#you've convinced me that it developed off-panel

[sunnylaurels]

Finally managed to sort out some of my thoughts on how marvel fumbled the marketing for iron fist 2022 and ugh I am SO mad about it now

Like first of all why the hell would you try to keep the identity of the new iron fist a secret

Not only is it obvious to anyone familiar with Lin Lie and/or read DODS: White Fox but the bigger problem is that. Well.

Lin Lie is an obscure character. There's no denying that. And you put the set up for him becoming the next iron fist in a tie-in featuring another, slightly less obscure character.

Ami's never really been pushed so most people aren't going to read her tie-in (which does a great job of introducing both Lie and Ami whilst endearing them to the reader as well). The result is too much exposition needing to be crammed into Lie's story.

What marvel really needed to do was give both Lie and Ami more publicity. Like, maybe give Ami an actual book instead of a four-issue infinity comic (that could tease Lie's return as the new iron fist)? I'm 99% sure that Alyssa Wong wants to write one. Or at least admit that DODS: White Fox is borderline required reading to make sure that the readers know what happened?

You know, since iron fist 2022 isn't a continuation of the previous iron fist storyline? It's a continuation of Lin Lie's story (and Ami's, to a lesser extent) so marvel should have been upfront with that.

But just focusing on the fact that marvel is finally making an asian iron fist simply feels lazy and gives the impression that they're only doing this for free diversity points.

At least they could still fix it with a White Fox & Iron Fist team-up series. You know, just like Power Man & Iron Fist. Except with Ami Han and Lin Lie instead of Danny Rand and Luke Cage. And a bigger focus on the mystical side instead of the street-level one.

Edit: AND the fact that Ami is an actual demon should get more attention. Just imagine Lin Feng trying to turn her into a demon with his magic and she just. slaps him

[fawnpires]

LONESOME SNIPER — KÖNIG.

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ synopsis: being detained for your war crimes was unbearable to say the least, your new cellmate changes your thoughts otherwise.

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ contents: height differences, porn what plot/porn without plot, imprisonment, love confessions, developing relationship, dirty talk, cowgirl position, wet & messy sex, blow jobs, praise kink, eye contact.

"Have you took interest in a new sniper hood?"

"No..." König almost whispers from across the room, "I keep the same one."

Your head was cocked to your shoulder — body slacked and pliable in that floppy disgusting orange uniform drained of its color, eyebrows furrowed sitting high on top of lucid eyelids, an exasperated sigh falling from your parched lips as you tried to make conversation of jumbled questions. König figures it wasn't a question of genuine matter, but that it was out of a scope of boredom when he watches you skim your fingers through the brick detailing of the wall.

It was cold and moist with the shared air, the bare concrete floors even worse. The capacity of the room closing in and dying on both of you ever since taken into incarceration. There König sat on his side of the room, the drilled-in nails barely keeping his bed intact with the harsh conditions of the wall — as if the quality of the prison wasn't shabby enough. His legs hung over the edge where he sat, elbows resting on his thighs while he supported his hooded head in a palm. 

You observed him, religiously. A height of a brute and wrapped in exposed pale skin, growing depleted by the minute, paler and paler than usual — although it wasn't your place to make assumptions despite never seeing any inch of his skin out on the battlefields. You've seen him from time to time while working as support, sniper either tucked under his armpits or held in two clothed hands before locating into position. 

From where you are, König is leant over, grayish-tinted eyes inspecting his flexing hands that was overran with a few veins. You had to admit, your whole perspective changed on the mountain of a man without any distinguished awareness that you could recall in the moment, eyes half-lidded as you gazed at him with a bitten lip. He flicks his eyes from his hands and stares back — unable to maintain a full session of eye contact.

"König," you ask while sitting up slightly, "Do you take an interest in anything, at all?"

The question was out of the blue, as if you were interrogating him of his crimes, his posture tensed meaning he possibly processed that inquiry of yours. König clears his throat audibly, distinctly and loud enough for it to perhaps echo off the panels of the room. "...If I were to be honest with you, would you find it strange?" His words come out a murmur, now his own question taking you off guard.

"Not at all, try me." you reply. 

He brings himself closer to you, thick hood mobilizing around in his movements. It takes some time for him to gather and form the right sentences, the right words that could form those correct sentences. 

"If I'm being honest," he pauses, "The only interest I've taken is in you."

"Is that so? Or are you just trying to flatter me?"

"Of- Of course not," König protests, "I'm being completely honest with you, a hundred percent."

Shock. An expression of small shock smeared clean across your face at his subtle confession. The tone laced in his voice managed to convince you that he was, in fact, actually being completely honest with you. His eyes practically nag at you for an answer, a bright glint reflecting at the corners of his pupils giving off the impression of a begging puppy. "How long?" you question.

"How long have you been infatuated with me?" You repeat the question softly. 

"Since I've been operator — a sniper... he replies, "So a while now."

Your eyes soften, feeling your insides go soft at the admission, so you carefully slip off yourself off the paper-like bed structure — going over to his instead and plopping down right next to him, your hand coming to rest on top of his. "And can I be straightforward about my interests now?" you tease, though it wasn't counted as a teasing subject in your book up to now. 

He gives a nod and musters up enough courage to finally bore his darkened eyes into your own. 

"I've been attracted to you myself," you confess, "But I'll admit, I was too shy. Too anxious to go up and start something with you." 

König releases a sigh from behind his face covering, his hand that was once under your smaller one resting on top of it instead, rubbing soothing circles into the bones of your knuckles that stuck out from beneath the skin. A blockage in your throat started up again. That parching and dehydrated feel of not being able to swallow, but now the cause of it was solely because of him. 

There you both sat in silence, dingy uniforms and cramped room. His face was beyond recognition but in a rare scene of tenderness, body motions and humanistic features could tell you easily that he really was in love with you. He was a shy man regardless of his physical appearance, obviously, but he was never a threat — not to you at least. Maybe he was to other faces but all you saw in him was a man who was able to show compassion despite his belligerent facade. 

"I, I think we should get some rest now." you say while giving him a stare out of the muting void, "Y'know? Besides, I think this entire conversation was too much on you."

"It wasn't too much." He says with his Austrian accent conveying through, a chuckle escaping. 

You leaned into him and smile looking up at him. "I can live with that."

"What do you mean?"

"I can live with the fact that I've fallen in love with a war criminal."

It was a pre-developing relationship, you decided, two war criminals head over heels for each other — how romantic. Two royally fucked-up people who were at each other like a bunch of animals incapable of separation, eating their faces off in private with tongues and all. You were a less experienced support member who managed a rifle. König was more of an expert, a skillful sniper who chose to have the blood of other men on his hands at the age of seventeen.

Though the confidence you possessed at the birth of the relationship had ceased to exist. He was strangely the more dominant one, in spite of being scared to act on affection, him being the one to first kiss at your lips and carry it onto a heavily make-out session — though never progressing into sex. It either ended with bruised lips that were entirely too damaged to continue or a mutual agreement to come to a stop. 

When you returned from your assigned prisoner duties, he sat with his back flat against the wall located next to his bed, in his lap sat a decorative book with his fingers peeling at the corners each time he finished the words on paper.

"König?" you pop yourself into the cell, "I didn't know you liked to read."

"Oh, yeah." He mutters. "Edgar Allan Poe." 

"Tell-Tale Heart?" 

"Yes. How did you know?" He looks up from the piece of literature, eyes blinking once. 

"Lucky guess." you say as you pull yourself further into the room, plopping next to him. "It suits you well."

His breathing hitched as you linked your arm around his, body rubbing up against the confines of his uniform. 

