#he can never live up to her expectations. (his own expectations he projected onto her)

[thewulf]

Through the Years || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - Aaron Hotchner x reader, It will be like 2 moments in different years... like the first time little Jack is comfortable enough around reader to call her mom... and the other one teen Jack not taking her grounding while Aaron is away and screamimg at her something like "You are not my mom"... Read Rest Here

A/N: This was tough to write. But overall very sweet. We love a good teenage melton.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader, Jack Hotchner x Stepmom Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

TW: Yelling, intentional hurt, Jack being mean lol

Year Six: Jack’s Question

The gentle hum of the air conditioner filled the cozy living room as you and Jack sat together on the couch, surrounded by an array of colorful crafting supplies scattered across the coffee table. Glue sticks, markers, and construction paper formed a creative mess as the two of you worked on a project together, a rare moment of tranquility in the chaotic life of an FBI agent's family.

As you guided Jack through the steps of creating a handmade card for his grandmother's birthday, you couldn't help but notice the way he looked up at you with a mixture of admiration and affection. His small hands moved with determination, mirroring your own movements as you carefully cut out paper hearts and glued them onto the card letting him guide how he wanted the card to turn out.

"Y/N?" Jack's voice broke through the soft hum of conversation, tentative and uncertain. He shifted back and forth on the couch letting whatever was on his mind eat away at him for the time being.

As Jack's voice broke through the soft hum of the television on, you turned your attention back to him. He looked so nervous that you could only put the supplies down and focus solely on him. "Yeah, Jack?" you replied, your voice soft and encouraging.

Jack shifted nervously beside you, his brow furrowing as he wrestled with his words. You could see the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the weight of his question heavy on his young shoulders.

"Can I... can I call you Mom?" His voice was barely above a whisper, filled with hesitation and longing.

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, your heart soaring with joy and disbelief. It was a moment you had dreamed of, hoped for, but never dared to expect. Not so soon anyway. You and Aaron had been seeing each other for just over a year. And yet, here it was, unfolding before you in the most unexpected of moments.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you gazed at Jack, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion welling up inside you. You wanted to gather him into your arms, to hold him close and never let him go, to shower him with all the love and affection he deserved. But you also knew that this moment was about him, about his courage in voicing his feelings, his desire to forge a deeper connection with you. And so, you swallowed past the lump in your throat, your smile widening with genuine warmth and love.

"Of course, you can, sweetheart," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "I would be honored."

As the words left your lips, a weight seemed to lift from Jack's shoulders, his face breaking into a radiant smile that mirrored your own. In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of your crafting adventure, you felt a profound connection form between you, one that transcended blood ties and was forged by love and mutual respect.

Jack let out a sigh of relief, his smile widening as he leaned into your embrace. "Good, Daddy said I could," he explained, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and validation.

Your heart swelled with warmth at his words, grateful for Aaron's support and understanding. It meant the world to you that he had encouraged Jack to express his feelings, to embrace the bond that had grown between you. "Your daddy is a smart man," you replied, your voice tinged with affection as you ruffled Jack's hair affectionately. "And he's right. You can call me mom whenever you want. You can also call me Y/N. Whatever you want kiddo."

Jack beamed up at you, his eyes sparkling with happiness as he settled back into his seat, a sense of contentment settling over him like a comforting blanket. In that moment, it felt as though the world had shifted, the connection between you and Jack deepening with each passing second. And as you returned to your crafting project, your hearts overflowing with love and gratitude, you knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey together.

Year Fifteen: Teenage Turmoil

The soft glow of the lamp illuminated Aaron Hotchner's cluttered desk as he typed away on his laptop, the faint clicking of keys the only sound in the otherwise quiet house. It was Friday night, the end of a long week, but for Aaron, the work was far from over. His eyes flickered to the clock, noting the late hour. Jack should have been home by now, safely tucked into bed. Anxiety gnawed at him as he tried Jack's number once more, only to be met with the unwelcome sound of voicemail. He would give it until 12:30 then he was going to be calling Penelope to locate his young son. He didn’t want to be overbearing but he couldn’t help it. Not with what he’s seen, what he’s had to deal with.

In the living room, you paced back and forth, your heart pounding with worry. Each passing minute felt like an eternity. With every unanswered call, your concern grew tenfold. The clock on the wall mocked you, its hands moving relentlessly towards midnight. You too knew how dangerous it was out there. But you couldn’t lock the kid in. He’d resent the both of you for the rest of his days if you did that.

Finally, the creak of the front door announced Jack's return. Relief flooded through you, quickly replaced by a surge of frustration as you caught sight of his nonchalant expression. "Jack, do you have any idea what time it is?" you exclaimed, unable to keep the edge from your voice.

Jack's eyes flickered to you, irritation flashing in their depths before he masked it with a careless shrug. "Relax, I lost track of time," he retorted, tossing his jacket aside without any regard for how stressed both you and his father were.

Your temper flared. "You were supposed to be home over an hour ago! Do you have any idea how worried we were?" As Aaron remained in his office, you and Jack were left to confront each other alone, the tension between you palpable.

He shrugged again before attempting to make a break for his room.

"Jack, please," you implored, your voice trembling with concern. "We need to talk about what happened tonight. It's not just about breaking curfew; it's about communication and respect."

Jack's eyes narrowed, his arms crossing defensively over his chest. "I don't need a lecture, Y/N. I'm not a kid anymore."

Your heart sank at his dismissive tone, but you refused to back down. "I know you're growing up, but that doesn't mean you can disregard the rules we've set. They're there for a reason, Jack. We worry about you when you're out late, especially when we can't reach you."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You worry too much. I can take care of myself."

Your frustration bubbled to the surface. Your voice tinged with emotion. "It's not just about taking care of yourself, Jack. There are awful people out there and…”

Jack's demeanor shifted, his expression hardening with defiance. "You're not my mom, Y/N. You don't get to tell me what to do."

His words cut deep, a pang of hurt flashing across your features. "I know I'm not your biological mother, but I love you like you're my own," you admitted, your voice wavering with emotion certainly not expecting the conversation to take such a turn so quickly.

Jack's jaw clenched, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "Yeah, right. You're just trying to control me like everyone else. Well, news flash, it's not gonna work."

Your heart shattered at his harsh words, the weight of his rejection crushing you. "I'm not trying to control you, Jack. I just want what's best for you," you pleaded, tears welling in your eyes despite your best efforts to push them away.

But Jack's frustration boiled over, his voice rising with each word. "Stop pretending like you know what's best for me! You're not my freaking mom! You can't tell me what to do!"

As Jack's explosive words hung in the air, a heavy silence descended upon the room, filling the space with tension and uncertainty. Your heart felt as though it had been squeezed tight in your chest, the sting of Jack's rejection still raw.

A gasp came from your mouth as you tried to form any sort of coherent sentence. "Oh, I'm... I..." you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words. But your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and you found yourself at a loss.

Jack's eyes widened, a flicker of realization crossing his features as he took in the impact of his own words. For a moment, he seemed unsure, caught between his anger and the weight of what he had just said. And then, as if sensing the weight of the moment, Aaron appeared in the doorway. His expression a mix of concern and disappointment. His presence seemed to ground the room, his steady gaze sweeping over you and Jack.

"What's going on here?" Aaron's voice was calm but firm, his eyes never leaving yours. He saw the watery tears that threatened to spill over at any second. He heard the tail end of the conversation and knew exactly why you were so devastated. You saw Jack as your own child and for him to say something so deeply hurtful left you reeling.

You struggled to compose yourself, the turmoil of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "Jack... he... I don’t… I need to go," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for a response, you turned and fled towards the kitchen, unable to even look at your stepson or Aaron in that moment. You felt utterly embarrassed. Like you hadn’t been loving that child for the last ten years of his life. Did he really feel like that or was he just lashing out?

In the living room, Aaron's expression darkened, his jaw clenched with restrained anger as he watched you leave. The weight of Jack's hurtful words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over their father-son relationship.

Jack shifted uncomfortably; his eyes fixed on the ground as guilt gnawed at him. "Dad, I didn't mean..."

But Aaron's patience had worn thin with his moody son. "Not now, Jack," he interrupted, his tone stern. "Right now, I need you to think about what you said and why it was completely unacceptable."

Jack swallowed hard, the gravity of his actions sinking in as he met his father's unwavering gaze. "I know, Dad. I messed up," he admitted, his voice tinged with remorse.

Aaron's frustration boiled over, his voice taking on the commanding tone he used when interrogating suspects. "You think you can just say whatever you want and there won't be consequences? You hurt her, Jack. You hurt someone who cares about you deeply, and I won't stand for it."

Jack's eyes widened, the full weight of his actions crashing down on him as he met his father's intense gaze. "I-I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to..."

But Aaron cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Apologies won't cut it this time, Jack. You need to understand the gravity of your words and the impact they have on people." As Aaron continued to reprimand his son, he couldn't shake the worry gnawing at him. He knew he had to find you, to make sure you were alright. With a final stern look at Jack, he turned on his heel and headed towards the kitchen, his footsteps heavy with concern.

As he entered the kitchen, his heart sank at the sight before him. There you were, hunched over on the floor, your shoulders shaking with sobs. Without hesitation, Aaron crossed the room and knelt beside you, gathering you into his arms.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm against the storm raging within you. "You're alright, I've got you." Aaron felt a pang of anguish as he held you, his heart breaking at the depth of your pain. Gently, he lifted your chin, guiding your tear-filled eyes to meet his own.

"Honey," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "Listen to me. You may not be Jack's biological mother, but you are his mom in every sense of the word."

You shook your head weakly, unable to comprehend his words through the haze of your despair. "But I-I..."

"No buts," Aaron interrupted, his tone firm but gentle. "Every day, in every action, every moment of love and care you've shown him, you've proven yourself to be his mother. You've been there for him, supported him, loved him unconditionally. That's what a mom does. That’s what you are, sweetheart.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his words washed over you, a glimmer of hope piercing through the darkness of your despair. "But Jack said..."

Aaron's expression softened, his thumb gently wiping away your tears. "Jack was angry and confused. He didn't mean what he said. And even if he did, it doesn't change the truth. You are his mother, my love, in every way that matters."

As his words sank in, a sense of warmth enveloped you, the weight of your anguish easing with each beat of your heart. In Aaron's arms, you found solace, reassurance, and a renewed sense of purpose. You leaned against Aaron's chest, letting the last of your tears fall, a sense of peace washed over you. His comforting presence wrapped you up in his warm embrace, grounding you in the certainty that together you’d be just fine. “Thank you.” You whispered as he held you in his embrace.

Aaron held you close, his hold on you a silent promise of unwavering support and love. "Anytime, honey," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of chaos. "We'll get through this together."

Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed in the kitchen, and you looked up to see Jack standing in the doorway, tears glistening in his eyes. His expression was wrought with guilt and remorse as he hesitated, unsure of how to approach you.

"Y/N," he began, his voice choked with emotion. "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I just wanted to hurt you, but I didn't mean it. I didn’t mean it at all, I promise. I need you! You are my mom! Please don't leave me." His words came out quickly as he wiped away his own tears.

Your heart shattered at Jack's raw confession, the depth of his pain washing over you like a tidal wave. Without hesitation, you opened your arms, inviting him into the embrace. Aaron backed off letting the situation between the two most important people in his life play out.

Jack rushed over and threw his larger frame right into your arms You wrapped him up tightly as he let his own cries out. The weight of his own words crashing down on him in the instant he saw how much he had hurt you. He was just a kid, of course you could forgive him. "It's okay, Jack," you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion. "I know you didn't mean it. I love you so much. I'm not going anywhere."

“I can’t lose you too.” He let out a whimpered cry breaking your heart even further.

Tears streamed down your own cheeks as you held Jack close, the weight of his words settling over you. "You’ll never lose me, Jackie," you reassured him, using his old nickname, a sign of the deep love you two shared for each other.  "I'm here for you, always. Always and forever kiddo."

Jack's sobs began to subside as he clung to you, finding exactly what he needed in your embrace. "I love you. I’m so sorry." he whispered again. His voice filled with sincerity.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you gently pulled away to look into his eyes. "I love you too, Jack. It’s okay. I forgive you." You said again, reassuring him.

He nodded, relief flooding his features as he buried his face in your arms once more, the weight of guilt slowly lifting from his shoulders. "You are one of the best things that's ever happened to me," you continued, your voice filled with warmth and affection. "Other than your father," you added with a playful grin, feeling Jack's chuckle rumble against your side. He gave you one more squeeze before pulling away. The remorse still heavy on his face. Carefully, you brushed the stray tears away from his face showing him the love that the both of you needed.

As Aaron joined you both in the kitchen, his presence a reassuring anchor, you shared a smile, knowing that no matter what life threw your way, you would be okay. For truly these two were the best things that had ever happened to you.

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[galactic-magick]

A Proper Date: Viktor x Reader

Summary: Viktor wants to take you out on a proper date. Sequel to my fic "The Handsome Assistant."

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: mostly just fluff, some mentions of suggestive stuff towards the end

Author's Notes: Reworked my Arcane masterlist to reflect the reading order for my Vik fics that are in the same continuity, and future fics will now be added to it in the correct order. Thank you guys for all the love it really means the world to me!

-

Life is sweet ever since Viktor’s been in it—and even more so now that you get to kiss him every day.

In all honestly, your routine hasn’t drastically changed. You still distract each other at work way too much, and he still keeps you in conversation long past when you should go home. But now you also stop by each other’s apartments, cook for each other, and spend late nights together in the Academy library and labs working on projects.

Your roommates love him, letting him in even if you’re out doing errands at the moment. Today is one of those days, a bright smile stretching across your face when you see him upon arriving home.

“Viktor!” you drop your things and skip into his arms. You look down and see he’s dressed up a bit more than usual, and your eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “What’s the occasion?”

“I’ve been wanting to take you on a proper date,” he says. “We can go whenever you’re ready.”

“Vik, you know I don’t need fancy dates—“

“Hush.” he presses a finger to your lips. “Go put on something nice, alright?”

You nod, rushing back to your room to change. You meant what you said, you really haven’t minded never having a “proper” date. Neither of you make a ton of money, really just enough to live on and maybe a tiny bit leftover, so you’ve never expected to be taken out to restaurants or really any sort of activity you have to pay for. Most times your dates are making dinner for each other after work, Viktor making you the delicious recipes of his ancestors, mainly. Other times you just people-watch out in the city, chatting about anything and everything. You honestly would do anything with him no matter what it was.

Viktor’s eyes soften at the sight of you when you return to him, taking your hand to leave.

When you approach where you’re going, your grip on his hand tightens and your jaw drops.

“Viktor, you didn’t…”

Your gaze falls onto one of the fanciest restaurants in Piltover, complete with live music and an open ceiling with a perfect view of the stars, both things he knows you love.

“Viktor, this is too much,” you whisper, still flabbergasted. “I would never ask you to pay for a place like this.”

“What makes you think you would have to ask?” he chuckles, pulling you inside. “I’ve been saving up to take you somewhere nice.”

The inside is truly gorgeous, no doubt full of decorative items that are worth twice everything you own. The live band’s sound fills the entire room, setting a soft mood for a night under the sky. You feel entirely out of place, looking at everyone around you, but your eyes always return to Viktor, who’s looking at you like you’re the only thing of value in sight.

He insists that you order anything you want, of course, despite your protests. He wants to treat you, and eventually you have to accept that.

When you finish eating and the restaurant winds down to close, he asks the waitress something that you don’t quite catch while you’re listening to the last song. Viktor hands her quite a decent tip, then motions for you to follow her.

She leads you both to the back of the restaurant, passing multiple signs that say “Staff Only,” then finally gesturing to a tall flight of stairs.

“Up there,” she says. “Don’t stay too long though, I could get in big trouble if you’re caught.”

Viktor thanks her and she leaves the two of you alone.

“I...may have convinced her to let us go to the roof.” he smirks.

You glance back at the stairs, “Vik, you really don’t have to do this for me.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” he assures you. “Just...go slow.”

The amount of stairs is ludicrous, but it’s not too long before you reach the top and open the door to the beautiful starry night.

You go as close to the edge as you can without falling, craning your neck to look at the miraculous view. Viktor is close behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back.

“Careful, darling,” he mumbles into your shoulder, kissing it before looking up for himself.

You stare in silence for several minutes, Viktor still holding you close.

“Can we live up here?”

He chuckles, “That might be too high a request, I’m afraid,” he nuzzles his nose into your hair. “But I assure you, someday I will give you a place with a view like this.”

You turn around, surprised by the unwavering authenticity in his features. You’ve only been together for a few months now, was he really already thinking about a future with you?

“Viktor—“

His expression quickly changes into one of panic, “My apologies, I didn’t mean to be so forward—“

“No, Viktor,” you wrap your arms around his neck, your faces inches apart. “I’d like that someday too.”

-

Sneaking back out goes smoother than you expected, and Viktor insists on walking you home as usual. There’s a warmth to your heartbeat, a welcome contrast to the chill outside. You can’t believe he went through all the trouble to arrange this night for you, genuinely wanting to surprise you with something extravagant.

When you arrive to your apartment, Viktor walks in with you when you’re met with quite the sight on the couch. Your roommate, Eli, is snuggled up with Sevika, and your snickering quickly wakes them up.

“If I had known you were having a date night too, I would’ve stayed out with Vik longer,” you laugh.

“Well we were going to go to my room, but someone fell asleep on the couch,” Eli nudges Sevika.

“Hmmph,” Sevika grunts, too groggy to properly retaliate.

“We’ll leave you be, then,” you giggle all the way back to your room, pulling Viktor behind you.

“Those two are certainly...something,” Viktor says as you close the door.

“I’m just glad they’re happy,” you shrug. “Anyway—sorry—I didn’t even ask you if you wanted to stay. You can go home if you’d like. Just maybe close your eyes walking back through the living room…”

“No, no. I’d like to stay.” he nods.

“Okay.” you sigh, slowly coming to the realization that this will be the first night you’ve spent together. It’s a bit terrifying, if you’re honest, no matter how much you love him.

You continue, avoiding his gaze, “But just so you know, I’m not ready yet to—um…”

Viktor takes your face in his hands as you drift off, “You don’t have to explain yourself, love. I would be more than happy to simply sleep next to you tonight.”

You nod, most of your anxieties subsiding.

You borrow some pajamas from your roommates that would fit him, then get changed yourself. Your bed certainly isn’t meant for two people, but you both snuggle in well enough to be comfortable. You rest your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Viktor rubs your arms and back, pressing kisses to your head. Holding you long after you’ve fallen asleep and his own arms have gone a bit numb.

He smiles at your stirs and snores, your fists gripping him closer the further you drift. He may never be able to go back to sleeping alone after experiencing this.

“Someday...I’ll give you everything you could ever want.” he whispers, closing his eyes.

[skookyumi]

Lets calm down

Ran x Reader x Sevika You and your partner Ran work hard to stand beside your girlfriend and support her standing at the council. After a rough meeting Sevika and you can't seem to stop fighting with each other. It gets to a point where no one can go to sleep so Ran decides to take care of the situation themselves. WC: 8,495 AFAB reader They/them pronouns ! MINORS DNI !! NSFW WRITING Contains : Slapping , hair pulling , restraints , toys Realized i can post my works on here too not just AO3 haha! Enjoy ~! __________

This day could’ve gone ten thousand times better if Sevika wasn’t such a fucking control freak. She was the one who asked you to go to her meeting in Piltover for your ‘Direct Opinions’ on the matter of Enforces in Zaun’s neighborhoods. Your passion for the increase of policing and brutality against the poorer people was fiery and consistent. 

Bringing it up to both of your partners when political talk was amongst the house. With Sevikas newer position as the chairholder in Piltover for Zaun , You and Ran were often helping your partner in her endeavors. All three of you being politically adept with the time spent with the Late Silco and the time spent away from him cleaning up his messes.

It was rare that either of you got to go to Piltover and speak, Ran had been a few times and you only once. Here you were being asked again to speak on something you're passionate about and you wouldn’t give anyone of these rich fucks time to dismiss your grievances. Starting pleasantly, you stood beside Sevika in her chair that saddled in the middle of a large gear shaped table. Many familiar faces appear to take their own seats , some you’ve never seen before. 

Pleasantries are exchanged as seats are taken and Caitlyn stays standing as she announces your presence and the topic of discussion. When Sevika speaks it only takes minutes for the conversation to get a bit heated. Many of the older chairs stated that with Zaun’s new independence that heavy policing was necessary; with more freedom comes more problems. Sevika harshly disagreed, palm slapping forcefully on the table, Caitlyn agreeing with her with stern words. 

She brought up her time forcefully controlling Zaun and how it made the people bitter and hateful, how the reprimandation for those actions will take longer to heal and cause more outrage against Piltover. Counselor Shoova also added that with the recovery from the Arcane incident over a year ago, that resources were still spread thinly and little was available for the shadowed city. “If i may-” you move closer to the table from behind Sevikas chair. She doesn’t look at you , silver eyes dancing across the counselors, daring them to not let you speak.  Caitlyn raises her hand to you to speak. “ A year after Zauns ‘Independence’ the people still fear the wrath that Enforcers bring, they still hold prejudice against our people. Falsely arresting citizens, Frequent stop and frisks, Unlawful entry and confiscation of money and items. Surely Piltover has no need for such things when wealth flows generously here-”

A older man with long white locks cuts you off “ Surely the enforces are just doing their job, Zaun is known for its crime you can’t expect us to think after a year of new leadership that those people have changed” 

“ Those people haven’t changed, but you have never thought of us anything more than roaches, Is it us that really need to change?”

He sneers and a short older woman pipes up “ I have lived many years girl and I must say those people have never changed, and we do not want that sort of violence stemming its way up here.”

Your hands grip tightly behind your back trying to keep it together “ You’ve lived many years over an oppressed city who could only survive on violence and whatever scrap you threw to them. You all are talking about things that were projected onto the lower class because you are to involved in your own well being then that of others”

They don’t say anything giving you squinted looks of disgust, so Sevika speaks “ So, that's why we want to discuss creating our own law enforcement” she spits gruffly. 

The table erupts into discussion making your body prickle with anxiety, Cait cuts in with a stern voice “ I have already offered my services to Councilor Sevika , Her partner Ran and I would only need three to four months to train an eligible force” 

Small old woman brings a small fist down on the slab of cold marble “ Are you seriously thinking about this Caitlyn? Putting power into the hands of the people that killed your mother? Who produced that ‘Scientist’ , who I will say corrupted Jayce and took him from us?!”

Cait snaps her head to retort but you speak up faster “ None of those things would have happened if you people would shut the fuck up and listen” both of your hands are on the table as you lean to scream at her “ You’ve sat back lavishly while our people have suffered , seven year olds DYING ON THE STREET because you want to sit up here and complain about how horrible we are.” 

Sevika has her organic hand on yours , and she's looking up at you from her seat and warning in her eyes. She wants you to calm down, but you rip your hand from hers with and snarl in your lip. Looking back to icy stares you point around the table “ You fear improvement because you know your time is numbered, Brilliance lies in the dark and you know you're nothing more than diamond colored coal” 

‘That's enough’ you hear Sevika whisper.

“Watch your tongue !” the white haired man hisses 

��See Caitlyn?! Rabid dogs in waiting ! Waiting to come here and take over our livelihoods!” the older woman shifted in her seat to look at the eyepatched one. 

Caitlyn shakes her head and sends you a firm look then takes her eyes back to the older woman “ They do not want that , they want a stable form of protection without the intervention of a different city”

“More like  keeping the filthy hands of their oppressors far away from the political power they used to hold on our city” you say after her “Our people crave normalcy, and having officers that don't understand our neighborhoods only insights violence and prejudice. Giving people the leg they need to take charge of their own communities is all we are asking for” Sevikas hand touches your wrist and you step back as the council bicker over your words. You back up and jiggle your leg anxiously, watching as Sevika takes charge of the conversation. 

You're mellowed by her firm and decisive vision, explaining it thoroughly to the others, they seem to settle a bit with her steady voice. She was always good at holding a room's attention, her speech tranquil where yours was filled with passion and spite. This is exactly why she held this seat, combing through the political decorum like she was almost born a Piltie. She knew how to work them, after many trial and error periods she figured out how to get them to hear her. 

