#i realize this is in part a resistant reading (viewing?) of this scene

[dailyayao]

[neptuneiris]

Cruel Summer (06/10)

Golden Hour

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader

summary: A night on the yacht, an unexpected encounter and attitudes, as well as uncertainty will make reader finally make a decision about Aemond.

words: 12k

previous part • series masterlist

okay, i posted the chapter by accident, i wasn't supposed to but, well, things happen for a reason 😅

i want to thank @silverdragonfly my friend Lin for being my beta reader and giving me ideas on the first scene you will read, thank you bestie! and well, read, enjoy and let me know your opinions please! 🙏🏻

warnings: language, sexual content, smut, angst.

He starts with slow, wet kisses from your collarbone, moving up to your neck, your jaw and again on your lips. And that's a new feeling. 

One you haven't experienced in a while and one you don't quite understand. But you realize you can do nothing to resist him as he wraps both arms around your waist, pulling you tight against him, reciprocating your kisses.

You run your hands over his hair as you feel his pelvis crash repeatedly against yours, making way for a heady wave of desire to grow inside you.

There is no space between you as you lose yourself in the touch and taste of his lips, his long, pale fingers lacing around your waist, as his palm moves down to your hip and slowly walks you backwards, cornering you against the edge of the bed.

Pulling away, his breath hitching, Aemond stares at you, his healthy eye completely darkened by the lust and unsettling desire you feel as well, enveloping him completely inside.

One of his hands goes dangerously low to one of your ass cheeks, which you don't mind, as he leaves another soft kiss on your neck.

“We can stop at any time,” he murmurs in his low, husky voice, leaving another kiss on your cheek.

“I don't want to stop,” you tell him in a whisper, unable to imagine denying him, much less at this moment.

He kisses your lips again in a more demanding and needy way, as he holds you in his arms and spins you both around where you are standing, for him to reach the edge of the bed and sit with you on his lap.

Instantly, you place both legs beside his hips, sitting right on top of him, with your arms around his neck and his arms around your waist, still kissing you.

When he again leaves kisses on your neck that make you sigh and melt into his arms, to again descend and leave a kiss with devotion on your shoulder, when then he brings one of his hands up and his fingers curl around the strap of your top.

You watch him with your eyes shining, your lips swollen and your breath hitching, as he returns your intense gaze over the valley of your breasts and at the same time plays with the strap in his fingers.

“May I touch you?”

Even the question seems silly to you under the circumstances, since of course you want him to touch you. But at the same time, it seems cute to you that he wants to make sure in spite of everything that you are okay, comfortable and giving him consent.

“Yes, please.”

A sweet plea that brings him almost to the brink, so without waiting any longer, he slowly and extremely desperately lowers both straps from your shoulders as you help him unhook your bra from behind your back.

And when your naked breasts are in his full view, completely at his disposal, he almost lets out a moan at seeing you this way for him and caresses them with his two large hands, kneading them with deep, intense movements, marking your skin as he brings his face towards them and leaves kisses around your nipples. 

You squirm on top of him, moaning helplessly as you throw your head back, close your eyes and bite your lips in pleasure.

You arch your back towards him, giving your breasts more accessibility, while your fingers play with his hair and he pinches one of your nipples with his thumb and forefinger as he takes one into his mouth to taste it.

And it's your delicious moans caused by him, your breasts fitting perfectly in his hands, the taste of your skin and the way you squirm on top of him that starts to get hard, just below your core.

“Oh,” you sigh, feeling his hardness just below you.

You squeeze your legs a little tighter around his hips and begin to grind your pussy with deep, sensual movements against his cock. 

He lets out a moan against one of your nipples, as you moan at the feel of his big hard cock along with his licking and caressing of your nipples. He lowers one of his hands to your ass cheek still covered by the fabric of your shorts to make you grind your pussy harder and deeper against him.

“Oh, Aemond,” you moan in pleasure, still moving your hips in circles and back and forth.

He growls into your breasts and lifts his gaze to you, leaving both of your nipples coated in his saliva, then moves the hand holding your breast up to your neck, pulling your face closer to his to kiss you.

You move a few seconds more on top of him to then remove your top and throw it to a part of the room without caring much. 

“Let's get this off you too,” he murmurs hoarsely into your face with his gaze full of desire, touching the edge of your shorts.

You obey, raising your hips, as his hands unbutton and pull down your zipper, then raise one leg as you rest your hand on his shoulder to support you, then the other and finally toss your shorts away, only being left in already wet panties.

Embarrassment washes over you as, had you known, you would have chosen to wear nicer underwear.

But Aemond doesn't even pay attention to it as he kisses you again and brings both of his hands down to your ass cheeks, kneading them and marking your skin as you arch into him.

You moan as you again grind your hips against him and Aemond feels the ache in his cock being soothed a little with the friction you give him, but it still trembles and begs to be released to be attended properly.

“You're so fucking hot,” he murmurs against your lips, running his hands all over your body, exploring you, not managing to get enough of you.

You sigh and feel your quivering pussy clench tighter and ache deliciously as you feel Aemond slowly lower one of his hands down there. You moan and watch him pleadingly, needing him to touch you.

“Touch me, please, please,” you murmur against his lips, biting your bottom lip.

“Yeah? Is that what you want?”

“Yes, Aemond, please.”

“You want my fingers in your wet pussy?”

“Yes!” you exclaim desperately.

“Don't worry, baby. I'll give you exactly what you want,” he leaves a kiss on your lips, ”Everything you want.”

Your moans get stuck in your throat for a moment and your breath is cut short when finally, his fingers push aside the fabric of your panties and his whole hand takes your pussy.

“Oh, fuck,” he murmurs in delight, lowering his gaze and watching as his hand touches you.

You moan loudly and more as his fingers begin to stroke all over you, back and forth, drenching them in your juices, as if he's checking how very wet and tight you are.

“You're dripping. All this for me?”

You bite your lips and close your eyes tightly as his fingers make more precise and demanding movements, knowing exactly where to touch and caress you. And he watches in desire and pride at your expression, making his cock grow harder and ache harder.

“Oh yes, yes,” you sigh in desire and completely driven by pleasure, beginning to grind your hips against his hand.

Then you let out an even louder moan as you feel him slide a finger inside you.

“Oh fuck.”

You have never felt so desired seeing the look in his eyes, there is also the fact that he thinks about your pleasure as well and is not rushing things, this being exactly what you need.

Then he kisses you again, deep, never stopping his fingers from moving and then inserting a second finger into you, making you moan into his mouth, feeling the sensation of your orgasm coming too fast, totally surprising you.

Aemond also struggles against not cum right there and in his pants, as it's been a while for him too.

But the image of you, your naked body and feeling your walls tight around his fingers, soaked with your juices, inevitably make him think how good it will feel to be deep inside you.

Then he curves his fingers against your inner walls and your lips let out all your moans, helplessly, as he sets a rhythm and breathes hard just as you do.

"Oh God," you cry, "Yes, yes, like that," you moan.

His thumb touches your clit, pressing against the bundle of nerves and you cry out, grinding your hips more fervently against his hand.

"Are you going to come, baby?" he asks huskily, not missing any of your expressions.

"Yes," you whine.

"Yeah? Are you going to be a good girl and come on my fingers?"

"Yes, yes I will."

"Come. All on my fingers," he orders you.

He inserts a third finger and his thumb makes a precise pressure against your bud, stroking you for a few more moments the right way, harder and more demanding, the sound of your juices being heard with every movement.

He buries his face in your breasts again and kneads them with his free hand and mouth, grunting as he feels you squeeze his fingers harder.

Then you cry out and feel everything inside you explode, arching your back and closing your eyes tightly as you watch stars, moaning and stirring on top of him in pleasure and ecstasy.

You breathe hard and let out a few sighs, dropping all your weight on him, defeated, tired, trembling and with the delicious sensation all over your body.

Aemond doesn't take his hand away from you, he just smiles a little and leaves a kiss on the side of your head, while you rest your face between his shoulder and neck, catching your breath.

"Don't try to get comfortable now, baby. We've barely started."

You let out a sigh and nod, not thinking to end it all here anyway, then sit up with lazy movements to watch him, as he removes his hand from your still dripping pussy and bring his fingers to his mouth, tasting your taste and getting them clean.

You watch him with your parted lips, that simple image making your pussy tremble, and then Aemond smiles and brings his face closer to you.

"Delicious," he murmurs then kisses you, making you taste your own taste of his lips.

You tilt your head to the side, deepening the kiss, letting his tongue make it's way across your lips as his hands continue to caress your entire body. Then you drop your hand, slowly moving down his torso until you reach his shorts, where you stroke over the hard length of his cock.

He grunts against your lips, his clothes beginning to bother him and you as well, then breaks the kiss and watches him still with all the desire in your gaze.

"It doesn't seem fair that you're still fully clothed."

He lets out a low but deep chuckle, leaving one more kiss on your cheek.

"Let's change that."

You place both hands on the edge of his shirt and help him, lifting up the fabric, while he raises his arms and pulls it off, tossing it aside.

You bite your lips and run your hands down his naked torso, seeing his creamy white skin, besides how notified he is of his arms, especially his biceps. But what catches your attention the most, though, are his marked abs.

And he can't help but smile arrogantly, seeing how your gaze intensifies and notices how badly you want him. But he wants you too, now, unable to wait any longer after you collapsed into his fingers.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

He asks you, lifting one of his hand and tucking a strand behind your ear, wanting to make sure. And for a moment, you just watch him. To then place a small smile and nod.

"Of course I am," you assure him.

Then you place a hand on his cheek and kiss him, hugging him with your other arm.

"Good but we can stop any time, okay?" he tells you, leaving soft, tender kisses all over your face.

"Yes, I know," you assure him again, leaving another kiss on his lips.

He gets up with you in his arms, carrying you easily, then placing you gently on the bed, while you settle better in the middle of the huge matress and take off your panties, tossing them away.

"Spread your legs. Let me look at you."

You do as he tells you, letting him see your pussy glistening with your juices, as he positions himself in the middle of your legs, leaning on his knees. And he lets out a curse when he sees your naked pussy, ready for him.

Normally this would have made you feel embarrassed to be so exposed to him in this way, but surprisingly you don't feel that way, on the contrary, you feel more aroused and more desirable to him, feeling that you are in control somehow.

You bite your lips as he takes both hands to his belt and you hear the clink of metal as he undoes it. 

You wish he'd be quicker as he takes his clothes off, but you don't mind too much either, since you're enjoying the show. And for a moment, you imagine him being able to use his belt on you, tying you up and making you completely at his mercy. 

'Okay, maybe that's too much.'

Your mind tells you but the idea doesn't really displease you.

And then, as he unbuttons his shorts too, your breath hitches more as you realize what is really about to happen. You've never felt so excited and nervous at the same time, as you watch him take off his shorts and finally his black boxer.

You were already drooling over him when you saw his naked torso, but to finally see his naked pale cock, red-tipped, fully hard and standing, literally your mouth is watering for him and your pussy is throbbing and clenching, needing him, now. 

But of course, he takes his time. 

And he places a small smile on his lips at the sight of your expression and holds it proudly for a few seconds in his hand.

"Do you like what you see?" he asks you to continue removing his boxers.

"Stop teasing," you plead.

"I'm not teasing," he says amused.

"You know exactly what you're doing."

He lets out a soft, low chuckle again, to finally be completely naked as you and move closer to you, making room between your legs, placing both hands on either side of your head to lean in and kiss you.

"Be patient," he murmurs to kiss you again.

Then you watch as he reaches into the nightstand next to the bed and opens the drawer to get a condom. 

He goes back to leaning on his knees and unwraps the wrapper with his hands, then begins to put it on, when a small hesitation appears in you as you watch him.

"You don't want me first..." you speak and he watches you intently, "You know."

You don't know why you're embarrassed to say it directly, but he understands what you mean and shakes his head, unconcerned about it, finishing putting it on.

"I won't last long if you suck me," he confesses to you, "I prefer the other way," he says with a half smile, leaning toward you again, "Maybe another time."

"Okay," you nod.

He kisses you again as he positions himself between your legs and directs his cock towards your pussy, lining up against you. Then you feel him begin to open you up, slow and deep, taking care not to hurt you and giving you time to get used to it.

Still, the most delicious moan escapes your lips and you close your eyes tight with pleasure as you feel him enter deep inside you, while he too grunts as he feels you squeeze him completely, feeling more of that wonderful sensation as he sinks inch by inch all of him inside you.

It’s delicious, intoxicating, nothing like you have ever experienced before and it fills you completely. You feel the tingling in your lower stomach and you want more, need more, all of him.

"Oh, fuck," Aemond moans against your lips, "Fuck, baby."

You watch with glistening eyes as he closes his eye with satisfaction and parts his lips, letting out a shuddering sigh, sinking the rest of him deep inside you.

You place both hands around his neck and kiss him, breathing just as hard as he does, while he doesn't move for a few seconds, afraid that if he starts to move now, he'll come. 

"You feel so good. So fucking good," you murmur against his lips, "So hard. So deep inside me."

And your words don't help him concentrate to control himself, but he likes it. And he's desperate to finally move and make you come on his cock.

"You feel so good too," he murmurs against your lips, kissing you.

"Yes, baby? Do you like it?"

"I love it."

He finally begins to penetrate you slowly, moving back and forth, but too slowly, yet too deep, causing you both to let out a sigh and you cling to him, moaning, as he kisses your neck, your collarbone and again your nipples.

"Oh yes," you moan as you feel his tip touch exactly your spot, arching your back.

Aemond kisses you again, still not changing his pace, breathing hard and you bring your mouth close to his ear.

"I want you to fuck me hard."

He moans, quickening his pace a little, grinding his hips in a sensual and delicious way against you, making his cock inside you feel incredible and continue to touch your exact spot repeatedly, making you moan and cry out.

"Yeah? Do you want that?" he murmurs, kissing your cheek.

"Yes, please," you whimper.

He continues to set a slow but deep rhythm as he kisses her throat. He drags his tongue from her collarbone to your breasts, drawing a nipple into his mouth, sucking, kissing and tasting it until it is tender. While your arms are around his back, moaning in his ear.

Then Aemond lifts his gaze to watch you, bringing his face close to yours, breathing hard and quickens the pace. A rhythm that makes you lose your mind. 

A long, low moan escapes your lips as you feel it, your eyes close and you wrap your legs around his waist, responding to his onslaught faster and deeper, writhing beneath him.

You squirm as pleasure ripples through every part of your body. And he continues to set that pace, with the room filling with the sounds of skin colliding against skin.

"Look at you. So good for me. So fucking hot."

His husky voice says into your face, turning you on more as you moan and cry out, feeling yourself intoxicated with the pleasure coursing through your veins.

You try to hold on to him as tight as you can, but you let yourself fall completely on the mattress, taking it all in and feeling so good. Aemond seeing this, slips one of his arms under your leg, holding it open to fuck the breath out of you, while you lie there, soaking wet for him and him alone.

"Oh yes, just like that," you moan.

"Fuck."

"Aemond," you whimper, "Please, please."

Even you don't know exactly what you are asking of him, as you continue to moan and speak incoherent things, while he continues to pound that point.

Then he hooks your feet on his shoulders and drags you by your thighs so he can penetrate you more easily. And you moan as he penetrates you up to the hilt and bite your lip in pleasure at being fucked like this, deliberate and relentless. 

Aemond watches you in complete wonder, watching as your skin begins to sweat, as does he, as he feels his hair stick to his forehead from the heat. He also watches as your breasts bounce with each thrust, that scene not being able to turn him on any more.

And your moans, those sweet moans caused by him and only for him to hear, drive him crazy.

"Fuck," he hisses, stopping his onslaught and pulling his cock out of you.

This immediately gets your attention and you open your eyes, watching him in confusion. But it doesn't take him long to command you.

"Turn around," he tells you in his husky, low voice.

Pleasure and excitement again wash over you almost immediately and you do as he tells you, as he places both hands on your waist at the same time as you turn your back to him to position yourself just the way he wants you.

“Get this perfect ass up,” he orders you.

You feel a delicious wave all over your body and especially in your pussy as you listen to his words and do again as he says, leaving your ass up in the air, while the other half of your upper body is bent over, so that you are face down.

You feel him lean into you as he again lines up his cock against your pussy and kisses your back while his other hand caresses the skin of your waist. And when he enters you again, you sigh and clench the sheets beneath you tightly, biting your lips.

But this time, Aemond is done with the torture and as soon as again your walls squeeze him, he begins to move at a relentless pace, his thrusts long and hard.

And you stifle your moans by dragging a pillow towards you to bite it, afraid that someone out there will hear you. Which you doubt very much, honestly. But Aemond isn't having any of it.

"Don't do that," he orders you, leaning over and throwing the pillow away.

Then he holds the back of your neck and makes you sit up, just as he does, holding on to your knees, never letting go of penetrating you as his hand comes down to hold you by your neck while the other keeps it on your hip.

"I want to hear your every sweet sound, just for me," he murmurs in a deep voice in your ear.

You cry out and moan as he increases his pace and you hold onto his body, as one of your hands encircles his hand that is on your neck, moaning, completely lost in pleasure, as he holds you down and leaves marks as you writhe against him.

You bring your hand holding his back to his neck, as he takes the opportunity to rest his chin on your shoulder and kiss your neck, listening to his moans and grunts in your ear, feeling so delicious the way he is filling you and the way he holds your neck, marking you. 

And you let yourself be carried away by the sensations he draws from you, your pulse racing with every breath and thrust. 

And it feels so good, having his arms around you while he moves inside you.

"So hot. And so pretty," he murmurs into your neck, then gently nestles his teeth into your skin.

Cries continue to escape your lips with each lunge, as you feel the layer of sweat enveloping you both, feeling his burning skin against you.

"Aemond," you moan, "More."

The hand on his hip and the other on your neck slide down to cup each of your breasts, squeezing and kneading them possessively, as your back arches and you drop your head back on his shoulder, moaning and crying out in pleasure, as your feet curl in pleasure.

"Do you like it, baby?"

Aemond's voice sends a new shiver and you feel your body burn completely.

"Yes," you sigh.

"Are you going to cum?"

"Yes," you whimper.

"Are you going to cum all over my cock?"

"Yes, I want you to make me come all over your cock," you sigh.

You both sigh and then you feel him slide one of his hands down your belly to touch your clit between two fingers before picking up the pace again and hitting that spot inside you again. 

You can barely keep the volume down as Aemond strokes you. And with each thrust, each kiss and each caress, your whole body tenses and your thighs begin to tremble. 

You open your mouth to say something, but instead of words forming, only moans come out, as Aemond sensing this, as you are on the edge, moves his fingers against your swollen clit in a different way that makes you see stars and his thrust get faster and deeper.

Suddenly, release washed over you, your vision darkened as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you and a scream burst from your lips as you tilt your head back as you feel yourself cum for the second time.

Aemond holds you tightly as you lose yourself at a point where time and space stop. 

But he doesn't stop there.

He feel your whole insides squeezing him deliciously and he grunts, continuing to pound you. He basically gives you no time to recover and you close your eyes, moaning, as he kisses you, swallowing your moans as you run your hands through his hair and down his back, seeking support for the way he is penetrating you. 

Reaching his own release, he fucks you fast and hard, his cock burying deep inside you repeatedly.

You try to say something, but you can only utter a muffled moan. And then, his thrusts soon lose their rhythm and he moans loudly in your ear, buried deep inside you, cumming in the condom as he squeezes your breasts hard, letting out a couple more moans and sighs as he clings to you.

Again, time seems to stop as the two of you stand like this, together, catching your breath and recovering from your high.

With your heart racing and your breath coming in gasps, he leaves a soft kiss on your cheek and lets you go gently, pulling out its now flaccid and soft cock out of you carefully, both of you hissing at the movement. 

Then you drop onto the bed face down defeated, tired and with that tingling between your legs. You close your eyes and breathe hard, trying to balance your heart rate, everything around you blurry and barely conscious. 

Aemond watches you and also breathing hard, with his pulse racing, he lets out a long breath and takes off the condom filled with his cum, ties it and gets up from the bed to go to the bathroom for a moment, where he flushes it down the toilet and wipes the sweat from his skin.

Then he comes back to you, where you are still regaining consciousness, not moving and breathing more regularly.

He puts on his boxers, picks up his T-shirt and heads back to you with a clean towel in his hands. Then he leans toward you and leaves several kisses on your back and hair.

"You did so well," he praises in your ear, smiling softly.

Letting out a low, satisfied hum, you lazily turn your head to watch him and he brushes the messy hair away from your face as he watches you with a small smile on his lips then leans in and kisses you. 

"Here. Let me help you. I need you to turn around," he says softly.

You do as he tells you, but you still feel very tired and watch as he gently wipes you down as a small smile appears on your lips.

"So you're the aftercare type?" you ask softly.

The small smile on his lips catches.

"I just want to make sure you're okay."

"Aftercare," you state, seeming tender to you.

He finishes cleaning you up and before he goes to the bathroom, he gives you his shirt to put on and you do, while he goes to the bathroom and you settle into bed, feeling so soft and so comfortable, assuming that it must be past one o'clock in the morning.

Then he comes back and makes his way over to you, but stands before lying down next to you and asking you a few questions.

"Are you okay?"

You nod, settling your head better into the pillow.

"Do you want some dinner before bed?" 

"No, I'm already satisfied enough," you say with an amused little smile.

He smiles too and finally lies down next to you.  You blink and start to feel sleepy and once he is next to you, he pull your body gently towards him, finding a comfortable position for both of you.

He turns off the lights and you wrap your arms around him, placing your head on his chest, as you feel him leave a loving kiss on your head and wrap both of his arms around your body as the sheets cover you both.

And shortly after, you both fall asleep in each other's embrace.

You feel like you are lying on a cloud.

The feeling is more than satisfying and this has probably been the best sleep you've had in years. It doesn't mean that you don't give credit to what happened last night, but the bed is what has the most to do with it.

You feel arms around your body and the warmth envelop you completely, as well as the rich detergent smell of the sheets, his masculine cologne and his faint cigarette scent.

You smile as you remember absolutely everything from last night and you roll over in your place so that you are face to face with him and no longer turn your back on him.

He doesn't even flinch at your movements and continues to sleep peacefully with his smooth face, still with his arms around you.

You study his face, so sculpted, detailed and perfect. A few strands of his hair fall on his forehead and you stroke it carefully so as not to wake him. You also study his eyelashes, his nose, his lips and his eye.

He decided not to remove his prosthesis and you have no problem with that.

So while his healthy eye is closed, the prostate eye is open, which is a little scary, but it doesn't really terrify or bother you, not at all, on the contrary, it makes you more attracted to him, somehow.

Even though the two of you slept together, there's still enough space in the bed. Which you're not used to, at all.

You've shared a bed with Alysanne for a year now, a small old bed but still functional. Or well... it always creaks and makes horrible sounds when the two of you lie down, which indicates that you'll have to get rid of it very soon.

So you've gotten used to always having to sleep cramped, with no space and uncomfortable. And that's why you slept so well tonight that you wish you could take this bed home.

Or you wish you could sleep here again with Aemond.

You continue to watch him, unable to help yourself, as memories of last night wash over you and a silly little smile appears on your lips as your cheeks heat up.

And you're both half-naked under the sheets, so it's even more impossible not to remember.

'Not to mention how very good it was.'

Yes, you admit it was the best sex you've had in a while. But it's not just that, it's the way he treated you, cared for you and was always looking out for you, wanting to treat you as you deserved and in the ideal way.

Honestly, you wouldn't have expected anything less from him and you loved every moment of it.

Again the small smile appears on your lips as an idea comes to your mind. So you lean into him, leave a soft kiss on his lips and very carefully, you release his grip on you and get out of bed.

The only thing you have on is his shirt, but you decide to take it off. As much as you want to keep it, he hasn't brought any more clothes so you decide to wash it for him.

You think this yacht must have a fully equipped laundry around here. You mean... the yacht has everything, right?

You put on your clothes from last night, put on your sandals, improve your appearance a bit and leave the room quietly. Then you go downstairs and head to the kitchen, still in awe of being in this place and everything around you.

You open the fridge and think about making breakfast for Aemond and yourself, wanting to surprise him.

Fortunately there are ingredients, not too many, but there are and with that you have enough to prepare something decent. It definitely won't be something too extravagant like what he's used to but you hope he likes your way of preparing food.

So you make coffee and start cooking scrambled eggs with bacon. And in the middle of getting everything ready, you hear the sound of doors sliding open.