The air was warm around, heavy and moist. Linked with his breathing and your movements of rubbing on him, it could be considered something of a pre-sexual review. You did have to admit, being in a relationship was a pleasant topic, but without a doubt the sex part of it was missed dearly — you didn't want to push it onto him, though. It was a requited attraction of vanilla puppy-love.

König wasn't quite sure what he wanted. Wether receiving the endearment of a woman or to have sex for the first time — which was something that he would never thought to occur in a prison, prison sex. He had a sufficient knowledge on the subject at the most and that was all, nothing extremely abnormal or crazy about it. 

Both of shared the same concern with each other and had no idea how to approach it. Each time you strived to bring it up to him it would just come up verbal vomit that lead up into another conversation completely different and altered for your sake. 

I mean, the chance was right in front of you right now, why didn't you just take it? It was preferably the best time to do so. Quiet atmosphere, nobody around — even though the door to the cell was in the solitary confinement category which left the both of you with the most privacy you could get in this system. 

Fuck it, you thought. 

"Can I ask you something? I'm sorry in advance if it makes you comfortable." you ask him, linked arm trembling a small bit. 

"Go ahead."

"Are you a virgin?" you shoot out, "As in have you ever had sex with somebody?"

He seems to be a little taken back by the question, eyes adjusting from the page he read on the book to meet yours. His body stiff again, chest heaving up and down to compliment his breathing patterns that were more erratic than usual. "I haven't, no." he replies. 

"Would you like to have sex with someone?" You said.

"Honestly, yes..." 

"And who would you want to do it with?"

König's eyes travel from your eyes to the downs of your lips. "You, mein engel."

Your lips pressed into corners that made up a small smile before you lunged at him, causing him to drop the heavy book to the floor. His back is pressed against the narrow mattress while your hips straddle his own, lips hungrily devouring at each other in sloppy ministrations. König's mouth was warm and welcoming — the brief taste of cheaply provided mouth wash surrounding the pink muscle which lapped at the interiors of your own mouth.

A situated lump poked underneath your clothed legs, surprising but expected. Your hand comes to reach down and grope at it, honored that you were capable to cause him to become hard within a matter of seconds — how you longed for him, ached — to have the head of his dick prodding at your throat or practically anywhere inside of you. You were special to him, like a fine porcelain doll of glass manhandled in those strong hands. 

You pushed your lips up against his, fingers circling the waistband of his pants that were soon pulled down to showcase his boxers. It wasn't long before he took control of the circumstances and caged your own hands in his larger ones, thick fingers wrapping around the skin of your wrists — his strength pulled you under him and landed him top instead — a minor gasp breaking loose from your vocal cords. 

His pants were kept around his hefty thighs — mind thinking and thinking about how you would look naked at his touch, bare and all for him. The thoughts plagued his mind and eventually convinced himself to act on it, a hand in a fist that grabbed at your shirt and ripped it off of you with the brawn of a brute. "König," you heaved louder than intended. Your eyes were radiant, twinkling with the plead of him to place his touches on you more. Your hand came to rest at the edge of his boxers, pulling them down to reveal his leaking dick.

It was thick, and way above average. A few veins, similar to your observations of his hands, ran through the skin. Pre-cum collected at his flat tip and ran down one side while it

He'd had a single blowjob before, but it wasn't sentimental nor with a woman who he felt a genuine affection towards. He figured it was a cruel practical joke dared by the other soldiers due to his lack of communication with them, though with you he was in a complete paradise. König gripped at your forearms and forced you up to sit, his body laid to the wall behind the bed — fuzzily pumping at his dick with a single hand bubbling with strained muscles, imploring eyes on you at the same time — the most appropriate reaction a man could have before having someone blow him off.

"You want me?" You say, head turnt, palms flat on the sheets resting at the sides of your tucked legs. 

"Please, meine Liebe." He forces out of heavy breaths and messy noises. 

By that time, you're already scooted up to him, sat between his spread legs. Arms outstretched and crossed each other — the gaping window of your bra giving him the display of a lifetime. His hips thrusted with the speeding motions of his hand that came to a stop once your leaning body that was adjacent to the origin of his unnatural behaviors, mouth nearing. 

König couldn't breathe, but he wasn't the one granting pleasure. Your lips plumped around the tip like a feather, some kind of soft petal of a flower, before taking the whole length down — praising the lord there would be no edging. The pressure of hands found leverage on his thighs as he watched you like a formless heavenly entity at his service, turning a blind eye to the grimy environment all around. He wondered if you had ever done this before; and if you did, he was more than honored — honored to drench in the soft and velvety interior of your mouth and compact throat.

The cloth of his hood was difficult to breathe in throughout the blowjob — never acting on taking it off, though. It clung to him at all times except times of privacy in the shower. Sweat flatten against the skin of his fast and moisten it up, head thumping at the walls while a hand nestled at the top of your head, cautious to not accidentally cause damage to you.  

It was all the raw sensation, pent-up tension, that made you so desperate and longing for his cock — a sparse value in blowjobs — and a single man so responsive to you and your lone mouth, whispers of Scheiße or cluttered grunting cramming the usually silenced room. "You are a natural," he praises you.

You choose to thank him by fastening your movements down on him, earning you a string of more german curses and manly groaning that blessed your ears. You already knew he was on edge — which is why you decided to do such actions — pushing on his release to blow faster, which the matter was correct about, cock lodged to the back of your throat to fit his size while the warmth of his load was shot in. 

Your mouth dislodged from him, a line of saliva connecting your mouth to his tip for a matter of seconds, as gross as it sounded it was quite alluring while in a trance of need. He had allowed you to trace your hands across his sensitive length a few times before jerking him off further, body warmth colliding with his, spurts of cum managing to stain your hands before it came out in a large splatter across your chest as well — a loud moan and stuttering of hips coming from him. An expression of bliss read in his eyes.

Tears glossed in at the edge of your eyes and tainted your eyelashes like early morning dew on grass strands. Sticky globs of cum illuminated under the mediocre light that gave some light in that sad room. 

"Are you alright?" He asks with a genuine concern, head lifting off the wall, looking down at you who laid at his lower stomach. 

"Yes," You rise slowly and gather the leftover strength to position yourself to sit-up once again. "Are you?"

"That was... more than I had expected."

"Would you be willing for round two?"

The tone that hid in your voice and expression on your glowing face could only tell him one thing — which was fair to him, but not to you — you hadn't had what he had yet. An orgasm, he recalled hearing about and what he just went through moments prior. König is no longer a panting nor whiny mess, the room silent again following the action in which he took you by your limp wrists that hung at your sides, placing you to straddle his hips on top. You had already been the dominant one at first, but you figured it was his time to shine in that light.

A hunger in his eyes flares as fast arms circle around you, unfastening the latch of your bra, the object thrown and to be left stranded on the floor. Temptation, — you were leading him into it, with your bare breasts exhibited and that tender look in your eyes that was almost doe-like. He's tensed and could only bring himself to stare, alternating between your chest and naked legs  that no longer had baggy pants closing in on them — panties the only given coverage on your body.

He reaches shaky arms to your hips and allows them to slide down to the waistband. The piece of thin fabric glides smoothly down without any issues in its path, his eyes widening as they feast upon your bare cunt, the sight almost causing him to believe this was just a fantasy of his. "Heilige Scheiße, you are beautiful." he stutters out, the sight leaving him in disbelief — and another rising arousal.

Your nude body rises and sits upon him while he still bears the scratchy material of his prison shirt attire, creating a sort of power imbalance between you and him — strangely enough, you enjoyed it more than anything — the male of your dreams right at your hips below. You incline and press your lips to the cloth of his hood, to where his lips should be under the sustained material. 

