#this took me so so long but this scene is everything to me

[mayullla]

Title: His Dream Wife

Character(s): Richard (Original character / Original work)

Synopsis: He always wanted a perfect family, but life never gave him what he wanted. Instead, he was blackmailed into marrying a gold digger. But after seeing you for the first time the wife of his friend all he could think of was you. So don't mind him when he was given the option to swap his wife's consciousness with yours he took that chance immediately.

Warnings/tags: Yandere Dilf x meek reader, yandere pov, general yandere themes, body swap between reader and Yandere's wife, cheating (not done by reader), arranged, baby trapping, Yandere wants that traditional wife and lifestyle. Word count: 4.2k (Please tell me if I miss anything!)

Note: I just finished reading the webtoon "Marry My Husband," so you can probably see many small ideas taken from it in this story!

Ever since he was young, Richard had fantasies and dreams of a perfect family. He always loved the idea of someone relying on him just as much as he would on them, and someone who would love him exclusively and trust him completely. Maybe that was why he liked wolves, having been told back then that those animals would mate for life. He liked that. He wanted that. Friends were nice there is nothing wrong with that. But there is something about a family that he wanted. Maybe it was because he was jealous back then of how affectionate his grandparents were between each other, while his parents were far from that.

That was what he wanted and well maybe he started to want a little more the older he got. He wanted what his grandparents had, he wanted what the movies had… he wanted what his fantasies had. He loved the idea of a family, coming back from work to an affectionate housewife with her tummy big inside a second or third child while holding the first. The idea of kisses between each other, while his lover irrupts in giggles, playfully pushing him back telling him that he should not let the food turn cold or let the kids see them.

Someone he could spoil and give everything to while she relied on him and his money. He would work hard every day just for her and the kids, to give them the home they deserve. She would give back by cooking and cleaning the house, anybody knows that those things are hard work and everything takes time. But she would do it for the both of them, for him. 

Yet he wasn't able to attain that dream. He wasn't allowed to have it. He attracted the attention of a viel woman, who had used any and every blackmail to tie him down to her. He was a manager at a big company already quickly climbing up but also came from a rich family, he unwantedly got the attention of a woman who was greedy for money and something handsome. 

And her own manager was ripe for the picking.

She did many things but somehow he was able to avoid many of them however that could only go on for so long. She was cunning, too smart for her own good. He didn't know how she did it, it made him furious at what she did waking up in a hotel with her right beside him. He had no memories of the night yet she did when she told everyone that she had his baby a month later.

Everyone was frantic, his parents especially who cared so much about their appearance and reputation than anything else. While he hated them for the lack of love or care only forcing him to their whims to get a word above their acquaintances and rivals. The idea of him their own son mudding their name with the fact that he got someone pregnant without marriage made them furious. They wanted him to marry her immediately and he had no choice not when they held his job, reputation, and life above him not when that woman too did the same with her connections and people behind the scenes. It was idiotic that he fell into her hands like this, no matter what he did she did not let go and sank her claws deep into his skin.

Richard wanted to know if this child was his, but there was no time when everybody demanded his and that woman didn't give him a chance to check. Only to cry after the marriage that the child from miscarriage due to stress from his selfishness. Many blamed him even though he knew that she was lying this whole time but no matter what he said her crocodile tears worked far better than any explanation.

He was furious, angered by everything that happened but he wasn't allowed to do anything he wasn't allowed to break up with her. His life, everything that he worked for had turned to nothing by this woman. She could care less about love or something genuine and only cared about his money, demanding that he give her money to go shopping to buy expensive brand items and clothing while also going to parties and bars with her friends coming back home late leaving only a mess with how drunk she was.

Some days she would not come home at all and he assumed that she was with another man, as he didn't give in to her sexual demands even if they were husband and wife. At this point, the idea of touching her body even her hand disgusted him.

He thought he lost everything, he felt hopeless when he could not break up with that woman who made sure that he could not have a divorce without destroying his reputation and paying her a huge amount of cash. She was insane.

Rather than be with her he would rather drown in his work in his office. The house smelled like her strong perfume that could only make his head hurt the moment he took one whiff of it even though that woman wasn't even in the house having already left to head to the next new bar that opened up in the city.

That was his life, he genuinely thought that this was his ending, a story that didn't end so well, yet unable to change anything with knives around his neck daring him to move. But in the end, nothing is concrete, sometimes all it takes is helping an old lady who just so happens to be a fortune teller. 

Typing away at his computer late at night in his office as he looked at the time, his thoughts could not help but let his thoughts drift for a moment. Richard closed his eyes slightly burning from looking at the laptop for too long. Leaning his chair, he pulled his tie down a little as he thought about this afternoon when he helped out a poor fortune teller the old woman after picking some stuff up at the market, who looked to be in her 80s stuck outside homeless and struggling to open her shop. As she had dropped something that had rolled towards him he picked it up and gave it to the old lady. He didn't know what moved him to help her. But as a present, he had gotten a small viel.

"Thank you for your help. You are quite the hard worker." The old woman said, sitting on the chair when everything was finally set up. She looked at him with a sly smile on her face. The old woman he later realized had a way of speaking, that wasn't normal. Weird yet at the same time sharp... too sharp. “Too bad you are stuck with such a mean spirit woman. How you handle such a woman for so long now… I am impressed.” Sharp as in she knew too much than he would have liked for a stranger to know.

"Buahahaha, don't worry boy this would be the last you would ever hear from me after this." The old woman laughed at his stiff glare. He didn't know how she did it but she seemed to know a lot about his relationship with his wife and the trouble that he was in yet at the same time she had a knack for poking at his sore spots. 

Before Richard could think about calling the police she suddenly pulled out a vial inside containing a blue liquid, "You help me with my little trouble so I want to give you a little something, that could help you with your own little trouble. Besides, I couldn't resist helping someone in need.” 

“A little swap potion, let your wife and your sweetheart drink it and they will swap at the start of the next day. The lil spell would wear off in a month but if there is nothing to return to… well then that means nothing could even happen. Dont yah think so boy? Haha!” He took the vial from the lady, thinking about throwing it when she was nowhere in sight. The creepy grin didn't match her so-called kind action, but she was not finished with talking.

“You better move fast my boy, that woman will make sure you will be dead before a year. It is very easy to hide evidence with a car crash.”

After that, it was difficult to throw the thin vial. Part of him could not drop the liquid into the bin, so he stored it on his office desk, locked but with a key, along with other important documents and such.

"Richard!! Why did you not show up at the dinner party?! Do you know how much embarrassment you have caused me?" his wife screamed. He couldn't help but groan in annoyance the moment he walked through the entrance. It was too early in the morning for such screaming, but she just continued on and on: "And why are you here now?!! It is the next day!? Explain yourself!"

"I don't need to explain myself to you at all." Walking past his wife who was glaring daggers at him. The more he learned about his wife the more he realized that she was similar to his parents, cared only about reputation, and was selfish putting themselves first before anything else. Hypocrites. "I had to finish up some work so I stayed at my office. I needed to finish all the file work before the meeting." Unlike a certain someone who would come home the next day afternoon after being in someone else's arms. 

Walking into his own home, he could not recognize it... everything was thrown about and trashed everywhere. Expensive decorations on the floor and shattered. Sofa and pillows ripped letting cotton spill from them. Walls wet and dirty with glass cups, and pots of plants shattered on the floor. Looking at everything he kept his anger internally holding everything in as he continued to walk towards his office and bedroom locked with a key.

This wasn't the first time this happened, he had found out that there was no use to teaching someone who saw no reason to change her ways. He just needs to call in some cleaners, replace the things that broke and that was it.

Heading to his home office to place his bag on the table he suddenly received a text on his phone. Pulling out the device to check who it was while the woman continued to scream at him.

"That doesn't explain why you didn't tell me you couldn't join the dinner!" It was because she wouldn't listen, no matter what. If he had told her, she would have either demanded that he come or screamed at him—first on the phone, then again when he got home. "Answer your phone when I call! Are you even listening to me?!"

He knew of the calls and messages. She had been calling non-stop and texting for an hour since he didn't come to her friends' dinner. He just didn't care to answer and left it on mute to let him focus on his work. Looking at the sender he couldn't help but sigh.

"Hey, I am talking to you!" Her shrill screaming was mind-numbing as he got his clothes unable to stand her voice and would rather change elsewhere. "RICHARD!!!"

He quickly left the house and got into his car, ignoring the high-heeled shoe that was thrown at him—missing as it landed. Starting the engine, he drove off, tuning out her shouts.

It was past midnight, and he was alone on the road. No one else was in sight. As he waited at a red light, he pulled out his phone to check a message. It was from a "friend" he had made at university, inviting him to dinner the next day. The guy had always been friendly—or at least tried to be. He had the personality of a know-it-all, and while he didn’t care for him much, it seemed the guy had once considered them friends. That was until money and popularity got to his head.

The guy knew a lot and had multiple connections and friends, he was the one who helped him find a cleaner will to keep silent about everything that happened in the house after the housemaid quit due to his wife assuming that he and the maid had done something sexual in the bedroom. The woman was crying as her hair had been pulled and her face slapped by his wife.

He also had seen the lust in that friend's eyes whenever he looked at her. Even after the guy was married for over a year he still looked at another wife with lust, it was disgusting to Richard that his friend would do such a thing but as the guy had helped him with a few of his troubles he didn't just cut him away.

The message was an invite for a double date. Having just left his house and his furious wife behind (not that he would ever take her anywhere unless absolutely forced), he tried to decline, saying that his wife was a bit "busy."

[Dude, dont worry about it and just come then.]

[Won't it be awkward for your wife?]

[It doesn't matter she would just say that it is fine either way.]

[Don't leave me here with her. You have already talked with her either way it is not a problem anymore. ]

From what he remembered it seemed that it was an arranged marriage between the two. Something that was decided by their parents for the benefit of their companies. The guy absolutely hated the fact that he was pushed into this marriage and had nothing good to say about his wife but that was a goody two shoes and boring. "She lacks the wildness that I am looking for." The guy said he was drinking in a bar one time having called him to express his frustrations after an official meeting with her. "She probably doesn't know anything except how to clean dishes.”

"I would not leave the house with a babe like yours. How do you keep everything in your pants?" The guy asked too drunk from all the alcohol to be careful with his words. "You might like my fiance a lot with your uptight attitude and lack of fun. Maybe we should switch wives later. Hey, wanna wife swap one time? It would be fun~~."

He had ignored the very obvious lust in the guy’s eyes, choosing not to address it and instead steer the conversation elsewhere. In the end, between hiccups, the guy told him he’d introduce him to his future wife and insisted that he should come to the wedding.

A few days later, with the invitation in hand, he attended the wedding. There, he saw the guy’s wife—and he was absolutely floored.

It was just a moment. A fleeting glimpse. He caught sight of her for only a second, walking toward his friend across the hall. Through the open door of the bride's room, he saw her, and he froze.

She was stunning.

He could not believe that a woman like you would become the wife of the guy. He wanted to take a step back to see you again, yet when his wife called him he was forced to start walking again not wanting to cause a scene due to her fickle pride. 

After all, he could see you again on the walkway when the wedding starts.

But he didn't want to leave either way.

Seated on the husband's side as the music stopped hinting to the guest that it was about to start soon. He watched as his friend walked the aisle, knowing but not commenting on the dirty slutish look his wife was giving to the guy looking at him up and down and waiting for you to show up.

You arrived soon after, dressed elegantly and sophisticated holding bouquets of flowers. He noticed how pretty you were, your walk and movements were elegant and soft, a far cry to his wife who walked to call the men's attention dressed a little too revealing for the formal occasion.

Would he have married a woman like you if this wench hadn’t come to destroy his life? Would he have married you if your parents and your friend’s family hadn’t forced the two of you into it? If this wasn’t some kind of mask, and this really was you, he wouldn’t have any complaints about being stuck with you. In fact, he would have demanded it—forced it, if he could. But that wasn’t how life turned out... You were not his.

The wedding soon came to an end and that was it. Legally you were tied to his friend while he was already stuck with his own problems. It wasn't fair. He just couldn't let it go as he stayed in his seat even after the end of the wedding speech as everybody started to leave to eat and dance. While his wife went to meet up with the groom he stayed where he was just thinking.

How surprised he was that he ended up meeting you so soon.

The guy had invited him to dinner a few times and he quickly understood that it was to have someone else in the group after the guy was forced by his parents to take you out a few times. But that didn't matter to him when he was finally able to talk to you, to chat with you.

When he reached the restaurant, the guy stood up after a small conversation, stating that he needed to run to the bathroom, take a call, or use some other excuse he had up his sleeve. He left the table for as long as possible only to come back near the end with maybe a lipstick on his shirt or something. And if Richard’s wife was there, the guy would start subtlety flirting with his wife, uncaring if he or his own wife was there, not that the woman herself cared.

He pitied you, as you kept on your smile even when your eyes swirled with an understanding of your place, yet at the same time, you were still so hurt. You were silent for the most part keeping to yourself.

You and he become rather close but not really, it was a kind of comradery of your situations or that was what he would like to think. Whenever you and him were left alone, rather than keep the awkward air around he would start to talk to you.

You were a little flustered at first but slowly you started to get used to talking with him. Chatting amicably as if enjoying the conversation between you and him. He also did enjoy conversing with you. No heavy topics, it wasn't business or anything to do with work but stuff like traveling, hobbies, and favorite food. The things that you would like to do if you only had the time or chance to do them. 

You weren't loud but you were delicate, gentle, and easy to fluster too. You were polite and careful with your words but also curious asking him many questions when he talks about his own stories. You would keep all your attention on him, even if he noticed you didn't seem maybe that interested in a topic or two.

There was one time he went to your apartment, an invitation from your husband who invited him and his wife. Your place was in a high-end apartment probably paid by the family, with decorations that were chic and modern but there was also a homely feeling to the place, cleaned and cared for with love, unlike his messed up house. The smell of the house was similar to that of a fragrant laundry detergent instead of strong perfume. Just for a moment, he realized that you were the one who did all this when he saw you coming out from the kitchen unwrapping the apron you were wearing.

Just for a moment you gave him an actual vision of a home, a vision of what he wanted so much and could have had yet was taken away from him. You gave him a vision of what it would be like to have a wife who cares so much. 

He could not help but crumble and fall.

He started to crave for you, the more he chatted with you the more he fell every night he fantasized about you in his arms. He wished... he craved for you so much that he thought he started having delusions that you were his. At night, he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing you clearly in the darkness.

