#stella space talks

[supernovaa-remnant]

thank you for your thoughts and reminding me of the fermi paradox! don't mind this long ask.. this is probably my top 5 fav things to discuss....

it is a bit sad to think that there are aliens out there totally within our comprehension and that we could communicate with, but we simply don't cross paths in time. like with the vastness of space and distance in lightyears and all that, maybe by the time a clear signal reaches our planet, it's millions of years in the future? it all depends on technology i suppose, which is cool to think about lifeforms similar to ours developing technology like us but with the physics and materials of different planets we've never seen before. and another cool thing, all the hypotheses about how aliens may be very much interacting with earth and are just deliberately making sure we don't detect them, how they have much broader intelligence than our standards, it reminds of something jerma said once that i'm obsessed with. he brought something up where he considered what if aliens were actually less intelligent than us. what if we came into contact with aliens that consider us to be their amazing and advanced counterparts? this was disputed with "well then how would they have space travel/communication to contact us in the first place" but what if we found them first? i don't know, again i could go on for hours about this hah

Jade!!! I also love talking about this thank you so much for sending this ask <3

It makes me so sad to think about aliens we could’ve communicated with except we’re just not around at the same time. I have often thought about what it would feel like to one day find remnant of a civilization on an exoplanet, only for no one to actually be around anymore. Or maybe one day aliens will stumble across the Golden Record, but we will all be gone, and that record is all they will know of us.

I think there’s a lot of possible answers to the fermi paradox. Maybe there are aliens, but they’re in a completely different cluster of galaxies. Maybe there are aliens in our own cluster, but maybe none of us have reached sufficient space travel yet. Maybe they just aren’t interacting with us for whatever reason. Maybe they’re scientists who are observing us, but they’re not interfering just like how scientists filming nature documentaries don’t interfere.

That idea of us finding them first though. I love that idea omg. It reminds me of something I learned in one of the astronomy classes I took at uni. If you think about it, the universe is actually pretty young. The most common stars in the universe are red dwarf stars, which are estimated to live for trillions of years. It made me think… what if at a later point in a red dwarf’s life, the perfect conditions of life exist? What if there’s a certain time and planets a certain distance from red dwarfs, and what if that has the ideal conditions for life to form?

In that case… maybe Earth is just early. Maybe they’re are other planets with life that formed in more difficult conditions, but maybe it’s less common. Maybe that’s why we haven’t run into anyone yet. Maybe all those galactic civilizations just aren’t around yet.

It’s interesting to think about. I’m not sure how much I truly think that’s the explanation (I think I’m just hesitant to accept things that make us special… it feels almost full of ourselves to think of us as early, but maybe that’s the case), but I like thinking about it!!

All that being said, I think life is probably very abundant in the universe. Maybe not space faring life, but I think there is life, even if just microbial.

To be honest, I think there’s a good chance that there’s life in our solar system (specifically on Europa). Everywhere on Earth where there is liquid water and heat/a heat source, there is life. Europe (most likely) has both those conditions. I could talk about Europa for ages, but I will cut off my rambles here lol.

[dreamerdrop]

holding garak responsible for his behaviour on empok nor is kinda ridiculous for a number of reasons, one of which is obviously the fantastical nature of specifically what happened there in the first place, but. i gotta say.

if someone was slowly induced into a state of psychosis, dosed with utterly absurd amounts of basically amphetamines against their will, and then placed into a situation that involved them being encouraged to murder at least two people in the name of self defense, if they went ahead and flipped out and tried to kill everyone else present at the time, well—

i think i would forgive a real world human for that too, honestly. i do not think that would be their fault. i would think that situation was fucked up and they (and everyone else) were gonna need therapy forever and ever but that was not their fuckin’ fault.

[kr-yoongi]

I would like more bisexual c0ps in television please <3

[eventiderookery]

i naively thought that Eido being prominent this season would mean i would be motivated to flesh out her relationship with Solas, but nope i got bodily grabbed by the idea of Kaarick finally learning that guardians killed her entire family/ketch and then going on a revenge plot with her brother about it. so needless to say i have a very different fic in the works than i had anticipated

[supernovaa-remnant]

Jade!!! Sorry to commandeer this post lol but I absolutely love your thoughts on aliens. Also, I completely agree. I think it’s entirely possible that there are life forms just beyond our comprehension and beyond how we define life and sentience.

(Also, your belief being based on whimsy more than anything else is such an amazing way to think of aliens, I think)

Not to enter the conversation with some of my own thoughts, but how many of the potential answers to the Fermi paradox have you heard? I ask because one that I think about often is just the age of civilization. If you think about it, humanity and human civilization has existed for such an incredibly short period of time compared to the universe. It’s entirely possible that sentient life and civilization (at least how we think of it) is incredibly short lived compared to the universe, and it’s possible we just keep missing each other :( which. absolutely heartbreaking idea imo, but possible.

Anyway, all this to say that I think it’s incredibly likely that sentient life as we consider it is out there, even more likely that life in general is out there. Combine that with your thoughts about life existing under a definition that we can’t comprehend, then I think it’s way more likely than not that life in some way or form exists out there.

three things I wanna know about you:

do you have a favorite greek myth?

what's your stance on the existence of aliens?

what are your thoughts on the minecraft end poem?

thank you for questions :3

favorite greek myth ooh i think anything related to prometheus, i'm not sure how to explain why i'm just drawn to that type of character

i could talk about aliens for hours!!!! the short answer is i do believe in extraterrestrial life!! the unnecessarily long answer is under the cut. lol

ah the end poem :'D it's beautiful and perfect to me, probably because minecraft is my favorite game. it's like a digital hug that will always be there for you. i feel the same about the c418 soundtrack

ok so aliens long answer. i've already made some posts about my interest in aliens outside of fiction, i think it's complicated in a way that makes me believe there has to be some kind of sentience beyond what we know already. when people try to find extraterrestrial signs of life they usually default to things we can comprehend, things related to our own earthly definition of sentience. this of course is all we can do because we can't chase something we can't comprehend, but i don't think we should discount it exactly.. certain theories that question our comprehension is like maybe aliens do already live among us or in our atmosphere and we just don't have the brain capacity or the technology to recognize them or how they impact our environment. ufos are already confirmed to be really common and there are countless conspiracies around the information governments across the world are gatekeeping. there's just too much to consider within "anything is possible," so i'd say my specific belief is lifeforms from earth are not the only entities that have cognition enough to impact their environment (so like, including plants and stuff! aliens could be what we would call plants). i think there must be other things in the galaxy that match this definition, within our comprehension or not. i'm no hardcore alien enthusiast beyond the discussion of them being really fun, so my belief is pretty much based on whimsy more than anything!!

[watchmegetobsessed]

UNMATCHED

A/N: it's been like 6 months since i last posted something and honestly, i haven't even written anything, things are very shitty these days but i felt the motivation to write this quickly after watching 'tell me lies' and 'rivals' these past weeks so here we go! if student-prof type of fics are not your thing then don't read it

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

WARNING: age gap, student-professor relationship

SUMMARY: Harry is very strict about staying away from students as a young and handsome professor, but there is one person he can't get out of his head and a Christmas party brings an unexpected turn.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry hates these type of parties, mostly because he can’t imagine inviting dozens of students into his home, his private space, have the roam around and spend an entire evening with them, talking and pretending like they aren’t just trying to get a better grade at the end of the semester with their too friendly behavior. Or, in his case, some girls try to push the boundaries and flirt with him, hoping to hook up with him. 

He is not stupid. He has heard students whisper about him several times, he notices the heart eyes when he is talking in class and he has gotten several phone numbers on papers since he started his PHD studies and started teaching last year. His friends teased him about being the heartthrob of the faculty, but he didn’t think it would actually happen and to this extent. To avoid any possible scandals, not that he planned to make any, he has put on quite a rigid mask towards the students to scare them off from even trying, though that hasn’t stopped some of them from wanting to shoot their shot. 

He wouldn’t have come to this party, he would rather be home and continue his research that’s still not even close to being done, but Professor Bradford, or Stella as she requests Harry to call her, is the only person he gets along with in the faculty. She is 18 years older than Harry, but still younger than the rest of the old men who have been teaching here since probably before the declaration of independence was signed. Those men are the reason younger people don’t like classic literature anymore, with their outdated ways of teaching and unwillingness to bring something modern into their lectures they are scaring the new generations away. But not Stella. She is one of the reasons Harry went into his PHD and now he gets to work with her. He couldn’t just reject her invitation for her annual Christmas Party she holds for her students and some colleagues. 

Now he is standing by the wall, drinking mulled wine and just gritting his teeth, trying to calculate how early is too early to leave. A couple of girls have already tried to chat him up, they like to circle him, leave him almost no room to escape and then make him talk about school stuff, but then they slyly bring up personal things, hoping to break his usual character, but he sees through them always. 

Harry’s best friend, Niall always teases him that he should just give in and have fun with one of them. His morals are a lot looser than Harry’s, that’s for sure. 

Just as he is about to look for the bathroom, not to use it but to hide for a bit, another group of girls spots him and he can already feel his skin crawling as they approach him from down the hallway. He is quick to assess the situation, but he realizes he has no chance of fleeing before they reach him. 

“Profesor! So good to see you here!” 

And here we go. 

It goes the same, they are extremely nice and inquiring about his plans for the next semester and then suddenly they are talking about summer and Harry knows they are moments away from asking what he’ll be doing once the school year is over. One of the girls is talking about going to Italy on a yacht and the others chime in with their own ridiculously over the top plans while Harry is avoiding to even look at them, his eyes roam around the other guests. 

That’s when he sees her. 

Just down the hall he can peek into the kitchen and there she is, with a boy Harry assumes to be her boyfriend. He’s seen them around campus the past few weeks, he even waited for her after Harry’s class and saw them walk away together as he fought the way his stomach churned every time. 

Since the moment she walked into his class at the beginning of the semester Harry has been feeling like he is losing his mind. Whether it be the way she laughs with her friends before class or focuses with undivided attention as Harry explains something by the board, or says hello every time she passes him in the cafeteria, Harry can’t stop thinking about her for days after even though he knows such feelings should be banned from his mind when it comes to a student. Every time he catches himself thinking about her he wants to throw himself out the window, but he still can’t fight it. There’s something in her that draws him in and swallows him whole and it’s not just the looks. Unlike a lot of students who take his classes for easy credits or to drool after him, she is there to learn as much as she can and she’s had the most brilliant thoughts on certain subjects Harry has ever encountered, making him almost jealous he wasn’t the one to think about them. 

She is… unmatched. And forbidden, but impossible to ignore. She’s been his vice for months.

From where he stands it appears she is having a fight with said boyfriend, her always cheerful expression is now rather upset and confused while the boy seems to be over the conversation, almost irritated by her, dismissed. Harry tries to appear not too obvious about watching them, but he is also way too fixated on her to ignore what’s happening just down the hallway. 

He glances away just for a few seconds, but the next time he looks back he sees the boy stomping away, irritated, while she is left there, pulling on her coat before disappearing through the backdoor, swallowed by the darkness of the unlit back terrace. 

And before Harry could stop himself, he is already moving.

“Excuse me girl,” he mumbles disorientedly as he slips out of the small circle. 

He places his glass to a nearby table and then grabs his own coat from the wardrobe in the hallway before making his way outside. After her. 

The moment he steps out into the cold a short sense of realization washes over him that he definitely shouldn’t be here, that he is crossing a line, but then another voice in his head tunes it out, convincing him that he is just making sure she is okay and there’s nothing wrong with that. 

Stopping by the door his gaze rakes through the terrace, but he doesn’t see her, until she spots her slouched form sitting on the bottom of the stairs leading out to the lawn. He hears her sniffling, but she hasn’t acknowledged his presence yet, if she noticed it at all. There’s a couple of moments of hesitation on his end, he can hear the rational side of him screaming somewhere in the back of his mind, telling him to turn around and just walk back inside, yet he still finds himself moving towards him and then that voice is silenced. 

“Everything alright?” Harry asks from the top of the stairs, but he startles her so much that she jumps to her feet and backs away a few feet. That’s when he sees her tearful eyes and red nose. 

“S-Sorry, I don’t–”

“Hey, it’s all good. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just checking in.”

She squints her eyes at him and that’s when he realizes she must not even see his face since the light is coming right behind him. So he walks down the stairs and then finally his face is lit and realization settles in her eyes. 

“Oh, Professor Styles. Hi.”

“Hello Y/N. Are you okay?” he asks again, to which she just chuckles bitterly. 

He can’t miss that even with tears running down her cheeks and her eyelashes stuck together, she looks so fucking beautiful it baffles him. He has to fight the urge to reach out and touch her tear-soaked cheeks. 

