds, they fell to the ground, but Ezra seemed completely unfazed. You’d think after hours not complete silence, he would’ve calmed down, but evidently not. “Why do you never listen to me, hm? Why are you so disobedient?” he continued, leaning into you so close his face was only centimeters away from yours. You could feel the way his breath fanned over your ear and the sheer warmth of it was intoxicating. You had missed this. You’d missed this kind of proximity with him. It only made you yearn for more.

His voice wasn’t like the usual sweet melody. It was rasp and abrasive. The comments he made were in the form of little snaps and all his questions were rhetoric, as you later found out. He was being so condescending, talking down to you like you were nothing more than worthless inconvenience. If he spoke to you like this when you had first met, you probably would’ve cried. Ezra could be hurtful - maybe even toxic to a degree - but you had known him long enough to know that he did have genuine care for you. This was illustrated through his possessive nature and the way he always put your safety before his own. You had come to learn that this side of Ezra was like an act, and you only encouraged it.

You swallowed, your gaze flicking to the ground as his large hand caressed your stomach. “I don’t… I uhm… I don’t…” you felt yourself become increasingly more flustered as you tried to desperately search for words. It was like he cast you under a spell. You were always so witty, you and Ezra could go for days fighting over who gets the last word. But right now…

“Aw, cat got your tongue?” Ezra chuckled. But his laugh wasn’t warm and welcoming, it was sinister. It was enough to make your heart slam against your chest. He gave your hip a little pinch before removing his gloves and slapping you across the face. You gasped, your shoulders curling inwards and you felt smaller than ever as you sunk down the wall behind you. Your face stung at his action and you shot him a glare.

“Fuck you.” you spat, rubbing the skin that would be burning red in just a few moments.

“I might just take you up on that.” he snarled, bringing the same hand to the column of your neck and wrapping his fingers around it. He squeezed gently at first, and a pathetic little moan escaped your lips. His honey brown eyes darkened with desire at the noise you made as it went straight to his cock.

“You like it when I choke you, huh?” he cooed, his thumb softly grazing the height of your cheekbone before squeezing your neck again, significantly harder this time. Your eyes snapped shut and you gasped, arching your back and pushing your body into his. The constant shift in his demeanor was getting you riled up as you never knew what to expect from him. Soft delicate touches or another slap to the face. He was the one who got to decide, not you. You knew better than to talk back, but still, where was the fun in that?

“You could do it harder.” you smirked playfully, not even sure why you would put that idea in his head. He scoffed, his mouth parting slightly in disbelief before slapping you again in the exact same place as before. You winced, already feeling your eyes become glazed, but ignoring the painful sensation, you offered him a pout of discontentment. He dabbed his finger in the corner of your eye, wiping away a tear, before dragging the same digit down your sore cheek and across your plush lips.

“I’m sure you could put that pretty little mouth of yours to better use.” Ezra growled, reaching down to unzip his pants and pull out his cock.

Within minutes he had you pinned to the floor, completely naked, your arms and legs spread out. He hovered over you, his aching cock in his hand— hard and heavy. He’d left you with no choice but to submit to him. Your arms had been binded up with rope and he’d tied you to the pipes. You couldn’t free yourself if you tried, and you knew better than to resist him.

“When will you learn your lesson?” Ezra asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow as he squeezed your tit. He ran his thumb over your hardening nipple and gave it a little pinch.

“Never.” you gritted out, only to see Ezra’s smirk grow wider.

He hummed casually before positioning himself in between your legs and pushing his thick length inside of you with absolute no warning. Your body jolted with pleasure and you went to grab him, forgetting that you’d been tied up. Your wrists immediately sprung back to position as the pipes on the walls rattled. “Ezra!” you gasped as he settled inside of you. “Fuck— oh my god Ezra.”

He chuckled darkly, spitting on your face and rubbing his saliva into your raw red cheek. Ezra nudged the curve of his nose against yours. Then, his fingers did a little dance across your skin before he brought them down to your aching cunt, beginning to perform an assault on your clit. He was still buried deep inside you as he rubbed your bundle of nerves in tight little circles. He was a pro at many things, but you couldn’t help but feel that he was the absolute best at navigating your body and knowing the best ways to make you feel good.

“Ezra, please.” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes tight shut. He didn’t like that one bit.

“Look at me.” Ezra demanded but his tone was completely lost on you as you felt yourself begin to see stars. Ezra felt it too— the way your pussy clenched around his cock like a vice, signifying that you were close. You mumbled something incoherent, shaking your head as your thighs began to involuntarily twitch. “Look at me, whore.” Ezra drawled out again, staring at you intently as your face screwed up with pleasure. Sighing upon seeing that you had reverted back to your old disobedient ways, Ezra pulled his hand away from your cunt and tutted.

“No!” you cried out as he deprived you from your orgasm. He was still nestled into you, balls deep, not moving.

“I told you to look at me.” Ezra whispered lowly, like it was the simplest thing in the world. You were too busy getting lost in his touch, you hadn’t even realised his instruction. In that moment you hated him for edging you. He knew fine well you were close, but this was just one of Ezra’s typical ways of taking back control.

“Ezra,” you gritted out. “I need you to fuck me.”

“Now, you don’t get to decide that.” Ezra chastised, shaking his head.

“Ezra— please. Fucking— ngh, please move. Please move.” You chanted.

“You act like a brat all day and then you switch up the second I lay my hand on you… beggin’ for more.” Ezra observed. He brought his finger back up to your lips and pushed the digit into your mouth. “Suck.” he commanded, and you did so, willingly. You weren’t in the mood for messing with him anymore. You just ached for him to fuck his seed into you. You knew that he’d reward your good behaviour.

Once he was satisfied that you had licked your juices clean from him, he pulled his finger away from your lips and smiled. It was the smile you had fallen in love with— the smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and a dimple appear in the left of his cheek. “Good girl.” he praised before giving your neck a quick squeeze.

You wanted to plead with him— do anything to get him to move, but you knew that the most you could do was just stay quiet and obey him. Obligate to his every demand.

And it worked. You supposed he was struggling to last too, just stilling inside of you. He wanted to move. He wanted to fuck you just as much as you wanted to be fucked by him. He wanted to show you who was the boss and why you should never— ever— embarrass him like you had done earlier in front of the mercenaries.

His pace was fast and brutal, and his hands roughly palmed at your breasts. Ezra’s gaze flicked down from your scrunched up face to your cunt where he fucked you relentlessly. He watched as your pussy swallowed his cock and he praised you for taking him so well. His once articulate nature had been lost amidst the haze of lust that clouded his vision, and he had succumbed to whispering sweet nothings into your ear. You felt so perfect, your soft walls wrapped around him. Only a few lanterns illuminated the tent. Your folds were glistening under the artificial amber light, slick with your arousal. 

It wasn’t long before you began to jerk your own hips, meeting his thrusts desperately as his balls slapped against your skin. His large hands grabbed onto your thighs as he steadied you, and this time, it was his eyes that had snapped shut. He was close. You could feel it. His lewd moans filled the confines of the tent and you his cock throbbed inside of you. Just the feeling of him filling you up like that was enough to send you over the edge.

Your walls clamped down around him and he slammed his cock into you one last time, as deep as he could before his ropes of cum spurted inside of you. He choked as his orgasm washed over him, and you felt your walls flutter in delight as his cock pulsed inside of you. 

When he pulled out of you, you moaned at the loss of fullness, and Ezra rose to his feet and untied you from the pipes.

“Have you learned your lesson?” he asked, taking your hand and helping you stand.

“For now.” you taunted back, shooting him your most innocent look as if he hadn’t just absolutely railed you. Ezra hummed, ignoring the way his softening cock twitched at the way you fluttered your eyelashes. You had him wrapped around your little finger.

“For now.” he repeated, his tone ominous as he contemplated your words. He pulled open the blankets on the bed and gestured for you to make yourself comfortable. It was the least you deserved after being binded to the floor for the last half an hour. “Rest well, little birdie.” he muttered, stalking around the tent and turning the lanterns off one by one.

“Good night Ezra.”

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[stormyoceansmain]

[im very much NOT a writer - i cannot stress this enough - but i truly mean it when i say sambucky is making me go insane. i find no other explanation for ending up writing 3.8k words of sambucky, alpine, and movie night. thank you if you decide to read this, i hope it's not too terrible]

Sam shows up at Bucky’s place for movie night with a case full of beers and ten minutes to spare.

Sarah makes fun of him for this Friday tradition they’ve been carrying out for the past few months, says he should just muster the courage to ask Bucky out on a proper date already. It doesn't matter how many times Sam told her he is just helping Bucky catch up to the 21st century, she always ends up giving him that Look that says she's not believing any words coming out of his mouth, which is kind of unfair, if you ask Sam.

Well, fine, maybe Sarah is right. Maybe Sam does want to take Bucky out on an actual date and hold his hand and kiss him goodnight and do all those sickeningly romantic stuff he used to daydream about when he was 16. Turns out former assassins who are incredibly annoying but also surprisingly kind are very much Sam's type. Go figure.

Still, they worked hard to reach the kind of friendship they currently have, and Sam doesn't want to lose that. He's also not blind to the way Bucky flirts with Sarah, and despite her insistence that Bucky does it more to rile Sam up than for any real interest in her, he’s not about to risk it all on a whim.

This resolution almost crumbles into dust a moment later, when Bucky opens the door wearing sweatpants and a blue shirt that matches his eyes. He is barefoot and his hair is getting longer, losing the harsh edges of the cut and curling slightly behind his ears. He is still all chiseled jawline and defined muscles, but he looks softer, more comfortable in his own skin, and the easy way he smiles at Sam makes a heavy warmth pool around Sam’s stomach.

“Hey,” Bucky greets him, sliding his metal arm around Sam's shoulders to pull him into a brief hug.

This, too, is something of a novelty. There's always been a sort of intense physicality about Bucky, both in how he carries himself and in how he is always aware of the bodies moving around him, but the casual affection, the playful abandon with which he touches and lets others touch him these days, feels like a wonder. Sam would have never expected it, and he had come to love and hate it at the same time.

“Hey yourself,” Sam greets back, splaying his free hand across Bucky's back, allowing himself to hold him there and breathe him in for a second, a fresh lemony smell coming off his hair, before giving him a quick pat on the shoulder and putting a respectable amount of space between them.

He buries his hands deep into the pocket of his jacket and follows Bucky inside, trying to resist the urge to slide his fingers under the hem of Bucky's shirt and feel the warm skin underneath it.

It's the first time Sam steps into Bucky’s apartment since Bucky took home the stray kitten he found on the side of the road three weeks ago, and the changes around it are staggering. Sam was used to empty spaces and few, essential furniture, but now the space in front of the window is occupied by a giant cat tower, and lots of smaller scratching posts are scattered all over the living room, along with different kinds of cat beds and toys.

“I see you redecorated,” Sam says with a grin.

Bucky shrugs, opening two of the beer bottles with a quick twist of his metal hand. “Cats need stuff.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I'm glad.” Sam grabs one of the bottle and clinks it against Bucky's. “Pets are great company and the place looks much better like this. I wouldn't have pinned you down as the crazy cat lady type, but it's always better than Robocop.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, takes a sip of his beer. Sam catches the smile he is trying to hide anyway.

Sam knocks their shoulders together, asks, “So where is she?”

“Hiding, probably,” Bucky says, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “She doesn't like strangers.”

Sam stops with the beer halfway to his mouth. “Excuse you,” he exclaims, outraged. “I very clearly remember accompanying you to the vet the first time you brought her in. I also sacrificed two of my shirts for her and have scars on my forearms where she scratched me to death. I think I deserve more than being considered a stranger. We basically co-parented that cat for the first few days!”

“That's nice,” Bucky deadpans. “Why don't you go tell her that? I'm sure the speech will convince her to keep the claws to herself.”

Sam glares at him and Bucky pats him on the arm. “Just relax,” he adds, turning to open the fridge and taking foods out for dinner. “If we let her be, Alpine will come out eventually.”

Bucky is right, of course. Sam had a few experiences with strays growing up, cats and dogs alike looking for shelter from Louisiana's storms under their porch, and no amount of treats he and Sarah tried to give them had been able to lure them out from their hiding spot. The best course of action in these cases was to wait, letting them come out when they felt safe enough.

It still weirdly feels like a rejection of some sort, but he tries not to let it show.

Sam takes a swig from his beer and asks, “Alpine?”

Bucky turns on the stove and shrugs again. He remains silent for a moment, a distant look on his face that Sam has learned to associate to memories better buried and forgotten. He is about to start telling Bucky about the science fair at the boys' school to change the subject, when Bucky speaks again, low and careful.

“She reminds me of the snow on the Alps.”

He doesn't elaborate on that, but Sam nods anyway, like he understands. He doesn't, like Bucky will never be able to fully understand what it means for Sam to carry the shield, but it's okay. They have each other, and that's still something.

Sam taps his foot against Bucky's bare one, watches Bucky's entire being exhale and relax. “Couldn't you have named her Snowflakes or something like that?”

Bucky levels him with a stare that tells him he would rather jump off another plane rather than calling his cat ‘Snowflakes’, and Sam laughs.

The far off look in Bucky’s eyes melts away and they fall into an easy rhythm, Sam sitting at the kitchen table and talking about some renovations he and Sarah would like to do to the house, Bucky cutting the vegetables to sauté.

They have moved on to argue about the best way to season chicken breasts – you cannot leave cayenne pepper out of the spice blend – when Sam catches a flash of white out of the corner of his eyes, and interrupts himself mid-rant.

A second later, Alpine jumps on the kitchen counter, sniffing the air.

It's been only three weeks since Sam last saw her, but she's already grown a lot, and looks much better too: her fur is shiny and clean, her eyes bright, and the slight sprain that caused her to limp around seems to be completely healed.

Alpine lets out a soft chirping sound and headbutts Bucky's arm, rubbing her head against him.

The smile Bucky turns to her is blinding, and Sam has to look away before he ends up doing something stupid, like climb over the table and kiss him.

“I know you're here for the chicken,” Bucky tells her, scratching her behind the ears. “But you can't eat this one.”

He scoops her up with a single hand, ignoring the disapproving meow that follows, and deposits her on the table right next to Sam's arm. Sam freezes, unprepared for the sudden proximity and recalling how quickly she can turn around and scratch, but as soon as Bucky's hand retreats, she is moving away, giving Sam a wide berth. She doesn't go back into hiding, though, just settles on the corner farther away from him and stares him down in a way that reminds him so much of Bucky, Sam doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry.

He is also struck by the sudden need to make Alpine like him.

“Is she gonna maul me if I try to give her a treat?” Sam asks.

Bucky tilts his head, considering, which does very little to reassure Sam about the safety of his fingers.

“I wouldn’t try hand-feeding her,” Bucky answers, fishing out a bag of treats from one of the cupboards. “But she likes to chase them.”

Alpine observes with quiet intensity as Bucky dumps a few treats into Sam's hands, and when Sam tosses one a few feet away she jumps down the table and runs after it, grabs it with a paw.

“Alright,” Sam declares, “that's pretty cute.”

Sam spends the next few minutes throwing treats at Alpine, inching them closer and closer to himself to test how willing she is to get near him with the proper incentive. The last one he places right in front of his feet, then he sits back and waits. Alpine hesitates, eyes flitting between him and the treat as to evaluate if it's safe enough, until finally she starts to move, slowly, slowly. She gets close enough to stretch her paw out, pull the treat towards herself and take it out of reach to eat somewhere else. Sam still takes it as a win.

Bucky clears his throat and announces that dinner is ready, so Sam leaves Alpine alone and helps him set the table.

Dinner is nice. Bucky makes a glazed chicken with honey and garlic that it's to die for, which Sam finds utterly unfair, considering he comes from a time where spices were believed to be a menace to the public.

He still goes back for seconds, and by the time they move to the living room to watch the movie, Sam feels full and content.

He finds Alpine curled up on one end of the couch, and while he believes they made some progress in their relationship, he doesn’t think either of them is ready to bring it to the next level, so he takes the seat on the other side, careful not to disturb her.

Bucky doesn’t say anything about it, just flops down between Sam and the cat with ease, his knee bumping into Sam’s.

This week they are watching the second movie in The Hobbit trilogy, if only for the horrified look in Bucky’s face when Sam told him that not only they made a movie out of the book, but that they actually managed to stretch it into three. Bucky, it turns out, is one of those people who notices every little changes from the original material, disapproves of them on principle, and is very vocal about his displeasure, exactly like the old man he actually is.

Sam had almost fell off the couch laughing during the first movie, and it had taken him a while to convince Bucky to give the other two a chance. Maybe it was a little assholey of him, knowing that it only gets worse, but just because he likes the guy it doesn’t mean Sam doesn’t want to subject him to some bad cinema for his own entertainment. After all, that’s what friends are for.

It doesn't take long for the comments to start up again. Bucky holds up for thirty minutes, rolling his eyes and grumbling under his breath from time to time, but then Legolas and Tauriel show up and Bucky turns his head to look at Sam, face completely blank, says, “Who the fuck are these people.”

Sam bursts out laughing, and it only gets worse when they reach the scene between Kili and Tauriel in the Woodland Realm: Bucky throws his hands up, exclaims, “Oh, come on,” and starts complaining about how they made the dwarf hot just to add a romance. It has Sam in stitches, and he has to grab onto Bucky's shoulder to stay upright and not end up falling into Bucky's lap.

The tirade ends with Bucky sulking and shaking his head, and Sam is glad for the temporary reprieve just so he can catch his breath. He feels flushed and warm, cheeks hurting from smiling, and the quiet is comfortable, familiar.

After a while, his eyes grow heavy, and he realizes he nodded off only when a light weight sets on his shoulder, jerking him awake.

The movie has ended, screen back on the Netflix title page, and Bucky fell asleep as well, head drooping until it had come to rest against Sam’s body.

The metal arm is glinting gold and blue in the light, and Sam stares down at it, then up at the lines of Bucky’s face, the soft waves of his hair. It always surprises him how vulnerable Bucky looks like this, how younger, and it’s so hard to remember there was a time Sam had actually been scared of him, of what he could do. Now, he would trust Bucky with anything. His life, his family, his home. His heart, too, if Bucky ever wanted it.

Sam knows he should wake him up, send him to bed so he can sleep comfortably there while Sam stretches out on the couch, but he also knows that Bucky still has trouble sleeping sometimes, and Sam doesn't have the heart to wake him up if it isn't really necessary. He’s well aware it's also a little bit selfish, because it's nice, having Bucky this close, warm and solid and smelling of lemon.

Sam takes a deep breath and rests his head on top of Bucky's. He thought he could handle this thing he has for Bucky, keep it under control, but he’s starting to realize he might have actually underestimated the size of his own feelings, which could become a serious problem in the future.

For now, though, Sam closes his eyes and lets himself have this.

The next time Sam wakes up, it's to something walking all over him. He blinks against the sudden light and when his vision clears, he finds Alpine sitting on his lap.

Sam stares at her, wondering for a moment if he is still asleep and dreaming all of this up, but his neck is sore, his arm heavy from Bucky resting against it in his sleep; there’s the beginning of a headache pulsing behind is eyes, and a pressure in his bladder telling him he should probably get up.

Alpine sniffs at his shirt and Sam tentatively raises his free hand, strokes a finger between her ears. She leans into the touch, head tilting up and guiding Sam's hand under her chin. Sam tries really hard not to shriek with delight.

“Oh, you're a sweetheart,” he says, a grin spreading out across his face. “Just like your owner. All tough and fierce on the outside, but adorable and charming on the inside.”

Alpine meows back at him, like she agrees with that statement, and Sam tenses up, glances at the steady rise and fall of Bucky's chest.

“We gotta be quiet,” he tells Alpine, petting her down her side. “We don't want to wake him up.”

“I'm already awake,” comes Bucky's voice next to him.

Sam's entire body jerks in surprise, and Alpine leaps off him, startled.

“Man, don't you do that ever again,” Sam says, a hand placed over his chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Bucky hums, sounding way more amused than he has any right to be, and sits up.

Blood rushes back into Sam's arm, and while Sam is glad to start feeling it again, he's already mourning the loss of contact between them. Except Bucky doesn't go far, just adjusts his position to angle his body towards Sam and rest his head on the back of the couch. It's easier to look at each other, like this, but they are now so close that Bucky's soft breaths are hitting the exposed line of skin above Sam's shirt, the hollow of his neck, making him shiver.

