#previous memories and context

[aloonaram]

This artwork (link below) is giving me sooo many ideas for jayvik x hp crossovers, especially post s2 …. I used to be SUCH A FIEND for harry potter crossover fics (still a fiend for crossover fics in gen) and it would be so cool if like after jayvik get zapped away by the stone they come out the other side in the hp universe and then have to learn how to navigate this world where magic exists?? But in a different form from the arcane and its revered in a way?? and an entire secret society and school exists just to teach kids magic?? And in this school theres no tech, no engineering?? Plus not to mention all the political bs as well omg

And how would they get involved with the school in first place…maybe they pop right into the school? I wish i remembered more from the books bc i feel like theres totally an event i could use but I just can’t remember much outside from like the first two books 😭

If anyone wants to brainstorm with me feel free bc like i said i loooooveee crossovers and now that im finally on break (and i have adderall now) I think i might actually start some fics

Art is here btw

[cuteniaarts]

The weight of the world is a heavy burden

Especially for a child

(Or, in slightly less dramatic terms – I imagine that the first of her past lives that Avatar Suiren [who is the Avatar after Aang instead of Korra in my AU, and also Ghazan and Ming-Hua’s daughter] gets to talk to is Yangchen, because she is too plagued by memories not her own [including Jetsun’s death, fun fact]. And Yangchen wouldn’t want another child to go through what she did on their own)

(Or maybe someone just needed an excuse to draw @katkastrofa’s latest obsession in a context that interests them as well, just in time to maybe cheer her up a little? You can’t prove anything)

[commsroom]

when it comes down to it, however much i think about eiffel's memory, whatever my reasoning might be, i think there's a much simpler core explanation for why i feel the way i do. i've said before that, if eiffel did regain his memory, i would want it to happen through 'an eiffel version of change of mind' i.e. a personal inner journey where the narrative he tells himself amounts to some greater reminder, self-confrontation, and self-realization. and that's just it:

eiffel regaining his memory wouldn't be a cop out to me for the same reason that lovelace not actually dying isn't a cop out: it's not just a story beat, it's a catalyst for character development & a better understanding of lovelace as a person. eiffel has spent his whole life trying not to be the person he is, and i just don't feel wolf 359 is the type of story to let him off the hook for that, when the ending is as much about accountability (to ourselves and to others and all the ways those responsibilities overlap) as it is about hope. i think there are ways you could argue that eiffel can still be eiffel without regaining his memory, but i think i've convinced myself that the symbolic resurrection / self-confrontation and acceptance of all the people he's been in the past, in order to move forward, is the more compelling option, especially for what it parallels, and the "eiffel is still eiffel" part is non-negotiable. it doesn't even feel like a question to me.

(and it makes the most sense to me in the context of eiffel's survivor's guilt - "of course i was fine. the driver's always fine." - and tendency towards a type of self-sacrifice and self-punishment that the show ultimately denies him / that doesn't address his real problem. he thinks sacrificing himself for the people he cares about will make up for something, but it won't. having him make that sacrifice and then keep living and keep being doug eiffel, with everything that means, feels like the natural extension of constructive criticism.)

in another story, or in a more theoretical context, there are all kinds of questions you could ask about whether eiffel's memory loss means he's a different person now, but in this case... i think it's better understood in narrative terms and what it represents for him as a character than any broader philosophical conclusion about the nature of the self and human consciousness. (and it is in no way as absolute as people sometimes behave like it is, considering he still has a concept of, like... everything. but that's a whole other topic of discussion.) most importantly, i just don't believe wolf 359 is a story about ideas as much as it is a story about people, these people, and in order to (hypothetically) continue to tell a story about doug eiffel, well. he has to still be doug eiffel. one way or another.

[fragmentedblade]

I thought "Forest of Swords" was just a pretty name, but now knowing it's a punishment given by the Ten-Lords Commission I wonder how it links to Blade

[lyraofthestarsss]

Do you guys remember that time Summer Troupe convinced Tenma that fireworks were dangerous because he’s an out of touch rich kid and then he didn’t believe them when Kazu actually did something dangerous

[kentuckycaverats]

@ del: so Tara, huh? What's your favourite thing about her?

@ kovac: what's the goal you're wanting to achieve most? How are you going to do it?

DEL: what are you, a cop? mind your fucking business.

i'm no good at the sentimental shit. don't know how to say it without sounding corny as hell. she's...bright, i guess? warm. colors are more vivid around her. she's brilliant. sometimes when she's trying to stifle a laugh it comes out as a snort. she's comfortable--or, it's comfortable being around her. whatever. she's a dork.

KOVAC: It is not the sort of goal that is ever achieved, but my purpose is to ensure that nobody is forgotten; I collect the stories of those who have no one else to remember them when they die, and I type them up and bind them into books to preserve them. I have a book for every person I have ever met.

[astronomalyy]

Thinking about the lifespans of Dungeon Meshi elves... The fact that they're completely unnatural alters my brain chemistry, because you can tell just how haphazardly the demon implemented their wish. They live five times the length of tall-men, so they age at a fifth of their rate. It's simple maths and the implications are terrifying. No wonder their birth rate and population are declining - their early development is so slow that at the age of two, they're still unable to stand.

They don't reach adulthood until their eighties. What does the infant mortality look like? How many elves succumb to illness or injury before they're fully mature? It only takes one accident to lose the child you've been raising for decades - and could you bring yourself to care for another? Add to that the implication elf culture has no idea how to process grief... just look at the way the Canaries treat Rin after the death of her parents. They're callous and insensitive and detached - part of that's racism, but there's also an element of pure cold ignorance. They don't even recognise the emotion on her face.

And that's just scratching the surface... does elven memory accommodate their extended lifespan? Once you reach two hundred or so, do the years start blurring together? Kabru mentions that their temporal awareness is remarkably poor.

Two years feel like a few months. Their lives are longer but not fuller. They're older but not wiser than the short-lived races, and most refuse to understand this. Those that do grasp it are interesting - namely Otta, who's ostracised for pursuing half-foot women.

A 30-year old elf is a young child; a 30-year old half-foot has entered middle age. Otta is in the equivalent of her late twenties. She knows that her elven lifespan makes her no more mature than a half-foot - but she also acknowledges that it creates a rift between herself and her partners, and not just in the eyes of society. 'She dumps them as soon as they pass 30', but probably not for the reasons Lycion assumes. For this to be a pattern, decades must have passed - it's possible Otta doesn't want to watch them die as she herself barely ages. No doubt some of her previous lovers have already passed away. In the end, all living 400 years accomplishes is leaving them out of sync with the rest of humanity.

Marcille's perhaps the best example. As a half-elf, she's got 95% of her life ahead and the thought terrifies her. She's going to lose everyone she loves, over and over and over again, and this cycle has barely even started. She runs at a different pace. This context adds so much to her dynamic with Falin in earlier chapters.

Marcille loves her! She's scared for her! Maybe even of her! She's grown attached to a short-lived girl who she met as a kid when Marcille was a teaching assistant! Biologically and developmentally, they're the same age, but chronologically she's twice as old as Falin! Considering what happened to her mother, is history repeating itself? Her feelings towards Falin are tangled and messy and fascinating. They're also more than a little homoerotic, which makes Marcille's infantilization of her friend all the more interesting. It feels like her way of resolving their power imbalance, of remaining a responsible (former!) authority figure... but it's also a coping mechanism. She's frightened by the ways Falin is maturing and changing - aging - and keeping her mental image of her friend as young as possible is her way of denying the march of time that's destined to sever their bond.

Marcille's dream of lifespan extension would remove the need for this obfuscation, render them equal... only, they already are! This desire is imposed onto Falin, but it's primarily for Marcille's benefit. Watching her fight for a world nobody wants, for reasons both selfish and altruistic... it's as tragic as it is understandable. I love this manga.

[arolesbianism]

Head in hands how am I so bad at reading (<- just realized that one of the logs it thought was an Olivia log was in fact a Jackie log this whole time)

[crabsnpersimmons]

Your chef Sun is so interesting to me. If he ever has a crush he will deny it, right? Or not acknowledge it at all. Or maybe, I wonder if he'll be confused?

hehehe great question! i think he would be confused but... i think he would realize something about himself, just a little spark of something new and unfamiliar but something that's confused him for a long time now

*this is a memory of the DCA's late Boss, the previous owner of the restaurant they now own

BONUS:

a little context below the cut (cuz this post is long enough already!)

The DCA's late Boss was the previous owner of the restaurant. he was the one who found them after their PizzaPlex fell to ruin, and he brought them in and taught them how to cook. he's sort of a pseudo-father-figure to them.

he was a very passionate guy, he loved cooking and loved his late wife. and that piqued Sun's curiosity—to love someone even after they have passed. so along with teaching the boys how to cook, he also taught Sun about love. of course, Sun struggled to understand, but Boss always believed Sun would some day.

[maybankswhore]

𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃.

SUMMARY: jj has always had a tiny crush on you that he never acted on because john b had gotten to you first. . . but one drunken night at the boneyard gives him a taste he can’t forget.

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader , (est) relationship!john b x fem!reader.

WARNINGS: semi dark!jj maybank , naive reader , mentions of alcohol and weed , slight manipulation on jj’s part , coercion , infidelity , p in v , unprotected sex & creampie , choking & spit kink. ( for context , reader does play stupid for the most part. also , her and jj are on the same level when it comes to the alcohol they’ve consumed. reader is consenting though she tries playing dumb. )

There was nothing more that JJ valued more than his friendship with John B.

Their friendship had been un–breakable since the minute they met. The memories the two of them had together would forever be cherished , and JJ would always find himself thinking back on them fondly. It had been the two of them through thick and thin since the beginning of time.

But God , it was the way the alcohol flooded his bloodstream and hazed his mind that threw all his morals out the window. Your back against his chest as you moved sensually to the beat of the music , his hands gripping the forbidden skin of your hips tightly to hold you in place.

John B had been drunk out of his mind. Kiara and Pope had already left. Though it wasn’t out of the norm for you and JJ to be the last ones standing. The both of you loved to party and had a high tolerance. In fact , they felt less guilty leaving places early knowing that the two of you would have eachother.

Yet they didn’t realize the dirty little fantasies that plagued JJ’s mind. The three of them would never think anything more than JJ being taken to you just for the fact that John B loved you— and you were just another one of the Pogue’s. . .