Though he hates the idea of showing his face off — and in this exceptional moment just for you — König's fingers brushed at one draping edge of his hood, pushing it away to the side for his mouth and tip of his nose to be exposed. His lips, boyish and rather plump to kiss at, and the hook of his nose sculpted as if they were by gods. The cloudy hues of his eyes and hazily curved jawline pulled his look in all together.

It's not long before you're inclined over him to reach his lips and give them a small fervent peck, you feel him return the peck on his lips onto yours further but you pull away prior to noticing he does. You brought yourself lower to to where his anew erection prodded at your inner thighs, aching to be buried in your core. At last, you decide to not to torture the poor and begging man, slowly taking in his lengthy cock inch by inch — a slow, painful process quickly maturing into a bittersweet stir. 

You instantly bottom out once his thick tip bumped all the way to your cervix. Your body slouches on top him, thighs closing in and squeezing on him below. He brings himself to grab your stuttering hips which struggled to move up and down on him, guiding you somehow. A low moan breaches from your lips — and with the help of König, — you managed to steadily ride him, sloppy with no structured flow. 

"Just like thaat, engel." He acclaims, eyes narrowed and legs convulsing with each of his combined thrusts and your continuous workings on him. Beautiful and grotesque it was, the fusion of love-making and loathsome bond of two war criminals. His grip was bruising and his dick submerged up inside of you made up for it — his deeper grunts and your moans that grew in pitch merging together like a choir. 

He sits up back swiftly — one of his hands coming to rest on your lower back while the other keeps a clutch  — and settles you closer to him. His hands leave the warmth of your body and strips himself of the only article of clothing that rests on his sweat-infested body, a shirt that was soon to be left with the rest of your own scrapped clothes. Laying under the ragged linen was a chiseled chest, abs carved by years of military training and a coating of mustered-up sweat sheathing his flesh. 

"God," you breathe, "Were you hiding all of that under there from me?"

"Eh, of course not, I was planning on showing you soon anyways." He mutters through sharp pants, indulging in the taste of your lips again.

König's eyes observe your contorting face derived from pleasure as your leaking arousal drips down your thighs and surfaces every crevice of his dick in which impales you more violently with each thrust that rode up into you. "Such a good girl for me, honey, taking me in so well," he drags a hand down to your sensitive pussy, sliding his fingers over before circling at your wet clit — sending an electric shock through your spine. 

He was honored — not only to just be your lover, but to make you endure the ripples of pleasure in which he planted at your body — and you steadied yourself, mind going numb and point-blank within the slightest seconds of the combination of his dick fucking up through your warm walls and the circular motions that increased in speed everytime each circle was completed around. 

Sounds considered shameful out of sex brushed past your lips as you were now the one who incapable to keep eye contact, König locked in on your glowing frame and following each twitch or sudden jolt certainly due to his overstimulating actions. 

"Too much..." You stutter out, straightening out only to be brought back slouching with your back arching to the ceiling. 

"Do you want to stop?" König asks almost immediately concerned, "Because we can if we want, I don't want to hurt yo-"

"König."

"Huh?'

"Shut up. Keep going." The words come out a gentle hush despite the small aggressiveness added to it, squeals and moans released into the air, your head thrown back.

His thumb pushes to a deeper extent at your clit, sending you over the edge, a loud König esentially clawing at the borders of your already-sore throat and out of your lips. Your hunched over with your head buried in his shoulder, the feral and sloppy thrusts of his dick repeatedly bumping against your cervix proceeded through your orgasm — an out of body experience that caused stars to block your peripheral vision, body light and slumped against his still thrusting one. 

The warmth of his seed finally pumps up into your body and his thrusts pause, although his cock lodged in there for the time that passes to allow him to catch his breath — his ragged and heavy breaths. Tears finally spill from the corners of your eyes, not of sadness but at the pure relief and the surprising satisfaction that you had gotten from prison sex. He pulls out and leaves a trail of sticky seed to drool down from your leaking entrance and onto his sheets below, arms wrapping you into a hug, a hand stroking at your back soothingly. 

You felt strangely lonely at your core without the constant notion of König's dick shaping your walls and easily striking your cervix with his size, but despite that loneliness it was restored with gentle aftercares and reassuring words that came after the intense session of intimacy that had been lead into a territory far more than expected. 

König grabs at the corner of the sheets, dabbing it at your sensitive entrance first before cleaning up himself. Disgusting? Sure it was, but he didn't care, as long as anything was left by you he didn't really mind the idea.

"You were so good, mein lieber." praises König, a soft nuzzle of his head against yours. 

"I could say the same for you, honey." You said as you press your head into his bare chest, heartbeat going at mildly fast pace.

"Why? You do not think I would be good at sex?" He asked.

"No, my little Austrian boyfriend." you reply, eyes shutting out of exhaustion. "I was just praising you too, get used to it."

[littlemonstert-blog]

Temari's Overrated

overrated.

I don't dislike Temari's character, I do find her overrated in comparison to other characters and here's why.

Let's look into character wise

Temari's not a bad character either but she literally has like 10 pages worth of screen time in Part 1. 5 pages worth in Part 2 (Shippuden) . Only reason she gets hyped so much is because Naruto fandom has convinced itself to believe a “badass girl who's kinda mean” equals best female character ever.

Her entire character in has been:

Gaara's older sister, She's great at wind style and Temari maybe has a crush on Shikamaru.

My other point, the ShikaTema ship. When you're on any Naruto social media (Twitter, reddit, tiktok etc). You've definitely seen people say it's “the best ship” or “the only ship that makes sense” and “the one ship that everyone likes”. I don't have any problems with it.

But, where were are the romantic moments of Shikatema that made them the best couple in the entire series? The only time they ever even got romantically close to one another was when Shikamaru was looking for a wedding gift for Naruto and Hinata after The Last movie.

Please do not use any filler screencaps because if it didn't happen in the manga its not canon.

And Shikamaru made it clear and that he wasn’t romantically into Temari before this event due to how oblivious he was to Temari.

People shit on Naruto for being oblivious/dense to Hinata’s feelings despite the fact that there is a canon explanation as to why he couldn’t understand Hinata’s feelings. But nobody says anything about Shikamaru being dense to Temari as well despite having a good upbringing and understanding how his parents speak with each other romantically.

Certain (some not all) people claim that Shikamaru and Temari already had chemistry since OG Naruto and only panel they use to support it this:

the only conversation between Shikamaru and Temari that can be seen as chemistry in a sense without it being half-way or taken out of context like most people do with this couple.

People like to compare them to other ships that had WAY more moments and screentime. Just because they have no drama.

most ships, these two characters have little to no interactions. What makes it worse, you can't even give them the benefit of the doubt for having offscreen interactions as when they live three days away from each other. Meanwhile, something like Naruto and Hinata or Sai and Ino likely had interacted offscreen 

Let's be honest here, the author said it himself Naruto is a battle shōnen manga romance was never a main focus. It will always be secondary part or not there at all like other shōnen.

 her power-scaling

This isn't to say Temari is weak I say she is at least Jonin level

As far as war arc, Temari literally doesn't due much at all compared to others. Manga whatever the anime adds is NOT CANON

She did one thing in war arc :

With the help of two other shinobi, she managed to damage base edo third raikage. Assuming he was actually blitzed and didn't just decide to tank it (since they stated they haven't inflicted any significant damage, implying he likely didn't even care to dodge)

This is anime-only aka filler that's not canon to manga

(Even if you did consider this a feat, Madara just dusted himself off like nothing happen and set up for fire style.)