“So,” Bucky says, dragging the word out, lips tilting up at the corner. “I'm adorable and charming?”

Shit.

Of course Bucky would hear that, that's just Sam's luck. God, he is never going to speak again. He will take a vow of silence like in one of those monastic orders and move some place far and secluded where he won't be able to embarrass himself anymore.

He swallows, makes himself let out a laugh. It's meant to be mocking, but it sounds more nervous than anything else. “I think old age is making you hear things,” Sam still tries to deflect, “I clearly said annoying and self-centered.”

Bucky jabs him in the side with a metal finger. “Nice try, Samuel,” Bucky says, grinning widely. “But I've been told I'm a sweetheart.”

Sam's cheeks heat up. “I was talking about Alpine!”

He wonders if maybe T'Challa would let him hide in Wakanda for a while, just long enough for Sam to regain some kind of dignity. He hopes against all hopes that Bucky will have mercy of him and drop the subject, but of course Bucky doesn't. Sam wouldn't either, if their roles were switched.

“You said she is like her owner,” Bucky points pout, eyes bright and so very blue. He pokes Sam in the ribs again. “Which means, you think I’m a sweetheart, too.”

Sam bats his hand away. He may have embarrassed himself and he's lucky if he ends up this night without Bucky realizing Sam has feelings for him, but he is Captain frigging America. If he has to go down, he will go down fighting.

“What you are, it’s a nuisance,” Sam says. “And a creep. Who the hell pretends to be asleep when they are actually awake?”

“I wasn't pretending, you just assumed I was still sleeping.”

“Anyone would assume that, if you don't say anything.”

“I thought you were going to move as soon as you woke up, it's not my fault you didn't.”

“I was trapped between your heavy ass and your cat. What's your excuse for not moving?”

The argument comes to a halt, an awkward silence stretching between them as Bucky lowers his eyes, scratches the back of his neck. He clears his throat, shrugs.

“Your shoulder is nice,” he says in the end.

It's Bucky's turn to blush, a darker pink dusting his cheeks, and Sam feels like he missed something important.

“My shoulder?” Sam repeats.

Bucky doesn't answer him for a moment, then he straightens up on the couch, rolls back his shoulders like he is bracing himself. He looks up at Sam, and all Sam can see are his eyes.

“It’s comfortable,” Bucky whispers. “And I always sleep better when you’re around.”

Sam's mouth is suddenly very dry, and his heart is drumming against his chest in a way he has come to associate with diving down in midair, or dropping from a high place before his wings open up. This, too, feels a little like falling.

“Buck,” Sam says, because he thinks they are on the verge of something here, but he needs to be sure, doesn't want to mess this up and do something he's going to regret just because his head wants so desperately to see what's not actually there. “You gotta tell me if I'm reading this wro--”

Bucky kisses him.

It's a short kiss, just a soft press of Bucky's lips against his own and he's already gone, moving back to look at Sam with wide eyes, face open and vulnerable.

“Okay?” Bucky asks, and if he didn't sound so uncertain, like he's expecting Sam to push him away at any moment, Sam would laugh at how much of an idiot they both are.

Instead, he holds Bucky's chin between his fingers and pulls him back in. The kiss is deeper this time, turns into a wet slide of tongues and a harsh grate of stubble that makes Sam's insides feel tangled and hot. Bucky's arm slides around Sam's waist, and Sam moves his hand from Bucky's chin into his hair, grips it in a way that makes Bucky exhale sharply into his mouth. Sam wants to touch him everywhere, and he moves his free hand to do just that when a long, loud meow interrupts them.

They break apart just in time for Alpine to jump on the couch and sprawl in the space between them.

Bucky huffs out a small laugh, pets her from head to tail. He looks lovely, with his hair sticking up in odd places from Sam's fingers raking through it, his lips red from kissing, and Sam itches to go back for more, to lay him down and map every single part of Bucky's body with his mouth. He has, however, a horrible feeling about this.

“We will never be able to do anything with her around, won't we?” Sam asks, voicing his thoughts out loud.

Bucky sends him an amused smile. “Someone feels confident.”

Sam rolls his eyes, bumps their knees together. “Says the one who was about to climb on top of me.”

He's pretty sure he was the one grabbing and pulling Bucky closer, actually, but it doesn't seem like Bucky is going to call him out on it.

“It was a good kiss,” Bucky says, smile going soft at the edges, turning shyer.

“It really was,” Sam agrees, and because Sarah is always right, even if he'll never admit it in front of her, he adds, “Wanna go out on a proper dinner, see a movie? Maybe do the kissing part again?”

He's not expecting the way Bucky's lips drop down at those words, and Sam's heart sinks. Maybe he did read this wrong, after all. Maybe Bucky wanted to keep things casual, no string attached, and Sam just ruined everything. He tries to tell himself it was better to know that now, before things got too serious on his side, but it gives him very little comfort.

Bucky takes a deep breath, lets it out in a huff. “I don’t know, man,” he says. “If you make me watch another one of these godawful movies I’m afraid I'm gonna have to break up with you before this relationship even starts.”

Sam blinks at him, then bursts out laughing, sudden and loud. “God, you're an asshole,” he declares, but there's no heat behind it, and when he searches for Bucky's hand, Bucky intertwines their fingers together, places a kiss on the back of Sam's hand as an apology.

“I’m lucky you have terrible tastes, then,” Bucky says.

Sam really has questionable tastes, and if you had told him a few years ago that this was how his life was going to turn out, he would have probably laughed, or worse, tried to stop it from happening. But now, sitting there with Bucky grinning at him and Alpine purring between them, he feels lucky too.

[husbandograveyard]

Hi sweetheart, here I am again OwO Congrats on all the followers you’re getting, you deserve them! I took some inspiration from the list, could I request “Just get out. Get out and leave me alone” with Judal? Judal and his s/o get into (another) fight and his s/o just wants to be left alone for now. Maybe some comfort at the end to not hurt my heart too badly? ;) A scenario would be cool, but if all spots are already taken a headcanon is perfectly fine! Good luck with writing! X OwO

Judal is a bit of an ass, so this works perfectly for him and all his annoyingnes lmao. Hope you enjoy OwO-chan! 

An actual apology - Judal x Reader 

You can’t choose who you fall in love with. That was something you had learned the hard way when you had fallen for the magi of the Kou empire. He was selfish, he was childish, did whatever he pleased, and never took no for an answer. He waltzed into your life like it was his own personal playground and just stole your heart, much to your own dismay. 

When the relationship started, all was good. He had his softer moments, where he was almost cute. And you did believe that he truly loved you because even though you were absolutely smitten, you would never start a relationship on something so one-sided. 

But there were so many bad moments. Where he had ‘forgotten’ a date. Where he had used your presence just to get out of duties he was expected to fulfill. When he said things that made you embarrassed, or even slightly uncomfortable around other people. Countless times you had discussions, sometimes even full-on arguments, and he would either walk out, engage just to rile you up even more, or ignore all your points and then smooth it out with some physical affection, giving your brain all the endorphins it needed to hold on to just a little longer. 

But now you had reached a breaking point. You had an extremely bad day, everything and everyone seemed to be annoying you and the last thing you needed was your boyfriend adding fuel onto the fire. Too bad he didn’t get that memo as he just burst into your room where you were just laying in bed, eyes closed, trying to find the energy and motivation to get up and get some food in a bit, but for now just enjoying peace, quiet and no company. Until the door slammed open that is. 

“y/n why is there no dinner yet?”

You tried to ignore him, maybe he would go away if you didn’t pay him attention. Wrong decision. He plopped down on the bed, poking your face repeatedly with one slender finger, talking non-stop, and further bugging you about dinner and hundreds of other small things that you did not want to talk about at all. 

“Judal, just shut up for a second will you?” 

You pushed his hand away and turned away from him, one arm covering your face as you hoped that, in combination with your very agitated tone, was enough of a warning for him that today was not the day to mess with you. Again, futile hope as he just now poked your shoulder, not even stopping his childlike annoying to hear you tell him to shut up. Annoyed, you sat up. 

“Judal” “so can’t you just do that instead of lazing around he-” “JUDAL!” 

He blinked a couple of times at your sudden outburst, you were usually pretty soft-spoken, and you had never ever yelled at him before. “What?” after the initial confusion and shock washed over - which happened really fast-  he seemed annoyed by your reaction.  “I want five minutes of peace and quiet. Five minutes” You took a deep breath, quickly and softly adding a “please” to the end of that sentence. You were so tired. So done. 

“Why? It’s not like you didn’t have a break today. Besides I don’t have a lot of time to spend with you to-” You sat up, staring at him with a fury in your eyes he had never seen before. It was enough to shut him up. You pinched the bridge of your nose, counting to ten in your mind, but it was all for nothing. Something had snapped the moment he walked in and nothing he would say could make up for it now. Your head was spinning, overtaken by anger. You realized how he had been the cause for some of this week’s incidents, how he was never comforting. All the moments he had annoyed you the past few days played off in your head and they were overwhelmingly more frequent than the moments where he had offered you comfort, physical affection or just had been a decent boyfriend at all. It made you even more angry and you snapped. 

“Get out.” your voice insanely steady, laced with animosity, the fire still present in your eyes. “What?” He seemed honestly confused. “Just get out. Get out and leave me alone” you were shaking with anger now, and Judal, however annoying he could be, was not stupid. He rolled his eyes and turned on his heels and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. 

You let out a shaky breath and felt the tension leave your body. You didn’t even realize just how much you were tensed up until he had left the room. Then it sunk in. You had bickered with Judal before, and you had discussions on the daily, but never like this. Never had you been so angry, and never had he actually gotten up and left. You were not sure how to feel other than a little relieved and ready to enjoy your peace and quiet, enough so that you could ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head: ‘what if he walked out just to never come back again?’

You fell asleep not long after, exhaustion taking over. You didn’t wake up in time for dinner, the darkness outside when you finally got up signaling that it was well into the night. You stretched, feeling a whole lot better, albeit a little peckish, and made your way over to the kitchens to grab something so you could go back to sleep without your stomach rumbling. 

In the kitchen, you automatically went to the fresh fruits and before you knew it you had grabbed a peach. Even with your body on auto-pilot, your first instincts were to care for Judal more than yourself and you felt another burst of anger flare up, this time mixed with a little bit of guilt for being so harsh. You pushed the guilt away. He had it coming, he deserved everything you said. And yet. You grabbed something to drink, an extra peach, and got back to your room. 

You opened the door, and a dark shadow was sitting on your bed. You nearly screamed and dropped everything you were carrying, but just in time, you realized it was Judal. “Really?” you hissed, not wanting to yell as there were undoubtedly people sleeping that would not appreciate a shouting match at whatever time it was. He did not instantly reply, and you impatiently tapped your foot, if you were not carrying peaches and water you would have crossed your arms. 

He didn’t say anything but didn’t move either. So you just walked over to the bed, putting the peaches down and looking at him with raised eyebrows, waiting for him to start talking. He glanced over at the fruit and a hint of a grin appeared on his face for a fraction of a second before disappearing and making way for his serious expression again. You had rarely seen him like that. He mumbled something, but because he was looking away, and the fact that you had not expected him to speak up as silently as that, made you completely miss what he said. 

“I’m sorry what?” “I said,” he repeated, already a little annoyed, “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you and should know when to stop.” 

Now it was your turn to blink in surprise. This was unheard of. Judal, actually apologizing, nog making a joke out of it? 

“I do care y’know? But I guess even you have enough of me sometimes”. He stood up from the bed, leaving you sitting down facing him, and now you had to look up.  “Anyway,” he continued, the seriousness slowly disappearing and making way for his usual playful tone, “don’t think I’m going to just stop bothering you now. You chose me. So you’re stuck with me.” He leaned in, and you closed your eyes, too confused by what was happening and just letting instincts take over, and your instincts were anticipating a kiss to make up and seal his apology. Instead, he brushed past you to grab one of the peaches you had brought with you as your dinner. Your eyes fluttered open when you notice his presence getting away and he was standing before you, just happily nomming your peach. 

“So I guess this is the part where I say that I do love you,” he continued, voice muffled and words a little unclear as he was now speaking with his mouth full, probably because he didn’t want to have this conversation properly, Judal was never one for anything sappy. “and then you say you love me too and then we forget about it. Mkay?”

“After you just stole half of my dinner?” “You can’t just bring me peaches and then expect me not to eat them” “They were not for you” “Oh love, they always are” 

And before you could protest in any way, he patted the top of your head with the one hand that was clean and free from peach juice before walking out the door. Not in the mood to let the serious conversation or the blooming discussion last any longer. 

“Goodnight y/n”

[iwritefandomimagines]

SIMM!MASTER x READER: “Do you believe in love?”

prompt #11 — requested

masterlist

pairing: simm!master x reader

description: visiting a famed romantic hotspot (to cause trouble, obviously) with the master leads to you pondering one major question: does he even believe in love?

warnings: angst, as ever with me writing the master !

words: 1,535

You leaned forward to rest your palms on your knees and catch your breath again as the Master, a few paces ahead of you, turned to laugh at your exasperated expression.

“Would you stop laughing at me?” you grumbled, standing up again and following him back into his TARDIS with a scowl on your face, “If you weren’t so intent on pissing off every species in the universe, I wouldn’t have to run so much and end up so bloody tired!”

He smirked, pausing at the TARDIS doors while you caught up to him, “You should be used to it now then, love.”

You followed him inside, your expression still irritated as you folded your arms over your chest dramatically.There he goes again, you thought with a sigh, calling you love whilst mocking you just as he always did. 

It bothered you more today than usual, and you knew exactly why.

You’d been visiting the Four Moons of Tirus, famously frequented by couples for romantic getaways and often either weddings or honeymoons. Of course, travelling with the Master you knew that this hadn’t been a romance-fuelled trip -- instead, he wanted to cause chaos as ever and so dragged you along with him. 

At first it had been fun, stealing food from buffet tables and skipping through fancy venues. But he’d torn you from a conversation with a Commander of a fleet attending a wedding on one of the Four Moons, and from then on the day had been miserable.

You’d hoped he was jealous -- you couldn’t deny Commander Fluxx II’s flirtation towards you -- but his behaviour crumpled your hopes swiftly.

Watching him flirt with taken women of every species weighed heavy on your chest for multiple reasons: One, you were admittedly jealous. Your feelings for the Master were becoming increasingly potent, and his teasing was becoming increasingly infuriating. And two, it felt shit to see him so blatantly disregard the notion of love and relationships.

Above all else, though, you were devastated by his reaction to being told you made a cute couple. Once he’d pulled you away from the commander, an elderly alien woman had winked and complimented you both, telling you that you were perfectly suited to eachother. 

He’d scoffed, told the creature that you were ‘merely a companion, more like his pet’ and stormed away as though he’d never heard such a disgusting accusation in all of his existence.

You’d hoped maybe there’d been some small romantic undercurrent to him bringing you to the Four Moons, perhaps even if very subtle. Maybe he’d kiss you under the nightly Tirusian aurora, or buy you a bouquet of their native flowers. 

But of course, he was just here to wreak havoc with you at his command.

You’d finally composed yourself now, no more jagged breaths as you stood at his side, hand on your hips, “Don’t you get bored of just messing with people’s feelings, Master?”

You were directly referring to his previous actions, but your words were laced with dismay at his disregard for your evident feelings, too. 

“Whatever do you mean, Y/N?” he smirked, bringing his hand to his face in a falsely inquisitive manner.

“Well, that woman was literally stood next to her husband and you were blatantly disrespectful and embarrassingly flirtatious... the look on his face was terrifying, you’re lucky we got away or he’d have torn you to shreds. Did you see his claws?” you rambled, shuddering at the thought of the alien who’d chased you all the way back to the TARDIS.

“He would never have gotten to us, Y/N.” the Master too crossed his arms now, brows furrowed, “I don’t see what’s gotten you so riled up.” You could see in his face that he was lying. He knew. Of course he knew.

You grunted, shaking your head, “You spend all of your time treating people like they’re beneath you, like they’re expendable. You tease people, you flirt with people. Hell, you flirt with me. Then you go and act like I’m nothing but shit on the bottom of your shoes. You’re pathetic, frankly. Shameless, and pathetic.”

“Ah, so that’s what it’s about, us?”

You scoffed, “There isn’t an us, Master. Don’t you dare stand there so smug and talk like you even care about me. This isn’t about that. It’s about the fact that you’re selfish and self-important and you act like nothing matters to you. It’s ridiculous!”

Your chest was heaving as you spat these words at him, fury coursing through your every vein. You knew that it was obvious why you were predominantly angry, and that maybe you needed to calm down, but you were furious and upset and heartbroken all at once and this tornado of emotion couldn’t be stopped easily.

The room fell silent, the Master’s face no longer painted with a smirk but instead simply blank. You didn’t know what more to say for a moment, gathering your thoughts and trying to steady your erratic breathing.

You remained in silence for a good few minutes, both deep in thought and refusing to make eye contact with each other. 

You let out a deep breath then, leaning forwards and resting your chin in your palm, “Do you believe in love?” you whispered, still avoiding his gaze and speaking so quietly he wasn’t sure he even heard you right.

He swallowed thickly, straightening his stance and relaxing his arms.

“I didn’t.”

“What?”

“I didn’t before. Believe in love, that is.”

“Before what?”

“You, Y/N.”

Your face twisted in confusion, eyes narrowing as they snapped up to meet his all of a sudden. 

How on earth could he stand there and say that, especially seeming so serious, after all that had just happened? Did he really respect you so little that he believed providing you with such lies would give you enough false hope to stop being so angry with him?

“Please don’t say things like that. It’s not fair, and you know it isn’t.” you frowned, shaking your head again and biting your lip.

“I know it’s hard to believe, Y/N, but it’s true,” he shrugged, stepping towards you, “And that was why I brought you to the Four Moons of Tirus. At least initially.”

You cocked your head to the side, “Why were you acting like such an arsehole then?”

He raised his hand to rub over your upper arm for just a moment before returning it to his side, “Because when that disgusting Commander was shamelessly all over you I questioned the point of being in love, anyway.”

You were confused, and so said nothing, allowing him to continue.

“You called me pathetic, but you didn’t see his wife watch him touch you and run off crying,” he sighed, “So many species disregard love even when they claim to feel it. Why bother? I’ve spent long enough on my own, I needn’t fool myself into relying on someone when there’s every risk of ending up alone again anyway.”

You scoffed even more abruptly now, baffled by his words.

“So you got jealous and decided to be petty and hurt me anyway?” you questioned, venom dripping in your tone, “I’ve been waiting for some inkling that you cared about me, and now you finally tell me you love me and still somehow manage to invalidate that and make me feel worthless! I can’t keep playing your games, Master. I’m tired.”

He took your hands in his delicately, “I’ve spent so long alone, Y/N, you have to understand that. I never meant to fall in love with you, and a relationship with me would be about as dysfunctional as you could get. I don’t want to risk hurting you, or getting hurt myself.”

“Flirting with everyone under the sun and making me feel like I don’t matter won’t make feelings go away, Master,” you clenched your fingers around his, somewhat in an effort to reassure him whilst you were being honest, “You’re stuck with me, and I hate to break it to you but love doesn’t just dissipate overnight, even if you claim it’s ‘pointless’ anyway.”

“I’m sorry Y/N. And I’m sorry for ruining what could’ve been a chance to make things up to you.” he pouted, and you felt your stomach swarm with butterflies.

“Look, I’m not going to tell you I forgive you, but I’ll give you the chance to prove that this is more than just some twisted game of yours, because I’m that stupid human whose gone and fallen in love with you, eh,” you half-joked, bringing your entwined hands up to kiss the back of his, “I overheard one of the Commander’s fleet talking about the Perpetual Sunsets of Parboon. It’s like... always sunset and sounds incredible. Take me there?”

He nodded, kissing your temple and swiveling towards the TARDIS console with a newly returned smile. Your heart warmed; It wasn’t his usual arrogant smirk now, but instead a smile of genuine happiness.

“Parboon it is,” he grinned, pulling you closer to his side, “But if any silly alien soldiers make a pass at you again, I won’t be so kind to them this time.”

“Sure, spaceman,” you rolled your eyes teasingly, “Whatever you say.”

