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writefightandflightclub · 3 months

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Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter One (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genres: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings here. Please note this series is NSFW / 18+ and minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written. Posting schedule is here.

Author’s note: (If you read the original one-shot this slightly amended chapter will already be familiar to you, so I'm sorry for the initial lack of surprises. I promise though - there are many surprises from here!) Some of you may remember that this all started as an angsty smutty one shot, way back in 2020. Let’s just say, some of you really liked that story (thank you!) and a “part 2” was requested so that I could “fix” things for these two idiots (affectionate). Well, I guess part 2 took a while, because now it’s four years later, and I have written 87,000 words (ish). Oops. So, as you might infer through the accidental novel length spew, this series means rather a lot to me. It’s the longest piece of writing I have ever seen through to completion, and so, whilst it’s definitely not perfect, I am pretty proud of it! I hope with all of my little orange heart that you enjoy it, and if you do, any RBs, comments - or anything at all really - would mean the world. These two have lived in my head for four years and I will miss them, but I'm so excited to finally share them with you all! Honestly, I could say lots more, but for now I'll leave you with one more thought, which sums up this whole experience quite frankly: the characters made me do it.

Finally, I have to thank you all, lovely pocket friends, for being so supportive and encouraging the whole way. It means so much to me! Especially, I GOTTA thank the fabulous @astroboots, who has hyped this project from literally before the beginning and been so encouraging, and @foxilayde, who is an incredible cheerleader for all my hare-brained endeavours. ILY!

Word count: 9.7k for this part (it’s broken down into 3 sections, if you prefer to read in stints!).

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to the taglist if you are 18+ (or removed!). Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

You love your squad. You really do. However, if you are being honest, it can be tough being treated as “one of the boys”. You know it’s a good thing that they don’t treat you any differently - but sometimes, you have to admit you want to be seen as a woman first and a soldier second. Especially on evenings like this when testosterone and drinks are flowing freely. Evenings when you have an ache in between your thighs that, in your case, calls out for a man. Okay - calls out for Santiago “Pope” Garcia, to be specific.

“I hope you can handle something stiff going down your throat,” you announce crudely to the group, arriving to whoops of appreciation as you slide the tray of hard liquor and beers on to the lofty bar table.

The squad is celebrating a successful bust, and the relief and revelry in the air after the months-long operation is palpable.

“Cheers to that!” Frankie winks with a dumbass grin, rubbing his palms together with glee. “You’re a saviour – Pope’s taking far too long.”

Will helpfully conveys the shots and beers around the table, glasses and bottles clinking and jovial smiles rippling through the group as a direct result. Ready for a cold one, you bring the rim of your beer to your lips for an immediate swig, condensation pooling on your fingers and making you realise how close the air is in this buzzing but dingy place.

“Bottoms-up, boys,” Tom directs as he passes you a shot, earning a good-natured side-eye from you. “And bottoms-eth up-eth, Mi’ Lady,” he adds, along with a regal hand wave to match his faux Olde English tone.

“To busts!” you ‘cheers’, clinking your glasses in the centre of the table. The innuendo earns a throaty, gruff chuckle from Frankie who bumps shoulders with you, inviting you to share in the camaraderie. You give-in with a broad smile, unable -as ever- to resist Frankie’s tittering.

“Oh, hang on,” Frankie says, flitting quickly to a now unoccupied bar stool at an adjacent table (seats are in short supply tonight) and dragging it over to you.

“This for me, Catfish? How gallant.”

He grins. He knows you hate gallant. “It’s actually for Pope and his creaky knees… but you may as well make use of it while he’s pre-occupied,” Frankie chortles. You sit gratefully, your decision to wear heels after months in your beloved combat boots feeling like a definite mistake.

Speaking of mistakes...

“You fucking seeing this?” Tom asks, nodding his head over towards your squad mate, apparently simultaneously in awe of and amused by his current interaction at the bar; the very reason the drinks had been failing to materialise.

Twisting on your perch, you follow his gaze towards Santiago, eyes boring into the back of his head and his wash of grizzled curls. Involuntarily, your eyes trail over his form, the midnight blue button-down taut over his muscled shoulders as he casually props himself against the bar, jeans snug over that impossibly shapely rump. He has the barmaid rapt, eating out of his hand, all batting eyelashes and tongue slack in her mouth. Abandoned, a tray of shots sits unnoticed in front of Santiago as he lingers in conversation with her. All you can do is watch as, next, she leans over the bar brazenly, letting her thick, dark mane cascade across her ample, showcased cleavage. You can’t see Santiago’s expression as he -respectfully, you’re sure- admires her, but you can imagine it.

Occasionally, you are on the receiving end of those expressions too.

Unfortunately, Santiago has a raw talent for making… connections. Besides off-shore bank managers and corrupt lawyers, that also inevitably extends to hook-ups. He is never short of distractions. Or, apparently, you never can hold his attention for long. When you do, though? When he does notice you, he makes you feel like you are the only woman in the world, his focus so intent and unrelenting you feel like he is viewing you through a sniper scope. Like the attention might end you.

You bristle thinking about his selective interest, the dull ache between your legs intensifying.

“Never mind that deserter. Let’s celebrate without him,” you encourage to a ripple of agreement. You toss your shot back in-time with the boys and screw-up your face, shuddering in response as the spirit burns down your throat. You stick your tongue out with a “bleuch” as the aftertaste lingers.

However, your distraction doesn’t work for long, as your comrades seem determined to continue gossiping about the object of your desire.

“How does he do it?” Tom asks in disbelief, with more than a side of jealousy. He’d always given off the vibe of envying Santiago, you’d thought. “We’re all good-looking guys, man. But that little shit’s rolling in it.”

“I don’t know what it is. He’s not even tall,” Will snickers, knowing that Santiago hates being teased about his height.

Frankie interjects. “MaybeFrankie interjects. “Maybe it’s the big dick energy.”

No comment.

You’ve certainly never had any complaints about his stature. He is large enough to feel sturdy and surrounding, and small enough that you can take control of him when the mood strikes you. Oh, and you’ve certainly never had any qualms about his big dick energy… or his big dick for that matter.

Frankie chuckles again at the good-natured teasing and bumps you with his elbow. You are grateful for his easy, infectious laughter, acting like an umbrella against the moody, Santiago-shaped storm cloud which threatens above your head.

“For real though,” Tom interjects, leaning forward over the table as if he’s sharing classified intel. “Has he been getting frisky with the informant again?” His eyes travel around the table, meeting each squad member’s gaze in turn. “I feel like he’s definitely got something going on there too. Tell me I’m seeing things.”

“Luci?” Will asks, then whistles in surprise at Tom’s accusation, his brows converging. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by Santiago’s potentially compromising choices, or impressed by his unparalleled ability to pull. “That sly dog.” Perhaps it’s a little of both.

You tense. Santiago getting involved with an informant. A beautiful informant. Sounds entirely plausible, although Santiago has neglected to tell you if it is true. Besides building connections, another skillset of Santiago’s is his uncanny aptitude for mixing business with pleasure. Realistically, he can do whatever the hell he wants with whomever he wants - it is no business of yours - but, in truth, you are tired. Tired of being the one he only picks up when he has no-one else. Tired of going unnoticed the rest of the time.

“Actually,” Frankie leans forward to drop this juicy titbit of gossip into the conversation. “Luci broke it off. Requested a new contact.” He taps the side of his nose as if to indicate that he has his sources too, trying to drum up some air of mystery. “Coincidence? I think not,” he adds, tipping his head towards the continued scene at the bar.

You stiffen then in cold realisation. That’s why. That’s why he was noticing you earlier tonight. It wasn’t that he finally saw you. It wasn’t you in this dress. It wasn’t you. Yet again, he’d simply run out of distractions.

“Huh,” Tom says, looking a little too pleased with Santiago’s misfortune, swilling the dregs of his beer around absent-mindedly. “Well. He doesn’t seem devastated. It took him all of two minutes to get back on the horse.”

“Come on. You know Santi famously doesn’t get attached,” you snipe, partially serving the sentiment up as a reminder to yourself.

Santiago does have a... reputation. Honestly, you have no problem with that. There is no shame in having casual sex, after all. So long as it is safe and consensual, what does it matter? You’ve even acted as Santi’s “wing-woman” on a number of occasions. It had never been a problem; that is… it hadn’t been a problem until he started having casual sex with you.

Santiago is loyal almost to a fault in many other areas of his life. He is abundantly loyal to you, and there is no doubt in your mind that Santiago sees you as a friend first. As a soldier second. You know he respects you deeply for your sharp-mind, your humour, your straight-talking, and your lethality in equal measure. And, you also know that Santiago desires you. Or, at least, he does when it suits him. When he is paying attention. These various roles never seem to converge, though. As a friend? You and Santiago go way back. As a soldier? You’ve been on his squad longer than anyone has, since decades before you all went freelance. As a lover, though? Well, that is new. And he can’t seem to reconcile this new role with the rest of the ways he knows you.

Yes. Sure. Sometimes, Santiago desires the soft parts of you. Sees you as something other than a friend or a soldier. But you wish he would notice all of you, all at once. He sees you in fragments, like shrapnel. You wish he would piece things together. You wish he would notice you consistently. Not only when you’ve been out in the field too long, spending days bunched into hot and confined spaces, too close for comfort. Not only when hails of bullets send him reeling, searching for any kind of foothold on feeling alive. Still, over and over, you let him. You let him dip you back, with urgency - on to a mattress or a roll-mat or simply down on to the jungle floor - to thrust himself into you.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia is the man you crave. He gives it to you good. He makes you feel like a woman. Of course, there is no one particular way to be or to feel like a woman. There are infinite ways. For you though, very specifically, it is simple. It feels like Santiago desiring the soft parts of you which lay secreted under your tactical gear and your tough façade. It feels like him kissing you, soft lips and abrasive stubble. Strong hands and that muscled body writhing in a mess of breath and flesh. In those moments, you are a soldier least of all. Free of any mission, you become unadulterated; reckless abandon. You cease to be clipped and tactical, precise and lethal, and instead you become a soft, fluid thing beneath him.

Every time you arrive back in the city though, distractions abound. Santiago apparently ceases to desire you. Notice you. You had wrongly believed that tonight felt different. Something about the cool but heady night air. The way he was looking at you in this dress during your walk to the bar to meet the rest of the group. The way his hand lingered on your back as he guided you over to the table. But it mustn’t have been so. It must have been wishful thinking, that’s all.

You’ve done an increasing amount of wishful thinking, lately, it seems.

Too much.

You sigh deeply. You don’t even realise you have zoned out from the group’s banter until Santiago arrives back with the tray of drinks -and no doubt one more phone number in his contacts- by which point, you are riled up enough to grab the shot of tequila right off the tray and down it without thinking, salt and lime be damned.

“Woah, cariño. Feeling spirited tonight? Not wanna wait for the rest of us?” His smile is broad and easy and annoying as hell and suddenly you are adrift.

“Nah, I’m done waiting, Santi,” you bite. He doesn’t catch the double-meaning in your words, because of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

Your skin flushes with instant heat as a result of his presence- definitely a recently acquired response. And so, you hastily dismiss your leather jacket, revealing a strappy, red, form-fitting dress beneath. Your appearance even earns a low whistle and murmur of approval from your buddies.

“Someone’s gonna get lucky in that cute little number,” Frankie says pointedly, even as he’s staring curiously at Santiago staring at you. Maybe he’s on to you two.

You smile, happy -as ever- to take a little flattery. Plus, you do find it hilarious to watch these guys squirm when they remember that you do, in fact, have a body concealed underneath all your tactical gear.

“Well I won’t get lucky if you chumps keep staring down every man who looks at me,” you complain, already having clocked the defensive perimeter which has formed around you, simply from the way they have positioned themselves.

The squad are protective of you, unnecessarily, and you simultaneously chide and love them for it.

“Big men protec’, chiquita,” Frankie teases, puffing out his biceps and chest like a gorilla. He says it knowing fine well you could take out any one of them if you wanted.

You hear the warm rumble of Santiago’s laugh next to you too, chiming in time with yours, his body closer than you’d realised as he dishes the remaining shots out. “Please!” he scoffs, casually slinging his arm around the back of your bar stool, the shot primed in his other hand. “You know damn well she doesn’t need protection!”

“She’s gonna need protection when she gets laid,” Will quips, causing Tom to almost snort beer out of his nose in amusement and Frankie to high-five him from across the table. You would scold him but you’re laughing too, even as you roll your eyes good-naturedly at their ‘bro’ humour.

You drop your head towards Santiago as the others continue snickering like a pack of hyenas, the alcohol clearly having gone to their heads already. That’s what they get for drinking on empty stomachs. You and Santiago’d had the foresight to hit up a first rate food truck on the route across town, like sensible people.

“Dance with me, Pope?” you ask, giving him a subtle yet seductive bat of your eyes.

“For the love of God, Pope. Leave some women for the rest of us,” Tom pleads -partially in jest, you’re sure- as Santiago curtly nods, not knowing quite what you’re up to but taking your hand anyway.

“Ok. I hear you. Let’s ditch these losers,” Santiago joshes, smiling as he gets a predictable rise out of his squad.

It isn’t so unusual for you two to dance together when you visit bars, so it doesn’t earn too much suspicion from the group (plus, you’re military - you two have been pretty damn good at hiding your hook-ups, covering your tracks). Dancing with you might undo the careful ground-work Santiago had laid with the barmaid just a moment ago, however. Even so, Santiago opts to follow you into the sweaty throng of people on the floor all the same, your fingers loosely twined with his as you lead him. You find a relatively private spot, away from the prying eyes of the squad, and come to a standstill.