Comparing other Konoha memebers

Can you tell me something important that Temari ever did to develop the plot? People insult female characters like sakura, karin and Ino but they contributed far more than temari. Heck, even tenten with her little screentime helped more than Temari.

Sakura: Contributed alot during the war, became one of the best medical ninja

Hinata: Assisted Ino in redirecting the ten-tails attack by linking her byakugan to Ino’s mind transfer. Saved the whole shinobi alliance including Naruto, Killer B, Might Guy and Kakashi. Helped Naruto when he was about to give-in after witnessing neji’s death.

Ino: Linked everybody multiple times during the war together. She was the only person capable of doing that from her clan. Besides her father.

Karin: Helped Tsunade retore her reserves. Also destroyed multiple shinzu arms that zetsu tried to use to kill team taka and the shinobi. She was one of the most important memebers that sasuke had in team taka.

Tenten: A memeber of the team 10(chapter258) who was sent to rescue Temari’s brother while temari did absolutely nothing. Temari only arrived after gaara had died. Tenten was also one of those who destroyed more than one of kakuzu’s heart.

I shouldn't have say much about Mei & Tsunade.

Could list more but, I want to keep this short.

Temari as a character, has no purpose after the chunin exams arc, where her best feats was defeating Tenten (basically fodder) and defeating an already weakened Tayuya.

Which begs the question.how is Temari a well written character if she's barely around. Only Gaara was the most relevant sibling. The sand village in general wasn't that important. Most notable characters were Gaara, Chiyo and Sasori that were relevant from the Sand. Maybe If I push it, their father the previous Kage and the bijuu Shukaku.

( Edit: Looking back & a comment I can't reply back for a odd reason. Kankuro did have a bit of a bigger role than his sister)

Temari seems like one of the most overrated characters in the show upon her non relevant appearances for the plot compared to other female characters.

again I don't dislike this character, I just think in certain aspects she's overrated.

[wickedpact]

A ranking of all the TTT stories in order of how much I liked them.

(Oh god this is so long)

1 My Mother's Axe

BABY ANDYYYYYYYYYYYY. Honestly this one had the trifecta of developing a character's motivations, developing a character's backstory, & developing their personality. The story starting out with Andy teaching Nile to use the axe was so charming and fun, and you could feel that chemistry they had in Opening Fire, the way they teased and bickered with each other so naturally. I loved the wedge between them on the subject of the axe, how Nile was perhaps a little too young to understand Andy's feelings about whether or not its the 'same' axe. I also love how the axe is obviously the symbol of the franchise and hugely important, but you never get a sense of exactly how important it is to Andy until you read the story.

I love the entire Ship of Theseus theme, and how it feels so natural that for Andy she has to get attached to the idea of things rather than the things themselves because she'll always outlive the things themselves-- the axe is symbolically her mom's axe, even if physically it isn't. And I love how she clearly clings to that concept so tightly. "This is the labrys she held in her hands...." IT GETS ME.

And the fact that this sense of BELONGING, of FAMILY, of CULTURE is so important to Andy that she clings to it (figuratively and literally) with both hands. And of course it's important to her, she spent so long alone that the woman doesn't even remember her birth name. That axe (or the idea of that axe) is all she has left of her mother and that family/culture she was born into.

PLUS on that note I love how Andy doesn't remember if her mom was her actual biological mother, but it doesn't matter to her. This woman was her mother in all the ways that counted. And how her mom BETRAYED AND KILLED Andy but Andy loved her so much that she avenged her and carried her axe for thousands of years. THOUSANDS OF YEARS!!!!!!

I also loved how the story transcends the timeline of the whole franchise and seeing Andy through the years. Loved seeing her with the varying squads and with varying axes. Also baby Andy was so cute. It was cool seeing her so young. like holy fuck. Andromache The Scythian, Immortal Warrior (but smol). Love that.

Also I think this one is one of the few ttt stories that doesn't suffer from length problems.

tldr: goddammit greg you've done it again.

2 Zanzibar and Other Harbors

Zanzibar my beloved. I've said before, but it's downright comedic how little regard there was for Joe and Nicky's character designs in this story. The same person who does the colors for the regular comic did the colors for this one too, and you can tell, every panel of this story was Beautiful.

Ik there was A Lot of criticism of this one (lmao @ how the fandom had no idea what was to come) but I thought a lot of The Discourse was a bit dramatic. I did think Nicky came off as a little oblivious to Joe's feelings in this story, but I've said before, I honestly think that was a 'tone not translating' thing. It felt like Nicky was nagging Joe for [checks notes] saving innocent people, but Joe was so amused by Nicky's complaints I really do think it was supposed to come off as teasing.

Plus I know the 'Joe running off into danger and Nicky reluctantly following' dynamic wasn't popular (I'm a pretty meh on it meself) but I did love how Joe's impulsiveness (if you want to call it that) was interpreted as heroism and not hot-hotheadedness. All of the examples Nicky and Joe talked about included Joe explicitly saving people. (and it also took A Lot for the nazi to actually provoke Joe).

I also feel like their characterization here was closest to the movie canon-- the bit where they hear the woman scream and Joe goes running in to save her while Nicky swoops in on Joe's heels to comfort her while Joe and the nazi were fighting reminds me of the train car scene. Joe had suggested First that they go find Nile because she needed to be protected, and Nicky later added that Nile probably also needed emotional support. Similar reactions.

But it was So Good, the themes of queer community and the enduring nature of queer culture are Not themes you see in media that often and it was such a delight how it was done. Also it's one of the few more modern TTT stories that has a completely valid excuse for taking place when it did. Chef's kiss.

3 Passchendaele

I love the Duality between seeing baby Andy and then seeing Mama Andy in the very next issue. This story doesn't have a ton of meat to it, but the entire concept of Andy adopting a war orphan straight off the battlefield PLUCKS MY TENDER LITTLE HEARTSTRINGS, and I think it's especially poignant for comic!Andy. I think most people wouldn't think twice about movie!Andy doing something like that but comic Andy is so hardened and almost cruel sometimes, and seeing that even for her the world hasn't beaten all of the compassion from her yet is SO!!!!!!! this woman contains MULTITUDES okay, she's violent and angry and tired and Done but she's also so kind and compassionate and THE STRENGTH OF HER!!!!! Also the idea of her and Yitzhak co-raising a kid together is so damn cute. It was #mysterious pre-Yitzhak-story but now it's cute. holy fuck. It's cute.

& the headbonk panel of her and Zeus lives in my heart. anyways.

4 Many Happy Returns

I Know people weren't thrilled about Booker being in this one, but I've developed a pet-peeve about that: this story was *not* booker-centric. Booker only exists in this story to the extent required to explain the importance of the gesture Nile makes towards him. If there was a story about Booker making some grand gesture of kindness to Nile no one would be saying it was Nile-centric. bc it wouldn't be! Booker exists in this story to explore Nile's kindness, its not about him. I saw that a couple times and it bothered me. anyways.

AAAAAAAAAA I loved this one, the art was beautiful, I loved how Andy Nile and Booker were drawn (like their comic selves but.. more looking like actual people). I loved Andy and Nile's Bants, how Andy wanted to jump right in and Do Violence but Nile was basically telling her to hold her horses.

I feel like I'm just repeating the post I made on this story a few days ago, but I LOVED how Nile's plan revolves not around violence or Cool Mercenary Skills but on Nile's own life skills (as she canonly did a lot of minimum wage job-hopping before the marines in comics canon). Her plan used her skills, not the skills of an immortal warrior, and HER SKILLS were in fact more useful for the situation! lov to see Nile's resourcefulness and planning skills.