------------

hello !! thank u for the request & i hope you enjoyed this, not sure how i feel about the ending but i wasn’t sure how to wrap it up, i hope this was alright though !!

feel free to keep requesting as ever, here is my prompt list if you’re short of ideas, and here’s my masterlist for you to read for the time being! thanks again for reading & supporting my writing, i really appreciate it <3

[matthewtkachuk]

mad woman - topper thornton

The one where Topper’s insecurities and jealousy have driven you mad

Warnings: toxic relationship, domestic abuse of the emotional/psychological/slight physical variety, gaslighting

Pairing:  Topper x reader

Words: 2.3k

A/N: This is based on mad woman by T Swift. Y’all I just love folklore so much, I couldn’t help myself. Special s/o to my bb @jellyfishbeansontoast​ for encouraging me to write this one ILYSM 🥺

(gif found on tenor - pls pls let me know if it’s yours and i’ll credit you!!)

What did you think I'd say to that? Does a scorpion sting when fighting back? They strike to kill, and you know I will

Fighting with Topper is nothing new. He’s a full kook, living on mommy and daddy’s money, five hundred dollar shirts, five thousand dollar watch. You grew up on the other side of the island, mama shuffling three jobs on top of taking care of you, your father having bailed before you had even made your entrance into this world. His overprivileged upbringing causing him to spout off some really uneducated opinions about class and income disparity in your presence. He used to admire the way you would pop off, trying your best to educate the boy who had stolen your heart. He loved your fire and your heart and honestly it was kind of hot watching you get mad. Now it just annoys him, you can tell. He no longer entertains your rants, but rather shuts you up quickly.

“You know, those pogues just don’t work as hard as we do. That’s why they’re over there in their run down houses, and we’re here sipping expensive champagne on a hundred thousand dollar yacht.” Topper announces unexpectedly one afternoon as you sit tucked under his arm on the Cameron’s yacht. Your mouth falls open in indignation as his friends all agree with him.

You’re not stupid, you know the group you’re in don’t think highly of your kind, but they’ve always treated you with a modicum of respect as Topper’s girlfriend.

“Are you serious, Top? You think pogues don’t work hard enough? My mom works three jobs, Top. Three! I work two jobs myself, and here I am choosing to spend my very limited free time with you and you’re going to say shit like that.” 

Topper rolls his eyes, reaching for your arm but you jump back from him. “Come on, y/n it’s not that serious, sit back down.” 

“Not that serious? Fuck you Top, of course it’s not that serious to you. You don’t understand the meaning of hard work, you’ve never had to lift a finger to get to where you are.” You’re glaring at him now, so unbelievably frustrated that he’s stubbornly sticking to his earlier statement. “Take me back Rafe,” you turn your glare on Rafe who looks between you and Topper, clearly conflicted.

“Listen baby you’re being crazy,” Topper tries again to reach for you but you swat away his hand. 

“I’m serious Rafe, take me back or I will jump off this boat and swim back.” You threaten your boyfriend’s best friend. Despite his earlier aggressions against your friends, he’s always treated you the best since becoming Topper’s girlfriend. And he knows you’re more than likely serious, so he sighs and steers the yacht back towards the docks. You sit on the other end of the boat, ignoring Topper’s attempts to half-heartedly apologize. 

The second you near the docks, you don’t waste any time waiting for Rafe to tie the boat to the dock, you make the jump unaided. You see JJ and Pope giving you a concerned look from Heyward’s boat. Their concern only grows as Topper yells your name and tells you to come back. You don’t even look back as you throw your middle finger at him over your shoulder before hopping into Heyward’s boat.

They try and ask you if you’re okay and what happened, but you just shake your head and tell them you don’t want to talk about it. You hear Topper swear as he hits the dock, not fast enough to reach the boat before JJ is driving off. 

Your friends don’t like him. They really, really don’t like him. Years of bad blood between him and all of you have them suspicious and untrusting. You don’t fault them for that, having been witness to some of the worst kook v pogue showdowns, but you know both sides have their faults. Sure Topper was responsible for ratting out Pope which resulted in JJ going off the rails after being forced to pay 25k in restitution, but Pope sunk his new speed boat. 

But your friends said they would try, for you, and so you don’t really want to get into the specifics of why Topper has made you so mad, lest they renege on their deal. 

Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy What about that? And when you say I seem angry, I get more angry

You’ve cooled down by the time night rolls around, and so you find yourself sitting on the beach between Topper’s legs, your back pressed to his chest and his arms wrapped around your middle. You’re enjoying the sounds of the waves crashing on the beach and the feel of your boyfriend wrapped around you when he has to open his mouth and ruin the moment.

“I don’t understand why you have to get so crazy. I was just talking with the boys,” he murmurs behind you. You can’t tell if he’s actively trying to rile you up or if it’s just a side effect of his lack of courtesy.

“Crazy?” You ask him incredulously before repeating yourself, “Crazy?! Oh I am sorry for being so insane standing up for my mother. How would you like it if I made a comment about your mom, huh?”. You struggle against him, but he links his arms around you tighter.

“Hey, calm down! I didn’t say anything about your mother, you’re the one just looking for something to be angry about.” He replies, more than a little annoyed at your combative response.

You throw his arms off of you, angrily scrambling to find purchase in the sand to pull yourself up. “I’m not looking for anything! You drive me crazy, you make me angry!” 

You were never the most combative of people, growing up around JJ you let him be the hotheaded one whose temper flared at every minor sleight. You on the other hand preferred to sit back from the action, only stepping in when your friends were in trouble. 

Topper brought out another side in you. At first you thought it was a good thing, he made you feel so much, made you so passionate. 

“I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean it like that,” he sighs as he stands up to walk in front of you, grabbing your hands. 

“Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy,” you admit to him, “and when you say I seem angry I only get more angry. Why are you trying to antagonize me?” 

He drops one of your hands to rest one on your face, letting his thumb stroke your cheekbone first and then your bottom lip. You look up at him

“I don’t mean it like that, you know that baby.” He leans in to kiss you and you let him, “Can you just try and be a little more calm and unassertive around my friends, you know it bothers me when you act out like that.”

“I know,” you reply quietly, all fire in you extinguishing further with every press of his lips to yours. 

“Thank you, baby. You know I love you, all of you. Even the scrappy, crazy, angry pogue parts of you,” he kisses you again.

You think his words are supposed to be a compliment, but they just sit around in your gut causing you discomfort.

No one likes a mad woman You made her like that And you'll poke that bear 'til her claws come out And you find something to wrap your noose around

“You’re cheating on me aren’t you?” He yells, under the influence of several beers and at least one line of coke you imagine. You roll your eyes, attempting to push past him, not wanting to get into this again. Especially not in his inebriated state. He has other ideas though, spinning you around by grabbing your wrist before pushing your shoulders into the wall, caging you in between it and his warm body. 

You struggle against him, “what the fuck Top get off of me!”. He only presses you into the wall further.

“Answer the fucking question, y/n. Are you cheating on me with one of your shitty little pogue friends?” He spits in your face, anger taking over his usually delicate features. As you look into his blue eyes, pupils dilated almost entirely, you realize you don’t recognize this Topper. 

Topper has always been jealous and insecure, Sarah Cameron really did a number on him when she went and shacked up with John B behind his back. You had tried your best to reassure him at every turn that you weren’t Sarah and you would never do that to him, but that didn’t stop him from blowing up with jealousy over your friends. It probably related to the fact that you hung around Sarah and John B, or maybe your close friendship with Pope and JJ. Topper was jealous of how close you were with all of them, sometimes angrily calling you every five minutes when you were alone with any one of them.

“Of course not, what are you talking about?” You shout back, hands wrapping around your body defensively. 

“I’m not fucking stupid, I know you’re doing something with one of them, so which is it? Heyward? Maybank? Or do you share Routledge with Sarah?” 

You’re trying to placate him, but he just keeps poking and poking, “I’m not fucking any of them, God Topper what the fuck?”

“You’re just a stupid pogue whore,” he snarls at you, shoving you harshly against the wall once more before letting you go. You cry out, as your head smashes against the wall painfully, causing you to see stars.

“Fuck you Topper,” you seethe, pushing him back with all of your strength. The alcohol coursing through his veins causes him to stumble a bit more than he would have sober, allowing you to escape. “It’s fucking over!”

“Good, I never fucking loved you anyway,” he shouts back at you, “It was just a game, to try and fuck a pogue and make her fall in love with me.” You feel his words like a noose around your neck, pulling tightly and suffocating the breath right out of you. 

You’re sobbing, unsure of how you managed to escape that house with Topper’s words chasing you the whole way. Every kiss, every word, every I love you passed through your mind. You gave him your virginity for fuck’s sake, you gave him every part of you and he had taken everything from you, thrown it in your face, insulting you and calling you a whore.

You know you can’t go home like this, so you head to the one place you know you’ll be able to find comfort, walking into the Chateau and directly into Kie’s arms.

Now I breathe flames each time I talk My cannons all firin' at your yacht They say "move on," but you know I won't

You’re angry now, the spell broken between you and Topper. Realizations of the months of gas lighting and emotional abuse crashing into your world view like the waves in tropical storm. You recognize that your months of excusing his behaviour based on what he went through in the past was just that – excusing his shitty behaviour. His prior relationships had nothing to do with you, and it wasn’t right of him to take it out on you. 

You spend many nights ranting and raving to the pogues, who mercifully limit their ‘I-told-you-so’s under the threatening gaze of one Kiara Carrera. 

“I can’t believe I was blind for so long, I let him treat me like shit and I pushed you guys away.” You’re laying on the bow of the HMS with Sarah and Kie beside you.

“It’s not your fault, y/n/n, believe me,” Sarah tells you, running a hand through your hair soothingly. 

“I don’t condone cheating, but I almost understand why you did it,” you admit tearfully to Sarah, who only smiles at you.

Two weeks pass like this, before JJ interrupts your ranting telling you it’s time to move on and that any guy would be lucky to land the hottest chick on the island. The sentiment makes you smile, but you know you won’t be able to move on. Not just yet. Topper had your whole heart and had tossed it onto the concrete, shattering it into a million pieces.

The pogues decide the best cure for heart break is to throw a wild kegger and let you get drunk out of your mind to forget. JJ even gives you a joint, winking at you and telling you “hydroponic” before throwing finger guns at you and walking away. Things are going well, you’re three or four beers in, all cares thrown into the wind when your spine stiffens as you spot Topper.

You catch his eye from across the boneyard, your pulse painfully beating in your ears as your traitorous heart races at the sight of him. He’s got his arm around some pretty little kook who you’d only really seen at Figure 8 parties he had dragged you to.  You think there’s a little guilt in his expression, maybe a little longing and regret too, but his arm remains firmly around the girl. She looks up at Topper, before following his gaze right to you. You see her tense, and then relax as you hear clear as day not to worry, that you’re just some crazy pogue. 

You meet his eyes again, mouthing “Fuck you forever”, before leaning into Kie’s side as you walk back into the thick of the party, letting Topper tell the next girl you’re just a mad woman.

No one likes a mad woman What a shame she went mad You made her like that

obx tag list (ily guys!!): @danicarosaline​ @velyssaraptor​ @copper-boom​

[anemonenemerosa]

Oops sorry!! I just assumed with oknutzy! Maybe 17 for Wolfstar 🥰

No worries, anon! Since your request was already written by @mooncat457writing (read it, it’s sooo good) and no other prompt of the list was simliar, I thought of a new one and wrote something for you. I hope you ike it!

"The door fell shut behind me while getting the mail. Now I'm stuck outside on a windy October day"

The bright side of locking yourself out 

It was 1 pm when the insistent ringing of the doorbell jerked Sirius out of his dreams. He grumbled for a few moments before his brain caught up and reminded him that he'd ordered a replacement for the broken gear-belt of his motorcycle. And Sirius really needed to get the bike repaired 'cause taking the tube to and from work was just the worst. So, he jumped out of bed and raced to the door of the building – there's no way he's missing the mailperson! Tough luck, Sirius was just in time to see the backlights of the delivery-truck disappear behind a corner.

"God, damnit!" He cursed loudly, mentally just warming up for a full-on rant when a particularly forceful wind-gust shoved half a ton of leaves in Sirius' face and caused an unfortunate bang behind his back.

No. Please no. Slowly, as if keeping off looking might undo what the dreadful noise promised, Sirius turned around, finally staring at the firmly closed door. It is just now that he realised that he's not only stuck outside on a rather unpleasant mid-October day, no, he's stuck outside barefoot, only wearing his pyjama bottoms and a worn shirt. No phone, no keys. It began to rain, no umbrella. What. A. Day.

Just two months ago, Sirius still lived with James and that wouldn't have been much of a problem. Back in the day, James was still writing his final assignment for his degree and stayed at home all the time.But since he graduated, found himself a paying job and moved in with Lily, Sirius lives alone for the very first time in his 25 years on this planet. And while he loved Lily dearly, Sirius couldn't always stop himself from feeling a bit abandoned and lonely, which was ridiculous, of course. Since they got together, James and Lily never let any doubt creep in that Sirius was anything but loved and treasured by both of them.

But the sentiment was of no use just then. In that moment, he needed to find a pragmatic solution. What does one do, trapped outside with no phone, no keys and no shoes? Sirius sighed in resignation. One does walk to the next cafe, beg them to use their phone without coming off as a complete nutter and call James to rescue him.

About five steps from the door, Sirius stopped dead in his tracks, quest forgotten. Walking right up to him was his neighbour from upstairs, the most intriguing person Sirius has ever met, or almost met, seen that they had never talked before.

The guy seemed very unassuming the few times he saw him in the stairway with his knit sweaters and washed out jeans. He was very quiet in the mornings as if he unknowingly considered that Sirius, as a bartender, worked during the nights and really needed his mornings to sleep. During the afternoon however, enjoyable music wafted down through Sirius' open windows together with the delicious smell of freshly cooked food.

The neighbour -Lupin, it said on the mailbox- stared at Sirius with wide eyes for a moment before he stepped closer, holding his umbrella over both of them.

"Erm." The other man said instead of greeting him.

"Please don't ask." Sirius implored him, completely done with this day already. But then again, Lupin had a nice voice.

"Right", Lupin laughed, "You live in the basement, right? Black? I'm going to ask anyway... aren't you cold?"

Not what Sirius expected to be asked. Naturally, his response was eloquent, he was absolutely not caught off guard, "Uhh -yeah, I live here. And- and I'm cold... but I thought you were-"

"-going to ask why you are out here?" Lupin laughed again, a really nice sound, "You clearly locked yourself out. No one goes around in the rain in October like this. Want to come in to mine? Dry off and call someone?"

With that he looked pointedly at Sirius, who took the glance as a clue to have a look at himself. So, summed up, he was drenched, with dirty feet and unkempt hair. Not the first impression he wanted to make on his neighbour. He's a proper adult now. Anyhow, this was by far his best option "That would actually safe my day."

Without another word, Sirius was led upstairs, offered a warm shower and some soft clothes, which were a bit too big for him (Lupin was at least half a head taller than himself). Clean and dry, Sirius sits in Lupin's little kitchen for his next task: calling James, who couldn't leave work for another three hours, meant that Sirius either waited for another four hours or paid 600 pounds for key-service to open his door, which he found out in the next call. He got a string of curses off his chest and was met with an astounded look of Lupin, who had poked his head though the door. Today, Sirius was impressively good at presenting himself at his worst.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled, not looking at his generous neighbour.

"Nah it's fine." Said one just shrugged, "What did your friend say?"

"Another four hours or 600 pounds." Sirius supplied, feeling a little miserable.

"Oh, unfortunate. Do you want to wait here? I have some work to do but you can hang out if you want."

"No, thank you. That would be too much" It really would.

"No. Really, it's no bother. I wouldn't offer if it wasn't alright." Lupin waved him off, "I'm Remus, by the way. And before you ask: Yes, Remus like in the Roman mythology"

"Nice to officially meet you, Remus, like in the Roman mythology." Sirius bowed mockingly, "I'm Sirius, and before you ask, yes, like the star and yes, I've probably heard all of the serious-jokes in existence by now."

With introductions out of the way, Sirius was sat on the big and comfortable couch in the living room with a nice cup of milky tea. He had no idea what to do now and felt a bit awkward, but his neighbour seemed unbothered by his surprise-guest.

"Sorry to be such a bad host but I have a bit work to do, I didn't get to do last night. If you like, feel free to take whatever book sparks your interest from the shelves." Remus apologised and put on some quiet music over his phone while settling in a cosy armchair across the couch with a stack of papers on his lap. It was only then, that Sirius realised how good-looking Remus was. His hair, light brown, wavy and a bit shaggy was falling slightly into his bright hazel eyes, focused on the papers in front of him. Suddenly, Remus huffed, scrunched up his slightly crooked nose (dusted with freckles that spread over his cheekbones) and lifted his left hand to his thin-lipped mouth to gnaw at his thumbnail.

"Displeasing literature?" Sirius heard himself asking before he could check the question in his mind for stupidity.

"You have no idea." the other man grumbled, "That one actually wrote that the inhabitants of Egypt are the mummies!"

Sirius couldn't help but bark a laugh at the affronted tone of Remus' voice,

"So, you're teaching history?"

"Yeah." Remus sighed and plucked a red pen from the little table beside him and began vigorously scribbling onto the paper.

The conversation felt to be over for now as Sirius' host seemed, indeed, quite busy. So, Sirius took up the offer to have a look at the bookshelves lining three walls of the room. The carped felt warm and soft under his bare feet while he strolled along the shelves. Quickly he recognised several of his favourites among the countless books and when his eye caught on The Little Prince, he couldn't resist to take it with him back to the couch.

When he was settled again, Remus looked up to see what Sirius had picked and smiled around a soft hum "I've read so many books and this is still one of my favourites."

Sirius couldn't help but smile back. "Mine, too."

From then on, they sat in a far more comfortable silence than before, both engulfed in their literature. Now and then, Remus huffed or snorted and shared some of the more entertaining mishaps of his students. It felt like they've been spending their afternoons together like this for years. Sirius was simultaneously at peace and properly creeped out.

After a while. Remus got up and returned with a fresh cup of tea for both of them. Steeped for exactly long enough, with the perfect amount of milk in it.

"It's wild that I've been living here for a little over two months and we barely even saw each other, isn't it?" Sirius commented, cradling his new cup in his hands while Remus got once again comfortable in his armchair.

"No, not really." The other man supplied with a slightly sad smile, "See, I teach evening classes from around 7 pm to midnight, get home around 1 am and because I'm an absolute night owl, I usually do my grading and preparations right after until 4 or 5 and then sleep 'till noon. And while I thrive in my rhythm, it's a bit hard to meet, or just come across, people... or get to go out for breakfast. It's silly but I love breakfast and until I get up, most places have switched to the lunch-menu already."

What are the chances. "And here I thought that you were so quiet in the mornings because you are psychic and just know that I sleep during that time." Sirius couldn't help the chuckle bubbling up his throat at the puzzled expression of the man across him. "I'm a bartender and work from 8 to 3 in the morning during the week and until 5 on Fridays and Saturdays." He elaborated, "after that I'm often too riled up to go directly to sleep, so I often go to bed around 6 and sleep until 1."

Remus just stared at him. "Our schedules are nearly identical."

Sirius opened his mouth to reply when the sound of the doorbell interrupted them. Remus got up to open the door to a hurried James, who handed Sirius the spare-keys, kissed his cheek and stormed off again.

"So, this was James. Is he your boyfriend, then?" The cosy atmosphere dissolved with the appearance of a wary look on Remus' face.

"Nah. He is my best friend, practically brother. I know, kissing is rather uncommon between two male friends, but we've been doing that since we met fourteen years ago, and I don't give a shit about convention." Sirius explained with a fond smile on his face.

After that, they parted rather quickly as both men needed to get ready for work, but a lot still lingered in the air, unsaid. His shift went over much too slow for Sirius while he brooded over the change in the atmosphere at the end of his stay with his neighbour.

The next day, Sirius woke up with a plan. A potentially humiliating plan, but worth the risk. He got up much quicker than usual, fired up the oven and began preparing. Around 12:30 Sirius knocked at his neighbour's door and was met with a sleepy Remus in pyjamas.

"Hey- erm... good morning! Here are your clothes!" Sirius began far too loud. All he achieved was a furrowed brow on the other man's face.

Get a grip, Black! "Uhh...OK. Listen, I really like you. Would you like to have a breakfast-date with me?" He tried to put on a winning smile while lifting the tray in his hands a bit.