You would have thought it was Aemond, but he's on the second floor and he doesn't really have to slide any doors, because there aren't any inside the yacht. The only doors that slide are the ones that lead to the decks, so...

Panic completely overtakes you and turning off the stove, you turn around with shock and horror in your eyes, wishing it really isn't what you're thinking.

But now you're out of luck.

You watch as Aegon Targaryen enters the yacht and closes the door again with nonchalant movements as he yawns and runs a hand over his face, looking completely sleepy.

And you freeze, watching in fear as he enters into the living room, still unaware of your presence. But when he finishes yawning, he looks around briefly and finally, his gaze falls on you.

'Fuck.'

He stops abruptly and his brow furrows, watching you intently and confused, while you don't speak because fear has you paralyzed and because you haven't the slightest idea what to do.

Aemond said that lately Aegon has not been coming here. But here he is, coming at the ideal moment.

'But then why did he have to come exactly on the day you and Aemond are here?'

Your mind is reproachful, annoyed, angry and panicked. You have no idea what to say, because nothing comes to your mind and that makes it all the worse because then he may know what you are really doing here.

And then both Aemond and you will be in big trouble. And this will be over before it even begins.

But then all your nervousness explodes as Aegon continues to stare at you in confusion and then takes cautious steps towards you, now with his accusing gaze.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"

You try to speak, tell a convincing lie, justify yourself, whatever, but nothing comes to your mind as your nerves seem like they're going to kill you at any moment.

"Hum...

You look at him frightened, babbling, no concrete words coming from your lips. When suddenly, something in his gaze softens after watching you intently.

"Wait, I recognize you," he says suddenly.

'Oh, no.'

"You're the girl from the party, from Black Waves," he says thoughtfully and curiously, remembering, "Yeah, you were fighting with Floris," he says in recognition, "Along with that other girl who was with you."

Your nerves are creeping up on you more and more, your stomach churning and you feel like you're going to throw up at any moment.

"But what are you doing here?" he asks you again, looking confusedly at the breakfast you're preparing behind you, serious.

"I-I...

You think fast and hard, but the words get stuck in your throat and no coherent ideas come to mind.

When at that moment, some quick footsteps coming down the stairs calls the attention of both of you and a worried Aemond appears, because since he left the room, he heard Aegon's voice and immediately his alarms went off, especially when he woke up and you were not by his side.

And indeed here is his brother, who hadn't come in all these weeks and conveniently decides to come on the day you both are here.

And seeing him there, cornering you, clearly not knowing what to do, it annoys and pisses him off, but also makes him think fast.

As you focus on him for a moment, with memories flooding back of last night seeing him in his shorts and no shirt on. But you push those thoughts away as it's clearly not the time.

"What are you doing here?" he snap at his brother, confused.

"What am I doing here?" he points to himself incredulously, "I think the real question is, what is she doing here?" he points at you, confused.

You become smaller in your place, feeling the tension, as you watch Aemond worriedly and he looks back at you for a second. But then he sighs and walks towards his brother, his back to you.

"Aegon—

"I didn't want to be home."

He interrupt him.

"Dad gave me another one of his lovely speeches in the middle of breakfast. Mom didn't do anything, as usual and I decided to come here," he explains, almost nonchalantly "But I ran into her," he points at you again, placing a small crooked smile "She's the girl your girlfriend wanted to beat up at the party, right? You let her in here or what's going on?"

"She's only here because she came to clean up for some bucks."

He responds to him coldly, his tone neutral, as if he were simply telling an unimportant fact.

And you feel the impact of those words like an unexpected blow to your chest, as you feel your whole body immediately tense up.

You stare at him incredulously, your lips parted, even though he is turning his back on you, but that indifference hurts more than you dare admit, clearly not expecting that. And Aegon lets out a small laugh.

"Oh, okay," he nods slowly, amused, "Now I understand and remember you better," he tells you.

He looks at his brother and then at you with that look of amusement in his eyes.

"And clearly you need them," he tells you with a mocking and condescending tone, "I heard you pissed off Mr. Frey and he fired you. I also heard you threw food all over Cerelle and Cassandra," he lets out a laugh, shaking his head, "I would have paid to see that."

You feel shame and anger swirl in your chest, a mixture of humiliation and fury that makes you burn inside. The way Aegon laughs at your situation, as if you were just another joke in his life full of excess and luxury, only intensifies the lump in your throat.

And worst of all, Aemond still doesn't turn around, without correcting his brother or asking him to stop, as if he agrees with him. When he speaks again.

"Are you also going to pay her to make you breakfast?" he asks his brother, raising an eyebrow, amused.

"Extra cash," Aemond replies, serious, "And she was already leaving," he declares, turning to you.

The abruptness of his words hits you like cold water, watching him serious, hurt, confused, surprised, everything, as he returns you a glare and expectant look.

The Aemond in front of you is not the same Aemond who took you to meet his yacht, not the one who promised you to sail together, much less the Aemond with whom you spent the night.

All the warmth, the tenderness, him, is simply gone.

Aegon watches continuously between you and his brother, amused. But Aemond pays it no mind and instead, approaches you with firm steps, pulls out his wallet, then a couple of bills, then takes your hand with a nonchalance and places the money in your palm with a definitive gesture.

"You know where the exit is."

You stand still, staring at the money in your hand, as you feel a knot form in your stomach and a sharp, painful feeling grow in your chest.

You know what he is doing. Obviously this is an act for Aegon, a way to protect you both so that he doesn't suspect anything and it looks as simple as you came to do the cleaning.

After all, neither of you expected him to show up this morning, much less him see you here.

But Aemond treating you like this? With such rudeness and indifference? And give you this money, as a payment for what happened between the two of you last night?

That implication burns you inside.

"Excuse me," Aegon appears, subtly pulling you away from the stove so he can help himself to some of the breakfast you prepare, "It looks delicious and I'm starving. Thank you for your service, though."

Instantly you feel tears forming in your eyes, but you quickly control yourself. You don't want to cry, not here, not in front of them.

So you control the lump in your throat, ignore Aemond's gaze on you and get out of there, heading for the exit as you bite the inside of your cheek and try not to look too affected by this, but you can't help it.

And in the middle of leaving the yacht, you drop the money on one of the pieces of furniture, slide the doors and step out onto the deck, where the fresh ocean air hits you, but doesn't give you the relief you were hoping for.

You slide the doors again and walk away as fast as you can, hurt.

Aemond T.

You see on your phone screen, him calling you.

This must be the seventh time all day. But just like you've been doing for the past two days, you send him to voicemail. You don't really have the energy to talk to him, besides you know what he'll say, but it won't be enough for you.

He really hurt you because of the way he treated you. Which could have been different, without the humiliation and without the money. But he got carried away by Aegon.

However, you should have changed the name of his contact. Maybe something more subtle or more mysterious. A nickname that will not reveal that he is the Aemond Targaryen.

Since the next day, after taking a shower, you are brushing your damp hair, Alysanne is lying in bed, when suddenly she speaks.

"Can you explain to me what the hell Aemond Targaryen is doing calling you?"

'Oh, fuck.'

You quickly turn to look at her, surprised and panicked, at the same time she removes her headphones abruptly and sits up, with your phone in hand and her mouth open, staring at you in disbelief.

But you focus first on your phone, which you left on silent, a bad habit, and being next to Alysanne, of course the screen lighting up caught her attention.

And you quickly get up, heading toward her to grab your phone.

"It's nothing," you try to convince her, as if you don't know her.

"It's nothing?" she repeats incredulously, "Oh yeah, that Aemond Targaryen is calling you, it's nothing, yeah, sure," she says sarcastically.

"It's not him," you lie, having no idea how to avoid conversation and explanation.

"Since when did you become a liar, Y/N Blackwood? Because there's only one person named Aemond Targaryen in the entire town."

You let out a sigh, taking a seat next to her on the bed, phone in your lap and frustration in your gaze.

"And he certainly is very insistent," she say, watching how he is again calling you.

"I know," you say grumpily, staring at the screen.

"And you're not going to answer?"

"No," you say instantly, frowning.

And that alone makes Alysanne more confused.

"Okay, you want to explain to me what's going on?"

You sigh.

'Can you?'

You literally have no choice, as she's seen this and you know she'll freak out when you tell her about everything you've been keeping from her. Be that as it may, in any scenario it will end up being the same, hysterical Alysanne, so it's best to face it now.

So you brace yourself, swallow hard and watch her fearfully for a few moments. At least your aunt and uncle aren't home, so it will be easier to explain everything. Then you finally drop the bomb.

"I slept with him."

"You what!?"

Basically the scream bursts through the house, not being able to be more exaggerated but... you understand her. If she were saying this to you, you'd react the same way too, no doubt.

"Don't freak out," you tell her with your cheeks burning.

"Are you seriously telling me that!?" she yells back, getting out of bed and starting to pace around the room in disbelief.

"It's no big deal."

'Yeah, try to lie to yourself too girl.'

"It's not big deal!?" again she yells, incredulous.

You get her back in bed with you, wait for the adrenaline of surprise to wear off and talk to her about everything, from the beginning until today.

It's about time to get it off your chest, finally talk to someone about it. And it's not like you don't trust her, she's the person you trust the most but you didn't even know what was happening since the first time you and Aemond kissed.

You mean... after that he didn't look for you, then it was days until you saw each other on the pier and literally everything happened from one moment to the next.

But now this has happened.

And Alysanne, she's barely processing it all. As if she wasn't flirting with Cregan Stark himself. Although, well, there's a big difference between the Stark's and the Targaryen's, since the Targaryen's are of a bigger last name than everyone at Crown's.

"Okay, I don't know what surprises me more..." she finally says, "That you didn't tell me anything or the fact that you slept with Aemond fucking Targaryen."

"I didn't know where we stood," you say, "Let alone now with what just happened."

"The what?" she looks at you curiously, "Him giving you the best sex of your life or that he kicked you out like that in front of his brother?"

"Second thing," you mumble to her, grumpily.

"But you drove him crazy too, didn't you?" she looks at your phone, "He doesn't stop calling you."

You lower your gaze to your phone as well and his name pops up on the screen, again. You let out a frustrated sigh and decide to turn it off or you fear you'll be weak enough to finally answer his calls.

"He definitely wants to repeat the night," she says cheekily, with a teasing smile.

"No, stop, don't say those things," you tell her frustrated, "It's not going to happen again."

She looks at you confused.

"Why not?"

"Why not?" you repeat, incredulous, "I have to tell you again what happened?"

She lets out a huge groan of frustration, rolling her eyes and looking at you seriously.

"Ugh, okay, tell me this, what did you expect?"

She inquires you and by her tone of voice, she definitely gets your attention, as this is another one of her scoldings or advice according to her.

"He's a rich guy, the richest guy in town, a fucking Targaryen, with a lot of expectations on him and with a girlfriend," she tells you seriously and firmly, "So how was he going to act normal that morning when Aegon showed up unexpectedly on the yacht, huh?"

'Well, when she says it like that...'

You think, placing a grimace and looking towards a specific point, getting lost in your mind for a moment.

It literally all happened overnight. And when the two of you talked on the pier, you didn't really talk about all that it would entail to have whatever the two of you have, secretly.

You didn't talk about the real consequences, how exactly you will take care of each other or even the expiration date. Because this, it can't be forever. He and you can't really end up together.

So what are the two of you going to do? What should you expect? You know it's a really bad idea, but is it even worth it?

Maybe Aemond acted unexpectedly with you in front of Aegon as he thought was right at the moment. But... it really caught you off guard and made you feel really bad after the night the two of you spent together.

You let out a sigh again for the eleventh time and look at Alysanne wearily and hopelessly.

"I don't know," you say frustrated, "I just didn't expect him to be so mean."

She gives you a look of understanding.

"Yeah, I would have felt bad too," she agrees, "But I'm sure he didn't mean to be that way with you and he must have been so surprised to see his brother like you that he just freaked out and didn't really know how to act."

You bite the inside of your cheek, beginning to feel her words really start to have an effect on you as they make sense. While she watches you with understanding and comprehension at all times.

"Talk to him," she advises you, "Answer his calls. I'm sure he'll tell you exactly the same thing and apologize."

"Is that what you would do if you were me?" you ask curious and attentive.

"Yeah," she shrugs.

"But he has a girlfriend," you say in exasperation, "And it's not just any girl, it's Floris, which makes it all even worse. He needs to be with her for who knows how much longer to please his father. And even if he wasn't with her or anyone else, the two of us can't be together."

"Look, from what you told me, he doesn't want to be with her and he doesn't even care about her, much less now that she's been revealing her true colors. And it's not even a reciprocal relationship," she tells you, "So, in my opinion, you're not destroying or getting into anything between them."

"Not even though it's clear to everyone in town that they are dating?"

"What does that matter? Those inside the relationship, those around them, and you and I know the truth. It's not a real relationship."

"Yes but if Floris or anyone in his family finds out about us, there will be a big scandal," you say hopelessly, "Whether the relationship is real or not, the two of them have a commitment, of sorts," you explain, "And if we decide to risk it, it will only be temporary. It's not like I'm going to marry him or anything. We'll both have to end it all, if not for his family, then because I'm not on his level and... " you let out a long breath, frustrated, "Is it even worth it?"

She looks at you empathetically, seeing the internal conflict consuming you. Meanwhile both remain silent, she giving you time to process your own thoughts, as you know you are right.

"Well... there's always the possibility that things won't work out," she admits to you in a soft tone, "But there's also the possibility that they will. And I don't know, maybe Aemond will eventually reveal himself against his father," she says, in probability, "Don't you think it would be worth finding out?"

“But… what if it ends badly?” you ask in a trembling voice, doubt rooted deep in your chest, “What if I ended up with a broken heart?”

She sighs, taking a moment before answering.

“There's always that possibility, yes,” she nods sincerely, ”But that's the thing about everything that really matters, isn't it? Nothing is guaranteed. Things can go wrong…or they can go right. That's the risk you take when you have feelings for someone.”

You fold your arms, trying to control the trembling in your hands, looking down at the floor and feeling the lump in your throat.

“I don't know if I can take it. If it ends badly, if he decides to stay with Floris or if his family drags me into the middle of it all, what will I do? I-I… I'm not like them.”

She watches you calmly, her gaze never leaving you.

“I know,” she tells you softly. “But it's precisely because you're not like them that you have something to offer that Floris will never be able to give him. Maybe they have power, money and position, but you have what's real. And Aemond sees that, otherwise he wouldn't be willing to risk everything and eventually fight for you.”

The idea of Aemond fighting for you, seems impossible to you, but at the same time, it's something you secretly wish for.

“What if he doesn't?” you ask fearfully. “What if he's not willing to fight? Or he can't?”

“Then you'll know you gave it your best shot,” she answers you, firm.

“And that's it?” you question, with frustration and disbelief, "Risking ourselves for something temporary?” you look at her blankly, "I… I just don't want it all to end in disaster," you confess, feeling the vulnerability fill you completely, "And I don't want to end up heartbroken," you mutter, under your breath.

She studies you for a moment, then shakes her head.

“Maybe it's temporary. Maybe it'll only last for a while. But sometimes, when the temporary things that do us good and are the things we long to experience, are the things that mark us forever.”

Her words settle in your chest, making you think, consider. But you also watch her slightly confused.

“Since when did you become so philosophical?”

She rolls her eyes.

“That's not even philosophy,” she says grumpily and you let out a small laugh, ”And I'm just saying… what would you rather? Hold on to the urge and never know what might have been? Or live it intensely, even if it's just for a moment?”

You bite your inner cheek, thoughtful and unsure, uncertainty weighing on you, as you remain silent for a few moments.

“What matters is what you and Aemond feel. Not what anyone else thinks or feels about it,” she tells you softly afterwards, ”And sometimes it's worth risking everything to feel that, even if it's just once. So just… listen to what he has to say.”

You sigh deeply, still with uncertainty, fear, insecurity and the word temporary repeating over and over in your mind.

“I don't think it's a good idea,” you say in a defeated mumble.

“But—

“And I don't want to talk about it anymore, please,” you interrupt.

Alysanne watches you in disappointment, thinking that she might actually convince you, since she wants you to really live, take risks, fall in love, experiment, because she really sees how much you want him. But the fear is bigger and she understands that part too.

So she has no choice but to let out a defeated sigh.

“Okay,’ she finally says, "Then let's change the subject—

“I'm not going to any party at Crown's,” you interrupt and warn her at the same time, before she starts talking.

“No,” she says offended, ”I wasn't going to tell you that.”

“So?”

“The party is here, Black Waves, with the guys, just us,” she informs you, “Today, before it gets dark.”

You grimace, considering.

“Come on, you clearly need a distraction,” she tells you, insistent, “Let alone with the fact that you've decided to forget about the guy who gave you the best sex of your life.”

“I didn't even say that,” you say embarrassed.

“You don't need to say it. I can tell,” she tells you playfully.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Come on, tell me, how good was it? Was it rough or gentle? Is it well done or normal or what?”

“Alysanne!”

“What? Don't be ridiculous, don't get shy with me. Besides, you owe me for not letting me know you weren't coming to sleep and for covering for you with my parents.”

You open your eyes wide, watching her worriedly, since you forgot that small but important detail.

“Shit. What did you tell them?”

“Just that you went to spend the night with a friend. And I actually thought you did, but now I know what you were really doing.”

You let out a sigh.

“I'm sorry.”

“I'll forgive you when you tell me all the details.”

“Everything but that.”

“Nope, details or nothing.”

You spend all morning and part of the afternoon avoiding her questions, until she finally stops bothering you by the time it's time to leave.

So you both head to the beach with a couple of hours until dark, specifically towards the place where you do your meetings with the guys.

And you can tell the big difference after you've spent so much time going to Crowns beaches, that you realize you actually missed coming here, to the beach on the side of your town, regardless.

Soon enough, the guys arrive on the spot as well, making their animated scandal and telling their usual bad jokes.

And you guys do the usual, bring marshmallows, a few beers, snacks, Daniel's guitar and light the bonfire. Everyone asks for Cregan and Chase says he didn't respond to his texts, so he may or may not come later.

Later, with the sun beginning to descend, painting the sky with shades of gold and orange that reflect off the ocean as if it were a liquid mirror, you decide to turn away from your friends for a moment and sit on the sand, admiring the sunset.

With your knees hugging your chest, listening to the waves crashing on the shore and the soft wind playing with your hair making everything seem lighter. More real.

And you feel at peace, almost disconnected from the world around you, allowing you to stop thinking even for a little while.

The beach on your side of town, far from the opulence and glitter of Crowns, has a simplicity and charm that you had missed, as well as the sound of your friends' laughter echoing behind you.

In the distance, you hear their animated chatter, their voices mixing together with Alysanne's, who can't stop laughing. But you decide not to join them just yet, needing this moment alone and lose yourself in the sunset, watching the sky transform.

And they give you that, already being used to someone in the group sometimes stepping away for a moment, to reflect, without disturbing you and giving you your space, which makes you feel very relieved and lucky.

When suddenly, in the middle of watching the sunset, you hear footsteps behind you approaching.

At first, you don't flinch, thinking maybe it's one of the guys or Alysanne deciding to interrupt you for some special reason. But when you raise your gaze, you immediately freeze.

Aemond is standing in front of you, his tall, imposing figure, watching you attentively and cautiously, while you stare at him confused and surprised, your lips parting, beginning to feel your heart beating too fast.

And he closes the distance between the two of you as he removes the cap from his jacket in a casual motion, revealing his silver hair.

“What are you doing here?” you ask him, confusion evident in your voice.

Aemond looks at you with that characteristic calmness of his, his eyes fixed on yours, before responding with a soft tone. But there is also that insecurity in him.

“I spoke with Cregan and came with him.”

Your surprise does not decrease, as you look over to where your friends are and sure enough, Cregan is here, smiling and talking with his enthusiastic and animated attitude with the guys.

And Alysanne, from her position near the bonfire, throws you excited and curious glances, as if she were watching a love movie, while the guys seem very confused by Aemond's presence.

Although you don't doubt that she will soon calm their anxiety to know what the hell is going on with him and you without giving too many details. Or at least, without giving the important details.

And you look back at Aemond, still processing the fact that he is actually here, in this space of yours, so far away from Crowns and all that it represented.

“May I sit?” he asks you, his voice low and with that wariness he rarely shows.

And you still not knowing exactly how to feel, what to think or what to do, but you nod slowly.

He takes a seat next to you on the sand, close enough for you to feel his presence, but leaving a space between you both, respecting the invisible barrier that seems to have formed since the last time you saw each other.

And the silence that follows between the two of you is not awkward, but full of unspoken words, of questions and doubts floating in the air, waiting to be asked. And you both look towards the horizon, watching the sky between orange and yellow, while the ocean breeze gently caresses your faces.

Then Aemond lets out a sigh next to you, playing with his fingers, thinking very carefully about what he's going to say before he speaks.

“I'm sorry. I know you're upset and hurt for what I did.”

You watch him out of the corner of your eye for a second, still surprised that he's actually here.

You always thought your encounters with him would be at Crown's or even Sunset's Pier, but never here. It feels strange to see him in these places. With Cregan it was strange but with him… it's even stranger.

“I understand you don't want to talk to me and I know what I did and said was wrong,” he says later, ”You didn't deserve that.”

The lump in your throat tightens and you press your lips together, remembering the moment when he gave you the money so coldly, as if what you had shared the night before had meant nothing.

His gaze so distant and the way he treated you in front of Aegon, it really hurt you.

“And I'm not trying to justify myself, I know it was mean and disgusting,” he sighs, “But I just want you to know that when I saw Aegon… I don't know, I freaked out and did what I thought would be most convincing so he wouldn't suspect anything because I know him and he knows me so well too.”

'Just what Alysanne told you.'

You think as you process his words, feeling a mixture of anger and sadness stir inside you.

You know that what he says makes sense, that he was trying to protect you both, but that doesn't take away from the fact that it hurt you to have been treated that way.

“I should have handled it better,” he admits, his voice almost a whisper. “The last thing I wanted was for you to leave like that.”

Then you notice how he shifts position, looking directly at you, wanting you to look right back at him. But you can't. If you do… you won't be able to say everything you want to say, you'll easily forgive him and fall back into his arms like it's nothing.

“And I'm really sorry,” he tells you with regret and sincerity in his tone, vulnerable.

The silence between the two of you stretches for a few moments, only hearing the sound of the wind, the waves and your friends behind you both at the bonfire.

You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, waiting for an answer, his apology hanging in the air like a silent plea. And you understand what he's trying to say, but the pain is still fresh.

And finally, you let out a long breath and open your mouth to speak.

“I don't think it's a good idea for us to do this.”

That wasn't what he expected to hear from you, but still, your words hit him, catch his attention and he frowns, watching you, understanding what you mean right away, definitely not expecting that.

“What?” he says in bewilderment.

You let out a long sigh and lower your gaze for a moment, having no idea how to handle this, but you need to say it. Then you look him straight in the eye for the first time, seeing the confusion in his entire gaze.

And before you can say anything else, he speaks again.

“You don't want to see me anymore?”

“I don't know if that's a good idea,” you repeat, trying to be as clear as possible.

“Why not?” he insists, his frown now more intense.

You bite your inner cheek, searching for the right words, before letting out a frustrated sigh.

“How are we supposed to do this, Aemond?”

“This?”

“We never talked about the consequences, how we would have to act, you know…” you mutter, ”All in secret.”

He is silent for a moment, watching you with an intensity that makes it difficult for you to hold his gaze. More so as you briefly recall the night you both spent.

And when you look away, he finally lets out a sigh, runs a hand through his hair, clearly searching for the right words.

“I know it's going to be hard,” he admits, his tone soft, "Seeing each other in secret and acting in public like we don't know each other," he says, ”I know it's not ideal, but… I'm willing to do it.”

You look back at him, watching him confused.

“And when we get caught?” you ask, ”We both know what will happen. There will be a big scandal. We'll both be in a lot of trouble. You not only with your family, but also with Floris' family and all of Crown's, while I…” you shake your head slightly, ”The whole town will talk bad things about me.”

He nods slowly, unable to deny it or tell you that things won't be like that, because it's the truth.

Clearly he knows what you mean, the weight of the situation is undeniable and although he is willing to take the risk, he knows it won't be as simple as that.

His dad, his grandfather, Floris, his family, all of Crown's will come down on him, while you will not be able to avoid the stares, the gossip, the despise from all of Crown's and the repercussions for getting involved with him in this way.