You turn into Santiago at the last available moment, meaning he ends up disconcertingly close. Almost chest-to-chest with you.

“Put your hands on me,” you command, a little more throaty than intended. You sling your arms around his shoulders, fingertips brushing at the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. Santiago hesitates, but following a search of your eyes he plants his hands firmly onto the small of your back. You instantly feel the broadness and the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your dress. Those lethal hands. The hands that have pulled triggers and grenade clips. Choked the life out of assailants. Those lethal hands that have traced gently down your back as you laid bare beside him, killing you softly.

You let his hands rove over your body, wherever he wants to put them. Apparently, he wants to put them everywhere he can, like it’s a compulsion to touch you. He trails his hands up and down your back, ghosts them over the globes of your ass, snakes them down to the lip of your dress where his fingertips brush against your bare thighs, tacky with heat. And, after wandering, his hands come to rest low-slung on your hips, exactly where he likes to grab you when he thrusts into you. He gives you a subtle squeeze there, and the feel of him floods back to you. You are reminded of the way, when you’re with him, your own lethal hands are finally occupied by something other than battle. Of the times when you relinquish any preoccupation with victory, in favour of reaching perfect surrender. The times when your heart throbbing in your throat feels like safety instead of danger.

His hands on you feel... natural. You move together symbiotically. Your bodies are always, easily in sync. On the battlefield, on the dance floor, in the bedroom. Always moving as a team. After so long side-by-side, it would be hard to exist in a manner to the contrary. It would be hard to exist without him at all.

Will be hard.

You let Santiago press against you as you sway together on the darkened dancefloor, gyrating and slinking your hips in time with the music. You feel him half-harden against you and his grip on your hips tightens, a feeble but gruff sound involuntarily escaping his lips and causing a coil to tighten in the pit of you.

You think Santiago looks into your eyes meaningfully then. With something deep and unspeakable. Though that must simply be the wishful thinking you’ve become so practised at, and so, you immediately dismiss the thought, even as you nestle your mouth closer to his ear in order to speak. As your breath fans over the corded column of his neck you could swear he engorges further. And, the ache between your legs becomes almost unbearable at the spike of his cologne in your nostrils, his familiar scent curling within you.

Santiago doesn’t smell like spice or musk or woodsmoke. Not to you. To you he smells like memories and possibilities - a heady paradox. Like your past and future. His scent inspires a quickening within you. Something under your skin is spurred into motion, tending toward collision. Yet at the same time, his scent curls in you and feels like… a stilling too. Like someone entirely arrived at a place so familiar that they forget ever having arrived at all and can’t imagine leaving.

You dismiss it. You try. You fracture the moment. You must, before you collide.

“I hear you’ve had some informant woes? I hope to God we got the intel.” You feel him tense instantly against you.

“Uh-huh. I got it.” Santiago‘s not really listening. Instead, he’s dropping his eyes to your body pressed up against his own, the heels of his hands now kneading into your hips. “You look good.” His voice is a husk in the shell of your ear as he leans into you, ensuring he can be heard over the music.

“Good for Luci, breaking it off though.” You dismiss his compliment, barely able to obscure the animosity in your tone despite all attempts to sound casual.

He snaps back from you an inch or so, enough to look you directly in the eyes. You think that maybe, he looks almost disappointed. “Jealous?” he probes, ticking-up one eyebrow.

He knows you far too well. Yet, despite his on-the-mark observation, the question makes you feel called-out and so, your next tack becomes unnecessarily cruel. Vengeful almost. “He’s getting there.”

“What?” Santiago asks in evident confusion, his hands slipping back-up to the neutral area of your back as the mood slips away too.

“The tall drink of water at 9 ‘o’ clock. Guy who’s been eyeing me all night. Doesn’t he look like he wants his hands on me instead of yours?” You know that you sound cruel, and petty, and the words feel bitter, like salt and lime in your mouth. You’ve said them all the same though. It’s already done.

Santiago’s jaw clenches, eyes flicking subtly over as he rotates you to get a better look at your target.

“He does,” he states, with a thin attempt at neutrality, his neck roped with tension as his eyes skim over the other man.

“Great. Then thanks for the dance, Wingman. You’re relieved.”

Santiago puffs out air, his jaw clenching and eyes darkening.

You tick an eyebrow up at him. “What’s wrong? You jealous, Santiago?”

Then, you saunter towards the bar, where the other man is stood. He very blatantly gives you the once over, evidently liking what he sees. You lean in with a flirty smile, letting the image of an aggrieved Santiago dissolve into the throng of people as you allow yourself to be entirely distracted.

You are done waiting.

You want to be noticed, and this handsome man in front of you is certainly providing you with his undivided attention.

***

Later, Santiago watches you prepare to leave with the other man, disgruntled and forlorn. He’s watched you all night via snatched glances through the crowd. Watched the man laugh at your jokes, watched him work up the courage to brush your arm. He watched you eventually move in for the kiss, your eyes turning hungry as you pulled away, teeth biting down on that delicious, pillowy lip of yours.

The bar having quietened down a little by now, Santiago sits in a booth opposite Tom and Frankie, Will having found his own company for the remainder of the night as well. Santiago’s head is propped on his elbow, a half-empty beer nestled in his other hand. His buddies’ eyes needle him as you toss a casual salute over to the table, your hook-up leading you out by the hand and your eyes shining gleefully.

“What?” Santiago hisses defensively, as Frankie continues to stare knowingly at him from the opposite side of the table.

Frankie’s head simply shakes in amusement. “Nothing. Only… when in the hell are you gonna figure out it’s her you really want, huh?”

“She’s just a friend,” Santiago bristles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, hunching in on himself.

“And a fuck-buddy,” Tom ventures.

Santiago looks down, taking a masking swig of his beer. “You know about that?”

“Didn’t until just now. But thanks a bunch for confirming,” Tom replies in a self-satisfied tone, earning a chuckle and a bump on the shoulder from Frankie.

“Well… fuck.” Santiago sighs, his face becoming pinched.

“I already knew,” Frankie states. “Christ. You’re loud enough, man. Hard to keep the secret that you’re nailing one of the squad when we’re camped out in, like, 3ft of jungle.”

Santiago absent-mindedly picks at the label on his bottle with his thumb. “Don’t talk about it like that, man. It’s not… Fuck.”

Frankie just looks across at him in sympathy, Santiago’s reaction revealing more than he probably cared to about the true extent of his predicament.

You’d risen through the ranks together. You’d been through a lot. Everyone on the squad knew Santiago was your ride or die and you his. You had each other’s backs. Had tended each other’s bullet wounds for Christ’s sake. Your friendship and the trust between you both -on the battlefield and off it- was deep and unshakeable.

“And you don’t want more than that?” Tom probes.

Despite being indoors, Santiago picks up his baseball cap from the seat and pulls it down over his eyes then, in an attempt to shield himself from this line of questioning.

“What ‘else’ is there? There’s not much time for romance in between a hail of bullets.”

“Maybe.” Tom tips his head, contemplatively. “But you’re not getting any younger, Pope. How many years do your Goddamn knees have left in them?” He lets that one simmer for a moment, before nodding pointedly towards the door through which you had retreated. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

“She could do a lot better,” Frankie interjects, earning a snigger from Tom and causing Santiago to huff, expression turning surly. Frankie holds his hands up defensively then. “Look, you do you, man. I’m just saying... I’m sure you’re having a great time getting your dick wet all over the continent… but if you don’t step up soon? You might regret it.”

Santiago whips his eyes towards his buddy, gaze interrogative and piercing. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” Frankie shrugs, searching Santiago’s eyes with equal vigour. Santiago drops his gaze first, feeling exposed.

Frankie kicks his buddy gently under the table. “Come on, hermano. Use your words. Share your feelings.”

Frankie’s words may sound mildly taunting, as ever, but Santiago recognises the invitation to open up is genuine. He purses his lips, brows knitting together as he resists it, picking through his choice of words carefully before he allows them out of his mouth. He massages his palm over his roughened jaw and it rasps like sandpaper. “I don’t even know if she wants more.”

“Are you kidding me, man?” Tom responds in amusement. “The guy who can get information out of a freakin’ stone, make any informant sing, ‘doesn’t know’ if she wants more? That’s what’s stopping you? A fucking intel issue?”

Frankie titters again, narrowing his eyes at Santiago and trying to figure him out. “He’s scared,” the man accuses, before his tone softens involuntarily. “That it?”

Santiago takes an idle swig of his beer, polishing off the dregs before shrugging his jacket on, jaw twitching in irritation.

“Oh shit, he’s moping! He’s moping now. Can’t handle the truth,” Tom mocks.

“Come on, Santiago,” Frankie reasons. “We just want things to work out for you. You two are a good match- any chump can see that. Heh. Except maybe you.”

Santiago doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply continues his silent preparations to leave, stuffing his wallet and keys into his jean pockets.

“Plus- there are a bunch of reasons we’d like you off the market,” Tom teases. “More women for the rest of us. Golden opportunity to tease you for being so whipped.” Tom flashes a shit-eating grin up at his friend.

Nodding gently, lips twisted in a pout and refusing to rise to it, Santiago tips his head towards his squad members. “Gentlemen,” he offers by way of farewell, before starting towards the door.

“Want me to walk you home safe, chiquito?” Frankie calls.

“I’m not going home.” Santiago turns and gives the two men an affectionate middle finger before beelining toward the exit.

“You’re not going over to her right now, are you? Pope? Santiago? That’s not what we... She’s gonna be pissed, man. Think this through!” Tom shouts after him, but it’s futile. Santiago has already swept out into the night, leaving Tom and Frankie to exchange helpless glances.

There is a beat.

Then: “I bet the bastard gets laid as well,” Frankie snorts.

“Right?” Tom hums softly in agreement. “If anyone can turn up to a girl’s apartment while she’s banging another guy and still end up getting down? It’s that little shit, no word of a lie.”

There is a moment of silence as the pair sip their drinks and contemplate what Santiago has, precisely, which causes women to become so enamoured with him.

“Maybe it’s his ass?” Tom offers, finally.

Frankie clicks his fingers. “Ah. You’re probably right. That ass won’t quit.”

Meanwhile, Santiago steps out into the fresh air, the slight bite of it taking the edge off his alcohol buzz.

His thoughts are overwhelmed with you. Have been overwhelmed with you. In truth, Santiago is finding it harder and harder to keep this up. Especially whenever it is just the two of you, he finds it harder and harder to resist you.

It is typically easier in the city, where there are plenty of distractions. He is grateful for it - other people he can tangle with to take his mind off of you. In the city, it is easier to push that side of you out of his mind and to fall back into the clear-cut ways. The way it used to be before the lines had become blurred. Easier to compartmentalise his feelings for you. A friend first. A soldier second. A lover, only intermittently.

Santiago was determined not to let everything bleed into one, because once those barriers, those delineations fell, he was convinced he would never be able to rebuild them.

Most of all, he was convinced he wouldn’t want to.

The thing is... the “distractions”? They never really worked for long. You are the only woman for him, in truth. And for all it might be crazy, he is headed towards your apartment right now to find out if you feel the same way. To find out if you want more. To find out if you see him as more than a friend and a soldier and a lover, or if you see him completely, and all at once.

To find out if he is everything to you, like you are to him.

***

There is a loud rap on your door and it tears you, regretfully, from the tangle of limbs you are in. When the knock becomes more insistent, you apologise to the man blissed out beneath you and extricate yourself from his embrace, hastily cloaking yourself in a sheet and traipsing through your temporary apartment – home for the time being. Adrenalin piqued, you peer through the spyhole, relief flooding you when you see who it is.

“Santi? What the fuck?” you ask, opening the door to him and pressing the sheet to you with your remaining hand.

“Hi,” he says casually, the brim of his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

“I’m in the middle of something,” you bite, emphatically. “What in the hell do you want?” you hiss at him, keeping your volume low.

“You,” he says plainly.

Santiago looks you over; your flushed face, plumped lips and blatant post-orgasm glow. His jaw visibly clenches.

“What?!” you exclaim in confusion.

“I want you.”

You tear his blasted hat off to examine his eyes for sincerity, pushing it into his chest all bunched-up. He hastily stuffs it in his jacket pocket. Eyes narrowed, you appraise him a moment longer, clicking your tongue in disbelief at the nerve this man has before abruptly closing the door on him.

“Bye, Santi.”

“Wait!” he pleads, jamming his foot in the door and muscling through.

“What in the hell are you doing?!” you hiss again, backing-up and almost tripping over your sheet, which Santiago now has his mucky boots all over.

By this time, your hook-up for the night has heard the commotion and blustered through the dark apartment -in the nude- to ward off your supposed intruder. Your companion is bigger, sure, but he certainly shouldn’t mess with Santiago. He wouldn’t fare well at all.

You raise your hand to diffuse the situation. “It’s ok, he’s a friend. Sometimes,” you add with a tilt of your head.

Your companion’s face flashes with recognition as Santiago emerges from out of the shadows. “Oh. It’s you, from the bar. Here I was thinking we’d gotten rid of you already.”

Santiago simply glowers with bubbling aggravation at the man, who has the cheek to just stand there with his fucking schlong out, entirely undeterred. Santiago puffs his chest out, making himself larger.

“Please.” Santiago addresses you, tearing his eyes away from the man. “Can we talk?”

You sigh, unable to believe that you’re being stupid enough to agree to his demands. You turn back to the man you were enjoying being on top of until a moment ago. “Can you give us five minutes? I’m so sorry. I’ll be back.”

