#remarkable show of restraint on your part

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Tell about the scene where Marinette sees Talia :)

(Satisfied Alt. Ending)

So, Talia al Ghul is a character that is commonly misunderstood. Mostly because of He Who Must Not Be Named (idc if he has since apologized, he has completely ruined her character). Since His interpretation of her is so vitally important for Damian's character, she is constantly screwed over in canon and fanon.

Ignoring that interpretation, though, Talia is pretty much the epitome of someone who got brainwashed by her parents and is still feeling the effects of it even years later, despite the good influences she now has she still sometimes falls back into what she had learned. Still, she is a good person, and is trying to do better. Not including her in the story where Marinette is healing from being Stockholm Syndrome-d into thinking of Harley as a mother figure would have been a wasted opportunity.

Anyways :D besides that, the scene starts off with Marinette making a terrible first impression that is quickly rectified. It parallels her misunderstanding of what the Pit is not that much later :)

[selarina]

The Ken to whose Barbie?

-> Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

Summary: He's supposed to be Ken this Halloween, as in Barbie's Ken, but he doesn't think he looks the part. But you insist that he does. He's blonde, he’s literally named Ken, and he's just oh so very handsome.

Tags: halloween party, established relationship, fluff, smut, jealously, alcohol use, spit kink, oral sex (f!receiving), implied (m!receiving) oral sex, kisses on the feet, bath scene, aftercare, she/her pronouns used for reader, unedited

Word Count: 2.5k words

Author's Note: wanted to release this on Friday the 13th but I couldn't :/ Also, sorry the smut was quick. I was horny and then I got un-horny

Read on AO3

"Wow, don't you look... flamboyant."

Shoko walked towards him as Nanami barely smiled. He greets her with a small nod. In truth, he feels absolutely fucking ridiculous in this outfit of his. He's supposed to be Ken, as in Barbie's Ken, but he doesn't think he exactly looks the part.

But you argued he does. He's blonde, he's named Kento, and he's oh so very handsome. Your words, not his. And so, of course, he agreed, albeit his reluctance.

“How have you been, Shoko-san?” Nanami inquires, hoping to divert her attention from his incongruous appearance.

"I've been good," she says, Shoko extinguishes her cigarette against the stone wall with an insouciant flick, her gaze sweeping from his exposed chest to the opulent fur draping him. "Did you lose a bet or something?"

"I do not engage in wagers," he says. "It's imprudent," he remarks.

Shoko smiles, ever so slightly. It's been years and yet some things don't change. She may not have an intimate understanding of him, not really, but she did know he would never show up in such an outfit, or in fact, any halloween outfit.

"It’s because of her, isn’t it?" Shoko probes.

He feels another of wave of chill wind hit chest, noticing the lack of a cigarette in her hand. Maybe she threw it in the bin while he was looking away. He doesn't say anything.

Shoko's expression changes now, and she smiles. He can't think of the last time he's seen her smile. She brings a hand up, placing it on his shoulder. “She’s a nice girl.”

“She is,” is all he says before Shoko pulls out another cigarette, as she vanishes back into the door.

There’s so many words to describe you, Nanami thinks. Nice is one that stands true, but it only really scratches the surface.

There’s so many words to describe you. So, so many but he can barely think of any as you walk towards him.

You're adorned in a tiny pink and white dress, the edges of your skirt just about hitting your upper thighs. And you're walking towards him with a sweet sweet smile. You look pretty.

"You look beautiful," he manages to utter as you draw near.

You leave a soft peck against his cheeks, "Thank you. You look beautiful as well," you move back to give his outfit a look.

"So, now you're taunting me. All after begging me to wear this shitty costume," he says.

"I didn't beg," you frown with a squint. You didn't beg. All you did was call him handsome, and he conceded.

"I can't believe you talked me into this," he says, as he holds out his hand for you, you stretch your hand out to loop yours into his.

Your free hand reaches for your phone, opening a QR code up, so the security could scan it.

"But you look handsome," you say as your hands shift from his forearms to his hand, as you pull him into the crux of the party. And so, he stops grumbling because as he's mentioned before — it's really all it takes from you.

The party scene is not quite what he expected, he was expecting chaos and sticky floor, but it's a bit lax and he can actually hear his thoughts out loud, even though he wishes nothing more than to turn them off now. Because you looks so fucking cute in your outfit, and every time you sit, your skirt rides up — just a little — to reveal your thighs, and he finds himself wishing he could just take you back home. He wants to leave.

No, he needs to leave.

Self restraint has always been one of Nanami's strong suits. But with you, it's always faded to dust.

His first kiss with you happened on a whim, it wasn't planned or anything. He saw you sitting outside on a park bench, on a normal forgettable park bench, and he thought you looked pretty. And so, he leaned in for a kiss.

He then met you days later for your third date, but he could barely let you get past your front door. The dinner reservation had gone to waste, but he just couldn't help himself, you looked too good in your dress.

"Let's leave," he says, bending down to whisper in your ears as you take a sip from your glass.

"What? No," you protest, a soft frown marring your features. "We just got here."

Mirroring your frown, he presses, "But I want to leave now."

He can't help but think about how unlike himself he sounds, he sounds like a child begging for a treat. You could sternly tell him you want to stay, and he'd listen, none too alike to a child.

"Hey," he hears a gruff voice from beside you.

It's a man, dressed in a military outfit, but neither of you know him, at least to his knowledge. He turns to look at you and he confirms the same because you're looking back at him with a similar expression.

"Can we help you?" you ask.

"I know you're dressed as Barbie," the man says. "But I think you're missing wings because you look like an angel."

Apart from the fact that the compliment is just too wordy. Nanami thinks he's pissed because this man has no etiquette, Nanami's hand had been clinging to your waist all night, so what made him think he could come over and hit on you?

But most of all, what pisses him off is that he's not wrong.

"Well, I'm Barbie and Barbie has a Ken so," you say, turning to him and he could swear your eyes twinkled just then.

The stranger persisted, with a chuckle, "Some Barbies have G.I. Joe boyfriends. You should ask my little sister."

Before you can respond, arms encircle your waist, pulling you close to Nanami. "Not this one." His words are curt and final, "Now, leave."

At that the G.I Joe guy's eyes widens, before he wordlessly takes his leave.

And that's all it takes from Nanami to take your glass from your hand before he leaves it on an unoccupied table with a loud clink. He guides your hand into his.

"We're leaving," he says plainly as you nod.

—

Your hands slide to Nanami's neck, and you pull. Your jaw flex as your mouths move. You're so used to his languid movements, that his quick movements leave you reeling.

His torso is completely flush against yours as he lifts you off the ground, still kissing you as he walks to close the front door shut.

Your ankles hook around his back, his hands slide down to grip the undersides of your bare thighs.

It doesn't take too long for him to drop you onto your bed, he quickly takes fur coat off, as he's coming back down to kiss you.

You taste like mint cranberry with a tinge of alcohol remnants around your lips, he thinks.

You cart your fingers through his undercut, before tugging on the roots of the hair above. 

He parts away from you now, and this time he slows down. Not because he needs it, but because he doesn't always act this way, he's not always this harsh with his movements, he loves treating you with soft caresses and gentle grips, but there are times like this where you just bring out a different, more untamed side of him.

You take his headband off, as your hands stay on his hair, but this time you play with it, carding through. You know he's thinking, and you know what he's thinking about.

"Kento," you say, soft as a whisper.

He hums. "Are you jealous of the little G.I Joe man?"

Little.

"Why would I be jealous of him?" he asks, as though you've insulted him by implying so. He admits it pissed him off, he admits there is a strange, more concerning side of him that wishes he could keep you all to himself, that he could keep you away from eyes that could see your beauty, but truly, he doesn't worry about other people much. He has all his faith in you.

"It did annoy me," he says. He bends down, leaving a soft kiss forehead.

And that's the last of his softness for you today, he comes back up. "Open," he says, his thumb grazing over your chewed up bottom lip.

And you do, as you often do, your mouth opens, and your eyes stare up at him, wide and waiting with devotion he can only think of deserving at times like this.

Nanami purses his lips and hocks a glob of spit directly into your mouth, as you swallow.

He pushes your legs apart. He bends down, placing the softest kisses all around your neck, "You're so good to me," he says as you groan in tandem.

His hands move up and down, tracing inconsequential patterns before they go up to tug at the straps of your underwear before he pulls them down your legs.

Nanami moves back from your body, your skirt is bunched up to your waist, and you sit upright as you stare down at him in all of your half-naked glory. It takes merely one look at your face— your lips ajar, your hair mussed, your stare hazy — for him to decide he should be on his knees for you.

His knees hit the ground, and his hands come to hold your oustered foot.

His lips come down to press a steady kiss to the arch of your foot as he maintains a painstakingly unwavering eye contact with your eyes.

Slowly, his kisses move higher. He presses the second one just past your ankles, his lips touching the flexing muscles of your calves. With his kiss, your muscles relax.

And then he moves even more higher to the sensitive skin behind your knees, it's ticklish almost so your toes curl to suppress the sensation. And then finally, he settles, he dedicates some time, stopping to leave more than a few kisses to your inner thighs.

Now as his face remains near your inner thighs, Nanami can’t resist, and he sucks twin hickeys onto each side of your thighs. His thumb coming to trace his work of art, as his eyes come back to find your eyes. His brown eyes entrapping you in place.

For a solid minute, Nanami can't do nothing but stare at your pretty cunt. You refuse to squirm but every time he does this, it makes you feel squeamish and seen, you feel the need to kick off and run away. His warm breath dances over the sensitive skin, and you squirm — just a little, begging for the return of his mouth.

He smears his mouth against your cunt with open mouth kisses. Wet trails of his spit glister in the wake of his lips. He uses his fingers to pinch at your hood until your clit peeks out for him.

“You're so good to me Kento baby,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” Nanami asks. He likes hearing it every time, he asks you over and over and over again, until it's all you can seems to say.

You nod eagerly, "Yeah," you say with a soft gulp.

His hand continued to toy with your clit, your hips bucking greedily against the anchor of his hands at your hips, begging for more pressure, more, more, more. And it's just like him to give you more and beyond.

He moves in again — his tongue to his nose both buried in between your legs, as he laps and sucks on until finally your thighs start to show its very first quiver.