But you just had to break everything, you just had to slam a hammer to his dreams and fantasies just like everyone else.

"I'm sorry," you said, a sorrowful smile on your lips. "I know my husband is using you to get out of our date. I apologize for taking up your time when you're so busy. Please, I’ll make sure this doesn't happen again. You don’t have to come every time he asks you to. I’m sure you’re busy too."

Why...? Why did you say that? He thought you knew that he already understood. He thought you knew that it didn’t bother him at all—especially when you both always had such enjoyable conversations. Why did you apologize? Why would you tell him to stop coming? Why were you pushing him away?

Your eyes looked at him in sorry and guilt and it clicked you were scared you were so scared that something wrong might happen. Because in the end, you were loyal, loyal to a man who didn't even love you.

It made him livid. 

Even if you thought you knew more than he did, he was the one who knew more. He knew well what your husband does on nights that he isn't home, where he goes, and what he does there. In Richard’s own house, he could hear the sounds of two people with familiar voices thinking they were alone. 

His wife and your husband.

You didn't know that, while you probably knew that he partied every day you seemed to have hope that he didn't have the audacity to lay in bed with another married woman much less the wife of his own friend. He didn't care who that guy lay with, but it made him irritated that a guy like him had you.

That appointment ended up awkward. Too awkward as both of you waited for your husband to arrive. The guy knew something was up the moment he arrived but seemed to choose not to say anything having enough tack not to right at that moment when he usually didn't.

Looking at the message again he sighed declining the invite again even when the guy tried to put up a fuss. It was just that he could not face you right now, not when you made it clear that all you felt towards him was guilt.

If only it was you... if only he had found you first if that woman didn't chain herself to him using blackmail and connections.

If he could just swap his wife with you he would have been happier... he would have the life he wished he had and he would spoil you with all his love and time. While you would wait oh so lovingly for him while cooking and cleaning while he worked to bring the money to keep you happy materially. He would be a better husband than your own and he already knew that you would be a far more better wife than his own.

But you just had to draw that line. That line of law and morality.

Watching the road as he drove, he could not help but let annoyance fester him at this whole situation till he saw a poster pass by him. Purple with a familiar design that he saw just this morning. Something to do with a certain fortune teller who knew a little too much and who gave him a small vial.

Truthfully he didn't believe in such things, but part of him had become so desperate that he just could not think straight. He was desperate and he knew that the old woman knew that and was laughing at him for it.

"Here yah go. This is a little something that would have cost a shit ton but I am gonna give it to you for free." The old woman cackled, she was having way too much fun knowing his situation. "If you plan to add this to a drink don't worry about the colour at all."

He didn't believe in such things. But there was a whisper in his mind a little spell in his brain that told him that this would work. That there was something different about that mad woman who probably lived only in entertainment.

His hand moved before he could even think about it, accepting the dinner invitation as he finally reached his office. It was supposed to be closed, but a few employees were pulling an all-nighter, so the building wasn't locked. In his mind, all he could think about was the life he once dreamed of—the life that had been taken away from him. All he wanted was a life with you, and that thing—that vial—would be the answer to all his problems.

[thankskenpenders]

Today we got some news regarding a big change for the Ian Flynn's Q&A podcast, the BumbleKast. As outlined in a blog post by Ian, starting in 2025, all Sonic-related questions submitted to the show will first need to be screened by Sega. (I have to assume this is also why Ian announced they'll no longer be doing live Q&As starting next year.)

Frankly, I can't say this is particularly surprising.

While the BumbleKast is ostensibly a podcast about Ian's work as a freelance writer for all sorts of things, and also just a place for him to shoot the shit about stuff he likes, he's still predominantly seen as The Sonic Guy. Sure, he also does a bunch of other freelance work for other series, and original comics like Drogune, and he's also the narrative mastermind for the whole Rivals of Aether franchise these days, but it's his insights into what goes on behind the scenes with Sonic that people really care about. Your average Sonic fan can't just go up to Iizuka or whoever and ask him a question about the current state of the lore, but Ian's inbox is always open.

Because of this, I've thought a lot about the BumbleKast's place in the fandom and The Discourse in recent years. Ian wants to be as open and honest as he can about his work, and I think that's admirable. To me, hearing about creators' struggles and the shit they go through just to get a story out the door tends to make me sympathize with them more. Sometimes a story just doesn't turn out as well as you'd hoped, but you're on a tight deadline and all you can do is move on to the next project. I've even softened a bit on Penders over the years as he's shared more about the absurd situations and odd creative demands made behind the scenes at Archie. Unfortunately, not everyone has that mindset.

Ian's basically always had obsessive haters who were eager to take everything he says out of context to try and stir up shit, but that used to be contained by the niche nature of the Archie comics. Most of the fandom didn't give a shit about what Ian was doing with Sonic and Sally's love life or whatever. Most of the fandom wasn't even reading those comics. But Ian's gone from being a writer for a non-canon spinoff comic, to being the initial lead writer for the first ever canon Sonic comic series, to being the new main writer for the games themselves as part of the official Sonic Lore Team. Way more Sonic fans care about his work now, and when he's so open about his work that makes him an easy scapegoat.

It feels like damn near every week on Twitter Ian's personal trolls have posted yet another BumbleKast clip out of context to rile up the fandom and make it look like he has no idea what he's talking about or like he has some kind of agenda. And, unfortunately, people often fall for this. Of course, it also goes the other way, with people more sympathetic towards Ian taking things he says about Sega and framing them as proof that Sega has no idea what they're doing with the brand. Which, well, let's be real, isn't always the most unreasonable thing to think, given Sonic's rocky history. But I'm surprised it took this long for Sega to start paying more attention to what gets said on the BumbleKast when fans use it so regularly as a source of drama.

I've also often felt that they just need to be WAY more selective about what messages they respond to on the show. Questions Ian can't actually answer due to NDAs, questions that are borderline incomprehensible, "questions" that are really just fan ideas. And the haters, oh, the haters. Ian does not need to put up with angry rants about how he should make SonAmy canon or what the fuck ever. Even if Ian's willing to put up with it, as a listener it can make the show just super unpleasant at times when someone aggressive pops up with an inflammatory question. There have been entire BumbleKast Mini episodes I had to skip because they were just obsessive critics of Ian's paying to grill him on a dozen different things and treat him like an idiot.

But at the same time, I get why the show got to be this way. It's become a part-time job for Ian with multiple new episode a week. Given how piss poor the pay tends to be for freelance writers, I can't really blame him for wanting to keep this secondary stream of income open, and to not have to refund people left and right for rejecting their questions. The man's got bills to pay. (And so does Kyle, for whom managing the BumbleKast seems to have become a full-time job.)

I dunno. The man's got the patience of a fucking saint. I would've quit the franchise if I was in his shoes, with people wishing he would die for shit like minor disagreements over Sonic's characterization or him misremembering an obscure old lore thing. While I do hope that Sega doesn't keep too tight of a leash on him moving forward, and I hope that he's still able to speak his mind about his work, part of me also hopes that having to be much more selective about Sonic questions results in less bullshit like this.

[metalarmsrcool]

bookworm blurb

pairing: bookworm!reader x rafe

synopsis: you’re trying to read your book but a certain someone can’t help but distract you

warnings: fluff, smut, daddy kink, pet names, MDNI

something about books always calmed you down. you were an anxious mess ninety nine percent of the time but reading always helped shut your mind off. it made you stop thinking about all the what ifs and kept you from overthinking. you could get so into a book sometimes hours would pass when in felt like only minutes. you could completely focus in on the words on the page and completely forget everything around you. which is why you didn’t notice him standing there watching you.

rafe thought it was cute how you could talk about books all day. he didn’t have the attention span to read that much but he always admired you for it. the way your face would light up when you discovered a new favorite. sometimes you would even cry when one of your favorite characters died. he hated when you cried of course but he found it so fucking endearing how connected you could be to these characters.

he shook his head and slowly walked towards you. your stomach was against the cushions, you knees bent with you feet in the air. your hair in a messy ponytail on the cusp of falling out. they’d spent the whole day home. the weather outside one of those rare cold, rainy days. you always said you loved listening to the rain as you read. it was the perfect background noise.

“hey sweetheart.”

you jumped, quickly closing your book. a blush already rising on your cheeks. you knew you shouldn’t be embarrassed but you always were. your thighs rubbed together as you turned your head to look up at him.

“you scared me!” you let out a laugh as you made to get up but his hands pushed your back down. “what’re you doin’? don’t you wanna sit with me?”

“ ‘course I wanna. but you look comfy, keep reading I just wanted to see you.”

he lifted your legs and slid under you. his hands immediately going to massage your thighs. he could never keep his hands off you for long. Whether it was holding your hand or playing with your hair.

you went back to your book. quickly getting immersed in the words again. it wasn’t uncommon for rafe to sit with you while you read. his hands mindlessly rubbing up and down. occasionally his fingers would drift a little too far up. fingertips grazing your underwear. you hadn’t bothered getting dressed this morning. simply throwing on a shirt and pair of panties.

you’re not sure how long has passed but you were a little more then halfway done with your book.

“baby?” his fingers stopped just below your underwear. tracing the fabrics edges but never straying to your center.

“hmm?”

he knew what he was doing. you’d manage to block him out for the most part. but he’s been getting touchier the longer you read.

“you’re so pretty.” both his hands came up to squeeze your ass and you let out a little moan.

your face was burning. you’d been together for a while now but you’d never get used to this. his words. his touch.

“my pretty girl. you’re reading one of those scenes aren’t you? think i didn’t notice you clenching your thighs? don’t know why you read ‘em when i’m right here.”

you were dripping. it only took a few words and touches from him to have you soaking through your underwear. you tucked your face into your arms. your book falling onto the floor with a little thump.

“so wet. this for me or your little book?” his fingers were teasing. dragging back and forth over the material separating you from him. the material thin. his fingertips catching on your entrance every so often.

“for y-you. always for you.” god he was barely even touching you and you were a panting mess. “please rafe.”

his fingers stopped. his warmth gone in an instant. your head popped up about to ask why he stopped before you felt a sharp sting on your ass.

“tsk tsk. what did i say about you calling me that? try again sweetheart.”

his hand was massaging you over where he slapped. the skin sure to have a pink mark.

“p-please daddy. teasing too much.” you were shocked when he first asked you to call him that. you didn’t realize you’d liked it until you were a moaning mess beneath him, the word slipping out like you’d said it thousands of times before.

“see? that wasn’t so hard baby was it.”

your thighs clenched with his words. his voice alone could make you wet. he knew how to talk in a way that had you melt against him.

“you want my fingers sweet girl? your body’s tellin me ya do. so wet f’me. i don’t know why you bother wearing these. ‘m just gonna take them off.”

sure enough you felt him pulling the fabric don’t your thighs. you flushed as you felt your wetness trailing down your leg. his fingers coming back up to rub you. trailing up and your your slit. his fingernails catching on your clit making you whine.

“daddy. please.”

you could feel his gaze on you. you’d imagine a smirk lining his lips. you could feel how hard he’d become beneath you. the sweatpants leaving little to the imagination. your hips trying to rub up against him.

“so needy. c’mon baby i wanna hear you say it.”

your face was flushed. you could feel sweat dripping down your neck. his fingers avoiding the one spot you needed him to touch.

“please. p-please fuck me with your fingers.”

his middle and pointer finger immediately dipped into you. you were so wet there wasn’t even any resistance.

“yes. yes. ohmygodplease.”

before you’d met him you’d tried touching yourself. but your fingers were too slim. too short to reach that one spot inside of you. rafe’s the first one to make you cum. his fingers thick and long enough that he barely has to try.

you hear him chuckle. his fingers dragging against your walls. in and out. in and out.

“god baby. you’re dripping down my fingers. feel good yeah? i can feel you gripping me. so fucking tight.”

he lets out a groan as your walls squeeze him. you’re so close. so fucking close. tears brim your eyes and you can’t help but buck against his fingers chasing that feeling. your stomachs tightening and you’re so close you slam your eyes shut. whining and moaning incoherent words. all you can feel is his rough fingers slamming inside you.

“god please i’m about to cum. please i-i need-“

“don’t worry baby. i know what you need.”

his thumb finds your clit. running tight and fast. you throw you head back.

“ohmyfuckinggod”

you feel that spot in your stomach snap. stars dance behind your eyelids as your body slumps on the couch.

you feel him move beneath you. he’s so hard beneath you it makes you whimper at the thought of how he feels inside you.

rafe’s hand, the one he wasn’t using, comes and and grabs your head. tilting your face to look at him.

“eyes on me baby. there she is.”

you’re blinking. your eyelids fighting the heaviness that weighs down your body. yet you feel your body clench as you watch him lick you off his fingers. his eyes never leaving yours.

you feel yourself dripping onto him. no doubt leaving a wet patch on his pants.

“so fucking sweet. here, taste yourself. lick my fingers clean.”

you weakly lean forward and take his fingers in your mouth. gagging slightly as he pushes them in farther.

“there you go. good girl, cleanin’ me up so well.”

um so hi. this is my first attempt at smut and omg what do you think.

[jk-kiwi]

The 90’s case

The 90’s case (18+)

Characters -  assistant detective JK x detective Y/N reader (Woman)

Summary - Another case in your pocket, but this time, solving it could grant you everything you’ve ever wanted.

Genre - Crime investigation, suggestive/smut, maybe slight angst, the action takes place in the 90's, THIS is fiction!

Warnings - a dead body, cheating!, the reader is married to Namjoon, they investigate a crime, fictional characters, mentions of diabetes, autopsy and overdose, some swear words.

Warnings for the not so holy parts (18+) - I’ll try to detail, so… kissing, mentions of arousal, mentions of female and male body parts, unprotected (please be safe!), he cums inside…(PLEASE BE SAFE!), he’s a little possessive, I think, a little rough, hitting your sweet spots and all, not much detailing. 

MINORS PLEASE STAY AWAY!

Author’s note - This is a story I wrote in 2020. I refined it and reposted it here with some extra spicy stuff. Y/L/N is your last name. Enjoy!

Word count - 4.1k

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

“What do you think about this, Miss Y/L/N” one of the cops asks, while dozens search for clues in the house. A normal death as supposed by the covers. “Interesting indeed.” you say, looking through the magnifying glass, taking in every detail.