AND HOW NILE WAS PROBABLY WATCHING BOOKER??? it's so Much bc 1.) nile knew booker A SINGLE DAY and yet he made such an impression on her emotionally that she had to keep an eye on him and 2.) she said in the movie she wanted Booker to get off free with an apology. Yes she's a member of the team but that doesn't mean she's necessarily going to follow orders like a good little soldier. I also love how she convinced Andy to go along with it. her HEART, her KINDNESS, her THOUGHTFULNESS, UGH.

5 The Bear

Honestly I have like no negative things to say about this one other than a.) character design issues which is less about the story itself and is more of a 'tog comic in general' criticism and b.) too short, but it was supposed to be a tease, so.

But I loved Yitzhak, I wasn't expecting to really like him at all but like I said in my other post, he tickled me. I love characters who are Kind™, especially if they have little reason to be so given their backgrounds. Chef's kiss. Lov him.

6 Bonsai Shokunin

I know this one was a little controversial bc of the outsider POV but whenever I see people upset about that they never point out that the Outsider Guy (the samurai) existed as a reflection on Noriko. His ideas are explained in the text to develop hers. The whole story follows how she gave mercy to a scared young man and in response he murdered Noriko, repeatedly! Who gave him the right to inflict such pain and suffering on the world? In his opinion, the lack of response from the gods was his permission. And for Noriko-- over and over again she dies and suffers because she gave mercy, which lines up with her ideas in FM about how it's their fate to rule mortals and if they don't align with that plan/fate/whatever then they suffer. It shows some background to those ideas and how they developed in her mind outside of Ocean Madness™. Additionally, his idea of 'the Gods have done nothing to strike me down so it's fine if I do these things' kind of explains how Noriko may justify her own morally corrupt actions-- she's died so many times and it's never stuck. Maybe if she did die any of those times, or while she was in the water, maybe that would've been a sign she was doing something right, or at least doing something normal. But she hasn't died. Fate isn't done with Noriko yet. And maybe there's a reason for that. In her mind, it's just not a very pleasant reason, is all.

There were things I was kind of meh about tho. I did kind of wish we saw something of Noriko and the team, or smth explaining the way she was before her dip in the pool-- personality, likes dislikes, etc. but it wasn't bad or anything. It was super vague tho, I had to read it a few times before I got what it was going for. Liked the art. Liked the bonsai metaphor. And of course I Respect the decision to use the 1300s (1200s? I don't remember off the top of my head) rather than using the last 200 years.

7 Strong Medicine

Honestly looking back, this one made me kind of sad because both this one and Bonsai Shokunin explored character's ideas on Fate and The Divine and how that intersects with immortality and I totally thought that theme would be continued, especially with Love Letters. But Then It Wasn't™.

Admittedly.... I had to re-read this one to remember most of it. I liked Booker's ideas on God, 'The conductor of the symphony just may not be very good at his trade' but the plot itself was kind of forgettable. Some fuckin cowboys try to kill a doctor (their second) because he couldn't save their sickly brother. Book tries to stop them, gets killed, and then comes back and kills them all before they get the doctor. Alright. I liked the artstyle because the characters were ugly in a similar way that leandro's are, but way more bearable.

I love the Irony of Booker concluding that there is no such thing as fate or destiny and nothing has meaning, AS HE UNKNOWINGLY SAVES MERRICK'S GRANDFATHER FROM BEING KILLED. Booker getting fucked over by life/god/destiny yet again. It also kind of explains about where the fuck hell Merrick's interest in immortal mercenaries even came from.

I originally had this one a lot higher and then I thought about it and moved it down like two spots.

8 Never Gets Old

I liked seeing Booker interact with his kid. And we got a name for the kid! Philippe was a little bitch though, he was a little obnoxious. I liked how Booker was so thrilled to experience a restaurant with his kid (and since we know he was there before, it can be assumed he went with all of his kids and yet he was so charmed each time). It fits with his line to Nicky in the moon landing story about how you don't appreciate beautiful things 'unless you have someone to share them with'. It was charming to see Booker interact with his kid, and to see him so happy. Also lmao @ Booker's big fat Ye Olde Crush on Andy.

However at the same time it was like.. of all the things to write about,,, I guess? Booker's Night Out...... alright. Especially since Book had so many stories.

I don't know, it was alright. The old man killing him really came out of nowhere, (but the 'Salut, asshole!' panel was funny tho).

9 How To Make a Ghost Town

I've hit a point where talking about these stories has gotten less fun. I liked this one but I felt like Achilles getting lynched was not really necessary for a story that was already tragic (a story that already involved Achilles doing a lot of suffering at the hand of bigots). When we first got the blurb for this story I thought it would be about Andy returning to the squad and making friends with Booker after losing Achilles and them butting heads on the idea of family and when to cut off ties. So a little bit of my underwhelmedness about this one might be just my expectations being different.

Honestly I was pretty interested in Andy and Achilles' relationship and I would've liked to see more of them-- like, what was their dynamic like? What did they love about each other?

But anyways Andy leaving and Achilles getting killed anyways feels so pointlessly tragic (which I suppose is the point..... I don't like tragedies) she left to save him and yet people killed him anyway. Meh.

I did love the bits about Andy wanting to have a domestic life (Andy and her multitudes again) and the little detail about how she buried her axe near the road but he buried his guns under his bed-- he was an escaped slave, he never had the luxury of assuredness like Andy did. It was a sad story.

10 Lacus Solitudinis

'You put this one above love letters crim??? how could you???' easy, lmao.

There was stuff in this one I liked. But to talk about stuff I didn't like: (I'll keep it brief, I know ragging on this story has been done time and time again)

UH, setting aside the 6 year cold shoulder between Joe and Nicky, I thought their chosen method of conflict resolution was... bad at best. Nicky's inability to talk about his feelings was also annoying, especially since the entire point of this story is a fight Joe and Nicky had, and yet we don't get both sides to the story, which is...... important? That fact is especially annoying bc in the absence of Nicky explaining his side of the story, it's absolutely a possible (and admittedly probably unintentional) interpretation of the text that we do get that Joe routinely resolves conflict between him and Nicky by simply cutting Nicky out of his life entirely until Nicky just. caves? Even if it takes years?

WHICH i could get into that interpretation and how fucked up i find it. but im not going to. out of restraint.

I don't know, I think there are a lot of interesting ways to go about this conflict but 'Nicky wants to kill a guy and Joe refuses to acknowledge his existence until he stops because he thinks Nicky is too much of a Good Boy to get his hands dirty like that' ('I wont watch as the world turns his (...) compassion into something ugly'. ) wasn't.. how I would've done it. (I mean you know Joe doesn't give a shit about what Nicky is doing in a moral way, because Joe doesn't even care or mention that Booker is killing those cops too. Joe only cares because he doesn't like the idea of Nicky changing in a way he finds undesirable.)

admittedly I've said before, I do like the emphasis Joe's reaction puts on Nicky's kindness. Joe has a complete inability to cope with Nicky simply Not Being Kind. It speaks to the steadiness of Nicky's compassion all those years. but still that fact doesn't make it the conflict feel worth it

hm. I said I would be brief and I wasn't.

oh well. basically I thought there was interesting conflict potential there but it wasn't done the way I would've liked, and the way it was done leaves a lot of disturbing (and again probably unintended) interpretations to lie.