“Um, yeah, everything is… perfect,” she scoffs, reaching into her pockets, probably looking for tissues, but finding none so Harry grabs one from his inner pocket, handing it over to her, her fingers brushing against his for the shortest second as she takes it and then it’s over, but his skin keeps tingling. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles before drying her face as much as she can. “I’m good. Just…” She looks at him and changes her mind. “Ah, wouldn’t want to bore you with my nonsense personal drama.”

“Drama is never boring, have you learned nothing in my class?” he jokes and it actually makes her laugh. 

“This drama is not worthy of being taught in class though.”

“I bet some of the big names thought the same thing upon writing what we read in class these days.”

“So you’re saying I should write about how my boyfriend is fed up with me because I told him something he did hurt me?”

“That sounds like something I bet a lot of people would want to read about,” he smiles and when she mirrors it, he can feel his chest expanding. Somewhere way too deep in his mind an alarm goes off, but it quickly becomes one with the void and all he can think about is her. “Actually I can think of a few great pieces that are about similar topics.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, believe it or not, you’re not the first one to experience this.”

The way she looks at him is setting him on fire. The mixture of sadness, tiredness and gratitude towards his attempt to cheer her up is still making her glow in a way Harry has never seen before on any woman. 

“Do you mind analyzing one for me right now?”

“I’d be happy to.”

The party is completely tuned out for the two of them. First they actually talk about a novel, but soon it turns into sharing their favorite books and authors, their guilty pleasure reads,  recommendations for each other and even more personal bits Harry would never share with a student, but Y/N is the exception. 

They have no idea how much time passes as they stand outside and Harry ignores how the cold starts to sting his fingertips even in his pockets, because he knows that if they go inside this bubble will pop and he is too selfish to let that happen just yet. 

When there’s a short silence Harry notices that she is probably slipping back into what happened earlier and when she looks at him again he already knows she is about to share.

“I gave him a chance and explicitly told him not to fuck me over, because I can’t deal with that again. But all he has been doing is manipulating to believe that I’m always in the wrong.”

“It’s impossible for you to always be in the wrong.”

“I know. Well, part of me knows, but then I always go back to thinking that he is right, I must have messed up something.”

“That just proves that you have self-criticism, that you don’t just think everything you do is perfect.”

She sighs and looks away, her gaze distant as she battles herself inside her head, a feeling Harry knows very well, unfortunately. It doesn’t sit right with him that she is visibly struggling because of an immature guy’s untreated problems. She deserves so much more, but how can he tell that without crossing a line?

“Give it some time and you’ll see it clearer. Use your critical thinking on his actions as well, not just yours and don’t settle for less than your worth.”

“You think I did that?” she asks, eyes jumping back to meet his gaze. “You think I settled for less than my worth?”

There’s more behind her eyes than the words she said out loud and he is torn, because he can feel himself being pulled in more than ever, like she just opened the door the slightest and he has the chance to slip in. It’s the first time he senses something on her part and after all the yearning he is eager to take the chance. 

“I think you deserve a lot more, Y/N. You’re brilliant, bright and give so much to others, you should get the same amount if not more back. If someone can’t see that, then they don’t deserve you.”

For a second he wishes he didn’t say a thing, he regrets crossing the line and he fears her reaction, but then… 

Then he forgets everything. Because she is kissing him. 

It happens fast, one moment she is staring up at him with doe eyes, the next her lips are crashing against his, her hands grabbing onto the lapels of his coat. He barely recovers from the shock when she is already pulling away.

“I-I’m so sorry, I d-didn’t mean to, I just—Oh my Go–”

Her stammering is quickly cut short when he kisses her, his hands holding her jaw to angle her face perfectly and while her kiss was closed, rushed and panicked, this one is different. He is quick to beg for her to open her lips so he can explore as much of her as humanly possible, he is letting all the passions loose that he’s been locking up these past months and when she returns it just as eagerly it just pushes him even further. 

They inch back to the wall of the house and when he pins her against it a moan slips past her swollen lips, completely maddening him. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against her lips, kissing her jawline, savoring the sweet taste of her skin that’s supposed to be cold, but it’s actually burning. For him. 

He keeps one hand on the side of her neck, the other one digs into her hip through her coat and she keeps pushing against him, while her hands wander under his coat, they are on his waist, back and when they move to his lower stomach, brushing against his belt, something snaps inside him. 

But before he could completely lose his mind the backdoor opens and he quickly sobers up, pulling her farther away from the corner so they can’t be seen. 

“...and that was actually crazy,” a girl speaks up, oblivious to how Harry has Y/N pinned against the wall just a few feet away. They are both breathing heavily, but she has her face buried in his shoulder while he covers his mouth with a hand, adrenaline racing through his veins. 

“Ah shit, I’m out of cigarettes,” another girl says.

“Mm let’s get out of here then. I think Max said they are having a little party as well.”

“Okay.”

Then the door opens again and the voices disappear, but reality hits Harry hard in the head.

He slowly pulls back, enough to look at her face and when he sees her swollen lips and slightly smeared mascara he almost combusts. 

Because he wants nothing more than to take her, right here and then everywhere else in the world, but he also realizes what he just did and this time his rational side wins. 

“Fuck,” he gasps as he jumps back, cupping a hand over his mouth.

“I wanted it–”

“Y/N, stop!” he cuts her off. “Fuck, this was a mistake.”

“But I wanted it! You didn’t–”

“I said stop!” he barks and she shuts her mouth right away. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

And before she could protest again or worse, kiss him again, he is already storming back inside, across the house towards the front door.

“Harry! I haven’t seen you all night!” Stella catches him, but he just wants to get as far away from this house and from Y/N as possible.

“I’m sorry, I need to go. I’ll talk to you later,” is all he manages to say before he is already out the door.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[nikist-4-n]

GUYS IM BLACK, ITS DIFFERENT

PIC : MY HANDS

So I see Saraah spreading misinfo about me saying slurs. Let me explain

It all started when Saraah said " guys can I say a slur" and riri said go ahead it's a safe space ( something along those lines which is wild ) ask @wonysmiu @cwrcent @n-americano and she said the r slur below :

And I called her out and asked her if she can say it ( she NEVER specified she's autistic ) and I got no reply. Then after we complained we called riri and Saraah out on being insensitive and riri says that she didn't know and English is not her first language ( guys it's not mine too , and it's not a lot of us, I speak lingala I'm Congolese I moved to South Africa that's why I speak English) and we all told her she can at least educate herself before allowing ppl to say a slur ( and even if she didn't know why did she allow Saraah to say it cuz Saraah never said she was autistic then ) so she made a scene and left and said I was being mean even tho everyone jumped her but I'm always the bad guy now

Then stella tells me that Saraah is active on dc and I tell her to tell Saraah to read the gc cuz I didn't have discord by then. ( Saraah said her insta doesn't give notifs so she apologized ) Then we asked her why she said it she says she's autistic and she said she reclaimed the word ( I don't think it works like that ) and we went on discussing it like civil ppl and I say I don't think it works like that cuz the r word is usually frowned upon to say and is not common eg. I can say nigga ( I'm saying for educational purposes) cuz it's a slang word for black ppl now and she said that I reclaimed the word but I told her I can't do that cuz ppl before me alr reclaimed it so now it's a slang word which means I can't reclaim nigga ( based on what I understand)

And also I told her that when u want to say a slur u can say u have to mention u CAN say it not ask for permission cuz then that sounds like ur just saying slurs for fun. And MIND U, we talked about it nicely ( @cwrcent @swhore were there ) and now she dragged it to Tumblr

And did y'all forget she called @lil-liaa the word ( once again they deleted the convo )and y'all dragged me and COMPLETELY ignored it 💀, Lia I suggest u talk it out with her cuz that was actually an attack against you instead of blocking me and others when we weren't on ur side

This is my hand I didn't wanna do this but I AM BLACK if I literally mentioned this when I said the n word if u scroll to @nikist-2-n first post you'll see I said it I can literally show y'all a vid of me

@lvioung @obdosant @tzulipss @j-eongs @yeritos @florescita @fairytopea @purinkiss @hourlyhoon @aeraras @rkivefr @daddldee @p-oisn @kissunoo @swhore @bloomqi @kiyeuo @chaeryeos @y-vna @yonkiibums @hcvenue @bitchey @babyvoxgirlie @miuji @i-kyujin @aestradairio @awwriri @atsubie @y-urios @aestradairio @aesverse @sghooneyy @y-unrei @wonysmiu @cwrcent @cherubita @florieta @cereskies @blue-tiny @redvelvut

And @n-americano wth is this ? U didn't even know she could say the slur so I'm really disappointed and y'all ( u and @awwriri ) her up even tho she called Lia an r word that's why I was also upset

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

How I would re-write Stella Goetia, Backstory + Season 1

Probably my most popular posts on this blog are about Stella from Helluva Boss. I like to talk about her because I think she had the potential to be a really nuanced character, and I really would’ve loved to see her and Stolas have a more complicated relationship.

So I’d like to talk about the direction I would’ve taken her characterization and story in.

I do need to stress that this is NOT a writing “fix-it” post. Canon Stella may be an evil bitch, but she’s MY evil bitch and I LOVE HER. I’ve already talked quite at length about how her character and conflict with Stolas being purely black and white is not a bad story decision, but to me is less interesting than having a grey or nuanced conflict.

I just want to go over a rough outline of what I would’ve done with her as a character. Just because it’s different, doesn’t mean it’s better or is “fixing” the canon story. I also am not trying to make Stella inherently more sympathetic/likable/or “woobify” her—this is just a ROUGH outline of what I’d do to flesh Stella out as a person, and ideas I’ve had for her character that would make her (and her relationships with Stolas and Via) more appealing to me personally.

I just really wish Stella had gotten more depth, and wanted to talk about it.

(LONG) Rewrite Summary below!!!

While I think there’s also an interesting re-write where Stella and Stolas are not in an arranged marriage, and may explore this idea as well, this time around I am going to be sticking with the canon background that their marriage was arranged.

Instead of having Stella be an evil heartless spoiled child who strangles puppies, I would give her a very strict upbringing where from birth she was groomed to be the “perfect noblewoman and wife”—I would base her upbringing and the expectations placed on her on what was expected of Regency noblewomen.

Basically, Stella would be raised to be able to run the house/estate when Stolas was away, be accomplished in the “domestic arts” (hosting events such as parties and balls, being able to do embroidery and other hobbies “befitting” of her class, and being involved in charitable efforts). She would be taught to be quiet, graceful, courteous, and to always anticipate the needs of her husband.

Stella’s “true” personality as a young child would be boisterous, loud, and precocious. Stella loved playing outside, singing loudly, and dancing.

She would have gotten in trouble with her parents often due to this (“Dancing for fun is what the poor do, Darling. You should only dance to find a suitable husband”) and would be punished by her Father by his ordering the rest of the family and their staff to ignore Stella completely and act like she didn’t exist. This would usually result in Stella acting out even more to try and MAKE everyone pay attention to her, until she’d get too tired to continue and start acting “proper” (I.e. quiet, not speaking too loud or speaking out of turn, being obedient, etc.)

Her relationship with Andrealphus would have been strained, as he would have been the “golden child” while Stella would be the scapegoat. I’d also like to give Stella magic fire powers. Because honestly why does Andre get Ice Magic and Stolas get space magic and Stella is the same type of demon as them apparently and gets nothing??? Boring.

Maybe this is basic, but honestly I love characters with fire powers who have to learn to control them. As child, Stella would have difficulty controlling her fire abilities, and would be not be taught how to use or maintain her powers, but would be taught to suppress them.

As an aside—again, I’m not giving Stella a traumatic childhood to make her more likable and more pitiable. I have two reasons I’m giving her this backstory—1) I believe that even people with great parents still end up with some childhood trauma, because being alive and growing up *is* traumatic. And 2) I think that there’s a lot of pretty good evidence that ROYAL upbringings, and the expectations and restrictions that come with them, are especially traumatic in a very particular and very intense way.

Doesn’t mean that they’re not extremely privileged, but that privilege also doesn’t take away that trauma.

I think it’s very realistic for both Stella AND Stolas, as children of royalty and nobility, to have a lot of childhood trauma surrounding their upbringings, and that’s something I really want to explore in my rewrite—how they cope with their traumas and how it impacts their relationship and their ability to raise their daughter and navigate conflict.

By an older teen to young adult, she would have learned how to behave as a “perfect noblewoman”. This is when she would meet Stolas for the first time (with a a Chaperone of course).

There would be a little bit of time shortly before and after their marriage where they would have their “honeymoon” period—both Stella and Stolas were very infatuated with each other and mistook that infatuation for “true love”.

This time where they were extremely infatuated with each other would last about a year, after which they would slowly begin to realize that the idealized images they had of one another was false. They would start to argue more, have a harder time compromising etc. until they finally realized they fell out of love, and maybe were never in love in the first place.