The meeting was adjourned about an hour later, most voted for the training of Zauns own task force , even the old women voted yes. Though she didn’t leave without a stern glance at Sevika “ You should learn to train your tyke better, acting like a hound in a room full of bulls “ 

Sevika stiffens beside you and opens her mouth beside you brow’s pinched in fury, but you beat her to the punch “ I’d watch my mouth you fucking fossil” 

She blanches and storms over to you poking a ridged finger into your gut “ You’re nothing but a mongrel, I don't even know why Sevika brought you here, you’re a sorry excuse for a representative and a disgusting example for your ‘People’ ” 

Sev finally stand up behind her placing a firm hand on the older woman's shoulder “ They are here because they have an incredible understanding of the political workings of Zaun, and because they are my partner and i asked them to come support me” she says smoothly, but you can tell from the strain in her neck she's trying not to lash out. 

You’re fuming that she’s not , but you don't say anything else as she deescalates the situation. The two women walk out together and you follow behind a few feet thinking about how you want to take the granny out. How dare she?! She's been spoon fed her whole life and she has the audacity to look at you like you just stole her kid. Caught in thought you don’t see her walk away and you also don't see the furious look Sevika lands on you.  You follow her shoes all the way to her office still thinking, you're finally out of your head when she slams her door closed. 

Looking up you meet angry silver eyes “What?” “What?! Really ?? I brought you here to speak about the task force, not start fights or embarrass me !”

Your face heated as she spoke, watching her as she collected all of your things and some paperwork. Pulling your lips down you could feel your eye twitch at the last word. “ Oh so sticking up for our people is embarrassing okay” “No, you losing your cool and not taking the hint you should shut up and stop talking to them like that is”

“Sorry i haven't started talking like a proper piltie like you”

She turns to you teeth bared and angry “ To get what we need for Zaun certain things are required “

“Like letting that old bitch walk all over me? I’m not going to sit back and just take it, I'm going to defend myself!”  

She slides her bag over her shoulder and walks over to you angrily “ Just stop being so fucking sensitive you almost ruined this for us” she bites out, head tilted down to you “ That ‘old bitch’ almost revoked her vote because of you”

Your heart squeezes with an ache and you look away from her, tears sting threateningly at your eyes but you bite your cheek to stop them. Guilt made a heavy blanket on your shoulders and sadness settled in your gut from Sevika’s words. 

She took a deep breath rubbing her fingers on the bridge of her nose “ Look babe I-” she moved to put a hand on your arm, but you moved out of its range and cut her off. “ Let's just go before I embarrass you anymore” you say under your breath, turning to the door and making your way out of her office. Walking down the hall before she comes out it doesn’t take her much time to catch up with you. She grabs your wrist and you yank it from her “What?!” 

“Let’s just talk babe” 

“No, fuck off” 

She groans in frustration as you take off again.

The trip back home is tense and quiet, you refuse to look at her and she keeps looking at you. The whole forty-five minutes you sit and stew. She was right about you being out of line, these were snobs who liked prim and proper manners even if they didn’t give you them back. It pissed you off more that she was right and then followed her correctness with words that triggered the fuck out of you.  You had always been a loud and passionate person, often driving off others with your vigor. Your feelings were bold and you had to be deaf and blind to not be extremely aware of them. 

Most of the time you kept a happy demeanor encouraging joy through your actions and the people around you. When you were upset though it sapped the light out of the room, the poor disposition was a palpable force around you often making people uncomfortable. Your extreme emotions were cause for many fights and lost relationships in your youth, but now you usually had them under control. The sting of the past though was harsh and made you want to run around and scream. 

Sevika knew of your insecurities about your high emotions, you had been dating for years for Janna’s sake, but she still threw the sensitive knife at you. On top of that she said you embarrassed her, what the fuck , you had been a bitch but you didn’t do anything wrong. Standing up for what you thought was right without backing down shouldn’t be something she's embarrassed about.  A cold wave of anger ran over your body and you crossed your arms tightly. You weren’t a child having a tantrum ! You were a tired mid-thirty year old who was exhausted of seeing people beg for food and shelter then being beaten for it.

When you both finally make it back to your house Sevika opens the door for you , you storm in without saying anything to her. Ran’s laid back on the couch , peeking at the both of you as you walk in. They wear just an oversized shirt with a cute Cerberus on the front, hair choppy and spiked from where they were laying. They watch as you stormily take off your shoes, looking back to a Sevika who watched you warily. “So… it didn’t go well?” they ask as they made their way to the both of you. 

You feel your eye twitch and your fists clench harder “ It went great , I’m taking a shower” You state making your way past them. Ran gapes a bit, casting a glance to Sev who is rubbing her face with her hands and groaning. She makes her way to the kitchen dropping a small kiss on Ran’s head “We got the votes, Caitlyn should be here in the next couple of weeks”

She grabs her whiskey and a cup out of the cupboard, Ran follows wrapping their arms around her middle as she pours. They bring their cool metal hand to her tummy and trail it in small circles “ So what's with grumpy?” 

Sevika grimaces and downs her first drink, silence filled with the soft sounds of the shower. She turns to face her partner rubbing the back of her neck “They got really angry today, which is fine and warranted, but wouldn’t stop picking fights with that old hag” 

Ran nods and pours her another drink.

“ They put the goal at risk and i got mad, so i said they were sensitive “ ran raises their eyebrows “ And that they… embarrassed me” 

Ran frowns at that, slapping a judgemental hand on sevika’s shoulder “ Why the fuck would you say that?”

Sev sneers hand gripping her cup hard “I was pissed off! And there's a certain way we have to talk to those shit heads to even get them to look our way” 

“ I'm sure there was a better way to say that to them”

“I was trying, but they don’t want to even look at me” the large woman slumps against the counter sighing. Ran puts their hand on her cheek rubbing soothingly with their thumb “ Well after their shower talk to them okay? They shouldn’t have blown up and you shouldn’t have talked to them that way”

She nods stiffly and Ran tips their head to kiss her softly. They share a soft smooch before dipping away towards the bathroom. Opening the door Ran peeks their head in, the room is steamy with the lack of a fan , smells of cedar and balsam are heavy in the air. 

They slide the shower curtain open watching you as you angrily scrub your curls. 

“Hi baby” they say sweetly 

“Hello lover” you reply coldy keeping your eyes closed.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, why would i? I’m just being too sensitive ” the word curls out of your mouth like venom.

Ran’s full lips pout “ You know she didn’t mean that baby”

“Well SHE can go fuck herself, I don’t know why she even fucking asked me to go. I’m not going to apologize for being myself and she’s not going to get me to sit like a good little dog as those Pilties spit on us!” You slam the shower off, sliding the curtain all the way open.

“No one’s asking you to do that-”

“No, but she wants me to be someone else. I'm too much of an embarrassment for her” the words are sour on your tongue and Ran looks sad “ She should’ve just taken you, You're the one working with the goddamn task force anyways”

“But I'm not a talker, not a passionate one like you anyways”

You wrap your towel around your body “ Well I’m obviously not the right kind, Maybe i should just shut up like she says-” you walk past Ran into the hall “ Or maybe i should roll over and bark too” you say louder glaring at Sevika as you walk to your room. 

As you dress in a big shirt yourself you hear stomping coming to the room and a small ‘sev’ from Ran as she blunders into your space. Sliding on your briefs you pull your arms to your chest to cross them defensively, staring up into those angry silver eyes challenging her. 

“Are you ready to talk now? Or are you just going to bitch around the house all night?” 

Ran sighs and holds their head in their hand as you explode into action. Pushing your hands against Sevikas firm chest, she stumbles back surprised by your sudden action and spilling her liquor all over her shirt. Which was still her nice work shirt you thought ,pleased.

“I'm not talking to you if you’re going to treat me like that , which i KNEW you would because you have the emotional capacity of a ROCK ” you yell. 

“Treat you like what?!  Should treat you like a fucking tyke since you’re acting like one?”

You want to hit her, you’re close to doing it but you know it won't solve anything “ If you like hearing that old bitches words so much, go fuck her and sleep in her bed instead” you spit lowly. Whipping away from her you crawl to your side of the bed and curl under the covers, slamming your head on your pillow facing away from them. Watching the wall as you listen to your partners talk. “ See “ sev hisses directing her hand to your covered shape. 

Ran looks at her incredulously “ Oh yeah they’re really gonna open up and tell you how they feel when you call them a child “ 

They slide in beside you and move some of your wet curls out of your face, warm body pressing up behind yours “ It’d be better to talk it out now, it's not good to go to sleep angry with each other”

You grit your teeth knowing they are right and your shoulders hunch in agitation. Their arm wraps around your midsection as they get closer to your face with theirs. Kissing your temple to your nose they wrapped a hand around your own clenched ones. Tilting your head to look at them they stared back with loving dark eyes squinting with a small smile. For the first time that night warmth filled your heart replacing some of the anger with love. 

They brought their lips to yours with the softening of your eyes. Soft lips caressed yours gently, hand leaving yours to cup your jaw delicately. A breath you didn’t know you were holding left through your nose as you moved closer to them. They departed from you, kissing down your jaw in a way that made your tummy burn. “You can have more once you guys talk” they griped departing your space. 

Huffing you sit up in your spot and glare at Sevika “Say what you need to say Oaf” 

She starts stomping over to the bed and reaches like she's going to choke you but is stopped by Ran’s firm hand in her chest. Ran points at you with their other hand “Stop, both of you” 

Squinting your eyes at her until she settles into a criss-cross, as she does you reach and snatch the cup out of her hands downing the rest of the harsh liquid. Smiling impishly at her as she growls and Ran leans back with an irritable look  your way. 

“You should know by now that you can’t talk to them like that! Don’t get all fucking beat up cause i called you out on it “ Sevika says angrily eyes narrowed.

“Call me out on all you want, but you’re the one who brought me there and you know I don’t back down! Why bring me there so I could act like myself all for you to turn around and say you're ashamed of me !”

You’re shaking a little bit with anger, crawling a little in front of Ran to get closer to Sevika’s face. Unwillingly angry tears crept from your eyes but you refused to blink meeting Sevika’s , now wavering, angry stare with your own. “ I’ve worked so fucking hard to stand up straight and fight for what I believe in, and for you my fucking girlfriend , to turn around and play my insecurities to get me to stand back down is fucked up. I know i should’ve simmered down but you can tell me that without making me feel like shit” 

Tears fell hard now and you back up wiping your hand roughly across your face “ I’m sorry for almost fucking it up, but my feelings are valid and i won’t feel bad about those” 

Ran looks horrified as you start to cry and Sevika blinks awkwardly, mouth opening and closing not knowing what to say first. After a moment she moves across the bed on all fours, raising her organic hand to capture your face “ I have never been ashamed of you, I shouldn’t have said what i said or how i said it” her tone is soft like velvet. She wipes your tears away and you swat her hand with a pout. 

“No you shouldn’t ‘ve” you mumble, holding your head low and away from your partners. 

She dips back onto her haunches with a sigh “ How can i make it better sweetpea?” 

“Have an actual discussion with me instead of being a mean prick” you throw at her. Ran elbows you as Sevika throws you a look.

With gritted teeth she exclaims “ that's what i'm trying to do” 

You two talk for a little with Ran sitting in the middle making sure neither of you lunge. Sev lights a cigar and you roll a joint while Ran turns on some shows for all of you to watch. Things settle , but you and Sev sleep on either side of Ran on account of them knowing that both of you were stubborn assholes. They laid with the hand draped in Sev’s hair playing with the dark locks languidly as their other rubbed cool circles in your thigh. The repetitive movement starts making you sleepy , so you get up on the bed standing to reach the dangling clicker on the light. 

A large foot tapped the back of your knee hard, making your legs bend automatically. You let out a small wail as you lost balance and tipped over, basically somersaulting off the bed, knees hitting the ground hard. Chuffing of laughter made you whip your head in anger to a pair of glittering silver eyes. She held her mouth in a bubble, smoke puffing out as she tried not to laugh at you. Standing you jumped into her lap at an alarming rate and snatched the cigar out of her hand “ You are such a BITCH ” you hiss throwing the whole cigar in a lone cup of old water on the side table.

“Guys can we just-” Ran started

You looked sternly at them “ Guys?! Shes the one who fucking started it”

Your sentence is finished with a large hand gripping your throat and a low growl in your ear. It sent a chill down the side of your neck, but it didn’t hinder your anger. You and Sevika rarely physically fought anymore especially since all three of you had started committing to each other. The itch was still there though to bruise and maim each other, one that both of you seemingly needed to scratch. 

Ran and Sevika both opened their mouths at the same time to speak, Sev to curse you and Ran to stop you seeing the fire in your brown eyes. Taking your planted knee you  harshly into the side of your girlfriend making air leave her lungs and her hand leave your neck.  You move your fist to jab at the area again but she catches it throwing it to the side. She bucks you off of her with ease making you bounce on your ass, she captures the sides of your face with one hand caging you in with the rest of her body

 “ Sure you wanna do this babe? ”

You answer with a puppy dog face , feigning defeat , when she leans in with a smile you take the chance to practice a move she showed you. Canting your head back a bit then meeting hers harshly with a crack, a sharp ‘fuck’ rings out and you cackle pointing and laughing at her. She bares her teeth and moves to hit you back, organic fist clenched and aimed at your gut. “That's enough.” Ran states harshly besides both of you. It makes you both stop, it's rare Ran ever spoke out of a pleasant tone even when they were upset. 

“Sevika, hands up on the headboard please” they cast their dark glance to the large woman. She balks and tries to say something but falters when Ran’s lips pull in a thinner line and their brows raise.  Rolling her eyes she throws your held head back harshly, moving to her upper back against the headboard and raising her hands above her head. 

“And you, between her legs now” they direct towards you moving themselves off the bed. 

“Ran-” 

“If you insist on pushing my buttons I promise you-” their threat trails off as you shuffle hurriedly between your girlfriend's thighs. Propping  yourself on your haunches and crossing your arms, you and Sevika glare daggers at each other. Ran makes their way back to the bed placing some things down then moving to stand beside Sev and tying her wrists with a thick opalescent  ribbon. 

Their hands move with such precision it makes you watch them instead of the silver orbs below. After a second they bend down and ask “How does that feel darling?”

She just grunts and nods.

“Now, I can see we have some building tension. We are going to solve this here and now and then go to sleep Peacefully ” they say, tucking a stray hair out of sev’s face then turning to look at you. 

The two of you weren’t new to Ran’s ‘lets calm down’ sessions, but it was something they were very good at and a thing they only did when both of you needed to be ‘punished’. The sessions did work well, but you hated to admit it. You draw your lips up in anger and furrow your brow as your partner rounds behind you taking in your folded arms harshly. They wrap another silky ribbon around your own wrists tuting as you flip the bird from behind. 

“What are our safe words, cuties?”

“Poison” Sev answers.

You glower and say nothing. Ran waits a beat and after a minute they straddle Sev to face you, taking their metal hand to caress your face. Leaning in to brush their plush lips against your quickening pulse point, hovering and letting soft breathes make their way up to your ear. A small baby whispers in your ear and Sevika’s eyes are burning into yours, bottom lip being furled between teeth. 

You let out a small breath is resignation “ Snake” 

They kiss below your ear gently and you can feel their smile. Leaning back onto a taut tummy they catch your eyes, looking for a second before they bring their flesh hand back and slap you harshly across the cheek. The sting in your eye makes it water and the impact makes you suck in a shaky breath “ Apologize” 

You sneer “ For what?!” 

Another smack has you reeling, heat starting to prickle down your limbs , hands flexing in their binds as the pain leaves. A whine leaves your lips as their hand soothes the area gently. They move from atop Sevika and behind you , grabbing your hair with their metal fingers tightly. They hold your head steady, dipping your body with the force of your hair hold , so you're face to face with Sev. 

She's smirking at you, with a shit eating glint in her eyes and raising her eyebrows as if to say ‘Go ahead’ 

Anger and heat roll around in your stomach, being intertwined with embarrassment as a groan leaves your lips. Ran’s hand clenching and tugging your hair painfully “Apologize” 

Their hips are pressed against your bottom , breasts hugging your back softly while their head dips to your ear. Organic hand moving to your front to glide over your plump belly , dipping softly into the front of your underwear. Sevika watched their movements like a hawk, eyes flicking back up to yours as they expanded. A small pink tip darting between dark lips, want starting to seep through her features. 

Warm fingers dip below your clothing, brushing your pubes softly making your breath hitch. Shaking your head you refused to submit, fuck Sev and her stupid stupid face. With a sharp tug of your hair and a tantalizing brush against your clit, your thighs clench with a shaky moan.

“ I - I’m sorry Sev” you say shakily. She nods slowly, trying to lean closer to you but being held tightly by the headboard. It wouldn’t be hard to break out of, but she respected Ran’s actions and only strained slightly against the restraints. 

Ran rewarded you with slow circling motion, gathering slick that started to pool onto your folds. You sucked your bottom lip in your mouth, brows pinching at the stimulation. Moving their fingers lower to shallowly dip into your entrance, only to quickly move back to their ministrations, now gliding quickly with extra wetness.  

“Now you Sevi” their voice sends chills through your brain. 

The older woman twitches below you , anticipation making her hands clench and unclench. Your eyes are half lidded now, mouth opened slightly as soft puffs of air make their way out of you. She was looking at you like she wanted to eat you, it made you crave her rough touch. 

 “I’m sorry baby” comes out like a purr, making you close your eyes, getting overstimulated by her gaze.

Your hair is released and you're pushed down into Sevikas body, cheek resting on her chest as Ran lifts your ass up. Their fingers leaving your clit make you gasp, their hands pulling your briefs down make you wriggle. Sevika is looking down at you taking in all of the small movements your face makes. You're both in a position where you can’t touch or kiss each other and with the building heat it gets increasingly frustrating. 

Her breath tickles your forehead, you can hear her heart beating faster as Ran moves behind you. Fingers dancing between your folds pushes a harsh breath from your lungs, face scrubbing against the rough material of Sevikas shirt. Your hips cant up higher trying to follow the soft touch, wanting more, and you cry out softly as the fingers leave. You're pushed up, knees going weak as a sharp crack of hand lands on your ass making you moan.  “Be patient , you’ll get what you want” Ran warns from behind, smoothing over the searing skin with a cool metal palm. 

Their strong hands move to either side of your hips, lifting you so you straddled Sevi’s midsection. Your face tucked closely to her neck where you began leaving soft bites and kitten licks. Sevika hissed turning her head to capture your lips only to be stopped by a fierce hand in her hair “ No ma’am” 

She grunts at the force in which she's pulled, neck straining and giving you more room for your lips. You look up to Ran who is looking back at you, dark eyes heavy lidded and a smirk playing sweetly on their lips, they nod for you to continue. You start by biting the taunt tendon of her neck harshly, licking over the tender spot when she bucks against you. The rub of her abdomen against your desire has your head spinning and you thank her for the stimulation by sucking a dark hickey over her collarbone.

The devouring of her neck has her squirming under you, you want to kiss her but know Ran won’t hesitate to punish you. “Behave” they say sweetly to Sev, kissing her lips gently. She follows after theirs when they leave to take position behind you again now sitting between Sevikas legs. They grab her boxers and slide them off, taking in her glistening pussy with delight. She loves watching you get punished and touched, she wouldn’t admit it outloud but she also loved when Ran took charge. They always did even when they bottomed but they were a calculated and amiable dom where sev was sporadic and sadistic. Making her bow easily to their will knowing they’d take it from her one way or another. 

Ran places a single finger gently on Sevikas cunt, teasing the dripping hole before bringing their thumb to smoosh her clit harshly. Her head hits the back of the headboard hard, a groan leaving her mouth. You bite your lip and nuzzle your way down her chest, biting the edge of her tank top to bring it under her breast. As you took her perked nipple into your mouth Ran started pushing two slender fingers into her easily. She opened beautifully for them, hips stuttering down on the intrusion. 

“F-fuck” she moaned head leaning back between her arms. You nibbled the pebbled flesh , sucking and licking the dark skin while Ran pumped into her lazily watching as your arousal dribbled onto sev’s hard ab’s. Watching you move to her other breast with hurried grace then bringing their eyes to dark irises plated with a ring of silver. They smile sweetly, pushing their fingers to the back of her cunt and rubbing with deep pressure against spongy nerves, thumb gliding cooly over her clit.

Her moan reverberated through her chest making you close your eyes and grind against the tensing muscle below.  Your cry out, unlatching from Sevika’s chest, as a warm tongue dives between your folds. A cold nose dipping into your entrance as Ran’s mouth suckels your pleasure between their lips. Their metal hand holding your thigh bruisingly makes it hard for you to push back onto them, their tongue flattening against your clit in a flick upwards . 

Your forehead sits between two warm breasts as you try and steady yourself, breathing harshly as heat collects in your core.

“S’feel good?” you hear sev ask from above you. You nod pathetically , sweat starting to build on your temple.   

“Answer properly” Ran takes their mouth from you and you whine loudly.

“Yes sir, it feels really good” you mutter looking up at her face. 

Her eyes keep yours, pulling you into some kind of spell, your head feels lighter and your eyelashes flutter. She smiles wickedly, eyebrows scrunched in pleasure as your other partner fingers her thoroughly. 

Ran makes you cum like that, slowly eating your pussy until you're shaking on top of Sevika. Their name leaving your mouth in a long moan, they hum digging their face into you as your thighs shutter against their hand. Their tongue doesn't stop though making you grit your teeth in over-stimulation , sharp pain combined with pleasure making you scramble to get away.  They finally release you with a sultry pop making you collapse wholly onto Sevikas chest. 

Sev makes a long groaning sound as they remove their fingers from her, moving to your sides “Open up” they say politely.  You turn to them and open your mouth taking in Sevika’s musky slick , the taste making your tongue happily swirl between their digits.  After a few moments they turn their wet coated face to Sevika and smile “ Clean me please” 

You watch them eyes burning into the sides of their faces as Sevika takes her time to lick and kiss all of your remnants off your partner's face. The sight makes you hungry for more, the concern of oversensitiveness from your orgasm being thrown out the window. 

They back away pleased with both of your actions, stepping away to round the bed to get something they placed there earlier. Watching them you see them work leather strips around their hips, tightening them and adjusting the ring that sits in the middle. They trade it out with a much larger one, it holds a new toy they bought not too long ago.  The piece is huge , holding two phallices instead of one, the base spreading widely covering most of the leather that shaded their pelvis. You noted the wetness that bloomed onto their underwear as the leather straps pushed against their lips tightly. 

Gathering a pillow they tucked in neatly under Sevikas hips, kiting you both higher on the bed.  They moved you back onto here until your clits brushed gently , making you moan softly into Sev’s chest. She tipped her hips to grind against you more, seeking the wet glide of your heats together. A metal hand pushes your back down so you're completely flush with Sevika, thighs spread more as Ran moves Sev's legs up, bending her knees in a way that lifts you higher. 

Your arms strain as Ran takes hold of your binds from behind, gliding one tip through  your fold gathering their spit and your release. Your head jumps just as Sevika does and you assume that Ran is doing the same to her with the other cock . The back of Ran’s knuckles brush your thighs as they grab Sevika’s, knees positioning themselves under her. They don't give either of you a warning before they start breaching your entrance with a firm snap of their hips.

The girthly length is taken greedily by you, walls constricting tightly as it has no problem reaching your end point at this angle. Your breath leaves you like you’ve been punched in the gut being quickly replaced with cut off moans as Ran doesn't hesitate to start pistioning their hips. Sevikas mouth hangs open with her eyes closed and dark brow furrowed deeply, soft fucks and Rans leaving her lips, wrists straining hard against her restraints. 

As they pound into both of you the friction from the movement sets a steady rhythm between your bodies, clits rubbing between each other. Your arms bend in pain as they push down to lean over you two better, their heavy breath cooling the sweat on the back of your neck. Wet slapping makes a rhythm timed with your high moans and Sevika’s grunting making Ran smile with effort. 

“You two look so beautiful” they state shakily “ Taking my cocks so well, so well behaved” 

The praise has you invigorated and pushing against their wicked thrust. You tilt your hips up just a little higher so you could get them to fuck you right where you wanted it. Noticing, their hand slips from your binding to the supple flesh of your hip guiding it up the way you wanted. Their sharp thrust has you seeing stars behind your eyelids, making you pant and drool “ Yes! Just like that , please!” crying as small tears leave the tips of your eyes. 

Sevika lets out a guttural groan at your words, you turn your head to catch dark eyes “Harder please, fuck me harder” 

Ran smiles, dropping your hip, grabbing both of Sevika’s legs and throwing them over their shoulder, both of you moaning at the change of position with the cocks still inside you both. She's almost folded in half with you perched on her lap, Ran wraps their arms around either outer side of her thighs gathering in the middle to hold onto your restraints tightly with both hands. Your nose is touching Sevika’s, eyes staring deeply into each other. Her eyes were lidded beautifully , scar shining making the sweat that dripped down that side glisten with a blue hue. 

