#I think that knowledge is torture for him. he'd never recover from that.

[rivalsforlife]

AND HE SHUT THE DOORS OF HIS HOUSE IN THE FACE OF THE MIGHTIEST OF ALL THE DWELLERS IN EA. I forgot how much fun feanor is. faces the literal embodiment of evil and is like get the fuck out of my house. can’t imagine how significantly worse any of the silmarillion would have gone if he’d lived any longer

[bumblebi713]

Doc x Trick is an interesting ship to see! What made you ship them together? (if I'm reading into the pictures right lol)

Hello,

Sorry for the late reply! I'm still recovering from a surgery (I'm okay, just tired).

Prior to Trickster/Doctor, I've never really had a romantic ship where I looked at two characters and went, "they're so perfect for one another...they're soulmates," but I do think those two are basically evil soulmates.

They have a very similar way of thinking and enjoy subjecting their victims to similar levels of torture and torment. I think that they would see in one another a person who truly gets them, someone who is actually on the same level as they see themselves.

I know that to some, their similarities would be reason to suggest that they would instead butt heads, however, I cannot take that argument seriously when Trickster's most popular killer/killer pairing is with GHOSTFACE of all people. If there's anyone who would hate the Trickster remotely as much as Yun Jin does, it'd be Mr. Johnson.

Mr. Johnson grew up with an absolute dick of a father, who was so cruel and controlling that Danny killed him in a fit of sudden rage....rages that would continue on into his adulthood, as we learned from his tome lore. I think his temper would put him at odds with Trickster, who, like Doctor, is a lot more composed. I mean, when Trickster's attempted murder of the Brazilian musician went wrong because of Yun Jin's meddling, he resolved the problem swiftly in a way that absolved him of any potential blame. When Danny's plan to punish those responsible for the article that mocked Ghostace went wrong? He became so violent that he utterly mutilated his victim, and was so careless as to let one of the other men see his face. I just do not think that he and Trickster are compatible personality wise. Mr. Johnson's also broke, and I can't imagine he'd have much respect for the rich when his Jed Olsen alias is meant to mock the expectations of the typical "good American."

Doctor simply seems like the best match for Trickster to me. He's cruel and calculating, just like Mr. Hak is. So, I think they would respect each other's intellect and they way they employ it when torturing and killing. Trickster incorporating his victims' screams into his music would absolutely impress Doctor, I would argue. Like, it's something he personally has never done before...or even thought of. BUT he does use music to torture his victims, so I think he'd appreciate Trickster's angle and would absolutely be down to help him "compose" new tracks. Not only that, but I think Doc would be impressed by Trickster's incredibly successful career and how he manages to maintain it alongside all the brutal murders he commits. It's so similar to what Doc himself does...it's just that Trickster doesn't have any endorsement from the government to torture people, making what he does even riskier. And in turn, I think Trickster would be thoroughly impressed by Doc's accomplishments...the way he gained such a position of authority, and how he used his understanding of human psyche and extensive knowledge of torture methods to achieve complete domination over his workplace, including his colleagues. And of course, he'd be fascinated by all the unique methods of torture Mr. Carter's used on his victims. All those sounds of pain that he's never heard, because he's never tortured someone like that. All this interest in one another's experiences... I think they would just be naturally drawn to each other. Add that they are both rather privileged, controlling, handsome men? They're like...your stereotypical rich, evil cartoon couple...just significantly more terrible and violent. A match made in hell.

[randomly--accessed--memories]

Is Alastor aware of Vox’s children - specifically his daughter?

Personally I interpret that Vox was probably a parent who played favorites [unintentional or intentional] and assuming his relationship with his son was likely strained - Vox gave his daughter more attention & affection. Making the memories pop in a bittersweet way.

I could see Alastor being conflicted, depending on if he knew about Vox’s children before he reduced his former friend turned enemy to static. Alastor assuming he was a terrible father [easy assumption because it’s… Vox lol] and feeling so disgusted with a man who already fell into his distaste. We know Alastor’s daddy issues, I can’t imagine him being comfortable with a [absent father at best, neglectful & emotionally abusive father at worst] around unless he were his little plaything.