With that he moves, focusing his attention on your clit, he is persistent and needy in the way he moves, like he's a starved and depraved little thing. It's so unlike his usual self, so you commit it to memory every chance you get.

The foot that was once laying limp on his shoulder, now clenches, drawing him closer and closer by the neck with every move he continues to make. He can tell you are going cum soon.

It's the part he commits to memory— the way your hips arc, humping to get what you need to fly over the edge, as your eyes are shut with pleasure.

And you come into his mouth at one consequential contact, he relishes that familiar tang as he laps it all up.

He wipes his mouth with one hand and he looks up to you, you look at him and a quiet moment passes by, he can hear a vehicle outside, making it's way across the road.

And then you break out into soft chuckles, it comes out restrained because you're just so out of breath.

You move to the ground, your hand hitting the ground beside him, you're still breathing heavily as you force him to take your place on the bed.

Your hands settle on his thighs, as you caress it his high from over his pants. You look up, as you reach for his belt. "Your turn now, Kento baby."

—

“Tell me why it annoyed you,” you murmur, punctuating your sentence with a small yawn.

The warmth of the bath makes him feel even more drowsy than he’s been feeling, but this feels too nice to wake up and make or even order dinner.

Nanami lies with his back propped in the bath, his knees are spread, sitting against the bathtub to fit your body. Your back lays warm and wet against his chest, and the crown of your head just below his chin. His hands hold your breasts in each palm, slowly caressing your nipples.

Maybe it's because he's feeling drowsy. Maybe it's because you've drained him of his all his energy tonight, but he speaks up. “I guess, I just want you all to myself sometimes."

"Of course, you do. I'm a catch," you say with a giggle.

Nanami tweaks your nipple, and you squeal. The water around him sloshes over the edge of the bathtub, drenching the mat as you move in his hold.

“You can be cocky sometimes,” Nanami says mournfully.

You laugh, and the vibration of your chest shifts your breasts in his hands. "I am yours though," you say. Sweet as you are, he feels like you have to say this to him, you have to reassure him constantly. He doesn’t think he could just know this, as blind faith or by the look in your eyes.

Nanami may look a man confident of his abilities and status, but with you, he thinks you could do so much better. You deserve more than half-truths, and repressed staggering feelings, and so he needs to hear it

"You are," he says. "I guess it's just odd then."

"It's not," your response is immediate. "I understand."

"You do?" he asks.

"Yeah, did you see the number of women looking at you today?" you say, and there's a hint of agitation there, and Nanami hates to admit it but it does something to him. To have this knowledge that you could even care that much for him.

"I didn't see them," he says moments later when you’re both in bed. You nestle in deeper against his chest, barely awake at all. I only see you.

"I know," you smile, and he feels it against his chest.

[jellys-compendium]

V - NSFW Alphabet

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Cw: smut, sexual objectification, restraints, toys, and other things that come with the NSFW alphabet. A/n: The NSFW alphabet for V has arrived woooo! I had a blast writing these. To me, V isn't your typical sex god that we tend to see a lot in erotic writings. It was very refreshing and a treat for me to write about a character that doesn't exactly fit into the whole "plows you into the mattress for 5 hours" trope.

V - SFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

V is quite cuddly after sex and he is attentive with his aftercare. He will bring you whatever you need without complaint, whether it be a glass of water, a snack, some more blankets, or a towel to clean up. That man is at your beck and call.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

V's favorite body part on both you and him is your hands. For him, he likes his hands because they can be used to bring you pleasure--to caress you gently or to plunge into your swollen and slippery pussy, angling his lithe and talented fingers just right to bring you orgasm after orgasm. As for you, V loves your hands because of you use them for such beautiful things. To sign language, create art, and hold him. But V's absolute favorite thing about your hands is how they claw into his back whenever he's inside you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Loves the sight of his cum decorating your skin. While V loves to come inside you, he also cannot deny that rush of pleasure that courses through him when he sees his cum dripping down your folds, painting your stomach and thighs, glistening on your flushed cheeks and pouty lips.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Oh to be tied up and at your mercy. The desire of being roped and gagged by you, laid down on the bed and at your utter mercy as he encourages you with his gaze to straddle his hips and use his cock to your hearts content. V has a bit of a fetish for being used by you. He wants you to take your pleasure from him, to use his body to make yourself feel good, while he sits back and watches.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

V is not very experienced when it comes to sex. But his eagerness to please you more than makes up for it. He's receptive to your guidance and a quick learner. It's actually crazy how fast he learned and mapped the sensitive parts of your body. How to quickly he figured out how to make you writhe and arch and cry out his name as you squirt all over the bedsheets.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. V's a romantic, and he loves looking in your eyes whenever the two of you are making love. Being able to also feel your arms wrapping around him and pulling him closer as he sinks his cock all the way inside you? Heaven.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

As I mentioned in the SFW alphabet, V has a bit of a dorky sense of humor. It wouldn't surprise me if he threw in a little joke or a teasing remark in during sex. V loves not only the sound of your moans and cries, but also the beautiful sound of your laughter.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

V maintains himself down there, although he doesn't have a lot of hair to begin with so he doesn't need to shave. Just a slight trim to keep things neat and he's good to go.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

This man is a hopeless romantic. Oh boy, let me count the ways in which this man shows his affections for you during the act. Spoiling you from head to toe with adoring kisses, fingers painting the shape of your body as they worship each groove, curve, and imperfection--the whisper quiet praise that falls from his lips. To V you are the most precious thing in his life, and he needs you to understand that fact to the very depths of your soul.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

V's not really in the habit of jacking off. He much prefers to come to you whenever he's in the mood. However, that being said, should you and V be separated for a time he does get pent up, and he has to find a little private moment to himself. He's usually quick about it, fisting his dick in a tight grip, groaning as he imagines you bouncing on it--your tight pussy milking him so sweetly as you come.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Like I mentioned before, V's got a bit of a sexual objectification kink. He loves you and trusts you and wants you to use his body to satisfy your own desires. Whether that be his cock, his fingers, or his face, V is sooo ready to give you free reign. Outside of the sexual objectification kink though, V also has a bit of a hand kink. Even the most fleeting of thoughts of your pretty little fingers wrapping around his cock makes his breath draw short.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

V prefers privacy so that he can more leisurely make love to you. He wants to savour you, and quickies in an alley or in the DMC van (while enjoyable) isn't his preferred way to have you. V would much prefer to have you naked, spread and waiting for him in the comfort of your shared bed.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The sight of your naked body is the quickest and more sure fire way to turn V on. But you can also get V going with a sultry glance, a suggestive smile, gliding your hand along the expanse of his tattooed skin.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

V is not interested in bringing you pain. While he realizes that for some, pain can be just as intoxicating and welcomes as pleasure, he cannot bear the thought of hurting you. To V, your body is a temple for his reverence and worship--never to be marred by a violent or cruel hand.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

V is undoubtedly a giver. That man could spend hours between your thighs, dining on the sweetness of your arousal if you let him. When it comes to skill, V wasn't particularly skilled at going down on you at first. But with a little gentle instruction, V now makes your legs tremble and give out with only a few swipes of his talented tongue.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual for the most part. V can go faster and treat you a little roughly if you would like, but he much prefers to slowly have you come apart his arms. Turning you to putty in his hands as he slowly and masterfully guides you towards that exquisite release.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not the biggest fan of quickies, but you won't ever see V saying "no" at any opportunity to feel your sweet and tender skin against his own. To bask in how your body arches and then softens against his own.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

V is open minded, and he does like to explore with you in the bedroom. He's always interested in trying different positions or indulge you with different kinks and scenarios. When it comes to risks, V isn't that interested in semi-public or public sex or with being caught. He feels that your intimate moments between the two of you should stay private.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

V's stamina is below average I would say. He's usually spent after one round. Given how his body loses its strength more and more with each passing day, it's really no surprise. But you are unbothered by it and V's lack of stamina certainly doesn't stop him from letting you leave the bed unsatisfied. Just because V's too exhausted for one more round, doesn't mean he can't make you come in other ways. On his fingers, using his mouth, or even toys. Speaking of which...

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

V loves to use toys on you. He's always eager to learn about new ways that he can make you come. Bullet vibes, anal plugs, and dildos are some of his favorite toys to pleasure you with. V's favorite though? Using multiple on you at once while also satisfying you with his cock. A plug lovingly nestled in your ass, coupled with a vibe massaging your clit and this throbbing length stuffing your pussy full? Nevermind that V isn't one for multiple rounds, you'll be exhausted after just one.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

V is certainly a tease, but he's not one to leave you hanging. He's more of a flirtatious tease when it comes to foreplay and the build up to sex. Once he's inside you though, it's becomes all about making you feel good however quickly or slowly you want.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's relatively quiet, but V makes the sweetest and most adorable little sounds whenever he's feeling good. The airy moans and soft sighs that tumble from his lips are like music to your ears, and you're always thirsty for more. V's a little embarrassed about the sounds that he makes though, so it's really only in the throes of passion that you hear them the most.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

V's quite sensitive and sometimes he has a habit of coming a little too early (especially if it's been a while since the two of you have made love). The two of you usually just laugh it off though, teasing one another with light hearted quips as V works his fingers into you to finish the job.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

V's dick is average sized, and it's one of the prettiest dicks you've ever seen. A soft pink head, coupled with his smooth shaft and an adorable little mole that decorates the underside of it. V is certainly pleasant to look at and play with.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive ranges from standard to low depending on how his body is holding up. While V enjoys sex greatly, to him it's one of the many ways in which he can show his affection towards you. Cuddling with you under the covers, opening his heart up to you with hushed whispers in the dead of night--all of these are ways in which V reveals his yearning for you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

V doesn't tend to fall asleep right away after sex. Usually you're the first one that slumber takes, leaving V a quiet opportunity to trace your body with his hands. Admiring the work of art that is you.

nsfw alphabet template

[barbiewritesstuff]

Strauss blocked : Part 1

---

Am I bad at naming fics? Yes.

Welp this was supposed to be a 2k porn without plot and it turned into 8k words two part series... oops? I just hope it lives up to expectations :)

I just want to thank my bestie @Igg5989 for beta reading (and helping me write) and @ravensmadreads for giving me the inspiration fir this fic.