“Go ahead darlings” ran says sweetly then begins to fuck into the both of you with the ferociousty of a starved man.  

“Oh f-uck” you yell the assault on your insides making your body quiver. Sevika captures your lips with a hard bite and you whine as she moans into your mouth. “I’m sorry baby, I love you so much” 

“I- ah- i love you too sevvy “ you groan into her mouth. Your tongues dance until you have to back off to take some stuttering breaths.

Ran watches the both of you, head tilting to one side in excretion , eyes dropping to your connected sexes. The image makes them groan and fuck both of you with as much as they could muster. The way both of your course hairs intertwine in curls soaked with both of your juices, the wide stretch of you both around their cocks. Sticky lines of cum and spit starting to build between all of you. Sevika’s head falls back between her arms with moans being punched out of her, the glide of your clit over hers building a hard weight in her back. 

Her legs shake fiercely on Ran’s shoulders as her orgasm is fucked out of her, making their hips stutter from the tightness of which she constricts herself around their length. “ God- fuck Ran” she growls back bending to a tight arch against you. Her hair cascades infront of her face as she puts her forehead against yours, her hot breath meeting your lips. You bite your lip and try not scream as Ran’s organic hand releases your silk to  place a now buzzing wand between your cunts. 

They fuck both of you sloppier but its more than enough as the vibrations shake your core. Sevika thrashes with the sensory overload, teeth bared as she looks into your eyes. 

Deep pressure sizzles in the base of your gut , building into something more than an orgasm. Shaking your head, small tear fall onto sev “ I - ran please , im gonna-” All they do is hum, adjusting their hips so they could push into both of you slower and focus on the position of the toy.  With one last deep push from them and a high pitched noise leaves your mouth. A white hot flash ripples down your spine, your clit being buzzed into numbness as they pull out quickly. They curse softly as your cunt flutters now empty of them, clenching around nothing as you start squirting. “That's it”  they whisper watching the hot liquid spill from you onto the wand and sevika’s own pulsing cunt. 

When they finally pull away your muscles finally release the ridged hold they had on your body, your head hangs low on Sevikas shoulder. You both settle lower as Ran removes themselves, the clinking of buckles let you know they’re taking off their strap. “Up baby” they grab your wrist and you hiss with soreness but get onto your knees and move. Taking in deep breaths between sev’s knees you watch your lovers kiss. It makes your soul thrum vividly with burning light, you wished you could crawl between them and seep into their pores.

Sevika leans in hungrily at the others touch, while delicate fingers run a small trail down her abs.

 “I'm going to untie you, and you're going to put this on okay?” they point to the discarded strap, which now you’ve noticed they have switched the toy with Sevika’s favorite. It was an average size, but the girth was almost too much. Even though you felt spent heat bubbled up into your core as you wondered if she was going to fuck you or Ran with it.  They start untying the pearly strip, casting a glance your way. They stopped and moved their finger around in a circle, indicating that you should turn around. 

Huffing you do as they say turning to face the wall that held the T.V.  , its staticy glass reflecting your disheveled state. The bowing of the bed made you jump in anticipation, eyes being caught by a now standing Ran. They walked in front of you cupping your cheek with one hand gently brushing through thick locks with the other. Strong arms wrap around your middle and pick you up making you yelp, Sev chuckles as she settles you above her lap. Perked breast press hard against your back,her head dipping down into the crook of your neck to give you a rough bite. 

Whimpering as her cock slips clumsily between your labia as she settles her knees, kissing the indentations she left. The hand in your hair tightens, turning your attention back to Ran’s cool gaze. Their mouth is hung open slightly, wet and darkened by bites, and though their face was schooled you could see the restlessness behind their eyes. With their free hand they finally pull their underwear down, a low groan leaving your mouth as built up secretion spiderwebs from their trimmed mound to their soiled briefs. 

“That's all for you baby” Sev rumbles in your ear, grinding against you “What do you say?”

She shifts you in her grasp, the tip of her cock pressing deliciously against you, while Ran guides your mouth closer to their rigid bud. Licking your lips you gaze up haughtly into their eyes “ Thank you sir”

Their lips tug in a lopsided smirk “You’re welcome baby” 

Moaning loudly as they drag you roughly by your hair and affixing your mouth to their clit. You gladly opened up, licking a hot line from their core to swirl with expertise , taking in their heady taste committing it to memory. They grunt gripping your hair tighter, pulling you until your nose is flush with coarse dark hairs. You get lost in the rhythm of their stuttered breaths, pursing your lips to better suck on their desire, preening as they let a quiet moan leave their lips. 

You forgot sevika held you until your walls tensed as she started to enter you, a startled groan making Ran’s thighs quiver from titillation. Sevika kissed and bit the span of your shoulders, slowly stretching you out on her cock , whispering dirty nothings into your ear. When she bottoms out Ran spreads their legs more, planting their feet firmly into your comforter. You hum into them feeling raw and used , but  also feeling held and worshiped. The way they look at you makes your heart stutter, your eyelashes fanning down as you nuzzle your face as close as you can.

Seeing you ravage their sex passionately Sevika growls, squeezing her arms around you and balancing her knees, she fucks into you. The impact of her vicious thrust causes your face to grind against Ran's heat at a brutal pace. They start letting out consistent moans of pleasure and your scalp feels like it's on fire as they double down on their grip. 

“God- you take cock like a slut” Sevi hissed. Bringing her organic hand down to spread your lips and rub against the sensitive bud that awaited her. Her pace is brutal and sloppy ,but it's no less effective and you sob shallowly into Ran’s cunt. Their smooth composure cracking as they closed in on their own release, mouth whispering praise. ‘So good’ 

‘Just like that’

‘Taking us so well’

“Look at me” they growl. With lots of effort you opened your scrunched eyes meeting dark orbs that almost vibrated from your attention. You look pitiful below them, most of your face glistening from the powerful face riding Sevika is pummeling you into.  Her eyes are on theirs too, breath almost whistling through gapped teeth from effort . Her large frame covering your back, shoulders jumping as she hugs you down onto her thrust. When tears start brimming your eyes Ran’s face grimaced exquisitely, their hair falling in their face as they arched into you. A beautiful chime of a moan rolls through them, and you worship their clit as their orgasm ripped through their body.

They pull you off of them a sultry snicker leaving them as your sounds become unmuffled by them. Loud and punctuated ‘ahs’ and ‘fucks’ floundering out of a gaping mouth, your head hanging low as they released your hair. Dropping to their knees they cup your moist face smiling at your unfocused eyes, placing a tender kiss to your swollen lips. You let out a small hiccup of a sob, all of your nerves on fire , tears dripping onto the sheets as Sevika doesn’t let up. 

You break the kiss suddenly, head slamming on to  Ran’s shoulder shaking it back and forth as your third orgasm is pulled out of you.  Shoulders shaking with meager wail as Sevika slows and helps you ride out the final tremors of pleasure. When she finally stops, she's fully seated inside you kissing softly down your jaw and back to your forehead. Ran rubs soothing circles into your tear stained cheek smoothly and brings your head to their chest. 

After a minute of catching your breath Sev rubs your tummy “ I'm gonna pull out now okay?” 

Nodding your head as it's held you whine as the large piece slips out of you. Sliding back now that your free Ran pulls you down so your face lays on the bed and they start untying your wrist, massaging the worked flesh as they go. Grumbling a thank you against the sheets as you roll your wrists in freedom , thankful for the final relaxation of your muscle. You Are rotated and gathered in one swift motion by them, being held in a princess fashion as they scoot of the bed. 

Your head is feeling heavier by the second, sleep calling your name, but you resist as they walk both of you into the bathroom, Sevika following behind. You all shower together, it's intimate and slow, taking the time to properly clean and take care of each other. Afterwards Sevika stands, arms wrapped around you as you make the three of you a post orgasm snack while Ran finishes changing the sheets. 

They make grabby hands at the two of you when you walk back in, making your heart flutter and a blush touch your cheeks. It was easy for your limbs to intermingle as the three of you cuddled close to each other. Now taking the middle spot of the bed you doze quickly off laying your head on Sevika’s lap. She plays with your hair lazily  as her and Ran share the final cigarillo of the night.  Ran’s hand lays intertwined with yours as their arms stretches over your side, small kisses being placed on your temple. 

“Love you” you mumble sleepily 

“I love you too” they smile against your skin. 

The smell of sweet smoke and the embrace of your lovers quickly coax you into gentle sleep. 

[woso-dreamzzz]

Barcelona

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first day at Barcelona

Your first day at Barcelona starts a week after Momma and Morsa give you Prins. He's an absolute sweetheart and you coo softly at him after getting back from your morning run.

You're trying to get yourself into a routine so a morning run was what you settled on - even though you weren't really a morning person.

Prins' tail wags happily as you unclip his leash and he runs off to lap at his water bowl.

You check your phone as you go to grab your training bag.

There's a few texts from Tia Tana and Alexia, both wishing you good luck on your first day that you shoot off thank yous to before you crouch down to run a hand through Prins' fur.

"I'll be home soon," You promise him," Don't tear apart my stuff."

He yips at you and you take that as agreement, slipping out the front door.

You live close to the training ground and take a deep breath. You've already signed your contract and done the media commitments so this is your first day actually training with the team.

You stand outside the changing room and take a deep breath to calm your nerves, clenching your fist to steel yourself as you head inside.

There's blur in front of you and suddenly you feel like you're being crushed. You recognise this feeling though and hug back, resting your head in her neck.

"I've missed you," Natalia says, pulling back to cup your face.

You feel your cheeks go red and hope she doesn't notice. "I missed you too," Is what you say back.

She pulls you in for another hug, kisses raining down on your head inbetween a desperate slur of English and Spanish.

Natalia keeps chattering away to you as you change. You think her eyes linger a little bit when you've got your top off but you don't want to give yourself hope so you try to ignore it.

Natalia's just a touchy person. Whatever feelings you have for her shouldn't be projected onto what she may feel for you.

Her hand grips yours as she pulls you out onto the pitch, making brief introductions to everyone for you.

"I don't know how you expect me to get to know everyone if you keep dragging me away," You laugh.

"I want to keep you all to myself for a little bit longer," She says, her eyes boring into yours like there's something else she wants to say," Is that so wrong?"

You shake your head, lacing your fingers with hers. "No. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Good." Natalia steps further into your space until you're close enough to feel her breath on your lips.

It takes you back to your first kiss with her, when the Spain team had made the journey all the way over to Denmark again and you took her to a little café after the match. You had a nice afternoon snack and then walked with her to the park where you confessed you had never kissed someone before. She had pressed her lips to yours in that instant.

Because she was a good friend and good friends helped their friends when they're feeling nervous.

Your heart had sped up in that moment just like it was speeding up now.

"I'm selfish," Natalia continues," I like having you all to myself. The others can have you next week. This week you're mine."

You smile at her shyly as her own grin widens and she tugs you over to where the manager is gathering everyone around.

Barcelona training is a bit more intense than Arsenal training but you're still running off your World Cup fitness so you adapt pretty quickly. Your Momma said once that you're good like that, that you can adapt to anything and blend in with a group like a little chameleon.

Admittedly, she said that to you when you were a lot younger but you're happy to keep the comparison even now.

There's only a few breaks in the pace of training and, every time, Natalia comes back into your orbit. She's always touching you in some way but her preferred position is standing behind you, arms wrapped around your waist and chin hooked around your shoulder.

Having her so close makes goosebumps rise on your body and your heart thumps so hard that you're a little bit scared she's going to hear it.

You write it all off as her being Spanish though, even as soft little kisses are pressed to your neck. They're a bit ticklish and you flinch away.

"Stop it! I'm sensitive!"

"Oh?" Natalia quirks a brow, smiling like a wolf," You're sensitive, are you? That's nice to know."

Like usual whenever Natalia's around, your face burns red and you distract yourself by chugging half of your water in one go. But, despite your embarrassment, you lean back into her body, allowing her to support most of your weight as you both sway slightly as you wait around for the gym equipment to be set up.

"Hey," Natalia says softly, directly in your ear like you're the only two out on the pitch," Do you want to go to dinner tonight? There's this nice place near my apartment."

"What did I do to deserve dinner?"

"Survived your first day?" Natalia teases," Pulled of an incredible save against a goal that should have been mine?"

You laugh. "I'm wise to your tricks. You're not putting one past me."

"Oh, come on! Not even a little one?"

"No chance."

"Fine. But, really, dinner?"

"I would," You say," But Prins-"

"Bring him with. I'd love to meet him in person. Come on, what have I got to say to get you to agree?"

"Fine," You say," Dinner with you and Prins. Send me the address."

"I'll pick you up," Natalia replies with a wink," Can't have such a pretty girl walking around alone."

That moment, along with many others, get captured by the media team documenting your first day.

When Magda wakes up the next morning, it's to notifications from the Barcelona Instagram page and she scrolls through it to see if you're featured.

She doesn't know if it's anger or relief that bubbles up in when she sees your face in the pictures but it's definitely anger when she spots Natalia holding you tight against her body.

Your head is tilted back on the other's girl shoulder and you're beaming up at her as one of her hands is under your arm, holding your shoulder and pressing you back against her while the other is splayed out on your hip.

You're both smiling.

She flicks to the next picture and the next, each of them showing you and Natalia in various positions, curled around each other like you're the only two people there.

"Hmm," Pernille says as she rolls over and begins to wake up," Magda? What is it? Has something happened?"

"Is Natalia sleeping with our daughter?

"Huh? What?"

"Is Natalia planning on sleeping with our daughter? I mean, look!" She shoves the phone into Pernille's face.

"I won't lie but she's probably thought about it before. You know what Natalia's like. She's smitten."

"Smitten?" Magda scoffs," That's what you're going with?!"

"I could say patient as well," Pernille replies," I don't know many girls who would pine over someone for so long." She sits up and properly looks at the photos. "Although, I don't think she'll have to wait much longer. Princesse is smitten too."

[scourgebff]

more from the hollycinder partners in crime au, their little family ( original concept/au idea by @the-owl-tree )! i imagine dovewing got cinderheart’s build with hollyleaf’s striking features while ivypool is leaning more towards hollyleaf’s tall stature but cinderheart’s recognizable markings.

holly’s disappearance into the tunnels after upending the entire normalcy of thunderclan had left quite a stir in her wake. ivy and dove grow up trying to make sense of and deal with her legacy in their own ways. cinder is in the middle, fiercely protecting her daughters’ youth from a world which wants to press the weight of everything on their shoulders far too readily while also struggling to figure out her own identity.

very detailed brainrot under the cut

it seemed like an ironic twist of fate in the eyes of lionblaze and jayfeather that dove was to take holly’s part in the prophecy, quickly sweeping her under their wing and closely guiding her paws. the lingering worry that she would stray from them and onto a dangerous path as holly had- doubly so since lion was made dove’s mentor. lion is fiercely protective of dove, seeing in her a bright potential and genuinely wants her to succeed. however it is quite clear to everyone that he’s projecting his sister onto her, for all her talent and resourcefulness going beyond the shadowy pelt and leading to heightened expectations. dove swallows down her discomfort at the pressure, wanting to make everyone proud and live up to their expectations, not only as warrior but as part of a prophecy so much larger than herself. one that she feels is partially to blame for driving her other parent away, as jay eventually reveals to her to full truth, leading to feelings of guilt she doesn’t even particularly understand. torn between stars and shadows, her paws wander over clan borders in search of an answer or escape for herself while discovering things she’d never expect.

meanwhile ivy feels like a spectator in her own life. listening in on near constant rumors and gossip about her family that she isn’t even included in, instigated by a cat she doesn’t even know. getting even further frustrated by just how passively helpless to remedy anything she is. while cinder treats the two girls completely equally, ivy isn’t blind to the practically palpable anticipation thunderclan holds towards dove. she’s a prodigy, with the undivided attention of both the clan’s healers and one if not the strongest warrior as a mentor, sent on journeys and given extra assignments as cats discuss how promising she is- yet also the level of suspicion cats hold towards her for being related to both a traitor, a healer, and a windclanner. ivy is of course of the exact same blood, yet she might as well not exist to anyone but dove and cinder bar a few extended family members. feeling isolated yet reluctant to try and burden her already troubled closest kin with insecurities she feels are ‘insignificant’, ivy meets hawkfrost who seems to not mind listening. in fact he says he relates to her, having a controversial family history himself. ivy asks for advice, ending up gaining confidence with his helpful suggestions and in turn drawing closer to the dark forest. she seems more well adjusted, yet in truth she’s merely getting better at lying and giving cats a spectacle to notice her by. while her social life improves, the unease in her grows as she’s gradually lured into working for the dark forest. ivy with new confidence and supposedly trustworthy new friends feels as if she can balance the danger despite rising escalation.

cinder, ivy, and dove remain extremely close. there is certainly friction between ivy and dove, however cinder is incredibly involved in their lives. refusing to let them lash out at each other and drift apart, she’s reminded all too painfully of her bitter last interaction with holly. she regrets how they ended, strangely enough considering how she didn’t regret dirtying her paws with blood to cover up holly’s sins. what she will not tolerate however is disrespect against her kits, growing estranged from her childhood friends jay and lion upon seeing how oddly they treat dove. it’s an uncomfortable situation, yet dove and ivy both are incredibly grateful to always have cinder in their corner. just for her they’ll set their reservations towards each other aside to form an at least temporarily stable truce. that being said, cinderheart being a reincarnation of cinderpelt actually has relevance to her character here that can be a whole other post on its own so i won’t go into it.

holly is more washed than a rack full of clean dishes icl. fleeing into the tunnels was a temporary solution, made at the peak of her mental crisis she initially tries to ignore how horrifically she treated so many cats. pushing it aside, and trying to restart herself. yet she can never forget cinder, even when she leaves the tunnels to become a wanderer cinder’s loyalty always sticks out so clearly. the kindness that holly had pushed and pushed and pushed until it broke and now here they were after that blow-out argument upon the gathering’s aftermath. a lot can be said for the time she’s out living as a rouge, but she eventually will have to come back and face her horrible past mistakes. unfortunately not before meeting a cat who might change everything for the worse- darktail C:

there’s some more i could mention because the cinderholly brainrot is infectious but i already rambled enough sorry TY IF U ACTUALLY READ THIS LOL UH </3 reward for making it down here is the fullbodies of these very normal not tortured individuals i consider them an equally normal amount

[lkfarrout]

Main Tags: Family fluff, Grunkle Stan and Mabel bonding

Summary: Stan's memory is fully recovered, including his ability to drive, which comes with the return of an old bad habit. Mabel takes things into her own hands and reminds Stan how important he is to her. [1584 words]

Based on the first part of my most popular tumblr post of all time: Stan and Mabel Headcanons

Warnings: None! Just cute wholesome stuff <3

"There they are, Dipper, come on!" Mabel dragged her twin out onto the porch of the Mystery Shack, practically jumping up and down at the sight of her two grunkles pulling up in Stan's red Cadillac.

They'd been gone only thirty minutes.

"He did it!" Dipper exclaimed. "That's a really good sign."

A six-fingered hand waved at the kids from the passenger window, and they eagerly waved back. But as the car got closer, Mabel's hand fell slowly back to her side, and her eyebrows furrowed as she squinted into the windshield.

"How did it go?" Dipper asked, as the two older men joined the kids on the porch.

"Like ridin' a bike," Stan said with a grin.

"He stills drives as recklessly as when we were teenagers," Ford teased, "but I believe it's safe to say that Stanley's memory is fully recovered."

It was a long-anticipated moment among them all. Grunkle Stan was finally back to normal, able to take care of himself, give tours, tell jokes and stories like he used to, and now drive himself around too. Dipper embraced Stan in a hug, showing off how proud he was of all the progress Stan had made – and just in time, too, because there was only a few days of summer left.

As Dipper let go, Stan expected to be eagerly met with another hug from his niece, but instead he found her in the same spot, her gaze on the ground at their feet.

"Mabel, sweetie, you okay?" He crouched down a bit and put a hand on her shoulder.

Mabel looked up at him with sweet eyes, full of concern. "Grunkle Stan, you didn't wear your seatbelt."

"Oh," Stan shrugged, "yeah, I guess I didn't."

"Why not?"

"Well... to be honest I never really did when you kids weren't in the car." Stan tousled Mabel's hair with a chuckle. "Plus, back in my day seatbelts were more of a suggestion anyway."

With that, the family made their way inside, leaving Mabel to begrudgingly fix her hair as she followed behind them.

---

“Are you sure you want to do this, Mabel? What if he catches us?” Dipper whispered, anxiously peering around the corner as he and his sister watched Stan settle into his chair to watch TV for the evening.

“We have to, Dipper! This is important,” Mabel insisted. “You remember the plan?”

“Yeah,” her twin conceded. “Remind me what we need the syrup for again?”

Mabel sighed, slightly annoyed with her brother. “So he has a reason to drive somewhere in the morning, duh!”

Dipper didn’t really see the point in all this. After all, Grunkle Stan had survived without a seatbelt for like, a hundred years. But Mabel had gone along with plenty of his crazy plans, so it wasn’t like he could say no.

“Alright, but I’d rather get the stuff while you distract him. He’s more likely to listen to you," Dipper suggested.

With that, Mabel set off determinedly to the living room. “Oh, Grunkle Sta-an,” she said in a sing-songy voice, trying to look as sweet as possible. “Can you make Stancakes in the morning?”

At the same time, Dipper headed to the kitchen. He rummaged around in the cabinets as quietly as he could, and Mabel’s voice continued to permeate the house.

“Why don’t you put your feet up, Grunkle Stan, relax a little? Can I get you a blanket?”

With three bottles of syrup in his arms, Dipper headed to Stan’s bedroom. The sash was easy enough to find. After all, it was the only item that colorful in the entire room. Finding the car keys was a bit harder. When Stan was dressed, they were usually in his pockets, but now that he was settled down for the evening in his boxers and undershirt, Dipper assumed they had to be put away somewhere. He was right, and after a bit of digging, he found them in an empty cigar box on Stan’s nightstand among other items like spare change and a lighter. Dipper tucked the keys into his vest pocket, quietly shut Stan’s door, and made a beeline for the attic.

On the way, he ran into Ford.

“Oh, hello Dipper,” the older man’s eyes narrowed curiously as he noticed the bundle of yarn and maple syrup in the boy’s arms. “What’s all that for?”

“Oh, this?” Dipper tried his best to sound casual, “Mabel needs this for… an art project. You know how she loves to craft.” He laughed awkwardly.

“Indeed,” Ford agreed. He walked away, leaving Dipper to continue his mission, and wondered what art project could possibly require all the syrup in the house.

Once the syrup was successfully hidden away in the attic, Dipper met his sister on the back porch with the other stolen items.

“Got the stuff?” She asked.

He nodded as the two of them made their way to the Stanleymobile. “How long will this take?”

“I’ll be done before his episode is over!”

---

Stan searched all the cupboards, wishing that he’d checked for syrup before he started making the pancakes. It was odd -– he was positive that he had stocked up on it specifically for the apocalypse. He thought about sending Ford to the store, but no one else was awake yet. And if he had to be honest, part of him was itching to drive the car again. So, he turned off the stove, shoved the rest of the batter in the fridge, threw on his robe, and headed outside.

Upstairs, Mabel excitedly watched from the attic window while her brother slept soundly. She observed as Stan crossed the yard with an energetic gait, swinging his keys back and forth. A few feet away from the car, he slowed and approached more curiously, wondering what the odd splash of color peeking through the window was.

Stan ran his fingers over the soft yarn of the Our Hero sash, which had been expertly cut apart and knit back together around the driver's side seatbelt. He chuckled to himself -- it was a fashionable seatbelt cover if he'd ever seen one. As he climbed into his seat, he noticed the folded up note on the dash. He unfolded it, ready for whatever silly message Mabel had left him about "making the car prettier" or whatever.

It was written in purple gel pen: If you want to be our hero, you have to wear your seatbelt.

It included a sticker of a bumble bee saying "I bee-lieve in you."

"Oh, Pumpkin..." Stan began softly. He forced a small laugh at the cheesy sticker as a last-ditch attempt to stop the emotion rising in his throat.

Above him, Mabel was having a hard time containing her emotions as well. She squeezed Waddles to her chest and lightly shook him to stop herself from jumping up and down with excitement. "He's reading it, he's reading it," she whispered to Waddles. She watched her uncle set the note down and carefully click his seatbelt into place so that the words fell over his shoulder and chest just like when he used to wear it as a sash. "It worked!" she exclaimed.

