#but its just so interesting to look back over everything

[okaysonny]

business advice ╏ hudson ahn

★ summary: hudson gets a noise complaint ─ from one person.

★ details: fluff, f! reader, spoiler free.

★ wc: 1.4k

★ A/N: who else has a crush on him

"YOU! YELLOW HEAD!"

hudson's eyes widen, looking around.

but no, jay isn't here. and everyone else has dark hair. which can only mean…

hudson turns to face the girl approaching him, who looks comically angry. he can practically see steam coming out of her ears.

his eyes narrow. "are you talking to me?"

she's now right in front of him, pointing aggressively. "yeah i'm talking to you! don't you own this place?" she gestures to ansan's night club just ahead of them.

"i do. are you here to talk business? although…" he eyes her hoodie and sweatpants. "…you don't really look the part"

she blinks, not expecting a belittling so soon, but quickly shakes her head. "no i'm not here to talk business" she mimics his voice at the 'business' part. hudson feels a vein on his forehead throb.

"you need to turn the music down at night!" she huffs. "i can hear it from my window…" she points at an apartment building in the distance. "…all the way over there! some of us are trying to sleep, y'know?!"

he waits to see if she's finished her piece, before simply saying:

"0 points"

she blinks again. "…the fuck?"

"0 points. that's the score i give you. one…" he starts counting on his fingers. "…you show up sloppy. two. you disrespect me. and three. you start complaining about music when we're doing nothing wrong. where's your decorum?"

"...what- you-" she stammers, clearly speechless at his obviously correct evaluation.

she grits her teeth in frustration. "you wanna talk about decorum? it's not very um…decorum of you to play such loud music in the night!"

he sighs in disappointment. "bad grammar too. - 1 point"

"who gives a fuck?! now you're just nitpicking! and tell your employees to turn the music down!"

"…you're the only one complaining. why should i lower it for one person?"

she pauses, unable to think of a counterargument. "…um…"

hudson doesn't wait for her to finish. "ansan is critically acclaimed for its nightlife. it's what everyone comes here for. the loud music, which isn't even that loud by the way, is to be expected. if you don't like it, then move"

her jaw drops. "you…you ignorant, naive little─" she exhales slowly, composing herself.

"…can you just please turn it down?" she mumbles.

he runs a hand through his hair, getting tired of this argument now. "…like i said, you're the only one complaining. i'm assuming you didn't take this higher up, right? so, i have no obligation to lower it. come back with a court order and then we'll talk"

she sighs in defeat and starts walking back, flipping him off. "fine! but this isn't over, yellow head! i'll be back with that court order!"

hudson shrugs. "go ahead"

she can try, but it won't make a difference. channing can wrap anyone around his finger.

he shakes his head, heading back into the club. what an unsophisticated lady.

he hears her footsteps stop. "…your drinks are crap, by the way"

hudson hates that he can't hide his surprise, but the comment catches him off guard. "…what?"

she clearly notices it, because she wears an evil grin before continuing. "well…my friend likes to go clubbing a lot. she likes everything here, except the drinks"

now it's his turn to blink. well…the drink sales have been down lately. but everything else is in tip-top shape. he just put it down as an anomaly in the market.

he waves a hand dismissively, recovering from his brief surprise. "we take great care in analysing these things. we know what we’re doing. not that i'd expect you to understand"

she rolls her eyes and looks away for a moment, second-guessing herself. "...i'm not saying i know how to run a business or whatever. i’m just saying...my friend complains about the drinks all the time. and not just her ─ her other little clubbing friends say the same thing"

hudson tilts his head slightly, her words starting to pique his interest despite himself. "...what do her and her friends say?"

she shrugs. "i dunno. i don't really pay attention. she just says they’re kind of…boring, i guess? same old classics, nothing new or exciting. um…" she pauses, trying to remember. "oh yeah! seltzer's. they wish you had seltzer's here"

a flicker of curiosity crosses his face. "...seltzer's? you mean..."

"yeah, like the fruity, canned drinks everyone’s obsessed with these days" she speaks with less hesitance now.

"i work night shifts at the convenience store nearby, so i see what people like...and it matches up. everyone loves them. so i dunno, maybe there’s something to it"

he doesn’t respond, his mind starting to piece things together.

it's bizarre. they were just arguing a few minutes ago. now they're discussing alcoholic beverages.

she looks at him cautiously before continuing. "and uh...customers buy soju obviously, but they take a lot of fruit to go with it. strawberries and watermelon, stuff like that. it seems trendy these days. do you do soju cocktails?"

...they don't.

hudson stays quiet, arms crossed as he processes her words. she's not an expert, but she isn’t completely off the mark.

he hadn’t considered the problem might be the drinks themselves. ansan had always stuck with the classics, assuming they’d appeal to everyone, and it's worked for ages.

but maybe tastes were shifting. if soju cocktails and seltzers - which they didn't sell - were in demand...it could be worth researching what else customers like. lighter, trendier options…freshening up the menu could attract a whole new crowd, even boost overall sales.

the girl sighs, annoyed by his lack of response. "anyway, sorry. i went off on a tangent. keep serving whatever you want"

she turns, walking away again. "but i was serious about that court order, yellow head!"

hudson closes his eyes, feeling irritated. how has this not crossed his mind before? why does this random girl in sweatpants unknowingly know more than him?

her words stay in his head, and hudson knows he won’t be able to let it go.

"...wait" he says, sighing.

she turns around once more, her brows raising in confusion.

he pinches his nose bridge, preparing himself for what he's about to say. "that was...helpful. i suppose i could ask my guys to...turn the music down"

she stares at him, taken aback, before smiling. not the weird evil grin she wore earlier, a real one. "...you will? seriously? i just...really need some quiet, so i can study"

huh. "...yes" he says, a bit softly.

her smile grows wider, flashing her teeth at him. "wow...thanks a lot. really. i know it's a nuisance for you, yellow he-" she pauses, looking sheepish. "hey, what's your real name? i'll stop calling you yellow head now"

"hudson ahn...sun of ansan"

weird. he's talked to plenty of girls, all of them more beautiful than she is. why are his cheeks heating up now?

"...sun of ansan?" she covers her mouth, perhaps trying to stifle a laugh. "that's...cool"

"what's yours?" he can't help but avoid eye contact.

she looks pleasantly surprised. "me? i'm─"

─ beautiful. her name is beautiful. she is beau─ actually, what's he even thinking? is central seoul's romantic guy rubbing off on him?

hudson rummages in his pocket, handing her a business card. "here. it's my contact details. just in case you want to...point out anything else you notice"

she eyes it peculiarly, before shaking her head in disbelief. "i guess all business guys just have these handy, huh?"

still, she doesn't give it back, or tells him to get lost, or rips it up. instead, she keeps it.

she turns and starts walking away ─ for the final time. she looks back at him, waving the card as she speaks. "bye hudson ahn sun of ansan" she giggles. so, she was in fact, laughing at his title.

he watches her figure get smaller, the tiny dot turning into nothing.

a girl giving him business advice...and it's useful? he never thought he'd see the day.

he only saw her smile once, but he wouldn't mind seeing it again.

hudson heads back into the club, getting preparations ready for the night ahead.

she still lacks etiquette. she also giggled at the title he's so proud of. but...that doesn't stop him from muttering to himself.

"100 points"

A/N: okay...i know his hair is more light brown than yellow, but "brown head" doesn't have the same ring to it. just imagine...the sunlight makes it seem yellow, because he's the sun of ansan bye

divider: @thecutestgrotto

[glasvera]

smut & fluff with rivals!star lord x fem reader please,,,

Prepare to have your teeth rot <3

Hearts and Ribbons

Star-Lord x Fem!Reader

Description: Your boyfriend interrupts your beauty sleep to present you with a Valentine's gift... of himself!

Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!!), cursing, vaginal sex, cowgirl position, Star-Lord being canonically insufferable with his sense of humor, lots of fluff and comfort

A/N: I really let my cringe fly with this one. Star-Lord was actually stupid fun to write because of the joke potential. Also, I let the feels propel me forward, so this is barely proofread and I apologize.

Word Count: 2.9k

“Rise and shine, sweetheart!”

You groan sleepily, rubbing your eyes as the light to your sleeping quarters interrupts your slumber with its artificial yellow glare. With your brow furrowed, you narrowly blink one eye open to see who the perpetrator of this punishable offense was, and groan again when you see your boyfriend grinning ear to ear in your doorway.

“Peter,” you grumble, “what the hell? Why did you wake me up?” He winces at the irritation ringing clear as day in your voice. You wipe the sleep from your eyes as your vision begins to clear. “...and why are you in a bathrobe?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot!?” he exclaims as he stands at the side of your bed. You sit up to get a better look at him, your hair falling messily around your face. When you blink at him tiredly, giving him an unamused look, he sighs in defeat. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Well, back on Earth it is. I’ve been keeping track. Call me your calendar-ling.”

He’s too proud of that.

“Mmff… well we’re not on Earth, so…” you mutter in annoyance as you lie back down and tug the covers over your head. “...we can do Valentine’s in about 3 hours or so. Need my beauty sleep”

“Aww,” he whines, and it should be annoying, but there’s something adorable whenever he pouts like a little kid. “And to think, I got your present ready and everything!”

Your ears perk up at that. Material girl living in a material… universe, or something like that. He sees he’s piqued your interest and grins cheekily. His hand gives your comforter an experimental tug, just to see if you’ll let him, and you finally relent, rolling back over to face him.

“Okay, okay,” you sigh, giving him a slight smile as you start to sit yourself upright again. “What’d you get me?”

Tongue-in-cheek, his hand finds its way to the tie of his robe. The fuzzy fleece-like fabric zips with a whisper when he pulls it loose. It slips off of his shoulders and crumples to the ground in a puddle of cloth around his feet, leaving him entirely naked as he proudly places his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest. A red ribbon criss-crosses his body, wrapping around his waist, his pecs, outlining his thighs, until finally it all comes together in a perfectly tied ribbon around his half hard penis.

“Me!”

Of course seeing him wrapped up like a pretty present is enough to get you a little hot and bothered. But he had interrupted your sleep presumably for Valentine’s sex, so in turn you had to tease him. With your best poker face, you cross your arms and look unimpressed.

“Oh. I was hoping you made breakfast or something,” you tut.

He deflates immediately, his arms flopping down at his sides, and you almost feel bad. “Well, I… I mean I could go grab--!”

You interrupt him with an airy giggle and take his hand in yours, pulling him onto the bed with you. It’s not the most graceful thing, and he lands with a soft “oof” on top of you while half crushing your rib cage, but you quickly pull him into your embrace. Your arms wrap around his neck while his find their place at your waist, though he does still look a bit befuddled by your sudden change in attitude.

“I’m kidding. Well, mostly,” you snicker before kissing the tip of his nose, loving the way it crinkles. “I am a bit hungry…” you add teasingly. The pad of your index finger trails along his jawline, tilting his chin up to press your lips softly against his. “...and you seem to have wrapped up a perfect snack just for me.”

His eyes darken slightly at the seductive purr of your voice, and he props himself up on his elbows to hover over you. “Oh, I’m a whole Happy Meal, babe.”

“You are the worst,” you respond with a giggly snort, but you contain any further laughter as you press that same finger to his chest, trailing along the line of the ribbon he’s wound himself in. Your touches travel lower, fingertips grazing along the soft silk almost ticklishly. While your eyes follow your hand, his are locked onto your face, watching your expression with rapt attention and studying the details of your face. He could probably draw it by memory if he were any good at that sort of thing, but he could never grow tired of looking at you. Feeling his gaze burn into your very soul, your eyes flicker back up to his.

“I’ll be anything as long as I still get to look at this gorgeous face,” he breathes. It’s so genuine that your face heats up immediately and your expression softens as your heart clenches in your chest. He could say a thousand pick-up lines, a million terrible jokes, make you groan and roll your eyes a billion times, but he could never stop you from loving him. Hell, you loved him because of that, and so much more, not in spite of it. Your palm rests against his cheek, and he leans into it happily. 

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls,” you tease, the mirthful lilt in your voice ensuring he knows you’re kidding.

“Said,” he corrects you with a cheeky smile as his fingers card soothingly through your hair. “Now those words are all yours.”

“Sweettalker,” you hum as you toy with the neatly tied bow between his legs.

He gives you a throaty chuckle. “You know you love it.”

You hum your agreement before your hand wraps around his cock, the heat of your palm drawing a hiss from his lips as you begin stroking him languidly. He kisses you hungrily then, nipping and tugging at your bottom lip before his tongue is dancing with yours. Bracing himself on one elbow, his other hand grips your hip before sliding up beneath your nightshirt, groaning into your mouth when he cups your breast.

With every flick of your thumb over the tip he’s bucking into your hand, precum dribbling forth as you collect it on your fingertips and smear it over his length. He’s so hard, so ready and needy for you, and it makes your mouth water in anticipation. His lips leave yours, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, and you tilt your head to the side to give him better access as he leaves heated kisses along the column of your throat.

“Peter,” you breathe reverently, exhaling a blissful sigh when his fingertips roll your nipple between them.

You can feel him smiling against your neck. “‘Could listen to that all day,” he muses aloud before he continues sucking a dark spot into your skin.

“Mm… maybe I could record my own mixtape for you then,” you chortle as your hand quickens. “Let you listen to my moans, the sounds of you fucking me…”

A broken moan staggers from his throat as he bites down onto your neck and you gasp softly. Well, now you have his birthday gift planned, at least.

The wet heat of his tongue laves up your neck, soothing the reddening mark and indent of his teeth. “I think I prefer the live show more.”

“Then why don’t you give me a show, lover boy?” you taunt as you guide the tip of his cock to drag up and down the dampening fabric of your underwear. You bite your lip and suppress the soft moan in the back of your throat when he brushes against your clothed clit.

He shakes his head, his blonde hair tickling your face as he suddenly sits back. Now it’s your turn to let out a dissatisfied whine, and he takes way too much pride in the way you pout up at him. You’re a complete mess, with bruised lips, hickeys lining one side of your neck, and your shirt pushed all the way up your chest to expose your breasts. No, he has something else in mind entirely.

“You’re the star, babe. And Star-Lord deserves VIP treatment, don’t you think?” He takes himself in hand then, swatting yours away as he taps his cock against your inner thigh. “I wanna watch you ride me,” he says huskily as his eyes meet yours. There’s so much want, so much raw desire in his gaze, that it makes your heart pound in your chest. You need him so badly that denying such a request or even making fun of such a cheesy use of his hero name never crosses your mind.

You scoot over wordlessly, and he grins wickedly before flopping onto his back. It was an undeniably tantalizing view, seeing him wrapped head to toe in that shiny red ribbon. You shimmy out of your panties before throwing your leg over his hip to straddle him. His hands find your waist again before sliding up, cupping your breasts as you make a show of removing your shirt and your hips rock against his. He could feel just how wet you were when his dick slides along your slickened slit, and it drives him crazy. When your hands rest atop his, guiding him as his fingers squeeze into the plush of your tits, he lets out a shuddery groan.

“Like this, Star-Lord?” you ask with mock, saccharine sweetness. He bucks up into your heat. Oh, how he loved when you used his moniker in the bedroom.

“Fuck, yes, baby. You’re so sexy,” he rambles, moaning when your grinding makes the tip of his cock nearly slip into your sex. You line him up properly then, easing down onto his length almost too easily, and he grips your thigh possessively as his head falls back against the pillow. You take him to the hilt and he snaps back up, watching where the two of you meet as you immediately begin bouncing up and down with breathy moans. “That’s it. Give me a show.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your brows knit together while your lips part with your soft “oh”s and “ah”s. His hand falls from your breast so he can admire the way your tits bounce with your movements. The sensation of a loose silk knot nudging your clit every time you come down is strange but not unpleasant. Peter sees you looking down at it and chuckles.