Remus, who had blushed furiously during Sirius' rambling, blinked at him once before a wide grin spread on his face and he stepped aside to let Sirius and the warm croissants in.

[asphalt-cocktail]

For the Sake of Content- Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Curiosity Killed the Cat 

Summary: After walking in on your long-term boyfriend, Harrison, cheating on you and then losing your job the following day; your find yourself broke, jobless, and single for the first time in a long while. In order to make ends meet, your best friend since college, Freddie, suggests you start soliciting explicit photos of yourself, not only to help boost your confidence but to help pay the rent for his band mate’s apartment you just moved into.

A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry this took me ages to write, I was having a bit of writers block with the chapter, but I finally got it out! I also finally got the plot moving and am hoping to make this around 15 chapters or so, maybe 20 if I can figure out some more discourse that could happen or something. But I’m open to suggestions for what the readers want to see! 

Pairing: Roger Taylor x F!Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex work, smut, fluff, some friendly banter between roger and reader, Dom!Roger, Angst, public kink, consensual filming, alcohol, smoking, mentions of cheating, idk its really just sex, not proof read

Word Count: 3.7k

The bar the boys played at tonight was dingy and small, per usual, but you found yourself not minding because you found that the dirtier the bar the better the beer and the better the crowd. You also had the company of Veronica while the two of you waited for the boys to go onstage, she told you about her night with John, apparently it went without a hitch and he loved the lingerie, as you suspected.

Roger pulled up to your side, slipping his hands around your waist and placing an open-mouthed kiss to your neck, “Do you want to do it before or after the show?” He murmured against your skin.

You felt your stomach clench and let out a soft nearly missed gasp before you shrugged him off “After, I wouldn’t want to ware you out too much.” You couldn’t help but drag your tongue along your lower lip in a tantalizing manor causing Roger to break out into a smug grin. You didn’t know why you wanted to make him wait, knowing what was coming made your nerves stand on end and caused you to clench your thighs together, maybe it was because you knew the build up would be worth it.

Roger’s face maintained his smirk and he slipped a hand under the skirt Freddie had helped you pick out and grabbed your ass in a less than graceful manor. You jumped and playfully shoved his chest, “Go set up your kit, rock star.” You joked as his hand lingered in place before he padded off.

The lights flickered on and off, catching the attention of everyone in the bar while your four favorite boys filed onstage and fiddled with their equipment and set it up. A murmuring hum of voices died down when the sound of the guitars tuning and tinkering on the drum set filled the room. It was loud, just how Fred liked it and you could feel the vibrations of Brian’s Red Special practically vibrating your teeth together and the beat of Roger’s bass drum thumping against your chest. You could already tell this concert would be good.

Roger twirled his sticks between his fingers and made faces at the girls in the crowd to rile them up, he wore his shawl with no shirt underneath and a pair of too tight jeans that he probably stole from the thrift store while his hair looked as though it was strategically messy. You couldn’t wait until he took you in the bathroom and fucked you against the bathroom stall.

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sound of Brian’s fancy guitar and Roger’s symbols crashed together and Freddie’s voice sang out. The lights flashed to the beat of Roger’s symbols and Freddie’s stylishly garish outfit flowed as he riled up the crowd with his movements. When the lights turned on, revealing their stage illuminated in red you couldn’t help but gape at them.

They truly all had magnificent stage presence. Brian and Freddie in their nearly matching outfits, John with his subtle head bobs that you knew would soon lean to him hopping about stage, and Roger’s brows furrowed with focus as he banged on his set for dear life.

The lights dramatically shifted to blue and Freddie stood confidently in the middle of the stage as he introduced the next song “It’s time for the” He took in a deep breath “Ogre Battle.”

Somewhere between the beginning of the concert and the small little drum solo break you saw beer, bouncing rhythmically on Roger’s drums as he threw his head back and spat. You could tell from the red lighting shined off his chest and the way his hair clumped together that he was covered in sweat. You quickly gulped down your beer before moving onto the next one you luckily had in your hand as your stomach clenched. His face was so determined, and his eyes looked wild, yet his movements seemed so effortless and the way he snarled into the microphone while he sang made you clench your beer a little tighter.

As they closed their show, Freddie has barely been able to say goodbye to the crowd before Roger was up, throwing his sticks off stage to some random audience member. He was now shirtless, except for the necklaces that layered his neck, and his hair was clinging to his face, shoulders, and back from the sticky layer of sweat that covered his body. He walked with long strides off stage, cleaning up his kit was the last thing on his mind right now.

It didn’t take him very long to find you in the crowd. Roger wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you against his sweaty and sticky chest, “Bathroom, now.” He hissed into your ear before he pulled away and gripped your hand and pulled you through the crowd of people.

As soon as you entered the dingey two stall woman’s restroom Roger pulled you into the closest stall and gripped your wrists, slamming you against the cool metallic stall. The cold metal bit into your skin and you let out a breathy gasp which was quickly swallowed as Roger crashed his lips against yours in a messy heated kiss. Your teeth clanked together, and you laced your fingers in Roger’s tangled and sweaty hair.

Roger’s hand slipped under your skirt and you could feel him smirking against your skin, “This pretty pussy of yours is all wet for me, innit?” He asked, nipping at your neck.

You hummed feeling the stubble on his chin scrape against your neck, “Only for you,” you responded with a coy smile.

Roger pulled away and peered at you through his lashes, “So how do you want to do this?” He asked, his expression suddenly going serious.

You swallowed thickly and handed him your phone, the video camera already out and ready for filming before you pulled him into another hot open-mouthed kiss, “Just fuck me already.” You mumbled against his soft lips.

A soft laugh rumbled through his chest as he turned you over and pushed you down at an angle. Instinctively your legs opened up for him to nestle between them. He held the camera up and lifted your skirt up with his free hand, smoothing it over the round swell of your ass and lightly slapping it. You jumped and sharply inhaled as you felt him grind against your clothed and wet core, “Fuck me, please.” You pushed back against him desperately.

You could imagine the stupid cheeky grin on Roger’s face as the words left your lips, but your mind quickly went blank as soon as he pushed your panties to the side and the cool bathroom air brushed against you. You tensed ever so slightly, and your stomach filled with nerves; you could hear the sound of the crowd outside and the thrill of getting caught went straight to your core and made you throb. Roger’s hand dove between your legs and harshly rubbed your clit, not bothering to build up to the aggressive and almost overstimulating sensation. You cooed and your back arched at the sensation, “Quiet, love.” Roger mumbled as he slipped two fingers into you, “Don’t want anyone hearing how much of a slut you are.” He mocked as he pumped his fingers in and out of your wet core.

It felt as though the sounds of your wetness were echoing off the walls and slamming against your eardrums. You couldn’t help but whimper out as his rough fingers curled expertly inside you. Roger immediately pulled the out, “Turn around,” He commanded, a shiver crept down your spine and you turned around to face him. He’d taken off the silky little sash he had tied to his pants, “Open.” He demanded and cupped your face, squeezing your cheeks together to force your mouth open.

You winced slightly feeling your teeth biting into your cheek and, “What?” You asked now confused.

“I told you not to make any fucking noise, didn’t I?” He chastised before letting out a disappointed sigh, “Apologize.” He ordered still roughly holding your cheeks.

Your heart hammered against your chest and you followed his orders, “I’m sorry,” You whimpered and closed your mouth.

Roger shook his head, “I said open,” He lightly shook your jaw and forced your mouth open, “Since you can’t be quiet, I’ll help you.” He flashed you a cheeky smirk as you mumbled a soft thank you and opened your mouth. Roger slipped the silky and slightly musky smelling fabric into your mouth and you couldn’t help but pout a little bit.

You were quickly turned and pressed against the bathroom stall at an angle once again. Roger didn’t bother taking your panties off, instead he just pushed them aside and pushed in after he slipped his condom on. The pace Roger set was ruthless and unforgiving, his hips slapped against yours in quick succession while your hands curled against the metal you were using for support. The metal bit into your hot skin and made your nerves stand on end while muffled noises spilled from your lips and into the silk barrier Roger had shoved into it only moments prior.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you rested the side of your face against the door, not caring how filthy it was in the moment. The door rattled with the force of your body slamming into it over and over again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Roger cursed through gritted teeth.

All of a sudden, he stopped and hushed the sounds of protest you whimpered out. The door creaked open and you could hear chatter among two women as they walked in. You turned to look at Roger, your face red on one side from the door and eyes hazy; his brows were tightly knit together but the expression of concentration was soon traded for something slightly more devilish.

Slowly he moved his hips back and forth at an agonizing pace. Your brain felt as though it was boiling in your head and soon your thoughts were filled with TV static.

“Oh my gosh did you see the band before?” One of the women asked.

“Yeah, what was their name again? Queen? God that one with the hair? What a snack.” Their conversation was practically flowing from one ear and out the other.

“The one with black hair? Oh my god, those curls were to DIE for.”

Roger rolled his eyes and lightly scoffed at the comments the women made regarding Brian while keeping his leisurely pace.  Your brows furrowed and eyes clenched tightly shut as you tried to maintain your composure with the two women in the room. For some reason the prospect of getting caught aroused you more and caused your walls to twitch around Roger’s length.  You could feel tears pricking at the corner of your eyes and desperately tried to hold back the whimper that was caught in the back of your throat.

The two women left the room and you let out a choked sob as your walls spasmed and clenched around Roger’s length. Your back arched and your breasts pressed against the stall door, lightly nipping through the fabric of your shirt. The overwhelming sensation and contrast of temperature caused your brain to go muddy and soon blank.

Roger gripped the meat of your ass tightly “Fuck, oh shit.” He hissed out as you continued to throb around him. He pumped in and out at a quicker pace, “You were such a good girl,” He said in a haggard tone. His hips slapped against yours, his climax still far off in the distance, “Not making any sound as I fucked you when they came in.” His breathing was heavy and labored as his orgasm came into view. “Fucking Christ.” He clenched his jaw and hissed out as he finally came, shooting into the condom and riding out his high.

After the two of you cleaned yourselves up in the restroom, Roger grinned up at you, still drunk with pleasure, “You were fucking brilliant.” He said, you couldn’t help but look at the sash that was once stuffed in your mouth and was now tied around his waist, a dark damp spot gathered on the fabric.

You shook your head, trying to clear it of the lewd thoughts, “If I was that great, buy me a drink.” You teased.

Roger’s face maintained his grin, “I can manage that.” He said and straightened himself up before moving to exit the stall.

You stopped and stood in the mirror and fixed your hair, Roger came behind you and wrapped his hands around your waist “You look great.” He said and kissed your shoulder softly.

You felt your heart clench at his words, “Thanks,” You mumbled under your breath.

Roger left the bathroom and a cool rush of air hit your back that he once covered. You couldn’t help but find yourself longing for the familiar warmth he brought to you.

Exiting the bathroom wasn’t any trouble, what you found trouble in was the questions you were battered with from Freddie as soon as you got back to the table, “Where did you go?” Freddie asked, leaning both his elbows onto the table while leaning forward.

You pursed your lips, “Smoke break.” You said smiling softly.

Freddie hummed and clicked his tongue against his teeth, “That must have been a long cigarette for you to be gone for thirty minutes.” He said and tapped his chin, looking over to Roger, “And what about you?” He pressed.

Roger shrugged his shoulders, “Fucked some girl I saw in the crowd in the bathroom.” He said as honestly as he could. You tried to shoot him a look, but he didn’t even give you a second glance.

Fred grinned “You dog, Rog.” He said, slapping his friend on the shoulder. Roger surged forward and coughed up what he inhaled of his drink as it splattered all on the exposed skin of his chest.

You let out a soft huff before slamming the rest of your drink down and getting up, “Anyone need another drink? I’m going up to get one.” You said pausing for a moment.

Veronica raised her hand, quickly finishing her drink, “I’ll get a refill.” She said scooting out past the boys.

The two of you walked up to the bar and patiently waited for the bartender to wait on you, “So where did you really go?” Veronica said with a sly smirk playing on her face.

You shifted, nervously tapping your fist of money on the bar, “I don’t you, to the bar.” You couldn’t hide the smile that gave way the fact that you were lying.

“Come on, I won’t tell anyone.” She leaned closer in, hoping you’d spill.

You let out a deep sigh, “I was with Roger.” You rushed out.

Veronica gaped at you, her mouth hanging ajar and eyes wide “You where what!?!” She shouted, “You and Roger!?! Shagging!?!” her voice continued to raise in pitch as her disbelief increased

You quickly pulled her close and shushed her, “Please don’t tell anyone!” You pleaded, “It’s nothing, really, just casual.”

Veronica grinned manically at you, “How is he? Does he live up to the hype?” She pried, “I mean he must be in order to shag in the bathroom…”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, “I mean, yeah, he’s fine.” You bashfully averted your gaze. Veronica’s smile suddenly fell, and her eyes narrowed as she looked over your shoulder; you turned and followed her gaze, “What?” you pressed struggling to pick out what had soured her mood so suddenly.

She nudged her direction, helping to give you a general direction of where to look and then you saw it, Roger was talking to a pretty girl. You could spot her dark hair and olive skin tone even in the dimly lit bar. You pursed your lips, “Who’s that?” You asked, seeing Roger break away from their hug and keep his hand on the small of her back.

“Roger’s ex-girlfriend. Dominique.” The words dripped from her mouth like sludge.

“I’ve never heard of her before.” It was the truth, neither Roger nor Fred had mentioned her at all.

Veronica sighed and turned towards the bar, finally ordering drinks for the both of you, “They were together for three years, broke up shortly after John and I started dating.” She turned towards you, “Didn’t you ask Fred, why Roger had been looking for a new roommate?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I didn’t think of it,”

She pursed her lips, “I don’t know a lot about their breakup, but I do know Roger was heartbroken, didn’t see the poor lad for weeks.” She hummed and sipped her drink, “He broke it off with her though, I know that much.” She paused for a moment, glancing back over at Roger, “Fred didn’t like her very much.” She added before she began walking back towards the table.

Veronica slipped back into her seat next to John and you searched the table but found that there were no more open seats, Dominque had taken your spot and was happily chatting away with Roger. He was grinning from ear to ear and for some reason, it made your stomach churn.  You turned towards Fred, his brows were tightly knit and his lips were pursed together before he finally caught your gaze and flashed you an award winning smile.

“Dom!” He said catching her attention, “This is [Y/N], Roger’s new roommate.”

Dominique looked you up and down slowly, as though she were inspecting every inch, “[Y/N]!” She grinned at you, “Dominique.” She reached her hand out for you to shake which you graciously took and grasped firmly, “How is it living with Rog?” She smiled and scrunched her nose.

You couldn’t help but let out an awkward laugh, “Oh, well, you know,” You shrugged, “He eats my food and struggled to do dishes, but he isn’t too bad.”

Roger scoffed loudly and rolled his eyes, “I told you if you don’t want it to be eaten, mark it!” He teased you.

Everyone conversed through out the night, but you continued to stand awkwardly to the side. You felt as though you were now looking at a group with established dynamics and history, they were catching up like old friends and here you were intruding. You weren’t even friends with anyone else in the group beside for Freddie, sure you and Veronica were now close acquaintances, but you still felt as though you were cast out.

You didn’t know what to say or how to interact, so you did the first thing that came to mind. You slammed your drink and raised your glass, “I’m going to get refills, anyone want to tag along?” You asked, looking around the table, to your surprise Brian stood up.

“I’ll join.” He said finishing the last little bit of his beverage.

Going to the bar with Brian didn’t make you feel more comfortable, if anything it made you feel more uncomfortable than you had before. His tall lanky frame dwarfed you and his hair and eloquent speech intimidated you. Not to mention you had maybe said five words to the guy in the entire time you’d known him. Brian flagged down the bartender, “Scotch and coke,” He ordered before turning towards you, “Do you want anything? I’ll buy as a thank you for getting me away from that insufferable woman.” He grinned at you with a surprising amount of playfulness.

You couldn’t help but grin back, “Surprise me, but no dark liquor.” You said and within the minute Brian had handed you what you could assume was something mixed with vodka. “No fond of Dom?” You pressed, hoping for some answers to your curiosity.

Brian scoffed, “Not in the slightest.” He said, leaning against the bar and stalling on going back to the table, “Roger was a right bitch when he broke up with her.” He sighed, “He’s already a bit of a pain but that made it worse.”

You smiled, knowing Roger and Brian bickered like brothers, “Why’d they break up?” Curiosity killed the cat and frankly, you were begging for it.

Brian pursed his thin lips, “I think she cheated on him or something,” He let out a deep sigh, “It wasn’t like a one off, it was like she had a whole different long term relationship going on at the same time.” He shook his head.

You frowned probably knowing how Roger felt in the moment. “It’s a shame,” You said and cleared your throat, “Roger’s an idiot but he doesn’t deserve that.”

Brian raised his glass in agreement, “We should head back.”

By the time you returned with your drinks, Roger and Dominique were whispering and giggling quietly to each other. Your frown got deeper every time you heard one of them giggling, so once again you downed your drink, allowing it to fuel your sudden need to go home, “I’m catching a ride back.” You said suddenly and grabbing your jacket off the back of the chair.

You didn’t know if it your brain was muddied from the sex or what, but you needed to leave before something happened. Fred perked up and glanced at you, “Do you want anyone to ride back with you?” he asked.

You shrugged, but then quickly followed it with a head shake, “No, Roger’s a little preoccupied and I don’t want to trouble any of you.” Your words sounded bitter and you couldn’t hide it anymore.

It didn’t surprise you when Roger didn’t bother to look over at you as you said your name or as you left.

Your ride home was quiet, and you made polite conversation with your driver, but still the bitter emotions seeped out of you like sweat. Even as you readied yourself for bed you couldn’t help but stair at the ceiling, silently hoping you’d hear the familiar sound of Roger stumble through the door and drop his keys like he usually did on nights out, but you didn’t. Instead you just heard the unfamiliar creaks of the apartment building as it settled.

NOTE: Hi again! I just wanted to add that this chapter doesn’t mean any slander towards Dominique, it's literally just for the sake of advancing the plot and causing some spicy drama  

[hilllsnholland]

Paper Airplanes

Pairing: College!Tom x College!Y/N

Wc: 2kish 

Warnings: swearing and tooth-rotting fluff :) 

Summary: You know all those cliches in movies? yeah well, this oneshot is full of them. So...check yes Juliet? 

There were many things on your to-do list today. Homework, filing papers, possibly getting lunch if you had time (which you did not). On your long list of things, getting hit in the eye with a paper airplane was not one of them. Your hand went up to feel the sensitive hit while the projectile fell into your lap. Luckily it didn’t hit your actual cornea, just the lid, but fuck that hurt. You looked around the office/lounge area to see who was the assailant, only to see Tom. 

“For fuck sakes Tom,” You whine and throw the plane back at him. 

“Sorry love, I just wanted your attention.” He laughs and picks the plane right out of the sky. “Need someone to keep your company?” 

He signaled to the very barren student lounge/event office space that you were currently in charge of. You had taken the job as a ‘student event assistant’ last semester, which basically meant you made posters for Uni events, in charge of student activity sign-ups, paperwork, and most important taking ID pictures. It was a very laidback job though, your desk sitting in the student lounge which was usually quiet. Most of your time was consumed getting homework done or watching Hulu. 

“As long as nothing else comes at my face,” 

“I can’t-“

“Holland, I swear to God.” You narrow your eyes and he laughs. 

“You know me too well Y/N,” 

Tom says as he knocks on the locked door of your desk area. Your desk was positioned in a smaller office room that was open to the lounge. It was easy access for you to talk to other students or for others to ask questions. Mainly it was a nuisance to walk around your desk and through the door, but you dealt with it. Tom grabbed a chair next to your desk and leaned back, feet propped up on your physics textbook as he relaxed. 

You rolled your eyes, shifting his feet off your books and placing them on the free area next to them. It took some time to get used to Tom’s pestering nature, but after meeting him last semester it became a fond friendship. Tom had come to the event office to ask if he could publish posters for his brother’s movie festival. You agreed and he went straight to playfully flirt with you. Nothing had happened though, which you were trying to not mind. Although his presence made your heart thump and palms sweat, you didn’t want to jump into some puppy dog love. 

“Who do you have for physics?” 