Tw: this is SMUT, IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 GTFO I DON'T WANT YOU HERE OR ANYWHERE NEAR MY BLOG. Age gap relationship, boss x employee relationship, p in v sex and all that good stuff

Taglist: @feedthemadness-sweetie

---

Section Chief Strauss was many things but when it came to working cases on the field, efficient was not one of them. She had tagged along under the excuse of performing personal performance reviews, assuring the team that she would not be getting in the way. She promised she’d merely be a ‘silent observer’ and to her credit, she had lasted an hour in that role before interjecting in every conversation and second guessing every decision any of you ever made, and because she outranked you all, her will was your command. 

“I think she showed remarkable restraint,” Spencer joked, trying to lighten your souring mood, “I didn’t think she’d last an hour,” he added.

“Did she really have to pull rank when I tried to order breakfast? Like why does she care that I like syrup on my french toast?” you asked, sudden rage exploding out of you with an intensity Spencer could never have predicted, “No, apparently ‘Girls my age won’t be thin and pretty forever, I should watch my diet before my sugar intake starts affecting things’. What a fucking bitch.”

Spencer flinched, “Yikes, I didn’t think she actually said that. I thought you were exaggerating,” he admitted.

“I didn’t even paraphrase,” you replied, looking straight ahead at the investigation board. It had been filled up pretty nicely and evidence has been coming in, but despite knowing all there is to know about the victims, their habits, friends, families and lives, you were not even close to figuring out who he is. 

And that was largely because Section Chief Erin Strauss wouldn’t let you. 

Somehow, she thought that because she couldn’t stand crime scenes and dead bodies, you couldn’t either. It was true that the crime scenes are brutal, and even Morgan came back looking a little greener than when he left, but this was your job. A job she wanted to review your performance for all while not actually letting you out of the station. 

You thought maybe it was because you’re a girl. The only girl currently on the field team because Emily broke her foot and JJ was off for her annual holiday and while Garcia was your constant companion on the phone, you felt like Strauss didn’t actually realise she was a real person. She never said thanks, or please and she kept hanging up while Penelope was still speaking. You took a deep breath, if you weren't careful soon enough you’d be the one they’d have to put behind bars. Or not, because with the way she was behaving you had a feeling Aaron wouldn’t mind giving you a couple of false alibis.

Because as bad as she was with you, she was worse with him. 

He was a good chief, kind and caring when he needed to be but professional and just the right kind of demanding. A few years ago you’d have added a couple more flaws to that descriptions -- bully, drill sergeant, the kind of man who found it easier to trust men than women even if there’s no reason for it -- but he’d grown on you. Your relationship with him has changed. At first he was just a boss, someone you’d go home and complain to your boyfriend about. Then, when Haley asked for a divorce and you got out of your own relationship after finding out your boyfriend wasn’t half as nice as you thought he was, you became friends.

And recently it had changed again. 

You had finally managed to schedule a night out with the girls after unsuccessfully trying to find a date for the seventh time that month. It had been fun, you had all danced, drunk and chatted until the early hours of the morning before calling it quits and returning home. Which is where you had been when Hotch happened to be walking by, or rather, you had been in front of your home when he happened to be walking by. You almost didn’t recognise him, he had shed the usual work suit for a casual pair of jeans and a nice shirt. 

“Hi,” he said, clearly not expecting to see anyone he knew so late -- or early -- in the day.

“Hi,” you replied hesistantly, not wanting to betray just how tipsy you were even as you swayed by your door

“You okay?” he asked, “Not too cold?” he added, helpfully pointing towards your dress. You looked down to see what you meant. Looking to have a good time and maybe bring someone home, you hadn’t dressed particularly sensibly for the time of year. In fact, you had chosen the shortest dress you owned, a golden number that showed off plenty of cleavage and left nothing to the imagination. 

You looked up, horrified to see him smirking.

“I -- err -- I locked myself out,” you said, hoping to get yourself out of that awkward moment by changing the subject.

“I don’t live too far away, you can sleep over. We’ll call a locksmith in the morning,” he offered.

“It’s okay,” you assured him.

Hotch frowned at you, “I’m not having you become one of those girls on Dateline,” he countered. You knew he wouldn’t force you, but if you refused his offer, you would officially kiss a night in a nice warm house goodbye as your only other option was your car. 

“Fine,” you acquiesced. He shot you one of his rare smiles, one of the ones that lit up his own face and that made the usual ball of nerves you felt in your stomach at the sight of one of the FBI higher ups turn into a horde of fluttering butterflies. He didn’t usually give them out easily and you wondered if this one was aided by alcohol. As you approached him, your theory was confirmed. Beneath his nice aftershave and his usually minty breath you could vaguely smell whiskey. Your drunken brain stored that fact for the next office secret santa, you just had to rig it so you’d pull his name. 

“Date?” Hotch asked after a few moments of silence, the click of your heels against pavement echoing through the night.

“Just out with friends,” you replied, accidentally bumping into him as you walked.

“Me too,” he said, “College reunion.”

It felt weird having him volunteer that much information. Aaron Hotchner was the kind of man who liked to keep his work and home life separated and rarely ever let anyone in. Letting the team in on details of his divorce had been as hard and painful as the divorce itself so you never imagined he’d happily volunteer information about what he did in his spare time. 

“I had too much to drink,” he added in a whisper, like it was a confession, “I get chatty when I drink,” he grinned at you. 

“I can see that,” you giggled at him. You hadn’t meant it in any other way than a statement but Hotch grew serious anyway.

“You can tell me to shut up if I annoy you,” he said, looking at the pavement. 

“No I--” you protested, part of you wondering if the reason he kept quiet wasn’t because of professionalism but rather because he thought people wouldn’t care

“I like chatty you,” you said and he looked up, smiling at you for the second time in twenty minutes, “I also like smiley you,” you added.

“Did you have fun?” you asked a little later, for some reason, silence with Hotch now felt opressive.

“It was nice seeing them all. It’s weird though, they’ve all changed so much that I barely recognise them. Like, I look in the mirror and I think I look pretty much the same, I mean older obviously, but like I look the same,” he said, “and then I look at them and --” he brought his hands up to his head and mimicked an explosion, “I haven’t missed them though,” he added with a giggle.

“No?” You questioned, looking at him curiously. 

“God, no. Pretentious assholes,” he replied with a heavy sigh. 

“Sweetie, you went to George Washington University,” you laughed, “Of course they’re all pretentious.”

“Fair point, Agent,” he smiled. 

“Y/n,” you corrected, “My name is Y/n when we’re off the clock.” 

“And mine is Aaron,” he replied

“Well, Aaron, can you tell me how far away we are from yours? My feet are killing me,” 

“Not too far,” he replied, “Do you see your college friends often?”

“Not the majority of them. We keep in contact, call sometimes but there’s only five I see regularly. They’re the girls I went out with,” you informed him. 

“Are they nice?” He asked, “My bunch are…,” he hesitated, “They keep making these underhand digs at those who they see as less successful. I don’t think I’ll go to the next one. It just feels like a dick measuring contest,” he said, then clapped a hand in front of his mouth once he heard you laugh and realised he had sworn, “Sorry,” he apologised, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I’m trying not to swear because Jack is picking up on it. It’s not going great I keep fucking it up -- no wait! Shit! -- No! Fuck!” he exclaimed, accidentally letting out a swear whenever he realised what he had done. You couldn’t stop laughing and stopped for a moment, leaning against a tree to catch your breath. 

“I am polite,” he assured you, “pinky promise,” he added

“I believe you,” you grinned

“I am so polite that when I get home, I am going to offer you a coffee,” he said. 

“And I will accept,” you said, “I need to sober up, otherwise I’m going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow. And believe me, you don’t want to meet me when I’m hungover.”

“Eh,” he shrugged, “You’re young, it’ll pass quickly. I remember when I was your age, a hangover was just a headache, now? I have to take a sick day to recover.”

“Aren’t you exaggerating a little?” you asked

“Never,” he grinned, “Okay, maybe a little.”

“You are allowed to take days off, Aaron,” you reminded him, “You’re human, you deserve a break.”

He shrugged again, “What would I do during a break? Haley has divorced me, Jack’s only here one week every other week… I don’t want to spend more time in my empty house than I need.”

“You can go to the movies?” you offered, “Have you seen Avatar?”

“Can I be honest?” he asked, “Those blue people creep me out.”

“That is fair,” you replied, “I don’t like the hair,” 

“Yes!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in victory, “They look like elephant trunks,” he added, “My house is there,” Hotch pointed to your left at a small white brick house. One that you had passed many times when you walked your elderly neighbour’s dog. Hotch opened the wooden gate and walked up the path, accidentally tripping on a badly placed stone.

“Watch your step,” he whispered to you. Clumsily, he fished his keys out of his pocket and tried to fit it in the door in the limited light of the porch lamp. Eventually, he got it in and turned it in the lock. It opened with a click. 

“It’s nice,” you said, stepping in behind him

“Liar,” he answered, flicking the light on, “It’s dark. Was. It isn’t anymore.”

“Well it’s nice anyway,” you said, looking around. Although the furniture looked old, it was nice and it looked expensive. On one of the rare nights you had gone on as a team, Hotch had mentioned briefly living alone in Seattle when discussing rent with Emily, and you wondered if this wasn’t one of the remnants of that time. 

“Do beer goggles work on furniture too?” he joked. You stuck out your tongue at him and he grinned. 

“I thought you were polite?” you said, reminding him of his promise.

“Right! Yes! Would you like a coffee?”

“Milk and sugar please,” you answered, trying to undo the straps of your shoes and failing, wiggling your feet out of the heels instead. You’d figure out how to unclasp the buckle in the morning, when you were sober and your feet were killing you less. 

“Do you like DC?” he asked, handing you a steaming mug of coffee a few minutes later. You nodded, taking a sip, burning your lip in the process. Hotch saw you wince and bring a hand up to your mouth and immediately moved to your rescue.

“I am such an idiot,” you said.

“Don’t say that,” he frowned, grabbing your hand by the wrist and moving it away from your lip, “Let me see.”

He leant towards you, staring intently at your mouth. Your head swam more with every second he spent close to you. At work it was easy to keep your all consuming attraction to Aaron Hotchner at bay. He was your boss and maintained a professional distance at all times, preferring to call you Agent, and never asking anything for information about you beyond what he needed to know to feel like you could do the job. But with him so close to you, it was easy to allow yourself to close the gap between your mouths and kiss him.