I can think of so many ways Alastor could torture Vox psychologically with this knowledge. Gaslighting Vox into thinking a porcelain doll is actually his baby, allowing him to get attached to said doll for a while — only to shatter it right in front of him.

“Oh! Well, you can always make a new one! Haha!”

Alastor’s pettiness levels are 100% showing here as the mentality of “replacing the old with the new” that Vox used to spout out constantly is being used — in reference to his “baby”.

Of course Vox is absolutely distraught, feebly sputtering and trying to pick up the broken pieces of the doll before quickly devolving into pure rage.

“I trusted you! She’s my daughter!”

Alastor is merely grinning, laughing even. Right at Vox’s face. Vox is cursing him out using every word in the book, get violent almost immediately - and if any of the hotel residents are there all Hell will break loose.

Alastor could also just say “Oh she’s dead.” Anytime Vox asks where his daughter is… that’s a lot simple than what I just wrote lol.

But yeah neat little scenario I wanted to explore, I absolutely love love love this AU!! Everything is so well-written and thought out! I hope I didn’t write Alastor too evil, or Vox too pathetic(?) :p

- 🐚

OH JEEZ

Yeah, Vox was... not a great dad. He just wasn't around most of the time and saw his role as breadwinner as the only thing he really needed to do in order to be a Good Father™. He loved his kids in his own, self-absorbed way, but just wasn't involved with them in any meaningful manner. He was never abusive towards them but still managed to traumatize them through the constant, vicious arguments he would get into with their mother. You're right though, he did prefer Sarah (his younger child) to Thomas (his elder child) quite a bit, and she ended up with far more fond memories of him because of it.

Alastor is vaguely aware that Vox was a father when he was alive, but never felt any desire to delve into that aspect of his life. Vox lowkey compulsively overshares with the people he'd attracted to and Alastor ended up learning a lot more about Vox than he really wanted to back when they were friends. I'd never thought about how he would feel about what kind of father Vox was though– that's an interesting concept.

My HC backstory for Alastor is that he was born out of wedlock and never knew his biological father. At age 6, he and his mother left his grandparents' house and moved in with his mother's white cousin and her husband, who agreed to pretend Alastor (who was white-passing) was their son in exchange for his mother working as their maid. When Al was 11, he caught a glimpse of his mother having sex with his "adoptive father"– he'd threatened to kick her and Alastor out of the house if she didn't agree to sleep with him. He grew to loathe the man and eventually smothered him to death while he was recovering from the Spanish Flu that had swept through the house and claimed his mother's life.

With that context, I don't think Alastor would begrudge Vox for being a neglectful father that much since he just sort of sucked in a way that most men from that time period sucked. He'd see Vox's memories of his children in a similar way as he sees Vark; irrelevant and harmless, but a weak point he could easily exploit if he felt it was necessary.

The concept of the doll is fucking brutal. Al would probably be aware of how easily Vox projects memories of Sarah onto various people/things since it happens occasionally with Niffty, but I think that'd be a type of torment restricted to when he's feeling especially sadistic for whatever reason. Alastor thinks of himself as having standards, although he's willing to bend on some of them if he can think of a good justification and already wants to do it. So yeah, basically Vox's kids are off-limits until they're Not anymore.

Thank you for the compliments! I'm glad you're enjoying it! I really appreciate long, elaborate scenarios like this; they give me a chance to talk about so many different things and get me to consider elements that I hadn't previously thought of.

[lang-rangler-enjoyer]

FOR THE VIV ANON IM SO SORRY I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED YOUR ASK😬

Here’s my answers:

•First Impression:

•I felt really bad for him during his fight :( he was just an average guy who got dragged into Pucci’s conflict without his consent. I was just really glad Araki never outright confirmed his death (even if his body did mysteriously disappear from the stairs during the Dragon's Dream fight).