“Well - she might not be back,” Santiago suggests, and you glare at him, irritated.

The man looks between you and Santiago in disbelief before addressing you only. “Sure,” he says with a languid, sultry smile, ignoring Santiago entirely. “I’m willing to wait if we get to continue the fun we were having.”

“Oh he’s a cheeky fuck,” Santiago grates, his whole body tense, and you quickly grab his elbow to bundle him into the kitchen before he can do any further damage.

“You’re the cheeky fuck, Santiago.” Apparently that’s your type. You vaguely wonder why you keep subjecting yourself to this, but you certainly don’t wish to pull on that thread too hard. Not right now.

As you release his elbow, Santiago comes to face you in the narrow slip of a kitchen.

“Well? What in the hell are you doing here?” you rage whisper at him, folding your arms across yourself and tapping your foot impatiently on the tiled floor.

Santiago simply squares up to you, his expression formidable, unphased. His dark eyes trail over you again, snagging on the places where the sheet drapes over the contours of you. You are suddenly uncomfortably aware of how naked you are beneath it. “Told you. I want you.”

Normally, those words were enough. But not any longer. You scoff. “I know all about how you want me, Pope. Half-heartedly. You want me when it suits you. When you can’t have me. When there’s no-one else around for you to want.”

It is his turn to scoff now. “Casual is what you wanted. You gonna throw that back in my face now?”

You sigh, tiredly, refusing to get embroiled in this. This is all meaningless. He can twist things and make excuses all he likes, but Santiago is a man of action. If he wanted you? Really wanted you? He wouldn’t let a Goddamn technicality stand in the way.

You don’t have the energy for excuses. For this conversation. You’ve waited too long for Santiago to even realise there is anything worth talking about. So, instead of fighting back, you let it go.

“I’m done, Santi. I’m out.”

Your words feel like a relief to you, after bottling this up since you came to the decision. The relief extends through your body as you sag backward to lean up against the cold fridge door, that too relieving on your hot, sheening skin.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Santi dismisses your assertion instantly. He tended towards tunnel vision about some things. Just because he didn’t want out, he tended to assume that was true for everyone else. He was a connector, an enabler, and these factors combined meant the squad had stayed together a long time; far longer than it ever should have, like this time. He’d pulled his “retired” buddies back in, yet again.

“I’m for real, Santi,” you say in a small voice. “It’s already done.”

A veil of shock then betrayal passes over his face as the truth of your words sinks in. He takes a step back from you, as if he’s been sucker punched in the gut. His brows knit together and he looks down at the floor. “When?”

“Three weeks.” You figure you may as well rip the band-aid off in one go.

He turns his mouth down at the corners and slowly nods his head, doing an admirable job of containing whatever it is he is feeling, for the moment, while he gathers his intelligence. Mission above emotion, as ever. Santiago looks at the world through a scope sometimes, and he often forgets about the big picture. It always surprises you how a man so perceptive and attentive to detail -when he chooses to apply it- could fail to notice something right under his nose.

“Where?”

“Home. Desk-job, by the ocean. Private firm and a nice salary too. What’s not to love?” You add the extra information in an effort to detract from the thing you least wanted to face. Home is far. Far from him.

“Fuck,” Santiago breathes, finally looking up at you. “Because of me?”

You bristle again. “You arrogant piece of....” you sigh heavily, biting your lip and reminding yourself it isn’t worth it to grow aggravated. Plus, there’s a kernel of truth in his question, after all. You gather yourself before speaking again. “I stayed so long because of you, Santi. But I’m leaving for me. I’m tired of waiting.” Maybe he’ll notice you when you’re gone, you think. Maybe he’ll want you then.

“You can’t go. Someone with your skillset will be impossible to replace at short notice. How the hell am I supposed to keep the operation afloat without you?”

You shake your head softly, smiling in disbelief, his response confirming so many of your reasons behind going. Always focussed on the mission.

“Frankie’s looking into someone, actually. He knows a guy. He’s not as good as me, of course, but-”

“-You told Frankie?!” You can hear in his voice that the revelation hurts him. He has always been your confidant. But hey, things change, even if Santiago never does.

“Yeah, well,” you say thinly, through your teeth. “There’s plenty you don’t tell me, Santi.” You look at him pointedly. “Besides, I think you’ll manage. You always seem to find someone to meet your… needs. Don’t you?”

Santiago brings one arm up beside your head, leaning against the fridge with his palm, his dark eyes turbulent and boring into yours. “You’re the one who’s got some guy in there. What do you want from me, huh?”

He crowds you, but you can’t bring yourself to push him back. Instead, you languish more readily up against the fridge door, your grip on your sheet becoming less and less sure.

“Oh! That’s your fucking grand gesture? You came here to ask me what the hell I want from you?” Your passions rise, heart thrumming in your chest. You try and tell yourself it’s entirely from anger and nothing at all to do with his proximity. That it’s certainly not because of that look he’s giving you.

Speaking of proximity, Santiago’s now close enough to smell the other man’s scent on you. He’s leaning into you, breath ragged and desire clouding his eyes, even as you still bear the signs of being ravaged by another between your legs. Or perhaps… because of it.

Even as you stand here, like this, signs of another lover temporarily strewn over your person, it’s ludicrous to think another could claim you. You belong to Santiago. It’s Santiago who is indelibly written onto your body, the map of scars telling the story and you and him. The scar on your shoulder from a bullet wound, the scar on your calf from an off-road collision, the marks all over you serve as a reminder of the times Santiago has been there for you. Pressed his lethal hands to you to keep your lifeforce from ebbing away. He is your ride or die, and your body knows it.

Equally, as he stands there fully clothed, you know that his body similarly hosts a constellation of scars from all your shared moments; in the field, on missions, over continents. One of you could not hope to be read -to be understood- without the other. Your bodies would forever move through the world as a team, as a pair, even if you left his side.

You were each the key to cartographing each other’s lives. To imagine that the hickey on your neck or the slick between your legs could begin to compare to the way Santiago had marked you as his was almost comical.

“You really need a grand gesture to know I care about you?” You know what he’s asking. Is running into a hail of bullets for you not enough? Hasn’t he proven himself to you time and time again?

“Santi. I don’t doubt you care about me. I could never. I just… I don’t feel like you know yet what you want from me. And I can’t wait anymore for you to make up your mind.” You shrug. “I don’t know. I just feel like… like sometimes you don’t even see me because I’ve always been right in front of you.”

Santiago looks at you, pained, expression weighted, as if he can’t find the words to tell the story of you. But your bodies are not stories. They are maps, and maps are to be understood through being travelled. That’s why, when his hand slips to you shoulder to slowly trace the scar there, it makes sense. It is understood without words as his fingers journey over your skin, a varied terrain of memories flashing through Santiago’s eyes. His touch retracing years in only moments.

“I see you,” he insists, his voice a husk, his calloused fingertips trailing over your smooth, delicate skin. Making you feel weak. Making you want to become a soft, fluid thing beneath him. Oh, he’s looking at you now. There’s that attention that feels like it might end you. You commune wordlessly, breath quickening, that pulse of desire tending toward collision, the stillness of having arrived home as he touches you.

“I see you,” he purrs, his hand moving to your sheet, gently tugging it away from your grasp and giving you ample opportunity to protest. But you don’t. You don’t protest. You are symbiotic with him. You move as a team, and you can’t help but want to merge. Maybe that’s why you let him tug the sheet from your grasp, fabric pooling at your feet. Maybe it’s the ache between your legs. Maybe it’s because you know he gives it to you good.

Santiago exposes you completely to him, eyes then hands hungrily trailing down over your contours. His fingers grip your hips firmly as his mouth sinks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over you as he speaks.

“I see you, baby.”

Your arms are still pinned to your sides as you pretend that somehow you can resist your urges, despite being naked and needy and oh so ready in front of him.

“Fuck you, Santiago,” you breathe, voice trembling, and you know exactly what he’s doing as his lips and his teeth snag angrily over your skin. Reclaiming you. Marking you as his. And instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer to you. Instead of recoiling you arch your body against him, breasts pushing up against him, the cold metal of his chain harsh against your skin. The sturdy mass and heat of him beneath his clothes only highlighting how exposed and vulnerable you feel, your desire entirely on display like a flare in the dark.

His mouth has already ravaged your neck, your collarbone, his stubble abrasive against you, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake. His cologne is the only scent enveloping you now. Then, his hands rove over you, everywhere, like he’d wished they could in the bar, your skin still cloying, tacky with sweat. He paws at every bit of you as if to reinstate his claim on you. Your breasts, your ass, your hips, your thighs. He isn’t gentle. His hands showing their strength in a way they haven’t with you before now. He tongues your salty skin and the way his mouth punishes you is bitter like lime, foreshadowing his words.

“Did he make you come?” he asks into your neck, his hand slipping between your legs and finding you wet and welcoming. “Did he?”

“Yes,” you breathe, his voice commanding enough that you want to answer. Your face contorting as if in pain as Santiago continues to grind two girthy fingers over your folds. Your companion had made you wet, but nothing like this. All he’s doing is feeling you, coating himself, and Santiago has you drenched already; you can feel it slick against your inner thighs as you tremble under the weight of yourself, suddenly so heavy with lust that you can barely stand.

Your arms wind around his neck to steady yourself and he pins you between him and the fridge, your fingers inching up through the buzzed hair at his neck, nails trailing over his scalp and up into his grizzled curls as you finally become molten against him. Your hands fist in his hair and you tug his head up towards your lips, earning a grunt from him as pain needles across his scalp. The sound is growled into your mouth as his snarled kiss crashes against yours.

He’s frustrated, and he’s jealous, and he wants to show you that you’re his. What’s more, you want him to show you. Oh, how you want him to.

You shudder against the sudden blunt pressure of two of Santiago’s fingers at your entrance, your need urgent and a tightness building so immediately in your core. He pushes himself more firmly up against you, pinning you between his taut body and the fridge. His tongue ravages your mouth and your pleas for him to touch you become incoherent sounds that you work into him in return. His kiss is rough, his teeth scathing you, lips on yours in a crush, stubble grating at your chin and cheeks as he opens himself up as if to devour you. Then, he sucks your bottom lip in between his own and clamps his teeth down until you howl against the sting of it, bucking your body against the pain as you cry into his mouth.

With the bucking of your hips, you grind yourself against his hand, and Santiago barely needs to move as you willingly spear yourself on his fingers. He leaves you wanting though, allowing you just an inch of him when he has so much more to give. Already, the ridges of him against you are providing divine friction, his fingers curling and scissoring inside you, but he leaves you begging for more. Begging him to plunge himself all the way in.

“Did you think about me when you took him? Did you use him and wish it was me between your legs?” Santiago’s voice is like gravel in the shell of your ear, and his words curl into the depths of you. With them, he thrusts his fingers angrily into your heat, driving himself in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes practically roll back into your head as he thrusts harshly and asks you again, even more insistent. “Did you?”

“Yes,” you admit, in a broken voice, tugging him closer to you, crushing your lips onto the column of his neck, tugging the collar of his shirt aside until you can bite down into the meat of his shoulder, stifling your moans there as his pace intensifies. His fingers are curling relentlessly towards your sweet spot and your walls are already fluttering against him. The heel of his hand is rocking against your excruciatingly sensitive clit, applying steady rolls of pressure as his fingers delve into you. His watch strap digs into your pubic bone but for some reason it only adds to the heightened sensations coursing through you.

“Do I make you feel good? Do I make you feel better with my fingers than he could with his whole body, huh?”

His words practically make you sob into him. It’s dirtier than you’ve ever heard him talk. It’s more intimate and further from friendship than anything you’ve done with him so far. Yes, you’ve fucked but this… this is something else. This is you admitting you are entirely his. This feels simultaneously more like battle and more like surrender than it ever has. And you wholly surrender.

You moan. You moan out loud despite the fact you shouldn’t. Despite the fact there’s still another man in the apartment who you had underneath you only moments ago.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers – show me who you belong to?”

You agree. You agree wholeheartedly.

Santiago pulls back just to watch you. To see the pleasure play over your face, both the overabundance of it and dearth of it as every touch satisfies yet has you craving more. You see a prideful glow in his eyes that he has you this wrecked, mewling and writhing on him as he adds a third finger into your wetness and pumps himself hard in and out of you.

“Fuck,” he intones, his voice hollowed-out. “You’re fucking drenched. Wettest I’ve ever felt.” God. You can hear how wet you are.

In dire need of some relief himself, Santiago presses his clothed, hardened length against your hip as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Even through the substantial fabric of his jeans you can feel the thick, hard promise of him as he begins to grind himself against you, low and guttural moans escaping his sweet lips. The fact that he’s so fucking desperate for you, that you have made him hot enough to get off from only this has a knot tightening in the pit of you as you watch him start to unravel alongside you.

“Fuck, Santi,” you moan into the air, not even caring that there’s someone else in the apartment. Past caring about anything at all except your need for him to keep touching you, his fingers filling you up so well.

“That’s it, baby. Say my name, say you’re mine.”

Santiago is still grinding his clothed length against you, even as his fingers overflow with your essence. He dips his head into the crook of your neck and the growl he emits fans over your skin. Makes it sound as if he’s about to lose it too, simply from this. His spare hand dips down to collect one of your breasts and he lifts your nipple into his mouth, sucking and tonguing and biting the peak of you, squeezing you -not gently- as you topple towards your end.