To your surprise, he returned the kiss eagerly, slipping his tongue into your mouth and battling yours for dominance before seemingly regaining his composure and pulling away.

“We should stop,” he said, then, he hesitated, “Should we stop?”

“No, definitely not,” you answered, pulling him back towards you. Seemingly convinced, Aaron let his hands wander over your body before tapping the side of your thigh. Almost automatically, you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist and rolled your hips against yours. Hotch groaned, blindly stumbling his way towards the sofa where he placed you down on your back. He joined you on the pleather furniture, towering over you with a mischievous grin as he removed his shirt in one smooth movement and unbuckled his belt. 

“Like what you see?” he asked and you gulped. Although you had spent much of your private time imagining what Hotch looked like without a shirt you had never managed to get it right. His soft but toned dad bod seemed even more attractive in person. You raised one of your hands up in the air, gently grazing his skin and tangling your fingers in his chest hair, Hotch closed his eyes and sighed.

“Care to undress me?” you asked, Aaron’s eyes fluttered open as he came back to reality. He looked at you, eager and impatient underneath him and he smiled. He bent down, grabbing your dress by the hem. You lifted your waist up and allowed him to shuffle it upwards, slowly revealing what you kept underneath. 

You silently thanked yourself for wearing nice underwear, because you wouldn’t have wanted to subject Hotch to the panties you usually wore for work. Instead, you had chosen a pretty lavender set comprised of a bralette and a thong, which Aaron seemed very pleased with as once his eyes landed on it, he seemed unable to think rationally, luckily for you, the animalistic part of the brain the lingerie had turned on seemed more than happy to take over. 

Hotch pulled off your thong and shed his trousers and boxer shorts in less time than it took for you to blink. Seeing his erection jump free of his underwear and bump against his pelvis was enough to tell you that Aaron would be bigger than any man you had ever been with. You hesitated for a second, wondering how he would ever fit.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked but you shook your head, shuffling more towards him instead to make the message clearer, “I’ll be gentle,” he assured you. 

One of his hands came to touch your core, gently grazing the sensitive skin before allowing his thumb to rest by your clit. He rubbed circles around it, enjoying every whimper you let out before giving you what you wanted and rubbing your bundle of nerves. The moans that fell from your lips were like music to his ears. He desperately wanted to fit himself inside you, but he wanted to make sure you were ready for him. 

He rubbed you faster, with every touch you could feel the coil of pleasure in your tummy tighten and soon you tipped over the edge and came with a pornographic moan. Exercising all self control, Aaron brough a hand to his cock and jerked it a few times, letting the fingers of his other hand wander down to your aching core. He slipped one finger in, savouring just how tight you were before adding another one. He pumped them in and out of you, stretching you out, adding fingers until he felt you were ready for him. 

Hotch lined himself up with your pussy, gently pressing himself in. You happily swallowed every inch of him and when he bottomed out, he let you adjust for a moment before thrusting himself in and out of you at an accelerating pace. You felt like heaven gripping him so tight that he was sure he wouldn’t last very long. Luckily for him, it didn’t seem like you would either. 

Your hands were clawing at his back, leaving scratch marks that stung deliciously every time Aaron hit that spongey spot inside you, and your moans kept getting louder, spurring him on as he bottomed out and slammed himself back in until he could no longer keep himself from coming. With a groan he spilled himself inside you, triggering your own orgasm. 

You stayed in each other’s arms for a few moments, catching your breaths before Aaron pulled out of you. He smiled at you, leaning down to leave one last kiss upon your swollen lips, leaving your relationship forever changed. 

Part of you wondered if anything had leaked. The both of you had been careful not to speak about it, in private or in public, but you worked with the best profilers the United States had to offer. It was possible someone had figured something out. Or, although you didn’t think she ever would, that Garcia had accidentally seen or heard something she never should have. Hotch wasn’t particularly careful with electronics. They were either in his suit pocket or in the back pocket of his trousers, it had never happened, but what if he had butt dialled someone? 

Although, you figured that was unlikely, since Strauss wouldn’t have come if she had any evidence at all, she would have just fired you. But it did explain why she insisted on sticking with you at all times, or why she had demanded a room right above Hotch’s, even though the hotel clerk, clearly wanting to impress the FBI’s section chief, had confessed to her that the room wasn’t all that soundproof. 

No, sadly, the more likely explanation for her overbearing presence was that she hated the team and how it was run. She thought it was too disorganised, too sloppy, and that its subpar running posed a threat to the FBI. You had to roll your eyes at that, you had been in many departments, working as an intern, then a secretary and eventually a full time salaried employee. You had seen more of the FBI than Strauss ever would, and you could say with absolute certainty that the BAU was the only team you had been a part of who ever filed their paperwork on time. Sure, most of the agents had a smidge of a hero complex and were far too eager to place themselves in danger when it came to unsubs, but the cases got cracked. The bad guys got caught. Reports got written and overtime filed.

And yet, she still insisted on making everything difficult. Quantico and the bullpen provided a little protection against her, you could always duck into a cubicle, blame your inability to speak with her on an ever climbing pile of paperwork -- even if you sometimes pulled empty sheets of paper out of the printer to bulk it up a little when it got a little too bare, a technique you had learnt from Rossi and that you had very quickly shared with the rest of the team. Only Aaron, the only agent whose pile was constituted only of real case files and documents wasn’t participating in the charade -- or simply pick the case the state furthest away from Strauss to escape her grip. 

Maybe she had gotten wide to the ruse and wanted to make you pay for it now. 

----

“Not feeling chatty?” Morgan asked the girl. She hadn’t spoken since Hotch and Spencer had apprehended her coming out of a potential victim’s back garden, red paint splashed all over her clothes. Once she was in cuffs and backup arrived, a message had been uncovered, the same message all the other girls had found and reported days before their untimely deaths. It wasn’t uncommon for unsubs to refuse to talk, although most of them at least demanded a lawyer or answered ‘no comment’ after every question. 

Avery Watts had been utterly silent since her arrival twenty minutes ago, and she hadn’t moved or blinked either. It was eerie, and Morgan was feeling it too. He was trying his best not to show it, but he kept glancing at the two way glass every few seconds, almost trying to reassure himself that if anything went wrong, someone would be able to help. He needn’t have worried. Spencer and you had made your way into the observational cubicle adjoining the interrogation room as soon as she had been brought in and you had been joined seconds later by Strauss, hot on your trail, and a rookie officer up for a promotion in a month and eager to learn. 

Avery shrugged

“Fine, I suggest you make yourself comfortable here then. We’ll be back tomorrow,” Morgan said, standing up from his chair and pushing it back underneath the table. Hotch gathered the papers in front of the unsub and placed them all back into his briefcase, leaving the pictures of the various crime scenes and victims last so she could get one last good look and one last chance for you to notice a reaction but none came. Instead, she grinned at Hotch.

“You don’t have any evidence against me,” the girl said, voice raspy from disuse, “You have to let me go.”

“I don’t need evidence,” Hotch replied, looking her straight in the eyes, “I can hold you for 72 hours without cause,” he added, wiping her self-satisfied little smile right off of her face, “And I will.”

Strauss pressed the comms button on the panel in front of you with a neatly manicured nail, “I really don’t think that is a good idea,” she said, sounding so confident in her own non-existent ability that you almost wanted to scream. You held it in, preferring to glare at her instead. Spencer, who had slowly moved to stand next to you -- whether that was to get a better look or to stop you from throwing your career down the drain you didn’t know -- grabbed your arm and squeezed it reassuringly. 

You smiled at him tensely and he returned the gesture. You were the two youngest members of the BAU task force and while a friendship was always bound to form, no one had been able to predict just how quickly the two of you had clicked. He was the resident genius, the model for the definition of a nerd and you were the ex-prom queen and cheerleading captain everyone at your school had voted ‘Most Likely to sell their soul for lipstick’, if either of you had been any less mature, the friendship would never have worked but as it was, there wasn’t a single day where you didn’t text, call, email or meet up for coffee with Spencer Reid. He was charming and kind, and a better friend than anyone else in your life had ever been. 

“Breathe,” he mouthed but you didn’t catch it, behind the two way glass Hotch moved. He placed the briefcase on the floor and walked up to the mirror.

“I am not letting her back onto the streets,” Hotch stated. As soon as the words left his mouth, the unsub moved. With surprising force, she flipped the interrogation table, breaking the cuffs off of the metal loop screwed onto the bottom of it and rearranged the piece of furniture right on top of SSA Hotchner’s trachea. She leaned in, pressing harder. Reflexively, Aaron tried to breathe in, letting out a raspy sound that raised the hair on your arms. 

You were the first to fly out of the cubicle and into the interrogation room, gun drawn and ready to shoot but when you kicked down the door, Avery moved away from the overturned table, hands raised up in surrender. Spencer came in behind you and immediately jumped to Hotch’s aid while the rookie stayed by the door, gun pointed at Avery, blocking her path in case she tried to leave, and blocking Strauss’ path in case she wanted to come in. You put your gun away and pulled out your cuffs, with a swift press of your foot to the back of her knees you got Avery down to the ground and restrained her. 

“Stay down,” Spencer told Hotch, one hand planted on the upper part of his chest, trying to keep the man from moving, “MEDIC,” he shouted. The rookie officer turned around and booked it through various corridors to get to the main office of the Santa Maria police department. Main office was a big word, only three officers operated the three shifts the day was separated into, with a volunteer officer coming in whenever the grocery store he worked for didn’t need him. The FBI’s presence had changed things a little, the BAU’s team of four and one or two medics permanently assisting the team dwarfing the police force without even really trying. It was lucky the police station had been built by an optimist in the late forties, as they had prepared for a mining boom that had never come and made the precinct much bigger than necessary. So big in fact, that half the rooms remained unused and only three of the twelve holding cells had ever been used at the same time. 