“Watanabe,” 

“Yikes. Good luck with that babes,” Tom flips through the book and raises his brow at you. “So, what time are you off?” 

You turn your clock towards you and saw it was 4:15. Forty-five minutes until freedom, and by that you mean watching your shows while eating pizza bites. 

“I get off at five,” You spin in your chair and Tom stops you with his foot. 

“You got plans?” 

“Do I ever?” 

Tom snickers and moves your chair between his legs, your feet bouncing off his. He bites his lip and looks beyond you. For a second you thought you were going to explode. Was Tom going to ask you out? Not only would that complete every dream and wish you’ve had ever, that would also give you something to do besides self-indulge. Tom stands up suddenly and looks down at you with that shit-eating grin he always has. 

“Can you retake my ID picture?” 

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows and Tom shrugs. 

“I lost my ID. Help a boy out,” He whines while grabbing the sides of your face. “I’ll make it worth your wild.” 

You feign a sighed ‘fine’ as you turn on the ID machine. Tom hops over the waist height counter and stands in front of the small white backdrop. You spin your seat around and play with the settings until it’s not a fuzzy mess of Tom’s face. 

“Hold on,” Tom fumbles with his pockets until he pulls out a pair of circular black glasses. 

Fuck, as if he couldn’t get any cuter. Your face is flushed as he adjusts them on his face. The frames are big but they make his brown eyes sparkle behind the glass. No way could they be real, he’s just toying with you at this point. Tom rubs his lips together, sliding his tongue between the pink lines and smirking at you. He knows he looks like a whole meal. Your mind wanders. It’s getting really hot all of sudden. Now all you can think of is how his glasses would look perched upon your-

“Nose?” 

“Huh?” 

“I said, do these glasses look too big for my nose?” Tom squints his eyes at you and you laugh off the lustful thoughts. 

“No, no you look good. Why do you want to wear glasses in your ID though?” 

“I want to look studious,” He states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

A flat ‘hmph’ leaves your lips as you raise three fingers in the air. Tom relaxes and shines that perfect smile towards the camera lens. You count down and click the camera to snap the most perfect photo you’ve ever seen. Tom can’t take a bad picture, can he? This sappy crush you have is becoming a little obsessive because now you can’t stop staring at his beautiful face. The machine chucks out the new ID and you hand it to him. 

“Picture perfect,” He muses and pulls out his wallet. “I also wanted to wear the glasses to see you get all red,” 

Your chair spins in his direction and you throw a pen at him. It misses by an inch, flying past his ear as he laughs at you. Tom leans on the counter, picking the paper airplane that he threw before. He plays with it, moving the nose across the desk until it’s running past your hand that’s sitting on the computer keys. He pretends to trace your hand with the makeshift toy, humming to himself. 

“So we’re going to go eat after or?” Tom hums with that stupid twinkle in his eye. 

“Sure, you want to go to the usual?” 

Main Street. It was a small, hole in the wall place in the downtown district near the Uni. They had the best sandwiches. Tom brought you there one evening after a job fair at school. You remembered it so vividly, down to where he carved your name into the window sill by your signature spot. Tom nods and drops the paper airplane back on the desk. He has been so fixated on that damn toy since he walked in here. It was close to driving you mad. 

“Are you going to recycle that or?” 

“Please. Y/N, I’ve been waiting for you to open the airplane since I got here.” Tom states in almost a watery tone. He was pleading to you with his eyes. “I’m dying here Y/N,” 

Tom was riled up, now pacing back and forth in front of you. No wonder he was acting so strange, whatever was in the airplane had him going crazy. His excitement, or dread, was causing his mood shifts which were more than usual. You grab the airplane and unraveled it from its original form. Every unfolded layer made you nervous. What the hell did he put in here that’s making him so jumpy? You see words appear on the page and with one final crease, it shows a small note. 

Dear Y/N, 

Be my girlfriend and fly away with me? 

At the bottom of the page it has two large boxes with ‘yes’ and ‘no’ written next to them. Tom’s signature was below that, his bubbly and perfect handwriting made it official. You didn’t respond. Was this a joke? Like, was Tom Holland really asking you out with a note? 

“Are you serious?” You laugh 

Tom doesn’t react. He’s biting down on his lip and waiting for you to give him a real answer. His palms are sweating. This was the only way he could find the words to say anything. He was a little oblivious, he needed to see it in writing because words made him lost. You look at him and he seems to be getting disheartened. 

“Tom-“

“Hey it’s okay,” Tom grabs the paper and tries to stuff it into his pocket. 

“Tom-“

“No, it’s alright. I’ll see you around,” 

Tom grabs his stuff quickly and rushes out the door. You stood there feeling stupid. You laughed at him for Christ sakes! But in your defense, it seemed like a joke Tom would make. His face though, you saw the crushed look upon his face. He was gutted. You look to the clock, 4:45. Fuck it. Executive order, you were done with work and now you had to make things right. 

__

Tom sat in the dimly lit restaurant, stirring a cup of tea with a little wooden stick. His heart felt heavy, his mind was cluttered with antagonizing thoughts. He felt stupid. After days, maybe weeks, of trying to say something to Y/N, he wrote a stupid fucking note? What kind of grade school shit is that? Tom didn’t even touch his sandwich. He felt physically ill. 

His fingers brush over your name that was carved into the window sill. God, it took forever to write it into the wood. He tried a pen, knife, and keys. Took all of dinner but it happened. Your name forever carved into one of his favorite places. Tom couldn’t be mad at you. Your name sparked that light feeling in his chest. Like his heart was flying. It was dumb though, a stupid puppy dog crush. His eyes fixated on his uneaten food until something poked his nose. It didn’t hurt but it was blunt, something scratchy. A poorly made paper airplane fell on top of his Mediterranean sandwich. He looks up and sees you standing there, hands behind your back like you’ve done something wrong. 

“Y/N, you don’t-“ 

“Come on Tom, open it.” You whine and take the seat in front of him. “I’m dying here,” You mimic. 

Tom gulps hard, opening the airplane folds nervously. You were not a master of paper folding at all. The nose of your airplane was bent before it hit Tom’s nose and the creases were all wrong. But it got to its destination and that’s all that mattered. Tom unfolded it and saw your beautiful handwriting scribbled across the paper. 

Dear Tom, 

Sorry for being an ass. Do you forgive me? (Checking yes means you’re my boyfriend so choose carefully) 

Tom scans the bottom where there are two boxes. Both had the word ‘yes’ next to them, leading him with no ultimatum. He laughs, grabbing his pen and creating a new box. You sit back, still unsure if he was mad that you disregarded his note from before. Tom turns the note around and you see the new box says, ‘Definitely you div’. 

“So I’m the div huh?” You giggle while leaning close over the table. “You’re the one using primary school ways to win my heart,” 

“It worked didn’t it?” Tom wiggles an eyebrow at you, his lips looking delectable. 

“Why don’t you come over here and see,” 

Tom lifts himself slightly out of the chair to meet your lips. His one hand cupped your cheek while the other moved across your carved name on the window sill. You were trying to not completely burst into a fit of laughter. You were out of this world happy, even it was full of cliches. But maybe that was the thing about puppy love. It’s pure and full of gestures of admiration. All reservations aside, you were now falling fast into that ‘puppy dog love’. 

Tom’s lips are better than you could ever imagine. It was the thing you see in movies, that true love’s kiss or whatever. It felt right? It felt better than right, it felt like the most amazing thing you could besides looking at Tom’s beautiful face. And boy, did he feel the same way. All those days worrying about what to say paid off. He finally got to kiss the girl of his dreams. Your cute little gasps against his lips. The way your hand carresses his so softly. This was better than any dream he ever had. 

“Worked pretty well, huh?” Tom leans his forehead against yours, pecking smaller kisses to your lips. 

“Shut it Holland,” You kiss him again. “Don’t make me write a breakup airplane,” 

[nightowlfandom]

The Kings’ Pet Princess- Royal! BTS x Reader Series Part 2- Namjoon 1

REQUEST FROM PROMPT LIST- RIGHT HERE! (Hey hey! I write for anime too)

READ PART 1, JUST CLICK HERE! 

I should say that this will be dark as fuck...like if you aren’t open to some crazy dark sexy shit then this might not be for you but rest assured everything is consensual and both parties very much want this.

I am so excited oh my gosh, let’s just jump in! 

Leggo!

...

You had trouble wrapping your head around what the hell had just gone on just now. What exactly had they been talking about?

The words. “Because you’re ours now...” echoed in your head, made your heart pound and send electricity through your body. Just what the fuck had you agreed to...and was it too late to go back on your word. You had taken it upon yourself to explore the castle for yourself. It seemed easy enough to memrise once you really took a good and close look at everything.

You hated to admit it, but looked around...it was beautiful. The stone walls that held paintings of all times, the dimly illuminated chandeliers that contrasted with the dark red velvety floors, this place seemed like a dream.

Only the men in it made it a nightmare. You walked down the hall trying to find your room again. You had remembered it wasn’t actually that far from that god-forsaken dungeon that damned Hoseok had dragged you to.

What did you need to be prepared for? What was up their sleeves, why did you need to be prepared at a time like this? You found your way back to your bedroom, sighing heavily. You were quite sleepy and to be honest, you wanted to wake up in your own room tomorrow to breakfast in bed and your siblings running around, excited for the day’s activities. You shook your head, trying to get all of it off your mind.

You scribbled away in your diary, venting all your thoughts onto paper.

“Y/N?” You turned around to see Rina standing by the door. “Dinner had been prepared. S-shall I convinced them to allow me to bring it up to you?”

“No.” you said instantly. “I won’t allow them to scare me...alert them that I’ll be there shortly.” you smiled at Rina who bowed and scurried off. You walked over to the full body mirror. “You are Princess (Insert full name here) and you will not be walked over. Soon you will be Queen and soon you will establish peace across both lands...you just have to be patient.” you said to yourself, clutching your personal journal in your hands.

You walked out of the room and took down the hall to your left. You knew where the dining hall was already thanks to Rina. You walked into the large dining hall to see your seven soon to be-...no...you couldn’t even say it with a straight face. They were sitting in their respective areas. You noticed there was a spot open, right between Yoongi and Seokjin. 

“You couldn’t get me a better seat?” you mumbled to Rina.

“I tried but they outsmarted me.” she whispered. “It’s only for an hour then you’re free to go.” she assured, making you nod your head.

Wordlessly you sat down, looking down at your fingertips. You refused to look up. You just scribbled away, letting your thoughts run wild. It was almost relaxing but as most relaxing things, they come to an end when someone opens their mouth.

“...Why hello there Y/N.” you heard from beside you. You took one look at Yoongi and rolled your eyes.

“I believe he was talking to you Y/N.” You looked across from you and say Taehyung with a shit eating grin on his face.

“I’m aware. I was ignoring him.” you crossed your arms. “This is a nightmare.” you whispered to yourself.

“Oh come on Y/N...we don’t bite.” Seokjin winked. 

 Rina walked over to you with a plate of food that you assumed was for you. 

“I made sure to look into foods from your kingdom and alerted the kitchens. I wasn’t sure if you were familiar with our type of cuisine yet.” she said.

“It’s perfectly fine.” you smiled at Rina who sighed with releif. 

“Funny, you seem to treat the maid with more respect than your future husbands.” Jungkook yawned, eyes both you and Rina. He put way too much emphasis on the word ‘maid’.

“Maybe because she’s not an intolerable pain in my ass.” you snapped as Rina walked away. Gosh, you were starving.

You looked down and saw all your favorites on the plate, but your happiness was short lived when Seokjin reached over and stole some one your favorite side dish off the plate.

“Hey! That was mine!” you pouted. This marriage thing was gonna suck if you were getting your favorite foods taken off your plate.

“Oh, is Y/N defending herself?” Hoseok asked, faking a baby voice. So cute.

You stayed silently and griped as you ate, yes it was delicious but it would have been better with ALL your food on your plate.

“It’s unladylike to slouch while you eat”

 “It’s a tradition where I’m from to remain silent while you eat unless you have something real fucking important to say.”

Okay that was a lie, but you really didn’t want to hear them throughout the entire dinner hour.

“Hm..Funny...it’s a tradition here in our kingdom...to speak to your significant other.” Jungkook replied. 

“Oh...if only I gave a shit.” you rolled your eyes.

“You will watch how you speak to me or-”

“Or what..you gonna punish me?” you challenged, slamming the diary in your hands onto the table. You got up from the table, shaking your head. “No one punishes me.” you rolled your eyes. As you walked off Rina followed you.

“You must really want your life to end so abruptly.” she whimpered.

“They kill me, the contract is null and void and our kingdoms are sent right into war. They wouldn’t dare.”

“Maybe not kill...but these men are known for their torture tactics...Y/N please listen to me and be careful!” Rina sounded restless. “Bangtan is NOT like your homeland...these people have tortured their own friends and laughed about it afterwards. If you continue this...you’re as good as dead after your wedding day.”

Ah wedding day...you weren’t even sure how far away that was anyways but you let Rina’s words sink in. As much as you hated them...it wasn’t worth losing your life over.

“I wouldn’t lie to you about these things, these men may not torture you as they do with others.” Rina said. “But it’s still torture nonetheless.” she said. 

“...Fine.” you said. “I’ll bear it...but I won’t enjoy it.” you crossed your arms.

...

You threw your book down onto the bed. Of course the books you had already read through were the ones that you wound up taking. You’ve read almost every book on the shelf across the room cover to cover that it would bore you to read them again.

You laid back in bed, flicking off the light. This was going to be a long few months and you weren’t excited in the least. “The least I can do is bear it.” you said to yourself before drifting off

...

Your surroundings were dull and slightly dark. You were on a plush surface, but it definitely wasn’t your bed. It took a while but you were finally able to open your eyes. You definitely weren’t in your bed room. You were sucking in and expelling heavy and deep breaths, your chest burned as beads on sweat ran down your face even in such a cold and dry room. 

You finally found your voice, though it was small. You finally noticed it...your ankles were in shackles. They looked familiar to the ones Hoseok had slapped on you earlier that day.

“What the hell!” You yelled out, only to get silent when you realized you weren’t alone. Namjoon sat in armchair, one leg folded elegantly over the other as he flipped through a book, the same one you had read before.

“Your selection in reading is repulsive, not to mention boring.”  Namjoon looked up at me, a glint in his eyes. “But,” he rose to his feet. “It gives me a feel for what you like.” he smirked. You watched as he walked over to what looked like a light switch and suddenly the room lit.

:And what is it exactly that I like?” You asked, glaring at Namjoon who seemed to enjoy the sight of you getting riled up. Your heart was beating out of your chest so intensely that you were scared he might hear it.

“You’re very fucking naive Y/N.” he shook his head. “I wonder what other stupid fantasies you have.” he wondered causing your eyes to widen. “Why don’t we consult...your diary.”

Your eyes widened, how in the hell did he get a hold of that!

You glared at the smug look on his face, trying to move. It was no use, your chains were attached to the bed. How did he get his hands on your personal property-

Oh no...you left it at the table when you stormed off!

“I have no idea why.” Namjoon began to read aloud to your dismay. “The thought of being tied up and denied pleasure...it excites me. Does that make me a degenerate?” he read, making you growl in frustration. “My family would probably snatch my crown off my head and drown me in a river to purify my soul if they knew what ran through my head.”

“Stop! Don’t you dare read anymore!” You tried to move around only to realize it was quite literally no use.

“Hm...”he smirked before reading again. “I dreamt of my dream demons again.” he smirked. “I feel like I’ve seen them in real life before, but I can’t put my finger on it. All that matters is they used ropes like they promise. They blindfolded me too. They said I would like it...and they were so right.” he raised an eyebrow. “....Y/N I had no idea you were such a masochist.”

“I AM NOT!” You snapped. “You have one more chance to let me go and give me back my diary!” 

“Better stop trying to move, it’s no use.” he began to take slow and intimidating steps towards you. “You’ll move when I say.”

“Ha! Joke’s on you! I can still used my hands!” you fired back. “Exhibit A.” you began to show example by flashing him your middle finger. You began to pull at the shackles on your ankles.

“Oh really, I must have forgotten about that, we’ll have to fix that. Put your hands above your head Y/N.”

“Excuse me!?! You can’t tell me what to do-” you began, only to silence yourself when Namjoon’s face turned serious again.

“Hands. Above. Your. Head.”

Suddenly, seemingly beyond your control your arms shot above your head, only to feel something wrap around your wrists and tighten.

You just had to open your fucking mouth.

“That’s better isn’t it?” Namjoon asked, chuckling. “While I would love to say I read your entire diary cover to cover...there’s still so much to be discovered. From the first few pages tell me all I need to know...and oh my..you’ve been hiding a few secrets Y/N.” he smirked. Oh you wished you could wipe that smirk off his face.

The now pouring rain battered against the window, you couldn’t tell the difference between your heart and the rain...or the blood rushing through your veins at how excit- scared you were.

“Secrets?” you trailed off.

“Hm...Do you like it? Be honest...do you love the pain and being used. You love the thought of being treated, taken care of, fucked like the pretty little toy you are.” He spoke. His face was playful...but his voice was sharpened...and seemingly bloodthirsty.

The pads of his fingers slid down your stomach, making you lurch a bit.

“D-dont touch me!” you snapped, although you weren’t even sure if you believed your own words anymore. 

“Hm...Y/N.” his fingertips slid under your cheek and his face got dangerous close to yours. He bit his lip at the sight of watching your eyes try to look everywhere but at him.

“If I could move my legs I swear-” you glared, or at least tried to.

“Hm...you won’t be able to resist.” he got even closer till your noses were touching.

“Watch me.” you stammered. Come on Y/N weren’t you just thinking about kicking him a minute ago! Get it together.

“Oh...but I am...my princess.” he chuckled, dipping his head into your neck. he ran a hand up your bare thigh. “You wanna know a secret?”

“Uhhhh depends on what it i-is.” you shook below him.

“I think you love the idea of being punished by us, being ravaged by us, having all of us to yourself to do to you whatever that little mind of yours can conjure...you’re just too blinded by your hatred of us...but the thought of being tortured, in our playroom by one of us...while the rest of us watch you beg to be taken....you love it.” he smirked.

“I d-do not!” you shook. Now you were just trying to not sound convincing. It was pretty hard to think over the feeling on Namjoon’s lips kissing down your neck.

“Oh but I think you do...All your fantasies end with you being dominated...”

“..B-be that as it may, that still doesn’t mean they’re intended for you eyes to read.”

His face grew near to yours again. Suddenly, like snapped a cord, his hand had found your cheek and his harsh but...sweet mouth had crashed over yours.

You impact took you by surprise, so much so that you absentmindedly arched your back. Namjoons fingers began to creep under your clothes and that alone weakened your urge and resolve to try and stop him. You grabbed the chains of your handcuffs and wrapped your hands around them. 

A whimper, just the quietest of moans left your lips. Namjoon’s chest vibrated in a chuckle as he pulled away.

“Hm...I told you you’d get all of my undivided attention.” he flicked his tongue against your bottom lip. You shuddered under his touch, this time your whimpers more audible. He kissed your again, allowing his fingers to trail down to the waistband of your pajama shorts. 

His fingers got closer and closer. 

‘W-what are y-” 

His knuckles brushed over your clothed slit, cutting you off from saying anything. You yanked on your restraints, making Namjoon laugh. What was wrong with yoU! Why weren’t you pushing him away? Why didn’t you want to?

“Isn’t this better? Not resisting your fantasies? Giving in?” he his lips hovered over yours again. A small gasp gave him the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue through the gap in your mouth.

He pushed your shorts aside rubbing the pads of his fingers up against your heat.

“Hard for me to say...” you mumbled, but your words were quickly swallowed by his tongue. You gave up trying to stay still, seeing as your hips wanted to buck against his fingers. Namjoon moaned into your mouth, sending vibrations all throughout your body. You felt his fingers plunge deep into your hole, sending a loud squeak echoing throughout the room. The sound of your water was lewd and seemed to get louder and louder with each thrust of his ice cold fingers. 

“How does it feel, my little princess? Do you love being taken care of by your king?” he asked, pressing down on your clit with his thumb. “Do you want more?” he cooed, thrusting faster. Before you could answer, Namjoon yanked his fingers out of you, making you whimper. “Hm..you got your nasty juice all over my hand.” he smirked down at you. “Answer me, Y/N.”