He continues to grind against you, and the thought of him exploding in his pants for you tips you over the edge, his name tumbling from your lips over and over as you flutter and clench around his fingers. The feeling spreading outward through your body like an explosion, leaving you levelled, a resounding buzz reaching all the way to your extremities and whiting out your vision like a flashbang. Your fingers tangle in Santiago’s curls as you spasm against him, his fingers eking every last drop of pleasure from you - as though he knows his way around you better than anyone could.

At the feel and sound and sight of you coming undone, his hardened length grinds on you with renewed vigour, a wracked and disbelieving moan stuttering through him as he loses it without you having laid a finger on him. His body becomes stiff against you as he pulses his seed out beneath his clothes. Something about him being so lost in desire for you that he’d make a mess of himself like that has you clenching with deep, generous aftershocks, adrift with the thought of his hardened length pearling with his warm release.

Santiago’s head settles into the crook of your neck as you both come down together, even as his fingers continue to lazily pulse in and out of you - just to feel you. Your arms lovingly cradle his head, fingers tangling in his curls, your lips finding their way to his hairline to plant gentle kisses there. Your Santiago. In your arms.

You stay there a moment until your jagged breathing and thrumming heart settle, enjoying him languorously touching you. With a shiver of contentment, he withdraws from your heat, wrapping his unsullied hand around your waist to pull you closer.

For a moment, everything is in soft focus, like the break of day before an alarm. You close your eyes against his touch and breathe him in as he whispers lovingly into your neck, planting light kisses where a moment ago his puckered lips left angry bruises.

“Fuck. I love you. I love you. I adore you. I need you.”

When you don’t respond though, Santiago stills against you, lifting his head to look you dead in the eyes. He finds them tearing in the corners.

Your voice begins weakly. “You love me, Santi. But do you want a life with me? A life outside of the mission, outside of all of this?”

He brushes his thumb softly over your jawline. “I know I haven’t been all in. But I swear it to you, baby... you’re my end game. It’s just, we’re not there yet. We’re too deep in this shit. If we can get one more of Lorea’s deputies then maybe-”

“-Sure,” you say sadly, the word heavy and the intimacy of the moments prior dissipating quickly. You know fine well what “one more” means. You dip to collect your sheet from the floor and tighten it around yourself, using the motion in a vague attempt to distract both Santiago and yourself from the tears threatening more violently in your eyes now.

The footsteps you hear approaching the kitchen are a further welcome distraction, and you surreptitiously clean off Santiago’s hand on the already soiled sheet before your first companion of the evening (now fully clothed) pops his head around the doorframe.

“I’m just gonna leave,” he interjects awkwardly, and your cheeks flush in humiliation. You’re sure one day, far into the future, this may be a funny story you tell, but, right now? It feels more than a little mortifying.

“I’m so sorry. I…” You reach for a more robust apology but come up with nothing, far too aware that Santiago’s eyes continue to needle you. What are you going to do? Tell him it was fun? And so, since you opt to leave it hanging, your companion simply pumps his eyebrows once before striding smoothly out of your apartment. You jump slightly as you hear the door slamming shut behind him, evidently feeling a little on edge despite being wrung out so recently by bliss.

Your eyes linger on the doorframe a little too long, staring at nothing except the now vacated space. You’re not ready to turn your attention back to Santiago quite yet, and you’re much less ready to deal with what will follow.

It turns out, you don’t even have to look back at him, because your cowardice says it all for you. Instead, a small voice escapes him.

“You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

You look at him then, and you see a sadness blooming in his eyes which is so heart-breaking that you're half-glad when tears gather in your own, blurring-out the sight of him. His pain always was too much for you to look at.

Your gladness is short-lived however, as your own tears begin to spill out of you. You wipe the deluge away with the heel of your hand, but the tears are coming quicker than you can mop them up. Your chest shakes as you speak your next words.

“I love you, Santi. Believe me. I love you. But it’s always ‘just one more’.” One more woman. One more mission. One more way to break your heart. “You’re living like... like you can get to the end of the line and wish for one more fucking chance.”

“Don’t go. Please,” he pleads, moving close to you and wrapping his arms around you. His broad, warm hands at your back. “Please. I’m putting it on the line here. I want you. I love you.”

You smile thinly at him. You know he’s trying and God, you love him too. But this? For you, it’s too little, too late. For him, you guess you’re asking for too much, too soon. He’s not ready to leave this life. He’s not even ready to imagine leaving it. But, oh boy, you are. You are.

You sniffle and take a deep, steadying breath, giving it everything you have to stay firm, despite every fibre in you telling you to surrender. To just stay with him. It would be too easy to do.

“It’s a hard out, Santi.”

He senses the finality of your words and nods slowly, his eyes shining with tears, his whole face becoming taut with emotion. His silence is prolonged as he draws in ragged breaths. His hands slip away from your back and the moment slips away with them. You miss the warmth of them instantly.

“Okay,” he says in a small, curt voice. “Okay.”

He about turns, precise and efficient, swivelling towards the door and tracking along the hallway leading out of your apartment.

“Santi, wait!” you call, traipsing along after him, slowed by the material bundling at your feet. “Santiago Garcia, don’t you dare leave it like this,” you plead. “Not after everything.”

He turns his head back towards you as he swings open your front door. His eyes are cold, face set as he looks at you, his voice monotone. “I’m not the one leaving.”

An anger and a sadness erupt in you at the coldness, the cruelness of his words, and, apparently, not even the sight of the fresh batch of tears spilling down your cheeks can slow his retreat from your apartment.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia turns and swiftly walks out without looking back, leaving the door swinging violently on its hinges. The fucking nerve of this man.

You start after him; but he’s already making his way down the stairwell and you’re in no position to chase him. Your pain boiling over you yell, voice creaking under the weight of your emotion.

“I hope your fucking knees give out on the way down, you asshole.”

Your cruel, cheap words carry down the stairwell, yet an echo is all the response you get. Santiago is gone. He didn’t stop for a second.

He doesn’t know how to stop.

He’s mission over emotion. Near-death over living. He’s seemingly in this until it kills him, but you can’t be in it anymore. You have always been his ride or die, but now is the time for you to live, even if that means you can no longer be side-by-side with him.

He is the other half of you and no matter where you are to go, your bodies will move through the world as a team, one unable to be read without the other. Santiago is written all over you, and nothing can change that.

Besides, you know if he really wants to, he can always come find you. He has a map for loving you, if he would ever follow the route it was trying to take him. But he’s not there yet.

He just has one more mission to go.

And then the next.

And the next.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

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igotanidea · 1 year

Text

that damn gala: Jason todd x fem!reader

the graphic is not mine, found it on Pinterest, all credit goes to the author.

Summary: credit for the idea goes to @p4inis: Can someone write a fanfic of “wear whatever u want, I know how to fight” Jason x fem reader???? Like they’re going to a gala and reader can’t choose which dress she should wear and Jay is her biggest hype man.

hope you'll like it: )

A/N: this is part of my Cheshire!reader!verse. You can find another story of it here in the post: Cheshire cat. And there will be more coming for sure since I'm having a lot of fun writing this verse.

Warning: cursing, a bit of sexual innuendo, but nothing explicit, Jason being a warning of himself :D

„Please, remind me why did I even agree to this?”

“Because you truly had no other option?”

“I hate you.”

“We both know you don’t.”

“Really? Do we?” Y/N smirked. Dick Grayson was her longtime friend and it gave her one privilege no one else had. She was resistant to him charm. So when he asked her to come over the annual Wayne gala it took a lot more than a pretty please and a nice smile to actually convince her to do so. Unlike many girls, she hated having to get all dressed up, putting on make-up and heels and acting like someone different than she really was only to win over some potential investors. Honestly, for a long time she couldn’t understand why was it her business. That lasted until Bruce offered her a job, an old RD position of her late father. Of course, the numbers were tempting but the thing was finally made her say yes was the opportunity to work with the latest technology and to put her ideas into work. And use them on patrols later on. So she gave in.

And soon one thing led to another, when she was forced to get involved into those stupid galas. Dick hated them equally as much, but at least he would be accompanied by Babs and they definitely would keep each other entertained. Unlike her friends, Y/N was going to be there by herself since for obvious reasons her beloved anti-hero boyfriend could not attend. So, she would either join Tim in deep conversation concerning Wayne Enterprises, sulk in the corner with Damian scaring people away with only look or spend the night getting drunk from all the expensive alcohol. One way or another it was going to be a loooong night.

“Yeah, we do. Come on Y/N, please, I’m gonna need your help you know it.”

“My help? Dick you are making zero sense. You will have your girl to dance with, Tim to take the duties and Damian for a security system. Why do you need me?”

“Because out of everyone you just mentioned, you are the only person that is actually fun.”

“Should I tell Babs about what you just said?” the girl laughed and heard Dick do the same on the other side of the phone.

“Please don’t” he turned deadly serious a second later “but you know what I mean. We both have known every guest for years now. We know their behavior, their bad traits and can predict who, when and how will make a fool of themselves. We have our inside jokes. Come on, please…..”

“Fine, stop whining, it’s out of character. I’ll come…..

“I knew you will give in at some point.”

“shut up, Grayson. I’m not giving in. Firstly because you will owe me and you know I’m not lenient when someone is in debt with me. Secondly, Jay will not like it, so good luck with having to deal with him. And lastly, I still got my cat claws on, so don’t expect me to be an egg-sucker.”

“As for the debts, that something we’ve been back and forth with for years now, so nothing new. I can deal with my brother, and Tim will deal with toadying, he’s used to it after all.”

“I hate you, Dick.”

“I know Y/n. See you at 9. You need me to pick you? Since you are coming alone?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Cheshire will swing by earlier and change in the manor if that’s fine.”

“I’ll leave the window open. See you, Y/n.”

“See you, Dick.”

She disconnected the phone and rubbed her forehead in frustration. She really though she would get away this year, but she’s been keeping this foolish hope for the last five years, always with no desired result. She always came and frankly it was never even half as bad as she expected, not that Y/N would ever say it out loud. But now, she had to choose a dress to go in and that was the hard part.

***

“Please, tell me you’re not preparing for the gala.” Jason stood in the door, only half-dressed In his gear, watching his girlfriend hurrying-scurrying in front of her wardrobe wearing only a sport bra and a pair of leggings.

“I am…” she groaned

“Was it Grayson? Did he force you? Do you want me to talk to him?” he took a few steps closer and grabbed her hands calming her down a bit.

“Nah. It’s fine. It’s always like this. He said I should come, I object, he uses his last-year arguments and I pretend to fall for them. It’s kind of tradition now. I would hate to break it.” She shrugged

“Maybe I can make knew tradition of making Dick attend the party with a bruise or…..”

“Stop it, Jay!” Y/N punched his shoulder and he grinned “if I really didn’t want to come, believe me I wouldn’t. But it really is entertaining making quiet jokes about all those bigwigs with excessive self-esteem and watching Tim trying his best to not speak his mind. The only thing that sucks about it is that I have to go alone” she moved her hands up his arms to his neck, pulling him in and he immediately grabbed her waist and leaned his forehead on hers, swaying from side to side.

“We can have our little party here. Or you can come with me to the patrol.” He whispered

“Mhm, don’t try to play me. That offer is a trap on your side, Red Hood only works alone. If you don’t count two teammates. And he does not want or need anyone else. Let alone little troublesome vigilante that also works with the bats.”

“That little vigilante cat knows her ways around words. She can play two sides, doesn’t she?”

“Jay, come on. You will never let me go with you and I will never ask. Too much of a risk and distraction. But I’m up for that party for two idea later on….”

“Do you have anything specific in mind?” he whispered seductively and leaned in to kiss her, but she quickly pulled away.

“Maybe. Maybe not. That depends if someone will take me home after the gala tonight. I mean, I have a couple dresses to choose from and I could use man’s advice on what to wear. Even if I absolutely hate the idea of playing the bait for man’s money. And I hate getting dolled up. I’ll be much more comfortable with tee and sweatpants or my suit. But I don’t have much opportunities to look nice, so…..” she pecked Jason lips quickly and moved towards the open wardrobe “what do you think, boyfriend?”

“Babe” every word she just said stung him. He knew she would never betray or cheat on him, but the thought of all those creeps staring at her and getting dirty ideas made him want to tie her to bed and keep her in the sheets with him, reminding her who’s the one to always keep her high and satisfied. But they all had duties to take care of. So he settled on embracing her from behind and kissing her neck softly “you know you can wear whatever you want. You will look hotter than hell. And I know how to fight if anyone would like to steal you away.”

“Babs is the resident beauty not me. If anything Dick should be scared. I’m only …. Addition.”

“Addition?” Jay kissed her neck again hitting her soft spot and making her gasp “you’re the crown jewel, babe. I wish I could go with you and watch everyone getting so jealous of me having you all to myself….” his lips on her skin was sending goosebumps all over her body.

“Jace….” She whispered closing her eyes

“Yes, sweetheart?” his grip was now tighter and she loved it and hate it at the same time.

“Let go of me. Now. Cause if you don’t neither me nor you will leave this apartment tonight.”

“Would it be so bad?” he muttered against her shoulder blade but reluctantly released her. “you should wear the black and red one. You will break necks in it.”

“Bet it has nothing to do with the fact some particular vigilante got those colors as a signature.”

“Vigilante? Who? I don’t really recall anyone choosing that palette.” He smirked with the boyish grin and she could not stop herself from kissing him again.

*** It was 8 when they both left the apartment, using different exits and wishing each other good luck. No hugs and kisses since that would only make them waver once again. Red Hood was on patrol while Cheshire made her way towards Wayne Manor making sure no one was following her. Being truthful to his words, Dick left the window open and without any trouble she found herself in his room, where much to her surprise she found Babs getting ready.

