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jubshead · 17 days ago

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𝐌𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐚

Paring: Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: The only person who could ruin a vacation in Italy was your stepmother, but what if she made it unexpectedly better?

A/N: Okay, so this was inspired by the second season of White Lotus and the title is in italian because I thought the english word was too crude.

I hope this isn’t too OOC, let me know!

This isn’t beta read and english isn’t my mother language, so bear with me.

Warnings: Face slapping, non-consensual spanking, dubious consent, unwanted arousal, degradation kink, face sitting.

I hope I didn’t leave anything behind, but if I did let me know.

Word count: 3.1k

Date: Nov 05, 2024

Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome!

Masterlist

Tag list: @jmkjournalblog @thecavalrywife @yourbasicqueerie @polaris-likethestar @riosslut @maevaofendora @yippie-kai-gay @w1theredroz3 (sorry for tagging you guys again, I’m making a few adjustments)

─────── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ───────

The sun shines through the blowing white curtains and into the bedroom. The last few days in Sicily were cloudy, and as pleasant as they had been, you’ve been longing for a day at the beach. The weather today was perfect for spending time in a bikini and staying at the hotel, not visiting any tourist spots or museums.

Italy is breathtaking. College was wearing you out, so spending a few weeks away from the student mentality is doing you good, it also helps that your father is paying for everything, even if it doesn’t erase the complicated relationship you two had.

Waking up early is mandatory in every vacation and today was especially easy. As soon as you had taken a peek at the open window of your room, you got out of bed. The constant tiredness you felt from your routine had vanished a few days into the city, and you were excited to make the most of it.

Skin glistening with sunscreen, you head downstairs for breakfast. The buffet was set up on a covered balcony with the chairs outside, where you could enjoy the view of the italian architecture as you ate. Grabbing a few fruits and a spoonful of eggs, you head out to find an empty table, only to catch sight of your father’s raised arm moving left and right to get your attention.

This vacation would be perfect if it weren’t for them.

“Good morning.” You say, settling on one of the chairs.

Your greeting goes unanswered. Your father is back on his phone and your stepmother gives you a mouth pressed smile, doesn’t bother pretending she likes you. Every time you were in their presence, you felt like throwing up. Besides the fact that your father is 30 years older than her, you still hate both of them for the affair they had while your parents were together.

You’ve always known your father was an asshole, but adultery was the final straw. The only reason you kept in contact with him was because of your mother. The saint she was, begged you to not distance yourself from him, scared you would be alone when she was gone, and how could you not grant a dying woman’s wish?

Rio was a cunt, but you couldn't deny that she was attractive. Your father wanting to stay with her wasn't a huge surprise. It was pretty clear, though, that the feeling wasn’t reciprocated. She was obviously with him for the money, and you were pretty sure she was cheating on him. Karma is a bitch, after all, and your dad’s time has finally come.

Eating your meal slowly, you enjoy the light breeze blowing your hair back. Cargo navy blue shorts and an open white button shirt hide away your black bikini and when you stretch your arms up, you feel eyes on you. Turning towards your stepmother, you’re greeted with sunglasses covered eyes and a similar blouse to yours, her brown hair is down.

“I have to get some work done, so I won’t be able to spend the day with you.” Your father tells you, finally looking up from the phone.

“That’s fine.” You reply, shoving a spoonful of papaya into you mouth

Oh, thank goodness you wouldn't have to stay with them today.

“Rio will go to the beach with you, though.”

Your eye twitch at that. Glancing in her direction, you see her tongue poking into her cheek and a side smile, clearly enjoying your suffering.

“I’m sure she would like to do something else. “ You try.

“No, no. I want you to spend time together, get to know each other.” Your father and his need to make you two close, this whole trip was all about that and yet you still avoid her like you have done all these years. You’ve never wanted any kind of relationship with her and that wasn’t about to change.

“Whatever.” You breathe out.

“Come up to our room. Rio needs to change and I can give you girls some cash to go out and buy a few clothes.” Yeah, that wasn't going to happen. Spending as much time away from her as possible was one of your goals in this vacation.

He leaves his uneaten breakfast on the table and gets up.

“Fine.” You concede.

In the hallway, they walk ahead of you and you take a moment to watch them. Your father moves with the confidence of a rich white man with a plastic filled face. He’s in his 70's and doesn’t have the worst body, but if Rio was putting up with him because of money, it must be torture. She was clearly above his level, with black hair, slim body and defined arms. Anyone could see that. She had a powerful aura and walked with a sway to her hips.

You look up when you realize you’re staring at her ass.

The white door opens up with your dad's key card. Their bedroom is huge. The entrance leads to a living room with two couches and a coffee table. At the parallel wall to the entry, a large door opens to a balcony with a beautiful view of the mountains, the water constantly crashing against the rocks. Their bed is on the left side and is separated by a bow shaped wall, the other side of the room is the bathroom. It has a big counter with multiple beauty products.

“I’m off. There’s a computer room downstairs, if anyone needs me, I’ll be there.” He hands you three hundred dollars and goes to kiss Rio.

He holds her waist firmly and she turns her head before his lips contact with hers. She pushes him slightly back and pat his shoulders, you hold in your laugh.

“Okay then.” He mutters embarrassed, ruffling your hair on his way out.

It doesn’t take 10 seconds after he leaves for you to turn to her and say. “Look, we don’t have to do this. I don’t want to spend time with you and I’m sure the sentiment is mutual.”

She fake gasps at you, eyebrows raised and smirks. “You’re gonna hurt my feelings.”

Rolling your eyes, you head to the bathroom to wash your hands, they feel sticky after eating the fruits from breakfast. You hear some movement in the bedroom and assume Rio is grabbing her bikini. The wardrobe door closes shut and you glance up in the mirror to watch your stepmother's figure walking behind you. You’re one step away from moving out of the restroom when she slips her blouse and shorts off.

Time seems to stop as you watch her with her back to you, her ass is completely bare and you stare as she first ties the top knots of the two-piece. She bends to pull up the bottoms and you look down to your hands, your breath comes out shallowly, the image buried into your mind.

“Boo.” A voice says, her breath ghosts your ear and you try to hide your startlement.

Looking up, you purse your lips. She’s standing a foot behind you and smiles smugly in your direction. When you turn around, her face is closer than you expected.

“What do you want?” You ask sharply.

“What do I want?” She repeats slowly, her fingers running through your hair ends. “You tell me.” She stares into your eyes and you squint, grabbing her shoulder and pushing her back.

“Fuck off.” You let out an incredulous laugh. “I always knew you were a whore, but this is beyond anything I’d have expected.”

“Why? Are you still mad at me because of mommy?” She teases with a fake pout.

Your entire face closes off and you take a step towards her.

“Don’t talk about my mother. You could never be half of the woman she was.”

“Oh, yeah? Your father would disagree.”

The reaction is instantaneous. Your palm stings from the contact and you gape at her, surprised at your own slap. With your hand frozen in midair, you observe as her head turns back in your direction, her cheek is stained by red fingers and she lets out a breathy laugh, running her digits through it.

“You are gonna regret that.”

The apology that was about to come out of your mouth is cut off by the yank on your scalp, your body is forcefully rotated towards the sink and you hold the impact with your palms. The tug in your hair makes your back bend in an uncomfortable way and your neck aches as it’s pulled back. Rio pressed firmly against your arched ass and rested her chin on your shoulder, looking at your startled face through the reflection. Her nails sink in your flesh.

“What are you doing?” You breathe out, partially scared and slightly aroused.

“Has anyones ever told you that you’re a brat?” She avoids your question with one with her own, you feel fingers running down your waist.

“Has anyone ever told you?” You return.

She scoffs as her mouth breaks into a grin, shaking her head left and right. The digits you felt moving through your covered skin grip you with full force and move to the front of your shorts, unbuttoning it. Panic flashes in your eyes as she pushes it down. You struggle against her hold and she pulls your hair harder.

“Don’t fight it, sweetheart.”

Breath catches in your throat when her fingers grab a handful of your bare ass.

“Do you know how I tame a brat?” She whispers in your ear and answers her own question. “I teach her a lesson.”

The sound of her palm colliding with your backside echoes off the white walls and your surprised yelp follows it. The slap doesn’t hurt, you could bet Rio didn’t put all her strength into it, the worst part, for sure, is that it felt good. The sting brings a delicious burn to your skin and you prevent yourself from asking for more.

The second time it happens, you grab harder into the counter. Words seem to fail you and you stand still, this whole thing feels like a fever dream. You look up at the mirror and see Rio’s eyes completely fixated on your ass, she smoothes her hands through it and you shudder.

The one that follows is firmer and you groan, unable to contain yourself. Goosebumps mark your skin and your body reacts to the pain, shifting uncomfortably against your bikini.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” She asks, raising her brows and giving you a maniac grin.

“Fuck you.”

She ‘tsks’ behind you and hums, slapping you three times in a row. The reaction is instantaneous and you hate yourself for pushing your ass back against her.

“Who’s the whore now?” She asks in your ear and laughs.

The taunting worsens your condition. Slick gathers in your underwear and you bite your lips, stressed by the way your body is reacting to your step mother. She doesn’t give you any type of relief and smacks you two more times. This torture seems to be going on forever, but you’ve only counted seven slaps. You had no idea how long it would last.

You’re about to speak when she strikes you one more time, with an open mouth, you aren’t able to contain the moan that escapes you and your face lights up like a christmas tree.

“You are so cute when you blush, sweetheart.” She tells you and licks your ear, her palm massages your sore butt and she adds. “Everytime we meet, I just want to have you all to myself.” She pulls back and looks at your pitiful position. Arched back, red ass and shorts bunched up mid-thigh, she runs tongue over her teeth. “When I saw the opportunity today, I just knew I had to take it. It’s so easy to rile you up and the fact that you hate me only makes it all the more delicious.” You shudder at her words.

She is fucking mental.

She surprises you for a second time with a spank. Tears well up in your eyes, the sting is worse than before and your arousal is burning you up from inside. The whole situation is making you dizzy, you feel like you’d fall down if Rio wasn’t holding you so tightly. Your neck hurts and you almost beg her to stop, but you couldn’t handle the humiliation, so you face it like a big girl.

She delivers two more and you screw your eyes shut. One tear runs down your face and you feel Rio releasing the grip on your hair, turning you around to face her.

“Ten slaps, that’s all. No need to cry.” She runs her thumb over your wet cheek.

The sink presses against your backside and the cold of it helps with the burn, with your eyes still closed, you take a deep breath. You’re still in shock.

“Did you learn your lesson?” She asks, her palms holding your wrist against your breasts.

You stare at her for a second. Laughing at her smirk, you spit right in her face. She closes her eyes, whipping the dripping saliva with her fingers. Her entire face closes off, her patience seems to have run thin.

She doesn’t say anything else, turns around and pulls you by the forearm. You struggle against her hold, but she’s stronger than you expected. Losing your balance when she throws you on the mattress, you don’t have time to get up before she’s upon you, holding your wrist above your head and kissing you roughly.

You hate yourself for it, but it doesn’t take 5 seconds for you to kiss her back. She’s in full control of the kiss and you writhe beneath her, failing to release your arms. Her tongue runs against yours and you can barely breathe from the intensity, your head spinning.

One of her hands runs down your side to the bikini bottom.

You suck in a breath when she separates.

“I could eat you alive in this, couldn’t take my eyes off you at breakfast.” She tells you, licking your cheek.

Her hand brushes the black fabric before pushing it aside, you are embarrassed by your state. Her fingers run through your wet folds, circling your entrance as you whine, desperate to be fucked.

“You are pathetic.” She says close to your face.

Fuck your body for reacting the way it shouldn’t. The degradation turns you on even more and you feel your resolve crumbling. Rio chuckles at the intern battle she sees in your eyes.

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to use that pretty little head of yours for long.”

She rolls off of you. The opportunity to escape presents itself and you don’t move an inch, with your wetness sticking to your thighs, you just want Rio to have her way with you. She smirks at you and crawls up your body until she’s stradling your ribs.

She doesn't put her full weight on you as she squeezes your cheeks and says. “Let’s see if this mouth is good for anything other than being disrespectful.”

You barely have time to understand the implication before her cunt completely shadows your vision. Her bikini is set aside and she pushes her hips down, making you grip her thighs in an attempt to control her pace. Giving up on your moral high ground, you lick a stripe up her lower lips. She hums on top of you and grinds down, her juices smear on your chin and you’ve only just begun. Apparently you weren’t the only one affected by the spanking.

Focusing your attention elsewhere, you leave a hard bite on her inner thigh, taking your hatred on her skin. She moans and sits completely on your face, making it impossible to breathe.

“You better get to work, sweetheart.” She mocks you and amends. “Before you pass out.”

You fully believe she’d let that happen so with renewed energy, you grab into her butt and grind her center against your face. Your tongue circles her entrance before going in. Hearing her hand grab the headboard, you begin to move in and out. Your pace is rapid and she seems to enjoy it as she starts to ride your face. Sucking her lower lips makes her groan on top of you, so you repeat the motion and squeeze a handful of her ass, making her moan.

With little breath, you stick your tongue out and let her chase her own orgasm. She slowly moves in circular motion and spreads her juices around your face. Her movement picks up speed and within seconds she’s bouncing against your mouth. You grip her ass tightly and feel your nose bumping against her clit.

She becomes a moaning mess on top of you.

For someone who can’t breathe, however, eternity seems to pass as you struggle to keep up with her. She is clearly on the edge and trying to reach her peak, so, in a last attempt to get her off of you, you run your tongue all the way up before sucking her clit as hard as you can.

Her movement comes to a halt and you feel her body tensing up, her thighs tighten around your head and your ears ring from the pressure. Her orgasm finally hits and she shudders on top of you, breathing heavily and letting out unrestrained moans.

She collapses beside you and you take the biggest gulp of air you can manage. Your breathing is as ragged as hers and you curse yourself for having a weakness for older women, this shouldn't have happened.

Silence befalls you for about a minute as Rio gathers herself and you contemplate your life choices. As soon as her breathing is slower, she gets up on her knees in the bed. All your previous worries leave your mind as soon as she’s back upon you, straddling your waist and biting her lips.

She kisses you and grasps the wrists that hold her face, you press your center against hers and let out a whine when she pulls back and gets out of the bed. With a puzzled face, you sit up and ask.

“Where are you going?”

“To the beach.” She simply says, grabbing a sun hat and putting it on.

“What?” You rapidly blink.

“You heard me.” Her face breaks into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen in her sulking face.

“Rio.” You whine like a petulant child.

She comes towards you and gives you a long peck. Your mouth follows hers as she pulls away.

“Brats don’t get rewards.” She states and heads for the door, exiting the room with a witchy cackle as you throw yourself back onto the bed.

#agatha all along #rio vidal #rio x reader #aubrey plaza #aubrey plaza x reader #rio vidal x reader

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qqueenofhades · 1 year ago

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Good Omens Season 2: Some Thoughts (and also Screaming)

First, /screams

Second, obligatory disclaimer that this meta contains MAJOR SPOILERS for all six episodes. If you somehow have managed to remain virginally unspoiled, look away now, scroll past, or add "good omens s2" and "good omens spoilers" to your block list, as those are the tags I have been using for all posts and reblogs.

Third, /screams more

Okay okay okay. Deep breaths.

Anyway, so, uh, how about all that, huh? First, the good thing about the tone of the season overall was that it felt considerably darker and more adult, in a good way. We didn't have the precocious kiddies, the kitsch and literally-comphet Anathema and Newt, the so-clever narration, etc. All that was gone, which makes sense when you consider that a) the end of last season saw them reboot into an entirely new universe, and b) the fact that God has gone silent is, in fact, a major plot point for the season. We don't have Her slyly telling us the story, or indeed anything, and everyone is left to make their own judgments and take their own actions. Which, obviously, gets them into a lot of trouble, especially when Metatron (the Voice of God, aka someone acting in the belief that they're speaking for God and therefore doing terrible harm) swoops in with the ultimate buzzkill at the end of episode 6. But we'll get to that.

The downside was that the main, present-day plot (hiding Gabriel in the bookshop and trying to get Nina and Maggie to fall in love) was fairly thin, felt stretched out and at times weirdly paced, and otherwise existed mostly to get us to That Ending and the setup for season 3. But the ending was so damn good (if obviously, very painful) that I can't be TOO mad, not least because we spent six episodes with them just making absolutely no pretense about the whole thing being as incredibly homosexual as possible. I'll be honest: I did not think they were going to actually, explicitly go there. Neil Gaiman has been so consistent about "your interpretations are valid and you're welcome to read it however you want, but the only canon is what's on screen," which I think is frankly a good thing (not least since the Neil GAYman Cinematic Universe is consistently very, very good to us queers), that I just... didn't quite think they'd pull the trigger. Sir Terry is dead and can't have active input, this is based on a book published 30 years ago, maybe they didn't want to make it LIKE THAT... etc. I certainly hoped, but I didn't really think they would.

Uh. Well.

As I said in my various semi-coherent liveblog posts, I honestly don't think there was a single straight person in the entire season, among both major and background characters. Aziraphale/Crowley and Maggie/Nina are the obvious paralleling couples, but Beelzebub (using "they" pronouns and addressed as "Lord" despite presenting as femme/femme-adjacent) is clearly nonbinary and therefore also queer, and the countless gay/queer side characters were just /chefs kiss. From Job's son making a sassy pass at Aziraphale, to the random Scottish goon with Grindr on his phone (which he then gives to Aziraphale, because what is subtlety), to the interracial couple with the trans spouse at the Pride and Prejudice ball, there was just a lot of casual, unremarked, non-story-critical queer representation visible at every turn. It's like the NGCU saw the bigots wailing about Sandman season 1 being extremely gay and went CHALLENGE ACCEPTED, LET'S MAKE GOOD OMENS 2 EVEN MORE GAY.

God bless.