Even though the two of them would have come to this realization, it would be separately, and due to their upbringings (where you don’t really talk about your feelings and push them down) they would NOT talk to each other about it.

This would be the first big crack in their relationship, and they would both have a lot of guilt over it.

I like the idea of the two of them really, really want to stay in love with each other, but after they get to TRULY know each other they just…never fully “click”. They realize they don’t have the same interests, they can’t really find anything to talk about, and they just. They don’t stay in love.

Stella would be very in denial about her true feelings after this turning point, and would still try to convince herself that she really loves Stolas. She would have a lot of deeply buried guilt over not loving him, and see it as a failure of her “duties” as his wife.

After this, they would find a way to keep their relationship would be cordial and respectful, but it would always tinged by an unspoken awkwardness. It would be almost business-like in nature, and they would start spending more and more time apart.

To cope with this lackluster relationship that they were both now stuck in, Stolas would throw himself fully into his duties (which I would want to show a little more of…seriously what does…what does he do??? What does he use the grimoire for????) and Stella would do the same—throwing herself into her duties as the lady of the house and a Goetia Princess.

Stella would host parties and balls, she’d make sure manor was always clean and orderly, she’d become a patron of the arts.

The basis of their relationship would become one of them sticking to the roles that were thrust upon them since birth.

Things WOULD change for the better though after Octavia’s birth.

Because for a while, Stolas and Stella would have something, someone, that brought them together, that they both loved and cared for dearly.

Something that Stella and Stolas would have spoken about before having Octavia is that they did NOT, under any circumstance, want to raise Via like they were raised.

As I already went over, both Stella and Stolas would have dealt with abuse and neglect growing up—Stolas’ abuse stems from his parents being LARGELY absent in his life and him being very neglected as a child, while Stella’s stems from her parents being extremely controlling and giving her very little, if any, freedom.

They would firmly agree on letting Via be her own person, on making time for her, on not putting too many expectations on her.

And, in this rewrite, I would not have them be abusive or neglectful parents. But I would have them be very flawed parents, whose own traumatic upbringings negatively affect their ability to raise Via.

I would want to explore Stella and Stolas fighting to break the cycle of abuse they went through, but still struggling because they don’t have a good frame of reference for what being a good parent looks like.

Stolas doesn’t realize that he’s not always giving Octavia all the time with him she needs, because in his eyes he’s spending tons of time with her—it doesn’t occur to him that he’s actually being neglectful towards her, because to him, spending any long amount of time with her is more than he ever got from his father. He’ll spend time with her, and talk to her, but not really LISTEN to what she’s saying she needs, and doesn’t understand why she doesn’t like the things she used to, or is mad at him for not taking more time for her.

Stella doesn’t realize she’s still being controlling or pushing her expectations onto Octavia by making passive aggressive comments suggesting she wear more “appropriate” or “feminine” clothing, or take up a “nicer” hobby like needlepoint and drop taxidermy. She gives Via the freedom to choose what she wants to do, but doesn’t fully SUPPORT those choices, and doesn’t understand why that’s so important, since in the end Octavia is still enjoying freedoms that Stella only dreamed of as a child.

Still, they manage to be a fairly functional and loving family towards Octavia. And Stolas and Stella maintain their cordial and business like relationship for Octavia’s sake, and to keep up appearances.

During Octavia’s teen years, when she’s 14-17, is when more cracks begin to show—Stella and Stolas have been keeping their relationship together, but it’s stagnating more and more. Stolas throws himself even more into his duties with the stars (or whatever) and Stella begins to become gradually more and more concerned and anxious about making sure her family maintains a “perfect” reputation among the other royals of hell.

Stella begins to throw more balls and parties for Hell’s charities (if this version of hell has banks, and police and prisons, they can have charitable organizations, okay.) As her and Stolas’s anniversary starts to get closer, she begins planning a HUGE ball for Hell’s nobility to celebrate. It’s hugely important to her.

While she’s doing all of this, Stolas is beginning to have an early-to-mid-life crisis. His work and duties that used to be engaging and fun are feeling more and more like a chore, his relationship with Stella has stagnated and is purely for show, he’s getting more and more anxious about Octavia approaching adulthood, and his whole life is beginning to feel more and more claustrophobic.

So. Stolas decides to do something wild, spontaneous, and very selfish, before he loses it. On a night where Stella is attending an Opera, and Via is spending the night with friends from school*, Stolas dresses in clothes he assumes “the common folk” would wear, and goes to shady bar in IMP city, with the goal of meeting someone to hook up with.

This is where Stolas meets Blitzø. (Sorry, I’m. I’m not doing the whole “paid childhood friends for one day” background.)

They have what both assume will be a one night stand at Blitzø’s place. It goes. MUCH better than either of them would have expected sex-wise. The two start meeting up more and more when they’re able to. Stolas begins to open up more to Blitzø, but it stays VERY sexual—eventually Stolas comes clean about who he is and they start to hook up at Stolas’ place whenever Stella is out. Stolas is very much infatuated with Blitzø (and the sex they have). Blitzø thinks they’re having non-complicated fun.

During AAALLL of this is when Blitzø learns about the Grimoire, and asks if he can “borrow” it for I.M.P. Stolas is impressed with Blitzø’s confidence and drive, and agrees to let Blitzø use it anytime, with the one exception being the night of the full moon. There is no full moon “deal” beyond the agreement that Blitzø cannot accept clients on the full moon because Stolas needs the book back that night.

During all of this is ALSO when Stella begins to notice Stolas acting differently, he’s slightly more energetic, he’s spending less and less time in his study and the manor in general, he doesn’t look her in the eyes when they do have time to chat briefly. It’s odd, and she’s suspicious of SOMETHING going on but she’s not sure what.

Stolas DOES feel guilty about cheating on Stella, but justifies it by telling himself that they’re not in a “true” marriage, and it’s “just sex”, so he’s not really cheating on Stella.

The night of Stella and Stolas’s anniversary ball arrives. To Stella, everything goes as expected, and it’s a huge success.

During the ball, though, we get the same scene we get in the Circus—Blitzø gets caught trying to sneak into Stolas’ room. Instead of the guards bringing him into the party, they call Stolas outside privately to deal with it (because why would the disrupt the party by dragging a party-crasher through the middle of a fancy ball?? I didn’t really understand why they did that in the og episode)

Stolas dismisses the guards, and we learn that Blitzø has been sneaking in (with Stolas’ permission+ knowledge) to get the grimoire after the full moon when he and Stolas don’t have time to meet up in person. Like tonight.

Instead of just handing off the grimoire like usual, Stolas and Blitzø end up hooking up (mutually and wholly consensually). Stolas does not return to the party.

Stella is really concerned about how Stolas’ absence looks, especially at a ball she planned with so many high profile demon lords present, but she’s able to wave it off as Stolas feeling a little tired and retiring early, due to it being the day after his full moon duties and all.

Instead of returning to their room, that night, Stella sleeps in one of the many guest rooms. She doesn’t know where Stolas is, but she’s mad at him for leaving early without saying anything on such an important night, and is hoping not coming to their bed will send a message—she’s tired anyway and doesn’t want to get in a big fight before bed that will tire her out more.

The next morning she has tea in the garden with some close friends. And this is where we get the infamous “Sorry, I fucked your husband!” scene.

After this, well. Stella kinda loses her shit. She had been pushing down all of her negative feelings and thoughts and frustrations surrounding her life and relationship for YEARS, because in her mind, as long as she was able to maintain the facade of having a “perfect” life, it would be worth it.

And now in a moment she’s lost the thing that, after her daughter, mattered to her the most.

She essentially explodes in fury in a way Stolas has never seen before—they get in a huge argument—Stella’s fire powers come out and burn down the manor’s garden, things just really get out of hand.

So. What would follow would be most of what we see of Stella in season 1 of HB—now that that floodgate has been opened, she finds she’s struggling to control her feelings, she’s mad and sad ALL THE TIME, and she’s deeply deeply hurt in a way she didn’t know she could be.

She can’t show her face in society, she doesn’t know WHAT to say to Octavia, she can’t believe Stolas could be SO SELFISH after EVERYTHING she had done to make sure their family was in high standing—and she can’t push down her feelings anymore. She’s never been so furious in her entire life.

And so she contacts a hitman, Striker.

I really like the old fan theory that Stella hired Striker in a moment of irrationality and anger because of how hurt she was—obviously her hurt does not justify trying to have her husband MURDERED, but I like the idea that she called the hit because she was deeply hurt and unable to cope with those feelings—not because she just hates him to the core of his being and has for their entire marriage. Her anger would be a coping mechanism, if she’s so busy feeling furious she doesn’t have to actually sit with her feelings of betrayal and sadness and hurt.

From here, the rest of season one would play out like in canon, we don’t see Stella in person again, just the apparition of her in Ozzie’s.

I’m going to stop here because this post is already way too long, it it’ll help me to think more if I split it up.

If you read this far please tell me what you think! I think I’d like overall for Stella and Stolas’ relationship to mirror Blitzø and Verosika’s, or maybe become a foil to it. From here we could honestly go either way—either Stella becomes a true villain, or she becomes an antagonist turned hesitant ally like Fizz, Ozzie, and Verosika.

I can see both being interesting, so maybe I’ll do a rewrite for both. We’ll see I guess.

*it weirds me the FUCK out that we don’t know anything about what Hell’s kids do, like I assume schools exist but ???anyway in this rewrite Stella and Stolas send Octavia to a fancy private school—cause the thought of her having NO friends or social circle makes me so sad)

[ceaselessims]

I see your point, but I don't think it's a matter of Octavia "taking Stella's side." I think she is aware of her parents situation and understands why they hate each other.

That doesn't make it hurt any less. That probably makes the abandonment feel worse. As far as we know, from her perspective right now, neither of her parents are paying any attention to her. We don't actually know what her relationship with Stella is like. There could be some serious manipulation there coming from Stella and Andrealphus, or also straight up neglect and ignorance.

Octavia is not 7, but being 17 is still an incredibly young age, especially for self image and self identity and realizing that you and your parents are separate, whole people with flaws. She's not a baby but she still very much is a child (a child who will probably face an attempt on her life as well if Andrealphus was putting that on the table with his discussion with Stella), and a RICH, privileged child at that.

Coming into this thinking there could be some kind of deliberate, malicious act of ignorance on Octavia's part if she gets angry with Stolas (and imo probably the entire divorce situation as a whole but we only get this one line for now) and has a break down about how she feels having been emotionally neglected by him as "taking an abuser's side" is, to me, completely missing the point. Octavia is a child who is probably going to see her dad chose to leave his family and get really fucking upset about it because he HAS been emotionally neglecting her for several months now, and maybe for longer judging by their relationship in Loo Loo Land and her genuine fear and doubts that he loves her.

Also this is a fictional show where Octavia is not a fully realized character (yet) and the scene will probably act as a catalyst for Stolas to get a wake up call for how his actions have been affecting the people around him. Because as much as i love my Owl dad, he really has a perspective problem and the people around him are finally calling him out on his bullshit. Octavia is the one person i think where he can't make up some internal excuse to ignore his how his actions have affected her.

I acknowledge the pain of actual irl DV victims, especially when children are involved. I want to make it clear that my original post was more so about Octavia's relationship with Stolas and how strained it has become between them because of their own interpersonal relationship and how Stolas has not been attentive to her, and how Octavia (a plot device) will internalize that. This is not me comparing this fictional relationship to anyone else's situation but my own personal one with my mom, because i see a lot of 17 year old me in Octavia.

octavia and stolas's future conversation is probably going to kill me

i think Octavia is such an interesting character because she reminds me so much of my younger self. I think her line in the trailer is probably going to be a scene that resonates with me to an uncomfortable degree because of my relationship with my mom.

My parents never fight, but i know the teenage pain of feeling like your parents don't make time to truly understand you as a person and only love you out of obligation, whether that's true or not. The feeling that your parent only tolerates you to gain something or because they "have to" is invasive.

I saw someone say that her line needs more work in the story to feel "earned" but i think it's perfectly reasonable for Octavia to feel that way. She can acknowledge that her dad is doing his best AND still feel like she is an afterthought to him. Learning that your parents have flaws SUCKS and sometimes that feels like they never cared about you.

I'm sure there will be a lot of build up and i'm thinking that maybe the build up will be stolas agreeing to banishment or something in order to be with blitz, and Octavia will read this as a complete abandonment of her, bc honestly what else is she supposed to think?