“Hey there, girl.” She smiled removing her domino mask and meeting with red-head wide and sincere smile “what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question, kitten. Is my boyfriend cheating on me?”

“Oh, you caught me! I only came here to tell him our little affair was over since I cannot do this to my best friend.” Y/N put her hand on her heart “And arguably because my boyfriend was after him to hurt him, but that’s on the side.”

“It’s good to see you Y/N.” Barbara smiled again and came to hug the other girl “dick told me you were going to get ready here so I thought we might as well help each other in preparation.”

“Oh, thank god for your foresight. I have no idea how to drape this freaking dress to avoid putting my whole chest on display.

“I had my suspicions about that.”

“And I am absolutely hopeless with makeup and hairdo, so yes, please and thank you for any help you can give me.”

“Don’t worry, my friend. I will make you look perfect.”

***

Barbara really was a magician with women stuff. Only because of her skillful hands and endless ideas Y/N was now looking like a real lady, classy and gentle, even if most of the times she was just a girl next door. Her dress fit her perfectly and any risk of showing too much was eliminated by cleverly used veil, draped on girl’s shoulder. Her make-up was almost invisible since Y/N had pretty skin (luckily she got no bruises or cuts for the last week so there was no problem with that) and she refused using anything more than some concealer, liner and mascara sticking to the minimum. Unlike Babs she ditched the lipstick not wanting to look like Joker after having one drink and leaving stains on the glass and all over. But still, she felt odd, especially standing next to Babs with her perfect figure and proud posture. Cheshire was used to skin tight suit that was supposed to protect her and enable all the kicks and punches, but this? Evening gown that accented all her hated curves and imperfections made her feel exposed, not protected. And this was another tradition that was happening every single year even though after all this time she should already be used to it.

“good evening, ladies.” Dick emerged from behind and offered an arm to Barbara “Babs, Y/N.”

“Richard.” Babs smiled at her boyfriend

“Hello Grayson” Y/N smirked only to cover for her insecurity. In a second she would be left all alone like a prey while Dick and Babs will make rounds together.

“You look nervous kitten” Dick pointed out and Y/N scoffed

“Nervous? Of course I am. I’m nervous for the safety of everyone here. You know I got…..”

“claws, I know. And that is exactly why I took care of things.”

“I’m sorry you did what?” she nearly choked because of his words.

“There’s this one guy, really big fish in IT industry. We are trying to get him to share some ideas with WE. And since you are in a warlike mood, you will talk to him. Besides, you are the only one here that actually knows enough about the technology to cover the subject so…..”

“Are you insane?!” she yelled-whispered “did you even hear a word I told you about attending this gala. I wanted out of the radar not being put on the spotlight! What happened to…..” she paused when an elderly couple passed through and smiled charmingly “what happened to the inside jokes and making fun of people?!”

“I’m sorry Y/N, but it’s like I said. You’re the only one knowledgeable enough to succeed. Just this one guy, please, and then you are off the hook.”

“Where is Tim when you need him?” she hissed and reached for the nearest glass of champagne “I don’t think I can do it sober.”

“I will owe you twice” Dick pleaded

“That is tempting…..”

***

The guy assigned to Y/N was hot. Tall, dark haired and well-build, with perfect nose, lips and all face. His eyes glistened when he saw her approaching and in a real gentleman manner he turned towards the girl.

“You must be miss Y/N Y/L/N?” of course his smile was perfect as well and Y/N was almost blinded by the whiteness of his teeth

“I am” she smiled through gritted teeth “I suppose you’re the tech genius Mr. Blake?”

“ Please, call me Desmond. It would be so much easier to cut the distance this way”

“I see you are very direct Desmond. Does that match in the workplace?” he might have been a predator but she was the one who hold power over words, not the other way round.

“We are not in workplace, are we?”

“But we are supposed to discuss some RD matters.”

“Who said we can’t have a little fun while at it? This is a party after all.”

“High-class party, Mr. Blake and as a CEO you surely understand that.”

“Of course, I had nothing wrong on my mind. Tell me, miss Y/N, do you dance?”

“Only when I’m forced to” she muttered making sure he couldn’t hear her while taking another discreet sip of champagne

“I’m sorry?”

“I said I do, although I am not very good at it.”

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right partner. Let me guide you” he offered his hand and lead Y/N onto the dancefloor.

This was going to be a looooong night, she thought while noticing Dick and Babs moving to the music on her left. Dick put his thumb up while Barbara only smiled. This was already a torture. Hopefully, things were going better for Jay.

***

Two hours and three drinks later Desmond seemed a bit nicer than at the beginning. Y/N was not drunk, she was used to keep her senses alerted all the time so she poured away all the alcohol Desmond so wholeheartedly kept on bringing. He did not and that’s why they were now sitting on the secluded couch, far from the crowd, the man babbling about how pretty she looked and how much of his type she was.

“I think you had enough Mr. Blake” she put a hand on his when he reached towards another glass. Apparently that was a mistake since he turned her gaze towards her, his eyes widening.

“Tell me Y/N, why is a girl like you alone at the party? I mean, you are hot.” Oh, fuck. She knew where he was going now. “and everyone here is just ogling you, me included.” Fuck square since he moved closer, almost grabbing her hip.

“ You’re drunk” she said standing up “I think you should sober up. Alone.”

“Don’t you dare turning your back on me, you little bitch. Who do you think you are?”

If only he knew…..

“A woman who knows better than to argue with you. You work for your own reputation Mr. Blake and let me tell you, you are only embarrassing yourself right now. Maybe you should stop before some reporter takes a picture of you stumbling.”

“You think you are so high and mighty, huh? A strong, independent woman, working for Wayne? Acting like a whore to get some attention and you can’t even get a boyfriend?”

“Careful with words, now” she warned slowly turning into Cheshire

“Or what? What exactly will you do, huh? Cause I don’t think you will do a thing…..” he lunged forward and before she could react had her pressed onto the wall, his lips on hers “you are only good for one night stand. And you ask for it, wearing that dress, you little bitch. You only deserved to be fucked and forgotten.’ He was using the fact no one could see them in this place

“Get the fuck off me!!!” she yelled all her instincts kicking in when she pushed the man away and he stumbled back. Unfortunately, while doing so, he stepped onto the hem of her dress tearing it apart and leaving Y/N legs almost completely exposed. “Damn it.” She muttered turning red while the man started laughing like crazy which finally caught some attention and Dick immediately came running for rescue.

“What is going on here?”

“Your little wanton friend is finally dressed the way she should be from the beginning.” Blake snorted

“Mr Blake, I think you should leave….” Tim rushed from the other side of the ballroom scared that either his brother or his friend would kick the man’s ass and made even more of a scene. This was going to be a PR nightmare.

“Leave? Oh, no, no, no. Not before I have a little fun with your little rag doll, here.”

“Let me though.” Another voice interrupted the discussion and Y/N, Dick and Tim turned their gazes towards the side where it came from.

“You’ve got to be kidding me….” Dick whined

“Oh, hell no!” Tim screamed

“What the…..?” y/N said in surprise

“What. The fuck. You think. You are doing?”

“Jason…..” dick tried to step between his brother and Blake before it came to fisticuffs. All of a sudden the latter became much more sober than a second before.

“Get out of my way, Dickhead. This scumbag just humiliated my girlfriend. I will not let him get away with it.”

“I’m sorry but…..”

“You are not sorry.”

“You’re right. I’m not sorry and I can’t let you through. We are trying our best to avoid bloodbath here.”

“I don’t fucking care! He asked for it.”

“Jason.”

“Back off, replacement!”

“Jason.”

Only now he stopped in his tracks. Because of her voice. Her soft, calm voice. All this time she was standing there silently watching the scene, her dress torn apart , hair messy due to the scuffle, being her calm, collected self. Fuck, she was so beautiful, somewhere deep inside he could not blame this man for wanting her. Who wouldn’t wish for this beauty to be in his arms. But she was his and only his. Only he was allowed to hold her and kiss her and love her. No one fucking else. And this one here, were not only trying to force himself on her, but also called her a bitch and a whore. And that was something Jason Todd could not let go easily.

“Jason, please, let’s just go home.” She said calmly “come on, baby. Nothing happened, all right? He’s not worth your anger. He’s just sad, pathetic man with a lot of problems, apparently. I’m safe.”

“Baby” Jason came closer to her sneaking his arms around her pulling her close “he needs to be punished. He offended you. Let me take care of that…..”

“Nope. Not this time. Besides, as much as I appreciate your effort, I can take care of myself and this one is just beyond are level. So why bother when we can go home and have that little party for two you mentioned earlier?” she caressed his side softly looking straight into his eyes and he was slowly melting.

“See? I told she is a whore! You better watch out for her, she will cheat on you with the first man…..” Blake did not get to finish the sentence when Dick and Jason grabbed each of his arm and dragged him out the door.

“This will hit all the headlines tomorrow morning….” Tim stammered out, his face as white as a ghost

“You can just buyout all the press companies in Gotham” Y/N said, equally white, but not because of the press.

“Are you kidding me now Y/N?!”

“Come on, Tim. Not the first PR drama for WE. We can turn this around. If not as Y/N and Tim then as Cheshire and Red Robin. We’ve done this before, all right?”

“Fine.” He huffed “One problem at the time. Now, are you all right? He did not hurt you, did he?”

“He could never. I’m better and stronger than it seems in this dress, or rather half-dress now.”

“Good. Otherwise I would have to stand against my own rules and help dick and Jason beat the man.”

“Speaking of the devils, this is taking them too long. Do you think maybe we should check out what is going on?”

“Nothing is going on. The boys are making sure Blake would never come around again. And from what I can predict his company will go down soon.” Barbara chimed in

“If that’s coming from the Oracle, who are we to argue?”

“By the way, where is Damian? He was supposed to act like security. How the hell did Jason sneak in? Not that I’m complaining, but I’d rather dance with my boyfriend than see him fight again ….”

“I was not the security! I never wanted to be here in the first place! I was forced!”

“Who wasn’t?” Tim scoffed

“You’re good Y/N/N?” Damian asked turning towards the girl

“Yes! God! I’m fine, please stop asking me that. I’m just a bit ….. tired.”

“You can stay at the manor than. There is always a place for you.”

“Thanks Dami, but…..”

“She is not going to stay. I’m taking her home.” Jason came into the view again, his nose bleeding.

“What did you do Jace?”

"I told you I know how to fight for you."

“Where is Dick?” Barbara became alerted and both girls exchanged looks

“I’m here. I’m fine. It’s all taken care off.” The oldest Wayne was clutching his bleeding nose as well.

“Did you two have a fight? How unsurprising…..”

"Wait, you beat each other instead of that fucking Blake?" Damian frowned "Can I do it then? I need some action, this party is boring like hell."

"He's been taken care of as well. Probably won't come around ever again" Jason stated proudly.

"What did you do him? Can you descibe in details?" the youngest brother suddenly became much more energetic and interested.

“I’m out, I’m done” Tim turned around throwing his hands in the air “you are all on your own now. I;ve got to do some damage control. See you tomorrow, Y/N. Remember your promise.” He left and so did Damian leaving Jason, y/n, Babs and Dick alone.

“Why did you beat him Jace?”

“He was supposed to watch out for you!”

“I said I’m fine!”

“But who knows what could have happened?!”

“could have, would have, should have….. How about we stop with the possibilities that never came to life, hm? How about you calm down, Jace?”

“How can I calm down?! You could have been hurt!”

“Dick? Babs? I’m so terribly sorry for everything that just happened.” Y/N decided to stop paying attention to Jason for a while.

“As much as I hate to say it, it might have been a bit of my fault.” Dick admitted

“a bit?!”

“Shut up Jason. I’m not talking to you now!” Y/N hissed and he just stood there with open mouth but did not dare saying a word. “I think we should call it a night, do you agree, Babs. We can’t let boys kill each other, right? Someone has to be smart.”

“Yeah, that’s true. We can’t ever rely on them with life choices, can we?”

“Nope. But I guess that’s the Wayne charm. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Sure y/n. I’ll let you know if dick’s coming after Jay to take revenge for the beating.”

“Ok. I’ll let you know if Jace is coming after Dick to avenge my honor” Y/N laughed and waved Babs and Dick goodbye before turning to Jason. “As for you….”

“Look, I did not mean to make a scene…..”

“Jay….”

“I saw you in danger and acted without thinking…..”

“Jason….”

“You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you…..”

“Oh for god’s sake!” she moved forward and cut his babbling with a passionate kiss taking him by surprise and leaving a few spare seconds for his brain to react and started kissing her back, his hands travelling up her sides. “I love you, you idiot. And I’m not mad at you, really. That was kind of…. Hot.”

“Only kind of?” he smirked

“Yes, because you still think I cannot take care of myself. You really don’t have to put the guns out every time you think I’m in danger. Especially when I’m not.”

“but you still like me in my vigilante mode, don’t you?”

“I never said it.” She scoffed

“Sometimes, words are not needed. I can settle on sounds.” He smirked and she smacked his head becoming red.

“Why are you even here? What about patrol? What about….red’s matters?”

“It’s a quiet night. I was patrolling nearby by accident….

“by accident?” she raised an eyebrow

“And thought I would swing by. And you know the rest.”

‘You are a child, Jason. A big child. And we definitely have a lot to work on in that area. Are you going back on patrol?”

“I wasn’t planning on, but…..”

“Good. Cause you know, I might be a bit turned on and need someone to take care of that. Are you up for the challenge?”

“Let’s go upstairs.” He picked her up and carried her the stairs to his old room, bridal style.