•Impression Now:

• Baby boy. Baby. I love him so much. I love how weird and extreme all the other Stone Ocean characters are, and then Viv is just. aggressively plain-looking. He’s still super duper duper hot tho, like holy shit, but just LOOK AT THIS FUCKING LINEUP

POV you asked your straight brother to pick you up at the gay bar

Araki doesn't always make good writing choices, but having one of his villains just be Some Guy who has a regular 9-5 job and isn't a part of this conflict at all was great. Sad for Viviano that he got dragged into all this, but conceptually a very fun arc.

•Favourite Moment:

•I just find it so funny that one of the ONLY things we know about Viv is that he's into some degree of CBT. I love the vague implications of this, like what other situation Mr. Westwood? Is he referring to a normal, out-of-work CBT session....or does he just legit get off to prisoners attempting to crush his genitals to escape being detained??

•Idea for a Story:

•Post-Survivor, "holy shit I have a magical ghost now and other people do as well". Not only is he recovering from being supernaturally forced to kill his coworker and friend :( he also has to deal with now having a stand, which must be absolutely terrifying for any adult who's gone their whole life without knowledge of this phenomenon. Especially considering his first experience with other stand users was so awful. Like, once he realizes he wasn't just hallucinating the whole thing, where do you start? He doesn't even know they're called "stands", how do you find information on them? IDK maybe I just like the worldbuilding aspect of this, but I wanna see stand user culture, how do new adult stand users (which aren't unheard of, like Tonio and Aya) find out about how stand stuff works?

• Unpopular Opinion:

•Hmmmmm once again with the minor villains not a lot of people really have serious opinions on him. Just APPRECIATE HIM MORE HOLY SHIT. HE'S HOT. HE'S GOT A STRONGMAN BOD. REAL MEAT ON THOSE BONES. HE'S NOT DEHYDRATED-LOOKING LIKE SO MANY OTHER "MUSCULAR" JOJO CHARACTERS LIKE HE ACTUALLY HAS A HEALTHY AMOUNT OF FAT. HE'D BE SO GOOD TO CUDDLE WITH. HE CANONICALLY LIKES COCK AND BALL TORTURE. I MEAN COME ON WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANT WHY DON'T MORE PEOPLE LIKE HIM???

•Favourite Relationship:

•The brief period where he was just hanging out with Sonny Likir was nice. I wish Stone Ocean showed us more antagonists interacting! That’s like, one of the best parts of jojo, when you have a villain duo or squad like Cioccolatta and Secco, La Squadra, Oingo and Boingo, or Sale and Zucchero, seeing how these characters act with the people they love/respect/tolerate before we see them trying to kill the protagonists adds so much depth and sympathy and investment. Seeing Sonny and Viviano just have some regular coworker banter before the fight was really fun and makes me wish we could see more of that in Stone Ocean.

•Favourite Headcanon:

•He's bisexual and literally the most closeted man to ever exist. He's the type to laugh at the homophobic comments his friends and coworkers make, and even make some of those comments himself, it's a learned defensive habit. I'm not trying to make him super angsty or anything, he just gives me mega bi energy. I don’t think he grew up in a particularly abusive or neglectful household, just the kind of environment where people in his family/community would make gay jokes because they honestly didn’t think anyone around them was gay. And I can’t see a prison in the early 2010’s as being the most accepting place either, so he’s just learned to keep certain things to himself, and hope those feelings he has about men sometimes just go away on their own.

[melk917]

I posted 728 times in 2022

That's 152 more posts than 2021!

273 posts created (38%)

455 posts reblogged (63%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@lannister-slings-and-arrows

@thatesqcrush

@melk917

@storiesofsvu

@pascalispretty

I tagged 554 of my posts in 2022

Only 24% of my posts had no tags

#rafael barba - 142 posts

#mk answers - 136 posts

#law and order svu - 86 posts

#rafael barba x reader - 66 posts

#paul mendelson - 50 posts

#law and order svu imagine - 42 posts

#melk917fantasybingo - 39 posts

#nevada ramirez - 36 posts

#dopesick hulu - 32 posts

#raúl esparza - 30 posts

Longest Tag: 130 characters

#i can’t even tell you how i will never recover from the knowledge that i could have seen this in person… almost saw this in person

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

For HCs - the moment your libido skyrockets during your pregnancy with the boy of your choice (or all if the inspiration hits!) and how he reacts?