“How long do you think it's been like this?” he asks with disgust, looking at the poor man. He was dead. “Oh, I assure you Mr. Choi hasn't been dead for more than 5 hours.” you say confidently.

“Do you think it was a heart attack?” you humm curiously, staring at the lifeless body that sits in the bathtub.

“Ask for some tissue samples, I’ll definitely come with a response after I get the autopsy reports.” you yawn tiredly, all the work you have been doing recently piling up on your body. 

Since when did crimes became so popular?

“Let’s do a good job, just as always.” he says, taking off his glove to shake your hand, before exiting the bathroom.

“And, any news from the expert?” says the man waiting for you outside, his body resting on the wall. “Let's not rush to conclusions, Jungkook. For now we know very little about the victim.” you smile at him, patting his arm in order to follow you down the stairs.

The place was packed with police since this morning, when the Choi family found out about the tragic incident. “What do we know about the victim until now?” Jungkook asks, opening the door of his Trabant 600, letting you hop on the right seat before taking off, him driving. 

“Name:Dong-He Choi, age: 57, medical report shows that the only problem he had was diabetes?” you question, the report, poor in details. “Too much insulin?” He interupts. “Don't interrupt me, Jungkook.” 

“Although I don't think he took too much insulin, his family said he took great care of his health.”

The man keeps silent, letting you cross over the details listed. “Family of 5 members, wife and 3 children along with him. It says here that his mother also lives there, the place estimated to cost around…10 million dollars?!” 

Jungkook whistles in disbelief. “Wow, no wonder they live in that huge mansion.”

“Don’t worry, that’s just their main house, it says here that they also have a vacation home in Manhattan, two in Japan and a condo in China.” you exclaim.

“It smells more like murder to me, he was packed, filthy rich!” You sigh, already knowing this was going to be a huge pain that you will have to deal with. You were the main detective after all.

“I don’t know what to say, he had no signs of abuse or struggle other than the injury on his head, probably from falling face first into the tub.” all the details crossing your mind, trying to picture what happened.

“I didn’t find anything unusual at the crime scene.” you throw the pieces of paper in the backseat closing your eyes in annoyance, why now out of all times. Why would your life get so busy the moment you were close to your lowest?

“Did you speak with the family, maybe they gave some relevant info.” the man glimpse slightly over your tired figure before answering. 

“Mother was in shock. Oldest son with his girlfriend, allegedly on a date, his daughters went to bed at 9, didn’t hear anything unusual during the night, same story with the grandma.” you hum, useless information once again.

“How about the wife, what’s her alibi?” 

“She found him in the morning, they were sleeping in separate rooms recently, apparently their married life was not as sweet as it appeared.” you turn your head to look outside the window, the situation seemingly familiar leaving a feeling of bitterness crawl down your throat.

“We’re almost at your house. Looks like your hubby is here too.” Jungkook notices, his car parked in your driveway. “What’s he doing here at this hour, he should’ve been at work.” you mumble making Jungkook shrug.

“How long are you going to keep doing this?” he questions, you remain silent for a moment before looking eyes with the boy. “My personal life is not your business.” you reply coldly. “I would say otherwise…hey!” he tries to argue, but you get out of the car waving at him, loving how annoyed he’s gotten.

Your steps take you closer, taking in a deep breath and preparing your forced smile before entering the house. “Hey sweetie!” his melodious voice greets you, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

The man comes closer to you, his lips leaving a small peck on your forehead. “Back already? Didn’t you have a new case?” he questions with a raised brow. “I could ask the same thing, shouldn’t you be in the office?” you reply, taking off your jacket, placing it on the rack.

Namjoon looks at you a little stunned before composing himself, a chuckle escaping his lips. “I forgot something important, I was about to go back anyway.” he takes his paperwork, key and jacket before throwing you a last glance, exiting the house.

You sigh, the smell of strong woman perfume lingering around. Her perfume.Your husband has been cheating on you for a while with his secretary, a woman 10 years younger than him, you already knew. He kept excusing himself with “business meetings” out of town and all the late night working under the pretext of “I just had so much paperwork to do.” his actions were obvious.

You were a detective after all, it was your job to be observant, years of practice bringing you to the point you were seeing through people like through crystal clear glass. Plus, he was “your” man, you knew him better after all these years you’ve been together.

And even if you didn’t want to believe it at first, the traces of red lipstick, one that you never wore, were far more evidence than needed.

You were stuck, you knew he was cheating but you also couldn’t bring yourself to leave him. You were to people with important jobs and bigger concerns than love, too different from the beginning but way to blind to see. In any case, the divorce would only bring more trouble into your busy lives.

You didn’t even feel that hurt about his actions, the love between you not existing anymore. That’s why you kept going like this, letting him meet her knowing they were far more suitable for each other. 

It’s not like you were better anyways. You felt devastated when you found out, although it was expected, the only person bringing you comfort in that situation being none other than your assistant, Jungkook.

He already knew you well enough, and you’ve told him all kinds of stories along the years you’ve worked together. It was easier to forget what was happening when he was holding you close in his embrace.

The first time you gave in and stepped wrong, cheating on your husband with him, felt wrong, guilty even. But the man knew how to bring you back to him, to his bed, way too good. 

Maybe it was the shared passion for crimes and mysteries, or the fact that he always listened to your worries, ending up caring for you better than your own husband.

You lay on your bed, the curtains closed. You try to get some sleep, but the case keeps you awake. It felt weird, not like sudden death, but murder.

You could not focus on anything when a case was feeling like this, so you get your phone, ready to dial his number, in a sudden being interrupted by the heavy knock on your front door.

Rushing downstairs, you think it’s Namjoon again, coming to get some other stuff he’s forgotten about, but to your surprise it’s Jungkook.

“Jungkook, what are you doing here?” you ask surprised, seeing him scratch the back of his neck shyly. “I thought we could work some more on the case.” did he even leave in the first place? That was the question you couldn’t bring to ask.

You smile, raising a brow, making way for the man to get inside, his grin brighter than ever. “I think we both know we're not gonna end up talking about the case.” you tease, making him look at you with lustful eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asks, stepping closer, your fingers caressing his chest. “You and me, alone. My husband…at work.” you whisper seductively.

“And what’s so wrong with that? He’s a jerk anyways.” he says, arms wrapping tightly around your waist. You play this game further, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. 

“That’s what I was thinking too, and it’s not like you can keep your hands away from me for a second either. Let's not forget I'm a married woman, Jungkook.” your eyes scan him, he’s already way to worked up, you take it above one more step wrapping his arms around his neck.

“You husband is busy, but I’m not. I can take better care than him.” he says, his lips leaving slow, lingering kisses around your neck. “I think the case can wait, I have other important business I need to take care of.”

Jungkook lifts you up making your feet wrap around his torso, his lips never leaving your neck. And you know that once again you commit the same crime, letting this man in your house, in your bed, but the worst…in your heart.

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

Wrapped in a blanket, both trying to catch your breath after solving the “case” found in Jungkook’s pants.

He takes a big gulp of air, leaning back on your pillows, arms spread, his face showing pure bliss.

“Wow, this was breathtaking.” he says while watching you. “It’s not my fault you’re getting old.” you respond, leaning to get the files scattered on the floor, finally working on something that’s important.

“You still have work on your mind after all of this?” 

“Yes” you respond, getting out of the bed “I think we should work on it, isn’t this why you came?” you pick up his shirt, dressing yourself in it.

“Hey, that’s mine! What am I supposed to wear?” he asks in an upset tone, but with a shit-eating grin on his face making you roll your eyes.

“You don’t have to wear anything, I like it better anyways.” you wink before leaving the room, hearing the boy whine.

“This woman is gonna kill me one day…” he thinks before gathering his belongings, following you to the kitchen.

You were focused, munching on a biscuit, your eyes scanning the report papers up and down.

“Something’s not right here.” Jungkook suits himself too, grabbing a cup of water before chugging it down in one go.

“Why do you think that?” he asks, looking over your focused figure. You throw his shirt off going back to your room to properly dress up before tossing him the car keys. “We need to go back to the Choi mansion, I have a bad feeling.”

Jungkook complies, knowing your judgement is never wrong, taking no time in dressing up and in just mere seconds you were in the trabant, rushing to the Choi mansion.

Soon you arrive, the big gates opening like already expecting you. Getting out of the car you knock on the door, the air feeling eerie around.

“Oh, detective Y/L/N?” the woman who opened the door, Miss Choi, asks surprised. “We’re sorry to interrupt so soon, but is it okay if we look through your husband’s belongings? It’s important to the case.” Jungkook says in a sensitive tone.

She nods, tears gathering in her eyes at the mention of her dead husband. You two enter with her following behind, leading you to the lounge. “There’s not much left, the police already took most for the investigation, but you can have a look around if you want to.”

She takes you to her husband’s room, leaving right after to get some drinks and snacks.

“They were not joking when he said the cops took everything.” your remark while looking under a desk.

“What are these?” your assistant asks while pulling something from under a shelf. “Just some old magazines, where did you get them?” he points to the place making you go and inspect.

“Let’s move this.” you both get your hands on the shelf dragging it away, a mountain of old newspaper and wrappers falling from behind it.

“Chocolate?” you say after picking up one from the floor. “Wow, that’s a lot of candy for a diabetic.” you shoot him a look gathering more from the floor.

“They are not even expired, they must have been consumed recently.” you stuck some in your purse before moving everything back to place. You look around for some more information before something in the distance catches your eye.

“Jungkook, look at this.” you motion to the backyard, approaching the window for a better look. “It’s smoke.” he says, sitting next to you. “Yeah, definitely someone started it not long ago, I’m going to investigate.” 

You rush out of the room with the boy following your steps. “Y/N, this is dangerous, I’m coming with you!” he says while catching your arm, concern plastered all over his face.

“You stay here, we can’t bring too much attention. If they ask, I'm in the spare bathroom.” you say before sneaking out the house, your phone ringing in your purse.

“Y/L/N on the phone.” it’s the policeman on the other line, the guy you talked with this morning. “The autopsy results are in. He had an insulin overdose, felt sick and then hit his head on the bathtub.” 

“Yeah, great, I’m a little busy so I’ll call you later.” he doesn’t get to say another word, you end the call, getting closer to the smoke source.

“What even? That’s weird.” in front of you, laying in dim fire, a bunch of papers and documents. You put it out the best you can trying to save what’s left before your foot stomps onto something hard.

A watch.

You pick it up, scanning it before a chill of realisation hits you, making you rush back inside knowing you left Jungkook there all alone.

“Hi, this is Y/N Y/L/N on the phone. Get the guys and come to the mansion, Choi was murdered.” you manage to say to the police officer before barging in, surprising Miss Choi and Jungkook in the process.

“Don’t drink that!” You rush towards the man hitting the cup from his hands, making it hit the ground breaking in thousands of shards.

“Y/N what the hell! You spilled all the tea on me! What's wrong with you?” but you’re too focused on his well being, cupping his face in your palms, forcing him to look into your eyes, heart racing in fear.

“Tell me you didn’t drink it.” you ask with worry “No, you just threw it out of my hand!” you sigh in relief, composing yourself in order to confront Miss Choi.

“Miss Choi, where was your son the night your husband died?” you harshly question. “With his girlfriend? Why are you acting so strange?” she looks taken aback.

“Because he killed his father, along with you. Am I mistaken?” you look at her, dead in the eyes, her posture stiff. “That’s nonsense!” she raises from her chair in disbelief.

“You know what, that’s it! This conversation is over, please get out of my house!” She comes closer to push you out, but Jungkook is quick to act, shielding you.

You hear the police sirens ring, the doors of the mansion opening in a rush. “I hope you have a great explanation for this, detective.” the police officer says while pointing his gun at Miss Choi.

“I found this in your backyard, Miss Choi.” you start, pulling the burned pieces from your bag. “The true medical records of your husband and some other interesting details. You must have loved him…or should I say his money?” you browse through the burnt papers, pointing once you find the important section.

“Aha, there it is! If the two of you were to divorce you would not get any fortune? This must be your prenup. But! If it was for your husband to pass away as a natural cause…you would inherit everything. Does this sound familiar?” you look at the woman, her face showing pure horror.

“Oh, what is this? Divorce papers, all signed up just for you, but I guess your signature is not on them.” the woman gets pale as a ghost, her hands trembling. 

“T-this, this is not true! Are you trying to frame me?!” she stutters while trying to keep herself composed.

“Not at all, they have sigils, stamps and original signatures, easy to check for fakes. But I suppose you need to wait a little longer, we’re just getting to the highlight of the story. The medical reports.” You throw the pieces of paper on the coffee table, keeping only the most important one.

“Mister Choi has never had diabetes.” you say with a smile on your face. “He just wanted to divorce you, and you couldn’t accept it.” the woman starts to pant for air, her hands gripping her chest.

“Miss Choi, is this true?” the policeman asks. “I didn’t want to come to this! He, he was divorcing me! I was about to lose everything!” she shouts in despair, uncovering her sick actions.

The police man gets his cuffs, putting them around her wrists.

“Miss Choi, you are under arrest for the death of Mister Choi, everything you say is and will be used against you.” she starts crying, sobbing while shouting that she didn’t want to do all this.

You throw the watch to one of the police assistants. “Get his son as well, his watch was near the pile of burnt paper.” you say staring at the scene unfolding in front of you, some realization hitting you as well.

You sigh relieved, happy that you managed to successfully solve yet another case. Jungkook drives you home, the peace around you a little too peaceful.

“Why did you hit my hand?” he asks, breaking the silence. “I was afraid she was going to put something in your tea.” you admit hearing him hum before stopping in front of your house. The atmosphere around you is quiet, the dusk setting in.

“Your husband got home.” he mentions. “Yeah, he has.” you sadly acknowledge.

You say goodbye and enter the house, your husband in the kitchen. “I heard you solved the case! Congratulations!” Namjoon says, coming closer to you, a glass of wine in his hand.

“Yes, I did.” you take the glass, swirling it around before placing it on the counter.

“Namjoon, we need to talk.” you say while looking into his eyes, it was time.

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

Your heart was pounding in your chest sitting in front of the door, wondering if you should knock or not. “Come on Y/N, you can do it.” you say before knocking once, your heart exploding while hearing his voice on the other side.

“Coming!” You fix your hair and put up a big smile when Jungkook opens the door, dressed only in a pair of gray sweatpants, his skin smelling like fresh soap from a mile away.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” he asks, confused. “I figured we could work on some cases, mind if I come in?” you rush to say, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Yeah, sure, but…is everything okay?” he asks while letting you inside, putting a black t-shirt on.

