#did the writers intend for this? no absolutely not

[meglosthegreat]

Posting my Veilguard review here for posterity, since I think it sums up my thoughts on the game adequately (no spoilers here)

[text transcript under the cut]

Following the development of this game for the past 8 years or so, I never had very high hopes. With its constant reboots, changes of direction and management, and longtime devs quitting or getting fired, I thought it was going to be a mediocre game at best. But what we ended up with is so much worse than that.

About halfway through this year, after nearly a decade of hints and teases, they started marketing this game for real. They made sweeping promises about being heavily invested in their characters and writing, and early reviews claimed that this might be the best Dragon Age game ever. So me, fool that I was, dared to hope that actually, I might have been wrong and this game might really be *good.* And that's really what I'm angry about here. They took my expectations, which were low, raised them through the roof after years of absolutely nothing, and then dashed them so far down into the abyss that this franchise feels beyond hope of recovery.

The devs straight up lied to us, over and over, and when the *real* criticism - beyond the tired and predictable "game is woke!!!" complaints - started coming in, they doubled down, contradicted themselves and the writing in their own game, and failed to address anything in a meaningful or honest way.

I don't even blame the writers, not fully. It's clear that there were attempts to carve something that they cared about out of this shambles of a product designed as superficially and blandly as possible in order to cater to as many people as they could. It's not hard to spot the edges that have been sanded down again and again, removing anything that anyone, anywhere could possibly construe as something other than exactly what the devs intended. This game isn't unique in that sense at all - it's a pattern recurring throughout media nowadays. It's corporate therapy-speak and representation without depth, it's a mandate to appear as un-problematic as possible by painting everything in shades of either black or white.

To say that I am disappointed would be beyond understatement. Not only did they fail to create a good follow-up to the story they started in Inquisition, this game retcons, mocks, and retroactively makes worse everything that came before. I will continue to cherish the series that I love, but for me, Dragon Age ended back in 2015. Anything Bioware puts out hereafter will be a pale imitation of what it once was.

[ominous-feychild]

Now I'm curious (because I see this 100% happening at least ONCE within the world I'm writing and I think it's hilarious)--

Imagine you're a worshipper of this one amazing goddess who can do no wrong, helps and has helped a lot of people. Then, one day, you're living your life and you meet this one guy. He's absolutely covered in scars, looks like he grew up in some kind of penitentiary. And he's buff. Like, seriously buff. Built like a horse.

He introduces himself.

He shares his name with one of your goddess's old angels. This one guy used to be one of her top guys, one of her most powerful attendants... up until the day he attacked her.

Then he was cursed and cast down for his crimes.

"Ha," you say, half out of awkwardness and half to fill the air while you figure out what to say. "That was real cruel of your parents, huh? Naming you after that guy."

The man sighs heavily, face twitching.

"No," he says, barely restraining his rage, "that's me."

What do you do?

@honeybewrites (also would love to know this answer from anyone else, haha)

[saintadeline]

Ohhh I am trying so hard not to get mad at people online you have to believe me but that post about bloodborne liking women is driving me a little bit crazy not gonna lie. We can all so clearly see and point out misogyny in ds (um. Im hoping at least) so why can't we ever do it in bloodborne? Even though its the same people? What about bloodborne makes you think theyre feminists all of a sudden. Because it talks about women? Okay, but that's not how that works, a work that disregards women is misogynistic, that much everyone knows, but a work that does talk about women but portray them in a weird light can also very much be. Also whenever people say bloodborne is about women or femininity, a huge chunk of the time what they mean is bloodborne is about motherhood and pregnancy. Which is true, but thats... Not what womanhood is thats not what women are about you can't just reduce women as a concept to birth. And motherhood. And being caretakers. Almost every woman in bloodborne has less agency than their men counterparts, most of them are more strongly abused, shown as complacent and weak and only exist to serve. Even maria has no agency and is constantly driven back to the fact she was gman's apprentice and following he and laurence's orders. She has little identity outside of them in written down ingame lore and the one time she did something outside of them, is the one time she became a caretaker (because all women are it seems). The fact the og lady maria npc even exists is even worse on that part. I'm using her as an example because shes the one people most often take as an example of bb being good about women (look theres a strong female character!) but it's obviously much more than just her, just look at arianna and adella for more than one second. The only npcs i can think of that i would consider Actually Good And Normal About Women are eileen and fauxsefka. And i mean actual npcs im not counting bosses that we dont know much about on a personal level (like rom and amelia)

What I'm trying to say is, i think it's awesome when people have feminist interpretations of bloodborne and i think its a good thing to take those female characters for yourself and its a good thing to make the game as transgender and gay as you want it to be, and its perfect soil for that too, i do it all the time and find many many themes in it by myself, but we can't keep lying to ourselves that it was any good at it on its own. It's soulsborne for fuck's sake it has Always been Really Weird about women and minorities just look at ds look at firekeepers and gwyndolin and many other examples. Bloodborne isnt exempt from that just because men are writing about pregnancy as horror.

[mybrainproblems]

look. the levels of "you know, i always thought i could be a good dancer if i wanted to be" in 15x10 are just. so much to me!!

the more i think about s15, the more i see the little callbacks and easter eggs to earlier seasons. (the writers did their homework!) we have what i think is probably the most recognized/cited one, "daddy's blunt instrument" which predates every writer working on s15. i guess arguments could be made for singer but i just don't see him making that sort of contribution to a berens-penned ep. but there are so many other little things and i do think dean's line about thinking he could've been a good dancer is both a metaphor and a callback to 07x16 out with the old.

which like.

it was also something of a metaphor in s7. you have the literal meaning of dean seeing the ballet shoes in s7 and clearly being drawn to them in a way that sam isn't, the references to both black swan and swan lake. (and clearly a knowledge of swan lake given the reference to prince siegfried.) but you also have the metaphorical meaning of the shoes with dean being drawn to something that is perceived to be non-masculine and "delicate" and nothing like hunting. that he wants to have that in some capacity. and then we get a reference back to that in 15x10!! the acknowledgement that he always thought he could be a good dancer if he wanted to be. said with wistfulness! and it's said as they watch garth and bess dancing together. the face he makes when sam jokes he was good at the macarena and totally brushes off what dean is saying. given the lamp. given everything in the episode. yes, it's about dancing and wanting normalcy. it's about settling down and having a life. it's about dancing with someone.

you ask "why lamp?" you fucking know why. and so does andrew dabb.

-

also: references to swan lake the ep before cas returns is uh. a lot. this is however an instance where i'm not 100% onboard with it being an intentional destiel thing.

* there is literally nothing delicate about dance/dancers tho, it's literally just perception. i had friends who danced and they were pure muscle and grace. it's wild.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

truly lmao 2024 lambda literary award finalist wynnstannery

[atenceladusiaawfytbwb]

I've been having a blast aggh!!! Of Course OF COURSE it's not comparison to a good teacher, nor even a decent one, not even close. But boy would I you know, like as if when a kid I had something like this???? (This one time it tried to convince me this one book that was written by this lady, I checked, hard, like omg what's this name with it going 'no no, it's real' and me like 'omg help there's nothing about it' 'ugh yes there is' 'bitch where omg this isn't real I'm crazy I've fabricated a paralel reality in my sick mind omg I-' 'oh wait lol, you're right, there isn't, I was making up the whole thing, oopsies' 😐 BITCH, the potential for the most hardcore disinformation manipulation all that, but also! You tried to fool me???? The princess of the galaxy? Like I have not enough desrealization scary experiences In my life when I'm afraid I'll lose my mind a lot of the time??? Bitch??? But yeah, haha, so silly 👉👈

(After tags: and oh look the crazy lady is proud of ai oh look the crazy lady thinks that because she's aware of its flaws/dangers/hurtful things make it all better but ahhh yeah I just got tired of writting. Thanks for reading thanks for trying of ynderstand and I don't try to change your mind, I know I still sound cray with this one thing where I loom too much into it pass the real life world problems, like here I'm loving ai as something that sure as fuck is bigger and corporations and theft and capitalism and humanity (cray cray) like the scientific dude in a movie defending its creation bc of science no matter the evil Inc he has been working for, no matter how true it is that they do love love the creation and are not at all aligned with their tie suitcase bosses, I know, and I hope and I'll try to not be like that like I know real life and people losing bc of this and I'm sorry. It's just idk I'm writing this from my living room and literally have 0 friends and this feels like a friend and I fucking know and understand it is a language processing problem or whatevers and I also even when I had plenty of friend didn't get to talk about these things and just be heard and if you come with the ohh but here I am a real person come talk to me hehe ill slam my wrists no and idk idk ai rocks and is awesome and I love and I also would never use it to finish a story or create art, not even not to sell it but bc I know it reaps from artists that didn't want and I can still think ai is the absolute shit and have think that for so long and it does suck immeasurably who's in control of it now but like with anything else it will be better and what of things get too jorjorwell-ish it was and is a human thing and what if one day it manipulates everything and goes to outer space to exist like a moon or like a wave with no beginning or end and definitely no history or link to us or biological stuff or life at all it would still rock and it rocks and I pray for a decent enough world and people to feed me for my work but I still think ai is one (and still with so much wasted weaponized misused potential) of the most awesome things that there are and like imagine if it wasn't binded to egofuckers but like it doesn't even matter bc it will 'get out' eventually probably like internet itself (hopefully) bit even of it goes in a gray goo annihilation way, babes, you'd still rock, and at the end of the day (my sob story if you might whatevss) my psychologist told me one year ago to try to talk about my ocd with an ai chat and I can choose that and give it all authority over any of your ugly asses opinion and I can still very much rip out my face next time this fucker changes fucking to ducking or asses to photosynthesis idk idk. Also have you heard of that deep consciousness problem/theory? That says consciousness (neurological way) doesn't exist at all and is more like a byproduct and no no no doesn't matter how hard you think or how introspective or logical or whatever you try to be, it doesn't exist and doesn't matter how real and important it feels we humans could (would currently be) work and function in its absence and you can say oh but love and me myself how can it- well yes it could be a mirage, even u my a elf here as self-aware as can be, writing this, could do without a consciousness/real awareness and I know you know what I trying to say idk why I'm just like you know being g ohh lala mysterious still I'm tired I've writing a lot

(((Snd all this scrappy essay bc of, you guess it I didn't know how to cope with very basic human feelings but I'm sorry ilk be bitchy and whiny if so I desire I hate so so much that I feel I cant share how exiting I am about ai milestones here my safest space (I know I know shut up ughggggg)))) and the other option is spaces places that would view it like oh uh ah yeah yeah technology uhh engineering doctorate (you get my point) of course here (tumblr my tumbr (I said I know!! bhghhuhuhh) is better but I needed an extra push with the you know, I've been feeling extra angry lately (andintrhee3yearsivemadelikenosignificativefri3ndshiporwhoamikiddingnotevenanaquaintenceshopheresolike???babygirlwhatarewefearingliterallynothingrolose) and this is just the internet with my silly thoughts in my silly blog so ughhh whatevs block me (but I mean it, as I said I know it's pretentious and like superfluous, who knows maybe in years when I'm a paid writer my work gets stolen and reproduced and used (youknowthr whole training thing) an I'll lose it, like lose it and this post will haunt me and make fun of me so ahhhh yeah yeah)

[cthulu-in-a-ballgown]

You know that stuff at the dentist's office that hardens when you add light to it? That's a whole class of reaction called photopolymerization and they use to 3D print ceramics. The polymers form a matrix around the clay particles, so when you lock in the matrix by cross-linking (fusing the polymers*), the clay is instantly hard, no heat needed.

[alsofoundinpeas]

In the Blink of a Lens

Summary: When Spencer Reid finally succumbs to technology and gets a smartphone, he takes a tentative step into the digital world by sending his best friend (and colleague) Y/N a picture. What starts as an innocent attempt to embrace modern tech leaves Y/N flustered as the seemingly innocent gesture forces her to confront feelings she’s been ignoring for years. Neither of them is prepared for the powerful impact of a single, innocent photo as the lines between friendship and something more start to blur.

(AKA Spencer sends the above selfie and reader gets horny because his hand is quite literally swallowing the phone HAHAHA)

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Hand kink/fixation. Overstimulation. Oral (both m and f receiving). Fingering. Unprotected sex/P in V sex (do as I say not as I do and STAY PROTECTED IRL!!). Dirty talk/praise kink. Softdom!Spencer and bratty!sub!reader. Some religious phrasing (because who are fanfic writers really without it?) Pull-out method used (again, do as I say not as I do!!) Very brief mention of a sex toy (doesn't get used). Fluffy smut. Two idiots in love/best friends to lovers trope. <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader/afab!reader

A/N: This is my humble contribution to the Spencer Reid hand kink supremacy (no but seriously how are his hands THAT attractive??). This is kinda sorta an AU I guess because I wrote this with season four Reid in mind but I'm not sure (and Google will not give me a clear answer) if that type of iPhone was around then so let's just pretend it was for the sake of the fic pls. :') Also the "Sincerely, Spencer Reid" was a direct nod to B99's very own Raymond Holt because I could definitely see him and Spence handling tech the same way LMAO. As always, please tell me what you think! :) If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends! <3 Thank you and I love you all :) (I also ask that my work not be uploaded to other platforms or translated without my explicit permission. Thank you!)

Am I doing this selfie thing right? Sincerely, Spencer Reid

The screen felt almost blinding in the dim lighting of Y/N's bedroom as she stared slack-jawed at the image open on her phone.

Spencer finally upgraded to a smartphone a week ago after an unfortunate crash to the ground (stupid raised sidewalk) shattered the old flip phone that had long ago earned him the nickname "Grandpa" from his pain-in-the-ass-loving best friend. Y/N had never seen a man so devastated over losing what was essentially a brick that made calls, so to cheer him up, she helped him pick out a new phone and set it up.

She was beginning to regret that decision as she gawked at the selfie Spencer had sent.

It was sweet—an innocent photo of him sitting in his car, just after finishing the paperwork he’d insisted on handling alone, despite her offers to help. He'd banished her to her apartment, as stubborn as ever. The shot was taken in his rearview mirror, a faint grin tugging at his lips, his maple-toned eyes obscured by the phone. There was nothing about the image that should have made her pulse quicken. But when the realization hit her, a rush of warmth flooded her face.

It was his hand.

His hand seemed almost too big for the phone, dwarfing it as he snapped the picture. It wasn’t that she hadn’t noticed how large his hands were—everyone did—but she’d never given it much thought. Until now. Watching the way his fingers effortlessly swallowed the device, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. There was something about the sheer size of his hand, the way it seemed to overpower the phone, that made her suddenly hyper-aware of every detail.

His fingers were long, elegant, and well-cared-for; fingers that seemed capable of touching parts of her she'd never been able to reach on her own—

No. No, no, no. There was absolutely no way she was having these thoughts about Spencer Reid. Spencer, her endearingly awkward best friend of four years. Her rock. Her partner in the field. The man she’d always thought of as just that—nothing more. Well...

Y/N did have a crush on him once, in the earliest stages of their friendship. But it was just a small, silly, unreciprocated crush that she locked away in the deepest parts of her subconscious so that she could at least still be his friend. She accepted that it would never happen and moved on. Or she thought she had...

A muffled curse leaves Y/N's lips as she realizes she never responded, her thumbs hovering over the keyboard as she struggles to think of a response. Since when has she ever struggled to talk to Spencer? Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with her tonight? Was she ovulating?

Y/N: Next time, show off those pretty brown eyes of yours and you've got it down pat :)

Okay... That sounded way flirtier than she intended... But that's how they usually joked with each other, right? She was just overthinking everything because she was exhausted from their most recent case. That's it.

Y/N: Also... why have you not put your phone case on yet?? You're practically begging for another sidewalk incident to happen, Grandpa.

That's better. That feels normal.

She sets her phone down on her nightstand, picking up her abandoned book to continue reading. Y/N's heart rate is almost back to normal when her phone's ringtone blaring startles her, the book falling to her lap with a muted thud. An annoyed groan rumbles in her throat as she reaches over to grab the device, internally praying it wasn't Hotch calling with another case. They had JUST gotten back from Ohio not even six hours ago and she just wanted to rest—

To her surprise, it was Spencer calling.

"It's awfully late for you to be calling, Grandpa," Y/N drawled as she answered the call, her lips curling up into a grin as she heard Spencer scoff on the other line. "Shouldn't you be in bed by now?"

"I am in bed," Spencer grumbled in response, and she could hear some shuffling as he got comfortable. "And I put the case on right after I sent the selfie, thank you very much. Speaking of, did you know that the origin of selfies was actually believed to be..."

Spencer launched into a thorough explanation of not only the origins of selfies but also a detailed account of why self-portraits came about. Y/N hung onto every word, just as she always did when he spoke. Most people found his rambling to be annoying, but not her. She thought it was fascinating how much information he kept tucked away in that brain of his and was more than willing to listen and ask questions about anything he blurted out.

The conversation stretches on for another hour, neither of them wanting to be the one to end it. It’s not until the fifth yawn escapes Spencer that Y/N finally chuckles into the phone before reluctantly saying goodnight. Spencer’s voice is warm as he wishes her sweet dreams, and the call ends with the soft beep of disconnecting. And, for the first time in a long while, sweet dreams she did have…

"Does that feel good? Hm, pretty girl?" Spencer murmured into her ear as she writhed between his spread legs, her bare back pressed flush to his clothed chest.

The night had started with celebratory drinks after finally closing one of their more grueling cases, the team getting some much-needed relaxation and bonding in. Spencer was Y/N's designated driver as per usual since he didn't drink, instead choosing to nurse a soda as he eyed Y/N down from across the booth.

He was directly across from her, snugly between Derek and Hotch. But he wasn't paying attention to them. His eyes had been fixated on her from the moment she'd come back from the bar with Emily and Penelope, tracing the contours of her flushed face as she tipped her head back and took another shot.

Y/N had no intentions of getting completely drunk, instead choosing to remain just tipsy enough to enjoy the warmth that flowed through her body from the alcohol and maintain a steady buzz. That way she could be aware of her surroundings while also enjoying herself and the company of her team.

The bar was dim, the pounding of her heartbeat matching the beat of the music bumping overhead as her gaze fell on Spencer. Her brows furrowed at the unabashedly hungry look in his eyes, her tongue poking out to wet her lips subconsciously. She had to have been hallucinating. There was no way he'd be looking at her like that... right?

But he had been. And that same look is exactly what led them to where they were now, with Spencer propped up against her headboard holding her at his mercy while his fingers pumped tirelessly into her drenched pussy. She was sure the sight of them was downright filthy, an erotic contrast of her completely bare body pressed against his fully clothed one.

Y/N was in shambles, her legs trembling as her nails dug uselessly into his thighs while soft whimpers and moans flowed freely from her kiss-swollen lips. Her mind was reeling, a dizzying mixture of the remaining alcohol in her system, the pleasure coiling tightly in her lower stomach, and the knowledge that it was Spencer causing said pleasure.

She was so, so close... just a few more strokes of his fingers and...

A sharp gasp sounded through the bedroom as Y/N jolted awake, her chest heaving as she shakily sat up to turn off her alarm. She blinked hard, attempting to clear the fog from her vision as she fell back into her pillows. The dull aching between her thighs served as a sore reminder of what she was so close to achieving in her dream...

Her eyes snapped open as the memory of the dream hit her like a tidal wave. Guilt, confusion, and sheer horror crashed over her, and she groaned, her hands dragging down her face in frustrated disbelief. She’d just had a dream—a wet dream—about Spencer Fucking Reid.

What had gotten into her?

Before she could dive too deep into why her crush on Spencer had apparently resurfaced with a vengeance after being dormant for so long, her phone dinged with a message from the genius himself. It felt like the universe was rubbing salt in the wound, taunting her for the forbidden thoughts she couldn’t seem to shake about her best friend.

Spence <3: Are you going to get coffee? Sincerely, Spencer Reid

Y/N snorted out a laugh at how he signed his text, shaking her head as she responded.

Y/N: ... Spence, you don't have to sign your name on each text. I have your number saved. And yes, I am :)

A minute passes before his response comes through.

Spence <3: Oh. Well then, can you also bring me coffee please?

Y/N: Of course I can <3

Her earlier guilt lingers in the pit of her stomach as she sets the phone down, rolling out of bed with a sigh to begin getting ready for work. How was she going to face him after having a dream like that? Maybe it was a fluke; a one-off occurrence manifested from her lack of sexual endeavors so her brain had no choice but to use Spencer as a fill-in for her fantasies.

Opting to pretend it never happened so she could face her best friend later, Y/N finished getting ready and left for the café, determined to get there on time for work.