“Look at you. So needy that you can’t even properly unwrap your toys before you play with them,” he teases before pressing his palm flat against your stomach and finding your bud with the pad of his thumb. The added sensation leaves your thighs quivering around him, and you bite down softly on your finger to muffle the keening sound in your throat. You want to tease him back, to point out how he’s calling himself your toy, but he doesn’t give you the chance. Instead he lifts his hips up just a bit, nearly setting you off balance as you gasp and lean back to brace your hands on his knees, and he thrusts up into you at an angle that has you seeing stars.

“Oh, fuck!” you curse, barely remembering to bounce back against him as he pounds up into you. He knew your body too well, knew every spot, every way to touch you to turn you to putty in his hands. Your eyes are too busy rolling back into your head to see the way he smiles devilishly up at you. Watching you come undone because of him was intoxicating, and he was absolutely drunk on you.

“That’s it, Y/N, keep singing for me like that,” he praises you, swiping feverish circles into your clit in time with his thrusts. “Let the whole ship know who’s girl you are.”

That idea shouldn’t turn you on, and in your right mind that would be the last thing you would want to think about, but the thought of it now has your walls clenching around him and milking him for all he’s worth. Pressure coils low in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter with every nudge of his cock head against your g-spot and every flick of his thumb on your pearl. Your moans turn into begging and praising.

“Yes, yes, Star-Lord, yes!” you babble between pleasured sighs. If you keep that up, there’s no way he’ll be able to last much longer. He pulls you down, earning a surprised yelp that he muffles with a searing kiss. He doesn’t relent, pistoning in and out of you as your moans grow higher and higher in pitch. With a tilt of his head the kiss deepens, and your mind goes hazy with desire while your tongues engage in another messy battle that leaves your head spinning. It’s all too much and finally the coil snaps, and you orgasm deliciously while your cries are swallowed by his kisses. He can’t hold back anymore, wrapping his arm around your waist and holding you down before going into an absolute frenzy. His cock hammers into your sensitive walls and he buries his face in your chest, moaning and groaning as you cry out from the overwhelming sensations. 

Your name leaves his lips over and over, uttering it like a prayer before he lets out a guttural cry, stilling and spilling himself into you.

The two of you slump against each other on the bed, panting as the afterglow washes over you. Resting your head on his chest, you roll your neck so that your cheek is smushed against his shoulder. In your post orgasmic bliss, your eyes gaze up at him lovingly, and a dopey smile spreads across your face. Peter looks down at you and smirks, bringing a hand up to brush through your now even messier hair.

“You know I love you, right? For… for you, I mean,” you murmur as you stare into each other’s eyes.

He gives you a quizzical look. “I… what do you mean?”

Your hand rests on his chest, and you draw lazy circles into his skin with your fingertip. “That I don’t need you to be Star-Lord. That I fell in love with Peter Quill, the man, and not Star-Lord, Guardian of the Galaxy.”

His eyes widen for just a moment before they narrow and soften. Arms wrap around you tightly then, squeezing you into a hug that nearly relieves your lungs of all their air.

“I… I know,” he responds, nuzzling his nose into your hair and breathing in the scent of your shampoo. “Even if it’s still hard to believe sometimes.”

It’s rare that he lets himself be insecure around anyone. You do your best to return his hug, draping your arms around his shoulders and pressing soft kisses to whatever skin you could reach. Taking the moment to savor each other, intimately enjoying one another’s embrace, you allow your eyes to wander about your room and… wait, hold on… when did…?

Strings of paper hearts, seemingly cut out by hand, zigzag and drape from the ceiling all around. A box of chocolates rests on your nightstand next to a vase of gorgeous flowers.

“Did you…?” you start, lifting your head to get a better look around you.

Peter’s laugh rumbles in his chest. “Finally noticed?”

“I-I…” you stutter, embarrassed at the realization that you had been entirely oblivious to the rest of his preparations until now.

“Figured you’d just wanna skip to the main course, so I didn’t say anything,” he teases with a wink. He reaches over, divesting the box of its lid before procuring a chocolate and offering it to your lips. You playfully roll your eyes at him before opening your mouth, taking the morsel gently between your teeth. It’s good. You haven’t had chocolate like this in a while. Your eyes close and you hum in satisfaction, and your reaction brings an ecstatic grin to his face.

“I’m glad you kept track,” you admit, “of Valentine’s, I mean, but… why?”

He takes a deep breath before answering. “We… we’re in space all the time. Dealing with, you know, other planets and types of people. Different rotations, different calendars, different days. It gets hard to keep track of time passing or even when it’s supposed to be day or night. But since you and I are both from Earth, it… I guess it feels important. To remember, I mean. It grounds me, even all the way out here in space.”

You smile fondly at him and lean up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “That’s surprisingly poetic of you, Peter.”

He snorts, giving you a playful flick on the head. “I’ll have you know that many people have told me I have an excellent way with words.”

“Imaginary friends don’t count, you know.”

“Hey!” he exclaims as you fall into a fit of giggles. It’s impossible for him to stay mad when you look so perfect, so sweet, so comfortable and at home in his arms. The back of his fingers brush along your cheekbone, and your giggles gently fade into bare titters as you continue to flash him a toothy grin.

“I love you,” he breathes out.

Your heart flutters no matter how many times he says that, and you lean into his touch. “I love you too, Peter. Happy Valentine’s day.”

[hotties4gojo]

i’m now realizing that literally like. 3 of you know about The List of my upcoming fics that I plan on posting here so I thought I’d share some of my WIP list!! ofc this isn’t EVERYTHING on my WIP list (this is only 12 of them) but these are some of the fics I’m working on <3 oyabun gojo and the first tattoo artist geto will probably be the first two I post but welllll we’ll see

1. In which tattoo artist Suguru talks so sweet and showers you in praise while doing the nastiest, freakiest, non god honoring things to you. (fem!reader)

snippet: He pulls out, cockhead drooling like a dog pining after a bone, and you whine at the loss. You’re plenty wet enough from cumming twice already, but, well… without a word, he allows saliva to pool in his mouth and Suguru crooks his neck to properly angle himself over your back.

Beneath him, you bend like a cat in heat, muscles visibly quivering beneath your sweat-slicked skin that isn’t covered by your dress as you try to mindlessly push back against him, profanities absorbed by the pillow your mouth is pressed into. You’re petal-soft beneath his hands; you unfurl like one, too.

Suguru doesn’t spit— he parts his lips, letting a glob of saliva roll down his tongue slow and molasses-like until it snaps and splatters where your cunt draws him in, long sooty eyelashes fluttering in expected surprise at the cool temperature of it. You hiss, shuddering. That’s when he slowly feeds the rest of his inches back into you, stirring the frothy honey pot of saliva, cum, slick.

“Nasty fucking freak,” you manage to rasp around a moan that comes out quaky at the drag of Suguru’s cock piercings against your tender inner walls.

2. In which you and Satoru get drunk and nasty in the bathroom at a college party. (fem!reader)

snippet: It doesn’t seem to end. Satoru’s shoulders shake and he laughs himself fucking sick, to the point that it makes his vision swim and he teeters. Oh, he’s gone. The man is finished. He can barely stand without wobbling, let alone undress.

”Sweeee—“ A hiccup interrupts him, “eeets. Need y’r help with m’pants. ‘Slike— ‘slike made of butter or sumthin’, dunno. Pleaseee, need ‘em off,” Satoru whines pathetically between giggles as he tries to hump against you like a dog in heat. He’s beyond drunk on love and alcohol.

3. In which Satoru firmly denies that he’s in love with you, his childhood best friend— when he actually has been for his entire life. (gn!reader)

snippet: It bothers him more than he’d like to admit. Because fuck, Satoru wishes he could call you his. Each reminder that you’re not makes him feel weirdly sensitive, so he just smiles sharply and waves it off. It’s worse when you laugh whenever someone brings it up.

You’re the first person he’s ever taken along on an overseas trip with his family as a plus one. He’s the first person you’ve ever taught how to carve a pumpkin. They’re each other’s many firsts.

(He wishes you had been the first person he was ever intimate with.)

You’re his first crush, too. Of course you are. He’s been hopelessly, awfully in love with you since they built a sandcastle together that fateful first day on the beach and you announced that they’d ‘share’ the mini bedroom (which was impossible). Still, little Satoru had flushed a bright red and took great interest in the seagull stealing someone’s chips.

But Satoru can’t just upturn their friendship with his own selfishness. No way. He firmly buries all thoughts of that with the occasional hookups with randos or short-lived relationships.

It’s best this way.

4. In which Oyabun Satoru and his wife, one of his secretaries, get down and dirty in his office. (fem!reader)

snippet: Looking down at you through long white lashes that flutter like the first snowfall of winter, his gaze is a mix of playfulness and appreciation in its rawest form. Satoru has to admit, this view is far more pleasant than any spreadsheet that he was pretending to give his attention to before you strode in.

Your perch on his desk gives you an air of sophisticated dominance that makes his cock give a very interested twitch in his trousers that he can’t help. Sue him for being horrendously attracted to his wife. Though he towers over you by a mere head due to the slight height advantage that his desk gives you, there’s no doubt that he yields completely and utterly to you. His brain conjures up an image of Nike, the Greek goddess of victory. Glorious and championing above the rest of them; victorious.

Woof, he thinks unintelligently.

5. In which tattoo artist Suguru’s roommate has been borrowing his clothes and he’s struggling with the feelings that come with it. (fem!reader)

snippet: You always look so cozy in his clothes that you look more natural wearing them than he does. His brain tends to bluescreen whenever he spies you in them, his thoughts unhelpfully providing frankly delusional and unrealistic scenarios where you’re wearing them because you’re dating him and take comfort in your ‘boyfriend’s’ clothes.

Those thoughts are dangerous enough on their own. But combined with the images that flash through his head of what you look like beneath his tops, which he remembers vividly from the day he pierced your nipples where you not only took your shirt off but he touched your bare skin with his gloved fingers, too… they’re lethal.

Personal boundaries are blurring more than usual. Though it’d be smart to draw a line in the sand and bar you from taking his stuff, Suguru can’t bring himself to do so. Not when seeing you in his clothes secretly flusters and warms him at the same time.

Letting you continue to borrow them is harmless. Surely.

6. In which you and Satoru become parents in their fourth and last year at Jujutsu High. (fem!reader)

snippet: One of his biggest solaces is that it won't always be like this— the constant exhaustion, the anxiety. Someday, they'll find their footing and learn how to balance it all. When you and Satoru graduate, they won’t have to stay in their cramped dorm with their bed in one corner, a crib in the other, and the tiny kitchenette full of baby bottles, sweets, and instant ramen. He’ll buy them all a nice big house with a backyard for Satoshi to play in.

(Being a father at eighteen years old, a partner, a student, and the strongest sorcerer all at once is an overwhelming balancing act. But he can't let it show. He has to be the unflappable Satoru Gojo, the man who can handle it all with a smile. He just hopes he can keep it together long enough to give his family the life they deserve.)

7. In which you, the CEO of your own company, get pregnant via artificial insemination— and your younger personal assistant, Satoru, fights for his life because he happens to love milfs. (fem!reader)

snippet: i have no presentable lines rn tewbehones

8. In which you put Satoru in his place as you shouldddd! (fem!reader)

snippet: "Ohhh fuck, your cunt is— it's s-so fucking good," Satoru slurs out, his words running together in a watery stream as he drowns in his girlfriend's perfect pussy. His fingers dig into the meat of your ass, spreading your cheeks wide and using his grip as leverage as he pumps up into you. "I need to cum so bad, sugar, please say I can. I'm your good boy, right? I've earned it, haven't I?"

9. In which Satoru realizes he’s about to lose his virginity and panics. (fem!reader)

snippet: Satoru almost responds with something like ‘if I do, I think I’ll prove the human combustion theory correct,’ or ‘are you actually about to take me to coochie-land?’ or, god forbid, ‘WOOF WOOF WOOF,’ but tries for something less brainlessly desperate.

Fuck, he needs one of those Life Alert clickers.

“This corner of your bed is the perfect spot to ponder so I’m just taking advantage of this golden opportunity, sweets. I’m thinking about the systematic oppression of women so hard right now,” Satoru tries as he nods sagely, as if to convince himself of his own bullshit. He stares at the wall while nervously bouncing his leg.

CEO sugar daddy Suguru and sugar baby reader mini series:

10. installment 1/4: In which CEO Suguru meets you in a bar, offers to be your sugar daddy, and eats you out in the bathroom while they discuss a contract— all in one night. (fem!reader)

snippet: Perhaps you notice the wedding bands on their fingers just as Suguru has, or maybe you value yourself too much to associate with, frankly, greasy and sleazy looking pursuers. Whatever the case, you have self respect and charm in heaps. That’s something he likes.

Suguru supposes it wouldn’t hurt to try his hand at wooing you. He has nothing to lose and everything to gain— that, and he’s most certainly not gonna let that sweetheart, all pretty face no waist, get snatched up by some loser.

11. In which you, the heir to the throne, and your first ever concubine Suguru teach your second and newest concubine, Satoru, the ropes. (fem!reader)

snippet: Suguru sits up, his kimono, embellished with silvery moons, sliding off of one of his elegant shoulders. “I am here to play witness to, and aid in, your introduction to the duties of a concubine. But I did not think it would be… you, of all people, to walk through those doors.”

Throwing a tantrum without actually throwing a tantrum, Satoru kicks off his sandals and marches towards the bed. He plants one knee on the cushy edge of it, ignoring Suguru’s soft hiss of “have you no respect for Your Highness’s space?” and points at the other concubine.

“Hah? What’s that supposed to mean, you stiff-necked prude?” Satoru jabs snidely.

12. In which you and Satoru babysit your niece for the day. (gn!reader)

snippet: Satoru squats as you lead Mei to him, folding himself into something smaller and kinder for her, legs bowing out like a frog’s and blue eyes level with her round ones. You release her hand and she fidgets as she takes him in, murmuring a shy, “hi.”

“Hey, Mei. Those are some nice shoes you’ve got there,” he tells the four-year-old, internally crying and punching the floor because ohmygod those tiny little booties are killing him. Mei breaks out into a toothy grin and Satoru really does nearly punch the floor, but restrains himself as to not spook her (and invite your ire).

“We’ll have lots of fun today while your mama Sagiri is busy, okay?” He sticks out his pinky, wiggling it a little when Mei blinks curiously at him until she interlaces their pinkies in a promise. Her finger is so tiny around his, all bite-sized bones and squishy chubby skin. He beams, then peeks up at you, jokingly mouthing ‘we soooo need to steal her from your sister.’

[system-of-a-feather]

So this is adding onto this post, but the statement I'm expanding on is "I think people see fusion as parts melting into each other but honestly, I think its more like your concept of self widening over multiple parts"

Context; skip to Context Clear if you don't care

For context, this is something I was thinking about because yesterday, at work, we found it really funny that since we were working with a client that reminded us a lot of our younger selves for better or worse, that we were inevitably going to utilize more of our Ray brain and energy to give them the best care and we were going "haha the amount of times we did the signature Ray 'No.'" because Ray specifically just has such a signature "no" and it made us snicker mentally everytime we did it

But today we were thinking back on it since we were choosing to listen to some of Ray's music, and really, we spent almost ALL of the day primarily in Ray mental space, but we really didn't notice it at all until the day after and THAT is incredibly odd for our system because Ray is a part that is EXTREMELY internally obvious. He's not a part we'd ever be "blurry with" in the past, and hes not a part we wouldn't realize is out. So it was really interesting that we were almost exclusively operating in Ray brain and DIDNT notice it

But the reason we didn't really notice it, is because while we - in hindsight - were obviously operating as Ray (including the iconic chronic passive singing of Frank Sinatra and similar songs), it was NOT unique or different to the concept of just what we as Feathers are like and do and that's because everything Ray does is basically completely normal and within the concept of what Feathers is. And that made me think; Ray didn't "fuse" or "meld" with any parts when we fused, the concept of Feathers expanded so that Ray is just an obvious and normal part of the "I" which Feathers is.