Your hands gripped onto your chains, fuck you’d hate yourself in the morning but you mind was clouded and you needed something...anything.

“O-oh come on.” you whined. “Y-you aren’t playing fair. You have to give me something to work with.” you stammered.

“Oh...Y/N I don’t play fair.” he chuckled. “But since you’ve been such a well behaved princess for me.” he chuckled.

 “Let’s play some more shall we?”

(See this right here? It only get worse...This took so long to freaking type but hey i hope you guys like.)

[firebirdsdaughter]

01 made sure that I don't care one bit about characters that don't give a single f*ck about a traumatized victim of decade long abused. Horobi had nobody caring about him all this time, his own son offered him on a silver platter to the Ark, Aruto thinks yelling at him to snap out of the hacking will do. And then Aruto is sad over his pet AI being stupid and suddenly everyone is up in arms and ready to jump in and help him cheer up again. Give me a break.

… I will forever keep pre-ep 42 Fuwa safely in my heart. That guy out there isn’t my Fuwa. My Fuwa is safe. -_-

It’s very… Questionable.

Like. If anyone had tried to do anything help Horobi earlier, we wouldn’t be in this situation. It’d be so much less messy and destructive. It’d’ve been actual work, but, like. It would have literally been easier.

I’ve said before that I feel like they switched the cores of Horobi and Gai’s stories, and I super still feel that. Esp given the loss of episodes, they really should have stuck w/ having the Ark as the final villain, maybe have her take over Gai forcibly, I dunno. Maybe have Gai cause the situation? I know the point they’re trying to go for is that ‘HumaGear/AI can do bad to!’ (maybe?), but we had that w/ the Ark. Like… They could absolutely still have done Horobi struggling w/ getting free, him still having resentment towards humans, but having humans reach out and help him, prove their goodness by taking the time to reach out to the biggest victim who has been the most consumed by the Ark’s influence. Like, Horobi did wrong things under the Ark’s control. He’s been completely under her control and influence for decades. Like I just ranted about, he’s been conditioned, he literally doesn’t know how to handle emotions, or even what morals are. But humans should know better, esp ones who allegedly work w/ AI. Them defying the Ark’s claims and doctrine by reaching out to him and helping him, despite everything, would have been a great moment.

Like… I do understand Aruto being super upset about what happened. Despite the issues I have w/ how it was presented, he and Izu were close. Of course he’d be mad. What bothers me is the attitude that he’s the only victim who is behaving irrationally bc of grief and pain. The way all the stops are getting pulled out to ‘save him.’ I’d feel a lot more sympathetic towards him if I felt like they were recognising Horobi’s mental state at the same time. Like I went to in my giant ramble, Horobi didn’t seek out Izu and gun for her, she sought him out when he was already volatile and in an extremely high intensity situation, which had already been escalated (by humans), and continued pressuring him until he snapped.

Aruto being upset about her death is one thing. Like… Okay. They were close. I do give that. It’s the attitude that only Aruto is the tragic one here. This should at the least be treated as a double tragedy.

That’s why Raiden going to Horobi, however I think he went about it in a not really great way, was really powerful, esp compared w/ a lot of… Other out of character behaviour we saw in the ep.

Like. Just imagine if we’d had Fuwa recognising that his aggressive behaviour played a part in this (while I do have to admit that, after Okada’s explanation and seeing a more direct translation, it feels more like a blunder Fuwa would make if confronted w/ that situation, the fact that he was the only one Horobi asked, making it clear Horobi wanted to hear his answer, bc Horobi doesn’t ask, last him he did, he got tortured, only to be told ‘I’m here to destroy you’… Fuwa may not have meant it that way, but Horobi was not in a state where he’d be able to understand the nuance, and that def contributed to over-stressing him and then Izu’s pushing put him over the edge much easier), him recognising that and then trying to at least partially make it right, take a different approach, go to Horobi and try to back Raiden up on stuff. Like… How cool would that have been? Fuwa getting a moment of realising his reckless, angry, head-on style caused damage and contributed to this situation, so, bc he’s a human who can recognise that, he’s going to go to Horobi and address it. Fuwa allegedly learned that shooting first isn’t the best answer, it would have been really cool and effective to see him trying to take the time to impart that knowledge to someone else, to try and reel back and think and strategise. Maybe he could have tried to confront both of them.

(and then the other part of that scene… Was just… So painfully ooc…)

I mean, I know Aruto is the main character, but there’s a line between ‘this is the main character’ and… This. Like, if there was any clear recognition for Horobi’s suffering at all, this would have a different tone. One person’s suffering doesn’t make another person’s less. They could still focus on how Aruto is hurt while recognising what Horobi went through. But the fact that it’s to the point that they might have (I dunno, I heard this second hand, I don’t have any subs) only started trying to raise Jin to benefit Aruto, rather than focusing through reaching Horobi… Well, if that is the case, it very much gives the air of ‘oh, it’s all fine if we just ‘erase’ the human’s ‘crime!’’ And the idea that that would make Aruto killing Jin and Horobi having to watch him die ‘okay.’ It’s the same as not recognising Gai shooting Naki bc they ‘came back.’ The trauma is still there. Honestly, I half expect, if Izu gets brought back, the people would immediately be like ‘killing Jin (and Naki) wasn’t that bad bc they came back’ would immediately be like ‘oh poor Izu that must have been so traumatising for her.’

Okay, I’m being really harsh, I’m just really frustrated.

I really care about this series. Like, despite the fact that he can’t write character relationship development to save his life, Takahashi makes me fall in love w/ characters like no other. This cast has been such troopers, so stellar. I hold absolutely nothing against any of them. Igeta and Nakayama are legends and I’m proud of them.

I talk shit, but I know it’s just a tv show, I just get very emotional. And the fact is, Horobi (and esp his relationship w/ Fuwa) ended up becoming really important to me over the course of the show. HoroFuwa’s my first real… Well… It’s hard to explain, but they are like. My first ‘official’ otp. I’m not a big shipper, and I’ve struggled w/ the concept of romantic stuff in regards to my own identity in the past, I’ve always had a weird feeling of being ‘ashamed’ for thinking about that stuff. And it was HoroFuwa and a bloody kissing scene I wrote on new years that really just… It meant a lot to me, I feel like I became more comfortable w/ myself bc of them.

Which is totally not what you wanted on your Ask, sorry. ^^; I’m just trying to explain why I, personally, get so riled up. Ultimately, the show owes me nothing, I am nowhere near the target audience. But for someone whose depression often manifests as apathy… When I care, I care. So it’s… It’s been a ride. To say the least.

I’m sorry I went so off topic and personal. ^^’ Y’all didn’t come here for that, I know.

[howtolistentomusic]

Dear people that think the Goodwill wants to sell your Ziploc baggie of used crayons: it doesn’t. That shit goes directly into the trash, right on top of your broken furniture. Surely you mean well when you donate, say, an old dresser with a busted leg. But good intentions can’t magically transform a ragtag crew of temp agency employees into proper handymen. 

If, however, you need an informed opinion on one of those homemade mixtapes that sometimes find their way into the warehouse, I might be your man. 

Once upon a time I managed to con my way into the world of online music writing. As one might expect from a blogger haughty & naive enough to write under the banner How to Listen to Music, many of my insights have aged terribly. But I was constantly learning from the best critics, journalists and bloggers in the field and HtLtM was gaining steam before my fragile discipline collapsed under the weight of increasing visibility. I still believe deeply in the merits of the template I created to analyze songs on Youtube, which was unlike anything on the internet before or since. Maura Johnston seemed to like it, at least. 

And yet I failed miserably at turning these creative endeavors into a sustainable career. So here I am, handling donations at my local Goodwill warehouse for minimum wage. Today old man Kenneth and I are inside the container, which is the detachable part of a freight truck the drivers dump on the dock for the roll-off team to unload. We’re placing the donations on the open edge for the guys outside to grab and toss into gaylords. Yes, the thick cardboard boxes with an open top we place on pallets to store donations in are called gaylords. And yes, my coworkers think this is hilarious. Death, taxes, and “they’re calling you!” from one roll-off laborer to another every time the term is overheard. 

***

“You dropped this,” Kenneth says as he hands me a crate of CDs. 

“If there’s no Justin Bieber, it’s not mine.” I say.

“You better cut that shit out!” David says. 

“He’s joking,” Donald tells David. 

I laugh.

“I know you!” Donald says.

“Dude, I’m a poptimist.”

“A what?“ 

Let’s start by pointing out that it’s a hell of a lot easier to be an "authentic” artist, as a certain orthodoxy of criticism dictates one should be, when your very existence isn’t under constant attack. You’re in luck, straight white dudes! Again. What a coincidence. 

Poptimism basically says nay! to all the noise. The Beatles go to Jupiter to get more stupider. Gaga goes to Mars to get more candy bars. Or college, I suppose, if your childhood sucked.

“It means I listen to pop.” Among many other genres, to be very clear. “Top 40. All the stuff you guys probably hate.”

“Bullshit!” Donald says.

I don’t know who he thinks I am but it’s clearly someone much, much cooler. 

“I thought you were smart!” David says.

“Am I no longer smart if I listen to Justin Bieber?”

“Nope!” says Kenneth.

“Oh shut up!” I say to the grizzled geezer. “Go jack off to Creedence.” 

“I’d rather get gang banged by CCR than listen to that little homo.”

You heard it here first. Listening to Justin Bieber: gayer than being gay!

“Really? Justin Bieber?” David says. “Wow. You think you know a guy.”

“Any recommendations?”

“Marvin Gaye! Stevie Wonder! James Brown!”

What’s Going On. Songs in the Key of Life. Think. These are all stone cold classics. I have a healthy respect for these artists but they aren’t in my regular rotation.

“Those guys are before my time. If we move up a few decades, I’m totally there. New Edition, Boyz II Men, Soul 4 Real …”

“Now we’re talking!”

“Bieber’s better though.”

David throws up his arms in wild exasperation, as if his favorite sports team just botched an important play. He doesn’t seem to understand that I’m trolling him.

To be clear, I do indeed listen to Justin Bieber’s music. “Baby” is catchy as hell, and the song’s DNA can be heard in other notable pop releases from the era such as Katy Perry’s blockbuster Teenage Dream and internet darling Carly Rae Jepsen’s Kiss. I also like “Never Say Never” if only for hearing Jaden Smith say “No pun intended / was raised by the power of WIll.” And for an album created by a former child star falling apart at the seams, Purpose has no business being as good as it is. Stand-out track “Love Yourself” contains the immortal roast “My momma don’t like you and she likes everyone.” And with its heavy utilization of short, staccato notes and sudden, dramatic rests, the song is my favorite example of a distinct style of guitar playing favored by many male musicians. Such “cool pauses” give these songs a slightly broken, incomplete feel that mirrors the artist’s self-assured “deal with it” tone and I love it.

Even Carlos, my arch enemy, likes “Love Yourself”. A while back we were inside the warehouse creating pallets of our best furniture to be sent to proper Goodwill retail locations. Supervisor Anna miraculously felt like hearing some contemporary hits that day and had the building’s three radios tuned to Live 105.5, our local top 40 station. “Love Yourself” played. 

“This is Bieber’s only good song,” Carlos told me. He tried to sing along but quickly lost the words. “Sing it!” he said. “I know you know it!” 

I wasn’t sure if I should be offended by being stereotyped or impressed by his accuracy. Nonetheless, it was true! I did know the words! I picked up where he left off.

”‘Cause if you like the way you look that much / Oh baby you should go and love yourself / And if you think that I’m still holdin’ on to somethin’ / You should go and love yourself.“ 

It wasn’t a particularly strong vocal performance but Carlos, somehow, was awed. 

“Daaaaaaamn!” he cooed. It was perhaps the only time I ever impressed him.

Carlos, in case it wasn’t clear, is an asshole. He’s the type of open misogynist that progressives, in our insulated internet bubbles, are shocked to realize still exist. My masculinity isn’t up to par with his standards and he likes to torture me because of it.

Carlos is off today but there’s a small part of me that wishes he was here. He’d have no trouble buying the fact that I listen to Justin Bieber. At the same time, I know I need to be careful. After all, Bieber is far from my favorite musician. But I can’t help it. Playing Bieleber is such a fun and easy way to rile up my coworkers.

“You need a lesson in quality, my boy!” David says.

“I’m all ears!” I say, but he just shrugs.

If I wanted to be really mean, I could point out that David just might be the true Bieleber in roll-off. See, David the Bieber-hating quality expert is the same David that sometimes drops me off at the bus station after our shift ends. More than once on these trips, a Justin Bieber song played on the radio. Did he change the station? Nope! 

David seems to be harboring a lot of hate for a musician whose songs he doesn’t even recognize. This doesn’t surprise me, of course, because Bieber hate is barely about Justin Bieber.

Leonardo DiCaprio. Robert Pattinson. Zac Efron. Boy bands. The Biebs. Celebrities like these are cut from the same cloth in that they’re overwhelmingly attractive in a way that draws ravenous, predominantly female fanbases. In turn, this provokes intense contempt and ridicule from traditional dudes everywhere. This is bullshit. It’s retaliation against open female desire that, in an affront to their entitlement, isn’t directed towards Man McAverage.

Evoking “quality” is no exemption from these kinds of considerations. Many people treat the word as if it’s an objective and universal set of standards everyone intuitively understands but this is nonsense. Quality is more like a self-shaped hole we attempt to carve into the world, both encompassing and reproducing our ideals, desires, prejudices, etc. It sure as hell doesn’t explain itself.

I’ve been immersed in the world of music writing for a long time. My favorite publications tend to be ones that upend the very idea of quality. The Singles Jukebox gathers a variety of writers to weigh in and score the same song, and reading wildly different takes on what makes art good or bad is enlightening. One Week // One Band achieves something similar by inviting a different writer (sometimes a professional, sometimes not so much) to take over the blog for a seven-day deep dive into a musician they love, with “no rules and no canon” dictating who that musician can be. And then there was Hipster Runoff, the defunct but brilliant meta exploration of taste and identity that often delved into the ingredients of quality that we don’t like to talk about. 

I think I ‘like’ them because they are differentiated from 'traditional music’ and 'modern indie music.’ When I listen to them, I exist on a higher plane of musical appreciation and consume products for 'all the right reasons.’

- Carles, the voice of Hipster Runoff, on Animal Collective

Quality shouldn’t be a Get Out of Bullying Your Co-Worker Free card. But after a lifetime of living with what is often considered bad taste, I’ve learned to be on the offensive just in case.

Try harder, fuckers.

[softyoongiionly]

Fear and Dumplings: Chapter Three

Confronting your fears for a final grade sounds unappealing but, with Yoongi as your partner, things might not be so bad.

 Summary: You’re in your final semester at University when your Abnormal Psychology professor assigns you a partnered project surrounding your greatest fears. Lucky for you, your partner just so happens to be a cute boy named Min Yoongi.

 Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

 Genre: College Au, Underground Rapper! Yoongi, Soft!!! Yoongi, Fluff!!!, some moderate angst (later), smut (later later), slow-ish? burn

 Word Count: 4k

 A/N: Hello friends! I hope you like the new chapter 😊

 Warnings for this Chapter: mentions of fear, suggestive language and, swearing cause let’s be honest, that’s going to be a warning in every chapter.

Warnings for the Fic: mentions characters confronting their fears, characters in uncomfortable situations, emotional moments between characters, mentions of bad parenting, explicit language throughout the fic, moderate angst, and very explicit smut later in the story.

Chapter 3: Self Preservation and Spooky Ghost Powers

 “Jimin move your arm, your elbow is digging into my ribs.” Jungkook whined, his brow furrowed in discomfort.

“I just wanna be close to you Jungkookie, just let me hold you.”  Jimin’s laughter was that of a pixie’s: light and full of mischief.

The four of you were currently molded together in a mass of limbs on Jimin’s red pull out couch. It was Friday night and, you could think of nothing better than spending it with your three best friends, and all the shitty horror films you could find. Taehyung smirks, his arm placed casually around your shoulders as he chuckles.

“Fine, just move your stupid elbow.” Jungkook mumbles, his features turned down in discomfort but, his cheeks were painted pink at Jimin’s comment; always so easily flustered.

Jimin snickers in delight at his victory, moving his arm from off of Jungkook’s ribs to rest it on his shoulders instead. He nuzzled his pink hair head into Jungkook’s chest causing the younger man to roll his eyes.

“Be nice.” You giggled to the two boys next you, your head resting on Taehyungs shoulder. Taehyung was an easy cuddle partner, he didn’t move much and emitted so much body heat, that you swore he was part radiator.

“Ok so, is the mirror like a monster with magical powers? How does a mirror just magically have time-altering, spooky ghost powers?” Jungkook demands, his forehead wrinkled in confusion, his one free hand coming up with his inquiry.

“I have no idea but, this movie sucks.” Taehyung states bluntly, his expression that of pure disappointment.

“Hyung,” Jungkook nudges him, as Jimin intertwines his leg with his. “You said this movie was good.”

“Noooo, I said I heard it was good.” Jimin protests as he holds hand up in defense.

“Well it sucks.” Taehyung reiterates smirking, no doubt trying to cause Jimin to ignite one of his mini tantrums.

“You guys wouldn’t pick!  We scrolled through Netflix for almost 45 minutes before, I said, let’s just do this one. And now I’m getting blamed? I didn’t direct the movie ok? I didn’t write it, I don’t know why the mirror has ghost powers Kookie! It just does! We like shitty horror for a reason no? Well, this is shitty so, be grateful!” Jimin is storming through his words as his puffy cheeks become more and more pink and, his chest becomes inflated with fury. By the time he finishes, the three sets of pursed lips amongst you burst open with hysterical laughter.

“Why do you always have to rile him up?” You say through the giggling, shoving into Taehyung who’s trembling with laughter.

Jungkook and Taehyung look at each other for a moment in silence before, erupting in another fit of laughter. Jimin is fighting back a smile as he shoots dagger back and forth between the two men.

“I’m sorry Jiminie.” Taehyung exhales through his laughter as he rubs a hand on Jimin’s shoulder. Jungkook presses a kiss to the pink hair on Jimin’s head, his nose nuzzling into it as he tries to contain his giggling.

“You’re both mean.” Jimin mumbles, a prominent pout taking over his features.

The four of you end up sitting through the rest of the movie and, admittedly, it was pretty terrible but, the three of you kept your mouth shut about it; choosing only to praise Jimin’s choice instead. After the conclusion of the film, you all rifle through Jimin’s extensive collection of takeout menus before choosing to order pasta from That’s Amore: a place below Jimin’s building.

“Do you think they will just bring it up here or are they expecting that we walk down there and get it ourselves?” Jungkook agonizes, his raven hair pressing into the cushion behind him.

“I’m paying the $8.95 room-delivery fee to prevent any of us from having to move.” Jimin assures him as he looks through the menu, his finger tracing over the many delicious options.

“Jimin, I’ll just run down there and get it, don’t waste your money.” You offer as you push your toes into the side of his thigh. Jimin’s face turns up in disgust as he looks over at you.

“You’re offering to leave my warm, cozy, vanilla-scented apartment to walk downstairs, into a cold, loud, parmesan encrusted building, just so I don’t have to pay $9?” Jimin’s expression is incredulous, his finger stalling on the takeout menu.

You laugh while nodding, nudging your toes against his thigh again in affirmation.

“Dude, you live on the second floor, it’s not that far, just call in for carry-out, I got it.” You insist as your fingers search blindly behind you for the black hoodie you discarded earlier.

“Yes mam.” Jimin concedes smirking, his finger dialing the number on his phone.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, Jimin receives a text, informing him that the food was ready. You pull yourself up from the warmth of the couch, cringing at the thought of following through with your plans to leave. Damn Jimin and, his cozy apartment. Swinging the door closed, you make your way out of the apartment and down the hallway towards the elevator. Literally, every single time you get into Jimin’s elevator, it’s playing the same cringey elevator song. Elevator music is fine and all but, like, at least get some sort of playlist going. The elevator approaches the lobby, the sound of the city pouring in as the main door swings open and closed.   That’s Amore was straight across the lobby from the elevator and, you silently thanked your group for deciding to order in because, the line was unbelievably long.