Somewhere the night had shifted. One minute you were kissing your boyfriend goodbye sweetly and dancing around the beach playfully. It was just an innocent night like every other night had been— until it wasn’t.

JJ hadn’t meant for it to get like this. He didn’t know if it was the weed he had smoked or maybe it was one too many beers , but he took one look at you from across the beach and everything in his mind had disappeared. JJ couldn’t even remember his bestfriends name at that point. You weren’t someone elses girlfriend then. You were a girl across the beach that was beautiful. The most beautiful girl. Sweating and laughing as your hips moved rhythmically.

His feet were taking him to you before he could even think about it. You had greeted him with the most breathtaking smile and his knees felt weak. It was then that time moved slower , and your hands grabbed his and that’s when things changed. JJ completely voided his mind of anything but you. But how you danced , how good it felt to snake his arms around your waist and feel how smooth it was on the exposed parts of your hips. His eyes soaking in the sight of you underneath the moonlight while yours were shut while you danced.

JJ felt almost devilishly as he planned the whole thing out in his head. Leaning forward and asking to steal you away for a few minutes to smoke a joint. He knew you’d never refuse that.

His hand in yours , JJ had pulled you somewhere to the back of the beach. It was a secluded spot , one he had known about from previous experiences that he couldn’t even remember then. You giggled and laughed as you followed him , always finding JJ someone that you felt good around.

It happened like clockwork then. It was silent at first. His stomach in knots and nerves as he lit up the preroll , feeling bashful underneath your gaze. You hadn’t thought much of it and bumped your shoulder against his as he handed it over. “I’d never thought I’d see the day JJ Maybank had nothing to say.” You said , meaning to ease the tension.

JJ glanced over at you. His eyes meeting yours in a weird way. A way that the color of his eyes darkened and they looked at you differently. It made your stomach feel weird , almost flip at it. Blinking off guard , you looked towards the waves hitting against one another. “That’s the thing—” JJ started , taking his turn of the joint back and inhaling it a few good times before speaking again. “I have too much to say.”

As he passed it back to you , his fingers brushed against yours. You weren’t sure if it was the wind that was nipping at the two of you underneath the night sky— or the beads of sweat drying , but your spine danced at the feeling. It made you take a shaky breath now that the air was becoming thick. Though you kept telling yourself that it was the beer from earlier and the drugs entering your system. That this was just JJ. You felt normal. It felt the same as it always did.

Yet even then that didn’t soothe the turns in your stomach. Not with the way he looked tonight. Hair disheveled away from his face , giving you a clear view to his bright eyes and apple round cheeks. JJ had always been a good looking guy— everyone in Outer Banks knew that. But you had met him and everyone told you just what he was. . . a Rogue. He didn’t date. He wasn’t one to be in love and you took their warnings to heart and stayed away.

Pushing you into the arms of John B.

John B. . .

The brief moment of attraction towards the blonde suddenly made you feel sick with guilt.

JJ must have seen the expression on your face change. He swallowed before talking again. “Can I ask you something?”

Sighing , you took another hit to ease your nervous system. To try and make you mellow out and to stop thinking so quickly at one time. You were overthinking and over analyzing. “Anything.”

JJ rubbed at his jaw. “If you weren’t with. . . you know—” he couldn’t bring himself to say his name out loud. Knowing what he was doing and what he was playing at. Guilt burned at his throat but he ignored it. It was easy to ignore when he looked at you. “Would you fuck me?”

His question made you gasp audibly. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion and surprise as you watched JJ’s face which stayed still. “JJ! What the hell kind’ve question is that?”

JJ shrugged. Seemingly playing it coy. “It’s just a question. Doesn’t mean you’ll do it.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Well of course I wouldn’t do anything! I’m with John B.”

“But if you weren’t with him is what I’m asking.” JJ shrugged. “It’s nothing serious , Y/N/N. Jus’ curious is all.”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Your cheeks burned bright pink and you hoped he couldn’t see the color with how dark it was outside. You pushed the joint back into JJ’s hands and moved to stand up but he caught your wrist just as quick— “JJ.” You warned.

“I’m sorry , swear.” JJ begged. He pleaded with you his eyes , bottom lip out as he did so. “You know I say things without thinking sometimes. Don’t go yet. I’m not finished.”

Everything inside of you was telling you staying would be a bad idea. It was deep within your gut. But as you chewed your bottom lip and the wheels turned in your head , JJ casually leaned back on the rock and continued smoking like everything was fine. . . And so , you did the same.

“You can’t say things like that you know.”

“Why not?”

“Because. . .” you stammered over your words. “Because that’s inappropriate , okay?”

JJ nodded slowly. “So no then?”

“What?” You couldn’t help the incredulous expression on your face at JJ playing it so cool. Like this conversation wasn’t disrespectful to not only your relationship but also his friendship to John B.

“You wouldn’t fuck me.”

His sentence yet again made a sound of surprise leave your mouth. Suddenly feeling flustered at what felt like an ambush. “JJ—”

JJ shrugged. “It’s okay. I mean , I’m not offended. I wouldn’t fuck you either.”

His words seemed to sting. You wasn’t sure why it did— but it had and had left you questioning. “What? Why are you even— and why not?”

“Because you’re probably boring in bed.” JJ giggled. The weed he smoked helping him feel warmth as he sat there. His head lazily turning towards you.

You scoffed at that and crossed your arms. “That’s quite rude! And I’m not boring.” You defended yourself. It was silly and JJ had a knack for teasing.

JJ put his hands up defensively. “Okay , whatever you say.” He smirked , finding it amusing to push your buttons. Of course , he had thought the exact opposite. But playing this game was much more fun than the other option , and he knew you. He knew you’d crack. He was hoping you’d crack.

“I’m not! I mean. . . doesn’t John B ever like—” you assumed that boys would be boys and talk with eachother the way you did with Kiara sometimes. Surely John B would’ve mentioned something about it once or twice.

“Talk about it?” JJ quipped. “Nah , not really.”

It wasn’t the answer you were hoping for and deep down it had made you start feeling a little self conscious. Were you boring? As soon as the question came , you shook your head to rid yourself of it. The sex with John B was good. It was always good. JJ was just trying to get into your head.

“Well it doesn’t matter because I’m not boring.” You snapped.

JJ nodded slowly. “I mean it’s okay if you are. As long as you know , can kiss good enough then that’s all a guy really needs to get off.”

You squirmed in your position. Your cheeks felt warm and this whole conversation was out of the ordinary for you. You and John B didn’t really talk much about things like this and you and JJ certainly never had before either. Though it had sparked some curiosity within you. “Really?”

“Totally. That’s the biggest thing for me when I’m with a girl.” JJ responded. “Kissing is the determining factor.”

You shook your head up and down slowly and thought it over. Without saying anything in return , you’d hope that JJ would drop it but instead he scooted closer to you. So close that his shoulder brushed against yours softly. Just enough space in between the two of you that they didn’t bump into eachother , but close enough to where anyone looking in would deem it too close.

“You kiss good , right?” JJ wondered out loud. His voice dropping down to almost a whisper. Softly spoken. You kept your eyes straight ahead while his eyes were burning holes into the side of your face. “I mean , I’d hate my boy to be with a bad kisser.”

“I—I am.” Your voice shook. You fisted the sand in your hands underneath you. “I mean. . . I think.”

“Hmm. . .” JJ nodded. Testing the waters , he leaned closer to you. The smell of your vanilla shampoo filled his nose as it lightly touched the skin of your cheek. Goosebumps rose on his arms at the feeling. “I could tell you—” he swallowed harshly. Bundling nerves right in his abdomen. “If you were , I mean.”

Laughing nervously , you tilted your head away. You tried to ignore how it made you feel. That how close he was made your heart race and your skin burn , like the idea of kissing JJ was anything but repulsive and wrong. This was wrong. You not stopping it was wrong but you couldn’t. For some reason , you couldn’t bring yourself to get up and leave or tell him it to stop talking. Deep down , a part of you wanted him to do it. “W-What do you mean? How could you tell me that?”

“You could kiss me.” JJ offered. “It’s just a kiss. You know , to tell you if you’re good at it. . . For John B.”

“JJ I—” you took a shaky breath. “JJ that’s cheating. It would be wrong.”

JJ shook his head. His hand reached over to grab yours , fingers curling towards your palm. The softness of his touch made your toes practically curl. You wanted to melt into it , feel more of him. Explore more of it. But you couldn’t— right?

“It’s not cheating , Y/N.” JJ assured. “I’m pretty sure John B would appreciate his girlfriend making sure she was pleasing him good enough.” He coaxed. “Besides , we wouldn’t have to tell him.”

“That’s—”

“Kiss me , Y/N.” JJ’s index finger hooked the side of your jaw gently and pulled your head to the side. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheek as he watched you watch him nervously. You hadn’t leaned in— but you hadn’t pulled away. “Or do you want to me to kiss you? Would that make you feel better? If I kissed you?”

His words were almost taunting but it was true. You knew that if you were the one to start it , it’d make you feel even more guilty. You felt horrible even thinking about it — worse about entertaining the idea. But as you went to nod your head , all indiscretion about what was right and wrong had left your mind. JJ’s mouth on yours had shocked you , making you blink a couple times before his hands on either side of your cheeks made your lips start moving against his in the same amount of force.

It was slow at first. He took his time , savoring the taste of the stale weed and strawberry drink you had earlier. Just kissing you made his jeans tighten— his mind go hazy. He was getting drunk just off the taste of you and now JJ felt insatiable.

Nothing else mattered after that. Your boyfriends face had completely left your mind. Kissing JJ made your belly do flips and your heart skip every other beat. JJ kissed you like a man starved— one hand had left your cheek and grabbed at your waist , pulling it towards himself. Your little short–shorts felt like nothing as he pushed himself up against you , and you felt it. It caused you to gasp , and JJ took that an opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. It swirled in every place it could find , a soft moan leaving the back of his throat as he did so. “Feel that?” JJ pulled away just for a second to mutter gently in your ear , rolling his hips again. “I’m that hard just by kissing you—”

Something in you began to stir at his words. How desired you felt only added to the situation. Each time his hips rolled against yours and created friction between your legs , it felt better and better. It was like an itch that you needed scratched and you didn’t want to play naive anymore. You were already there— and it felt too good to stop.