Context Clear

When it comes to fusion, its not really as though parts disappear or stop interacting or existing in any way or form. Sometimes they might not be super obvious or outwardly identify as themselves with fusion, but that's largely a matter of perspective and focus.

I'd like to think of it kind of like how I've heard similar things explained in some Buddhist literature; Think about table. A table is made up of many parts that we can look at individually; four different legs, the table top, maybe theres some center piece; some might even include the chairs around the table to be part of "the table".

Now imagine you stubbed your toe against one of the legs. Clearly, you can look exactly where your toe hit, and you can say that it was OBVIOUSLY the left most leg. However, you could ALSO be 100% accurate in saying "I stubbed my toe against the table". When you say "table" the legs are not suddenly melting into the table top and the decorations and the chairs; the legs are still there and they can be individually referenced and looked at, but at the same time, the table exists as a seperate concept that CONTAINS the legs.

The legs of the table can exist and be separate from the concept of the table while still being a specific part of the table that can be referenced, acknowledged, expressed, and focused on. At no point does anyone ever stop seeing or being able to discuss or interact with the legs of the table when they start talking about the table. At any point, anyone could look back at the legs, but sometimes its easier or more realistic / appropriate to just talk about the table as a table.

Similarly, if you put a plate on the tabletop, you could say "I put the plate on the tabletop" and have that be accurate, you could discuss the table top specifically, but it probably just sounds more reasonable to just say "I put the plate on the table."

With that analogy in mind, not being fused it kind of like getting an Ikea table in the box. All the parts are disjointed, unconnected, and seperate from one another. You can't really discuss these parts as "a table" because they're not together, they aren't really able to work like a table, and the parts can be taken miles apart - you could even loose parts; what happens to one part does not necessarily echo throughout the non-unified whole. If you stub your toe on the leg, you probably didn't impact the table top and every other part of the would-be table. If you place your "plate on the non-unified table", its hard to imagine where exactly you would have put the plate down. The concept of each part operates really only independent of one another.

Fusion, on the other hand, is like putting that Ikea table together. Once everything is all together, you can easily refer to the whole as a "table" but you can ALSO refer to the legs, the table top, the screws, etc.

Its not so much parts melting together to make a new whole, its more about parts connecting and unifying to create a solid whole concept. Pre-fusion, the concept of "I" is limited to the individual parts that don't really exist in a unified form - you are either interacting with the leg, the screw, the table top.

Fusion, the concept of "I" is expanded to the unified whole, meaning you are always interacting with "the table" but you can also specifically be interacting with the leg, the table top, the screw, etc.

[cynautica]

Hi Cyliph, can you tell something about Ar-Lo, he looks so interesting^^

I'm honored people like him :,)

[Potential small HDBS spoilers]]

Ar-Lo is old. Very old. Old enough to be considered somewhat of an cryptic figure among architects. He remembers a time when architects were not all One. Hundreds of thousands of years old. He was created as one of the first waves of expansion during a time when architects had just transferred to their biomechanical vessels. He's seen generations of vessels rise and fall out of use. One of the first ever born with no real parents or family or heritage.

A blank slate of an individual created to protect a colony world known as Juit-Eh from encroaching conflict (At least- that was the intention, the code recombination and manipulation technology was still new).

More below cut.

Who they were fighting, why, and for what has been lost to time. Ar-Lo himself remembers little of that bygone age and its politics. Its been lost to the network through information surges and wipes. What is known is that approximately 300,000 years ago Ar-Lo was functioning as a gladiator primarily based in Juit-Eh still. The indomitable vessel he used (barely modified-- not designed by him) was a real crowd pleaser to architects and non architects alike. It brought in loads of tourism-- and with it currency to the planet. The practice was considered too brutal by homeworld standards, and the end of his career was the annexation treaty that brought Juit-Eh back in to the protection of Oulinaean forces.

This annexation brought Juitian representation to the Tel Ju council. The representative brought a body guard with him, the most popular (former) gladiator known as Ar-Lo. The biggest 'fuck you' he could manage.

--

As it turns out, when you're primarily locked in the innermost sanctum of the most secure piece of architect territory you don't exactly get much valor. Not that Ar-Lo needed it. His pride was his strict loyalist views and sharp mind. He soon enough became versed enough in political talk that he could hold in own in any debate you threw at him. His trained body language and biolights (from years of existing as nothing but a background ornament) served him well in ensuring no other was able to get under his skin. His oratory skills only highlight his trained physical prowess and his rising influence on political matters made those in charge wary of him.

Ar-Lo proved his competency well enough that he was promoted over the course of years to supreme commander of the military. A scary job, and an isolating one. Not that it made a difference, by the time he reached the position anyone in networking distance already had a firewall up. He was already an unpleasant, paranoid, and a violent loyalist.

Though Ar-Lo had plans for every potential physical threat inside and out he was not prepared for the devastating plague that ripped through the architect colonies. Isolation barrier on isolation barrier proved useless, and with no cure in sight the council had to enact their most dire contingency plan. Ar-Lo was one such soul chosen to stay behind.

.

..

...

----

...

Cy fun facts:

Ar-lo was designed as the foil for Robin and Al-an in HDBS, he wasn't suppose to be likeable, but I'm grateful so many people want to know more about him. I cant reveal everything though.

He is brown because he needed to contrast the surrounding landscape, which was primarily green and dark turquoise.

Strange even among architects is that he does not experience dizzyness from vessel swapping no matter the size. Perhaps a remnant of his time as a gladiator, or maybe years of trained neural control.

Ar-lo might hold the record for oldest architect, especially post-kharaa.

His vessel is pretty standard bulky for guardsmen-- but he hasn't always used this vessel.

Before he became a political figure he was actually considered pretty handsome and likeable, like a celebrity. Even though his personality and skill didn't change.

He has never figured out how to properly integrate himself in architect society despite his age. This often leaves him frustrated and the only way he knows to take out that frustration is violence.

Ar-lo is only his current designation

Ar-lo likes art. Not realism, though. He likes art that makes you question things or appreciate the skill of the artist. The piece that represents him most closely is Josef Alber's Homage to the Square: Sentinel

Armor - Oulinaean (homeworld - left) - Jutian house (right) His thick hide serves as natural armor, anything else is just decorative, shows heritage, or is multitool storage.

Playlist:

PRE-KHARAA Seether - Words As Weapons Psychodelic Prn Crumpets - Found God in a Tomato Radiohead - Nude Five Finger Death Punch - Remember Everything Seether - Country Song System Of A Down - Spiders Puddle of Mudd - Blurry POST-KHARAA Soul Survivor - ORDER TotalDeadCenter - The Forgotten Soldier Skaen - Grief, Aftermath Mother Mother - Sleep Awake Vessel - Red Sex (Re-Strung) Vivivivivi - Reduced to Guts Pogo - Undone <- His theme song!

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

What would the stardew valley villagers think if one day their good pal farmer just casually dropped the fact they used to be into something crazy, like an illegal fighting ring. "Yeah I hiked out to an abandoned building at the outskirts of the city every Friday to fistfight people in the basement. It paid 10 times better then my shitty office job ever did but only when I won. There were some real actual martial artists in that ring too, even broke 2 of my fingers punching 1 guy, I miss hanging out with those dudes. Fighting actually relived a lot of stress for me, I didn't quit because I got hurt or anything I quit because my neighbors/coworkers wouldnt stop fussing over me when they saw me after I got hurt in a match. There's no acceptable way to explain how you get a black eye at the end of every week that doesn't raise alarm or get the cops called on someone. I'd probably get back into it if it didn't take a bus ride into the city to get to. I'm not even sure if the 1 i used to go to us still there, i might be able to find one of the other fighters and ask but its not guaranteed any if the other fighters i used to hang out with are all even still in that city"

"Wtf," said all the residents at the same time.

That's it, that's a headcanon. Thanks for the ask! ❤️

Alright, I'm kidding, but the way you wrote that ask, dear anon, is pretty funny heh 😁 Thanks a lot for the question, by the way! Enjoy 💖

_________________________________________

SDV villagers react to Farmer who told them about their illegal fights in past:

"Sir/Ma'am/Mx., this is Wendy's Pierre's." With all due respect to Pierre's best customer, why is Farmer telling him all this behind the counter of his store? Here's your seeds, fertilizer and saplings and goodbye. He has to work and he doesn't care about their- Wait, hold on, don't you dare tell that to his daughter-!

But Pierre was too late with his warnings: Abigail was standing nearby and had heard everything Farmer had said. The amethyst lover looked at them adoringly, because holy shit, underground fights in the city.... Farmer is so cool and badass in her eyes! Naturally, she wants to hear their stories of illegal fights (only when her parents aren't around).

Caroline called out to Abigail "on some very urgent business, quick!", bestowing Farmer with a shocked and concerned look. Seriously, she looked at them as if Farmer had just confessed to murder or something. Now she didn't really want her daughter hanging out with them, afraid that Abby would pick up the crazy idea to join the fights too.

Oh... Yeah, Elliott's friend has, uh... quite an interesting past. And what surprises the writer most is not even Farmer's underground battles themselves, but the fact of how they drastically change the trajectory of their lives and yet adapt to the environment with ease. From an office worker to a no-holds-barred fighter, and now a farmer. Well, if they want to write a biography, this would definitely be fun to read.

"Uh, what?" What did Farmer just tell Leah? The artist had listened to her dear friend's story about growing a giant pumpkin while she was finishing a new painting, and now how they were discussing Farmer's criminal past. Uh, cool and all, but maybe they'd better change the subject? Can they go back to telling stories about pumpkins?

"Ha ha ha how interesting, thanks for sharing!" Although Penny stood like a statue, motionless, her body slowly moved away from Farmer, who had just answered the teacher's question about their hobby in general. This was something she was definitely not prepared for, and, with a nervous smile, ended the conversation. How Penny moved without moving even a finger of her hand was a mystery.

*Shane put his can of beer away* Ok first of all, what the fuck. Second of all, he didn't really give a damn that Farmer was running around in dodgy places and fighting over money in Zuzu City, to be completely honest. Especially since the chicken man himself had done some crazy shit in his youth, not his place to judge or something. And last of all, what the fuck.

*Sob* "A- Aunt Marnie... Uncle Shane..." "Mommy! Sam!" "Uncle Linus!" Oops.... Apparently telling Jas, Vincent and Leo about 'the hobby' with detailed descriptions of violence wasn't Farmer's smartest idea (seriously, what did they even expect?). The kids have tears on their cheeks and their parents/guardians give Farmer a not-so-kind look. Now the delinquent farmer need lots of ice cream and mangoes so the local kids will forgive them.

Oh, so that's why Emily senses such an unusual aura around Farmer. Hmm? Ah, no, she just thinking out loud. Emily gets a little upset by such detailed descriptions of fights (she can't stand violence), so she politely asks Farmer to omit the details of their fights. An unconventional choice to 'relax', but it's not her place to judge people. And Farmer found some good friends there, so that's great!

Huh, now Marlon and Gil know where their new Guild member got their fighting skills from the very beginning of their arrival in the Valley. Fighting ring, eh? Marlon had dabbled a bit in all sorts of battles and fights for money too when he was Farmer's age - pretty good income, booze and friends. Though then he quickly gave it up as he found his purpose as adventurer and devoted himself to defending the Stardew Valley from monsters. Gil was the same, but he had been practicing his "hobby" a little longer than his one-eyed colleague.

Oh, goodness! So much violence and blood in Farmer's stories. Pity poor Evelyn's old heart, she can't listen to such cruel battles. So Farmer better stop talking and silently accept cookies and tea from sweet grandma and tell about their work on the farm.

Hmph! 'Underground battles', what a nonsense! Today's youth go to some abandoned buildings, fight, break laws and feel cool. If George wasn't confined to that damn wheelchair, he'd take Farmer down in one moment. And anyway, Farmer should stop this talking about their fighting, because George's wife doesn't like to talk about violence at the kitchen table.

"Tough fella, huh?" Alex regarded his friend Farmer for about half a minute. Really quite a formidable opponent if the athlete were to ask Farmer to fistfight in a friendly sparring. Though he's most interested in Farmer's diet and routine, since even before their farming career started, they look very healthy ("just don't suggest anything illegal, got it?").

*Sigh* The Wizard already knows. All. That. Farmer, how many times does he have to tell you he knows about your past? He's a wizard. A wizard. Someone who can see the future of others in a crystal ball and such. So unless Farmer brought him purple mushrooms or void essence, please don't distract Rasmodius with their stories, he has potions to brew.

"No freaking way, dude!" "Yes freaking way, Sam." The guitarist nearly fell off his chair when Farmer told him how they used to fight all sorts of big guys in the city in addition to their clerk jobs. Mega cool and hardcore! Sam will of course listen to more stories from his friend, but one moment, just let him close his room door so his mom or dad doesn't accidentally hear them.

Though Jodi doesn't particularly need to hear it from her oldest son's room - Caroline has already shared gossip and warnings with her during their weekly aerobics class. Which makes Jodi wary now, though she won't say her worries out loud. She won't treat Farmer any worse, they're good neighbors after all, she's just... worried about her sons, alright?

"Farmer, a word." Huh, they wonder what Kent needed from the Farmer. "I'll be honest: I don't know what your reasons were for your illegal fighting, it's none of my business and it's not for me to judge you. But don't suggest anything like that to Sam and Vincent, got it?" The veteran doesn't really care about Farmer's past, he just worried about his sons. Well, his kids are smart and won't get involved in anything illegal but just in case. Nothing personal.

That explains to Harvey how there are so many scars on Farmer's body. Quite a large number for someone as young as them. So how long had they been participating in these questionable activities? A month? Over a year? Some of the scars have long since healed. Wait, you know what - no need to tell him this further, because the first stories with such violence already made the doctor feel sick to his stomach.

"Uhhh..." Maru is shocked. "Goddess, did you really get paid so poorly in Joja that you had to do this as well to earn your bread?" Pretty shocking detail about Farmer, but hey, at least they made friends with many people back then, that's a good thing, yeah? Honestly, the inventor doesn't know how she should respond to that or what to say.

Ok, too much information for Gus... People are different, it's just that the owner of the Saloon doesn't understand how Farmer can talk about it so calmly and openly. He'd still understand if the Farmer told him about their illegal fights after a glass or two of strong wine/el, but they told him sober. They would, this, be careful who they told it to.

Sebastian took the cigarette out of his mouth and uttered a delighted 'wow...'. So, a job at a soul-sucking corporation during the day and bare-knuckle fighting at night? Damn, crazy lifestyle. But why didn't Farmer quit their job at Joja then? And why did they quit everything and become farmer now? Sebby's in no hurry to go home and if Farmer has some free time, maybe they'll tell the local emo about their fights in Zuzu City.

Haley sighs tiredly. Yoba, why does she have to be surrounded by weirdos? The guy who always wears black, her own sister's so weird with her crystals and aura nonsense. And now this new farmer is telling her wild facts about their life... It's so unfair!

"Aye," was the only thing Willy replied before taking up his smoking pipe again with his teeth. Not that thel old fisherman didn't care what Farmer was saying, but first of all, it would be better for both of them to sit in silence so as not to scare the fish away right now, and secondly, Farmer should not tell every person they met about their illegal hobbies. Other people might misunderstand them, or even use this information to blackmail them.

"What the fuck are you yapping about, kid?" Pam only partially heard their story, as the alcohol in her body already makes her feel very sleepy. Then there's this weird shit from Farmer. But also... if Farmer would now set another mug of beer for her, them she would listen to them, their every crazy story. With her eyes closed.

As soon as Demetrius hears exactly what Farmer told Maru, his wife Robin has to keep her hyper-parenting husband from taking drastic actions he might regret. So while he's sulking in the lab and glaring at his daughter and her friend, Robin gently explains to Farmer that this kind of talk about their illegal hobby isn't to everyone's liking, and if you can, don't mention it in front of her hubby and kids, okay? Especially such a detailed description of broken limbs (the picture comes to mind is unpleasant, to say at least). No offense.