In the episodes that she has been central to, Stolas has been explicit and partial to Blitz IN FRONT OF HER. He does not hide his affair with Blitz, which makes Octavia visibly uncomfortable in all of the Loo Loo Land scenes. Not to mention that in Seeing Stars, it's not lost on her that Loona is the one to find her while her dad is (again) with Blitz after he forgot a date that was important (from her pov) to their relationship. She forgives him in the moment for that episode, but it could be another factor.

We, the audience, know that Stolas would do anything for Octavia, that he genuinely loves and cherishes her, but Octavia does not know that. Octavia left with Stella on the weekends even before the divorce was officially in motion, and i wouldn't be surprised if later in the season we find out that Octavia has been living with Stella since/or soon after Seeing Stars (since Stolas had an assassination attempt.)

From her perspective he has been distant with her, openly hostile to her mother, and openly having affair with Blitz (there can maybe be a little bit of classism in there from the fact that she might find stolas's affair with blitz is especially scandalous bc blitz is an imp/lower class as well but that's a whole other thing.) If you were a child who was already feeling insecure and emotionally neglected, if it came out that your dad was going to chose to run away with his affair partner, that would probably fucking SUCK !! it would fucking KILL ... and Octavia will probably think that she is the problem, that she is not worth staying for.

All this to say, Octavia, my girl, i will probably cry when you cuss your dad out in front of the entire goetia court :-)

[comatosebunny09]

warm-bodied | leon k.

genre(s): erotica, romance warning(s): female reader, soft dom leon, choking, clothed petting, mentions of bodily fluids, language, light dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, size kink, brief somnophilia, dry humping, stream of consciousness, lowercase, not proofread, written while under the influence now playing: some days - stella jang

he prefers you like this.

without the knit of your brows or the upturn of your lips. defenses buried beneath the gravel, your voice soft with sleep. no sharp quips, no biting comebacks. just your lids dancing and your mouth parting slightly with each exhale.

he likes it best when he can get away with stroking your cheek with the flat of his nails as you dream of pretty things. when he can root his nose into the curve of your shoulder and inhale.

you smell like earth and heady things, and you shift the slightest bit in his arms, nuzzling further into the safety of his body. cling to the fabric of his shirt like a grabby child, and the notion makes his lips—and dick—twitch.

the rain taps a steady rhythm on your makeshift shelter—a tarp he fashioned between two trees to shield you from the elements. 

you needed the rest, your bones shaky with fatigue. leon insisted after you reconvened following a split-up to gather intel. after you stumbled into his back when he took the lead to resume your search for the president’s daughter. wasn’t like you to be so out of sorts. so naturally, being the good partner leon was, he herded you to safety—or some semblance of it.

you allowed him to hold you beneath the veil of night. to ward off the insistent chill because you were soaked to the bone, your clothes sticking to you like a second skin. and he was warm and so very big, and…

well, he was just helping out his partner, right? definitely not swelling with something feral at the sight of your body wrapped snug in his coat and you burrowing into his armpit like a scared little bunny.

besides, it isn’t often he has you like this. in the clench of his arms, his fingers meandering along the skin of your neck. dragging further downward towards the divot between your collarbones, grazing over your breasts. further still, on an unhurried excursion to your nipples pebbling beneath your shirt. from the cold or his touch, he isn’t sure. but the sight of them makes him bite his lip as he chokes on a groan.

you stir when you feel him. clear the phlegm from your throat, your lids still heavy with sleep.

“leon,” you warn, voice rivaled by the patter of the rain overhead.

“i know.” humor hangs in the depths of his voice, interweaved with something sensual. something disarming. “just tryna help keep you warm, is all.”

snort. “we don’t have time for the nonsense.” 

leon scoffs. feigns hurt, his ministrations never faltering. sure, danger looms between each crackle of a tree branch. between every hoot of an owl in the distance, every whisper of wind, but—

a well-placed nipple pinch invokes a bitten-off growl from your throat. and he smiles at that, sighing hot and open-mouthed against the space behind your ear.

“we’ll make time, sweetheart.”

a promise clings to the air like the oaky aroma of petrichor, and he doesn’t miss how your thighs clench at the rumble of his voice. how you arch the slightest bit, pushing your breasts into the calluses of his hands, still feigning sleepiness. give him the go-ahead to touch you more, and he’s every bit of smug now as he kneads, plucks, and flicks his fingernails over your pretty, pretty nipples.

and, oh, how he wants to taste them; roll them over the bumps and grooves of his tongue, between his teeth. but given the angle and the timing, he’ll have to settle for this.

“gonna take care of you,” he huffs into the delicate hairs at the nape of your neck. hands dip a little further down, coasting over the ripples of your rib cage, massaging the meat of your belly, melding to your hipbones. “promise.”

you shudder, growing a little boneless, legs instinctively parting. and leon heeds the invitation, his nails raking up and down the inner sanctum of your thighs, all honey slow and teasing. and he intentionally nudges your meaty outer labia with the knuckles of his thumbs, and they’re swelling and fat in your pants, pulsating with each touch. he coos alongside you, infatuated by the beautiful noises he invokes upon touching you there.

you shiver again, a cute whimper easing past your lips. the sound shoots straight to his cock, painfully hard.

“want me here?” he croons. you nod all too quickly, earning a chuckle from him.

leon needs no further goading, taking to massaging your pussy through your pants with a cupped palm and artful fingers. revels in those breathy little sounds leaving your mouth and how your head falls back against his shoulder. and he’s there, mouthing over your carotid, sinking his teeth into whatever flesh he can reach.

his name drifts from your lips in a gentle cadence—in a dulcet supplication that makes his head spin, and he unconsciously grinds in tandem with the steady undulation of your hips. mind filled only with you you you. with getting you off. with tasting the briny tang of your cum. with being buried deep in the searing clench of your pussy, and the notion makes him nip at your shoulder to mask the pathetic little whimper burbling in his throat.

“right there?” he dotes at a particular buck of your hips, and your thigh craters beneath his fingers as he squeezes to anchor you down, keeping your legs spread so he can play at the seam of your pussy. “keep ‘em open for me, baby. yeah, just like that. gooood girl.”

he’s breathless now, sweat beading on his temple, because watching your resolve wither away has him leaking pre-spend and rutting into the cleft of your ass like a beast in heat. you burn hot as he shackles your neck with his hand, unraveling you little by little, your cunt so very wet and warm and weeping into his palm. and his hold on your throat tightens until he feels your pulse beat violently against the lines of his palm and your breath hitches.

“oh fuck, leon! so—so close! i’m gonna…i’m gonna—”

“yeah? gonna cum, baby? want you to. so bad. fuck. please.”

like a frayed bowstring stretched taut beyond its limits, you snap. topple as quickly as leon built you up, your slick saturating his fingers through the thickness of your cargo pants. and fuck fuck fuck, it’s embarrassing how quickly he cums after, drawn to his peak by the erratic stutter of your hips and that sinful tongue of yours curling around his name. he soaks his pants like an overzealous teen, fighting against his labored breaths and the urge to push you onto your back to fuck his cum into you.

but as the dust settles and the rainfall filters back in through the static of his mind, you look at him with a lazy smile. with a quirk to your brow, your gaze all-knowing and swimming with exhaustion.

“well, that’s one way to keep a girl warm.”

to which leon snorts, tugging you back into his arms, lips pursed and tender on the crown of your head.

masterlist

[supernovaa-remnant]

Re: my last post, I'm talking about Europa anyway <33

It's just so so cool. It's one of the few currently geologically active worlds in our solar system (I'm using world to count planets, satellites, and asteroids btw), with the others being Earth, Venus, Io, Titan, and Enceladus. They're all also incredibly interesting worlds, so feel free to ask about them.

But, Europa. Unlike Earth, Europa isn't powered via radiactive decay, but, rather, via the tidal forces from Jupiter and from being in resonance with Io (which is the most geologically active world in our solar system, btw).

So, Europa has a density of ~ 3 grams per centimeter cubed. Which means it's actually mostly rock. However, in the outer solar system past the snow line, water ice is the most common building block, so Europa's surface is entirely water ice. All of the rock is at Europa's core. All of the terrestrial worlds in the outer solar system (with the exception of Io), not only have water ice, but also have liquid water. However, this liquid water is far far beneath the surface, instead creating a sub-surface ocean.

So, why is Europa special? Europa's liquid water ocean is actually pretty close to the surface.

Here's a picture of Europa. (Also, please note that pretty much all pictures you'll see of other planets have have had the contrast increased)

Do you see those big lines of fractures along the surface? Those are because of the tidal forces from Jupiter. Basically, what happens is that the actual shape of Europa is being changed as it orbits Jupiter (and this is seen far more with Io, but it still affects Europa). So at certain points in its orbit, it's more oval than spherical and vice versa. (The same thing happens with the Earth's oceans as the moon orbits us, but the affects it has on the satellites in the outer world is a bit different due to a) having other satellites in resonance, and, b) the difference in size and mass between Jupiter and its satellites).

So, as Europa is orbiting Jupiter, these fractures are sometimes pulled apart. When that happens, the liquid water ocean underneath becomes exposed to the vacuum of space (because Europa doesn't have an atmosphere), so very very quickly a new layer of ice is formed. When the fractures close again at different points of Europa's orbit, that ice is pushed up and creates kinda ice-berg like mounds I'd say?

Anyway, it's one of the reasons we know Europa's ocean is pretty close to the surface.

But!! But. The most exciting thing is the fact that, due to the tidal forces from Jupiter, there's heat/energy sources in the ocean. Why is this important?

Because every single place on Earth where there is liquid water and a heat/energy source, there is life. Because this means that Europa is the most likely extra-terrestrial place in our solar system to have life.

And astrobiologists love Europa because of this.

[connoisseursdecomfort]

Character Developments and Parallels in Chapter 103 (1): Twilight and his performance

[Manga Spoilers alert]

As everybody knows, Ch.103 is the real 100th chapter since Ch.3 is the first chapter in which the Forgers became a family. There are a lot of callbacks between these two chapters. What do the callbacks tell us about character developments? What has changed?

Ch.3 shows us how Twilight really operates as a spy - he observes as Twilight and performs as Loid. He is both the spectator and the spectacle. Being a good spy, for Twilight, means the two roles align perfectly with each other.

While it is true that the three constantly acted as an audience in ch.3 (in an opera house, an art museum, or a political rally), what Twilight really wants to show off is their identifications of being a part of these audiences. The audience is then also the performer. Being an audience in Ch.3 is a preparation for being a performer in Ch.4.

In Ch.3, the major conflict is that he is a spy, a cool liar and a good actor, while Yor and Anya are not. When Loid gets anxious about the family's performance, Yor decides to take Loid and Anya to the park.

They retreat to a place where they could take a step back, shed their roles as performers and observe the crowd as spectators. She shows Twilight the place which "reminds her to get back to work" for the sake of the people while staying away from the crowd, She reminds him what his work is really about.

This happens again in Ch.103.

But the thing is, ch.103 is not really about work. Rather, Yor reminds Twilight of something opposite of work. She reminds him that it's totally fine to let go and not think about work.

As opposed to ch.3, which is about work.

Ch.3 is set in crowded places. Twilight doesn't want to stand out but he needs the crowds. As a spy, he needs the affirmation from others that his pretend family is convincing. He gets what he wants in chapter 3 by getting the affirmation he needs from a random person he saves.

The fact is throughout the whole story he has been stressing the importance of playing a convincing part in front of the others (ch.29, 47, 67).

Before Ch.75, we see a clear pattern in Twilight's performance as Loid, namely "for the mission", an excuse that allows Twilight to align his two roles (spy vs father/husband) with each other. Ch.75 is a watershed. There is a crowd, and for the first time, Twilight refuses to perform for the crowd. Or us. He refuses to give us his thoughts about his observations. Instead, he starts to offer excuses to his colleagues. He did it again in ch.86.

And after that, again, in ch.87, we see a tired and wounded Twilight hiding in his bedroom, refusing to perform for us. The fact is, he no longer even uses the "for the mission" as an excuse for himself. He no longer talks to us, the readers, hiding the answers even from his thoughts. He starts to find his own faults in his performances - Loid should act according to Twilight's will, but what if Twilight's wrong?

Ch.94 is interesting in a way that for the first time, it's not about aligning the two roles, Twilight and Loid. He's still "performing" as Loid but he's not thinking about the mission at all. He's not trying to be a spy.

What makes ch.103 very special is the absence of the crowds. Becky appeared for a moment and left quickly. Endo deliberately created a private sphere in a public space. There was no audience to perform to, so there was no need to perform. There seemed to be a mission - to find and observe Belle, but they were not actively looking for Belle. They were not trying to get Stella starts out of Belle. Different from what he did in ch.94, he's not using any of his skillset. He listened to Yor, sat and waited.

He no longer feels the need to perform in front of Yor. Echoing ch.86 in which Yor tells him he doesn't need to "be so perfect", as a response to Yor's suggestion about Belle, he just tells her about his "fault/weakness": "Waiting idly isn't what I'm great at either."