JJ hoisted you into his lap with ease. Each hand on either hip while he pulled away to look down at where the middle of your shorts met his. Looking at it made him groan. There hadn’t been anything hotter to him in that moment , then watching you on top of him. “Fuck you’re so—”

You took control of the situation and began grinding down onto him in a way that made you feel good. You could feel how slick you were already , the fabric of your panties sticking to that little bundle of nerves and you reached out to grab his hands and stick them in your shorts. “Since you wanted me so bad you couldn’t just stop talking—” you groaned , throwing your head back when JJ’s thumb immediately went to where you needed it to. “Finish what you started.”

The two of you were a moaning mess together. Dry humping like teenagers who discovered it for the first time with JJ’s hand down your panties. Everything about it was so wrong , but the erotic nature of the situation made it too good to stop. With hooded eyes you watched how JJ’s eyes never left between the two of you , how he panted and groan with each sound you made. Veins coming out his arm from how well he was working his fingers onto your cunt that was screaming for more.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you.” JJ grunted. God , it felt even better than he had imagined. His body was begging to touch you , feel every part of you. He was drunk off of you and he didn’t care about anything anymore. He was too far gone. “Tell me and I’ll do it right now.”

His teeth bit at the protective layer of skin on your neck. Not hard enough to leave a mark , but enough to make a sweet whine leave your parted lips. Through your eyelashes you down at him , your chest heaving while trying to catch it enough to speak. His ring cladded fingers halted their movements , waiting for a response.

“Yes—” you breathed , feeling shame when your hips bucked forward for more of him. “I want you to fuck me.”

That sentence made him groan in response to it. He wasted no time in moving you around , laying you flat on your back to pull down your shorts. “You’re so beautiful , Y/N.” JJ praised as he looked at you , your cheeks burning red and body glistening underneath the moonlight. It all seemed so surreal to him , having you there for him— “I’ve wanted you for so long , always walking around in those tight little shorts. Pretending you’re such a good girl when I know what you really are.”

Holding himself up on his knees , JJ quickly unfastened his belt and pulling down his shorts. You watched him , your hands fisting the sand yet again.

“You’re a dirty little girl , baby. You wanna be fucked so bad , huh? John B’s the boring one , isn’t he baby? You want someone to fill up this pretty little pussy , make you cry—” JJ’s voice was like sugar. Sickly sweet as he said the dirtiest of words that emitted a quiet moan from your mouth. JJ barely caught it , finding it amusing the way you still pretended as though you were the exact opposite.

“Stop teasing.” You whined , allowing your leg to venture up and snake around his waist to pull him towards you. “You’ve done it enough tonight.”

JJ tutted as he grabbed your leg from around his waist. “Open your legs for me.” He instructed , guiding your legs to how he wanted them. With your knees propped up and your legs as open as they could go , JJ swore he’d been starved his whole life as he looked down inbetween them , your pussy slick with arousal , practically begging for him.

The cool air nipped at your skin making you shiver. It almost hurt the way you were throbbing , needing him to do something— anything.

All air left your lungs the minute JJ disappeared. His tongue lapping you up feverishly. Your jaw became unhinged while your back arched off the sand , a series of crude moans and whines escaping your mouth embarrassingly so the way JJ’s mouth worked on you. Sucking your clit in an agonizingly slow pace , vibrating the area as he moaned. “You taste just as good as I thought you would.” JJ mumbled when he pulled away for a minute to slip in his middle finger.

“JJ. . . yes—” your head fell back while your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Everything went blank. All you could focus on was JJ’s messy blonde hair inbetween your legs. His tongue worked on you , fucking you with it as his thumb rubbed soothing circles on your clit. It sounded like he was a man starved , the sounds his mouth made for you. Desperately gripping at the roots of his hair , shamelessly pulling him closer and closer towards you. “God , like that JJ— just like that.”

Your praise earned a grunt in response. The tightness of his jeans and underwear beginning to feel uncomfortable and he tried rocking against the sand to relieve it. He loved the way you sounded , the way you tasted , the way your body reacted to him. Your legs were smooth to the touch when he rubbed them , your pussy just as perfect as he imagined— his jaw began hurting but it only pushed him harder to keep going. He had thought about this , about you , for far too long to stop now and it only pushed him harder to make you cum.

You yelped when JJ sat up on his knees again , hooking his arms around your waist to lift your bottom from the ground. His tongue fucking you deeper , licking and sucking all that he could. He watched your face and how it contorted , how your head went back and your hands reached for just about anything to hold onto. “So good , baby. So good. John B doesn’t deserve a pussy like that.” His mouth pulled away from you to insert his fingers , curling them to find the spot that made you tick.

Something started swirling in your stomach. A feeling that washed over you and settled within your bloodstream , pumping blood faster than you had felt before. It was euphoric , how your toes curled at it. Everything about the situation helping you get off , the clapping of JJ’s ring decorated fingers and how he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing to ever exist. How wrong it all was but felt so right at the same time.

“ ’M gonna cum.” You babbled out , drunk off of him. Almost fucked dumb just by his fingers. “JJ I’m gonna—”

The orgasm hit like a wave , shaking your body as it did. It was hard to catch your breath. You couldn’t stop your legs from shaking while you tried to sit up and a cocky grin was left on JJ’s face. His index finger wiped the remnants around his mouth , sucking on it afterwards. “So fuckin’ hot.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You grabbed his shirt and brought him down to you , kissing his mouth. JJ moaned in the kiss , allowing your tongue to be the one exploring his this time. You could taste yourself on him , a salty sweet mixture that made his mouth water.

Gently JJ’s hand snaked around your throat , squeezing it to test out the waters. When you made a noise in response , bucking your hips greedily again— JJ pulled away from you with a smirk. “My dirty little girl , huh?”

As you whimpered in response , JJ tutted. His pupil’s dilating as he laid you back down and went to tug down his own shorts. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’re gonna be mine—”

A moan escaped your mouth at his words and JJ laughed tauntingly in response. You waited anxiously as he lined himself up with you , holding your hips in place. His eyes were stuck on your bodies and how his tip teased your slit , running along it to lubricate it just enough to slip in which was enough to make his mind go crazier.

Slowly he entered you. Making sure to savor every second , JJ memorized how it felt to squeeze himself in between your walls. He’d forever replay the sound of your gasp as he slipped it in , breaking you apart.

John B wasn’t small necessarily , though your boyfriend had more girth. JJ was long , it was pretty to look at it and it had just enough width to stretch your walls at an agonizing pace. The feeling of him filling you up was good , but as his hips started snapping , it was better.

Whining for attention , JJ leaned down to kiss you again only stopping to pry your mouth open with his thumb and tap your tongue. Your eyes widened at the action but JJ’s thrusts didn’t give you any time to stop and process it. Instead you opened your mouth willingly , moaning in return when he spit into your mouth. JJ’s jaw tightened as you swallowed it , doe eyed.

“Good girl.” He praised. “Such a good girl.”

You clenched around him at that and a wicked smile took place on his face when he realized how much you liked it when he praised you. He could tell in your body language , how needy you were and how your legs wrapped around him to trap his dick inside of you that you hadn’t been fucked like this.

He knew his friend too well to know John B was vanilla.

“You’re so wet. You like this? Getting off with your boyfriends bestfriend inside of you?” JJ grunted as he slid in and out of with you ease. You only whined in response , burying the back of your head in the sand. JJ’s hand gripped your chin and forced you to make eye contact with him— “Answer me. How long have you wanted this? Your pussy is practically sucking me in.”

With your bottom lip out you squirmed underneath him for more stimulation. “I–I didn’t. This is the first time.” You lied through burning cheeks. Embarrassment flooding you when you made another sound of approval when JJ’s teeth nipped at your neck.

“You’re lying.” JJ whispered in your ear before nibbling on the lobe. “You can tell me— our secret.”

Whimpering your eyes watered. Thinking about it made you feel guilty. How much you were enjoying it made you feel even worse. “Just. . . just a couple times!”

JJ hummed as though he didn’t believe you but he decided not to push the issue. He angled himself to be able to go deeper. Your left leg straight up in the air while his skin slapped against yours. “I’ve thought about this every night since I met you.” JJ admitted while he groaned. “Always walking around in the small little bikini. . . Fuck , if only John B hadn’t gotten to you first.”

You felt pleasure through the tears that coated your eyes. You couldn’t tell if you were crying from the guilt or from how good it felt to feel JJ inside of you. There were so many sensations hitting you at once , so many feelings but your toes curled and your hands were clammy. They gripped onto JJ for dear life , loving every second of it despite what your heart kept pushing away. You writhed underneath him , your orgasm coming on for the second time. The noise that escaped your throat was filthy.

“You’re gonna cum for me , baby? Huh? Cumming again for your boyfriend’s best friend?” JJ grunted. “Me too , you suck me in so good. This pussy was made me for me. You were supposed to be for me.”

You shouldn’t have came as hard as you did from his words. You couldn’t contain your moans that just kept pouring out of you , watching JJ’s hips struggle to keep their movement as they followed suit.

You felt warmth coat the inside of you and immediately you gasped. Your legs pushing you away but JJ held you in place.

His head fell into the crook of your neck as he breathed , letting his dick go limp inside of you. “My girl.”

[shutupineedtothink]

Trial order and why Lilia, not Agatha, is last (not counting Rio)

Kay, so I got another off-the-wall theory for you, this time around the order of the trials and why Lilia, not Agatha, is actually going to be last (if we don't count Rio). It goes back to maiden mother crone and some of the trauma/generational trauma stuff I already talked about in a previous post. As with The Road, continue at your own peril.

Right so I couldn't get this idea of maiden mother crone, intergenerational trauma, dealing with the long history of violence toward witches thing out of my head that the show is doing. And I think we've all been assuming that Lilia's trial will be next, saving Agatha and probably Rio for last, because those are standard main character of a TV show rules.

But the more I think about it, the more weight I feel like Lilia's journey carries for this overall theme of trauma toward witches and the history of witches, etc. She seems to have the most intense connection to the pain of witches past, like old-world witch stuff, and she's the one who's brought up multiple times that witches aren't really as they've been portrayed, there's all these negative stereotypes, etc etc. And she's sick of it. She's lived through it for the longest of all of them (again, leaving whatever Rio is out of it).