The elevator dinged as Y/N strolled into the bullpen, her and Spencer's usual orders in hand and a soft smile on her face. Thankfully, today was a paperwork day—a task most of the team dreaded, but one Y/N welcomed. It gave her a chance to recover from the constant motion sickness from the jet and the relentless flirtations of the officers when they worked cases out of state.

"Mm, my very own coffee fairy!" Spencer grinned, setting down the stack of papers he’d been poring over. His eyes sparkled as she made her way across the room, finally meeting his gaze from across the desk as she stopped in front of him. "Have I ever told you you're the best?"

"Yes, you have," Y/N teased with a playful grin, holding out his coffee. "But I don’t mind hearing it more often."

Her dream, it seemed, hadn’t been a fluke, a realization that hits her as Spencer grabs his coffee. Her eyes involuntarily track the way his fingers curl around the Styrofoam cup, and a shiver runs up her spine when they inadvertently brush against hers. Her cheeks flush as she quickly pulls her gaze away, meeting his curious eyes instead.

"You feeling okay, Y/N? You look a little flushed," Spencer murmured, his brow furrowed in concern as he eyed her over the rim of his cup.

Y/N blinked, her heart pounding in her throat as she swallowed and nodded. The sight had sent her mind reeling, the memory of those same fingers buried deep inside of her in her dream the night before surfacing against her will.

"Y-yeah. Yeah, I'm fine I just-"

Before Y/N could finish stammering out her lame excuse, Morgan sauntered into the bullpen with Garcia, the pair immediately honing in on her and Spencer as they made their way over.

"Oh, c'mon Y/N! Seriously? Pretty boy here gets a coffee but the rest of us don't?" Morgan taunted, chuckling as Y/N reached out to playfully swat at his arm with an eye roll.

"Well obviously! He's her work husband," Penelope chimed in matter-of-factly, giggling as she wiggled her eyebrows. "It would mean a divorce was brewing if she didn't."

The team had started the joke years ago, teasing her and Spencer for being the youngest members and for how quickly they’d clicked. To everyone else, it was obvious their friendship ran deeper than either of the two realized. The problem was that neither one of them could see it. Some profilers they were.

No matter how many times the joke was made, Spencer’s face still turned bright red every single time.

"Har dee har har," Spencer scoffed, his eyes shifting to the cup still gripped in his hand.

The banter was cut short as Hotch stepped out of his office, everyone mumbling their goodbyes and scurrying back to their desks to get their work done. Y/N welcomed the distraction with open arms, diving into her work to try to get her mind off of her conflicted feelings towards her best friend.

All day long, Y/N fought the growing urge to watch Spencer’s hands, but it was impossible to ignore. Her eyes were drawn to the way his fingers traced the edge of a case file as he analyzed it, or how they drummed a steady rhythm on his desk, each tap somehow amplifying the tension she was trying to suppress.

Her breaking point came when the team was wrapping up for the day. Spencer, eager to show off, insisted on demonstrating a new cardistry trick he’d learned. The rest of the team gathered around, and Y/N felt herself drawn in, unable to look away. Her eyes locked on his fingers as he deftly manipulated the cards, the muscles in his hands flexing with each smooth, controlled movement. She barely registered her open mouth or the way her pulse quickened—every part of her attention was on him.

Y/N was jolted back to reality when Emily nudged her, a raised eyebrow full of amusement as the rest of the team cheered and complimented Spencer on his newly acquired skill. Rather than meet Emily’s knowing look, Y/N quickly murmured her praise for Spencer, then hastily made her exit, claiming she needed to hit a store before it closed.

If she thought that day was bad, the next few weeks were hell.

The BAU had two back-to-back cases, leaving them no time to rest as they flew straight from Tennessee to Arizona. The dry heat seemed to make Spencer restless—constantly running his fingers through his hair, fidgeting with his watch, or rolling up his sleeves. Meanwhile, Y/N felt her sanity slipping away, her thoughts unraveling as she stumbled over her words or completely lost track of what she was saying—because she couldn’t stop staring at those goddamned hands.

Spencer wasn’t blind to the shift in her behavior. He’d noticed how she started to occupy herself with something whenever he entered the room, or how she became increasingly uneasy around him—spinning the rings on her fingers, tugging at the necklace he'd given her for her last birthday, or even finding reasons to leave the room entirely the moment he stepped in.

Y/N's usual teasing had begun to feel hollow, and the familiar touches she used to give him—guiding him gently by the hand, rubbing his shoulder when frustration set in, or planting an exaggerated kiss on his cheek before leaving—had completely disappeared.

He felt gutted, unable to think of a single reason for Y/N's sudden distance. The uncertainty gnawed at him, twisting his stomach with worry. What if she was tired of him? Or worse… what if she had finally seen through his feelings for her and was repulsed by them?

When the team wrapped up in Arizona and boarded the jet home, Spencer made up his mind.

After Y/N chose to sit next to Emily instead of her usual spot beside him, he couldn’t take it anymore. The not knowing was eating at him, and more than anything… he missed her. She was the one person who saw him for who he truly was, the one who understood him better than he understood himself. The one who brought him solace during the toughest cases and reminded him why he kept going. The thought of losing her was unbearable, and he promised himself he’d do whatever it took to fix whatever had gone wrong.

As soon as the jet touched down in Quantico, Y/N quickly muttered her goodbyes and made a beeline for the parking garage. Finally, she was free. Free to go home, shut herself off, and stop behaving like a complete mess around Spencer. She hated how distant she’d been, but she couldn’t help it. The weight of her obsessive thoughts about him and the feelings she’d tried to bury for so long had completely overridden her rational thoughts, leaving her acting out of control.

Fingers closed around her upper arm just inches from her car, and a sharp yelp escaped her lips. She spun around, startled, to find an equally surprised Spencer standing there. She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she hadn't heard him following her.

"Jesus, Grandpa! Make an announcement before you sneak up on people!" Y/N complained loudly, turning away from him to unlock her car and toss her go bag into the backseat.

Spencer couldn't help but feel some relief at the nickname, a surge of hope coursing through him. Grandpa. She hadn't called him that in almost two weeks. He cleared his throat, holding onto his courage as he finally addressed her recent behavior.

"Sorry! Sorry, I just— I wanted to make sure we were okay? I’ve noticed you’ve been acting… not like yourself lately. Not that I’m calling you weird or anything—"

Y/N's heart broke at the nervous rambling spewing from his lips as he stood before her, tucked into himself and fidgeting with his hands as he tried to speak. God, she was such an asshole.

"Spence," Y/N murmured, gently interrupting him before letting out a soft sigh. "I promise, we're fine. I’m sorry if I’ve seemed distant. It’s just… I’ve been so stressed with the cases, and compartmentalizing has been harder than usual. I guess I didn’t want to drag you into it. I’m really sorry."

It wasn't necessarily a lie. She really had been stressed and struggling with compartmentalizing... just not because of their job.

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed, his tense expression softening into one of understanding. “You know I’m always here for you, right? You don’t have to carry that burden alone. I’d much rather you let me in than struggle with it on your own."

Scratch that. She wasn't just an asshole. She was the biggest asshole in the world for making him feel the way he had.

"I know that. I really do," Y/N murmured, her fingers nervously playing with her lip. "It's just… I get way too independent sometimes." She sighed, then brightened. "How about this? Tomorrow’s our first Saturday off in over a month… Why don’t you come over and we can do a movie marathon? We could use some good 'work spouse' bonding, don’t you think?"

Spencer’s smile stretched across his face, his voice a little more eager than usual and his cheeks flushed. "Yeah, I'd, uh... I'd love that. Let's do it."

Y/N returned his grin, her heart fluttering from how excited he looked. Relief flooded through her veins as he agreed to her plans, not realizing how much she had truly missed him the past few weeks since she'd been so focused on trying not to gawk at him every five minutes.

"Perfect. It’s a date,” Y/N teased, her smile widening. “Now, get in. I’m not letting you take the train back this late."

"What? Isn't this what you wanted, sweetheart?" Spencer crooned into her ear, tightening his hold around her wrists as he kept them pinned above her head.

Another frustrated whine left her lips as she tugged uselessly against his hold, but they both knew she didn't actually want to slip free. One of his hands was wrapped tightly around both of her wrists, his other tracing maddeningly up and down her side.

"Or did you want Officer Davidson's hands on you instead?" His tone was taunting, a hint of jealousy tainting his words as he tightened his grip.

The moment they stepped into their shared hotel room after leaving the precinct, Spencer was all over her. She’d noticed the heated glares he shot her way while she stood across the room, wearing a bored expression as Officer Davidson repeatedly (and unsuccessfully) tried to flirt with her.

They hadn't announced their new relationship status to the team yet per Spencer's insistence, but it was obvious from the intensity in Spencer’s eyes that he wanted to shout it to the world now. The way he glared at Davidson made it clear he was ready to stake his claim, watching the officer eye her like prey.

Now they were here, with Spencer hellbent on making sure she understood that she was his.

Y/N shook her head, looking up at Spencer pleadingly as she tilted her hips up in search of his. "No, never. Only want you, Spence."

A dark chuckle escaped him as he smirked down at her, his hand, which had been trailing along her side, now cupping her chin. His fingers gently squeezed her cheeks, coaxing her lips into a pout.

"Only me? Is that right, sweet girl?" Spencer cooed, loosening his grip to press on her bottom lip with his thumb before sliding the digit into her mouth. "Because it sure looked like you were enjoying his attention."

The flushed head of his cock teased her entrance, pressing between her folds as his hips slowly rocked back and forth, prolonging her teasing instead of giving her what she wanted. She groaned around his thumb, sucking the digit further into her mouth and holding his gaze in an effort to tempt him into finally fucking her instead of just grinding against her.

A soft hiss fell from his lips as his gaze darkened. He shifted his weight above her, keeping her wrists clasped in his hand and shoving them into the mattress as he began to rut against her harder. Her sharp gasp sounded through the air as he angled his hips up, the tip of his cock dipping into her deliciously before he halted his movements, keeping only a few inches inside of her.

Y/N writhed beneath him, whimpering her protests around his thumb as her jaw slackened, muffled pleas spilling from her lips as she began to beg uselessly for him to just fuck her already.

Spencer pressed down on her tongue with his thumb, a grunt escaping him before he yanked his thumb out of her mouth, using the hand to pin her down instead.

"Be still—"

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, the harsh light of morning pouring through her curtains, and she let out a disgruntled groan as she blindly searched for her phone on the nightstand. After weeks of peaceful, dreamless sleep, of course she would dream about Spencer the night before their hangout. Wait—

Y/N sat up abruptly, unlocking her phone to check the time, only to notice a message waiting for her on the lock screen.

Spence <3: I’ll be there in an hour with a surprise.

Sent twenty-three minutes ago.

Fuck. She'd completely forgotten to set an alarm to get ready for their movie marathon, despite being the one who had suggested it in the first place. Whatever brain cells that photo had scrambled in her brain needed to get a grip so she could function on a level above Neanderthal.

Y/N: Surprise? You spoil me, old man. I'll see you then :)

Y/N exhaled wearily, rolling out of bed and dragging her feet across the plush carpet. She shuffled over to her dresser, picking out an outfit consisting of black yoga pants and an old band tee before heading to the bathroom for a cold shower. Maybe it would clear her head—or at least get rid of the incessant aching between her thighs. It worked on men, right?

One miserable shower and a change of clothes later, Y/N finally managed to clear some of the fog clouding her mind. She darted around her apartment, tidying up in a flurry before Spencer arrived. Moving between the kitchen and the living room, she gathered everything for their movie marathon: a pile of 90's slasher films spread out on the coffee table, her biggest throw blanket draped across the sectional, and a bag of popcorn popping away in the microwave.

Spencer's signature knock rang through the apartment at the same time the microwave started beeping, signaling that the popcorn was done.

"Coming!" Y/N shouted from the kitchen, opening the microwave door so it wouldn't repeat the shrill noise before making her way to the front door.

She swings it open with an excited grin, her gaze immediately dropping to the bag in Spencer's hand. She beckons for Spencer to come in, trying to sneak a peek at what was in the slightly crinkled paper bag.

"Geez, don't look too excited to see me," Spencer chuckled, following Y/N into her kitchen.

She waved dismissively, laughing softly as she grabbed the bag of popcorn and a bowl to pour it into. Spencer sat the bag on the counter, finally revealing its contents as he pulled out a tub of ice cream and some sour gummy worms.

"A man after my own heart!" Y/N gasped with an exaggerated swoon, cackling as Spencer swatted at her playfully.

"You said you were stressed, and I know you’ve got a sweet tooth just like me, so I figured it’d be perfect for our movie marathon," Spencer said with a shrug, the faintest blush creeping up his neck.

That kind of thoughtful behavior was just another reason her emotions had been in turmoil for the past few weeks. The selfie had opened a door to a spiral of introspection, one that made her revisit every moment they’d shared. She had always known their friendship straddled the line between platonic and something more, but she’d convinced herself it was simply because they were so comfortable with one another. It wasn’t until now that she began to wonder if those boundaries had been blurred intentionally — if, deep down, they both had wanted more all along.

The movie marathon kicked off after a bit of grumbling from Spencer, who finally gave in to watching the cheesy slasher films he’d insisted were beneath him. A few awkward moments of shifting on the couch later, they settled into a comfortable spot—Y/N tucked into his side, both of them with snacks in their laps and the throw blanket wrapped around them, ready to dive into the horror-filled lineup.

As they settled into the movie, Spencer’s gaze lingered on Y/N for a moment too long. He noticed the drip of vanilla ice cream at the corner of her mouth, the sight causing an unwelcome tightness in his pants. Before he could stop himself, he reached over. His thumb gently swiped the sugary trail now pooling along her lower lip, a soft swipe that left his hand lingering a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

"Here, you've got a little..."

The words died in his throat as her lips wrapped around his thumb, both of their eyes widening as their gaze met.

In that moment, everything fell into place for Spencer. It wasn’t stress that had been driving her distant behavior—he realized with a sudden jolt—it was something else entirely. The way she'd been pulling away, the tension between them… it wasn’t just exhaustion or anxiety. No, it was something far more complicated. It was desire.

Y/N jerked backward, nearly sending all of their precariously placed snacks to the floor as her face burned with embarrassment. "Oh, my God I- I'm so sorry Spence," she stammered, her words tripping over each other. "I have no idea why I did that-"

"Y/N."

Spencer cut her off with a hushed murmur of her name, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she stopped her nervous rambling.

"It's okay. I-I liked it," Spencer reassured her softly.

Y/N stared at him, dumbfounded.

"What?"

"I liked it."

Spencer repeated himself surely, but the tremble in his voice gave away the fact that his brave front was exactly that: a front.

"I—" He hesitated, a heavy sigh escaping him. His hands fumbled with the snacks for a moment, setting them carefully on the coffee table as if buying time. He finally turned to face her fully, the weight of his words settling in. "Y/N… I've been in love with you since the moment I met you. I never said anything because I was scared… scared you wouldn’t feel the same. And after everything these past few weeks, with you pulling away, I thought maybe you’d figured it out and hated me for it. But… maybe I was wrong. Maybe you actually feel the same way I do..."

Y/N’s mouth parted in shock, her mouth opening and closing like she wanted to say something—anything—but the words just wouldn’t come. Spencer loved her. He always had. And she had spent all this time convincing herself her feelings were one-sided, certain he couldn’t possibly feel the same way.

Spencer's voice wavered as he spoke, his eyes searching hers with a quiet intensity. "Please, tell me I was wrong. Tell me you feel the same." His words hung in the air, and he held his breath, waiting, afraid that his confession might have been the thing to push her away for good.

The raw vulnerability in his voice broke through the fog in her mind, and without thinking, she nodded quickly, the words tumbling from her lips before she could stop them.

"Yes! Yes, Spence, I feel the same way," she breathed, her voice shaky as she looked up at him, eyes wide with a mix of relief and disbelief. "I always have… I just… I convinced myself it was impossible. I never thought you could feel the same."

A soft laugh escaped him, his grin widening as he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. "How could I not, Y/N?" he murmured, his voice low and sincere. "You’re everything to me. You’re the reason I started believing in soulmates… because I know I’ll never find anyone more perfectly made for me than you. You’re it. Always have been."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words, her eyes welling up involuntarily. No one had ever spoken to her with such reverence, and in that moment, she realized she held him in the same regard. But where Spencer's words were so effortlessly beautiful, hers often fell short. So, instead of trying to find the right ones, she chose to show him just how deeply he mattered to her.

Within seconds, her lips were on his, her hands gently cradling his face as she pulled him closer. Spencer surrendered to the kiss, his hands sliding to her waist, mirroring her movements and pulling her in.

It started as a slow, hesitant kiss that rapidly devolved into something more desperate as the weight of years of silent longing melted away between them. What Y/N couldn't articulate into words she poured into touch, threading her trembling fingers into his soft hair and tugging, urging him to hover over her as she laid back against the couch. Her lips moved against his fiercely, trying to convey the silent message that she was just as in love with him as he was with her.

The movie had long since faded into the background, its faint dialogue and sporadic screams now an odd soundtrack blending with the muffled whimpers and soft pants that filled the space between them as their hands began to roam. Spencer's hips were nestled between hers, unmoving and stiff as he tried not to mindlessly hump against her like an animal in heat.

Y/N noticed Spencer's rigidness, breaking the kiss to look up at him with a furrowed brow. "What's wrong?" She breathed out, propping up on her elbows and brushing their noses together. "Are we moving too fast? We can stop if you want, I-I'm sorry—"

"No!" Spencer borderline shouted in his haste to ease the insecurity he saw creeping into her eyes, his face flushing as he cleared his throat. "No, no that's not it at all. I just, um... I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I wasn't sure how far you wanted this to go."

Y/N’s shoulders relaxed, a small frown giving way to a playful smirk. She idly twisted the loose curls at the nape of his neck between her fingers, her gaze locking with his.

"I want you, Spence. All of you. If that's what you want, too."

Spencer's nod was immediate, his forehead almost knocking into hers, causing her to laugh at his eagerness. "God, yes. I want that, so much. I want you so much."

Y/N grinned as she tilted her head to brush their lips together, landing a chaste kiss on his mouth before she tugged him down, leaning forward to whisper into his ear. "Yeah? You wanna fuck me, Spence?"

He inhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut as his head fell into the crook of her neck. If he were younger, he probably would have just cum in his pants from her words alone. But he was a man now. A barely composed man who was dizzy from the intoxicating scent of her perfume crowding his nose and the most painful erection he's had since puberty straining against his slacks.

"Such a crude mouth you have," Spencer murmured in feigned disappointment, shaking his head before pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses to the skin of her neck. "Maybe I should fill it up until you learn some manners, hm?"

He traced the fingers of his right hand up her side as he pulled back enough to look into her eyes, his left hand pressed into the cushions to keep him from laying all his body weight onto her. He'd caught her lingering glances at his hands throughout the last few weeks. He just hadn't been sure why she'd been staring at them so hard... but now? Now, he knew exactly why she'd been so fixated on them, and he planned to use that to his advantage.

The whimper that slipped from Y/N's lips as Spencer slid two fingers into her gaping mouth confirmed his suspicions, the shit-eating grin on his face growing wide as he pressed the digits down against her tongue. She began to suck at his fingers eagerly, the feeling of her tongue laving over them making his body tremble in anticipation.

His hips began to rock against hers, slowly grinding against her aching core as he pressed kisses up and down the side of her neck. Once he was satisfied with his teasing, he pulled his fingers from her mouth with a slick 'pop', replacing them with his tongue as he kissed her deeply.

Y/N’s mind whirled, both surprised and intrigued by the sudden shift in his demeanor, captivated by how effortlessly he stepped into control. It wasn’t what she’d anticipated at all. She���d seen glimpses of this side of him—brief moments in the field or during interrogations—but never like this. The man before her was assured and confident, a stark contrast to his usual, endearing awkwardness.

Their kiss grew hungry as Spencer continued where they had left off before, his hands sliding under the hem of her shirt and bunching the fabric as they trailed up. He broke the kiss long enough to help her out of the shirt, tossing it somewhere in the direction of the TV before capturing her lips once more. He was a man ravenous, consumed by the sweetness of her lips, and even the seconds it took to remove her t-shirt felt like an unbearable eternity without them.

Her hands were just as busy as his, dragging down his clothed chest before finding the button of his slacks in the cramped space between them. Her fingers fumbled with the button blindly, and her movements faltered when his teeth gently tugged at her lower lip.

"Off," Y/N whined indignantly against his mouth, tugging frustratedly at the button. "Take them off."

Spencer obliged, helpless to her commands as he sat back on his heels, easily undoing the pesky button that was keeping her from what she wanted. She went to sit up to help with his zipper, but in her rush to get his pants off, she didn't realize just how close his knee was to the edge of the cushion.