Obviously, Jon Hamm as Amnesia!Gabriel stole the show (he was SO fucking funny) and it was also incredibly fun to watch Miranda Richardson repurposed as a scheming demon. Nina Sosanya also reappeared as Nina the coffee shop owner, which leads us into the Maggie-and-Nina subplot. They're obviously, wildly, incredibly clearly an analogue for Aziraphale and Crowley themselves, but they're also each, crucially, a mix of both. On the surface, Maggie is Aziraphale: the plump, blonde, earnest, sweet-natured one owning a slightly dated book music shop and somewhat clueless about emotional nuances, while Nina is (also on the surface) Crowley, the hard-edged dark loner who doesn't want to open herself up to people or be spotted caring. But emotionally, Maggie is Crowley: the one openly pining, clearly besotted, only wanting to hang around their crush and do whatever they can to make themselves useful, while Nina is Aziraphale. Interested but reticent, attracted but conflicted, trapped in an abusive relationship with a demanding offscreen "lover" (Lindsay/Heaven) who tries to constantly control and shame them without ever offering much, if anything in return. By the end, they bring themselves around to what Maggie/Crowley are offering, but by then, well. We've got a lot more problems on our hands.

As I also said in my earlier posts, this entire thing has always been a metaphor for religion, queerness, and what religion -- especially abusive, fundamentalist, organized religion -- does to queer people, but they really cranked the FUCK out of that metaphor this season. Aziraphale is guilt-tripped, controlled, and shamed for his attraction to Crowley at every turn. He is torn between his imagined duty to Heaven, in all its ignorant, uncaring, bureaucratic, gratuitously cruel system that he still insists on seeing the best in because he can't bear the alternative, and the chaotic and sometimes grey but genuinely more good morality that Crowley offers him. (Can I just say, we were explicitly shown that the two of them together doing "just a little miracle" are more powerful than Heaven AND Hell combined.) And at the end, he's told that the only way he can be with Crowley -- what Metatron explicitly blackmails him with -- is if they both go back to heaven, submit themselves to the cruel system again and give up everything that has made them who they are: their home in London, their human friends, their reliance on each other, their independence, their own ways of doing things. You can be queer in this (religious) framework, but only the limited, watered-down, controlled, controllable, constantly-under-supervision kind of queer, which relies on both you and your lover "converting" back to the true faith. And if you don't cooperate, they will literally kidnap you, lie to you, manipulate you, take you from your soulmate, and force you right back into doing the one thing (destroying the world) that you never, ever wanted to do in the first place, because in their minds, that is still better than this. It's for your own good.

Ouch.

And the thing is: that's why the ending a) hits so hard and b) is so fucking painful, because of course Aziraphale agrees. He has no conception of being able to defy Heaven on his own; he has always, always needed Crowley for that. In the flashbacks, when Aziraphale is faced with an order from Heaven that he desperately does not want to carry out (such as letting all Job's children get killed), he still relies completely on Crowley to "outsmart the rules" and find a better way. Crowley is A Crafty Demon; that's what he does, and so Aziraphale rationalizes it to himself that therefore that must be fine. Even in season 1, when he really didn't want the Apocalypse to happen but initially thought it was his duty as a good Heaven footsoldier, he relied on Crowley to talk him out of it and allow him to do what he really wants instead. That's their whole dynamic in a nutshell, as exemplified in that scene in episode 2, where Crowley tempts Aziraphale with the "pleasures of the flesh" while sprawled on his back in Ravish Me mode like the giant walking gay disaster that he is. (Sorry, buddy. That beard. Can't do it.) Everything that Aziraphale's existence is, that makes him who he is, that he loves and cherishes the most (in this case, food and wine) comes from Crowley. Everything else is just background noise.

Throughout the season, what we see is Aziraphale increasingly coming around to the fantasy of being with Crowley. He's coy and flirty; he talks about "our car" and expects Crowley will let him (which he does); he wants to have a Jane Austen ball and for them to dance together (oh my heart); he even thinks, at the crucial moment, that the best way for them to be together is to go back to heaven just like they were in the beginning, once more perfect angels, as if those entire six thousand years of struggle and grief and pining and separation and falling didn't happen. And Crowley -- poor, poor, brave, devoted, heartbroken Crowley -- has just heard for the first time in said six thousand years that actually telling the person you love how you feel is an option. Maggie and Nina tell them point-blank that their whole stupid plan failed because people aren't chess pieces who can be moved and automatically achieve the desired result. And of course this gobsmacks the dearest and dumbest Ineffable Husbands, because they can't conceive of anything else. People are chess pieces in the Great War of Heaven and Hell; Aziraphale and Crowley themselves are chess pieces who have been desperately trying to get out of being moved by external forces, but that doesn't change the fact that that's what they are. They don't have volition or agency aside from that which they can sneak for themselves in brief and stolen moments. That's it.

Until, well. It's not it. They discover that this whole would-be war is actually an elaborate ruse to cover up another angel-demon romance, that of Gabriel and Beelzebub. (I'll be honest, I'm 99% sure they did this storyline because they saw the fans crackshipping them, but I appreciate a fictional narrative that values and incorporates its fans' input, rather than trying to constantly "trick" or "outsmart" them or "do what they don't expect.") And Gabriel and Beelzebub get to be together, but only by leaving their world forever. They have to desert their homes, their structures, even their own identities, and never return. And Crowley and Aziraphale are so rooted in their "precious, perfect, fragile" life in their little corner of Soho, with their bookshop and their Bentley and their dining at the Ritz (which they didn't get to do in the end because METATRON /shakes fist), that that just doesn't work. Neither of them can conceive of doing that. So Aziraphale thinks "go back to heaven and try to make the terrible system do some good and take what we can in terms of being together" and Crowley just... pours out his heart. He's ready to fucking propose. He barely stops himself from saying something to the effect of "I want to spend eternity with you." He begs, he pleads with Aziraphale to go away not in the literal sense, but the emotional/metaphysical: to finally break this toxic dependence on Heaven and tell them once and for all where to stick it. And because he is desperate to make Aziraphale understand, he finally throws all caution to the winds and recklessly, desperately, adoringly kisses him, the one thing he's wanted to do for ages and...

Gets. Shot. Down.

Ugghhhhh. I'm suffering all over again. Aziraphale wants him, hungers for it, for them, and yet he's been so abused and so conditioned by Heaven (he's still blithely repeating to Crowley's face that "Hell are the bad guys!") that he just cannot accept that kind of desperate, blind, limitless, lawless affection. He even forgives Crowley for this "transgression," just to really twist the knife, and Crowley just can't take it, can't face up to how terribly this has all gone up in flames, after he went to heaven trying to find the answer for Gabriel's situation. Gabriel, who he fucking hates. Gabriel, who tried to kill the angelic being he loves (and for which Crowley has transparently never forgiven him). And yet at one pouty puppy-eyed look from Aziraphale and a warning that whoever is harboring Gabriel might be in danger, Crowley leaps headlong into the Bentley again and rushes to the rescue while "Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy" is blaring. He stoutly protects Gabriel; he does a miracle to disguise him; he lets him have hot chocolate and stay in the bookshop; he guards him from the literal demonic horde outside. All because of Aziraphale. That's it. And then, it still doesn't work. Not only that, Gabriel's absence and decision to forego Armageddon gives Heaven the one tool they finally need to take Aziraphale away from him.

I repeat: Ugghhhhhhhh.

(In a good way. Ngl, I love this angst. This is the kind of angst my brain Thrives on, the Thematic Parallel Romantic Character Arc kind. Nom nom nom. But also: AGONY.)

I also need to talk about Aziraphale driving the Bentley, aside from the obvious metaphor of him being in Crowley's home while Crowley is in his. Last season, we had the "you go too fast for me, Crowley" scene with them sitting in said Bentley, which was Aziraphale saying he's not ready for a relationship. In this season, as noted above, we see Aziraphale increasingly embracing the potential fantasy of being with Crowley. But here's the catch: when he's in the Bentley this time, driving it, setting the pace, acclimating to the idea, he's driving his own idea of what the Bentley/his relationship with Crowley is. It's not the real thing. He plays classical music; he supplies himself sweets; he turns it yellow; he drives too slow. Crowley calls him in another old-married-couple snitfit to complain that Aziraphale's messed it up, but what Aziraphale has actually messed up (or will, by the end of the season) is far more consequential than just a car. He's changed the entire shape of their relationship to the one he thinks can make it work, and it just doesn't. It has to be them -- "we could have been... Us" -- or it's not even close to the truth. It's not worth their time.

I repeat: Ouch.

Speaking of the writers validating fan theories, I know we all picked up and screamed about on Crowley's idea of Peak Romance Guaranteed To Fall In Love being sheltering from rain and gazing into each other's eyes, which confirms that that poor bastard was indeed ass-over-teakettle gone as soon as he met Aziraphale (again) in Eden. I also need to talk about the 1941 redux, because wow. This time, the danger comes from Hell, which we see being its usual self: gleefully, pointlessly cruel, pettily backbiting, dirty, sniping, tedious, endless, determined to mindlessly destroy because They're The Bad Guys and they like it. So they blackmail, spy on, miracle-block, illicitly photograph, and try to prove that Aziraphale and Crowley are secretly a couple, right after Aziraphale himself has just had the Light From Heaven realization that he's in love (which we all also picked up on in s1). They're forcibly outing them (to speak of more Religious Queer Trauma) in order to break them up/get them into trouble with their authorities/families. Aziraphale and Crowley manage to escape it mostly by dumb luck, but Crowley having an altogether freakout, hands shaking, barely able to actually point the gun at Aziraphale even in the knowledge that it's supposed to be fake, is just... wow. He can't even fathom the idea of ever trying to destroy him in earnest, especially when he knows on some level that Aziraphale also finally just realized his own feelings. So I just need to --

/screams

Anyway, Aziraphale's entire arc this season is doing what he thinks is the right thing and then inadvertently causing harm and damage as a result. In the Edinburgh flashbacks (live slug reaction of me: SEAN BIGGERSTAFF???!!) he tries to stop Elspeth from stealing bodies and gets Morag killed and Crowley drinking the laudanum to save him (though that part with David Tennant just riffing left and right, using his natural Scottish accent, and being Tiny Crowley/Huge Crowley was hilarious). He invites his neighbors to a Pride and Prejudice ball and makes them all the target for demonic attack. And of course the Job episode: Aziraphale, horrified at Heaven's callous cruelty, desperate not to get Job's children killed, willing to go along with Crowley's tricks to save them somehow, tempted by Crowley to do the fucknasty with their angel bits eat some food and decide that he likes it. As mentioned, the whole thing about God being silent this season is a major thematic choice. The only time we see/hear God is Her communing with Job from afar. Aziraphale enviously imagines the answers he must be getting (he's not, he's baffled and perplexed), while Crowley longs beyond words to even have the opportunity to ask the question: why? Why do this? Why is this your plan?

And of course, this absence culminates in the Metatron, the Voice of God, the person arrogantly claiming that they're speaking for God and know exactly what Heaven wants, being able to seize Aziraphale by the short hairs and absolutely fuck him over. Gabriel is gone/decommissioned/eloping with Beelzebub, so Heaven needs a Supreme Leader (God apparently is no longer a factor in the equation). And what this Supreme Leader needs to do is finally unleash the Apocalypse that Gabriel decided to pass on (the Second Coming). Aziraphale needs to be punished, taken away from Crowley's influence/love, and put back under Heaven's explicit control, so Metatron spots a great opportunity to do all three at once. It's not an accident that the exact tool he uses to get Aziraphale to agree is "now you can actually be with Crowley!" Aziraphale and Crowley have been trying so hard to hide out from their respective Head Offices, but now all at once, there's this seemingly miraculous opportunity for them not to have to do that anymore! They can be together! They can be sanctioned by Heaven! They can give up all this hiding and sneaking around and lying! Isn't that better?

... As long as, of course, they give up absolutely everything that makes them who they are. No big deal. Minor catch. Probably nothing.

Metatron doesn't let Aziraphale have time to escape, or think it over, or reflect, or anything. He pressures Aziraphale to come with him immediately, or be once more subject to Heaven's implicit wrath/destruction/judgment. Believe me, Aziraphale already KNOWS he's made a huge mistake, as soon as he hears what Metatron really wants: bringing him back to unleash the Apocalypse that Aziraphale and Crowley have given up literally everything to prevent. He doesn't need time to reflect. By the time my man is in that elevator, he's well aware of what a catastrophic misjudgment he's made, and yet --

Aziraphale needs this. He has, as noted, literally always relied on Crowley outsmarting Heaven's cruel orders in order to prevent himself from having to do them. He's relied on Crowley rescuing him ("rescuing me makes him so happy," WELL BUB, IT'S BECAUSE YOU ALWAYS NEED IT). He admits to Crowley's face that "I need you!" He hates Heaven's sadistic meanness, but he has absolutely no framework, in and of himself, to defy it. When the rubber hits the road, he will crumple and try to go along with it, and now he's been put in a position where he's going to have to stand up, defy Heaven, and make the break once and for all BY HIMSELF. He doesn't have Crowley around to do it for him, he has no support, he is going to arrive in Heaven and be shuttled straight off to the Apocalypse 2.0 War Room. The only way he gets out of this is if he actively stands up, if he chooses himself and Crowley and their life, and he has to.

The thing is:

Aziraphale has lived his entire eternal existence Looking Up. Up is the direction of Goodness and Heaven. Up is where Angels go. Up is where Aziraphale comes from and where Demons and Hell are not. But now he's going Up, in a position to take over the whole shebang, and it's the last thing he wants.

So he's going to have to come back Down.

He's going to have to Fall. He's going to have to get back Below at all costs. He's going to have to finally, once and for all, understand what led Crowley to make the choice to leave Heaven and never come back. It's only then that they can possibly be together on any kind of conscious, equal, deliberate footing, claim their own agency, reject Heaven AND Hell, and try to really earn that South Downs cottage and that happy-ever-after, and it's gonna hurt so good.

Now if you will excuse me, /screams

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens s2 #good omens spoilers #ineffable husbands #look this probably could have been twice as long #but i had to stop somewhere #I JUST HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS

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captainzigo · 8 months ago

Text

Hi everypony!

My kofi is ko-fi.com/captainzigo if you enjoy my art, consider leaving me a tip! this is otherwise entirely a labor of love so,,,

you can also send a request with your tip! but if you choose to do so, please read the disclaimer later on in this post**

my non-art blog, where i accept asks is @snapewife-divorce-lawyer and my reblog-spam blog is @3amgaypotion also i am on bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/captainzigo.bsky.social

that's a bunch of pictures of my oc(/ponysona) Prickly Pear. she's a cowgirl

Frequent/noteworthy questions below the break

**on donations made to me:

i still dont take commissions currently, but if you send a request with a donation, there's a 99% chance i'll do it. and that remaining 1% i'll probably just ask you for a different request. if you send me a request with a donation you are not sending me a commision. you are making a donation, and i might do you a favor as a result. you do not own the resulting art. and I am under no obligation to complete it or to do it in the way that you like. you do not need to make a donation in order to make a request. i talk more about it here

hello mutuals!

If you are a mutual, DM me for an invite to discord server and subsequently to minecraft server

on sending me asks:

any asks you send me should be like Strongbad emails. one paragraph. no attachments. unless you are sending me refs.

in any interactions, please keep in mind that i am a stranger on the internet and act accordingly.

unless I have explicitly said otherwise, you can safely assume that I do not count you amongst my friends. it is nothing personal, it is in fact the opposite.

why am i like this?

i am autistic. i say this because representation matters, but also because i would like to ask that you please be very frank with me. i don't even really need your patience. just say what you mean and we will get along fine.

can you draw my ocs?

you most certainly can draw any of my ocs. i'd love that acually. tag me

on (re)posting my art:

do not post my art on other platforms. do not repost my art period. I don't really exist on other platforms since i deleted Twitter. So if you see my stuff on other platforms, it's not me. except for my bluesky.

transformative works are obviously allowed, at least here in america where i live. but if you want my blessing, please keep them SFW, and try to keep the spirit of the original artwork

is my blog SFW?

im in my twenties. i keep my blog SFW (as i define it) as a strict rule.

i do not consider the fact that sex exists, that some people enjoy it, or some innuendo to be NSFW. i also do not consider swearing, even as tho a sailor might, to be NSFW.

are NSFW interactions ok?

in short: no. while i have no aversion to to that sort of thing, and often actually enjoy it, i keep this blog SFW. the intention behind my art is to be SFW even when it might be skirting the line. in general, and especially, specifically with mlp, i do not wish to have NSFW interactions on the internet. please respect this boundary.

on shipping:

in my opinion, all romance real or fictional should be between people who are similar in age, doing age appropriate things, not closely related, and all with mutual consent. i am not interested in witnessing or interacting with anything outside of these parameters.

on my blue hair and pronouns:

i am a trans woman. i am also bisexual. i am also poly and demi since im listing things. i am out online becasue i know how important it is to know that you aren't alone.

do i take constructive criticism?

NO 🖕👹🖕 FUCK YOU!!!!!!! GET BLOCKED IDIOT!! unless you are a marginalized person who feels i have unintentionally made you uncomfortable somehow with my art or otherwise. in that case i am sorry and you do me a great favor by calling me out. OTHERWISE FUCK YOU DUMBASS IF YOU DONT LIKE MY ART GO DRAW YOUR OWN 🖕🖕🖕🖕

“i hate bronies”…

i don't necessarily hate you if you self identify with that label. i like to make myself off-putting to keep creeps away. i talk about it more in this post: https://www.tumblr.com/captainzigo/744131513208176640/when-i-say-i-hate-bronies-in-my-header-its

brony?

i don't hold a lot of nostalgia for old brony stuff. infact it's quite the opposite. i was a child when the show came out, and more than that i was a girl. i am not a brony.

do i like g5?

i like all generations of mip including the new stuff. gen 4 is just the one i grew up with

why is my header aurora, bori and alice from the best gift ever?

well that would be because i hate them like a mother hates a child. like the sun hates the moon. like sickly victorian child hates the slightest morsel of bread.

on flurryheart:

i often draw stuff about cozy glow x flurry heart. this is with the understanding that cozy glow spends about a decade turned to stone. nullifying the age gap.

🤓☝️ i think you mean effect, not affect

i am dyslexic. i spell stuff wrong all the time and i type weird. please don't bother correcting me. wooptydoo your brain is wired normally. sending you a medal.

on my username:

i've had the same username since i debuted on the internet. zigo is the name of an oc i made that i dont really talk much about anymore. zigo is a fine enough nickname, and at least one person calls me that irl.