“Wait, here?!” she squealed when he threw her onto the bed and climbed up hovering over her body.

“Do you think I can wait? Honey, I need you right now.” He pressed his lips onto her, delighting in the way she melted into him and started letting out those sweets sounds. “now we can start our party” he smirked moving down her body, removing the straps of her dress and taking care of each square centimeter of her body.

“Jason….” she moaned arching her back “come on, don’t tease…..”

“I’m taking my time with you, babe. You will have to deal with it….”

@pinksirensong @somest1 - let me know if anyone wants a tag in any of my stories

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henneseyhoe · 6 months

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The Return Of Killjoy.

Killmonger x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: mentions of death, gory descriptions, mentions of religion, possession, choking, rough s*x, cu*khold, !SLIGHT CNC!.

Ps. I’ll edit this fully later, so if y’all see random pov switches then ignore it really quick. I just wanted it out before Halloween was over Lmfao.

✮✮✮✮

“You sure you wanna watch this, Trey? I just feel iffy” She expressed to her boyfriend, fiddling with the frills on her socks. Her stomach felt queasy, and her nerves were higher than usual all that day. It could be because she knew that there were plans made to do something she had no instest in, plans to watch an old slasher film, but even before she knew it was this movie in particular, she had already felt a bad feeling come over her body.

“You need to calm down, baby. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, and we both know this shit is fake” Trey brushes her off in a nonchalant way, putting the vhs tape into the tv.

“Trey, please. We can watch a classic! Friday 13th?” He ignores her again, playing with the buttons on the television. “This movie is like 80 years old, who knows what type of old ass voodoo is on it?! we needed a fuckin’ box tv to watch this shit, and everybody saying it’s cursed!” She continues to press him, hoping he’d realize how stupid the whole situation was. She was never the type to be scared of movies, but she heard around town about what people saw in the tapes, and she wasn’t trying to be added to the list of people who lost their minds after watching.

Some stories she heard included people gouging their own eyes out, projectile vomiting everywhere only five minutes into the film, some even lose consciousness. “Are you even listening? Trey!” She pushed him, the boy still seeking no interest in what she was saying. She was so convinced that she could change his mind and that she had time to all before, but obviously he was adamant on watching the movie to understand the hype and fear surrounding.

“…someone literally stopped talking for an entire week after watching it. If that ain’t enough proof for you, I dunno what is!” Crossing her arms, she huffs like an upset toddler, over him ignoring her for a ‘stupid little movie’.

“That was just a drawn out joke! Wasn’t shit wrong with that woman” He says, using the tv remote to navigate through the options to start the movie. There was no turning back now, the tape beginning to roll.

✮✮✮✮

Trey yawns for the fifth time that night. She couldn’t tell if he was tired of just wanted to pretend like the scenes wasn’t scary. The movie started out with a blood curdling scream that made both the young adults cover their ears, Trey attempting to turn it down with the remote, which didn’t work, but even when he put it on mute, the scream continued. After that was the most gruesome death scene either of them had ever seen in a movie that old. It was almost too real. The main character, or who they thought was the main character, was killed only five minutes into the film. The masked man had captured her in her own home and hung her upside down with chains wrapped around her ankles. She was completely undressed, naked glory there to gawk at. Y/N caught Trey doing exactly that for a moment before the woman was split in half completely from the top down with a seemingly dull machete.

Y/N gags strongly while clenching her thick thighs closed as she watched the woman rip in half, screaming in agony until she stopped before the man could even pull the blade all the way through her body. He hacked away multiple times before he had even reached the end of her, blood splattering all over the hardwood floor.

“Ewww!” Y/N let out a girlish squeal while kicking her feet up and covering her face. Trey shook his head. “This shit is not scary, you doin too much”

“Shut up! This shit is makin’ me sick, turn it off”

“Why? You scared?”

“Yes! Stop playin’ and turn it off”

Trey rolls his eyes and laughs, switching his position so he was kneeling in front of his fearsome girlfriend. “It’s not real” she shake her head, her face still scrunched with disgust while Trey laughs at herfit. “Lemme comfort my little cry baby” he teased and kisses her lips. She melted from his touch, feeling safer than before. Trey’s hands roam her body, going for her shirt to pull it right off her body. Y/N’s safe feeling didn’t last too long, a feeling in her stomach creeping up onto her, telling her to open her eyes, which she reluctantly complied to.

Watching the screen behind Trey, multiple pictures of gore flashed as the film continued, the next picture even more disturbing than the next until the screen flashed a picture that had her jumping out of her skin, goosebumps covering her body.

She pushes her boyfriend away with a scream. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” She panicked, tears welling in her eyes. “Damn, Y/N! You almost bit my fuckin’ tongue off!” Trey shouts, tasting blood in his mouth from the girl biting down on his lip. “What are you on about now?!” Trey glanced back at the screen, but it had changed to a normal part in the movie.

Y/N couldn’t even begin to explain the feeling in her chest. The picture she saw that flashed lastly was a picture of her. In that same spot. With Trey laying next to her, his face looking as if it was bludgeoned, features beyond recognition.

“STOP FUCKING WITH ME, TREY! IM SERIOUS! IT AINT FUNNY!” She freaked, her chest heaving as Trey looked at her in confusion.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N. If you that scared then I’ll just turn it off, damn” he reaches for the remote and clicks the tv off, yet the screen went no where. Still playing the movie, Trey tried clicking the buttons on the TV to turn it off, but the film stayed put. He sighs. “Look, it’s an old tv, baby. We can smash this shit right after if it makes you happy” he said, turning back to her. Cupping her face in his hands, he kisses her again, tasting salty tears on her lips. As she gave into his temptation, the kiss progressed to him laying her down and undressing them both fully.

Trey took it upon himself to pleasure her first, something he rarely did, but Y/N brushed it off as him trying to make her feel better. Spreading her legs out for him, Trey dove in, beginning to lap up her swelling clit as she used her hands to play in his hair.

They were cornrowed back, neatly placed in straight lines and she found herself tugging at the ends of them while he slurped her up. He uses her thigh as a headrest for him so he could eat without getting tired, but his patters were already sending the girl into overdrive.

“Yes, Trey” She calls out to him, her other hand gracing her wet lips. She sticks her tongue out and licks a long stripe along her pointer finger and thumb, using her own spit as lube to twist her nipples softly. Trey had suctioned his entire mouth around her clit, beginning to suck while his fingers dipped into her honeypot, giving her a reason for her eyes to be rolling backwards into her head like they were doing.

What was into him? She had never experienced this type of behavior. She couldn’t even remember the last time she came from head alone, but this time felt so different to her.

She had wondered when he had gotten so skilled at this..and when he got a tongue.. or when he got dreads.

Popping her head upwards, Y/N’s heart completely drops. The man that was between her legs was no longer her boyfriend, but the same psycho killer that shook her up just a few minutes ago. Her adrenaline rushes, her brown eyes becoming wide with her jaw being stuck hanging low like she had just been hit with a brick. “—oh fuck” She moans, the demon himself keeping himself latched on her clit, shaking his head from side to side. He rubs his plump lips against her clit while humming, vibrations spreading throughout the girls body before she came, a tongue being right there to catch all that she was giving before it was his turn to get his.

✮✮✮✮

“Like this, baby?” The man stared deep into her soul while stroking her, his callused hand wrapped tightly around her throat. Y/N shook with fear, but she couldn’t stop the moans falling from her lips. Turning towards the tv, she watched as Trey begged and pleaded on mute, slamming his hands against the windowed screen he was trapped in. Before a singular teardrop slipped from her eye, killjoy had already turned her head back towards him, giving her no permission to look at anything but him.

“Take it. Take it like a good fuckin’ girl” He grunts, gripping her thigh and pushing it back so far that she was basically folded in. It took strength to endure the beating he was putting on her, and the little bit she had left was gradually growing weaker. He was to blame for every reaction she was currently having, from the jagged breathing all the way down to the helpless whimpers. She thought he would have never stopped, until he did, his hips colliding with hers one last time before he stops, laying a smack on her thighs.

“Now, sit that ass on it” He demands. It was like she had no control over her own body, the real version of herself watching behind her eyes in utter shock. Flipping them both over, Killjoy does the honors of pushing himself back inside of her, Y/N using the strength of her calves to bounce on the tip of his dick. It was still so much for her, he was barely inside and she already felt so full. “I can’t-“ she chokes out as her legs shake, her body cowering on top of him. Killjoy grunts in annoyance, his patience running low for the girl. He was fed up. How was she gonna be a good host if she was a coward?

Giving her that jumpstart she needed, he lays three hard smacks on her ass, sending Y/N jumping forward with a yelp, landing right back on his dick. She slid down on his thick pole completely, her thighs closing together. “Unt-Unt. Open them legs, lemme see that pretty pussy” He says, completely disregarding her stiff movements and thrusting his hips upwards. She wasn’t even thinking straight at this point, she couldn’t have answered a question if you asked.

“I’m gonna cum!” She shouts, fisting his locs in her hand, a guttural groan escaping his mouth at the hair tugs. Only the lucky knew how he liked it rough, and not one of those lucky people were alive anymore to tell the story of how killjoy himself broke them in on Halloween night. Now, it was her turn.

“Cum on this dick, pretty girl. It’s yours” He taunts with a devilish smirk, but that only made Y/N teeter over the line of ecstasy and unconsciousness just a little more.

“I’m- im-“

“Uh-huh. Show yo’ man how a real nigga do it”

“FU-“

“Show him how a real nigga make you cum!”

“FUCK”

She stops bouncing, but killjoy kept his hips jack hammering up into her, his arms arms going around her waist to hold her in her spot as he fucked her pussy with no remorse. Y/N was praying to the heavens that it would stop and this would just be some crazy wet dream, but it kept going.

“No need to pray now. He can’t help you” Killjoy speaks into the girls ears, his voice echoing in her head like they were in an empty room.

She could hear her water splashing against him, and he had no means to stop just yet.

✮✮✮✮

#black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #black!reader #masterlist #black reader #black!fem!reader #black!oc #michael b. jordan fic #michael b jordan smut #michael b jordan fanfic #michael b. jordan #michael b jordan x reader #killmonger fic #king killmonger #erik killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #killjoy #henneseyhoe #black actors

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pheavampire · 8 months

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Epitaph for corrupted magistrate Astarion

The more I think about it, the more I’m disappointed with Astarion’s plot. Which kind of hurts a bit, because he was the first and main reason I was so hyped for this game.

I’m aware that this in unpopular opinion and everybody loves to help him with his trauma etc. Don’t get me wrong, this is one of the best narrative parts of the whole Baldur’s Gate 3 - if not the best. Well written, nice, interesting psychology and objectively very good.

But I really, really hoped for corrupted, disgraced nobleman who lost everything because his own greed and who now must deal with it - if you didn’t hear about it, this is what Larian’s CEO said 3 years ago about Astarion:

„A disgraced nobleman who used his position as a local magistrate to serve a vampire clan by feeding them prisoners, he was eventually too corrupt even for them and was effectively sent to serve as the personal slave of a powerful vampire.”

I wouldn’t even mind to be able to „fix him”, but I imagined it would be rather letting him understand what a hypocrite he is. I wanted to see a powerful, selfish person in the place of those who he harmed. A person who slowly realises he kind of deserved what he got.

I also wanted Cazador to be more interesting. Cruel, evil - sure, but not that one-dimentional and pathetic character who’s only function in the game is to be a punching bag the player can joyfully kill with nothing but pure satisfaction. I imagined he particularly enjoys tormenting Astarion, because he understands his ironic position. An abuser who abuses another abuser.

Just imagine you and your party breaks into his palace (or crypt) only to learn from Cazador, that Astarion isn’t only the victim. You’re angry, maybe a bit confused, but your vampire companion already changed, at least partially, and the choice to help him isn’t as obvious as it is now. I suspect it could look like this in the earlier phase of game development - lines like „So Cazador was around just when you were bleeding to death on the street? What a coincidence” or „Some Gurs attacked me because of my decree” strongly suggest some cut content the player was supposed to discover later.

My guess is Larian observed players’ reactions during early access and decided this approach is too risky and made Astarion much more sympathetic. It’s not controversial to feel sorry for the innocent victim and it’s not controversial to adore him, even as a fictional character. But giving to such a popular companion an evil past? That wouldn’t be a very popular decision.

Also, I bet they realised they overscoped some storylines and had to make them much shorter and less complicated. Quite typical for gamedev actually.

So yeah, I’m happy I finally have a tormented elven male vampire spawn I wanted for so long in a (kind of) mainstream story, I’m happy he is so popular. But at the same time… sigh.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #larian studios #Good night sweet asshole prince #I will miss you

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belphiesgirlfriend · 9 months

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Obey me! Brothers music taste headcanons

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more like ramblings than headcanons tbh but i had this stuck in my head and needed to get it out, also feel free to send requests for diff headcanons!

Cw’s: none!

Little bit satirical (i over exaggerate sometimes cuz it’s funny) but pretty in character overall i thinkk

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Lucifer:

• You know this motherfucker listens to classical music and classical music only cuz he’s boring

• Okay but jokes aside i see him listening to like 30’s 40’s 50’s music especially the love songs.