Ohhhh so this is a HC/plot point (?) that happens in the Full Ratchet when she gets pregnant. So gleefully doing this for Rafa.

So, short answer? He is surprised, but loves it.

So there are two big surprises for him along these lines: one, he was certainly not expecting the hormone shift in the second trimester that leads to you jumping him at every opportunity; and two, he wasn't expecting just how much he is actually into how your body is changing. It's not that he assumed he'd wouldn't be attracted to you. It that he's surprised by just how much he's into it.

So, honestly, it's a surprise, but it works out?

And really, it does start to feel like it's everywhere, all the time. He's not working full time at this point (having just left the DA's office a few months before), so he's easier access.

You're waking him up in the morning with soft kisses down his neck, a hand slipping over his hip to tease him to full hardness. Whispering in his ear, begging him to let you blow him, to ride him.

You'll back him up against the counter when he's making breakfast, pulling him close and licking into his mouth.

Sliding into his lap when he's working or just watching TV.

Pulling him close when you're out to dinner, slipping your hand up his thigh under the table, teasing him, whispering in his ear, begging him to take you home and fuck you. Telling him how wet you are. Taking his hand and pulling it up your skirt or down you pants to show him.

Slipping into the shower with him in the morning or at night.

You can't get through a full movie anymore. You're pulling his arm around you, arching against him, pulling his hand up to cup your breasts, or down between your legs.

At night, you're coming to bed in lingerie you'd never sleep in, slipping into his lap. Or some nights you'll be waiting for him, naked between the sheets (sometimes even playing with yourself before gets there because the two minutes he spends brushing his teeth are just too long to wait.)

There's weekends the two of you hardly get out of bed, ordering in, and just going for round after round.

And honestly, he's just as crazy for you. The curve of your belly, how full your breasts are getting, the curve of your hips, your thighs, your ass. He didn't expect it, how crazy it makes him, how he can't keep his hands off you. And you're teasing him, telling him it's because he's unconsciously recognizing that he's the one that's done that to you, that it's his child. (He doesn't need to fully understand why, as long as he can get his hands on you.)

You two go away when you're about 5 or 6 months pregnant. A last trip while you can travel. Some place warm and relaxing. And he's utterly floored the day you go to the beach and you've got that tiny black bikini on. It's pure torture for him, the way you fill out the top, the curve of your belly. And when you hold out the bottle of sunscreen and ask him to help you apply it, a knowing smirk on your face, he thinks he's going to combust if he can't have you right then. He's tugging the curtains closed on the cabana and stripping you out of that so he can get his mouth on you. (There was no way he could wait till you got back to the hotel room.)

It eventually tapers off, and you get way too uncomfortable and sensitive to be up to that level of passion and need. But he's just as happy to curl up behind you, rubbing your back, your feet, and sharing snacks. Whatever helps.

86 notes - Posted March 3, 2022

#4

Table Top or Just Give Me a Lap Dance

Warnings: Some dirty dancing, a hint of language (including light Daddy kink) and suggested nudity

Rating: M

Pairing: Rafael Barba x f!Reader

Summary: A little grinding to seduce (Tell me how we do it, if you want me, and I want you too)

Song Vibes: Envolver

The flash of lights from the street outside shifts across his face, highlighting the flush on his cheeks. He’s a bit drunk, loose limbed and rumpled, a pleased little smile tugging at his mouth as the two of you are finally left alone, all your guests gone.

He watches with bright eyes, tongue darting out to wet his lips as you make your approach, fingers playing at the edges of the sheer slip you’re wearing, hips rolling with the beat of the music, bass turned up to shiver through the air.

You know the picture you present, backlit, curves of your body just shaded through the fabric, suggesting just enough to tease, to hint at what awaits.

“You didn’t want to go with your friends?”

He drags his gaze from your thighs up the length of your body to your face, his pupils blown wide. He shakes his head, slow and deliberate, as he reaches out, long fingers tracing warm from your knee to your hip. They steal under the edge of your slip to stroke your skin.

“Well then. It looks like it’s just us here.” Your voice is shaded with amusement as he nods absently, his chin tilted up to hold your gaze, his palm curving over your hip.