#prickly pear #my ocs #pinned post

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weirdsht · 4 months ago

Text

Disillusioned 2 . Abandoned, Adopted - Cale/Reader

tags: Abuse/Torture, Near Death Experience, Nothing too graphic, Self-deprecation

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist prev . next

_____ was already in trouble. For what? They didn’t know, but they knew their family would only send them to the Dubori territory if they were in trouble.

After all, the house there was built solely to punish them away from prying eyes. They said that it’s because it’ll be disgraceful to see a noble’s child, even if adopted, being a brat.

It had always been like this for as long as _____ could remember so they did not mind. In fact, growing up like that made them think that it was normal as they had been isolated and could not compare how others raised their children.

Despite that, it still hurts. Each time the candle wax drips down their body they feel an unbearable burning. When the whip hits their skin they feel as though heaven and earth have joined forces in making them bleed.

In short, it hurts. Everything hurts.

It hurts _____ not being allowed to cry because if they do then the punishment would only intensify. It hurts that no matter what they do they still don’t fit their family’s standards. Most of all it hurts them to hear their older sister, the one in charge of punishing them, say hurtful things like how they didn’t deserve their power and that without it, no one would love them.

It hurts because they know it’s true.

No one would like an orphan without value. That’s why every day _____ is reminded by their family just how lucky they are to be picked up and clothed by such kind nobles like them.

“You knew that you were in trouble already but you continue to misbehave?! How many times do I have to tell you to not embarrass my family, you worthless child?!”

Crack!

Each word the biological daughter of the Perduellios says is accompanied by the whip harshly hitting _____’s skin. The woman’s voice was laced with venom and their ears were tinted red with anger.

It’s a bit comedic when matched with the fact that there’s no way for _____ to respond. They were always made to wear a magic choker that inhibited speaking during these punishments.

On the bright side, at least this time the healer has an idea of some of their sins.

The new sin added to their list was probably because they talked with the eldest son of Henituse County. They did notice that the family considered it humiliating whenever _____ spoke to a noble they weren't healing. Most probably because nothing will change the fact that they’re a commoner.

_____ just wanted to warn the young master of the danger of their journey. However, that seemed futile as they already had Tasha, a Dark Elf, with them. _____ was sure that she could take care of everything, including the possible dead mana rising.

Nevertheless if given the chance to go back to the time they spoke with Cale, _____ wouldn’t change their decision.

It’s not only because of the need to warn the young master… some personal greed is also included in it. Greed that _____ felt for the first time in their almost 18 years of living.

Well if asked by other people, they probably don’t think wanting to talk to another person is considered greedy. However, this is the first time _____ has wanted something, and they grew up learning that if they want something for themself then it’s considered greed.

But who could blame this poor person when it was the first time they felt comfortable speaking to someone? They didn’t even know that what they felt was a comfort as their almost 18 years of life were filled with only hardships and no resting time.

That was why _____ was willing to take the punishment for it.

“You know what, I’ve had enough of you! I’m going to throw you in that desert tonight! Guards!!”

“My lady, how would the count and countess react?”

The guards were asking the noblelady but still moved to execute her order even before she could answer.

“Don’t worry I have my parents' permission. We can just make up some noble story about how that trash over there was so kindhearted they followed an injured peasant in the desert and died!

Now throw them out and make sure you throw that thing far!”

_____ couldn’t even protest due to the magic device on their neck. They could only internally panic as the guards literally threw them out in the desert.

The whole thing looked as though it was planned. How else would everything go so smoothly with no hurdles? Not even the guards of the Dubori wall were on duty when their shabby carriage passed by.

But _____ has no time to think about such things. They can think about it once they survive the Dessert of Death.

If they can survive one of the five forbidden regions while tied up and beaten.

‘Is this really how I’ll die? Can I not do anything to survive?’

The weak and battered healer looked around and that’s when they felt it. Something weird was happening in the sand.

‘It must be the dead mana… I’ll really die if I touch that!’

But it's not like there’s anyone they can ask for help as they are pretty far away from the walls. Also, not only are the guards currently eating dinner, but they are also too selfish to help _____ even if they could ask for help.

Seeing no hope left, _____ who has been fighting to stay awake this entire time finally gave in to the increasing dark spots dancing in their vision.

Just before their eyes closed, they thought they could see a blurry silhouette of an elf. But they aren’t sure if they are hallucinating from their wounds and desperation.

With that _____ gave in and lost consciousness.

The next time _____ woke up the first thing they saw was a familiar red hair that resembled blood. Beside him was Tasha in her Dark Elf form.

“H-huh..?”

The confused and flustered _____ became even more confused when they heard their voice. Upon touching their neck the healer realized that the magic device was gone.

“Looks like the patient is awake now. Good, I’m just here to update you on your recovery.”

The human healer explained to everyone in the room how _____ has clear signs of abuse or torture. Despite that, they should be fine after a few days of rest. Then it was added at the end that _____ was lucky the Dark Elves found them first before the dead mana could do any damage.

“Abuse or torture… Did you get into a fight?”

“No, I just lost my home.”

The short answer made Cale feel relieved that _____ was not someone who would suddenly start talking about their backstory. A thought that _____ would have no way of knowing.

“It looks like you aren’t shocked to see me like this young master _____?”

“Ah please don’t call me young master anymore as I’ve been practically disowned last night. And yes, I knew about Miss Tasha being a Dark Elf since we first met. I also know that Crown Prince Alberu has some Dark Elf blood.”

Tasha was surprised by this as the healer showed no signs of knowing.

“Please don’t worry as I didn’t get the information from anyone. I have a water-type ancient power that allows me to see what someone is as long as they have water or blood running through their body. I can also assess their medical condition to an extent. This power is what allows me to replenish someone’s energy but I have deceived everyone into thinking it was part of my blessing. For that, I apologize.”

_____ bowed and could not see the intrigued face that Cale made. Cale is currently thinking just how useful of a power it was for avoiding unnecessary people. While the black dragon can roughly tell another being’s species by their powers, it’s a whole different thing to have a walking-talking species detector.

“That’s why they smell like you weak human. They also smell like nature!”

It was like the norm now to ignore the black dragon’s useless chatter.

“So, you say that you’ve been abandoned by your adoptive family right?”

_____ didn’t know how or why, but that simple question from Cale turned to them joining his group. In fact, they are now on their way to the Henituse territory. But before they can go there, they are first staying at an inn just outside the capital.

Cale did not say why they were there and _____ did not ask as they are used to not knowing anything. However, Cale did state they have to talk about the healer’s existence as it will be hard to hide them from everyone forever.

That’s why _____ is currently knocking on the door of Cale’s room.

As the door opens they can see Hong trying to drink water out of a wooden cup that’s as big as their kitten form. The sight was comedic, a small red kitten trying to grip a big cup using his tiny front paws in able to drink as if he were using his human form. _____ looked amused at the absolute concentration on Hong’s face.

However…

Hong should’ve used a smaller cup.

If he did then maybe the water couldn’t have flung out as he lost his grip on the cup.

Then the children and _____ wouldn’t have been splashed by the same water.

Most importantly, _____ wouldn’t have noticed the invisible black dragon.

Well, they didn't necessarily know that it was a dragon yet. They just felt a lifeform hiding its existence.

“That’s weird… I’m sensing that 4 people have been splashed but I can only see 3. Oh, and this 4th person seems very strong yet very young…”

On queue, Cale sighs and reveals the black dragon to _____. Well, the redhead was already planning on showing the dragon since the crown prince’s intel told him that the healer was safe.

By safe Alberu means that _____ has nowhere to run to because they have no affiliation other than their family and that said the family has officially proclaimed to everyone that they have died.

Knowing that the Perduellios had a hand in almost killing _____ disgusted Cale, but he decided not to mind too much as he now has a detector and a healer thanks to them.

So after deeming _____ trustworthy, Cale decided that he would reveal the black dragon during their talk. He just didn’t expect the revelation to be this…

Chaotic.

But hey, it saves him some effort when introducing the black dragon.

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oleander-nin · 10 months ago

Note

I’ve been playing dead by daylight lately ; and now I’m wondering how would the the general yandere rise turtles hcs react if reader made a bet with them if there beat them in DbD , the boys will let the reader go and if reader loses the reader stays with the boys forever.

A/N, not important: Sorry for the wait. Also I have no clue of what Dead by Daylight is, so I just kind of made it a general thing of any game you might play. Also I misread your ask and didn't add the losing rule. My bad, sorry. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Lying, breaking a deal/promise, isolation mention, kidnapped reader, dark themes, yandere themes, mentions of violence

Words: 2057

Summary: Headcanons of if you made a bet to be set free.

Tag list: @f1oricide @itsyagurlchip @lordfreg @acutiewithagun @rottmnttmnt2012 @lixnininotnay @lexiechr

Michelangelo:

He doesn’t like the idea of it. He’ll ignore your requests at first, especially if you’re not asking him straight up. If you keep pushing it, he’ll finally sit down with you and let you talk. He doesn’t like it at all, mostly because the entire point is to gain your freedom. Mikey was certain he’d made it clear you’d never leave him.

He might concede after a while. After all, you’re both just playing a game, and you must know he’s not actually letting you go, right? You’re happy with him, this has to just be some emotional thing you’re going through, and you want to win a game. He doesn’t mind indulging you in that, especially since there’s no harm in it. It’s just a game.

He doesn’t take the game very seriously when you first start playing. He’s just happy to play the game with you and try to bond. He doesn’t even make his own condition if he wins because it’s not like he’s letting you go anyways. It’s no more of a bet than calling someone a rotten egg after a race.

If you’re losing/lost:

He ignores the devastation on your face, smiling widely at you as he shifts closer to you. He was ecstatic you were spending time with him, and you seemed so happy and serious while playing the game. It’s clear you enjoyed it, and you weren’t even fighting him while playing!

He tries to make a night out of it, quickly ordering pizza and bringing in drinks and candy as he starts to set up different games. He’ll make you happy, he swears. Just stop pouting and come play.

Mikey relies on your love, so he’ll keep playing with you until you seem to be opening up again. He’ll pull you close and kiss you after every game, trying to wear you down. If you’re trying to avoid him, or want to quit after a while, Mikey will ignore your protests and hold you close. He’s a bit upset seeing you genuinely sad that you lost. He makes a note to cook your favorite tomorrow, just to show you being with him wasn’t all that bad. I mean, if you really wanted to leave, you would have tried to run. Clearly he’s doing something right.

If you’re winning/won:

He just leans over and gives you a kiss for doing such a good job before asking if you wanted to play again. He likes seeing you so excited over winning, ignoring the fact you were happy because you thought you’d get to leave.

Gets upset when you demand he let you go, his frustration growing as you get more insistent that you deserve to leave. Mikey finally puts his foot down, harshly telling you you’re never leaving him. He’s not losing you, ever.

If you keep trying to fight him on it, he’ll just pull out your old chains and start treating you like when you first got there. No more privileges, no more opinions, no more leaving his side. You’re stuck in his room until you decide to drop your silly thought of getting away.

You really needed to learn you weren’t ever leaving him, and he’ll teach you by any means necessary.

Donatello:

When you first bring it up, he’d laugh. Why would you be serious about such a thing? Not only are you saying you want to leave him, but you also think you’d beat him at a video game. It’s absurd.

When he realizes you’re serious, he’ll consider it for a moment before agreeing. He’s a bit peeved you really want to try and ‘win’ your freedom, but he’s willing to stay calm and see how this goes. Especially since he could get something from you if you lose. He makes you swear that if you lose, you’ll start showing him more affection as a payoff.

When you both first start playing, he’s not only determined to beat you, he wants to crush you. He’s heavily insulted by your want to play the game for something you should know you’ll never get. The only reason he agrees in the first place is because he knows this is the first time you’ve willingly played a game with him. It’s not like you actually tried to escape, only asked for it. He’d take that over you making a break for it any day.

If you’re losing/lost:

He’ll gloat the entire time. He’s mad at you, and is incredibly competitive. Those don’t exactly mix well.

If at any point you seem to be starting to gain the upper hand, he’ll subtly cheat to keep you down. He wants to end the match as soon as he can so you have less time to possibly win.

Is so smug when he beats you, he feels the entire ordeal worth it. He doesn’t even feel like punishing you for trying to gain your freedom in the first place. He liked being able to play with you, even at the stakes.

Will absolutely expect you to uphold your end of the deal. If he tries to hug you or kiss you after and you try to push him away, he’ll remind you of the deal. He loves seeing the defeat on your face as you give into him.

If you’re winning/won:

Slowly gets more frustrated as the game goes on. He’s not worried about you leaving, he’s not letting that happen even if he ‘promised’, but he’s still salty you’re beating him.

He’ll cheat, whether by messing with your controller/person, or hacking the game and completely nerfing you. He hates losing.

If you are able to win despite his cheating, he’ll probably let his anger boil over. Not only did you ask to be granted freedom, but by the terms, you technically earned it. He’s furious and might start yelling at you, or accusing you of cheating as well. When you try to get him to keep the terms of the deal, he’ll just snap at you to shut up and will get more furious at every mention of it.

You’ll probably end up in isolation for a few days to weeks afterwards. Enjoy your freedom.

Raphael:

Raph gets incredibly frustrated the first time you ask. Why would you want to leave? You’re safe with him, and he loves you. You asking to leave like that is a bit of a punch to the gut.

He gets more clingy with you for a while, always slinging you over his shoulder when he needs to go to a different room, and holding you tighter at night. He’s afraid you’ll try and make a break for it at some point now, so he makes sure to not let you out of his sight.

Raph doesn’t want to play the game with you at all. He doesn’t like the bet placed on it, and it just makes him angry every time you bring it up. He does eventually break down and agree to do it, but it’s mostly to get you to stop asking. At no point does he plan to let you go, no matter what he promised you.

If you’re losing/lost:

He feels a bit bad because you seem so upset, but knowing why you were so upset boils his blood. He’ll lightly tease you to get you to cheer up and let it go, hoping you’d both be able to just forget this and move past it. It was just a little game that he wasn’t taking seriously, so neither should you.

He’ll hold you close afterwards, feeling mostly relieved. You lost on your own terms, so he knew you wouldn’t try to argue with him. If you try to insist on another match, or to try a different game, he’ll just shut you down.

Tries his best to make you happy and tells you how much better it is with him. If you were gone and without his protection, you could be hurt. He tries to remind you of all the villains he’s fought and makes up recent cases and such to try and show you that being with him is better.

If you’re winning/won:

A bit bitter he lost, but just kisses your head and compliments your skills of the game. As you wait for him to let go of you, or bring you to the sewer entrance, and he does no such thing, you start to get upset.

Raph pays no mind to your whining, cursing, or demands, just hugging you close as he silently waits for you to calm down. He tries to be gentle, but gosh you were just being so awful and it’s not really his fault he squeezed you just a bit too hard.

Raph will make sure to keep a tighter grip on you for the next few months. He doesn't trust you to not try and make a break for it now. He stays within arms length of you at all times, and if he ever has to leave, he has you chained to the wall. He’s sorry about it, he swears, but you really are better off with him. One day you’ll see that, he’s sure of it.

Leonardo:

Silently furious at the request, but immediately agrees. With one caveat, of course. If you lose, you have to start acting like you love him. Be affectionate, call him pet names, stop flinching, the whole nine yards.

He’s not worried about you winning, mostly because he’d never actually set you free. Leaving him isn’t an option, not not, not ever. You’re his true love, his soulmate, and no silly bet you’ve made will change that. As far as Leo’s concerned, he’s gaining more than he’s losing from this deal. You’ll still have to hold up your end after all.

Leo has you sit in his lap while you play, mostly because he’s afraid you’d try to make a break for it after you realize he’s not letting you go. After you proposed the initial deal, he lost most trust in you. He’s not going to take any chances.

If you’re losing/lost:

Teases you relentlessly. You suggested playing for your freedom, you took the chance and even chose the game, and you couldn’t even win. Leo thought it was hilarious.

If you whine or backtalk at all, he brings up the terms of the bet while he covers your face in kisses. He’s overjoyed you lost and now have to follow your part of the deal. He’s immediately showering you in affection because he knows you can’t push him away for it.

He’s incredibly smug that he won too, almost forgetting about how angry he was about the deal in the first place. You lost, and now you have to commit to being his forever. By your own doing, you’re stuck pretending to love him until you actually do. He can’t see anything wrong with the arrangement. He’s completely ecstatic.

If you’re winning/won:

A bit peeved at first, mostly because he’s annoyed he lost. His arms grow tighter around you as he stays silent for a few moments. He can hear you clearly telling him to let go and honor his half of the bargain, but why should he? It was a stupid game, and you don’t get to leave.

As you get more erratic, he finally figures out what he wants to do. With gritted teeth, he slowly lets you go so you could leave. He tries to not get angry at the joyous look on your face as you realize he’s upholding his end.

He watches you leave the room, his eyes trained on your back as you run towards the entrance. He’s not too worried, his mind thinking through every small possibility in case his plan goes wrong. He reaches over to the side of his bed and grabs one of his katana’s, the room quickly encased in a bright glow.

Within seconds, you’re back in his lap as Leo’s face nuzzles into your neck. Leo pays no mind to your surprised and tensed form, his arms tight around you. Every angry cry and scream goes ignored while Leo holds you close.

He can’t help but smile as he reminds you that he never agreed to not hunt you back down.

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no-where-new-hero · 1 year ago

Note

omg I need your thoughts on the terminally o line author culture bc ngl it makes my eye TWITCH, there are authors I deliberately avoid even tho I've heard their stuff is good bc they're like that 🙈

HHHHH oh good lord, okay, from how I see it, there are two angles on this, both aggravating and sad: the official decree one and the spontaneous ecosystem one.