What?! Illegal fights?! And Farmer's telling Lewis this as a reason to be proud?! They should be ashamed of themself! Doing... stuff like that. And what would their grandfather say if he knew their grandchild had such a secret? "I don't know, Lewis, what grandpa would say to your secret-" !!! Get out of his house! Hmph, the youth these days...

With each sentence, with each detail in Farmer's story, Marnie's face grew paler and paler. Her imagination was building such shock content over Farmer's story that the rancher asked them to stop. They had a hobby that helped them relax and earn money for living before moving here, that's a good thing. She doesn't need any more details.

"... Look, are you going to buy seeds or not?" Time is money, and Morris doesn't like to waste time listening to all these customer stories. Nor should Farmer tell the Joja general manager at all that they've been involved in some not-so-legal flights. Because Morris was advertising coupons in someone else's store without remorse, so what's to stop him from using that information to blackmail Farmer for the benefit of the mega corporation he's working.

".......Uh-huh." On the one hand, Clint had been stuck with the forge all day, and wouldn't mind chatting with Farmer, a friend and regular customer. On the other hand... What? Okay, he didn't care what they'd done in the past. One topic did interest him though. "You were already popular back then and you must have had a crowd of fans, right? Tell me, do 'wrestlers' like that attract women?" He wasn't desperate enough to get into illegal fighting too, but it was still interesting to hear what they'd say about it.

[macknus]

Febuwhump: Day Six

Prompt: Forced to Stay Awake

Febuwhump Masterpost

Villain was tied to a chair in Superhero’s office. His hands were tied down tight to the arms of the chair, rope wound so tightly around them that every time a finger twitched it sent lightning streaks of pins and needles through his entire hand and forced him to clench his teeth.

Villain sat behind Superhero’s desk, the back of the comfortable, cushioned chair against the wall so Villain was forced to watch Superhero work. And not do interesting work that he could report back to Supervillain with. No, Superhero was doing paperwork. And it was putting Villain to sleep.

Or it would have. If Superhero would let him fucking sleep.

He must’ve been awake for over two days straight by now. Superhero knew that when he captured Villain he wouldn’t be able to stop Villain dream walking to tell Supervillain and Henchman that he was kidnapped and held hostage by Superhero.

So Superhero, ingeniously decided — his words not Villain’s — that he wouldn’t let Villain sleep to be able to dream.

Villain balked at Superhero when he told him. “You— you can’t be serious.”

“Deadly,” Superhero said with a hyena’s grin. “But don’t worry. Supervillain and your other friends won’t be a threat soon enough.”

He could only imagine what he looked like. His eyelids, despite staying open, drooped after the first day and burned with every blink. Superhero has been gracious enough to allow Villain periods where he can close his eyes, but they were only allowed to for ten minutes at a time. Not enough for Villain to go into R.E.M.

Not enough time for him to access his power.

The alarm blared a shrill sound that signified it was time for Villain to open his eyes and Villain moaned. He felt ill. Physically and mentally. His thoughts drifted like tendrils of smoke, stroking his skull before slipping away.

“Open your eyes, Villain,” Superhero sang.

Villain groaned again. “Please… just… a few more—” he heard a thunk of a pen on a desk, the scrape of Superhero’s chair push back and footsteps. Villain’s eyes flew open and he groaned again. Superhero smirked down at him, grabbing Villain by the hair and yanking his head up.

Villain cried out, yanking his head back but Superhero just pulled harder until Villain’s neck was fully extended and he couldn’t move. Villain glared at him, lips curling back into a snarl.

“You look dreadful, Vil,” Superhero commented dryly. “You look like you need a good night’s sleep.”

Villain would have kicked him if his ankles weren’t tied to the legs of the chair. He only got away with kicking Superhero once before he tied his legs down too.

“When I say open your eyes, you open your eyes,” Superhero said softly. “Unless you want the other serum that keeps you awake. You remember that, don’t you?”

Villain shivered despite himself. Oh. He remembered that alright. That’s what had downed Villain in the first place. It was like molten lava scorching his veins, shooting through his body as quick as electricity, burning everything and leaving icy sharpness in its wake. Villain screamed and screamed and screamed.

Hands on him felt at once too hot and far, far too cold. He shivered as if he was verging on hypothermia and writhed as he was restrained and brought to Superhero’s office.

They threw him down in front of Superhero’s desk and he hit the ground hard. Superhero said something, but Villain couldn’t hear. The ropes felt like barbed wire sunk into his skin, cutting his wrists like thorns and stopping him from struggling.

“Or do you need a reminder?” Superhero cooed.

Villain clenched his jaw. “I remember.”

“Good.” Superhero removed his hold of Villain’s hair and Villain’s head whipped to the side. The pain followed after, and the sound of the slap clapped through his ears. Villain felt a coppery tang of blood in his mouth as he looked up at Superhero with a piercing glare.

Superhero’s smirk returned. “See? Now your lips have a little colour at least.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

Superhero laughed as he returned to his desk. “Oh, Villain. By the time I have Supervillain you won’t be able to get near me. You’ll be enjoying a cozy little cell in the Supe-Prison. You can have a nice little reunion with your friends that you were too weak to warn, hmm?”

“I will haunt you,” Villain promised darkly.

Superhero waved him away. “Oh Vil, I have enough fan-mail as it is. Don’t trouble yourself.”

They fell into silence again. Superhero returned to his work, and Villain sat there, useless, and watched. He glanced out the window to the city sprawled below and begged, pleaded for Supervillain to know… to realise that whatever trap he was walking into was a mistake…

*~*~*~*~*

Tag-list: @whump-in-the-closet

[jawllines]

OH. MY. GOD.

Chefrry would be the death of me. It's the hottest thing I've ever read probably and we aren't even in the filthy part yet. I usually see your fics in two categories... FEEL GOOD AND WARM and FEEL HOT AND HORNY. And this is definitely at the top of FEEL HOT AND HORNY. God!!! Liv everything about part 2 was so perfect, like every detail and every dialogue. Chef's kiss really. I need more and more and more. It was really cruel where you ended it but I love a slow burn so I'll take it

I would like to mention something I especially loved that...like scratched a weird itch in me that other fics with this kind of storyline couldn't. Y/N liking the puppy thing and feeling empty without his fingers in her mouth and then coming to conclusion that she liked these but it's only because Harry is the one doing it. If it were anyone else she wouldn't like it. Not being experienced in kink but still being ready to give her body to a "kinky sadist" to make decisions over. Her feeling pathetic and desperate that she's ready to do anything he says but realising that she's ready to look and be pathetic if that's what he likes and he'd finally do something with her, but she won't do it for anyone else. This....this realisation that she wouldn't probably like this shit from anyone else, it's just for and because of him, she'll do anything for him without any shame...this made me feel soooo... I think comfortable? Like I'm not a submissive by nature but I'd definitely be one if I'm interested in someone this much and attracted to them so intensely that I don't know if I'm actually having a situation with them or just hallucinating and imagining. It was relatable. And her becoming desperate for him to do something and then taking the risk and saying something so he'd know that she wants the same thing too. It was understandable.

Her constant back and forth in her head whether or not he wants her, thinking that she's not pretty or sexy enough for him to want her was relatable too. It makes sense why she was having trouble reading hus intentions because the way he was having interactions with her felt like edging on its own. One day he was being subtly suggestive that he indeed wants to hit it and the next day it was totally calm like nothing happened. He's been mentally edging her for weeks even before the physical edging happened. Which also makes sense given the kind of person he seems to be. And it also makes sense he'd treat her like a pet. He'd probably even call her a kid just so he could see her whine and protest that she's in fact an adult. It all perfectly makes sense.

And I also liked that she was like ready to do more so he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off her. Yes she was gonna take whatever he gives sure but she was also like "I'm gonna make sure I get what I want". How she held his wrist in place when he had his fingers in her mouth and how she didn't hesitate to huff and whine when he snatched her orgasam saying she was ready even if he wasn't. It's all very much on point.

And don't get me started on her and Niall's friendship. I mean I'd kill to have a friend like him. Encouraging her all the time no matter what and then scolding her when she talks negatively about how she looks and doubting her charms and then telling her that she doesn't need to do anything more for Harry to want her? He's a gem.

I also like Adam and y/n's relationship and how caring he is. Honestly the reason why y/n is comfortable with Adam in the first place is because of Niall's relationship with him. Adam treated Niall as a friend and because Niall and y/n were close he also became close with her. Which is really impressive that he made an effort to get along with his junior employees and maintained this good of a friendship. Because if it wasn't for Adam's openness Niall wouldn't be so comfortable with him and if he wasn't y/n wouldn't dare be so chill with one of her bosses on her own. Adam deserves loads of flowers and chocolates for being so sweet.

Honestly it was so so so perfect in every way. Y/n is still adorably cute and pathetic, Harry is still intimidating, Niall is still goofy and Adam is still Adam. But the air around the kitchen has changed and it smells sexy af. I'm drooling and ready for more. I'd like to see some things in the next part though if you can make them happen.

I'd love to see jealous Harry obviously like I'd give up my favourite things to see him furious over a guy flirting with her but apart from that also I'd like to see the four of them hanging out outside of work where Adam wears those leather pants

Her prick ex seeing her and Harry together and her respectfully telling him to fuck off or Harry doing that for her so he stops bothering her. Harry being protective of her

The last bit also made me really anxious that Harry might just yell at her again for a mistake she didn't make when that hair guy showed up again. And I think I'd absolutely enjoy some miscommunication and misunderstanding and drama between the two of them that'd lead to her crying on Niall's shoulder and being hurt and not very cheery for a few days and Harry eventually begging for forgiveness at her feet. Honestly I'd eat that shit up

Most importantly though, I'd like to really really really know what was the exact moment Harry first thought of her as more than an employee. I need a peek inside his mind. Him paying close attention to her (god knows how long how many months he's been doing that without being obvious), noticing her mood change and making her cake to make her feel good? Him being indirectly caring? I can't wait for the day he becomes directly caring.

Aaaaahhhfghjfsdjn!!!! You're gonna kill me Liv!!! I NEED THE NEXT PART NOW!!!!

I ABSOLUTELY LOVED READING THIS!!!! OMTOGMGOFMGK

MESSAGES LIKE THIS ARE SOME OF THE TYPE THAT JUST GET ME SO STOKED TO START WRITING AGAIN! LOVE THAT HES IN THE HOT AND HORNY SECTION! AND IM HAPPY IT SEEMS LIKE YALL LIKE YN I FEEL LIKE SOMETIMES ITS SUCH A STRUGGLE TO CHARACTERIZE YN WITHOUT DOING TOO MUCH SO SHES STILL LIKE A LIL BIT LIKE A BLANK SLATE BUT ALSO NOT ANNOYING OFKF LIKE I FEEL LIKE WHEN IM READING X READER FIC YN BEING A DUD CAN MAKE OR BREAK IT FOR ME

ALSO THERES NOTHIN WRONG WITH A SEXY YN WHO KNOWS WHAT SHE WANTS AND HOW SHE WANTS IT AND ISNT AFRAID TO SHARE THAT….BUT I ALSO KNOW TJATS NOT ME, AND I KNOW I CANT BE THE ONLY ONE WHO FEELS LIKE THAT SO WRITING HER KIND OF PATHETIC AND LOSER-Y IS SO FUN

AND NIALL :-) IM GLAD YALL LIKE HIM THEIR DYNAMIC IS SO FUN TO WRITE

ILL GET TO COOKIN UP A JEALOUS HARRY AND ILL LOOK INTO SOME MISCOMMUNICATION!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! ILL GET TO WRITING :D

[scarletqueenx]

chapter one - lazarus rising

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: After a few months dating, Dean abandoned you in a motel room without giving you any explanation, years later his brother and he saved you from a demon and now you hunt with them discovering every day new mysteries about your family and the destiny that awaits you. Heaven, hell, demons, angels, vampires, witches and much more.

Author’s Note: English is not my first language. This is my first time writing in the readers perspective, as i'm used to write oc´s.

series masterlist

Time passed, but for you everything froze at the very moment your eyes met Dean's lifeless body. The shock of losing Dean had hit you hard, more that you had imagine, and you found yourself moving through life on autopilot, simply going through the motions of each day without truly living.

At first, you tried to be there for Sam, to be there for him in what you knew were the worst days of his life. You also tried to stand by your father and your worried little brother side. You tried to help Carter, Maddie and Harper get their lives back to normal. But every second that passed was like a dagger of pain piercing your body.

Two weeks after Dean's death, you disappeared. You left without a word. You received millions of calls from your family, Maddie and Bobby but they all ended up on voicemail.

You tried to keep busy by hunting and not think about the pain that constantly weighed down on you. But no matter what you did, the pain was always there, a constant, dull ache in your chest.

You couldn't breathe.

The days were endless and agonizing, so much that you found yourself withdrawing more and more, isolating yourself from the world and from others. You didn't want to be around people who were happy and carefree; it only made your own suffering much more unbearable.

Nightmares haunted you every night, replaying the image of Dean's lifeless body in your mind over and over. It was a torturous cycle, one that left you feeling weak and shaken to your core. But it wasn't only the dreams that haunted you.

Lilith's possession of your body and mind had left its mark. Even now, you could feel the demon's presence lingering within you, a constant reminder of the evil that had touched you.

The world seemed to lose its color, fading into shades of gray. Every sight, sound, and feeling was tainted by sadness, and the only way you felt you could cope with it was to drown your tears in alcohol. It was the only thing that brought you any comfort. At night, as you closed your eyes, you hoped that your dreams would transport you to a better place, a world where Dean was still alive and by your side.

You fell into a routine. Hunt, sleep, drink and repeat. All while looking for some way to bring Dean back to life.

Meanwhile, trying to adjust to the routine of living with his father, away from his sister and Maddie, Peter was trying his best to reach out to them. Maddie had decided to sell her mother's house and, following Bobby's invitation to stay with him, was now helping the hunter with research. You barely answered your phone, if you weren't hunting or drinking, you were sleeping or just didn't want to talk to anyone.

Harper was another mystery to the boy, the mystery in which he had decided to refuge in the absence of his older sister and the shock of discovering that he also had an older brother. Carter had disappeared from the map after that night, so Peter had only Harper to rely on.

It wasn't just curiosity that drove Peter's interest in Harper, but also a deep sense of empathy. After all, he understood what it was like to be a young person trying to find his place in the world, especially in such unusual circumstances. But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her story than met the eye.

Harper Kenner, daughter of Grant Kenner, had lived nearly fifteen years trapped within herself, without aging more than a couple of years and unable to control her own body and mind. That would leave its mark on anyone. Peter longed to know what supernatural being had possessed her. His initial theory had been a demon, but the compassion she exuded and her apparent powers didn't align with typical demonic behavior.

Now Harper lived with Bobby and Maddie, hiding under a different name and trying to make sense of everything that had happened to her over the past years. While also trying to grasp what her father's death while possessed by the demon Dorian meant to her and her now new life.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

September 18th, 4 Months After Dean's Death

A new day awaited while you were still asleep, curled up in that musty motel room. The bed was particularly comfortable compared to the other motels you'd been in, but that hadn't helped for your night to be peaceful and free of nightmares.

When the harsh sunlight hit your face, you woke up grunting and wincing. Your head ached from the alcohol you had consumed the previous night, and every one of your senses felt heightened and painful. You knew you had a tough hunt ahead of you, but all you wanted to do was stay in bed and ignore the world. Still, you knew from experience that trying to rest would only bring memories of Dean to your mind. So, despite your wishes, you forced yourself out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom to take a hot shower.

The coffee at the motel wasn't the best, but it did its job of waking you up completely so you could get to work on that case involving a nest of vampires. You had been chasing them for several weeks from Florida, to Nashville, Tennessee, when you finally felt you could take them down once and for all.