If his self-reflection in ch.14 and 35 could be interpreted as his attempt to fix something, he really didn't need to share this piece of info in ch.103 at all. He is a very private person. He doesn't talk about himself, not even to Franky. But it seems that he likes talking to Yor. He opens up to her.

He knows he doesn't need to perform in front of Yor, and that allows Twilight to make an attempt to relax.

The massive walls of texts (the ones while he thinks) disappeared as he tried "to not think for a while, to not worry for a while, to just relax and let go". Endo chose to draw a space that is empty of crowds and buildings. For a moment, it was just the four of them enjoying themselves.

For a moment, he's not Twilight [as a spy] or Loid [as a husband/father]. He's just [redacted].

He relaxed. And for the first time, he didn't faint (or die). This is the biggest character development of Twilight, really.

And therefore, this is the perfect 100th chapter.

[dreamerdrop]

currently filling my queue with garashir just so you all know i am going to be insufferable and i am going to ride this high all through the new year.

[redroomreflections]

Moments of Reflection

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A Family of Her Own Series

Masterlist | General Masterlist

w/c: 3.3k

Summary: After the fall of the Avengers, Natasha Romanoff returns home to her secret family—a life she's carefully hidden away for years. Struggling to balance her role as a mother and wife while avoiding the dangers of her past, Natasha is forced to make difficult decisions that impact her loved ones.

This Chapter: R has a talk with Melina. Natasha has to leave again.

Folding clothes shouldn’t be this soothing. Sorting them into their tiny baskets takes time. You hadn’t realized how gender-assigned you’d made the clothes, but the pinks and blues for the kids stand in contrast, a soft reminder of how much life has changed. The brand-new washer and dryer Natasha sent months ago shouldn’t be this exciting, but here you are, finding comfort in the hum of the machine and the rhythmic folding of small socks and onesies.

The warmth of the laundry room, with its clean scent of detergent, is a small escape—a moment of calm in the chaos. You lose yourself in the motion, piece by piece, letting the repetition lull your thoughts away from the noise of the house. For just a little while, it’s quiet. No responsibilities beyond sorting clothes and making neat piles.

The door creaks open, and you glance up, half-expecting Natasha or even Stella. But it’s Melina, Natasha’s mother, lingering in the doorway. Her presence is quiet, but it’s still a disruption to the small space you’ve carved out for yourself. You force a smile, hoping she doesn’t stay long. You just need a little more time alone.

“I hope I’m not interrupting." Melina says with a tentative smile.

You shake your head, your hands still moving automatically as you fold a tiny pair of pants. “No, it’s fine." It would be rude to dismiss the first guests you’ve had in months.

She steps inside, her eyes sweeping over the laundry, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"I wanted to thank you.”

You pause, mid-fold, blinking at her in surprise. “For what?"

Melina watches you for a moment, then glances at the clothes in your hands—the tiny, everyday items that somehow make up the world you’ve built here with Natasha.

"For loving my daughter."

The words hit you harder than you expect. You set the pants down, focusing on the soft fabric beneath your fingers to steady yourself. It’s rare that anyone acknowledges the quiet work you put in to hold everything together—the small sacrifices, the late nights, the constant worry.

You look up at her, searching her face for more, unsure what to say. Melina steps forward, folding her arms, her voice soft but steady.

“I know Natasha doesn’t talk about these things, but I see it. I see what you’ve done for her, for your family.“

Your throat tightens at her words. You try to keep your emotions in check, but it’s hard, especially after the weeks you’ve had.

You manage a small smile, though your voice is quieter than you intend. “I love her. I always will."

Melina nods, her eyes soft with understanding. There’s a pause, thick with unspoken things, before she speaks again.

“What is your secret?” Melina begins and your head snaps up. “To getting her to love you.”

You let out a breathless laugh, glancing at the pile of unfolded clothes, unsure how to respond. Melina waits, watching you carefully.

Your thoughts turn back to the years you spent trying to reach Natasha, to get her to let you in. Not that you were any easier to deal with. Being SHIELD used to mean something. It took a lot to prove yourself to those around you. It took a lot to let someone in.

Melina steps closer, tilting her head. "She would never admit it, but Natasha is different. She has always been different."

"That's what made her such a good spy." You muse. “There’s no secret.”

She hums, thoughtful."I know it will take time for her to forgive me,” Melina says.

“You’re here, right,” You interrupt and Melina tilts her head. There’s a question at the tip of her tongue. “There are only four, maybe five, people that know about this place. That know about us. Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton and Laura Barton. Five if you include Nick Fury who knows everything. Now you and your family.”

Her lips twitch and she nods.

"She loves you."

Melina's expression softens, and she reaches out to feel the fabric of Nick’s onesie. "I wish things could be different,” She seems lost in a memory.

You watch her. Your chest feels heavy. There are so many things that you could have done differently, too.

"We can't change the past. Only learn from it."

Melina sighs, looking at the piles of baby clothes.

“She’s a good mother,” You say. “A great one. When life allows her to be one.”

Melina smiles at you, and you realize how much older she is, the lines around her eyes and lips a soft testament to a long and complicated life. You wonder how old she really is.

“I never doubted it,” Melina sighs. “Not that she had a lot to learn from. I was…”

“You did what you could with what you had,” You offer.

She gives you a grateful look.

"Thank you," She repeats, and you're not sure what to do with that.

You smile. You've never been good at taking compliments, especially from someone like Melina.

“I now have three daughters.” Melina gesture to you.

It takes a moment for the words to sink in. You can only blink at her, not sure what to make of it.

Melina turns away, moving to the doorway. She pauses, her hand resting on the frame.

“She wants to be here,” She says knowingly. “She wants to be home with you and your children.”

There's a part of you that wants to argue, but the rest of you can't bring yourself to deny it. Not when she's looking at you with such sincerity.

You nod, and Melina leaves you with a gentle smile.

****

You didn’t want this time to come. Saying goodbye is always hard. Your love walking out of the door will always break you into a million tiny pieces.

This life you have here with Natasha is golden. You could only wish she’d be here to see it all. It’s the middle of the night. They leave soon. Their hushed plans and low whispers will be no more. You will be alone again. You will be the one to wipe Stella’s tears. You will be the one to hold Nicky.

As you turn the knob off in the shower, your head begins to spin. The water is still hot. You step out, almost jumping when you see Natasha standing before you.

She looks exhausted, dark circles under her eyes. Her hair is damp and pulled into a ponytail, her clothes wrinkled and damp with sweat. She must have just come from training with Melina and Alexei.

“I thought I’d join you,” She says with an unsure smirk.

“I’m already done,” You shake your head. You don’t mean to be short with her.

You push past her, wrapping a towel around yourself. She doesn’t move.

It feels like an eternity since she’s seen you this intimately. You can feel her eyes on you as you slip a tank top over your head, the cotton clinging to your damp skin.

You turn back to her, and she takes a step forward, reaching out and pulling the elastic from her hair. Her red locks tumble free, cascading around her shoulders.

You swallow, feeling the tension rising in the air.

“I’m going to check on the kids,” You swallow. “I um, I left some hot water for you.”

Natasha nods, but you don't wait for her response. You slip past her, padding quietly through the hallway.

When you step into the nursery, Nicky is asleep. He lies on his stomach, lips puckered, with a serene look on his face. You’d pushed his crib back into his room with the help of Natasha’s dad. Not that you needed it. But the sight of the big man cradling the baby was adorable.

Stella is asleep in her bed. It took a lot of convincing this time to get her to sleep. She doesn't want her Mama to leave. You can't blame her.

You sigh, your eyes moving to the window. It's a full moon tonight, the stars bright and shining in the clear sky. You sit with Stella a little longer before retreating to your bedroom.

You slide under the covers, closing your eyes, while listening to the constant noise of the shower. It's soothing.

After a while, the water shuts off. You hear the rustling of clothes, the bathroom door opening and closing, and the click of the light. You don't open your eyes.

“I don’t want to leave like this,” Natasha interrupts your peace.

You look at her, her eyes sad, her expression tired.

She sits down on the edge of the bed. Her hands are folded in her lap.

She looks like she wants to say something.

“Nat…” You trail off. You don’t know what to say.

Natasha sighs. She glances up, her eyes locking onto yours.

"I'm sorry.” She says, her voice soft. She climbs into the bed to sit beside you. She presses herself up against your body. “I’m sorry.”

"I don't want you to go," Your voice cracks. "But you have to."

Natasha lets out a ragged breath.

"I wish things could be different," she whispers, her voice wavering.

“They can be,” You urge. "Please. Come back to us. Come back to me. To the kids."

Natasha's brow creases, and she swallows thickly. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out.

“I want that more than anything,” She replies.

"Then stay."

"I can't."

You shake your head, fighting the ache in your throat. "I can't lose you."

"You won't."

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

Natasha shifts closer. She reaches out and strokes your hair. You lean into the touch.

"I love you," She murmurs.

You look up at her, a weak smile playing on your lips. “I love you too.”

You sit in silence for a while. Her hands trail across your shoulders, down your back, tracing patterns on your skin.

It feels good.

She moves her hand to the nape of your neck, tugging gently. You lean in and meet her halfway. Your lips press together, soft and sweet.

The kiss is slow and tender, and Natasha pulls back.

"I've missed you," She murmurs, her lips brushing yours.

"I've missed you, too."

You pull her in, your hands sliding under her shirt. Her skin is warm and smooth, and her muscles ripple beneath your touch. She moans softly, her body arching toward yours.

“Tell me you want this,” Natasha breathes.

You nod, letting out a shaky breath.

Natasha leans in, kissing you hungrily. You whimper as her teeth graze your lower lip, and her tongue slips inside. She runs her hands along your thighs, pushing the tank top further up your body. You’re grateful for the dim lighting surrounding you. She can’t see the remaining baby weight or the stretch marks. You’re not so vain but the insecurities are still there.

Natasha pulls back, her eyes flicking up to yours. Her pupils are dilated, her lips parted slightly. She looks beautiful.

She kisses you again, her hands cupping your breasts, squeezing lightly.

“Do you usually sleep without panties or was this for me all along?” She whispers into your ear.

You shiver, goosebumps breaking out across your skin.

"Both," You manage, and she grins.

She pushes you back against the pillows and settles between your legs, her mouth moving down your neck, kissing and nipping.

Her fingers brush over your nipples, pinching and tugging lightly. You squirm beneath her, trying not to make a sound.

She kisses her way down your chest, trailing her lips across the curve of your breasts. She pauses, her tongue swirling around your nipple, and then she sucks gently.

You gasp, arching into her mouth. Her other hand moves to your other breast, massaging and squeezing.

Your hands slide into her hair, tugging lightly, and she moans against your skin.

She pulls back, looking up at you.

"I love the way you taste," She purrs.

"I love the way you taste." You echo.

She smirks, sliding a hand down between your legs.

You bite back a moan as her fingers tease your entrance. She presses two digits inside you, pumping slowly, curling them up towards her.

You grip the sheets tightly, struggling to keep quiet.

"God, you're so wet," She breathes. "So ready for me."

You moan, rolling your hips into her touch. You close your eyes as you allow yourself to feel.

Her thumb brushes over your clit, sending sparks through your body.

"Natasha," You gasp, clutching the sheets tighter.

"So sexy,” She groans as you widen your legs for her.

She leans forward and licks up the length of your pussy, making you whimper.

She swirls her tongue around your clit, teasing and stroking, and you moan louder than you mean to.

"That's right, baby," She growls. "Let me hear you."

You writhe beneath her, grinding against her face, desperate for more.

She pushes her fingers deeper, pumping faster, her tongue flickering over your clit.

“I want you up here,” You beg.

She places one last kiss on your clit, lovingly, before she rises to look into your eyes. She never stops pumping her fingers.

"Tell me what you want." She demands, her voice low and husky.

"I want you," You whisper. She kisses you again, swallowing your moans as they come. She curls her fingers, angling them in the way she knows makes you crazy.

"I want to see you," You whimper. "All of you."

Natasha smirks, slowing her pace.

"I'm all yours, babe."

She leans down, her lips ghosting over yours, her fingers still buried deep within you.

"I love you," She murmurs, kissing you again.

"I love you," You echo, reaching for the hem of her shirt.

You tug at it, and she lets go, allowing you to pull it off.

Your hands roam over her skin, admiring her toned body. You kiss her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder. You want to memorize every inch of her.

You tug on her shorts, and she shimmies out of them. She tosses them to the side.

"Fuck, I want you," She growls, pressing her lips against yours.

"Then take me," You reply, running your hands along her back. What happens after is a blur. You’re too blinded by the sheer pleasure coursing through you as she thrust harder.