He could easily ignore them and not deal with those people. He is sure that his mom would protect him along with his money, power and status. But you… you don't have that ease and protection against Crown's.

He can protect you, of course, but it won't be easy. His parents won't let him and he'd have to act underwater.

“I know,” he murmurs, moving a little closer towards you, his eyes fixed on your gaze, ”I know things could get complicated if we get caught. But I'm willing to do it for the only person who's made me feel something real in a very, very long time.”

He moves closer, his gaze intense and insistent, but his movements cautious, as if he's afraid of scaring you or crossing an invisible boundary. You can feel the warmth of his body next to yours, but the weight of his words is what affects you most.

“Would you do it? Would you risk it like that?”

He nods, without hesitation.

“I'm not saying it will be easy,” he acknowledges, "But…" he sighs, frustrated, "Look, what I feel when I'm with you… it's bigger than all that," he confesses to you, ”And for the first time in my life, I want something for me, not for them. Not for my dad or his team because of the image they want me to maintain. And I-I… I don't want to give this up.”

You stare at him, saying nothing for a few moments, when he stirs where he sits and looks at you slightly concerned, still seeing the hesitation in your gaze.

“I understand that you don't want to do this,” he says then, knowingly, “Because I know you don't deserve this. To be hidden and not be shown off like you really deserve it. I would never force you to do something you don't really want to do, but… I just want you to know that if you decide to be with me, that way… I'll do whatever it takes to protect you.”

Those words, though well-intentioned, only made the knot in your stomach tighten more. You know what protecting you entails, and what he really may or may not do.

“Protect me?” you repeat, disbelief in your voice, ”Aemond… you can't protect me from everything. You can't stop the gossip, you can't change what people will say or think about me.”

He sighs deeply, as if searching for the right words to convince you.

“I know I can't protect you from the words of others,” he acknowledges, ”But I will stand by you. I'll give you stability and I'm not going to let you face it alone. And whatever happens, we'll face it together.”

For a moment, the weight of what he's saying feels real, but still the doubts linger in your mind. There are too many factors working against you, too many things that can go wrong, and you don't understand what he means by stability.

But you ask another question that torments your mind more.

“And Floris?”

Aemond averts his gaze to the horizon, his jaw tense.

“The situation with Floris… you know how it is. First my dad and her dad have to partner up. I have no doubt that will happen soon and until it does, I can't break up with her. If I break up with her before… my dad will explode and so will my whole family.”

You feel the weight of those words, the web of expectations and responsibilities that trap him. To be used in that way, purely for convenience.

“And by the time my dad no longer needs me except to make me his heir to the company and the partnership with Borros is complete, I will finally be able to stand up to him and make my own decisions.”

But you can't shake the doubt, the uncertainty of a future that may not turn out as he hopes.

“What if you can't? What if things get complicated and you can't fight your dad? What if in the end we can't be together?”

“I'll still protect you,” he insists, his voice soft but firm, ”It will still have been worth it. But I will fight for you. For my freedom. And… I don't know,” his voice trembles slightly, ”But I want to be with you. I want to try.”

The wind blows gently between you, and though the weight of his words is heavy, you know there is still no easy solution. But something in his tone, in his gaze, tells you that he is not willing to back down without a fight.

You also feel the weight of what it means to be with him, secretly, but somehow ironically, in freedom. A freedom beyond the reach of his family's and Crowns' expectations.

Because that's what you have to offer him, the real and the authentic. A chance to be himself, to really live, without masks or obligations, to express himself freely.

You give him what it is to be heard and to be supported and accepted, not for what he has or owns, but for who he is. You offer him a refuge in a world that constantly demands more and more from him.

And what he offers you is protection, a protector, a part of him that no one has ever seen, he gives you stability in the midst of the shortages you have experienced all your life. But he also gives you love, affection, someone to lean on, a companion.

And together, you experiment, spend time together, get to know each other, fall in love, and open doors for each other to get to know each other's world.

And the idea, despite the risks and the consequences… you like it. It calls you. You want to live it with him. So you know that if you cross that line now and tell him yes, there will be no turning back.

You remain silent, watching the horizon as the sun descends lower and lower, dyeing the sky with golden colors. Until you sigh, turning your gaze back to him.

“It won't be easy,” you say, decision in mind.

Aemond nods, understanding the seriousness of your words.

“I know,” he says softly, ”I just want it to be worth it.”

You nod slowly, watching him with a soft gaze, then you finish closing the barely distance between the two of you and lean into him, resting your head on his chin and your back on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment, inhaling his cologne and the scent of detergent on his clothes, comforting you.

And he welcomes you into his arms, leaving a tender and soft kiss on your head, to descend to your cheek and leave another kiss on your skin, making you shiver and feel that tingle in your stomach, and then he embraces you more firmly.

“Don't ever treat me like you did with Aegon, ever again,” you say afterwards, in a soft, low tone, ”It was humiliating.”

He nods though you cannot see him and as he has his arm around your shoulders, he lifts his hand, places it on your chin gently and makes you turn your face towards him to look at him, where you see all the sincerity and regret in his gaze.

“I won't do it again. I promise.”

And he leans towards you, sealing his promise with a kiss that you reciprocate instantly, since you missed him and you were wishing all this time to kiss him again and feel his touch, even if it was for the last time.

And he too, missed you so much, so much that it hurt and frustrated him not to see you again because of what happened.

But here you both are, sitting on the sand, hugging and leaning against each other, looking at the horizon and the sky in that magnificent view of colors in silence, admiring the sunset in it's golden hour.

series taglist:

@zenka69 @strangersunghoon @deliaseastar @thefireblaze @kythefangirl25 @p45510n4f4shi0n @saturnssrings @bellaisasleep @primroseluna @tinykryptonitewerewolf @barnes70stark @tssf-imagines @valyrianflower

[fadelbison]

Ray's mother, music and the barriers to his heart that Sand must overcome

TW: discussion of suicide This is building upon the shorter meta I wrote here about the Micro song that plays during Ray's suicide scene. The parallels between Ray's arc in falling for Sand and Mew are so overt that I was completely overlooking the person that Sand is really up against in Ray's wounded heart and who, I believe Mew is ultimately a proxy for - his dead mother. I go into a little bit about how Sand's affection for Ray can sometimes read as familial here and I think it's quite readily noticeable how Ray acts very childlike around Sand with his puppy dog eyes and constant wheedling. One thing I do want to note is that Ray doesn't particularly come off as childlike in any of his other interactions either with his friends or in his conversation with P'Yo except for perhaps that first night when he got drunk and told his friends how much he loved them and during the suicide scene when he cries wrapped up in Mew's arms, distraught by how his mother never loved him. I think Ray is the epitome of someone with a deeply wounded inner child and the only way he can ask for love is as a child, somewhat helplessly and appealing to people's caretaker/protective nature. The parent child relationship between Sand and Ray comes up a few times through the episodes. The earliest explicit acknowledgement as far as I can tell is here at the end of episode 2:

There's another explicit nod as to how their dynamic is set up within Sand performing acts of service for Ray in Ep 3:

Sand says he has been Ray's driver, drinking buddy, shrink and chef. Three of those things - driving him around, cooking for him and providing him emotional support are not just familial activities but activities you would normally do for a young child. Sand pointedly leaves out that they've had sex from this list of services. And yes, that's because Sand doesn't view sex as a service and if it was just this then it would be hard to make the point that I'm trying to make which is that Sand needs to fulfill that parental attachment need that Ray craves; give him that type of no strings, unselfish kind of love before he will ever be able to gain Ray's trust enough to be able to build a romantic relationship with him. So how is the show making this point? That Sand is replacing not just Mew but Ray's dead mother in his heart? Well, let's start with the two things that Ray's mother has left him with: 1) music and 2) her alcoholism. Ray's friends were all very surprised when Ray volunteers to arrange the music for the party. While that was more about Ray's lack of interest in taking responsibility (His now in restrospect gut wrenching 'I'm only good for spending money' line from Ep1 like ouch) but it also indicates that none of them really know or connect with Ray over his music. How can they?

Music is such a deeply personal part of him, that's where he keeps the love he holds for his mother; the love that is entirely grief - painful in its vastness, beautiful in its consistency. And the first thing Sand tells him to do is be grateful for it - her good taste in music. The second thing? Is to show him how to enjoy it:

The fact that he's taking his hand and Ray is half resisting it, the silliness of the gesture more than the touch itself but he's undeniably enjoying himself - It reads to me like the awkward, stilted movements of a childperson who doesn't know how to move their limbs when they're first being taught how to do something. And when you realize that the song that Ray plays for Sand in ep2 is the same one that is playing when he's taken the pills - the positive associations that Sand is making with Micro in Ray's life suddenly becomes monumental. This happens twice more in the show. Once, in the car when Sand ditches his date to drive them to Ray's house where they engage in a delightful flirtation around it, Ray singing badly while Sand eats it up complains about it

And again, at the night of the party when Ray tells Sand to play Micro for him and Sand like the simp that he is serenades him with it:

But their connection over music doesn't stop at teaching Ray to cherish and honor his past - and unknowingly the pains that are attached to it. No, Sand goes further to expand it, help Ray find a space for himself in music, carve a corner of it that isn't only pain, isn't only that moment of seeing his mother laid flat on that floor with a whiskey glass inches from her fingers.

When music is such an integral part of Ray's personality how else does one interpret this scene other than Sand telling Ray to move on, when Sand plays Selina and Sirinya for him because finding new music he likes is Sand's happiness how else do I interpret it as anything other than Sand teaching Ray how to be happy? What am I supposed to do but pull out my own hair when they're connecting over music, looking at each other like this:

And Sand will do it AGAIN - as the ep5 preview suggests - take Ray's hand and teach him how to enjoy contemporary music while Ray makes his awkward, adorable face where he's having fun in spite of himself. And the sheer amount of joy that Sand gets in seeing Ray like this is just - they're so insufferable:

But perhaps the most surprising (and delightful!) of all is this:

Ray taking his headphone off, interrupting this magical moment of being with Sand and the music, telling him he wants to be close to nature and drink beer - for the very first time Ray desires alcohol not as a means to destroy himself but as a vehicle of peace and of connection and I haven't been well since seeing it and understanding what it means. In many ways, Ray's mother is such a tragic character. I know nothing of this woman other than the three seconds I have seen of her dead and the frightful way she has driven her son to follow in her footsteps, to feel so unloved and unwanted. And yet she named him Ray Pakorn (pakorn meaning sun) - a ray of sunshine. Perhaps even, her ray of sunshine.

How can I truly believe that she never loved him?

I know Ray tells Mew that she never held him but he loves her so dearly, wants to be with her so desperately, she permeates every moment of his life so thoroughly that the loneliness she left behind isn't a gaping emptiness but the festering carcass of a love so profound and full to bursting that Ray keeps trying to give it away, keeps trying to love his friends, keeps trying to save them and aches in the way that he finds no recipient for it.

People wonder what Sand sees in Ray, why he would fall for him. But Ray is a creature made entirely of love, soft still in the way he lets it rule his life, innocent in the way that he asks for it, precious in the way that he gives it away - How can Sand be anything but desperately in love with him?

[tojiscrack]

hey tojiscrack! (can’t get over ur user lolll!) just wanted to drop by again to say that your fic is absolutely divine—truly everything i could ever want and more. i had a quick observation to share, though i’m not entirely sure if it holds up. ♡⸜(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)⸝♡

so, from what i recall, megumi doesn’t like change (or am i tripping? i think it was mentioned in the earlier chapters). he seems very at ease with the current dynamic he shares with our little mermaid—so accustomed to her being by his side that the idea of anyone else being interested in her feels almost bizzare to him. ｢( • ﾍ •)

so far, there hasn’t been a strong, viable love interest for y/n other than megumi. even the flyer guy, who showed some interest, was quickly brushed aside. megumi seemed relieved by that, since it meant his status quo remained intact, with no real threat to disrupt the life he’s so familiar with as y/n wasn’t interested/didn’t even realize flyer guy had a crush on her. nothing changed and life could continue as normal for them hehe. (๑˃́ꇴ˂̀๑)

now we have kamo expressing interest in someone, and while it could be anyone, my hunch is that it’s y/n (big surprise, right?). if y/n and kamo end up together, as you hinted at with the love triangle, it seems inevitable that megumi will *hate* it—much like he hated change in earlier chapters. even if it turns out to be the flyer guy, the result would be the same: megumi would despise the shift because it upends his sense of stability and changes the way things already are.

it feels like megumi’s aversion to change runs so deep that he’d rather remain friends with y/n and preserve the life he knows than risk complicating things by acting on his feelings. we’ve seen hints of his internal struggle, from how he reacted to her in elementary school, the airport hug scene, the dance scene, and more recently, when he claimed no one could have a crush on her, tweaking at the thought when she brought it up, how cute!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

i hope this makes sense, but essentially, my point is that megumi likely views anyone interested in y/n as a threat to his normalcy. he’s so resistant to change that it will undoubtedly be a major theme in the story, especially as y/n’s potential new relationship forces him to confront the reality that change is an inevitable part of life, especially as they grow older and navigate adolescence. 

or maybe i’m just yapping and everything i’ve said is just me doing obstacles to prove a point that doesn’t exist? idk, i saw the foreshadowing tag and now all i’ve been doing is actively looking for it hehe.

stay safe and omggg study for those exams girl, you’re in college!

liar, liar masterlist here:

WAIT…

IS THIS BIG BRAIN ANON? 🧠 😫

OMG IT MUST BEEEE, HELLOOO, I THOUGHT I’D NEVER HEAR FROM YOU AGAIN <333

okay let’s address this juicy thought ���💓

my user is indeed stupid. i once again let everyone know that i am not a toji girly (like, at all). i am an AVID gojo girly through and through, he and i go way back and we’re going strong 💪❤️‍🔥 ‘tojiscrack’ is simply cuz it sounds funny LMAO, taster of what u’ll expect from my works. i’m also very, very, VERY flattered with all ur compliments. writing this story and reading ur comments and thoughts and amazing predictions, all of that is definitely the highlight of writing and publishing this altogether, so thank you sm for sharing! <3

no, you are most certainly not tripping. i think it was elementary school or smth, it was not only mentioned but vaguely implied that megumi the porcupine doesn’t like change. like, at all. he’s comfortable with the way things are: i wanted to parallel it to canon (EVERYTHING INSIDE THIS BRACKET IN BOLD INCLUDES MANGA SPOILERS FROM JJK266!!! — it was mentioned, tho i can’t remember the exact wording, that megumi just wants to be able to do the simple things with his family, the example being laundry. the change he experienced with sukuna and jujutsu society in general after gojo’s sealing was something he didn’t like, at all. albeit, it was very extreme, ANYONE would hate it, but his stance on doing something as simple as laundry inspired this stance megumi has in ‘liar, liar’, where he wants to remain comfortable with his friends and family as he is, a parallel to canon).

‘our little mermaid’ finished me, sorry 😭 don’t let her hear u saying that HAHA

i like this build up you’ve come up with (megumi seeing someone crush on y/n as ‘bizarre’) from just that (his discomfort with change). it’s accurate, scarily accurate. i can’t even try and sugar coat this one, but yeah. i was lowkey waiting for someone to realise that, i felt as if it was kinda in ur face but ig not 😭 well done!

here comes the debate tho! some of my readers have completely forgotten about jeremiah (the flyer guy), whereas others acknowledge him and believe him to be important in terms of the second love interest for the love triangle, and then you, who believes that he was important for the sole purpose of proving that point you’ve just made: that megumi was relieved by him being shrugged off, ‘cause it meant, in ur words, that ‘his status quo remained intact’.

because of the fact that everyone’s kinda torn on this, i am not gonna tell you whether you’re right or not 😋 i would have if there was just one collective stance on jeremiah, but there isn’t, and it’s fun reading all these theories, debates and predictions :) but i’m gonna say this: out of the three predictions for jeremiah, only one is completely right. now it’s time for everyone to guess which one it is (muahahahaha)!!!

‘we have kamo expressing interest in someone, and while it could be anyone, my hunch is that it's y/n’ — another thing my readers are lowkey torn on. this will be addressed in the next chapter as well as the chapter after that, so i’m not gonna say much on this just so that you can read those chapters with no spoilers 🌝 i can, however, say that you’re right with the whole megumi hating the love triangle thing again, and ur reasoning is half on point too (half, only ‘cause there’s another reason as well, but i wouldn’t expect you to know that ‘cause i haven’t touched upon this at all haha). but it won’t just be megumi hating this triangle — a lot of characters won’t be fans of it, including our mains, so no surprise there.

can i just add that you are so articulate as you’re explaining this? like your prediction is so extremely well thought out, and parts of it i’m only not revealing ‘cause it’s already gonna be shown in the next two chapters, so pls consider yourself SMART 😫👀

‘it feels like megumi's aversion to change runs so deep that he'd rather remain friends with y/n and preserve the life he knows than risk complicating things by acting on his feelings’

…

maybe. maybe not. interesting take. i’m patting myself on the back btw, u’ll find out why CHAPTERSSS away

‘we've seen hints of his internal struggle, from how he reacted to her in elementary school, the airport hug scene, the dance scene, and more’ — just curious, which scene in elementary school did you think this from? 🤔 i’m thinking you meant to write middle school, because there was an obvious change there that i wanted everyone to pick up on (and they have, thankfully 🤗) but maybe i’m just a lousy author who can’t remember wth happened in the earlier chapters 💀

‘i hope this makes sense’ — GIRL YOU DID NOT HAVE TO ADD THIS CUZ IT MAKES PERFECT SENSE <3 you’re so on point (and maybe not as well, but i shall not reveal this until later) about so many things here that i even considered just letting this rot in my inbox 😭 jk, i’d never do that ‘cause i want my readers picking this stuff up, so keep doing it! and i’ll eat it up every damn time 😤

but the whole ‘change is inevitable’ theme is kinda hinted at a lot, especially ‘cause… i was gonna reveal something i shouldn’t 😳 anyway, it’s a coming-of-age kinda story, and we all know change is inevitable there. megumi, despite being reluctant about it, knows it too.

‘or maybe i'm just yapping and everything i've said is just me doing obstacles to prove a point that doesn't exist?’ — three words: maybe you are. and that’s all you’re getting outta me 🌝🎀

the sole purpose of that foreshadowing tag is to force you to keep ur eyes open, and you’ve done just that, so pat ur back for me why don’t u? 🫣

[chickenkupo]

Just My Luck - Chapter 2

Summary: As Wriothesley and Neuvillette continue their sensual activities, more starts to develop about his current situation and steps moving forward. What's this about the claim law? Why is he having to meet with other people? One final return to his land? A single wish?

Wait, he didn't ask for this choker!

Recommendations: Kinda obvious, but I highly suggest reading the first work under this, Just My Luck, for more background and spicy scenes.

Warnings: General audience, some hints of spicier scenes, but this is building up to more *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*. Neuv is possessive as always, and it gets even worse here, so if you're not into that, this isn't for you. Religious tones, cause they're gods and all that. Consent? Pfft, you're happy here, don't worry about it. This has not been beta-read, this is shit from my head that I was like damn, I kinda wanna write that and yall seemed to like the last one so here's the next part. As promised, this will be a Tumblr exclusive for a few days, until I get back from my convention. It will then be posted on AO3, probably late Sunday, so if you follow me on there, if you want you can leave a kudos, comment, random recipe, idgaf, just enjoy it.

Also, this is hilariously long again, and I'm writing this THE NIGHT BEFORE I FREAKING LEAVE FOR MY CONVENTION WHEN I SHOULD BE CON CRUNCHING MORE GRRRRRR MY BRAAAAIN

Enjoy :D

Time was lost upon Wriothesley as him and the hydro god Neuvillette shared many more intimate moments, wrapped up in each other and exploring every inch of their bodies. Hours, days, or even weeks could have passed for all he knew. The moment that he would pass out from pure bliss, he would awaken only to be fucked again by the god, repeatedly, either quick repeated sessions, or long and sensual ones. Regardless, he would be completely lost to his senses either way. The two would only take breaks to either make sure that Wriothesley was well nourished or needed to be freshened up. At first, Wriothesley still held a small sense of apprehension to the situation at hand, but once he started to repeatedly lose himself to pleasure, his body and soul almost seemed to ache and crave more from his newfound god and owner. What was once slight resistance turned into complete acceptance, and Neuvillette was more than willing to indulge.

This morning, however, was much different from the rest. Instead of being woken up by coaxing hands, or a long, draconic-like tongue caressing his body all over, Wriothesley instead awoke, wrapped up in the smooth, silk sheets of their bed, completely alone and without that damned draconic tongue running up and down his body, or his sharp claws tracing his muscles and leaving behind a light red, possessive trail. Instead, his body was well rested, no marks marring his body that he could see, and he knew for a fact that before half of this divine room had been put in a state of disarray with their brutal love making, but upon viewing the room once his eyes focused from his previous state of sleep, he saw that the room was utterly spotless and was in the same condition he found it in, as if nothing had ever happened.

Confused, Wriothesley raised himself to sit up, slowly, wincing as he took his time moving his limbs and settling himself at the edge of the bed. In an odd sense, Wriothesley took comfort in the soreness that he felt all over, it was a sure symbol that he didn’t dream up any of their interactions, blushing as he started to slowly remember certain memories of their coupling, of the moans, growls, begging…

Yeah, he needed to stop there before he had another problem to take care of. Blushing deeper, he realized that he was completely nude and scrambled to grab the soft sheets of the bed and draped it over himself to hide his body. Though at this rate the hydro dragon surely knew his body in detail, probably better than he himself knew it, he didn’t want to run the chances of someone entering and seeing himself in such a state. After taking a moment to mentally prepare himself, he stood up with the sheets draped over and around his body, his muscles protesting lightly at his movements. Since there was still no other presence with him, he decided to review his surroundings, he supposed that it wasn’t every day that a human such as himself would be claimed by a god and brought to their heavenly home, so ought as well to see what this god collected. If the stories he heard as a child were true about dragons, he was sure to see some treasures the likes of which the eyes of man may have never seen before.

As he started to explore bookshelf after bookshelf, he found all sorts of trinkets ranging from golden cased scrolls, to tablets with odd writings of a language long forgotten, to even fragments of broken weapons that seemed as ancient as time itself. Wriothesley was tempted to touch these artifacts, but somehow, he could sense a pulsating energy from all of them, and he wasn’t really in the mood to test what kind of reaction they would have with him if he made any sort of contact. Continuing onward, he observed rows of books in countless different languages, paintings that adorned the walls that depicted scenes, he assumed, were of different events in history, all intricately detailed and almost seemed to weave into each other, as if it were a giant storybook come to life. His eyes widened as he walked up to the last piece of art, gripping the sheets that were hugging his body tightly to his person, heart racing as he tried to process what he was seeing.

The portrait that stood before him was a realistic painting of Neuvillette, perfectly depicted in the same robes Wriothesley saw when he was first ushered to this place, standing in front of a watery throne within a court with a masked audience around him. Neuvillette’s arm extended with his clawed hand grasping a long, beautiful, jeweled chain, embedded with gorgeous glimmering gemstones of black, grey and white, that connected to a choker on the individual that was in front of him. That figure that stood before him was wearing the choker, had very similar black and grey hair, scarred skin and wore robes which matched the colors of the choker, and just as magnificent as the robes that Neuvillette wore. It was undeniable that the person in the portrait was himself, and that struck fear into his very being. His mind couldn’t comprehend what the picture meant, and he didn’t want to stay and find out. All the euphoria that he experienced when having endless sex with Neuvillette before seemed to fade from his mind as panic started to arise. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to do, he had no idea the layout of where he was at now, no telling how many gods were likely just around the corner to capture him and bring him back to the hydro dragon god.

Right as Wriothesley was about to turn around and debate thinking of escape plans, he felt familiar arms wrap around his torso from behind, pressing him against a very familiar, slim but chiseled chest, lips pressed against his neck, delivering light kisses. Wriothesley sighed as he relaxed into the grip, cuddling his head closer to the one assaulting his neck, now with nipping love bites. Previous thoughts eluded him as his body started to readily accept the familiar touches of his god, knowing its home and proper place before his mind did.

“Mm...” the dragon rumbled; lips felt against Wriothesley’s neck in a smirk. The dragon was pleased, Wriothesley’s body already being trained so well to respond to him and know who owned him. The claimed man let out a small moan, a call that was all too familiar with Neuvillette. His claimed wanted more, and only from him. Normally, he would be swift to take the two of them to bed and continue to ravage his body. However, more important matters were at hand. Though, the dragon couldn’t resist, his clawed hands pulling at the fabric that was wrapped around his claimed, lowering it so that more of his toned chest and abs were exposed, of which his hands continued to explore and grope, possessively.