Jimin was right, as delicious as Amore’s food was, the place did smell a little too much like cheese and, a little too much cheese, smells like feet. You wrinkle your nose as you take your place in the carry out line, pitying all of the patrons who didn’t call ahead. As your eyes scanned around the bustling business, you let your gaze fall upon the person in front of you. Messy black hair, silver dangling earrings was that…Yoongi?  You feel your heart flutter slightly as you cock your head, debating on whether or not to say anything. Maybe it’s not even him? Your body leans slightly to the left to try and catch a glimpse at the possible stranger’s face. Button nose, pouty doll lips, cat-like eyes, yep, definitely Yoongi.

“Yoongi?” Your voice is a little smaller than you want it to be but, he heard you anyway. He turns around to meet the sound of his name being called before, you notice a barely visible shrink in his posture.

“Oh, hi, Y/N right?” His tone is definitely one of surprise, but the sound of his voice is so annoyingly smooth that it masks any obvious reaction.

“Yeah, I thought you lived downtown? Did you come all this way for pasta?”

He smirks, a short breathless chuckle passing his lips, nodding.

“Unfortunately, I did, my roommates are wasted and, the only thing that’s going to prevent their nasty hangovers is a shit ton of carbs.” He explains, his hand reaching up to rub behind his neck.

“You must really love your roommates if you’re willing to drive through downtown traffic for them.” The drive back through the city during this time of night was notoriously riddled with traffic. In theory, it should only take someone 15 minutes to make it across town but, with the traffic, it could take over an hour.

“It’s not out of love, it’s out of self-preservation. They are so annoying when they’re hungover and, I really don’t feel like listening to them whine for the 4th weekend in a row.” Yoongi scoffs as you mention loving his roommates, his posture shrinking again slightly as his hand continues to fiddle with the back of his neck. Cute, he was really cute.

“Besides,” He continues, “Traffic wasn’t too bad tonight anyway.”

 You nod, a slight smirk curving your lips, not fully convinced. Traffic was always a nightmare.

 “Well no matter what happens, at least you got some pasta out of it.” You offer, your eyes attempting to catch his murky gaze but, it’s shifting around too fast for you to do so.

 “That’s true.” He concedes as the older woman at the checkout counter raises a manicured hand.

 “Next in line please!” She requests, signaling Yoongi forward.

 “I’ll see you in class yeah? Enjoy your night.” Yoongi’s soft voice barely peaks out over his lips as he turns around to retrieve his order.

 “Yeah, you too. Good luck with those drunk roommates of yours.”

 He turns back as the woman packs up his order, a smirk and a scoff making another appearance.

 “Thanks.”

—————————————————————————————————-

                You saunter into Jimin’s apartment, a playful smile on your face as you lean against the door. The bags, that were currently digging into your wrists, emitted a tantalizing smell of garlic, oregano and, cheese, causing the animals that were your friends to rush over to “help” you carry the food to the table.

“I ran into the hot guy from psych.” You announce casually, giggling as you watch your friends tear into their pasta.  At your announcement, Jimin’s eyes go wide before he smirks, his brow wiggling up and down.

“Did you talk to him?” Jimin inquires, tilting his head, the smirk never faltering.

“Did you say you were sorry?” Jungkook asks around a gargantuan bite of noodles.

Taehyung rolls his eyes, nudging Kookie, traces of a fond smile playing on his lips. Jungkook’s brows furrow in confusion, his head shaking as he continues to chew.

“Yeah, we talked for a second,” You move towards the table, taking the seat between Jimin and Jungkook. “he isn’t much of a conversationalist.”

“Do you at least know his name or? Are you just going to address him directly as the ‘hot guy from psych’?” Taehyung’s brow raises, his clever mouth curved in, what you have lovingly named, his ‘know it all’ smile.

Feeling your eyes roll, you take a sip of your wine before answering.

“His name is Yoongi.” At the casual drop of his name, two of your three friends, stop eating and stare at you, many emotions playing on their faces. Jungkook is continuing the deep dive into his pasta, his teeth bearing in pity.

“Kind of a weird name but, ok.” He comments but, your focus is on the other two men who stare you in curiosity.

“Wait, Min Yoongi?” Taehyung presses, his fork stalling on his plate.

“What does he look like?” Jimin adds, exchanging a look with Taehyung that signifies they are both thinking the same thing. You shrug, your eyes narrow in confusion as you gesture to them.

“I don’t know his last name and, he’s probably like Jimin’s height, black hair, pierced ears, kind of looks like a cat?” You offer, causing Jimin to snicker and lean into Taehyung as he laughs.

“What?” There is uneasiness bubbling in your stomach as your two best friends share some kind of unspoken knowledge.

“Do you remember that group of guys who were caught smoking weed in the south province?” Taehyung responds, his prominent brow rose, challenging you.

You do remember something like that happening whilst in your second year at your university but, you didn’t really see the connection. A bunch of guys and, apparently a few girls, were apprehended at an old abandoned house when passing drivers reported that they smelled something foul coming from the property. They were arrested on misdemeanor possession and trespassing charges and, instead of paying a lofty fine, all of them opted to have flyers of their faces posted downtown, depicting their crimes. You frantically wrack your brain for the images of the perpetrators to see if you were able to connect the dots before, your jaw drops in realization.

“Holy shit.” You murmur, your mouth turning up in a grin before a fit of giggles escapes your lips. “Oh my god was he one of those kids?” Your wide eyes search Taehyung and Jimin’s expressions as they laugh along with you, nodding. There were quite a few mugshots you remember seeing downtown and Yoongi wasn’t one you remember seeing but, you had to guess that if they were bringing him up in connection with that story, that he was obviously involved somehow.

“Oh god, maybe that’s why he always acts so nervous, he’s probably waiting for me to recognize him.” Your giggling falters a bit; another realization comes over you that causes your expression to fall slightly. “Wait that’s kind of shitty though, like I get that what they did was wrong but, that’s pretty humiliating.”

Taehyung splutters on his grape juice as he scoffs.

“Are you kidding me? They loved it! They went viral on twitter; they made t shirts with their mugshots on it!” Taehyung and Jimin are still chuckling as, Jungkook finally looks up from his food, realization finally reaching his features.

“Oh yeah,” Jungkook’s tone draws out the word, as a cheeky smile appears. “I got some good memes out of that. I’ll never let Jay live that down.”

“Wait, how do you guys know so much about it? That was more of a local story than national news.” The question passes your lips as you reach for another breadstick. Taehyung lets out another laugh as he looks over at Jungkook.

“We had a fraternity brother, Jay,” He nods to Jungkook, connecting the dots between Jungkook’s previous statement and his own. “, who transferred to your campus sophomore year.  I think he was only here for 3 months before, he was caught up. He called us the day they were released, laughing his ass off.” Taehyung shakes his head, chuckling as he takes another sip of juice. “He’s an idiot but, he sent us free t shirts so, I wasn’t mad. Honestly, it sounds a lot worse than it actually was. Jay told me that they had less than a gram on them and, not everyone was smoking. Jay was but, most of them weren’t so, maybe your darling Yoongi was just guilty by association.”  He offers, wiping his hands on the napkin.

Jimin giggles again, smacking Taehyung’s arm, his demeanor absolutely delighted. You roll your eyes, scrapping the last bit of pasta into your mouth.

“I’m sure he was lighting up with the rest of them.” You admit, smirking. The thought of Yoongi smoking wasn’t exactly appealing to you but, you weren’t going to judge him based on some stupid decision he made his sophomore year.

“Jay’s was in my 2nd tier modern dance class when it happened and, the day he came back, the girls were all over him.” Jimin chimes in, throwing back more wine. “Honestly, Y/N how did you not know it was him? It was all over campus.”

The answer was simple: your University was huge. There were over 45,000 students attending your school and, considering the fact that Yoongi was a music major, the two of you weren’t likely to cross paths.

“I’ve honestly never seen him before; we’re in completely different programs. Have you ever talked to him?” You inquired, looking at Jimin. You couldn’t understand why you were so curious. Yoongi was hot yes but, there were a lot of hot guys in the world. His appearance didn’t really offer any insight as to why you wished you knew more about him. He was just, interesting.

“He’s been in a few of my classes over the years but, as you said, he’s kind of quiet. I’m surprised you managed to have a conversation with him.” Jimin adds, his expression still holding a bit of humor.

“Well he’s my partner for our final project so, we kind of have to talk to each other.” You explain causing Taehyung and Jimin to ignite with mischief. Again.

“At least, the two of you will have plenty of time to get to know each other then.” Taehyung’s tone is suggestive, his tongue clicking in his mouth at his innuendo.

“Here’s hoping it’s a lengthy and difficult project.” Jimin raises his wine glass before chugging the last of the sweet liquid.

“Why would you hope for something like that?” Jungkook finally chimes in again, the confusion returning to his face before he lifts his juice box up. “I hope the project goes well Y/N, finish strong so, we can all finally YEET out of school together.” At that, you giggle, tapping your wine glass against Jungkook’s juice box.

“Thanks Kookie.” 

————————————————————————————————————-

“Alright guys, so, last class we got to know our partners and hopefully, you all exchanged some form of contact information now,” Professor James moves through the room with ease as he speaks, his brown eyes scanning the room for confirmation.

The rest of your weekend had flown by, as you had spent the entirety of it at Jimin’s apartment; wanting to spend as much time as possible with Jungkook and Taehyung before, you had to say goodbye to them until graduation. Monday was a drag, so you were thankful that your Tuesday’s were much more interesting. Yoongi was sat in the seat beside you claiming, that, ‘I might as well sit next to you so, neither of us will have to get up.’ Eyes glancing in his direction, you tried to mask the smile forming on your mouth as you recall the new information you had learned over the weekend. It was hard to believe that someone who literally looked like a kitten, could have been involved in scandalous activity. Min Yoongi: the troublemaker, you had to admit, it suited him.

“So, today I want to get into how the project actually works. You and your partner will begin by reviewing each others fear hierarchies, which I will be handing back today,” He holds up the stack of papers up in his hand “Well done by the way, no one submitted plans for crocodile wrestling.” He jests, adjusting the glasses on his face before, continuing. “After you review each others hierarchies, you will need to assemble some sort of outline for how this project should play out. Now remember, although I am not condoning any dangerous activity, I am encouraging that you do your best to study your fear as close as possible. My goal isn’t to change you or even to diminish your fear response. My goal and, the objective of this project is to show that there are ways you can become more comfortable with certain,” Professor James emphasize the word. “unpleasant situations, like looking at a spider or, taking an elevator to the top floor of a tall building.”

He moves to the front of the room, adjusting his argyle printed blazer as he leans against his desk. “My suggestion is that you and your partner each approach one fear at a time. As I mentioned previously, I am expecting the exposures to be light. I’m not expecting you to go bungee jumping or deep-sea diving but, with that being said, if you choose to confront a fear directly, please do so safely and with the assistance of a professional. If any of you are seeing a therapist or a counselor, I encourage you to speak with them before and after the experience. Overall, I would prefer that you focus on documenting how you feel during this process whilst supporting your partner along the way.”

Yoongi shifts in his seat, his long fingers coming up to rub behind his neck as his eyes stay locked onto Professor James. His gaze was almost innocent as he stared at your professor: eyes wide and glossy.

“I’m going to start handing these back to you and, I want you and your partner to share your list and, then decide when you will conduct your first planned exposure. I will need you to submit the date to me by the end of the class so, I can award participation points.”

The shuffling of paper is heard throughout the room as Professor James hands off the stack of papers to those seated in the front row. Your paper comes back to you a moment later with a red check mark at the top, signifying that the list was approved. Shifting slightly in your seat, your fingers pull down on the bottom of your sweatshirt before, nodding to Yoongi.

“Did he write any notes on yours?” You inquire. Yoongi shakes his head, his eyes trained on his list before, he looks up at you.

“No, what about you?” His features are in their usual place: uninterested, sleepy, ethereal, etc. Though, this time, he at least made an effort to continue the conversation, no matter how small that effort might be.

“No, I think I’m good. Did you want to trade papers really quick?” You offer, your hand extending out to hand him your list. Yoongi eyes it suspiciously, your paper reaching his desk before, presumably deciding to hand over his list. You can’t contain your curiosity as your eyes frantically scan the piece of notebook paper, the curiosity burning inside of you.

           1. Dyeing My Hair

           2. Roller Coasters

           3. The Ocean

           4. Horror Movies

           5. Night Clubs

You were relieved that Yoongi also opted to list five fears because, not only did it work out for the project’s sake but, it also made you feel like less of a baby. Yoongi’s features curve up in amusement as he reads your list and, you can already sense the question that is about to pass his lips.

“Opera, really?” Yoongi snickers as you roll your eyes, your expression one of incredulity.

“Look, I have my reasons ok? Once I tell you the story, it will make perfect sense.” You insist as Yoongi cackles lightly. He has the strangest laugh. It was sort of maniacal, like a child who got away with stealing the last cookie from the cookie jar. However, it was fucking endearing just, like everything else he does so, you can’t help but, giggle along with him as your finger zooms down to point at his list.

“What about you huh? Dyeing your hair? What’s so scary about that?” You pester, playing him at his own game.

“Look, I have my reasons ok? Once I tell you the story, it will make perfect sense.” Yoongi repeats as he attempts to imitate your tone, and, in return, he gets an eraser thrown his direction causing his rickety laughter to make another appearance.

The two of you decide to meet at your apartment on Thursday night as, Yoongi wasn’t free tonight and you weren’t free Wednesday night; Jimin had asked you to come over to help him decide what costume to wear for his dance showcase later that month so, Wednesday was a no-go.  Yoongi writes Thursday’s date on the paper and, drops it onto Professor James’s as the class finishes up. He seems like he was rushed so, you didn’t bother trying to say goodbye as he wove his way in and out of the crowd. You had to admit that these morsels of conversation weren’t really cutting it. Silence was much appreciated in your world however, conversing with Yoongi was interesting. He was witty and surprising and, as cliché as it sounded, he was different than most of the guys you had encountered lately. Adjusting the backpack on your shoulder, you begin to make your way back to your apartment, secretly relishing in the knowledge that Yoongi, and his pretty stupid mouth, would at least be in your world for the remainder of the semester.

[dwaynepride]

Just Dark Enough

Summary: After a long case, Chris needs some way to blow off some steam. He could have picked someplace more private, but you’ll make do.

Words: 2,690

Warnings: Public sex, female reader

Tags: @pageofultron @stanathanxoox @starryrevelations @n3shama @thebeckyjolene @diaryofafan17

Notes: I didn’t have anything special planned for Valentine’s day this year so have some Chris sin!! i posted a while back about wanting to write alleyway sin and i chose chris bc i hadnt written full-on smut with him yet

The night air was nice, for once. New Orleans never made a promise for nice weather, so for the cool wind to blow away the day's heat was a blessing. It prompts the night owls and party animals out to play; as if they wouldn't on a hot night, but this makes it more bearable.

The music bouncing through the streets was evidence of that. The air might smell like booze and bile, but the sound more than made up for it. Focusing past the music of Pride's bar was a challenge, but you picked up on the steel drum set down the street.

But you'd head back in soon. Back to drinking with the team and listening to the band. Letting Chris pull you up to dance, like he liked to do.

You were leaning up against the cool bricks of the alleyway behind the bar. A quieter place than the street that Pride let you sneak off to for some fresh air. Dark and private; just a few minutes of peace.

At least, until the door opens with a loud creak. The sound prompts your head to turn, smiling when Chris sees you. "You still out here, Sugarbelle?" He asks fondly, ending with question with a scoff as he closes the door behind him.

You nod, turning back to the street. "Yeah, I'm just...enjoying the peace."

He hums a little, eyeing you but not letting his sarcastic thoughts surface. Instead, Chris approaches with soft footfalls; barely audible against the concrete. "Well, I was missin' you, is all." His hand finds your hip, squeezing until you look back up at him. "Workin' so much lately 'cause of the case."

Yeah, the case had been brutal. Late nights and lots of dead ends. It was a big reason why the whole team had gathered in the bar tonight; to let loose, now that it’s done and over with. So you could understand why Chris had noticed your absence after you’ve been gone for a little while.

So you send him a light smile, fingers curling around his muscular upper arm. “I didn’t mean to take so long. I guess I was just enjoying the peace and quiet.” You both smirk at that; as if the streets of New Orleans provided much quiet. “We can go back in, if you want.”

The alleyway connected to the backdoor of Pride’s bar is fairly dark. So much so, you barely see the smile that graces Chris’ face as he shrugs his broad shoulders. “Well, there’s no rush. I kinda like it out here - just us.” He replies, taking a small step closer so he’s basically in your personal space.

Your head backs away at the sudden proximity, and it’s glaringly obvious that Chris has you stuck between him and the brick wall you’re leaning against. When your skull presses against the bricks, you give a light huff. “Well, if you want to be alone so bad, we could just call it a night.” Your fingers squeeze his arm, feeling the muscles beneath his sleeve.

“An’ miss all this fresh air and good music?” Chris quirks his eyebrows a bit, and you’re only given a short moment to roll your eyes at such a stupid statement before he finally just kisses you. A full-body kiss, no less; Chris leaning closer, carefully slotting himself against you like so many times before.

And you simply react to it. Arching your spine so your chests press together. Knees separating because Chris is teasing them open with one of his. There’s no surprise to feel his tongue run along your bottom lip, and now, you’re hungry enough for him to grant access without hesitation.

Still, even if this is Chris, it’s a little rare for kisses to get so deep and so heavy this quickly. Especially away from home - especially in the alley behind his best friend’s bar.

The kiss breaks, and Chris is grinning. You are too, but you’re more dazzled by his smile. So much so, the feeling of his hand sliding up the back of your shirt doesn’t truly register until his fingertips start stroking the soft skin of your lower back. It’s the slight catch of his fingernails that clue you in. Your surprised jump only make Chris smile even wider.

“Getting a little touchy there.”

“Am I? Didn’t notice.”

He doesn’t stop, though. In fact, his hand just ventures up further. Blatantly enjoying the way your body shifts at his touch until his fingers reach the strap of your bra. And that’s when a bit of sense kicks in, and you push Chris’ hand back down to the small of your back. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” You scold him lightly, turning to watch the opening of the alley. “We’re in public!”

There’s a bit of dissatisfaction in his eyes when you pushed his hand away, but it’s not enough to dampen the mischief written plainly on his face. You’re almost afraid of the reason why Chris is wearing such a playful look before he just shrugs. “Well, if ya think about it, we ain’t really in public.” He takes a minute to look around before his smile returns. “No one can see us.”

That wasn’t the point. You two were still standing in an alley, and tonight was no less busy than any other night in New Orleans. This was still in public, no matter how Chris wanted to twist it.

And you had every intention of telling him that. Scolding his dumb plan but also promising to continue at home. In private.

But you evidently forgot the events of just a couple minutes ago, when Chris had so expertly had you twisted up in him. When he nudged his knee between both of yours and kept it there, even as you pushed his hand away.

So when he started moving his leg, it was so easy for his thigh to grind upwards. The friction elicits a sharp gasp from you and brings a victorious smile on Chris’ face. Sometimes, it’s just way too easy to get you riled up and wanting him.

The knowledge isn’t enough to deter Chris, though. Not when he’s got his mind on something. So, while moving his thigh up and down at a languid pace, he leans him. Lets his nose brush against yours so you feel the exhale of his breath. “Can’t wait till home, baby. Gotta have ya now.” He rumbles out, voice low and teasing because he knows that gets you going.

And it does. He feels your hips eagerly meet the thrusts of his thigh. Feels the light gasp of breath against his lips, and Chris figures he pretty much has you.

Chris wants to push his hand back up your shirt. Get that bra off like he intended, but he really should be responsible about this. You were right about one thing; this was a very stupid thing to do. Chris didn’t care to stop right now, but he could at least make clean-up as easy as possible.

The bra will stay on, but pants are the one thing that needs to go. Chris leans his head down to lock his lips with yours. Lets his teeth nip a little at your bottom lip; a distraction while his hands fiddle with the belt of your pants. The one downside to all this was that it was happening right after wrapping up a case; you were still wearing all your gear and work clothes.

He feels your body tense up once the belt is undone. Chris slows, just for a moment, as he works on the button of your jeans. If you changed your mind, you don’t tell him. In fact, the way your hips shift to give him more room to work is a very encouraging sign. The zipper is pulled down a moment later, but Chris doesn’t immediately yank them down and get to work.

He’s always been eager, but if there’s one thing that he’s good at, it’s not half-assing anything. Chris knows he’s gotta get you ready first. Gotta make you ask him to fuck you.