What I did like? Andy and Joe having that pessimist/optimist dynamic. Joe nerding out about science. Andy not being impressed by The Achievements Of Man. I loved Booker needling at Nicky about his outdated slang and also trying to give him Older Brother advice practically in the same breath. I loved Booker giving The Worst relationship advice ever and Nicky being like 'I Will Not Do That, Ever, Thanks.' the family vibes were so good. The Joenicky vibes left a lot to be desired tho.

11 Love Letters

I talked about my problems with Nicky in this story (and Lacus Solitudinis). I don't know, the story isn't bad but I do hold a little bit of a grudge towards it because its very existence begs the existence of a solo Joe story and we didn't get one. If we never got this story, then we could happily count Lacus Solitudinis and Zanzibar as The Joenicky Stories™ and move on with our lives. sigh.

I remember when we first got the blurb for this story I was really curious about why Nicky specifically + the setting, and the answer kind of feels like 'the author had an idea for a story like this and saw ttt as a good enough place to utilize that idea'. Plus I was really underwhelmed by the Romantic Sentiment in the letter. If you look at it line-by-line, the majority of the letter is actually Nicky talking about how lonely and disturbed he is, rather than actual,, yknow,,, Romantic Sentiment. I mean, compare the van speech and this letter and this letter is just kind of meh in comparison. I liked nicky calling joe wise! and I liked the brief sun/moon metaphor! and otherwise it was eh. It didn't even have cute squad banter, which is why Lacus Solitudinis is above this one.

12 An Old Soul

Nun orgy. Nun orgy?????? Nun orgy.......

The whole story felt like a setup to have a nun orgy. Why did Booker have abs? Why did they do that to Andy's nose? ?????? the art was good at least.

nun orgy.

[fleckcmscott]

To Have and To Hold

Summary: Y/N makes an oversight at work. The resulting extra hours with Arthur delight them both.

Warnings: Swearing, Smut

Words: 4,272

A/N: This story had been kicking around in my head for about two months, but I hadn’t been sure if I was going to write it. Then I read @sweet-nothings04‘s amazing Hand-in-Hand (which you all need to check out, if you haven’t), and knew I had to put it on paper. Thanks to her for the inspiration to finally develop this, and for the title, too!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open! 

Perhaps it was the sunshine that stirred her. Or the horns of traffic on congested streets. The hammering of a distant construction site. The chatter and occasional yelling of passersby.  The hum of Gotham awakening.

Y/N blinked in confusion - how could it be so bright this early? - and squinted at the clock at Arthur's side of the bed. No numbers greeted her, just its blank, plastic display. Stretching, she reached to her left for her watch, in its spot by the beige rotary phone on the nightstand.

"Shit!"

Nearly knocking over her glass of water, she clambered off the mattress. Arthur had warned her the lights could go off in his apartment. Not often and not for long. But enough to annoy. Naturally, his building's shoddy electricity had to mess with the alarm today. When she'd stayed up too late. When he'd had to leave ahead of her to commute to the other end of the city for a rare winter gig. When her body had chosen to oversleep in the coziness of his blankets.

Her nylons had never been yanked on with such haste. Arthur had made coffee but she skipped it in favor of brushing her teeth. Pausing on her way out, she took a calcium supplement and grabbed a note from the counter. She read it while riding the wood-paneled, graffiti covered elevator: "Your presentashin will be great. You snored a lot. Good thing your cute. - Arthur." He always signed his name. As though she wouldn't recognize his scrawl. As if anyone else wrote her sweet, sassy missives. She grinned until she hopped on the for-once punctual subway.

The presentation he'd referred to was set for that afternoon. She was expected to discuss the evidence and court file for this week's contested hearing. Last night, she'd sat at Arthur's breakfast bar to compile the case's final details and finish prep sheets. Gently, she'd rebuffed his subtle advances. His attempts to draw her attention from work to him.

Excitement had been palpable as he'd hovered near her. She was fairly certain she knew the cause because it enthused her as well. In three and a half short weeks, he'd be moving in with her. They'd officially begin traversing whatever the future held for them together. Hesitation had been clear in his posture, his drawn shoulders when (after plenty of convincing on her part that yes, she really, really, wanted him) he'd finally accepted the key to her place. But since he'd added it to his own keyring, he'd brightened. Strode a little taller. Walked a little prouder. Touched a little bolder. As though the weight he carried had lessened, at least by a couple cinder blocks' worth.

At his slight pout, she'd decided to find a way to involve him. He'd perched on the stool next to her, rested his cigarette in the pink ashtray to the left, and taken the proffered exhibit stickers with a quirked brow. Y/N had handed him papers, which he'd added labels to for her to write on. Then she'd stacked them in four different piles according to type. It had taken longer than usual - she was faster alone. But the intimacy of sharing the professional elements of her life with Arthur (besides the office wear he liked, claiming it showed how "smart" and "pretty" she was) had tightened her chest. And the curved-up corner of his thin lips had reflected how pleased he was, too.

They hadn't been able to collaborate on everything, however. It was past midnight by the time she'd joined Arthur, who had retreated to the bedroom an hour or so earlier. He'd been sitting against the headboard, half under the cover. The harsh blue light emanating from the old black and white TV at the foot of the bed had sharpened his features. Deepened the set of his eyes. He'd stubbed out his smoke as she closed the door. "I taped The Honeymoon Game. We can watch it when you're here again." A beat. "If you're not busy."

"This is supposed to be my last big project for a month or so." Sighing, she'd gotten her nightgown from her overnight bag. "I didn't mean for it to take all evening." She climbed in next to him and threw her arm across his lap. "I'm sorry."

He'd been stiff. Unyielding. The telltale signs he was miffed or upset. But he'd twined her hair around his finger, let his touch fall to her brow bone. "It's okay," he'd said lowly, adjusting to lie alongside her. "I don't want to be... I'm not being fair."

"You don't have to pretend with me, Arthur. It's all right to be annoyed." Tiredness had pulled at her as she'd fought to watch the rest of Gotham Tomorrow Tonight. The contact of his socked toes to her bare ones had made her smile, though, and she'd nuzzled his bicep. "I missed you," she'd mumbled, then promptly passed out.

The squeal of wheels on metal tracks prompted her to sling her canvas tote onto her shoulder. Shaw & Associates was a short sprint from the nearest station. She was certain she looked ridiculous, running down the street in her high heels. But she managed to slip into the office with two minutes to spare. Once she poured herself a cup of joe and straightened her blazer, she settled in her cushioned chair to get started.

It was only when Matt told her he wanted to meet before lunch that she'd rummaged in her bag. And realized she'd neglected to bring the file. Recalled it was sitting on Arthur's kitchen counter.

Fuck.

Her nails tapped the wood surface of her desk. Excusing herself to the bathroom so she could go retrieve it wouldn't fly. Matt would send a search party. She could try to discuss everything from memory, tell him documents were still being gathered. But he wasn't that oblivious. She settled on owning her error. "It's at home." Her delivery was nonchalant.

He waited until she'd loaded her typewriter with paper, then responded wryly. "You're not supposed to take files home anymore. Remember what happened last time?"

She leaned back as he stepped in front of her. "There was the slew of family cases that came in. With Patricia on leave, I'm handling all our calls and mail. Not to mention paperwork on her filings. It wouldn't have gotten finished if I hadn't taken it." Snorting, she shook her head at herself. Heat bloomed in her neck. "Not that it matters when I don't have it."

Expression softening, Matt stuck his hands in his pockets and jutted his chin at her. "How long did you work on it?"

It was hard to discern if he actually cared about the hours she put in. Or if he merely wanted to gauge the possibility of her doing investigations off the books again, something he'd explicitly prohibited. "I don't know." She waved dismissively. "Three or four hours?"