The officious one is that the nature of publishing nowadays demands an author have an online presence. You need Twitter/X. You need to let every potential reader know your book is coming out. You need engagement through reviews and pre-orders incentives (if you buy now you’ll get a special keychain!!) and word of mouth assurances from your peers that yes your book is as cool as you say it is. You need a newsletter with links (more buying! more voting on lists that are simply popularity contests!) and promises you’re still working on the next thing, don’t forget about me in the morass of everyone else doing the same thing. You need an Instagram and TikTok now to post pretty pictures and videos because one or two authors made it big off this kind of promotion and now everyone thinks it’s the ticket to the bestseller list (sadly, it seems to be working). You need an OnlyFans (a joke but I do recall a twt spat that was a joke/not joke about how rupi kaur will always be more beautiful than her critics and people who took issue with the conflation of beauty with talent). At the end of all this, you’re basically an influencer, a content creator creating content for the content you should be focusing on creating, the finished novel. And the novel itself seems to be disappearing behind the masks used to promote it (fanfic-style tropes, moodboards, playlists, memes) until I now no longer trust the book that I’ll pick up to have any resemblance to the enticements that brought me here. I’ve seen an author or two complain about the stress all this self-promotion generates, but it’s become such an entrenched part of the industry, I think people just accept it. And thus spend too much time online hoping that if they tweet just a little more, produce just one more reel, maybe that’ll be the difference between a sale and no sale.

The other side of this, distinct but obviously connected, is the ecosystem created by this panic of being perpetually visible coupled with the fact that so many of the new authors came of age during the rise of internet fandom culture. That opinionated community mindset that blurs the line between anonymity and friendship is the lens they bring to their own work. I mean, it makes sense I suppose—if you love yelling about characters and words, why wouldn’t you do that once you start to produce your own? This really came home to me hearing about that reviewbombgate “scandal” and how people involved were in reylo circles and that was used to provide receipts. You’re interacting with your readers and peers about your intimate work but they are also all strangers. They will not always give you the benefit of the doubt, and now—as opposed to the past when maybe the worst that could happen was a handful of bad reviews in newspapers—you will either be tagged in hate reviews, sub-tweeted, explicitly called out, demanded to atone for your sins. It’s no longer the morality of consumption but the morality of production. Of course, the easy answer is just log-off, touch some grass. But that can work only when you and everyone else are separated by anonymous accounts or when you have no platform to maintain. As an author trying to make your livelihood from this, suddenly it’s do or die. We’re in a strange moment of authorship bringing the Internet’s echo-chamber and claustrophobic into the real world (this is a lie: publishing now is no longer the real world. But it looks like it) and thus you can kind of no longer escape things.

Will the average reader who isn’t aware of all these machinations care about reviewbombgate? Would a reader browsing at Target think about the controversies around Lightlark? Very likely not. But the impression I’m getting more and more is that the average reader isn’t the one buying all the books. Or shall we say—a bestseller’s status relies on bookstore stock. Bookstore stock is only huge when they know a book will be a good investment. They’ll only know a book is a good investment if it and its author has street cred based on booktokkers, bookstagram, bloggers and reviewers (have you noticed how many books out these last maybe 1-3 years have these kinds of accounts thanked in the acknowledgments? Yeah), and THESE are also chronically online people who will Know. And decide the cast of fate.

Honestly, @batrachised, I see why you avoid these kinds of writers, though I wonder how long it’ll be before the disease becomes epidemic.

#i’m very doom and gloom about this if you couldn’t tell from my tone lmao #and of course it’s not a perfect formula; i read a decent debut this year by a writer trying to be very active on socials and idk how much #of a splash her book made because literary sff is a dying genre even with an ecological bent compared to the glut of romantasy #also this feels very timely because the goodreads choice awards were just announced and i am seething at seeing d*vine r*vals #get another accolade to its name #blake’s last braincell #blake talks shit #writing life

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captainthisshipinmyhead · 4 months ago

Text

Secret Desires

Sanemi x Fem!Reader, Giyuu x Fem!Reader (p sure I used she/her pronouns at one point but I don't think I use any descriptors really, so it could be read as GN!Reader, just wanted to tag as fem just in case)

Shinazugawa hates Tomioka, everyone knows this. But nobody knows the real reason behind this animosity-- or that it mostly has to do with you.

Warnings: angst, mentions of sex (no smut), OOC Sanemi tbh, cold/emotionless Giyuu (I put that as a warning bc it pains me. Giyuu is my lil cinnamon bun sweetie I hate making him that way 😔), very little plot outside the romance stuff lol.

WC: 5,182

A/N: I'm not rlly a huge fan of like, music-based fics but I have to admit I thought about the idea for this one when a Panic! At the Disco song came on shuffle the other day. These lines listed below in particular from "She Had the World" inspired this. Enjoy. As always, constructive criticism is much appreciated but please be kind.

“When I look in her eyes, well I just see the sky”

“I don’t love you, I’m just passing the time”

It was no secret to any of the hashira that Shinazugawa hated Tomioka with a passion. To the few of them that had asked about this animosity outright Shinazugawa had given some lame answers before, like that Tomioka appeared to think of himself as better than the other hashira (true), that Tomioka had defeated him in all their 1v1 training sessions due to some really bullshit happenings that occurred each time and it was annoying (true), and that Tomioka had killed one of Shinazugawa’s pet beetles (not true). Though these were the reasons he gave for having such a hatred for the Water Pillar, they weren’t the real reason why Shinazugawa couldn’t stand the guy. The real reason that he would probably never reveal out loud to anyone else was simple: you.

You were indeed the reason for the one-sided hatred between the two hashira. You didn’t know this, of course, but Shinazugawa absolutely couldn’t stand the fact that Tomioka had you. Though he never intended on telling you this, Shinazugawa had feelings for you. Deep, deep feelings that he actively had to push down when you talked to him with your bright smile, telling him another one of your stories about the crazy happenings of your day. He was no stranger to envy and not getting things that he wanted in life, so it wasn’t just the fact that Tomioka had you, but that he didn’t care for you as he should.

This was another secret Sanemi held closely-- not because he didn’t want to tell you, but because didn’t know how. He had found out Tomioka’s true feelings because Tomioka had gotten careless after one stressful week with back to back missions and left his personal notebook out in a common dining space. The only person around at the time to find it was Shinazugawa. He normally wouldn’t care about the personal musings of a random person but given whose notebook it was, he couldn’t resist reading a few tidbits. His jaw fell open in rage when he saw the way Tomioka had written about you there—not necessarily as if he didn’t care for you at all, but he was very clear in the fact that he had no romantic feelings toward you whatsoever. He was very clear in his musings that you were his partner simply as a way for Tomioka to relieve stress, seek out affection, and boost his own ego.

When Shinezugawa read this, he was beyond pissed. He was absolutely outraged. How could he? How was it that Tomioka of all people got to have someone as kind as you and he didn’t value you the way that he should? He could’ve killed Tomioka with his bare hands in that moment, but he knew that you were at his estate now, visiting your partner for the evening, and he knew that you hated unnecessary violence and animosity between fellow demon slayers. In the moment, he decided to place the notebook back where he had found it, and go on a walk to calm his anger. He would deal with Tomioka in due time, some way that wouldn’t have you angry at the both of them.

In the weeks following this discovery, Sanemi could not shake the rage that filled him at the sight of Tomioka. And don’t get him started on how it felt seeing the both of you together. When you approached Sanemi alone, which you often did as you enjoyed talking to the typically prickly Wind Pillar, he forced his emotions down so that he didn’t burst forth with the knowledge he had on your little boyfriend. You absolutely deserved to know, but if he were to be the one to tell you he wanted to do it without anger, only with empathy and understanding. The way that you should be treated. Sanemi valued you deeply, and he never wanted to hurt you. It was his own deep-rooted care for you that made this situation so anguishing. He knew that he could treat you better—so much better. If only he had gotten closer to you first, then maybe....

He tried not to linger on the maybes. He didn’t want to be your friend with any conditions attached—he never thought of himself as the most emotionally intelligent person, but he at least knew that wasn’t fair. So he let it play out, because although Sanemi didn’t necessarily believe in karma, he did believe that the truth always comes to light.

As far as your relationship went, you were comfortable in it. While there were things that maybe had you desiring more, you couldn’t say that you weren’t content with Tomioka so that was good enough for you. Really, what more could you ask for? Your boyfriend was strong, handsome, perceptive to your needs, and your intimacy together was consistent. Sure, Tomioka wasn’t the most outspoken about your relationship or on board with PDA—or, when you thought about it, any kind of physical affection-- but you really didn’t have any complaints. I mean, is your relationship really in the trenches if your boyfriend doesn’t show you off? No, that wasn’t necessarily a deal breaker.

But when you saw other couples together, you felt an ache in your chest. You couldn’t help but compare your relationship to the sugary sweet ones around you. You saw others who held hands on public pathways, fingers intertwined, and imagined what it must feel like to be in love so freely where everyone could see. You saw the way these couples would sneak pecks on each others’ cheeks or foreheads, and the way that they would blush at the acts of affection, and you sighed internally. You heard whispered vows of devotion and love, and couldn’t help but think about how Tomioka never professed his love to you. Not verbally at least. I mean, he had to love you of course, you two had been together for the better part of a year. He just didn’t show it that often. He was just subtle. That’s what you told yourself. You had muttered the three words to him before, but you usually only did it in moments of passion, when you could play it off as being really into the moment if he questioned it. He didn’t, but all you got in response to your proclamations were grunts in your ear or hums that you hoped were agreement. But honestly, not hearing those words from him hurt your feelings. You wanted a deep love; one that your mind never questioned because it was always made so clear to you how much you were valued. You wanted it so badly you dreamed of it, but you weren’t willing to end things with Tomioka just over feeling a little pathetic at not publicly being affectionate with him or hearing three words. Other than those desires of yours, you guys were perfectly fine, really.

It only took about a month before the guilt and rage began chipping away at Sanemi’s resolve. He had to tell someone, even if it couldn’t be you—and Iguro was the only hashira Sanemi trusted with any tidbits of his personal life, so Iguro it was.

He had invited the Serpent Hashira over for a training session one afternoon when he was particularly frustrated. Iguro pretty much knew the drill; when Shinazugawa invited him over for one-on-one training it usually meant he needed to rant about something and let off some steam. Since Iguro was more of the quiet type anyway, he didn’t mind keeping quiet and letting Shinazugawa grunt out his frustrations.

Sanemi may have thought that he was keeping his admiration for you a secret, but Iguro was much more perceptive than the Wind Pillar realized. When he finished telling his friend how shitty your relationship really was, he was shocked that his friend called him out instead of getting angry with him.

“And you didn’t tell her this?” Iguro admonished Sanemi, “You’d keep such a secret from the girl you love?”

“I...what? Love? I didn’t say anything-“ He cut himself off at the sharp look in Iguro’s eyes as he tried to deny his feelings.

“I can’t tell her, obviously! She would be angry not only at the situation but at me, for knowing now for a month that her relationship is a sham! You can’t just....just drop that on someone! I mean, did I even ask for your opinion anyway? Geez!”

Iguro’s eyes peered sternly at Shinazugawa over his bandages. “You should have told her as soon as you knew. It wouldn’t have been easy, but it would have been easier than telling her now. Maybe she wouldn’t have been angry then, but she definitely will be now that you’ve known all this time, and you can’t blame her.” Iguro would never admit it, but he had grown fond of you over your time with the Demon Corps, and it was mostly contributed to how highly Shinazugawa, his friend, spoke of you. This whole situation now pissed him off as well.

Sanemi found that he couldn’t meet his friend’s eyes.

“You think I don’t know that?! Know it all ass....” Sanemi mumbled, deflecting the shame he felt at being called out. “Look, whatever, I’ll tell her soon. I said already I should’ve told her before. God, this sucks.”

Iguro nodded in the affirmative, sheathed his sword and bid goodbye to his friend before heading back to his own estate, trusting that their training session had been helpful. And it turned out that it had been helpful, as it struck Sanemi to be called out so plainly by his typically cold friend, who he had not expected to scold him at their training earlier. I mean, what was that about? Iguro never spoke up when Sanemi ranted—it was like, an unspoken understanding of theirs. But hey, whatever. The longer Shinazugawa got to ponder on the oddity of the earlier conversation, the less he thought about what he was on his way to do.

Sanemi approached the residence of the Flame Pillar, who you were training under as his tsuguko. His steps faltered a bit as he saw that you were already outside and you spotted him quickly, giving him no more time to prepare his words. He forced a smile on his face that he hoped matched yours, and closed the distance between you.

“Y/n! Hey, how are you doing today?” He started out with some niceties, stalling.

“Oh well, I’m pretty good, Sanemi, how about you? I see you’re kind of flushed, if you need to come inside we can. It’s pretty hot out today. Here, let me get you some water as well!” As kind as always, you took him gently by the elbow and began walking him to the engawa nearby. As he was seated, he rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants. Gratefully accepting the water you held out to him, he drank deeply and sighed, knowing that the painful conversation had to begin.

“Y/n, I um... I came here to tell you something. I should’ve told you a long time ago, but I have been a coward, and I’m sorry for that.” He glanced sideways at your face, noticing already how the worry filled your eyes.

“About a month ago, I found some personal writings of Tomioka’s, and, well, they... they mentioned you, and...” He paused to take a deep breath, preparing to rip the metaphorical bandaid off. “He wrote in his notebook that he isn’t in love you”

Sanemi held his breath. It almost seemed in that moment as if the world held its breath too—he could feel a slight breeze but didn’t hear it move through the trees, and even birds that had been chirping had fallen silent. He forced himself to look at you and he immediately wished he hadn’t. Your mouth had fallen open in a delicate “o” shape, and your eyes sparkled with tears that had yet to fall. It appeared that you were trembling, and you couldn’t meet his eyes as they desperately tried to lock onto yours.

After a few moments of prolonged silence, Shinazugawa reached his hand out toward you, not knowing what to say but knowing he could offer you some physical comfort—and you jerked violently away from him.

“Go.” Your voice was low.

“Y- Y/n I’m—”

“I said go Shinazugawa,” you were practically growling at him.

“But wait, I-“

Your head whipped around so quickly he was startled, your expression as fierce as when you faced down a demon. “You knew. You knew for a month and you hid it from me. I thought we were friends, I- I thought that you cared for me!” The anger in your voice is exactly as he had feared.

He was going to lose you because of Tomioka—no, no.... he was going to lose you because of his own stupidity.

Not wanting to anger you further, he slipped down from the engawa and took a couple of steps away before speaking one last sentiment to you: “I am sorry, Y/n. I understand if you don’t wish to talk to me anymore, but my door is open to you if you ever change your mind.” He exited the estate and walked with a heavy heart back to his own mansion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were devastated. Your deep fear had been confirmed by your friend, who had known long before you and chosen to deceive you. You had ignored Giyuu’s letters asking to meet for meals, and you had asked Rengoku to turn him away whenever he showed up at the estate’s entrance. You sobbed for a couple of days straight, then you could only lie in silence for the next day or two. Rengoku, the kind hearted man that he is, brought you all your favorite foods at mealtimes to try to entice you to eat, but your appetite was nonexistent despite his efforts. You finally reached a point where your sadness turned again to anger, but this time it was rightfully aimed toward the person who had deceived you longer than anyone—Giyuu. You finally instructed Rengoku to let him in after 5 days straight of the Water Hashira groveling outside. Rengoku, bless him, glared at Tomioka the entire time he marched to your door, though he knew not what was going on between the two of you.

You had made an effort to clean your appearance up; you didn’t want to be disheveled in front of the man who had ripped your heart to shreds. Tomioka began the conversation, immediately starting to apologize, knowing how you had found out because Shinazugawa and Iguro had already ripped him a new one for it.

“Y/n please, I’m so so sorry. I can’t apologize enough for-“

“How could you?” You cut him off, not wanting to hear his bullshit apologies. If he were really sorry or guilty or whatever he would claim to you, why would he have kept his act up so long? Why pretend to care for you at all? If he wanted sex, it could have just been that. People make arrangements for situations to just enjoy sex all the time, there could have been some sort of understanding between you without the need for this senselessly cruel pain that you were put through.

“Y/n, I... I messed up. I was selfish, and I began a relationship with you knowing that a serious relationship wasn’t what I wanted, and I just.... I just hoped that somewhere along the line I would change my mind. I need you to understand though that it has nothing to do with you, you’re the best person I know, I just... I’m not someone who’s able to date right now. I don’t know if I’ll be able to ever, it’s just how I am. I should have told you that. I made excuse after excuse not to break things off. I enjoyed your affection and your attention, and I took advantage of it. I’m sorry.”

You listened to his small speech with a quivering lip. He dated you for almost a year, with you thinking that you two were serious about each other, just because he liked your affection? You were almost more angry now that you’d heard his stupid explanation; it didn’t excuse this sham of a relationship. The silence stretched on as your tear-filled eyes glanced at the ground, at the trees behind him, at the birds in the sky....anywhere but at him, the man you thought you loved. Eventually, he broke the silence.

“You’re right to be angry. I would be too, anyone would be. You deserve better than me wasting your time. I’m so sorry. I know I never told you I loved you, because that felt like a lie, and I know you probably feel used. But y/n, if you ever forgive me, I know I could love you as my friend. I could be a much better friend to you than I ever was a lover. Please, take all the time you need. Even if you don’t forgive me, I’ll be willing to talk more whenever you’re ready.”

He slowly began to turn around and step toward the estate’s main gate, and you watched him walk with slumped shoulders. At least you knew he truly felt bad about it all—Giyuu was not an actor. He couldn’t lie to save his life—not directly, like how he never said that he loved you. Once you were confident that he was out of earshot, you let out a sob that you hadn’t wanted him to hear, and turned to escape back into your bed for the remainder of the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a week of your grieving your future with Giyuu, in which luckily you had not been called on any missions, you finally felt okay enough to get ready and go to a group training session. Upon your arrival, you were approached by Sanemi, whose expression was more worried than you’d ever seen it.

“I came to check on you,” he said, eyes flicking between your own as if searching for a response there. You knew he had come to ask about you multiple times, maybe more times than Giyuu even, but Rengoku took his role as your protector seriously and turned Shinazugawa away even when he threatened violence.

“I wasn’t taking visitors.”

“Okay, yeah, I um—I get that. You needed time. Did you at least get my letters?”

You hadn’t realized he had been sending you letters also—you had instructed your crow not to deliver any messages to you unless they were from the master instructing you to go on a mission. Everything else could wait.

“Oh, my crow may have them stored away for me somewhere, but I didn’t want to read any letters last week either. Sorry.”

“Oh no, no, no need to be sorry,” He rushed to reassure you, placing his strong hand on your shoulder in a comforting gesture. You hadn’t realized how much you missed his company; how he effortlessly showed you his sweet side that others didn’t see. Your heart, having felt frozen solid for well over a week at this point, began to thaw out at the genuine warmth you felt from your friend. Overwhelmed with appreciation for him, you drew him into a hug, which he returned after a beat of hesitation.