As Neuvillette continued to overstimulate Wriothesley by giving his neck and torso attention, there was a sudden sound of a clasp being locked, and Wriothesley felt an odd sensation around his neck that felt much too still to be the one he was familiar with, as the dragon’s tongue would be massaging it by now and licking up and down, leaving wet, possessive trails behind. No, this, this felt like a collar…a…

“Choker…?” Wriothesley managed to grunt out, trying to break the haze that was in his mind like a fortified fortress.

The arms that were wrapped around him let him loose, a hand still placed on his back for support as the powerful hold that was placed on Wriothesley to keep him distracted was suddenly lifted. The man staggered forward a bit, regaining his senses and control, as his hands immediately reached up to his neck to feel the chained choker that was securely placed, and not moving an inch, no matter how hard he tried to remove it. The force he put on it didn’t even affect the light pressure it gave as a constant reminder that it was there. No, the choker refused to harm him in any way, but it also refused to release him.

Wriothesley looked around the room and noticed a long mirror that was placed on one of the walls, of course elegantly decorated, almost overly so. He quickly ran over and took note of his appearance, hands still tightly grasped around that which was currently binding his neck. As it was in the painting, so it was in person. The same exact collar was dressing the skin of his neck, with a chain leading off that appeared to fade into thin air at about the third or fourth link down, as if it weren’t even fully part of reality.

As if sensing his confusion, Neuvillette gently tightened his hand into a firm grip, and there in his grasp was more of the chain that directly connected to Wriothesley that suddenly took on full physical and solid form with the added tension from the god, tugging ever so slightly on it. Instantly, Wriothesley felt a gentle pull towards Neuvillette, glaring at him. Neither had to exchange words for them both to understand that each knew what this meant, though the claimed did have a remaining question for the god.

“How far? How far are you able to do that from?” Wriothesley asked, trying to growl his words out to give some form of intimidation, but it only came out in a feeble whimper, of which he was embarrassed, but nothing he could do about that now.

Neuvillette, in response, offered him a wide, handsome smile, the light within the room bouncing off his figure, as helping him to gloat about his omnipotence.

“There is no world too far, no heaven too high nor hell too deep, where you won’t be connected to me.”

The look of finality in Neuvillette’s eyes gave Wriothesley the horrific assurance that the hydro dragon god was not lying, could he even lie to Wriothesley? There was no sense of escape from him, and it even felt down in his core that the sooner that he accepted this, the sooner he could live.

Wriothesley turned back to his mirror image, looking at the newly formed bruises on his neck and how they were already beginning to fade. He could only imagine the sorts of changes his body had undergone, having been in the realm of the gods for so long now, and having exchanged bodily fluids with a god, himself. Though, one scarring did remain, the night of the first claiming when Neuvillette bit him, the scars from that bite persisted, never healing, only shown off in emphasis by the choker, as there was a wide circular gap on the exact spot of the bite scars, as if to blatantly show any idiot that dared show interest that Wriothesley was taken, by one the highest level of divinity existing.

There wasn’t much that Wriothesley could ask his god next, but the obvious.

“Well, what do we do now? What else are you going to do to me?” asked Wriothesley, looking at the god in question, his arms closing in on himself to try to make himself smaller, subconsciously.

Neuvillette simply stared at him for a moment, taking in his somewhat ruined form. The sheets were barely hanging onto his claimed now and though the bruises were beginning to fade, their presence was still there. A sense of satisfaction emitted from Neuvillette in the form of a low rumble of approval. There would be no questioning his ownership of Wriothesley now, and if anyone dared, they would be met with the fury of an enraged god, and no one would be there to save them.

After looking over Wriothesley for a little longer, Neuvillette finally decided to answer his question.

“I believe it would be nice for you to get acquainted with other claimed from your homeland of Fontaine. It will do you some good to hear from others in your same, albeit a small bit, different situation. From there, I will grant you one last visit to your old lands, and one final request before you are spirited away back here, to your new home for good, as the claiming law permits. Meeting and conversing with these individuals may help you come to a decision.” Neuvillette stated, not his face not giving way to any emotion, as his gaze was directly on his claimed, observing.

At the mention of having one last visit to his home, Wriothesley’s eyes lit up, only to simmer back down once Neuvillette made it very clear that this is a one and done sort of situation. There will be no going back after the allowance, no returning. His body even felt like it was repulsed by the idea of returning to a world that was so harsh to it, constantly in some sort of pain, suffering or form of anxiety. It craved the warmness of the skies here, the fulfillment that his god would constantly bring him, no worries in the world, only bliss and contentment in this new world that he still barely understood. But his mind, his mind knew that he needed to check in on his adoptive family one last time, the love he had for family fiercely flowed through him.

“Right…when will this meeting take place, then? I doubt presenting myself in my current state would be appropriate.” Wriothesley said rather carelessly, letting his thoughts flow freely.

At the mention of others taking view of his body like this, Neuvillette growled, fiercely, his eyes lighting up in a fit of jealously. No one was to view his claimed like this, ever. This was a treat, a blessing, that Wriothesley could only bestow to him and him alone.

“H-Hey! I said I wouldn’t! Tch-!” Wriothesley cried out in frustration, holding the sheets even more tightly to his body, a blush appearing on his cheeks. The thought of a god wanting him like this and becoming so possessive made him feel embarrassed in a way, but he did delight in it a bit, that he would not deny.

“Do not even fathom such events in your mind, or speak them into existence. You are my claimed, by my right. No one is viewing you like this but me. Do you understand, Wriothesley?” Neuvillette asked, his hand raised and once more held into a tight fist, pulling the chain to give a noticeable tug.

Wriothesley jerked forward a bit, catching himself, as he began to look up and glare at Neuvillette, but simmered down once he saw the fury in the dragon’s eyes. A chill went down his spine, noting that his own existence could be extinguished like a simple afterthought, if Neuvillette so deemed it. Instead, he bowed his head in respect.

“I-I apologize, it won’t happen again, I was out of line for even speaking of that.” Wriothesley admitted, a part of him hating that he was displaying such a level of submission, but at the very core of his soul, he knew that this would be the new normal for him.

“You will be meeting with them this afternoon. I will have my servants come and deliver your clothes. You are to either remain under the sheets in the bed or go to an adjoining room until they are done delivering your garments. From there, they will lead you to where you need to go. I will remove myself from the situation, so that your final request will come more clearly to you without my influence.” Neuvillette stated, but spoke no further after that, waiting for Wriothesley to respond.

“Alright then, I suppose...? How do I address you now, anyway, given our set of circumstances?” Wriothesley asked, in genuine curiosity.

Without a moment of hesitation, Neuvillette offered a simple reply.

 “Husband. You may call me your husband, dear wife.”

•

•

•

Wriothesley couldn’t believe his eyes, once the servants of demigods and lesser gods left him to his own devices, having delivered him to an elegant garden outside of what appeared to be a giant mansion. He spent a decent amount of time wondering about, taking in the sights of fauna that he had never seen the likes of before. Beautiful, blooming flowers, with petals so large they could be mistaken for giant leaves. Normally he’d be having a sneezing fit by now, but as he continued to walk through what felt like constant mazes of twists and turns, his nose never once started to sting or eyes starting to water. This place was perfect, too perfect.

It didn’t take long before he came to a more open section of the garden, with silver tables strewn about, plates of pastries, coffees and other fine assortments on small serving platters at each. He expected for such a place to be quite crowded, but instead it appeared that there were only a handful of others, and from their lack of a powerful aura, as well as similar spectacular adornments around their necks, that these must be the claimed that Neuvillette had mentioned earlier. He knew for certain that Neuvillette wouldn’t have let him wonder about and encounter anyone that he wasn’t supposed to.

Wriothesley, nervously, adjusted the tie of his suit, making sure that it hung lazily around his neck. He was never the one to be dressed so fancily, and although he enjoyed the colors of the suit that matched those of the binding choker, he still felt out of place. Simple rags and clothes were fine for him, but there was no way, especially now being a claimed, that he would be allowed to do such a thing anymore. He’d simply have to get used to all the abundant elegance, as much as it currently annoyed him.

“Monsieur! Monsieur! Are you the new claimed from Fontaine? I simply must have a word with you, I have so many questions!” A lively voice giggled at him from a table near where he was standing. Looking over, Wriothesley took note of a young woman with long, lusciously curled blonde hair and the brightest, peppiest blue eyes he had ever seen, and a face with slight makeup that accented everything beautiful about her. A light breeze picked up, as she made a struggling sound, trying to keep her heavily decorated hat atop her head, her gorgeous amber and black coded dress moving in the breeze with her. Though women weren’t his taste, he would be a fool to not admit that she was stunning, with such a kind and playful charm.

A light tugging could be felt around his neck, a clear warning. Wriothesley mentally sighed to himself, growling in his mind that he could appreciate the appearance of someone without it being a threat. The tightness subsided, but slowly. His husband was a rather jealous god, wasn’t he?

“Here! Let me get that for you!” Wriothesley cried out as he reached for it, but the young woman was able to hold the hat back down to her head just in time, swatting away his hand with a simple motion, making sure to not make any physical contact with him.

“Oh, no, it’s fine! I appreciate the gesture for help, though. You’re new here but I’m sure you already know that our gods are rather…peculiar about who is allowed to touch their claimed, and mine is certainly no different. I’m honestly surprised they agreed for us to have such a private, introduction with each other! So, less chance of angering them, the better, you know?” The young woman giggled, with a bright smile. She didn’t seem phased by any of the situation or upset in the slightest. In fact, her eyes started even shining more brightly as she picked up a small macaroon from the serving tray, happily munching on it.

“Ah! Where are my manners?! I apologize, when I see sweets, my mind tends to wander!” The young woman cleans her hands off with a neatly woven napkin. “The name is Navia, Navia Caspar! Leader of the Spina di Rosula!” Navia giggled, with a slight bow of her head.

Wriothesley stared at her, almost in awe and with some slight confusion, as he tried to piece this information together. Navia took notice of this, her smile fading as there was a sense of concern growing within her that was quite evident. After Wriothesley took notice of her change in attitude, he cleared his throat as he took a sip of tea that had suddenly appeared, already poured for him. No doubt something that his husband was probably responsible for, in some sort of way. Especially since it was his favorite flavor, which just enough sugar and milk to soothe his nerves.

As he calmed down a bit, Wriothesley looked up at Navia’s worried eyes, and finally decided to speak on the matter. “Miss…Navia, I apologize. I didn’t mean to bring any sort of worry to you but, I’m going to be honest. I find it hard to believe what you told me, but your name matches and from what I remember hearing through stories as a kid I just…” Wriothesley sighed, as he continued. “The Spina di Rosula, that was an ancient organization, there’s not even that many texts about it, adults told us stories about the group, like they would be watching us from the shadows and if we were bad, they’d take us away. I didn’t think that you all were real…” continues, in awe and a tad bit of regret. It was probably best if he had just kept his mouth shut, but a part of himself felt like she deserved to know what he did.

Navia stared at him, almost in a glare, as if he were trying to offend her with such ridiculous information. But, as he continued to stare and notice that his reaction and words were probably genuine, her frown deepened as a part of her seemed to break out of whatever hold this realm seemed to establish on the claimed individuals.

“W-what do you mean…? Of course, we were real! Royalty of Fontaine hired us for information collection, bodyguard services! Kids didn’t fear us, they wanted to join us!” She yelled out, hands slamming down on the table, the goodies on the serving tray being moved ajar due to the outburst. Wriothesley merely sat back in a shocked expression, not saying another word and making the situation worse than what it was. Though, surprisingly, Navia seemed to gather herself, fixing her dress and hat, and sighing in defeat.

“I apologize for my outburst there. It’s not often that I meet people from my nation and I, I forget that time moves differently here. I truly do not know how much time has passed and I just assumed you might be from my period…” Navia explained, with a small, sad smile.

“Ah, no, it’s completely my fault and I apologize. I shouldn’t have just blurted all of that out like that, and I’m completely lost when it comes to the passage of time here. Do you have any idea how it works?” Wriothesley asked, hoping to step away from the sensitive topic, while also trying to get enough information out of her to come to some logical conclusion.

“No, I wish I did. Every time a new claimed comes, they’re from all different time periods, or even worlds. It’s been extremely difficult to try to keep up from and when we were. I’m sorry, I wish I could offer more help!” Navia stated, pure disappointment playing through her voice.

“No, no, don’t apologize.” Wriothesley stated, trying to wave off her statement, but taking note of the information, or lack thereof, that she provided. “Sorry, I came to this…place, with little to no information on how any of this works so I’m just trying to piece it together.”

“Ah! Well, that makes two of us! But sometimes you can’t help but just come to terms with it, you know? You were claimed, same as I, and well, this is our current world and maybe giving it all up for someone else to figure out for us isn’t so bad…” Navia began to trail off.

As she was about to continue their conversation, three other individuals started to walk forward towards their table, one more so rushing towards them than the other two.

“Ah, hello friends, welcome! What a magnificent day, wouldn’t you agree?” A young male’s voice rang out, as he took to taking the seat between Wriothesley and Navia, twisting a top hat in his hands, before tossing it into the air and catching it was ease, doing a little chuckle as he did so, obviously loving to show off.

“Really, brother? Must you be so insufferable as of late? The moment you hear of a new claimed from Fontaine, you absolutely go off the deep end…” Another voice of a young woman popped up, taking another seat closer to Navia, noticeably different from the rest as a pair of cat ears were poking out of her head, and a thin cat tail swooshing behind her in annoyance, her simple dress swaying in the slight breeze as well. A third, smaller, figure took the last seat between the two of them, in a simple suit and hat, keeping his head down, blushing lightly. “Brother…” the smallest one warned, while keeping rather reserved.

“Well, dear sister, it’s not every day that Monsieur Neuvillette takes an interest in anyone…in fact, I think this is the first time! Imagine that! The stoic judge, finally laying the law of claim down on someone. You truly must be extraordinary, Wriothesley!” The young man cheered, a devilish smirk plastered on his face, earning a gaze from his sister across the table.

“Lyney! You act like you’re so casual about the Iudex, show some respect!” She hisses, literally hisses at him.

“Wait, how do you know my name?” Wriothesley finally manages to speak up, looking at the trio. Navia stares at them as well, though a small fraction of a smile gives way that she knows more to the situation than he does.

“Well, duh! That’s our job! Father makes sure that we have information on just about everyone as soon as possible.” Lyney shrugs, as he leans back in his seat, looking at Wriothesley almost as if what he asked could have been taken as a joke.

“Wait, father…do you mean your god is like a father figure towards you three?” Wriothesley pressed, eager to learn more.

“Mn, that is correct. Not every claimed is under the same circumstances. For you and Navia, your gods chose you as spouses, or mates, and developed a strong relationship through that route of a bond. However, our father took pity on us, as we grew up on the streets of Fontaine as orphans, doing little magic shows or other various street performances to survive. Father kept attending our shows, and we managed to pique their interests. Wasn’t long after that when Father evoked the law of claim, and after appearing in court to Neuvillette, was approved not one, but three claims. It was a rare case, but Father is well, our father now, and strives to teach us about the world and give us the lives we never had, which we should be forever thankful for, right, brothers?” The young lady addressed the other two, having explained all of this to Wriothesley in a rather strict, and yet almost bored voice.

“Y-yes, Lynette…” The smallest boy stuttered out, still choosing to keep his head low, eyes refusing to meet anyone else’s. The boy might shatter if that managed to happen, giving how reclusive he seemed.

“Ah, my dear sister Lynette has such a way with words, doesn’t she?” Lyney states, almost in a dreamful manner, his performance personality surely shining through his every action, it seemed. “Now, let’s get to know you a little more, Wriothesley, plus I’m curious to know how Fontaine is doing here of late. I can only imagine a considerable amount of time has passed since we were claimed.” Lyney says, urging Wriothesley to share his story and any information he may have.

Wriothesley cleared his throat, after taking some more sips of the most delicious tea he’s ever had and tells them every bit of information that they requested of him, and more so. He tells them about the hardships he faced as an orphan with his abusive, adoptive family, how he strove to protect his adoptive brothers and sisters, and what lengths he went through to ensure their well beings. He continues, now adding in the information oh so graciously provided by Neuvillette, where the god had placed such a curse on him to ruin his luck, forcing him towards hardships to help build himself towards deserving a claim from him.

Navia frowns halfway through his story, giving him soft looks of pity, while the other three engage in further conversation.

“Ah, the mighty Iudex works in mysterious ways. A little tough in my opinion, but who am I to judge? Certainly not me towards the actual judge, that’s for sure!” Lyney chuckles, while his sister groans at his obvious attempt at a joke.

“W-Wriothesley…? Are you ready for one last back trip back…soon…?” The small, young boy managed to barely whisper out, but all of them were attentive enough to pay attention and listen, not urging him to speak louder or bring further attention to him. Navia and Wriothesley safely assumed that they were all lucky that he managed to speak at all, especially bringing up a question by himself without any pressuring.

“Is, is this normal? For people like us, I mean?” Wriothesley asked, looking at all of them around the table. All eyes were on him, with a sweet, understanding tone and yet, there was still a hint of sadness and awareness about something that he was dying to figure out.

“Surprisingly, yes, unless the claimed really made their god mad, or earned some sort of divine punishment. After making the claim official with the placing of a collar, necklace, or some sort of other way of marking around the neck, the claimed is usually granted one last visit to their homeland, and one wish while on that visit. Of course, it can’t be anything that would lead to a breaking of the bond, and if you tried to grant yourself distance with the wish from them, don’t bother. It’ll be a complete waste of time for the two of you. It’s already far too late to try to escape, consider this as one last mercy before your new life officially begins.” Lyney takes it upon himself to explain, the rest of them nodding in agreeance.

“Well, I suppose it’s no harm in telling.” Navia speaks up, as she continues. “For my wish, I wanted both of my bodyguards to have Clorinde’s protection while I was away, for as long as they lived. They both served me well in my mortal life, protected me and practically raised me since my parents died when I was still rather young. I spent one last day with them together, before I came home here. I do hope they had the best of lives, they deserved it and so much more…” Navia whispered her last statement, patting her eyes with her elegant napkin, but not in sadness. A wide smile and blush played on her face, clearly remembering the two of them fondly.

“Wait, so you weren’t able to look over them and watch them live their lives out?” Wriothesley asked, anxiety starting to brew within his soul. Everyone know that a claimed was taken out of their regular realm and into one of the divine, but it never fully registered in his mind what that meant, especially since this was the current scenario that he was facing.

Navia simply shook her head before she replied.

“No, our gods like to separate us from our old life, that way we won’t remember the pains and anguishes of the past. I can understand it, to a degree, but I do hate not being able to see what happened to those I care about. It’s part of the curse of the claimed, I suppose you can call it. We’re granted all this greatness, but we must give up our old lives for this new one.”

Wriothesley remained silent as the rest of them started to converse with themselves, about different subjects now, of times now in their new life that they shared, if they had seen that one old god fall down the stairs or see that snooty looking one get what they deserved at the end of the day. He wanted to listen in so badly, but his mind was riddled with questions, as the answers he received only made his drive for knowledge about all of this so much stronger.

It wasn’t until he lifted his head and saw how all of them were getting together, like one small little family.

Family.

They loved and had each other to rely on, to keep them company, to love and to teach each other. His heart ached as he thought for a moment that such an option for him didn’t exist now. Sure, he wasn’t into women, but that never stopped his want of having a family for himself one day, somehow. Sure, he could have a friend family through this Fontaine group, but a part of him wanted something more personal, his own to take care of, a hidden desire he had always had as a regular mortal.

He wanted his own family, would Neuvillette want one with him?

[akoo9]

Who do you think fell in love first: Yashiro or Doumeki?

I love this Simple yet important question…..i think about this each time i re-read the story…..I actually have abit different view about “love”…..i have this idea that love cannot come at first stage…but its a result….. so there is two answers for ur question (u’ve to bear with the strange assignment i will write)

First answer is that….both of them fell into each other at first sight (just their timing was different) doumeki saw yashiro first at the office and fell at first sight or got attracted to him without knowing what it is…….later when d got transferred,and entered Yashiro’s office …..yashiro in that moment once his eyes landed on doumeki,he also fell in love with d…yashiro was having this look towards doumeki….

As we know,yashiro is smart one and he read ppl at first glance,but he’s here gazing doumeki ….he’s definitely interested in what he’s seeing considering doumeki is his type add on that doumeki’s non-readable vibes.

Yashiro couldn’t even resist doumeki and went straight up to sucking his dik….funny part is how later on(yashiro said that doumeki should have said earlier that he’s impo)but boiiii u didn’t even gave a chance…u just straight up went into it, and breaking ur rule for somone u just saw….

So both had same start….just doumeki saught yashiro first…(that’s also soldfiy doumeki’s answer when he said (that he will have similar feelings to yashiro even if they had met earlier too)something like that….doumeki just said the information that yashiro smiles when he’s mad.

next pic is yashiro smiling towards doumeki …..unlike what everyone says that b carful of him he smile when he’s mad…..i bet doumeki from this moment started to develop his attachment aka(love feelings)bcz yashiro treated him differently from the start

And after this smile is where love starts……in my way of thinking…..they both were felling into each other’s…….

U can already scan in ur mind the chapters at beginning and how doumeki has the special treatment from yashiro….even before the bath scene were doumeki admit(he never been this attracted to somone) ….so this make us imagine and interpret that yashiro fell first…..

doumeki was more aware of his feelings anyway

But we have yashiro not realizing his deepest feelings for doumeki even till ch56…..this boii taking forever to realise he fell for d…..yashiro fell the hardest into doumeki to level that it scares him too since beginning…..once it kicked in he freaked out and threw away doumeki

Till ch56 we still don’t know doumeki’s internal dialogue about this all……if they both fell into each other’s at first sight……then fell in love at close timing or same time

We might find out later doumeki’s feelings and how he’s dieing and yearning for yashiro too…so probably not just yashiro , but might both of them fell into each other the hardest

Back to simple answer: doumeki fell first,yashiro the hardest (technically both of them experience same thing at same level let’s just wait and see doumeki’s side of this)

[kharti]

[ Closing Time #10 ]

      ( first | prev )

Izzy’s breath left him, all at once, as Ed slid into him. His body was so relaxed post-orgasm that there wasn’t any resistance, just an even glide until he was full, so full, so fucking deliciously full—

      ( Continue reading on AO3 or... )

Izzy’s breath left him, all at once, as Ed slid into him. His body was so relaxed post-orgasm that there wasn’t any resistance, just an even glide until he was full, so full, so fucking deliciously full—

“Proper prep always leads to a better meal,” Ed said, his voice strained as he tried to stay in character, running his tongue over his teeth. “No one likes tough meat.”

Stede huffed a shallow laugh, sweat visible on his brow as he watched with pupils blown wide. “I dare say not.”

“This meat is—” Ed struggled not to groan as he started to move his hips, pulling out nearly all the way and shoving back in. “Tender.”

“Warm?” Stede asked, his body swaying closer, his eyes fixed on the place where Ed and Izzy were joined.

“Fuckin’ hot.” Ed’s grip on Izzy’s hips tightened. “So fuckin’ hot inside.”

Izzy was rocked by each thrust, his skin sliding with a bit of friction along the tabletop, his fingers struggling to find purchase against the smooth surface as they tried to grab onto something, anything.

“Oh,” Stede breathed, his own hands clutching at the front of his pants. “May I—”

“Whatever the—customer wants.” Ed was pounding into him now, relentlessly. He moved a hand to the back of Izzy’s knee and lifted his leg up to give Stede a better view.

Stede, meanwhile, frantically unzipped his pants and had fished his cock out so quickly that he looked like a teenager, fumbling and trembling with too much arousal. He sighed with relief as he wrapped his fingers around himself and started to stroke, tight and quick little motions along the shaft and head.

Izzy had never felt so wonderfully helpless before, pinned under both their gazes, unable to do anything but moan and whimper with every thrust.

He'd also never felt so—loved.

This scene was one of worship, all of it put together by these two men to please him. To love him. And, he realized with a ripple of satisfaction, he was driving the both of them wild by just existing.

He wasn’t even trying to be sexy. He was just being fucked, just trying to keep up as Ed pounded into him, and Stede was about to cum with his belt still on.