Idk, something that big, addressing the long history of violence toward witches and witch stereotypes, that feels like you have to deal with it last. That's a culmination of all the witch references, pop culture and otherwise, the show has been making, of which there are MANY.

So I thought ok, for funzies, let's assume Lilia's last, which puts our trial order as follows: Jen -> Alice -> Agatha -> Lilia (and I guess true last would be Rio but I'll get there in a second).

Assuming that order, something else pinged for me: maiden mother crone. Another massive theme in the show, portraying these generations of witches and women in general, and again, for reasons I can't explain, it really feels like it has weight to me. Like they're doing something with it.

So leaving Jen aside for a second, don't worry I'll come back to her, that makes Alice our maiden. Her role, particularly in the context of her trial, is the role of daughter. She's also the youngest of the witches, as far as I can tell. She's even coded as kind of the rebellious one, the young angry one who still hasn't quite accepted her heritage, until after her trial, she does.

Agatha is the mother. We are really going for the mother/child relationship with her and Teen, and of course dealing with her son's death and whatever part she played in it. I would assume her trial will be about that, but we could also be saving that for the end. The mother is also the connector generation between maiden and crone, so maybe there's something there about Agatha fully stepping into the leader role of the coven, and accepting these women around her, idk.

Lilia, the eldest, is our crone. She carries the true history and memory of generations of witches with her, she has lived the longest through the most trials. She is the most experienced in the craft and takes it the most seriously. The journey is hers to end.

Except -- we have two other players left. Jen, who kicks off the trials, and Rio, who I'm assuming doesn't really have a trial but will be there at the end... because, you know. 💀

So why would Jen be first? What comes before the maiden?

And then she said it herself.

"I never fully identified as a witch. I am an 11th-generation root worker and midwife."

This one line almost puts her in a similar category to Rio, at least thematically. She's a witch but also more, neither and both. And she's a midwife, someone who helps facilitate birth. Someone who, at her best, supports and sustains life. Someone who allows the first phase of life, the maiden, to come into being.

And guess who that leaves us with at the end, the opposite bookend to Jen's life-giving power -- the mistress of death herself, Rio. The one to which all life must eventually return.

The trials aren't just about elements, or moon phases, or even different witch specialties, they're taking us through the stages of a witch herself. The stages of ALL women really (whether you are an actual mother with children or not, the mother phase is mid-life). Linking us all together, generation after generation.

So in this theory, the trials go like this:

Jen -> Alice -> Agatha -> Lilia -> Rio

Birth -> Maiden -> Mother -> Crone -> Death

Even the moon phases line up. Full moon is birth, a full-term pregnancy and then birth. Waxing moon, growth, renewal, hope, promise -- the maiden. Half moon, mid-life, no longer maiden, not yet crone, the in-between -- the mother. Waning moon, the last quarter of life -- crone. New moon, darkness, returning to the void -- death. They're playing fast and loose with the moon phase order, so I am too.

I can probably fudge the elements here too, but it's a little harder mostly because I don't know what Agatha's element is. I heard someone say spirit, but idk.

Anyway, what do you think? Am I on to something here? Batshit crazy? Would love to hear your thoughts in comments. :)

[temis-de-leon]

He sees how you fell in love with your ex

Summary: Once more victims of their lack of prudence, the boys are cursed to experience horrible visions; that is, seeing first-hand how their lover, MC, fell in love with their ex.

Characters: present! Lucifer x gn!reader, past! gn!reader x gn!ex

Main Masterlist

C/W: the reader is said to be in college/early 20s during the memory, but no age is specified. Reader is betrothed to their tutor (not their teacher) and kisses them.

A/N: I spent four days trying to write a simple drabble for Barbatos and then I wrote this in two hours. I ain't fighting my mind anymore. Mammon was supposed to be in this one, but I think one post per character is good enough.

.

Lucifer – Similar, but so different

He feels the need to wonder if he has done anything specific to deserve this punishment.

Did he grab the wrong book? Lucifer doesn’t even remember being in the library to begin with. Was he cursed, perhaps? In that case, by whom? Whether it was his brothers, that damned sorcerer or an unknown brainless demon didn’t matter to him, because the uneasy frustration wouldn’t leave his chest regardless of his reasoning.

You are there, right in front of him, but deaf to his voice and unresponsive to his touch. Your skin holds no warmth either and trying to caress it feels useless, like grabbing an ordinary leather wallet.

Unfortunately, Lucifer is old and experienced enough to realize rather quickly that what he is seeing isn’t a simple vision or an imaginary scenario. He looks at your fingernails and can’t decide anything concrete about them; are they long or short? Painted or not?

Your surroundings are also blurry, and devoid of details. While it’s obvious the setting is a library, his acute sight can’t decipher any of the titles in the bookcases and the hallways don’t seem to have an end; rays of sun enter through the window, but only the blue skies are visible; and there’s not even a librarian to make you company in such a fine day.

It is a memory; a good one, judging by the dreamy feeling and the brightness of it.

He drops his head to study you one more time and unsuccessfully tries not to scowl in a sour manner when, despite being unable to see you as clearly as he would any other day, the golden shine of a ring catches his attention.

Simple and classy in its design, the significance of it holds a heavier weight than whatever material it is made of.

His tongue clicks in disapproval, already thinking of punishments that would fit the perpetrator’s audacity. How dare they? How dare they deprive him of you? How dare they show him this?

Lucifer looked around, unsure if he wanted to see what was inevitably coming next, although whatever magic threw him there probably had that exact intention. His body was glued to the seat, useless against his inhuman strength and his powers, and, as much as he tried to avert his eyes, he could do nothing but stare at you incessantly. Was he waiting for you to raise your head and recognize him? Gasp in horror before rushing to cure him with your own magic or even the most obvious true love kiss? He didn’t know, but he was absolutely sure he wanted you to know who he was, at the very least.

Of course, that was childlike hoping.

Your hair was styled differently and your face seemed younger and more innocent, obviously ignorant of anything beyond human life. Lucifer could guess when he was based on the context, but you had never talked about this specific stage of your life enough for him to exactly pinpoint.

Somewhere in between your college years, you had been betrothed to someone and later, evidently, single again. Since you weren’t keen on divulging every piece of your ex-partner and your previous relationship without apparent reason, he tried not to dwell on the topic unless the conversation begged for it, but it wasn’t like he was extremely interested either. No need to focus on the past when you both had the present going on and, having each other, who needed anyone else?

He felt the need to reconsider.

Although it was obvious you were trying to study, you seemed to give the ring more attention than anyone would ever do in any similar situation. Your sorrowful expression was a stark contrast against the gentle ambience of the room and the softness in which you were treating the piece of jewellery, the sad eyes and the frown distorting your face.

Lucifer tried to reach you again in hopes of offering comfort, but it was like he didn’t exist to you. While he knew it was due to the situation, he couldn’t help but pout and cross his arms over his chest, as if trying to hide his aching heart. It beat frantically and pathetically, wondering why would you reject him, and no amount of reasoning would calm it down.

A set of footsteps caught your attention.

He frowned miserably as you turned around, looked at the newcomer and then returned to your initial position with a quivering lip. The other person, whom he could only assume to be your ex, twisted their face in remorse and hurried to your side, sitting and rushing to hold your hand.

A part of him wanted to break the contact and instantly take you somewhere far away from there, from whoever was that person that had you in their arms before Lucifer even had the chance to meet you, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything but watch as you looked at your ex-fiancé with hurt and a tinge of hope.

“I am so sorry, baby” they said in a whisper, even though no one else but him was around to hear the conversation. You two were close, faces mere inches away from each other, and he couldn’t do anything but watch it all. Each word cut Lucifer’s heart with the precision of a scalpel, but it was the tiny optimism in your expression what hurt the most. “I shouldn’t have talked to you that way; you didn’t deserve it. You studied, you tried, you failed and I snapped and you didn’t deserve it…”

“I wanted your support” you reminded them in a voice too small for you.

They didn’t look annoyed at the interruption, instead nodding in a humble motion.

“I know-“

“You aren’t my tutor anymore, you’re my partner”

“I know, I’m sorry”

Lucifer’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

He’d had similar conversations with you in the past where you had failed a task or hadn’t turned homework in when it was due and he had been clear in showing his disapproval, regardless of how happy you were in your relationship. Business and pleasure were separate for him and your success at RAD very clearly belonged to one of those categories. Sure, he didn’t get paid for each one of your victories; in fact, it was he who gave the reward on occasion, but ensuring the exchange program went correctly was related to his work with Lord Diavolo, not his feelings for you.

Although he enjoyed seeing you succeed very much.

“I’m very proud of you” said your ex with an honest expression, smiling before cupping your cheek to bring you closer and kiss you.

Lucifer could manage to look somewhere else for that one, but he still heard the noise. Your happy humming before another kiss.

He wondered briefly if the library had been empty in reality or if your feelings for your previous partner had made it seem as if there had been no one else but them in the room with you. Did he make you feel the same? Did he make you feel as if there was none but the two of you in the world?

Not wanting to see your delighted expression directed at another person, he looked at your fingers again, unfortunately finding theirs interlocked with yours. The shiny ring taunted him.

“You’ll get it next time; you’ll see”

“You think so?”

“I know so, baby”

And that made you laugh like a fool, which only made Lucifer’s mood worsen.

You only looked at him that way on certain occasions; mainly when he allowed them to happen or when he was too drunk to think about appearances. Sure, he loved you and he showed you so, but was that enough to make you forget about all the times he didn’t do it? Was it enough to mask his disappointed words or his arrogant behaviour? To drive your attention away from the fact that he never properly apologized for anything, even when it hurt you?

Why did you break up with this human? They clearly treated you well and you clearly loved them, so why? What made you see that someone who adored you so much wasn’t the right match for you?

There was no ring on your finger with his name on it, but you did have a pact. A pact with THE Lucifer Morningstar, which not many people had. He wasn’t lying when he said that you belonged to him.

…but did you really?

“I forgive you” you said.

A sickening feeling of hope made him immediately look at you, wishing those words were directed at him, but of course, they weren’t.

He watched as you got up and your partner helped you with your belongings, offering their arm before leading you out of the library. Lucifer wasn’t even sure if he wanted to follow, especially when you were looking at your fiancé with that much love in your eyes.

“Thank you for being here” you mumbled quietly against their lips, putting the last nail in Lucifer’s coffin.