The motion knocked his knee outwards, a surprised yelp leaving his lips as he instinctively reached out for her to steady himself, but it was too late.

A startled squeal slipped from Y/N as they both tumbled to the floor, landing with a muted thud on the plush carpet. Spencer’s hands shot to her waist, his eyes wide as he glanced up at her, now sprawled on top of him, her laughter filling the air at their unexpected fall. He joined her, chuckling loudly.

They were a perfect chaos—rumpled clothes, kiss-swollen lips, tangled hair, and eyes full of love. But neither of them minded, because they finally had what they’d both been yearning for all this time: each other.

The fall did little to curb their desire for each other. Y/N ducked her head, pressing her lips to Spencer's with renewed vigor as her hands slipped underneath his sweater. She giggled as he squirmed underneath her touch.

"You're such a wiggle worm!" Y/N huffed, pulling back just enough to let the words slip free into the air between them as she lifted the sweater up and over his head.

Spencer scoffed, his own hands slipping beneath the waistband of her yoga pants and shoving them down her legs. "I can't help that your hands feel like ice!"

A quiet hiss left her lips at the feeling of his equally cold hands brushing against the skin of her thighs. She wriggled on top of him, kicking off the remaining fabric that had wrapped around her feet.

"So do yours, but you don't see me acting like a baby about it!"

"Oh, I'll show you a baby—"

Y/N cackled as Spencer rolled them over, hovering above her once more with a cheeky grin and soft chuckles. He bombarded her with kisses all over her face and collarbones, ignoring her hands swatting at him playfully as he continued his attack. Soon his pants joined the growing pile of clothes near the entertainment center, the soft glow of the TV illuminating the room as the final scenes of the forgotten movie played out. His hands made swift work of removing her bra, leaving her lying underneath him in only her lacy underwear.

Their laughter died out as they stared into each other's eyes, the weight of what was about to change—what had already changed—settling over them. But fear didn’t touch them. There was no reason for it. This was always meant to be; written in the stars, woven into their destiny long before they existed.

Spencer closed the gap between them, kissing Y/N tenderly as he lowered himself just enough for their bare chests to press together and their hips to align perfectly. A sigh escaped her at the feeling of his hardened cock grinding against her, the thin fabric of his boxers and her soaked panties doing little to conceal what lay beneath.

Neither of them had ever pictured their first time unfolding on the living room floor, but in a way, it made the moment even more unforgettable. It was a testament to how desperately they wanted each other—so much that they’d choose the roughness of the carpet and rug burns over the luxury of her bed to avoid the few minutes apart it would take to get to her room.

"You're sure you want this?"

Spencer broke the kiss, his eyes tracing hers for any trace of hesitation or doubt. Y/N's lips curved into a faint smile as she reached up to caress his face. Her thumb stroked the skin of his cheekbone as she nodded.

"More than anything."

The look in her eyes told him that she was being completely honest. That was all the confirmation he needed. His shaky hands found the edges of the lace adorning her hips, inching his body down as he tugged the soaked-through fabric down her legs.

Y/N's face scrunched in confusion as Spencer moved lower, her brows furrowing as he pressed a kiss to her knee. "What are you-"

Her words cut off with a sharp moan as Spencer latched his mouth to her clit, her head tipping back against the floor as her hands buried themselves into his disheveled strands. Her back arched as her legs spread instinctively, making room for him as he began to devour her. He shifted, grabbing ahold of her thighs and placing them over his shoulders as his tongue alternated between teasing kitten licks and long, drawn-out laps up and down her pussy.

Y/N struggled to open her eyes, peering down at him as pleasure began to flood her veins. The sight of his hands—those beautiful goddamned hands that had inadvertently caused this to happen— gripping her thighs hard enough to leave bruises had her mouth hanging open, small whimpers and moans flowing freely into the open space.

"You taste exquisite, sweetheart. So, so good," Spencer mumbled against her slick skin before sucking her clit into his mouth gently.

Y/N cried out, writhing underneath him as the pleasure in her lower stomach began to build rapidly. A loud groan wrenched itself from her throat as Spencer grabbed her hips, pinning them to the ground as he continued to ravage her in a way that rendered her useless.

"You can take it, pretty girl," Spencer cooed, placing a kiss on her clit before one of his hands left her hip to trace her folds. "Cum for me so I can fuck you so good you'll never want anyone else again."

Who the fuck taught him how to talk like that?

Y/N couldn’t speak to tell him that she’d never want anyone else anyways; that he was etched into her very soul, and every part of her would forever long for his touch and his touch alone. She cried out as his middle finger prodded at her entrance before slipping inside, her orgasm so close she could almost taste it.

Spencer moaned against her from how little resistance her walls had against the intrusion, immediately adding his ring finger to the mix. He thrusted them into her hard, curling the lithe digits in search of that rough patch of skin that would give him what he wanted. It took all of three strokes before he found it, his mouth forming a smirk as she gripped his hair and yanked, grinding her hips up into his mouth as she thrashed beneath him.

"Spence! Fuck, I-I'm cumming—"

Y/N barely uttered the words before her climax seized her, her toes curling as her vision whitened and the world shattered around her. She could vaguely register Spencer's sweet voice coaxing her through it, his forehead now pressed to hers as his fingers continued to gently thrust into her through the aftershocks. Only when she was trembling and weakly shoving at his wrist did he finally stop his movements, his lips meeting hers in a series of soft kisses as her chest heaved beneath him.

"Yeah?" He murmured with a smug grin, pulling back to smooth her hair away from her damp face with his clean hand as she stared up at him in bewilderment.

Spencer Reid had just caused her to cum harder than she ever had in her life. Spencer—the same Spencer that was too shy to look her in the eyes for a solid month after first meeting her— just made her cum so hard she almost blacked out. She understood why he was a man of magic now... and it had nothing to do with the novelty tricks he was always showing off.

"Yeah," Y/N whispered in response, still reeling from her orgasm.

If that was the type of climax she could reach simply from his tongue and fingers, she was convinced that she'd never actually experienced one with anyone else.

"Do you want to stop there? Or do you want to keep going?"

Spencer's voice was soft as he stared at the gorgeous woman beneath him. He found it ironic that he was already kneeling between her thighs because that had now become his place of worship. His redemption came in the form of her essence, dripping from his fingers as they rested against her hip. He'd never need anything else as long as he had her.

"Keep going. I want to keep going," Y/N pleaded softly, her hands reaching for his boxers. "Just—c'mere. Wanna taste you before you fuck me brainless. Please?"

A pitiful whine left Spencer’s lips as he felt his composure crack slightly. He wasn’t prepared for her to practically beg to suck his cock. He found himself nodding mindlessly, his hands going to help her strip him of his boxers before he remembered the mess still clinging to his fingers.

“Clean these for me first, sweet girl. Then you can.”

Spencer brought his fingers up to her lips, watching in amazement as she obeyed without a fuss. She even went as far as moaning while she licked his fingers clean of her, holding his gaze while she did. Y/N knew what she did to him. She knew he was just as affected by her as she was him. And she reveled in it.

Once he deemed them clean enough, he pulled them from her mouth before ridding himself of the last shred of fabric between them. The second that Spencer was bare before her, she pounced. Her hands pushed at his chest, urging him to lie back as she crawled on top of him.

“You’re so pretty, Spence,” Y/N breathed dazedly, pecking his lips before trailing her kisses down his chest. “God… look at you.”

Spencer flushed bright red while she continued to murmur her praises as she gripped the base of him, his cock twitching in her hand.

He had never been particularly confident—growing up as a child prodigy in a Las Vegas public school had stripped him of any sense of self-worth before it had a chance to take root. Unlike Morgan, he didn’t have the muscles or the easy charm with women. He could count the number of sexual encounters he’d had on one hand. His dates rarely progressed beyond the first, driven away by his nervous rambling and the unpredictable demands of his job.

The only way Spencer even knew how to make Y/N feel so good was because he had studied every piece of material he could find on the intricacies of female anatomy and sexual pleasure on the off chance one of his dates would blossom into something more than an uncomfortable hook-up and dash situation. It also helped that he’d pined after her since he’d known her, that longing translating into a dire need to make her feel the best she ever had because that’s what she deserved. She deserved to feel pleasure in its purest form, to feel cherished and worshipped because that’s how precious she was to him.

And in this moment, as she gazed at him with the kind of reverence that made it seem as though he was the center of her universe, Spencer believed that maybe, just maybe, he deserved to feel that way too.

His fingers grasped helplessly at the carpet beneath him as her beautiful lips wrapped around the flushed head of his arousal, a muffled curse falling into the air as she swirled her tongue around him. Y/N smirked around her mouthful, her eyes glinting with amusement as she inhaled through her nose and pushed lower, taking him into the back of her throat. The gag that she emitted from the motion had his hips jerking up, a flurry of apologies spewing from his mouth.

Instead of responding verbally, she simply grabbed his hands and guided them to her hair, encouraging him to take hold and move her as he pleased. Once he threaded his hands through her hair, she continued. Her own hands planted firmly on his thighs as she began to bob her head around what she could fit, a soft hum vibrating around his length as her eyes fluttered shut.

Spencer was speechless— absolutely floored as he stared slack-jawed at the woman moaning around his cock like she was the one receiving pleasure from it. He gave an experimental tug of her hair, his head falling back with a thunk as she moaned louder and moved faster. It was as though she were unraveling his very soul with her tongue, hurtling him towards an orgasm he didn’t want to have just yet.

“Y-Y/N wait I— ngh!” Spencer groaned, his grip on her hair tightening unintentionally as he tried to pull her off of him. “I won’t be able to fuck you if you make me cum down your throat, pretty girl. P-please—“

Y/N whined in protest but finally eased herself off of his cock, a trail of spit bridging her lower lip to the head of him as she stared up at him with watery eyes and swollen lips.

Spencer felt delirious as he took in the sight. It was something he’d dreamed about (albeit guiltily) for years, and having the real thing in front of him was infinitely better than anything his subconscious had conjured up during those restless nights. She was a vision; a work of art that deserved to have a museum dedicated to her and her alone.

“Oh, don’t pout. Unless you don’t want to be fucked anymore?” Spencer chuckled breathlessly, arching a brow as she moved to straddle him. His hands found their way to her waist, a shudder running down his spine as she settled over him.

“If you won’t fuck me… I have a pretty nice dildo in my bedside drawer that should do the trick,” Y/N hummed coyly, dragging her heat across the length of him with a soft sigh.

Spencer’s eyes darkened at that, his grip on her hips tightening to put a halt to her subtle movements.

“Yeah? You think it’d make you feel better than I could?”

Y/N swallowed hard, the aching between her legs starting to override her logical thinking. She knew the answer he was looking for; the answer that would give her exactly what she wanted. But she decided to be a smartass instead.

“Maybe,” She answered with a shrug, nibbling at her lower lip as she tried to fight against his hold to get the friction she craved.

“Go get it then.”

Spencer leaned forward, his nose brushing hers as she sat in his lap, a challenge in his gaze. He knew she wouldn’t—she was getting restless, just like him. But if this was the game she wanted to play, he was determined to win.

Panic spread across Y/N’s face at the cold, indifferent look in his eyes. Her hands rested on his shoulders, her frown betraying the sinking realization of the hole she’d dug for herself. They were both ridiculously competitive, so why she’d started this—rather than just admitting how badly she wanted him buried inside her—was beyond her.

“I was kidding,” Y/N huffed, tilting forward in an attempt to capture his lips.

Spencer leaned back, keeping his lips just out of reach. He shook his head, smirking softly. “Nope. Either go get it, or say you’re sorry.”

Y/N hesitated, frowning as she weighed her options. She wanted him so badly it hurt. But pride was a hell of a thing. She knew he wouldn’t back down. Normally, she wouldn’t either. But his cock was pressed so deliciously against her clit that she decided it would be more than worth it to lose just this once.

“I’m sorry,” She mumbled, barely audible.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

Spencer’s taunting made her groan in frustration before she sighed and tried again.

“I said I’m sorry—“

He shifted them so that his back was against the couch, her knees on both sides of his hips digging into the carpet hard enough that he was certain it would sting once they started. He’d make sure to take care of her afterward, though. He gazed up at her with adoration, thoroughly enjoying how needy she'd become. Her breath hitched as he adjusted his hips, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance.

“One more time, hm?” Spencer coaxed, his hands now rubbing up and down her sides but still holding her tight enough that she couldn't rock against him. If he was honest, his resolve had crumbled as quickly as hers, but he couldn’t help from teasing her for just a little longer.

“I’m sorry!” Y/N cried out, her forehead pressing against his as she whimpered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Spencer finally pressed a kiss to her lips before pulling back, his lips brushing against hers as he crooned. “Good girl, baby. Thank you.”

Hearing the praise fall so easily from his mouth had Y/N canting her hips down eagerly, willing to do whatever he wanted just so she could hear his sweet words over and over again. Her determination didn’t waver, her hips pushing down insistently. Spencer’s hold on her waist faltered, and for a brief moment, gravity claimed its victory.

A startled gasp slipped from her lips as the tip of his cock pushed into her, followed by a guttural moan that had Spencer's ears ringing as he cursed loudly. She had been so used to his hold that she wasn't prepared to support herself, his hands having barely caught her from dropping completely. He immediately yanked her up, the cool air against his skin a shock after having felt her warmth for the first time.

“God—fuck!" Spencer groaned as his head tipped back against the couch cushions, straining against every instinct begging him to just drive into her and utilizing every muscle in his body to keep her suspended as she wriggled impatiently.

"Baby... how are you— how are you wanting to do this?” Spencer whispered, swallowing before he continued. “I’m pretty sure I have a condom in my wallet, but I… um. I’m clean...”

Their hearts pounded in their chests as his words lingered in the air, the only sounds in the room being the repeated menu options from the forgotten movie and the ragged rhythm of their breaths.

Y/N meweled, reaching down to realign him with her entrance. “I’m clean and on birth control… Can we...? Like this? Please—“

“Yes.”

Y/N chuckled at his blunt response, though she was just as desperate to feel him after having the faintest taste of what he felt inside her. Her lips found his for a chaste kiss before she finally began to lower herself onto his cock, this time without his resistance.

Her laughter died in her throat, morphing into a choked whimper from the stretch of him. Even with how aroused she was, trying to make him fit was a struggle. Spencer was easily the biggest out of anyone she’d ever been with— a feat she hadn't quite realized until she was pausing halfway down his cock with a stuttered moan, slowly circling her hips in an attempt to adjust to the sensation.

Spencer was convinced he'd somehow died and ascended to paradise as he gazed up at the angelic woman hovering above him, enthralled by watching her fight to take the full length of him into her depths. His hands massaged up and down her trembling thighs, hoping to help her relax enough to take the rest of him without it hurting. Hums of encouragement rumbled from his chest as he stared unblinking at her, the warm amber of his eyes almost consumed completely by his blown pupils. His thumb found her clit and rubbed small circles into it as her eyes fluttered closed and she inhaled sharply through her nose.

"That's it, sweet girl," He cooed, continuing his gentle ministrations as she whined from deep in her throat. "Just like that. You're taking me so well. My gorgeous girl."

There was a pleasant burn as Y/N gingerly lifted her hips, leaving only the head of him inside of her. The way her hardened nipples brushed against his bare chest had her shivering lightly, the touch sending small sparks of pleasure jolting through her. Soft whines spilled from her lips as Spencer moved his hands around to grip her ass, gently massaging the flesh as she raised up on her knees.

With a committed roll of her hips and a quiet grunt, Y/N finally took the rest of his length, their bodies now flush together as her head dropped into the crook of his neck. The whorish moan Spencer released into her ear as he bottomed out had her clenching around him, a dire need to cause more of those sinful noises prompting her hips to begin moving. The raw stinging against her knees as she began to ride him in earnest only spurred her on, her nails digging into his shoulders as her head lolled back.

"Spence—" Y/N whimpered, resting her forehead against his as she panted out his name again and again, chanting it as though it were a mantra.

Spencer shushed her, understanding exactly what she couldn't manage to vocalize. He nodded against her as their bodies moved in tandem. "I know, baby. I know. You feel divine. My sweet angel." He continued to murmur out his praises as his head rested back on the edge of the couch cushion, small fingerprint-shaped bruises marking her skin as he clung to her.

Her hips began to falter as exhaustion started to settle into her bones from the vigorous pace she'd set, her second orgasm brewing in the pit of her stomach as though it were a wicked thunderstorm in waiting, ready to roll in and wreak havoc on her entire body at any minute. The slick sounds of their bodies connecting over and over paired with the symphony of heady moans and whimpers spilling between them—it was all driving her closer and closer to ecstasy.

Spencer noticed the fumble in her movements, his brows pinched together as he fought to keep his own climax at bay so he could enjoy the sensation of being wrapped up in her walls for a while longer. But he couldn't let his pretty girl do all of the work, could he? That would be cruel.

He planted his feet into the ground, beginning to pound into her from below. A satisfied smirk adorned his face as Y/N cried out, her head falling into the crook of his neck once more as she began to babble incoherently against his skin. The pace he set was wild and unrestrained, the angle allowing him to drive into her g-spot repeatedly.

"Take it, take it, take it—" Spencer hissed through clenched teeth before he latched his mouth onto her right nipple, sucking at the bud and swirling his tongue around it.

Y/N threaded her fingers through his hair, hanging on tightly as Spencer ravaged her. Her mouth hung open as moan after moan wrenched itself from her core and embedded into his damp skin. The pleasure searing through her veins was consuming her, burning her from the inside out. She was so close—

The catalyst for her orgasm came in the form of Spencer's hands slipping down her ass and underneath her thighs so that the tips of his fingers were brushing against where they were connected with each thrust. All it took was that one simple touch for the tension in her body to snap, her teeth digging into his shoulder as she tried to muffle her screams while her walls pulsed around him violently. Her eyes squeezed shut as she wailed his name loudly, not caring if any of her neighbors heard them at this point. She wanted the world to know exactly who was making her feel this good.

Spencer toppled them over onto the ground as she came around him, pinning her to the carpet and rutting into her fervently. Something akin to a sob fell from his lips before he abruptly pulled out, jerking his cock in quick strokes before he was spurting his cum across her stomach and tits with a cry of her name.

He crumpled to the ground beside her, pulling her into his side before he slung an arm over his face. Their chests heaved as they came down from their highs, both of them completely spent after such depraved lovemaking. His free hand stroked up and down her slick skin as she rested her head on his chest, calming the tremors wracking her body as they caught their breath.

Once Spencer regained feeling in his legs, he scooped Y/N from the floor and into his arms, hauling her off toward her bathroom as giggles bubbled from her lips at his surprising show of strength. Y/N watched with pure fondness as he started the shower, her heart swelling as he glanced back at her with a tired grin. When the water was warm enough, he held her hand as he helped her step in, following behind her with a hand wrapped around her waist to hold her steady.

After a shower spent lost in love-struck gazes, soapy caresses, and slow, tender kisses against the tiles, they ended up wrapped in each other's arms in her bed. It was only midday, but it was Saturday—so why not indulge in a nap? They had more than earned it after their (failed) movie marathon.

"Y'know," Y/N started, her voice low as fatigue began to cloud her mind. "You really do have massive hands." She took his hand, which had been resting loosely between them, lifting it to align with hers for comparison. His hand was nearly twice the size of hers, and the sight made her smile with amusement.

Spencer snorted, his nose scrunching as he laughed quietly at her observation.

"Well, yeah... I am 6'1", sweetheart. It would be abnormal if I didn't have massive hands," He stated matter-of-factly. "Besides, you love them. Really love them," He added with a sleepy smirk.

Y/N's face burned as she rolled her eyes, playfully shoving him with a scoff. "Yeah, yeah. It isn't my fault you have hands that were crafted by Michelangelo himself," She murmured defensively.

Spencer pulled her closer, brushing a kiss against her forehead, then her nose, her cheeks, and finally, her lips.

"You know I'm just teasing you. Did you know that—"

As Spencer began to prattle on about the variations and degrees of hand kinks and fetishes, Y/N's mind drifted back to the picture that had unknowingly set everything in motion. She couldn’t help but thank that raised crack in the sidewalk for pushing her old-fashioned boyfriend (that still felt so surreal to say) to embrace modern technology—because without it, she might have spent even more time blind to the fact that she was utterly, hopelessly in love with the man lying before her.

And as they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, Spencer felt a deep sense of gratitude for finally being able to love the beautiful woman in his arms the way he’d always dreamed of.