His cock throbbed with the need to cum again, but he was too wrung out to even manage a dribble. He felt it bob against his stomach, bouncing with each thrust.

“Don’t cum yet,” Ed said, and it took Izzy a moment to realize he meant Stede. “I’m almost—fuck—I’ve almost got ‘im ready for you. Sir.”

Stede’s head snapped up. “You mean—”

Ed gave a wheezing little chuckle. “Just a moment—”

Izzy’s lungs couldn’t keep up. He was trying to gasp for air, but Ed kept fucking the breath out of him in pitchy whimpers and whines. His vision started to blur and his eyes watered, his chest ached with each heave.

And then Ed’s hips went flush to Izzy’s ass with one final push, throbbing deep inside him, filling him up.

“F—Fuck,” Ed groaned, his shoulders hunching forward as he curled in, trying to get closer with a little push of his hips. He shuddered, eyes closed, lips parted, his hands tight on Izzy as he squeezed tighter.

Then he straightened up and withdrew, Stede’s eyes following the movement while his own hand slowed.

“All ready for you, sir,” Ed said, voice hoarse, stepping to the side. His eyes flashed as he continued, “Please be sure to describe your experience… in detail.”

Izzy’s mouth went dry.

Oh, gods, he wasn’t going to survive this.

“Looks delectable,” Stede said, standing up and moving to place himself between Izzy’s legs. “I love what you’ve done with the center.”

Stede’s hand slipped between Izzy’s cheeks, his thumb prodding at his entrance, and Izzy could feel the wetness leaking out of him as Stede toyed with it.

“Is it a cream sauce?”

“Housemade,” Ed replied as he dropped down onto a seat, running a hand through his hair, pushing sweat-soaked strands out of his face.

Izzy watched with widening eyes as Stede brought the hand to his lips and licked his thumb.

“Delicious,” he said, his eyes locked with Izzy’s. “This whole meal is unspeakably delicious.”

A whine rose up in the back of Izzy’s throat, unbidden, forced out of him from the intensity of Stede’s stare.

Stede smiled and took himself in hand to line up with Izzy’s entrance, pushing inside with almost too much ease. The sensation of a large cock sliding into him, slick with Ed’s cum—it made Izzy actually whimper, his head falling back against the table.

“It’s so warm inside,” Stede said, his voice rough with desire as he started to pull back out, pulled all the way out and slammed inside again, skin slapping loudly against skin. “I feel like I could drown inside it. Not just from your seasoning, but from the way the meat hugs my cock.”

Izzy’s mouth fell open, but no sound came out. A shiver coursed through him as the warm words continued to rain down.

“It fits so perfectly, like it was made to be devoured.” All the way out again, back in with a hard thrust. “Oh, I’ve never had anything like it—absolutely divine. Absolutely divine.”

Stede leaned down and ran his tongue over the curve of Izzy’s chest, finding a nipple and swirling around before brushing his teeth over it. He panted a bit, his breath warm where his tongue left a wet trail on Izzy’s skin.

“I think—” Stede moved to the other nipple and opened his mouth wide to bite the meat of his chest, then laved the marks he made with soothing licks. “—this might be my new favorite dish.”

“Glad to hear it, sir,” Ed said, one arm slung over the back of his chair while he watched with dark, glittering eyes.

Stede continued to thrust in and out of him, each movement made slick from Ed’s cum, slicker still from what Stede’s cock leaked in all his excitement. Izzy groaned as he imagined how wet he was, how full of cock and cum he was. How utterly debauched he felt, and Stede hadn’t even finished yet.

“I want to have it again and again—” Stede’a breath puffed across Izzy’s skin as he tried to speak without panting, and failed. “How many times will you prepare it?”

Ed chuckled and stood, his strength recovered enough for him to move beside the table. He leaned over, palm pressed to the flat surface that rocked with Stede’s hurried thrusts, and hovered his lips right over Izzy’s. Close enough to feel the warmth of his skin, but not the touch of his lips.

“As often as you like,” he said, eyes locked on Izzy’s before he leaned in the rest of the way to swallow his cries with a hard kiss.

Izzy felt himself tighten as his cock tried to spend, but he had nothing to give. Maybe if he was a younger man, he’d be on his third or fourth orgasm now. But it was enough to push Stede over the edge, skin slapping to skin with one final thrust, and the man groaned low and deep as he came.

There was a quiet moment filled only with panting while Izzy trembled. He was worn out, wrung out, turned inside out. He had never felt so completely exhausted after sex before, like he had been running the whole time and not just lying there and taking it.

Ed continued to kiss him, softening with each swipe of his tongue against Izzy’s, and Stede slowly pulled out with an audible sound of wetness.

Then the two men stood together as they gazed at Izzy, and Izzy stared back at them through half-lidded eyes.

“Are you ready for dessert?” Ed asked, and Stede smiled.

Izzy’s heart thumped in his chest. He had nothing left to give, so what did they plan to take?

Both men took their seats, chair legs scraping against the floor as they scooted closer, and Izzy watched as two mouths descended on his uselessly hard cock.

He had to prop himself up on his elbows so he could watch, breath caught in his throat, while Ed and Stede all but made out with his cock between their lips and tongues.

Ed slid his lips along one side, down to the base, while Stede took the head in his mouth. They licked and sucked together, sometimes glancing up to meet Izzy’s gaze before returning their attention to finding ways to kiss without losing contact with Izzy’s cock.

It was, quite possibly, the most erotic thing Izzy had ever experienced.

He didn’t care that he couldn’t cum from this, or how sensitive his dick was after everything it had been through. It verged on painful when one of them sucked, but they were enjoying themselves almost as much as he was enjoying watching them.

Finally, Ed popped off with an audible, wet sound, and Stede licked a stripe from root to tip. For a moment, Izzy thought they were going to finally kiss unimpeded, but instead, they turned to look at him and smiled.

They descended on him, two gentle kisses to the corners of his mouth, and he realized the scene was over.

“I hope you enjoyed that,” Stede murmured into the soft kiss.

“Hope it wasn’t too much,” Ed said as he pulled back and looked into Izzy’s face with genuine adoration.

It took a moment for Izzy to find his voice after suppressing it for so long. The words came out quiet, but not soft—more like the crunch of autumn leaves under a boot.

“Focking twats.” His lips twitched into a brief smile at the momentary worry that crossed both their faces. “It was the best sex of my focking life.”

Stede let out a shaky breath, almost a laugh. “Oh, I’m so glad to hear that.”

Ed moved to slide an arm under Izzy’s back, the other under his knees, and lifted him up off the table to help him onto his feet, Stede taking up position on his other side to support him.

Izzy shuddered at the sensation of how much he was leaking, but before he could say anything, Stede had pulled a small packet of wet wipes out of his pocket and was already starting to wipe him down.

“Don’t worry, Iz,” Ed said, nosing his temple. “We’ll take care of ya.”

Izzy just stood there, a little shaky as he was gently cleaned and tenderly dressed. Every movement was accompanied by soft kisses all over—his knees, his hips, his shoulders, the small of his back, the curve of his neck.

It was like being put back together again, and he didn’t even realize he needed it until it was done, and he felt whole.

He glanced between both men who stood there, watching, waiting… and his heart swelled.

“Come here,” he muttered, opening his arms with a flush crawling up his neck as Stede and Ed moved in to wrap their arms around him and each other. “Fuck, I—”

There was a moment of vulnerability he allowed himself with his face out of sight, cheek muscles twitching as he fought against a smile and lost.

“Thank you,” he breathed out. “For taking care of me.”

For caring for me.

“M’place is just around the corner,” Ed said, pulling back enough to look at them, grinning. “How ‘bout a proper cuddle? Bed should be big enough for the three of us.”

“Sounds delightful!” Stede tittered a small giggle and tightened his grip on Izzy. “How about it, Izzy?”

A cuddle. Izzy had never considered himself much of a cuddler—more of a fuck and fuck off kind of guy.

But things were different now, with them. With Stede, and with Ed.

Because a cuddle sounded fucking amazing.

So Izzy draped his arms over their shoulders and let his head fall forward to hide yet another smile he couldn’t fight.

“Yeah, okay. Sure.” He glanced up to see them smiling back at him. “But you twats are helping me walk, because my legs are focking wrecked.”

Stede’s expression flickered with concern. “Did we go too far?”

“I already said it was perfect,” Izzy snapped without an ounce of bite in his voice.

“Actually, y’didn’t say that.” Ed grinned so wide it threatened to split his beard apart. “Perfect, huh?”

Stede smiled and reached up to intertwine his fingers with Izzy’s hand resting on his shoulder. “He deserves nothing less.”

As they leaned in to kiss his cheeks, Izzy felt his breath leave him for a moment.

No one could deserve this much, no one could be worthy of such loving worship.

And yet here he was, receiving it. Being drowned in it.

He couldn’t say the words, couldn’t imagine hearing them—not yet—but he felt them in his heart.

All he mumbled was a quiet, "Thank you."

Thank you for loving me.

📚 view a list of all my current stories!

[sunnytastic-and-the-olympians]

Wooohooo!!! I just finished The Sea of Monsters!!!

Man, this book is such a fun read. I love, love, love that the plot had Percy, Annabeth, and Tyson traveling through water because it really gave Percy's nautical powers a chance to shine. None of the other books return to the sea as much as The Sea of Monsters does, which makes sense for the over-arching plots, but it is a bit of a loss. Placing the Son of the Sea God in a Sea of Monsters really just is the perfect setting and it makes for a really fun plot.

Reading The Sea of Monsters is definitely the most fun I've had with reading in a long time. The last time I felt this excited to read was a couple of months ago when I reread Feels Like We Only Go Backwards by oldpotatoe on AO3 (it is an absolute banger of a fanfiction. I highly recommend it to anyone, especially Zukka fans, but truly, it's good enough for anyone to enjoy). Before that, I hadn't picked up a book in months.

But now? I feel so excited to keep reading that it's taking everything in me to not immediately dive into The Titan's Curse. But alas, I have school and responsibilities, etc. (Blah, adulthood is the worst. Please transport me back to the time when I was so eager to read, that I would constantly get in trouble for reading in class).

But the important thing is, my love for reading has returned. Reading is pure magic. There are words on paper that transport you to a different realm where there are rainbow fish-horses who can talk, sirens waiting to tempt you to your doom, and a magical golden fleece powerful enough to bring a girl back from the dead.

I realized in my blog post about The Lightning Thief, that I didn't mention Luke. While this was just forgetfulness on my part (I was writing it at 5 am. This time I am writing it at the very reasonable time of 11 pm), I'm actually glad I didn't write about him because Luke has a much more active role in The Sea of Monsters.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Luke is the definition of a sympathetic villain. Every time he's in a scene, I can feel the hurt radiating off of him, and I understand how he was so easily manipulated by Kronos. The Olympians have done nothing but torment Luke. How can he be expected to resist the temptation to replace the Olympians with a new reigning power- one Luke has been misled to believe will be fair?

I suppose this is where the hero aspect comes in: Percy has every reason to hate the Olympians as much as Luke- Hades held his mother captive as bait, Ares tricked him into possessing Zeus' Lightning Bolt, Poseidon fails to show up for him- but Percy stands strong against Kronos' evil anyways.

However, Percy's automatic refusal to consider if the Olympians are worth fighting for is naive, and it fails him as a protagonist until The Last Olympian. If I remember correctly, Percy doesn't truly understand Luke's perspective until the final battle, but when he finally does, he is so moved by it, that he finishes advocating for Luke's cause when he demands the gods take responsibility for claiming their children.

The reason Percy is unwilling to consider Luke's point of view is because of Luke's betrayal, and yet without Luke's betrayal, there wouldn't be a serious point of view to consider. Though, this is where I am going to end my discussion on Percy and his relationship with betrayal. I have decided I will analyze it after The Last Olympian, and then again after The Mark of Athena, specifically so I can talk about Nico's betrayal because I believe Percy's interactions with Nico afterward provide the best material for understanding Percy and his attitude towards betrayal.

Oh, and speaking of Nico, I miss him so goddamn much. I didn't notice in The Lightning Thief, probably because the story focuses so much on world-building rather than character development, but I did notice Nico's absence in The Sea of Monsters. Perhaps it is my affection for him (he was the first character who made me feel like it was okay to be queer), but the Percy Jackson World feels a little incomplete without its gay brooding anti-hero. The good news is he shows up in the next book, The Titan's Curse!

Speaking of side characters, Annabeth is a much more fleshed-out character in The Sea of Monsters as compared to The Lightning Thief. In particular, I think the Siren's Bay scene is a major turning point for her character. She now has her own motivations, beyond just wanting to do good and help Percy, and the audience learns about her fatal flaw. She feels real, not just a prop to help Percy on his adventures. I'm very excited to see her character continue to grow and develop.

Another side character I really liked is Clarisse. I will always empathize with a character who is pressured by her parents to succeed at all costs. It was very satisfying to see her get her hero's ending.

Ok, I definitely think this counts as a blog post about The Sea of Monsters, even if there was a fair bit of future The Last Olympian analysis too. I'm excited to continue my adventure of reading the Riordanverse. The Titan's Curse is next!!

As always, TLDR: The Sea of Monsters is fun, Percy and Luke are narrative foils, and Annabeth and Clarisse have great character development.

Oh, and in case anyone is interested, this post is about 950 words. Brain zoomies will have you doing the silliest things sometimes.

Links to the other posts in the Isa Rereads Percy Jackson series:

The Lightning Thief

The Titan's Curse

[journalforamerica]

On My Block

On My Block is a coming-of-age story that works through the battles that come from living in the hood. Jamal, Monse, Reuben, and Cesar are a crew, best friends from before the show began. They’re each from different backgrounds, Monse having grown up without a mom, Jamal who has been living a lie to make his parents proud, Reuben (Ruby) who is too smart for his own good, and Cesar whose family is part of the local gang and in turn, force him into that lifestyle. This story relates to the screenings and readings by establishing a unique perspective with diversity at its core. 

From top to bottom: Ruby Martinez, Cesar Diaz, Jamal Turner, and Monse Finnie.

The characters throughout the show focus on their ability to be friends against hardships. The first season focuses on Cesar and his life inside the gang. The crew knows that this life isn't for Cesar and they do everything to help him. This type of life they live all relates to a cultural identity: a shared home, language, and even cultural barriers. Cesar, Jamal, Ruby, and Monse would do everything to protect one another, even if it meant danger for themselves. I think that speaks to their ability to adapt to their rough environment which can be attributed to the stereotypes that come with being Hispanic and Black.

Although this show focuses on four main characters, one character, Monse stands out among the rest. Monse identifies as multiracial: she’s Black, Latinx, and White. This weekly reading is about multiracial and mixed-persons. Being mixed in this country has many connotations and the article addresses how many students struggle with their cultural identity because they are multiracial. For example, in the NYTimes article written by Susan Saulny she writes, “..But, he continued, “I don’t even like to identify myself as a race anymore. My family has been pulling me in two directions about what I am. I just want to be a person.”.” (Saulny, 2011) It can be hard not knowing as well, Monse didn’t grow up knowing her mom or her heritage, but learning about that side also gave her a new perspective. She got to appreciate both sides, which is very similar to the reactions the students got when they realized they could celebrate themselves, not based on what they identify as, but just because they are there. UWM’s own Professor Gregory Jay once stated, ““Race,” then, can be socially constructed by marginalized groups as a vehicle for self-understanding, political resistance, and cultural affirmation.” (Jay, NA) Professor Jay means that groups like Monse’s can view race as a common ground rather than a diverging point.

GIF: Cesar (the one with the gun) was threatened (by the guy in the jacket) in a drive-by. The one in the jacket pulled a gun on him. Cesar's brother determined Cesar's best bet at living would be killing the other guy first. This isn't what Cesar wants. This scene depicts what I think can be seen in real life. I've never experienced it, but drive-bys and gang violence are real. They happen, and this scene shows what can occur if someone doesn't really want to participate but is at risk if they don't.

This next scene (shortened on YouTube), is an honorable mention for me. When it comes to racial identity or ethnic identity, this show doesn't explicitly touch on those topics. It's a given when the show features an entirely diverse main cast. However, this scene specifically plays into the intersectionality that was explored in this course. Socioeconomic status is always a topic that arises when dealing with racial disparity and identity. The Halloween scene is the first time the audience sees the characters outside the hood. They go to Brentwood, the preppy, rich neighborhood. The people in this neighborhood are almost entirely white and of a higher socioeconomic status than the main characters. As the scene will show, there's hostility between the poor and the rich kids based mainly on where they grew up and how they lived. I mentally noted this scene specifically as being one that screams importance regarding racial identity and status.

Citations:

Saulny, S. (2013, February 5). More young Americans identify as mixed race. The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/30/us/30mixed.html

"Terms for Multicultural Studies: Defining "Race", "Ethnicity", and "Nationality" - Prof. Gregory Jay

[thedawningofthehour]

doth!draxum is the type of villain you want to squeeze really tightly in your fist and scream at him in angry tears but at the same time acknowledge his absolute genius.

ngl i see a lot of fics with intentional holes in villains which the protagonists use to save the day and yada yada (which is still obviously important sometimes), or just blunt personality traits that do not add up to the character as a whole when you think about it; like "oh, i, draxum, will hate the very beings i have created and treat them like absolute shit just because i can, despite the fact that if i treated them properly then they'd thrive and be open to whatever plans i have for them because they actually understand what i am doing for yokai and be met with little to no resistance and, /bonus/, have (some) kickass son(s)"

there are still a lot of good fics with this but. idk. it really just doesn't strike me as something draxum would do.

doth draxum is the complete opposite and is just so downright realistic. i haven't angrily loved a villain like this in a good while. fact, i dont even think villain is the right term, since what he's doing could potentially save both yokai and humankind alike from an even worse fate. reality sucks and draxum already knows that, and he taught galois that too. donnie just viewed it as draxum killing off the human race(might be wrong on that part since i need to go re-read) and didn't quite take in the actual crisis approaching.

what i just spewed might be literal bullshit but. it's my bullshit.

anywayssss love the writing sm can't wait for next chapter even if it'll break this poor little heart even more.

I don't want to start ragging on other writers/artists here. They had their own visions for how their creative works would look and Evil Draxum fit that. That's fine. It's just a different vibe than what I wanted, that's all.

I think the point a lot of Grimdark Draxum people get hung up on is the scene where he throws Leo off the roof, with the whole "I will not hesitate to destroy you" thing. (sidenote, I do not have Leo be salty about that NEARLY enough) From there, yeah, he does look like a ruthless villain who would do classically evil things just because he can.

But Draxum is one of those characters whose words say one thing and his actions say another. He does hesitate to destroy them. Not Leo, he legit thought Leo was going to die and didn't give a fuck, (in my canon he did this because Leo is his least favorite-he wouldn't have done it to the other three) but he deals with them all several times before coming to the conclusion that they have to die. And even after he assembles Evil Justice League and does a whole music number about killing them-he stands there and asks them to join him again. He has a group of pissed-off mutants at his back who all really hate the turtles and got all excited for murder. He's 100% willing to burn those bridges and piss those guys off if it means he doesn't have to kill his turtles. And even then, after giving them what he explicitly states is their final, point-of-no-return offer...he's out there trying to convince them again, using Lou Jitsu as an in with them. Draxum does not want them dead. He's willing to kill them, but it's established that Draxum is willing to sacrifice just about anything for his cause, so that's not saying much.

And then another thing is his behavior at the end of s1 when he gets close to the dark armor, with the whole kidnapping the boys and threatening to torture them to death in front of their father kind of thing. Yeah. That was fucked. I feel like the dark armor and the taunting of power really, really fucked with Draxum's head. In my canon Cass kind of snapped him out of that when she told him that the armor would all but kill him, and he realized how far gone he was. Cass and Gale kind of serve as good grounding points for him now.

Also, I just want to point out, this was the face Draxum made when he first laid eyes on his creations:

That is not the face of a man who is ambivalent about them dying.

So yeah, while Draxum's original plan for Donnie was not as fluffy and affectionate as what he ended up going with, it wasn't cruel. He would have still fed him well and made sure he was getting enough sleep because those things would have affected the quality of his work, he would have provided medical care because what use did he have for a sick or injured engineer? Taking care of Donnie was worth the extra time and expense because a healthy Donnie would be more productive and would do better work. Just in terms of numbers, it made more sense to be decent to him. There probably would have been some mental and physical abuse, but mostly just to make Donnie reliant on him and keep him from rebelling.

Also he still absolutely thinks of the change of plans as purely a numbers thing. It would simply produce better results of he did it like this. Feelings never came into play here. Baron Draxum does not get attached, especially not to turtles who cuss him out while strapped to his lab table.

Oh no, Draxum is 100% genociding the human race. He's willing to mutate some of them-mostly kids, because they aren't shitheads yet and he thinks they might be redeemable. This isn't exactly mercy-this is something real-life colonizers do to ethnic groups they're trying to destroy. Take their kids and make them 'their own'. That was the whole deal with residential schools and there are definitely people who utilize international adoption to 'save' and Christianize non-white babies. Draxum genuinely believes that humans are evil by virtue of being human. Most human adults are too corrupted, but he might be able to save some of them by mutating them, and the children deserve a chance to be saved.

It just kind of goes to show what a shit situation we're in that That is actually something that could halt the impending mass extinction event caused by climate change.

[imjustagirl247]

The tranquility of the morning is shattered when Edward Cullen’s voice pierces the silence. I’m lying next to Alex, nestled in the soft, warm cocoon of his bed, when I hear a light tap on the window. The clock on the bedside table reads 3 AM. My heart skips a beat, both from the unexpected intrusion and from the fact that Alex is fast asleep beside me.

Quietly, I slip out of bed and tiptoe to the window. Edward’s familiar, slightly enigmatic face appears as he effortlessly climbs inside, his movements fluid and graceful.

“Edward?” I whisper, surprised and confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t wait any longer,” he replies softly, his eyes intense and compelling. “I had to show you something. It’s important.”

Before I can protest, he takes my hand, and in a flash, we’re outside, the cool night air rushing past us. We’re in a forest, surrounded by trees and moonlight. It feels like we’ve stepped into a fantasy world straight out of a storybook. Edward leads me through a magical landscape, full of glowing flowers and shimmering rivers, a realm that’s both wondrous and surreal.

“I wanted you to see this,” he says, guiding me to a breathtaking view of an enchanted valley. “It’s a place only a few know about. I thought you’d appreciate the beauty of it.”

I’m in awe, unable to speak as I take in the scene. The moonlight dances on the water, casting an ethereal glow over everything. The adventure, while impulsive and reckless, feels exhilarating.

As we explore, Edward’s presence becomes intoxicating. The connection between us grows stronger, and before I know it, we’re sharing a kiss. It’s electric and wrong, yet there’s an undeniable pull that I can’t resist. It’s a whirlwind of emotions, a clash between right and wrong that leaves me breathless and conflicted.

Edward picks me up effortlessly, his strength both surprising and impressive. He climbs a towering tree with ease, taking me to a hidden vantage point that overlooks the entire valley. “You’ve joined my world now,” he says with a mix of pride and longing. “I’m glad you’re here.”

I’m torn between my feelings for Edward and the life I’ve built with Alex. Edward’s passionate intensity is alluring, and I’m swept up in his world. But as I navigate this new dynamic, I realize that I’m not fully free from the life I left behind.

Suddenly, the mood shifts. Edward’s demeanor changes, his eyes darkening with frustration. “You can’t be with me, not if you’re still tied to him,” he says, his voice tinged with anger and pain.

In a moment of desperation and possessiveness, Edward bites me. The pain is sharp but quickly fades into a strange, exhilarating sensation. I’m overwhelmed, my senses heightened in a way I’ve never experienced before. Despite the fear, there’s a part of me that enjoys the thrill of it all.

When I wake, I’m back in Alex’s arms. The sun is just rising, and the warmth of his embrace feels comforting and safe. But Alex’s expression is a storm of fury. His eyes, usually warm and kind, are now a blazing, fierce shade of gold.

“You let him bite you?” Alex growls, his voice a mix of anger and hurt. “Do you have any idea what that means?”

I’m confused and frightened, not fully understanding the gravity of the situation. But before Alex can explain further, the door bursts open, revealing a group of werewolves. They’re imposing and intimidating, and their presence makes the air feel heavy with tension.

“Alex, what’s going on?” I ask, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden shift in my reality.