Did you really belong to him?

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[conflictofthemind]

Lucas knows about Mike and Will

First off, of course the context is needed that Lucas has known the two of them the longest out of any of the kids. He is Mike’s neighbour and joined their party even before Dustin. He also played wingman for Mike previously in S3, trying to help get Mike and Eleven back together. It’s not a stretch of the imagination that Lucas would end up in a role like that again.

So, the hospital scene at the end of Season 4.

There’s a few things within this scene that are a little suspicious, and then one big thing that basically has no explanation other than Lucas suspecting something is going on with Mike. I brightened the scene here- first let’s just acknowledge they held hands on Lucas’ back. This is the only kind of direct hand touch we get this season.

Lucas can’t see that.. but it’s on his back. Of course he would be able to feel it. It’s also another moment that separates Mike and Will as a pair, versus Eleven on her own. Here’s the full clip below. And then just LOOK at the expression Lucas gives Mike after he sees El lingering behind. Your friend just visited as soon as he possibly could to give you support. Why would you look at them like this after he hugs you? Because he knows there’s something weird going on in the relationship between Mike and El. No other explanation.

Lucas is clearly giving Mike a “what the fuck is going on” kind of expression, eye squinted, eyebrows furrowed. There’s also a blink and you’ll miss it moment where Mike’s breath catches after the contact with Will’s hand, and he makes a split second glance to look at their hands (which I captured in the first image).

Then after Lucas hugs El, he clearly parts and steps back to give room for Mike to join beside his girlfriend. But Mike crosses the room to put himself in between El and Will instead. Another thing Lucas would have found weird. Lucas isn’t dumb.

Then we have the shotlisting post from Ross’ instagram. Shot listing is where they plan out what happens within an episode and what kinds of shots they want. This image is obviously an Easter Egg for fans about who’s interacting with who in the first 2 episodes (ie Stonathan shenanigans of which we already know about). I didn’t see it at first but Lucas is clearly placed in the centre of a triangle between El, Mike, and Will. He’s the centre of the triangle.

This makes sense with what we know about S5 thus far as well. There’s a confirmed plot line that has Dustin trying to isolate himself from the rest of the group (if he hasn’t already been isolated enough from the party in recent seasons). It shows up in the shot list image too of course, with Dustin on the opposite side. For the kids, due to Max being out of commission, the only interactions we are going to get in the first two episodes before the time jump seem to be between El, Will, Mike, and Lucas. We also have confirmation from Millie that El and Lucas will be spending a lot more time together than they had in previous seasons.

Moving onto a bit of cornplating for the last points which just serve as some cherries on top of this theory - we already have imagery of Lucas acting as a bridge between Mike and Will in the party image Ross gave us. This is post time jump most likely because of the new outfits, so it’s interesting that this role could continue throughout the season.

We also have the imagery of Lucas holding a suspiciously coloured blue and yellow shield in Will’s painting of the party. A bit of a stretch, sure. But complied with everything else it is definitely interesting to consider.

Now for the character reasoning, which is always important to consider: why would Lucas end up in this position?

Lucas is going through his girlfriend being in a coma after they had a major distance in their relationship. A coma that Lucas in universe has no clue if she’ll ever wake up from, and realistically (in-universe) hopes are slim that she will recover. And if she does, she may not have all the memories of times spent together still with her. There’s probably so many regrets swirling around his mind of things he could have done or said in the time that they had together. Lucas doesn’t have this luxury - but his friends still do.

Lucas is Mike’s oldest friend outside of Will, and Will/Mike are Lucas’ first friends. They existed as a party even before Dustin.

Out of his pain of ‘losing’ Max and the wisdom he learned from it, I really do think Lucas is going to encourage Mike to seize the day and take control of his life once again. Will and Mike still have the luxury of time and still have chance. If anyone could convince Mike his feelings are reciprocal, it would also be Lucas.

Furthermore, Lucas understands that as a black man in fairly rural 80s Indiana, his relationship with Max is also one that is singled out due to prejudice against interracial couples. Interracial marriage would only have been legalized less than twenty years ago. It’s not quite the same, but again if anyone understood the position Mike would be in (other than say Robin) - it would be Lucas.

[fuckyeahimafangirl]

I come here late to give my opinion on what Nicole Maines said in her book about the Supercorp fandom (go to Twitter for more info, but she basically gave her point of view of things as a queer actor on the show having expected things from the queer fans, confirmed we were being queerbaited while also blaming us for some actors getting fired). I appreciate her side of things and feel for her. But reading that I felt that A LOT was overlooked, especially the context of it all. So sit back if you care enough to read this and come with me as I go on a rant and we go down memory lane to give some context into what it was like to watch Supergirl live as a Supercorp fan.

The first season of Supergirl had its fair share of ships. People liked Kara/Cat, Kara/James, Kara/Win maybe anyone? I don't remember that one but I'm sure there were people out there who liked them. Some people even liked Alex/Kara (a conversation for another time). Kara/Cat shippers could also like Kara/James, because both ships had some strong foundations in the narrative, they were undeniably good ships, regardless of how you feel about age-difference relationships or straight relationships lol. There wasn't mostly an issue, except with the ones that liked Kara/Alex.

In between the first and second season of Supergirl it was announced that a main character would be gay. They didn't say who, though. Speculation began, of course. They did say that Maggie Sawyer was coming to the show but it was not confirmed that she was going to be a lesbian and even less whose love interest. 

Then the second season premiered. And in the very first episode Kara Danvers meets Lena Luthor. Their scenes together were filled with sexual tension from the very beginning, look at their meeting scene without context and a bit of an open mind and most people will see their chemistry and think that maybe Kara was meeting her soulmate. And the first scene of Supergirl meeting Lena Luthor? It was already drawing a parallel between them and Lois/Clark, one of most iconic, recognizable and undeniable canon ships of all time. Drawing parallels between these two ships was the creators of the show's favorite pastime and it started from day one, before the ship had any fans because we hadn't met Lena just yet.

But in that episode we did meet her. And we fell in love fast. Because their interactions and the interest concept of Lena's character were good. Could it really be that Kara was the main gay character? Could it really be that they were going to give us an epic love story with Supergirl and a family member of her family's historically known enemy? Could they dare to make the famous superhero anything other than straight?

It wasn't just a delusion on our part at that time. It was a real possibility based on real facts. Kara had suddenly dropped the guy she spent the entire previous season chasing after. She got him and dumped him for no good reason (the writers didn't bother to give it a good excuse) and in the same episode she meets this woman, at the start of the season we were going to discover a main gay character.

These are all facts.

A few episodes later Maggie Sawyer makes her debut and it's clear that she's Alex's love interest from the first moment. Cool. It's not Kara but at least it's Alex (because, at the time, we know, WE KNOW, that they don't have two lesbian/queer women characters in the same show unless they're dating each other. How could we think that gay people will surround themselves with other gay people? silly us), that was the reaction: We still LOVED that it was Alex, because it still made sense. And it was difficult to find Sanvers fanfic without it having Supercorp in it because we were all the same people, of course most of us liked both ships. 

Now, I obviously don't know her, but I seriously don't think that Chyler can say she felt overlooked by the fans that season. Alex's coming out scenes were some of the best we had seen in our entire lives up until that point, and we made that known. Not all of us might have been on board with Sanvers (some storyline choices could've been questionable) but with Alex? No one loved her more than the queer Supergirl fans. And in the meantime Supercorp kept getting screen time, their friendship progressing in a Clois kind of way that was beautiful to witness. While Maggie and Alex's relationship advanced pretty quickly from an "I'm not gay" to a rejection to a proper first kiss, Supercorp was building a bit more organically as Supergirl kept saving Lena's life, as Lena opened up only to Kara, trusting her all the while Kara was keeping this huge secret from her. We ate that shit up, of course we did.

After season two was over we got the news that Floriana Lima (Maggie) was going to leave the show. I remember Chyler saying that she wanted to do right by us and whoever came next was gonna stay. And I'm not faulting Chyler for what came next, at all. Chyler was and always will be one of the best things on Supergirl and she has always treated the fandom with the utmost respect and love. And I hope she only received the same treatment back (and I hate to know she got those letters from people threatening to kill themselves, but let's have a little compassion for those people and their mental health, I hope they're doing well).

So Maggie left. And while some fans were not coping well with that, most fans understood it was the actress' decision. That was fine. What wasn't fine was the decision the writers made by making the breakup about not wanting babies when they were about to get married. How on Earth (any Earth) a couple don't talk about that particular issue BEFORE deciding to get married? It was an easy way out. But okay, it's just a TV show, I don't write it, we can move on from that... In the same season, at the same time this whole discussion and breakup occurs, the very same person who wanted to have kids has a meet-cute with a SINGLE MOTHER, Sam. The story was full of promise, she had a kid already with whom Alex got along amazingly, there was great chemistry between all three of them, Sam also had a dark secret being basically her sister's most powerful enemy, their relationship was mostly well built throughout the entire season. But guess what? She wasn't her new love interest, and left at the end of it. 

A lot of Supercorp fans LOVED AgentReign (Sam/Alex), by the way. A lot of Supercorp fans also loved ReignCorp (Sam/Lena) and a few even loved AgentCorp (Lena/Alex) and SuperReign (lol what was the name of this ship? I don't remember but Kara/Sam). And guess what? There wasn't a war between us. We were mostly the same people multishipping because it's fun and because these were interesting characters with interesting relationships created by the writers. We were inventing and wishing for stuff, but the foundations were laid for us, some (most) things were there and most of us were just screaming that we liked what we were being given and wanted more of that.

And that's why come season 4, some people were having a hard time accepting Dansen. Because we were mourning the loss of Sam and her relationship with Alex, the what ifs are always the worst, no matter the situation.  But most Supercorp fans embraced Kelly (and Azie, we love Azie and what we got to see of her relationship with Chyler, and Katie and Nicole), the vast majority of us ended up loving Dansen despite the writers not always doing a great job at writing their arcs. And it's awful that some fans treated her and other members of the cast horribly, but that was by far a small portion of the Supergirl fandom in general, and especially the Supercorp fandom. And, by the way, as a side note because racism was part of the problem for a minority of the fandom, A LOT of us in the Supercorp side of it are not white people from the US, A LOT of us are from other countries/races/cultures (that can be racist too of course, but the point is we don't know the races and motives of everyone behind a keyboard).