“Do you love me?”

“What question is that?” his cheeks get brighter at your sudden boldness.

“I just want you to be honest with me, do you love me or not?” you ask again, looking at his rigid form.

“Well…I want to say yes.”

“Then say yes.”

“You are married, Y/N.” he finally lets out, a pang tugging at his heart knowing he souldn't feel the way he’s feeling.

“Not anymore.” you whisper, showing your ringless finger. “I’m divorcing.”

“What.” he lets out in disbelief.

“Mister Choi’s case made me realize something, you can’t stay with a person for what he has or what he can give you. I want someone that loves me and knows how to cherish me.” you shyly say before locking eyes with the man in front of you.

“Then yes, I love you. So, so much. I’ve loved you for the past years, ever since I got assigned to be your assistant.” he comes closer to you, sticking his chest to yours, but not touching further.

“You drive me crazy in so many ways, you’re smart and can unravel even the most tangled cases. You’re to die for pretty and so sexy when you look at me with those eyes of yours, it makes me jealous to know I couldn’t find you first.” he finally touches you, his fingers gently cupping your waist.

“I’m so mad when I think of that stupid ex husband of yours managing to have you all for himself just to cheat and leave you weak and exposed. Or when I think of way too many ways to make you look at me, to let me claim you.” his face comes closer to yours, many emotions erupting between the both of you.

“Or when I get that sweet taste of your lips, and I rip those moans out, making me so fucking proud to please you, even if it’s wrong.” he kisses you, slow and tangy, but not for long, letting you desire for more.

“I love you. I’m greedy and I want you all for myself.” your eyes get teary, a feeling of comfort, safeness getting into you. You felt at home.

Wrapping your arms around the man you bring him close enough to whisper onto his lips. “Then have me for yourself.” you say, enough words for Jungkook to comply. Shoving your clothes off in no go, leaving you exposed only for his eyes to see, passion burning around the apartment.

His hands lead you to his bedroom, shoving you in his bed, not breaking the hot kiss he’s gotten you trapped in. 

He pulls the t-shirt over his head, his pants following right after. You look with so much love and lust at him, your hands bringing him closer by the band of his boxers, making him whine.

“Pull them off, baby.” his tone, seductive, encouraging you to touch him further. You do it, taking off his boxers, letting his cock spring free in front of you.

“Y/N, if you keep looking at me with those eyes of yours, I’ll cum right now.” he admits, slightly embarrassed, face flustered, aching member leaking with arousal.

“Should we get to the good part then?” you question, biting your lip.

“All of this is the good part…” 

You lay down, not breaking eye contact, letting him climb on top. His hands rest on your thighs spreading them nice and wide. “You’re drippin’ baby.” his eyes never leave your sloppy count.

“Just do something, Kook, I’m dying here.” he chuckles before gripping his cock, giving it a few tugs before bringing it closer to your entrance.

“From today, only I get to see and touch this.” he possessively says, licking his lips before pushing his tip inside of you, making you moan.

“You’re so hot and tight.” he whimpers, bowing his head at the sensitivity. “Please move.” you mewl, waiting for him to start pounding you the way you deserve.

He starts off slow, wanting the moment to last, but in a couple of minutes his peace gets faster and faster, making you see stars in the process.

You whine and cry underneath him, feeling so full and so good, his cock hitting all the right spots inside of you, letting you know you made the right choice to leave your husband for him.

He was pulling your strings so well, grunting every now and then when he touched that sweet spot of yours making you squirm or when you moaned too loud, knowing he'd hit your cervix just a little too deep.

“Jungkook! I’m close!” you shout, the ceiling above you turning from black to white. He keeps his rough pace, hitting deeper and deeper if possible. 

“I’m close too, baby.” he whispers before giving one last thrust, spilling his hot seed inside of you, claiming you as his.

You reach your high as well, fingers clawing at his back, trying to bring him in for some closure, both of your arousal slipping your fluttering core. He rests his head on the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, kissing your neck every now and then.

You raise his head, swearing you could see an entire galaxy into his eyes. He was yours now, and you were his, both of you ready to throw everything aside for each other.

You smile lovely at him, knowing he will forever be your happy place, your passion, your crime.

[fushiguruuzzzz]

xvii  ⊹ ࣪ ˖  Party Anthem

Series mlist 

Tags — mentions of alcohol, possibly offensive humour (yk this by now), don’t get angry at me pls. 

Words — 1.2k 

Night had long set in over the horizon, and the frat was oddly hot for such a cool November evening. It was muggy and reeking of cheap alcohol, something everyone had grown desensitized to after ingesting some of it themselves. 

One minute you were sprawled out over a couch, mindlessly chattering away with your group of friends. The next moment, you spotted Nobara in the heaps of people and decided it would be a great idea to dance. Your body swayed side to side, an orange head of hair bobbing around at your side. She was clearly wasted by now, an arm wrapped around your shoulders as she tried and failed to sing along to whatever 2000’s pop song played through the speakers. You could feel people around you stumbling, bumping into you so often it was almost rhythmic. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to feel uncomfortable. This wasn’t exactly your scene, but anything that was vibrant enough to distract you was better than… whatever you were doing before. 

He was here. You could feel it in your bones, the way your heartstrings tugged like they were being toyed with by a puppeteer. With every reminder of him came another shot, the bitter alcohol pouring down your throat. Your head had begun to feel fuzzy long ago, tv static seeming to be on repeat in the depths of your mind. It wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough to erase him. And somehow, the alcohol only heightened your ability to dwell. 

You just wanted to know why. Was that so much to ask? To wonder why he was so normal, and then so… soft, and then suddenly he was nothing at all? Nothing but curses and anger and awkwardness? You knew you hadn’t done anything, but it was the only reason you could conjure up. Your heavy heart was apparent in the way your joints were stiff as Nobara moved you to the beat of the music, the way your eyes looked far away as you stared into space. Even the drunken girl could see that much. 

“M’gonna get a drink. Bye,” she said, words slurred and curt. She didn’t give you a chance to respond, you were left reaching out to the ghost of her, alone in a room full of dirtbags. 

It was simply reflex to retreat to the outskirts, the calmer wall in the corner of the room. Just a moment to breathe, to observe, to remember that you were you and not just some drunk girl escaping Megumi. Not everything was about him. 

Or, apparently, it was. Of course he was over here. Of fucking course. He was everywhere you went, lurking and hovering just a few steps ahead at all times. You didn’t want to see him, not now. Not when your mouth had been loosened by clear vodka and your anger was ever so overran by your sadness. It barely took a sideways glance at him to have your shoulders stiffen, a look of disdain taking over your features as you stared straight ahead. 

He caught your eye. He knew you were there, he always would. It seemed that his body knew before his mind, his pulse quickening and hands growing jittery. He silently watched you for a few moments, contemplating whether you’d hit him or not if he simply grabbed you and forced you to listen. It was obvious you didn’t want to talk to him, and had it been anyone else he would’ve left it alone. But it was you. You were different; you were always different. 

“[name].” 

No response. He moved closer, nearly caging you in, though involuntarily. Truth be told, he wasn’t exactly sober either. Itadori had a knack for influencing him. Maybe that’s why he was being so forward, shameless as he almost begged for your attention. 

“I’m talking to you,” he said. 

“I know.” 

He sighed, shoulders slumping. He expected nothing less from you, a quick mouth and subtle attitude. “[name].” Wow, he really liked the way your name sounded on his lips. “Please, can’t you just—just give me the time of day?” 

“Like you did? You ignored me for two weeks, Fushiguro,” you spat his name like it pierced your tongue to utter. This wasn’t a good time. Your emotions were amped up, every vibration from the suffocating music in the background shooting through you and only irritating you further. 

“I know, that’s why I’m asking you–“ 

“What did I do? Huh? Tell me what I did,” you cut him off, a crease forming between your brows. Then he saw it. Hidden beneath layers of anger and disdain was hurt, desperation to know why he’d shut you out. That made the guilt far worse. It felt like there was a pit in his chest, or rather a black hole, leaving him hollow inside. It was a dull ache of so much love being there, but not enough courage. 

Without thinking, his shaky hand reached out to you. It landed on your shoulder, clumsy and uncoordinated. “Nothing. You didn’t… you could never do anything to make me ignore you.” 

“So why?” you asked, voice breaking. You hated the way you subconsciously leaned into his touch, his face only a few short inches away from you. 

“Because I’m a coward,” he whispered. You don’t know when or how you moved in closer, you just know that you both did and it felt so utterly right that you couldn’t pull away. His pupils were dilated, love or alcohol? Possibly both. 

Was this actually happening? You could smell the faint scent of his cologne radiating from him, his breath smelling of alcohol as it mingled with yours. You could see every detail of his face from here. He looked gentle and desperate and something swirled in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, but you wanted to. You wanted to see all of him, to understand every inch and mannerism and every other bit. You didn’t want Noritoshi. It had never been him. Always your Megumi. 

“Megumi,” you mumbled, the word sounding much sweeter on your lips than his surname had. 

“That’s better,” he breathed, and you swore you felt the touch of his lips on your own. 

But then came Todo, big and beefy and drunk and knocking into everyone. He seemed to be looking specifically for Megumi, grabbing his shoulder all too enthusiastically for the moment. 

“Hey, Fushiguro! You seen my brother?” he asked. You were left standing by the wall, struck by what had almost just happened. You could barely form any sort of coherent thought, mentally doing laps around the room. Megumi didn’t look much better, eyes wide and throat bobbing as he tried to compose himself. He was always composed, he wasn’t going to let that stop now. 

“No,” he grumbled, one word answers being the only thing he was conscious enough to say. Todo, looking defeated, left to continue his search. By the time you peeled your eyes away from the retreating figure of the boy, Megumi was gone. Disappeared into the crowd, nothing but a fish in a sea of people. 

He was fucked. 

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Aha… don’t attack me for this one Megumi went and hid in the washroom fs next chap will be a continued ver of this chap!! Like they’ll still be at the party it’s almost over… omg… I write every chap in one sitting btw so like don’t get mad if they’re shitty

[curtins]

🌿 I LOVE YOU SO MATCHA! — gojo satoru sfw!

prologue. → green was the color of life, and gojo satoru, in all his contradictions, carried life in the way he loved recklessly, laughed shamelessly, and held you like the universe began and ended with you. 🌿 🤍 part of the cookbook (@antizenin)

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

but green is the colour of earth. of living things, of life. and of rot. — unknown.

warnings+. sweetness and established relationship, there's angst in this i genuinely couldn't help it, reader wears a dress in a scene, mentions of injury!

word count. 4k! song inspiration. luther — kendrick lamar, sza

a/n. i'm doing the sukuna shibuya bow from making another predictable twist and ending. but i actually rlly loved writing this, this fic is gonna stay with me i fear <3 gif made by me!

mp3. if it was up to me, i wouldn't give these nobodies no sympathy. i'd take away the pain, i'd give you everything

most people think of gojo satoru in shades of blue.

not the soft and wistful kind that paints summer skies, or the quiet ripple of a lake at dawn. no, they think of an unearthly blue. sharp and electrifying, the kind that stings your eyes and lingers even after you look away.

the shocking azure of his cursed technique, like lightning bottled and ready to shatter the earth. or maybe it's the endless stretch of his eyes, the kind of blue that is so bright, you may burn yourself if you look too long.

to everyone else, gojo is blue. bold, and unrelenting and impossible to ignore.

but to you, gojo satoru is green.

it took time for you to notice it. green doesn't always shout or demand attention. it waits quietly in the background, sometimes content to let others take the stage.

but once you saw it, it was everywhere. it bloomed and took over your life.

the café smells like freshly brewed coffee, warm bread, and the faint sweetness of jasmine blooms sitting in a vase by the window. it's a quiet day, the kind that only seems to exist when gojo has finally managed to wrangle some rare time off.

your boyfriend sits across from you, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, grinning like he's thought of something utterly brilliant.

"okay, hear me out," he says, holding up a hand like he's about to make a groundbreaking declaration that will shatter the earth and bring world peace, "you're the oolong one for me."

you pause and scrunch your face, mid-sip in your tea, "please don't."

gojo leans forward, his grin growing wider ever still, "no? how about this? you're simply tea-rrific."

you bury your face in your hands, as an elderly couple looks at the two of you oddly, "you're unbearable."

"tea-rrific. like terrific," gojo laughs, wagging a finger like a professor lecturing his class, "get it? because -"

"oh, i get it," you cut in, shaking your head but still smiling at your entire world of a boyfriend, "i just refuse to reward bad behaviour."

but you should know better than to think you've tampered down on the relentless force that is gojo satoru. he is relentless in all things, especially when he decides to make you laugh. he's launched into an entire string of tea-related puns, each one worse than the last.

chai think you're amazing! we're a matcha made in heaven! leaf me alone, i'm on a roll!

and somehow, somewhere between the chai and matcha, you start to notice the green.

the delicate stems and leaves of the jasmine says slightly as the café door opens and closes, catching your eye. their soft green isn't loud nor is it attention-seeking. just quietly present, a backdrop to the white blooms that adorn their head.

it is the kind of colour you don't realise you've been missing until it's suddenly there.

you glance at the window, and the trees lining the street are the same, their leaves dappling the sunlight as they sway in the breeze. even the café walls, painted in a muted, sage-like shade, seem to glow just a little in the sunlight. a backdrop to gojo's charming antics.

he's still in front of you, his hair gleaming the same dewy shade as the jasmine blossoms. so animated as he explains why leaf me alone was an under appreciated pun.

there's green in him too, you think.

not in the obvious sense for gojo satoru is far too outwardly vivid to be defined by something as soft as the green akin to your matcha. but it's still there, beneath the flash of his grin and the sharpness of his humour. in the way that he leans closer to make sure you're still smiling.

in the way he somehow turns the whole world into a quiet garden on days like this.