Officer Jones, the rookie whose name badge you finally took the time to look at, came back five minutes later, medics and Rossi in tow. They crowded around Hotch as he slowly regained the ability to breathe and then speak. You wanted to stay, seeing him hurt like that roused feelings in you you usually tried so hard to keep down, but Avery stirred and you suddenly remembered the reason Aaron was currently on the floor, recovering from the unsub’s idea of feng shui. You yanked her up and she yelped, feeling a slight bit of vindication you passed Rossi. He grabbed her other hand and helped you manhandle her down the hall into a badly lit holding cell. A ‘bed’ had been prepared, made from a thin mattress, a pillow and a scratchy blanket, and whoever had prepped the room had had the forethought to bring out a plastic cup of water. You walked her into the cell and uncuffed her. Avery glared at you in a way that told you that if looks could kill, you would have been the newest victims in her growing group. You turned around, walking out of the room as Rossi locked it. He turned away, but a strange sound resonated through the air and the both of you froze. Suddenly, you were showered with something cold and wet and Avery cackled, the plastic cup rolling out from under her cell. 

[sokkastyles]

Thinking about Toph's arc of learning independence but also learning when to rely on others. When Toph choosing leave her family, she chooses to leave a world where she's always been safe and sheltered, and although Toph chafes against her parents' restraints, there are still things she will need help with as a blind person. All those shots of her holding Sokka or Aang's arm when her feet cannot touch the ground - which I appreciate because they aren't part of some big moment that has to be remarked on by everyone, they simply happen quietly in the background, because accommodating disabled people should not be a big deal - Toph could have chosen to stay in her own little safe bubble, kept her feet on the ground. But being independent also means knowing when you can't do something on your own.

And then there's that scene where she grabs Zuko's arm, not because she needs to - they're both standing on the ground - but because she wants to be his friend. This is significant for Toph because she's already risked things for Zuko, and gotten burned. Yet, even so, her willingness to hold his arm shows that she sees him as someone she wants to rely on. Someone she can both extend help to and ask for help when she needs it.

Toph learning how to develop relationships where she feels like an equal but also being willing to let herself be helped when she needs it is all the more wonderful for the fact that it mostly happens in the background in the show. Too often disabled people are used to make a point or send some message or moral. The themes are there in Toph's story, but they're delivered subtly and she's not used as inspiration porn for the able-bodied characters, but gets to be her own person.

[mrs-gauche]

If the Spirit!Solas theory happens to be true—and I’m confident it is—then it really gives you a new level of respect for how much restraint this guy has.

I’m talking specifically about his interactions with Dorian. The part where Dorian is trying to convince Solas that enslaving spirits is cool and neat and not wrong because ‘spirits aren’t people.’

Imagine having the strength of character to listen to someone tell you to your face that you are not a person and therefore undeserving of the most basic civil rights without immediately decking them in the face.

Solas puts up with tool much, man.

Oh yeah, definitely! 😂 (As much as I feel for Dorian just trying to find some common ground...) I guess that one line in Tevinter Nights does a great job of putting Solas' attitude on this matter in a nutshell.

[…] roared not in anger, but with quiet contempt. "From this moment, should you ever bind a spirit, then your life is mine."

Keep in mind, Solas has witnessed spirits suffering from the consequences of creating the Veil for at least a thousand years at this point, if only from the Fade. When he's saying "It hurts. It always does." to the Inquisitor after returning to Skyhold and Wisdom's death, he's referring to the countless times he had to watch his friends being drawn to the waking world, either forced, or to see them “wish to join the living”, only to be twisted, bound, corrupted, killed, you name it.

"How small the pain of one man seems when weighed against the endless depths of memory, of feeling, of existence. That ocean carries everyone. And those of us who learn to see its currents move through life with their fewer ripples."

Much like a lot of his banter with Sera taunting him about his grief for the past, at this point, Solas is so old and has witnessed so much history, so much pain, that Dorian's remarks couldn't possibly evoke any real anger from him. It's so insignificant compared to what he has seen. There's a reason why Weekes keeps emphasizing how friggin tired Solas truly is. This is after all the general perception of spirits in present Thedas, aside from a few cultures like the Avvar. He can't blame Dorian for Tevinter raising him to think of spirits as nothing more than "amorphous constructs", just like he can't blame the Dalish for the knowledge lost to time. Similarly to any other argument he has with the other companions, Solas' frustration/resentment is almost never aimed at them personally, but rather at the current state of the world that shaped their perspective. (As is also evident in how his banter always ends up with them eventually coming to terms and grow a mutual/respectful relationship. The only exception being a low approval Inquisitor and Iron Bull if he chose the Qun over the Chargers… In that case, the hostility was definitely personal. 😂)

(That being said, I'm SO hoping for any kind of serious emotional outbreak from Solas in DA4, since there's still like a thousand year old trauma that needs to be addressed. lol)

But yeah, I think, going by his actions in Tevinter Nights, Tevinter is definitely not ready for what's probably coming for them in DA4, now that Solas is actually able to change things. 👀 And isn't it interesting how he will now be facing the Imperium, which was essentially built on the ruins of the empire he brought down/the same slavery based system he once rebelled against, so history kinda repeats itself? lol

I think it's also very telling how Solas will immediately counter Dorian's comments on the treatment of spirits in Tevinter by directly comparing it to slavery.

Dorian: "There's no harm putting them to constructive use, and most mages back home treat them well." Solas: "And any that show any magical talent are freed, are they not?" Dorian: "What? Spirits don't have magical talent." Solas: "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were talking about your slaves."

But the beautiful irony in this, as I've talked about in this post, is how this draws a direct parallel to how Solas, in return, doesn't recognize the people of the waking world as real either, at least not until after the Inquisitor considers Wisdom a living being worth saving. This and his admission to the Inquisitor after he returns to Skyhold is imo the turning point in his character development. Imo, this is what leads him to say "Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong." in his high approval ending in Trespasser.

And this is also why I think that the theory of Solas intending to save the spirits first and foremost would make for such an interesting story actually.

The waking world doesn't view spirits as real people. Just like Solas can't accept the people of the waking world as real. So, what will happen if he tears down the Veil, and the Fade and the waking world become one again? The Inquisitor was potentially willing to save Wisdom despite it having already turned into a Pride demon. And in doing so, the Inquisitor unintentionally put up a mirror in front of Solas' face and basically went "If I can see them as real people worth saving, why can't you?".

And if the spirit origin theory is true, then it could make for a fascinating inner conflict. Solas, living in both the waking world and the Fade, having been a spirit and a corporeal person, is now facing the question of who "his people" actually are. Where does he belong? After all, his biggest fear remains to "die alone".

While this was said in more of a joking manner, Weekes' words from 2016 really put it into perspective here. Solas sees himself in that old fisherman he saw in the Fade. He is "the one who lived". So, I picture it like this… Solas is left alone in the Fade after the creation of the Veil. Spirits are now his only company for the next thousand years. Whether or not those spirits were the remaining souls of the elves he tried to save, we don't know, but regardless, I truly believe they are his people. But he is not a spirit. At least, not anymore.

Cole: "You don't need to envy me, Solas. You can find happiness in your own way." Solas: "I apologize for disturbing you, Cole. I am not a spirit and sometimes it hard to remember such simple truths." Cole: "They are not gone so long as you remember them." Solas: "I know." Cole: "But you could let them go." Solas: "I know that as well." Cole: "You didn't do it to be right. You did it to save them." Inquisitor: "Solas, what is Cole talking about?" Solas: "A mistake. One of many by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything."

In this banter, Cole reveals to us that Solas' mind immediately goes from "It's hard for me to accept I'm not a spirit" to "the people that were lost when Solas created the Veil". To me, this pretty much confirms that the people of Elvhenan and spirits are connected, if not one and the same. It's assumed that the Evanuris mined the Titans to somehow create bodies for spirits to inhabit, and that Mythal gave Solas a body against his will. There's also the theory about the creation of the Veil having caused the separation of body and spirit.

You know, I've written so much about this in previous posts and I don't want to sound like a broken record, but if we consider all those little clues and look at all of his dialogue in that context, it just makes so much sense to me, that what he wants to do is primarily to save the spirits/destroy the barrier for them to enter the waking world without their purpose getting corrupted. There's also still the matter of the Blights and red lyrium otherwise probably consuming the entire world. 😅 I think that's what he's referring to when saying "What I am doing will save this world" in Tevinter Nights.

And remember, "Dread Wolf" is still literally an anagram for "World" and "Fade". 😂 Both worlds colliding is quite literally in his title. lol Whatever the six eyed high dragon sized Dread Wolf actually is, as far as we know, he only seems to exist within the Fade, but how exactly is he connected to Solas and what will happen to him if he tears down the Veil (which btw is also definitely gonna happen… I mean, besides the fact that the Veil is getting weaker regardless of Solas' actions)? ANYWAY.

Sorry for rambling so much (and I feel like my English is a little rusty, too 😖), but I haven't talked about this stuff in a while and the lack of news is killing me. 😂 But your message gave me something to think about again, so thank you! :)

[weiwuxianismybae]

My fandom pet peeves

Lan Wangji’s dislike of Jiang Wanyin

So, I dived back into the world of fanfiction and was quickly reminded of all the fanon things I hate. Starting with Lan Wangji’s unreasonable dislike of Jiang Cheng. In order to promote "Wei Wuxian's little brother Jiang Cheng", Lan Wangji's very good reasons to hate Jiang Cheng are reduced to some petty, stupid bs like "He [LWJ] didn't like how often Jiang Cheng hit Wei Wuxian." And later on we get this gem: "After some time LWJ understood that violence is JC's way of showing affection." Like, wtf? If my younger sibling (and I have one) showed their affection through violence, I wouldn't see it as love, but as abuse, 'cause that's what it is. And I'm not talking about the normal sibling fighting because that's not what Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng's relationship is. I mean, just reread the Cloud Recesses Study arc. The only thing Jiang Cheng seems to know is how to belittle and criticise Wei Wuxian. I'm not gonna lie, I found some of the remarks quite funny (I'm a passive aggressive bitch myself), but when that's the only thing that comes out of Jiang Cheng's mouth, it really starts to eat at you. I deeply respect Wei Wuxian's ability to not take it seriously. And when Lan Wangji’s actual grievances with Jiang Cheng are stated, we get the "but he [JC] still loved his brother" nonsense. Lan Wangji’s real reasons to dislike Jiang Cheng are as follows: abandoning Wei Wuxian, being the prime reason and catalyst of Wei Wuxian's death, spreading hateful rumours about Wei Wuxian (who else could have been the source of "WWX is responsible for Jiang Clan's massacre" if not the only surviver, besides Wei Wuxian, of the said massacre?), and hunting down the so-called demonic cultivators because "what if that's actually Wei Wuxian." I commend Lan Wangji’s restraint, because if it had been me, I would have long since punched that guy in the nose. And I absolutely love Lan Wangji’s attitude of "I won't look at you; I won't speak to you. Sizhui, you may speak on my behave."