You lean down, lips against his ear, voice low. “Shouldn’t we play by the rules if we’re going to play this game?”

He makes a soft sound of protest as you pull back to smirk at him, tugging his hands from your skin. You push lightly on his chest until he’s sprawled back on the couch, legs spread, collar open, tie loose. He’s watching you through hooded eyes, lips parted around heavy breaths, fingers curling against the cushions so he doesn’t reach for you. He’s wrecked and you’re just starting.

The bass throbs, seductive, and you let it flow through you, winding your hips, dragging your palms up your sides to cup your breasts, fabric bunching, teasing over your nipples as you sway to the beat. He lets out a sigh and shifts against the cushions, gaze rapt, burning with a smoldering heat.

A smirk tugs at the corner of your lips as you slide into his lap, working your hips against him in a slow drag that twists his sigh into a low groan, pulled from deep in his chest. The guttural rumble vibrates through you, making your cunt clench and you shiver against him.

“That’s it,” you murmur as you slide your hands up his chest. One tangles in his hair, drawing a pleasured gasp from him with a sharp tug, while you arch your back, teasing your hard nipples across his chest, and grind down harder against him. A moan catches in your throat at the feel of his cock, hard and hot against the curve of your ass, even through the fabric of his trousers.

“Let me do all the work here, Daddy.” Your voice is low and dark in his ear, breath ghosting warm across his skin. He groans helplessly, cock jumping against you at your words, and your smirk turns smug. “You just sit back and enjoy the show.”

89 notes - Posted February 2, 2022

#3

A Change of Plans

Warnings: Teasing & innuendo, nudity, mentions of sex

Rating: T

Pairings: Rafael Barba x Reader

WC: 2,510

A/N: A shameless, tooth-rotting bit of NYE fluff. A few days late but hopefully not a dollar short. Inspired by an anon request. (Don’t worry, anon, I will get to answering all of it, but I needed this bit of soft NYE fluff with Barba in full first. I hope you enjoy this in the meantime!)

Also, for some background, if anyone else is a nerd like me, you'll notice that the 2nd William Lewis trial starts on Jan 2nd, and was only scheduled for that as of the end of Dec. So 100% a valid reason for canceling your NYE plans to work, I think.

Edit: Adding this as a fill for @storiesofsvu's Holiday Bingo for the 'New Year's Eve' square! Wasn't planned, but a happy coincidence.

See the full post

108 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

#2

Can i ask for a hc about edging the hell outta Barba?

Oh fuck, yes, anon. Let’s do it.

See below the cut for what turn into something longer than intended.

He’s been incredibly difficult for the last week: short tempered, frustrated… more than a little bitchy, to be honest. Things are just not lining up on his current case, and he’s tearing his hair out at each new hurdle (and facing a smug Buchanan in court is just killing him).

He’s been taking it out on you, too. Not in big ways, but he’s short with you, purposefully misinterpreting things you say so he can snap back. He’s brusque and snide and just a little cruel.

Sure, you know where it’s coming from. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to let it slide.

You wait until Friday, when you know that if his work schedule for that night is thrown off, he’s still got time to make it up.

He gets home that night and, like usual, makes his first stop in the bedroom to change out of his suit. Except instead of an empty, dark room, he finds you, leaning back on the bed, done up in a corset and garter belt combo, thigh high stockings showing off your legs, a length of rope in your hands.

He pulls up short, eyebrows raised, as you get up slowly, backing him up until he hit the doorway.

You tell him he’s been very ill behaved this week. Bad tempered. Bitchy.

He scoffs.

But there’s a bright flash in his eyes, something close to relief. Like you're giving him a way out.

You tell him he owes you an apology. Doesn’t he agree? All he has to do is apologize and he can have you however he wants you. You hold the length of rope out in offer.

He rolls his eyes instead and shrugs. Says you’re just sensitive.

And oh that was not the way to go. You have his wrists up behind his back before he can blink. You ask him if is sure. Sure that he has nothing to say.

He tells you to do your worst, because you can’t possibly think he’ll ever say he’s sorry.