Alex’s eyes soften slightly as he looks at me. “I should have told you earlier,” he says, his voice strained. “I’m an alpha werewolf, and this is my pack. I wanted to protect you from this world, but now you’re caught in the middle.”

The pack members’ reactions are mixed. Most are wary or outright hostile, but there’s one girl—Luna—who looks at me with understanding and a hint of admiration.

“Hey,” she says softly, approaching me. “I know this is a lot to take in. I’m here if you need someone to talk to.”

Luna becomes a surprising ally, helping me navigate the complexities of Alex’s world. The pack is wary of me, but with Luna’s help, I start to fit in, slowly earning their trust.

One day, Edward shows up again, this time under less dramatic circumstances. He has a mischievous glint in his eye as he offers me a potion. “It’s a bit of fun,” he says, his tone light. “Just drink it, and let’s see where it takes us.”

I take a sip, feeling a slight tingle as the potion takes effect. The world around me seems to swirl, and I find myself laughing uncontrollably. The effect is harmless but leaves me feeling disoriented in a charming, playful way. Edward’s laughter is contagious, and despite the complications, I enjoy the lightheartedness of the moment.

Later, as the full moon rises, Alex transforms into his wolf form. I climb onto his back, the sensation of riding a powerful, majestic creature exhilarating. The night is alive with magic and energy, and I’m swept up in the thrill of it all.

Edward, who is very tall and strikingly attractive, watches from a distance. Despite the tension, I can’t deny the allure of his presence. The dynamic between us creates a complicated triangle of emotions and desires.

As the moonlight bathes us in its glow, Edward and I embark on another adventure. He takes me to a different dimension, a place where fantasy and reality blur. The new world is a dazzling mix of colors and wonders, and I’m entranced by the experience.

Throughout this journey, I’m faced with choices and dilemmas, torn between the safety and passion of my life with Alex and the excitement and allure of Edward. The love triangle grows more intense, with each day bringing new challenges and revelations.

Ultimately, the story of our lives becomes a complex tapestry of love, adventure, and self-discovery. Each moment is filled with the highs and lows of teenage romance, set against a backdrop of supernatural intrigue and fantasy. As I navigate this tangled web of emotions and relationships, I’m left to wonder where my heart truly belongs and how my story will unfold.

[secretmellowblog]

@pilferingapples Boulatruelle is the most underrated Les mis character and he did NOTHING wrong! At least That’s my Boulatruelle Fan Theory #BoulatruelleFansRiseUp.

(Ok I’m joking. But still.)

OK SO (for people who haven’t read Les mis in a bit.) Boulatruelle is a minor character who is an ex-convict, like Valjean. He sorta represents what might’ve happened to Valjean if Valjean hadn’t gotten Myriel’ed/committed identity fraud.

Boulatruelle works as a road-mender outside Montfermil, getting paid starvation wages. When we first see him we’re not (iirc) explicitly told if he’s done anything criminal since leaving prison but— like Valjean in Digne— everyone in town already hates him for being an ex-convict. It doesn’t matter if he’s “guilty” or not, they’d hate him either way. And also like Valjean in Digne, Boulatruelle is overly submissive/deferential to all the bigoted people around him because he has to be in order to survive. The threat of being returned to prison is always hanging over him.

He was subjected to certain police supervision, and, as he could find work nowhere, the administration employed him at reduced rates as a road-mender on the crossroad from Gagny to Lagny. This Boulatruelle was a man who was viewed with disfavor by the inhabitants of the district as too respectful, too humble, too prompt in removing his cap to every one, and trembling and smiling in the presence of the gendarmes,—probably affiliated to robber bands, they said; suspected of lying in ambush at verge of copses at nightfall. The only thing in his favor was that he was a drunkard.

When Valjean buries his money in the woods, Boulatrelle attempts to figure out where he’s hidden it. Which yeah, i guess it sucks he’s trying to steal or whatever, but hey he’s having a rough time. And stealing things from a saintly dude worked out for Valjean so

But here’s the thing— Boulatruelle KNOWs Valjean! He recognizes him from Toulon! We’re told he’s a “comrade from the galleys” and recognizes him in sight! He could give away Valjean’s identity!

People in the town—especially Thenardier— begin to get suspicious about Boulatruelle digging in the woods. They realize he must’ve seen someone bury money there and attempt to get the information out of him .

And because he’s a “drunkard”— or really, an alcoholic— Thenardier decides the best way to manipulate him is by getting him drunk. This is explicitly compared to another person’s suggestion that they torture the information out of him:

One evening the schoolmaster affirmed that in former times the law would have instituted an inquiry as to what Boulatruelle did in the forest, and that the latter would have been forced to speak, and that he would have been put to the torture in case of need, and that Boulatruelle would not have resisted the water test, for example. “Let us put him to the wine test,” said Thénardier.

But even with all that, Boulatruelle never gives up Valjean’s name. He stubbornly refuses. That makes it seem like…he really does have a conscience, at least at first?

Idk to me it seems that Boulatruelle starts out like Digne Valjean — but gets corrupted utterly as the story goes on. In his first chapter it’s implied he still can occasionally be driven by his conscience (not giving up Valjean’s name even under duress)…. but by the end of the book that’s sorta gone. We only get a couple very brief flashes of his life, but to me he seems like an alternate universe version of Valjean who wasn’t helped by the bishop, and instead was manipulated by someone who took advantage of how desperate and isolated he was.

The next time we see him is during the Gorbeau House ambush. It’s years later, and he is now part of Thenardier’s gang. That’s depressing but it makes sense— he made so little as a road-mender, everyone hated him, and if he was attempting to live even Somewhat “honestly” it wasn’t working. In that intro chapter scene with we’re shown that Boulatruelle is surrounded by people who want to send him back to prison and have him tortured— but Thenardier acts like his “friend” and easily manipulates him with alcohol.

But like …during the Gorbeau house ambush it sorta looks like Boulatruelle’s heart isn’t in it?

Boulatruelle is so drunk he barely knows what’s going on. (Which again, feels related to the earlier scene where Thenardier manipulates Boulatrelle to keep drinking more than he should in order to make him behave the way he wants.)

At the trampling which ensued, the other ruffians rushed up from the corridor. (Boulatrelle), who seemed under the influence of wine, descended from the pallet and came reeling up, with a stone-breaker’s hammer in his hand.

Iirc he makes no indication that he recognizes Valjean—hmmm— but is very easily defeated after receives a punch in the face from Valjean when Valjean is trying to escape, and is knocked out/sleeps through the rest of the ambush. Again it sorta feels like he doesn’t particularly care about any of it.

That’s unlucky for Thenardier because again, he’s the only dude there who could’ve told him who Valjean actually was. Idk it’s funny that if Thenardier had set basic rules like “don’t show up to the important ambush blackout drunk” he might’ve actually had an upper hand against Valjean— if Boulatruelle had been willing to share his knowledge this time, anyway.

(There’s also a line in a later chapter where he says “this prowler of patron-Minette has his reasons,” while talking about how he needs to find out where Valjean has hidden his money. I’m not sure if that line is referring to himself as the “prowler,” Or if it’s meant to imply he knew Valjean was the one Patron-Minette had ambushed and just hadn’t told anyone.)

(AND SIDE NOTE: we all talk about how Valjean is paranoid about the police in the Gorbeau House scene, but I’m just realizing he must’ve been so paranoid about Boulatruelle too?? Because in the chapter where Boulatruelle talks about him he makes it sounds like Valjean would also recognize HIM on sight. I think it’s also interesting that when Valjean is trying to escape by force in the first couple minutes, Boulatruelle is the only one he knocks out. It feels deliberate. Sure; Boulatrelle is so drunk he just kinda falls asleep after being punched. But it’s also not hard to see why Valjean would be especially afraid of him.)

But yeah Boulatruelle literally sleeps through the whole ambush! He’s like, the Anti-Grantaire. Drunkenly sleeping through the big event because he genuinely doesn’t care. He’s not being actively evil as much as he’s letting himself get dragged along.

He’s also the Anti-Grantaire in that, when all his allies get punished by authority, he’s spared punishment because he drunkenly slept through the whole thing. He doesn’t wake up to stand by them and accept punishment by their side, he’s totally cool with not going to prison while they do.

In the meanwhile, the agents had caught sight of the drunken man asleep behind the door, and were shaking him:—

He awoke, stammering:—

“Is it all over, Jondrette?”

I wonder if the weird barricade parallels are another relic of that earlier draft of the book where Patron-Minette were a bigger thing.

…and Interestingly, it’s only after the rest of Patron-Minette gets arrested that Boulatruelle seems to really become fully corrupted?

The last we see of him is a callback to his first chapter. He’s no longer with Patron-Minette or Thenardier— they were arrested and he was not— so he’s alone and a road-mender again.

Only now, everything is Even Worse? Hes no longer described as trembling and smiling and deferential, but as openly breaking things and robbing people. We’re no longer told that bigoted townspeople assume he’s robbing people with no proof other than “he’s an ex-con,” we’re told that he IS robbing people openly at every opportunity. We’re told that he drinks even more than he used to. The first time Boulatrelle saw Valjean (in his first chapter) he had considered following him, but later refuses to reveal his identity; this time, he follows Valjean with a weapon and an intent to kill.

…..however i do admit there is a possibility I’m overthinking this. XD I’ve mentioned before that I feel like the side Patron-Minette characters are often the weakest part of the book, and feel like relics from early drafts (because they are.) It’d be incomplete to talk about Boulatruelle without admitting that his alcoholism/state of constant drunkenness is often played for comedy. His final scene where he discovers Valjean has dug up his money, and angrily shrieks that he’s a Thief, is also played for comedy. There’s something really interesting about the way he’s set up as a foil for Valjean, but if I’m being honest I don’t think Hugo follows through on it completely.

It’s like he’s set up as a character foil for Valjean, a “what if Valjean had fallen in with Thenardier instead of Myriel” —but yeah while I do think that’s there, I also think Hugo doesn’t seem as interested in exploring that idea as I am XD. Like a lot of the side members of Patron Minette, Boulatruelle feels a bit incomplete.

But there’s really a lot of potential in a character who represents the Corruption Arc Valjean might’ve had without the bishop? To me it seems like Boulatruelle first chapter focuses on the tragedy of being newly released from prison in ways that pretty explicitly echo Valjean’s — the way he’s isolated, a victim of bigotry and all these systemic barriers, “trembling and smiling” in the presence of the police. But in Boulatrelle’s case all the bigoted things the townspeople say about him in his introduction end up being true— he does end up affiliated with “robber bands,” he does plan to ambush Valjean in a dark forest at night. And I feel like it’s in large part as a result of falling in with Thenardier as a “friend.”

Idk I feel like the point is supposed what Valjean says earlier— “there are no bad plants and no bad men; there are only bad cultivators.” Boulatrelle ended up kinda sucking as a person, but he didn’t have to.

I sorta wish he managed to attempt to rob Valjean that first time, because Valjean might have been to Boulatruelle what the bishop was to him? And In AU where he redeemed himself it would be Good for Valjean to develop some kind of healthy friendship with someone who was dealing with the same “ex-con” struggles as him? Maybe the reason I stan Boulatruelle is because Valjean needs a friend and I want him to be redeemed for Valjean’s sake? And anyway that’s my fixit fic, thank you for reading XD.

[bit-dodgy-innit]

Ballroom Blitz, Part Two

Read PART ONE 

Summary: Things. Are. Happening!! Moon Knight and Sigyn get some action in, both in the restrooms of Buckingham Palace and through fighting Loki. 

Basically, Sigyn brings the Moon Knight to a classy function at Buckingham Palace, and all hell breaks loose. A continuation of the SCARED TO BE LONELY verse! 

Rating: Explicit, Minors DNI! 

Pairing: Marc x Fem!OC, Steven x Fem!OC, Jake x Fem!OC, past Loki x Fem!OC, past Marc x Layla

Word Count: 4.7k 

TW/CW: Angst, oral sex (m receiving), a co-conscious blowjob, dirty talk, Steven loves boobies, face-fucking, cum-eating, violence, mentions of blood, also I don’t have DID so forgive me if I described a system sharing an intimate moment inaccurately! 

A/N: Okayyyy can we tell I hate trying to translate fight scenes from my mind onto the page given how long it’s taken me to finish this? 😅 Thanks for y’all’s patience, pumped for everyone to read and now we can get to 500 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION TIME!!! As usual, translations for Jake’s Spanish below!

The photos went by in blur, primarily because Sigyn was preoccupied with Jake’s impression of Marc, which consisted of him frowning the entire time and grunting in lieu of speaking whenever anyone addressed him. Thankfully, Thor and Valkyrie were none the wiser. 

Sigyn tried to apologize once they’d completed their official duties. “I am deeply sorry for what I said earlier.” 

“Yo sé,” Jake replied, “I get it.” 

 “Will Marc allow me to make amends?” 

“He knows you’re sorry.” Jake’s face was impassive. “He’s not ready yet to speak to you yet.”

She accepted his words with a nod. “Will Steven?”

His face softened and then Steven’s voice spoke “I appreciate you apologizing.” 

Breaking her own self-imposed rule, Sigyn pressed her lips against Steven’s tenderly. “Thank you. The remark came from an ugly, jealous part of me, a part that I'm not proud of. If you’d like to talk to her, I understand.” 

“Later,” he told the princess. “After everything that’s already happened tonight, I just want to enjoy the fact I’m in bloody Buckingham Palace at the moment.” 

“And I for one, am very happy you are.”  

They ambled back toward the ballroom, taking their time to explore the mostly empty halls of the royal residence, commenting on the different paintings and decor that adorned its towering walls. 

“You know, the palace began as a small residence for Queen Charlotte in the late eighteenth century,” Steven briefed the Asgardian as they strolled down a deserted corridor. Sigyn listened with a besotted grin. “It wasn’t until 1837 after a bunch of renovations that a monarch started living here full-time–”

The princess interrupted with a crushing kiss, one that soon escalated into Sigyn clutching at Steven’s lapels and pushing him against a wall.

“Blimey,” Steven panted when they broke apart. 

“Sorry…you dressed like this, it’s impossible to resist.” Sigyn yearned. 

“You’re one to talk,” Steven muttered, “you look like an old film star.” 

“I have no idea what that is, but I hope it’s a good thing.” 

Steven chuckled. “That’s right, I forgot you’re not familiar with…wuh-what are you doing?”

The Asgardian now tugged him away from the ballroom. Steven was flummoxed further when it seemed they were heading toward the loos.

“You go into a stall and I’ll meet you inside,” she instructed him when they reached the door to the men’s room. 

“Won’t they see you?” he asked, keeping his volume low. Sigyn shook her head and winked. 

Oh, she was going to magic herself inside, Steven realized. 

Obviously she wants to fuck, Jake piped in from the headspace, Tonto. 

“Right, okay,” the British alter stuttered, blindly searching for the door to the men’s room. “See you in a moment then.”

Sigyn bit her lip and nodded, watching Steven disappear fondly. Once he’d passed through the threshold, Sigyn tucked herself out of view into an alcove across from the restrooms and vanished. 

It took more concentration and drained Sigyn slightly more to channel her magic to sense exactly where Steven was in the restroom, but it was well-worth it when she materialized in the small, but roomy by most standards, enclosed stall he waited for her in. But it wasn’t Steven who met her. 

“Hola,” Jake rumbled into her ear as soon as she appeared and pulled Sigyn into his arms. 

She sighed. Leave it to Jake to butt in. “Is he okay with this?” 

“Si,” he confirmed, “we’re going to share.”

“For once,” Sigyn added under her breath. 

“Que?” Jake had heard her. 

“Nothing Papi,” The Asgardian deflected as she lowered herself to the ground. 

Jake was all too happy to let the jab go with Sigyn on her knees for him. “What do you have in mind, nena?” 

“Well, I think you look good enough to eat,” Sigyn lilted. She made short work of his fly, then separated the flaps of his pants. “So that’s exactly what I am going to do.” 

“Bloody hell,” Steven whispered. Sigyn had grown accustomed to her lovers switching while on a mission, but they’d never done it during sex. It sent a hot little shiver down the princess’s spine. “C-can I make a request?”

“Sure, darling,” the princess murmured in between her mouthing at Steven’s rapidly hardening cock through his briefs. 

“Will you, um…ohhh…you don’t have to get totally…ugh, that feels so good love, you don’t have to, but could you…” Steven struggled to get his words out since Sigyn had fished his length out of his boxers and was stroking him. He focused and made his ask in one breath. “Couldyouletmeseeyourtits?

Sigyn flicked her gaze to Steven’s eyes from his groin to send him an enticing grin then acquiesced, momentarily taking her hands off his dick to pull down the straps of her dress and expose herself. 

The sight of her naked breasts prompted Jake to push to the front. “Me encantan tus tetas, cariño.”

“Have you even let him get a glimpse?” Sigyn inquired, hesitating to resume her ministrations until she got an answer. 

“Oh yes, and they’re as gorgeous as ever,” Steven answered. 

Satisfied, Sigyn wrapped a hand around her lovers’ cock and leaned in. She began by giving the tip an open mouthed kiss, then swirling her tongue around the head which was now flushed a deep red and leaking precum. The princess relished the salty taste of him, continuing until she received a whimper from Steven before taking more of him into her mouth. 

A hand placed itself on the back of the Asgardian’s head to push her further down, but Sigyn slithered out of his grasp. She looked up at Jake, because it was obviously Jake, with burning eyes and a low warning, “If you muss up my hair there will be hell to pay.” 

“Can’t you fix it with magic?” he countered. 

“I could, but my magic is not an infinite resource,” she explained. “And until now, I had chosen to direct it so I can take your cock into my mouth, but if you’d rather–” 

“Bien, lo siento princesa,” Jake surrendered. “Más, por favor? Necesito tu boca.”

When her lover gazed down at her it was Steven again. “Don’t listen to him love, he’s being a git.” 

The princess sent him a smirk and picked up where she left off, clasping her hand around the base of his member once more and easing the rest into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth. Sigyn moaned around Steven, the vibrations on his cock delivering a shudder that he felt from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. 

She then began bobbing her head steadily, fellating his length with practied ease, leaving her lover to enjoy the sight of her plump lips around his dick and Sigyn’s naked tits on full display. 

Steven had been trying to keep his sounds to a minimum, though he was getting a blowjob from an Asgardian goddess in Buckingham Palace of all places, but Sigyn had began to twist her hand that was secure around the base of him while she licked long stripes around his dick. 

“AH!” he yelped. 

Jake took over, knowing he could keep them quiet and plus, he wanted to feel Sigyn’s mouth for himself. Though he and Steven were sharing their consciousness, sensations were dulled unless one was in the front, and the Asgardian choking on his cock never disappointed. 

“Mírate, tan bueno para mí, princesa,” Jake rasped, “Trabajando esa boca sobre mi polla dura.”

His naughty words elicited another moan from Sigyn. The return of the vibrations around his member prompted Jake to thrust into the princess’s mouth. He stopped himself, looking down to Sigyn, his question Can I? clear in dark, lust-filled eyes. She nodded, her mouth still full of dick, giving Jake the permission he needed to fuck her there. 

He didn’t waste a second, pistoning his hips into the warm suction with an athletic fluidity. The urge to touch herself was becoming harder to deny for Sigyn, but getting her hand up her long skirt or making the satin disappear altogether was proving to be too much effort as Jake drove himself between her lips. 

Instead, the Asgardian rubbed her thighs together for some relief and fondled her own breasts. Knowing that the sight of her thumbing and pinching her own nipples would also drive Steven absolutely mad convinced Sigyn to do it. 

“Fuuuuuuuck,” came the drawn-out groan from Steven. “You’re a revelation, love, so beautiful and sexy.” 

Jake forced a quick switch so he could goad her further, “Sí, juega con esas tetas para mí. Vas a hacer que nos corramos.” 

Sigyn moved her hands at the mention of them coming, she took one of her lovers’ thick ass cheeks in her hands and pushed their cock in deeper. The Asgardian controlled the pace and depth of their thrusts, before holding them in place so their dick was halfway down her throat, and swallowed around the thick appendage. 

Steven, well at least the princess thought it was Steven, orgasmed with an unabashed shout. His hot cum spurted straight down Sigyn’s throat, and as hard as she tried, she couldn’t swallow without coughing a little. 

Next thing she knew, a pair of large, gentle hands were helping her to her feet. Sigyn only needed to look into those eyes for a second to know who it was. He brought his lips to hers, pouring all of his satisfaction and gratitude into the kiss they shared. 

When at last they broke apart, Steven dotted more presses of his lips down the column of her neck, making sure to scatter kisses all over the tops of Sigyn’s tits while he held them in his hands. “What do you need, love?” 

“I’m alright for now,” she assured him. 

Steven pulled away to look at his lover and make sure he was hearing correctly. She chuckled softly at his expression then continued in a whisper. “We should be getting back. You can make it up to me later, however. I want your mouth on me.” 

Despite just having come, Steven’s cock tried to harden once again. He drew Sigyn toward him and rumbled, “Your wish is my command.” 

“I’ll see you back in the ballroom,” she told him. The pair exchanged one last parting kiss before the Asgardian’s form dissolved into a cloud of golden dust. 

Jake shattered his alter’s post-climax bliss when he chimed in, We should put our cock away, don’t you think, hombre? 

***

Sigyn materialized in a stall in the women’s restrooms. After the beat she required to catch her breath and readjust her gown, she discreetly exited the small cubicle, banking on the assumption that everyone would be too drunk or self-involved to realize they hadn’t seen her enter. 

The princess strolled to the large mirrors adorning the marble walls of the bathroom. While she checked to make sure her lipstick wasn’t too smudged or her updo ruined, Layla emerged from one of the stalls. Sigyn froze as the Midgardian joined her at the sinks, unsure of how to proceed. It seemed rude to leave without acknowledging her, but the Asgardian hadn't the faintest idea of what to say. 

“Oh. I didn’t realize you were in here,” Layla remarked while she washed her hands. 

“I slipped in a moment ago,” she replied, providing her with an explanation that wasn’t altogether untrue. Sigyn wracked her brain while Layla primped a bit in the mirror. She was truly a beautiful woman. It would have been one thing if Marc had married some homely childhood sweetheart, but Layla was exquisite. She could easily pass for a goddess herself, which was why the princess had been, and still was, so envious of Marc’s ex-wife. 

Sigyn tried to suppress her inner green-eyed monster. At the very least, she owed it to Marc to make an effort to be civil. So, the princess defaulted to what on Asgard was always a safe topic with her femme peers. “I don’t believe I said it earlier, but I love your ensemble. It suits you perfectly. 

“Thank you,” said Layla in return. 

When she didn’t say anything more or return the compliment, Sigyn decided to cut her losses and leave. She needed to touch base with Thor and Valkyrie anyway. 

“You know, I never thought he’d go for a blonde.”

 Layla’s voice stopped the Asgardian in her tracks. 

“Well, if there’s anything I’ve learned about Marc, it’s that he’s full of surprises.” Sigyn effaced. 

“Has he told you anything about me? About us?” Sigyn recognized Layla's tone. It caused a pit of sadness to twist her stomach. The woman was obviously still in love with Marc, and he made it clear earlier that he wasn’t completely over her either. 

Where did that leave Sigyn? She didn’t think she loved Loki anymore, her one condition for going back to him being if the fate of the multiverse and innocent lives were at stake. The Asgardian couldn’t help but feel like she was playing a losing game with Marc, but decided to treat Layla as she’d hoped the Egyptian would treat her if their roles were reversed, since it seemed like they could be at any moment. 

“Who, Marc?” Sigyn clarified as she turned around. “Barely a word. Just that you were married. Steven however, has shared a little.” 

“So you’ve met them both,” she noted. Her face was impossible to read. 

Sigyn nodded, clocking her referral to the system as “both”. She didn’t correct Layla, it wasn’t her place to inform her about Jake. “Layla, for what it’s worth, you’re irreplaceable to him.” 

“Please don’t patronize me.” The hurt in her eyes made Sigyn’s heart ache. She knew it too well.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” the princess professed. “It's the truth. And I respect that.” 

“Well that’s a relief, I guess.” The bitterness in her tone betrayed that she wasn’t relieved in the slightest. “After all, I can’t compete with a goddess.”

“You sell yourself short,” Sigyn disagreed, “not to mention you’re not being entirely forthright. I can sense the divinity within you. You’re still in the service of Taweret, then?”

“Only when she needs me,” Layla explained. “Not like they are.”

“I should hope not. Khonshu is a menace.” 

“You’ve met him too.” 

“Once,” she neglected to include any more details. “I cannot say I’m fond of him.” 