“You doin’ okay?” He asks, voice a little pulled down. He’s trying to stay marginally quiet, but with his fingers starting to push past the waistband of your underwear, it’s hard to regulate his volume.

He hopes it’s not too hard later on.

You nod quickly, and that gives him the motivation to hurry up. The last thing either of you want is someone from the team coming out here, wondering where you were.

So, in just a couple heartbeats, Chris finds his goal. He grins wide, noting that you’re already pretty fucking wet. He’ll have to remember that if you tell him you didn’t like going at it in an alley. That obviously wasn’t true, and when he managed to press a single finger in, your harsh inhale only strengthened his case.

Chris lets out a low noise - something akin to a purr, and you really love the sound of it. “If I knew you’d like it this much, I woulda done it sooner.” He says, and you almost want to huff at his cocky tone. But really, the feeling of his finger moving in and out puts a lid on it. “Find a dark corner, pull you in, and fuck ya hard while you try shut up.”

A involuntary whimper comes out. Chris’ jeans get a little tighter at the sound, but he keeps going. Working to add a second finger because he’s ready for more. “But I know how loud y’are. And I don’t want nobody else hearin’ all those pretty noises you make. No one ‘cept me, Sugarbelle.”

His fingers crook this way and that. Hitting some very sensitive places. Scissoring in and out and stretching in the best possible way. It’s surprising how close you are to cumming, but here you are; whining and pleading against his lips, trying your hardest to stay quiet.

And it’s almost as if Chris is going to let you cum, before a particularly loud group of people pass by the entrance of the alleyway. They’re laughing and hollering and the sudden jump in volume causes you both to jump. Chris slides his hand free, and you were too terrified to even feel a little disappointed at the absence.

But nobody spares you two a glance. You're sure they didn't even know you were there. There's much too many lights and music on the street to pay attention to some little alley behind a bar.

And that realization settles in quickly. Chris only barely meets your gaze once more before you both are back to pulling on one another, lips kissing feverishly and bodies trying to work up some friction.

It's only when you hear Chris' belt in the darkness do you feel the odd sense of dangerous thrill. You get a taste of why he wanted to do it out here. How much fun it would be.

So while Chris is fumbling with his jeans, you toe off your shoes. Push your pants down and kick them away, but still within reach. It's a little scary, being this bare in public. The air feels almost unnatural against your skin, and you're grinning at the thought of somebody suddenly turning the corner or opening the back door.

But there's no more time to think about it. Because Chris pushes his jeans and boxers down just enough so he can pull his cock free. He hisses because the air has the same effect on him as it did on you, but you both are much too excited to stop and think.

Chris reaches down to pull your leg up, curving it over his hip and keeping it there. And he kisses you once; a small peck before backing away. "Ready for me, baby?" He breathes out, a smile tugging on his lips.

You nod quickly, mirroring his smile. So when Chris moves his hand to pull your underwear aside, you're reaching to curl your fingers against the hard heat of his cock. His hands are a bit full right now, anyway. He'll need the help.

There's a slight temptation to make a loose fist and start working him up, but there's no time. So, when his hips arch forward, you're angling yours until Chris is able to push in the swollen tip; a small movement that drives your nails into his shoulder because you want to make some kind of noise.

You hold it back, though. Just barely.

The same can't quite be said for Chris. As he presses another inch or two in, a low groan comes up from the back of his throat. "Fuck." He says through gritted teeth before letting out a couple pants. It's a real challenge to bite everything back.

Thankfully, it doesn't impede on his concentration. Chris' eyebrows are furrowed together, his head tilted down as methodically moves his hips back and forth. Short jerks in the beginning; the awkward position makes it hard to really drive in. But sooner rather than later, Chris is finally able to start an addicting rhythm that continuously stokes the fire in your belly.

Your hands run over his chest and shoulders and arms, wishing his shirt wasn't in the way but enjoying the press of his muscles regardless. He'd have to be plenty strong - you feel the strain in his arm while he keeps your leg at his hip.

His thrusts start getting a little more powerful. Going faster to try to speed the process along before you get caught. Chris pushes his face into the crook of your neck, taking advantage to let loose some of the noises he's been fighting back. And also some filthy words riding on the tip of his tongue.

"God, couldn't wait till we got home. Love fuckin' you hard, baby. Wanted to all day- fuck.”

Chris might’ve had the advantage of hiding his face away, but you had no such favour. With his nails digging into bottom of your thigh and the coil growing tighter and tighter in your stomach, it was hard to keep quiet. The most you could do was close your eyes and hope your orgasm won’t have Chris’ names echoing off the brick walls.

And finally, you were hitting your peak. A gasp forcefully enters your lungs, pushing out before another takes its place. The force of the coil unspringing so quickly and so powerfully was much more than you were expecting out of a public quickie. Chris himself was having a hard time staying quiet; you feel his teeth in the meat of your shoulder while his hips move out of his control. Pushing all through out the length of your orgasms.

Once the white noise dies down and your eyes open, the first thing you sense is Chris. His hot breath in your neck. The sound of his panting. The feel of his nails detaching from your thigh.

The second thing is the alley itself. With Chris still in his own little world, you quickly look around. Nobody was standing in front of the alleyway, yelling obscenities. No one from the team was peeking out from behind the door, threatening to tell Pride about this little act.

Good. It looks like nobody saw.

“Chris.” You mumble out, hands pushing him away lightly. His head lolls a little, but he’s wearing a soft smile. It takes a moment to remember what you were going to say. “We should get back. They’ll be wondering where we are.”

His eyes roll a little, but it finally seems like he’s seeing sense. “Yeah, yeah.” With that, Chris regretfully retracts and fixes his pants. Quickly helps you do the same, all while keeping a careful eye out.

It seems like a miracle that it all happened without anybody so much as hearing it. You’re not confident that neither you or Chris were perfectly silent.

Regardless, it was still a really amazing fuck. The next challenge would be to keep from grinning like idiots around the team.

[jamesnelsonart]

Batman: White Knight Review

Folks, I can’t always let you know when a comic is bad. I don’t have the energy. A lot of bad comics are created every day, and to catalogue the reasons why Action comics issue 724342 didn’t appeal to me would be an exercise in futility and pain. No, when I see a bad comic usually the most it’s guilty of is being boring or not making a lot of sense and maybe the art isn’t put together very well. So I just ignore said media if I don’t like it. Maybe I’ll joke about it a bit with friends, but why spend my life on such things? You already know where this shit is going-- I’m about to break my code here. Every now and then, I discover something uniquely bad. It’s bad in a way I never could have even considered. It’s bad in a way that demands my attention, and I simply have to think about it, and then share my pain with others. That comic book is Batman: White Knight, and boy does it blow.

It’s honestly hard to tell where to begin with this review because if you think about any bad part of this book for more than one minute you’ll immediately be reminded of another bad part that relates to the first bad part, and so on and so on. It’s an interconnected network of bad. A true spider web of shit, full of parts all intersecting into an intricately dumb design. A painstakingly-made pyramid of poop, with each brick being laid as the foundation for something even worse than what came before it. I suppose I should start with the premise and work my way down from there.

What if, and hear me out here, what if the Joker became a good guy? And Batman… get this… was a bad guy??????? That’s the whole gist of Batman: White Knight. The white knight in the title is Joker, because he is a very pale dude from that chemical bath he took in his origin story. So that’s the premise. You understand the title. Now usually in superhero comics a shake-up like this might last for about a year before a return to the status quo, but White Knight takes place in an alternate universe, so write/artist Sean Gordon Murphy has the opportunity to make some big changes that will stick since there’s no worry about it impacting the main DC universe. Characters have the potential to die for good or change permanently here, and with the idea of the Joker becoming good you could get a pretty wild story here with some twists and turns. So why the fuck does nothing happen in this story!? Oh sure, this is a comic so actions do indeed occur. Events take place across a series of panels as they do in all sequential storytelling… But damn, this comic is a whole lot of nothing! It positions itself as a big shakeup, Batman as you’ve never seen him before! Only, it isn’t. This story is the safest fucking thing I’ve read disguised as an edgy, you-didn’t-see-that-coming, no-one-is-safe story. In some ways it’s funny, kind of like that Joker. But the only joke here is that I wasted my time reading this shit.

The story starts with Batman pursuing the Joker in his Batmobile, causing tons of property damage and hurting some innocent bystanders. Nightwing and Barbara are with Batman and are upset that they can’t reel in his dangerous impulses. Batman chases the Joker into a pharmaceutical factory where the Joker does his Joker speech. You know the one. The speech every writer ever feels that they have to write for the Joker, as if it adds something to his character. The Joker speech basically has the Joker go on about how he and Batman are polar opposites blah blah blah and how the Joker, in his own twisted way, has some affection for Batman and then Batman will be like NO and punch him or something. Hey, subtext works a lot better when it, y’know, remains subtext and not outright actual text. So Batman gets real riled up here and force-feeds the Joker a ton of pills while someone films him doing this and posts it on the internet. This combination of pills makes the Joker not be psychotic anymore (this is dumb as hell, but the rest of the comic is way dumber so you’d be surprised how the lowered standards allowed me to just roll with this) So this Batman is a pretty rude guy, being down with needless violence, and about as smart as a sack or bricks, but it’s an alternate universe, right? Characters are supposed to be different. Yeah… about that-- when doing an alternate universe it helps to have your universe be well-defined. This is especially important if it’s already similar to the main DC universe. The reader is left unsure as to what has or hasn’t happened in the past. Did the Joker ever commit any mass murder in this timeline? We don’t really know. The Joker has had a lot of incarnations so it’s kind of important to know how evil he is if he’s gonna become a good guy. If he’s committed numerous atrocities then I can understand a lot of peoples’ skepticism to him being good guy. Or was he some guy throwing pies at peoples’ faces and defacing property? Already none of this shit makes any sense if you stop to think about it but I have to keep going or this review will never get around to bashing the important stuff, like everything else about this book.

So the Joker’s mental stability is restored (which somehow also changes his bleached-white skin and green hair back to normal, those pills must have been wild) and he becomes a super-genius and decides to fight Batman’s brutality, and by extension the Gotham Police Department’s brutality. He’s done telling jokes now, he’s now the Woker(ok he never gets called that, but it would’ve been funny if that happened). And with his genius intellect unrestricted by his unstable personality he is now free to… sue the city. Damn, that’s exciting. I feel I should stop here and say there’s a reason the Joker is a fairly static character, and that’s because he works perfectly fine as a clown with a Batman obsession who does crimes and has some good zingers. Those are the interesting things about him, so when you remove all of those traits you’re left with a pretty boring character. What is the Joker without any of his personality or Joker-ness? Just some guy. And that guy is the protagonist of the story now… great. The other characters don’t fare much better. They all act extremely stupid, wildly out-of-character, or perform actions that conflict with prior information the reader has been given about them. Batman does no detective work, largely having the plot fed to him by other characters and falling into every trap imaginable. He can only ever react to situations. Harvey Bullock is deriding Batman for brutalizing the Joker and seems very anti-police brutality, yet later is arresting a black activist, blatantly escalating a situation where there was no violence. Barbara Gordon is hanging out chatting with Mr. Freeze (who appears to be a nicer guy in this continuity) and spills the beans about her secret identity, then is shocked to realize that she’s been wearing her Batgirl costume, thus revealing her name! Why is she so dumb!? Why on earth would she want to talk to Mr. Freeze in her civilian identity, huh? They were in the Bat Cave when this happened, so suit or not, it’d be pretty obvious that the girl in the Bat Cave is Batgirl. What the fuck? See what I mean when I say it’s hard to know where to start and end with bashing this shit? I mean this was like a 2-panel thing. Everything leads into everything else because nothing was thought through or considered while writing this comic so events happen just because they have to in order to move events along, character motivation or personality be dammed. And what happens is… not much if you really analyze the sequence of events in the story. Joker gets better, sues the city, participates in a march against Police corruption/brutality and decides to run for mayor. Batman gets mad about this. Joker then discovers a slush fund that is used to repair all the damage Batman does to the city and exposes it to the public. As a mayoral candidate, Joker proposes using this slush fund to instead heavily arm the police. Doesn’t this kind of contradict his anti-police brutality sentiments by offering the department numerous tanks to drive around in? Ah, fuck it. I doubt any part of this is thought through or any narrative dissonance considered so I’ll just keep going. And that’s… all the Joker does. Well, he does do one more thing. He decides to start dating Harley Quinn. And if I’m gonna talk about the characters, I mean REALLY talk about the characters, I’m gonna have to talk about Harley Quinn. Or rather, the Harley Quinn…s. Plural.

I should preface this by saying it’s pretty clear Sean Gordon Murphy is a fan of Batman the Animated Series. It is good, so who can blame him? What gets weird is he inserts a ton of TAS-centric stuff into White Knight in a way that feels arrogant. He knows what is best for Batman, no one else. So why do I feel this way about his writing here? Because the Joker goes home and is greeted by a Harley Quinn who is like “Wow, can’t wait to have tons of sex and kill a ton of people with you again! My favorite hobbies are not wearing a lot of clothes, staying evil, and being an unpopular New 52 redesign!” Then the revelation comes, the OLD Harley Quinn shows up in her TAS jester outfit and derides the new one as a big tiddy bimbo (not joking about that, her dialogue is actually deriding her for having large breasts and not being a good role model lmao) and says that she will resume her relationship with the Joker now, because he respects women (you really gonna do Poison Ivy like that? Smh). As we all know, when you think an abusive partner has changed, you should definitely restart your relationship with them. This has never, ever backfired in the history of the universe. But back to the point-- in fairness the New 52 Harley did suck, but I don’t know why this whole thing is even in the story. Haha, I’m joking! I know why! It’s because Sean Gordon Murphy probably realized that he needed an antagonist to make some action happen because the story was clearly going nowhere! So the new, unpopular Harley goes off and swears she will return the Joker to his bad self, calling herself “Neo Joker”.  So how does someone with no resources or notable skills become the antagonist? Well don’t worry, the entire cast is very, very stupid and their agency is null and void, so if something needs to happen for this story to move along, it just happens.

Earlier in the story for the Joker to discover the slush fund he had to get the rest of the Batman rogues gallery to do it for him by stealing documents on it out of some building. How does he get every criminal in Gotham to do this for him? By inviting them all over and serving them drinks with bits of Clayface mixed in. You see, Joker used the Mad Hatter’s mind control tech on Clayface so it stands to reason that if you ate some of Clayface’s clay then the mind control would work on you by extension! It only sounds stupid because it IS stupid. I also gotta ask why the entire rogues gallery would accept drinks from the Joker… he’s kind of known for not playing well with others and, uh, frequently poisoning people. But again, these characters need to be dumb for the plot to happen. So Neo Joker discovers the control module thingy because the Joker just left it around (I assume the mind-controlled villains were just shitting their pants in the days leading up to this since they were all stored in a warehouse) so now she gets a villain army. And then she gets a giant freeze gun to use on Gotham City because in this universe Mr. Freeze’s dad was an ex-Nazi who came to America and built that and left it underground. No maintenance required after sitting around for decades, this baby’s ready to blast! So while all that was happening Batman went to jail, Joker let him out to help him with dealing with Neo Joker, and Alfred died. That might sound like things that happened, but let me be clear: nothing happened. Nothing happens this whole comic. Things appear to happen, but that is not the case, that is camouflage. Sure, Alfred dies, but Mr. Freeze starts helping Bruce, so one old man is replaced with another. Actually this is an upgrade, Mr. Freeze knows way more science shit so this new model is great! Batman is finally jailed for flaunting the law but then Joker releases him and reveals that he found out that Batman had been paying for the property damage fund, not the taxpayers! So Batman was a good guy all along! He was just being a brutal dick because Alfred was dying so it’s all in the past now. So if Batman was good all along then what was the fucking point of this comic? The premise is good Joker vs. evil Batman, until it isn’t. What was the point of ANY of the first part of this dumb ass book? But the reader isn’t supposed to think about that. To distract from the fact that there was apparently no conflict at all the Neo Joker starts making threats with her big freeze gun and villain army. So Good Batman and Good Joker gotta team up with the militarized police force to take her down! Yeehaw! But. There is a catch. The Joker’s mixture of meds is wearing off and he will revert soon! The classic ticking clock scenario—as bad as everything is, this should at least inject some tension into the story, right? Wrong. Joker reverts while he’s in the Batmobile with Batman, and then he’s like “I still wanna defeat Neo Joker for stealing my shtick.” So don’t worry, he’s still on your side, Batman. I’m kind of impressed that Sean Gordon Murphy took such an easy opportunity to add some stakes to this bland comic and was like NAHHH, FUCK THAT, I LIKE MY COMICS BAD. So the police ram the villain army with their tanks and uhhh not all of Batman’s villains have super powers you know… some are just regular-ass people. The Penguin gets fucking hit head-on with one of the tanks, how the hell did HE not die? Plus they’re all mind-controlled in the first place so that raises ethical questions as to how they’re being treated since they’re not willfully being evil right now but BATMAN IS GOOD OKAY? HE PAID FOR THE PROPERTY DAMAGE FUND SO IF HE SPLITS SOME FUCKIN SKULLS THAT’S JUST WHAT HE’S GOTTA DO YOU LITTLE BIIIIIIIIIITCH. DUE PROCESS… IS FOR CUCKS. YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO DIE at this point in the comic I guess. Yawn… so at this point I think they all win or whatever. The freeze ray is stopped or something. Look, this part is kind of a blur. All you gotta know is Harley marries the Joker before he totally, totally reverts for real this time and gets sent back to Arkham. Then the dumbest thing Sean Gordon Murphy has ever written happens. And I read this book, so know that I do not say that lightly.

Near the start of the comic when Batman force-feeds Joker the pills it’s stated that this was all part of Joker’s master plan to get Batman to feed him pills that he just somehow knew would cure him and this would trigger Joker’s ultimate plan of… revealing the misallocation of taxpayer dollars? And he came up with this when he was still a bad guy, right? Huh? Well guess what, fuckos? It’s time for a fucking twist. Turns out the original Harley Quinn, who is Good and Pure and Keeps Her Clothes on except when I, Sean Gordon Murphy, draw her and the Joker fucking, is the one who planted the pills at that scene, as she reveals to Batman. Mind. Blown. No, really, my mind is blown as to why Sean thought this would add anything to his comic aside from more questions regarding the logistics of how she did that. How did she know which factory Batman would chase the Joker into at the start? How did she know Batman would force-feed the pills to the Joker? You’re not really a master planner if your plan relies on a ton of variables way out of your control. Then Batman is then like “wow that’s cool that you did that. this is why I always liked you more than the rest of my rogues gallery because I know you can do good things.” Yeah that’s right FUCK YOU Two-Face. Burned-ass bitch. You think YOU were the friend-turned-enemy who Batman hopes will one day turn good again? Wrong. It’s Harley. It’s ALWAYS been Harley. Then Batman reveals his secret identity to Commissioner Gordon and says he’s gonna be a cop in a blatant sequel hook. The threat of a sequel to this is scarier than any cliffhanger. Brr!

Ughhh, and you KNOW there’s gonna be a sequel, too. This can’t just end here. When I said I had to review this comic it was because most of the reviews say shit like “a bold new direction with a much-beloved property… DC, please don’t revoke my blog’s access.” This book demands a thrashing. It deserves to get laughed at, but everywhere I looked online people weren’t laughing. There was praise! Now look, Sean can draw a pretty picture so he has that going for him. And he’s also willing to kiss up to ComicsGate, a hate group populated by unskilled whiners, so that they’ll waste their money buying his bad book with pseudo-progressive politics. But I’m not here to insult Sean Gordon Murphy. This is a review, and I pledge to keep it focused on the comic. It would be unprofessional and rude to call Sean a gutless coward, or a worm, or a hack writer who just throws references around to create the illusion of lore, or a guy who condescends to trans writers and artist who get harassed daily about how they should just befriend their harassers, or a guy who thinks his inability to stick to a narrative theme makes his work deeper, or a guy who shits on indie creators in interviews because he works on Batman and they do not. No, that would all be mean to say, so you won’t hear me saying it.

I will give the comic this much, though. If you enjoyed All-Star Batman and Robin for how absolutely wacky it was, this book might be right up your alley. It fulfills that same feeling of viewing every panel and going “What the fuck? WHAT THE FUCK???” So if you like bad books, this book is for you.