You sat at the small table in your room, looking over everything you had researched as you finished your cup of black coffee and prepared your weapons. It was the ringing of your phone that brought you out of your thoughts. Thinking it was Peter, you didn't even bother to look its screen as you ignored the call, but when it rang once again, you decided to answer as you let out a sigh.

"What is it?" Your voice came out sharp and full of annoyance, but there was also a trace of concern. You didn't want to be bothered, but if it was an emergency and your brother was in danger, you would leave everything for him.

However, no one answered on the other end of the line. The only thing you could make out was the shaky sound of someone's breathing.

"Hello?" Confused, you pulled the device away from your ear to look at the caller. It wasn't your brother, your father or anyone you knew, it was a completely unknown number. Frowning, you spoke once again. "Hello?"

The lack of response from the other end of the line only increased your unease. In a burst of anxiety, you ended the call without a second thought.

Barely a minute later, that unfamiliar phone number called you again. With your jacket on and ready to go hunting, you answered in exasperation.

"Listen, if this is a joke, it's not funny. Stop calling me or I swear I'll come after you." You stated firmly before hanging up.

The person on the other end stared at the phone in astonishment at your aggressiveness.

Surely you weren't the only person Dean had called from that empty gas station after waking up in his own grave in the middle of a perfect circle of dead trees, laying on the ground as if an unearthly powerful blast had felled them. But at least with Bobby he had managed to open up and tell him what had happened, but the man hadn't believed a single one of his words.

Upset with himself for not being able to talk to you and frustrated that Bobby didn't believe him, Dean found himself forced to steal a car to travel to Sioux Falls, where Bobby's house was located.

Things there were very different compared to how Dean remembered them. Bobby's house used to be an uncrowded place. Bobby hardly had any visitors or guests other than the Winchesters, but now Maddie and Harper occupied his only other bedroom. Having them with him was like a breath of fresh air despite the hard time the hunter was going through with Dean's death and yours and Sam's departures. Bobby didn't have children, but those two girls were certainly becoming his family.

On top of that, Peter had shown up at his door the night before, backpack over his shoulder and a tired expression on his face. The Holloway boy had run away from home, tired of watching his father lock himself in his office and practically ignore him to avoid the big elephant in the room which he still hadn't wanted to talk to him about his brother Carter.

Maddie's food had improved Bobby's eating. He could cook, but if it weren't for her love of photography, Maddie might as well be a chef. Meals were also the only time Harper talked to them at all, since most of the time she was quiet, lost in thought or reading one of Bobby's supernatural lore books.

Due to the long trip from San Francisco, Peter had spent the morning sleeping in, missing even lunchtime. When he finally awoke, overcome by a nightmare, Peter descended the stairs. The house fell into an uneasy silence, sending a shiver down his spine with each step he took.

"Bobby? Maddie?" He called, peering into the kitchen, which was impeccably clean and empty. "Bobby?" He called once more, walking into the living room. "Don't ask me why, but I think my sister needs our help."

Peter stood speechless as he walked up to the entrance of the house. There was no sign of Maddie and Harper, and Bobby seemed too calm considering the other person there. Across from the young Holloway stood Dean Winchester, in the flesh, and breathing.

"I thought you were supposed to be in a pine box?" Peter stared at him in shock, eyes narrowed and body slightly tense. Dean couldn't help but chuckle at his playful comment. He hated to say it, but he had missed Peter's smart-ass comments and their little bickering relationship.

"Yeah, it surprised me too." Dean admitted, turning back to Bobby. "You had to bury me, really?"

"I wanted you salted and burned. Usual drill. But... Sam wouldn't have it." Bobby explained.

Dean nodded as he looked back at Peter, who was scrutinizing him with his eyes while tilting his head to the side.

"How do we know you're not a demon or a shapeshifter or a...?"

"He already passed all the tests." Bobby said, cutting him off.

"All?" Peter raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, all."

"It's me, kid." Dean assured him.

"If that's true, then we should tell my sister."

"Yeah, sounds good." Dean nodded, not wanting to wait another second to see you. "What were you saying about her needing help, by the way?"

Peter shrugged.

"I don't know. I just woke up with this strange feeling."

"Let's take it one step at a time." Bobby said, walking into the living room. "Dean. Your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop. And you've been buried four months. Even if you could slip out of hell and back into your meat suit-"

"I know, I should look like a Thriller video reject." Dean noted. Peter chuckled as Bobby nodded.

"What do you remember?"

"Not much." Dean shrugged. "I remember I was a Hellhound's chew toy, and then... lights out. Then I come to six feet under, that was it. Sam's number's not working. He's, uh... he's not..."

"Oh, he's alive. As far as I know." Bobby sat down.

"Good... Wait, what do you mean, as far as you know?"

"I haven't talked to him for months."

"You're kidding, you just let him go off by himself?"

"He was dead set on it."

"Bobby, you should've been looking after him."

"I tried. These last months haven't been exactly easy, you know. For any of us." Bobby looked down. "He was quiet. Real quiet. And then he just took off. Wouldn't return my calls. I tried to find him, but he didn't want to be found."

"Same with my sister." Peter added.

Dean's face fell as he took in the words. His heart ached as he thought about you, struggling alone and refusing any help. He couldn't imagine what you must have gone through, how much pain and confusion you must have felt. The thought of you struggling and alone, not wanting to be found... it was almost too painful to bear.

He felt a pang of guilt and regret for being gone, for not being there for you. He could only hope that now that he was back he could find a way to make it up to you somehow.

Still, Dean tried his best to shake off the flood of emotions that had come over him at the mention of your struggles. Right now, his priority was Sam. He needed to find him and make sure that he was safe.

"Oh, damnit, Sammy." He muttered.

"What?" Bobby looked up at him.

"I don't know what he did for me to be back, but whatever he did, it is bad mojo."

"What makes you so sure?" Peter frowned.

"You should have seen the grave site. It was like a nuke went off. And then there was this... this force, this presence, I don't know, but it, it blew past me at a fill-up joint. And then this." He added, stripping off his jacket to roll up his sleeve and reveal the handprint burn on his left shoulder.

Peter's eyes widened as Bobby stood up.

"What in the hell?" The man asked.

"It was like a demon just yanked me out. Or rode me out." Dean explained.

"But why?" Peter asked, confused. That didn't sound like the topical demon behavior.

"To hold up their end of the bargain." Dean answered.

"You think Sam made a deal." Bobby assumed,

"It's what I would have done." Dean admitted.

Minutes later, Peter sat on the porch of the house with a comic book in his hands. His attention however wasn't on the comic but on Harper, who now sat in one of the cars in the junkyard reading another of Bobby's books.

She and Maddie had returned from running errands shortly after Dean had shown up. Their reactions were completely different. Harper didn't know Dean, but she knew he had been a sore subject at Bobby's house. Maddie had barely spent any time with him, but during her time as Peter's babysitter she had grown very fond of you and the two hunters, especially knowing how much they meant to you.

Maddie's caring nature and empathy made her drop the shopping bags all at once and throw herself into Dean's arms to wrap him in a tight hug. The girl couldn't help but think how happy his return would make Sam and you, also selfishly hoping the two of you would get back in touch.

When the door behind him opened, Peter rose quickly to his feet, directing his gaze toward the two men now descending the porch steps.

"Did you find Sam?" He asked. Dean nodded.

"Sam's in Pontiac, Illinois."

"Isn't that where you...?

"Yeah, right where I popped up." Dean replied as he walked behind Bobby toward his car. "Hell of a coincidence, don't you think?"

"I wasn't going to say that, but it's certainly weird." Peter said, putting away his comic book. "I'm going with you."

Dean stopped in his tracks, turning on his heels to look at him. Peter looked so much like you it hurt to have him in front of him. The memory of your voice echoed in his head, reminding him of the pain and exhaustion in your tone.

"I don't think that's a good idea. Maddie offered, but you and Harper are better off here."

"You don't even know Harper. You don't know what happened that night. We can handle whatever happens." Peter assured him.

"You'd help more by finding out what the hell possessed Harper."

"As if we haven't been looking for that the last four months." Peter snorted in annoyance.

"Then find your sister." Dean pleaded, holding him by the shoulders. Peter took a deep breath of air, ready to argue, but the look Dean was giving him was a completely new one. Dean used to display this arrogance and that easygoing attitude, but now that look was completely gone and it had turned into one of desperation. Peter couldn't say no.

"Fine." The boy agreed.

Dean sighed with relief.

"Thanks, kid." Dean cracked a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Peter nodded in silence as he watched him go.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

The reunion with his brother wasn't what Dean had expected. He was taken aback to find a half-naked girl accompanying Sam in his motel room. Dean's joy at reuniting with his brother was tainted by his concern for him and the dangerous and reckless act he had likely performed to bring him back to life.

And for Sam, even after Bobby had assured him that the tests had confirmed it was really Dean, he couldn't shake off his confusion.

"So tell me, what'd it cost?" Dean asked, standing above him, arms crossed as Sam sat down.

Sam smiled, taken aback by his question.

"The girl? I don't pay, Dean."

"That's not funny, Sam." Dean replied. "To bring me back. What'd it cost? Was it just your soul, or was it something worse?"

"You think I made a deal?" Sam frowned.

"That's exactly what we think." Bobby nodded.

"Well, I didn't."

"Don't lie to me." Dean asked, looking at him with suspicious.

"I'm not lying." He scoffed.

Despite his insistence, Dean didn't quite believe his words.

"So what now, I'm off the hook and you're on, is that it? You're some demon's bitch-boy?" Dean asked, walking towards him. "I didn't want to be saved like this."

"Look, Dean, I wish I had done it, all right?" Sam stood up, angrily.

Upset and confused, believing his brother was lying to him, Dean grabbed him by the front of his shirt.

"There's no other way that this could have gone down. Now tell the truth!"

"I tried everything." Sam assured him, breaking Dean's grip. "That's the truth. I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right? You were rotting in Hell for months. For months, and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, all right? Dean, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean took a step back, believing his brother. "You don't have to apologize, I believe you."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm gladdened that Sam's soul remains intact, but it does raise a sticky question." Bobby spoke.

"If he didn't pull me out, then what did?" Dean said.

Taking a deep breath, Sam sat back down and asked them if they had talked to you.

Bobby and Dean share a look and shook their heads.

"She wouldn't have made a deal." Dean assured.

Sam chuckled.

"She was even more determined than me to do so. It hadn't past even a few hours before she started looking for ways to get you back."

Dean sighed.

"So, what? We have to travel all the way out to California?"

"No need. She disappeared two weeks after you died. She's been driving around the country focused on hunting all kinds of supernatural beings. And her father's nearby, as a matter of fact. He has a conference in Chicago on Greek mythology tomorrow. Maybe he knows where she is." Bobby told them.

"We can also call her." Dean suggested. "She answered my call yesterday."

"So you did talk to her." Sam noted with a frown.

"Not exactly." Dean replied. "I... Bobby didn't believe me and when I heard her on the other end of the line... She didn't sound like herself."

"If she'd gotten you out of hell she'd be expecting a call from you." Bobby said. "Maybe it was something else or someone else that got you out of there."

"Yeah, right. What?"

Bobby shrugged. "Don't know. But maybe she could help us. Henry must know where to find her."

"I doubt it." Sam said. "I called a week ago, Peter answered, but he assured me they hadn't heard from her for about a month."

"I asked him to look for her while we were here. Maybe he found something or got in touch with her." Dean noted.

"Okay, I'm on it." Bobby nodded, pulling out his phone to call Peter.

"So what were you doing around here if you weren't digging me out of my grave?" Dean looked back at his brother.

"Well, once I figured out I couldn't save you, I started hunting down Lilith, trying to get some payback." Sam explained.

"All by yourself. Who do you think you are, your old man?" Bobby glared at Sam.

"Uh, yeah, I'm sorry, Bobby. I should have called. I was pretty messed up." Sam sighed. "Anyways, uh, I was checking these demons out of Tennessee, and out of nowhere they took a hard left, booked up here."

"When?"

"Yesterday morning."

"When I busted out." Dean sighed.

"You think these demons are here 'cause of you?" Bobby asked.

"But why?" Sam asked.

"Well, I don't know – some badass demon drags me out and now this? It's gotta be connected somehow."

"How you feelin', anyway?" Bobby looked back at him with concern.

"I'm a little hungry." Dean shrugged.

"No, I mean, do you feel like yourself? Anything strange, or different?"

"Or demonic?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "Bobby, how many times do I have to prove I'm me?"

"Yeah. Well, listen. No demon's letting you loose out of the goodness of their hearts. They've gotta have something nasty planned."

"Well, I feel fine." Dean assured.

"Okay, look, we don't know what they're planning. We got a pile of questions and no shovel. We need help." Sam noted.

"Maybe we can do something about that." Maddie spoke through the phone, for she had been listening to their conversation since Bobby had called. "It's good to hear your voice again, Sam."

Sam smiled slightly at the sound of the girl's voice.

"Same here, Mads."

Dean looked at his brother before asking if they had heard form you.

"No, but Peter can find her." Maddie answered.

"I've been studying magic behind my dad's back with some of his books, I think I can do a quick and easy locator spell." The boy explained.

Dean shifted uncofortable. The idea of using magic, good or bad, wasn't really something he liked.

"I don't know... Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I just need something from her or her blood and I've got both, so."

"This is a really bad idea." Harper muttered in the distance.

"If you don't like it you can always call your friend." Peter said in annoyance.

"How many times do I have to tell you she's not my friend?" Harper complained.

"Surely you care about her or you would have told us who and what the hell she is by now. She possessed your body for years, you have to know who she was."

"I told you it's not important. Forget it."

"Forget it?" The boy scoffed. "Lilith possessed my sister that night, I found out I had a brother and that a demon was the one who killed my mother. I can't forget, Harper, that being was the only one who tried and helped me."

"That being let my father die at your brother's hands after promising to protect us." She argued, annoyed at his insistence. Dean, Sam and Bobby couldn't help but share a glance at her response. It was the first time in four months that Harper had said anything about who had possessed her and it certainly wasn't what they had expected.

"Demons lie, Harper, shocker." Peter rolled his eyes.

"It wasn't a demon."

"So what was it?" He looked back at her.

"Will you two stop arguing?" Maddie complained before Harper could said anything else. "It doesn't matter now. Peter, find your sister."

"Okay." The boy nodded.

"It matters if she knows who got me out of hell." Dean said. "Harper..."

"I told you I don't know anything." She interrupted him.

"If she didn't keep her promise, why are you protecting her?" Maddie frowned, looking back at Harper.

"I'm not. It's just..."

"I got it." Peter interrupted her, gaining everyone's attention. "She's in Nashville, Tennessee."

"Didn't you just say you were in Tennessee chasing some demons?" Dean turned to his brother.

"I was, but not in Nashville. She must be there hunting something else."

"There are records of people missing around Nashville." Maddie announced, looking at her laptop. "It looks like a vampire case. Several hospitals are reporting loss of blood supplies and people with piercing wounds on their necks."

"I know a psychic. A few hours from Nashville." Bobby spoke. "Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking."

"Hell yeah, it's worth a shot." Dean nodded.

"I'll be right back" Bobby said, taking his phone before exiting the room.

Finding himself alone with his brother, Sam finally decided to ask him the question that he had been pondering since their reunion.

"Hey Dean, what was it like?" Sam tried to remain calm and not sound insistent as he looked back at Dean.

"What, Hell?" Dean asked. Sam nodded. "I don't know, I, I must have blacked it out. I don't remember a damn thing."

"Well, thank God for that." Sam sighed.

"Yeah." Dean replied looking down. "There's still one thing that's bothering me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, the night that I bit it. Or... got bit." He chuckled at his own wit. "How'd you make it out? I thought Lilith was going to kill you."

"Well, she tried. She couldn't." Sam answered.

"What do you mean, she couldn't?" Dean frowned.

"She fired this, like, burning light at me, and... didn't leave a scratch. Like I was immune or something."

"Immune?"

"Yeah. I don't know who was more surprised, her or me. She left pretty fast after that." Sam said before explaining everything about Lilith possessing you and scaring Ophelia of when she saw Lilith in your body.