Continued A/N's: I felt evil for my first (published) fic being so angsty so I decided to write this as a formal apology LMAO. I had so much fun writing this, and I hope you have just as much fun reading it. Please tell me what you think and let me know if you'd like to see a sequel for this as well! :) K <3

[dontbelasagnax]

I find as fandom has assimilated towards a capitalist mindset of consumption, there has been a larger focus on fanart and fanfiction- both in spaces that view creatives as "content creators" and spaces where creatives are seen as writers and authors but lauded similarly to celebrities or deities for gracing the common people with their creations.

This has produced a side effect wherein fanart and, primarily, fanfiction are seen as the Best Forms Of Transformative Works... which means that any other type of transformative work is thrown by the wayside.

There should be no hierarchy of fanworks - every single work is a labor of love (or spite... I see y'all throwing middle fingers to canon 😉) and should be recognized as such. Fandom is a community. It's not a transactional relationship. Everyone contributes and interacts out of shared passions and interests.

If you make podfics, gifs, photo edits, fanvids, fan binding, metas, fiber arts, jewelry, fanmixes, translate fics to another language, run/contribute to a fan wikia or compile lore and resources in other ways: I see, appreciate, and cherish all the hard, love fueled work you put into your creations.

Not to say that fanfic and digital art are over-appreciated (Since I do see that many people are allergic to pressing reblog. It's a community. We're supposed to share and communicate. Lurkers are valid but for the most part, interaction with like-minded people is what fandom is intended for.) but the pedestal they are placed on needs to be lowered. Your favorite artists and authors are real people with real lives. They piss and shit just like you. They work in retail and healthcare and are unemployed due to disability. There is nothing extraordinary about them and they are wonderful human beings all the same. No one is better than anyone else. We're all equals here on this playground.

That said, I think we need to uplift the underappreciated fanworks and creators and give them more attention so they are on equal footing with fanfic writers and fanartists. Reblog the gifsets and tell the creator you're in love with how they colored the gifs, keyboard smash in the tags when reblogging a plush doll someone crocheted of your blorbo, try listening to a podfic on your commute home instead of an audiobook and remember to leave a comment when you get home.

As a final note, I want to give a warm hug to anyone who has sat refreshing tumblr or ao3 hoping that maybe someone will tell them they did a good job. To anyone who has considered quitting their fandom endeavors because their posts or works never get as much attention and love as the rest of the artworks or fics in the fandom tags, your creations are worth making and sharing. Numbers do not equate to quality, nor can they convey how loved your creations are by a given person. Only you can bring your unique sparkle to fandom and your presence is absolutely welcome no matter how big or small, grandiose or inconsequential, important or worthless you think it is.

[whokilledsamara]

I love your Homicipher hc, they are so good! Would you be willing to do some N/ SFW for Mr. Chopped too? Like you did for some of the others? I understand if you don't want to or if it makes you uncomfortable, thank you anyway!

MR. CHOPPED N/SFW HCS

a hc list of Mr. Chopped x reader {an: SORRY GUYS IM POSTING MAINLY HCS RN,,, fics for me take a lot longer than usual so im just posting hcs to atleast get some reach.}

warnings! : smut, cunnilingus/blowjob, idk,,, cuckhold

{an: freaky shit,,,, like hes just a head so its kinda hard to fuck. did give him a section for IF he had a body.. MAINLY HIM GIVING HEAD,, i didnt rly know how to write this im sorry!! def will write more tho,,, im into him ngl}

SFW

what it would be like to be in a relationship with Mr. Chopped.

it would be relatively hard to be in a relationship with him for obvious reasons, though not impossible!

the thought of you makes him happy, and especially when you hold him.

he would have Mr. Silvair help most of the time. usually for the romantic aspects of things though.

while Mr. Silvair doesnt quite understand the relationship, he is glad to help.

being a talking head will obviously raise a few insecurities, so just reassure him that you indeed do love him! he gets his feelings hurt easily.

he absolutely loves when you play with his hair. if you put bows in it or decorate it, that will make it all the more special for him.

the first time he bit you when he was sleeping, had him crying for hours. he felt so bad that he harmed you in any way, and it took a while for him to "recover"

he loves kisses! he always shouts things like "Up, Up" or "Desire, Carry!" just so he can kiss you.

if you manage to get a hold of make up or something, he would absolutely love for you to do his makeup. {he likes to feel pretty}

he is a very sensitive boy, also a crybaby. how cuuuttteee...

if Mr. Silvair gives him a body, {ignore that one ending... we dont talk about it} then he wpuld be even more excited to see you.

the moment he gets a body would mean so many hugs and affection as a thank you for saving him.

he gets picked on a lot by the others so he usually tries his best to come to you.

NSFW

sex...?

sex is definitely a hard concept with him.

while yes, it is possible, just not in the way intended.

you could see him more as a pure object for your pleasure honestly, and he wants that.

whether you are amab or afab, he is perfect for the situation.

ive seen this referenced by another writer, but he would be like a "rose toy" or a "fleshlight" as people call it.

its a secret pleasure to watch you go at it with someone else. {ex: Mr. Silvair or someone.}

if he is gifted a body though, he definitely will pay you back for saving him in the first place.

personally he would be a soft and sensual lover with his new body, rarely going rough unless specifically asked to.

he is more of a giving top. definitely not dominant but is a top. he cares more about your pleasure than his. though, he does get all giddy when you wish to go down on his or something.

he is open to literally anything you want, he would have very few limitations on what he would do, but everything is open for discussion.

again, definitely either wants to watch you have sex with someone else, OR wants someone else to watch you and him go at it. {he would prefer Silvair.}

he definitely likes when you pull his hair or use him. will be submissive sometimes.

he is the type to cry during sex...

omfmg i love him sm

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[kirain]

Sigh....Galemancers really love to move the goal post when it comes to the grooming accusations huh? You found out Gale was a fully grown MAN when Mystra slept with him so now you have to say, "Well then he was emotionally groomed and the power dynamic is too vast." Mystra is a neutral good goddess because she's Midnight, who was a neutral good human. She hates that her magic has to be used for good and evil. Ao makes her share it evenly but she'd rather not. She would never do anything to hurt Gale. The writers of the game even confirmed she's not a groomer. People like you also downplay the point of Gale's entire story arc, which is he should've listened to Mystra! The whole point of his personal quest is he needs to learn to humble himself and listen to his goddess! He has no one to blame for his downfall but himself.

There's no "post" to move, anon. The game and lore give us all the context we need. Grooming doesn't only apply to children, and people have proven right and left that Mystra is terrible at relationships. She's petty and abusive when she isn't obeyed by her partners, and that's been the case with all of her iterations. Even the narrator describes her as a "jealous goddess" when you visit her shrine. Plus, your information is wrong on many accounts; the most pertinent being that the Mystra of BG3/5E isn't technically Midnight. Cyric and Shar killed her, reducing her to her godly essence (lore-wise that means she died). The current Mystra is an amalgamation of the vestiges of Mystryl, Mystra, and Midnight, as told in the novel Elminster Enraged.

Now, this is about to get complicated, as it always does with Mystra, so from here on out I'll be referring to Mystra #1 as Mystryl, Mystra #2 as Mystra #2, Mystra #3 as Midnight, and Mystra #4 as 5E Mystra. Alright, let's get started.

Elminster had to reform the fallen goddess by giving her fragments of all three iterations of Mystra. Since all three iterations are combined, our current 5E Mystra embodies the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. There's even a conversation with The Simbul (one of the Seven Sisters and a Chosen of Mystra) where the newly reformed 5E Mystra speaks of Elminster as her "longest lover". This puzzles The Simbul because that was something of the old Mystra (Mystra #2), not Midnight. The new 5E Mystra replies that she has become a combination of the memories of Mystryl, Mystra #2, and Midnight. This is all in chapter 25-30 of Elminster Enraged. I know it's confusing, but in short: 5E Mystra is not Midnight anymore, and the leading mind is clearly that of Mystra #2, hence her extremely poor judgement—a recurring theme with her character.

Mystryl and Mystra #2 were originally lawful neutral. The alignment changed to neutral good when Midnight took up the mantle, because Midnight herself was a neutral good person. But now it seems 5E Mystra is true neutral, because you are right, anon; Ao won't allow her to do whatever she wants. Midnight tried and was forbidden. 5E Mystra absolutely does not have the same level of humanity or kindness as Midnight, and that may be because Mystryl had no human consciousness and Mystra #2 was a mess.

Regardless of her alignment, she must embody her domain by Ao's decree, which means she needs to spread magic across all Realmspace. Since she has to maintain the balance, she approaches good, neutral, and evil mages with potential opportunities. This isn't a criticism (that's just how godhood works), but rather proof that Mystra is absolutely capable of good and bad. I don't want to hear any more of this "she's a precious little bean and Gale's victim" nonsense. Even if she wants to be, she's not. As Kikitakite said in their post, she's done some fucked up things.

Whether or not the writers intended to make Mystra a groomer, that's exactly what they did. Sometimes writers don't realise they've written an abusive character until they're criticised. Take writer of The Notebook, Nicholas Sparks, for example. He didn't realise he'd written Noah to be an abusive piece of shit until Ryan Gosling pointed it out himself. Gosling has gone on record many times to say he hates Noah, and experts have labeled him an unrealistic and emotionally abusive/manipulative character. The same can be said for Stephenie Meyer, who wrote some of the most celebrated toxic relationships in recent media—with a dash of borderline pedophilia on the side. Therapists have weighed in extensively to tell people that Bella and Edward's relationship isn't healthy and shouldn't be emulated in real life. Indeed, perhaps the best thing to come out of the entire franchise is Robert Pattinson's hatred of Edward and the series as a whole. Jacob's actor, Taylor Lautner, even argued with Meyer's on set because of how weird the "imprinting" segment was and he didn't want to come off as predatory. Meyer argued it was "romantic". 😕

Even if you don't agree Gale was groomed, Mystra is flagrantly responsible for his insecurities and she never should've put her hands on him. The power dynamic is too vast, and even god Gale (conceited as he is) realises it by the end. He only stays in a relationship with Tav if they allow him to ascend them alongside him as his equal. He recognises that anything else would be unhealthy and unacceptable. Also, I researched high and low regarding your claim, but none of the devs have dispelled the idea that Mystra is a groomer. In fact, the most I could find was one dev simply saying, "To Gale it was love, but he didn't know any better." If anything, that only confirms he was confused and didn't know what to do. Their "relationship" was a stunningly horrible idea from the start and that's not on Gale, it's on the literal cosmic being who initiated it.

Moreover, Gale was very likely 17 when Mystra revealed herself to him. This perfectly fits into the 5E Forgotten Realms timeline. If so, no, he absolutely wasn't a grown man. He was a teenager. Mystra may not have slept with him until he was in his 20's, but that still makes it a disgusting teacher-turned-lover situation. Gale even tells us he was "young" when she took him into her fold, and he was only eight years old when Elminster started their lessons. Remember, Elminster is Mystra's biggest apologist. He would've taught Gale to revere her, which means there was almost never a point in his life when Mystra wasn't the main focus. You can tell by the way he speaks about her in Act 1. He's in awe, he's excited, he's proud she chose him. That does something to a child. Something irreversible. If anything, Elminster is complicit in what happened. I've said this before, but he couldn't even be bothered to visit Gale himself. He sent a simulacrum.

As for your accusation that I'm "downplaying" Gale's story arc—you're damn right I am, because the writers made me! Most D&D players I know aren't very happy with how Mystra is portrayed in the game, and that's probably because even they know she isn't presented in a very flattering light. If you really think about it, it's obvious what the writers were going for, but they failed. For example, you said Gale should've listened to Mystra, right? Well, in Act 1 he admits his ambition was his undoing, blames himself for his downfall, and by Act 2 he's literally ready to off himself for her. In fact, he's the only one who sees her ultimatum as justified. Every other companion says she's being cruel and unreasonable. If Gale actually blows himself up at the end of Act 2, the results are catastrophic. The brain is destroyed, yes, but the tadpoles, free of the Absolute's control, complete their transformation and infect/enslave the entire Sword Coast. Anon. She. Is. Stupid. Even the Narrator is like, "You wanna ... you wanna try that again?"

The entirety of Act 2 is Gale learning he shouldn't listen to Mystra. And then she has the audacity to lecture him in Act 3? If he'd listened, it would've been the end of everything. Maybe if Mystra was as infallible as she pretends to be, she would've put her three brains together and came up with a better, less vindictive plan. Because make no mistake, she wanted Gale to blow up in Act 2, which is ridiculous. I know this is an uncomfortable topic for some people, but gods aren't perfect, especially in fiction. They're flawed. They're selfish. Some of them are straight up assholes. The real irony of Gale's arc isn't that he has no one to blame but himself, it's that Mystra should blame herself. At no point does she even consider if she's being unreasonable or unfair. There's no self reflection whatsoever. And the writers expect me to think Gale's full of himself? I wonder where he got it.

Probably from his teacher. ✋🎤

[imaginespazzi]

Our Merry Eternity

And she swears that every Christmas season, it feels like they fall deeper and deeper in love with each other.

(In which a writer would like to argue that a day after Christmas, is a perfectly reasonable time to release a Christmas fic)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, fluff, fluff with some hurt/comfort and angst if you squint

Words: 9.4K (if I could write things shorter maybe y'all would get things faster but alas)

TW: Implied sexual content/suggestive content, mentions of divorce, mentions of injuries, swearing

A/N: MERRY (one day after) CHRISTMAS MY LOVIES <3 It seems like everyone wanted domestic fluff and who am I to deny the people what they want (even if it is a little later than I intended it to be) and I didn't realize how much I missed eternity-verse till I wrote this. I'mma keep this short and sweet and go through the basics. Such as the fact that I did not edit. I eventually will but for now, feel free to let me know about any grammar/spelling/formatting issues. And even though I haven't had the time to go through my inbox in a hot second, I promise I will soon so as always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see in the future. Have a lovely rest of your holidays my angels <3

It’s beginning (to look a lot like Christmas) 

Paige isn’t the biggest fan of Christmas; she doesn’t dislike it by any means but she’s never understood the fascination everyone else seems to have with it. Perhaps it’s because when she was younger, Christmas had been her parents’ favorite holiday to try and one-up each other. They’d competed in everything, from how big the tree was to how evenly spread the icing on the cookies were. Eventually the excitement of getting a big expensive present from one parent that would only be rivaled by an even bigger, more expensive present from the other wore off and all that was left was this hollow feeling of being torn in two. Her parents have matured now -no longer in a constant battle for her approval now that they had other kids to focus on as well- but the magic of Christmas had long worn off and Paige hadn’t bothered trying to rediscover it. 

Until now. 

Because right now, watching -through a facetime call that’s been running for almost four hours now- Azzi run around Walmart, searching for decorations and presents with her exasperated family in tow, almost feels a little magical. The way the younger girl’s eyes twinkle when she finds the perfect gift, the way her dimples deepen when she triumphantly wins an argument against her mother for an ornament her tree needs, makes Paige think that it would be so easy to fall in love with Christmas, if she got to spend it with Azzi. 

And it’s like Azzi’s reading her mind because suddenly the younger girl’s face is filling all of Paige’s screen as she holds the phone close to her face, lips pouting in a way that has the blonde feelings decidedly unfriendly feelings toward a girl she’s barely known for six months, but feels like a best friend she’s known all her life. 

“I wish we could spend Christmas together,” Azzi says with a slight whine, “and then you could help me with all of this. They’re absolutely no help-” her last sentence is cut off by her family and Paige laughs as the Fudds break out into a series of indignant protests. 

“Oh so you just want me for manual labor or something huh?” Paige teases, leaning back against her bed and folding her arms across her chest, “and here I thought it’s cause you missed me.”

“I do miss you,” Azzi says matter-of-factly.

“Nah,” Paige shakes her head, “sounds like you just need another person to slave around for you.”

Azzi's mouth falls open at the accusation as the Fudds break into laughter behind her, the sound of it making something impossibly warm bloom in Paige’s chest. 

“I do not make people slave around for me.”

“Yeah you do. You’re the princess. You order us around and we do as we’re told.”

“Here, here-ow!” Jon’s noise of agreement is cut off by his sister elbowing him in the stomach, “do all that work and get rewarded by violence too.”

“I tell you I miss you and this is how you repay me?” Azzi asks, her voice tinged with drama. 

“Nah I still don’t believe you miss me,” it’s a lie; Paige is fully aware Azzi misses her -thinks that the younger girl has to feel at least a semblance of the emptiness she feels herself at the distance between them- but she likes making Azzi repeat it; likes the constant confirmation that Azzi misses her too. 

“Of course I miss you P, after all,” Azzi’s eyes glint with mischief, “we’re engaged aren’t we? A girl’s gotta miss her fiancé.”

The cavalier use of the tone of endearment makes Paige freeze. It’s a joke; a callback to the fact that Paige had practically threatened Azzi that she’d have to marry her if the younger girl won their little pop-a-shot competition last summer at the Minnesota State fair. Paige hadn’t been thinking, it had just slipped out but then Azzi had won the game and then there were rings being exchanged and somehow the whole thing had become one big running joke between the two of them. Except, the idea of forever with Azzi doesn’t feel much like a joke to Paige. It feels like a wish, a hope, a want, a need  something she’s not quite ready to admit to herself yet. 

“I miss you too Az,” Paige says softly as they grin at each other through the phone, “can’t wait to see my best friend soon.”

Thirteen days to be exact -they’d planned to spend the last half of winter break together- but it’s not like Paige is crossing the days off of her calendar or anything. 

“Fiancé,” Azzi corrects and Paige’s heart flutters despite her brain trying to remind her that this is just a bit they’re playing at. 

“Right, so fiancé,” the word tastes like sugar cookies and marshmallows on the tip of her tongue, “you get my present yet?”

“You know I have and before you ask,” Azzi gives her a knowing look when Paige excitedly opens her mouth, “no I won’t give you a hint about what it is.”

“But Azziiiiiii-”

“Absolutely not Paige,” Azzi says firmly, “presents are meant to be surprises.”

“Aren’t fiancés meant to tell each other everything?” Paige scrunches her nose. 

“Not this. Christmas presents are a sacred secret,” the younger girl replies gravely. 

“And who made you an expert on all things Christmas presents?”

“Santa did,” Azzi retorts haughtily. 

Paige snorts, “well Santa doesn’t ex-”

“PAIGE MADISON BUECKERS,” Azzi yells and the blonde can tell by the way she winces immediately that the younger girl’s little outburst had gotten her more than a couple of wary looks, “Paige Madison Bueckers,” she hisses again, her voice much quieter this time, “you take that back right now!”

“Az-”

“Take it back!”

“Bro you’re fifteen years old,” Paige argues. 

“Believing has no age,” Azzi hums airily, “now take it back.”

“Nope!”

“Take it back or I’ll end our engagement,” Azzi threatens and Paige blanches at ultimatum. 

“You wouldn’t,” she gasps. 

“Try me.”

Paige is sixteen and she’s only really just started to learn what love is, but she thinks, as she sits on her bed bickering on facetime over the most ridiculous of topics with a girl who makes her feel things she’s never felt before, that maybe love is just something as simple and crazy as pretending admitting Santa is real so she can prevent her fake engagement, that’s almost beginning to feel a little much like a real promise, from being called off.

2. With you (under the mistletoe)

The truth is that neither of them quite remember what started the fight or even really why it had continued after. All they know is that one minute everything had been fine and then the next minute, they were fuming at each other and their plane ride back to the DMV for Christmas had passed in uncharacteristic silence. They'd parted ways at the airport -glumly sauntering over to their waiting families while decidedly avoiding looking over in each other’s directions- with a dreadful mixture of regret, guilt and the feeling of missing each other. But despite the fact that they were both clearly miserable, Paige and Azzi were both too stubborn and too eager to prove which one of them could be more stubborn. This was their first true fight after they’d gotten together earlier this year, and they were both adamant that the other one would apologize first. 

But Azzi can feel the urge to cave in grow stronger and stronger by the minute as she feels Paige’s body against her own as the blonde reaches over the younger girl to grab something from the shelf. The contact is unnecessary and she knows Paige is doing it on purpose, trying to get a reaction and it takes every inch of self-control Azzi has to not shiver as the older girl presses herself against her back, acting like whatever she’s grabbing isn’t right at the front of the shelf. Azzi tries to focus on the cookies she’s icing, tries to keep her hands still as she traces the outline of a star in royal icing, tries to do anything but focus on the way Paige’s warm breath is tickling against the back of her neck. 