The training session went without a hitch as you slid right back into your regimen. Sanemi hardly left your side, and other slayers gave the two of you odd looks at the beginning when you had embraced. You couldn’t blame them—Sanemi was feared by many for his quick temper and how he resorted to violence in many situations that weren’t quickly and easily resolved with words. Though you’d never had to be fearful of him, you were able to see why others were.

As you were gathering your things to head back to Rengoku’s estate, Sanemi asked if he could accompany you, which you accepted. You enjoyed his companionship too much to say no.

“Y/n, I want to apologize to you. I know you were upset with me for not telling you about Tomioka when I found out, and I should have. We’re... we’re friends, and I care about your feelings. I didn’t tell you because I was scared to hurt you, even though it wasn’t technically me who was doing the uh, hurtful thing? Look, I’m not good with words, so uh, I—” His cheeks blushed scarlet as you peered up at him in the evening sun. A tiny smile formed on your face before you cut him off.

“It’s okay, Sanemi. I know. And I know you probably wanted to tell me. I’m not angry with you really, you told me eventually. You’re a good friend to me. Thank you.”

You looped your arm through his and continued walking, a comfortable silence between you.

Sanemi was the one to break it. “You deserve better, y/n. I always thought you did, but definitely with all this coming out you deserve better. You deserve someone to love you. I see other couples around, like, kissing and holding hands and stuff and... I don’t know, I just never saw him do any of that for you. The next person should do that and more. You should have someone who isn’t afraid to love you proudly. I know you have a lot of love to give, ‘cause that’s just who you are. You are love. So that’s what you deserve.”

You couldn’t say anything in response—you had never had someone tell you something so heartwrenchingly sweet before. You were coming up to your place, so you stepped on the engawa and turned to face Sanemi before dipping down to place a kiss on his cheek. His blush from before, barely having faded, returned with a vengeance.

“Thank you, Sanemi,” you said, voice barely more than a whisper. You hoped you conveyed how much you appreciated him. You smiled, and backed into your home, watching his lips turn up as he also backed toward the path leading to his home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the following months, you got back into your normal routine and felt much more at peace with your heartbreak. You had the support of the rest of the hashira, even if most of them didn’t know details of what happened between you and Tomioka—it wasn’t something that you were inclined to share. Not only would it cause more animosity to be directed toward him (he wasn’t the most popular slayer to begin with...), but it also caused you a bit of embarrassment that you were toyed with for so long. Regardless, you came to understand Tomioka’s reasoning for stringing you along, especially because of his lack of social life outside of you. You felt bad for him, knowing that now he truly had no one to spend time with; but you definitely weren’t ready to be on friendly terms with him anytime soon so you didn’t make efforts to see or speak with him.

You had grown closer to Sanemi than you were before, which was a feat considering that you were already best friends really, even when you were with Tomioka. You both ate all of your meals together, trained together, often walked each other home, and confided in one another more than ever. Shinazugawa made you very comfortable around him. You were shocked when you realized one afternoon, head thrown back at the sky as you laughed at some clever quip from him, that he had single-handedly returned your smile to you after your heartbreak. You felt a tiny bit of warmth wiggling in your chest.

Walking once again toward the Flame Hashira’s estate, your arms swayed gently by your sides. With Sanemi to your left, you felt very relaxed after a long day of training and goofing off with him and Iguro. You were looking forward to a nice meal and a hot bath. A sigh slipped from your lips at the pure contentment you felt in this moment.

Sanemi’s head turned toward you, seeking your eyes.

“Everything alright?”

“Perfect, ‘Snemi,” your tongue was loose in relaxation and a strange version of his nickname slipped out, alongside a giggle at the slip-up.

His face stretched into a smile, which was rare for anyone besides you to ever see. Walking down the bumpy path leisurely, the backs of your hands kept brushing. The warmth you’d felt in your chest since seeing Sanemi every day turned into a flutter everytime you touched his skin. As his knuckles bumped yours again, you decided to be bold—it was about time you started going for what you wanted, right? You caught his hand in yours and laced your fingers through his calloused ones. Your heart stuttered at the contact, and if you’d asked him how he felt he’d say the same. He squeezed your hand in his and rubbed his thumb in soft circles as you approached your residence.

“Y/n, I was actually wondering if you wanted to hang out tomorrow? With me? Well, duh, but you know...” Sanemi trailed off, his cheeks turning that shade of pink that delighted you so much. He was always so confident in every other situation—in fighting, in conversation with others, in his strengths, and he had been confident in flirting if what you’d seen in past years through your friendship was anything to go off of. His shyness with you was endearing; it told you that he cared what you thought of him. You knew he also had a level of comfort with you that he didn’t possess with anyone else, but you hoped in the near future you could express to him exactly just how much you valued him so that he no longer had reason to be so shy around you anymore.

“Nemi, we hang out every day. Of course, I would love to see you again tomorrow.”

He kept meeting your eyes but then looking away. “Well yeah, yes, we do, but I kind of want to do something different, if that’s okay. Like if you wanted we could walk to the trees where the cherry blossoms are and I’ll bring a bunch of food and we’ll have, like, a picnic or something.” Your heart had to have swelled to twice its normal size.

Still holding his hand, you gave him a reassuring squeeze. “I would love to.”

He finally met your gaze for more than half of a second and his still-pink cheeks broke into a grin wider than you think you’d ever seen on him. You didn’t know if you’d ever seen anything cuter. “Okay, then perfect! And, just to be clear, I wanted this to be a date. Like, romantically.”

You laughed again, throwing your arms around his neck and nuzzling into his broad chest. “Yes, Nemi. I want this to be a date too.”

Pulling back, you looked at his face, and you couldn’t help it. You were smitten with your friend. Well, soon to be more-than-friend, right?

“Can I kiss you?”

His face dropped into a look of pure shock, then elation as he breathed out, “Yes, y/n. I would like nothing more.”

So you leaned in, and he did the same, meeting in the middle. Sanemi may look rough around the edges to everyone else—but to you, he was nothing but soft and sweet. His lips were soft, not just in texture but in pressure, as if he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t be too rough with you. Your lips moved together as if you’d done this before. Thinking about how you knew now Sanemi’s true feelings for you made you smile into the kiss, and you felt his lips turn upwards too. Both of you were hesitant to part, but you had to pull away when it became difficult to breathe. His lips followed yours, not wanting to break.

Sanemi rested his forehead against yours and your peered up into his eyes. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him look so relaxed or blissful. “I should go,” you said after a moment, pulling a sigh from his mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sanemi. We’ll have more time together then.”

“Alright. If you must go,” he replied, pressing a sweet kiss to your brow before stepping away, off to his own estate. You watched him go. For the first time in several months, you could see yourself being happy again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A year later, you still walked everywhere with Sanemi, only now you two never went without your hands clasped tightly together. Your relationship with him had been completely different than the one before that had broken your heart. Sanemi held your hand with pride, he planted kisses on the top of your head and pecked your cheeks even when in the presence of others. When you became overwhelmed with how adorable your partner was and stretched up on your toes for a kiss, he still blushed if you two were in public, but he never turned down an opportunity to kiss his beloved. Not to mention, Sanemi never let a day go by without telling you he loved you. He didn’t really need to tell you in order for you to know—his actions spoke volumes about his true feelings—but each time he told you, you reveled in it and made sure to tell him the same back. And yes, you could say it to him anywhere, anytime without embarrassment or needing to play it off somehow.

His affection was shocking to others. The big, bad Wind Pillar who beat other slayers to a pulp at his trainings blushed when his girlfriend kissed him? He held her hand like his lifeline? His eyes weren’t full of hatred, but adoration? How could this be? Though this behavior was shocking to them when your relationship began, many were able to associate this new temperament to Shinazugawa fairly easily. While still rough in training sessions and prone to losing his temper, since he had been with you others could tell that he made a greater effort to hold his tongue or step away when upset rather than throw senseless punches. You made him want to do better for you, so he was better for you. He was a man of his word.

****

Now, when you walked Sanemi to a Hashira meeting, you placed a gentle kiss to his cheek and looked at the other hashira waiting in the Master’s garden. You waved first at Rengoku, who you’d see later on, then at Tomioka, who still hesitated to return your greetings even though you had released any anger you held toward him months ago. How could you hold anger toward your ex when you were so incredibly happy with Sanemi? Tomioka had taught you what you deserved, and Sanemi had been more than happy to put in work to be that for you. Now you could say with truth that you had no complaints.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #anime #fanfic #kny fanfic #kny #kny x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader

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lalachat · 1 year ago

Text

"And there you were..."

Author's note: WITERLLY WHAT THE HECK GUYS!!! You have made my heart so full! Almost 100 notes in under 24 hours😭❤️ yall gon make me cry! I am truly and utterly grateful that y'all are liking it so far! I'm a little insecure with my writing, but it's only because i'm so new. I am open to any kind of advice you can give me or constructive criticism that will help make this fic better for you readers. With practice comes improvement!! Also, look i'm evolving with my tumbler knowledge and added dividers, a tag list, and a masterlist that i hope works! Look at me go😭🤧 ANYWHOOOO... are y'all ready for this one?? I fully planned on posting this next week but i'm too freaking excited! Eheheheh writing this had me giggling and kicking my feet! Enjoy my loves<3

Summary: You and Lucien decided to leave Rita's after discovering your mates kissing each other. With no reason to stay, Lucien offers you the comfort of his home and a glass of your favorite wine to help decompress the stress of both your mates. How could you say no?

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: usage of profanity, sexual tension growing between Lucien and y/n, some fluff bc why not, sharing a bed, potential grammar and spelling issues

Word Count: around 3,350

Chapter 2: "Scream my name..."

As you and Lucien walked out of Rita’s, neither of you had noticed two pairs of eyes lingering watching you both leave after they heard Rhys’ commotion questioning Mor into oblivion about what the hell was going on. Mor had almost smirked at the fact that all it took was for you and Lucien to leave together to make Az and Elain both glance at y’alls receding figures. If it weren't for Rhysand in her face, she well would have. Even as Rhys is trying to get her to talk, she could not wait to tell you the plan had worked! Even if it was just a glance, it was still something! Small progress is still progress, right? Oh, she wishes she could have Feyre paint their reactions to you two leaving because it was priceless. Maybe Mor would and give it to you for solstice? But for now, she has a very upset cousin to deal with.

You and Lucien stopped at a local market to grab snacks and your favorite wine for your impromptu evening at his apartment. As you walk out of the market towards his place, Lucien can’t help but to ask about Azriel.

“So... The shadowsinger is your mate huh?” Lucien asks while tucking his hands in his front pockets glancing to your face as he asked you his question.

“Yeah... When I first met Az, it was when Rhys had offered me a room to stay in for a night. Rhys and I had quite literally run into each other a moment prior. I was traveling through the night court and was so distracted by the beauty that I ended up running right into Rhysand. I had knocked his freshly bought paint that he was planning to give Feyre all over us. I felt so bad that I kept offering to pay him for the cost of the paint along with his clothes, but he kindly refused. I had no mental shields back then, so he easily saw I was a nomadic traveler that had no place to stay or wash up. He offered me a room in his home for a night and a training over mental shields as payment, and I kindly accepted. I hadn't had a nice place to stay in such a long time. But, little did I know it would not be my peace and that my mate lived in the home I was about to stay at.” you said as you walked in tandem with Lucien down the streets towards his apartment.

“Always so generous that high lord. And, I assume you know who my mate is then?”

“That he is. And yes, I do. If you don’t mind me asking, why doesn’t she want the bond?”

“The same reason your mate doesn’t see yours... She’s too busy being enamored by him to try and pursue or explore things with me.” He finds a rock on the pavement to kick along as you two walk. Lucien kicks it towards you.

“At least she knows you’re her mate.” you shrug, kick the rock back, and Lucien chuckles.

“You have a point, and Azriel would know if you would just tell him.”

“Yeah, but would it change anything between us? Probably not. It would most likely end up like you and Elain if I told him...” Lucien stops and goes silent for a moment. “No offense of course!”

“None taken. How did we even end up in this mess? You and I both having mates who do not reciprocate any kind of feelings toward us because they like each other is almost ironic.” He laughs at this situation you are both in.

“You know now that you're saying it out loud, it is quite ridiculous.” You giggle. For a moment you had completely forgotten about Azriel and Elain. Lucien once again, being so alluring that you forgotten what you had just seen at Rita’s.

Lucien glances at you and finally takes in your appearance. Your cheeks start to turn rosy at the sight of his eyes trailing over your body. Your dress still leaving little imagination for Lucien. Your body grows hot from the sudden attention.

“He’s absolutely dumb as rocks for not looking at you tonight, because you look ravishing.” and gives you a playful wink.

“Lucien you're just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Y/n I kid you not, I truly mean it. You are one of the most beautiful females I have ever seen!”

“Thank you Lucien, that means so much more to me than you will ever know,” as you look into his eyes and smile at him. He stares at you, smiles and dips his head to say you're welcome before continuing.

“Almost there, it is right around this corner.”

“Perfect, because I am freezing and in dire of more alcohol. I am too sober for all this emotional shit,” you say as Lucien laughs at your comment and you both turn the corner.

“And we're here! Home sweet home!”

You walk into his apartment and your senses are engulfed by the smell of cinnamon sticks, crisp apples, cedarwood, and roasted chestnuts. It felt like home. Everything in his apartment felt so warm and welcoming. You sat down the groceries you had gotten on the center table near the living room couch, and slowly took in his décor. You were surprised everything looked so coordinated. His apartment was filled with warm colors like reds, oranges, and yellows. It reminded you of your brief stay in the autumn court. You wondered if that’s why Lucien decorated it this way. Maybe he had found a sense of belonging in those colors. While you were taking in his apartment, you hadn’t noticed him grabbing you a change of clothes to wear along with a warm woolly blanket.

“Here, these are for you to change into, and this is for you when you get cold later because I know you,” Lucien handed you the clothes and sat the blanket down on the couch. “The bathroom is through the hall on your left! Let me know if you need anything.”

“Okay, thank you!”

You started walking to the bathroom, the floor creaking beneath your feet as you opened the door. You stepped inside and quietly shut the door. You could hear Lucien in the kitchen popping the bottle of wine and pouring you both glasses, but what you forgot to realize is how you were going to take this dress off. After Mor’s last minute dress change, you had to call Nuala and Cerridwen to help you into it. You had not thought about how you were going to get it off. You slightly began to panic. “It’s okay... you can do this. It’s just a dress, can't be that hard right?” You tried to maneuver your arms into reaching the back of your dress but to no avail, Mor had to pick the most complicated thing you have ever seen. She was right though, this dress did look hot as fuck on you. You struggled a few times more before huffing and giving up. So, you had to do what you had to do...

“LUCIEN, I NEED HELP!” You could practically hear him sprinting down the hall to get to you in the bathroom. Without thinking he pushes the door wide open.

“WHAT IS IT? Are you alright?” His face scans you for any kind of injuries but finds none. The only thing he finds is you still in that damn dress that drove him crazy. “Why are you not in the clothes I gave you?”

“First of all, I could have been indecent. Didn’t your mother ever teach you to knock! Secondly, you see, as a male you would not understand this predicament, but I cannot get my dress off by myself. I need help unfortunately... I swear this is all Mor’s fault!”

Cauldron boil him... “So, you mean to tell me, you screamed my name to help you with your dress because you cannot do it yourself?”

“Yes...” you can hear Lucien sigh.

“There are much better ways to scream my name y/n and you know that but for the sake that you are quite literally stuck in that dress, I’ll help you. Turn around.” Your face turns hot at his comment, and you swat at his arm.

“LUCIEN! This is not funny!” he can't help but chuckle at your flustered state.

“Okay, okay, you being stuck in a dress is not funny. Got it! Now stop being stubborn and turn around so I can help.”

“No, wait! You have to close your eyes!”

“Y/n, how am I supposed to help you with your dress if I cannot see? Besides you act like I haven't seen you naked.” Again, your face betrays you as your cheeks turn bright red at the thought. You huff.

“Fine, okay you can keep your eyes open but no funny business Mr. Vanserra. I am watching you!” Lucien chuckles at how flustered he had made you and he is living for it.

You slowly turn your back to him and lock eyes with him through the bathroom mirror. Lucien takes the back of his knuckles and traces them delicately down the skin of your spine, almost like if you were made of glass and that you'd break at the slightest touch. His hand radiates so much warmth you must stop yourself from letting out a couple of sighs. The entire time he does this his eyes do not leave from yours through the mirror. His hand finally reaches the back of your dress, and he looks away to start undoing the claps. Thank the mother because his stare was driving you crazy. Each clasp he undoes, he makes sure to take his sweet time on. He doesn't miss the way your skin crawls with goosebumps at the slightest touch of his hands against your back. Gods, you had missed his fiery touch. It had felt like forever since he last touched you.

You slowly felt the dress getting heavier with each clasp undone. You could tell Lucien was near the end when your dress had almost slipped off your chest threatening to expose your naked breasts to him. Luckily, Lucien was too preoccupied to have noticed you trying to regather it back up for coverage. You couldn’t help but to selfishly think about turning around to look at him as your dress falls to the floor. Heat slowly began to warm your lower abdomen. You had to clench your thighs together in hope of Lucien not catching your growing scent of arousal. What would Lucien do to you if you did that? Would he pin you against the sink and truly make you scream his name? Gods you wished. Just then you caught a whiff of your scent. Damn your mind and body for betraying you! You were so worried about Lucien this whole time, when you should've been worrying about yourself. However, you decide that this is probably not the time to be thinking about such lewd things after what happened with Az.

As he was on the last clasp, Lucien couldn’t help catching your lingering scent in the air. You were going to be the death of him. He kisses the newly exposed skin of your back as his scent starts to slightly change and mix in with yours. Your head fell back as your eyes closed in anticipation. His eyes had wandered back to the mirror to see your eyes shut reeling in his touch as he peppered kisses up and down your spine. He marveled at this moment for a brief second before unclasping the last clasp of your dress. Your eyes met his as the last clasp was undone, and you let your dress pool to the floor as a test of restraint. For you or him, you didn’t know which. He held you gaze for a moment, never looking away from your eyes, before ghosting his lips on the nape of your neck.