And that season most of us also embraced Nia because she was the first trans superhero, because of her queerness, because she was an awesome fun character, because she was relatable and geeky like most of us. We embraced her, her relationship with Kara and her relationship with Brainy. And we showed that by trending Nia related things, by adding Nia to our fanfics and fanarts. Nia was a Supercorp ally for most of us and we didn't exclude her from the art because we loved her as much as we love some of the other characters in the show.

Now, if Kara would have had, after the first season, one male love interest that was decent enough, we would have still love and wanted Supercorp, that's true (especially when it had been years of build-up) but most of us probably would have liked the pairing anyway, because we loved Kara Danvers and wanted her to be happy and to have the love she wanted at the beginning of the show (which she didn't get, by the way).

But the writers decided to give her, instead, another man who didn't treat her well. And I couldn't honestly tell you half of William's storyline because I couldn't care less. The creators of the show didn't make me care. Hell, I didn't even see Kara cared enough about that character. The writers should know their audience and should know that the audience needs moments to make them care about the characters, the writers have the power to make that happen. Many times I've seen a fandom hate a character one episode and love them by the next one, because sometimes all it takes is one good scene, or one good arc. William never had that. And now we have confirmation of what we knew all along, that maybe they were writing half-assed storylines for their love interests because they were too busy trying to figure out new ways to queerbait us. If they would have put a quarter of that effort into creating good love interests for Kara and/or Lena (but especially Kara), most of this conversation wouldn't still be happening 3 years later.

We embraced Andrea Rojas, we embraced her so much that we shipped her with Lena. Most of us weren't the blind Supercorp-or-nothing crazy fans a lot of people to this day make us out to be. When things were good, we mostly liked them. But please, please, let's be honest here, a lot of the time Supergirl was not a great-written show. And I get that those are Nicole's friends but a little objectivity, especially after all these years, would have come a long way.

These past few days I've read a couple of people saying Supercorp was the only good thing about the show. Those kinds of people were and still are a very very minority. A lot of us started the show before Supercorp existed and LOVED (still love) the Danvers sisters with all of our hearts. And the writers, at times, didn't know how to keep up with that relationship, the one that at first was the very center of the show, all that well either.

Most Supercorp fans didn't actually like that the 100th episode revolved all around Supercorp. 1) Because it was queerbaiting at its finest. 2) because it should've been about the Danvers sisters. Or at least about all Supergirl's most important relationships in equal measure. Yes, Lena was a big part of her, but ALEX EVEN MORE SO. The fandom didn't make that happen, we didn't fire any actor either. These were decisions made by the people who had the power to make anything in the show happen. If we would have had our way we all know what we would have done, and no, it definitely was not p**n (the most used AO3 tags for our ship speak for themselves).

I didn't see Nicole's last paragraph on the subject shared much. A lot of people didn't see that she acknowledged a small portion of the good the Supercorp fandom did.

But by the time you get to it, you already have a bad taste in your mouth. Because it still reads as if she's talking about us all without a care that "the toxic fans" were just a loud minority. Not to say that the good guys weren't louder, because Supercorp is still what it is to this day because we're still loud. So why is there very little mention of that? The way we supported Nia's episode? The way we supported Kelly's?

And because we were having fun and we were loud about our love for two fictional characters, WE WERE ALSO RECEIVING THREATS from some toxic fans, hell, the day before yesterday some fans were receiving death threats like it's 2017. Everything she says the cast and crew were dealing with, the Supercorp fans were dealing with it as well, and more so because the toxic people felt validated by the choices the creators made. Validated by some writers on Twitter making it worse. Validated by some of the actors who were also mocking us. We were all called delusional, and that was the most chill thing you could be called.

I understand her point of view, and I imagine that was not a great first experience in that kind of set, and I would love to have the opportunity to talk to actors about this topic that fascinates me (relationship between fandoms and cast/crew). But context is important, to see other people's point of views is important when having these conversations. She felt her own community wasn't supporting her when most of us were and that didn't come across at all. Not even with her final words. 

The fact is, they were hurt by a small part of their own fandom (which, by the way, they have no idea how old those toxic fans were. Not to say that adults are not toxic. But we, as the non-toxic adults, should also think of the demographic and react accordingly). And most of us, the queer Supercorp shippers, were also hurt by the toxic part of the fandom and by some of the people she's trying to defend. Let's be clear, there's not "mayyyybe," they were 100% wrong in queerbaiting the hell out of us from day one and mocking us for believing the bait. Make no mistake, most of this is a consequence of THAT. 

[the-crooked-library]

Alright so it seems that I'm not quite done beating the horse that is the Bacon triptych - because the potential layers in its presence have me absolutely enthralled. As a visual element, it illustrates the "currently unfolding" part of the drama, but also appears to allude to a story that's yet to come; and, granted, that may be the brainrot speaking, but my art history fixation is insisting that there's gold in them hills, so bear with me here.

As tenuous as it may seem at first glance, I firmly believe that the writing itself supports my fascination with this piece. It demands to be noticed. It is a vivid splash of red in a box of brutalist grey; and, furthermore, unlike the other paintings in the Dubai penthouse, it's written into the dialogue. The camera lingers there - hence, the series wants us to pay attention; and, while its subject-level significance is not to be discarded, I cannot help but see another, similarly emotional allusion within the same frames.

Instead of drawing from the painting, this story layer connects more to the artist himself. One of the most notable periods of Francis Bacon's personal life was his relationship with George Dyer, which lasted from the 1960s to the early 1970s. Unlike his previous paramours - who were largely older (and, in the case of the last, abusive) men, Dyer was a young addict. Described as someone who could "throw a decisive punch," he was nevertheless vulnerable and trusting; as such, Bacon took on a dominant role, and Dyer became his muse. Among Bacon's portraits, he was ever-present; and though the relationship was tumultuous, often overwhelmed by their shared addictions, those paintings are uncharacteristically tender.

The story ended with tragedy - it's an account of drugs, alcoholism, neediness, dependence, classism, friction, and Dyer's eventual suicide; and within the context of IWTV, this framework is undeniably thematically relevant.

From the beginning - a decade-long involvement, addiction, an uncharacteristic tenderness - beat for beat, the book version of Devil's Minion is the same story, happening only a few years off. The presence of the Bacon painting within the Dubai penthouse is, in my opinion, an indicator to it having happened in the show as well. Just like Dyer, the TV version Daniel met Armand in a pub (or bar); just like Dyer, he is compact, athletic, pale, working-class - and, when under the influence, boisterous and active.

There is, naturally, one key difference; unlike Dyer, Daniel survives.

In the Doylist sense, the painting, therefore, acts as a visual cue - almost as evidence, of sorts. The memory of their entanglement may be effaced, but the blood-red stain of it is impossible to ignore, as is this placement:

I don't believe it is accidental that the painting is sold almost as soon as Daniel arrives in Dubai. It is an indication that the Devil and his Minion are no longer locked within a determined ending; their story continues, and memories are replaced with the real, living thing.

Edit: it bears pointing out that, while I had this post hanging in my drafts, convinced that I was reading far too much into something that already had another reason to exist, it's been announced that the relationship between Daniel and Armand is, in fact, going to be explored within the series. My every wish has been granted, and I can hardly wait.

[that-salty-ghost]

As Above, So Below | Chapter 29: Exceptions| Viktor [Arcane] // Male Reader | Rating: M Throughout

Word Count: ~4.9k Summary: Viktor pushes your buttons until he's busy with other activities Tags: swearing, sexual tension, flirting, kissing, mage-y stuff Last Chpt: First Aid

Check my pinned post for more details/previous chapters/etc.

Some silent moments pass as you finish patching Viktor up—thankfully without further mention of the kind of effect he has on your nervous system.

The wind still howls, the snowstorm still rages on, but the two of you couldn’t be bothered inside these walls.

The air settles easily between you as you trail off into lighter conversations—Viktor’s voice dropping low and gentle as he tells you more about the little things that shape his life.

Like how he loves crossword puzzles, the sound of birds singing in the morning, and skipping stones on the water at dusk. That he likes to have something to sip on when he finds time to cook. That he hates public speaking. That he’s trying to stop picking at the callouses on his palms when he fidgets.

You share your own quirks and stories too—telling him about your ever-growing record collection, how Jeff followed you home from the Freljord, how you can’t dance for shit but know your way around the pole at the brothel.

You tell him that you don’t particularly miss your father, but you do miss his war horse. That you also prefer cooking with a drink in hand, and that you’ve been meaning to finish a puzzle that Viktor said he spotted at R&R’s.

When he politely asks if he can help you with it, you’re not sure how anyone could ever tell this man no when his eyes are beaming with that much excitement.

Which is also why you don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s not finished because deep down, you hated that puzzle down to its microscopic, way-too-identical, 3,000-piece guts.

It hurt your back to bend over it for so long, it was likely missing a minimum of a dozen pieces at this point, hell—even the image of some obscure landscape didn’t even pique your interest.

But Viktor does.

And who were you to rob him of the little things that he found joy in. To rob yourself of more time that you could spend with him.

Of course you agree.

You’re about to cap the salve and pack it up when Viktor’s question shifts the conversation back to everything that’s just transpired.

“Does ehh…anyone else know about you? About what you can do?” His question comes quietly and you’re not sure you’ll ever get use to how tender his voice sounds when he’s curious about something sensitive.

“Remy. And my fence…friend?...” You tinker with that title mentally before shrugging the semantics away. “…but I uh…I don’t think he remembers.” You scoff under your breath at that probability.

“What?” His brow quirks and you realize Viktor doesn’t know anything about Kass. “I’m failing to see how this is a forgettable experience.”

You’re amused that he’s more curious about the man’s memory rather than his questionable occupation, but try to answer all the same. “Kass uh…frequently dips into the pool of mind-altering substances.”

“Ah,” The machinist offers a small smile and a “Yes, I suppose that would do it.” to let that fact lie for now.

You offer a weak grin in return and try to give him a little more context. “He’s the one that said to ditch my backpack for the shoulder suspenders.”

“The one who said you would look like a workaholic?”

“That’s him.”

“Hm.”

He pauses with that information and you try to decipher where his mind went. Rather than pry, you just give him a little more. “He can be a lot. Definitely has some demons hot on his heels, but I think you would like him.”