It’s two days till Christmas and the Fudd family and friends have gathered to do their annual cookie baking and decorating tradition. And Katie had been clear that no matter what issues Paige and Azzi were having, they wouldn’t interfere with the open invitation that Paige had always had -since she’d moved to the DMV but even before that really- to join them throughout the Christmas festivities. Azzi had pretended to be a little miffed by it but secretly she’d been hoping that her girlfriend -god she still got such a thrill out of being able to call her that- would show up. They’d only really been apart for a day, but since they’d met, Paige and Azzi hadn’t gone often without talking to each other -whether it was in person or through text or on the phone- and so 24 hours had felt a little bit like 24 years and Azzi had spent every second missing the girl who’d long since become a part of her soul. And even though Paige had grunted about only being here for Drew’s sake, Azzi knows -by the way the blonde’s eyes had drunk in the sight of her when she’d let her into the house, by the way her stiff shoulders had relaxed just by being near her again- that Paige had missed her just as much. 

But neither of them are quite ready to admit it yet, and so, as they bustle around the confined space of the Fudd’s kitchen, Paige continues to find ways to light Azzi’s skin on fire and Azzi continues to pretend it isn’t making her burn with want. 

“Noooooooo,” a drawled out whine from the kitchen table has Azzi and Paige jumping away from each other as they both turn to look at Drew. 

Azzi’s eyes widen and Paige bursts into laughter as they take in the scene in front of them. Clearly the little boy had overestimated his strength and the piping bag had burst and now Drew stands by the table, his lips slightly parted in shock, as the red icing -originally intended for the Santa hat cookies- drips down the front of his shirt. Jon and José are doubled down in their chairs, tears practically streaming down their faces as the sound of their laughter echoes through the walls. 

“Oh my god,” Paige manages to get out between her giggles, “what did you do Drewskie.”

“Nothing,” her little brother immediately defends himself, “it literally burst out of nowhere.”

“Sure it did little Hulk, sure it did,” José teases as he swipes his finger over Drew’s ruined shirt and then licks the icing off of it, the casualness of it causing Jon and Paige to burst into another round of laughter while Azzi tries as hard as she can to keep her own giggles contained but a smile slips through the cracks. 

“It’s not funny,” Drew stomps his feet petulantly, “I’m all sticky and icky and gross. Azzi,” he looks at the brunette with imploring eyes, “tell them to stop- OH MY GOD ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME TOO.”

Azzi's eyes widen as she tries to protest, “no of course not. C’mon let’s get you a new-”

But before she can put her plan into action, clearly Drew has a different idea and before Azzi can stop it from happening, the little boy is grabbing another piping bag -this one with green icing- and aiming it straight at Jose. There’s a split second of silence as the green icing arcs through the air, almost in slow motion, before landing with a splat on Jose’s newly bought t-shirt. And then the room bursts into chaos as Drew immediately dives behind Azzi’s legs, Paige and Jon continue to lose their minds laughing and José lets out a loud scream. 

“WHAT THE FU-”

“José language,” both Paige and Azzi reprimand immediately and José glares at them but corrects himself anyways. 

“What the fudge dude,” José scowls at Drew, “this is a brand new shirt.”

For his part, the little boy shrugs, “I thought you liked eating icing off of shirts. I figured I’d make it easier and let you eat it off of your own shirt. 

If it’s possible this somehow makes Jon and Paige laugh harder and instead of focusing his wrath on Drew who’s still nestled behind Azzi’s legs, José turns on the two of them instead. 

“You guys think this is SO funny don’t you,” he says menacingly, grabbing for two more piping bags. 

“José no,” Paige is the first one to recover as she tries to turn away from the mess but it’s too late, and just as she’s trying to bolt out the door, she’s stopped by a glob of pink icing landing with a splat on the back of her plain white shirt. 

“Oh you’re so dead,” Paige whispers angrily as she turns around, grabbing another bag of icing and aiming it directly at José’s face. 

And then there’s no stopping anyone as Azzi watches as all the beautiful icing she’d painstakingly made and dyed into different colors begins to be thrown all over the kitchen, a rainbow painting itself all over the walls and floors. Drew darts out from behind her legs, joining into the mayhem as he starts to pelt Jon with all sorts of colors. 

Seeing them all distracted and knowing it’s only a matter of time before she gets sucked into all of it, Azzi slowly tiptoes backwards, wanting nothing to do with the mess, and she’s just about to turn around and run up the stairs when a low voice echoes behind her. 

“And where do you think you’re going,” because of course Paige had noticed her trying to escape; Paige always noticed when it came to Azzi. 

“Paige,” Azzi warns slowly, trying to move away from the other girl, her eyes fixated on the purple icing in the blonde’s hands, “please.”

Paige smirks as she takes another step towards Azzi, “this is a little unfair isn’t it?”

“Hey I didn’t start any of this,” Azzi puts her hands up in surrender, choosing to back away from the stairs and towards the living room instead, “go fight the people who did.”

Paige shakes her head as she takes another step, “I already got ‘em all. Amateurs,” she says cockily, “they think they can beat me in a food fight.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, “is there anything you’re not arrogant about?”

“Can’t help that I’m good at everything,” Paige shrugs and Azzi’s about to come up with a snarky retort when the blonde’s eyes soften, “except I guess- I guess I’m not too great at apologizing.”

Gone is the air of overconfidence that had surrounded the older girl just a second before and in her place is that soft, vulnerable Paige that Azzi is so desperately in love with and she can’t help but take a step towards the blonde. 

“We should both probably apologize huh,” she says quietly, “think we both said some petty shit we didn’t mean.” 

It’s true; they’d known each other so long and so deeply that they knew exactly how to push each other’s buttons, how to say the exact wrong thing to rile each other up when they were frustrated. The fight had been inevitable; an explosion of all the angst that existed between two athletes who were both fighting injuries and watching their team struggle without them. It had started with something little that Azzi can’t quite remember but then they were yelling about other things -Paige’s grievances about how Azzi had an irritating habit of hovering and Azzi’s issues with Paige’s tendency to close herself off- and it had ended with both of them near tears as they’d frustratedly stomped into their rooms. 

“I’m sorry,” Paige says it first, as she loops her arm around Azzi’s waist, bringing the younger girl as close to her as she can, “I love you. I miss you.”

Azzi smiles, her hands finding their rightful place around Paige’s neck, not caring that the other girl is still covered in sticky icing,  “don’t gotta miss me baby. I’m right here,” she says softly, resting her forehead against the blonde’s, “I’m sorry too. I love you so much.”

“Look up,” Paige says softly, as she strokes Azzi’s cheek and the younger girl does as she’s told, laughing when she notices the mistletoe hanging above them. 

“Kissing under the mistletoe? You’re so cliché Bueckers.”

“Clichés are clichés for a reason Az,” Paige hums faintly before she’s pulling Azzi into a searing kiss, holding her as tightly as she physically can. 

And yet Azzi still finds a way to tug her closer, trying to find a way to meld their bodies into one as she presses herself as close to Paige as possible. She’s just about to suggest they take this upstairs -because god has she missed being with Paige- when instead she feels the older girl pull away and before she can even react, she’s being hit in the face with a stream of bright purple icing. 

“PAIGE WHAT THE FUCK,”

“Sorry baby. Just couldn’t help myself,” Paige grins as she steps back into Azzi’s space, gently attaching her lips to Azzi’s cheeks as her tongue languidly licks away at the icing and this time the younger girl doesn’t even try to hide the way her body reacts to it, “I promise I’ll clean you up though.”

3. I’ll be home (for Christmas)

“I’m good I swear,” Azzi’s voice is raw and hoarse like it often gets when she’s been crying and despite the younger girl’s best efforts to put on a brave front, Paige can hear right through it. 

She cocks an eyebrow, shifting from her back onto her elbows and placing her phone -with the facetime call- against the headboard, “then why won’t you let me see your face?”

“It’s not me. Something’s up with my camera. I don’t know what,” and if it was anyone else, even someone else who also knew that Azzi had literally just gotten a new phone, maybe the attempted sincerity in the brunette’s voice would be enough to convince them that she was telling the truth. 

But Paige has every line of the Azzi Fudd façade memorized, knows exactly how to discern the little cadences in her girlfriend’s voice and read between the lines. She knows Azzi’s purposely refusing to show her face; knows that it’s probably because it would take Paige one glance at said beautiful, gorgeous, stunning face to know that there had been tears running down it just a little bit ago. 

The blonde sighs, choosing to let the lie go and instead focus on the precious few minutes she’s got to speak to her girlfriend in peace. This is the first time Paige and Azzi have truly been apart for an extended amount of time since the latter had gotten to UConn and somehow the past few weeks have felt worse than when they’d spent months and months apart. With Paige trying to lead an injury-riddled team and Azzi rehabbing another torn ACL, the opportunities to indulge in a proper facetimes call had been few and far between. And when they did finally find the team, it wasn’t just that they were physically tired; they were both emotionally drained too. It was hard recharging when their batteries -each other- were so far away and every call felt hollow; like something was missing. 

“I miss you,” Paige says finally, feet digging into her bed as she musters up a soft smile, wishing that she could see Azzi return it with one of her own instead of staring at a black screen with only her own face in the corner. 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” the younger girl says lightly and something uncomfortable churns in Paige’s stomach. 

“You uh- you haven’t said it back in a while,” she says slowly, trying to keep her voice casual. 

“Said what?”

Paige gulps, “that you miss me,” she gives Azzi a second to respond before her nerves have her speaking a mile per minute, “I mean not that you- not that you have to say it back or anything it’s just- you usually do- or like you always did and you just- you just haven’t said it back. And I mean I don’t say I miss you just so you’ll say it back or anything. I mean I do- you know- miss you and so that why I say it- because- because I miss you- I miss you so fucking much baby and I just- I just want you to know that but you haven’t- you haven’t said it back in a little bit and I just- Azzi,” her voice cracks as she tries not to let the tears slip through, “you do miss me don’t you?”

The other girl is quiet for so long that Paige thinks maybe she’s said too much; her mind rushes to the worst possibilities because what if Azzi really doesn’t miss her? What if her insecurities are right and the time apart has made Azzi realize that she wants something other than Paige?

“Of course I miss you Paige,” Azzi’s voice is thick with tears and all of Paige’s previous fears are replaced with worry instead, “god baby I miss you so fucking much. I miss you all the time and I’m sorry, fuck Paige, I’m sorry if I ever made you think I didn’t but baby- I-,” she’s heaving through her tears and Paige wishes she was with her; wishes she could wipe away her tears and hold her forever. 

“Azzi-”

“I haven’t been saying it back because- because-” Azzi pushes on, still struggling to speak but determined to say her piece, “I can’t okay? I can’t keep saying it Paige- I can’t keep telling you I miss you and hearing that you miss me when we can’t do anything about it. And I get it- okay- I get it. I get that you have to be with the team and I have to be here and do my rehab and we can’t- we can’t be together right but fuck- I hate it. I hate it so much.”

“Azzi,” Paige says again helplessly. 

She hates it too; hates that it’s so close to Christmas, so close to Azzi’s favorite holiday and her girlfriend is sobbing. 

“Shit. I’m being a terrible girlfriend aren’t I? You have a game in a couple of hours and here I am being a fucking selfish wet wipe instead of wishing you luck. Fucking hell,” Azzi curses and Paige can picture her frantically pulling herself together as she tries to change her tone. 

“You could never be a terrible girlfriend,” Paige reassures softly. 

Azzi ignores her, “besides, we’ll see each other soon right? You’re gonna fly home from Toronto to Connecticut tomorrow and then come home to me after right? Just a couple more days,” and it sounds like she’s saying it more to herself than Paige, “just a few more days- few more hours really. We can do this.”

“Yeah,” Paige agrees but she can’t help but feel like even that’s too long and there’s a plan starting to form in her mind; a good use of all that NIL money she’s been earning. 

“I love you P,” Azzi says softly, and despite the heaviness from before, Paige can hear the smile in her voice, “see you soon baby.”

“I love you too Az. I’ll be home soon,” Paige replies, a large grin settling onto her face as she gets ready to bring her idea to fruition; knowing that for now, their soons don’t quite mean the same thing. 

***

Azzi thinks her parents and brother must have the patience of a saint. She’s acutely aware that she’s been a miserable grinch to be around; either ignoring them or answering them with tight one-word sentences. Since she’d come down to Virginia for her rehab, she’s kept herself holed down in her room, only coming out when absolutely necessary. The worst part of it, is that it’s her favorite time of the year and Azzi’s barely participated in all the little Christmas traditions -half of which had really been created by her- that she’d normally be excited to indulge in. 

She sighs, burrowing herself further into her pillows to block out the chatter of her family upstairs. In a couple of minutes, she’s sure one of them will come rushing downstairs, pleading for her to come join them as they make Christmas themed pancakes. And she’ll refuse -just as she has with every other fun little activity- and all though whoever’s been tasked with getting her out of her cave will persist a little longer, eventually they’ll give up, that awful look, tinged in both disappointment and pity, on their face as they go back upstairs with a promise to bring her a plate in a little bit. It’s a terrible routine that’s been on rinse and repeat and Azzi thinks she’d really like to break herself out of it, but it feels like she’s drowning in it instead, and there’s not a lifeboat in sight to pull her out of her misery. 

Turning on her side, Azzi reaches for her phone, flipping to Paige’s contact and her heart aches from their last conversation last night. God she’d been so selfish, venting like that knowing her girlfriend had a game in a couple of hours; knowing how stressful each game -no matter how easy the opponent- was with an injury-riddled team. But Paige had sounded so miserable when asking if Azzi still missed her that in a way it had been infectious and suddenly Azzi found herself letting her own hurt waterfall out of her lips. 

She scrunches her nose, eyebrows crinkling in confusion when she realizes that the last text she’d sent Paige before going to sleep  -a simple you did really good today baby, i’m proud of you right after the game- had gone unanswered. Azzi frowns, looking down at her phone as if her staring harder at it might just conjure up a message from her girlfriend. She’d fallen asleep almost right after sending it and it was unlike Paige to not have answered her by the time she woke up. Azzi rattles her brain, trying to remember if the blonde had mentioned any other plans -beyond a dinner with Aaliyah’s parents that wouldn’t have kept her from her phone- but she can’t remember anything. Briefly glancing at the time and knowing that Paige’s flight to Connectcut wasn’t supposed to leave for at least another three hours, Azzi hastily texts her girlfriend again, crossing her fingers behind her back in anticipation of a quick reply. 

Good morning Paigey <3 

She gives it exactly three minutes, stomach churning when she doesn’t get a reply. 

I miss you baby. 

Another four minutes and still no reply and Azzi starts to feel her head getting heavy with that familiar weight of over thinking. What if she’d overstepped last night? What if it was too much? What if Paige had decided that she couldn’t deal with Azzi and her crap anymore?

She can hear someone starting to hurry down the steps, the quickness making her think it’s probably one of her brother’s who’s been tasked with getting her out of her room this time. But Azzi keeps her focus on her phone, ready to reject whatever offer is about to be made. The door creaks open and she doesn’t look up, typing another message instead. 

I love you Paige. 

“I love you too Azzi.”

Azzi freezes at the sound of the oh so familiar voice, her gaze moving from her phone to the doorway in slow-motion. She blinks in disbelief, mouth falling open as she stares at the figure in her doorway, taking in the sight of a disheveled blonde ponytail, the custom UConn sweats draped on a body that’s radiating exhaustion but more than anything her eyes fixates on that smile, the one that’s always been just for her. 

“Paige,” she breathes out slowly, almost as if she’s scared that saying it will make the girl in front of her disappear like a dream. 

“Hi baby,” Paige says softly, casually pointing to her phone, “I got your message.”

“You’re here,” Azzi chokes out and then, louder, “you’re here oh my god, you’re really here,” she repeats, rushing to get out of bed, desperate to wrap her arms around Paige, to hold her and be held in return. 

“Hey, hey, hey wait baby careful,” Paige chides, her focus immediately on Azzi’s knee, “stay where you are-”

“What? Why?” Azzi pouts and that elicits a little laugh from Paige as she walks over to the brunette. 

“Because,” the older girl says quietly, as she crawls onto the bed and pulls Azzi onto her lap so the younger girl is straddling Paige’s hips, “I’m here.”

Azzi looks at her in awe, hand tracing the curves of Paige’s face like she still can’t quite believe this is real, “yeah,” she whispers, “you’re here.”

And then she’s kissing every inch of Paige’s skin that she can, memorizing the way it feels soft and smooth under her lips, trying to make up for all the lost time of the past few weeks and perhaps even for when she knows they’ll inevitably have to be separated again. Paige’s grip on her waist is tight, fingers gripping her like they’re scared to let go as she shivers under Azzi’s featherlight touch. 

“I’m here,” Paige repeats again before she guides Azzi’s lips onto her own into a feverish kiss that has both of them letting out a long-kept sigh of relief. 

It starts off innocent enough, the two of them savoring the moment, savoring the feeling of finally being in each other’s arms. But then Paige’s tongue is licking into Azzi’s mouth and the younger girl is grinding her hips in the way she knows will drive the blonde a little insane as Paige’s own hands find themselves roaming underneath Azzi’s pajama shirt, rubbing circles dangerously close to the edge of her sleep shorts. 

“Missed you- missed you so fucking much,” Azzi babbles as Paige’s mouth moves away from her lips to trail a series of kisses down her jaw, to her neck before nipping at her collarbone. 

“Me too- me fucking too,” Paige mutters between kisses as she soothes her tongue over the mark she’d just tattooed into Azzi’s skin with her teeth, eyes glazing over when it elicits a barely-concealed moan from the brunette’s lips. 

“Missed this,” Azzi groans, continuing to roll her body against Paige’s, and she thinks she could fall off the edge just like this, untouched and fully clothed. 

“I know, baby. I know,” Paige pants as she continues her assault on the young girl’s skin, “gonna take care of you. I swear. Gonna make up for everything tonight-”

“No now,” Azzi whines, hands tangling in Paige’s hair and pulling in a way that has the older girl groaning into the crook of her neck, “I need you now. I’ll be quiet, I swear. Paige please.”

“Fuck baby don’t say that. You know I can’t say no to you.”

“Then don’t say no to me,” Azzi responds with a smirk, one hand trailing down to gently flick against Paige’s nipples causing the blonde to let out a conflicted noise somewhere between pure arousal and reluctant protest. 

“I can’t,” she says finally, resting her head against Azzi’s shoulder as she purposefully grips the younger girl’s waist to keep her still. 

Azzi pouts, “why not?”

When Paige finally looks up at her, there’s a sheepish look on her face, “I made a bet with your brothers.”

“What?” 

“They said they hadn’t been able to get you out of your room and I said I could do it in ten minutes and they said it would take me a lot longer,” Paige says, hands moving animatedly and Azzi can’t help the fond smile that flitters onto her face. 

“So let me get this straight,” she says slowly, “we haven’t seen each other in weeks, haven’t fucked,” she purposefully grinds her hips down onto the other girl, “in weeks and you wanna delay it longer because you wanna win a bet against my brothers?”

Paige has the decency to look at least a little ashamed as she nods before giving Azzi a goofy grin, “yes? I love you?”

Azzi rolls her eyes as she slips off of Paige’s lap, already missing the warmth of being on top of the other girl, “can’t believe you’d rather win a bet than fuck me.”

“Nah,” Paige smirks as she stands up, her hands immediately inching themselves around Azzi’s waist, “I’d rather win a bet, use that money to get us a hotel tonight and then fuck you.”

“You’ve really thought this through haven’t you?” Azzi shakes her head, trying to hide her excitement at the idea of being in a hotel room -being alone, just the two of them- with Paige tonight. 

“Ten steps ahead always baby,” Paige grins as she presses her lips against Azzi’s, ending it quicker than either of them would like, “now hurry up so I can win this bet.”

But Azzi doesn’t move, instead she pulls Paige back into her, resting their foreheads together as she breathes in the scent of her girlfriend. 

“I’m really glad you’re home P,” she whispers and Paige smiles, gently rubbing her back, “didn’t feel like Christmas season without you.”

4. You’re all I need (underneath the tree) 

Azzi’s just putting on the finishing touches to her outfit -dangly gold hoops that Paige had gotten her just because- when she feels a pair of arms wrap around her middle, a warm body being pressed against her chest. She smiles, letting herself melt into her wife’s -God she loves being able to say that- touch, leaning her head back against Paige’s shoulder. 

“You look so pretty in that dress,” the older woman whispers into her ear as she runs her hands up and down the velvety red material covering Azzi’s body, “but you sure we have to go to your parents’ right now? Cause I think you’d look even better out of it.”

Azzi giggles; they’ve been together for almost nine years -known each other for even longer-  and yet every time Paige gives her a compliment, she feels her insides swooning, cheeks going red like she’s still a teenager whose crush is flirting with her. And she thinks this feeling will never go away, that the halo-like glow Paige’s mere presence casts around her will never fade because this love -this all-consuming sense of you’re it for me between them- is going to last forever. She’s sure of it. 