“All done...” he whispered as he slowly turned around, shut the door, and walked away back to the kitchen. Cruel wicked male.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and tried to recompose yourself. Gods would drinking more wine be safe anymore after what just happened? You sighed and you picked your dress up off the floor and folded it as nicely as you could. You grabbed the clothes Lucien had given you to change into and started putting them on. Immediately you are swallowed by the musk of Lucien's clothes. It is almost overwhelming if it weren’t for the fact that you loved the smell of the autumn court male.

You laughed at yourself in the mirror as you looked and saw his t hanging so loose on you, it was practically a dress. But let's be honest, you loved it. You slowly opened the bathroom door and made your way out with your former dress folded nicely in your hands. You sat your dress down on the table and turned towards Lucien with a smile.

“So... how do I look?” and give him a twirl. Lucien looks at you and smiles. Gods, you looked even better in his clothes than in that dress but he wasn’t about to give in that easily.

“Like a little boy.” Lucien said with a playful gleam in his eyes.

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW!” as you shake a finger at his face. He laughs.

“Fine... You look like a very cute little boy!” he says grinning from ear to ear loving the effects his teasing was having on you tonight. You instead stick out your tongue and give him that all too well known finger gesture. He is practically hurled over in laughter, but you just huff and plop yourself on his couch.

“Be useful and get this “cute little boy” more wine! I'm definitely too sober now.” He laughs again and it warms your chest. You cant help but to grin back.

“Are you sure you can drink wine? You look a little young to be drinking such adult drinks” as he grabs the wine glasses along with the bottle for refills later.

“LUCIEN, I WILL STRANGLE YOU IF I HEAR ONE MORE LITTLE BOY JOKE!”

“Okay, okay. Here’s your wine doll.” He hands you your glass with a smile, “You actually look even more beautiful now that you’re in my clothes.” As he sends you a wink before sipping some of his wine.

“Thank you...” you smile as you take a sip from your own glass.

“So, other than your mate being an enigma to you, what else has happened since I saw you last?” you both get comfy on the couch and sip on your wine.

You had failed to realize how long you and Lucien were apart. You told him about your travels through all the different courts, and he told you about his part in the war along with how he became a part of the night court. You both sat there and exchanged every story you could possibly think of, trying to catch up on every moment you missed together. Soon the stories turn into giggling. Neither of you could hold it together as one of you would say something slurred and the other could cry out in laughter. It was the wine-speaking now, but neither of you had minded. You both had forgotten what it was like to be in each other's presence. It was nice to rekindle old flames with your friend, but you had to be careful. Recatching old feelings would not be good for you with this whole Azriel situation. You looked out the corner of your eye to see Lucien trying to fight off a yawn.

“Oh, don't tell me my lil fox boy has grown tired of me?” as you slightly pinch his cheeks. He grins as he sees you also fighting off your own tiredness.

“Mmmm seems like my yawns are contagious then, because I could’ve sworn I saw you do one just now.” he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Okay, maybe I did. All this catching up and wine drinking has made me sleepy.” You decide to grab the blanket Lucien sat on the couch for you earlier this evening.

“I don’t blame you... Now if you excuse me, I am going to go change into something more comfortable, these clothes are killing me, and then we will call it a night.” he says as he sticks a finger in his collared shirt to loosen the neck and walks off still in the clothes he wore at Rita’s. You chuckle at his figure walking down the hallway to what you would assume to be his room. You don’t know how long he was in there, but you couldn’t wait any longer. Your eyes were too heavy, and you were too drunk to stop your movements down the hallway towards where Lucien disappeared. You find the door he dipped into and see it is cracked a smidge. You decide to knock, unlike Lucien earlier.

“Hey Lu? Can I come in?” No answer. “Lucien I’m really tired and I don’t know where you want me to sleep...” you slowly push the door open but put too much weight on it and tumble forward into his room. Unlike your knocking, Lucien heard you tumble and was at your side to catch you in a heartbeat. You let out a laugh. “Oh, I'm too drunk for this shit... I'm sorry, I only came here too-” you look up to see him in gray sweat pants, hair loose, and no shirt. Mother blessed this man too much! Oh fuck. Get me out of here.

“Y/n, you were saying something?” He looks down at you with mischief in his eyes knowing you couldn’t keep yours off his bare chest and gray sweatpants. Your eyes blink rapidly, and you shake your head trying to get that image out your mind but its seared its way in.

“Oh yes. I was just- um, why did I- OH! Where do you want me to sleep? I’m like minutes away from passing out on the damn floor!” Lucien laughs.

“You can sleep in here, and I can stay on the couch for tonight. Is that alright?”

“This is your bed and home Lucien. I can't let you sleep on the couch as I take your bed... it just feels wrong. I'll take the couch and you can keep your bed for tonight.” you say as you turn around to head back into the living room before you feel Lucien's hand around your waist stopping you.

“Y/n I swear to the mother, do not be stubborn and take the damn bed please. It’s too late for this, I promise you it’s okay! I insist.”

“I guess old habits never die. Always trying to get me in your bed Lu.” you smirk as you crawl in and wrap up in his silk auburn sheets. You thought his house and clothes smelled nice, but his sheets, his sheets were heavenly. You almost fell asleep then and there because it was so calming. Lucien walks over to you and kisses you on the forehead.

“Goodnight doll, I am truly sorry for your mates behavior tonight. Sleep well...” He turns around, turns out the lights, and is about to walk out the door but hesitates as he hears you say--

“Lucien wait-”

“Yes?”

“We’re both adults here, right?”

“Well one of us looks like a little boy, but yes. Why?” Lucien replied. You rolled your eyes at his playful remark from earlier.

“Adults can share a bed, and nothing has to happen.”

“Y/n are you saying you want me to sleep next to you?”

“Yes, I am. I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.” you sigh.

“Always so persuasive... scoot over.” You open the sheets and scoot over in the bed to make room for Lucien. You feel the bed dip down as he crawls in. You both lay there for a moment reeling in that you two are sharing a bed again. The only difference is now the lingering heartbreak you both feel from your mates. You turn around to face Lucien and ask-

“Can I lay on your chest?” He doesn’t verbally respond but wraps his hands around your waist and softly pulls you closer to him. You lay your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat, and look up at his face. You tuck a couple of stray hairs that had fallen in his face and tuck them behind his ears and say, “Thank you for tonight, Lucien. Elain is so lucky to have you, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Thank you doll, neither does Azriel. Now let's get some much needed rest. Goodnight,” said Lucien.

“Goodnight Lu,” as you rest your hand on his bare chest next to your head and you feel Lucien's arms tighten around you. You can't help but to feel so at peace in his presence, and neither can he, as you both fell asleep holding each other all night.

If you’re interested in being on my taglist, please let me know!

Tags:

@thelov3lybookworm @justdreamstars @character---obsessed @stained-glass-eyes0708 @acourtofbooksandshadows

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ineffable-opinions · 6 months ago

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BL “Censorship” & Commercialization

Content: 1. ubiquitous censorship - special focus on Japanese BL 2. commercial viability of live action BL & generalizations 3. solutions - special focus on state support of Thai BL

Censorship is a sensitive topic. I have tried my best. Please feel free to comment and critique.

History of Korean BL is one of censorship and commercialization and Korean fu-people has struggled against both. There have been different victors at different points in time. Aljosa Puzar’s "BL"(Boy Love), "GL"(Girl Love) and Female Communities of Practice and Affect in South Korea chronicles that struggle. (Highly recommended.)

I have tried to problematize BL commercialization before. But that was in the context of fu-culture and the commodity fetishism associated with the consumption of BL, particularly in live action form which is probably its most capitalist rendition for many many reasons.

Here I would like to look at it from another angle: censorship. This is a continuation of my earlier post (Why so many shonen ai live-action?) motivated by the live action adaptation of ‘조폭인 내가 고등학생이 되었습니다’ (I, A Gangster, Became a High School Student) by 호롤 (Ho Rol).

The live action has jumped genres switching from BL to 판타스틱 휴먼 드라마 (lit. fantasy human drama). This switch got it tagged as ‘Censored Adaptation of Same-sex Original Work’ on My Drama List. I personally don’t like that tag. Almost all BL adaptation is a censored adaptation, with notable exceptions like Sei no Gekiyaku. But no one uses that tag for, say, 25 Ji, Akasaka de (2024) which censored all sexual content, especially from the volume 1 of the manga which was critical to the story and the couple’s development in the original manga series’ and its multiple adaptations’ popularity. Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka (2024) went as far as removing the more sexual second couple from the live action adaptation all together, yet it does not get a "censored" tag.

An interesting question that the controversy surrounding High School Return of a Gangster (2024) has sparked is that of BL media’s commercial viability, especially in live action form. Here’s what producers told the Korean newspaper, Hankook Ilbo, about the genre-jumping:

"BL 장르는 제작비 투자나 리쿱(제작비 회수)에 한계가 있는 게 사실이다. 그러다 보니 처음부터 이 작품은 브로맨스로 해보고 싶었다"

“The BL genre is limited in terms of investment in production costs and recoup (recovery of production costs). So, from the beginning, we planned it as a bromance (beulomaenseu).”

The author of this article cites examples of works that enjoyed success on OTT platforms, namely Watcha’s Semantic Error and TVing's Unintentional Love Story (2023). However, the article also highlights the fact that BL continues to be a niche genre and live action adaptations don’t guarantee success.

이성택 (Lee Seong Taek), the director of High School Return of a Gangster, previously directed the BL Love Class (2022). The producer 넘버쓰리픽쳐스 (Number Three Pictures Co., Ltd.) have BL works like Unintentional Love Story under its belt.

'Unintentional Love Story' Director Jang Eui-soon (장의순) | source

If the producer of one of the two most popular live action BL is admitting to it, then it is not easy to dismiss the issue of commercial viability of live action BL.

Very famous BL publishing houses (starting with JUNE) and hosting platforms with relatively lower expenses have struggled. Some of them are no more. It is also difficult for authors to survive merely on earnings from publishing houses and hosting platforms, especially when those platforms are not very rich. So, it is not difficult to imagine that live action production houses also struggle to survive.

Take GMMTV for example. They are probably one of the most successful BL producers. According to their managing director, BL content (series) is not a profitable business in itself. They rely on khujin (branded pairs) of actors to bring in advertisement revenue, merchandize sales, and pull crowds to concerts and fan-meets. It is not enough for actors to just act. They are expected to sing, dance and perform. Meanwhile, GMMTV is forced to keep working with these actor pairs and stick to templates that suit them. While it works for now, it remains to be seen how long the business model can last.

Now there is also investment from Mainland China that has migrated to other BL producers following dangai ban. But those who invest already burned themselves pretty bad with all the money they poured in during the short-lived but explosive dangai boom. It is sunk cost at this point. Another crack down could be the death knell for Chinese investments in BL.

More generally, it is likely that commercial viability of a live action BL project hinges on the following:

#1 Target demographic

Like all other BL content, live action too is primarily targeted at fu-people (BL audience) – both queer and non-queer. The target demography is further sub-divided based on the type of BL and purchasing power.

Sweeter ones are supposed to appeal to all ages and that’s the area Thailand and GMMTV in particular are focused on. Most of Japanese BL series are sweet. Korea too produces sweet BL. However, they are unlikely to bring in explosive success the way odo BL (those following royal road narrative progression – wherein characters face significant challenges, interpersonal or otherwise, to reach happy ending).

Older and, perhaps more hard-core fans, are likely to support jado works (BL that follow the evil path where neither happy ending nor resolution to challenges are guaranteed) with surprising frequency. This might be partly due to the erotic content in jado works.

Purchasing power of BL fans vary widely. There are those who are

“sending gifts to their actors in Thailand, sending food trucks to their shooting locations, putting up billboard advertisements and doing charity events [as well as] ordering merchandise in bulk.”

They also travel to BL producing nations [on fan pilgrimages] and attend fan meetings, concerts and other events regularly.

(Source: The Print)

The other group of BL fans who are probably younger and/or can’t afford to show support in the above-mentioned ways. BL commercially benefits from being appealing to those with higher purchasing power.

#2 Popularity of original work in case of adaptation

Popular BL novels, manhwa, etc. bring in a set of fans who are interested in the live action. Longer and more-acclaimed works are likely to ensure success of the live action given decent making and reasonable changes during adaptation. Semantic Error is a case in point. However, missteps during adaptation can have the opposite effect.

#3 Cost of production

It is difficult to get investment in the first place, especially with how niche the genre is. Moreover, higher cost of production sets the bar for success higher too.

On the other hand, high production quality and better cast and crew (likely more expensive too) makes the viewing more pleasurable and increases the likelihood of success.

There are other factors which influence the success of BL producers. The most popular BL live action from China, Addicted, was produced by the author, Chai JiDan, with a tiny budget. Its dangai family drama remake, Stay with Me, also has an interesting producer.

Source | Mame with her Japanese fans

Orawan Vichayawannakul’s MeMindY is another BL author led production company that has enjoyed considerable success.

OP Pictures’ entry into BL genre has also been successful.

Solutions

#1 Let’s start with the worst

BL as money laundering vehicle. It is probably the most obvious, sort of win-win until it isn’t. Sustainability depends how much skin the ruling class have in the game.

#2 State sponsorship

(or better yet, tax payer supported BL production)

State sponsorship is what Thailand has perfected.

source | 2023 seminar on "Beyond Borders: Exploring the Global Appeal and Diversity of Thailand's Boys' Love Contents" by 9 companies from Thailand organized by Department of International Trade Promotion under Thailand’s Ministry of Trade.

The eleven speakers, including an official from the Office of Commercial Affairs, Royal Thai Embassy in Japan, vigorously pitched partnerships with Japanese content companies [at the above-mentioned seminar.]

Also, several of the companies pitching at the seminar, such as Star Hunter Entertainment […] were plumping for BL not as a niche product but rather a core element of their corporate strategy.

Halo Productions representative Tewarat Supunnium [trumpeted] the vertical integration of his company, from talent representation to contents distribution.

source

Thai BL has been big hits in China, South Korea, Japan, India, Indonesia, the Philippines, and beyond, which has motivated Thailand’s government to ‘deploy Boys Love as its latest soft power weapon to promote the country on the global stage’. In an article published in The Nation, BL director, Bundit Sintanaparadee, explains how that affects production.

He pointed out that the international popularity of Thai shows can boost tourism and generate interest in the featured locations – a vital aspect of soft power. The government can facilitate this process by providing support and streamlining the bureaucratic obstacles to filming in attractive locations like Bangkok’s Chinatown district of Yaowarat.

Filming in iconic places such as Yaowarat can be costly and complicated due to the need to coordinate with multiple government agencies and pay location fees. Bundit said the government could simplify the process to benefit not just filmmakers but also tourist revenue in the locations.

Bundit also cautioned against a top-down approach to soft power, where the government dictates what represents Thailand on the world stage. He emphasises the need for industry professionals to have their say.

source

In a 2022 article, Bangkok Post explores the impact of BL on Thailand’s economy ‘as export products that can draw lucrative revenue streams and foster business opportunities in other areas, including tourism.’

[According to government estimates from 2021,] Thailand's Y content market was worth more than 1 billion baht... In June that year, the Department of International Trade Promotion held an online Y content business matching event to boost the industry, with the participation of 10 Thai content creators. More than 360 million baht was generated from the purchase of the Thai content, with the top three buyers coming from Japan, Taiwan and Vietnam.

Noppharnach Chaiyahwimhon, GMMTV's senior director of content production, said [that the] business ecosystem linked to Y Series in Thailand shows a growth of 30-40% per year. [He also said that] Y Series can also be a boon for other businesses, such as films, artist management and merchandise. [He mentioned] Y Series from Thailand [getting] translated into several languages [and one of their Y Series having received theatrical adaptation in South Korea.]

[According to] Kanokporn Prachayaset, chief commercial officer and country manager of WeTV Thailand, … Y Series from Thailand is one of the most popular content genres on its platform. [Half of all the BL content on the platform was Thai.] WeTV [was] sourcing Y Series from Asia as well as having its own WeTV original shows by working with various local production houses, such as GMMTV, TV Thunder, Dee Hup House, M Choice Studio and All This Entertainment. [She also highlighted the contribution of the fan base, which is] active in organising activities and campaigns for their idols.

Seksan Sripraiwan, director of the Tourism Authority of Thailand's (TAT) Tokyo office, said the TAT and the Royal Thai Embassy have actively promoted the country by using Thai entertainment [and that] Thai BL content is considered one of the most popular recent cultural exports to Japan. Japan's market for Thai BL is around 1 million viewers, of which 20,000-30,000 are heavily active on social media sites for renowned BL actors, led by Bright-Win and Krist-Singto. He said Japanese tour operators already offered tailor-made tour packages which contain elements related to BL TV series, such as shooting locations like universities, cafes, Wat Arun or the Amphawa floating market.

Kanokkittika Kritwutikon, director of the TAT Chengdu office, said Thai BL TV shows have gained popularity in China, such as the coming-of-age series "I Told Sunset About You", which helped drive tourists to Phuket, the main location of the story.

"Most Chinese BL fans are millennial females who can offer long-term support for their favourite actors," Mrs Kanokkittika said. [Recognizing the 3 million strong queer population of Chongqing,] she said the LGBT segment could be categorised as luxury travellers as they are high-income earners, live in key cities, and want to spend more for travel experiences.

source

Earlier this year Ministry of Commerce have partnered with Be On Cloud and Idol Factory to promote ‘Thai products, services, tourism, and culture by incorporating them seamlessly into’ their new series “Shine” and “Pin Phak” aka “The Loyal Pin” respectively.

“This will help create around 2 billion in value for Thailand’s economy,” said Commerce Minister Phumtham.

Deputy Prime Minister and Commerce Minister Phumtham Wechayachai and two actresses, Becky and Freen, witness the signing ceremony between the Ministry of Commerce and Idol Factory Co., Ltd. on February 28, 2024....

According to the Department of International Trade Promotion, the Thai movie and series sector and related industries will generate 8,000 million baht in exports by 2023. In 2024, it will likely reach 10,000 million baht, particularly in the Y-movie and Y-series, which are expected to expand in value from 1,000 million baht to 2,000 million baht as a result of the Ministry of Commerce’s proactive cooperation with the private sector.

source

The Thai government’s efforts are paying off.