Mabel leaned back, satisfied that her plan had been successful, and waited for Stan to pull out of the driveway. Several minutes passed, however, without the car moving. Stan just looked at his lap and gripped the wheel with both hands.

"Uh oh," Mabel's tone changed, "maybe he doesn't remember the sash..." When he defeatedly leaned forward and rested his forehead on the wheel, Mabel threw her slippers on and hurried down the stairs.

Stan was startled back into an upright position by the girl's soft knocking on the passenger window. Stan quickly wiped his tears away with the sleeve of his bathrobe and gave the child a soft smile.

"Are you okay?" she asked hesitantly, climbing into the seat next to him. "Grunkle Stan, are you crying?"

"No, no," he denied, "I just, got the sun in my eyes is all."

"Do you remember that?" She gestured to the sash-turned-seatbelt-cover.

"How could I forget?"

Mabel fiddled with the sleeves of her nightshirt. "Do you like what I did? Or..."

With one hand, Stan gently lifted her chin so their eyes met. "Of course I like it, sweetie. I love it."

Mabel smiled and he continued, "Thanks for lookin' out for me. I'll always do whatever I can to be your hero."

She felt his arms wrap around her, embracing her in a big hug. Mabel rested her head against Stan's shoulder and lightly ran her fingers along the soft knit fabric of the sash.

As the two separated, Stan asked, "You wanna go to the store with me? I gotta get some syrup for your pancakes."

"Oh, actually, all the syrup is upstairs... I needed a reason for you to get in the car this morning."

"Yeah?" Stan wrapped his arm around Mabel, this time pulling her in for a noogie, "C'mere, you clever punk. I thought you were bein' suspicious last night."

As he relaxed his arm, he said, "Well, might as well go anyway since we're out here. Anything else ya want on your pancakes?"

Mabel thought for a moment while she fixed her hair. "Marshmallows?" she suggested.

Stan just grinned in response and started up the old car.

"Can I ride in the front?" Mabel asked, smiling up at her uncle with the sweetest eyes.

"Hmm," he pretended to think, "only if you wear your seatbelt."

[spidermanifested]

speaking of transfem interpretations for characters presented as men in the source material. one such case i have been stewing in my mind for a while is black sails charles vane

which i realize (hence the big post about it) would probably not be most peoples first assumption because vane is very stereotypically masculine on first blush. youve got the whole rugged individualist sigma male thing going on, the growly voice the immaculately shaped stubble, etc. but: as the show goes on we get more insight into WHY he presents himself that way and it becomes more and more clear that there are two (well, three but we'll get there) major reasons for this

1) his father figures' enduring influence (the conflicting desires to both appease and outdo them, to different levels for each, but both sides of which can only be achieved by performing masculinity The Best),

and 2) the practical need, as a pirate, to be respected and feared by the men following him,

both of which can be boiled down to "we live in a society". and on their own i would just take these parts of his character as an exploration of how gender roles are socially mandated and reinforced, but, unusually for this type of character, he seems very matter-of-fact and self-aware about the reasons hes Doing Masculinity. this is one of his parallels with flint, whos also consciously spinning his motivations through a narrative of cishet machismo to achieve respectability under patriarchy.

obviously to some degree vane IS shown to have internalized the bioessentialist 18th century england view of gender roles ("i can understand a womans desire for domesticity", etc) (and even still! you CAN understand it? interesting wording!). but he doesnt express things like this remotely as often as, say, jack, who repeatedly goes full throttle Boomer Wifejokes Mode when he feels undermined or slighted by a woman, even one he cares about. in contrast vane is quick to empathize with and relate to and even (especially!) project onto the women in his life. he strikes up a weird rapport with abigail; max, a total stranger to him, gets past his selfish crew-appeasing decision to keep her prisoner by appealing to their similarities. its not just that hes attracted to women (though he obviously very much is), he views them as people who are Similar To Him. maybe more similar than men?

the biggest example is his whole relationship with eleanor. hes CONSTANTLY pointing out how alike they are, how much they hate being oppressed by fathers, aka by men. arent you tired of being tied down by gendered expectations? dont you just want to go apeshit? hes constantly trying to pull her out of this box society has built around her but also hyperaware of and seemingly resigned to his OWN box. he identifies with and lives vicariously through her rebellion. shes his strongest and most genuine emotional connection, and not in a woodes rogers "grieving my beloved unlawfully-wedded wife. what do you mean she was a real person who didnt just sit in the corner and knit silently" way, but like, For Real. even if they were ultimately so incredibly bad for each other.

which brings us to the third secret reason he performs masculinity so hard. that connection, his bonds with women (like flint and the Witch Puppetmaster Rumors about miranda) is repeatedly shown to be considered by the men around him to be a weakness– one that might need forcibly correcting if he ever falters from peak masculinity even a little. hes only allowed to continue to explore that side of himself via the narrow avenues of male heterosexuality and social dominance– his actual relationship with eleanor is very equal, he has no desire to dominate her, or... anyone, really? hes super big on just letting his crew do what they want (to the extent where this winds up causing severe issues). but his ability to lead men requires that he put on the show. and even still, he never seems willing to sacrifice the part of his life with eleanor in it no matter how much pressure is exerted on him from men above or below him in the pecking order. SHE is always the one who winds up abandoning him for HER goals.

shes ultimately too caught up on the lie of finally achieving respectability. and, vane is too, just from a different facet of society. his character arc is about confronting that desire, reckoning with it, and discarding it, choosing to follow flint instead of blackbeard.

(meanwhile we have eleanor falling back on the patriarchys narrative in order to dehumanize him before his execution, even though she ALSO grew up without a mothers love. theyre the same, but through her privilege and adjacency to even more privileged men, shes been given all the tools she needs to deny it– at the cost of boxing herself further into her own role. a cost she chooses to pay every time, no matter how much she claims to hate it.)

theres just...... a whole lot of really good commentary about gender in this show. other characters have their own ways of exploring it but normally their sense of displacement within the gender binary is via the lens of queer sexuality, whereas vane is judged mainly for having a relationship to womanhood that goes BEYOND sexual attraction. and i think that while this part of the narrative stands strong on its own without it, a transfem reading would add some fun new layers and make a lot of sense. and i would love to know if anyone else has had the thought that hrt could have. well maybe not saved her. but definitely Helped

my final miscellaneous piece of analysis, is that aside from that one clothes-on nut-and-bolt between miranda and the pastor, which lasted ~5 seconds so it doesnt count. the only mutually passionate sex scenes shown happening on screen, either(?) involve two women, or a woman and charles vane. & like im just saying. for consistencys sake. we could just resolve that one outlier real quick

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 18: Slow Like Honey

“Why are we going back to the house?” she demanded in front of the kitchen doors. ”Do you think I changed clothes just for fun?”  Lucanis snaked a hand into his pocket to retrieve a key.  “I assure you, you made your impression on that room. You don’t need to torment yourself in a crowd any longer.”  “Do you know how long it took to get into this dress?” He considered her for a moment, eyes sweeping up and down her figure. In a slight stoop, his lips brushed against the shell of her ear.  “If you want help taking it off, you only have to ask.”  A chill ran down her spine, and she found herself unable to come up with a disarming retort. She was usually the one unnerving him.  “Fiammetta, would you…”  He turned the key in the lock, holding the door open for her,  “…like to join me in my room tonight?"

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem Rook/OFC x Spite???

Summary: No one from House Dellamorte kneels...with exceptions.

Word count: 3.9k

Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! This chapter contains SMUT all CAPS. Warnings for: PiV, oral sex, fingering, inexperienced sex (if you squint because Lucanis can fake it until he makes it) Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“I’ve been looking for you.” 

Lucanis’ hands found her waist just as she stumbled on the final stair at the sound of his voice. Rook blinked in surprise, holding onto his shoulders for balance. 

“It’s these marble floors you Dellamortes love so much.” She grumbled, adjusting her gown around her ankles. 

“Wood creaks too much underfoot, not to mention the way it stains…” he trailed off and arched a brow as he studied her attire. 

“You changed clothes.”

“You haven’t.” She said, observing the dried blood on his perfectly tailored cape. “Are you okay, Lucanis? It seems a little soon to be celebrating something that came at the heel of your cousin’s betrayal. I’m still surprised you spared him. Or that Spite let you.”

“That wasn’t mercy. Illario will never live this down. There’s nowhere he could go to outrun being the traitor Crow, brought down in front of everyone.” He shook his head. “I am fine. I will deal with my cousin later.”

As he spoke, Rook caught sight of several lingering glares from around the room. It was common to be leered at by fellow Crows, but she’d become accustomed to a very particular stare for most of her life. Whether they loathed her or envied her, the faces were all the same: narrowed eyes, hardened scowls, folded arms. 

“Are we Crows or Vultures?” She muttered, “If looks could kill, I’d be dead a hundred times over.”

“Don’t worry about the stares.” Lucanis nodded at a few unfamiliar faces in the crowd. “Nobody would dare make a move after you brought Illario to his knees like that.”

“Some whispers can be as deadly as a thousand cuts.” Rook said, moving to the edge of the room where she wouldn’t have to watch her back. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

Lucanis followed, frowning. “Have I offended you?”

“No, I’m sorry.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I shouldn’t take this out on you. It just…gets to me sometimes. You’re a Dellamorte. You get jealous looks, but they come with respect. If another man cut you down, he’d say you were an honorable opponent.”

“The De Riva house is just as honorable-”

“Do you know how it was, for Viago and I? The things people said about our mothers? Two women from poor households chasing notable De Riva men around, trapping them with babies? At least my father married my mother. Viago’s mother did not have it so well. The comments made about him in passing alone…to him…” 

“I remember some things..as a child.”

“I have always had a tainted reputation. When I was young, when my parents had repaired their social standing, people were good. But then my mother died, and my father left the Crows…by the time I returned to the public eye, I was under Viago’s wing. He demanded respect, and I had it by proxy. But when I blew that operation, and then abandoned Treviso, I looked like a deserter. Just like my father.” 

“You took a contract. You are no deserter.”

“I moved against a member of house Dellamorte in his own home tonight.”

“On my behalf-”

“Yes. And I have the ear of the new First Talon I helped rise to power. ” Rook said, angling her head towards a group of sneering young women on their left. “To them, I’m an opportunist.” 

“I think the gossip may be about me.” Lucanis grinned and leaned in close. “See the one in the middle? I declined an invitation to her bed just before you came down that staircase.

Rook admonished herself for the prick of jealousy stinging her skin. Lucanis Dellamorte did not belong to her. And as First Talon, it was unsurprising that every eligible Crow in the room would want to be on his arm.  

“Do you get those kinds of invitations often?” She asked, attempting to sound impassive. 

“Only when I bother to show my face in public. I’ve never been interested.” He replied casually, “You can’t tell me it’s not the same for you?”

“I think Viago’s scowling keeps most potential suitors away…”

“Perhaps it’s a good thing your cousin is so busy keeping my cousin in line, then?”

Lucanis nodded toward the doors, smiling.

“Shall we make a discreet exit?”

“This will surely fix my reputation problem.” Rook muttered. “Are you sure you should leave? They’re celebrating you.”

“I have other plans for celebrating this evening.” He said as he escorted her to the gardens. “Come. Escape prying eyes and get some air with me.”

While he held open an ornate side door for her to step through, he made certain they weren’t being followed before ducking out after her.

“So. First Talon. Does that mean you’ll be leaving us?” Rook asked, wandering towards an easement overlooking the water. 

“No. We have a contract.” Lucanis joined her, bracing his palms on the railing. “Besides. She may have stepped down, but there’s no stopping Caterina from giving all the orders.”

“Right.” she pursed her lips and lowered her gaze. “I could be crossing a line here, but…you never wanted to be First Talon, did you? Why don’t you tell Caterina no?”

“You are crossing a line, but I’d never consider you a trespasser. My secrets are your secrets.” 

“Are you going to answer my question, then?”

He glanced at the opera house out of the corner of his eye.

“Later. This is a dangerous conversation to be had in Caterina’s garden.”

Rook nodded, watching the gondolas in the distance rock atop the current underneath. Lucanis eased himself onto his elbows, stretching his legs long behind him as the wind tousled his hair.

“So, what were you and my grandmother discussing?” He asked, staring at his hands. 

“We just sat in silence and watched you brood from the window.”

“Mierda. Must I suffer both of you?”

“Why suffer me at all? You’ve just been promoted far over my head.”

Lucanis scoffed. “I think you forget I’m the one in your service.”

“Right. Until your contract is over.” Rook huffed, her breath rising in the cold.

“You’ll have me for as long as I can put off the Crows.” Lucanis pushed himself up straight, removing his cloak and draping it over her shoulders. “Perhaps I could convince you to return here with me when I can’t put them off any longer.” 

Rook drew the cloak tighter around herself, suppressing a shiver. 

“I’m not sure…I left with Varric to hunt the Dread Wolf. When it’s all over, I’m not sure what-”

Lucanis reached for her chin, delicately tilting it towards him. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself. Regardless of your answer, I don’t need it today.” 

He released her and stepped back with a wink. 

“Just think about it, mm?”

Rook forced a smile as he offered his hand, allowing him to lead her toward the main villa. She dropped her cheek to his shoulder as they moved through the gardens, the grass swiping at the hem of her dress.

“Why are we going back to the house?” she demanded in front of the kitchen doors. ”Do you think I changed clothes just for fun?” 

Lucanis snaked a hand into his pocket to retrieve a key. 

“I assure you, you made your impression on that room. You don’t need to torment yourself in a crowd any longer.” 

“Do you know how long it took to get into this dress?”

He considered her for a moment, eyes sweeping up and down her figure. In a slight stoop, his lips brushed against the shell of her ear. 

“If you want help taking it off, you only have to ask.” 

A chill ran down her spine, and she found herself unable to come up with a disarming retort. She was usually the one unnerving him. 

“Fiammetta, would you…” 

He turned the key in the lock, holding the door open for her, 

“…like to join me in my room?” 

Lucanis’ apprehension was palpable, but he pulled enough confidence from within himself to charm her with the flirtatious mask he’d been trying on. It could have been the rapport growing between them, or shared trauma, or Illario becoming a thorn in both their sides, or even leftover adrenaline from earlier in the evening…whatever lingered between them, she was tired of wondering how far it could go. Tonight, she fully intended to find out. 

“Yes.” 

She stepped through the threshold into the villa. The moment she was inside, his hand settled on the small of her back, touch firm even through the thick fabric of his cloak. It felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her as he guided her through the foyer and up the stairs. Rook must have walked this path a thousand times, but now, everything appeared new, hazy. Like she was seeing things for the first time, through fresh eyes. 

A few of the household staff were scrubbing the floors where they’d disposed of the Venatori earlier. And she averted her gaze, flustered, Lucanis quickly pulled her down a secluded hallway to his chambers, shutting and locking the door behind them. 

Not one for flair, Lucanis’ room was plain, unlike Caterina’s. It mirrored his grandmother’s only in layout: a fireplace on the far wall next to the door leading to a private bath, a desk beneath one window, and a wardrobe stationed across from it. A king sized bed with a large canopy occupied the east wall, the sheen of the dark sheets catching in the moonlight that filtered in through the curtains. 

“Just as I left it.” He said, leaving her in the doorway and crouching before the fireplace, arranging wood in the hearth. 

Rook explored the perimeter as he retrieved something from his pocket to use as kindling. His desk was neatly arranged, stacked correspondence well over a year old on one side, while blank pages and ink sat at the ready on the other. Lucanis hadn’t returned to this place since before the Venatori had taken him, yet he acted as if he’d never been away. 

“Is it strange, being back here?”

He huffed bitterly, striking a match on the mantle and bringing it to an edge of a piece of parchment. “The Ossuary was stranger.” 

“This might be the only room in this house I’ve never visited.” Rook mused, running a hand over the duvet. Orlesian silk. Of course. Nicer than the guest suite. 

Lucanis waited for the flaming paper to catch the oak logs before rising from his crouch and crossing the room. 

“You’re always welcome here.” He said in a voice that carried the heaviness of longing and a faint tremor of nervousness. His hands glided along the cape he’d lent her, silently asking permission to remove it. Rook dipped her chin, and he took it off and hung it up in the wardrobe. He lingered there, staring at the ground as he unbuttoned his vest.

“I’d enjoy your company this evening. In whatever capacity you’d find most appealing.” He said, slowly loosening his cravat. “But if this is too much for you, I will happily escort you to the guest room…”

He undressed down to his trousers and undershirt, unlacing his boots and setting them beside the wardrobe. Eyes locked on him as he turned towards her, Rook removed her heels, tossing them aside. They clattered against the hardwood floor, the only sound other than the crackle of the fire. 

From his breast pocket, Lucanis retrieved a small butterfly knife and, with a swift flick of his wrist, freed the blade. 

“Would you like some help with that dress?”

”No cutting!” She threw out a hand in protest. “This is on loan.” 

His nose twitched with amusement, soft adoration gleaming in his eyes. 

“No cutting.” He echoed, setting the knife on the windowsill and stepping behind her. His fingers brushed hers, shooing them away as he untied the gown’s back. Rook stood, unmoving, as he worked. 

“It’s been a long time for me, Lucanis. Since I-“

“I’m not worried about that.” He tugged the corset’s final ribbon loose. “Would you like a change of clothes? I can try to find you something more comfortable.”

The dress relaxed around Rook’s waist, and she spared a look over her shoulder, meeting Lucanis’ eyes as she let the gown pool at her feet. She’d chosen to forgo a bustier underneath, and stood before him only in her underwear, leaving little to the imagination. 

It seemed to work in her favor. 

“This is fine.” She said, stepping forward to loosen the top button of his shirt. 

Lucanis’ cheeks bore a slight hint of red as he averted his gaze. 

“I don’t do this, Rook.” He said hoarsely. 

Her fingers paused on the second clasp. “Do what?”

“I don’t get close. I don’t allow myself to feel…” 

She rocked forward on her toes, tugging him down by his collar and kissing him chastly. The tension in Lucanis’ shoulders disappeared, and he reached to cup her cheek in his palm as he pulled away. His head tilted to the side as he stared at her, looking like a man in complete agony. 

He looked like a man in love. 

“You are so beautiful.” His thumb traced the structure of her face with wonder. “People stare too often and do not speak it enough.”

Crooking his index finger under her chin, he brought her lips to ghost against his. 

“I think about you all the time, Fiammetta. To be with you in this way…it is a privilege.” 

He kissed her ardently, letting his hand slide to her jaw, thumb caressing her cheek. She gave in, hands roaming the back of his shirt, clutching in the fabric there as he held her by her elbows, guiding her gently backwards. The bed creaked  beneath their shared weight as he climbed on top of her, and Rook blindly fumbled with the buttons of his shirt again. Lucanis’ fingers met hers to assist, deftly pulling apart each clasp and sliding it off behind him. Without breaking the kiss, he crawled forward, pressing her deeper into the mattress. 

“If this is moving too fast-”

She shook her head, hair splayed around her on the sheets. “Maker, no, no. I just-”

“Perhaps I don’t have the resume of your previous lovers, but I promise-”

Rook touched a finger to his lips, cutting him off. 

“I’m not worried about that.” She said, echoing his words from earlier. 

He claimed her mouth with his own in a kiss messier, hungrier than the last. No longer filled with doubt or hesitation, he was exploring freely. Starved to touch her, and to be touched in return. 

Rook’s hands moved lower, palming at the seam where his arousal throbbed against his trousers, and Lucanis groaned. 

“Slow down, Rook.” He chuckled, sliding to the floor and staring up at her reverently.

“I want to take my time with you.”

This was the second occasion she’d brought a Dellamorte to their knees tonight. 

Slowly, he reached up the length of her legs before grasping her thighs, spreading them apart and tugging her closer, pressing a soft kiss over the front of her panties. One finger hooked under the hem, and he pulled them aside, running his thumb down her center. He hummed pleasantly at the slickness he found there.

“May I?” He asked under lowered eyelids. Speechless, she could only nod eagerly. 

With a smirk, he tugged her underwear down and abandoned them on the floor behind him. With a ragged breath, he dove between her thighs, dragging his tongue flat against her and drawing an exploratory, teasing line upward in one deliberate sweep.

Rook bucked her hips, whining desperately for contact, and he shifted his weight back with a wicked grin.

“Fiammetta…patience…” he grasped her roughly under the ribcage and pushed her against the pillows as he joined her on the bed. “I want this to be good for you.”

Settled on his stomach, he spread her before him once again, hands sliding down to secure her in place. His tongue briefly dipped inside of her, drawing up towards her clit and working it expertly in circles with his tongue. Soft grunts and moans from Lucanis reverberated through her as his fingers dug into her thighs. Rook held her breath, hands searching to weave through his long, dark locks as she squeezed her eyes shut. He groaned with approval as she tugged his hair at the roots, and she glanced down to find his gaze fixed on her face as his mouth worked against her, assessing her pleasure. Worshipping her. Something about the sight made her even more frantic to touch him, to be touched by him. 

He withdrew, staring at her naked form appreciatively before planting a kiss on each inner thigh. Curiosity, he inserted his middle finger inside of her, mouth slightly parted in a taunting half smirk as she writhed in response, spewing nonsense phrases between moans, begging for him to use his mouth on her again.

“That’s it…” he murmured, inserting a second finger, obliging the demand of her hips and drawing his tongue to the most sensitive part of her clit, lingering there until he provoked a telltale whimper that encouraged him to keep his focus upon that particular spot. 

Rook yanked a pillow from beside her, biting into the silk to muffle her urge to scream his name. The staff in the hall would already be spreading rumors by morning. She wasn’t adding fuel to the fire. If Viago caught wind that they’d snuck off together, he’d kill them both. Maybe even personally. 

Lucanis tracked her every movement from below, his free hand abandoning her thigh to squeeze the curve of her waist, dragging down over her stomach, fingers digging into the soft flesh there as Rook’s belly coiled tightly with a telltale burn. 

She sank into the sensation, chasing her orgasm over the edge until a cry caught in her throat, reduced to a muffled squeak of pleasure as she turned her head, burying her face in the pillow again. Lucanis remained between her legs, continuing at his set pace until her sex spasmed and pulsated with overstimulation. 

He swept his thumb across his lips, sitting on his heels.

“Do you always have such trouble keeping still, or am I special?” 

Rook pulled a pillow from behind her and threw it at his face. Lucanis deflected it and crawled over her, kissing her softly. She could taste herself on his tongue as the outline in his trousers throbbed against her thigh.

“You’re very good at that.” She panted.

“I’ve found in my line of work that enthusiasm is key to doing anything well.” He said smugly, “plus, Bellara has been loaning me some very intriguing novellas.” 

“Oh? Have you been studying them?”

“I know I said you were welcome to my secrets, but allow me to keep just a few, mm?”

He glanced across the room and rolled off the bed, unbuttoning his trousers hesitantly. Concerned by his distant stare, Rook took a pillow and hugged it to her chest, suddenly feeling overexposed. 

“Is something the matter?”

Lucanis swallowed, avoiding her gaze.

“So much of my life has been work, killing…I have not had time for entanglements or intimacy. Now that I’ve found it with you, I…” 

He drug a hand down his face, keeping a palm over his mouth as he let out an exasperated stream of air through his nose. 

“Mierda, look at you!” He tore his hand away, gesturing at her naked form. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“What you just did was a pretty good start.” 

Lucanis held her gaze for several beats of silence, unphased by her words, before releasing his hold on the waistband of his trousers, letting them fall to his thighs, all his intent there for her to see, hard and wanting. With a hungry kiss, she felt him brush against her thigh as he crawled over her. He reached down, pumping himself, the slickness gathered between her legs seeping onto his fingers.  

“Rook...” He let his head drop back as he entered her slowly.

Her breath hitched, nails digging into his shoulder blades as she adjusted to the size of him. She arched her back and rolled her hips against his, and Lucanis sucked in a sharp inhale through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Maker, Fiammetta! If you do that, I don’t know how long I can-”

The Demon of Vyrantium was begging. Whining her name. This might prove to be her most successful night as a Crow, yet. 

A strangled noise of pleasure escaped him as she kissed down the length of his clavicle. He thrust at a slow, controlled pace, arms trembling next to her. One hand sliding between their bodies, Rook drug her fingertips across his stomach, smirking as his abdomen twitched in response.

Lucanis gasped, pressing his forehead to her shoulder and choking out a litany of Antivan curses as he watched himself move against her. His thrusts became more disjointed, and how he maintained such an adoring demeanor while fucking her like this was a mystery. 