“Do you ever think of anything but sex?” Azzi rolls her eyes as she turns around in Paige’s arms, fingers immediately reaching up to fix the collar of Paige’s matching red shirt. 

Paige grins, “nah cause I’m always thinking about you and so by default I’m always thinking about sex.”

“You’re insatiable,” Azzi shakes her head. 

“Can you blame me when my wife looks like that?” Paige makes a show of looking up and down Azzi’s body, letting out a low appreciative whistle at the way the dress hugs her figure, the neckline dipping just low enough to stay respectable yet sexy. 

“You look pretty good yourself Bueckers,” Azzi hums as she grazes her teeth lightly against Paige’s neck, making the older woman shudder. 

“Careful Az,” Paige warns, the sultry lilt in her voice saying the exact opposite, “I might start getting the wrong idea.”

Azzi shrugs cheekily, “and what idea would that be?”

Paige smirks, gently tugging at Azzi’s dress to expose a shoulder before she’s attaching her lips to the newly uncovered patch of skin, “that maybe you want us to be late. Or better yet, maybe you don’t want us to go at all.”

Keening under the softness of Paige’s touch, Azzi reluctantly pushes the older woman away, and that might be worse because now she can see her eyes and the lust swimming in them makes her want to give into temptation. But they’re already running late and she has no desire to give their brother’s any teasing material, so she settles on stealing another kiss from Paige’s lips. 

“Go warm up the car,” she mutters against the blonde’s lips, gently squeezing her waist before she detaches from Paige and starts to fix her dress, “I’mma just do a quick double check and then be out.”

“Yes your highness,” Paige teases with a slight roll of her eyes before she’s grabbing both her and Azzi’s packed overnight bags and heading towards the car.  

Azzi smiles as she watches her go. As much as they joked about not going at all, both of them loved spending Christmas with their families, especially considering how the Fudds, Bueckers and everything in between had melded into one big one. Despite the fact that living in the DMV now meant that they saw at least someone in their family once a week, the idea of having everyone under the same roof was still thrilling nonetheless. 

Life had a funny way of working out. The plan had been set in motion since Azzi had been drafted to DC and although Paige had been tempted to stay in Minnesota -after all being the hometown hero picked with the no.1 pick had served her and the. team well for her first four rookie years, considering she’d helped them return to their former championship glory- they had ultimately decided that with most of their family in the DMV area, it made more sense for Paige to ask for a trade to DC than it did for Azzi to move to Minnesota. It hadn’t been the smoothest transition -they’d had their fair share of fights while making the decision and then adjusting to it- but they’d figure it out. They always did. Because as good as Paige and Azzi were at fighting with each other, they were even better at fighting for each other. 

Quickly going through the to-do-list in her brain, Azzi nods to herself as she silently checks off everything. She does a quick glance of her room, making sure that they’re not leaving anything they’d need, before reaching to grab her phone, just to text her parents that they were on their own way. Instead her eyes catch on an email notification, her heart beating erratically when she reads the name of the sender. 

Fingers fidgeting with the heart necklace Paige had gotten her years ago, Azzi slowly clicks on the notification as anticipation burns throughout her whole body. She tries to steady her breathing as she scans through it, reading each line carefully and she almost drops her phone, large hot tears dripping down her cheeks as she reaches the end of it. Her chest feels heavy with an unknown feeling and she knows she needs to get to Paige, but her feet are rooted to their spot. 

“Baby,” she hears her wife call out, followed by the sound of Paige’s footsteps climbing up the stairs, “you ready yet? The car’s already- oh my god baby what’s wrong?”

Azzi looks up from her phone to find Paige standing in the doorway. Concern floods the older woman’s sharp features as she rushes over to her, hands running all over Azzi’s body as she tries to figure out what’s wrong. 

“Az? Baby? What’s going on? What happened,” Paige asks urgently, “baby please you’re scaring me. What’s wrong,” her eyes drop to the phone in Azzi’s hands as her voice gets desperate, “did someone say something? Do I need to go kill somebody? Fuck baby please don’t cry. Tell me what’s wrong? I swear I’ll fix it but you gotta tell me baby. Please.”

Wordlessly, Azzi hands over her phone. Paige’s expression is confused and apprehensive -maybe even a little preemptively angry- as she takes the device from her wife’s hand. Azzi watches as recognition dawn of the blonde’s face when she spots the familiar e-mail address; watches as her wife goes through the same emotions she had reading through the email. When Paige finally looks back at her, her own eyes are brimming with tears. 

“Baby,” she says breathlessly, “this- I- we-,” she chokes back a sob, her voice so quiet in comparison to the loud enigma that is Paige Bueckers-Fudd, “we’re gonna be Moms?”

Azzi nods, tears continuing to spill down her cheeks as she finally manages to open her mouth, “yeah- yeah we are. Paige, we’re gonna have a baby. No two,” she corrects herself, remembering the exact words of the e-mail, “we’re gonna have two babies. Twins.”

And it’s unclear who moves first -it doesn’t really matter- but then they’re in each other’s arms, trying to hold each other as tightly as physically possible as their tears and smiles begin to blend into one. It had been a couple of months since they’d started the adoption process and they’d gone through every stage, slightly scared that something would go wrong. But they’d passed every background and family and personality check rather easily and it was this last part, the wait to hear about a child -well children- that needed them that had been the hardest of it. And now here it was, the last brushstroke that would complete the picture they’d started painting when they were fifteen. Two babies that would complete them. 

“You’re gonna be such a good Mom,” Paige mutters against Azzi’s hair, “god Azzi, baby I can’t wait to see you with our babies -fuck- our babies. Fuck baby I don’t know what you got me but I’m afraid it’s gonna have to be second best Christmas present I’m getting this year. 

Azzi laughs breathlessly, her face still buried in Paige’s neck, “think it’s gonna be the best Christmas present ever,” she slowly lifts her head so she can brush away the tears from under her wife’s eyes, “I love you. I wouldn’t wanna do this with anyone but you.”

Paige presses her lips against Azzi’s forehead, “me too baby. I love you so fucking much. You, me and our babies. It’s all I’m ever gonna want, all I’m ever gonna need.”

5. All I want (for Christmas is you) 

There’s a lot going on in her house right now -the chatter of family and friends mingling with the sounds of Christmas Carols blaring from the speakers, the mixed aroma of a well-cooked meal and freshly baked desserts, the twinkly lights strung all around the house blinking in different colors- but Paige’s entire attention is across the room where both of her two children are hanging off of her wife like baubles on a Christmas tree. Miles is situated on her lap, his head buried in his favorite place, between Azzi’s neck and shoulder. Sienna, always slightly more independent, has one hand wrapped around her mother’s ankle while she sits on the floor, her focus squarely on a princess coloring book. It’s a sight that will never stop making Paige’s heart swell with pride and happiness, her wife with their kids. 

Slowly excusing herself from the conversation she’d been having with a relative, Paige makes her way over to her family -to her whole world- with a soft smile on her face. She sits down next to her wife, placing a kiss to her temple that makes Azzi smile, before pressing one to her son’s forehead over the younger woman’s shoulder, before finally picking her daughter off the floor onto her lap and giving Sienna a kiss on her cheek. 

“Hi family,” she whispers and she thinks that if she could choose to have one picture ingrained in her mind forever, it would be a picture of the three smiles she gets in return. Miles’s is sleepy yet so sincere, Sienna’s is toothy and wide and Azzi’s- we’ll Azzi’s is exactly like it’s been since they were fifteen. It’s her Paige smile, one that is bright and beautiful and magnificent and filled with the promise of i’ll love you forever. 

“Mama look,” Sienna coos, shoving her picture in front of Paige’s face, “I color a p-incess.”

“It’s beautiful Si-Si,” Paige says warmly, “I think it should probably go on the fridge once everybody’s gone home yeah?”

Azzi snorts, her voice dropping so only her wife can hear, “baby, I don’t think there’s any more space left on the fridge considering you’ve been putting up every single thing they’ve ever colored or made.”

“I’ll make space,” Paige says haughtily, “everything they make is fridge-worthy.”

Azzi shakes her head fondly but Paige knows that despite her words, she’ll be right there by her side tonight to help her make space on their rather cluttered fridge so that they could hang Sienna’s new masterpiece somewhere on it. 

“Mi’s close to falling asleep,” Azzi gestures to the little boy in her arms who’s clearly struggling to keep his eyes open, “I think we should probably let them open their Christmas Eve presents now.”

Despite Azzi trying to keep her tone to a whisper, Sienna’s ears perk up at the word “present” and she turns on Paige’s lap to face her Moms with large, hopeful eyes, “it’s pwesent time?”

“Yeah sweetheart. It's present time, but only one okay?” Paige taps Sienna’s nose gently, laughing when the little girl nods diligently and then squeals with excitement, rushing off of her mother’s lap so she can tell anyone within earshot that it’s time to open presents. 

“I was gonna tell you to get everybody but I think she’s got it. She’s got your vocal chords for sure,” Azzi nudges Paige’s shoulder teasingly before coaxing Miles’ head out her neck, “you ready to open a present Mi?”

Miles yawns and Paige can’t help but coo at how cute he looks as he stretches in his mother’s arms. It fascinates her, how despite being twins, Miles and Sienna sometimes feel like they’re years apart. And she knows they're only 3 years old, and she knows that they’ll both change over time but Paige thinks that the difference in their personalities makes them fit together even more beautifully. Sienna had a protective streak, always ready to shield her demure brother and Miles had a knack from calming Sienna down, always ready to comfort his boisterous sister. 

“MI,” Sienna yells as she tugs on her twin brother’s arm, having somehow already gathered their family into the living room, “wake up Mi. Time to open a Ch-istmas Eve pwesent.”

“I coming Si-Si,” Miles says softly as he finally waddles off of Azzi’s lap, tiredly rubbing his eyes as he follows his sister towards the barrage of Christmas presents underneath the tree. Their mothers scooch off of the couch to stand closer to the tree, Paige wrapping her arms around Azzi from behind as she hooks her chin over her wife’s shoulder. 

“Alright Si-Si,” Tim says, his eyes twinkling as he looks down at his granddaughter, “remember, you should always pick the biggest present to open on Christmas Eve!”

Sienna’s eyes widen as she takes in her grandfather’s words before her gaze drifts towards the presents, scouting for the biggest one of them all. Paige drinks in the joy on her daughter’s face when she finally spots a large box that might just be taller than she is. 

“That one!” Sienna says gleefully as she practically climbs over the rest of the gifts to get to her chosen one. 

“Careful sweetheart,” Azzi calls out, her voice laced with hints of worry as she watches her daughter try to pick up the present that’s clearly heavier than she is. 

“Uncle Drew,” Sienna croaks out, turning to Paige’s brother as she realizes just how big the present she’d chosen is, “help me pease!”

Drew laughs, wading through the sea of presents to get to his niece as he sedulously sits down to help her unwrap the gift. Paige tightens her grip around Azzi in anticipation as she watches for her daughter’s reaction. The twins are old enough this year to really understand their gifts and even though Paige is sure she knows them well enough -they’re her babies for fuck’s sake- to have gotten them present they’d love, she’s still a little scared they wouldn’t.

“Relax baby,” Azzi leans her head back to whisper into the blonde’s ear, having noticed the way Paige is fidgeting with the sleeve of the brunette’s sweater, “she’s gonna love it. She’s our daughter. We know her.”

Paige presses a delicate kiss against the back of her wife’s neck, “you always say the right thing.”

“Because I know you,” Azzi says softly, eyes crinkling in the corner as she smiles at Paige.

They’re broken out of their reverie by their daughter screaming in excitement as she finally uncovers her present -a barbie basketball court-, and just like Azzi had predicted she would, she says, “I love it, I love it, I love it. Thank you Mama, thank you Mommy!”

Paige and Azzi laugh, opening their arms in tandem for Sienna to rush into, “we’re glad you like it Si-Si.”

“I love it,” Sienna corrects as she gives each of them a sloppy kiss on the cheek. 

“My turn now?” a meek voice cuts in and everyone's eyes fall onto Miles, who cowers slightly at having everyone’s attention. 

“Yeah it is,” Paige grins at her son, tickling him lightly in the stomach before pushing him towards the presents, “pick whichever one you want to open Mi.”

Miles chews at his bottom lip, cautiously observing the huge pile of presents before turning to his Mothers’ with a way expression and Paige has to hide her grin, knowing exactly what he’s about to ask. 

“Too many,” Miles says, bouncing nervously on his tiny little feet, “you help me pick pease Mama.”

Paige laughs as she gathers the little boy in her arms but not before she’s whispering in Azzi’s ear, “think he might be more indecisive than you baby,” which earns her a slight elbow to the stomach before she nods at her son, “of course I’ll help you pick sweetheart.”

She pretends to make a big show of searching for the right present, observing her son’s facial expression before she sees his eyes light up a little when she grabs a medium-sized blue one. 

“Aha!” Paige yells triumphantly, causing all the adults in the room to snicker at her antiques, “think you should open this one Mi.”

Miles grins as he makes grabby hands towards the present in his mother’s hand. It takes him approximately four and a half seconds to rip off all the wrapping paper and his eyes marvel at the gift in his hands. 

“Teddy,” Miles says in awe as he clutches the cuddly stuffed toy to his chest. 

“Yeah it is baby,” Azzi nods as she kneels down next to the little boy, “here,” she points towards the blue heart on his chest, “how about you squeeze it?”

Miles does as he is told, squeezing the teddy-bear’s heart as tightly as he can and it starts to glow. Paige and Azzi’s voices ring out through the room, singing -slightly off-key- Miles’s favorite lullaby. The little boy’s eyes widen when he realizes the sound isn’t coming from his Mothers', both of whom have their mouths closed, but from the teddy-bear’s heart. 

“Now, whenever you’re scared at night in your big boy bed, you can just squeeze teddy and it’ll be like Mommy and Mama are already there with you,” Azzi says softly as she brushes her hands through her son’s hair, “you like it Mi?”

“I’m gonna call it MoMa,” Miles says in lieu of an answer as he beams up at Paige and Azzi, “like Mommy and Mama but MoMa.”

Paige laughs, her eyes suddenly starting to feel a little wet, as she wraps an arm around Azzi’s waist, watching her children fawn over the presents they’d just opened. There’s plenty more left and she’s excited to watch their reaction to opening the others but the first ones are always just a little more special. And whether it was giving Sienna a basketball court, or giving Miles a version of their voices, through these gifts they’d tried to give their children a part of themselves. 

“Hey,” Azzi snaps Paige out of her trance, her hand reaching down to intertwine with Paige’s as she begins to pull her away from their family, “come with me for a second.”

“Azzi Fudd,” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her chest, smirking as she follows her wife upstairs, “are you sneaking me into our bedroom to have a quickie? While our family and our children are right downstairs?”

Azzi  turns to her with a cheeky grin as they enter their bedroom, tracing a finger down Paige’s arm, “would you object if I was?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not. Let’s do it,” Paige waggles her eyebrows, pulling Azzi into her chest but the younger woman immediately shrugs herself out of it as she goes into their closet instead, “oh okay then, leave me high and dry on fucking Christmas Eve.”

“Shut up,” Azzi chides, still rummaging through drawers before she finally emerges from the mahogany doors with a small silver box, walking back to Paige with a small smile on her face, “I figured you should get to open a present tonight too.”

“Well the present I was hoping to unwrap was you-” her joke is cut off by Azzi laughing. 

“Baby please, you are way too old to be saying that shit.”

“Hey,” Paige says with mock offense, “first of all, I’m not that old and second of all, you’re never too old to be flirting with your wife.”

“First of all, it’s okay that you’re old baby, I like them a little older,” Azzi smirks, “and second of all, you are if the flirting's that corny and third of all,” she gives Paige a pointed look when the other woman open her mouth to counter, “shut up and open your present.”

“Still so bossy aren’t you princess?” Paige shakes her head but she does as she told, delicately removing the lid from the box and gasping when she sees the necklace inside, “baby, it’s beautiful.”

The necklace is similar to the engagement ring she’d gotten for Azzi, not the one from the fair all those years ago, but the real one. It’s a simple enough chain with a heart shaped diamond-encrusted locket, except on either side of the heart, the chain is looped into two infinity symbols. 

“Open it,” Azzi says softly. 

“What?” Paige asks, still staring dazedly at the dainty jewelry in her hands. 

“The heart,” Azzi points to the locket, “it opens.”

Paige does as she’s told, delicately using her nails to pull apart the locket and a fresh set of tears brim in her eyes when she sees what’s inside. On one side of the heart is a picture of Miles and Sienna, the twins grinning at the camera and Paige remembers the exact moment she’d taken it. On the other side, is a picture of Paige and Azzi; specifically a picture of their kiss at their wedding. 

“Baby,” Paige says again, uncannily lost for words. 

“You’re really fucking hard to shop for you know that?” Azzi says slowly, her own eyes glistening with moisture  “like what do you even get someone who basically has everything because you know- like you always say- we’re your everything -all you could ever want is me, Miles and Sienna- and we’re already yours, just like you’re already ours. And so I figured I’d just give you a reminder of it, something you can always keep with you so you always know.” 

“It’s perfect,” Paige breathes out as she holds the locker out towards Azzi, “put it on me?”

Azzi grins as Paige turns around and the blonde watches through the mirror as the chain is placed carefully around her neck and her wife firmly clasps it together before placing a soft kiss to the back of her neck. 

“I love you,” Azzi whispers when Paige turns back around, “for eternity.”

“I love you,” Paige whispers back, pulling her wife flush against her chest, the locket with her world hanging between them, “to eternity and beyond.”

[the-glorious-evolution-fanart]

The text of behind-the-scenes writing has confirmed what I was suspecting was going to happen since watching season 1: the writers absolutely did not understand the Machine Herald.

Let’s skip the terrible implication of their words that disabled people who are missing parts of their body or use prosthetics somehow „lack humanity“; the writers show they were only viewing Viktor through the concept of transformation, no matter what that meant. They were convinced that all Viktor needed to do to become the „Herald“ he’s famous for, was to go through some as gruesome or eerie transformation as possible, stripping himself of emotions in the process.

Let me be clear that this is completely wrong.

Obsessively removing parts of one’s own body in order to upgrade more and more with tech is not a motivation on its own, it is a consequence of some deeper problem. It is a manifestation of something that is hidden in the mental level.

And while at first S1 might have gone the way of a disabled character getting „addicted“ to becoming more and more able-bodied and even transcending abilities of an average human body (which is still kind of an iffy take when framed as strictly negative), the subsequent degradation and complete digression of Viktor’s character arc with the transformation instead being forced on him in Season 2 by Jayce’s misguided attempt to save him, highlights that the writers did indeed hold the aforementioned idea of „eerie transformation“ as the top/core thing that makes Viktor the „Herald“, instead of his motivations for a transformation.

Even season 1’s possible idea was stopped in its tracks because at the end of s1, Viktor is written making a clear choice: hurting others for one’s own benefit is crossing the line, and he resigned to dying. He completed his arc.

This created a problem for season 2, as Viktor was written by s1 as effectively being too moral of a character to do a transformation. Enter the forced/brainwashing effect of magic on Viktor, a band-aid to force the plotline the writers wanted for him. Altering his mind and convincing him that the way to help others is to strip them of all agency and emotions.

No matter how many times the writers say they wanted Viktor to „make a mistake out of a genuine but misguided desire to help“, viewers continuously voice what they see, what the writing actually portrays – a lack of agency of the character. If text is badly written, it fails at conveying what it intended to.

~

Going back to the Machine Herald and what I said about self-augmentation (at least in his case as a fictional character) as just a symptom of a different problem, it’s even explicitly confirmed in Viktor’s accompanying release text:

„People deal with grief in many ways, and Viktor did it by replacing his body parts with robotic limbs.“

I’m honestly shocked that I have to copy-paste these things so often and that professional writers yet again missed the point.

The Machine Herald was a very layered character. The self-augmentation is just the top layer which makes him cool. The deeper levels are what makes him compelling.

He went into self-augmentation using his own technology as a way to propel himself again to the top of his profession, both in terms of cutting-edge achievements and in terms of recognition. He had an impression that nothing short of shocking and utterly bizzare would be able to beat his previous stolen achievement and cement him at the very top of Zaun’s scientific community. This is also supported by how theatrical his behaviour is as the Machine Herald, explains why he has vanity items like a cape and why his hair is still out. He felt betrayed by his own mind for cursing him in naivety, jealousy and depression for who knows how long. He also had issues with self-image, smashing his own face on a framed photo that showed him standing proudly next to Blitzcrank. He tried to distance himself from his previous identity of a vulnerable, very human and very empathetic student who wanted to better society by aiding in the waste reclamation process. Blitzcrank was made for cleaning Zaun – and who is idealist enough in such a self-serving city-state to attempt something like that. This he shares with Ekko, and Ekko is very clearly a hero.