• Like straight up fallout 4 soundtrack music, he’d listen to it while doing paperwork or unwinding

• He’d definitely be really prideful (no duh) about his taste in music, he’d feel all fancy and refined when he tells people

• Type of dude to be like “modern music simply can’t compare to the classics…” shut up grandpa we get it u know bach’s zodiac sign, penis size, and mothers maiden name

• Wants to be different so bad, he’d strictly listen to music from his vintage record player or some shit cause it’s the “most authentic” way to listen, fr acts like a manic pixie dream girl (he’d hit me upside the head if he heard me say that sorry luci🫶)

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Mammon:

• r&b and spanish music

•but i feel like he’d like 2000s party music from all the clubbing and casinos

• def a weekend listener and like 90’s rap

• but also like i wouldn’t be surprised if he listened to some 90s rock too

• he’d listen 2 sublime or nirvana or local h (i’m projecting on the last one)

• but anyways he’d be a #1 rihanna fan he’d blast her music in his room but then deny liking her💀make it make sense!!

• also he knows her best album is loud CAUSE HE HAS TASTE!!

• also tyler the creator i get the vibe he’d love him

• kali uchis fan too

•ALSO i feel like he had a phase where he listened to juice wrld and was like “these cheating lying females….” after he got his heart broken by a witch YOU CANG TELL ME IM WRONG😭😭 it’s okay though cause he’s embarrassed by it now

• oh childish gambino too duh forgot about him

ALSO LET ME MENTION DINERO IS LITERALLY HIS SONG ITS ACTUALLY HIS

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Levi:

• this one’s gonna be real fucking short IM SORRYYY

• he listens to anime openings and game soundtracks strictly

• that’s literally all i can think of dude

• he’d be like “i don’t have time for normie music…”

• his room is literally that old caramelldansen meme from 2019/2020

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Satan:

• this one was harder for me to pinpoint

• first instinct would be classical music but it’s canon he likes ska music too so 🤷‍♀️

• i really do feel like he’d listen to all types of music, like a true jack of all traits, if he likes it he likes it so his playlist is allllll over the place

• for some reason i get a vibe he’d really like 80s music in particular though

• the song that pops into my head is who can it be now? by men at work idk why

• maybe even older music i feel like he’d like sam cooke

• OH both him and belphie would like mazzy star and fiona apple idk why but they would

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Asmo:

• okay crucify me for this one but…mitski I JUSG FEEL LIKE HE WOULD

• but i also see him loving lady gaga a lot cuz he has taste

•omg he’d listen to old katy perry too

•but yea also probably lil nas x he’d have a celeb crush on him

• oh tyler the creator too with his gay ass, him and mammon both love him, they def have done a duet to see u again

• he’d be a barb probably defend nicki too😭

• and as much as it pains me to say it, he’d fucking listen to ayesha erotica and be like “this is so good!!!”, hed post a devilgram story with one of her songs and then get cancelled on twitter

• “I made a severe and continuous lapse of judgement…” and then did the same thing a week later

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Beel:

• type of guy when you ask him what music he listens to he goes “idk i don’t really listen to music”

• he legitimately looks up “hype playlist” on youtube to work out and that’s the extent of it

• really can’t see him being a big music guy

• if u invited him to a concert or something he’d go though for food

•he’d give you a piggy back ride so u can see better

• tbh if u were to put on music he would not care much no matter how good/bad it is

• you could walk in on him working out and literally listening 2 cbat or some shit

• HE LITERALLY IS CBAT GUY😭 he’d be like “i always use this song when i’m working out..

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Belphie:

• emo fucker

• i feel like he’d like emo/ 90s rock ( but more “rockish” than mammons 90’s rock)

• but he’d also love any more relaxing music with softer vocals

• he’d be a deftones fan I KNOW GHATS FUCKING BASIC AND UR ROLLING UR EYES BUT LISTEN

• they have the combination of 90s rock but also more soothing calming vocals, theyd literally b perfect

• and for that reason his favorite albums r koi no yokan and saturday night wrist, also their self titled,

• would call mammon a poser for his music taste “nirvana isn’t even *real* rock idiot🙄”

• but nah, also like i said in satans fiona apple and mazzy star fan

• he’d suck so bad though he’d go on twitter and be like, “if you like deftones ur a poser” (while being their number 1 fan, fucking brat) then turn off his phone and take a nap for the funny

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anthurak · 6 months

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So I’ve been reading/watching a few different Helluva Boss theory posts/videos recently, and I really have to ask:

We all recognize that when it comes to serious theory-crafting on lore, character backgrounds and most other things, basically EVERYTHING from the pilot is firmly in ‘take with a grain of salt’ territory, right?

Like this is not some ‘true episode one’ or weird ‘episode zero’ thing. It’s a pilot, a proof-of-concept and basic introduction to the series premise and main characters. Now it is certainly a GREAT intro to that premise and those characters, but it’s also clear that at this point the writers were still ironing out the characters, lore and other elements. I mean just compare Stolas in the pilot to Stolas in just the first episode, or how Tilla went from being Blitzo’s older sister to being his mother.

And we can really see this dissonance all over the pilot, as well as possibly getting a sense of what earlier drafts of characters might have looked like.

For example, Moxxie’s ‘dreaming my parents were getting murdered’ line in the pilot certainly feels like it may have at one point been foreshadowing, but it also just doesn’t fit very well with what we later got in the actual show. It seems like Moxxie would have nightmares about his mother being killed, but find dreams about Crimson being murdered to be quite appealing. Instead, I think we can guess that the plan at the time of the pilot was for Moxxie’s parents to have both been murdered by the mob/Crimson, possibly leading to Moxxie being adopted (perhaps by force) by Crimson. But between the pilot and the first episode, Vivzie and the team opted to streamline things by making Crimson be Moxxie’s father in the first place and him having murdered Moxxie’s mother. As evidenced by how Moxxie’s ‘maybe a shitty dad, or a mob family…’ line in Murder Family is MUCH more in line with what we end up seeing in Season 2.

Likewise, I imagine that Tilla originally being Blitzo’s sister likely had her in a nurturing, adoptive older sister role to Blitzo and Barbie, until the writers decided it simply made more sense for Tilla to just be the twins’ mother instead.

So when I see people doing stuff like using Loona’s implication that she has syphilis as a major part of or even the whole basis for theories on her messed up background/childhood, I can’t help but feel like they’re unwittingly building up their theory on a pretty shaky foundation.

Like don’t get me wrong, I fully agree that Loona went through some major shit in her childhood. I even have a hunch/headcannon that her backstory is actually going to have Blitzo AND Moxxie beat in the fucked-up department. It’s just that I think a far more reliable source of foreshadowing on this is something like Loona’s whole ‘This kid probably sets dogs on fire’ spiel in Murder Family, rather than anything from the pilot. Particularly since we now how at least two other cases of seemingly offhand, inconsequential jokes from that episode actually being foreshadowing; again, Moxxie’s ‘maybe a shitty dad…’ line, as well as Blitzo’s ‘we’re just killing a mother…’ line.

Finally, everything I’ve said here goes double, triple and frankly QUADRUPLE for Hazbin Hotel. Whereas we only had a little more than a year between Helluva Boss’s pilot and first episode, we’ve had over FOUR years for Hazbin. And it’s clear already from the trailers and other promotional material that things have changed quite a bit since the pilot. Like I’m as hyped as anyone else to finally see this show get released, but when it comes to specific expectations, we REALLY need to take basically all but the most general, basic, broad-strokes story, character and lore details that were in the pilot with a MASSIVE grain of salt.

Things like the basic premise, general character personalities, Charlie and Vaggie being a couple, etc; those we know are still a thing. Everything else is WILDLY up in the air.

#helluva boss #hazbin hotel #assume that NONE of your precious headcanons are going to survive the hazbin premier

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anxious-witch · 4 months

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So, I am starting a new series. It's essentially fic recommendations, but I will be sharing aesthetics of the fics that I really liked and why I liked them. Unsure how long it'll be and the series is in no particular order, but I think this fandom has really wonderful writers and I wanted to show them my appreciation in some way.

Now, on to the actual content

Last Christmas I gave you my heart by @occhi-verdi-come-il-mare

Bokris/ongoing/26k words(currently)

Summary and my thoughts under the cut

Summary: While shopping for Christmas presents, Kris slips on a piece of ice and falls. But he's sure that nothing bad happened, so he gets right back up and continues with his day.

Things might be a little bit more complicated than that...

[A story in which Kris loses part of his memories, featuring Bokris endgame, established Jance and a lot of soft friendship content]

What I liked about it: I am a sucker for a trope of a couple breaking up and finding their way back together later. This, paired up with a mix of both old and new perspective on his and Bojan's relationship makes reading Kris' pov so interesting!

I think the character's voice was very well put with the au it was in and the overlaying beauty of winter in the background really made it for me. I am very hyped to see where the fic is going to go so if you like amnesia fics and bokris, I definitely recommend this one ❤️

#bokris #fic recommendation #fic recommendation aesthetics #<- I'll be using that tag btw #joker out #fic rec aesthetic

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helakkas · 11 months

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So, uh. The Käärijä/Bojan (friend)shipping thing has breached containment and was featured on the Finnish government-funded news site Yle.

Käärijä’s Eurovision bestie Bojan visited Finland - on social media, people enthused about the duo went crazy

Käärijä’s and Joker Out singer Bojan Cvjetićanin’s friendship is being hyped on social media. There is fanfiction written about them and Tiktok videos published about them.

[text under the picture: Käärijä and Bojan Cvjetićanin got to know each other during the Eurovision preparties. Now people can’t get enough of their friendship. Photo: Mikke Pöyhönen.]

Rest of the article translated under cut:

Social media exploded when Käärijä’s a.k.a Jere Pöyhönen’s best friend visited Finland.

Käärijä and Slovenia’s Eurovision respresentative, Joker Out’s singer Bojan Cvjetićanin, became friends during the Eurovision preparties. Last weekend fans got to see the reunion between the duo when Bojan visited Käärijä’s gig in Tavastia.

[link to a tweet depicting the Cha Cha Cha performance]

[link to a series of tweets picturing Tavastia gig]

Both also actively published videos on social media about Bojan’s trip to Finland.

In Tiktok videos Käärijä and Bojan are pumping a plastic flamingo in the shower of Tavastia and dancing behind pallets familiar from Eurovision.

In the Instagram story published between Monday and Tuesday night, they are watching Twilight together. “This is you and this is me,” Käärijä says and points first at Bella and then Edward.

On Tuesday morning, Käärijä escorted Bojan to the airport. He published an Instagram story from the airport that says “Miss you,” with the song My Heart Will Go On, familiar from Titanic, playing in the background.

People love Käärijä and Bojan’s friendship. Some hope that there would be something more between them.

With their social media content, they [Käärijä and Bojan] are fueling the flames.

[link to a tweet showing meme of Käärijä as Edward and Bojan as Bella]

[link to a tweet showing the meme “Käärijä and Bojan hanging out in Finland without context”]

Fanfiction and Tiktok videos

Shipping means matchmaking, bringing people romantically together. Characters are admired and at the same time there are speculations or hopes that they could be together.

Shipping can concern fictional character from movies, for example, but also real people. One of the most known cases is the friendship between One Direction singers Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson, which was also speculated to be a romantic relationship. Shippers thought that the band members were secretly together and tried to find evidence for their theory. The duo was nicknamed Larry.

Tomlinson has later told that shipping damaged the friendship between him and Styles.

At the moment, Käärijä and Bojan have more than enough shippers. Or Böörijä - as the pair has been nicknamed.

Käärijä and Bojan’s new Tiktok videos are filled with comments like “really giving the people what they want” and “this level of fanservice is crazy.” Tiktok is also full of video edits made by fans where Käärijä and Bojan spend time together.

Besides Tiktok, the fictional relationship between Käärijä and Bojan has also been written about on the more traditional sites concentrated on fanfiction. For example, there are 190 stories about Käärijä and Bojan published on the fanfiction site Archive of Our Own. People have also drawn fan art or their own pictures of Käärijä and Bojan.

Käärijä and Bojan’s relationship is also discussed on, for example, Twitter, the Jodel channel @böörijä and Vauva.fi.

[link to Luh_lex’s fan art on Instagram]

[link to masha.grimm’s fan art of Instagram]

Shipping increases the popularity of artists

Käärijä and Bojan first met each other during the Eurovision preparty in Madrid. During Eurovision, they appeared in each other’s social media in several updates, they held an Instagram live together, and Käärijä playfully referenced to Bojan as his boyfriend in one video.

During one interview Bojan was asked if he was getting a baby seal with Käärijä. Fans were excited about the idea, and soon, a zoo located in Wien, Tiergarten Schönbrunn, offered the duo a chance to support the zoo’s sea lions for a year.

Bojan’s band Joker Out’s manager Gregor Zalokar also shared the news in his Instagram story. During Eurovision week, Zalokar also published a lot of other content about Bojan and Käärijä, which is why the friendship between the two has been suspected to be a publicity stunt.

[link to Gregor Zalokar’s Instagram picture of Bojan and Käärijä during Liverpool boat party]

Stunt or not, the friendship between Bojan and Käärijä is probably one of the reasons why the band Joker Out has the most listeners in Helsinki, according to Spotify statistics. Even if the friendship is sincere, it boosts the popularity of both artists. For example, the artists can get more visibility with Tiktok videos made by fans.

So it is no wonder that they also gladly give shippers something to speculate about, for example watching the romantic movie Twilight together.

Tuesday morning, when Bojan left Finland, he wrote in his Instagram story, “Thank you Jere, thank you Helsinki. I had a blast, see you soon.” Joker Out’s concert dates will be published on Wednesday, and fans think that Käärijä will in turn visit a gig of Bojan’s band.

So, the friendship of Käärijä and Bojan keeps on giving - soon, the shippers will get new material for Tiktok videos and fanfiction.

Watch the video down below to see Joker Out visit Käärijä’s travel sauna.