Rook moaned as he drove himself into her with more force. She leaned forward and nipped at his collarbone, keeping her mouth there and sucking hard enough to leave a bruise to admire the following morning. Lucanis’ knuckles turned white as his hands fisted in the sheets on either side of her.

With a desperate groan, he spilled himself inside of her, collapsing onto his elbows and weaving his fingers through her hair. He kept his lips pressed to hers through his orgasm, until he stilled, resting his forehead on her shoulder as he caught his breath. 

“Mierda.” He panted, pressing his face into the crook of her neck and shuddering with a low, contented chuckle. “You truly will be the death of me.”

“You think Spite could give you a good night’s sleep after that?” 

“He seems amenable to the idea,” He purred in her ear, his lips leaving a trail of goosebumps where they brushed her skin. “if you’re staying.” 

He carefully pulled out and collapsed at her side, their bodies sweaty and spent. Tracing his fingertips over the curve of her hip, his eyes seemed to quiver as he searched her face. 

“I believe I might fear this night slipping through my grasp more than a knife to the back.”

The brown of his irises warmed in the firelight, a comfort she longed to get lost in. Something gnawed at the base of her throat, leaving her insides hollow, and she shuddered.

“I’m scared.” she rasped suddenly.

Lucanis’ hold on her loosened. “Of me?”

“Of everything.” She whispered, “But…not you. Not like you think.”

The mattress dipped under his weight as he moved closer, snaking one arm under her waist and the other over her middle. He pulled her against his chest, burying his face in her neck. 

“Burn my contract. I’ll kill anyone you ask me to - god or man - if it keeps you safe.”

[sepublic]

In lieu of my latest reblog about people taking compelling characters and projecting their writing onto some other (usually white) dude, I want to bring up a post I had drafted all the way back from April, but never posted because at the time I still had enough patience not to. But now is different. I do think this analysis is a bit outdated because it doesn’t consider the mediocre white dude angle of Belos that I find paramount, but it’s good enough for my repurposed point.

-

            I find it funny when some people complain that the narrative was unfair to Belos despite his “trauma” and circumstances, like there aren’t multiple characters out there who parallel his issues, and get sympathy AND a redemption, in all but one case! Belos is narratively condemned not for what he has in common with others, but for what sets him apart, particularly his stubborn ego. Cases in point;

         “Belos deserved to have sympathy for having an unhealthy attachment to his more confident sibling that was mixed with resentment over being abandoned for someone else, culminating in guilt over hurting them and regretting it!”

         Lilith exists. She’s motivated by a massive inferiority complex with Eda, Gwen favors her. She’s clearly salty about Eda going off to have fun with Raine, and claims to Luz that she’s Eda’s ‘real’ family. She cursed her sister and felt enormous guilt over it… But in the end, Lilith IS given sympathy by the narrative, and the chance to redeem herself. And she takes just that.

         A lot of the people claiming Belos deserved better theorize that stabbing Caleb was an accident, and you know what? So was the permanence of Eda’s curse, Lilith expected it to only last a day and certainly not transform her sister. But Lilith still owned up. And she learned to make other friends while respecting Eda’s boundaries.

         “Belos was an orphan raised in a culture that encouraged genocide and a hatred of wild magic!”

         Caleb exists, he went through the exact same childhood as Philip, but still chose to change. And while they weren’t orphans at the time, Hunter and the Collector were also raised on genocide, taught to find wild/Titan magic apprehensive. But they loved it instead.

         “But Belos actually lost his brother, his loved one died!”

         So did Hunter’s! And he was shown to be snappy and aggressive, pouring himself into a mission to cope! But he still owned up, apologized to Willow for rebuking her. He lost Flapjack, and instead of making replicas of his lost loved one to keep to himself, discarding anyone that wasn’t close enough, Hunter made a diverse array of palismen for other kids, to give them the loving relationship he lost! Even his own palisman was clearly carved to be different from Flapjack, reminiscent but still their own thing.

         Then there’s Darius, who lost his mentor the previous Golden Guard; His own ‘Caleb’, so to speak! And he was also unpleasant about it, he took his grief out on Hunter, who had nothing to do with this! The canon audio diaries even confirm the apprehension has been going for a while… But Darius realized he was wrong to have projected onto Hunter, made up for this by practically adopting the kid and giving this kid the happy ending his mentor didn’t have; Passing the cycle of kindness the Golden Guard started. And his own grief is pointed out to the audience by Hunter himself.

         “They should’ve shown how having a hero complex and a desire to live out a fantasy can corrupt anyone!”

         Luz and the Collector. Luz herself makes these comparisons for Belos, and there were times where she hurt her friends trying to live out her fantasy, and/or planned to leave them under the impression she was doing the ‘right thing’. Luz makes a legitimate consideration that she could’ve been Belos, if she refused to listen to others and change. But Luz owned up! As did the Collector, whose escapism and wish to play the role of the ‘hero’, in this case Luz, causes them to do some pretty terrible things. But they still change after being called out, and are still given sympathy over the loneliness and trauma that fueled their escapism, as was Luz.

"Philip struggled with getting over a different type of fantasy, one that relied upon him conquering and hurting others!"

As did King! And King got over that, he quickly learned that other people would always be more important than his fantasies, even if the 'sacrifices' were a lot more minor. King started off the same, the difference is that he still grew up and that's why we judge his antics as so much more light-hearted.

         “Well that’s not fair, Philip’s examples were more extreme!”

         How about Eda’s curse? Belos never brings up his other sources of trauma as an excuse for his actions, but you know what he does invoke? His curse, claiming to Hunter and Luz that it forced him to act certain ways. But we see Eda, who got a rawer deal with her curse; She didn’t bring it upon herself, as Belos did. She legitimately loses control when it takes over. She scarred and disabled her father because of it, and you know what?

         Eda never uses her curse as an excuse. She never lets that justify what she’s done to people, and she even befriends the creature at the source of her curse, the Owl Beast. The curse she deals with is objectively worse, objectively more unfair, than Belos’. But it’s only Belos who actually cites his curse as an excuse, and the palismen at the source of it? He kills them.

         “Belos’ cursed form is treated as ugly and evil!”

         The palismen amalgam in his mind looked almost exactly the same, to the point where Hunter, who had seen Belos’ cursed form in person before, thought they were identical. But in the end, the palismen amalgam, despite resembling Belos’ cursed form, is a sympathetic and tragic victim who is murdered. Luz and Hunter mistaking him for Belos is justified, but it’s also still regrettable that they are judged by appearances.

         “It hurts people to sacrifice their morals for the greater good, you know!”

         Raine did that, they felt compelled to drag Darius and Eberwolf (one of whom was a childhood friend) into a murder-suicide, because as far as they knew, they were already going to be caught and executed, so may as well take their oppressors down with them! And they aren’t called out for it, because they couldn’t have known about Darius’ actual intentions…

         Because in the end, sometimes you have to punch a fascist, and sometimes you have to oppose a friend or loved one because they took the fascists’ side. It’s why Lilith is expected to change for Eda, not the other way around. Raine is not the aggressor here, it’s all from the principle of self-defense for themselves and the isles as a whole.

         And in the end, it’s because Raine is approaching from a place of actual good intent and moral concern that there are lines they still refuse to cross; As soon as they learn about Luz and King, they sabotage their own plans because they refuse to orphan these kids they just found out about for the ‘greater good’. When one of those very kids, Luz, makes Raine promise to keep Eda safe, you can see the conflict between their morals and their obligations in their eyes as Eda accepts the Bard sigil, and ultimately Raine powers through the draining spell to save Eda’s life, simply because Luz asked them to.

         I’ve talked since their debut of how Raine has some similarities to Belos, in particular how they both work their whole lives to infiltrate a group from within to topple it, even as they publicly support it as a celebrated leader. They both had to lie and work under the radar, and make effective rhetoric; They each wear their own masks. Raine has to constantly lie to and rebuke Eda about being brainwashed, and we can see the moral agony it gives them!

         But Raine is opposed to a legitimate threat, whereas Belos is completely making one up; Raine has to work under the micro-management of tyrants with control over them, Philip has been free from his colony for centuries, and even after finding out Gravesfield gave up on its witch hunting mission in the present, still traps himself of his own will. Belos feels no guilt for any of his ‘necessary evil’.

         Raine had actual morals unlike Belos that they did sacrifice, for an actual greater good, and they actually hurt over these choices. They dedicated their whole life to stop a dark and twisted parallel, which makes their inclusion in the finale as the only person outside of the core trio to help against Belos all the more deserved; They even help deliver the killing blows. And Raine is rewarded for all of their effort, allowed to see it come to fruition and rest happily afterwards, because they really were sincere, and actually did make sacrifices, something Belos preaches but never follows. Most importantly, Raine knew they couldn’t justify everything even for their morally-justified mission.

         “Belos was still legitimately wronged by Caleb for nothing, he didn’t deserve to be abandoned!”

         Even if we believe Caleb did ‘abandon’ Philip or whatever; The Collector was legitimately wronged by the Titan, imprisoned and isolated for millennia despite being innocent. But while he justifiably calls the Titan a bully, he never takes this out on King, or any other Titan for that matter, remembering the rest with love. Nor is the Collector expected to forgive the Titan; The Titan accepts she made the wrong call. After all, imprisoning the Collector left them in a vulnerable state to be exploited by Belos, and give him the draining spell…

         The Titan and Caleb’s mistakes were very much that, but the Collector matured for others, without needing an apology from the dead person who wronged him. And based on what we see of Belos’ memories, Caleb probably DID get to deliver that apology when he was alive, and Philip still insisted on being bitter!

         “His only childhood friend just ditched him for someone else!”

         That’s what happened to Willow, and that’s how she understood it for most of her life; Amity leaving her behind because she was too weak, and kids like Boscha and Skara were more popular, stronger, etc. But not only does the show say her rage against Amity is totally warranted and that the onus is on Amity to apologize, even if she didn’t choose to leave Willow (keep in mind she still saw Willow as a weak person to protect without input, as we later see in Labyrinth Runners)…

         Willow is still kind. She still opts to be compassionate to Gus, and to Luz, and in general a nurturing person despite her abandonment. And when Willow is given the chance to take revenge on Boscha by stealing her glory in Grudgby, she doesn’t kick the girl while she’s down to do so; But Willow is also allowed to still hold anger towards Boscha, as we see in Season 3. And assuming Caleb wasn’t malicious about leaving Philip behind, we clearly see how he welcomes his brother back and wants things to get better, just as Amity does; He had his own side of the story. And Willow doesn’t kill Amity despite being primed to very easily do so…

"But imagine finding out they CHOSE to leave you, when you thought they didn't!"

Camila?!?! In fact, Camila was THE precedent for this, and people went and applied her tragic scene to Philip to make HIM into some angsty sadboi! And last I checked, Camila didn't exactly murder Luz... Plus, Philip had infinitely more time to see Caleb and Evelyn interact, and thus figure out that Caleb wasn't being kidnapped or brainwashed; Compare that to Camila who is just dunked into that situation out of nowhere, and is barely even adjusting to Vee's existence on top of finding out Luz was someplace else the entire time, and dealing with Jacob.

"A lot of family members at least start off as well-intentioned when hurting loved ones, they could've shown that!"

Bold of you to assume that Belos' selfish entitlement towards Caleb is the same as Camila or Gwen's legitimate concerns for their daughters; They did unconditionally love and they were misguided. But when shown they were causing pain, they actually shifted gears instead of focusing on how they were fight because they knew better. And what they were doing WAS still harmful, even though they DID care.

         “Belos was probably a weirdo himself, and suffered from internalized hatred for his deviancy!”

         Lilith dyed her hair to fit in with the coven, and be taken seriously. Amity suppressed herself to be a stoic perfectionist, constantly trying to justify her own existence as she says; She had to work to be good at magic while others like Gus, Emira, and Edric were naturally talented, and was made to hate those who weren’t successful as witches. Hunter too loathed his own lack of bile magic!

         Most tellingly, Camila herself was taught to hide her weirdness, grew up thinking she was successful for doing that, and even tried to impose the same on Luz because of that misconception! But Camila realized what was done to her was wrong, and the same applied to her daughter; Accepting Luz’s weirdness meant accepting her own.

         “Even if he still chose to double down in villainy, Belos could’ve at least been given a moment where he was sympathetic, where his sadness was shown, before nevertheless deciding his fate!”

         Kikimora had an entire episode where she agonized over her obligations to a mother that seemed low key abusive, given her threat to disown her. We see her hesitate, cry, and be legitimately disappointed when she’s rewarded for staying with Belos by ‘getting to live’, a reward that doesn’t even last by the Day of Unity! Even after Kikimora makes her choice to betray Luz and Amity, we still get a final scene of her looking uncertain and even regretful of her decision, before she commits. Kikimora isn’t redeemed but is still humanized, despite being less human than Belos, so to speak.

         She’s even a dark parallel to Lilith, having jealousy towards the Golden Guard, an emotionally abusive mother, and an inferiority complex towards other members of the coven despite working directly with Belos! And she is given many chances to escape Belos, a few months where she is legitimately free from him, and chooses to remain in her ways because Kikimora’s difference with Lilith isn’t that life was more unfair to her, it’s that she refused to change.

         Now this is a bit out there, but there’s also the other Coven Heads! Mason, Vitimir, Hettie, and Osran! The show was shortened, so who knows what they could’ve provided for the story… Mason, Hettie, and Osran especially, since they’re not included amongst the coven head loyalists who still cling to power, even after Belos’ death. The show could’ve easily set up sympathetic moments to indicate a possibility of change, paying off in the epilogue; But because of Disney, you can’t blame the writers for not delivering everything they could’ve.

         “How about a character who was just… an asshole, no outside reason given?”

         Boscha, who was popular and privileged. While she does allude to some pressures that motivate her, as far as we know, there wasn’t really anyone or anything that made her be so cruel towards those she perceives as lesser. But despite this, Willow doesn’t see any point in trying to take Boscha’s spotlight as a Grudgby captain, when offered by her teammates; She doesn’t kick Boscha when she’s down. And Boscha is ultimately still recognized as unhappy with the loss of her friends, so even if she does do egregious things during the Collector’s reign, Amity offers Boscha the chance to become better and improve, as she did. And she takes it!

         “Well, none of these characters had to grapple with having done things nearly as bad as Belos!”

         And why do you think that is? Why are Belos’ sins so monumental in comparison, how did they get so bad? Because he kept refusing to change, kept refusing each opportunity, and got worse because of that. His first confirmed murder was Caleb, who right beforehand embraced his brother during what appeared to be a manifestation of the curse. But Philip still chose to commit his first sin despite receiving such unconditional sympathy, because he wanted control, not happiness. He didn’t start off as a genocidal dictator, he worked his way up to that over centuries.

         “They make it seem like Belos was born evil!”

         Our earliest chronological appearances of Philip are as a happy, carefree child who plays games with the brother he loves and looks up to; That isn’t the portrayal of someone ‘born’ evil. This is the portrayal of someone who became that way, over time, because he refused to concede anything to anyone, and wore away what decency he had across centuries, until we see the Emperor that Belos is when the show starts.

         An evil dictator who ravaged an entire world for hundreds of years came from an innocent little kid, and Luz becomes self-aware of how this can apply to her, even as she’s reminded that she also ISN’T like Belos because of this critical reflection and willingness to listen. Belos, on the other hand, consciously cultivated an echo chamber for centuries, killing any Grimwalker he felt disagreed with him, despite their unconditional love and support. He deliberately shut himself off from the isles and ignored the kindness of others.

         Bump reminds Faust that it’s disingenuous to project malice onto children who often simply don’t know any better, and just need to be given a chance to be taught and educated. But kids also have to take initiative to mature when they get older, hence why we hold adults more responsible; The established logic is that Belos wasn’t an evil child, he was simply a child who never grew up and that’s where his evil came from, rather than being some pre-existing source.

         To be honest, I think the narrative doesn’t bother showing sympathy to Belos over his trauma because he’s already HAD more than enough sympathy, across centuries, from his brother, the Grimwalkers, his followers, even Luz and the Collector! So the story doesn’t feel the need to waste tears on someone who already got them, and instead focuses sympathy to characters who haven’t received as much, if any; People like Lilith, Amity, Hunter, etc.

         Belos is the culmination of other characters’ traumas (who prove you can still choose to be better and happier despite these things), and was practically coddled by the people in his life for it. But he still chose to be bitter, never opened up to accept help, and his rejection brought even more pain that he could only blame on himself. Belos’ only tragedy is his refusal to change for the better; Even the narrative has made it clear he had chances, tears wept for him by people he knew.

He is a mirror to so many characters, what could’ve happened if they looked at their own pain and used it as justification to continue lashing out, because clearly they are the underdog heroes who have been wronged and are fighting against an injustice, right? The hero of their own story, if you will. Hell, we still also get that with Kikimora, as I just said! What I’ve listed is not a double standard, but rather proof that Belos was not uniquely condemned by his circumstances, for he is alike many characters as I mentioned. And Belos does not need to be portrayed “sympathetically” in order for the audience to understand the relevance of these parallels; Namely, that Belos has no excuse to still be like this when those similar nevertheless choose not to be cruel, and will accept others’ compassion.

         And besides, with how the show was shortened… Who’s to say the writers didn’t plan to throw Belos a sympathetic moment of genuine loneliness, before doubling down? Not that they really would’ve needed to. But if they planned it, the writers had to leave it out to prioritize the weirdos this show is actually about, due to the shortening.

[autumnmobile12]

Expanding on the Endeavor: Physical Strength vs Emotional Strength post I made because I finally have the wording for it, this is my more in-depth take on where Endeavor ended up in the finale.

In a twisted way, I’m glad he survived, and the reason for that is I’m personally a fan of the ‘live in despair’ trope.

Endeavor is a character whose identity lies heavily in his own physical capabilities.  Physically, he’s a very strong and imposing character, and all his life, he has used that strength both in the positive manner of fighting villains and protecting the public and in a negative manner to abuse and intimidate his family. His ties to his physical strength is a core aspect of his personality.

But another factor that might be in play is I actually think Endeavor suffers from depression. If that's the case, he has been dealing with it for years. And I don't say that as an excuse for everything he's done because accountability and all, but it would explain a lot.  Let’s face it, therapy and medication might’ve done this guy and his family a world of good.

Depression in men often presents itself as anger compared to women who experience it more commonly as stress/sadness. This is due to a combined factor of social expectations for men and a possible difference in brain chemistry between men and women. Symptoms of depression in men can include:

Aggression

Irritability

Controlling/abusive behavior

Overworking to avoid addressing negative feelings and overworking to the exclusion of any other hobbies/interests. (Does he even have a life outside of work?)

Isolation (He doesn’t really go out of his way to interact with co-workers, peers, or anyone in his family aside from Shouto.)

And if you really think about it, Endeavor's career-long status of second place in his profession did probably have ties to his own self-worth, so add in the 20+ years of feeling like he was never good enough that he projected onto Touya.

There's also the fact his oldest son died in a horrible accident that could have been prevented and he knows it. Touya’s death probably exacerbated his depression because I don’t think Endeavor is the sort of person to take a month off to mourn. I think he went right back to work to distract himself from it and never addressed his son’s death and he certainly never confronted his own part in it. That should have been a personal turning point for him to self-examine and re-evaluate some life choices, but see the post in the link above for the analysis on why he didn't. In short, no wonder Dabi chose the war path.

...

On top of all that, there's the aforementioned societal pressure that men are supposed to ‘tough out it’ because being sad/vulnerable is viewed as weakness, and Japan in particular does have a societal stigma against mental illness, so those two factors alone would mean Endeavor probably never considered he had depression or sought treatment for it even if he did. And so he used the intense physical activity of his job to overwork himself and further avoided actually confronting the emotional turmoil going on within himself and his own household.

But the finale:

Endeavor is crippled, he is missing an arm, he can’t walk by himself, he can’t dress himself, his former outlet of overworking himself is an impossibility, and he is now dependent on Rei’s care for the rest of his life, which is a subversion of her being forced to remain financially dependent on him for the majority of their marriage.  Everything that made him the strong, independent person that he was before Final War has been stripped away.  One of his children is dead because of him, one has all but disowned him as a parent, and the remaining two have limited contact with him.

This is in no way close to the dignified retirement he probably had in mind.

Endeavor didn’t die and ‘rest in peace.’

And now he gets to sit in his wheelchair and dwell on the choices that put him there for the rest of his life and, reminder, he's not an old man. He's middle aged, so he's got a few more decades of this to look forward to. He spent his whole life chasing after a goal that was egotistical, he ruined his own life and the lives of his family, he achieved his goal in the most hollow victory imaginable, and it all came crashing down.

It might not be legal justice for the abuse and mistreatment he put his family through, but I do see it as karmic justice. In all, it's a sad and pathetic end to a sad and pathetic life. The guy lives, but he lives in despair.

[navigatebetweenthelines]

Because a lot of you seem to be conflating intelligence to mean a single thing im going to spell it out for you

DAZAI!

quick on his feet. He reads body language pretty well. he knows what to expect. His disadvantage is that he tends to project his own expectations onto others and this clouds his judgement. He is "intelligent" in the way that he has a great capacity to improvise in tricky situations. He doesn't know everything he just always makes sure to have a plan B C D E F and G. Thats it

RANPO!

he knows all the facts about any given situation. His biggest disadvantages are that his judgement is shoddy at best and he doesn't always know what to do with the information he has. He is used to disregarding information for the sake of peace (like dazai is a killer, or kyoka is a killer or yosano tortured thousands) but that often means he ends up too close to the wrong people. He forgives EVERYONE because for as much as he sees the bad in a person he sees the good. He will always plan for the opposing team to do the right thing even when it isnt likely. He is unreliable and inconsistent. The good thing about him is that as soon as he realizes his mistake he never makes it again.

POE!

JUSTTT as smart as Ranpo. He can GATHER as much information as Ranpo but it takes more effort. He has a lot of resources and technical know how. He knows technology, he knows politics, international law and most importantly people (arguably more than Dazai). His biggest advantage is that he knows exactly how to pressure people into doing what he wants. His mysteries are tailormade to each person and created so that people can only escape when they realize what he wants them to. It is becuase of this that he saw society as a farce. He knows reality and truth are malleable concepts. That's why Ranpo and him are such a good team. Ranpo can see everything immidiately and Poe knows what to do with it immidiately.

Louisa!!!

She can slow down time when she's focused THAT'S her ability. She is capable of thinking of every possibility and coming up with dependable statistics. She's smarter than Dazai but less of an asset because her analysis relies on what she is aware of (preexisting knowledge). In the world of BSD there is ALWAYS something no one is aware of. She isn't as capable of recovering as quickly from a miscalculation so she really only has one shot.

Chuuya!!!

He doesnt need to use his intelligence most of the time because he can pretty much brute force his way out of most things. His intellegence relies on instinct. He has GREAT instincts. He knows when a situation has gone sour. Of course he doesnt usually verbalize it because with Dazai he doesn't need to and when he's alone why would he announce it to an enemy. He knows when he's safe and when he isn't. His biggest disadvantage is that he doesn't always listen to those instincts. In terms of priorities he almost always puts himself last and that leads to a lot of problems.

NIKOLAI!!!

Nikolai is similar to Chuuya except a bit more extreme because no one's life is his priority. His motivations are unclear and he always goes for the most imoral option. He isn't concerned with a specific desired outcome it is the inconsistency of his own actions that drive him.

FYODOR!!!

Kinda like Poe, in that he knows how to work people, but to a lesser extent and a little like the chameleon that Dazai can be but to a greater extent. He knows what a person wants more than anything and he promises that to them.

His biggest advantage is that he is smart enough to ally himself with people who have nothing else to live for. Sigma, Nikolai, Bram (before Aya), Nathaniel and Fukuchi are all outsiders. They are alone but desperately want to feel like they belong. Fyodors biggest disadvantage is that if those people find belonging elsewhere then his influence on them shatters. He seems to be aware of that? Idk it's too soon to tell.

Mori!!!

He isn't crazy smart. He's just sadistic and cruel. He picks easy targets (children) and slowly takes away their agency. He undoes them until they have nothing to live for and they then become perfectly obedient adults. His biggest disadvantage is that he relies on the chain of abuse and that isn't sustainable as a dynamic for power. Chuuya and Akutagawa have no one above them to preassure them to listen to orders now that Dazai is gone. Also the extreme amounts of abuse he relies on is impossible to ditch out to EVERYONE. That's why he relied on the chain of abuse but that's failing. Mori isn't smart. He's a coward. He takes the shortest path no matter the resistance.