"okay," gojo says, leaning back to cross his arms over his crisp white tee, "i'll stop. but admit it, i brewed up some great ones."

you roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betray you, "fine. one of them was acceptable."

gojo gasps, clutching his chest like you've delivered a fatal, cleaving wound, "one? one? i give you comedy gold, and the love of my life repays me like this!"

the jasmine leaves quiver again as your knee knocks up, shaking the table, "you're impossible."

gojo smiles softer this time, tipping his head as though you've delivered the greatest compliment in the world, "yeah. but love me so matcha!"

the strongest sorcerer in modern history is cracking himself up again, and you can feel the warmth of the colour green around you. in the leaves, in the dappled light, and the man across from you who somehow makes the world softer, and sweeter. and full of life.

there's a matcha-green hoodie in gojo's closest. it's oversized, cozy and worn just enough at the cuffs to feel like a bit of a secret. something loved so well that it holds pieces of him in the quilted fabric.

it's nothing like the sharp navy and indigo of his uniform that he wears on duty, where every line is a untouchable warning. no, these clothes are the opposite for you. it's familar. it's gojo's off-duty self, the one that the rest of the world doesn't get to see.

gojo only really wears it at home, when he's padding around barefoot with tousled, snowy hair brushing over his forehead as he pretends to tiptoe (and fails spectacularly) to let you sleep in. it's the kind of green that somehow makes the mornings softer, as if the day dances quietly around you too.

it's also the green of the evenings when he drapes himself over the couch in your apartment, long legs dangling over the armrest while he beckons you with a lazy smile.

the fabric is impossibly soft against your cheek as you settle into his broad chest, and his arms loop around you like they were always meant to belong there. it smells like him too, a little like cedar and a little like pine. and you think it might be your favourite place in the world.

one time, you stole it.

you hadn't planned it. you had been cold, and it had been right there. before you knew it, you had been walking around the house in its oversized embrace.

when gojo had caught you for the first, his grin stretched wide, playful and wicked.

"hey, well," gojo had drawled, leaning against a doorframe like a cartoon cat that had finally cornered the mouse, "look who's going through other people's closets."

you tugged the sleeves further over your hands, "it's comfortable. you take my shit all the time."

"it's cute on you," gojo says, sauntering closer and placing his large hands on either side of your face, "but you know...no one looks cuter than me."

you snort and turn your back on him, which only encourages for the six-foot-three man to chase after you. and even though he claimed he needed it back, he didn't get it for a week.

maybe because you refused to give it up, or maybe because every time he saw you in it, he just shook his head, grinning as if he’d been caught in the middle of something he didn’t mind losing.

when gojo invited you back to the family estate, you had braced yourself for grandeur. looming gates, and endless halls. the suffocating weight of tradition.

and yes, the grandeur had been there. but what lingered most in your memory wasn't the vastness or the architecture. it was how beautiful it was.

there were several shrines that lay nestled among the estate, hidden away on plots of land. this one had been worn soft by time, covered in moss and nestled among the larger stones.

spring had woven itself into every corner of the estate, from the blossoms swaying overhead to the long grass brushing against your ankles as you walked.

gojo stood a few steps ahead of you, glancing back as if to make sure that you hadn't disappeared, hadn't been swallowed up by the earth. he was dressed in far more traditional robes for once, navy linen lowing and rippling as he moved.

but there was something endearingly out of place about him here, like a bird perched on the wrong branch.

"spring makes it look nicer than it is," he said, running his fingers over the soft, white edges of his undercut. you can hear the underlying vulnerable note in his seemingly casual voice.

you didn’t reply right away, too caught up in the way the sunlight filtered through the cherry blossoms, scattering dappled green shadows across the worn stone steps. when you reached the base of the shrine, you paused, taking it all in: the moss, the blossoms, the breeze, and him.

"it's beautiful," you said finally, and he gave you a lopsided smile that felt more honest than any grandeur could ever be.

he waited for you at the top of the steps, his gaze steady and warm as the spring air. for a moment, he looked like he belonged here, a part of the ancient garden itself. like a carven statue created by loving hands, forever memorialised as something not quite human. but you knew better.

he didn't like this place — this house that felt more like a museum than a home, this estate heavy with the weight of a family name he wore like armour. since arriving, he’d been quieter than usual, his usual spark dimmed by old memories and expectations, and constantly bowing servants who called him lord and master gojo.

but now, as gojo watched you walk through the long grass, something shifted. his shoulders have relaxed, his hands hung loose at his sides. and then, so softly you almost missed it, he says, "i want to marry you."

you froze, the words catching in the breeze between you.

he wasn’t looking at the shrine anymore, or the blossoms, or the sky. gojo satoru was looking at you, his blue eyes calm and unwavering, like he’d found his answer in the very place he’d been avoiding.

"i know it's not much right now," he added, his voice low and rough around the edges, as though he wasn’t used to baring this part of himself, "and i don't care what the elders say. but you're the only person i want."

at the edge of the jujutsu high campus, there's a vending machine of incredible drinks. its green paint had faded, and chipped from the years of stubborn sun and countless coins clinking into its slot.

it hums faintly, blending into the scenery like a reliable friend that carried you through your own years of high school.

somehow, it's become your spot. not officially, no. there was no grand declaration, no conscious agreement and treaty. but after his classes, he always ends up here.

and so do you.

it starts the same way each time. gojo satoru saunters up to his fiancé with that unmistakable grin, white hair catching the light as if he was trying outshine the sun itself.

you watch as he slides a coin into the slot with theatrical position, with his finger hovering dramatically over the buttons. like he's choosing between life and death, instead of commercial canned drinks.

"one iced matcha," gojo announces in a tone meant for a training arena, and not a quiet campus corner. his hand arcs in an exaggerated flourish as he offers you the drink, "for the love of my life."

you roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betray you, "flattery won’t get you anywhere," you reply, accepting the can and cracking it open with practiced ease.

it's a dance you've done a hundred times, but somehow it never gets old. he leans against the vending machine, towering and smug, watching you take a sip like he’s waiting for something.

"don't even think about it, satoru" you warn, holding the can just out of his reach.

but it’s gojo, so of course he thinks about it. he grins wider — how is that possible? and in one fluid motion, he leans in and steals a sip before you can react.

"i will get revenge, always so difficult," you weakly huff, but your fond smile gives you away.

"difficult to resist," he counters, winking like it’s a challenge, "besides," gojo adds, holding the can up to the light as if inspecting its soul, "it tastes better when it’s yours."

you snatch it back, pretending to glare at him, but he’s already leaning closer, his hand brushing yours as he reaches to press another button.

"second round?" he asks, as if this isn’t already part of his plan.

the vending machine hums again, green and steady and familiar, as it delivers another drink with a satisfying clunk.

green had grown to be more than just a colour. it had been a thread that stitched its way through your love story. quiet and constant.

so when the day came, when your heart thudded heavier than ever before and your hands shook just slightly as you smoothed down the expensive fabric, it only made sense that the colour of vitality and new beginnings was everywhere.

the first ceremony itself had been steeped in tradition, from the elegant folds of your formal robes to the rhythmic chants that seemed to echo on in your head. you were grateful for its beauty, but it was the dinner afterwards that felt like yours truly.

the reception was tucked away in a corner of the sprawling grounds, where the tables were adorned with white lilies so luminous they seemed to carry their own light. they sat in vases of muted jade, the colour rich and soft, like the grass after a spring rain. the candles flickered in delicate green holders, casting shadows that waltzed across the tablecloths.

gojo was, of course, the first thing you noticed when you stepped into the space. he wasn’t wearing robes anymore; he’d swapped them for a sleek black suit that fit him perfectly, save for the ever-so-slightly loosened tie (because he couldn't help himself). his hair, as untameable as always, gleamed in the low light.

and then there was you, in a flowing green dress that felt like you’d stepped out of a dream and into his orbit. the soft fabric caught the candlelight, shifting from deep emerald to pale sage as you moved, shimmering. you thought about how this colour, the one that reminded you of leaves and tea and moss-covered shrines — had always meant life to you.

gojo's grin when he saw you was wide enough to rival the moon, and he made a show of adjusting his tie like a movie star spotting their co-star for the first time, with an awfully cliché wink.

"you clean up nice," he said, eyes gleaming with mischief, and then something more love-struck, "my beautiful wife. i must be the luckiest man on earth."

"and you’re just realising this now?" you teased, the soft fabric of your dress whispering as you stepped closer.

dinner wasn’t a grand banquet, but it was perfect — just your closest friends, a table overflowing with warmth, and gojo stealing glances at you as if you’d disappear if he looked away for too long. between bites of food and sips of something sweet, he leaned over to whisper ridiculous commentary in your ear about your guests: how much wine nanami had thrown back, or how shoko had situated herself perfectly near the food.

but then, in quieter moments, he’d reach for your hand beneath the table, his thumb tracing soft, lazy circles on your skin.

the night blurred into laughter and soft music, of digital cameras and drunk speeches. the green hues around you shifting like memories folding into themselves. you caught sight of the lilies swaying gently in the breeze and thought about how gojo had insisted on them when you’d been indecisive.

"white lilies mean devotion," he'd said, smirking like he knew something you didn’t.

"and green?" you'd asked.

"green's for us," he replied, "or for you. i know you like it so much. an' it's cute when you're sentimental."

by the end of the night, gojo's tie was completely undone, and his jacket hung over the back of a chair. he pulled you onto the dance floor despite your protests that your feet hurt, practically yelling in their strapped heels.

"then i'll carry you," he said dramatically, dipping you halfway before breaking into laughter when you yelped.

the two of you swayed there, in the gentle green glow of the reception, his arms wrapped around you and the world falling into place. your husband smelled faintly of the lilies and something warm you couldn’t name. you're sure if you put pen to paper, like a poet of old, you might be able to name that feeling.

"you know," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, "i've been to a lot of ceremonies, but this one’s definitely my favourite."

"oh? why's that?" you asked, resting your cheek against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"because this time, i got to marry you."

you used to love the colour white. it had been the colour everything pure. everything soft that made you feel safe. the brightness of it had brought a clarity to the world.

it was the colour gojo's unruly hair, glistening in the sun like a crown. you had been so enamoured, watching him run slender fingers through soft strands. to you, white had always been perfect and radiant in all of gojo's unbridled glory.

but the winds of the snow storm must have shifted.

you still remember that day so vividly, as if your mind could never forget it no matter how much you wished it could. the white falling on the streets of shinjuku, covered with layers of freshly fallen snow. pristine and untouched.

but there had been a sickening crack of flesh against pavement, the wet thud that only those who've known death too closely can identify.

you had seen it before you'd even registered the horror of it all. the red, the bright crimson that bled into the snow. staining it, warping it. turning it into something so vile. the ministrations of ryomen sukuna.

gojo's body, cleaven and unmoving. the garnet staining his snow-white hair as it pulled from under his spine. the quiet calm that had settled over his face, as if he had seen something so wondrous in his last moments.

that snow, once so untouched and pure, was suffocated by the iron scent of blood. and at that moment, when you had lost him forever, was the moment you knew that white would never mean purity again.

the colour of white, the colour of christmas eve — no longer held any softness for you. it wasn’t the gentle lightness of his hair; it was the cold, hard truth of loss. it was the memory of blood seeping into that pure snow, the last thing he saw before his life was ripped away.

now, you avoid it. you avoid white whenever you can, as if by doing so, you can erase that moment from your mind. you keep your house warm and cozy, perhaps almost unhealthily so, with shades of warm and soft earth tones, and you dress your daughter in colours that remind you of life, of what was still worth living for. but white? it's a shadow, a reminder. so, you avoid it.

but then, one afternoon, a few months later, your daughter tugs at your hand, small and warm, a soft giggle escaping her as she skips ahead of you. you can’t help but smile at her, at how much of gojo satoru is in her — the way she laughs without hesitation, the way her energy fills up every room, every corner.

you're walking down the street, the air still crisp from the tail-end of winter. it's one of those moments when the world feels ordinary, but in the best way possible. sunlight filtering down between reconstructed buildings, the bustle of the city in the background, your daughter's little chirp bubbling in the space between. you're lost in her, in the joy she brings.

but then, you stop.

you don't mean to. you didn't even notice where your feet were taking you until it happens. your gaze drops to the ground, and there it is.

that spot. the place where it all happened. the very spot where the white had been stained with merlot, the place where gojo's life was stolen from you. the pavement looks the same, the cracks just as they were before, but there's something different now.

a tiny green plant, barely noticeable, growing through the crack in the concrete. the leaves are soft, a rich shade of green that seems to pulse with life. it's small, fragile, but determined, its roots pushing through the cold, unforgiving pavement.

you swallow, the lump in your throat almost choking you.

"satoru..." you whisper to yourself, but your daughter’s voice pulls you from your morbid, breaking thoughts.

"look!"

you glance down, seeing her kneeling beside the plant, her tiny hands reaching out to touch it with wonder in her eyes.

"it's pretty, isn’t it? can i pick it?" she asks, her voice light and innocent.

you nod, tears welling up in your eyes that you refuse to let fall. you hold your breath, trying to steady your heart. it's absurd, you think, how something so small, so simple, could make you feel so much. how something as insignificant as a sprout could make the weight of the world feel just a little bit lighter.

nitrogen, iron and phosphorus are all found in human blood. and hey! they're also needed for plants to grow!

you hear the voice of teenage shoko, kicking her legs back as you tried to finish your homework, right before yaga assigned you another detention. but now the memory comes back to you, sickens you. tears at your heart.

you crouch down beside her, your fingers gently brushing against the plant’s leaves.

"yeah, it's pretty," you whisper, voice barely audible. “best let it rest where it is, yeah?"

you've taken a deep breath and stand up, your daughter tugging you along as she continues on her path, unknowing, innocent. entirely unaware of the memory of her father, lauded as a hero and as a sharp weapon by all those who knew him.

most of those who knew him.

but you glance back at the little plant, the green leaves waving in the soft breeze, and for the first time in months, you don’t feel the crushing weight of grief.

you just feel… a little less lost. and for the first time, the colour green feels like something more than a memory of gojo satoru.

more of a promise for the future, for those who lived on.

[avelera]

Theory: Why Jayce had to attack Cult Leader Viktor

It's a lot of conjecture, and I'm possibly reading more into the scene than the show intended, but I keep thinking about why Viktor abandoned Jayce in Arcane in 2.02, only to be glad to see him later and wish to meet in person. So here's what I'm thinking:

We actually got confirmation that "Sky" was the Hexcore all along.

We have Viktor saying that he left because he was "clouded by emotion". (Bookmark this one because I'm going to make the case that it was the opposite: that this moment was actually Viktor's choice and it was to protect Jayce on a subconscious level, because the Hexcore later welcomes Jayce back and wants to see him in person, in an attempt to assimilate him.)

We have some signs that there were weapons blueprints on the table, namely Cait's sniper rifle, which some fans pointed out could have been upsetting for Viktor to see, enough for him to leave. Certainly S1 Viktor was horrified by the idea of Hextech weaponry.