"Lans only love once"

Please tell me I'm not the only one who gets toothache whenever I read this. When I came across it for the first time, I didn’t think much of it. Like, at first, I thought it was cute, but then it started grinding on my nerves. Why? Because it diminishes Lan Wangji’s love, trust and devotion to Wei Wuxian to a mere fate thing that is beyond your control. He is already being reduced to some block of ice (by the mob in mdzs and the fandom), and now you also simplify such an important part to his character. Like, where did this even come from? Yes, we have the famous Lan "I will leave this world, because my love is no longer in it" An and Lan Wangji, but that's it when it comes to die-hard romantics in the Lan Clan. The story of Qingheng-jun and Madam Lan is not really romantic (I'm not gonna speculate on what there was and wasn't between them because Lan Xichen telling Wei Wuxian about his parents had a different purpose, namely, to esteblish Lan Wangji as someone who doesn't just listen to what his elders have to say, but as someone who seeks to understand and then judge the reasoning by his own moral beliefs). And that's it. So where is "Lans only love once" coming from??

So why did I write all of this? Well, I'm just tired of seeing this over and over again. Aren't we all so creative? Come up with new head-canons (so that I have more things to criticise /jk) or stick to canon characteristics. Please.

[actuallysaiyan]

Kinktober Day 1: Sex toys(Feed My Frankenstein)

warnings/kinks: scientific experimentation, sex toys, use of drugs, drugging, semen collection, fake pussy, creampie word count: 1.6k pairings: Android 17 x Fem!Reader tag list: @beneathstarryskies, @ricflairdrip20, @witchofcustom. @xailem, @loki-love. If you want to be part of the tag list, please just message me or send an ask in my inbox.

Bright lights flash on his face. He feels a little panicked, but when he smells your perfume, he feels a little more calm. You smile when you realize he’s awake. Android 17 fights against the restraints that keep him firmly placed on the examination table. He trusts you, mostly. You are still Dr. Gero’s assistant after all. But with the way you treat him, 17 knows that you can be trusted. This is just frightening for him, though. He is worried that maybe you have some sort of sinister test waiting for him.

“Good to see you awake,” you say as you come closer to him. “Dr. Gero was beginning to worry.”

Flashbacks of a struggle and then being injected with something flash through 17’s mind. He knows that it’s because of his reluctance to these tests that he has to endure such treatment. Whenever 17 has to take a test, he always prefers it would be you administering it. Often it is Dr. Gero, who is so much more rough with him than you are. 17 shudders when you push back some of his hair.

“Are you ready for the male hormone test now? It’s really simple, and I think you’ll enjoy it.” You question him, and he sighs.

“Like I have a choice,” 17 spits out. He is completely restrained to the table. It’s a comfortable table at least.

You walk over to the desk in the corner and you begin typing something into the computer. A series of beeps and boops fill the air before a cylindrical device begins descending from the ceiling. 17 is confused by this device. You know what it’s for. Dr. Gero had you build this machine specifically with the thought of testing 17 in mind. This will be able to show you if the Androids are even able to have children. 

“This won’t hurt a bit. I’ll need to remove all your clothing.” You begin with his pants, undoing them as best as you can through the restraints. Then the shirt, which you cut off his body.

“Isn’t that just a waste?” 17 remarks sarcastically. You smile sweetly as you remove his underwear.

You gasp as you see the size of him. The length is slightly above average, but it’s the girth. He is quite thick around. You know you did the right thing getting the large size for the rings. You pull on some nitrile gloves and pick up your clipboard. 17 can’t even look you in the eyes right now. All his cockiness has been pushed aside for timidity.

“Such a large specimen,” you mutter to yourself. Gently, you grasp his cock in your hand and he hisses through gritted teeth.

“Hey! Be careful,” 17 moans loudly, unaware of how needy he really is.

You write down a few things on your clipboard before setting it aside. On the desk in the corner of the room, you procure a syringe and a bottle of some sort of pink fluid. 17 knows that you’re about to inject him with something.

“This is a virility drug. It’s mixed with sildenafil.” You explain to him. He swallows hard. He knows what this test is going to be for.

You inject him with the proper dosage and then you give him time to react to the drug. It doesn’t take long for him to get even harder than he was before. His cheeks are pink as the arousal takes a hold of him.

“How are you feeling now?” You ask him, scribbling more notes on your clipboard.

“How do you think I feel? You just injected me with probably the world’s strongest viagra. I’m horny as hell!” 17 seethes as he wriggles on the table.

“Yes, don’t worry about that. I’m here to test the potency of your sperm. So rest assured, you will get off.” He hates that he loves how smart you are. You never sugarcoat anything, and he loves the technical jargon you always use.

You set the clipboard aside once more before returning to him. With gloved hands, you grasp his cock. It’s leaking so much precum at this point, and you just touching him has him moaning softly. You love that you get to administer this test. You’ve been pining after him for so long.

“You’re very erect. It must feel pretty good to have my hands on it, yes?” 17 doesn’t even want to answer this. It feels heavenly.

You cup his balls and you realize how heavy they are. It’s a shame you’ll have to put a ring on both his cock and his balls for the first part of the test. It’s meant to test how long it’ll take for him to cum. But seeing as you need as much cum as possible, you need to make sure he lasts as long as he can.

“This might be a little cool to the touch,” you tell him as you grab both metal rings. You had opted for something better, but metal was all you were given.

17 whines as you begin fitting him with the rings. First, the one on his balls is put on. It squeezes a little bit, making them feel even more sensitive. Then you slip the one for his cock, smirking at how it is the perfect fit. He feels so lost in a thick fog of lust. He wants nothing more than a sweet release.

“I’m going to start the extracting machine now,” you begin as you walk over to the computer once more. “Unless you prefer I do this manually.” 

Though you are only joking. There’s no way you should get involved more than scientifically. Even if just the thought of jerking him off makes your panties so damp. Already you’re fighting off every urge to straddle him, push back your panties and ride him all day long.

A few more clicks of your mouse, and the extractor machine comes down fully. It opens up to 17 and shows him a fake pussy. He laughs when he realizes what this is. It’s a sex toy attached to a mechanical arm. It’s going to fuck him, and it’s going to make him cum. Just so that you can test his sperm, whatever that means.

17 doesn’t anticipate just how excited he is for this. Before he became an android, he was a loner. He barely got laid as it is, but this was going to be even better than he imagined. Now if only you could take off that damn lab coat, things might get a little kinkier in here. He thrusts his hips up slightly as the drug begins making him even more aroused. You rush over when you realize you’ve forgotten a step.

“I’m sorry 17, I haven’t even given you the proper lubrication.” 

His head is buzzing as he realizes what you mean. You pick up a bottle of generic water-based lube and you squirt some on your gloved hands. Then you grasp his cock again and you begin stroking him to make sure every drop is on his cock.

17 whines as you keep up a steady pace. This is mostly for your own benefit. You wanted to give him a little pleasure as well. His balls feel so tight already and he isn’t sure if it’s you or the drugs or the ring. It doesn’t matter. Everything feels so good right now. He feels like he could cum right away.

“There we are. Now, time to get you off.” You giggle softly, and his cock twitches at the sound.

17 moans loudly as the toy begins to swallow his cock. He can barely watch as he reaches so deep inside of it. It’s a slow pace to start, and he is quite grateful. He didn’t think something like this would feel so good. And to his luck, you remove your lab coat, revealing a tight sweater that accentuates your gorgeous tits.

“I knew you looked great under that coat,” 17 struggles to say. The machine begins jerking him off a little faster, and another moan falls from his lips.

You smirk at the display in front of you. When Dr. Gero first announced this test, you knew you had to jump on this chance. There was no way that 17 was going to let the doctor administer such an intimate test.

“Tell me how you feel,” you ask him. He rolls his eyes before whimpering softly.

The machine begins at a faster and deeper pace. 17 feels his heart beginning to race in his chest. This is too much. It’s way too good. It’s like this machine knows exactly how to make him feel so good. You probably studied his habits and programmed it to know how he likes to be ridden. This is all your fault.

“I feel fucking good, okay? Obviously I do.” He’s so shy right now. But it feels sensational. He can’t quiet the whines and the whimpers.

You reach over to cup his heavy balls, and that’s all it takes for him to fall off the edge. 17 cries out loudly, his orgasm taking hold of him completely. He mutters the sweetest little moans and pleading. It turns you on more than you could ever believe. You’ve never seen anything so sexual in your life. 

“Fuck yes! Fuck!” He’s moaning as the toy continues to milk him. Eventually, it slows to a gentle pace and it has 17 whimpering and shaking on the table.

You jot down a few more notes then you go back to the computer. The machine stops, leaving 17 on the table alone. His cock is still quite hard, you notice. Well, you did inject him with something strong after all. You walk over to him and strip off your gloves. You hover over him for a moment before smirking.

“Guess I’ll have to finish the job manually.” You say as you grasp his cock. 17 moans as you begin jerking him off.

‘Guess these tests aren’t so bad after all…’

[renegade-skywalker]

Submission and Surrender

Summary:

“This is a gift,” Merit said softly against his lips, “In case we don’t make it, but also a promise of what comes after if we do.” Gale opened his eyes again then, his gaze soft but somber. “We will though, of course,” she amended just as Gale threaded his hand through her hair and drew her face even closer, resting his forehead against hers. “You know that, right?” He said nothing, though he didn’t have to, a world of warring worry and utter belief crossing his face as his gaze searched hers, in the end only reflecting endless adoration. “Are you ready?” Merit plans on showing Gale some much-needed love, only Gale keeps giving her a pleasantly difficult time about it. Set in Act 3, post-Sorcerous Sundries, Stormshore Tabernacle, and the Outer Planes scenes.