FUKUCHI!!

isn't smart either. He is just THE BEST chameleon. He hid in plain sight. He knows war and war tactics. He's a great spy and facilitating a strong bond with the target is a great spy strategy.

They are not all the same stop conflating their perspectives as "knows everything". It leads to a lot of misunderstandings and a lot of misinformation. DAZAI IS NOT RANPO! He doesnt know everything. He's just really good at pretending he does.

[morelikeravenbore]

✨ Ominis Gaunt headcanons

This lovely anon (as well as a few others) asked if I'd consider writing my Sebastian Alphabets for our favourite Slytherin Heir, but as a girlie whose brain space is 99% dedicated to Sebastian Sallow and like, 1% dedicated to, I dunno, survival and stuff, I struggled lol. Instead, I'm here to offer you some of my personal Omnom headcanons based on how I write him as a seventh year in How to Make a Villain, post fifth-year events.

(trigger warning: he's sassy and traumatised because that's just how I imagine him.)

Enjoy under the cut! (SFW!)

✨ He's a Cancer sun, Libra rising, Capricorn moon.

Cancer sun: Hard outer shell, soft squishy middle; deeply emotional but retreats into his hidey hole when triggered, emotions shift as often as the moon phases; cares deeply.

Libra rising: refined, pretty, physically attractive, charismatic; focused on justice and fairness, right and wrong; drawn to refined pleasures: art, music, fine food and clothing.

Capricorn moon: practical, rigid, dutiful, committed; craves stability; can appear cold and unfeeling on the surface, prone to pessimism; does not take shortcuts, does not look for the easy way out.

✨ He plays piano. (Duh, that's practically considered canon by now). Without sight, music is how this li'l Libra rising bebe appreciates and creates beauty.

✨ Being a member of high pureblood society, he is fluent in French. As a child, he spent his summers in southern France with his family, who own a manor in by the ocean. (Later, after he befriended the Sallow twins, he spent his summers in Feldcroft instead.)

✨ It was fearless little Anne Sallow who reached out to Ominis in their first year, and thus Anne, not Sebastian, was the first friend Ominis ever made. This friendship signified a profound change in his life: he never expected to make a real friend, let alone have anyone show him the kindness, tolerance and companionship that Anne did. His friendship with Sebastian, though a by-product of his closeness with Anne, grew more slowly, but by the time their first year was over, the three were inseparable. His friendship with the Sallow's gave Ominis the first sense of belonging in his life.

✨ Due to his deep-seated abandonment and trust issues, the damage to his friendship with Sebastian after the events of fifth year are near irreversible; worse than Solomon's murder was the loss of Anne, which Ominis blamed solely on her brother. But beneath this resentment toward Sebastian, buried so deeply he never fully acknowledged it to himself, was a festering anger towards Anne for leaving him. She was the first person he ever loved (platonically or otherwise, it's up to you), and though he understood her reasons for leaving, her absence felt like another abandonment. It was easier to project this anger Sebastian than ever admit that he was angry at Anne, too.

✨ To keep Sebastian out of Azkaban after Solomon's murder, Ominis had to call upon his family for help. In exchange for their covering up the incident, he was forced to pledge his allegiance to furthering the Gaunt legacy. Thus, he gave up his dreams of freedom and living as his own person. He'd always harboured a secret desire to pursue music, perhaps study abroad in France, but instead had to promise to fulfil his "familial obligations" to the Gaunt's by marrying a woman of their choosing and working in whatever influencial Ministry role they assigned him.

✨ Romance. Given how cruel his family is, Ominis vows to never fall in love. The idea of condemning someone he actually cares about to the Gaunt name and legacy is unbearable — he'd sooner enter into a loveless, arranged marriage than inflict that sort of pain onto another innocent person. That's not to say he won't ever fall in love, but it would take a very, very special person to capture his attention and break through the many (many) defensive walls he's put in place around his heart.

And here's a little snippet of Sebastian and Ominis' dynamic in How to Make a Villain, which you can read on wattpad or ao3 if you like :)

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

All The Fear and The Fire of The End of The World [Joel Miller x artist!reader]

Read on Ao3

Sequel to The Artist and the Builder

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/artist!reader who is his age and has arthritis and allergies (although that's not really addressed in this one)

Tags/warnings: ANGST, bit of h/c, Panic attacks, reader is sick, Joel has anxiety. That's about it, but please stay safe is panic attacks is something that triggers you <3

Summary: Joel has told Ellie about what happened in Salt Lake City, and she is livid with him. Seeking comfort with you, Joel however finds you in the grips of a nasty flu, and has to put his own needs aside to nurse you.

Words: 3,799

A/N: Title is from Hozier's Wasteland, Baby! Couldn't resist: All the fear and the fire of the end of the world, happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl...

Thank you to @pazizz for having a read before it was finished!

Joel hasn't had an attack like this in a long time - not since he and Ellie settled in Jackson - but now, it's bad.

His heart is being squeezed like a stress ball, his lungs are not taking in fresh air, his throat is constricted. Panic floods his brain as he clutches at his collar. He can't breathe, can't think, can't -

Ellie's screamed words echo in the fiber of his being.

How could you? I hate you! Don't talk to me ever again!

He had finally told her the truth about what had happened at the hospital, why she didn't get to save the world. And Ellie shut him out.

You took my decision away from me!

How could she even consider dying for a cure that wasn't guaranteed? How could she not see that she was the light of his entire life?

How could he not tell her the truth from the start?

Joel stumbles onto one knee, the guilt taking his legs from under him. He fights to breathe, his right fist closes, and he bangs it into the floor. Again. Again. Pain reverberates through his hand and arm, and that jerks him out of his mental anguish.

He punches the floor until the skin of his knuckles break, and he can breathe normally again. Greedily gulping down air in a way that sounds like sobbing - but he is not fucking crying - Joel slowly gets back onto his feet. His knuckles are aching, his arm feels battered, but he grabs his coat, and heads out. Hurrying through the snowy streets of Jackson, he barely notices anyone passing by. He's in a hurry, hurting hand hidden in his jacket pocket, internal compass pointing to your house.

He needs comfort, your soothing hands. He needs to know that he did what he could.

Even if it was you who pushed him into telling Ellie, he knows you were right to encourage him to do it. And he needs you now that Ellie has denounced him. You won't judge him for waiting so long.

He walks into your house without knocking. His throat feels almost constricted when he enters the living-room, expecting to find you in front of the fireplace, immersed in one of your projects. But you're not there, and the fire is nothing but a heap of embers. Frowning, Joel calls your name again. It's not like you to leave the fire unattended or leave on the lights. He walks over to the bedroom door and pushes it open.

There's a pile of blankets on the bed. When his eyes get used to the twilight in the room, he sees that there's a body underneath the layers of covers.

He speaks your name, and the pile of blankets moves. For a second his heart seizes, and panic rises within him. Not you too, he can't stand it!

Then you croak his name, and he knows what's up.

You're so cold. You've never been this cold in your life, and no amount of blankets is helping. Good God, how is it even possible to be so cold, to shake so hard? Your muscles are aching with how much you're shaking, and you can't do anything about it.

You hear Joel's voice close to you, and you will your eyes open, even if using your vision is making your headache worse.

Joel's face swims somewhere above you. Through the brain fog, you hear him ask you how you are.

"Just a slight temperature," you mumble, then feel Joel's callused hand on your forehead.

"You're burning up."

He takes off his jacket, and gets in bed with you, digging himself underneath the blankets until he's right next to you. Fitting his form to yours, he wraps his arm around you to bring you in even closer.

"You're shaking!"

"Jus' need a nap..."

"You need a lot more than that, darlin'."

You mumble something as your eyes fall shut. His body heat has already started to spill onto you, and slowly, you stop shaking, and start relaxing.

"How long have you been like this?" His voice is soft, his breath so warm against your skin. You want to crawl into his voice, melt into the rich, deep syllables, dissolve from this aching body.

"Had to leave the clinic around midday," you slur. Speaking seems difficult. Your throat is sore, your head feels like it's about to explode.

"Are there any meds?"

"No."

"Then it's rest and liquids for you."

You're already drifting off, secure in his arms. Joel feels you relax and become heavy, your audible breathing slowing down. Gently, he strokes a couple of stray hairs from your face, tucking them behind your ear, and notes that your hairline is damp with sweat. When he's certain that you're not waking up, he carefully disentangles himself from you, and gets up from the bed.

His own heartache is forgotten when he rummages through the cupboards of your kitchen, finding your teas made from dried herbs and flowers. He gathers towels, finds a bucket for water, gathers whatever he can find that will help him take care of you. He returns to the bedroom to check on you before leaving your house to get something to eat from the dining-hall, and see Jackson's doctor.

The doc has, naturally, nothing to prescribe except bedrest and liquid, which Joel had already figured out. What little drugs there are, must be saved for the truly sick. He's luckier at the dining-hall: he gets a big portion of chicken broth from one of the women working there.

"This will cure anything," she promises, and Joel thanks her gruffly. He hurries home to you, finding you exactly where he left you.

You sleep for hours. Focusing his attention on you, wiping your forehead whenever it gets too shiny, listening to your wheezing breaths, Joel forgets about the pressure over his own chest. He can't forget about Ellie, her anger, her words, but he doesn't succumb to anxiety over what happened.

When you wake up, the things Ellie said are pushed to the back of his brain.

You're like a cat waking up from anesthesia: unable to walk but hell-bent on doing it.

"Need the toilet," you mumble, and Joel supports you to the bathroom. You're freezing once you slump down on the toilet seat, and he turns around to give you some privacy.

"Go away," you moan, bent over with you aching head in your hands.

"I've seen women piss before, so do what you have to so that I can help you back to bed," he retorts, and you scoff weakly before releasing a stream of urine that seems searing hot. You manage to wipe yourself and wash your hands before you have to lean on Joel again.

"We need to get you out of these sweaty clothes," he tells you, but you're loath to get undressed.

"It's so cold," you whine, but you're in no position to fight him on it.

He puts his own flannel on you before taking you back to bed, where he coaxes two spoonfuls of broth into you, and almost half a cup of tea, until you shake your head. He gives up, and lets you curl up to sleep. The winter darkness is falling but he turns on the bedside lamp so that he can see your face, its lines stressed by the lamplight and sickness, your forehead shiny with fever, your lips separated as you snore. For a long time, he just watches you, like he's looking for an answer in your features.

Eventually, he turns off the light, rises from his chair, and leaves the bedroom to start a fire in the living-room fireplace.

Your temperature is up the next day so Joel brings the doc, who can't do anything except encourage him to continue doing what he's been doing so far. You're mostly asleep, delirious when you're not, and still so, so cold. Joel does his best to get fluids in you, and a couple of spoonfuls of chicken soup, but it's hard when you're either limp in his arms or shaking.

By afternoon, he's exhausted. Tommy comes by to check on both him and you, and he brings food. Joel never even thought about eating himself.

Sitting on opposite sides of the kitchen table, Joel opens the lunch box and devours its contents.

"I saw Ellie earlier today. She seemed upset, what's up with her?" Tommy wants to know. Joel winces from the painful stab in his heart.

"Nothing's up with Ellie."

"Liar."

Joel looks up from the food at his brother. Tommy knows him too well.

"I told her. About what happened in Salt Lake City."

"That didn't go well."

"It didn't."

Joel looks down again and stuffs his mouth with the rest of the food. The conversation is over for his part, and Tommy knows better than to push it.

"She'll come round."

Joel grunts, and they both sit in silence for a while before Tommy rises.

"I gotta get back to work. Lemme know if you need anything."

Joel clears his throat. "If you see Ellie... tell her I'm not coming back to the house for a while. I don't want her to have to move out."

"Sure, bro."

Tommy pats Joel on the back as he passes him by, and when the front door closes, Joel follows to lock it. He then comes to the bedroom, kicks off his boots, and crawls into bed next to you. His fingers tremble slightly when he touches your forehead, still finding you burning hot. Carefully, not wanting to wake you, he fits himself to your body, puts his head down, and watches you through the grey winter light.

Caring for you has kept him busy enough to not dwell too much on what happened with Ellie, but now his brain is buzzing with her last words to him, her rage and disappointment, his failure. He owes Ellie so much, and he failed her.

His unavailable heart has been locked inside his closed chest for so long, until Ellie cracked it open. Ellie, with her courage, innocence, those stupid puns that she loves so much, and that Joel can’t help smiling at. How could he have surrendered her to the Fireflies? His relationship with Ellie had developed from duty to decency before finally unfolding into love. He has already known the worst pain in his life, and he wasn’t going to live through that again. He simply could not give Ellie up.

And now he has lost her anyway, and he might lose you too.

"You get well," he whispers, assured that you can't hear his dramatic, pathetic plea, even when it's directed at you. "My heart can't take it if you don't make it, you hear me? Don't you dare die on me."

You offer him no sign of having heard him. He swallows, his throat tight, and presses his eyes shut, praying that sleep will take his worries away.

Your violent coughing wakes him up. He blinks blearily in the dark room before he gets his bearings, his arm going around the body that is convulsing next to him. It's a wet cough, rattling in your lungs, and it's new. He sits up in bed, hands on you, like that's going to help. As if anything he does helps. He hates the feeling on not being able to help.

When your coughing subsides, you groan and mumble something.

"What's that, darlin'?"

"My head," you repeat, voice raspy and thin.

"Just lay still."

"Thirsty."

Joel promptly rolls out of bed and goes to get a fresh glass of water from the kitchen. When he sits by your side to help you drink it, he realizes that you're no longer shaking. You take little sips before slumping back against the pillow, your face ashen and your eyes matted, but when he feels your forehead, he can tell you no longer have a fever. That has to be a good sign, right?

“How are you feelin’?” he asks, knowing immediately that it is a stupid question. You open your mouth, but instead of words coming out, there is a bout of coughing. Joel grimaces sympathetically as he takes the glass from your hand to avoid you spilling on yourself.

“Been better,” you finally wheeze, reaching for the glass again as soon as the coughing subsides. He gets up to go refill it, and you drowsily look around the room.

“What day is it?”

“Tuesday,” he calls back from the kitchen.

You let that sink in. When Joel comes back in, he clearly sees your confusion.

“You’ve been out of it for a few days, yeah.”

“And you’ve been here the whole time?”

He hands you the refilled glass but averts his eyes when he replies.

“Someone had to look out for you.”

You drink more greedily now, the cold water lashing its way down your scratchy throat in a way that makes you feel more alert despite the discomfort. Joel takes your glass when you’re finished, puts it on the nightstand, and pulls the covers more snugly around you.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, somewhat amused at his fussing. “You should go home. Has Ellie even seen you since I got sick?”

He freezes, pain flashing across his face before his features turn to cold, hard stone. But you saw it, plain as day.

“Joel?”

He doesn’t answer, and your fear rises.

“Joel, is Ellie alright?”

“Yes.” The answer comes promptly, but the three letters contain a world of events and emotions that you, despite your current state, need to know more of.

“What happened?”

“We’ll talk about it later, darlin’. You need to rest.”

“We’ll talk about it now.” You stress the last word with a rise in volume and pitch, which brings about another bout of coughing. When you’re done, Joel gives you a disapproving glare.

“You’re not well.”

“Duh. Now tell me, or do I have to get out of this bed and go find Ellie myself?”

He sighs deeply, jaw squared as he stares out of the open bedroom door. You wait as he gathers himself.

“I told her. About Salt Lake City.”

“And she didn’t take it well?”

“No. She never wants to see me again. She hates me.”

“Joel…”

Joel can’t look at you. Not even his brother knows the whole story, but he has told you, one late night after the two of you had fucked and were sharing whispered secrets in each other’s arms. He couldn’t keep you in the dark, you’re too important. With all that he has lost in life, with all of his scars and traumas, he got to know Ellie, and he got to know you. When he least expected it, you came along, with your way of seeing the world, its light and its shadows, your body as aching as his but your mind nowhere near as broken. Your ribs bend open so easily for your heart to do what hearts do best. And that kept his chest from closing again now that Ellie hates him.

He’s so grateful for you. And so ashamed.

Tears burn in his eyes and when you sit up and put your hand on his shoulder, he draws a sobbing breath. Goddammit.

“It’s okay, Joel,” you rasp. “We’ll figure it out.”

He passes his hands over his face, wills his tears away, but the more he fights it, the more constricted his chest feels.

No, not now, not when he needs to stay strong for you!

“Joel?”

“Be right back,” he presses, standing up so quickly that the world spins for a second, and his first two steps are wobbly. He hears you speak his name again, but he hurries out to the kitchen, finding support from the sink, his head swimming, his heart beating so fast he thinks it’s going to explode but at the same time he can’t breathe, his throat is closed, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, Jesus fucking Christ he’s having a heart attack –

“Joel!”

Your hands are on him, turning him around. At the end of his tunnel vision is your haggard face, and through the roar in his ears – where did that come from and what is it? – he can hear your voice.

“Joel? Listen to my voice. Feel my touch. You’re okay, baby, you’re okay. I promise. You can breathe. Just take a deep breath, that’s it, just like that, and exhale. Good, go ahead, take another one. That’s great, Joel, just like that.”

Without even noticing, your hoarse voice has pushed through the panic and the pain and the noises, and he finds himself breathing deeply, consciously, his heart slowing down. He blinks a couple of times, and his eyesight is back to normal. You’re in front of him, nodding your encouragement. He wets his lips, wants to say something, but then his knees buckle under him, and before he knows it, both of you are on the floor, you from trying to help him, your still weak body no match for his weight.

You’re coughing, and he collects you in his arms, ignoring the smarting in his elbow. It keeps him sharp.

“You okay?” he asks you as soon as you’re done coughing. You nod against his chest, wheezing breath keeping you from speaking. He holds you closer when you shiver slightly, and when you embrace him back, he feels a lot better.

“What about you?”

“I’m good, darlin’, don’t worry about me.”

“That was a panic attack, Joel, and not a small one.”

He frowns, looks down at you.

“I have a heart problem.”

“Maybe so, but that wasn’t a heart attack. It was a panic attack.”

“How would you know?”

You roll your eyes at him, even though it hurts your head.

“I’m a nurse, Joel.”

He has to chuckle at your tone, but you’re not amused.

“I also had a sister who suffered panic attacks from a young age. It differs from person to person, but what I did to you worked on her. Seemed to work on you as well.”

“It… did. Thank you.”

“How long have you – “ you start, but he interrupts you, though not unkindly.

“Can we… not talk about it right now? I’m exhausted, and you need to rest.”

You agree, and with combined forces, the two of you manage to get off the floor and drag yourselves back to the bedroom. You collapse on the bed together and just barely find the energy to arrange yourselves comfortably before both of you are out.

You sleep uneasily, your cough waking you up constantly. Your head is still aching, and your throat is lined with needles when you swallow, not to mention how much your lungs hurt when you cough, but you’re hungry for the first time since you got sick.

You hear a light snore next to you, so you turn your head. Joel is deep asleep, turned away from you, sleeping on his good ear. Your hacking must have disturbed him because you’re quite sure that he was holding you when you went to sleep.

Slowly, gently, you place your hand between his shoulder blades. He’s warm, sweaty even, in his flannel and no doubt from his attack earlier. But he seems at ease now: his broad back is relaxed, his breaths are deep and even, and he doesn’t move when touched. Carefully, you scoot closer, a tickle in your throat threatening to grow into a cough, but you manage to keep it down. Your arm goes around his waist, and you mold yourself to his form, spooning him tightly, your hand finding a soft spot on his belly to rest against. His breath stutters and changes, but other than his hand clumsily finding yours, he doesn’t move.

He smells of old sweat, and you don’t feel too fresh yourself. The thought of taking a shower with him once he wakes up sets off a pull deep within your lower belly, and you smile as you feel your cheeks heat up. Even when struggling through the worst flu you’ve ever experienced, you can’t keep from fantasizing about the things this man can do with his hands, his mouth, his cock…

You take it he’s to stay with you now, which means that you have to tidy up the living-room, make room for him, but you find yourself not minding. You want him there, you want to go to sleep and wake up with him next to you, and once you get well you want to wake up with your hands all over each other, his mouth on your skin, his rare smiles over breakfast.

The thought of breakfast makes your stomach growl, and you feel a little faint. It’s definitely time to eat something. Gently, you move away from Joel, rousing him when your arm leaves his waist. He rolls over onto his back and rubs his eyes before looking at you.

“Hi,” you smile, patting his arm. “You sleep if you need to. I gotta eat.”

“What time is it?”

“No idea, but it’s still light outside.”

“I’ll fix us something.”

“It’s fine, I’m on it.”

You get out of bed, your legs a little weak but still carrying you, and go to the bathroom first. Joel’s heavy steps are heard making their way to the kitchen, and when you appear in the doorway, he’s already making tea and heating up broth.

“I’ll get something from the kitchens,” he tells you without looking up. “Better see my brother too, let him know we’re alive.”

You walk up to him, feeling a little bit like Bambi on the ice, but you make it, and you wrap your arms around him from behind, and rest your cheek to his back. Joel stops what he’s doing, muscles flexing before relaxing, and his hands come to rest on top of yours.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh.”

He turns around until he’s facing you, and there is something soft in his eyes when he cups your cheeks with his big, warm hands and leans his forehead to yours. Both of you exhale audibly, then smile together. You lick your lips, clear your throat.

“Joel…”

“I love you.” His fingers make small, soothing circles behind your ears.

He beat you to it, the rascal.

“I love you, Joel. We’ll fix this. You’ll stay with me, and we’ll figure it out.”

“Thank you.”

He tilts his head a little, lips ghosting over yours. You draw back.

“I don’t want you to catch what I have.”

“I don’t care.”

He kisses you, and you let yourself melt into it, into the assurance that Joel Miller is yours, body and soul.

[riddley-art]

Pawns of the Past: A RiddleCat love story

Chapter 3

Summary: Set six months after the fall of the Justice League, thanks to the Suicide Squad, and five years after Arkham Knight, Riddler tracks down Catwoman, who’s been living far from Gotham, determined to reclaim the money she stole from him. Their tense confrontation takes an unexpected turn as old sparks reignite. What begins as a mission of revenge slowly evolves into a complicated romance, forcing both Selina and Eddie to confront their feelings, their pasts, and the possibility of a future neither expected.

I’m beyond excited to finally share the project I’ve been working on with the incredible @adhdnursegoat! This is our very first RiddleCat fic, and we’re so thrilled to bring it to life today. 💜💚

Rated: Mature

Need to catch up or re-read? Here's the link to: Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Archive of our Own Link

Chapter 3

Selina Kyle doesn’t say anything right away; she just tilts her head to the side, her verdant eyes locking onto his. Edward cannot help but feel like the room is pressing down on him, the heady heat of her gaze pinning him in place. There’s a weight in her silence, in her body language, and the piercing intensity of her stare. For anyone else, her stillness might come off as idle curiosity, but he knows better. Selina’s silence is purposeful, heavy with an unspoken challenge.

There are some memories people never forget: a birthday, making the winning goal for your sports team, a graduation, a wedding, the birth of a child, or the death of a loved one. Sometimes, these memories come in bursts, seemingly burned into the mind in a very particular way. These are called flashbulb memories: events locked, frozen in time—a mind remembering every detail down to not only sight and sound but touch, taste, and smell. For the neurotypical person, these aren’t always accurate, the mind falling prey to human fallacy.

However, for Edward Nigma—a man with a photographic memory and perfect recall—his memories are more reliable than the majority of the human race. His mind is a labyrinth of every sight, sound, and feeling he’s ever experienced, perfectly preserved, whether he wants them or not. It can be overwhelming to have the near eternity of your life at immediate access, every mistake and moment of triumph replayed in painstaking clarity. At times, it has drivin him to the edge of his sanity, the relentless flood of details drowning out the present, but he’s learned to focus. He’s taught himself to narrow the river of thoughts and fixate on the present moment and a few good memories he owns.

One of them? Rome.

For a moment, as he stands there in her line of sight, it all comes back in a rush. He’s on that ship again. He feels the gentle sway beneath his feet, the way the deck shifted under them as the night deepened.

And the kiss—well, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was a declaration. He remembers the way her lips pressed against his, the urgency in her grip as if daring him to deny the connection they shared. He remembers how the world seemed to narrow until it was just them, and then the shock that had crossed her features as she pulled back just enough to see his face. That look of betrayal, that stunned realization, when she saw it wasn’t merely another conquest but him—Edward Nigma. And what followed had been as inevitable as gravity: she had kicked him overboard, straight into the shark-infested waters below.