But, Viktor will later offer his assimilation robot army to Ambessa. And his robots are extremely effective Hextech weapons on their own, even if he sees them as peaceful assimilators, they are brutally effective in a pinch, judging just by the fact that it took Mel AND Jayce to take down Viktor's proxy robot in the Council chamber. So there is some hypocrisy shenanigans going on there with "no Hextech weapons." Unless, of course, it's Viktor who is against weapons and the Hexcore who is in favor of them, and sells the idea to Viktor by making the case that robot assimilation is a "peaceful" use of Hextech.

Now, if you go back to the Sky meta shared above, Showrunner Christian Linke says the Hexcore is the one who wants the Glorious Evolution. It's the one that wants to spread and give Viktor more power and influence. And the reason Sky took off was because its mission was done, Viktor had accepted the Glorious Evolution and the power Singed offered. It no longer needed to project "Sky" at him to string him along into doing what it wanted.

In general, there's a lot that's weird about what happens to Viktor after he leaves the lab. A man of science starting a cult is weird. The glowing footsteps he sees on the way to the shimmer victim shanty town are weird. It's notable that shimmer was what was needed for Viktor's own initial fusing with the Hexcore, so going after shimmer addicts is the perfect way to ensure that assimilation, if you're the Hexcore and you want to grow yourself.

We also have Viktor's voice which fades in and out of robotic monstrousness depending on what he's saying. It crackled over it just being "affection" keeping him and Jayce together. As the Machine Herald in 2.09, it mostly stays monstrous, but it drops down into his own voice, in a whisper without the overlay, when he calls the war around them a "senseless conflict". That feels like a true belief held by Viktor, rather than the will of a Hexcore that wants to spread, multiply, and assimilate everything.

And here's the kicker for me: why didn't Viktor heal Jayce when Jayce hugged him in that room? Jayce's wounds were pronounced and horrible from Renni's chainsaw, there's no way Viktor could have missed them. And why didn't he take the opportunity to assimilate Jayce, since they had skin to skin contact?

This is where I'd argue that it's because Viktor still was more himself at that point. And it could be argued that one reason he ran out of that room was to protect Jayce, on a subconscious level, from being assimilated.

The Hexcore-pretending-to-be-Sky needed to gradually seduce Viktor into going along with assimilation. It posed assimilation as healing, it showed Viktor the suffering of the shimmer addicts and the undercity in general. It played to Viktor's life long desire to make the world a better place, but it feels wrong because it's through mysticism rather than science.

And then, I would argue, once it had convinced Viktor to enact its plan by "healing" people to grow its power and influence, it wanted Jayce next as another addition to the cult and perhaps to incorporate one of the few people who could stop it. So it was not Viktor necessarily inviting Jayce back to the commune, it was the Hexcore posing as Viktor. I'm sure part of Viktor did want to see Jayce again, but we have to juxtapose the oddness of that moment with how Viktor soon after the transformation got as far away from Jayce as possible.

It would make sense, then if Wizard Viktor when he gave his instructions to Jayce really did need to be adamant that Jayce destroys Cult Leader Viktor rather than talk to him. Because Cult Leader Viktor was seductive, and he had just enough of real Viktor's motives and personality left to make a seductive case for Jayce that this was the way for Hextech to help the world.

So Jayce couldn't hesitate, he couldn't let Cult Leader Viktor (who is an unknowing instrument of the Hexcore's desire to expand itself) get a word in edgewise because of how quickly that Viktor could probably seduce Jayce into joining him. Hence the brutality and speed of the attack.

Because Cult Leader Viktor did have to be destroyed. The cult was never a good thing. The good that was left in Viktor was heading towards the disappointment of his ideals shortly in any case, either through running out of power, or from Ambessa's imminent attack. Jayce joining Viktor's cult would have doomed the world and the only way to keep him from joining was to fight rather than talk to Viktor, and that went against every fiber of Jayce's being, because Cult Leader Viktor was almost literally designed in a lab to get Jayce to surrender to him rather than fight him.

And I think we should be really suspicious of how freshly transformed Viktor pushed Jayce away, while Cult Leader Viktor wanted to pull him back in, especially with the implication that it was the Hexcore that wanted to assimilate Jayce in that moment, and just how effective it would have been at seducing Jayce into accepting assimilation if not for Future Viktor's explicit warning.

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors with Benefits: Chapter 14 (Joel x reader)

Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2000

Your mother was busy getting all the side dishes ready for the picnic while your dad packed coolers of beer, soda and water outside and prepped the grill.

“I'll bring these out,” you offered, repeating what felt like a thousand times, “What else do you need?”

You knew your mother had a thousand things to say, and maybe a hundred questions after that. Still, she remained cordial and attempted to seem normal on the surface. You knew by her tightly wound mannerisms that she wasn't even close to portraying that - at least not to you. She might've fooled a coliseum full of people with her mask, but not you.

When everything was set up and less than an hour remained until guests began to arrive, you tried to excuse yourself.

“Okay, I’m going to shower.” You scampered toward the stairs but your mother called you back.

Fuck. You had almost gotten up the stairs, but without stalling made your way back to where your mom stood in the kitchen.

“Do you need any more help?” You tried to butter her up a bit by offering your aid and pressing on a smile, but your mother wasn't having it.

“You need to consider what you're doing, (Y/N),” she warned, “I'm saying it for your own good.”

“Okay,” you halfheartedly agreed.

“I mean it,” your mother went on. “I honestly don't know what other advice to give you. He’s a man. He's married.”

“He's not with Cecille,” you insisted, “Do you really think I'd get involved with a married man? I mean, I guess legally he is but they haven't lived together for awhile and they're getting a legal divorce.”

“You're twenty-three.”

“And I'm able to date who I want to date,” you said without trying to sound confrontational. “Mom, I know on the surface this looks bad. But I'm going to feel this out and see where it goes. If I get my heart broken, it's on me. I have feelings for Joel and he has feelings for me. I’ll deal with the consequences, whatever they might be.”

She stared at you for a long moment before saying quietly. “Okay.” Her white flag was waving and, if nothing else, she was done fighting you on it - for the moment.

A temporary victory. You knew this meant your mother wasn't going to tell your father; not yet. And so you silently thanked her with a closed-mouth smile and took the stairs to take a shower.

***

The picnic had dragged. You checked your phone again and again and again. Joel, you guessed, was refraining from being the one to initiate conversation. You couldn't blame him, and you hoped that was all it was - him being cautious.

What if it's over? You wondered. What if that's it? What if all this scared him off?

Your anxiety got the best of you and you wandered around the side of your house to text him. Your thumbs danced on the screen as you asked how his day was going, if he got in touch with Tommy and if later was still good to meet up.

You chewed on your thumbnail and rounded back into the picnic. It was much to your relief that Cecille hadn't shown up. As the hours ticked by you grew more hopeful that she wouldn't swing by. Still, seeing her car in the driveway next door made your insides twist with a concoction of feelings.

Ding! Your phone sounded off and your head was pulled down like a magnet toward the screen.

Text me a time, Joel texted back to you, remember how to get to the fishing spot?

You typed back without hesitation: Yes. I'll let you know when I'm done here.

All you wanted was to be back with. You wanted to take in his body language, hear his words. You wanted to know that despite what had happened that morning, that everything was alright.

You glanced around the backyard at the scene you would have typically enjoyed. There was a four on four volleyball game going on, two people were playing cornhole, others were talking and laughing around the tables you'd helped your parents set up. Regardless of the smiles, the music, the laughter and the sun shining down on everyone, your smiles were forced and fake.

By the time the last of the guests were waving goodbye, you couldn't wait any longer.

Seven o'clock? You typed to Joel, while helping your parents clean up.

You folded a table in half and began lugging it toward the open bay of the garage. When your phone pinged, you set the table down on the driveway so you could check it.

I'm addicted, you acknowledged. Fuck.

Being head over heels for someone was more than you bargained for. You truly felt addicted to Joel Miller.

I'll be waiting, Joel wrote back.

His words out more pep in your step, and you hurried to lug in the cornhole boards and a second table. Inside, you helped your mother wrap up some of the leftovers and wipe down the countertops before finally hurrying to retrieve your keys and a backpack you prepared.

“Are you going to be home tonight?” Your mother asked. She held your gaze and you shook your head.

“I don't think so “ you told her honestly, “But I'll let you know for sure.” She added, “Is that alright?”

“Like you said, you're twenty-three.” She shrugged. “You can do whatever you want.” Your mother turned toward the sink. “Be careful. And text me.”

“I love you.”

She turned and met your gaze. Despite her outward, quiet concern for the situation she said honestly. “I love you, too.”

On a completely opposite and oblivious note, your father high-fived you by the front door as he entered after putting some things in the garage.

“See ya later, kiddo!”

You smiled to yourself, relieved by his nonchalant demeanor. “See ya later, Dad. Love ya.”

“I love you, too.”

You were out the door a few seconds later, speeding off into the night to meet Joel at your secret location. You needed to see him in the worst way. Despite his agreement to meet, there was doubt that plagued the back of your mind.

What if, what if, what if…

Your foot hit the gas a little harder as you drove from back road to back road until the park came into view. You had to really think to remember a few of the last bends in the road but soon you recognized the wooded area that led down to the lake.

Where is he? Where is he?

Relief filled your core when you saw Joel’s truck in a small clearing. Your stomach filled with butterflies as you pulled up beside him. Joel turned from where he sat in the driver’s seat and he flung his door open almost immediately.

Oh, no, you thought. He has something to say.

Joel looked like a man on a mission. You prepared yourself for the worst. You prepared yourself for the heartache. The other shoe was about to drop. All of a sudden you were scared to get out of the car. Joel's face was too serious. If you just sat there then you wouldn't have to hear his let down.

Stop! You scolded yourself.

You popped open your door and let yourself as Joel rounded the front of your car.

Fuck, he looks good.

Joel was all you thought all about all day - not that that was anything new. He stared at you down with jeans a snug fitting white t-shirt. It hugged his rugged upper in all the right places and your former anxious thoughts were replaced far different ones.

“Hi,” you said to him, folding your hands in front of you.

Joel didn't immediately say anything. He appeared as if he was studying you. You were sure he was far better at it than you were.

He walked the rest of the way to you and you went to speak again.

“Joel, I-” You were cut off when he grabbed your face and kissed you firmly on the lips. You kissed him back, letting your guard down completely in his embrace. Almost immediately it grew heated. Your hands began to wander. He began to snake your shirt up over your head and before you knew it you were nearly naked in the bed of his truck with his body blanketing yours.

“Joel,” you finally choked out, “I want you.”

“I love you,” he voiced in a gruff whisper against your lips before devouring them once more.

“I love you,” you whimpered back. One of your legs hooked around his naked waist and Joel groaned into your mouth.

Everything about the moment was feral and raw and right. Being apart all day amidst the uncertainty and the angst made you needy for one another. As bad as you wanted Joel, you wondered if he wanted you more. It felt impossible, but the way he approached you that evening without even saying a word left you breathless.

Darkness had fully taken over the world when the two of you finished. Even long after your lovemaking was through, your lips touched, your hands explored one another and Joel kissed along your collarbone, neck and shoulders.

Being out in nature completely nude and basking in the afterglow of perhaps the most tender, emotional sex you had ever had was an experience you wouldn't soon forget.

“I was afraid you were going to break things off with me,” you said quietly, kissing Joel’s neck as he closed his eyes beside you.

“I could never do that.”

“Never?” You let your teeth graze his neck as you continued to kiss him there.

“Mmm..” Joel moaned out loud, “Never.”

Laying face-to-face you linked your arm up under his and rested your palm on his shoulder blade. You pulled him close and kissed him. There was no getting enough of Joel. You slipped your tongue past his lips and he eagerly reciprocated. As you made out you felt him harden again against your upper thigh.

“I want you again,” you practically begged, pulling him closer. “Please.” Your hand drifted down to his lower back and Joel rolled his body back on top of yours with your encouragement.

His kiss was smoldering. You pawed your arms around him and tangled a hand in his thick, dark hair. When Joel’s lips parted from yours he kissed down your neck to the tops of your breasts before separating himself from you.

“No,” you begged, pulling him back with a smile as your teeth caught your bottom lip.

Joel satisfied you with a sloppy, closed-mouth kiss. “I'm just reaching inside for some blankets,” he explained, whispering against your lips. Joel pried open the back window on his truck and grabbed a small stack of blankets from the back seat.

You adjusted so he could place a few down on the truck bed and then laid back down flat and pulled him back to you.

Your bodies connected immediately as his lips crashed back against yours. When your lips finally parted to take a breath, you gasped out the words, “Don't leave me.”

Why was this such a problem for you? Even Joel, himself, saying he would never leave wasn't convincing enough. You were too deep into it emotionally and it was making you a wreck inside.

Joel, patient as ever, brought his lips to your ear. “You're mine.” His teeth latched onto your ear lobe and he swirled his tongue around the area. “All mine.”

Your head dropped back in pleasure and you dug your fingers into his back.

New kink unlocked.

@mellymbee @pedropascal111 @axshadows @mybritishstyle @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @goodvibesonly421 @cosmic006533-blog @ashleyfilm @maybetomorrowgirl @rebeccawinters @cuteanimalmama @vickie5446 @writlingerz @drewharrisonwriter @churchofjoemiller

[moirindeclermont]

Bridgerton folks, you asked... There it is. Daddy!Colin in all his glory.

While I can't predict exactly where this fic is going to go (as I write on the spot) the premise in this case is that consent is assumed where not explicitly stated. Also, I'd like to be more psychological than physical, bit that's more for the characters to develop the story in the way it needs to be told. I'm merely a vessel.

Title is to be defined but I accept suggestions. Have fun!! 🥵 😈 🫠

---

Second Episode | Third Episode | Fourth Episode | Fifth Episode | Sixth Episode

---

"Why?"

Well, that was the crux of the problem.

Why did Pen asked her boyfriend and long time friend Colin Bridgerton to try "the daddy thing" as she presented it to him?

Knowing that honesty must be the requisite if this was going to turn into reality, she decided to go for total vulnerability.

"Because I need this. Because there is no one I love more than you and you're the only one with whom I can think of letting go like that."

That last bit got into Colin.

He want sure of the whole thing, but if it was something she needed, he would give it a try, for her.

"I'm willing to try. I have some research to do."