"That's odd."

"Yeah." He sighed.

"How did she take it?" Dean asked with concern.

"I don't know. She didn't say anything to me. You should ask Peter, but I think she's been distant even with him these last few months."

Dean nodded as his concern for you only seemed to grow by the second.

"Huh. What about Ruby, where is she?" Dean asked after a few seconds.

"Dead. For now."

Dean bit his lower lip, as if he wasn't sure whether he wanted ask the next question.

"So you've been using your, uh, freaky ESP stuff?"

Sam turned back to him, confuse.

"No." He assured.

"You sure about that?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "Well, I mean, now that you've got... immunity, whatever the hell that is... just wondering what other kind of weirdo crap you've got going on."

"Nothing, Dean. Look, you didn't want me to go down that road, so I didn't go down that road. It was practically your dying wish."

"Yeah, well, let's keep it that way."

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Bobby stood in front of your motel room, next to him, leaning against the wall were Sam and Dean, each feeling a mixture of anticipation and nervousness as Bobby finally knocked on the door. After a few moments, it creaked open, revealing you—disheveled and battered—on the other side.

Seeing him, your eyes widened in confusion. "Bobby. How... How did you find me?" You whispered.

"Peter tracked you down." He answered. "We need to talk."

Your shoulders slumped slightly, and you leaned against the doorframe.

"We have nothing to talk about." You said, crossing your arms on your chest. "I told you I needed time."

"I heard you, but things have changed."

"What do you...?" Your words trailed off as Sam appeared next to Bobby. Your confusion quickly turned to disbelief, especially as your gaze landed on the green-eyed man next to him. "Dean?" You mumbled.

Dean took a step forward, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. He reached out a hand hesitantly, as if trying to convince himself that you were really there. Dean tried to take another step forward, his eyes pleading you to believe him, but your gaze narrowed.

"Don't come any closer." You warned, your voice hoarse from disuse as you took a step back.

Dean froze, his outstretched hand hovering in the air.

"It's me." He said, his voice laced with heartbreak.

Your breath hitched, and your eyes widened with disbelief. "That's impossible." You whispered, your voice laced with shock. "You're dead."

Bobby and Sam watched anxiously as the tension thickened in the air. Dean took another tentative step forward, desperation in his eyes.

"I was." He gulped, his voice hoarse. "I woke up in my on grave two days ago. I don't know how or why, but I'm here. It's me."

Your breathing grew ragged, your body shaking with a mixture of emotions. You leaned heavily against the doorframe, your eyes flickering over Dean's face and body as if searching for some sign that he was lying.

"How?" You asked, your voice cracking. "How is this possible?"

"We don't know yet. We were actually hoping that you would have some idea on how." Bobby replied.

"You think I made a deal?" You raised your eyebrows, looking back at him. "No. I... I tried, God knows I did, but they wouldn't have it."

Sam and Bobby shared a look at your response as you continued to watch Dean with doubt in your eyes. Dean looked back at you, noticing your clear exhaustion defined by the dark circles under your eyes.

Suddenly, your expression hardened, and you pushed yourself upright, your body tense and alert. "Prove it." You then spit. "Prove that you're really you."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and hurt at your hostile tone, but he understood your distrust. He raised his hands, palms up, in a gesture of surrender. "How?" He asked gently. "What can I do to prove it?"

Sam and Bobby exchanged worried glances as they watched the standoff. Your eyes flicked from them back to Dean. "Tell me something only you would know." You asked.

Dean let out a breath, wracking his brain for something you and him had shared that would convince you he was truly him. After a moment, he spoke. "You have a tiny scar on your right hip, shaped like a star." He said quietly. "You got it when you were five and fell off a swing."

Your eyes widened in shock, and your tough exterior wavered for a moment. You remembered the accident vividly and had never told anyone but him about the scar. The realization that only the real Dean could know something that personal rattled you. But still, you weren't fully convinced.

Dean seized on the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes, taking another slow step forward.

"And your favorite movie is Dead Poets Society." He said gently. "You cry every time you watch it."

"He passed all the tests. It's really him." Bobby assured you.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the memory of watching the movie together came flooding back to you. You had never told anyone that either. Dean's words hit you like a freight train, and your defenses crumbled slightly.

Dean took another couple of steps toward you, his expression earnest. "Please, sweetheart." He pleaded. "You know me. You know it's really me. I don't know how or why I'm back, but I am. I'm here, and I'm real, and I'm not going anywhere. Not ever again."

Your eyes flickered over his face, your heart at war with your head. Seeing and hearing him after thinking he was dead for so long was overwhelming and impossible to comprehend. But the details he had given you, things only you and him knew, they were undeniable proof he was telling the truth.

You took a shaky breath, your voice barely more than a whisper. "It's really you?"

Dean nodded, his own eyes glistened with unshed tears. Tears barely perceptible, except you. "It's really me."

Unable to hold back any longer, you rushed forward and threw yourself into his arms, hugging him fiercely. Dean stumbled back a step, but he quickly recovered and wrapped his arms around your trembling figure.

You buried your face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent, trying to convince yourself that he was truly there. For a moment, all was silent except for the sound of your shaky breathing and the steady thump of his heartbeat.

Bobby and Sam felt relief as they watched the emotional reunion unfold before them.

Dean held you tight, his own emotions swirling in his chest. He buried his face in your hair, breathing in your scent. As you pulled back, your eyes roamed over his face as if memorizing every detail. A mixture of shock and joy danced in your gaze.

"How is this possible?" You asked, your hands still gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly. "You were gone. I saw your body... I mourned you. How are you here?"

Dean's expression darkened as he remembered the strange circumstances of his resurrection. "I don't know." He replied. "Believe me, I've been trying to figure it out since waking up. But, either way, I'm glad I'm back."

A smile tugged at your lips as you replied. "Me too."

Dean pulled back further, suddenly noticing the injuries on your skin and the exhaustion etched into your features. His hands dropped to your sides, and a frown tugged at his lips.

"You look tired." He murmured, his voice soft. "And wounded. What happened to you?"

Having been caught up in the intensity of the reunion, you suddenly became aware of the stinging pain in your own body. You winced as you shifted your weight. You sighed and let your hands slide from his waist, but you kept your gaze fixed on him.

"I'm fine." You said, though he could tell you were lying. Sam and Bobby exchanged knowing glances, silently cursing themselves for not having noticed your injuries earlier. You caught their looks and shrugged, attempting to downplay your pain. "It's just a scratch."

Dean's eyes widened as he noticed the blood that was staining your shirt.

"It doesn't look like 'just a scratch' to me." He said firmly, stepping forward to examine the wound.

Reluctantly, you lifted your shirt, revealing a deep gash in your abdomen. Dean sucked in a breath, his face paling as he saw how serious the injury was and how recent it looked.

"What the hell happened?" Dean asked, gently running his fingers over the wound.

"It's not that bad." You protested, but the pain in you was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

Dean shot you a frustrated look. "Not that bad? You have a gash the size of a dinner plate in your stomach. That's worse than 'not that bad' in my book."

You opened your mouth to protest again, but your knees buckled suddenly, the pain becoming too much for you to bear. Dean and Sam were quick to catch you, propping you up between them.

"All right, that's it." Dean said firmly. "We're getting you patched up."

He and Sam each took one of your arms, carefully guiding you toward the bathroom. Bobby followed closely behind, already gathering supplies for makeshift stitches.

In the small bathroom, you leaned against the counter as Dean examined your wound more closely. Sam stood nearby, his brow furrowed with worry. Dean doused a piece of cloth with antiseptic, readying himself to clean the wound.

"This is going to hurt." He warned you.

You braced yourself, gripping the edge of the counter tightly.

"I can handle it." You replied through clenched teeth.

Dean began cleaning the wound, his touch firm but gentle. You winced, your eyes squeezed shut, but you didn't pull away. Sam watched silently, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to contain his worry and anger.

Once the wound was cleaned, Dean took the needle and thread that Bobby handed to him. He began stitch the gash, his fingers steady and precise as he worked. You bit your lip to try and stifle the pain as best you could, your knuckles turning white from gripping the counter.

Dean's focus was completely on the task at hand, his brow furrowed in concentration as he continued to stitch the wound. Bobby stood nearby, his concern gaze flickering between you and the Winchesters.

Finally, with one last stitch, Dean tied off the last stitch.

"All done." He announced, stepping back. Bobby handed Dean a roll of gauze, and he began wrapping it around your abdomen to secure the stitches. As he worked, he couldn't help but ask. "So, you gonna tell us how you got this injury in the first place?"

You exhaled deeply, the pain already lessening now that the wound had been properly treated.

"I got it fighting a nest of vampires." You said, your voice slightly raspy from pain.

Sam and Dean exchanged surprised glances, their expressions a mix of concern and disbelief.

"A nest?" Sam echoed. "You took on a nest of vampires by yourself?"

You shrugged nonchalantly.

"I've handled worse." You replied, though your weariness suggested otherwise.

Sam sighed in frustration as he stepped out of the bathroom, feeling inevitably responsible that you had ended up like that. After all, he hadn't stopped you from leaving, nor had he looked for you afterwards.

Dean shook his head. "You're lucky you didn't end up worse off. Or dead." He scolded, finishing up the bandage.

As Dean finished wrapping the bandage, he noticed the look in your eyes, a haunted acceptance of your own mortality. It was a look he knew all too well.

"You didn't care whether you lived or died, did you?" He asked, his voice gentle, but layered with concern.

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze.

"You were dead. I didn't care about anything else."

Dean's expression darkened at your blunt response, both pained and frustrated with your dismissal of your own well-being.

"That's stupid. You had Peter, your father, Maddie, Sam and Bobby" He grumbled, carefully helping you off the counter.

"They didn't matter without you here. Nothing mattered."

"So that's it, then? You just stop caring about everyone if I'm gone?" He asked, the pain of your words stabbing through him. "You'd just throw your life away like it doesn't matter to anyone else?" Dean's jaw clenched at your admission, a storm of anger and hurt swirling within him. "You don't get to throw your life away like it's nothing." He continued, his voice rising. "Dammit, sweetheart, you matter. You've got people that care about you. People that need you."

"I need you."

Dean's breath caught in his chest at your words, the raw honesty sending a shiver down his spine.

"I'm here now." He said softly, his anger fading.

Your eyes welled with unexpected tears at his gentle response, the weight of your own loneliness and grief finally catching up to you.

Dean pulled you gently into his arms, holding you tightly.

"I'm here now." He whispered, burying his face against your hair. As he held you, he could feel the tension slowly leave your body, your head resting on his shoulder. Neither of you spoke for a few moments, both lost in your own thoughts.

Sam and Bobby, now standing just outside the bathroom, watched the tender scene unfold. Bobby's expression softened as he observed the moment between Dean and you.

As the moment stretched on, reality slowly began to intrude once more. Sam cleared his throat, and both Dean and you looked up, a mixture of embarrassment and tenderness filling the small bathroom.

"You guys gonna come out any time soon?" Sam called out, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Dean rolled his eyes, reluctantly releasing his hold on you. You looked up at him, your expression a mixture of embarrassment and vulnerability.

"Yeah, yeah, we're coming." Dean called back, shooting a annoyed look at Sam as he gently guided you out of the bathroom.

"Feel better?" Bobby looked at you.

"Yeah. Much better." You replied as Dean guided you to sit down on the couch.

Dean shot Sam a sharp look when he saw his amused smiled.

"Shut up, or I'll shut you up." He grumbled, taking a seat next to you on the couch.

Too tired to protest, you leaned your head back against the couch, closing your eyes.

Sam took a seat in a chair across from the couch, a smirk still on his face. "Just saying, I never thought I'd see the day my brother turned all sappy over a girl." He teased.

"Keep it up, and I'll show you sappy with my fist in your face."

"All right, you idjits, enough. Save the fighting for the monsters." Bobby spoke, crossing his arms.

Half-dozing on the couch, you opened your eyes just enough to speak. "Shut up, all of you." You mumbled, your voice tired. "Trying to sleep here."

Bobby raised an eyebrow at your words, his expression becoming serious.

"Sorry, kid. No time for rest."

Sam nodded in agreement, his humor disappearing as he remembered the gravity of their situation.

"Yeah, we need to know who got Dean out of hell"

You sighed. "Right. So what's the plan?"

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @lmhf1 @mochminnie @helo1281917 @barnes70stark @slyregg

If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment

[kazusrightmole]

BACK AGAIN

small note: a small and old drabble to upload before my exams tom lol (also an offering to the dr stone fandom as a celebration for the season 4 of dr stone,, also a bit of a canon divergence here and takes place way before taiju was first revived by senku lmfao) and uhh no dialogues from reader here as this was set in senku's pov

SENKU ISHIGAMI was someone who wasn’t too fond of romance or anything related to it in general, which was why he’d rather spend the rest of his life dedicating to the love of his life—Science.

That, he made it pretty well-known among his fellow peers and the loved ones involved in his life. The blunt male just guessed that the reason behind was simply because he wasn’t all up for the hype of something so complicated. Obviously, Science was supposed to be a concept filled with natural complexities dedicating to everything within and in life itself, but with thorough and careful research, even the most complicated processes of certain materials and life forms could easily be answered if anyone had just taken the time to do simple research or whatever.

Unlike everything else about romance itself. If you liked this person so much, why can’t you just get on and be done with it already? Does it really matter whether you’d get rejected or not? Because frankly, after begrudgingly watching a few romcom films (thanks to Yuzuriha’s and Taiju’s conjoined yet stubborn efforts), most of them could’ve been easily solved if they had just stopped distancing themselves from each other and just communicate everything they’ve been feeling towards the other.

It’s as simple as that, isn’t it? he let out a snicker as he recalled those memories, his movements unnoticeably shaky yet still somehow maintaining relentlessly. Even as his throat silently begged be to quenched of its thirst and his frame on the verge of being roasted under the sun’s harsh light—Senku Ishigami, unsurprisingly, couldn’t find it in himself to stop whatever he was doing even if it was for a quick break.

His calloused hand then popped another one of his, hopefully now working fluid he randomly found in some cave—seeing as the previous fluid he just poured over the stone obviously didn't work.

At this rate, he might just start believing in god and lady luck themselves if the stone ever cracked.

Just a little more—can’t let them down now.

Which was exactly why tinkering, experimenting, and discovering new stuff using certain things along with newfound materials, was something he’d been mostly looking forward to do as soon as he got up from bed. While others may find his interest with science a bit too excessive, Senku Ishigami could really care less.

Honestly, the blunt male would rather have his head filled with thoughts of all possibilities of creating something beneficial for all of humanity. A bit of an ambitious dream, but with senku’s intelligence and insane dedication combined? Yeah, no, at this point, nothing was ever going to phase him one bit.

Or at least he thought so.

For some reason, the universe and above had somehow collectively thought to prove the smart teenager otherwise. And what other way could it be if not turning all of humanity into stone by some sort of weird green light?

Yeah, honestly, Senku would’ve been shocked at most if he hadn’t been already turned to stone as soon as the light hit his skin. Too bad he already turned into a living concrete before he could even get the chance to process whatever the hell’s going on.

Thankfully enough, he still managed to maintain his consciousness long enough by counting down every seconds, minutes, months, and heck, even years.

“How annoying,” he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes before chuckling and wiping away the sweat that trickled down his temple. A seemingly malicious yet tired grin plastered across his face as he opened his eyes and leaned back once more, a pair of crimson hues glinting in delight at the sight of the stone gradually cracking below him. The small sound of rumbling echoed as multiple lines emerged, smoothly working together across the surface to unveil whatever laid beneath, while an alluring white glow shone from behind the slowly cracking stone—thanks to the recently successful fluid Senku had just poured over today's subject.

The teenage boy, however, just didn’t expect his consciousness would last up to 3,700 years later—but he guessed it should be something more considered as a relief more than anything. Especially since humanity, having been turned to stone, must’ve had their bodies’ aging processes halted, at least until they miraculously broke free from the hard confines encasing them.