Now, as Selina stands there, watching him with those same eyes, he feels the memory crashing over him. It’s all there—the taste of salt on his lips, the humid warmth of the night air, the lingering tinge of fear and thrill tangled together. He can’t believe it—is this really happening? Or has he fallen asleep and is dreaming?

He rubs his eyes

No, not dreaming. 

Edward’s pulse quickens as his analytical mind races to make sense of it. It’s a sensation he hasn’t felt in a long time, like being swept into the middle of a challenge he can’t control. A flicker of doubt crosses his mind, a hesitation born from a lifetime of betrayal. He wants to ask her, Why now? Why are you here, dredging up these memories? but he can’t seem to find his voice. (To be fair, he should ask himself why he is here all the same.)

The problem with remembering everything is that he also remembers the things left unsaid between them—the promises broken, the words cut short by pride or fear, the fleeting moments when it seemed like things could have been different. Rome wasn’t just about the thrill of a heist or the exhilaration of the chase. It was about the unspoken connection, the undercurrent of something more, something he still can’t quite name.

Selina’s smile widens and something in it makes him feel helpless, like he’s not the one in control right now. “You seemed restless,” she says, her voice soft but filled with that familiar, teasing edge.

Edward shifts on his bear feet, his mind racing. “I... yeah. Couldn’t sleep.”

Selina clicks her tongue, a thoughtful action. “Neither could I.” Then she advances, her gaze never leaving his.

She moves toward him with the graceful, predatory elegance of a cat stalking its prey, each step deliberate and silent. Her eyes stay locked on his, a teasing smile playing on her lips as she closes the distance between them. The soft light of the bedside lamp catches on her silhouette. Her flowing, silken black robe shifts, accentuating the dip of her waist, the ample swell of her hips, and her shapely legs peak beyond it with each delicate step closer. 

A little wary of the femme fatale before him, he steps back, shoulders tapping the door behind him. His breath hitches as she approaches. His heart racing, unsure whether to brace for her next move or stay frozen in place. But all he can do is watch her—captivated, caught off guard by the sudden closeness. Her presence feels like a trap he can’t escape, though he’s not entirely sure he wants to.

The space between them is thick, a swell of energy that makes his chest feel tight, and Edward, his back now flush against the door, realizes that he’s completely at her mercy. His mind races, but his body refuses to move, locked in place by the intensity of her gaze and the slow, predatory way she moves closer.

His heart pounds when she stops merely a foot away. She looks up at him, a playful glint in her eyes. “Do you remember exactly how that night went?” she asks, her voice smooth and soft. “Rome, I mean.”

Edward hesitates for a moment, clearing his throat. “Uh... more or less,” he lies, trying to sound casual. The truth is, that night has burned itself into his memory, every detail burned into his mind, into the very fabric of his being. But there’s no way he’s going to admit that now—not while she stands there like this.

Selina hums, her smile deepening as if she can see right through him. “You sure about that?” Her dainty hand, lithe and adorned with acrylic nails, purple of course, raises to press against the door beside his head. She leans in, her eyes raising to meet his gaze. “Because I know you, Eddie. Photographic memory... remember?”

Oh, dear.

Feeling like a mouse with its tail caught in the cat's teeth, he swallows hard, throat bobbing with the motion. He gives her a small, nervous chuckle. “I guess some things are hard to forget…”

Selina raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the game. “Oh, I’m sure you remember every little detail. Why don’t you tell me, then... where were my hands when we kissed?”

Unsure if he heard her right, Edward shakes his head, trying to clear the haze of confusion that’s settled over him. “Selina, what are you doing?” His voice rough, a little more squeaky than he would care to admit. He tries to look away, but his gaze keeps drifting back to her, drawn in by the same magnetic energy that’s always existed between them. 

But, something about this feels... off. They had only just begun to rebuild the fragile bridge between them a few hours ago, they had not even some to a full resolution yet, and now here she is, seducing him with the same dangerous charm she wielded back in Rome. Remembering the fear of being thrown overboard, remembering the lesson she taught him all those years ago about touching her, he is quite skittish. 

His mind swirls with conflicting thoughts. Part of him knows this isn’t right, that it’s too soon, too tangled in the unresolved past. Yet, another part—one he’s not sure he wants to fight—is more than willing to let this happen. He wants her. He always has. But could this really be happening now, after all they’ve been through?

He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head again, more out of desperation than control, but the question lingers in his mind: Is this right?

"Who cares if this is right or not?" Selina breaks the silence, her voice low and sultry. 

Edward’s eyes snap open and shift to her.  His breath catches as he realizes she knows exactly what he’s thinking, and he tries to muster a response, but the words tangle in his throat. She always has that uncanny ability, another reason why her presence has always captivated him. Back then, it was exhilarating—and it still is.

"Why don’t we finally our bodies do the talking tonight, for once in our lives," she whispers, stepping closer, her gaze never leaving his. She’s mere inches from him now, pressing in as her hand slips from the door to his shoulder. Her breath is warm against his cheek, and Edward is trapped between the pull of her and the barrier behind him.

It would be so easy - just a simple tilt of his head, not even a full turn it would take to catch her lips. He idly wonders if they still feel as plush and juicy as they look, as they felt back then. His eyes flick to them. 

What was the question again?

Selina, seemingly sensing his hesitation, shifts back, nails grazing down his bicep before pulling away completely. But she does not look deterred. Instead, her lips twitch into a deeper smirk, and her green eyes fall half-moons, gaze sultry when those slender hands rise to tease her nails down the sides of her neck. 

The movement is slow, sensual, and it draws his eyes down to her neck and décolletage against his will. She traces her collarbones, sharp and kissable, before trailing lower catches the overlapping edges of her robe and teasing it apart. 

"You want me to spark your memory?" Her voice is a taunt, a challenge, and before he can respond, she moves with deliberate ease, shrugging off her silken robe. The shift of her shoulders is measured, moving in a way to lure him deeper into her sinful tableau as she further reveals the soft swell of her breasts, the slender plane of her belly, and the supple curve of her hips. He barely registers the robe falling to her feet in a black pool.

The sight hits him like a wave. Beneath the robe, she’s wearing the same style of silk lingerie from that night on the ship in Rome: black, lacey, and silky. His mind flashes back to the intensity of that moment—the heat of their kiss, the feel of her beneath his fingertips. the shock in her eyes when she realized who he was, and then the sudden whirlwind of being kicked into the shark-infested waters below.

His throat goes dry as his eyes trace the familiar sight of her, standing before him like a living reminder of the past, wrapped in the very same silk that’s haunted his memories for so long. It is a fantasy come true - but one 

Eddie’s pulse races, every muscle in his body tense with anticipation, uncertainty, and desire. Selina’s eyes lock onto his, daring him to say something, to make the next move—or to stay frozen in place as she takes control.

“Now, I’m gonna ask you again,” he notes  where were my hands when we kissed?”

“You were... cupping my face,” he says slowly, watching her expression carefully.

“Go on,” Selina prompts, her voice teasing, as if daring him to get it right.

Edward’s fingers twitch. “And... one of my hands was on your back,” he continues, feeling his heart pound in his chest. “The other one was holding my hat.” His voice softens as the memory becomes more vivid.

“Good boy. You do remember…” Selina’s teeth are bright, white and catching the minimal light in the room, when she smiles. “Why don’t you recreate it, then? Show me how it went.”

He blinks, unsure if he’s heard her right. “Recreate it?”

It is a command - hypnotic in execution. It is something that tugs at the knots of his inhibition, loosening his warriness just enough for him to consider her offer to be authentic. He searches her eyes, glittering like emeralds center with an onyx pool, more gorgeous than the jewels she covets. He wants to believe her. 

In fact, something in him does. 

Especially when she reinforces the request, nodding and saying softly, “Yes. Exactly how it happened. You remember every detail, don’t you?” 

Yes. 

As he reaches up to cup her face, Selina gently takes his wrists in her hands, stopping him. She tilts her head, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. She guides his hands down to her waist, placing them there with deliberate slowness. “My hands were on your face. You remember?” 

The surrealism of it all had scrambled his mind. Her command to recreate their kiss - meaning to touch her - had made him glitch. 

“R-right.” Eddie’s heart races as his fingers rest against her waist, feeling the warmth of her body beneath his hands. Selina raises hers to his face, cupping his cheeks softly, just as she had done that night on the ship. Her fingers brush against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine as the memory becomes more real, more vivid.

But it is not just a memory anymore. 

This is real. 

And his awareness is sucked and snapped into the present. 

Selina’s skin is soft, both beneath his fingertips and on his face. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he is glad he shaved, allowing him to feel her touch unencumbered. Her caress is gentle, safe, further tearing down his warry walls. 

Edward’s heart pounds as their faces draw closer, the space between them shrinking with every second. Her eyes never leave his, gaze intense, and filled with challenge. Her hands stay on his face, pulling him in just as she had done years ago. His hands tighten slightly on her waist, the same way they had when he was caught by surprise the first time. Her lips brush against his, soft at first, testing the waters, but the moment is unmistakable. The memory and the present collide, and he is lost in it. And then, just like that night, she leans in, pressing her supple lips to his quivering ones. He can’t tear away from her, the weight of it all crashing down on him like a wave and soon pulled further in the undertow. 

When he kisses her back, it is slow, familiar, and filled with the same heat and hesitant tension that burned between them all those years ago. Tentatively, one of his hands, slips from her hip, fingertips caressing her skin as he slides around to rest on her lower back, just like last time. 

For a moment, nothing else exists. It’s just them, locked in a kiss that, what once lingered on life support in his mind for so long, is now resurrected and pulsing with life. It is all too much - too fantastical and all too real simultaneously. Too good and too magnetic. And despite the fact their lips move together in uniform consent, he still hesitates to take it further. He is really not sure what exactly he is allowed to do, what would be too much, and afraid of unintentionally going too far. He would be content just to stay like this for minutes, hours, especially as she curves her body into his, pressing against him in a feline manner that only she can pull off. 

Eyes still locked, his narrow and his brow furrows. He wants more, gaze trying to convey his admittedly pitiful desire. 

Please?

Please don't pull away? Please don't let this be a ruse? Please don't play with me? Please don't stop? 

But the way she looks at him, the way she sighs, the way she lets her eyes flutter shut, and the way she slides one of her hands back and into his hair answers all his questions. I won't, she promises. 

Edward wishes he could say he were a stronger man, that he could say it took more than that to completely unravel him. But when her lips part and her tongue flicks at his lips, enticing him to join her game, he feels weak, feeling like the only safe option here is to respond in kind. 

So, he lets his eyes close. It is only fair. Selina closed hers, letting him have her in an unguarded state. It is a poignant sign - that she trusts him - for now. And, he soon believes that she wants him just as much as he wants her, because when she lets his tonuge meant hers she gently clasps it between her teeth before sucking him past her plush lips. 

Oh, god.

She tastes the same, her mouth just as soft, and it makes him weak in the knees. It makes his skin tingle and his breath quicken. That clawed hand of hers cards into his hair, letting her nails scrape along his scalp as she pulls him closer to deeper their kiss. The hand on his face drags down, grazing down his neck in a tantalizing manner that has him shivering. And when she suckles on his tongue, he cannot help the soft moan he breathes into their kiss, a sound that is swallowed between the when he now eagerly kisses her back. 

Edward's hand tightens on her lower back and he pulls her flush with him, her hourglass body molding perfectly with his. Idly, the hand on her hip toys with the edge of her panties, fingers tingling at the familiar sensation of the silk under his touch. His lets his fingers graze the skin just above the waistband, feeling the warm flesh. To his surprise, she shivers and her hands tighten in place on his chest and hair. He pauses, tensing for a moment as his mind processes her response.

Curious, and always one to test a theory, Edward repeats the motion, dexterous fingers tracing from the back of her pelvis  to the front, grazing the sensitive flesh over her hipbone. Much to his delight, she responds just the same, only this time paired with a shuddering gasp against his lips. It makes his loins twitch, arousal flooding his system at the thought of the indomitable Selina Kyle twitching in his grasp. If he did not have an ego before, then he does now. 

Embolden, Edward dips his fingers under the hem of her silken lingerie, caressing her hip and palming her flesh. He resumes the movement of his mouth, head angling to gain further acess to the fortress she has let him breach.  

In kind, Selina tilts her head even more, her own hand tightening in his locks as she meets his sensual probing with equal intensity, if not more. The hand on his chest, warm and tender, descends, dragging her nails as she goes. It is a sensation that has him tensing and shivering, the muscles in his abdomen fluttering under her touch. It almost takes his breath away when those same acrylics trace the waistband of his boxers, mirroring him in a way that makes him smile into their kiss. 

Briefly, they both share a mutual grin, lips still moving as he chuckles and she hums a playful sound. Edward relaxes fully, feeling like he can finally breathe in their mounted tension, feeling like he is welcome in her arms. It is something that he would have never imagined happening, and only existed in his wildest dreams. 

Edward would be lying if he said he had not thought of it before. What would it have been like had they continued their eclectic tryst in Rome? How would it have played out? He is also ashamed to say that he had touched himself to the fantasy of being in her hold, of her hands on him just like this, of her letting him grip at the flesh of her hip to pull her closer. 

But, even in all his imaginative mind, did he ever conceive that she would be willingly dipping her slender fingers into the waistband of his boxers to graze the sensitive, twitching skin of his lower belly and pelvis.  Grimacing into the kiss, Edward's hand resting under the waistband of her panties pulls away to grip her wrist in a delicate, tentative hold. He doesn't pull her hand away, but he does reluctantly retreat from their kiss. 

When he opens his eyes to find Selina's curious expression, he has a hard time looking at her directly, especially with her hand poised in such an intimate position. There is a heat that touches his face and neck that makes it even harder for him to address her. 

He clears his throat, the fingers on her lower back smoothing across her skin. “You - you don't…have to do that…,” he rasps.

Selina blinks, face remaining soft and curious. “Do you want me too?”

Edward feels the answer strangled in his throat, unable to come out even as his mouth opens and closes, beckoning them to pour forth. He wants to do a lot of things. But all he can do is look away. Still seemingly unable tell the woman before him that he wants her to touch him more than anything. His jaw clenches, tongue feeling leaden. 

Apparently, she does not like his response because the fingers in his hair tighten, forcing his gaze forward. He did not expect it, the forceful command in her grasp and the blazing look in her eyes, especially as she says, “Tell me, Eddie. Use your words.”

It all lights a fire in his belly, one that has his cock twitching, wanting to be closer to her hand. He sucks in a breath, hand tightening on her wrist briefly, before he loosens and finally lets go, unable to hide the tremor in his hand. 

“Yes.” He is relieved to find his voice isn't as timorous as he feels inside. 

“Yes, what?”

His brow softens. “Yes, Selina, I want you to touch me.” 

It still surprises him when she smiles, appearing pleased with his answer. It surprises him even more when her hand continues its descent to his aching erection. He cannot breathe for a few heartbeats, an autonomic process stalled until he must think to kick start it with somatic interference. Her hand is soft, much like the silken lingerie under his fingertips. 

Edward is suddenly hyperware of everything: the cool wood of the door on his heated back; the navy ring around her pupils that fades into that srtiking verdant green; the feel of her flesh dipping, yeilding to his tighted grip; the smell of her perfume, something gentle and blush,  sweet rose and cashmere; pressure of her thumb when it smears the arousal that has collected at the tip of his cock He hisses, finally inhaling and soothing his aching chest. 

His hips twitch forward, seeking more of her touch, and his hands do the same, wanting to touch her. The fingers on her lower back slip up her spine in the gentlest of touches while the other grazes her rib cage with the lightest of touches. He tangles himself in her hair, cradling her head and tilting it to press a slow kiss on her jaw. He shudders once more when she strokes him in a languid manner from tip to base and back. His thighs tense in response, balls tightening before relaxing, the rest of his body following. 

It has been so long, too long since anyone has touched him like this. Come to think of it, it was even before Rome since he had been with anyone, Selina truly being the last and first person to touch him in a concerning amount of time. Even before his spiral into obsession, Edward could count on one hand how many different people he had kissed, and only one finger for the one he slept with. Urges, the urge for sex, the urge for companionship, the urge for self-care, and self-regulation all took a backseat to his infamous aspirations. If something ever arose, then he would handle it himself, having no desire, but, mostly, no one to share it with. 

So, it is fair that he would be quite receptive to a more intimate touch. He also thinks it is fair that he would not last long if she continued, her touch skillful and seductive when she smooths her hand down to cup his balls. What he doesn’t think is fair, it that he is already on the edge, teetering by the time her hand strokes up his shaft again, giving the head a few languid strokes at the end. He could not stop the moan nor the fact that his head dropped to her shoulder to steady and control his longevity. 

Edward takes a steadying breath, his grip on her arm gentle yet firm, effectively halting her teasing touch. His lips press against the delicate line of her neck, trailing soft kisses down to the sleek curve of her shoulder. He lets his mouth linger there, savoring her skin, and manages to whisper against her, “I’m ashamed to say I won’t last long if you keep that up.”

Selina’s lips curve into a small, knowing smile, her gaze warm and reassuring. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of with me,” she murmurs, her voice a quiet assurance that slips through the hazy tension between them.

The vulnerability in her words fills Edward with a warmth that starts in his chest and spreads outward, grounding him in this moment that feels surprisingly tender amidst the charged air. He exhales, his warm breath skimming across her skin, and he can’t help but smile when she shivers in response, her body receptive to even the gentlest gestures he offers.

He kisses a line down her arm, her hand still lingering at his waistband, but she releases him with little resistance as he brings her hand up, pressing a soft kiss to her wrist. His eyes meet hers then, the vibrant green of her gaze softened by the dim light, and he sees the flicker of unguarded emotion that rarely breaks through her composed exterior.

“Still,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady. He kisses her palm. “I’d rather wait.”

For a moment, neither of them move. Selina tilts her head, studying him with that curious intensity she often wears when she’s caught off guard. The way her eyes search his face makes him feel as though he’s under some kind of spell, frozen beneath her gaze. 

Then, she reaches out the hand he kissed, resting her hand against his cheek, her thumb brushing along his jawline in a gesture so tender it almost unravels him entirely. “You’re a rare breed, Eddie,” she whispers, her voice carrying a warmth he rarely hears. It’s as though she’s acknowledging not only his choice to wait but the courage it took for him to stop her in the first place.

Edward closes his eyes, letting the moment settle in the warmth of her touch. Her hand rests against his cheek, grounding him in a feeling he’s not entirely used to—something so achingly tender it feels almost foreign. He shifts his hands, smoothing his palms over her shoulders, feeling the warmth of her skin, the firmness of her muscles beneath. His touch drifts down her back, following the seam of her spine with a slow reverence, like he’s tracing a path he’s memorized only in the hazy spaces between memory and longing.

When he opens his eyes, he catches her gaze, and there’s a flicker of something vulnerable in his expression—a small, almost shy smile. “Not many people see it that way,” he murmurs, a quiet admission that feels heavier than he intended.

Selina’s eyes soften, and the smirk she’s worn like armor melts, leaving a gentler, more genuine expression in its place. Her fingers tighten slightly against his cheek as she studies him, as if considering just how much of herself she’s willing to reveal. “Then they don’t know you like I do.”

Her words hang in the air, wrapping around him in a way that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. There’s a quiet truth in them, one that touches something deep and hidden, a place he’s carefully guarded, even from himself. The weight of her statement makes him pause, the implications settling over him with an intimacy he isn’t sure he knows how to accept.

“And how do you know me to be?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper, a question he isn’t certain he wants an answer to but can’t help but ask. He’s both afraid and curious to hear how she perceives him, to see himself reflected in the eyes of someone who has, for all her allure and elusiveness, seen more of him than anyone else.

She tilts her head slightly, considering him with a depth that makes him feel exposed, as though she’s peeling back his layers and seeing everything he’s spent years hiding. Her hand slips from his cheek and trails down his jaw, her fingers grazing the sensitive skin along his neck, leaving a warm, tingling path in their wake. Her eyes are steady, unflinching, and for a heartbeat, he feels as though she’s memorizing every line and shadow on his face.

“You’re…” she begins, pausing as though searching for the right words. “You’re a man who thinks in terms of puzzles and patterns. Someone who sees the world as a series of challenges, problems to solve, a mind always calculating, never resting.” Her voice is soft, almost contemplative, as if she’s speaking to herself as much as to him. “But you’re more than that, Eddie.”

The way she says his name, so familiar, so unguarded, sends a shiver down his spine. He feels both exposed and understood, a strange combination that leaves him at a loss. It’s as if she’s seeing beyond his intellect, beyond his riddles and mind games, into something more human.

Selina’s eyes hold his, unwavering, and there’s a spark of something that isn’t pity but understanding. “You’re someone who feels deeply, even if you don’t show it. A man who’s been hurt, who hides behind all that cleverness because it’s easier than letting anyone close. But underneath it all, there’s a part of you that wants to be seen, even if you don’t know how to let yourself be.” She brushes a stray lock of hair from his forehead, the motion as natural as if she’s done it a thousand times before. “I see you.”

The vulnerability in her words is a mirror to his own, and Edward’s breath catches as he lets her reflection settle into him. He’s spent years building walls, constructing labyrinths of wit and detachment to protect himself, to ensure no one ever gets close enough to hurt him.

His hands trail slowly, appreciatively from her waist to her hips, and he never breaks their gaze when he crouches to grip the back of her thighs. The way she jumps gracefully, eagerly into his arms, wrapping her legs easily around his waist makes him chuckle, feeling more relaxed than ever. 

He walks her to the bed, and in the process, he asks her a question to validate the situation. Although he is fairly confident in her answer, he still needs to know. “Are you sure about this?”

In Selina fashion, she answers his question with a question, “Are you?” The tone of her voice is teasing, but he is not playing at the moment.

“Selina… please, I need to hear it.” He stops walking, pausing at the end of the king-size bed, but not lowering her. 

The way her smile falls, her green eyes searching his own as she very obviously studies him. She looks as if she is searching for something or trying to figure something out, the gears turning in her mind. It is not long before her gaze softens, probably the most it has been all night, before she mutters, “Yes.”

Without breaking her gaze, he lowers her carefully onto the bed, hands firm on her hips, fingers brushing against her skin in a touch that’s both reverent and grounding. His own heart hammers against his ribs, and he takes a deep breath, steadying himself, gathering the courage to let this moment unfold without the need for pretense. For once, he’s not trying to think ten steps ahead, not analyzing every possible outcome—he’s just here, letting himself exist in this moment with her.

Selina watches him, her expression softened but still bearing that playful spark, as though daring him to drop his guard completely. She tilts her head slightly, one eyebrow arching, and reaches up to tip her slender fingers under his chin, her touch feather-light but grounding. “It’s not like you to be this quiet, Eddie,” she teases, her voice soft yet laced with a hint of challenge. “What’s going through that brilliant mind of yours?”

He chuckles, feeling his own tension loosen with the sound, a small but genuine laugh escaping as he shakes his head. “You, Selina. Just… you,” he says, his voice surprisingly steady but warm, the honesty feeling strange on his tongue yet liberating.

A soft smile curves her lips, and she hooks her arms around his neck, pulling him just close enough that her breath brushes against his cheek. “Good answer,” she whispers, her voice almost a purr, before her gaze deepens, settling into a warmth that makes his heart skip. 

He lets her pull him down, settling beside her, propping himself on an elbow. From this angle, Selina’s long hair is splayed out on the pillow that cradles her shoulders and head. It is like a dark halo framing her features, and for the moment, he is lost. He is lost in the vision of the woman before him. The gleam of her eyes, the beauty mark on her cheek, the delicate column of her throat, and the supple swell of her breast held in a tantalizing manner by black lace and silk. His mouth goes dry, his tongue gritty and unable to find the words he wants to say. 

Edward’s hand trails along her side, fingers grazing the edge of her bra, and he feels a subtle shift in her body as she lifts her shoulders, offering him access. Her back arches gracefully, her body stretching beneath his touch, and he slides his arm beneath her, pulling her just a bit closer as his fingers find the clasp. There’s an intimacy in the movement, a quiet exchange of trust as his hand lingers at her back, warm against her skin, before he deftly undoes the clasp.

As the fabric loosens, her shoulders relax, and she lets the straps slip down her arms, her eyes holding his with a depth that makes his heart pound. The lace falls away, revealing her completely, and he’s mesmerized by the sight, a gentle awe settling over him as he takes her in. The softness of her skin, the delicate curve of her breasts—all of it stirs something within him that goes beyond desire, something both tender and reverent.