He let out a huff. "You put in enough time already. Go home at noon. We'll get to it first thing tomorrow."

"I have a lot to do." Her eyes widened at the myriad piles of folders laying around. "And I can't imagine you playing operator."

"I've managed when you've both been in court or at appointments. Besides," he continued as he headed back to his office. "You never take days off."

Straightening, she wheeled her chair to watch him plop down on his leather seat. "I'm taking three days next month," she countered.

His glare contained an unequal mix of mirth and consternation. "Y/N?"

The phone started ringing. She succeeded in making one ear ignore it. "Yes?"

"I know you haven't forgiven me for that whole Renew Corp. thing." She flinched at the casual mention of the company she loathed. Of her failure. But she forced herself to listen. Matt picked up a pen and started writing. “Rather than being stubborn, try saying, 'You're right.'"

~~~~~

Y/N stood in front of the narrow, white stove, stirring the soup she'd thrown together using bouillon, carrots, onions, and pasta. Ingredients she'd found in Arthur's kitchen. Music poured, at a respectable volume, from the radio on the windowsill. Swaying out-of-time, she added a sprinkling of black pepper, one of the only three spices he had (along with powdered garlic and salt). Wearing a content smirk, she sampled the steaming broth.

When she'd left the office, she'd been frustrated at herself. Yes, she was human. Everyone made mistakes. But she wasn't the forgetful type. Particularly if someone was depending on her. However, as she'd stopped in Burnley for another change of clothes, hopped on the train to Otisburg, and pictured Arthur's reaction to finding her in his home instead of having to call to wish her sweet dreams, her disposition had improved. Not only would he have her for an extra night. He'd get a late lunch, too.

The click of the deadbolt and clank of his keys on the entrance table came the second she turned off the stove. She listened to his heavy exhale as his bag dropped to the floor and shut the door. In her peripheral vision he froze, then approached tentatively. She reveled in his delicate hold on the dip of her waist, the peck he planted on her cheek. The smell of greasepaint wafted to her nose. "I hoped I hadn't made this up," he sighed with what sounded like relief. "But your meeting."

She angled herself towards him, gaze roving over his red and blue plaid blazer. The painted-on smile. His irresistible brown curls, mostly flattened by the wig he'd worn. Fidgeting with the petals of the squirting flower on his lapel, she scrunched up her face. "This morning went to shit." She explained the power outage, the clock, her own stupidity at leaving the file in his apartment. "I've packed it. Don't worry."

His posture grew pensive. "Sorry. Maybe- Maybe we should have stayed at your place. Your building's better."

Him thinking her error was somehow his fault had to be nipped in the bud. "No," she said. "You asked to make more memories here before we move in together. I'm happy to do that."

He paused, long enough she could have sworn she'd heard the gears in his head grinding. "Are you in trouble?"

Not unexpectedly, he had put together her mistake and her early dismissal from work and assumed the worst. "If I wasn't fired for trying to stop the Waynes, it's going to take more than an oversight to get me thrown out on my ass." Her brow furrowed. She sneaked a hand under his jacket and placed her palm on his chest. "I just hate that I wasted last night for nothing."

Soft lips, slightly sticky with red paint, grazed her temple. "It's okay," he said. "You're here now. And I got to help you."

The balm of his kindness loosened her rigid stance. His zeal to assist her, to ask questions, to learn about every aspect of her branded her heart completely. She leaned into him, kissed the squishy fold of skin under his chin, and nudged his ribs. "Food's ready. Go change. I want to hear all about your day."

Arthur emerged from the bathroom within minutes, clad in his worn, blue house pants and toweling his hair. Dimples were on constant display while they ate. The glint in his eyes was the one he usually had if his act or a job had gone particularly well, if he was pleased with himself. Was the one starting to be an almost weekly occurrence. Was the one that made his green eyes sparkle and caused her stomach to flip. He inched closer to her with every sentence.

The kids at the new children’s medical center had liked Carnival, he said. They hadn’t minded that he’d "filled in" for Gary. The magic tricks had all gone without a hitch, and the clinic had provided the balloons, which was a savings. The nurses and doctors had been nice; they’d even asked for his card. He’d had to provide a slip of paper with his address and telephone number instead. But he was sure he’d be invited to perform again. And he asked Y/N for help writing Gary a thank you note for the referral, claiming, “You’re better at that than me.”

“You’re the one who journals every day.” Her bowl and spoon clattered in the sink. “And your letter to me was beautiful. Just let me proofread it.”

Soon they were reclined on the sofa, sharing the flat pillow he’d used when he’d had no choice but to sleep there. The tape he’d recorded yesterday was playing. The Honeymoon Game had been a casual watch before, he’d explained. Not a nightly ritual like Murray. Given that he had a girlfriend and was a boyfriend himself, it had become fun to view.

She was only half-focused on the TV’s talking heads. Her mind was drifting to moving day, which filled her with gladness. She examined the plaid walls, the white cream color ceiling, the knick-knacks strewn about in the glow of the setting sun. The lantern with an owl hanging in the corner; the green, plastic drawers by the television; the curio cabinet... They were all a part of 8J, but assuredly not a part of him. How much would he be bringing with him, she wondered. And what would he be leaving behind?

“With one sugar and a shot of milk.” Arthur’s lively voice broke through her contemplation. Ah. He was reacting to the questions posed to the contestants, and making the answers about her, as he was wont to do.

She nestled back into the pleasant warmth of his firm frame. “Three sugars,” she replied, confirming she knew how he took his coffee. They continued to play along, with him showing off everything he’d memorized about her, and her replying with what she’d gathered about him.

Eventually, he shifted behind her. Raised himself on his elbow. “How did you know you loved me?”

Her hum was soft. Short. Possible responses were multitude. She’d suspected she could fall for him early on. When he’d wanted to repay her for doing what anyone should have done on the subway. And the first time he’d had the courage to call her after they’d split a slice of pie, his slight stammer revealing his nervousness. Maybe she’d say it was how slowly he’d drunken his wine during dinner, initially squinting as he sipped, his inexperience with alcohol obvious.

But she chose to go with what she believed was truest. What she assumed he’d hear most keenly. “Before we slept together, I hadn’t been with anyone for four years. And even then, it was different.” His hand splayed on her abdomen, thumb dragging along the waistband of her green leggings. A delightful ache flared in her center. “When I woke up, I felt perfect.”

“You felt like you were perfect?”

“No, silly,” she laughed, batting his forearm. “I knew I hadn't made a mistake. I reached out to your side, first thing - I’d thought of it that way, even then.” At the sensation of his hardening shaft against her rear, she giggled. “You’d made me so happy. You always do. I wanted to you to bed me again.”

The round tip of his nose skimmed her cheek, and she shivered at the dip of his fingers into her panties. “I want to again,” he rasped, paraphrasing her. The grind of his length was making her light-headed, and she twisted her torso to look at him. “I’ve been thinking about it.” Cheekbones glowing, he averted his eyes. “Ever since I woke up.”

“My monthly started,” she said regretfully. His descent halted, and a groan of frustration left him as he lowered his forehead to her shoulder. She mused. While he was becoming more apt to say what he desired, it happened rarely. But she loved it and didn’t want to discourage him from letting himself be assertive. Would he be offended by her suggestion? “I freshened up before we laid down. I have a tampon in. There are other things we can do.” She pressed her lips together, hoping she didn’t sound presumptuous. “If you’re comforta-“

“I’m comfortable.” His mouth quickly claimed hers, opening on a sigh. The tip of his tongue laved at the seam of her lips, and his messy enthusiasm made her whimper. Leaving a scorching trail in its wake, his hand traversed to her upper leg, gliding over the crease where her thigh and vulva met.