Oramon Sapthaweetham, director-general of the Department of Business Development, revealed that the Boys’ Love series had helped revitalise the film production industry, generating substantial profits and extending economic benefits to allied sectors, such as advertising, leveraging actors as influencers, event organisation, and tourism.

"Over the past 10 years, Thailand has produced over 177 Boys’ Love [series], continuously gaining popularity and expanding its customer base, eventually leading to exports to international markets," Oramon added.

The film production industry in Thailand is witnessing substantial growth. In the first four months of 2024, 56 new businesses were registered, marking a 12% increase from 2023. The total registered capital also saw a significant rise of 146.44% to 195.18 million baht. In 2023, the industry grew by 20% with 137 businesses and a capital of 258 million baht. The total revenue in 2022 was 12.895 billion baht, indicating a continuous growth trend.

source

#3 Diversification

Ok, so this is based on my limited knowledge and imagination. Feel free to skip.

There are two production companies that I have ever been interested in - Bhavana Studios and Mammootty Kampany. Both of them have produced experimental Malayalam movies while managing to remain commercially successful. While is partially attributable to these companies being brands, I think their overall strategy of diversification have worked in their favour.

Mammootty Kampany could produce art-house movie Nanpakal Nerathu Mayakkam for award circuits and with no expectation of commercial performance by banking on their other production Kannur Squad which was action entertainer sure to bring in the big bucks. Their queer family drama Kaathal – The Core and neo-noir psychological thriller Rorschach did exceptionally well in the box office as well as garnered critical acclaim. Bhavana Studios has similar track record of their commercially successful projects kind of cross subsidizing their experimental and unique projects and lifting the heat off in case of flops.

Having production companies which are aspirational in their approach to BL while having the economics sorted out help where government support is not forth coming.

Censorship as No-thing

When sometime is truly censored, we wouldn’t know. Unless we ask. Here’s what Jooyin Saejang learned from asking.

Conclusion

I have a strong preference for live action adaptations that are willing to go the last mile in terms of sexual content, social critiques and addressing real-life issues. That’s the reason why the header image for this BL side blog is from Moothon (2019).

But realistically this isn’t always possible. And I prefer having more production companies offering variety. I don’t want them to sink under the weight of BL that didn’t do well commercially and me being left at the mercy of media conglomerates with seemingly bottomless funds and monopsony over BL authors, original works and the culture that creates them.

Also, there is queer content from Korean that is neither mainstream nor from fu-culture. Support those.

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pigswithwings · 1 year ago

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anyways while we're on the subject - How Do You Spot A TERF or Radfem? I've blocked probably a hundred of them by now so I thought I would list some characteristics they tend to share

TERFs and Radfems often:

Tag their posts with variants of "radfem safe / terf safe", "terfs / radfems please interact", "terfblr / radblr", "gender critical", etc. Block these tags or any other you find relevant - it'll make it easier to spot and avoid these kinds of posts.

Openly list the fact that they're a TERF or radfem in their bios.

Refer to trans people or tag posts discussing trans people with phrases like "trans identified" or "TRAs / TIMs / TIFs" as well as "gender cult / gender ideology".

Refer to themselves as "manhating" or express some other form of hatred against a generalised idea of men such as "kill all men"

Refer to themselves as "adult human females"

Have the word "rad / radical" in their username <- Be careful with this one; it may just be that someone likes using the word as slang. If you're really not sure, check the person's blog for common TERF or radfem tags.

Have the word "terf" in their username (pretty straightforward)

Have the word "fem" in their username <- Also be careful when looking at blogs like these, some people just like femininity without bigotry. I've only listed this here because it seems to be a pattern with radfems.

It's best to block and report blogs like these as well as flagging them as anti-trans on Shinigami Eyes to let other people know. You may encounter more bigotry than originally expected, and it's unfortunately true that Tumblr hosts quite a few TERFs. With some caution on your side, though, it's possible to avoid people like this and have a better online experience.

#pig originals #not main tagging this with anything special cause i definitely enjoy being harrassed by bigots #but i think this is important and might be helpful for people

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airyravenmaid · 8 months ago

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As someone who's been secretly teetering around the SAGAU (that's "Self-Aware Genshin AU" for those who aren't aware 🥁) tag and works while thoroughly enjoying a lot of them, I think today's finally the day I put my own two cents in on it. Particularly, my two cents about how a certain redheaded owl stud would act in that verse. By all means, no hate to anybody who's written him any differently in their SAGAU stuff-- we're all here to have fun and junk; this is just how I personally think he'd be. You are free to disagree with any and everything I have to say under the cut, but I will have no badmouthing or the like.

Being perfectly honest, I haven't really seen much of Diluc in a ton of SAGAU works outside of him either being part of the "get the 'Imposter'" mob or individually attacking us if he comes across us solo and isn't in the know that we the reader are the real deal. Basically, he's more or less just kinda lumped in with the other highly devoted followers of the Creator without really standing out much in the plot. And, nothing particularly wrong with that, no, no, no, but here's where my hee-ho funny hot take comes in:

I don't actually think Diluc would really worship the Creator. In fact, I don't think he'd even like us at first. *Sojiro voice* Let me explain!

Diluc Ragnvindr is, in every sense of the word, a disenchanted young man. Now, we know he wasn't born as such, but we have the Knights of Favonius disgracing Crepus' death while the wound was still fresh and the falling out between Diluc and Kaeya upon the latter's revelation as a Khaenri'ahn spy to blame for that. Blah, blah, blah, that's right, we heard the story, over and over again, so, where does this tie into my personal interpretation of his thoughts on the Creator, you may ask? Well!

In the happier, more idealistic years before all hell broke loose on his 18th birthday, Diluc most likely did worship and revere the Creator per his upbringing since I think Crepus also worshipped them like a good chunk of Mondstadt does. No problems there. But, where was the "all-powerful, ever-benevolent" God of Teyvat when he'd lost his father and brother on that same, horrible night in different ways? What did they do when the Knights of Favonius openly spat on his father's name just to save their undeserved reputation? What did they give him during that four-year suicide mission he spent indiscriminately hunting Fatui agents before promptly getting the ban of a lifetime from the entire Nation of Cryo?

Nowhere, nothing, and radio silence.

Just another unreliable let-down added to the list, and another knife to his back.

(Imposter AU-wise) So, come present day, when the Great Big Phony™ drops and takes a throne that very much does not belong to them, everybody's over the moon and pulling out all the stops for their beloved God... except Diluc. Now, he's not so stupid that he openly badmouths the apparent Creator since that would get him some pretty unpleasant looks and land him in rather hot water, so instead, he shows no open reaction while rolling his eyes and scoffing at them wherever people can't see or hear. And, if we're going with the traditional portrayal of the Imposter being an uncaring tyrant, his already diminished opinion of the Creator's image is only further soured. He does nothing to damper or criticize anybody's faith since it's far from his place to, but they certainly won't see him joining in any day of the week, either.

And then comes the "Imposter", who's actually the true Creator that's been jiffy-popped into Genshin's world from the real one. Now, while he thinks it's beyond ridiculous that the people of Mondstadt and the Knights of Favonius (though, not as much surprise for the latter-- always so inefficient...) find it just to hunt down and torture somebody solely for looking like the Creator especially since nobody in town gives a shit that Venti and Barbatos look disturbingly alike for reasons only he (plus Jean and maybe Kaeya, if his Hangout implies anything) knows without actually presenting themselves as an active threat to humanity like, say, the Abyss Order or the Fatui, Diluc still can't help but secretly hand it to the alleged Imposter for being the first to have the guts to knock that "divine do-nothing" down a peg in some way, even if it is considered quite the risky move.

Should he encounter us while we're running for our lives worse for the wear for the above reason (and truly confirming that we mean no real harm and are just a victim of very unfortunate circumstance), Diluc is open to helping us get away safely under the radar and giving false info to the KoF like he did in his Story Quest since getting caught helping Teyvat's most wanted by the mob would not end well for him, either. And, he's pretty amicable when patching us up... but then he sees the dried gold blood and scars all over our body and realizes exactly who we really are. No, he doesn't do a full 180 and start blastin', but Diluc sure is now a lot colder towards us than he already is in general. Still helps us out, but we can taste the sudden mood drop. At some point, we discover his resent towards us for (from his perspective; can't exactly explain that we didn't actually make any of the characters' backstories since we're not HoYoverse and whatnot bc that wouldn't make sense to anyone in Genshin within the confines of the Creator!Reader AU without us sounding completely crazy) being seemingly nowhere to be seen around his and others' suffering despite being the God of All Gods capable of doing literally anything to help it, but simply choosing not to. Even if the Reader rightfully says they didn't do anything, Diluc's cold rebuttal is something along the lines of "No. You didn't.", and it's not the least bit reassuring.

If he were to stick around with us a bit longer during our escape from Mondstadt/whirlwind journey, then Diluc would come to understand that we really weren't as in control of everything bad happening to him or the world as he initially believed, especially if in his misguided blaming, it causes Reader to develop one HELL of a guilt complex feeling like they are responsible for fixing everything if it means putting an end to all the nonsense and abuse some of their once-beloved characters/acolytes are putting them through. Granted, the actual Imposter does have to be stopped and dethroned for all the shit they're pulling, but that's really all that falls on us as the unfortunate hero.

Other than that condition, though, we basically have someone that's thankfully not looking to hunt us down for absurd reasons and even helps us in our need, but at the same time curses us for letting him and many others down by not acting in some way when it mattered most.

#SAGAU #Genshin SAGAU #SAGAU Diluc #Imposter AU #SAGAU x Reader #(Had to rewrite this bc I accidentally deleted it; gdi)#idk if I should tag this as specific character x reader bc it's rly not #Just me brainstorming and junk for better wording #And again; merely my personal interpretation; it is not meant to discredit or diss any other ones

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zepskies · 1 year ago

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If You Want It To Be - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: When your car breaks down after a hunt, Sam and Dean tow you back to the bunker for Christmas. This time of year gives you and Dean a little courage to be honest about what you both want. And what you want, is for him to see you. (18+)

AN: Here’s Part 2! This fic is an entry for @deanwinchesterswitch's TGWRC: Christmas in July event. 🩵❄️

Themes: Mistletoe (a classic), eggnog, Christmas dinner

Word Count: 5,700 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut central, tiny bit of angst, fluff and feels. ❤️💚

Part 2: Christmas Eve

Before you start on the Christmas cookies, you pull Castiel aside.

“Here’s the mission,” you tell the angel. “I know the guys don’t do Christmas all that often, so I want to surprise them with a nice dinner tomorrow. Think you can get this list of stuff for me? I think my addled brain forgot we needed real food too.”

Castiel looks over the scrap of notebook paper you give him with a critical eye.

“Uh, yes. This seems straightforward enough…what about pie?” he asks.

You raise a brow at him. “What about pie?”

“Dean likes pie.”

“I understand, but Christmas is for cookies. Not pies.”

“I think Dean would beg to differ,” Cas points out.

“Fine, get the man his pie,” you relent with a sigh. “Get pecan. He likes pecan, and that’s still somewhat Christmasy.”

“He likes apple better,” Cas mutters, but he still takes up your list and heads out to do your bidding.

Now with most of the bunker, namely the kitchen, all to yourself, you put on some festive music on your phone before you start to lay out all your ingredients on the counter.

Not many people know about your hobby, but you think you’ve seen enough baking shows to be proficient with some flour and egg.

You decide to begin with good old-fashioned sugar cookies that you’ll try your best to decorate later. But first, you start measuring out ingredients.

You sing along with Eartha Kitt’s “Santa Baby,” not knowing that you have an audience.

Dean spots you on his way back in from the garage. He was aiming to grab a drink of water from the fridge. He finds you instead, bopping around the kitchen. He hears you humming breathily to the music, watches you swaying your hips to her sultry notes. And he smirks.

He steps up behind you and leans in close to your ear to ask, “What’cha making?”

You jump with a loud yelp, flinging up flour with your wooden spoon. Hearing Dean’s laughter, you whip around and give him a playful glare before swatting at him with the spoon.

“Hey!” he protests when you mark his shirt (more than once) with flour. You smirk and continue your task of mixing the dough.

Serves you right, troublemaker, you think. He comes up behind you to inspect your work.

“Cake?” he asks.

“Cookies, remember?” you tell him. “Want to help me?”

“You seem to be doing just fine.” He raises a brow as you take chunks of dough, roll them evenly in your hands, and place them on the tray. You’re making quick work of it too.

“Matter of fact, you look like a pro,” he adds.

You flash him a smile tinged with nostalgia.

“Yeah, well, my mom and I used to do this together every year when I was a kid. Snickerdoodles, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, oatmeal chocolate chip—”

“I think I get the picture,” Dean says with a growing smile. You return it, but your expression starts to fade the longer you think of her.

Dean catches the shift; he knows your mom passed just a few years ago, losing her battle with lung cancer. He and Sam attended the funeral.

Dean understands. He just lost his own mother a few months ago—again. Another reason he can’t quite be Mr. Nice Guy with Jack. At least, not how they used to be. He knows it wasn’t the kid’s fault. Logically, Dean knows this. The nephilim didn’t have his soul.

In Dean’s heart though, his mom is still gone from this world. She got cheated out of her second chance at life. And deep down, selfishly, Dean feels cheated too.

It’s a reminder that gets stuck in his throat. But it dislodges another memory, one he feels comfortable enough with you to share, in the privacy of a quiet kitchen.

“I think I remember helping my mom bake something once, when I was a kid,” Dean admits. Though he clears his throat when your gaze turns to him in interest.

“Think it was chocolate chip cookies…well, whatever, they were hard as a rock,” he says, smiling at the memory. “So we went to the store and bought some from the bakery instead.”

You watch how his face softens, in the way it does whenever he talks about his mother. You smile just as softly.

“Aw, little Dean,” you say, because you can imagine it so clearly. Maybe he’s four or five, working dough between his small hands. And beautiful Mary, smiling beside him, encouraging him.

Dean’s eyes meet yours, uncomfortable with the gentle way you’re looking at him. So he clears his throat and goes into the fridge. He pulls out the eggnog and finds the rum you bought last night, specifically for what he’s about to do.

“Ooh, good idea,” you say as he fixes both of you a glass. Though you balk at his heavy pour of rum. “Geez, trying to get me drunk before noon?”

He grins at you. “Morning, night, and day are the only times to be drunk.”

You snort in response.

“Is that all?” you remark, and you wipe your hands of the wet dough (and most of the flour) before you take the glass he offers. You clink your glass with his and take a sip, even though you choke on it soon after.

“Jesus Christ, Dean,” you cough. He had to have poured half the bottle of Bacardi Superior in there.

Dean sucks between his teeth. “Yep, that is bracing.”

He glances over at you and smiles, raising a finger at the corner of your mouth.

“You’ve got some there,” he points out. You touch your chin, trying to feel for anything on your face.

“Where?”

“On your mustache, there.”

“I don’t have a mustache!” you say indignantly. You know this for a fact, as you spent a fair amount of time waxing and shaving yourself last night.

…Not that you had any particular reason to (or anyone to wax for), you just noticed that you needed some grooming. That’s all.

Dean’s grin edges into a teasing smirk. “Don’t worry, it’s cute. Less Duck Dynasty and more Steve Harvey, Family Feud guy.”

You splutter laughing and hit his chest with the back of your hand.

“You’re such an ass.”

He chuckles and wipes the bit of eggnog from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. It makes your cheeks flare with a warm blush.

“Well, I uh, should get these into the fridge to chill,” you say. You grab the tray of rolled up cookie dough and head for the fridge, but maybe you’re more frazzled than you realize.

You accidentally knock into Dean’s elbow, making him spill half his drink down the front of his shirt.

You gasp, eyes flying wide, while he looks down at the mess now dripping from his shirt onto the floor. When he eventually looks up at you in deadpan exasperation, you have to bite your lip against a smile.

“Good job,” he cracks.

“I’m so sorry,” you say with a bubble of nervous laughter. “Hold on.”

You finish putting the tray in the fridge and immediately turn to grab a few paper towels. You go to Dean and start helping him blot out the sticky, frothy mess staining through his green flannel and black undershirt, from chest to sternum.

The problem is, the paper towel is thin and breaking off on his shirt, making your task damn near impossible. White, wet pieces of paper are coming off on his black shirt.

“Well, you’re doing great,” Dean wryly remarks.

You can’t help but giggle. “It’s not all my damn fault here. Who the hell buys one-ply paper towels?”

“Sam. Evidently, he’s cheap as hell,” he replies, eliciting another laugh from you.

Soon enough you give up on the paper towel with a huff, and you go to grab an actual hand towel. Dean follows you, which assures that you bump into him again when you turn back around.

You yelp as your foot starts to slip on the sticky drops on the floor, but Dean grabs your arms, steadying you. You can’t help but giggle again, looking up at him. He quirks an amused smile down at you.

But then your face slackens as you gaze up above his head. He curiously follows suit.

And you both realize that you’ve fallen into a trap.

Jack’s sprig of mistletoe once again lies above your head. Your heart trips up a bit faster as Dean looks down at you, this time with a growing smirk.

“My turn,” he says. His eyes are flirtatious, but they hold a hint of something deeper. Something you can’t name.

“Are you gonna go for my cheek like I’m your cousin?” he asks.

His raised brow is a challenge, and it makes you bite the inside of your lip. He can be so annoying, but you suppose he wouldn’t be Dean if he didn’t make things more difficult for you.

Well, I didn’t put on lipstick for nothing, you muse. And though anticipation and nerves trill down your spine, you lean up on your toes, take his face between your flour-stained hands, and press your lips to his.

It’s a sweet kiss, and his hands come to rest along the curve of your waist, holding you close.

When you pull away, you suddenly realize just what you’ve done as you let your hands fall away from his face. You’re not quite sure what to do with them afterwards, so they clench awkwardly in the air between you two.

Dean looks down at you with a softer, yet playful smirk. He reluctantly drops his hands from your waist.

But he makes a show of licking his lips. You taste sweeter than boozy eggnog…actually, you taste more like chocolate. He glances behind you, and sure enough, he spies the Nestle bag in the corner.