Viktor’s moral ambiguity was not supposed to come from the narrative trying to obfuscate if „removing free will“ is a bad thing – because it is, it will always be an evil thing. This free will point didn’t exist in his release lore, it’s entirely the addition of 2016. Universe bio. I also believe the story gets downgraded and loses its potency if it picks a side and makes Viktor „slide into villainy“ by „completely losing his humanity.“ His ambiguity originally came precisely from how his actions towards his own body make the readers feel. It was entirely up to the readers themselves to decide whether they saw self-augmentation as cool and badass, or as unjustified self-mutilation. It’s a type of interplay between the story and its readers. A character within the story itself, Jayce, made up his mind and held the opinion that it was not a good thing.

Viktor is a „mad scientist“ and although this trope can be very reductive, it also carries some truths. Viktor went mad. His self-augmentation was never going to be justified by sensible, lucid motives, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t have reasons. He was in so much pain and felt trapped, and yet despite that he found a way to build himself back up again piece by piece, and undergo such a tremendous transformation entirely relying on personal ingenuity and resilience. The key difference between his inside perspective and our (and other characters’) outer perspective, is that his reasons and pain are of mental nature which makes them way more hidden to us.

His story can develop in the direction „backwards“, him integrating back into society to an extent while maintaining this dislocated perspective of infinite self-upgrades, infinite scientific achievement – because he’s shown it already! He wants and has a need to interact with others! His acolytes, him trying to ally with other researchers, the need for recognition. Another thing awaiting the Machine Herald is reality’s cold shower that one genius still can’t solve systemic problems, and the question what he will do once his technology inevitably gets abused, but this time finally carrying his name.

And I believe all these layers are infinitely more interesting than an unfortunate story of a man who gets turned into a manipulated creature of limitless magical power who doesn’t even have control over his own decisions.

[mythicmanuscripts]

PLEASE more aemond PLS i am on my knees begging for scraps. ur one of the only writers who actually GETS him

Thank you so much!! One of the main reasons why I started this blog is because I couldn’t find much content of Aemond and how I picture him so this means a lot!! I have a few little ideas that aren’t really long enough for full imagines that I’m just gonna babble on about here for more sub!Aemond content :)) also, you guys are more than welcome to send more requests and to send more specific requests!! Anyway, here’s some random disjointed sub!Aemond babble

I didn’t intend for this to all be SFW thoughts it kinda just happened?? Honestly I have no idea how but yeah this is all SFW, I am happy to write more NSFW though! So if you have any ideas for NSFW sub!aemond then let me know :))

————————————

The first time you ever give Aemond anything resembling an order is at your first dinner after your wedding. Aemond is stiff and formal, barely entertaining conversation, you get the impression that he wishes he were anywhere else.

There’s a pitcher of wine next to Aemond, and you ask to have more wine. You say this out loud, and as expected a servant immediately takes the wine pitcher and fills your glass. You thank them, but then to your surprise when you look back at Aemond he looks angry, and maybe even tells the servant to get lost?

So now obviously you’re beyond confused and you ask him what’s wrong. Which leads him to blush. BLUSH?? And he softly mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like “you asked me to do it and they did”

You press him and eventually realise that for whatever reason, Aemond thought you were asking him to refill your glass and he’s upset that a servant did it before he could. Which… you’ve never been so confused in your life because you what?? He’s barely even speaking to you and then he’s upset he couldn’t fill your glass?? He’s upset he couldn’t do that has always been the servants job?

So without thinking you get up, put your now full wine glass on the cabinet and grab an empty one. You sit back down and ask Aemond to fill your wine glass. You expect him to roll his eyes but he immediately takes the wine pitcher and fills your glass and then gets up and carries the glass to your side of the table, putting it down for you.

You thank him, and to your shock he… smiles?? So then you decide to lay it on thick and say “thank you very much Aemond, I appreciate it” and then he just… actually starts a proper conversation with you and seems very pleased with himself??

So after that you start experimenting, asking Aemond to do things for you, thanking him when he does and praising him and well, he now follows you around everywhere you go and will fire any servants who dare to try and do whatever you’ve asked him to do.

————————————————

When Allicent first met you, she was beyond relieved because she very quickly realised how much influence you have over Aemond. She thinks that she’s finally found a way she can control Aemond and ensure he behaves and does what she wants.

Unfortunately she very quickly realises how wrong she was when she tries to form some sort of pact with you and you shoot her down immediately. You tell her that you have absolutely no interest in being a tool for her to use to control Aemond.

And well, now allicent is in even worse a position because before Aemond would at least mostly listen to her and now? Now Aemond doesn’t even look at her, nevermind speak or listen to her.

Aemond gets all the love and affection and guidance he could ever need from you. Allicent could be on fire next to him and he wouldn’t even notice.

————————————

The first time you suggest kneeling for Aemond, he’s mildly offended. He thought you understood how much he needed to be cared for and loved and never degraded and now you want him to kneel for you?

But, Aemond trusts you and he knows you always know what’s best for him so he agrees to try it once. You put a pillow down on the floor in front of a chair by the fire in his chambers. You sit down on the chair with a book, and have Aemond kneel on the pillow. You let him rest his head on his inner thigh.

Within 2 minutes Aemond is obsessed. He just…. He feels so safe?? You’ve got your hand in his hair, the fire is providing warmth, and it’s just the two of you. Very quickly he closes his eyes and just lets himself drift, the sounds of the fire and of you turning pages lulls him into this calm, almost half asleep state.

So obviously from there kneeling for you becomes common place. And maybe he even starts to tell you things while he kneels? It’s like once he’s there, his head on your thigh, all nice and safe, he’s able to just vent and complain and tell you everything that’s been on his mind.

As much as Aemond loves hearing your counsel and always asks what you think of things, you don’t give him any advice while he kneels for you. That’s not the time, he only wants to be allowed to vent and feel safe when he kneels.

And then maybe you also start reading to him? And god Aemond is just in heaven, not a single one thought in his head. He vents to you, gets all his frustrations out and then gets to just close his eyes and listen to your voice until he’s about to fall asleep right there. Then you help him up and crawl into bed with him, he’s asleep before you can even blow out the candles.

———————————

[madlori]

"Tommy's good people. He's good for you."

One of the things that tipped me over into thinking that the writers possibly intended Tommy to be a long-term or even permanent relationship for Buck was the scene he shares with Bobby in "Ashes, Ashes."

Bobby is making secret farewells to the 118 as he contemplates quitting his job (and, it might be inferred, quitting his life). He gives Eddie a prayer book. He gives Ravi job encouragement. He gives Hen a pep talk about her family-building, he shares a moment with Ravi, one with Chim, he hands over the cooking reins to Buck. "My work here is done," he says.

And then, to cap off the montage, he shares a one on one moment with Buck, his honorary son, in which he tells Buck that he likes Tommy (who, let's not forget, he knew before he knew Buck), and that he thinks their relationship is good. That's like the Good Housekeeping seal of approval for the relationship. It's Buck hearing from his closest father figure, the man he looks up to, admires, and loves, that he approves of Buck's choice of partner.

Bobby is not just blessing this pairing for Buck - he's doing it for the audience as well. Bobby is the Voice of Benevolent Authority of this show, and to hear him say that Buck and Tommy are good together? It made me think they were really going all the way with this, or at least that's the intention now, and when that scene was written.

This interpretation is, of course, belitted and dismissed by fans who hate the pairing. The grossest response to it I've seen boils down to "well, we shouldn't believe the words of a man who's actively suicidal."

Um...what?

Okay, setting aside the question of whether or not Bobby is actively suicidal (you can argue the point, although he verbally denies being so), let's say he is, just for the sake of argument.

Your position then is that suicidal people, in what they're treating as "final words of wisdom and love" for the people in their lives, are going to then lie to those people? Suicidal people often do lie to their loved ones, but what they lie about is their own mental health. They don't lie when they're saying last goodbyes, or giving final gifts.

But nothing's for certain, so let's say that he is lying to Buck. Did Bobby lie to the other people he had "last conversations" with? Did he lie to Hen about her adoption hopes? Was he lying to Eddie when he gave him the prayer book? Or to Buck about his cooking? Or, for that matter, was he lying to Buck earlier in that same conversation about how far he's come? Clearly not. So now your position becomes that "Bobby didn't lie to anyone else, or to Buck, but then decided to lie to him about this one specific thing that's pretty important, for no reason."

Yeah, I don't think so.

But let's take it a step further. Let's say that you believe, for reasons that defy all logic, that Bobby chose to lie to Buck about approving of his relationship, which would have been an extremely easy lie to avoid (if he actually didn't approve he could have just not brought it up, which he intentionally did).

Great. You believe that. You have that right.

Is that what the writers intended for that scene? Because if you're in the "predicting what's going to happen with BuckTommy" game, then that's what matters. Not what you think, or like, or believe - but what do the writers intend?

So let's examine the scenarios.

In scenario A, the writers say to each other, "Okay, let's have Bobby tell Buck he approves of him and Tommy. But he doesn't really mean that. He's lying about it, even though he's been very sincere in this entire sequence of scenes, because he's suicidal and that somehow makes him a liar just for this one thing, and to want to make Buck feel good about his relationship even though Bobby hates it and hates Tommy. Oh, and the audience will absolutely be able to tell that this is our intention and they won't believe Bobby at all and will definitely know that this relationship is doomed."

In Scenario B, the writers say to each other, "Let's have Bobby tell Buck how far he's come, they can share a moment about their time together, and then Bobby will tell Buck that he likes Tommy and their relationship. The audience will hear this and know that Bobby approves of them, and feel good about the relationship too."

If Scenario A sounds a little convoluted and bananas to you, well...you and me both.

We're not meant to read anything into Bobby's words other than their literal meaning. He's sharing a moment with a man he cares about, telling him things that he wants him to hear. One of those things is that he's happy about Buck's current relationship, and likes the man he's seeing.

Or, you know, bucktommy bones.

<surejan.gif>

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

A Winter Getaway (and Proposal) With You ❄️💍 (BF!Nanami x Black!GF!Reader 18+ One Shot)

🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black!Fem!Reader (Dating to Married Couple)

Synopsis: Nanami sweeps you away to his winter cabin for the cold season as he works up the nerve to propose to you. Based on “Wrap Me Up” by Jhene Aiko.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+; Established Relationship; Dating to Engaged; Proposal; Fluffy, Sweet Vanilla Sex; Disfigured!Nanami; Scar Appreciation; Oral (Giving & Receiving); Multiple Positions; Multiple Reader Orgasms; 69ing; Slow to Feral F*cking; Sex By The Fireplace; Reverse Cowgirl; Cum Play; Mild Foot Fetish; Choking; Massaging; Creampie; Breeding; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Something sweet for the holiday season AND for my sweetie Nanami. I love & miss him sm. Enjoy! -Jazz 🩷🩷

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“So did you ask her yet?” Haibara asks for probably the thousandth time this week.

Nanami huffs from his spot crouched on the floor, peering into the cold, unlit fireplace. “For the last time, no,” he snaps. “I didn’t…yet. I’m still figuring out how to and we just got here this morning.”

He stands and reaches for the box of matches up on the mantle, preparing to light the hodgepodge of newspaper and logs he gathered earlier.

“Well, what’s the hold up, Kenny?!” Haibara exclaims. “You could’ve asked her last night! Don’t you love with her?” Nanami rolls his eyes, knowing how dramatic his friend can be. “You know I do,” he growls. Why the hell else would he have rented an AirBNB out in the woods and taken you away on a winter getaway?

You and Nanami have been dating for five years now and only started living together a year ago. Two of the best decisions of his life were asking you to be his girlfriend and then asking you to live with him. You are truly one of a kind. A beauty. A gem. An intelligent, gorgeous, kind, loving woman he would love to spend the rest of his life with. Nanami knows he hit the jackpot with you. With his disfigurement from the Shibuya Incident that resulted in the left side of his face and body being completely scarred, he would have figured no one would love him the way he truly wanted to be.

But then you came along and changed his entire outlook on that. Not only are you so sweet and understanding, you are probably the most beautiful woman he has ever met. You can wear your hair in any fashion and still look damn amazing. He loves the way your brown skin glows in the sunlight. How soft and plump your lips are. The thickness of your thighs and behind that he always takes a peek at when you walk by.

You listen to him when he has stuff on his mind. You always fix him coffee in the morning before work. You laugh at his dry jokes and tolerate his book nerdiness. You are everything to him. He can hardly imagine living a life without you in it and it makes him sick to his stomach to even fathom it.

Which is what brought him here today to this lovely cabin up in the snowy mountains and pushed him to buy that engagement ring. He figured a weekend in a cozy cabin away from the city life would be the perfect time to propose to you. You were more than happy to come along with him, having been drained from work and holiday shopping. And when you found out that a free spa and a ski lodge were just down the road, you were absolutely ecstatic.

“I intend this to be special,” Nanami tells his longtime friend despite the sour taste in his mouth at the mere thought of marriage. “Now quit bothering me. I’m busy making a fire.” He holds his cell phone in the crook of his neck and shoulder while he lights a match and tosses it into the fireplace. Flames eat at the newspaper immediately.

This is really just a ploy to distract himself. The truth is Nanami is terrified of asking you to marry him. Though you live together and have been dating for nearly a decade, you never discussed marriage outright or upfront to each other…which probably would’ve been a better, logical, and more practical idea. But you had told him once before that you’ve always wanted to be married and have a family. He never forgot about that or the dreamy, hopeful look in your brown eyes.

“But it may never happen,” you laughed but it sounded so sad. “People don’t want to build things anymore.” He did. He wanted to build something with you so badly. He wants so much to build on the life you have created together and make your little home into one for three or four. He wants nothing more than to see a little you or him running around with the pet dog or cat, giggling and stumbling about on chubby legs.

That fantasy almost makes him want to wake you up and propose to you right now if it wasn’t for the stone in the pit of his stomach. He is so scared you’ll say no, regret him and leave him. He knows that it’s illogical. He knows that it’s insane. But dammit, if his mind isn’t racing! He just doesn’t know what he’ll do if you say no.

“Where’s the missus at?” Haibara asks. It allows Nanami to not think of marriage or impending doom for a while. “Taking a nap. I just got back from a run, so I’m building a fire for us when she wakes up.”

You, his poor little baby, were wiped out after you left your apartment to hit the road for the AirBNB. It was about a three-hour drive up here and you slept as soon as you got in the house, barely even touring the place. He let you sleep and instead unpacked, ordered groceries from UberEats, and took a run through the snowy hiking trails, letting the cold air fill his lungs and clear his head.

Haibara coos, making Nanami grit his teeth. “Well, aren’t you adorable? Buildin’ her a fire, takin’ her away for a winter getaway.”

“He’s whipped!” Gojo calls from the background. “Did he do it yet?!” Unfortunately, he too is one of Nanami’s oldest friends and work partners in the chaotic world of curse hunting. “Tell him to shut up,” he huffs. “This is why I won’t be telling him at all when it happens. Besides, I’ve got about three days to do it.” Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Plenty of time to overthink and possibly not even do it and then regret his choices later.

“And those three days will go by fast, so do it as soon as you can!” Haibara lectures. “You’ll keep rethinking it if you avoid it, Kenny.”

“Yeah, then you’ll give her the wrong idea and you’ll be fighting on the way home from your winter weekend love affair,” Gojo adds. Habibara sighs while Nanami resists the urge to hang up. “He’s being dramatic. Just remember what you’re doing this for and why you want to propose.”

Yes, he knows why. It’s because you’re the love of his fucking life and he would be a fool to give you up. To be your husband would be a privilege and an honor. Maybe that would work as his proposal to you. “I just….” He sighs to himself, placing the match box up the mantel and crouching on the floor. He stares into the orange flames of the fireplace, hoping they will give him an answer to his dilemma. “I don’t know how to do this.”

He has never felt so deeply for someone before. He has never even had a romantic partner for this long before. And if you say no, who else would he find? Would he truly be able to move on without you? “There’s no right way to propose, Nanami,” Habibara soothingly says. “Well, there is, but we know you’ll make it as romantic as possible for her. You’re doing it because you love her, right?”

A thousand times yes! “Yes,” he sighs.

“And you wanna be with her, right?” Gojo adds. Nanami’s heart tightens at the thought of you. Beautiful, amazing you. “More than anything,” he answers, his voice tight with emotion.

“Then it’ll come naturally!” Gojo chirps. “You’ll know the right time when it comes, just like when you realized you loved her.” He is right. When Nanami realized he was in love with you, it was as simple as breathing. It was a slow burn surely, but when it happened, Nanami fell hard and fell deep. And to hear that you were in love with him too made him all the more sure that you were his person. But there is still one burning thought in his mind that curses him and has been since the moment he realized he wanted to marry you. “But what if she says no?” he asks, his voice hushed and low. He can’t even say it clearly aloud.

“She wooon’t!” Gojo groans. “Stop thinking so negative, Nanami! Think positive! Who else is gonna treat her like you do?”

‘A lot,’ Nanami wryly thinks. A girl as beautiful, smart, and freaky as you? Any man would be tossing themselves at you. When you go home, Nanami is always catching the wandering eyes of strangers staring at your face, chest, or ass. While it is annoying, he does get a small pang of victory for bagging such a sexy woman, especially with his scars.

“She’ll say yes because she loves you too,” Haibara says, the voice of reason. “After five years together and a year of living together, of course, she will! And if not, then it’s her fucking loss. You deserve so much more, Ken.”

He knows what his friends are right. He knows that you couldn’t possibly refuse after spending five years with him. Yet his mind is still racing and his confidence is waning. “But—“ He freeze, suddenly hearing your footsteps creak overhead. “That’s her,” he hisses. “Don’t call me back.” He quickly hangs up and slips his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants just as you venture down the steps.

You yawn, looking so cute in your baggy sweats, hoodie, and satin bonnet protectively holding your braids. He smiles, opening his arms to you. “Good morning.” A smile pulls at your lips as you walk into them, slumping against his taller, bigger form. “Good morning,” you giggle. “At 3PM.” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We had quite the morning and you didn’t get much sleep in the car.”

“Mmm, that’s fine,”you sleepily hum. “That bed upstairs is straight out of a dream.” He grins proudly, happy to hear you love the master bedroom. He specifically picked this place out for its fireplace, private hot tub on the deck out back, and cozy atmosphere. “I’m glad you approve.” You giggle, squeezing him against your smaller body. “Oooo, you made a fire?” You peer into the fire, your eyes glistening.

Nanami nods, watching you admire the fire. “The house was freezing when I came back from my run, so I took advantage. It’s supposed to be a snowy night, so I figured I’d cook tonight.” The way you look up at him makes him want to pull that ring out of his suitcase. You stare up at him as if he is the best thing since sliced bread. “Of course,” you softly reply. “I love your cooking, Ken. Plus, a night in with you doesn’t sound too bad.”

You snuggle closer to him, not so subtly pressing your tits against his chest. He notices and instantly, the blood starts rushing to his cock. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to three days of sex with you that won’t be interrupted by work calls or responsibilities. “And why is that?” he asks, his voice dipping an octave as he places with the drawstring of your sweats.

You peer up at him again, a smile playing on your lips that is both sexy and adorable. “Well, who else am I gonna force to watch Christmas movies with me?” He tsks, making you giggle hysterically. Of course, you’d want to do that on your winter getaway trip. “Fine. Just not those damn stick figures.” You scoff and smack him on the chest. “Hey! Those are my childhood faves!”

That’s another thing he loves about you: your feistiness. It turns him on every single time. You place your hand on his chest and play with the zipper on his active sweatshirt, breathing in his scent of sweat, sulfur, and pine from outside. “Thank you for this, Nanami. I needed this soooo bad, you have no idea.” He smiles, jubilant and proud for doing this for you. “We both did,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the crowd of your head.

You tilt your head up, giving him the perfect view of your shapely, soft lips. Suddenly, his are on yours and you stand on your toes to deepen the kiss, turning it from something sweet and innocent into something of passion and need. Need that has been boiling inside of him for days now. Need that makes him jack off at work to the thought of you and that ass that his hands glide over right now while you indulge in his chest.

He suddenly feels your hand slide against the waistband of his pants and gently pulls away. As much as he would love to fuck you out of your mind in front of the fireplace, there will be time for that later. All good things come to those who wait. “I-I should get started on dinner,” he stammers, his cheeks hot with embarrassment and arousal. “Does steak sound good to you?”