“What are you two doing?” Layla opted for directness, tired of the thinly veiled niceties. “Marc isn’t a kept man, so I know it’s something more. More than sleeping together, that is. ” 

Sigyn chose to ignore the perfectly aimed barb Layla pitched at her. “He’s helping me find Loki.”

“And what qualifies you to do that?”

“I’m his estranged wife.”

The revelation silenced Layla. Until she remembered a moment later, “But he’s dead.” 

“In this universe, yes,” the Asgardian concurred, “but in mine, he’s very much alive, and is currently aiding in the effort to rid the multiverse of every god.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Layla objected. “He’s a god himself.” 

“The god of mischief and chaos, infamous for betraying even his closest allies,” Sigyn continued, “Loki and Gorr are playing each other, both confident they’ll be the one to double-cross the other first. If it is indeed Loki who does, he’ll be the only deity left, and he’ll be considered all-powerful. I need to stop him before that happens, seeing as they’ve already left a trail of destruction in their wake.” 

Layla processed the information as quickly as she could. “And why does Gorr want all gods to die?”

“He was scorned by one, we’ve gathered,” the princess answered. “He lost a loved one, found the Necrosword – a blade that can kill a god – and has been seeking his retribution since.” 

“I need to warn Taweret,” she concluded. 

“We were hoping not to rouse widespread fear and panic just yet, but I won’t stop you from telling her.” 

Layla had more questions. “Does Khonshu know?”

“Yes.” 

“I’m sure he hates that you’re working with them,” Layla presumed with a bitter laugh. 

“Why would you think that?”

“Because he hated me. He hated anything that distracted his avatar from his almighty bidding,” Layla explained, a mocking tone dripping from the last two words of her answer. Then the mortal woman changed course, “Is that why your party insisted on speaking to the Wakandans alone? “

Before Sigyn could confirm, a loud crash reverberated from of the bathroom, followed by a chorus of distressed cries. 

The two women shared a concerned, knowing look with each other, then raced out of the loo. Their forms shimmered, their respective armors enveloping them, as Sigyn and Layla sprinted back to the ballroom. 

Layla took flight and the most Sigyn could make out when she returned was a fallen chandelier and a scattering crowd before a pair of hands grasped her shoulders. 

“You’re both here,” the suit her lover wore identified him as Marc. His hood evaporated to reveal his face. “And you’re ok, thank God.” 

Green bolts of light flew past Sigyn and Marc, but the princess had more urgent concerns. “How angry are you at me?”

“There’s more happening right now than us,” Marc chose to focus on the matter at hand. 

“Oh please,” Sigyn scoffed, appearing nonplussed at the chaos unfolding around her.  “These are just his usual theatrics.”

“His usual theatrics?” Marc repeated incredulously. “Sigyn, you’ve got to make him stop.” 

The goddess agreed. So, she stomped her foot and yelled at the top of her lungs “LOKI!!! STOP!!!!”

It was a simple move, but an effective one. Loki's onslaught ceased and the estranged couple zeroed in on one another across the ballroom.

Loki towered at the top of the staircase. He looked worse for wear, the bags so deep under his wild, icy eyes they could pass as bruises, his long hair disheveled. There seemed to be no color left in his face, the entirety of his complexion a wan, pallid hue. Sigyn couldn’t stop the wifely pang of concern that bubbled up at the sight of him. 

“Ah. There you are,” he remarked with utmost nonchalance. Loki began his descent down the grand staircase with the grace of a large cat. He may have looked like shit, but the god appeared to retain his smooth gait and carriage.  

Sigyn had to keep him talking to give Layla, Valkyrie and the Wakandans time to usher everyone away from the wreckage. Marc and Thor stood sentinel behind Sigyn on either side of her. She threw her arms wide and responded “Indeed, here I am. And I was having an excellent time until you arrived.” 

“Now pet, is that any way to greet your husband?” He inquired as he crossed the ballroom. Ugh, he knew she hated when he called her “pet”. 

Loki caught sight of Marc and his features pulled into a scowl. “Pity. If you’d kept your legs shut, I would’ve made you my queen.”

“Now that’s one of your bolder fictions,” Sigyn parried as if critiquing him. She had to keep him talking. “Your jealousy is as plain as the nose on your face.”

“Gods do not get jealous.”

“That may be true, but sad little boys from Asgard certainly do.” 

“And what of sad little girls, hm?” Loki shot back. “Did my departure upset you so that you sought comfort in that broken excuse for a Midgardian?”

Sigyn extinguished the flame of anger the insult ignited before it could consume her. Instead, she blew an unprincess-like raspberry with her lips. “Ha! Because you’re the picture of soundness of mind.”

“You two were ridiculously easy to evade, you know. It was quite pathetic, really.” 

Marc lurched, making an imperceptible start forward, he wanted to deal with the mad Asgardian himself but Khonshu weighed in, That would not be a wise move, Marc Spector. This is a matter between two spouses currently. 

He wasn’t particularly interested in what they had to say, especially after Khonshu’s marionette act and untoward advance toward Sigyn earlier. So Marc glanced to his side to confer with Thor. It was when the god of thunder gave him a little shake of the head -- non-verbally telling him to stand down– did Marc stay put. 

“Then why did you come?” Sigyn demanded. 

“Convenience,” he answered simply. “I figured I could raze the Egyptian pantheon as well as the man who dared defile my wife.” 

“I am no longer your wife. You left me, without so much as a goodbye or an explanation to wreak untold havoc on innocents. Our ill-conceived union, for all intents and purposes, is over.”

“Did you ever consider that my actions were to protect you? Us? Asgard?”

Sigyn looked him straight in the eye and answered truthfully. “No. Because your selfishness knows no bounds.”

“You truly want me to tear your little toy limb from limb, don’t you?” He asked. His gaze flicked to where Marc stood, resembling a caged animal waiting to pounce. 

“You’ll have to go through me first,” she challenged him. 

Loki balked at her threat. “You?! I’m the one who taught you magic and how to fight for Valhalla’s sake!” 

“Theoric and my brothers taught me to fight,” she corrected him, refusing to cower when he arrived where she stood, “and your mother taught me the magic you refused to when you feared it would make me too powerful.”  

“Lies,” he spat at her. Bringing Frigga in was a low blow, but it was the truth. 

Now that the ballroom was cleared, it was time for Sigyn to pivot. She’d distracted him, now she needed to make Loki so angry he’d attack without a strategy. Mentioning her mother-in-law was the most effective topic, though it pained the princess to do so. She adored Frigga. 

“You know I’m not lying,” Sigyn continued in a low, measured voice. “How does it feel darling, to know that deep down she didn’t trust you? That you realized her worst fears and utterly devastated her when you joined Gorr’s cause? And you believe you weren’t given the throne because we haven’t had a child yet? It’s absolutely mad–”

She wasn’t able to finish her rebuke, Loki lunged at her. Sigyn knew to expect it, but the flash of movement sprung Thor and Marc into action all the same. Layla, Valkyrie and the Wakandans were hot on their heels. 

He may have only been one man, but Loki was a formidable opponent. Beyond his skill in hand-to-hand combat, he was the most advanced sorcerer Asgard had seen in a millennia. The god duplicated himself several times over to confuse his adversaries. Even though Sigyn knew this move of his well, it angered her when she’d go to strike Loki, only for his form to shimmer away. 

To make matters worse, his daggers were now tipped with the black tar of the Necrosword which meant that the coalition had not only a mad god to deal with, but a hoard of dark, shifting nightmarish creatures. Marc was impressed with Sigyn’s prowess as a warrior, however. She was more than able to hold her own in a fight, slicing through the copies of Loki and shadow-monsters with her signature grace and agility. 

Speaking of grace and agility, Marc was shaken from his observation of the pandemonium around him when Layla zoomed past him. He snapped back to the scrum and found himself face-to-face with Loki, the blow the god landed across his cheek confirming it was him and not an illusion. 

“You,” Loki fumed. 

The Midgardian knew he could take him, but Loki’s anger had unhinged him. He rained his fury down on Marc, and despite the suit and his aptitude in a fight, Loki prostrated him in a headlock and with a blade to his throat. 

“Death at my hand is more than you deserve,” the god snarled into Marc’s ear. He could feel Jake trying to push to the front, but Marc held him at bay for the time being. This was personal between him and Loki. “I’m going to make you regret the day your bitch mother whelped you into this dismal world of yours.”

Layla caught sight of what was happening, and raced toward the pair without hesitation. Loki responded by conjuring more creatures to impede her and pressed his blade closer to Marc’s throat. “Layla is ravishing though, and what fire. What they see in you I can’t fathom.”

If Marc couldn’t speak, he would’ve joked that he agreed. Or since Loki was being particularly dickish, suggest that the reason they preferred him was because he was a better lay. 

But no comeback was made, and the god resumed his threat while he watched Layla take down the shadows, “I’ll spare her, I think, make her a concubine. That’s only fair, hmm? Eye for an eye? Wife for a wife?” 

Threatening Layla unleashed Jake. He escaped out of Loki’s hold and began to pummel the god, the Midgardian’s anger now matching Loki’s. Layla joined to try and restrain him, hopefully putting an end to the chaos, but the two were interrupted by a screech that reverberated throughout the ballroom, “STOP!!” 

Sigyn had said it. Marc pushed to the front once more, and halted along with Layla. What was this, a moment of mercy? Were the centuries she’d been married to Loki getting the best of her?

“He’s mine,” she asserted lowly. 

Alright then, Steven chimed in. We’re not feeling so merciful after all. 

Sigyn stalked across the ballroom with her sword, a deceptively cloying smile on her lips. 

“The Midgardians have a phrase,” She began, breezing past Marc and Layla to where Loki stood, bloodied and brooding. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” The princess fixed her estranged husband with a wicked smirk. “I’m rather fond of it.” 

The Asgardian rained down her fury on her husband after that. Her limbs were a blur of movement and magic as she attacked Loki. The god parried and defended himself as best he could, but Marc suspected he was pulling his punches. After everything he’d done to her, Loki couldn’t bring himself to defeat Sigyn.

“How could you?!” The princess’s beating continued. “I stayed with you after you tricked me into marrying you, and this is what I get?! I can never go home now, you realize that? YOU’VE MADE ME THE LAUGHINGSTOCK OF ASGARD!” 

“Seeg-” Loki tried to respond but his wife punched him square in the jaw. 

“We were happy, weren’t we?” Sigyn’s hits were getting sloppy as her emotion overwhelmed her. “Weren’t we? Why wasn’t that enough for you?”

Tears blurred Sigyn’s vision, causing her to miss her target when she went to kick Loki. She’d flattened her husband out on the polished stone floor. Marc wanted to go to her, but Layla caught his wrist, cautioning him with her eyes about entering her space. 

It was Thor who approached her, he inched toward her slowly, as if walking across eggshells or to a skittish animal. Sigyn collapsed into his broad chest, sobs wracking her heaving form. In the meantime, the Wakandans swooped in and restrained Loki with enhanced handcuffs of Shuri’s design. 

“Sigyn,” Loki wheezed. She peeked out from her brother’s pecs. Once he knew he had her attention, the god gasped out, “I’m sorry.” 

As soon as he apologized however, Loki disappeared. The entire team lunged to try and stop him, but no one was fast enough. 

“Fuck!” Marc swore. 

“He shouldn’t have been able to do that,” Shuri was reeling at the failure of her tech. “We tested it and everything! Why on Earth–”

“That’s just it,” Sigyn interrupted her. “He’s not of earth, or this universe. Besides, you tested the cuffs on me, and I don’t have the same scope of power that he does.”

“There’s also the influence of the blade to consider,” Valkyrie added. 

“Are there any injuries?” Sigyn asked Nakia. 

“A few minor ones,” she replied. “Nothing serious.” 

“Good. Then perhaps all this wreckage wasn’t for naught.” 

Layla couldn’t hold in her scoff of disbelief, “How do you figure?”

The princess looked down at her bloodied knuckles. She inhaled deeply to concentrate, holding one hand forward and waving its twin over the skin where her and Loki’s blood co-mingled. A golden screen of intricate swirls of dust bloomed from Sigyn’s efforts and a bead of sweat trickled down from her forehead. Clearly, this magic took much exertion on her part, especially after this evening’s events. 

Bloody hell, marveled Steven. Marc couldn’t help but agree. He examined the cloud that’d appeared above Sigyn’s hand, only needing ten or seconds to recognize that it was a map. 

“Because now we can follow him.” 

A/N: yay! we made it! Man this part of the fic has been giving me trouble for ages!! Hope everyone enjoyed! 

Taglist: @twwcs​, @starfirette​ @woofgocows​ 

Translations: 

Yo sé - I know 

Tonto - Fool/stupid 

Hola - Hello

Si - Yes 

Què - what

Nena - babe 

Me encantan tus tetas, cariño - I love your tits, honey 

Bien, lo siento princesa - Okay, I’m sorry princess 

Más, por favor? Necesito tu boca. - More please? I need your mouth. 

Mírate, tan bueno para mí, princesa - look at you, so good for me, princess 

Trabajando esa boca sobre mi polla dura - Working that mouth over my hard cock 

Sí, juega con esas tetas para mí. Vas a hacer que nos corramos - Yes, play with those tits for me. You’re going to make us come. 

[4e7her]

october writing prompt #14 - clothing swap

-

character: floyd and jade leech, twisted wonderland

(floyd focused but both appear)

contains: oc used as main character - not an x reader, slight yandere themes, male main character, azul mentioned

view the oc here. for basics, he's more or less a black panther beastman (referred to as hybrid, as they are different things, but similar) named yuujirou. you can read the fanfic i'm writing for him here (quotev) or here (ao3).

Yuujirou let out a rather... undignified yelp as Floyd tugged him into the water, hissing slightly at the feeling of his uniform getting drenched, resisting the urge to shake out like a dog as he instead glared at the eel.

"Whaaat? You weren't comin' in!" Floyd whined, wrapping around the panther with his mer-form, petulantly pouting. "I can squeeze ya so much better in here!"

Sighing, he rolled his eyes and pushed him away with ease, a soft growl rumbling through. He wasn't truly irritated - Floyd would have been out of his life much sooner, if he was - but that didn't mean that he enjoyed the feeling of rough fabric sticking to his skin.

"Yes, but... I was trying to ask you if you had swimming clothes of any sort that I could borrow. It's a bit late for that now, though..."

"Huh? Silly Yuuji, why would I need swim clothes?" The eel was rightfully confused, gesturing down at his form as he continued to circle around the hybrid playfully, still keeping his proper distance after being pushed away.

"Oh... yeah."

His tone was apparently sad enough to make Floyd to burst into laughter, shaking his head and darting around as he watched the panther flatten his ears with the hint of a flush high on his cheeks, adjusting the collar of his shirt uncomfortably.

"Eheh! You totally didn't realize, did you~?" He teased, inching closer once more, watching how Yuujirou reacted with a smirk on his face. "Silly kitty cat! Come on, let's play tag~! If you win, I'll let you borrow some of my clothes, m'kay? I'll even let you be it!"

The scene flips within mere seconds at that, Yuujirou's pupils suddenly shrinking into slits as a feral grin started to sneak onto his expression, the idea of the thrill of the hunt coaxing him into acting on the instincts that he suppressed most of the time.

Floyd giggled at his expression before quickly racing underwater, starting the chase.

-

The duo was always like this - causing trouble by feeding off of each other's more animalistic instincts, play fighting like this wherever they went.

Typically, the panther tried to be more aware of where this happened, but there had been more than one occasion where Jade had to break them apart in the middle of the hallways.

At least now, it was in a pretty okay location - the pool that also served as an aquarium in the Monstro Lounge. There would be some stares, but nothing that Azul and Jade wouldn't deal with.

He was sure it would be more amusing than anything else, anyways, watching someone with Floyd's reputation get chased by someone most didn't quite perceive as a threat yet. A mistake on their parts, not that they would know that.

It took only minutes for Yuujirou to catch the eel, much to both of their delights, and they both surfaced to get out with a giddy energy about them. If it wasn't for the lack of proper clothing, he thought that he might've been able to play like that all day - it was rather refreshing.

Jade was there waiting with an expression somewhere between fond and exasperated, poorly disguising a laugh when he saw just how soaked the hybrid was. "It's impressive that you caught Floyd that fast underwater, you know." He tries to compliment, seeing how he received a glare for his laughing.

"Panthers are known to drag out crocodiles out of the water whole when they're hunting." Yuujirou replied bluntly, satisfied to see the way that both of the eels shiver at the fact. "Dragging out a little eel was nothing."

"Ehhh? But you're smaller than me, Yuuji!" Floyd reminded, wrapping his arms around the panther with a grin despite his slight nerves with the fact brought up. "Look! Ya fit in my arms so cute, ehe~!"

Huffing, he rolled his eyes and shrugged the eel off of him, getting out of the water without another thought and taking the towel that Jade was offering out.

"Floyd, here." The more responsible twin handed off a potion to relieve the other of his mer-form, making it so he could continue with his day. The only reason that he let it wear off was because he wanted Yuujirou to see, and so they could play together. With that done, he didn't raise a fuss and took the potion without issue.

Besides, how would he be able to see how cute his Yuuji was in his clothes if he was still stuck in the water? That wouldn't be fun at all.

The hybrid had dried off his clothes as much as possible with the towel, now focusing on his hair and ears. He was gentle, with furrowed brows and a scrunched nose, trying his best to make sure there wouldn't be any water stuck in his ears before moving on to gingerly drying his tail.

"Okay, kitty, deal's a deal!" Floyd hummed, wrapping one arm around Yuujirou's shoulders, grinning happily when he heard the little grumbling chuff he gave at the nickname - anyone else would have been dead for the familiar term, and he knew it. "Wet clothes must feel reeeal nasty, huh? Lucky you, ya have me to let ya borrow some~!"

"You're the reason he has to change in the first place." Jade chided, keeping his twin from getting too overexcited, a familiar glint in his eyes as he observed the two of them. "If Floyd's clothes aren't to your taste, you can always borrow mine, Yuuji."

He took the other side of the panther, slithering his arm around his waist with a mischievous air, truly living up to his eel-mer origins.

Floyd tightened his grip slightly and leaned down to nudge his head against Yuujirou's neck, sending a pointed look Jade's way as he seemed to try and stake some sort of claim over him - not that the hybrid noticed, instead sighing and shaking his head.

"It's just something to wear back to Ramshackle, don't make such a big deal of it, you two." He hummed, a rumbling making it's way through his frame and calming the two eels clinging onto him.

"The Lounge is still open, isn't it?" He brought his gaze to Jade, regarding him attentively and smiling slightly when he noticed how he had been brought back to himself. "You should go back to help before the little octopus gets overwhelmed. You are his most competent worker, aren't you?"

It was almost funny how oblivious Yuujirou was, the full focus of Jade's intense gaze on him and he still didn't even realize how enamored the two eels were with him.

Of course, it brought back a new round of complaints from Floyd, whining and saying that he could be the best employee at Monstro Lounge if he wanted to, but that was silenced soon enough by reminding him of his wet clothes.

-

It wasn't long after when Yuujirou was situated in Floyd's room, studying the clothes he was given with a wrinkle to his expression. He hadn't expected them to be so... large.

Sure, it made sense, seeing how much of a height difference him and the eel had, but for some reason he hadn't even thought of it.

A long sigh drug it's way out of his lungs before he recollected himself, shrugging off his drenched clothes onto the towel from earlier so they wouldn't get wet, and getting into the eel's clothes that draped down and made him feel... unordinarily small.

The panther huffed a little, lightly rubbing his face against one of the sleeves to get rid of excess moisture from before, frown tugging down further when he realized just how much they smelled like Floyd.

Not to say that they smelled unpleasant, they actually smelled quite like the sea with something distinctly like the mer in question, but they weren't his.

Knocking on the door is the only thing that pulls him out of his thoughts, paired with Floyd's childish whining about him taking too long, and Yuujirou pushes his complaints away as he gathers the soaked clothes in his arms.

Safely protected by the towel covering them, he doesn't risk making Floyd's shirt anything more than damp, and he opens the door with lightly flattened ears - immediately getting bombarded by the eel.

"Yuujiiiii! You took so looong-" He cuts himself off when he sees the hybrid, giggling at the sight. "You look so tiny!"

He starts to form a response, but he's cut off by Floyd scooping him up in his arms, earning himself a short growl for the action. "I knew you were small, but I didn't know you were this itsy-bitsy! And now you smell just like me~!"

There's not even a chance to process that fully before the eel is running with him to the Monstro Lounge, still carrying him bridal style and excitedly showing off the growling disgruntled panther to everyone who so much as glanced at them, making a rather large commotion in a matter of moments.

Jade comes out, at some point, and upon seeing the duo just... walks over and shakes his head.

No words are spoken, but Floyd slowly puts down Yuujirou with a hopeful look in his eyes, remembering now that he probably... shouldn't have run full force into the Lounge and disturbed customers like that. Azul would likely be rather upset.

"But... look?" The hyperactive eel does some weird gesture, as if he's trying to show off Yuujirou, doing his best to convince Jade not to tell on him. "Small!"

It... seems to do something, though the panther can't say that he would describe it as anywhere near convincing.

"Yes, small." Jade sighs affectionately, taking a moment to regard Yuujirou before shaking his head and pulling his attention back to Floyd with a frown tugging at his lips. "Go escort him back to Ramshackle before his cubs come cause more of a fuss - I won't say anything unless Azul brings it up first.”

-

[click here to go to masterlist]

[testudoaubrei-blog]

Content note for discussions of eternal damnation, and all sorts of other shit that will trigger a lot of folks with religious trauma.

Before I get started I might as well explain where I’m coming from - unlike a lot of She-Ra fans, and a lot of queer people, I don’t have much religious trauma, or any, maybe (okay there were a number of years I was convinced I was going to hell, but that happens to everyone, right?). I was raised a liberal Christian by liberal Christian parents in the Episcopal Church, where most of my memories are overwhelmingly positive. Fuck, growing up in the 90’s, Chuch was probably the only place outside my home I didn’t have homophobia spewed at me. Because it was the 90’s and it was a fucking hellscape of bigotry where 5 year olds knew enough to taunt each other with homophobic slurs and the adults didn’t know enough to realize how fucked up that was. Anyway. This is my experience, but it is an atypical one, and I know it. Quite frankly I know that my experience of Christianity has very little at all to do with what most people experienced, or what people generally mean when they talk about Christianity as a cultural force in America today. So if you were raised Christian and you don’t recognize your theology here, congrats, neither do I, but these ideas and cultural forces are huge and powerful and dominant. And it’s this dominant Christian narrative that I’m referring to in this post. As well as, you know, a children’s cartoon about lesbian rainbow princesses. So here it goes. This is going to get batshit.

"All events whatsoever are governed by the secret counsel of God." - John Calvin

“We’re all just a bunch of wooly guys” - Noelle Stevenson

This is a post triggered by a single scene, and a single line. It’s one of the most fucked-up scenes in She-Ra, toward the end of Save the Cat. Catra, turned into a puppet by Prime, struggles with her chip, desperately trying to gain control of herself, so lost and scared and vulnerable that she flings aside her own death wish and her pride and tearfully begs Adora to rescue her. Adora reaches out , about to grab her, and then Prime takes control back, pronounces ‘disappointing’ and activates the kill switch that pitches Catra off the platform and to her death (and seriously, she dies here, guys - also Adora breaks both her legs in the fall). But before he does, he dismisses Catra with one of his most chilling lines. “Some creatures are meant only for destruction.”

And that’s when everyone watching probably had their heart broken a little bit, but some of the viewers raised in or around Christianity watching the same scene probably whispered ‘holy shit’ to themselves. Because Prime’s line - which works as a chilling and callous dismissal of Catra - is also an allusion to a passage from the Bible. In fact, it’s from one of the most fucked up passages in a book with more than its share of fucked up passages. It’s from Romans 9:22, and I’m going to quote several previous verses to give the context of the passage (if not the entire Epistle, which is more about who needs to abide by Jewish dietary restrictions but was used to construct a systematic theology in the centuries afterwards because people decided it was Eternal Truth).

19 Thou wilt say then unto me, Why doth he yet find fault? For who hath resisted his will?

20 Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus?

21 Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and another unto dishonour?