Word Count: 8, 664

Rating: E

~~~

“You look so handsome with your hair swept back like this,” Merit remarked, her voice soft as she carded his fringe away from his face, lightly grasping a twining brown and gray strand from Gale’s forehead around a delicate finger. He looked so charming dappled in sunlight like this, the evening sun peppering the sight of him as it peered through the lattice on the roof of Elfsong where they stood now. “But I especially like the pieces that fall into your eyeline.”

Gale blushed a pleasing shade of pink as his hands wound around her waist and drew Merit close. He looked down at her with heavy-lidded eyes, not yet asking where she was taking them after inviting him to leave their quarters for the evening. They’d taken their supper on the roof, a modest though welcome meal of warm bread, soft cheese, and meat that fell off the bone, washed down with a bottle of Elverquisst that coursed warmly through them both. Now that the sun was setting, it was about time they headed to their next destination, as per Merit’s vague instructions.

“I should be the one showering you in compliments,” he said whispersoft against her cheek, letting the warmth of his breath linger sweetly on her skin before pressing a gentle yet earnest kiss there. “I owe you so much already.”

After their conversation the day before and their venture to the Outer Planes, Gale had been all apologies and accolades, reminding Merit every waking moment that he didn’t deserve her or some other shade of the same sentiment. 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Merit argued. She draped both her arms atop his shoulders as she drew their faces close, looking him stern in the eye to show that she meant business, her gaze laced with a certain softness that hopefully conveyed she was no longer as cross as she’d been upon first leaving Sorcerous Sundries. “You are owed so much more than you’re willing to let yourself believe, godhood notwithstanding.”

Gale smiled as he drew their lips near again, brimming with herculean restraint as he refrained from actually kissing her though the desire to do so was clear in his warm brown eyes. The sunset limned the warmth of his gaze, his irises almost buttery and cinnamon spiced from this close a distance. Merit’s breath caught in her throat, truly relishing just how handsome Gale was. Even if she’d said so herself only moments ago, there were still so many stolen moments where the revelation caught her off-guard, taken aback by merely glimpsing him from some new undiscovered angle only to find him all the more captivating in her already lovestruck heart.

“Alright, alright, I surrender,” he said, his eyes flicking down to the plush of her lips, lingering there before returning her gaze again. His eyes steadied on hers in a way that made Merit go weak in the knees. “So, where is it do you think you’re taking me?”

He uttered his question with a playful air but also with one of utter affection. His initial dismissal of the city in favor of his cherished Waterdeep quickly made way for a quiet wonder that came over him when learning just which parts of Baldur’s Gate were ones Merit knew well and called home. His sincerity was sweet, and she felt guilty now if her intentions at all mislead him from that direction now… though she suspected she wouldn’t feel bad for long. And neither would he.

“A surprise,” she teased. “Though reserve your judgments for once we’re inside.”

Gale’s face scrunched into one of confusion, one brow furrowing with an unspoken question as Merit soaked in the sight of him, finding him endlessly adorable whenever he did this, too. 

“Inside?” he echoed, a baser meaning rising in his voice at the utterance of it that made Merit blush and stifle a laugh as she pleasantly slapped his arm in response. “Inside where, exactly?”

“A building,” she specified pointedly, prodding his chest with her index finger now. “With an interior. Hence, inside.”

Merit bit down on a smirk threatening to overtake her entire expression, knowing that as much as Gale was just being cheeky, which was a relief in its own right, he also wasn’t very far off…

“Can I trust you to close your eyes and follow my lead?” she asked. “Or do I need to resort to other means?”

As if trusting her to somehow spirit him to their destination then and there, or simply being a cocky sport, Gale closed his eyes and said, “Lead me wherever you wish, love. I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

He was being over-dramatic for effect, she knew that, but there was a bit of truth in his statement too. And in light of it, Merit couldn’t help but place a gentle kiss on his unsuspecting lips anyway, pleased to see him abide by her seemingly nonsensical whims in spite of all they faced otherwise. 

“This is a gift,” Merit said softly against his lips, “In case we don’t make it, but also a promise of what comes after if we do.”

Gale opened his eyes again then, his gaze soft but somber. 

“We will though, of course,” she amended just as Gale threaded his hand through her hair and drew her face even closer, resting his forehead against hers. “You know that, right?”

He said nothing, though he didn’t have to, a world of warring worry and utter belief crossing his face as his gaze searched hers, in the end only reflecting endless adoration.

The inner anxiety that gripped at her wasn’t one of personal anguish but instead an existential one. As much as she believed in her heart that, somehow, they would make it out of this, there was another darker part of her that examined each of her waking moments and planted the notion that perhaps this was it, this would be the last nice thing she’d experience in her too-short life so she should savor its every facet, its every detail, its very essence. 

“Are you ready?” she asked again, her voice more timid than she intended.

As if reading her mind, and perhaps he was, Gale’s thumb stroked her cheekbone as if to steady her, his hand still buried in her hair as if comforting the fear away. 

“For anything,” he said. “Lead the way.”

Merit smiled, willing her worries to vanish and letting her plans for the evening fill her brimming mind with excitement instead. 

As if filling the silence to quiet his own anticipation, Gale, as usual, kept talking as they retreated from the roof of Elfsong and wove through its many tables until they reached the street, posing observation after observation about the decor, the clientele, and everything in between. But when they reached the main road, his every word turned to a soft-spoken question - How often did you come here? Is this where you’d go to market? How far is the bakery from the thoroughfare? - the back of his hand not-so-subtly brushing against hers as he poured all of his attention into her every answer, absently caressing her pinky with his forefinger then bringing his feathersoft touch to the crest of her palm, circling touch after tender touch there before finally threading his hand in hers.

Her heart swelled as she savored the warmth of his hand, his thumb stroking the soft spot at the base of her wrist as they walked. He was being so sweet, if not simply doing all he could to appear too preoccupied to further query about her proposed surprise, but even so the gesture was a welcome one.

Merit thought back to something Gale had said before Moonrise - If things were different, if we were home… - and while he’d been speaking of Waterdeep, Merit couldn’t help but imagine a similar scenario instead taking place here in Baldur’s Gate. What if they hadn’t met at the end of the world? What if they’d met without the looming threat of eternal doom on the horizon? It was a gentle dream but a sweet one, a world imagined in her mind’s eye that she hoped to carry into the evening, the wealth of their worries melting away until at least the next sunrise. Which she was determined they would live to see.

“Okay now I really want you to close your eyes,” Merit instructed as they traversed Wyrm’s Crossing, purposefully veering Gale towards Carm’s Garm as a means of temporary misdirection. “Can you do that for me?”

Gale narrowed his gaze at her, suspicious but flirtatiously so. His only answer was a kiss pressed to the back of her hand before obeying without another word. 

“Now, simply follow my voice,” she continued, leading him further down the avenue until they reached the far end of Sharess’ Caress, turning into the side alley before its more unmistakable sounds reached their ears and gave her away or gave Gale the wrong idea. 

With care, she guided Gale through the alley’s winding staircases and terraces until they arrived at the private entrance to Naoise’s Grotto-themed room, the very nymph’s personal key weighing heavy in Merit’s pocket as they approached. She slowly brought Gale to a halt and released him from her grasp, her hands suddenly too cold in his absence as she produced the key and placed it in the lock. She bit her lip as she took hold of one of Gale’s hands once more and eased him inside (laughing to herself at the word inside again as it rattled inside her head, thinking of Gale’s comment from earlier) waiting until he was poised within before closing the door.

“Alright,” she said, an air of timidity lacing her voice. “Here we are.”

Merit rounded on Gale now so she could gauge his reaction. As if anticipating her apprehension, Gale took his time abiding by her instruction and slowly opened his eyes. He blinked a couple of times before his eyes instinctively scanned the room, and it only took him a moment to recognize where they were. 

“Don’t worry, it’s just us,” Merit said, turning to face Gale now and walking backwards towards the bath on the far end of the room. “Naoise still owed me a favor for saving her life, and she’d heard how much I admired this room, so…”

Gale watched with calm affection as Merit nervously ran her hand along one of the nearby vines hanging from the awning beside her. She twirled a dew-cooled leaf between her fingers, examining its veins in the soft light of the bioluminescent lit room as she tried not to act so bashful about what it was exactly she was proposing. 

“Ah, and here I thought you were just about to reveal that you truly are a nymph in disguise,” Gale referenced the tiefling party back outside the Emerald Grove what felt like ages ago as he took step after deliberate step towards her, taking in the sights and smells of the space. Beside Merit stood the grotto the room was named after, its walls mimicking an overgrown tree as it housed a heavenly pond as if nestled between its palm-like limbs, and she realized the room itself wasn’t unlike the grove, nor a far cry from their first campstead - if not at least a highly idealized version of it. 

“You’ve caught me,” Merit said as Gale neared. He took her hands in his and he yet again raised one hand to his mouth, this time turning it over so he could press a kiss to the inside of Merit's palm. 

“What’s all this about,” he asked, his voice soft. His eyes betrayed a certain sheepishness that made her blush all over, even though Gale was already blushing slightly despite his attempts at appearing cavalier. 

“Just a taste of home, somewhat,” Merit guided Gale closer to the bath, hiding her smile when she saw his gaze finally tear away from hers to fall on the array of oils and perfumes placed at the water’s side. “I overheard your conversation with Shadowheart at the Wavemother’s Temple, so when I spotted these imported bath oils, I thought I might indulge you.”

“Indulge indeed,” Gale nearly exhaled, reaching down to grasp a cerulean sea glass bottle and marvel at the label. “This one happens to be my favorite, sandalwood and sea salt. However, this -” Gale plucked another bottle from the display and held it up to Merit as if comparing her to its contents. It was a blush-colored sea glass jar with a blooming topper, its label a deep scarlet. “This one reminds me of you.”

“How so?” Merit asked as Gale opened the lid and placed it under her nose.

Rosewater. A shiver ran down her spine at the recognition, as well as the recollection that followed: their first time channeling the Weave together. Merit had been overcome with the heady floral scent, relishing in its comfort as she looked at Gale and for the first time imagined what it might be like to kiss him.

“When I first saw your face through that portal,” he began, his voice hitching in the back of his throat as he conjured the memory, “I thought I was perhaps foolishly staring at the sun, doomed as I already was, but then I thought no , a rose, I was sure. Perhaps it was the auburn of your hair or the copper of your skin, the fiery amber of your eyes-” Gale trailed off as he relinquished the bottle to Merit and tucked a thumb and forefinger beneath her chin, lifting her face ever so slightly to meet his tender gaze. “Since then, roses have always reminded me of you.”