[video]

#i know people can just use google translate to read this but. the translation was idiotic in places and i had a free moment so here we are #anyway. this is. well.#kind of funny but kind of worrying at the same time #apparently the journalist hasn't heard of the fandom etiquette and just decided to tell about rpf to the whole of finland #käärijä #bojan cvjeticanin #eurovision 2023 #eurovision #joker out #käärijän #käärijan

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genericpuff · 6 months

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A while back you made a post mentioning Down to Earth is trash and I would like to here your take on it. No pressure on it I just like hearing your opinion on things. FYI I hate Kade lol

I did, and I've been meaning to post about it, but I've been taking some extra time to re-read as much as I can so that I could better collect my thoughts :' )

Now I will mention, I have not caught up to the most recent episodes. Most of my thoughts here will reflect the earliest parts of the series, as I didn't end up sticking with this one. So please take my criticisms as someone who just never got into this series for various reasons, not as someone who was incredibly into the comic and fell off it (like I am with LO). I will try to judge it and review it fairly based on that context.

Most of my issues with Down to Earth don't stem nearly as deep as my issues with LO, Let's Play, or even Big Ethel Energy. Frankly, I think the comic is 'fine', but I don't think it's necessarily all that good either, and the amount of attention it gets from the platform lends to the fact that I really think its success is due to a lot of generated hype. This is one of the other comics on the platform that gets a LOT of priority advertising, not quite as egregious as LO, but still a lot.

The short answer: I think the comic is just overrated and pretty basic in terms of its storytelling and art, and I don't think it's necessarily a good "romance" comic for some of the same reasons I don't think LO or Let's Play are good romance comics. I think the only reason I don't get quite as mad at it as I do with LO or BEE or LP is because (as far as I can tell) it's not really advertising itself as some feminist progressive piece of work. It's sorta just "what you see is what you get", and what you get isn't really all that great (for reasons listed below) but at least it doesn't try to sound smarter than it is most of the time. Read it the same way you would watch a fluff anime.

Moving into my long answer, I will say some of the things that were initially appealing about it: the art is very colorful and cutesy, the comedy (for the most part) is inoffensive and simple, and the story is really easy to pick up and get into.

That said, I do think some of those praises are also part of its weaknesses.

While the art gets better over time, there are certain aspects of its stylization that still feel very "baby's first webcomic" to me. Which is great if you're someone who's into that style, but when I read it, it never really stops feeling like a Canvas comic, if you catch my drift. Nothing really sets it apart from the flood of Merryweather-esque fan service comics that are in the Canvas section.

And boy, is there a LOT of fanservice in this comic. I think the main plot point itself is fanservice in and of itself - cutesy anime alien girl crashes on earth, and winds up living with the depressed NEET-like guy, shenanigans ensue from how "inexperienced" she is due to her alien status. Everything from the circumstances of this character's plot to how she's drawn screams "this is for people who like to read about small titty girls with big asses being put into a situation where they have to rely on a man". The comic takes many opportunities to draw the FL, Zaida, as wide as possible (and of course, the ML Kade loves this trait about her, it's one of the first thing he notices aside from the fact that she speaks an alien language and can do weird alien things like telepathy and flying).

Thankfully this does get a little better in the later episodes, you can tell the creator was struggling with anatomy in places and then honed their skills, but there are still times it regresses back to the extremely-pinched-waist-mega-badonker-hips look.

Don't get me wrong, having a protagonist with wide hips like this is all fine and dandy, but there's a point where you can tell it's purely for fanservice and that's definitely what the comic wants you to know from the starting gun. She fits perfectly into that "born sexy yesterday" trope that so many romance FL's do (cough Persephone cough) while also having that "uwu I'm so inexperienced :(((" vibe that you get from characters like Sam in Let's Play. Shit, Kade pretty much starts sexualizing her before he even knows what her deal is as a person. Does he even know how old she is? Is "she" even a "she", do these aliens have different concepts of gender identity or even different types of reproductive organs than what you would find on Earth?

Look, I get it that I'm probably WAY overthinking it, you can write comics about characters from other dimensions and planets without having to get into the nitty gritty of whether or not they have periods, that's fine. But the real problem is the fact that her being from another planet seems to be used purely for creating an infantilized character with extra steps who's easily laughed at for not knowing things (don't even get me started on how "alien" could be replaced with "someone who doesn't speak English or have access to modern devices" in a lot of this comic, but I feel like that's way too deep of a criticism to be pinning on something that's literally designed to be a quirky fanservice fluff comic.)

Like, you want an alien girl who looks human but still acts reasonably like an alien - while even tackling subjects that come with being an "outsider" - without making her act like a literal baby? Starfire from Teen Titans.

(granted, the whole "smooching to transfer information" thing is definitely a little weird in hindsight, and there are definitely moments of fanservice, but that's about as weird as it gets lmao you don't see Starfire acting like a literal toddler, she is smart and capable, she just isn't from Earth, which is the whole point of her characterization being parallel to that of what foreigners experience ! She's not stupid or incapable of taking care of herself, she's just not accustomed to life on Earth!)

Like, this is in one of the newer episodes and I just-

(I suddenly have to throw up-)

It really dials the creep factor of this whole relationship dynamic to 100 when they drive home just how "babylike" she is through panels like this. It's not really her being unaware of customs around her, it's just her being written as babylike as possible with the fact that she's an alien being used as justification.

But it really makes you think about Kade's intentions when he goes straight to buying lingerie for the girl he just met who's been forced to stay with him in his home. He doesn't even really make efforts to help her get on her own feet, he just accepts this as his fate and goes "welp I guess I gotta make sure I don't get fired from my job" because now he has to support the baby girl that landed in his backyard. So Zaida ends up having no agency as a result. It just feels like a contrived situation meant to force an unaware, vulnerable girl into being taken care of by a guy who's, frankly, a creep.

And boy, Kade is actually kind of a creepy scumbag.

Kade makes for a really uninteresting and frankly pathetic character, he's just sort of a whiny man baby and you just know if Zaida was an earthling who had spent time on this planet longer than a few days, she probably wouldn't put up with this shit LOL Like, deadass he basically threatens to harm her within the first few episodes of the comic-

Like, this is after she's ruined his Playstation or w/e, and it's just like DAMN girl, this is a RED FLAG. But of course, she's an alien girl who's ignorant about everything, so it creates that power dynamic where he basically has full reign to take advantage of her at any time. Ladies, if a guy says you shouldn't trust him, take him at his word.

Zaida's characterization is also very inconsistent between her being an alien and her just being an "uwu baby girl". Often times it just makes the whole "alien" thing feel like it's only there to justify writing yet another "I'm babyyyy" romance. Sometimes she's WAY more privy to things than you'd expect her to be and then other times she's doing the dumbest shit for laughs.

Now to be fair, she DOESN'T put up with his shit here, but the fact that the writing for Zaida is inconsistent makes scenes like Kade being a creep being more about the creator realizing they're leaning too hard into her being vulnerable to abuse and so they quickly have Zaida combat it with some strange amount of awareness despite the fact she's only been living with him for a few days... but not enough awareness to maybe realize this isn't a good living situation. Like, again, she may be able to speak English, but that doesn't mean she's fully aware of what Earthlings are like, so she's suddenly really smart about what it means to be taken advantage of by a human man even though everywhere else in the comic she's written like a toddler.

And of course, like many of these webtoons tend to do, they don't linger on the implications of this scene too long, so they quickly turn it into a punchline to ease the tension. Audience comfort restored.

And that brings us to the comedy. The "jokes" in this comic basically boil down to, "haha, the alien girl doesn't know how to take care of herself on Earth!" , which frankly, I think is just a very thin veil for infantilization. I mean, really, the fact that she's an alien doesn't even really matter in the world of this comic, it takes a while for the comic to even really give us a glimpse of what her life was like off Earth so most of the comic is just typical slice of life cutesy moments you'd find in literally any shoujo or romance webtoon. You could switch out the fact that she's an alien with her being from another dimension, or turn it into an isekai where she was the female character in Kade's favorite video game who suddenly got zapped into the real world, and it would make fundamentally zero difference.

They even sorta lampshade this fact but swiftly move on from it.

There's nothing really that makes her an "alien" in any unique or consequential way, she's just a carbon copy anime girl with pointy ears who could be replaced with any other trope from other romance subgenres like this. She can eat human food just fine, dress in human clothes, and as long as she wears a hat over her ears, she's literally indistinguishable from the humans around her.

I will add as well that there are a lot of little ways they hint towards the implied dynamic between these two, at least in the beginning. The whole "second rule: obey" bit, while passed off immediately after as a joke, feels like it was inserted there JUST to create that imbalanced power dynamic that so many "romance" webtoons rely on, similarly to LO and Let's Play. The fact that he corrects himself from this just feels like, again, lampshading.

And again, after this we do see Kade legitimately acting like a creep and he DOESN'T DO ANYTHING to help Zaida get her footing beyond paying for her room and board and telling her to mind her vocabulary, so this seems more like him trying to create a situation that's beneficial to him where he's effectively trapped this girl into relying on him.

They even lampshade this as well so that leads me to believe they're fully aware of this dynamic and how creepy it is, so they try and play it off as a "haha so funny" joke to ease the tension or create suspension of disbelief.

When it comes to the actual execution of punchlines, again, 90% of the jokes in this comic are "haha alien girl so stupid!"

(I will admit this scene did make me laugh, but it's telling that it was the only one that stood out to me for that because every other joke in this series is very mid and resorts to the same type of "haha she's a stupid alien girl" punchlines.)

(omg mental illness! so funny! /s)

If you really want comedy written around aliens describing human things in weird ways, then just go read Strange Planet. They're actually aliens and they're consistently funny through much smarter writing that doesn't rely purely on "lmao they're stupid because they're not from here". If anything the aliens in Strange Planet are way more welcoming and endearing to the concept of being a fish out of water than simply making them stupid for a punchline.

(i swear to christ, "crisscross flop disc" and "prohibit anxiety" are lines that have lived in my head rent free for like 3 years now, it never gets old and THAT'S how you know it's a good joke LMAO)

And the story, as mentioned, is easy to get into, but ultimately that winds up meaning it's not really all that well done. Like, it's fine! It's a cute comic to read if you're into this sort of thing, there are a lot of sweet little moments that feel good to read between Kade and Zaida, but ultimately because of the focus on the fluff, that's all it ends up feeling like - weekly doses of fluff. Even when it tries to have some semblance of plot, it's quickly undercut by fanservice. So it's just kinda boring and vapid.

Case in point, one of Kade's observations of Zaida is that she apparently looks "just like his ex girlfriend" who he still clearly hasn't gotten over, but we don't actually see even a hint of what his ex-girlfriend looks like until MULTIPLE episodes later after the "sparks" have already started being formed between him and Zaida.

Um... she doesn't really look like Zaida at all aside from them both being generic anime girls, but okay lol by that logic the girl he served at the store in Episode 7 also looks like Zaida.

So it kinda makes the whole relationship feel superficial, like he's only interested in her because she vaguely reminds him of his ex, and it's taking so long to get through any amount of plot through all the fluff that I can't be sure if they ever actually address this. I'd like to think they do eventually, though from what I've heard of the later episodes after his ex-girlfriend makes an appearance, it seems more like they go the LO route of making the two relationship "choices" just be complete opposites where one is actually sweet to the ML and the other is abusive JUST to make the sweet FL seem like the "better option". IDK, obviously my criticism of this is lukewarm because I haven't kept up on this comic in ages, but I have the sneaking suspicion the whole ex-girlfriend-the-ML-can't-get-over plotline isn't gonna be used for his development, just to further propel him and Zaida into a relationship - and by extension, manufactured drama to make their relationship more "interesting".

Overall, I don't think Down to Earth is anywhere near as egregious as Let's Play and LO, but it's definitely cut from the same cloth, and that's why it frustrates me to see it - alongside LO and Big Ethel Energy - being marketed as "new voices in romance".

(also real talk, it's so disingenuous for them to include LO in this "new voices in romance comics" panel when it's been around for so many years that everyone and their grandma who uses WT knows about the comic, if they aren't reading LO by now they REALLY don't want to. It's not "new", if anything it's one of the oldest ongoing webtoons on the platform and it REALLY needs to end already lmao)

Far be it from me to gatekeep an entire genre, but this brand of romance comic isn't really "romance". It's vapid fluff loaded up with egregious fanservice that's meant to give you a hit of dopamine every week, while never lingering on serious scenes for too long because they don't want you to realize just how imbalanced the relationship is between the two main characters. It's not quite as concerning as LO or Let's Play, but it does have a vibe that's really uncomfortable when you start to feel it. So having comics like these held up as the "golden standard" of romance is just... it's really telling as to what WT's priorities are and how unhealthy "romance" has become in mainstream media.

And if I can get a little "old man yelling at cloud" for a second, I miss when romance was sweet and soft and earnest and heartfelt. I think the only mainstream and successful romance webcomic (and it's not even an Originals!) that I've seen in the last several years that isn't loaded up with these problematic tropes is Heartstopper. Heartstopper is sweet and soft and earnest and heartfelt. Heartstopper is way more of a pillar for a healthy romance than what any of these "new voices in romance comics" can provide. It literally couldn't function as an Originals series because the definition of a WT romance comic would undercut the actual point of Heartstopper.

These unhealthy standards and dynamics that we've set in the romance genre have been so pervasive for years now and I really just wish they'd go away.

y'know what, this whole essay is really just a promo post for Heartstopper now, go read it-

#just go read heartstopper #webtoon critical #down to earth critical

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