“Chocolate chips?” he notes, eyeing you suspiciously. “Maybe those weren’t originally meant to be sugar cookies, huh?”

His gaze is drawn to the way you bite your lip again, trying to hold back an embarrassed smile. You raise a hand to wipe the imprint of MAC’s “Russian Red” lipstick from his mouth, and he smirks under the pad of your thumb.

“You saw nothing,” you warn him. You attempt to stifle another nervous giggle. “You’re officially sworn to secrecy.”

He hums at that. “I don’t know. What’s in it for me?”

“You’re asking for a bribe?” You raise a brow.

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Maybe. What’cha got for me?”

He rests a hand on the counter by your arm, subtly leaning in and looming over you with his broad frame. A hot blush heats your cheeks, then down your neck. And then excitement bubbles inside you.

Because the one thing you never thought would happen seems to be happening: Dean is actually, honest to God flirting with you.

Your mouth twitches at a smile as you pretend to think.

“Hmm…okay! I got it,” you say.

You grip the front of his shirt, and once again lean up on your toes so you can kiss him. This time, Dean holds you there by your cheek. His large hand presses against your warm skin, and his fingers soon delve into your hair. You hum against his lips and deepen the angle of your kiss, your palms lying flat against his chest.

So fucking firm, you think. A solid wall of a man.

Dean’s free hand falls warmly on your hip, bringing you ever closer. He makes a pleased sound when you suck and nip at his lower lip. And with each new kiss, you’re falling deeper and deeper into the intoxication of him.

Before you realize it, he’s walked you back to press you into the little table in the kitchen, where you all shared breakfast this morning. But you surprise him by breaking the kiss. You pull away just enough to see his confused, handsome face.

“There you go. That’s your payment,” you tease. “Good enough?”

“Hell fucking no,” Dean rasps.

He dives back in to claim your lips, and you smile, letting him do it. Your whole body is buzzing with warmth of feeling and happiness, especially when his arms slip around you firmly and pull you flush against him. Your hands travel up his flannel-clad arms to wind around his neck.

A moan catches in your throat when his lips veer away from yours, beginning a path along the curve of your jaw, down the side of your neck, stopping just under your ear. His stubble prickles against your skin in the most delicious of ways. Your eyes close at the feeling.

You sigh and card your fingers up the back of his neck, through his hair. “Dean…”

He surprises you with a nipping kiss on your earlobe, making you jump a little with a yelp.

You utter a laugh and playfully tighten your hand in his hair. “Hey!”

The sound of his deep, muffled chuckle in your ear sends tingles along your skin and heat, down between your legs. You let out a shaking sigh and press kisses of your own to his neck.

You tug at the collar of his shirt to reveal more skin, so you can latch onto his shoulder next. It’s a playful bite, one that elicits a groan from Dean as his thigh slips between both of yours.

His hands find your waist, and with a quiet grunt, he hefts you up onto the kitchen table. You squeal at the sudden move, clinging to his shoulders when the table shakes a bit.

But it prompts you to look up at Dean’s face. You see the desire darkening his eyes to hunter green. And his hands part your knees to let him stand between them.

You blush hotly when his palms smooth up your bare thighs, over the skirt of your dress. He drags the thin fabric with him and rucks it up well above your knees. Your mouth parts on a shaky breath when those sinful hands stop at your hips, bunching up the fabric there.

“I like this dress,” he mentions. Your mouth curves with a grin.

“I think it likes you back,” you reply. Your gaze falls to his chest as you pick at the collar of his flannel. “This should go, though.”

With an amused huff, Dean shrugs out of the green plaid first. You help him with the black undershirt next, giggling a little when it gets caught on his wrist and spikes up his short hair. That’s all right, you think, because you’re about to mess it up even more.

Your hands run over his bare chest first though, as you drink him in with your eyes. Dean notices with a smirk, and he lets you pull him in again by his hair as you meet him with a passionate kiss.

He likes the way you try to devour him with lips and tongue and teeth. In turn, he slips underneath the skirt of your dress and squeezes your thighs.

You gasp into his mouth, allowing him to devour you back. It makes you realize that this is seriously heading somewhere. It’s hot and heady and his touch is making your head swim. But your heart shoots you a firm reminder…

One that makes you slower to respond to Dean’s increasingly demanding kiss.

Sensing your hesitation though, Dean slows his roll.

“You okay?” his deep voice rumbles.

When you don’t have a ready answer for him, he pulls back enough to see your face. He finds your uncertainty.

You look down in embarrassment.

Even though his heart is still pounding (and his dick straining in his jeans), Dean moves his hands from under your skirt, back to your waist. And he raises his brows, ducking to find your eyes. Once you meet his gaze, he gives you a smile.

“Hey, talk to me,” he prompts. His thumbs brush against your sides, earning your weak smile back. Your hands slide down his neck to rest on his shoulders.

“Sorry. I just, um…” you stumble on your words. You’re not sure how you want to say this, but Dean’s brows are knitting together. His face is more serious now as he watches you with singular focus. It gives you enough courage to put your heart in his hands.

“This, us, right now…is this a one-time deal?” you ask.

Out of all the things he thought you might say, maybe Dean should’ve prepared for that one a bit better. He frowns, considering how to answer you—and what would put the least amount of pressure on you. Even though his gut is telling him (kicking him), on what he should really tell you.

But those words get stuck in his mouth. So all he can bring himself to say is…

“If you want it to be,” he says.

You bite your lip at that. Though not in a good way, his instincts also tell him. Your gaze falls.

“That’s just it,” you say. After a moment, you manage to look up at him again.

“I don’t think I can do that,” you say in measured tones, even though you’re scared. “I like you, Dean.”

The “like” feels like something a lot deeper, even to your own ears.

But you don’t expect the way Dean’s guarded face softens.

He breaks into a smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. He tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, brushing your cheek with his thumb. You close your eyes at the tender touch.

“Well, that’s good,” he says. “Because here I was, trying to wrap my head around how I was supposed to let you go after havin’ you…right where I want you.”

Your eyes flash open at that. Then he leans down and kisses you again. Your shock is a powerful thing, but it all but melts at his touch. You relax into him with a sigh of relief, kissing him back and closing your eyes against the sweet sting of tears.

You don’t have time to let them fall though. Dean doesn’t give that to you. He pulls you by your thighs until you’re at the edge of the table. You feel his hands travel up and curl around the waistband of your underwear. You raise up for him so he can tug them down, over your ass and thighs, and you kick the black, lacy panties off your foot with a giggle.

Dean grins, especially when you go for his belt. Your eyes briefly meet with his while you make quick work of the buckle, then the button and zipper on his jeans. You hook two fingers in the waistband of his boxer briefs and tug him closer.

“Come ‘ere,” you whisper.

Smirking, Dean obliges you, stepping closer into your orbit. And he has to grip your thighs for support when you slide a hand down the front of his underwear, feeling down the length of his hard cock with a gentle, sensuous hand. He moans, pressing his forehead into your shoulder.

“Ooh, finders keepers,” you tease. Dean snorts against your neck and presses a biting kiss there, satisfied by the way you gasp and shiver.

You feel the shape of his smile on your skin. But he grabs your arms tight when your hand squeezes experimentally around his cock.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You gonna keep teasing me, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you reply cheekily. All the while, you continue to caress him within the confines of his pants, especially brushing your thumb around the sensitive head.

If you keep this up, he’s not going to last long enough to do everything he wants to do to you. Everything he’s dreamed about for years with a hand wrapped around himself…but he’s been too much of a fucking coward to make that leap with you.

He told himself he was protecting you. That you were better off with someone less damaged. That he’d just drag you down into his hellish life.

But he just can’t fucking take it anymore.

So Dean grasps your wrist, prompting you to release him. You look down at his face and catch the way his playfulness fades into a more concentrated desire. The heat in his eyes makes your mouth part in soft surprise.

Dean picks up from where he left off before, pressing a hand to your cheek and ravaging your lips. His hand then slides into your hair and gets a firm grip. All the while, his free one slips beneath your dress and between your legs. First he just teases the seam of your pussy with the calloused pads of his fingertips.

Your breath catches in your throat as you squeeze his shoulders and lean back, giving him a better angle. And you utter a moan when those thick digits slip between your folds and sink deeply into your wet heat.

“Dean,” you gasp his name into his mouth. The hand in your hair tightens as he works you over, exploring your inner channel with two fingers while this thumb presses and circles around your clit. Your tremulous hips begin to move in time with his rhythm, meeting his thrusts as you pulse deep inside with pleasure.

His lips drift away from your mouth, pressing against your cheek, then into your neck.

“I got you, baby. Let go for me,” he says hotly in your ear. His thumb rubs more insistently against your clit in time with his pulsing fingers.

Your inner walls squeeze around his hand, tighter and tighter. And you utter a gasping moan into his ear as you cling to him. Dean strokes inside you through your shuddering release. It’s almost too much, but it prolongs the feeling of your pleasure and makes your arms tremble around his neck.

Afterwards, he rubs your lower back until you catch your breath. You manage to press a grateful kiss into his neck, then his cheek.

“Holy shit,” you utter. It earns a genuine laugh from Dean as he cups the back of your head.

“Oh, we’re not done,” he promises, leaning back to look into your eyes. “I think you’re gonna be more comfortable in my room.”

You tilt your head at him. “Or…”

You shuffle even closer to him on the table and pull off your dress, slipping it over your head. You feel a little self-conscious in exposing your full self to him, but Dean watches you undress with hungry eyes and a tight jaw.

After your black dress falls to the floor, he takes in the sight of your body, his gaze landing on the black lace bra still covering your breasts. His hands slip up the curve of your waist, up your sides, and slide behind to unhook your bra.

His mouth burns a trail down your chest, between the valley of your breasts when he drags the bra down your arms and to the floor. You grab onto his arms for support; you feel like you’re riding the hurricane that is Dean Winchester, and you don’t expect to come out intact.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, making you shudder. You suck in a breath as his hands cup your breasts, roughly kneading and rolling his thumbs over pert nipples.

“Smooth talker,” you manage to quip with a smile.

“Ain’t nothin’ but the truth,” he tells you. “Feels like I’ve been waiting a goddamn lifetime for this.”

His eyes are dark with desire, but they’re also serious. Your voice gets stuck in your throat for a moment. He’d been waiting for you?

But you realize that sometimes, words are overrated. You slide your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth and taking satisfaction from the way he groans into yours.

He holds you flush against his chest, skin to blushing skin. He runs his warm hands down your naked back, familiarizes himself with each and every one of your curves.

Dean’s waited so long for this, he doesn’t know whether to take his time, or just take you right now before someone walks into the open kitchen.

But you make the decision for him.

You break away from his lips to drag his belt and jeans down, just enough to shuffle them past his hips. Dean’s lips curve into a smirk. It would be easier to turn you around and bend you over on the table (and the thought is pretty fucking appealing right now).

…But he wants to see your face. He wants to know, looking in your eyes, what you want from him and how his touch makes you feel.

So he helps you free his straining cock from his boxers to line himself up to your entrance.

With his arm wrapped around your waist to support you, and a hand on the table, Dean sheathes himself inside you. You both release shaking breaths as he bottoms out, stretching your inner walls and wrapping firmly around him.

“Fuck,” he grunts.

You nod at that, wiping the dewy sweat forming above his brow. He flashes you a grin, one you recognize from his younger, more boyish days. It’s a welcome sight, and you smile back and wrap your legs around his hips. If possible, it buries him deeper inside you. He groans.

“Damn, baby,” he says, panting for breath. “Haven’t even started yet, but you might just kill me.”

“There are worse ways to go,” you tease.

He snorts at that. In their line of work, isn’t that the fucking truth.

When he begins to slide out of you for the first time, you brace yourself with a hand at the back of his neck and another on the table. Dean begins a steady rhythm, one that serves you well as you get used to the size of him.

But eventually you urge him on faster, your nails scraping through his hair and against his scalp. He groans and drives into you at a clip that makes your toes curl and a keen high in your throat.

He spills hotly inside you when he comes.

You know you shouldn’t have let him, but you wanted to feel him, wanted to hold him the way he held you. And you do so, stroking his cheek and drawing a thumb across his full lower lip as he shudders.

But Dean isn’t satisfied, not until his fingers further part your folds and find your still sensitive clit. He rubs and circles insistently, until you can’t help but give him your second release, shuddering a moan as you cling to him. He holds you with an arm wrapped tight around your lower back, pressing your breasts against his chest.

You both pant for breath. His cheek rests alongside yours, and both of your eyes close for a moment. You brush your fingers more gently through his hair.

“Dean,” you start to say, but the sound of the bunker’s door unlocking makes you both freeze.

“Shit,” Dean mutters.

You can’t see them from the kitchen, but you hear Sam and Jack come in. Oh fuck.

Dean reluctantly detangles himself from you and wrestles up his underwear and jeans. Meanwhile, you hop off the kitchen table to grab your dress, pulling it on as you look for your bra and panties.

Sam calls your name, then Dean’s. But the two of you ignore him as you try to silently scramble around.

You manage to find your bra, but you don’t have time to put it on. You shove it behind the toaster. Then you find a napkin to wipe off the rest of your lipstick.

Meanwhile, Dean finds his black shirt. He hesitates when he sees it’s stained all over with flour and dried eggnog, but he puts it on anyway. (He won’t realize until later that his hair and shoulders are flecked with the stuff, just as his lips and chin are still smudged with your lipstick.)

He grabs the green flannel you throw at him, and he finds your panties tossed in the corner. He raises up the black lace in his hand and smirks at you with waggling brows.

“Give me that!” you whisper-hiss. The slick between your thighs is already becoming uncomfortable, along with the chill on your bare ass under the dress.

But instead of obeying, Dean winks at you and pockets them instead. You gape in disbelief as he flees the kitchen, presumably to disappear into his room. It leaves you in a…sticky situation, so to speak.

Sam calls your name questioningly when he comes around the corner. He pops into the kitchen with a few Walmart bags in hand. Sticking out of one of them are some stockings, you notice.

“Hey, how’s the baking going?” he asks.

“Good!” you say, though your voice is far too high and chipper. “Good. Just about to get them into the…oven.”

You turn and realize you haven’t even pre-heated the oven. You do so after pressing a few buttons, and you go to the fridge to grab the tray of chilling dough.

Sam raises a brow at you, especially when he sees your frizzy hair, and the flour stained across your bottom.

But he wisely doesn’t comment.

Later that night, Dean lays on his bed. He’s long since showered, fully clothed, arms crossed while his music plays from his laptop. But he can’t make himself focus on anything else but you.

How it was to finally have you; not just the give of your soft curves under his hands, but the sound of your voice coming apart in his ear, the way you’d begged him, at times teased him, and then gave him a run for his money with your wily hands and tongue.

Dean’s had all of that running through his head for the rest of the damn day.

And there were stolen looks at dinner that evening. Furtive smiles. Brief, innocent touches. Moments where you blushed down to your neck, and he had to hide his amusement. (Even if his brother had noted his apparent good mood at dinner.)

But between Sam and the two angels hanging around, Dean hasn’t had a chance to talk to you after what happened in the kitchen. He doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea.

If you want it to be, he’d said, when you asked if this was going to be a one-time thing.

He hopes he made himself clear—that this is not that kind of deal. Not for him.

Now that he’s gotten a taste of what he couldn’t have, and worse, now that he knows you want more from him…he just can force himself to let go this time.

There’s a thought that he doesn’t want to face. It’s been buried so deep, for so long, that he can’t even commit it to the forefront of his mind.

But it’s there.

Despite the hell he attracts like flies to shit, he wants you. Not for one night. Not just for kicks. He wants you to stay arguing with him about stupid shit, taking his teasing and dishing it right back—like making fun of his slippers and how much he secretly likes country music.

He wants you with him and Sam on hunts, even though it also makes him worry. (But he worries much more when he knows you’re out there, hunting alone.)

Dean thinks about you when you’re not around, more often than he’d like to admit. So today, he finally had to face the truth.

He wants you. More than he’s wanted anything in a long time. And he wants to find out what it’ll be like to try this for real, with you.

The thought that you still could be thinking otherwise, wondering, doubting him, has Dean going mildly insane.

It’s not right, and he takes pride in righting wrongs.

So he decides to break out of the confines of his room to find yours. It lies down the hall and to the left; he knows because you take the same room every time you stay at the bunker, which admittedly, isn’t as often as he likes. Maybe they can change that…

“Oh. Hello, Dean,” says Castiel.

Dean inwardly curses as the angel comes from the opposite direction. Already he’s tilting his head in curiosity.

“It’s late. Feeling peckish?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean replies. He moves past the angel and continues down the hall.

“Dean,” the angel calls to him.

Dean pauses, looking over his shoulder.

“What?”

“The kitchen is the other way,” Castiel points in the direction in which he’s going.

“Uh…well, yeah,” Dean says. “I just, uh…”

Cas’s head tilts just so, confusion soon replacing his curiosity.

“Never mind,” Dean waves a dismissive hand. He’s forced to follow his friend down the hall, away from your bedroom door which lies just inches away.

He doesn’t know that you can hear the entire conversation from the safety of your bed, comfortable in your pajamas. You have to stifle a giggle as you listen to Dean fumbling. You have a feeling you know where he’d really been headed.

So you take your phone out and text him.

Foiled by Columbo once again, you tease.

Moments later, Dean texts you back.

More like cock-blocked.

You snicker at that. You still haven’t given back my panties.

And you ain’t getting them back. They’re spoils of war.

You roll your eyes. But then Dean starts typing again.

Just to recap. Today: not a one-time thing.

Your smile grows and warms, like melted butter.

Good…can we talk tomorrow?

It’s a date, he says. And a beat later. Merry Christmas, beautiful.

You realize it’s officially 12:00 a.m. Christmas morning. You have a feeling it’s going to be a good one.

Merry Christmas, Dean.

AN: 😏 Well then. Merry Christmas, indeed. Let me know what you thought of Part 2!

Next Time:

Dean takes your hand and leads you downstairs to the garage.

There you find the remains of your car, which has rusted out parts strewn haphazardly all over the ground. You raise a brow. This is how he fixes your car?

“You are so not winning the bet.”

Or will he? 😉

Find out in PART 3.

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