Whatever the case—Senku Ishigami was just glad to have you back once more.

“Heh, took you long enough to wake up, huh? While you were busy taking the world's longest nap, I was out here doing all the heavy lifting to bust you out of that stone, you cotton brain.”

TAG LIST; EMPTY SLOT

— MASTERLIST

[eggcompany]

Strength, Trust, and Muzzles Part 2

“Vik, Viktor, baby, honey, please just let me up. I promise I’ll behave. I wanna cuddle you, I just wanna hold you, don’t you want that? We can snuggle up on the couch, all nice and warm. Just let me up.” Jayce begged from where he was handcuffed to a kitchen chair. He’d gotten up ready to go. He was ready to sink his teeth into Viktor’s neck and fill him up with pups. 

However Viktor was stone cold. He ordered Jayce to go sit in the dining room, stating they needed to eat and that he wasn’t going to get fucked through the floor without a proper meal. Jayce was dumb enough to listen, wanting to make his sweet beautiful boyfriend happy. 

Viktor had been quick to snap the cuffs over his wrists, the chain wrapped around the chair’s rungs, keeping his hands locked behind his back. Jayce had groaned and nearly broken the chair as he watched his mate, naked down to his braces, move around the kitchen, making coffee and throwing in some microwave oatmeal. He started to beg, voice deep as his cock laid heavy and hard against his thigh. 

“You can beg all you want, Jayce. It’s only going to get worse from here. You will not touch that cock until we’re done and mated. You’ll eat and then we will begin.” Viktor said, eyes dark as he stared at Jayce. His own cock was interested and pink, not quite all the way hard, but halfway there. He smelled good, Jayce woke up huffing his neck, lips pressed against his skin. 

“But we can do it now, I can fuck you on the counter, just let me up.” Jayce begged, pulling against his restraints as Viktor turned away from him to finish their food. He wanted to bury his face in the measly slopes of his pale ass, get to where he smelled strongest, get him wet and ready for a good knotting. Viktor ignored him in favor of eating before sitting on the table; he'd clean it later, to feed Jayce. 

“If you misbehave, I’ll leave you in the bathroom to deal with your rut on your own.” Viktor threatened, face close to Jayce’s as he was ready to unlock the cuffs. Jayce paled, Viktor had done it before, when they had first gotten together. He’d left saying Jayce was nothing more than a knotheaded cock dumb ape, and to find someone else to fuck. He knew Viktor was serious. 

“I’ll be good, I’ll do anything you want, Vik.” Jayce agreed, looking down at the floor, bowing his head down in submission. He was thanked with a low growl from Viktor as he unlocked the cuffs, leaving them on the chair. Viktor pulled him up, right into a heated kiss, his tongue bullying its way in immediately. Jayce moaned as he stumbled forward, following Viktor’s lips, hands closing around the boney points of his mate’s hips. 

Viktor pulled back, hand yanking a fistfull of hair so Jayce cried out, holding him inches away. 

“Hands to yourself, Talis.” Viktor spat and Jayce pulled his hands back like he was shocked, whining as he was hauled the rest of the way to the bedroom by his hair. The pain sparked down his spine as he was pulled forward into the familiar darkness of their room. 

“On the bed, hands on the headboard.” Viktor said as he pushed Jayce towards their bed. He scrambled to lay down on the bed on his back, maybe Viktor would ride him, he loved that. 

He smiled as he grabbed the bars of their headboard, watching as Viktor opened their blackout curtains, letting the sunlight flow in through the gauzy red curtains, casting everything in a crimson hue. 

Viktor looked beautiful, bathed in the red light. He moved around the room to the bottom drawer of his dresser, they had their own dressers and Viktor always kept his toys in the bottom. Jayce got nervous as he adjusted his grip on the bars. 

“I know you won’t behave Jayce. You know it too. I doubt you even recognize your own movements. It’s not your fault, my love. However I will have to help you… correct those mistakes. Prevent them entirely.” Viktor said, voice low and quiet in the air. Jayce watched as he came to the foot of the bed with different tools in hand, leather and metal, chain clinking together. Viktor looked down at him, cane leaning against the footboard, like a wolf looking at a cornered bunny. 

“W-what’re you saying? Viktor what’re you-“ Jayce started to ask but was cut off as Viktor yanked his ankles, hands swift as they wrapped cuffs around him first before he realized they were connected to a long black bar. 

“These will keep you from hiding. You don’t want to hide from me right, Jayce?” Viktor asked, eyes dark as he crawled up the bed, sitting on Jayce’s sternum, cock laying against his chest. 

“No. No I don’t wanna hide from you Vik. I love you.” Jayce said, voice trembling, trying to come up with a convincing smile. Viktor leaned down, pressing a slower, sensual kiss to his lips, taking his time. Jayce relaxed, enjoying the drag of Viktor’s tongue against his own, the weight of him, the way the scent of him was strong, floating up from his cock. Jayce couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him as he thought about how his chest would smell like Vik’s cock. 

“I love you too Jayce, it’s why we’re doing this.” Viktor said and pulled back, giving Jayce one finally quick peck before sitting up. Jayce watched, dazed, as Viktor pulled a leather mitten over his hand, pulling a belt snug around his wrist to keep it on, before connecting it to the headboard. He was busy pulling at it to notice his other hand getting the same treatment, leaving him unable to move his hands, arms held above his head. 

“That’s it. They’ll hold, pull all you want, dear.” Viktor said as he pulled away, sitting up straight to look down at Jayce’s confused face. He ran his hand through Jayce’s hair, moving to cup his face in both hands and kiss him. He kept his hold on the other’s face as he looked over him, from his restraints down to his chest, where Viktor’s cock laid between his pecs.  

Jayce whined, pulling at his arms, realizing he couldn’t move his arms and his legs were stuck spread to the bar between his ankles. The best he could do was bend his knees, which didn’t do much. Viktor was sitting too far forward for him to get any friction on his aching cock. 

“So pretty, Jayce. Such a beautiful thing. Be good.” Viktor praised, hands sliding across Jayce’s jaw, down his neck, down to his chest, groping at the soft swells of his pecs. Jayce moved, pulling at his hands, whining, wanting to touch Viktor back, wanting to show him his alpha was good. 

“I’ll get to you in a minute.” Viktor scolded as he brought Jayce’s pecs together, hands squeezing them together to make a line of cleavage, right at the tip of his cock. He grinned as he thrusted forward, cock sliding between those two mountains of muscle, warm and tight. 

“Vi-ik, just let me up! I can suck you off, you-you can rub off on me. Just lemme up, I can show you that I’m good. Viktor, ple-ease!” Jayce begged, pouting as he tried to touch Viktor, anywhere, at all, or to get something, anything to touch his cock as it started to ooze precum. 

Viktor ignored him, groaning in pleasure as he started to steadily rock his hips back and forth, enjoying himself as he made Jayce’s chest wet and slick. His cock was sensitive, ready to knot and breed, he was just an alpha after all, his body wanted certain things too. He could feel the hammering of Jayce’s heart as he grew more and more spun up and desperate. He sped up, thinking about how they had just barely begun, how crazed Jayce would become when he was tied up and presented, ass up, filled past the brim with Viktor’s knot, crying and rabid-

“Jayce!” Viktor cried out, baring his teeth as he came, ropes of slightly watery cum hitting Jayce’s chin, getting stuck in his scruff and pooling in the hollow of his throat. Viktor watched, enraptured with lust as Jayce growled, opening his mouth to show off his sharp teeth, threatening as he looked up at Viktor, growling deep in his chest, right under Viktor. It felt incredible. The strength that was being withheld, the vibrato of his growls, the sharp promise of a deep scarring bite. 

“Such a bad dog. Showing your teeth like that. We can’t have that.” Viktor said, smiling as he reached to the foot of the bed, his cock softening. He picked up the wire basket muzzle, it was heavy and the straps that went around his head were thick but soft. He ran the cold metal over the inside of a thigh on his way to sit back up, making Jayce’s hips buck at the feeling. 

“Fuck! Let me up! Viktor, let me the fuck up, baby I want up, now.” Jayce said, pulling at his ankles and arms, muscles bulging as he struggled. Viktor just watched, adjusting the straps, thinking about how he’d need to clean Jayce’s chest off before he chafed. Thinking maybe he should wipe it up with some tissues and stuff them into the muzzle, making Jayce take in all his Alpha’s pheromones with every single last breath. He liked that idea but then again… he didn’t want Jayce to suffocate. Next time. 

Jayce huffed, giving up as he was halfway out of breath. He looked at Viktor and the muzzle, defeated. Viktor kissed his nose, a soft peck. 

“Good boy. No need to be so aggressive. It’s fine, though, I know it must be so difficult for you. It’s only going to get harder.” Viktor said as he easily slipped the muzzle over Jayce’s face. It fit him beautifully, straps above and below his ears, formed to fit around his strong jaw and soft over his nose. All black metal, making his eyes seem to glow in the red light of the room. Viktor admired him for a moment, cum covered and caged. 

“Beautiful.” Viktor praised as he climbed off Jayce. He leaned against the bed as he got two tubes of gel from his bedside, tossing them onto the end of the bed. He looked over Jayce, thinking through his next step. 

“Let me up Vik, I wanna fuck you. It’ll be so nice. I’ll go slow and everything, just how you like.” Jayce begged, whining and pulling petulantly at his restraints when Viktor ignored him in favor of picking up a length of chain from the bed. 

Viktor looked at the silver chain. It was heavy, sturdy. Jayce was being a brat, troublesome. Viktor decided that he needed the extra help, to take pity on his poor boyfriend, to make it easier for them both. He ignored the words that were floating through the air as he found one end of the chain and clipped it to the loop in the center of the spreader bar. He looked at Jayce’s face, his red cheeks, pouted lip, big blown eyes. 

“I need to keep you nice and open, so I can get to your hole. I have to prepare you.” Viktor explained and Jayce’s face fell, grimacing as he started to beg once again but was cut off, crying out as Viktor pulled the length of chain roughly, forcing Jayce’s legs up. Viktor smiled as he clipped the other end of the chain to the same bar as Jayce’s hands. 

Jayce struggled, his legs forced straight up in the air, before bending his knees. He felt ridiculous, his hole out to the open hair, knees to his chest, trapped under Viktor’s hands. Viktor’s hands. They glided, cold and sharp, down his side, up and down the back of his thighs, before settling on either side of his ass. 

“So pretty. What a nice little thing here for me.” Viktor said, voice dripping with lust as his eyes stayed stuck to the dark furl of Jayce’s hold, clenched tight. He was telling the truth though, he’d never seen something so perfect. Jayce was all trussed up, desperate cock hard and leaking across his stomach, bulge of his knot ready to pop at the slightest touch, mind scattered and blank all at the same time. 

“Viktor… please” Jayce said, he wasn’t even sure what he was begging for anymore. But looking down between his own legs, at the predatory look in his mate’s eyes, he knew the one thing he wanted. Viktor.

Viktor glanced up at Jayce, feeling like he was starting to fall into his own headspace, the hormone rush that made Jayce the way he was. He took a breath and sat back, pulling his hands away, calming himself down. Even as Jayce whined at the loss of touch, he just closed his eyes and breathed. He had to do this right. The bond had to stick. 

“Shut up.” He said, voice horribly sweet for the words, as he found the tube of muscle relaxer he’d tossed to the bed earlier. The lube was there too, set to the side of now. Viktor found the muscle relaxer was rather… strong. It was magic when he ached, giving him a sort of paralysis feeling, totally void of feeling and most function for a good hour. He’d need it for Jayce’s reluctant hole. He put a heavy dollop on his fingers, using his non-dominant hand, and brought them up to run over Jayce’s sensitive hole. 

Jayce jumped, cold, slimy, whatever touched his hole. He looked down and Viktor was petting one of his legs, shushing him. The feeling was back and he whined, pulling at the restraints fruitlessly. 

“This is to help you relax, Jayce. Let it happen. Relax, the restraints will hold you, just relax.” Viktor said, voice calming and steady. 

Jayce couldn’t help but relax, the bar kept his legs where they were. He sobbed when a finger slipped inside of him. It didn’t hurt, but it set off every single alarm in his head possible. He was in rut, he should be the one in someone’s hole. He let his instincts take over, little hiccups yelps started to squeak out from his throat, puppy noises really. 

“Jayce. Stop. You can cry if you want, but you will not bawl like that.” Viktor said, anger pitching in his chest at the fact his mate was calling out for someone. His hate was right here, in their apartment, in their nest. Jayce didn’t need anyone else. Jayce whined and cracked his eyes open to look at Viktor. 

“I need to get a few things. The medicine needs time to work. I’ll be back in a moment.” Viktor excused himself, leaving the bed, getting his cane as he hurried to the bedroom door. He grabbed his robe and threw it on as he slammed the door shut. Jayce was whining, laying relaxed against the bed as he complained. Viktor went to one of their windows, cracking it open before finding his hiding spot among their many books. He just needed a cigarette. Just one. To calm down. 

<Last Chapter

[vi-is-badass]

No worries. I get that we're both writing essays while still having life responsibilities haha. I don't expect an immediate response.

I think everything you said about what you would have wanted makes a lot of sense and echoes many sentiments I've seen floating around online.

I enjoyed reading the hypotheticals presented. It's broad strokes but it makes it no less interesting and I think it points to just how at odds Viktor, Jayce, and Mel's storylines in season 2 felt with the momentum that season 1 built towards certain "inevitable" conflicts.

I actually think Ambessa is easier to tie into the conflict between Piltover and Zaun and Jinx and Caitlyn than the Viktor, Jayce, and Mel storylines. Jinx knows how to create hextech weapons and can be the key to what Ambessa wants, so in helping Caitlyn she helps herself. I was shocked that never became a plot point.

I would definitely have to think longer and harder to give my perspective on these what-ifs you presented, but you've given me a lot to think on and I find what you presented to be fascinating.

On a little side note: I will admit I'm a sucker for the Act 2 storyline between Jinx, Vi, and Vander-- like it's easily my favorite part of season 2-- because it's so intensely focused on what I love most about Arcane; The Vi and Jinx dynamic, the tragedy of their past, and how much "what could have been" hangs over them. It really takes a look at who they were before they lost their parents-- the core of their characters-- and how it informs who they are now. How trauma and hardship shaped the two of them and who they want to be vs who they were forced to become. It does a lot of heavy lifting to explore their characters and trauma in a quiet and subtle way that the rest of season 2 lacked, especially for Vi. So, I have a personal bias toward keeping it haha, but your presented structure makes sense.

I would definitely be up to beta read. I'll shoot you a message tomorrow about the possibility.

Back to Caitlyn again! (wow, we both have a lot to say about Caitlyn haha)

Yeah... there's a lot that just doesn't work with Caitlyn's arc. Again, it's a compelling arc on its face with a fantastic build-up (seriously the character writing for her in Act 1 might be the strongest in the season for me), but I think we both agree on where it fell short.

Now that you've mentioned Maddie I have a lot to say about her.

I definitely agree with the strange framing of their relationship. When I first saw Maddie with Caitlyn I had the same thought that you did about the nature of Caitlyn sleeping with a younger subordinate. That's something that I just knew wasn't actually going to be addressed due to time, but that actually brings me to a point about the relationship I learned later from interviews with Amanda Overton about why they chose to have Caitlyn have this relationship with Maddie: Caitlyn "dating" Maddie was supposed to be an extension of her desire to try and be the "perfect Kiramman heir" after her mother's death. Maddie is supposed to be the type of person her mother would have approved of her dating.

Again, this is an idea that on its face is very interesting. Caitlyn spent the entirety of season 1 chafing against her role in life. She didn't want to solely be the Kiramman heir and wanted to make a name for herself. It's part of what got her to fall for Vi. Vi treated her like any other person-- she didn't see her for her name-- and showed her a side of life everyone else protected her from. And Vi is the exact opposite type of person that Caitlyn would have likely been expected to date and eventually marry.