Pen smiled so bright for him that his knees almost dropped. Yeah, that was the right choice.

"Oh, I can do research for you," she offered him, but it wasn't the point of all of this for him to take care of her?

He got closer to her personal space. "Don't worry baby, I'll do my own research. If I think I need some help or some questions, I'll ask."

Pen melted in his arms - kissed him deeply and it was worth a try just for the way she hugged him after that talk, as if just talking about it made her feel better.

Thing is, the more Colin got into it, researching and reading, the more he wanted to try. He still wasnt so sure of "Daddy" was going to be cringe or hot, but the idea of Pen trusting him that much.. that was extremely erotic for him.

They talked a bit about it some more. They decided on a safe word "plant" and that he would call her "babygirl" when he wanted to start a scene.

Pen was being teased and she knew it. They talked and talked and talked with Colin. Everything was set up, they had a procedure for the aftercare (even if she doubt that she would go that deep on their first session) and now it was just a question of waiting. She was never good at waiting.

She didn't want to start this adventure with some brat behavior, but as the day passed it was clear that Colin was not waiting out of fear or insecurity.

He was waiting just to drive her mad.

Pen knew he would be good at it.

It was on the verge of begging him, when after a particular stressful night, she was close molaining with Colin about everything and it was madness how tired she was of even thinking, when she head him saying "come here, babygirl".

Holy fucking shit.

She turned to see him and he was on the sofa, his legs opened. A cushion on the floor.

Did she already said Holy fucking shit?

She moved towards him, knellingon the cushion without instructions. He seemed pleased at that.

"Such a good girl for me," as Colin tilted her chin to kiss her. She was already trembling.

"Unzip me and take me in your mouth."

She looked at him agape, as she could not believe what she was hearing. She took a moment too long to follow his instructions.

"Are you my good girl?"

At that she could only nod. "Then, do as I say."

She thought he was good. But Colin was shooting for the stars.

His entire demeanor was confident and sexy. He embodied security and she knew she was safe in his hands.

She had yet to move though. He looked at her with such intensity that her heart skipped a beat.

"Do not test me, babygirl"

And she shook her head. Pen didn't want to test him.

"Words, love."

"No, I don't want to test you"

"I don't want to test you..."

A lightbulb in her head.

"I don't want to test you, Daddy"

Tbc

[ganondoodle]

more .....

you cannot tell me they planned the whole timeloop bullshit from the start .... old viktor looks nothing like the mage in season 1 (aside from ... cloak and staff?? no tattoos, the way the mage does magic doesnt seem like viktor does anythign every etc) and its so?? granted i havent rewatched .. bc i dont want to see that again, but how even ... does old viktor turn 'normal' again?? they seem to break the loop by breaking viktor out of god mode so the loop is if he stayed in god mode ... right? what made him turn back .. complete with normal hands and everything? and tiem hopping powers?? is that the kind of "special" mentioned in that interview now? somehow?? is he gonna fuck with all the other region with his new special time hopping powers???

RIP og viktor btw, the VGU being the arcance god complex one is so .... thats not the same character man, like even his title 'maschine herald' (that was his og title right?) doesnt fit bc he does fuck all with maschines, its honestly one of the saddest parts of all this, he was a maschine guy and now hes a ... corrupted magic guy? (they even showed concepts for updating him maschine style .......) however outdated og viktor is, you cant fault people for feeling rather strongly about him being essentially deleted and replaced with someone of the same name (me with skarner ...)

did anyone else feel like the "big" fight at the end was really .. weird? like idk it felt like there was a total of 10 guys fighting at both sides and only around the hexgates, like they make it out ot be a big ol war and then its a handful of guys clobbering each other ... and all characters that got more than 5 seconds of screentime dying horribly ... ... the whole ending fight stuff, as pretty as fortiche makes things look, it felt so ... weird and floaty when most of the show before that ... ESPECIALLY season 1 felt so grounded

(ALSO i thought isha taking the crystals out of vis gauntlets would matter more? like ... she just doesnt have them from then on until at the end for some really underwhelming scenes but thats it?)

with the reveal of the new 'seasons' in league (which in itself is a cool concept and took them way too long to do anything with the darn map) ... i feel even mroe bitter bc ... yeah that ending going like that sure feels like it was done JUST to lead into that stuff, i liked mel, but her turn from political figure to just golden something magic blaster and then her turn for noxus feels so???? for her who wants to bet mel is gonna be the main character in the next show and shes gonna fight mordekaiser all holy golden magic style bc shes the chosen holy magic baby and having her fight him is the whole reason the black rose wanted her (bonus jinx annoying sidekick bc shes popular and has to be everywhere now no matter how little sense it makes) and of course shes a champion with a legendary skin to launch with (bonus points for putting her in skin tight bodysuit number 341)

(them making a big ass figurine out of jinxs last design in the show also feels slimy ... like its a neat design but really she does fuck all there and is .. barely a footnote in the whole universe and time bending stuff :/ )

while i do think alot of it is due to the extreme time constraints they had to work with ............... its not the only thing that messed with it

okay i do have to do a mini (i call it mini now.. this is just letting my feelings about it out, so its spelled agressively bc im just so .. frustrated ... also not hate to the studio or the people working on it .. obviously >_>) rant about arcane-

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR ARCANE SEASON 2

its the most beautiful show ever produced, i mean it, its style, fortiche's (the studio) style, is just .... impossibly pretty, 3d and 2d, the animation is just so GOOD, the designs largely (like 95%) are too, the acting and sound design, the voice acting (at least the english one) is so emotional and good, the show in general is just good ... until the last episode

i have my own problems with riot declaring arcane the new canon out of nowhere and for no good reason since it was, im very sure, never conceived to be that, its a reinterpreation and works best as such, now literally everything is once again completely messed up, no one knows whats real and what isnt, no champion or story is safe, especially with the weird hexcore bullshit potentially erasing the VOID (whish is like ... half on which the canon was built on tbh) AND hextech- multiple champions being impossible to exist now .... but thats not what i wanted to talk about

i was pretty on board with everything the show did, though i wasnt a big fan of the whole hexcore stuff, but it all spiraled so far out of control, it just kept making everything worse, also with bringing in the black rose and leblanc, it kept piling stuff onto the plate despite them already compressing everything so drastically; espeically regarding viktor, but i kept my hope up even after season 2s act 2 bc it still seemed 'fixable', though not easily so

what i liked about it (in its writing) despite its pacing issues was that it was rather .. self contained for the longest time, focused on the characters and the class struggle of piltover and zaun, and doing so rather well imo, like it did and said things i did not expect riot to let through

i was worried with the alternate universe stuff that came with the escalating hexcore bullshit but held onto hope even until episode 8 and then ...man .. the last episode ... the fuck was that- like i hate timetravel and multiverses and whatever but the thing with ekko was done rather neatly ... they made all those chaarcter models and sets just for that short stuff and really .. was of little use other than getting heimerdinger out of the picture as well lmao maybe he will get his own series to advertise for 200 dollar skins in league hahaaaa but i guess the main point was to give ekko the z-drive ... which feels alot like what i feared about them forcing it to comply with the characters in game ,,,, even though that wasnt for everyone like warwick was done SO dirty after giving me hope in act two

everythings focused on the hexcore/arcane shit, theres the black rose shit (honestly i think it was a mistake bringing them in too bc .. noxus is its entire own region with so many champs and story itself that got connected via ambessa .. which was a new character the show made up until they made her a champ now .. its just too much to put into this one show already going at a breakneck pace), mel doing her bit with them then bam she mage now which felt like a champion teaser more than an organic part of the story, especialyl with how hard it got pushed later (poor little riots gotta sell more game cosmetics uwu), jayce just taking over control again and everyone going with it, singed reviving stupid version victor via using vander/warwick WHO WAS STILL ALIVE AFTER ISHA BLEW HERSELF UP TO STOP HIM FROM KILLING EVERYONE (which was ALREADY pretty cheap, but i guess jinx had to be even more suicidal than she already was heehoo), dont even ask me HOW, viktor was just whoops from corpse to im a cocoon now, ambessa being so obsessed with it, the entire class struggle being """"solved"""" by piltover and zaun fighting stupid viktors weird ass robot shitheads together and then acting like giving sevika a seat at the council is the solution to it, half the cast just dying horribly for honestly no reason?? ORIANNA being now i guess some weird viktor robot but without the mindcontrol part and singed just kinda ... winning i guess by giving her cocoon some goo of stupid viktors cocoon

it just all ... turning from this so drama, character and class struggle thing into weird ass dimension hopping magical world war that all gets solved bc we fought together once uwu AND it being a fucking timeloop WITHIN what ONE episode? and that being the ENDING (i know i know the hexcore bs was building up throughout the show but it still felt so .. unearned and sudden ... )

also i got personal gripes with the 'ending' bc .. was it REALLY an ending like they kept saying?? was it?? viktor, jayce, heimerdinger, jinx are just disappeared i guess, mel going back to noxus- the fucking 'our story isnt over' tease???? the last minute appearance of swains fucking raven???? pecking at something blue and shining like idk a hex crystal??? SHUT UP i dont want more to come, this story should have had its self containing ending, not this open ended bullshit that just reeks of corporate meddling bc they want their game to connect to their popular show as much as possible now so we gotta bring in as many teases and connections to other champions YIPPIEEEEE (yelling)

also if jinx is dead, wow, what a way to end her story, the traumatized suicidal character being tortured and tortured especially after seemingly having something good for once (i liked act 2 except for its ending the most bc ... man jinx was so enjoyable there, i loved her dynamic with vi and isha and half wolf vander warwick with the beast and man struggle i love alot, that part was genuinely beautiful, i wasnt a fan of the idea of idk ekko doing time stuff and them having a happy ending bc i just dont like going back in time to fix everything kinda stuff, but i would have much much prefered that, not changing the existing story into the perfect world where everythings happy (though i liked that part ... vander silco being gay husbands like that is just so goood) but to fix what is fixable in the present- them still having gone through alot but being able to live with it, so act 2 setup was honestly my favorite way to not invalidate everything and still have something happy .... but no we gotta kill the kid to make jinx even worse and vander/warwick too while we are at it

if shes not dead (given you see a blimp(?) flying away and her scribbles showing up and caitlyn looking at the blueprints of the hexgates) then ... ??? oh yeah lets make her leave zaun and just idk go be the main character in noxus or soemthing for the next show they are gonna do bc jinx is popular so putting her everywhere is a good idea!!!1!!11

ALSO since vander/warwick is my favorite .. i thought maybe after isha doing that, if they dont reverse it, hed get taken by singed again or ran away and turned fully werewolf like he is in the game (though i would have liked if they were able to be a weird family like in act2)- but no he just gets used as fuel for stupid viktor cocoon and then mind erased and made into the ugliest weird robot thing that looks more like galio than him JUST and i feel like it really is JUST to have Vi at the end do the scene that gets jinx 'killed' .. to lead into the 'more to come' teaser.. idk about you but that scene felt so .. forced, the typical oh no platform is slowly falling down but Vi suddendly gets emotional about weird ugly robot warwick (who conveniently comes back to life as ugly robot beast since his human mind got erased but not the beast??? i guess???) and completely ignores jinx yelling at her to get to safety, it felt so WEIRD to me (if you gotta do him like that at least let Vi listen to jinx, them embracing and then watchign emotionally as robo vanderwick falls into the hexgate thing .. that was still active somehow i guess??)

(poor viktor got done so dirty too .. i liked him .. until it all went weird wit hthe hexcore stuff ....... ..... also jayce weird speech to him .. why the FUCK did you not do that back in the cult camp instead of blasting him to bits, i get it he was fucked up from seeing the future, but then later hes just ... okay???? pretty fine all things considered??? and pretty aware of everything?? also his weird speech being all like vitkor actually you were perfect in your imperfection BITCH HE WAS SLOWLY DYING AN AGONIZING DEATH???? idk ??? it all feels so weird to me, like there episodes literally missing- ambessa dying also felt so unnecessary .. just so mel can take her place and go to noxus and have more shows maybe- )

i just .... and just like how i cant enjoy botw anymore after them fucking it all up with totk ... i dont know if i will rewatch arcane knowing it ends like that, what was that for, the most beautiful show ever made just to do a game of thrones ending in a single episode?

im so tired of it all ..... im so tired of being disappointed and feeling let down over and over no matter with how little expectations i go in with

this willl be the only arcane rant unless theres some .. big stupid reveal that gets me more frustrated than i am now, which i hope there isnt .. im tired of being and feeling like this .. i just want to enjoy things, everythings going to shit IRL and i cant even find something enjoyable to watch

[nick-nellson]

BRIDGERTON 2.03 A Bee in Your Bonnet

[mobius-m-mobius]

#insane choices being made 👀

Loki 1x04 // 2x02

[fangrurin]

House of the Dragon + BLUE (in/sp)

[hulloitsdani]

i want to know your anna thoughts so bad hi.

Hullo! Sure I can provide some Anna thoughts! I have so god damn many. Some other characters are also going to work their way in here too, if you don’t mind. And buckle up, this is gonna be a long one. I got a whole short story for y’all here.

Without further ado, I present to you: The Commander Anna Post

Let’s have some fun, shall we?

So in the age discussion of the feh main cast from a while back, I mentioned how I accounted for Anna’s bizarre position in Askr’s military by making her a child soldier. She has been fighting since she was a young teenager and has logged a decade of combat experience at this point.

I want there to be some fun consequences for this. For example, Anna is rocking some very serious injuries that will likely be with her for the rest of her life. Most notable being her left shoulder. Just by looking at her in full commander regalia, it’s not obvious that there’s any kind of issue. But Anna can’t lift her left arm all the way anymore. Her armor does an excellent job covering up the inconsistency, as it doesn’t allow for that level of mobility anyway. But take the armor off and you can see her shoulder is an absolute mess. It is, and I quote, “the worst healing job I’ve ever seen” according to Veronica.

It’s a bizarre sight for the kid. It’s not the type of thing she expected to learn about an enemy commander. Perhaps THE enemy commander. But in this situation that hardly matters, as she is the group healer as they all trek deeper into the realm of the dead. And Veronica is tending to her wounds only to find the pitiful scarred skin, warped and uneven from a hastily rushed healing process. It’s from a long time ago, she explains. From when she was still just a foot solider. But that… doesn’t make sense does it? Was Bruno not her ally? He has the capacity to heal— he was the one who taught Veronica the little she knows. Even his worst attempts were leagues better than the work done here.