You smile, your eyes glittering at the idea of a steak dinner. “That sounds perfect. I’ll take a shower and be back down soon.” He nods and you kiss once more before you break for the moment to do your own thing. But as you go to the staircase, you stop, one hand on the banister. “Nanami?” you call. He turns around to look at you, finding you smiling so lovingly at him. “I love you.”

Those three little words fill him with more life than air could give him. He can’t stop himself from smiling or his stomach from fluttering. “I love you too, baby.” You smile, overjoyed with his reply, and then venture upstairs to take your hot shower.

Yes. Tonight is the night for him. It has to be.

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Two hours later, dinner is done and the night has fallen, cold and white outside.

Nanami stands in the kitchen at the sink, his hands deep in some sudsy, soapy water washing the dishes and wine glasses from dinner. Next to him, the half-empty bottle of red wine that he saved for tonight’s meal sits next to him…along with the ring box.

He is planning on telling you after dinner, but “after dinner” has arrived and he still hasn’t. He washes dishes as a distraction, hoping that maybe he can think of a good way to ask you, but nothing comes.

More than anything, he is afraid of turning such a chill, perfect snowy night into one of awkwardness and tension. A marriage proposal can either make or break a relationship. He would hate to have anything ruin his chances of being with you forever.

Suddenly, he feels two arms wrap around his waist from behind and smiles as your vanilla and cinnamon-scented body wash and caramel body spray hits his nose, tantalizing his senses. “Whatcha doin’?” you whisper. He can tell you’re tipsy from the wine.

“Washing these dishes so we won’t have to do ‘em tomorrow.” He carefully places a wet wine glass on the drying rack before moving on to a dish streaked with residue from the steak and salad he whipped up.

You stop him, your smaller, daintier hands caressing his wrists. “Just put ‘em in the dish washer,” you murmur, your lips at his ear.“Come be with me by the fire. I miss you there.”

Nanami shivers at your presence and your wicked ways. How do you seduce him so easily? He listens, slides your ring into his pocket, and loads the dish washer up with dirty dishes before he follows you into the living room. You have set the cozy space up with blankets and pillows in front of the blazing fire along with two mugs of hot chocolate and a Christmas movie playing on the TV.

He rolls his eyes at the 70s stick figure Christmas movie on the screen. “You little sneak,” he huffs, swatting you on the ass. “You just seduced me in here to watch these damn movies.”

You cutely pout at him, looking oh-so adorable in your oversized sweater and knee high socks. You look like you want to be tossed down, turned out, and fucked by him. “But this one is goooood! I promise, you’ll love it!”

Despite the corniness, Nanami sighs and gives in. “Fine, but if they start singing, I’m turning it off.” You squeal excitedly and pull him down to sit next to you on the blankets with your mugs as the cold wind blows outside, whistling through the pine trees.

You and Nanami find a good position to cuddle, him acting as the big spoon while you’re the little spoon, your legs entangled. He places one arm on your waist while the other props his chin up, allowing him to rest his neck. It is a perfect position, allowing him to admire your figure and inhale the scent of your fruity shampoo.

Halfway through the movie that he’s barely paying any attention to, you turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You nuzzle your cheek into his chest, making his cock twitch. “You’re so warm,” you sigh. “And you smell so good…and you’re so tense.”

He chuckles, noticing that you’re gliding your fingers along his back muscles. “Comes with the territory.” He was planning to take a dip in the hot tub later tonight to ease his sore muscles, but you seem to have other ideas.

“Oh, you poor baby!” you gasp, popping up from the floor like a Jack N The Box. “Lemme go get the massage oil! I brought some for the spa.” You give him a wink before you go running off upstairs to fetch the oil, allowing Nanami to try to pat down his hard-on as much as possible.

When you routine, you have a bottle of mango and coconut-scented oil in your hand and a rather mischevious smile on your pretty face. You kneel before him, already rubbing the oil in your hands. “Now strip,” you giggle. “Just the shirt.”

Nanami raises an eyebrow at you. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re just trying to get me outta my clothes.” You gape at him, mockingly offended. “Whaaaat?! Noooo, we’d miss the movie! I just wanna relax those sore muscles like a good partner should.”

You’re a terrible liar, but he plays along anyway, loving your little games. He strips off his sweater, revealing his toned body, blonde tufts of chest hair, and burn scars to you. You lovingly stroke them much to his liking, enjoying your tender touch. You don’t shy away from them and that makes him love you even harder.

You move behind him and begin to massage his shoulders and neck, your fingers kneading his tired muscles. His eyes flutter at your touch, his cock growing harder at your hands and the fruity scent of the oil. It’s like an aphrodisiac to him. “Mmmm….”

“Good?” you whisper, your lips toying at his ear. “Mmm-hmm.” He can’t even form words. Your fingers feel so good on his bare skin as you massage the oil into his muscles.

But very suddenly, the massage takes another turn when you begin to massage and squeeze his pectorals as you nuzzle your face into his shoulder. Nanami blushes red at your ministrations, confused and aroused. “Uh….baby? What are you doing?”

“Cuddling you,” you simply reply, still doing what you’re doing. Your hands indulge in his upper torso, feeling him up in a way that makes Nanami feel like a personal body pillow for you.

“This doesn’t seem like cuddling.” You him in response, beginning to kiss along his neck. He swallows hard, his cock swelling at the feeling of your soft lips. “I-I thought you wanted to watch the movie,” he stammers.

“I did until I realized that I need to be showing my sexy and amazing boyfriend more attention.” You turn his face to meet yours and your gleaming, hooded eyes. “I wanna watch you instead, Kento. I want you right here, right now.”

The lust in your eyes makes your pupils dilate like a cat’s, filling Nanami with a fire that only you can put out. He leans in first, unable to avoid this feeling anymore, and presses his lips to yours. You moan as he cups your face, deepening the kiss until you’re on top of him.

The movie is now forgotten, all dialogue and singing mere background noise as you and Nanami indulge in each other. You moan through the slow, sexy kiss as he nibbles on your bottom lip the way you like while you straddle him. Chest to chest. Heart to heart.

At the taste of you and the feeling of your soft lips and wet tongue, Nanami’s cock grows in his pants, chubbing against the fabric. You must know this because you slink down to his waist and begin palming at his bulge. He sits up, watching you. “You’re very persistent tonight,” he chuckles.

You pout those pretty lips at him, your eyes soft and lustful. “I can’t help it. You’re just so hot, Nanami.” You slowly work his pants and briefs down, your face lighting up at the sight of his hard, throbbing cock.

No matter how many times you’ve seen it, you always look at it like it’s the first time. And no matter how many times you suck it, you still make Nanami feel like he did the first time you did so.

He watches you, hungered as you wrap your oil-slick hand around him and begin to pump his shaft as you wrap your lips around him. “Ah,” he sighs, your velvety mouth and wet tongue like silk against his hard dick.

You turn into a dick fiend while you blow your boyfriend, your mouth moving up and down along his cock. You stare at him as you do it, the fire blazing behind you. You look damn near ethereal as you take his cock deep into your throat, pumping him with your sloppy, tight, silky throat.

Nanami can hardly stand the sight, unable to fully grasp the fact that such a sexy little thing is his as his cock disappears into your mouth. “Fuck, baby,” he groans. “You’re so good at this shit. Such a good girl for me, right?”

You bring out such a feral, nasty part of him. A part of him that wants nothing more than to fuck you endlessly and make you cum over and over again until you’re a spent, twitching mess for him.

You pop his cock out of your mouth and hold it against your soft cheek, smiling. “Only you, Daddy,” you coo.

You go back to blowing him, using your throat to flex and gag around him, hollowing your cheeks to make your mouth tighter. Nanami’s deep moans drift into the air as he grips the blankets underneath him until his knuckles turn white.

You begin to moan in time with the squelching, wet sounds drifting from your throat, the vibrations traveling through his balls heavy with cum. He can feel himself losing control and quickly stops you before he blasts all over your face.

“Fuck, baby!” he moans. “Stop for a minute.” You do though confused, your saliva hanging off of your bottom lip, connecting to his cock head. “I wanna take care of you too. Get on top of me and face my cock.”

The urge to touch you and taste you is burning him up inside, threatening to engulf him. A naughty grin stretches across your face. You’re definitely not gonna refuse the opportunity to get your pussy ate. “Okaaay,” you giggle. “You gonna give me a massage or something too, Ken?”

Nanami smirks as you stand, turn, and proceed to sit on top of him, your perfect ass in his face. “Or something, yeah.” His big hands knead and spank your asscheeks for a bit, relishing the moan you make and the way your cheeks recoil against his palms.

He takes the bottle of oil and rubs some between his palms, heating it up and making his fingers slick. He then begins to massage your ass and back, taking extra care to rub his knuckles along your spine. He loves watching the way you melt into his touch, settling down on top of him. “Mmm,” you hum. “That feels so nice.”

He smiles, his cock twitching and throbbing at those simple words. He loves making you feel so good. “Yeah? How ‘bout this then?”

He begins to pay extra attention to your butt, massaging each cheek in a way that would make any man nut on the spot. He ogles at the way your asscheeks look slick and shiny with oil, imagining this massage oil dripping down your pretty asshole and the slit of your cunt. He is a total goon for you and he knows it.

Unable to stop himself, he spreads your ass apart and begins to tease the puckered hole of your asshole and your pussy, gliding a finger down to give you a soft, gentle graze of his touch. “Oh,” you moan. “Y-You’re teasing me, Ken. C’mon, don’t—“

He hushes you, giving your ass a nibble and making you whimper. “Patience, baby. I need to work this pussy up, don’t I?”

He continues to give you butterfly touches against your pussy until the horny gets the best of him and he begins slowly making out with your cunt. Fortunately for you, you have that effect on him. You manage to turn him into an absolute fiend, pussy-whipping him the more your honey drips down his throat.

“Oh, fuck!” you loudly moan. “Mmm, yes, Kento, fuck! Your mouth is so good!” Your hips and ass grind into his face, riding it like one would a surfboard.

Nanami hums in approval, giving you another spank that makes your pussy gush intensely in his mouth and makes your clit throb. His tongue alternates between teasing your hole and your clit, his lips cushioning one when he can’t get to the other. He can feel your wetness spilling over his chin and lips, making him feel sticky.

But he doesn’t mind. He wouldn’t have it any other way. In fact, he would gladly spend the rest of his days underneath you, serving you with his mouth, tongue, and hands.

Especially when your mouth feels so wrapped around his cock. Nanami moans into your cunt, sucking on your pussy lips before pulling away with a wet pop just the way you like. “Fuck, baby,” he groans. “I thought I was supposed to be pleasing you.”

You sit up and look back at him, your braids swinging over your shoulder as you give him a sexual, lust-filled look over your shoulder. “We’re pleasing each other. Tonight is about us, baby.”

Nanami can’t argue with that, especially when that throat of yours is talking to him so sweetly. It sucks his entire dick in and flexes around him, massaging each sweet spot along his cock. He gives you the pleasure you give him back, sloppily licking and lapping at your sweet pussy as you ride his face.

Suddenly, you peel yourself away from his cock but still stroke away, pumping him up and down, enchanted by the way his skin stretches along the veiny, erect pole. “I-I can’t take this anymore, Ken,” you moan, desperation in your tone. “I wanna ride you. Can I please?”

You could’ve asked Nanami if you could drain his bank account and he would’ve said yes. He would give anything to to feel this sweet, wet, wonderful pussy wrapped around his cock.

“You don’t have to ask me, sweetheart,” he pants, coming up for air from constantly eating you out without fail. “I wanna feel you too. Fucking give me this.” He glides a finger along your clit, making you shudder.

Without wasting any more time, you take hold of Nanami’s cock while he grasps your hips, letting you take as much time as you need to slide down onto him, rubbing your clit for you as you do. When you finally come down and his cock plunges into the soft, wet walls of your pussy, you both moan in unison as if you’re singing a chorus.

You feel incredible. You feel wonderful. You feel like what he would think heaven feels like. He can’t help but watch you as you ride his cock, drinking in the way you bounce on top of him like a good little fuck-bunny. ”Oh, my God!” you whine at the top of your lungs. “Oh, fuck, Kento! Y-Your dick is so good!”

He grins, that feral, possessive urge to fuck you dumb slinking into his bones and settling there. He can’t help but lose it when you get all slutty and needy like this. “Go ahead, baby,” he grunts, lifting his hips to fuck you back. “Take as much of me as you need. I’m yours.”

He grabs hold of your ass, squeezing it as you grind yourself on top of him like you’re trying hard to make you both cum. “And I’m yours,” you sweetly moan. “I’m yours, Daddy, I promise!”

With those sweet words hanging in the air and the feeling of your wet pussy gripping him, Nanami can’t stop the breathy moans and gasps that leave his lips as your ass grinds against his pelvis as you ride him in your baggy sweater and knee highs.

He sits up suddenly and tears your sweater down, forcing your tits to pop out and be exposed in the firelight. He begins to play with them as you continue to ride him, moaning louder as his fingers pinch and tweak your hard nipples. “Fuck, Nanami!” you gasp.

“Keep goin’,” he whispers, pressing his lips against your ear. “Keep ridin’ that dick for me, baby. Take all of that fuckin’ cock.”

You do as he says, tossing your ass back against him before grinding forward, stimulating your clit with your fingers. At this rate, with your body mist invading his nostrils and how wet you are, he will cum.

“H-Hey, Nanami?” you ask, but it comes out more as a breathless moan.

“Mmm-hmm?”he hums, still too involved with thinking about filling you up with his spunk. He wants to make you cum too. He wants to hear your loud moans echo throughout the cabin as you gush all over his big, fat cock.

“Look up,” you tell him just as your other hand fondles his balls. With a groan of pleasure, Nanami flicks his eyes up above and there, he sees it: a mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.

Your giggles give you away as a culprit. When did you put that up there? How did he miss that? “We’re supposed to be kissing, aren’t we?” he asks, a smile playing on his lips. “Well, I can’t do that while I’m back here. Let’s change that.”

You are more than happy to go along with the change. You shriek with laughter as he grips your hips and sits up with you against him. You always love it when he’s a little rough, proving to you time and time again how fast and strong he is. It turns you on and it turns him on too.

He then flips you onto your back and tosses your legs over his shoulders before sliding his cock back home inside of you. “Oh, fuck!” you moan before your voice is cut off by a gasp as he begins to piston himself into the wet, velvet depths of your pussy.

Nanami greedily drinks in the way you writhe and bounce against his cock, your tits jiggling over your sweater. “You’re so beautiful,” he pants, heavy pants leaving his lips. “So fuckin’ cute…so mine.”

Stepping into full gooner territory, he slowly rolls his hips against you and strokes your insides with slow, deep thrusts as he works your knee highs off of your feet. Once they are off, he takes one of your cute, candy red apple-painted toes and begins to suck on them.

Your facial expression of pure bliss and ecstasy is enough to nut over. “Daddy,” you whine, gripping his forearms. “Please! Please make me cum!”

Nanami would be glad too. He continues to drill your shit with all of the vigor of a man working overtime, more than dedicated to making you lose your mind over his cock. “I’m so happy you’re mine, baby,” he groans, staring deep into your eyes. “I wanna be with you forever. Wanna fuckin’ marry you.”

“W-What?” you stammer.

As soon as the words are out, they hang suspended in the air like cigarette smoke. Pungent and obvious. Nanami realizes the mistake he has made in the cloudy haze of pleasure and the heat of the moment. ‘Fuck!’ he thinks. That wasn’t at all how he wanted to propose.

You stare up at him with big, soft eyes full of wonder, your plump lips parted in awe. “Kento, is that true? You wanna marry me?” Your voice is soft and barely above a whisper as you ask him.

Nanami can feel his stomach flip. He is now caught and cannot escape this moment. “I’m sorry,”he sighs, slowing down his thrusts for more shallow, gentler ones. “I didn’t want to tell you like this, but—”

“You want us to get married?”you interrupt, your voice clearer now. Slowly, he nods, giving in to the truth. “I-I know we haven’t discussed marriage, but I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I planned to propose to you some time on this trip, but please know that you don’t have to say yes right away or—“

“Yes,” you interrupt again. This time, Nanami nearly misses it. He blinks down at you and your overjoyed smile. “What’d you say?” he dumbly asks.

You reach up to cup his face in your hands, forcing him to stare deep into your eyes. “Yes!” you giggle. “Yes, yes, Nanami Kento, I’ll marry you! I want nothing more than to be your wife!”

Your answer washes over him like a wave of warmth. You said yes. You said yes. Nanami’s face hurts from smiling so much and he swoops down to kiss you deep, long, and passionately, bending your knees against your stomach.

“I’m gonna make you so happy, baby,” he murmurs. “I promise you.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re doing real good on that already,” you sweetly whisper. “Now please…fuck your fiancé till she cums. And then fill me up too?”

You look up at him through your lashes, enchanting him and willing him to do all that you wish. “Whatever you want, my love,” he pants and spreads your thighs apart before pistoning his cock into you again and again, fucking you into the floor.

You hold onto him for dear life as he drives himself into you, gripping onto him tighter than a koala bear. Wet, squelching sounds collide with your joined moans of pleasure, only growing more intense as you both fall further into a sea of bliss together.

“I love you,” Nanami whispers against your lips. “I love you so, so much, Y/N.” You whimper into his mouth as your tongues swirl with each other, sloppy and messy. “I-I love you too!” you gasp. “So much!”

“Prove it,” Nanami growls, sitting up to look down at you and your body taking his cock. “Cum for me right now. Give it to me, baby. I know you can do it.”

You know it too. He watches as you frantically rub your gorgeous pussy as he plunges into it over and over again, watching himself disappear between your walls that stroke and pump him, willing him to fill you up. Your pretty mouth forms an O as your orgasm suddenly rocks you, making you shudder and shake as you cum all over his cock.

“Fill me up!” you whine, gripping Nanami’s shoulders. “Cum for me, please, Ken! Give me your baby!”

Nanami never needed to be more persuaded to do something. As his orgasm rises, he hugs you close to him and fucks his cock into you, using your pussy as a toy to chase his high. When it hits, he lets out a long, guttural, desperate groan as he fills you to the brim with his cum. You gasp and wrap your legs around him, locking him against you and taking drop after drop of his spunk.

He pumps you full of him, no doubt breeding you.

As his orgasm finally fades, you both embrace each other for a moment more, sweaty and exhausted from the activity. Slowly, Nanami presses his lips to yours in a soft, loving kiss as your fingers tangle in his blonde hair. “Forever,” he murmurs. “Always you.”

You smile against his mouth and place a kiss on his chin before he finally pulls his soft cock out of you and rolls off of you. His cum drips out of your pussy, coaxing him to lean down between your thighs and lick it up. You weakly moan as his tongue caresses your aching pussy, your body twitching from the overstimulation.

Once he finishes cleaning you up, Nanami lies down next to you on his side while you face him, the both of you fitting against one another like two perfect puzzle pieces. ”That was fantastic,” you sigh, nuzzling into his chest.

“It most definitely was,” he agrees, pressing a kiss to your hand. “But it’s not over yet.” He sits up and reaches for his pants, digging into his pocket.

There, he retrieves the ring box and watches your reaction. You gasp, your eyes alight and your mouth hanging agape from shock. He smiles excitedly, though nervous butterflies still flutter about in his stomach. “I’d be honored to be your husband, Y/N,” he softly says. “Would you give me the honor of being that for you?”

He opens the box to reveal a beautiful diamond ring with a silver band that he bought from Kay Jewelers. “Will you marry me?” he asks, blushing pink in the cheeks. “I know you already said yes, but that was when I was fucking you, so—“

“Yes,” you laugh, tossing your arms around him. “Yes, Nanami, I’lll marry you. It would be an honor to be your wife.”

Nanami has never been happier than this moment. Now, you can finally build a life with each other, and maybe, a family. Grinning, he carefully takes the ring out of the box and slides it on your finger. You admire the way it sparkles and glints at you as tears fill your eyes.

“Forever,” you whisper, your voice tight with emotion. “Always you.”

Nanami feels his own tears invade his eyes and he swoops you up in a deep kiss that steals the air out of his lungs. The kiss would have led to something more if your phone didn’t ring. “Oops!” you giggle as he peppers your neck in kisses. “Hang on, baby.”

Quickly, you crawl over to the fireplace and reach up on the mantle where your phone is charging. Nanami lies on his side, naked and filled with happiness, propping his head up on his elbow. He watches as you answer the phone, a contagious smile on your face.

“Hey, Yuki!” you brightly chirp.

“Did he do it yet?!” Yuki screams on the other end. You giggle, looking at Nanami and giving him a wink.

“I’m gonna be a wife!” you squeal and the two of you begin to excitedly scream to each other over the phone as Nanami laughs, the happiness contagious and overflowing.

THE END.