Selina’s body shifts as he leans down, brushing a kiss along the skin of her collarbone, his lips lingering there, savoring the warmth of her. Her breath hitches, and he feels her fingers slip into his hair, pulling him just a little closer, her touch steadying him, grounding him in the moment.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs against her skin. His palm curls around her waist, thumb tracing along her ribs. He follows the pressure of her hand in his hair, pressing increasingly firm kisses down between her breasts. 

Selina’s breath deepens, her chest rising with every kiss he places between her breasts, each one more intentional than the last. Her fingers grip his hair, guiding him but never pushing, letting him set the pace as he explores her with a gentleness she hadn’t expected but now craves. Her skin is warm beneath his lips, her heartbeat steady yet quickening, and every soft sound she makes drives him further into the moment, grounding him in this shared vulnerability.

His hand rests on her waist, fingers tracing along her ribs as though he’s committing every inch of her to memory. She feels his hesitation, the careful restraint in his touch, and it brings a soft smile to her lips. Selina lifts her hand from his hair and reaches for his, gently wrapping her fingers around his hand resting on her side. Their eyes meet, and there’s a quiet confidence in her gaze, a silent permission that speaks volumes.

She guides his hand, pulling it slowly higher, settling it over her breast, and she leans in close, her lips brushing his ear as she whispers, “You can touch me, Eddie.”

His breath catches at her words, the invitation igniting something deeper within him. The warmth of her skin under his palm, the softness and strength of her body, fills him with both desire and an unexpected reverence. His thumb brushes over her nipple in a delicate, exploratory caress, and he feels her lean into his touch, her hand resting over his, a silent encouragement that lets him know she’s here, trusting, wanting. She mewls, eyes fluttering when he repeats the motion. His gaze flicks back to her face, and in her eyes, he sees not only desire but a warmth that makes his heart pound, a softness that tells him this isn’t just another game. 

Edward’s breath hitches as his fingers find the edge of her panties, the delicate fabric soft beneath his touch, a contrast to the warmth of her skin. He feels her body shift beneath him, a subtle movement that encourages him, that tells him she’s as present in this moment as he is. His fingertips brush just beneath the seam, lingering as he gathers the courage to ask for more, his question lingering unspoken between them.

Selina’s soft laughter fills the space, a sound rich with understanding and affection, and it soothes him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Her fingers trace gentle patterns along his back, grounding him, her touch steady and reassuring. She looks into his eyes, her gaze filled with warmth, a quiet reassurance that he doesn’t need to worry, doesn’t need to ask—she’s here, and she’s his.

With her silent encouragement, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of her panties, watching her for any sign of hesitation. Her gaze remains steady, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile as she lifts her hips, granting him permission to continue. His heart pounds as he slowly begins to ease the fabric down her hips, letting the silky material glide over her skin, savoring each inch as he reveals more of her to him.

He trails his fingers down her thighs, guiding the fabric along the length of her legs with a gentleness that matches the reverence in his gaze. Her legs are long and graceful, the lines of her muscles shifting as she moves with him, each subtle motion a testament to the confidence and elegance that defines her. He lets his hands linger at her ankles, finally sliding the fabric free and letting it fall to the floor.

As Edward takes her in, fully revealed, he feels a rush of awe and quiet gratitude for this moment, for her trust, for everything she’s allowed him to see. His gaze returns to her face, his expression softened with affection, with a warmth that feels both grounding and exhilarating. 

Selina reaches for his shirt, her fingers pushing the white material of his tank top up just enough to encourage him to pull it off himself. It is not long before the same is happening to the boxers. When her nails scratch along his hip before hooking in his waistband, he hisses and is unable to suppress the reflexive shift of his hips. 

“So sensitive,” she murmurs, teeth peaking through her lips in a smile. 

He has a hard time meeting her gaze, either from the bashful heat creeping up his neck or the gentle, teasing look in her eyes. When she repeats the touch, nails grazing more assuredly from his hip to skin above his boxers, he sighs and furrows his brows. 

As Selina’s nails scrape along his hip, her fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers, Edward can’t stop the quiet gasp that escapes him, a reaction as instinctive as it is revealing. Her fingers move with a quiet confidence, drawing the fabric down slowly, and deliberately, leaving him feeling completely bare and exposed in more ways than one. The soft amber glow from the bedside lamp casts a warm light over them, illuminating the contours of their bodies in a way that feels intimate, timeless, and somehow unreal.

He’s painfully aware of his own vulnerability, the way the air feels cooler against his newly bared skin, the way her gaze moves over him with a quiet reverence that he isn’t sure he’s worthy of. There’s a part of him that’s still braced for the moment to shatter, for reality to intrude or for the scene to twist into something more sinister. It’s been so long since he’s let anyone see him like this, and a surge of anxiety pulses through him, filling his mind with an unrelenting series of doubts.

What if he makes a mistake? What if he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t measure up to her unspoken expectations? Or, worse, what if he somehow does something wrong, something she doesn’t like? His mind races, spiraling down into familiar insecurities, and he can feel his heartbeat quicken, his breath hitch, his control slipping away. He can’t slip back into that mask of bravado, not here, not now. And he cannot help but feel so out of place here in her arms - as if someone else is supposed to be here in his place. 

But then, her hand is in his hair again, her nails dragging gently against his scalp in a way that pulls him out of his spiraling thoughts. The sensation grounds him, centers him in the present, drawing him back to her. He hears her voice, low and soft, a gentle reassurance that cuts through the fog of his anxiety. “Hey, I want this, remember?”

Her words echo in his mind, a quiet encouragement that feels as steadying as her touch. He lets out a shaky breath, his gaze meeting hers, and there’s something in her eyes—a warmth, an understanding—that allows him to let go of the lingering doubts. She’s here, with him, choosing him, and for the first time, he feels a spark of confidence that maybe, just maybe, he’s enough as he is.

Edward takes a breath, his hand moving to rest over hers, his thumb brushing over her fingers with a quiet affection. “I… I just don’t want to disappoint you,” he admits, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. It’s a confession, raw and unguarded, one he hadn’t planned to make but couldn’t hold back.

Selina’s expression softens, and she moves closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, her lips lingering. “Eddie,” she whispers, her voice warm and steady, “you’re not going to disappoint me. Just be here… with me. That’s all I want.”

Finally, he feels the last of his anxiety begin to ebb, replaced by a sense of quiet acceptance. He lets himself lean into her touch, allowing her words to sink in. 

Just be here…with me.

Further, pulling him back to solid ground are her lips, soft and plush, as she kisses down his cheek to his neck. There, Selina nuzzles the sensitive column of his throat before pressing a kiss to his carotid. Both of her arms curl around his neck, pulling him deeper into her hold, and at some point, she maneuvers her legs around his waist. Her hold is warm and comfortable, and he finds himself melting into her embrace. 

Surely, if she were going to pull away, Selina would not have let him get this close, would not be pulling his hips with her legs, would not be rolling her hips against his, or kissing and placing kitten licks against his earlobe. 

His teeth chatter, and he sucks in a sharp hiss, the onslaught of sensations overwhelming in the best way. Edward’s breath stutters as he feels her warmth move against him again, his senses flooded with her touch, her scent, the gentle yet insistent way she holds him close. The doubts that had once shadowed his mind are vanishing, dissolved by the weight of her presence, by the quiet encouragement in every brush of her lips, every pull of her arms around his neck. Her hands stroke his shoulders, each touch an unspoken reassurance that he’s exactly where he’s meant to be, that she wants him, all of him.

Her lips continue their path down his cheek to his neck, pressing soft kisses to the sensitive skin, her breath warm against him as she nuzzles into the hollow just above his collarbone. The sensation makes him shiver, his muscles tightening, and a low groan escapes him as he feels her hands slide over his back, tracing along his spine with a tenderness that sends a thrilling wave through him. He leans into her, letting her guide him, allowing himself to melt into her embrace as her legs wrap more securely around his waist, drawing him closer.

He can’t ignore the quiet confidence in her movements, the way her hips roll against his, a wordless invitation that pulls him deeper into her. Her mouth finds his earlobe, the touch light, almost teasing, as she trails kitten-soft licks and kisses against him. He’s overwhelmed, his body alive with sensation, and he’s unable to hold back the soft hiss that escapes as his hips press against hers, driven by a surge of desire he can no longer contain.

The moment her warmth slides along him, skin to skin, arousal and anticipation sparking between them, he feels his control slip, his body responding instinctively, drawn into her rhythm. The heat of her against him is intoxicating, sending a rush of need through him that makes his forearms tremble as he braces himself beside her, his face hovering over hers. He struggles to keep himself steady, but his gaze is drawn to hers, the intensity of her eyes anchoring him even as he feels himself unraveling.

Selina smiles up at him, her expression soft but laced with an intensity that makes his heart race. There’s a kind of fierce tenderness in her gaze, something that speaks of trust, of desire, and of an understanding that goes beyond words. He wants to say something, to convey the gratitude, the quiet awe he feels, but he’s lost for words, his thoughts too tangled, too overwhelmed by her presence.

Instead, Edward leans down, capturing her lips in a kiss that’s slow, deep, a reflection of everything he can’t or does not know how to express right now. Still surprising him no matter how far they have gone, Selina responds with equal fervor, her arms tightening around his neck, her legs drawing him closer once more, pulling him this time with an intent that has his pulse racing. 

With another deliberate arch and roll of her hips, the tip of his erection catches her entrance. Mouths still connected, he gasps and pauses. Then, when her legs tighten at the ankles and her lithe hands clutch the back of his head and neck, she pulls him deeper. Her warm, mewling breath at his ear is sensual alone, but that, coupled with the sensation of slowing sinking inside her, has him trembling with restraint. 

As he finally sheaths himself to the hilt, Edward’s movements come to a halt, his body tense, his breath stilled as he processes the overwhelming sensation of being this close, this vulnerable. His eyes widen slightly, and he blinks, his brows furrowing as he struggles to maintain control, to steady himself amidst the intensity of the moment. Every instinct tells him to move, to give in to the pull of her, but he pauses, grounding himself, feeling the weight of the intimacy they’re sharing.

He meets her gaze, his eyes softened with a mixture of awe and concern, and he finds his voice, though it’s barely more than a whisper. “Are you okay?” he asks, his tone laced with genuine care, searching her face for any sign of discomfort or hesitation.

Selina’s lips curve into a reassuring smile, her hands sliding forward to cradle his face, her touch steadying him. She lets out a soft breath, her fingers brushing gently along his jaw as she nods. “Yes,” she whispers, her voice warm, inviting, a quiet encouragement that eases his lingering doubts. “I’m here with you.”

Her words sink into him, settling the last of his nerves, and he closes his eyes for a moment, letting himself absorb the reality of the moment, the feeling of her body beneath his, the warmth of her hands on his skin. It’s more than he ever thought he could have, more than he ever allowed himself to hope for.

Never, in all his years, his dream, his hopes would have ever seen this happening. It may have indulged in the fantasy, but that is all it was - a fantasy. Men like him don’t get the girl. 

But when she gently suggests, her voice like honey in his ear, “You can move, Eddie,” the thought of what he does or does not deserve disappears. It is about what she thinks, right?

This isn’t a dream or a fleeting fantasy—she’s here, beneath him, her hands warm against his skin, her expression open, welcoming, urging him to let go.

He begins to move, his hips finding a rhythm that’s slow, gentle, testing the waters as he lets himself feel the warmth, the softness, the subtle strength of her body beneath his. Her gaze meets his, half-lidded and smoldering, and he feels his heart race as he watches her response to each motion, her quiet sighs, the way her breath deepens, catching and releasing with every careful thrust. She’s mesmerizing, her eyes shining with a warmth that feels like both an invitation and a reassurance.

Selina’s hands slide along his back, fingers tracing patterns that send a shiver down his spine, her touch anchoring him while pulling him deeper into her embrace. The way she looks at him—her lips parted, her brows furrowing slightly with each gentle push—tells him more than words could. It’s a look of complete trust, a kind of open vulnerability that leaves him breathless, that makes him want to give her everything he has, everything he is.

Her sounds are soft, quiet gasps and murmurs that fill the room, mingling with his own hitched breaths, and each one is a spark that fuels his pace, that gives him the courage to move with a little more purpose. Her body responds to his, shifting in subtle, fluid movements, matching his rhythm with a natural ease that feels as though they’re in perfect sync. He watches her, captivated, his own breaths becoming more labored as he loses himself in the way she arches into him, her hands pressing into his shoulders as if pulling him closer is the only thing that matters.

“Selina…” he murmurs, the name slipping from his lips like a confession, filled with reverence, with gratitude. His pace quickens, his movements deepening as he finds a rhythm that feels like their own, a steady build that’s both gentle and unrestrained. Her quiet sighs become more urgent, her body pressing against his with each thrust, and he can feel the warmth of her skin, the way she shudders in his arms, every detail intensifying the connection between them.

It is hard for him to focus on everything - especially when he is so focused on not losing himself too soon. 

But he cannot prevent the inevitable. 

Soon, too soon for his liking, too soon for his pride, his hips still, before he pulls out swiftly, taking a deep breath and squeezing his eyes shut. Edward’s breath trembles as he hovers above her, fighting to rein himself in, to hold onto control even as every fiber of his being urges him to let go. His heart pounds against his ribs, his chest rising and falling as he breathes through the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. He tries to push away the quiet embarrassment that creeps in, the flush that blooms over his cheeks. Part of him feels exposed, a touch of self-doubt swirling as he imagines how he must look to her now, stopping in his tracks, struggling to hold back.

But then he remembers her words from earlier in, the encouragement, the gentle assurance that he has nothing to hide, nothing to fear in her presence. He opens his eyes to find her gaze steady, warm, and filled with that quiet confidence that has been unraveling his defenses and insecurities all night. Her expression is unbothered, accepting, her hands resting on his back in gentle support as though she’s silently telling him it’s all right, that he doesn’t have to worry about holding back.

“I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to last…” he admits softly, his voice laced with both apology and frustration, his gaze flicking down as he struggles to let the vulnerability settle.

“You don’t have to hold back, Eddie,” she says softly, her voice carrying that familiar blend of strength and encouragement. There’s a confidence in her tone that eases his tension, letting him feel her acceptance in a way that requires no touch, no gesture—only her words, her presence.

It’s enough. The anxiety dissolves, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, returning her steady gaze with a nod. He leans in, pressing his lips to hers again, deepening the kiss with a renewed sense of trust, a silent promise to let go, to be fully present with her. She meets him with equal intensity, her arms pulling him closer, her legs tightening around his waist as though she’s grounding him, urging him to lose himself in her.

He resumes his rhythm, his movements less restrained, his focus solely on the feel of her, the way her body responds to his with each thrust, the way her breaths grow shorter, her soft sighs and moans filling the room. The warmth and pressure of her beneath him, the way her hips rise to meet his, the subtle shivers that run through her—all of it pulls him deeper, their connection becoming a shared rhythm that feels unbreakable.

As he moves, he’s captivated by the expressions crossing her face: her brows draw together slightly, her lips parting as her breaths come faster, her gaze holding his for a moment before her eyes flutter closed. 

“Eddie…” 

The look of her beneath him like this, the sound of her moaning his name, warning him of her impending orgasm, the feel of her wrapped around him. 

It’s all too much. 

Edward’s body tenses, hips stilling before resuming an almost desperate pattern. He groans, praising her name, thanking her, as he finishes.

As the moment overtakes him, Edward feels his control slip entirely, the intensity of her beneath him, the way she whispers his name, tipping him over the edge. His hips still, then move with a last surge of urgency, and he shudders as he lets go, her name spilling from his lips like a confession. His mind is lost in a haze of gratitude, reverence, and undeniable connection as he gives in, breathing out soft praises, thanking her for this closeness, this trust.

But as his breathing begins to slow, and the reality of the moment settles around them, he looks down at her, his face flushed with both warmth and a lingering pang of self-consciousness. He notices the way her breath is still shallow, her body still taut with expectation, and a wave of embarrassment washes over him.

“Selina…” he starts, voice soft and filled with regret, his gaze unable to meet hers. “I’m… I’m sorry. I-” He stumbles over his words, the rush of apology mingling with his lingering self-doubt. He hates the idea of disappointing her, of not giving her the fulfillment he’d wanted to.

But before he can continue, she cuts him off with a gentle giggle, letting those slender hands of hers tighten on the back of his neck. “Hey,” she murmurs, her tone reassuring, a playful gleam in her eyes as she nudges him. “It’s okay, Eddie. Really.”

She shifts beneath him, a mischievous smile spreading across her face, and before he realizes what she’s doing, she rolls them both over, a graceful movement that leaves her straddling his waist. His eyes widen, his surprise quickly giving way to a grin as he looks up at her, captivated by the confidence and warmth radiating from her. Her hair cascades over her shoulders, framing her face, and she gives him a teasing, reassuring look, her fingers tracing gentle patterns across his chest.

“You have all night to try and make up for it,” she says with a smirk, her voice low, inviting, laced with playful challenge. “So, no more apologies, okay?”

Edward’s heart swells, a renewed sense of gratitude and affection flooding him as he watches her, still amazed at the way she can turn even his insecurities into something light, something playful. Her confidence, her ease, it’s infectious, and he finds himself relaxing beneath her, his hands settling on her hips as he nods, a soft, genuine laugh escaping him.

“No more apologies,” he agrees, his voice a bit steadier now, his gaze holding hers. 

Selina’s smile softens, and she leans down, capturing his lips in a kiss that’s both tender and unrestrained, a quiet reminder that this moment is theirs, that there’s nothing to prove, nothing to fear. As she begins to move against him, guiding them back into a shared rhythm, Edward lets himself be fully present, letting her take the lead, surrendering to the moment with a newfound sense of ease and anticipation. 

End of Chapter 3. Will be taking a week's break for the holidays, so will see you back around the 4th

[twojamie-o-clock]

I literally said I should delete all social media for a month because it’s ruining my art HOWEVER. consider polly and two, if you will, and how they are always there for each other even when they’re not.

almost immediately after two regenerates, polly accepts him. she’s confused and lost and probably more than a little upset and thrown into a Dalek story which he does little to be clear about, and she accepts him. she entertains his passing interests and urges throughout the story, and she constantly points out to Ben how this must be the Doctor, if only because he’s taken the place of the last one. this new doctor who is wild and intense and tactile and also even more mysterious and confusing than the past one. this doctor who doesn’t even seem to know who he himself is yet. Polly comforts and helps even when she doesn’t really know what has happened; she sees what’s in front of her and works with it.

It’s not seamless, but they get each other. not all the time. but they are there - polly is there, in the most vulnerable moment - when there were not many others to be there for one another. and of course it’s not perfect, but they do click, they do turn to each other, they do work together in ways that ben and jamie learn to (that the s4 team splits into pretty much every pair for various reasons is what makes it so interesting. like Polly and Ben and Jamie and the Doctor have their own relationships and being so so deeply intertwined to the point of like. love parallels if you want. and then ben and jamie serve as the male companions together who tend to get beat up, who don’t always agree but always have each other’s backs, who remind each other where they are, while two and polly are generally more ,,,,, well this is me gender projecting onto two because I want her gender, but they do click like that. and then Polly is Jamie’s reference for his first few adventures in the tardis. meanwhile Ben and the Doctor uh. I’ll think about them more later.) and while of course Jamie does end up being the doctor’s go-to for physical affection, you still see a greater deal of it with Polly and the Doctor that’s not quite present in non-granddaughter figures before. I feel like they care about each other in a “I’ve seen you at your lowest and I don’t really know much else about you but I’ll be here, if you need it,” way which never goes insanely deep because (as I’ve kind of already yapped about on the trans fic but) they also rely on words alongside their brief affection in a way that two and jamie don’t.

anyway. they grow with and on each other. and then you cut to the faceless ones………..while Polly and Ben obviously have been wanting to go home, they aren’t expecting/in control of it when it happens. so they’ll leave, yes, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t leave them with a bitter taste……a hasty goodbye, not enough thought, not enough words. [60s who departure voice] quick. two seconds before the doctor’s urge to adventure takes hold. you have two seconds to summarize what the past year(?) of your life has meant to you…..

….and afterwards, well, how does Polly sit with that? She wants to travel. She wants to keep moving, keep going, never stop. But she also cannot bear thinking of the doctor and everything she was, in a way, forced to leave behind when the choice was brought in front of her so abruptly. she wants to push away her own rejection of that life (and, by association, Ben, if you’re a “do you dream in color” fan……again why that story’s characterizations are golden. ben is everything the tardis was, of course she cannot stay with him. of course she cannot give him up.) but she couldn’t betray herself by ignoring all of it, so she travels. and that really does feel like her carrying two with her in the only ways she can. and the Doctor, well, he carries on living even more true to himself across s5-6, taking more and more bold, interfering steps as he actively chooses to intervene and rescue those in a way the first doctor did not. as he rebels even further from gallifrey and the time lords, as he accepts parts of him he might never understands just as Polly did.

they’re not always together, and they don’t always get it. but they hold onto each other, in their worst of times, or in the best, just that little bit, because they were there for each other, and they’ll always be.

[portumhq]

                           …  april  26th,  2025  .

is  that  sunshine  on  the  horizon ?  a  golden  hue  blanched  portum  in  yellow  light.  the  fog  started  to  thin,  and  the  grass  began  to  come  alive  with  bursts  of  pale  pink.  the  grey  and  dreary  sky  grew  paler,  and  if  you  squinted  at  just  the  right  angle  it  almost  looked  blue  …  at  least,  that  was  what  aldrich  nair  had  thought  as  he  walked  down  the  promenade  that  springtime  morning.  he  had  lived  long  enough  to  see  the  rise  of  man  and  the  fall  of  it,  an  aged  dragon  with  seven  centuries  beneath  his  scales.  out  of  nowhere,  his  palms  started  to  pulse.

        …  what is this feeling ?

he  stopped  and  stared  down  at  his  hands.  the  fire  that  he  expected  —  at  the  ends  of  his  fingers,  from  the  indentations  in  his  palm  —  almost  boiled  from  inside,  unprompted.  instead  of  being  showered  in  flame,  jets  of  water  burst  from  his  hands  like  a  broken  pipe.  it  gushed  down  onto  the  cobbles,  soaked  the  front  of  his  trousers,  leaving  him  standing  in  a  puddle  of  his  own  making.  violently,  then,  water  came  from  his  throat  in  short  bursts  ;  he  clutched  his  stomach  as  it  drained  out  of  him  wherever  there  had  once  been  flame.  and  down  the  street,  dahlia  apeldoorn  was  walking  with  her  headphones  firmly  in  their  ears,  oblivious.  they  stepped  up  onto  the  curb,  and  almost  instantly  the  nymph  whirled  upwards  into  the  air,  carried  on  an  invisible  gust  of  wind.  she  was  whipped  in  a  circle  before  being  lowered  back  to  the  ground,  falling  to  her  knees,  a  trembling  mess. 

        …  “ this has never happened before, ” she choked. “ something strange is coming.  ”

all  across  the  town,  powers  started  to  take  on  a  mind  of  their  own.  werewolves  started  to  bark  despite  being  weeks  away  from  a  full  moon,  vampires  lost  control  entirely,  and  ghosts  phased  in  and  out  like  faulty  projections.  banshees  went  quiet,  nymphs  recoiled  at  the  sight  of  wildlife,  mermaids  became  caught  somewhere  between  human  and  fish  …   

        …  and portum was thrust into a total loss of control.

TL;DR  +  IC  INFORMATION.

things  are  getting  freaky  in  portum !  powers  and  abilities  have  become  unpredictable,  uncontrollable,  and  even  those  with  a  handle  on  their  gifts  have  been  struggling  to  keep  ahold  of  them.  this  can  have  serious  consequences  or  can  just  be  a  bit  of  fun  to  mix  things  up  in  your  character’s  lives.  please  check  this  page  for  examples  of  what  your  characters  might  experience  over  the  following  weeks.

OOC  INFORMATION.

start  date   :   april  26th.

some  plot / thread  ideas   :   you  can  have  your  character  experiencing  or  witnessing  loss  of  control,  helping  others  with  their  struggle,  or  even  running  (  or  trying  to  run  )  away  from  it.  as  long  as  it  doesn’t  turn  into  godmodding  or  power - playing,  everything  is  allowed  !  go  as  crazy,  as  hilarious,  or as  angsty  as  you  want. 

you  can  tag  your  starters  with  #portum:plot004.

starting  now,  you  can  post  open  starters  or  plot  threads  for  closed  ones  !   previous  threads  do  not  have  to  be  paused  or  dropped,  but  please  prioritize  plot  drop  threads.

if  you  have  any  doubts  or  concerns,  the  inbox,  ims  +  questions  channel  are  always  available.

have  fun  !