You bite the back of his neck in warning and step back before you can feel him shudder against you.

You tell him to strip and lay back. And you’ll see just which one of you will break first.

And god, he’s still so smug, even as he strips, lets you tie him to the bed.

And you start slow. Taking his abandoned tie and running it up his legs, over his hips. You scrape your teeth lightly over his nipples, then blow cool air over the sensitive flesh.

You go out of your way to tease, his cock filling, twitching. He’ll let a soft noise or two slip out, but he’s doing his best to resist. When you look up to meet him in the eye, when you ask if he’s ready to apologize, he stares back, challenging, a smirk twisting his lips. He’s daring you to do your worst.

So you do.

You work him over with lips and tongue and fingers. You tug his balls, rub his perineum, working his prostate from the outside.

He starts to slip a bit when you do that, hips flexing against the sheets. His cock is fully hard now, flagging heavily, resting in the crease of his thigh. But you ignore it.

You ask again and he just gives you a defiant tilt of his jaw.

So you grab the lube, slicking your fingers to tease gently at his hole while you scrape your teeth over his hips. Suck marks into his inner thighs.

This is where he slips.

You rub a finger over his prostate, just as you lick a seam up his balls and he cracks, letting a moan slip out. He is painfully hard, cock flushed a deep red, precum dripping and smearing across his hip. He twitches hard with each press against his prostate.

He starts to bargain. Offering himself, offering sexual favors in return. If you just touch him.

You say you’re happy to give him what he wants… he just has to apologize. He groans and shakes his head, taking deep breaths through his nose to try and pull back from the edge.

See the full post

110 notes - Posted January 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Soft hc for Rafael watching you get ready for date night?

He is almost done getting ready himself, doing up his cuffs, straightening his shirt, when he catches you out of the corner of his eye.

You're not dressed yet, just in your bra and panties as you do your make up. He's not even leering, he's not lingering on your curves (though it's not like he's missed them either). Instead he's just captivated by how you move, the grace in your gestures, the economy of movement. How you sway to the music you have playing the background, half singing along under your breath. You look up to catch his eye in the mirror and wink, and he's grinning back, not at all embarrassed that he's been caught watching.

He sits back to track your movements as you pull your clothes on, nimble fingers doing up buttons and ties.

He stays back, content to just watch, until you go to fasten your necklace (a thin chain with a single stone that he had gotten you that Christmas you had come up to the Bronx with him and spent the holiday with his mother and grandmother). You're fumbling with the clasp and then he's there, his hands warm on yours as he takes over, doing it up for you before he's smoothing them over your shoulders and down your sides to your waist, tugging you against him and pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck, breathing in your scent. Your shampoo mixed with the perfume you just put on.

"All set?" he murmurs, meeting your eyes in the mirror over your shoulder.

You turn your head to kiss his cheek, huffing a laugh against his lips as he turns his head to capture your mouth instead.

"Yeah, let's go. Before you get any ideas..."

233 notes - Posted February 22, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[effervescentdragon]

Russingon drabble inspired by this post by @herinke9 :) below the cut because it got long

I started writing this on my phone some 5 hours ago and in the meantime I've peeled 2kgs of peaches, ate, sat through 3 coffees, helped organize a whole seating list for a 400 invited ppl for a wedding, showered, and washed some 30 or so dishes, not necessarily in that order. So forgive me any mistakes :)

CW: references to past torture, maybe mild body-horror just to be sure but imnsho not really, implied sexual content

-

"I know what you're doing, you know."

Nelyafinwë's face is even more terrifying in the shadows of the night, illuminated only by the light of Elbereth. The wounds on his hröa have healed as much as they could have, but the white criss-crossed lines shining unnaturally bright from the whole of his mien. Finno yearns to touch them, trace them with his fingers and lips. Finno thinks them beautiful, always, but he knows others see not what he sees. They never do, never did, and he cannot stop the flutter of his heart at knowing he is the only one who is ever allowed into the inner workings of Nelyo's mind. Others always see only what Maitimo shows them; nothing more, nothing less.

"Indeed?"