“If he suggested that you wear those suspenders, I already do.”

Before you light up the room for the third godsdamned time you pull your hand from Viktor’s and let the glow slowly subside from your fingertips. You quickly eye the leather accessory in the corner of the room, still drying out near the fire when Viktor’s voice pulls your attention back to him.

“So, I’m only the third person who knows…that you’re a mage, I mean.”

His reversion back to the original topic at hand is not unwelcome. You nod, the realization finally hitting you that you’ve allowed this crush of three days in on one of the most vulnerable parts about you. A choice your father would’ve punished you for. Something he would’ve said would be the death of you if you didn’t put Viktor down first.

But you sit calmly, confident in your decision being the right one.

“I just…for both of our safety, have to ask you not to tell anyone else…I know that’s not fair—”

“Of course that’s fair.” He interrupts your incoming trail of apologies and you feel that his fingers shifted from his leg to the side of your knee. “And you have my word.” His swift understanding only furthers your conviction and your father’s voice immediately fades from your mind. “Though, I’m curious—with so few people that know—what made you trust me?”

“It was…kind of a gut feeling…?”

“Sharing something that personal is driven by your microbiome?”

“It’s hard to describe.”

“Try me?”

He clearly wants more, still not sure if you’re being completely honest. You try to explain it better.

“I used to think it was my mother looking out for me. I’m not so sure about that. Maybe it's just intuition, but…sometimes I get this…pull. I don’t have a better word but it’s strong. And I know I can trust it…so I know I can trust you too…”

Viktor’s expression softens and he seems to understand despite your poorly worded explanation. You reach for a washrag to dab up any excess salve and it hits why you showed the other man what you could do in the first place.

“This happened when you tripped up that pickpocket didn’t it?” You reach for his arm to assess his wrist one more time, feeling good about your work after checking for any residual inflammation.

Feeling good about having an almost-normal excuse to hold his hand again as well.

Viktor inhales through his mouth which quickly turns into a lopsided grin. He pauses, pressing his lips back together again without saying a word and flicks his gaze from your hands back up.

Feeling his eyes on yours, you stop what you’re doing to glance up at him. In an instant you realize his boyish ‘I’ve been caught’ expression has probably kept him out of trouble in many instances. Endearing was an understatement you think to yourself as your voice wavers.

“You’ve been sore all night?” The space in between your brows pinch together as that thought sinks in.

“That wrist is usually sore by the end of every night.” Viktor shrugs offhandedly like it was nothing for him until you catch him peering at his cane in the corner of your eye. You wondered quietly if that was the cause of said everyday soreness.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t want to ruin the night.”

“Ruin the night? You didn’t capsize a boat.”

“That didn’t ruin the night.”

“This certainly wouldn’t have either.”

A quiet “Hm.” is all he mumbles as he notices you’ve finished up. There’s a small selfish part of you that wants to pretend like you’re still working so you can keep his hand in yours awhile longer, but you loosen your grip as a signal that it was fine to move.

“How’s that feel? Any better?”

Viktor lifts his hand to stretch out his fingers, eyes widening after he experimentally rolls out his wrist. The disbelief that surfaces in his expression evident as he turns his hand with ease. “It—yes much more than usual…” He eyes the salve then your hand before his gaze finds yours again. “How…is that possi—?” The wily expression that plagues you gives Viktor pause, apprehensively tilting his head, jaw still slack with a brow arched. “…What…?”

“Just thinking about what it would’ve been like if you would’ve told me sooner.” It’s the first time you’ve thrown a little shade at Viktor. You know the man is quick, but you weren’t fully prepared for how he fully throws it right back.

With a toothy grin, he scoffs. Pressing his tongue to cheek and begrudgingly nodding at your comment with an “Ah…” Viktor’s demeanor shifts into something more playful, catching you completely off guard when he abruptly stands without warning. You reflexively scoot back, nearly falling off of the footrest as you do. He only gives you a teasing shrug—you can practically hear the sarcastic “whoops” he wants to say before he makes his way towards the door.

Your brows furrow as you get up to shadow him, a puzzled grin forming more fully with each step. “What are…” A chuckle escapes you as you try to figure out what he’s up to. “Where are you going now?”

“Oh.” He turns his head like he isn’t aware that he has you perfectly confused, motioning to the door with brows raised in feigned innocence. “Just thinking about taking mistress Linda up on that sleepover she so graciously offered.”

“Mistress Lin—is that actually her name?” Amusement seeps into your tone at his empty threat of joining the woman who recently propositioned him.

“Sure.”

“Suuure?” You watch Viktor bite back a laugh as you call him out. “You don’t know her name, but you’re ready to jump into bed with her?” You muse as you take a step closer to him. “You don’t seem the type.”

“I’ve been known to make exceptions.” He reaches for the doorknob, giving you a lighthearted challenge before shrugging nonchalantly. “And I’ve done worse.” The way he delivers the line, you have to believe him. And the pause it gives you is palpable.

You stand speechless for a moment while he cocks a brow at you to test his honesty. But you do no such thing. You’re not sure how far he’s gone with anyone, but you begin to realize that he may have more experience than you might’ve initially anticipated.

And based on the sly smile beginning to weave into lips that you imagine would look much better in between your teeth…you figure your theory is likely correct.

As he slowly starts to tease apart your self-control, you had to admit, Viktor has you wrapped around his little finger when he’s like this.

Crafty and collected and completely merciless with keeping you on your toes.

Toying with you and testing the waters to see if you were willing to go toe-to-toe with him.

And while your elusive confidence usually made it difficult to find the right words when he was around, wit was a game that brought it back to the forefront.

So, you bite.

“You could also do better.”

Secretly, you’re just as taken aback as Viktor looks as soon as the words leave your mouth. But still, you double-down and take a step towards the man whose hand is now slowly slipping off of the door’s handle. He collects himself with a small nod—a touché before starting to level with you.

“So, your intentions were to bed me in a cheap room after all?”

“Bed you?” You repeat back, his choice of words throwing you for a loop before you pick at the details of his accusation. “Viktor, this is far from cheap.”

“You’re not denying it?”

“Denying what?”

His small turn on his heels draws you a little closer, clearly not backing down from this subtle dance as he quips back.

“If you want to play coy you should’ve stayed in the river.”

“Coy…was that a fish pun?”

“You do seem to love those.”

His crooked grin adequately accents his unfortunately true accusation…you do appreciate the occasional tasteful pun.

“Clearly not as much as you seem to love Linda.”

It wasn’t your best counterpoint. You were struggling with your rebuttal after taking another step and catching the familiar scent of smoke from the stove and cardamom from Viktor. The smallest hint of herbal soap from his damp hair and the crisp outside air from the cracked window. Each aroma clashing beautifully against the other—stunning your senses into understanding the proximity closing in.

“We’re just going to talk, her and I.”

Ohhhh, you could kick yourself for that stupid fucking slip up right about now.

You understand exactly what he’s doing with his reclamation of your words. He wants to hear you say it. Wants to hear what you want. Wants to watch you grapple for control of this back-and-forth, of your flawed logic.

Wants to see you squirm when he fully turns to face you, his chest almost bumping against yours as he straightens his back.

You give in, allowing him to entertain the meaning as much as he’d like.

“I think your mouth might be too busy for that.”

Your new favorite color returns in earnest, staining his cheeks more quickly than he can hide it.

Look at that, you’re back in control.

His smug grin quickly dissolves into hushed breaths, lips parted when you subtly steal a glance at them only to find that he’s trying to steal a glance at yours as well.

Your heart betrays its sure rhythm…until the other man decides to join you in playing coy, instantly dragging you back into another rapid-fire exchange.

“Whatever do you mean, [Y/n]?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Quite the smart ass.”

“Quite the smart tongue.”

“In more ways than you know.”

“Lucky Linda.”

“Unlucky you.”

“Unlucky…me?”

Your voice breaks quietly before you drop your gaze—taking in the meaning behind bold words and wondering how much weight was behind them until he solidifies it.

“Mmhm.”

Slowly succumbing to the familiar feeling of defeat as Viktor gets the upper hand of your repartee. Your eyes dart aimlessly over him as you try to pull your thoughts together in a desperate attempt to gain it back.

He catches your pause and quirks a brow, looking quite pleased to have you reeling under his words. With a sigh of exaggerated disappointment complete with a quick click of his tongue, he adds fuel to your fire just as easily as the hearth he’s fed.

“And here I thought you had a knack for getting what you wanted.”

Gods you wanted that. Wanted to push him right up against that fucking door. Wanted to close the gap between you, wipe that sly smirk off his face, and make better use of his quick tongue. Wanted to prove that his assumption about you was correct—that you were a person capable of going for what you wanted…or even that you could be for that matter.

For him at least…you wanted to be.

But there you stood. Wrestling with doubt and nerves and ego as you showed the icicles forming on the windowsill what it really means to be frozen in place.

Then it hits you. That small, hushed piece of information that slipped from the other man’s lips not so long ago.

You decide to take one more stab, relying on Viktor’s integrity when he dismissed mistress whoever-the-fuck within your earshot.

“And here I thought you were exactly where you wanted to be tonight.”

Loosening fingers fall the rest of the way from the handle only to be pressed flat against the door behind him. His knuckles carve white into the back of the hand that grips his cane a little bit tighter now. It’s small, subtle—but proof that you’ve rattled his relatively unflappable demeanor.

Something in him changes and at first you struggle to decipher it. His muscles look tense, particularly the ones in his shoulders as he makes an effort to hold his head high even with his back literally and metaphorically against the wall. You can’t tell if he’s surprised that you heard that part of their conversation, or if the meaning behind that sentence actually scared him.

When he pushes his weight off the door it takes every ounce of your being to stay collected. To maintain eye contact with a gaze that was becoming all too easy to drown in. To shake the shiver rolling down your spine when he answers you.

“I am…”

He speaks with confidence but the way honeyed eyes are frantically searching yours says otherwise. Uncertainty becomes apparent as he watches you watching him, his head dipping slowly downward with growing apprehension as he finishes his sentence softer than before.

“…well…almost.”

His breathing gets shaky, stuttering in his chest as it rises and falls. Uncertainty is one thing, but you’re realizing it’s more than that.

“Almost?”

He’s nervous.

“Almost.”

Just like you.

…

But unlike you,

“Where…would you rather be…?”

Nerves don’t get in the way of what he wants.