Now that her mother is gone she would embrace the Kiramman name and try to be the perfect heir she knows her mother wanted her to be, including dating someone closer to what her mother would have wanted.

I think this base idea could have been fascinating for act 2. Show Caitlyn trying to be a perfect leader, a perfect heir, a perfect daughter, while on the inside it's making her miserable. This isn't what she wants. It's not what makes her happy. That time with Vi did.

As an idea, this is incredibly interesting for Caitlyn's character and her relationship with Vi, but it absolutely does not come through in the finished product. Caitlyn's side of the story in Act 2 does not get across that this is what she's trying to do. It doesn't lead to a contrast between Maddie and Vi or some self-reflection on Caitlyn's part that would adequately convey this. That idea is clearly a victim of what was left on the cutting room floor and as a result it ended up being messy in its presentation and execution. (now was watching the reaction to Maddie's death at the LA premiere really fun despite this? Absolutely.)

I do think this idea is also muddled by the fact that she's a dictator, which is clearly not what her mother would have wanted if the "they deserve to breathe" line is anything to go by, and the fact that the relationship is (like you said) with her younger subordinate. It feels like they ultimately tried to stretch Cailtyn's story in too many directions for the time they allotted to it.

I wanted to note that I really like the suggestion you made about Vi playing a bigger role in Caitlyn's shift and having it happen over a prolonged period of time and I wholeheartedly agree with this idea.

I think that's what the confrontation between Vi and Caitlyn is supposed to be. Vi asks Caitlyn an armor-piercing question "Who decides who gets a second chance" and this forces Caitlyn to confront her actions and reevaluate how she's been seeing Jinx this whole time (an irredeemable monster). This is what's supposed to spur her change of heart and, at least in part, motivate her decision to let Vi free Jinx. Vi is meant to be a moral center, her good heart changing the people around her in Act 3, but it doesn't get the focus it needed for that to have the effect I think was intended. Again, it's a victim of time.

You definitely hit the nail on the head with your statements about Caitlyn’s arc and her relationship with Vi having an incredibly compelling backbone that was ultimately hampered by time constraints.

I think my issue with Vi not running after Jinx has more to do with the way it's framed. What she tells Caitlyn makes it sound like she believes that Jinx has gone back to her old ways and she was a fool to believe she'd changed and... I just don't get how she came to that conclusion after their interaction in the cell, especially when the end of that interaction is her asking Jinx what she's going to do (clearly concerned for Jinx) and Jinx responds "Break the cycle". I felt like there needed to be a scene or moment of Vi in the cell alone to get this change in perspective across to me. I can see what they were trying to do, I just think Vi was the biggest victim of the limited time in Act 3. I think the way you presented your point of view on the moment was what was intended, it just didn’t work for me and I acknowledge that’s a personal problem.

We both clearly had a lot of thoughts on season 2 that we needed to get out. I know this has helped me a lot. So many of these thoughts were stewing in my head with nowhere to go and getting them out has made it so I can focus on what I love about Arcane a lot more! So thanks for this! Hopefully, this was helpful for you too.

I actually think this video is really interesting. Not because I fully agree with it (there are a lot of points in the video I don't agree with and a lot that I do), but because I appreciate its intent.

I also fall in the same boat where I really liked the second season, but I didn't love it like I did the first and I appreciate that this is a video that wants to start a conversation. He wants to talk about why things didn't necessarily work for him, why it didn't seem to have the same impact as the first, and about how he wants to hear why those things might have worked for others.

So much discourse about this season has framed it as either the best thing ever, above any criticism, or the worst thing ever with no redeeming qualities and it's made it very frustrating and demoralizing to try and talk about it online.

I want to talk about how I loved aspects of this show and that I was also let down by certain aspects of the show as well, but anytime I try and talk about criticism it's rarely met with a genuine conversation.

I would love to hear how people interpreted things differently from me, why they felt that way, how it connected with them, because I feel like that's the purpose of stories. It's never going to resonate with anyone the same way and there may have been things I missed.

I also know I haven't always worded what I've wanted to say and my criticisms the way I want to get across what I mean. It has never been my intent to sound like I wasn't open to discussion, different interpretations, or counterpoints. I would like to actually talk more about this season and hear other people's thoughts as well.

[dragomfry]

Artistic Analysis of Saezuru’s Covers (Vol 1-9)

What I’ve always loved about Yoneda Kou’s writing and art style is her subtlety and attention to detail. Compared to other BL styles, her style is not as exaggerated in its emotions. The characters’ emotions are consistently written and drawn very down-to-earth, realistic, and/or nuanced/subtle (besides the exaggerations in comedic moments). Her art style is simple yet detailed just enough to be very pleasing to the eye.

All of her cover illustrations are clever and rife with detail. In this post, I’ll be examining my interpretation on the meaning of each cover’s design up to volume 9.

Volume 1

The first cover is simply iconic. On a surface level, it shows exactly what type of story you expect you’re getting into, so it draws in its audience. But artistic nuances show that there’s a twist to this story.

Yashiro is caught in a compromising position, arms behind his back, resting his head on some man’s bare foot, which indicates his submissiveness. And that man could be any man, not just Doumeki (or the love interest). This emphasizes the impersonal aspect of sex to Yashiro, which shows that this isn’t going to be your typical romantic BL between two partners. We also learn that Yashiro is in control of all these sexual encounters. In traditional BL manga, the partner that takes the bottom or uke position is typically seen as the “weaker/more timid” individual (which, for some reason, are commonly interpreted as being more “feminine” traits), but clearly this isn’t the case with this story. Therefore, the cover is empowering. At this point, Yashiro is confident and has reclaimed a sense of control over his sexuality.

Volume 2

This cover is bold, in a quiet way.

It deviates completely from the first one, making the whole environment the focus and not the main character. This type of cover design is especially rare for manga, which typically grab your attention with the character(s) front and center. The style of characters being enlarged and shown on the cover is commonly used, as, obviously, it’s very marketable. It easily draws the attention of potential readers (weren’t you captivated by Yashiro on that first cover?). However, the 2nd cover is extremely subtle, and it’s truly the mark of an artist who cares about the story she is telling, not just the hot scenes. It’s admirable. I will never stop respecting Yoneda-sensei for being so confident in challenging established tropes and themes.

This cover forces you to look closer at the details. It’s saying, “Hey, this story isn’t just about lust, but something deeper and more mature.” Upon closer inspection, we see Yashiro standing alone, completely out in the open, soaking in a full suit in the rain. It shows just how little he cares for his own well-being, and the pessimistic desire to not do anything about it. He has been deeply affected by tragedy. He feels empty and insignificant, like a drop in the ocean, which the cover reflects by depicting him as just another person in the background.

The full cover reveals even more details. Others have already talked extensively about the beautiful symbolism of the rain and umbrellas (inspired by kyrieren’s Rain and Aiai Gasa posts). Doumeki rushes from the right, carrying an umbrella to shield Yashiro from the rain, or his semi self-imposed misery. Doumeki bringing the umbrella to Yashiro is symbolic of how he cares for Yashiro’s wellbeing, which Yashiro doesn’t “see” or fully notice the depth of at this point. The theme of seeing and not seeing is established from this point forward.

Volume 3

The body language is everything.

Their position, especially Yashiro’s position with his arms up and feet made bare, reflects a sexual one. This indicates how their relationship is becoming more intimate. But Doumeki still being in his shoes implies that they aren’t that far into it yet. It can also signify how Yashiro and/or Doumeki himself will not let him take off his shoes, or display his full vulnerability. Despite the bareness of Yashiro’s soles, which could imply openness, Yashiro pushes back with his legs and does not look Doumeki back in the eyes. Perhaps he’s, in fact, willfully being “blind” to Doumeki’s feelings and closing off his own. So Yashiro’s position, rather than reflect growing trust and openness, actually reflects how he wants to reduce their budding relationship to a purely physical one (like all his other sexual relationships). In contrast, Doumeki is staring intently at Yashiro, with his arms grasping Yashiro’s hands and pulling down the pants on his leg, keeping him in place. His intent is clear: to make Yashiro his. The way they’re both locked in place almost resembles a dance with its rhythm and balance. They’re both stuck in a position of their own makings, yet in a harmonious way. This cover masterfully conveys the psychological conflict and erotic situation between the characters.

Volume 4

Doumeki is staring determinedly, at whom? The audience, Yashiro, or both?

The cover of the extra story “A Flame in the Distance” makes it clear that Yashiro is not looking back at Doumeki, tying back into how Yashiro is willfully ignoring Doumeki’s and his own feelings.

It’s no secret that Yoneda-sensei puts great care into her symbolism. Both characters being placed in a field of wheat is likely very symbolic, but I could only find a few sources so far to explain the potential connections. According to those few sources, wheat symbolizes life, strength, and rebirth. In this case the wheat or the cover in general could symbolize Doumeki (because his name’s 力 means strength, power, force, etc). With this interpretation, volume 4 could act as Doumeki’s mindset in the story, and volume 2 would be Yashiro’s. In comparison to Yashiro’s gloomy, entrenched, and rainy attitude, Doumeki’s attitude is more cautiously optimistic and determined. The rebirth aspect of the wheat can also explain why they are both in the field; it’s because both have caused immense changes in each other. The brighter colors in the cover show how both have been the light in each other’s lives. Overall, the cover has an ominous or auspicious feel to it, but one thing is implied for sure: things are about to change. Doumeki and Yashiro are becoming extremely close.

Volume 5

Volume 5: the turning point of the series.

The cover’s design is simple, but everything is deliberately placed. We are put into the perspective of Doumeki, which makes the cover very intimate. Doumeki is on top and caresses Yashiro, who is undressed. Yashiro now looks directly up at Doumeki. This time, he cannot look away from his feelings. The last thing to mention is how Yashiro is almost positioned upside down, which indicates how everything is about to change. This all signals what we know is going to happen between them. They’re going to push the relationship to the farthest it’s ever been… and the result will be heartbreaking. A consistent theme among sources I found showed that the color white is symbolic of physical and spiritual purity as well as mourning and funerals. In this case, the white clothing symbolizes the tragedy of how Yashiro has been defiled by Doumeki, and how Doumeki is no longer pure in Yashiro’s eyes. The death of Yashiro’s sadomasochistic facade can also be symbolized with the white, because Doumeki has irrevocably changed Yashiro. Doumeki has made Yashiro fully realize things he never knew he so desperately wanted before: gentle touch, and most of all, genuine loving affection. Simultaneously, this volume has them both experience their best and worst moment.

Volume 6

While being less intimate than volume 5, volume 6’s cover still conveys a sense of closeness. Most of all, it conveys a sense of nostalgia and slight sadness.

Both are walking together in the night illuminated by city lights, Doumeki innocently following behind Yashiro, like how their relationship used to be. The cover’s cleverness comes from how it juxtaposes with the actual content of the volume, in which Yashiro is desperately trying and eventually succeeds in pushing Doumeki away from him now that they’ve gone so far. Volume 6’s cover is a swan song that pays homage to the romantic simplicity and gentle affection of their relationship, before everything changes…

Volume 7 and 8

By themselves, the covers seem unremarkable. But put side by side, the meaning and meta commentary become clear.

Doumeki and Yashiro have become physically separated. Both have grown up and matured. Doumeki is no longer the baby bird we remember. He looks more mature, dresses more seriously, has many scars on his face, and is wearing and surrounded by dark colors. This all reflects his mental growth and descent into darkness, or the yakuza. He is also turned away from Yashiro. Volume 7 is the complete opposite to volume 8. Yashiro dresses in and is surrounded by lighter colors. This reflects how he’s become more of a civilian and how he was actually never been as suited for the yakuza lifestyle as Doumeki. Yashiro has a contemplative expression, turning his head and body in a way to look directly at Doumeki. Now, Yashiro is aware of his feelings more than ever before, but Doumeki is not reciprocating so openly this time. *Forgot to mention, Doumeki is shown pulling off his glove with his mouth, his jacket is hanging loosely on him, and he’s taken off his shoe. He is much more comfortable in his sexuality now. On the other hand, Yashiro is shown to be covered more in his jacket and both of his shoes are still on, which could indicate his newfound impotence. Doumeki’s position is also more open than Yashiro’s more closed off one, showing their differences in confidence. In many ways, their roles have been reversed this arc.

Volume 9

Finally, we have the latest cover. Yashiro and Doumeki are working to re-establish a sense of closeness, but that warmth they possessed with their early relationship has not (yet?) resurfaced.

Doumeki once again looks directly at Yashiro. He is now trying to express his feelings for Yashiro, but at a distance because his hand is still gloved (or his mask of indifference is still on). It seems as if Yashiro is not looking directly at Doumeki, but that doesn’t mean he’s avoiding his feelings like in the previous covers. Rather, he is now trying to hide them. Still, Yashiro not looking at Doumeki shows that he tragically cannot “see” Doumeki’s feelings for him now. There is deliberate ambiguity with how Yashiro grasps Doumeki’s gloved hand, as evidenced by how Yoneda-sensei revealed other drafts with variations of Yashiro’s hand placement. Is Yashiro pulling Doumeki towards him, keeping him in place, or pushing him away from him? This ambiguity reflects Yashiro’s inner conflict and contradictions. Their winter clothing and the desaturated color scheme all symbolizes the emotional coldness of their current relationship. Both desperately want to express their feelings for each other, but both can’t yet, due to each other’s unwillingness to drop their masks.

And that’s where we left off.

[ghostlycleric]

It’s really really interesting that they left El’s feelings to be resolved in season 5.

The last time we hear about El’s feelings towards Mike it’s in her letter: “I have gone to become a superhero again. From, El”. That is quite literally El saying she doesn’t love Mike anymore.

She considers writing love to be the bare minimum. “You can’t even write it, Mike.” She thought Mike not saying or writing it meant he didn’t love her anymore. So, she stopped writing it too. While it wasn’t necessarily a breakup letter, that was her telling Mike that she is done waiting for him.

That would’ve immediately lead to their breakup if it weren’t for Will. (That’s why she doesn’t even try to kiss him during their reunion in the desert.) Will talked Mike into giving that monologue, Will lied about who had his feelings. The same feelings that Mike was reassured by and called back to in his monologue to El. The relationship we’ll see Mike and El in at the beginning of season 5 will be built on a lie.

How long this lie lasts is mainly based on the painting, but also on El herself.

Will’s feelings are solidified. Mike’s seem solidified. El’s are unconfirmed. (But, last we saw it seemed she’d lost feelings.) We never see how she responds to the monologue, but we do know some things about after it.

She’s distant. Will has reason to believe that Mike and El haven’t talked at all since the monologue. He asks Mike, kind of timidly, “has she talked to you at all?” and Mike says “not much”. He then reveals that they talked about the supernatural stuff, about her loss. We don’t hear anything about the state of their relationship.

They choose to have Mike and Will have another heart to heart at the end of the season instead of Mike and El. They choose to have El walk out on that hill independently with Mike staying by Will’s side behind her.

I don’t think they’ll pull an off camera breakup for them. But, we saw from how El acted in the desert reunion that she won’t be hostile to Mike after a mature breakup. In the pizza place right before the monologue, she holds his hands and appears to be trying to gently tell him something. I’ve never gotten anything but breakup vibes from that moment. They get interrupted, then the monologue happens. If they didn’t let it get interrupted, Mike and El would’ve broken up.

They’re set up to start yet another season with a rocky relationship built on a lie and an I love you. We saw from the way seasons 3 and 4 happened, that is a recipe for disaster.

I can’t wait to see how they decide to reveal El’s feelings and the painting. In what order? How? How long do Mike and El stay together? How does Will react? How does Mike react? How does El react? There’s so much volume in this love triangle it’s insane.

[puhpandas]

listen hw2 was fun and all when it came out but god am I glad that we have other stuff going on now and that it's not the most recent relevant thing to talk about bc. jesus was it frustrating when it came out

[tinyfantasminha]

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