You cling to her, gasping and panting, as you reach your peak.

"Yes!" She moans, burying her face in the crook of your neck.

"Yes!" You echo, feeling yourself fall apart.

Your orgasm hits you hard, waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You don’t anticipate the tears that follow but when you feel her kissing them away you know this was way more emotional than intended. All you needed was your wife. All you wanted was her.

You lie tangled in each other, her breath hot against your neck. You close your eyes, letting the warmth wash over you.

You stay like this for a while, savoring the closeness.

“I will come home,” Natasha promises. She nuzzles into you.

You nod, trying not to think about tomorrow.

"We can do this."

"We can do this." She nods.

“Do you need it?” You ask.

She nods.

It doesn't take long for you to attach the strap to your body. Her body reacts the way it always does. She arches into your touch as you slide it inside her.

You thrust gently, easing her open, watching her expression. She gasps, gripping the sheets.

“I love you,” You whisper to her. You know the both of you should be a bit more mindful of your guests across the hall.But this feels so fucking good.

She moans, biting her lip.

"I love you," She whimpers. "Don't stop."

You roll your hips, driving into her harder. You grip her hips, ramming yourself into her at a brutal pace, as she wheezes below you.

She's so beautiful, her body quivering, her cheeks flushed, her eyes screwed shut.

"God, baby," She groans.

"So tight," You moan. "Shit." You groan as you thrust.

She cries out, her fingers digging into your arms.

"Fuck," She gasps. "More."

You pick up the pace, pounding into her, grunting with the effort. She’s needed this release. This time with you. She doesn’t want you to be soft with her.

She whimpers, her back arching, her head thrown back.

"Yes," She moans.

"Cum for me," You demand as you rub her clit. "Now."

She trembles, her body convulsing.

"Fuck, Y/N," She moans.

Her legs lock around you, her toes curling.

"Good girl," You praise, slowing your movements.

She whines, her chest heaving.

"Y/N," She whispers.

You lean down and kiss her gently.

"I love you," You murmur.

She sighs contentedly, her eyes drifting closed.

“I know you’re tired,” You say. “We both are. But we will get through it. For better or for worse, right.”

"Forever," She agrees, her voice soft.

She reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

You rest your head against her shoulder, letting her hold you.

"We're going to be okay."

"Yeah, we will."

You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of being wrapped in her arms.

She strokes your back.

"You're amazing," She whispers. "And beautiful."

You snuggle closer, basking in the warmth of her embrace.

You drift off to the sound of her heartbeat.

****

In the morning it’s time to say goodbye. She’s standing in the middle of the living room, settling Stella with her Barbies. Stella’s demeanor is more relaxed but cautious . She knows what’s about to happen. Nicky is sitting on the floor beside her, his stuffed lamb tucked under his arm.

He doesn't seem to notice his m his mother. He's far too focused on the toy in his hands.

“I will be back,” Natasha promises. “I love you and your brother so much.”

Stella nods.

You swallow, holding back tears.

“Don’t miss my birthday,” Stella says.

Natasha blinks.

"I won't," She assures her. "I'll be there, baby girl."

"Okay," Stella nods.

Natasha smiles, kneeling down and kissing Stella's forehead. She leans over to do the same to Nicky.

"Love you," She murmurs. She knows to make the goodbyes quick. She’s already hugged and kissed you. She’s almost to the door when Stella drops her dolls and races over to her.

“Mama,” Stella whispers.

Natasha turns around.

"Yes, moya malen'kaya vorobey?"

Stella wraps her arms around her, hugging her tightly.

"Don’t go,” She says, her voice cracking.

Natasha's eyes well up with tears, and she pulls Stella close.

"I have to," She says softly. "But I'll come back.”

“No,” Stella demands.

Natasha looks up at you, a sad smile playing on her lips.

You sigh, wiping away the tears that stream down your cheeks.

"It's okay," You reassure her. You reach down to grab Stella, managing to keep a grip on her, even as she fights you to get to Natasha.

"We'll be here," You promise.

Natasha takes a deep breath, her shoulders slumping.

"Okay," She whispers.

You hold onto Stella as her cries turn into screams for her Mama. Your baby shouldn’t have to feel this hurt. Natasha walks steadily out of the door and across the grass to the helicopters. She tries to ignore the crying.

Stella watches her mother leave, her heart breaking.

You watch her walk away.

When the doors to the helicopter shut, Stella goes limp.

“I want Mama,” She whimpers, her voice now hoarse.

“I know, baby. I want her too,” You cry.

You rock her until her breathing slows. Until her cries die down and she drifts off to sleep.

You stand there for a few moments, watching as the helicopter disappears over the horizon.

And then, you turn and head back inside.

You lay Stella on the couch and cover her with a blanket.

You take a seat on the floor beside her.

You watch her sleep, her tiny hands fisted, her face wet with tears. Nicky crawls into your lap, seemingly upset by all the commotion.

"It's okay," You tell him, stroking his hair.

It will all be okay. She promised.

next part

[neysaadept]

Prometheus Chapter 14

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 14 - Hold Space

Tags: Swearing, panic attack, drinking, mentions of past sexual abuse and alcoholic parent. No beta reader, mistakes are all me. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 7.2k

AO3

The team landed back in D.C. early Sunday night and you all scattered back to the comforts of your own homes. It was an exhausting time in New Mexico, but the team was thankful for a positive outcome before the unsub, Gabriel Arellano, targeted another victim. Of course, JJ, Lewis, and Alvez were not tired enough to interrogate you all about chasing the unsub down for an arrest. They were riveted to your animated tale with Rossi chiming in about how he was quite alive and healthy despite Garcia’s concerns. Prentiss occasionally added in details when appropriate and without the chip on her shoulder she’s been carrying around for over a week. No one is entirely sure how things were patched up between the two of you, only Rossi sharing with the others that the talk you and Prentiss had at the crime scene went well.

No one knows just how well and the two of you are planning on keeping it that way. You both have people that care about you a lot that have pushed you in this direction, but taking this next step together would remain between the two of you until you were both comfortable informing the team, your brothers and sister, and Brian. Most importantly, you both wanted to see how this went without extra drama. The two of you were perfectly capable of doing that together without any help.

For now, Sunday night was enjoying a bottle of Stella as you pulled out ingredients to make dinner grabbing, salt, pepper, oil, butter, and some thyme to go with the steak you picked up at the Safeway Grocery store that was within walking distance. Once Prentiss approved of you being out in the field, you learned quickly to keep essentials at home and fill in perishable items as needed or pack them in the freezer.

Everything was neatly lined up on the counter with the ribeye resting in the package while you were trimming the green beans with the chef’s knife. You set it aside to use your hand to sweep the ends into the other when a chime went off on your phone.

You dump the remains into the compost bin, wash your hands and dry them off with the kitchen towel you throw over your shoulder and see who it is.

Overlord sent 2034: You free Friday night after work?

You laugh, realizing you’re going to have to change Emily’s name again. For now, you keep it because it’s too funny to see her name like this.

Whitlock sent 2036: I guess it depends if the bad guys do not make plans for me?

Whitlock sent 2036: And if my boss isn’t going to be a bitch again.

Whitlock sent 2036: 😉

Overlord sent 2036: I said I was sorry!

Overlord sent 2039: Oh. You were joking.

Whitlock sent 2041: I suppose my brilliance does not translate well over text for you yet. Your profiling skills are limited now. Oh darn. 🤔

Overlord sent 2042: You’re a lot more confident over text then you were in NM. Memory serves, you could barely look at me.

“Ugh,” you half groan and laugh at that before leaning against the counter. She had you there. Text was easier to be silly and flirty since you didn’t have to stare into intense brown orbs that radiate confidence that actually made you feel giddy - not pretend play with a mark who looked similarly at you.

That made you look up curiously at admitting that to yourself.

You didn’t have to pretend.

You acknowledge Prentiss was attractive early on with her natural silver-grey hair and facial lines that held emotional history as much as linear. She cut a gorgeous figure in her work clothes and she’s a handful of people that weren’t placating you that she understood where you were coming from. Because she did, to an extent, and would know where to end it and be empathetic. It was naturally easy for you to be open with her because she was a CIA spy, your current role until you joined the BAU. The gritty reality of what that means instead of the glorified action and adventure movies and shows make it out to be, or even the ones that try to emulate the truth still never nail it down. You really have to be staring at life and death at all times while being in character or you’re dead. All of characters you play at forces you to kill a part of yourself and hide it.

But there were also the parts that weren’t so grim that made you adore her. You always loved how Emily’s face lit up when she laughed and how her nose scrunched when she was cheeky. Or how she licks her lips in thought, a seemingly subconscious habit that didn’t have a pattern that you noticed. And yes, you tried figuring it out. You only surmised it wasn’t due to dry lips because Emily’s lips never looked that way. And yes, you looked at her lips a lot and wondered what it would feel like to kiss them.

Your thoughts were disturbed by a chime, and you look down at your phone.

Overlord sent 2048: Did I scare you off already? 😉

You brightly grin reading that. This was the Emily that you slowly allowed into your life and its numerous secrets that you barely scratched the surface with her. Your mind starts wandering down a scary road of what ifs again, but you swallow down your fears for now. You can worry about logistics after figuring out if you and Emily actually worked.

Whitlock sent 2050: Nope.

Overlord sent 2050: All I get is a nope?

Whitlock sent 2051: Yep! Hah.

Overlord sent 2051: Ha ha. Then how about an answer to my question. You like avoiding them.

Whitlock sent 2054: Yes, I’m free Friday. Unless Brian calls me for something. Which is not likely.

Whitlock sent 2054: And this is a for real CIA call in and not made up before you say ANYTHING

Overlord sent 2055: Wouldn’t dream of it. See you tomorrow?

This baffles you because of course you’re seeing her tomorrow. Why would Emily say something so pedestrian?

Then you smack your forehead. “Fucking idiot,” you mutter to yourself. She was ending the communication politely because it was getting late.

Whitlock sent 2057: You know it. Now off to my date with a steak.

You look at your text and decide to add a little more, realizing you didn’t want to end the conversation so soon.

Whitlock sent 2058: What’s for dinner on your end?

And then your phone rings. It’s Overlord’s name staring back at you. You pick it up and answer perplexedly. “Uh … hi?”

“Hello to you, too. And to answer your questions.”

Your eyes narrow because you only had one question, not multiple to warrant a plural.

“Based on the menus currently on my table, Chinese or pizza. And I called because I felt it was not only quicker to talk this way, I wanted to hear your voice instead.”

If you could melt, you’d be a puddle on the floor with how sweet that is. “Maybe your profiling skills are better over text than I thought.”

“Hm. And why’s that?” she asks with her voice dropping an octave lower, making your shiver.

“Uh … cuz I kinda didn’t want our conversation to end just yet,” you admit with such ease that surprises you.

“Mm. Me too. I just wanted to be polite since it’s late after a long case.”

You can hear her smiling into the phone as her voice goes back to its usual cadence. And fuck it all, you’re smiling like a fool too knowing you both felt the same. “Yeah?”

That’s all you have to say because you are dumbstruck with her honesty. You hear her chuckle softly and say your name. “Yes.”

“Well, to be fair. You need to eat and take out’s gonna be at least an hour if you don’t get on that soon. I don’t want you starving.” You pull the phone back and put her on speaker to free up your hands to work on dinner. You grab the green beans you trimmed and bring them over to the sink where the strainer is waiting for them. You turn on the water and start rinsing. Normally you’d soak them overnight, but you weren’t waking your ass up that early to cook. “You need to take care of yourself, too.”

“What’re you doing?” she asks and then a sense of concern bubbles forth that you can’t control.

“Wait. Are you at the office?” you say, partly accusing.

“No. I’m actually home.”

“I’m glad to hear that despite Armageddon coming.”

“Funny.” Her tone is sarcastic and amused. “But what’re you doing? I hear the water going.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve deduced you’re on speaker.”

“Indeed.”

“Kinda need both hands to cook.”

“Wait. You’re cooking?” she can’t hide her shock, and it makes you frown.

“Why is that so surprising?” you ask, taking the green beans from the strainer to the pan waiting for them. It wasn’t hot yet, unlike the steak pan that you wanted smoking hot.

“Well, I suppose it isn’t. I just didn’t know you can cook.”

You hum thoughtfully and take the ribeye out of the wrappings and place it on the cutting board to trim. It was a lot for one person, but you were making a few meals out of this for work, too. “We don’t know a lot about each other yet so everything's going to be new, and maybe a surprise because of preconceived notions. For instance, can you cook?”

She laughs. “A little ... well, no. Not really. I know some basics and a couple of dishes Dave’s taught me. But left to my own devices? I’ll just burn everything.”

You chuckle. “And now I know why you live on takeout.”