Maitimo's voice is raspy and harsh even on that one sound he makes. His vocal chords were torn to shreds once, and Finno will never forget, not the words, not the sounds he'd made on Thangorodrim when Finno found him. They have recovered too, Nelyo got his voice back as much as possible, but the sharp way vowels now roll off of his talented tongue adds a dimension of danger underneath the clever, diplomatic words he speaks in Court.

"Indeed," Finno allows, for he does know what Maitimo is doing. "I do not think anyone else has noticed," he says, then tilts his head. "Aunt Lalwendë, perhaps."

Maitimo hums, a terrible, dissonant sound that still manages to make Finno shiver, then takes a sip of wine.

"She always was atya's favorite. He always said she was born to be in Court."

Finno concedes the point, distracted by the quality of Nelyo's voice. It cuts and slays in a shadowy way, and Finno is annoyed with himself for not having the words to explain, to desribe Maitimo properly. His fingers itch for paper and pen, his mind turning fragments of phrases around, searching for the one that would fit into the puzzle that is Nelyafinwë Russandol. Every phrase that comes to his mind is lacking that one final corner, one final straight to be clear enough to be articulated; nor comfortably fitting enough to be written down, much less spoken aloud. Finno yearns to do it, to make others understand what he does.

(He yearns to make them see how he is the only one that understands; how none of them may come close to him in their knowledge of Maitimo Fëanorian; how none of them may ever come as close to Findekáno Astaldo in Nelyafinwë Russandol's affections.)

"I do believe Uncle had more than one pupil in his diplomatic lessons."

Maitimo's eyes flash; danger and thunder and something mischievous. Finno feels his hröa react, shuffles on the chair. Maitimo's fingers tighten on his glass, and his mouth quirks in a half-smile.

"Mind you, though."

His inflection does not change when he speaks - no, rasps the words out. It is not a question, for there are rarely questions between them anyomore. It makes Finno feel warm all over, the inherent understanding after centuries of knowing one another; after everything they've gone through; they need little clarification.

"Mmmm," Finno hums. He makes sure to lick the stray drop off the glass' edge, never taking his eyes off of Nelyo's darkening ones.

"You know I've always loved to hear you talk, Russo," he says slowly. "And I've always enjoyed the way you run the Court into circles, never allowing them to gather their wits enough to understand what exactly you are telling them."

Nelyo's mouth widens into a grin. It is, objectively, a terrifying one, for his lips have been cut and abused horribly for a long enough time for them never to fully recover. Finno tries to imagine what the others see when they look at him, tries to look at Nelyo's face and only see the surface; he cannot.

It is not a matter of looking at Maedhros Fëanorian of Beleriand and seeing Nelyafinwë Fëanárion of Valinor; no, that is the furthest thing from his mind. It is just the fact that he would know Nelyo in his fëa and hröa both even if he lost his sight, his touch, his hearing, his taste right now. He would feel him if he lost all his senses right now, for his very being would sing, as it always does, when Russo is near.

"Mind you that I use you," Russo does not ask, he says, and Finno shivers, because he knows every timbre, every note, every shiver in Russo's voice.

"For my own gain," Russo continues, and his voice lowers even more, nland the shadows splay on his face. "Mind you when I use our," he pauses here, heavily, meaningfully. "Friendship for my political games, Findekáno."

Finno cannot take it anymore. He crosses the room in three strides until he is stood before Russo, who is silent, the look in his eyes knowing. It drives Finno wild, his hand shaking as he takes the wine cup from Russo's hand and puts it away on the table.

Their hands touch and Finno gasps. He wastes no more time and sits in Russo's lap. Up close and under the starlight, his scars are even more prominent. Finno traces them all, slowly, with his fingers.

"You may use our friendship in whichever way you please, Russo," Finno says. Russo's hand tightens around his waist. "You may use me in whichever way you please."

Their faces are a mere breath apart, and Russo's eyes are dark. Finno thinks his must be the same, and thinks He is the other part of my soul.

"I am yours to use, my love," he says, and their lips finally meet in a kiss, familiar and fiery.

"As I am yours," Russo whispers into the pauses betweent breaths and kisses. "Always."