…

…

…

“…here.”

Viktor’s voice softens and before you can speculate—before he has a chance to change his mind—he leans forward to close the gap separating you.

His lips press against yours with a tenderness that stuns you into place. He’s unhurried. Resolute. Like kissing you was the most natural thing in the world for him.

Like he was in fact, exactly where he wanted to be for the night.

Regardless of his finesse, your body goes rigid as you reflexively grab ahold of his forearm for support.

…Which he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

He returns your stiff grip with a tentative touch—his fingers extending lightly along the underside of your arm—soothing you despite the tight hold you have on him.

It’s such a small, soft motion…but it settles you. Immediately for that matter. That’s when it hits you that Viktor was actually right about what he said earlier.

Time really had no place when he was with you.

In the span of a sharp breath, you don’t know at which point your eyes fluttered shut. Or when you stopped thinking. Let alone when you stopped breathing. When your grip loosened, when your jaw unclenched. When your worries lifted into nothingness.

When the noise settled and everything finally felt…still.

Something you haven’t felt in years…

And just in time for Viktor to pull away.

As you feel him shift his weight back you all but catch yourself from greedily leaning forward. Leaving you looking practically starved, and clearly craving more than a mere sample…as delicious as it was.

Not yet ready to relinquish the small peck, your eyes hold onto what your lips couldn’t.

Doused with the same state, Viktor’s own lips remain parted, likely still lingering with the sensation of having yours pressed against them. A sensation it seemed he also wasn’t quite ready to surrender by the looks of it.

When your eyes meet, heavy and cautious and equally full of need for the other, Viktor tilts his head just slightly. His dark brows furrow, knitted with contemplation or curiosity—maybe both. But you recognize the purpose behind that look.

He’s trying to read you.

And rivaling the very book you pulled from the shelf, you let him.

He easily pages through your wanting expression, mulls over your body language until you catch him glance back at your mouth with a gaze that transitions from reserved to ravenous in a blink before meeting your eyes again.

Neither of you say a word. Neither of you have to.

He just quirks a brow at you.

Quicker than usual.

More intentional.

Not at all the expression you’ve seen when something has piqued his curiosity. Or when he’s wanting more insight that was initially provided.

No, this was something else.

This was a wordless way to say, ‘your move’. An affirmation that there could be more if you wanted it. Wanted him.

This wasn’t a request for more information.

It was a request for more…of you.

…

Maybe it’s just your imagination, but in the corner of your eye, you could’ve sworn you saw one of the icicles break away from the sill.

…

Turns out you’re tired of being frozen too.

Finally, you move—leaning forward and tipping your head to catch Viktor’s lips more fully than before. You can hear him inhale sharply at the sudden contact, can picture his brows pinching together in concentration…

…can feel his back hit the wall with a resounding ‘thud' as your actions come a bit more rushed than you intended. A soft “mmph” escapes from his lips to yours at the impact, his hand jerking from your forearm to your delt for balance, but he doesn’t break the kiss.

Still, you consider pulling back to make sure he’s alright. To apologize for quite literally throwing yourself at the other man. You place your hands against the surface on either side of his hips, bracing to push yourself away.

But his arm wraps around your shoulders instead—pulling you closer and reassuring you that he’s okay. That this is okay.

…more than okay.

It doesn’t seem like his first kiss, and it definitely isn’t yours, but judging by how much you both have clearly been wanting this, it might as well be.

Your hands are clumsy when you blindly reach for his waist—scraping your knuckles on the wooden door as you add to the symphony of thuds pounding against it.

And Viktor’s moments are no smoother.

Abandoning his support, his palm warms your cheek as slender fingers splay wildly against your ear and neck. You can feel him straining, his digits curling slightly before releasing—like he was holding onto his self-control by a thread. Fighting with himself from being too rough with you.

Too hungry for you.

Too consumed by you to care that his actions are quickly followed by a boisterous clank as his cane hits the floor.

…Which only seems to spur you both on.

Viktor’s lips crash against yours again and again. Each kiss becoming more desperate than the last with each breath sounding harsher in between. Your need for each other easily outweighing the desire to come up for air as the sound of huffs fill the room.

A small experimental press into your shoulder has you shift your stance, staggering your legs in between Viktor’s to accommodate the slight imbalance. You can feel his weight begin to fully settle onto you and you happily hold him against the door while his other hand drifts from your cheek.

Inch by agonizing inch his hand trails downwards—reading the lines that have shaped your history and sculpted your features like brail under his fingertips. His touch is cautious…curious—moving carefully over your chest, following each curve that dips around tense muscles and scars that never healed quite right.

You sigh into him while he explores you, pausing his pursuit on the raised line left from a bullet grazing you the day your parents died. He tables the questions churning in his mind to tilt his head and kiss you deeper.

Soothe your old wounds with magic of his own.

He presses his lips to yours more gently than the last time, slowing the adrenaline-fueled pace before you feel the featherlight touch of his tongue brushing along your lower lip. Your breath hitches as you savor how soft he is with you. How his movements are so delicate despite the tangible desire brimming just beneath their surface.

It’s quite the dichotomy. Strong enough to knock the air out of you.

In the form of a moan, sure. Which Viktor gladly muffles when he feels you part your lips for him. His tongue eagerly begins to dance with yours, moving slowly at first while he gets use to you before easily falling into a back and forth of give and take.

The thin fabric of his shirt leaves little to the imagination as your own hands begin to wander, running up his back before languidly trailing down again. He arches into your touch—pulls you closer while you start to memorize the curvature of his spine, the edges of his shoulder blades, the indents of his hips.

It’s effortless—getting lost in Viktor. His skin radiates a warmth that draws you in like a moth to a flame. You can’t help but consider the likelihood of his rising temperature being a byproduct of the arcane that recently resonated inside of him.

And that gives you an unexpected rush that you can’t explain.

Something along the lines of he can understand you on a base level that no one else has been able to even come close to reaching. Knows what it’s like to have something entirely unruly course through his veins without a compass or care. Knows the static and heat and tension and release of it all.

A micro-dosed version of it, sure.

A micro dose is more than enough in a world sober of magic. And more than enough to fully lose your inhibitions with him.

Deft fingers drag slow as molasses along your stomach, rippling over the contours that are already wound tightly in knots. You can feel him hum approvingly, clearly enjoying how your muscles tense under his teasing.

But not as much as you enjoy the sound he makes when you catch his lip between your teeth.

It’s a hushed groan caught in the crosshairs of surprise and pleasure. Barely above a murmur, but audible evidence that he’s come a little more undone. You give a light tug and match the subdued sigh that you pull from his lips, warmth blooming in your chest while his fingers dig into your shoulder and abdomen.

When you let go you can feel his smile while he chases evasive breaths, lips catching on yours lightly with each word that passes from them.

“And you…” He chuckles softly before finishing. “…said you don’t bite.” He follows his statement by taking the lead—pushing himself off the door, snaking an arm around your waist, and taking shallow steps to walk you backwards.

“I made…” You grin at his callback, trying to find your breath as well in between kisses and footsteps. “…an exception.”

“Do you make those often?” His voice sounds shot, graveled with passion that grows with each step. “Exceptions…”

“From time to time.” Your ears are burning and you’ve been so caught up in his aftershocks that you barely notice the pressure that’s caused your skimpy ass shorts to get tighter. You reinforce your own voice, playing into his question that you know is alluding to the common rules of a first date. “We’ve already made quite a few…”

“What like…assault?”

His clever response causes you to grin into a small kiss, your tongue teasing his before you correct him. “Well, battery. Technically.”

“That’s…not better.”

After another kiss, another step you manage to answer back with a crime of his own from the evening. “And how about theft?”

A playful nibble on your lip hitches your breath before he hums another rule broken from the list. “Mm. Vandalism.”

Gradually you get use to letting him steer you blind, your movements shifting from an uneven shuffle to steady-ish steps. You figure he trusted you mending him with raw magic—you can trust him not to let you fall on these expensive floors.

Not that you would care at this point anyway.

“Can’t forget about gambling.”

“Of course not.”

The backs of your knees hit the bedframe and you both stop in your tracks.

His focus travels.

Yours follows.

A glance behind you puts the luxe mattress layered with more blankets and pillows than you have in your entire loft into plain view. The implications of what comes after sitting heavy in the air as Viktor’s hands fall to your hips.

Your half-lidded vision is blurred but mesmerized by the way his whiskey eyes drink you in. His gaze moves down your chest and over your stomach until it drops low enough to make your cheeks flush.

“We could…just retire for the night, [Y/n].” His tone gives you all of the comfort in the world that it was okay to do so as he lifts a hand to cradle your cheek. “Falling asleep beside you—” He pauses, a sincere smile pulling at his lips while he imagines what that looks like. “That would be enough for me.”

Kind, warm eyes reflect the honesty behind sweet words. You match his smile and get lost in his touch, leaning into his palm before placing your hand on his. Thin fabric still leaving little to the imagination, you only have to glimpse down for a second to steel your thoughts into a word.

“Unless…?”

“Unless…” Warm ignites into to a smolder, sweet swiftly becomes sultry, and his touch fades from your cheek to fidget with the hem of your shirt.

“You’d like to make one more exception with me…”

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A/N: Oh it's HEATIN' UP--thanks to everyone for being patient with this chapter, it took a minute to fully form and write up and I hope it gives some warm fuzzies during these TRYING times :) Also wanted to say hi hello and welcome to any new folks! I am loving every comment, they seriously make my day. I'm so glad y'all are here and hope you enjoy the read! This is definitely a longer fic that started as a comfort read/be a place to visit if you've had a hard day and has turned into an entire story that I'm really excited to continue. I'm not sure how far into season 2 we'll go yet since we still have a few episodes left, but I'll be sure to include some tidbits and little easter eggs regardless of where to story finishes.  Thank you also for the follows, feedback, likes, shares and everything in between. It means the world to me and I'm beyond humbled this lil thing has brought some folks even a little bit of joy.  If you're feeling wild, my ko-fi is linked to my pinned post and in my lil sidebar (no pressure ever, I do this for free and because I love it)...But if there's a dollar in there I will be telling my homophobic dad his son made a buck writing gay smut at the family dinner next week. 

And if that isn't success I don't know what is. Anyway, thank you again for reading and I hope everyone is doing well out there! Cheers, Ghost