“Unfortunately.” She pauses there as you set aside your knife once satisfied with how the steak looks. You then season with salt and pepper and flip the steak over with a soft thunk to generously prepare the other side, too. The silence was quite comfortable, and you imagine that Emily was picturing what you were doing based on sounds alone.

“Well, maybe if things go well, I can not only feed you properly, but I can also teach you how to cook,” you say offhandedly.

“Or you could feed me properly now.”

Emily boldness stops you in mid salting. “Uh …”

You can hear how smug she is at making you lose your words. “It’s merely a suggestion, honey.”

Now your eyes widen with the pet name that had only been used playfully as co-workers. This was definitely an escalation of its use here as Emily’s voice held a soft purr at the end of the word. Would this be a good idea right now to entertain Emily at your apartment, or should you both wait for a proper date? Though was anything about your life proper? That is a resounding no. Your life became a fucked up story since your dad first put his hands on you and your mother ignored it all with booze.

Fuck it. You return back to seasoning the steak and go digging for more information. “And why are you offering said suggestion besides you being hungry.”

“Truthfully?”

“The only kind I like right now when it comes to us,” you declare with raw honesty.

“Well, we can wait until Friday if you’re more comfortable with that, but I’d like to try and spend more quality time with you to make up for all the bullshit that I put you through this past week. I can’t change what I did, but if you’re open for it, I’d just really like to see you again that isn’t involving work.”

Warmth spreads through your heart and you can’t stop your mouth from answering positively. “Then come over.”

You surmise it takes Emily by surprise how quickly you agree as she has to take a few seconds to respond. Her voice is tentative. “Are you sure?”

You lean over the counter and nod to yourself, physically making sure you truly are okay with this. “I am. I’ve got enough food for two, and then some. Just won’t have as much leftovers for work now, but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for you.”

She chuckles. “Only if you’re sure …”

You smile. “I am.”

“Then I’ll be over shortly. Say twenty minutes?”

You open your eyes and remember how close Emily lives to you. “Uh …” You wince, utterly annoyed that this woman can render you stupid with an inability to speak properly.

“Is that too soon?” she asks cautiously. Perhaps Emily was reconsidering based on your reaction.

“No!” You slam your eyes shut with how desperate you sound. “I mean. That’s fine. Dinner should be ready then.”

“Are you sure this okay with you? If it isn’t, I’m fine with delaying this until the weekend.”

Emily is very thoughtful and the affection that you have for her overtakes the nervousness you feel. “Yes, it is. Really. Just, can we … uh … just, ya know? Keep this chill? Don’t go crazy with it being a date. Though I guess it kinda is. I mean, maybe a … pre-date.”

What the absolute fuck is wrong with you?

“I’ll come as is.”

Thankfully Emily doesn’t think anything is wrong with you. “Well, don’t come barefoot. You need shoes or something.”

She chuckles. “See you soon.”

After you hang up with Emily, you focus on making dinner. You’ve done this dish countless times, but this is the first time making it for someone you want to impress, not needing to. You cover the beans and set it to simmer and put the steak in the over to finish off before setting the table. You keep it simple and set it like you would eat but for two with the added salt and pepper shakers in case Emily needs them. You do opt for wine glasses and wait for her to arrive so she can pick out what you have on hand, which is limited since you weren’t the big wine drinker like Emily.

And then you realize you should have asked Emily to bring a bottle she liked. “Dumbass,” you mutter, while staring down at the square table set for two just as there was a knock at the door.

Your head snaps up in that direction and you close your eyes to take a deep breath. When you open your eyes, you take one last look at yourself, still wearing your CIA shirt, black sweats and bare feet. You wiggle your toes nervously and consider putting on socks, but you asked Emily to come casual and you should, too.

Walking to the door, you’re telling yourself not to be nervous and when you confirm through the peephole that it’s Emily, that plan goes out the window. She completed the assignment as coming as is and ended up way over dressed than you since she was still in her work clothes. They were wrinkled from wear, so there’s that, and she had her hair pulled back in a messy bun with a few strands left flowing around her face. You smile and laugh wordlessly seeing that she wore a pair of sneakers and carries a bottle of wine.

Knowing you can work with this; your nerves calm some as you open the door. “Right on time,” you announce with a smile that she immediately matches.

Her eyes absorb every detail of yours and you feel naked under her penetrating gaze. With a small purse of her lips, she holds up a bottle of cabernet. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Actually, I was feeling really dumb for not telling you to bring something,” you admit while stepping aside. “Come on in.” When you close the door, you point to the kitchen counter. “You can put it there.”

“It smells amazing in here,” Emily says while scanning the kitchen for the source of the delicious smells. She does see a covered pan on the stove and a breadbasket next to the bottle she set down. She could feel the warmth coming from the sliced-up baguette and smiles at the added touch.

“Let me get your coat.” You approach Emily from behind and take the long black coat by the collar as she adjusts her arms to assist you.

“Thanks.” She tucks her hands into pants pockets and watches you hang up her coat in the hallway closet. You’re hiding it well, but she can tell you’re nervous by how thoughtfully precise you were in smoothing out her coat and making extra space for it when you hung it up. You purposefully left gaps on either side of it so nothing would touch it.

“Want me to pour the wine?” She’s hoping the light conversation will make this more familiar and comfortable.

“Uh, sure. Corkscrew’s in the drawer on the right next to the sink.”

She works taking off the foil as you come padding back into the kitchen like you owned it. Your moves were comfortable, dare say adept, at opening the oven and taking out the pan that was heating in there with a plain oven mitt. She couldn’t help an adoring smile that graces her lips as you kick the oven close with a bare foot.

You’re ignorant of Emily’s gaze but hear her rummaging through the drawer for the corkscrew as you test the steak. You nod, liking the feel for a medium rare, toss the kitchen towel over your shoulder and let it rest. Your focus was putting the green beans in a serving bowl you have never used but this is the first time entertaining someone at this location.

When you turn around, Emily’s pouring the wine, and you take that moment for a silent breath. You grab the breadbasket along the way to the table. You didn’t get a good look at the bottle, but it looks fancy. “What did you bring?”

“A Chateau Palmer Bordeaux.” She rattles it off so casually like the bottle doesn’t go for several hundred dollars.

“There was a memo about keeping this chill.”

“And why isn’t this chill?” There is confusion in her voice as Emily sets the bottle down. “This goes well with steak.”

Your fingers rub at your forehead, eyes squinting in bewilderment. “Because that company only makes bottles that are the cheapest at a hundred bucks.”

Her eyebrows raise with puzzlement. “And?”

“That’s way too much on a chill dinner …” You bring your hand down and gesture wildly at the space between the two of you. “…thing. This dinner thing we’re having.”

With a silent oh, she approaches you and takes your hands in hers. Her thumbs press firmly against the top of your hands and start to rub circles once you don’t back away from the closeness. “I wanted to bring it. Consider it a gift since you’re gifting me with an actual home cooked meal.”

She tests the waters further and takes a step forward, causing your joined hands to rise upwards between the two of you. You bring your eyes up and gaze into serene ones. Emily’s posture was calm and inviting, her lips parting in a slight smile. There was nothing for you to fear and you feel your body lose some of its tension and squeeze her hands back. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

Her voice is soft and gently wants to confirm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod and her eyes sparkle with affection.

“Good.” Emily takes it a step further and leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your cheek. Your body experiences warmth throughout from the gentle display that felt natural between the two of you. You feel the brush of her nose graze along your cheek for just a moment before she was back searching your eyes for any discomfort. Seeing none, she coyly drops her head towards the table. “Shall we eat then?”

You eagerly nod. “Yeah. Take a seat and I’ll be right there.”

The two of you share a smile and a lingering touch of fingers taking their time to unwind from one another so you could get back to the kitchen. With renewed purpose, you take the butter near the stove that you placed there to help soften it up and put it on the island counter so it wouldn’t start to melt. Then you focus on slicing the meat and grin proudly that the juices remain intact from resting. You slide the knife under the strips to plate and bring everything over to Emily, who was sitting and enjoying a sip of the wine.

Her eyes light up, impressed with your skills, and compliments. “Are you sure I’m not at a Michelin Star restaurant? This looks steak house quality.”

You blush as you put everything down on the table. “Thanks. I got bored a lot on assignments. And when I could,” you then take the seat across from Emily and shrug, “I learned how to cook.”

“A worthwhile skill to master.” She eagerly brings her hands up but then slowly curls them closed. “Ah …”

Her eyes are questioning, and you chuckle, making your nervously bouncing leg stop so you can gesture over the food. “Please!’

As Emily fills her plate, you follow soon after, until you have both forks and steak knives ready in hand. You wait on digging in as you want to see Emily’s response to your cooking firsthand and closely observe her cutting off a piece of steak and begin to bring it to her mouth.

You’re feeling confident and wanting to tease her, so you bring up your steak knife and point it at her with an impish grin and teasing eyes before she could get the morsel into her mouth. “You dare ask for steak sauce; I’m kicking you outta here.”

Her mouth clamps shut before nodding once quickly. “Noted.”

You observed one another – Emily noticing how your lips were trying to remain even, though the edges were twitching in anticipation, and you seeing how delighted she was by this with the softest hint of her eyes narrowing. And damn it, you couldn’t help slowly leaning over the table in time with her fork.

Her eyes widened with approval as the first taste of flavor hits her senses. “Oh my god” She blinks several times in awe while moaning appreciatively. “This is so fucking good.”

You are overwhelmingly happy by Emily’s response and your face lights up with a radiant smile. Did you ever feel genuinely happy like this in your life? You’re having trouble matching this emotion to anything else that was considered good in your experience but come up short. To add to the moment, Emily winks at you and adds. “Putting steak sauce on this would be an atrocity. So, I guess I can stay, huh?”

You look away and lightly rub your tongue behind your lower lip modestly. When you look up, Emily was still enjoying the first bite and cutting the next while looking at you coyly. “Yeah,” you chuckle. “I guess you can stay.”

The two of you share a warm smile and as you start cutting your steak, you begin to realize that this wasn’t so difficult. It was just like sharing a meal in Emily’s office, the two of you being playful and chatting it up as usual, minus the pretense that the two of you actually felt something more heightened than friendship.

You’re starving from a long flight and barely eaten anything besides jet food and an apple that you munched on while walking home from the store. With the gusto that Emily is attacking her plate, you figure she was equally as hungry. The first strips of steak and handful of beans disappeared without a word spoken and finally Emily considers you while sipping her wine. The hairs on the back of your neck rise with dread.

The time for small talk during a date has arrived.

In your panic, you remind yourself that this is just you and Emily talking. You’ve done this many a time before. Be cool.

Emily swirls the wine in her glass as she regards you. “Is it possible to revisit a question I once had but you couldn’t answer?”

“Uh, which one? You got quite a few of those,” you laugh, that simple act helping your body to relax against the chair with bread in hand.

You take a bite of it when Emily chuckles too. “Well, I was thinking since I’m sitting here with you now when few know where you are … if you can now tell me how you joined the CIA?” She asked her question quite thoughtfully by how slowly she asked it. This had been a source of contention between you and Emily wanted to avoid yet another misunderstanding.

“Hm.” Your brows furrow as you finish chewing your food. Can you? Should you? Will you even be able to verbalize all the shit you’ve been through without scaring her off?

Charlie said Emily wouldn’t be so easily frightened but there’s no way of knowing how she’d react. Not until you take that dive. Take that chance.

“Hm is more of an answer than I got last time,” Emily teases gently.

That makes you laugh. “True. It’s more logistics now. You do have some sense of clearance now. How much tho?”

Her brows raise up in wonder. “I’m not entirely sure. It was only on a verbal okay versus anything on paper.”

“Ah. Fair enough.” You sit up to angle your hand into your pocket to pull out your phone.

“What’re you doing?”

“Texting Brian.”

“… for?” She’s on alert and sets her glass down.

Whitlock sent 2147: Hey, how much clearance did you give Emily?

You place the phone down on the table face up. ”To see how much I can tell ya.”

“Oh, shit. That’s unnecessary, really.” She taps a fingernail on the side of the wine glass. “You’re under no obligation to share. I’m sure Korogoth’s got better things to do anyway.”

Your phone buzzes but you don’t look at it yet. You’re focusing on Emily. “You’ll see that Brian makes time for me or as soon as he can if he’s busy. But really, Emily?” You wait it out until she looks at you and you give her a promising smile with the next words you declare to her. “I also want to tell you.”

You hear her softly gasp as you pick up the phone to read Brian’s message.

Dad sent 2150: Oh, it’s Emily now?

You roll your eyes as you respond back, which piques Emily’s curiosity. “What did he say?’

Whitlock sent 2155: You going to answer the question or not?