22 What if God, willing to shew his wrath, and to make his power known, endured with much longsuffering the vessels of wrath fitted to destruction:

The context of the allusion supports the context in the show. Prime is dismissing Catra - serial betrayer, liar, failed conqueror, former bloody-handed warlord - as worthless, as having always been worthless and fit only to be destroyed. He is speaking from a divine and authoritative perspective (because he really does think he’s God, more of this in my TL/DR Horde Prime thing). Prime is echoing not only his own haughty dismissal of Catra, and Shadow Weaver’s view of her, but also perhaps the viewer’s harshest assessment of her, and her own worst fears about herself. Catra was bad from the start, doomed to destroy and to be destroyed. A malformed pot, cracked in firing, destined to be shattered against a wall and have her shards classified by some future archaeologist 2,000 years later. And all that’s bad enough.

But the full historical and theological context of this passage shows the real depth of Noelle Stevenson’s passion and thought and care when writing this show. Noelle was raised in Evangelical or Fundamentalist Christianity. To my knowledge, he has never specified what sect or denomination, but in interviews and her memoir Noelle has shown a particular concern for questions that this passage raises, and a particular loathing for the strains of Protestant theology that take this passage and run with it - that is to say, Calvinism. So while I’m not sure if Noelle was raised as a conservative, Calvinist Presbyterian, his preoccupation with these questions mean that it’s time to talk about Calvinism.

It would be unfair, perhaps, to say that Calvinism is a systematic theology built entirely upon the Epistles of Romans and Galatians, but only -just- (and here my Catholic readers in particular will chuckle to themselves and lovingly stroke their favorite passage of the Epistle of James). The core of Calvinist Doctrine is often expressed by the very Dutch acronym TULIP:

Total Depravity - people are wholly evil, and incapable of good action or even willing good thoughts or deeds

Unconditional Election - God chooses some people to save because ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, not because they did anything to deserve, trigger or accept it

Limited Atonement - Jesus died only to save the people God chose to save, not the rest of us bastards

Irresistible Grace - God chooses some people to be saved - if you didn’t want to be saved, too bad, God said so.

Perseverance of the Saints - People often forget this one and assume it’s ‘predestination’ but it’s actually this - basically, once saved by God, always saved, and if it looks like someone falls out of grace, they were never saved to begin with. Well that’s all sealed up tight I guess.

Reading through these, predestination isn’t a single doctrine in Calvinism but the entire theological underpinnings of it together with humanity’s utter powerlessness before sin. Basically God has all agency, humanity has none. Calvinism (and a lot of early modern Protestantism) is obsessed with questions of how God saves people (grace alone, AKA Sola Fides) and who God saves (the people god elects and only the people God elects, and fuck everyone else).

It’s apparent that Noelle was really taken by these questions, and repelled by the answers he heard. He’s alluded to having a tattoo refuting the Gospel passage about Sheep and Goats being sorted at the end times, affirming instead that ‘we’re all just a bunch of wooly guys’ (you can see this goat tattoo in some of his self-portraits in comics, etc). He’s also mentioned that rejecting and subverting destiny is a huge part of everything he writes as a particular rejection of the idea that some individual people are 'chosen' by God or that God has a plan for any of us. You can see that -so clearly- in Adora’s arc, where Adora embraces and then rejects destiny time and again and finally learns to live life for herself.

But for Catra, we’re much more concerned about the most negative aspect of this - the idea that some people are vessels meant for destruction. And that’s something else that Noelle is preoccupied with. In her memoir in the section about leaving the church and becoming a humanistic atheist, there is a drawing of a pot and the question ‘Am I a vessel prepared for destruction?’ Obviously this was on Noelle’s mind (And this is before he came out to himself as queer!).

To look at how this question plays out in Catra’s entire arc, let’s first talk about how ideas of damnation and salvation actually play out in society. And for that I’m going to plug one of my favorite books, Gin Lun’s Damned Nation: Hell in America from the Revolution to Reconstruction (if you can tell by now, I am a fucking blast at parties). Lun tells the long and very interesting story about, how ideas of hell and who went there changed during the Early American Republic. One of the interesting developments that she talks about is how while at first people who were repelled by Calvinism started moving toward a doctrine of universal salvation (no on goes to hell, at least not forever*), eventually they decided that hell was fine as long as only the right kind of people went there. Mostly The Other - non-Christian foreigners, Catholics, Atheists, people who were sinners in ways that were not just bad but weird and violated Victorian ideas of respectability. Really, Hell became a way of othering people, and arguably that’s how it survives today, especially as a way to other queer people (but expanding this is slated for my Montero rant). Now while a lot of people were consciously rejecting Calvinist predestination, they were still drawing the distinction between the Elect (good, saved, worthwhile) and the everyone else (bad, damned, worthless). I would argue that secularized ideas of this survive to this day even among non-Christian spaces in our society - we like to draw lines between those who Elect, and those who aren’t.

And that’s what brings us back to Catra. Because Catra’s entire arc is a refutation of the idea that some people are worthless and irredeemable, either by nature, nurture or their own actions. Catra’s actions strain the conventions of who is sympathetic in a Kid’s cartoon - I’ve half joked that she’s Walter White as a cat girl, and it’s only half a joke. She’s cruel, self-deluded, she spends 4 seasons refusing to take responsibility for anything she does and until Season 5 she just about always chooses the thing that does the most damage to herself and others. As I mentioned in my Catra rant, the show goes out of its way to demonstrate that Catra is morally culpable in every step of her descent into evil (except maybe her break with reality just before she pulls the lever). The way that Catra personally betrays everyone around her, the way she strips herself of all of her better qualities and most of what makes her human, hell even her costume changes would signal in any other show that she’s irredeemable.

It’s tempting to see this as Noelle’s version of being edgy - pushing the boundaries of what a sympathetic character is, throwing out antiheroics in favor of just making the villain a protagonist. Noelle isn’t quite Alex ‘I am in the business of traumatizing children’ Hirsch, who seems to have viewed his job as pushing the bounds of what you could show on the Disney Channel (I saw Gravity Falls as an adult and a bunch of that shit lives rent free in my nightmares forever), but Noelle has his own dark side, mostly thematically. The show’s willingness to deal with abuse, and messed up religious themes, and volatile, passionate, not particularly healthy relationships feels pretty daring. I’m not joking when I gleefully recommend this show to friends as ‘a couple from a Mountain Goats Song fights for four seasons in a cartoon intended for 9 year olds’. Noelle is in his own way pushing the boundaries of what a kids show can do. If you read Noelle’s other works like Nimona, you see an argument for Noelle being at least a bit edgy. Nimona is also angry, gleefully destructive, violent and spiteful - not unlike Catra. Given that it was a 2010s webcomic and not a kids show, Nimona is a good deal worse than Catra in some ways - Catra doesn’t kill people on screen, while Nimona laughs about it (that was just like, a webcomic thing - one of the fan favorite characters in my personal favorite, Narbonic, was a fucking sociopath, and the heroes were all amoral mad scientists, except for the superintelligent gerbil**). But unlike Nimona, whose fate is left open ended, Catra is redeemed.

And that is weird. We’ve had redemption arcs, but generally not of characters with -so- much vile stuff in their history. Going back to the comparison between her and Azula, many other shows, like Avatar, would have made Catra a semi-sympathetic villain who has a sob-story in their origin but who is beyond redemption, and in so doing would articulate a kind of psychologized Calvinism where some people are too traumatized to ever be fully and truly human. I’d argue this is the problem with Azula as a character - she’s a fun villain, but she doesn’t have moral agency, and the ultimate message of her arc - that she’s a broken person destined only to hurt people - is actually pretty fucked up. And that’s the origin story of so many serial killers and psycopaths that populate so many TV shows and movies. Beyond ‘hurt people hurt people’ they have nothing to teach us except perhaps that trauma makes you a monster and that the only possible response to people doing bad things is to cut them out of your life and out of our society (and that’s why we have prisons, right?)

And so Catra’s redemption and the depths from which she claws herself back goes back to Noelle’s desire to prove that no person is a vessel ‘fitted for destruction.’ Catra goes about as far down the path of evil as we’ve ever seen a protagonist in a kids show go, and she still has the capacity for good. Importantly, she is not subject to total depravity - she is capable of a good act, if only one at first. Catra is the one who begins her own redemption (unlike in Calvinism, where grace is unearned and even unwelcomed) - because she wants something better than what she has, even if its too late, because she realizes that she never wanted any of this anyway, because she wants to do one good thing once in her life even if it kills her.

The very extremity of Catra’s descent into villainy serves to underline the point that Noelle is trying to make - that no one can be written off completely, that everyone is capable of change, and that no human being is garbage, no matter how twisted they’ve become. Meanwhile her ability to set her own redemption in motion is a powerful statement of human agency, and healing, and a refutation of Calvinism’s idea that we are powerless before sin or pop cultural tropes about us being powerful before the traumas of our upbringing. Catra’s arc, then, is a kind of anti-Calvinist theological statement - about the nature of people and the nature of goodness.

Now, there is a darker side to this that Noelle has only hinted at, but which is suggested by other characters on the show. Because while Catra’s redemption shows that people are capable of change, even when they’ve done horrible things, been fucked up and fucked themselves up, it also illustrates the things people do to themselves that make change hard. As I mentioned in my Catra rant, two of the most sinister parts of her descent into villainy are her self-dehumanization (crushing her own compassion and desire to do good) and her rewriting of her own history in her speech and memory to make her own actions seem justified (which we see with her insistence that Adora left her, eliding Adora’s offers to have Catra join her, or her even more clearly false insistence that Entrapta had betrayed them). In Catra, these processes keep her going down the path of evil, and allow her to nearly destroy herself and everyone else. But we can see the same processes at work in two much darker figures - Shadow Weaver and Horde Prime. These are both rants for another day, but the completeness of Shadow Weaver’s narcissistic self-justification and cultivated callousness and the even more complete narcissism of Prime’s god complex cut both characters off from everyone around them. Perhaps, in a theoretical sense, they are still redeemable, but for narrative purposes they might as well be damned.

This willingness to show a case where someone -isn’t- redeemed actually serves to make Catra’s redemption more believable, especially since Noelle and the writers draw the distinction between how Catra and SW/Prime can relate to reality and other people, not how broken they are by their trauma (unlike Zuko and Azula, who are differentiated by How Fucked Uolp They Are). Redemption is there, it’s an option, we can always do what is right, but someone people will choose not to, in part because doing the right thing involves opening ourselves to the world and others, and thus being vulnerable. Noelle mentions this offhandedly in an interview after Season 1 with the She-Ra Progressive of Power podcast - “I sometimes think that shades of grey, sympathetic villains are part of the escapist fantasy of shows like this.” Because in the real world, some people are just bastards, a point that was particularly clear in 2017. Prime and Shadow Weaver admit this reality, while Catra makes a philosophical point that even the bastards can change their ways (at least in theory).

*An idea first proposed in the second century by Origen, who’s a trip and a fucking half by himself, and an idea that becomes the Catholic doctrine of purgatory, which protestants vehemently denied!

**Speaking of favorite Noelle tropes

[thero0ks]

505 NSFW!

Do not read if you are under 18 NSFW!

SMUT AHEAD!

Jean catches the next flight home to surprise the reader. Smut ensues.

Jean took the next available flight home. Romantic notions were pushed to the back of his mind by the need pooling within him. Only being gone a week felt like an eternity. Long fingers ran through his ashy hair, as his leg bounced hearing various boarding announcements. Checking his watch for the fifteenth time since he sat down the minutes seemed to drag on. A notification dinged on his phone. Digging it out of his pocket his eyes flickered to the Snapchat notification. 

One unopened snap from Angel <3

Jean tapped the red box opening the image. Muscles froze at the pornographic picture. The only thing covering her body was a pair of lace panties, and black thigh highs that accentuated her supple thighs. The screenshot Jean took was automatic. Swallowing, his eyes flickered around the boarding area. The thought to check his surroundings before opening the image never crossed his mind. Relaxing he noticed no one sat near him, and the image had remained for his eyes only. Taking another peak at the photo he had to suppress a groan. It’d been too long since he’d traced her skin in the dark, and felt her between the sheets. She had no idea he was coming home early. Taking pleasure in teasing him when he was hundreds of miles away. Jean couldn’t deny he enjoyed her naughty antics, and the prospect of finally punishing her for her little games was driving him wild. 

Jean swiped open the chat. Thumbs working quickly to type out the message: you naughty girl.

Turning his phone on silent he gathered his things for boarding. Handing over his boarding pass the flight attendant raked over his figure with her gaze. Jean managed a half smile of acknowledgment heading down the boarding bridge as soon as she handed over his ticket. Leather felt cool against his back as he settled into his seat. Pulling out his phone to switch it to airplane mode he found a picture in response to his text. Her index finger was in her mouth, her other arm wrapped around her breasts giving a perfect view of her cleavage. 

He almost missed the small text at the bottom of the picture that read: I miss you Jean boy :(

Another screenshot and he was turning his phone on airplane mode. The buckle of the airplane seat clanked as he latched it. Leaning his head back against the seat he closed his eyes. He was only a two hour flight away from her. Nine o’clock and he’d have his arms around her. 

Another stranger sat next to him on another flight. Digging out his headphones and Nintendo Switch he tried to pull his thoughts away from what would transpire tonight. The images he’d received this evening allowed him to think of little else. 

His skin was hot, and his tie felt constricting. Fingers loosened the knot, unbuttoning the top two buttons of the ironed button down. He couldn’t get that damn image out of his mind. Pausing his game he rubbed his temples. Dirty scenes playing in his mind. 

Small hands slipping between her thighs, soft sighs escaping her painted lips. Fingers dancing over her pussy as her back arched into the pleasure. 

Jean snapped out of his daydream adjusting quickly in his seat to hide the erection he’d just created for himself. Laying the Switch in his lap he unpaused the game, determined to make it the rest of the flight without another slip up. 

The parking garage was empty as he walked to his car. Popping the trunk he threw his suitcase in the back. Taking more care to place his leather messenger bag in his passenger seat. Lights on the dash lit up as he put the key in the ignition. 

The forty minute drive home seemed to blur by with the passing headlights. A soft light came from his apartment floor as he parked his car. Gathering his things he trudged up the concrete steps. Keys jingled as he unlocked the front door. 

The apartment was quiet when he walked through the door. Taking care to set his bags down he locked the door behind him. Kicking his shoes off he found the bedroom door was cracked, red LED lights casting a glow on the carpet. A low hum could be heard from the bedroom, and Jean recognized the sound instantly. Electricity seemed to spark under his skin as he leaned against the doorway pleased with sight before him.  

The filthy images his mind had conjured didn’t compare to this. The soft mewls that escaped her lips, one hand on her breast as the other teased her slick folds with a vibrator. Enraptured in the thralls of pleasure she hadn’t even noticed him there. Her back arched grinding closer to the toy. Jean bit his bottom lip observing her touch herself. A vivid image he would save for future trips when she casually mentioned she’d gotten off earlier during their facetime conversations. He knew exactly what that entailed now. 

“Jean!” She gasped, a flustered look coming over her face. 

“Don’t stop on my account,” Jean said, pushing himself off the doorway. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he placed his hand on her’s, guiding the vibrator back to her clit. Hips bucked at the sudden stimulation when the toy made contact with her pussy. Jean guiding her hand through swirling motions. Leaning over her he captured her lips in a deep kiss. 

“I’m gonna make you feel good angel,” Jean promised. Switching the vibrator to a higher setting he felt her nails digging into his forearm. His name falling from her lips in a desperate plea. He heard something about cumming between sharp breaths.

“Oh baby, you’re going to cum as many times as I want.” Honey eyes watched an orgasm shake her body. Switching off the vibrator he set it aside. Stripping himself of his jacket, shirt, and tie he watched her settle down from her high. Climbing over her he enveloped her in another kiss. The kisses were slow and deep as he swirled his tongue around her’s. His thumb stroked her jaw as he buried his other hand in her hair, gripping at her roots. Soft hands trailed up his stomach and lower back. Eagerly exploring the expanse of his skin. 

Breaking the kiss Jean’s eyes took in her curves. She looked divine underneath him, and he realized the pictures she sent were nothing compared to her under his gaze. Fidgeting underneath him a smirk pulled at his lips. He loved when she was needy, grinding against nothing but air. She looked fuckable, and he couldn’t resist slipping his middle finger into her soaked entrance. Rubbing tiny circles, just enough to get her excited. 

“Jean,” she moaned tugging at the locks on the nape of his neck. Desperate for more. Needy moans made his dick twitch, and he was painfully hard looking at her so soft, and fuckable on their bed. All he wanted to do was sink into her, but he also wanted her to cum until she was a sobbing mess. 

He slipped his index finger into her, the added finger making her feel full. Hooking his fingers he started rubbing her g-spot. The sharp inhale he solicited from her had him smirking. Hitting her sweet spot she felt the pressure building. Her juices coated his hand and dripped down his forearm. She was a beautiful mess as she gripped the sheets desperate for some purchase against the pleasure Jean was pulling from her. 

Jean leaned over capturing her nipple in his mouth. With a sharp gasp she had her fingers buried in his hair. He knew her most sensitive parts, and loved hearing the breathy moans that escaped her lips. Swirling his tongue around her nipple, his hand played with her other breast. Toying with the sensitive bud feeling her grind against his fingers, and tugging at the roots of his hair. His name escaped her lips in a needy whine. 

The way she flexed around his fingers knew she was on the edge, and he had half a mind to keep her there. Toying with her, until he deemed it fit for her to come undone. 

Withdrawing his fingers he heard her whimper at being pulled away from the edge. “Jean,” she whined, dragging out the last consonant. 

“I want to hear you beg baby,” he said, honey eyes locking with hers as he sucked on his fingers that were soaked in her juices. 

“Jean please,” her voice came out in a huff, at his demands.

His fine brow rose at her tone. His dick twitching in his pants at the attitude she was starting to show him. “I know you can do better than that,” he said trailing off, dipping his fingers in her slick before retracting them. 

Her body jerked at his touch, soliciting a wide grin from the ashy blond. He knew exactly how to leave her a begging mess, and the brattier she got the deeper she’d want him. 

“Jean, please.” Impatience coated her tongue as her hand gripped his forearm. 

Fingers slipped inside her, and Jean added a third this time. A small gasp escaped her lips, and her back arched into his touch. A soft squelching sound lingered in the air as he rubbed her g-spot soaking the cotton sheets beneath her. 

“Is that for me baby?” Jean inquired, feeling her nails dig into his forearm. Nodding her eyes squeezed shut at the pleasure.

Jean gripped her chin, as (e/c) eyes flew up to gaze into his, “use your words angel.”

“Yes Jean,” she panted, as he released her settling between her legs. Propping herself up slightly, eager to see her thighs framing his face. Honey eyes locked on hers as he licked her clit. Hands tugged his hair as a moan escaped her lips. Jean continued fingering her as his mouth wrapped around her clit, playing with the bundle of nerves, and drinking up her essence. 

By the way her back was arching, and hips grinding against him he knew she was close. Sweet whimpers escaped her lips. He felt her pulsing against his fingers as she came, her cum dripping down his chin as he tried to lick up everything she was giving him. 

Tired muscles relaxed beneath him. Lazy fingers carded through his hair. Bliss was written on her face as he pulled away, wiping his chin with the back of his hand his honey eyes took in her exhausted frame. He watched her slip out of the bed settling between his thighs. (E/C) eyes batted up at him as she popped the button of his jeans open. Widening his hips in anticipation the sound of the zipper seemed to echo in his ears. Warm hands tugged at his jeans, and he lifted his hips to allow her to strip him of his jeans. 

Running her hands up his thighs she pressed open mouth kisses across his stomach. Jean leaned back on his elbows to give her better access. Nipping at his hip bones, a smirk appeared on the corners of her mouth. Enjoying the way his body would shudder at the sensation. 

“Fuck you’re a tease,” Jean hissed as she sucked a hickey on his lower stomach. 

Tension released through his muscles when she finally discarded his boxer briefs and sucked on the head of his dick. Swirling her tongue around the tip the bitter taste of precum hit her tongue. Slowly she started to bob her head.

“You’re a cock tease,” he grunted, soliciting a hum from her that vibrated against his dick. Hands brushed her hair aside to watch her lips wrapped around his cock, pulling him deeper with each bob of her head. Abs flexed under her skilled tongue, and Jean’s mouth watered when her eyes gazed up at him while she lowered her mouth down on him. Cheeks hollowed as she continued to bob her head, eyes locked with his. 

“I’m not going to last much longer,” he warned. Fine brows scrunching together, and she released him with audible pop. A smug grin on her face at how fast she’d brought him close to orgasm. Drawing her thumb across her lips Jean wrapped his arms around her pulling her down onto the mattress. 

Her back pressed into his chest, as they laid on their sides. Jean’s fingers tracing her exaggerated curves in this position. A large palm gripped her thigh as he slowly slid into her. She couldn’t stifle the moan that escaped her lips, head dropping back against Jean’s shoulder. His cock filled her, and she felt him in every sweet spot. When he bottomed out her pressed a sloppy open mouth kiss to her lips, before he slowly started rocking his hips. Whimpers escaped her lips as he kept the pace.

“Fuck you’re tight for me baby,” Jean grunted into her cheek. His nose rubbing against her temple, occasionally pressing soft kisses to her skin.

The low hum of the vibrator surprised her when Jean pressed it against her clit. “You always feel so good when you’re gripping my cock,” his voice was breathy in her ear. 

The coil inside her tightened, and soon she was cumming around his cock. Her grips on the sheets tightened as waves of pleasure shot through her body. A haze filled her brain still drunk on her orgasm as she pulled Jean into a deep kiss. 

“Oh you’re not don’t cumming angel,” Jean cooed, switching the vibrator up to a higher speed. “I know you can give me one more.”

Flipping her onto her back he slid back into her pressing the vibrator to her clit. “Mmm...Jean, it’s too much,” she breathed, her body spasming at the stimulation of his dick and the vibrator. 

“Baby, I thought you missed my cock.” Jean purred, his hips snapping into her. Setting a brutal pace, eyes mesmerized by the way her pussy sucked him in. 

“I do,” her voice was desperate, on the edge of another orgasm. Jean retracted the vibrator, and he watched (e/c) eyes widened. “Jean please!” She cried desperately,

“I thought you were too tired to cum,” Jean reasoned, placing his hand on her lower stomach. Feeling him fill her with each snap of his hips. “You take me so good baby,” Jean’s voice trailed off, hypnotized by her naked body.

Nimble fingers snaked down her body to play with her clit. “Fuck, keep touching yourself.” Jean said, snapping his hips driving into her. Her pussy was soon pulsing around his dick as another orgasm washed through her. 

Fucking her through her orgasm, he finally allowed himself to cum. He finally stilled, catching his breath, and he felt gentle fingers brush his hair out of his face. Pulling out he watched his cum leak out of her. Leaning down he gave her a gentle kiss. 

“I’ll run a bath,” Jean said, disappearing to the bathroom. The sound of the faucet filling the tub was the only sound in the apartment. Jean pulled out a couple of candles, placing them around the tub, before adding some fragrant bath soap. 

Jean carried her bridal style to the bathroom. The hot water felt good against her tired muscles. Leaning forward, she Gave Jean enough room to slip in behind her. Resting her back against his chest, she closed her eyes relaxing into his body. 

“I’m happy you’re home,” she hummed, as Jean gently massaged her scalp. Pressing a light kiss to her temple he let a comfortable silence fall over them. 

Jean tried to think of the best way to break the news as they sat in the tub. They didn’t get out until the water started to grow cold. Handing her a towel, he slipped on a pair of boxer briefs, and watched her apply lotion to her body.

“Y/N?” Jean spoke softly. He watched her (e/c) eyes flicker to him full of adoration. Rubbing the rest of the lotion onto her forearms she made her way over to him. Crawling into bed, she rested her head on his chest. 

“What is it Jean?” 

“I have to leave in a couple days,” he murmured. Running his hand down her soft skin. He knew how much she hated him being gone, but she did her best to stay supportive.

“Oh,” she breathed, surprised at his sudden revelation. Disappointment filled her at the realization that Jean would be leaving soon. “How long this time?” 

“A week.” Jean said, a long sigh escaping his lips. 

There was no point in lingering on the fact that Jean would be leaving in a few days. Y/N grabbed her phone sitting up, “well let’s order takeout.” She suggested, finding their favorite local Chinese restaurant. “We can eat, put on a movie, and cuddle.” 

Jean smiled, pressing a kiss to her lips. “That sounds perfect,” he said, grabbing her laptop he put on Legally Blonde while she finished ordering takeout. Snuggling up to his side to settle in for the rest of the night.