Shallow breaths caressed the nape of her neck, stoking the heat threatening to consume her. But the studio audience blaring from the television’s mono-speaker kept wresting her out of her haze. She snatched the VCR remote from the coffee table and hit the pause button.

The tease of his fingertips at her dark curls caused the peaks of her breasts to stiffen. She gasped as the rough fabric of her sweater dragged along them. His fore- and ring fingers spread her outer lips and she shuddered. The leisureliness of his fondling didn’t detract from its intoxicating effect.

Though it was a tad rough. “You’re kinda dry. Hold on.” Swiftly, he brought his hand to his mouth and wet his fingertips. Y/N blinked at him. It was clear he thought nothing of it, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, considering he’d confided he liked going down on her. Still. Seeing this normally reserved man improvise so he could pleasure her made her center throb with need.

Y/N was doing her damnedest to get her leggings and underwear down. Arthur snorted at her spirited, failed attempt at kicking them away. “It’s okay,” he chuckled, pushing them off her ankles with his foot. Then his touch fluttered at her swollen folds. She arched into him, already feeling as though she would burst. Bent at the knee, her leg lifted until her foot was flat on the couch cushion, allowing him easier access. He took advantage, sweeping forward and back along the rigid line of her engorged clitoral hood. She rolled towards him subtly, her moans getting louder with each tap to her sensitive nub.

Still holding himself up, he cradled her head. "Your sounds make me crazy," he said lowly. Once his hips started following hers, faintly rutting against the flesh of her backside, she closed her eyes. Hurriedly, she reached behind her to yank at his pajamas. "What?" he asked.

"I want to feel you," she whispered. There was a huff and some fumbling. And moments later his cock was settled at the cleft of her bottom. She bit her lip, savoring the weight of him. God, he felt wonderful.

His fingertips whispered over her clit, daring to follow the edge of her inner labia. She heard him gulp. "How does it feel when we're together? When- When I'm in you?"

"Warm. Full. Like you belong there," she replied with a smile. That last part of her response must have been unexpected, given that his grazes ceased and he trembled. "Don't stop," she whined, placing her hand on his. "Please, Arthur. You know just how to touch me."

Groaning, he started anew, deftly swiping quicker and quicker. The undulations of her pelvis hastened unevenly, begging both for release and for their coupling to last forever. She ran her palm up her torso, kneading her breast and plucking at her nipple. He nuzzled at her ear, grunting low in the back of his throat. Winding her fingers into his loose waves, she tugged lightly. Her belly twitched. Her whole frame tingled.

His skillful touch. The love they had for one another. The noises he was making in the crook of her shoulder. They all combined to throw her over the edge, and a wave of pleasure crashed through her. She cried his name brokenly, feeling empty without him inside her. But he kept holding her, guiding her through the crests of her climax. She was gasping, struggling to suck in air. Surely, she thought, he could detect the thundering of her heart against her ribs.

Gradually, the quivering grip she had on his locks eased. The kisses he planted on her neck were open-mouthed, desperate. And he hadn't halted the ardent movements of his hips. Y/N turned onto her other side. Gazing at him, she raked his curls out of his face, caressed his cheekbone with her knuckles. His look was hungry, darkened with need. The creases between his brows deepened as her hand trailed through the sparse dusting of hair on his chest.

There was a youthful charm to this situation, she considered. To them craving each other but not completely joining. It reminded her of being a teenager. When she'd been curious and horny, but nervous and not quite ready to go "all the way" with her ex. Being with Arthur allowed her to do all that again. To relive those experiences, to explore and make discoveries with him. To fall further in love with him daily.

She tenderly pecked the freckles at the top of his sternum, nestled against the notch above his clavicle. "I'm lucky to have you."

He didn't miss a beat, even as she trailed past the ticklish spots on his flank. "I'm luckier."

"I disagree." She outlined the slender muscles of his stomach, the v-lines leading to his cock. Played with the springy, brown curls at the base of him. "Without you, I'd only have my work. Which was enough before. But not now." After a moment, she concluded she was being sappy. She had to change it up. "And I wouldn't be having the best sex of my life."

Clearly flustered, he muffled his laugh. "Really?" His blush was prominent, his grin ecstatic.

"Really." Groans short and sudden, he rocked into her touch when she encircled his ample girth. Her fingers danced along his shaft, marveling at the contrast of his velvety skin with how hard he was. Pumping up and down, she tugged at him, trying to match the speed of his thrusts. He nudged his nose to hers, gazing at her before his hooded eyes flitted to watch what she was doing. Then she looked, too.

The sight of him fucking into her hand made her dizzy with want, even though he'd just gotten her off. The crimson, swollen head glistened, slick beading generously at the tip. Y/N licked her lips and spread it around him with the pad of her thumb. Moaning sharply, he bucked harder. Her motions quickened, flicking repeatedly at the notch on the underside.

Demand was implicit in the grasp he had on her upper arm. And it strengthened as his hips' stuttered, becoming unpredictable. Ragged pants hit her face. "I'm- I'm gonna make a mess.”

"It's all right," she soothed. Keeping ahold of him, she lay on her back. He followed and settled on top of her. Whimpering her name, he rubbed himself against her labia. But she gently pushed him onto his knees and continued palming him, her fingers teasing the ridge on his erection. It wouldn't take long to make him come. She could see it in the clench of his jaw, the tightening cords in his neck, his abrupt, needy cries...

Plunging forward, he held himself in place, grunting, clutching her urgently. His release hit her abdomen, warm and wet, and she gasped, her body curving up towards him. The feel of him spilling onto her couldn't completely distract her, though. Not from the beauty of his parted lips. Not from the relief that gradually spread across his features. Not from the slackening of his muscles as tension ebbed.

Sweat had gathered on his forehead. A droplet ran from the end of a dark brow to his jawline. Then he kissed her, his mouth groping at hers. "I love you," he said. He gave her one last peck and sat up on his knees. Holding onto the arm of the sofa, he retrieved her underwear from the floor and wiped her belly off. "That was fun." He tucked his chin bashfully.

"I concur." She entwined their hands and sat, then stretched as she pushed herself to stand and walk to the bathroom. The washcloth he'd designated as hers hung on the hook by the towels. She cleaned herself, listening as Arthur started the show again.

A new round of questions was just beginning. "When you and your spouse first met," the host started, "what was your first impression?"

Arthur's answer was instant. "Nice."

Y/N said the first thing that came to mind. "Handsome."

She popped her head out of the room to find him leaning on the entrance of the short corridor, beaming at her with hitched giggles. He was probably waiting for his turn to clean up. Like he normally did. But she couldn't stop herself from staring at him. Loving eyes met hers and his brows lifted expectantly. "Yes?"

Smiling, she wrung out the washcloth and put it back in its place. She stepped to him with a smile and smoothed his hair back. The rush of happiness in her soul, one she wasn't even sure she had, enamored her. Not only at what they'd shared on his old, scratchy sofa. But at Arthur being Arthur. At knowing soon she'd get to sleep next to him every night. Build a life with him, one she hadn't dreamed of even six months ago. Nothing she could say seemed adequate. So she went with a kind gesture, one she knew he'd appreciate. "I'll make us some decaf. And I love you, too."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​ @howdylilflower​ @sweet-nothings04​ @stephieraptorr​ @rommies​ @fallenstarsabyss​ @gruffle1​ @octopus-plasma​ @tsukiakarinobara​ @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​ @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​ @jokerownsmysoul​ @mrscarnival