“Nothing. Just being an ass,” you grunt in response.

She shakes her head, tongue in cheek. “Wow. Never thought I’d be around someone who casually calls the director of the CIA an ass.”

Your mischievous eyes catch mirthful brown ones. “Be around me long enough and you’ll be hearing a lot more colorful adjectives describing him.”

Emily throws her head back with laughter and it makes your heart sing with joy. Then you scowl at seeing the message from Brian.

Dad sent 2156: What’s her question.

Whitlock sent 2156: How I joined the CIA.

Emily silently studies your face as she sips. She can tell you are taking this very seriously with your focus being on the conversation you’re having with Korogoth.

Dad sent 2158: She doesn’t need to know.

Fuck, that’s the usual answer given but he won’t be expecting your next response.

Whitlock sent 2159: I want her to know.

You stare at the screen for a minute, but nothing comes. Your teeth clench together in disappointment at the lack of response and pick up your fork. Sensing the answer to her own question, Emily offers a sympathetic smile. “It���s alright. There’s other things we can talk about.”

But your phone goes off again and you use your left hand to get the message. Emily takes the moment to pick up a green bean by hand to nibble on.

Dad sent 2204: And now I know why she is Emily now. Go for it.

“Huh.” You can’t help but slip out your surprise.

“Is everything okay?” Emily tentatively asks while rolling another green bean in hand.

“Uh, yeah.”

Whitlock sent 2205: Thanks Brian. Really.

“Said I could talk to you about it.” You take a moment to mentally prepare yourself for this conversation. It’s one you haven’t had to speak of in a couple decades.

Dad sent 2205: Stop talking to me and go talk to her! I want no more communication from you until then!

“Oh my god!” You start giggling and without thinking, show Emily the last text from Brian. “I think he approves.”

“What?” She squints to read it and then blanches. “You … you didn’t tell him we were seeing each other, did you?”

“No!” You’re still laughing. “He figured it out just now.”

“And you have him in as dad?!” She can’t hide the astonishment from her voice as she points to the contact name.

Do you, or don’t you reveal another special name?

You nod, because you do, though Emily took the nod as a reaction to her own response at you calling the CIA director dad in your phone.

You waggle your brows. “Wanna see my favorite contact name?”

She shrewdly assesses your roguish grin and eyes that sparkle with a hidden agenda. “I’m gonna regret this aren’t I?”

You bring the phone back and close the text with Brian and bring up Emily’s details. “Maybe. But to be fair, I do need to update it again.”

Emily cants her head to the side with concern. “Again?”

“Yeah. I had to change it back to this,” you hold the phone up facing her once again and right there in bold letters shows the name Overlord Prentiss, “but you know, my boss was kinda being a dick to me.”

Emily humbles with soft, widening eyes, and a long face as she digests this information. “Um …” Her head dips forward as if she swallowed something bad and licks her lips. “… how long have you had this nickname for me?”

“After the first frosty encounter.”

“So, day one.”

“Yep.” You bring the phone back to edit her name. “After drinks at Buddy’s, I did change it.”

Emily opens her mouth with understanding. “Then the fight after Hayden happened.”

“Aye.” You show her the updated name with a smile. “Better?”

It now said Silver Fox.

Her eyes narrow with approval, a slight smirk starting to form as she catches your gaze and when she speaks, her voice drops lower and becomes slightly raspy. “Well, I certainly like that one better. A lot better …”

Your cheeks flush, cursing your body’s response, but soon you’re craning your neck to see why Prentiss was taking out her phone. She only offers a flirtatious smirk as she scrolls and types out something before presenting the screen to you.

Your name has become Hot Rod in her contacts, and you immediately laugh with delight. “Oh my god, I love it!”

And you truly do as the shyness that had overtaken you is replaced with that familiar affection that had been growing for some time. Your eyes soften and you start to reach over the table to take her hand without thinking but force it to stop as this was all new to you. Are you supposed to do this when you have true feelings for someone and not seducing someone to your will? What is normal in these situations?

Emily sees your hesitation and closes the distance with her free hand and immediately your fingers lace together. Her flirtatious demeanor has tempered into a shared moment of understanding that this was more than a casual dinner after all. It had become another apology from Emily and confirmation that the feelings you have burgeoning between the two of you are more than just physical.

Your heart races as you see Emily’s brown eyes grow intensely warm with soft brows arching upwards. You squeeze her hand, clinging to the moment and then your phone goes off again. You feel your eyes brimming with wetness from the emotions that were foreign to the chemical makeup inside your brain.

You force a swallow, and your mouth opens with an apology. “Sorry. I … uh, I need, to uh, need to get that.”

Emily holds onto your hand. “Can’t it wait?”

She was distracted by the intimacy that it didn’t register that the notification was from a different phone. You shake your head sadly. “It’s the burner phone.”

“Fucking Sicarius.” She hisses and reluctantly releases your hand before smoothing out her features in order to focus.

You rise with purpose and are all business as you approach the living room table to pick up the burner phone. It’s the number you gave Sicarius to contact you. If he tried to run a search on the number, he would learn nothing except you cover your tracks like he does. You unlock the phone and read the message.

+18042876389 sent 2241: Tomorrow 12pm EST

“We’re on for tomorrow at noon.” You explain and type a simple response back.

+18318269346 sent 2245: Confirmed

“I’m letting Garcia know.” You look up and see Emily on her phone and note the warmth of her voice had become clipped and informal.

“Should we have the whole team present?”

She looks up thoughtfully. “Are you comfortable with the audience?”

“Doesn’t bother me in the least,” you answer truthfully. You had far bigger groups witnessing you pretend play on a call. “Garcia’s gonna run the call so everyone hears, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then more profiling ears the better.” You look down at the phone and know there will be no further communication tonight, so you lock it down and place it back on the table.

Agreeing with your assessment, Emily brings up her calendar and schedules a meeting first thing in the morning with the entire team to brief everyone on this project you, her, and Penelope have been working on. She attaches a file that goes over the synopsis of this undercover operation, including the backstory that was created for you. Garcia has already responded back that she’ll have everything ready for the 12pm call and for the briefing.

You slide back onto the chair at the dinner table and notice you have a notification of a new event at work. You look up at Emily, who was still busy organizing the logistics of what that simple text meant for the BAU. It was a tremendous lead. It also meant you were now in serious danger if things went sideways like it did for Green. But unlike him, you were driven by the mission, not a vendetta. You know how to remain cautious like with any shift into undercover work and will remain true to character. It got you this far in life and in your career. Now it would assist the BAU in apprehending a serial killer.

“Decided it should be a viewing party for the whole crew?” You mention casually while grabbing another piece of bread.

She hums in agreement. “Makes sense having everyone there.” Emily sets her phone down with a sigh before running the palms of her hands over her face, the loose strands of her bun following with her. She was visibly irritated by how the mood was interrupted, not necessarily that it was.

“Sucks.” Your voice is gruff as you speak which makes Emily look over at you with confusion. “First date ever and a fucking psycho had to ruin it.” You end it with a humorless smirk.

She ended up laughing which parted the gloomy cloud that had overtaken the mood. “Gotta love the timing of these things in our line of work.” She sighs in resignation over at you. “It’s close to midnight and there’s a lot to do tomorrow.”

In other words, Emily was politely excusing herself for home.

“Counter point to what you’re gonna say.” Your body is taking over your mouth despite your mind telling you to shut the fuck up, but Emily doesn’t dispute what you mean and gazes at you inquisitively as the silent invitation to continue this proposal. “Well,” you start and then jut your jaw out nervously. “You could just stay …”

Your uncertainty makes her eyes widen. “Stay?”

“Yeah. Cuz uh, you, uh, don’t live far and if you stay, we can kinda pick up talking and stuff.” You visibly wince. God you suck at this. How did you do this convincingly with marks?

“Stuff?” Emily teases with a brow smoothing out as the other turns coy.

And now your cheeks are burning with the nebulous definition of stuff. Your words come quickly, riddled with anxiety. “You know.”

She shakes her head no with that smug flirtatious smirk never leaving Emily’s face.

“You, you brought the wine. Expensive wine that we, uh, you know, didn’t drink much of. And I’m willing to bet Brian gave you a parking pass so you didn’t have to drive around all over the fucking place to find one.”

Now Emily was holding her head up by the chin with a resting elbow, finding your ramblings attractively adorable. “Indeed, he did.”

“So, yeah.” You hand finds purchase on the wine stem, so you have something to hold onto as a way to ground your thoughts. It really doesn’t help. “You live close. Can just go back to your place in the morning to change. Since, driving after that much wine isn’t a good idea.”

She shakes her head in agreement. “No, it is not.”

“But … to be … clear.” Your eyes catch her playful ones but yours reflect a hint of fear. “Guest room for now. I mean, it’s just our first time doing this and I haven’t done this ...ever. And I’m starting to wonder what the ever-loving fuck I’m doing and why aren’t you fucking saying anything because I’m rambling …. Which is why you’re not saying anything. Fuck.”

Your breathing is quick and shallow and now you’re on the verge of a full-on panic attack. The grip on the wine glass becomes forceful and you wonder if it’ll snap because you probably just ruined whatever was happening between the two of you. Why did you listen to fucking Charlie?

However, it is not with pity or ridicule or even disgust that Emily looks at you.

It was sympathy and care. Emily wasn’t judging you at all and she surprises you further when she rises and comes to your side of the table with an open hand. She gestures for you to take it, not forcing anything and simply gazes down at you and gently speaks. “Come here.”

You look dubiously from Emily’s face to her hand and then back up again, not moving from your spot. Emily’s smile is tender as she tries again. “Please.”

Well fuck it. How can you say no to that. Well, you can and if you did, you just know Emily would respect that, but the part of you craving the simplest of intimacies with her that only blossomed from the chaste kiss against your cheek, wanted to reach out and take a chance. It was why you said yes to going out with her after stopping Emily from running off with the misinterpretation of your words. You have a feeling Emily was beginning to understand how difficult this was for you to be clear with intent. So now, she offers a chance to calm your spiraling thoughts.

You take her hand, and with it, you place trust in this woman not to hurt you. Because you know that this meant you were all in if she was, which is why you desperately need to talk. Why you want Emily to stay because if she leaves now, you’re unsure if you’ll be able to talk about the simplest, yet complicated, manner in how you joined the CIA.

Sensing you weren’t going to move; Emily gently tugs your hand to motivate you into standing up. You were expecting Emily to say something at first, but you are surprised that she pulls you into a hug instead. You are stiff, unaccustomed to this level of intimacy in a long time that was not initiated by you. Her free hand slips around your waist as she steps into your personal space while letting go of your hand so she can slide her fingers along your shoulder and then neck. In the next breath that was taken by you, you’re fully pressed against one another and Emily’s cheek glides against your own as she leans in further.

Your eyes are blinking back tears, your body overwhelmed with connection that you honestly can’t remember the last time you had it felt this visceral. You begin trembling and Emily reassures you with a gentle promise. “I’ve got you.”

Immediately your hands curl under Emily’s arms and fiercely grip her shoulders while burying your face against the crook of her neck. You inhale the lingering scent of cigarettes and citrus. You couldn’t distinguish if it was the perfume or hair products she wore, but it was a heady sensation that made you grip Emily tighter for continued comfort. Her nails gently scratch at the back of your neck and graze upwards, tangling into your hair. You have no idea how long you held each other, and it was no surprise that Emily stirred first. Her nose nuzzles into your hair before her lips replace it. The pattern continues – nuzzles and soft kisses that coax you from your hiding spot against her neck until your eyes met.

Your chest clenches under Emily’s warm gaze, her dilating eyes searching yours intently. Whatever she was looking for must have been confirmed because she was soon closing the distance between you further, allowing enough time for you to pull away if you were unsure. But you didn’t pull away. No. You wait until you felt the brush of Emily’s soft lips against your own before closing your eyes. You felt unmoored from reality but what was different than all the other times you found yourself in this unwanted position with others, is that your mind didn’t dissociate on instinct to protect itself. You stay in the moment, tasting the wine on her lips and how they’re firm against yours, not forceful, and feel a gentle sigh escaping Emily’s nose as the air brushes against your face.

This was your first real kiss, and it was perfection.

You respond just as gently and after a moment, Emily pulls back leaving the kiss soft and brief but not letting you go just yet. She brings your forehead to hers, keeping you both connected, and you know her eyes are closed just like yours, not ready to relinquish the intimacy.

“I’d love to stay. Like you asked.” She acknowledges not only your wish but your boundaries as well.

“Yeah?” you ask again but it was with breathless excitement.

You can feel her smiling by how her forehead pinches against yours. “Yeah.”

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[eventiderookery]

destiny artists that draw the awoken with pointed ears and black sclera i am blowing you a kiss for all that you do for society