Anna can only shrug, a motion made mostly with her right shoulder. He didn’t reveal that he was a mage of any kind while he was with them. So, even if he wanted to, there’s a chance he could not afford to. Veronica doesn’t know what to say to that. There’s this… uncomfortable knowing between the two of them. They know now, in retrospect, that swallowing down the truth like that must have ate Bruno alive. Just another reason for his sorry state that they didn’t catch until it was nearly too late. Add that to the pile of tiny behaviors that now make sense, right? The intensity of his expression as he insisted Veronica learn how to heal despite her protests and the daggers he’d stare into the intricate scaring on Anna’s shoulder. Throw them all in. Every last piece.

Commander Anna looks at the princess and unexpectedly breaks the tension with a laugh. You see, it’s funny, because this is exactly how she started to figure out Zacharias was Bruno. Very few know about her shoulder. She’s not exactly brazen about it, nor do the people she interacts with have the medical knowledge to glean how serious it is. She doubts even Kiran knows, to be honest. The only person who knows without a shadow of a doubt is Zacharias, because he was there when it happened. He’s probably the reason why she survived that day at all. So, you must imagine her surprise, when a masked stranger targeted this weakness and forced her to fight left handed. It was the most bizarre fight of her life! Fighting someone who clearly knew her, but she herself could not place!

Veronica was not there, but she can picture the lunacy of it. Bruno fighting his comrade as the commander attempted to fight a stranger. She hasn’t really seen Anna entirely thrown off before, but knowing that her brother managed it brings her satisfaction. She deserves it after all the times her and the rest of these fools have done it to Veronica. Feels like comeuppance. She chuckles. They both do. Gods she’s having a moment with the enemy commander. What has the world come to?

Fjorm has a far less positive reaction to piecing it together. After the events of book 2, she knows her time is short. She… cannot face the remains of her family in this state. It would be a slow painful death to rot away behind castle walls and wheeze into soft silks. No, she would much rather die on her feet. Put her body to good use while it’s still able.

So she trains. She trains until she feels her bones threaten to snap. She must have been at it for hours before the commander offers to spar her. With how busy Anna normally is, it’s a rather rare opportunity to spar one on one. Fjorm instantly leaps for the chance.

So they fight, and Fjorm can see it. The way her left arm lags and the scarring that curls out from beneath her sleeve. Burns maybe? Possible electricity? Clearly an old injury from a mage. A weakness in her defenses that she can exploit, surely.

Anna makes no such thing possible. Maybe she learned since her fight with Bruno or maybe Fjorm isn’t fast enough to take advantage of it, but Anna easily evades any attempt to use this against her. Focusing her left just seems to earn Fjorm a swift jab in return. From there, the fight might already be over. Anna’s left arm might be lacking but her legs and mobility sure aren’t. She takes the opportunity to effortlessly bully her way into Fjorm’s space and renders her lance useless. It’s infuriating, but Fjorm is learning. She can do this— she has to. Ten losses deep is when Anna calls it. They put good work in and it’s time for lunch!

Fjorm is ready to throw her lance into the sun.

She insists she can keep going, but the commander is not budging. Still, she tries to push her luck. But once a look of annoyance makes a home on her features, Fjorm knows that’s it. Another disappointing loss. Damnit. She turns to find someone else to spar, but is very surprised to find Anna will not allow such a thing. They are both going to take a break, or Fjorm might find herself barred from the training grounds. She states that if Fjorm cannot be trusted to keep her own wellbeing in mind, then she cannot be trusted out here at all.

However, Anna provides her with a singular counter offer. This can all be avoided if Fjorm tells her what’s wrong. Because she isn’t stupid, something is clearly amiss. And Fjorm— at wits end and most definitely exhausted, dehydrated, and starving—flips her lid a bit. Begins to go off. She’s angry at Anna, and her stupid backswing with her axe, and her own inability to deal with it despite her inherent disadvantage with a lance, and how she keeps failing in front of the people here, and how weak she must appear, and how even the commander of an army in Askr is outclassing her as a warrior and leader, and how she can’t even hate her for it because Anna is just doing her job, and how that all means that the problem must lie within herself!!!

That’s, uh, wow. That’s more than Anna bargained for. She briefly internally wishes that Kiran or Sharena was here right now, as they’re far better at this type of thing. Maybe… she should just go for the most obvious one, yeah? Yeah! Anna isn’t a leader. Commanding people and leading them are vastly different skills. Complimentary! But different.

Look, on ledger, the order entirely under her name, but in practice it is run by four people. Alfonse, Sharena, Kiran, and herself. And it very much HAS to be. The order operates at such a large scale now that the division of labor was necessary. Anna is not so egotistical to think she could run this whole operation by herself, either.

This includes the actual leadership position of the order. Anna is very good at telling people what to do and when to do it, but actually rallying people to a cause? That’s wayyy above her pay grade. Hardly has the force of personality to pull that off. But the others do, and so does Fjorm. Hell, Fjorm has that is SPADES. Despite having lost just about everything, she managed to rally her broken beaten homeland against Surtr and Muspel through sheer force of will. That’s kind of insane, and it’s a little bizarre to the commander that the savior of Nifil can’t see that.

Besides, she’s not a better fighter than Fjorm either. She quite physically can’t be! Fjorm is angry that she couldn’t defeat her in less than ideal circumstances, but let’s be real, all she needs is a little practice. And maybe a full eight hours of sleep. And some food. And water. Can you see what she’s putting down here? The only real leg up Anna has on Fjorm is that she’s going to ask for help, despite the heavy hit to her ego. It’s why the order exists as it does, after all.

That conversation leaves Fjorm with a lot to think about. Both as a person and of her view of Anna. She apologizes for behavior and swears to do better. As proof of her determination, she takes her up on the offer of lunch, much to Anna’s amusement.

Much later down the line, Sharena learns— PROPERLY learns, within the realm of dreams. She’s not blind though. Over the years she has noticed the scaring and the favoring of her right hand. Soooo, Sharena makes an effort to cover her! Stick by her left! Her massive shield is more than capable of protecting her too! And that’s the routine they fall seamlessly into as they follow Peony through Freyr’s dream land and Freya’s nightmare.

Anna generally deals with the challenges of that place better than the rest, for the aforementioned reasons. She knows her limits, she asks for help, and she talks her problems through. The vulnerability may be uncomfortable for her at times, but it is not enough to prevent her from doing so in order to progress smoothly. It might hurt her pride a little as commander, but Sharena and Alfonse are her friends, no? She can say that now, after walking through literal hell and back with them. So she doesn’t mind if they are the ones to see the child she grew around to protect.

Rather angry kid, if you can believe it! Stubborn too. Getting split and copied throughout time and space as a result of Askr and Embla’s never ending war had that effect. And Sharena gets to see that little girl, stubbornly clinging to her axe, bleeding from a wound on her leg that she knows one day will scar over.

It’s from one of the first battles she was ever in, Anna explains. As a merchant, her dad saw it fit to train her in order to defend herself from bandits. And she had put those skills to use before— but not like this. Never like this. It was the first true fight for her life. Not very pleasant, as you can imagine! She still gets nightmares sometimes, as you can see. Happened a few times in the realm of the dead actually. But, luckily, it no longer haunts her as much as it once did. It’s just a scar on her leg now!

The sentiment doesn’t comfort Sharena much. This is, frankly, awful! She hates how scared she looks! A-and how large the wound on her leg is! She hates how… unaware of it she personally was! Why didn’t Anna tell her about this sooner? To which Anna can only shrug. Nobody asked, and if she’s being honest, she probably wouldn’t have told. Not the whole truth anyway. She can admit when she needs help but… she’s still human. It’s a lot easier to admit she had a nightmare than admit that she finds the very thought of bleeding out a worse death than drowning. Still gets her the help she needs, without being more vulnerable than necessary. Sharena rests her head on her shoulder.

“Are all of your scars like this?”

Anna… blinks. No. They’re not. Not even the one on her leg is all bad. She was saved by this elderly couple and their son, who saw the fighting and began dragging injured soldiers off the battlefield. They made awful puns the whole time they stitched up her leg and gave her the best tea she ever had. Anna has bought a lot of different teas trying to find it, but to this day, she has no clue what it was. Makes it better, to be honest. Sharena looks at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue.

Ah, story time then? Okay. Well. Uh, this line on the inside of her elbow is from a bandit. Rather nasty encounter, but she returned the favor by shoving an entire container of expensive makeup powder into his eyes. Her dad was so mad but god it was so worth it. And this scar on her thumb is from one of her first times cooking in the road. She was pealing a potato but one of her sisters slammed into her and nearly took off her finger. This nick on her clavicle is from the first battle she ever won. When the enemy finally retreated she screamed so loud that her voice was raw for a week. Then there’s this scar underneath her chin, which has to be the most embarrassing ones she has. Zacharias and her had some leftover money one week and decided to treat themselves to a drink or two or five. In trying to make it back to the barracks, they both fell. Hard. She walked away with this, but Zacharias fully fractured his wrist. Explaining what happened to the healers the next morning was dreadful. And… and then there’s the one on her shoulder. Anna was actually recovering from it when she met Alfonse and Sharena.

The princess sits up for that one. Really? Gods she didn’t show it. And it’s because, on some level, she couldn’t. It was from the last battle before the shaky truce was called between Askr and Embla. The one Veronica will inevitably break. And the truce was called for good reason. The battle was hell on earth. Anna… nearly died there. She should have died there, frankly. A point blank strike from a lightning mage with metal armor in the rain should have been the last mistake she ever made. But by some miracle, it wasn’t.

… In retrospect, she thinks it’s because of Zacharias. Things got hazy after she went down, but knowing what they do now, he must have used his own magic to kill the mage and heal her. She didn’t walk out unscathed, but it was enough.

Haha, gods, she will never stop feeling guilty about him, will she?

Anyway, the injury was pretty bad. Her shoulder never moved the same again. But seeing as they were both recently hired to be Sharena and Alfonse’s retainers, they couldn’t exactly let Gustav know how serious it was. Might cost them the job. So a truly comical level of shenanigans went into ensuring it was kept secret. Including this game she created where every time Zacharias accidentally touched her injured shoulder, he would pay up 10 gold. He was not a very touchy guy, but even Sharena knew that this was something he just did. A tiny reassuring shoulder pat to convey that he was listening. So this was, perhaps, the best money making scheme Anna ever came up with. His apologetic look would shift so quickly into one of so much instant regret. And Sharena, upon reflection, remembers this.

WAIT WAIT WAIT SHE REMEMBERS THIS. THATS WHAT THE NOTE PASSING THING WAS!!!! Alfonse had pointed out in one meeting that the new retainers were passing something between each other and Sharena insisted it must have been notes because of how boringgggg it was. BUT NO IT WAS GOLD. ZACHARIAS TOUCHED HER SHOULDER EARLIER IN THAT MEETING AND SHE WINCED. HE THEN WAITED A WHILE BEFORE PAYING UP TO NOT MAKE IT OBVIOUS. THATS HILARIOUS!!!

Anna starts cackling as Sharena begins to line up all the pieces. The nightmare fully dissipating as she shares in this silly secret. There’s a chance she would have died with it. Hell, we know of a world where she probably did. This is not a story she’d even give to her family of merchants, who despite being direct reflections of her, do not share the scars she’s littered with. Never had to be, and thus don’t quite understand. But, Sharena does. All her friends do. And it feels weird to say that because real friends have always been in short supply. But gods this is too good. How absolutely absurd it is, that they are in the realm of dreams trying to find their missing friend and defeat the goddess who took them, and Commander Anna of the Order of Heroes is about to pop a lung laughing as she tells Princess Sharena of Askr about the fallout from the time she nearly died.

It’s dumb! This is dumb! And it’s possibly the happiest she’s ever been.

[ed3mm]

This was a fun drawing cause I’ve been experimenting with my style. Still not sure what I like best, but yippee! More fanart of Unfamiliar Feathers (by @lemonomic !!) because I love this fic :3

[codacheetah]

5 for the isat ask game!

5 - What's your favorite optional event?

VERY TOUGH ONE TO ANSWER. I'm gonna go right ahead and disqualify twohats bc it's a predictable answer. If I had to choose just one though I think it'd probably be the sus event. It really got my goat on my first playthrough bc I didn't realize you had to do it in ACT 4. If I remember correctly I think sus is the only optional event locked to ACT 4??? Now that I've actually done it though I'm quite fond of it.

Sus event is one that you really have to go out of your way to do. It kind of reminds me of the True Ending in SASASAP but More and I'm sure that's intentional. Like the requirements for sus quest necessitate that you're going to do it, if not the loop before ACT 5, very soon before it. You have to know pretty much everything about Time Craft and Wish Craft already, so whatever you're doing in the loops now is basically taking out any optional stuff before you hit the end. You have to pretty thoroughly remember how the script goes just so you know all the best ways to break it. I feel like if the True Ending route is Loop going through the motions so many times that they can't deal with holding their facade together any longer, the sus route is Siffrin waving a big red flag around for help. There's just no way you're going to stumble into sus without preplanning what to do to rack up your points and make Odile aware of how Wish Craft works.

So I think it's interesting how much Siffrin pushes back against Odile trying to figure him out. It's a pattern of behavior that I am well aware of where you're desperately going "HELP ME" but you're not willing to accept it when it's offered to you.

Siffrin spends an entire loop screwing everything up, to a point that's frankly kind of egregious even by Late Stage Timeloopers standards, and then they can't reckon with the consequences of it. I don't think sus event is as intentional of a cry for help for Siffrin as it is the player, mind you. But I do think it's. Very tragic. Yeah of course "it's too late" in the sense that Siffrin's about to talk to Euphie and the whole journey will end, but moreso it's that by the time that Odile can piece together all the information necessary to figure Siffrin out, Siffrin is just far too deeply entrenched in his self hatred and fear of abandonment to be dug out. I think if Odile could somehow figure it out in, like, early ACT 3, or if Isabeau was just a bit more pushy in getting Siffrin to do a feelings talk, maybe they'd actually be able to reach Siffrin a little. But they're always just a little too late, every single time.

I think the fact that you start really getting a bunch of weird points in ACT 3 gives this event a lot of buildup. For potential dozens of loops you'll see Odile brush against the truth of the situation, and then just barely miss. By the time she figures it out, it's too late. Explodes

Expounded upon slightly more in tags bc I don't like typing in post bodies I feel like a fish on land. eek