She felt another nudge then, Gale’s tadpole reaching out to hers. Merit searched his eyes for a moment before accepting, an image of herself enveloped in the glitter of the Weave at the edge of their beachside camp entering her mind’s eye as if it were a memory of her own, an undeniable fondness flooding her at the thought, a fondness that she instantly recognized as Gale’s. Fondness for her.

“I didn’t realize that was you,” she admitted, her face growing hot as an easy smile overcame her, melting beneath Gale’s touch, “I sensed it too, y’know, the rosewater. It smelled almost exactly like this.”

Gale’s coloring deepened almost as red as the bottle’s ornate label.

“I didn’t know you could,” he confessed. “But I’m glad for it. I always prided myself on my command of the Weave, even after suffering from my affliction, but perhaps you’d already bewitched me much earlier than I realized.”

“Another title to add to my roster,” Merit laughed a hollow laugh, “A bard, a poet, a baker, a fencer, a nymph, and now also a witch.”

“And a most talented witch at that,” Gale echoed, his lips inching towards hers. “For you have bewitched me, body and soul.”

Merit kissed him before he could finish uttering the word soul , the sentiment of it lingering in their shared breath as she parted her lips against his and drank all of Gale in. She couldn’t help but trace his tongue with her own, savoring the taste of him and sighing into their kiss before reluctantly pulling away, lightly sucking on his bottom lip as she did so. Gale trailed after her mouth even as she retreated, unwilling to part even though he eventually acquiesced. 

“And I’m yours,” Merit rejoined, “I don’t want you to forget that. Which is also, not-so-coincidentally, why I’ve brought you here.”

“And I have not forgotten,” Gale said with a small smile. “This is a wonderful surprise, and a welcome reminder of home.”

“Don’t think that’s all I have planned though,” Merit added, plucking the other bottle from Gale’s hand before replacing both that one and the rose oil decanter by the bathside again. “This is just the beginning.”

“You know I’ve yearned for a proper bath since the Nautiloid,” Gale admitted with a sigh. “This gesture alone is enough indeed.”

“Good,” Merit said, pressing a fingertip to Gale’s nose, eliciting a surprise as she added, “Now get undressed and get inside. I’ll follow you soon after, I just don’t want you to get any ideas before we’re beneath the water.”

As much as Merit wanted to undress Gale herself - or better yet, allow him to undress her as he clearly wanted to, judging by the keen look in his eye - she knew it would only sidetrack them from her original intentions. They would get to that eventually, of course, but she also knew her wizard too well. He would only want to do whatever it took to please her, ignoring her pleas to service him instead. Which happened to be the entire reason she brought him here. 

“If you say so,” Gale relented. He sighed, shoulders slumping as he reached a hand after her already retreating body. 

Merit bit back a smile as she evaded his ever-welcome grasp and sidestepped to the other side of the room to ready it, lighting a few scented candles and examining herself in the mirror before she got undressed and tied her half-braided hair up in a lazy bun. She peered around the corner to make sure Gale had followed her instruction before returning and slipping into the water beside him when he wasn’t looking.

Gale spun around, startled to find Merit beside him again before his expression quickly turned to one of warm relief. His hands reached for her as he smiled a self-indulgent smile, not unlike the one he’d succumbed to at her earnest insistence that he was already all she needed, the man that he was, whilst floating in the Outer Planes before promising that she would always be enough for him. His grasp soon slipped around her waist and pulled her close, her naked skin saccharine and slick against his beneath the water as he brought them hip-to-hip. 

“I must admit that a majority of my bath-related fantasies while roadside did not often involve you as well, though it is an amendment I find myself quite in favor of.”

Merit smiled against him, incapable of not letting her body melt against his even if she had other items of import on her agenda. 

“So what did your fantasies actually entail, pray tell?” she asked as she snaked her hands over his broad shoulders, pleased to feel the breadth of him beneath her fingers. 

“Truthfully?” Gale regaled with a casual air as he planted a kiss beneath her ear, where the upturn of her jaw met the slope of her neck. “A good hair-wash, mostly.”

He was being utterly honest, his words erudite and unadorned, though his lips had other intentions as he continued to plant drawn out kisses along her neck, his graze now extending to Merit’s bare shoulders. A pleasant shiver coursed through her at the feel of him there, part of her succumbing to his touch and her plans along with it. Merit sighed as she surrendered to the wonder that was Gale’s mouth against her skin. She closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of complete submission, yielding to the feel of him and her eternal want to be this close to him if not closer. Before she completely lost herself, Merit gently nudged herself out of Gale’s grasp.

“I can help with that,” she said as a peace offering, kissing him on the temple for good measure before eventually wading back toward the bath’s edge, retrieving a bar of conditioning soap she’d also obtained from the same vendor. “Allow me.”

Gale’s eyes fluttered to her exposed chest before she returned with lathered hands, watching him reprimandingly as she approached. Smiling bashfully and caught red-handed, Gale sunk briefly under the water until he was submerged only up to his eyes, as if avoiding her judging gaze before gingerly wetting his hair and reemerging again. 

Merit had to bite back a shuddered sigh as she watched him, the damp sight of Gale emerging from the water setting her insides ablaze in a way that she coursed with so much unbidden desire that she almost had a mind to abandon her original plan and have him right then and there. Calling upon the deepest of spiritual reserves, Merit heralded an inner strength not unlike a Paladin clinging to their sworn oath as she instead reached for Gale’s glistening hair and began to work her fingers, tendersoft, through his tresses.

Gale instantly softened beneath her touch, his eyes rolling back unwittingly as he let out a sigh rich with utter relief. 

Merit watched his expression carefully as she massaged his scalp, careful to be thorough but also not too rough, gauging her success by judging the look on his face. She grew even warmer as she watched him, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones in quiet rapture as he exhaled another involuntary sigh, his hands reaching for her again beneath the water. Merit let him come in contact with her bare waist, her thigh, her stomach, but only briefly, dancing just out of reach of his questing fingers before wading behind him and inviting Gale to sink further into her lap. Gale needed no further convincing. He melted instantly against her chest as she gently guided them towards the far side of the bath, resting her own back against the transplanted tree in the corner, its canopy of myriad jeweled leaves glittering above them.

“How’s that feel?” she asked in a gentle half-whisper.

An indecipherable sound of approval emitted from Gale’s throat as he let out a half-sigh, half-groan, a lazy smile overcoming his features. 

“I’ll take that to mean good,” Merit said, pressing a kiss to his floating shoulder. “Or at least serviceable.”

She began to rinse out his hair just as Gale slowly opened his eyes to look longingly up at her.

“No one’s ever done that for me before,” he said, weaving a hand behind him to wind up the back of her neck, as if to bring her face close to his. But instead of doing so, he paused, his grip gentle as his fingers caressed the nape of her neck, his eyes fixed on hers.

Merit kissed his forehead now, their faces inverse as Gale’s hair remained submerged in the water, her fingers still softly combing through his tresses as she worked the soap out. 

“I’m not even nearly finished yet,” she promised. “Now please hold still.”

Gale’s steady gaze nearly stilled her again, another pleasant shiver running down her spine at the sight of him and the rejoining pang that echoed through her, only wanting him more. With a valiant effort, Merit slipped out from beneath Gale’s reclining, floating, body and retreated to the far side of the bath again, this time bringing the entire tray along with her to save her the trip. Along with the bath provisions were other provisions as well, meaning, a plate of ripened fruit and another bottle of wine. 

Saving the wine for later, Merit coated her hands with the oil Gale had picked out earlier, sandalwood and sea salt. She relished in its green, resinous scent before lightly running her fingers through Gale’s hair again, conditioning the ends before she urged his head out of the water, working her careful hands down the planes of his back. 

“Now what’s this?” Gale asked over his shoulder as Merit began kneading the knots in the wrought muscle of his back with careful consideration. It was more intimate being this close, this quiet, exposed but lovingly so, not ogling but coexisting while wading in the calm of the water, an indulgent comfort they were rarely afforded. If ever. 

“Hush,” Merit reprimanded with a loving air. “I’m busy.”

Merit could imagine the look of playful suspicion that crossed Gale’s features at her curt response, always up for a polite bit of banter, but she bit her lip with silent satisfaction as she felt Gale yet again melt beneath her touch. He sighed as Merit worked the heels of her palms into his back, alternating her careful caresses with more serious though considerate digging, relishing in the release of his muscles slowly softening beneath her hands like a well-kneaded dough.

“Gods, that feels wonderful,” Gale eventually betrayed with a pleasurable groan that set Merit’s insides on fire in the best way possible, the core of her mounting with want. “Remind me again what I did to deserve this?”

At this, Merit truly paused. Of their own accord, the fingers on Merit’s left hand twitched against Gale’s skin more than her right, urging him to turn leftwards towards her. Without words, Gale’s hands slipped around her waist again and held her close, awaiting her response as her hands remained poised above his shoulders, as if ready to keep kneading the pain away. 

“You didn’t need to do anything,” she revealed in a harrowed whisper, her breath catching in her throat at the earnest sight of him as his wide eyes met hers.

Gale’s eyes searched hers, as if waiting for a catch. But when none came, he caught her parted lips with his, humming pleasantly into a kiss that made Merit nearly dissolve against him, her every limb suddenly weightless as Gale urged her closer. One of his hands raked at the small of her back while the other snaked up it, tracing an unseen pattern against her spine as Merit buried her fingers in his wet hair. Gale sighed as he parted her legs with his knee beneath the water, parting his lips against hers in kind and tracing her tongue carefully with his in a way that made Merit shiver. 

She whimpered against him, giving into Gale and his kiss. She’d already abandoned all thought or plan before she sensed Gale’s hungry want against her thigh, hot and insistent as he dug his hips against hers. Merit carefully withdrew one of her hands from the depths of Gale’s hair and reached down. She took her time gently caressing Gale’s chest as her hand descended, appreciating the shape of him as she made her way down, down, down, before she wrapped her delicate fingers around the hardness of him as they kissed. His desire intensified the moment she made contact, taking her time before deliberately working the length of him, slow at first then finding a rhythm that made Gale pant deliciously into their continued kissing in a way that made her knees want to buckle. 

Gale held her more tightly now, his nails digging into her skin - forceful enough to leave crescent-shaped marks where he held her but not enough for it to hurt - breathing heavily against her as he tempered his appetite and allowed Merit to keep going. Merit’s fingers slid over the impressive breadth of him, her mind wandering as she continued, imagining the whole of him inside her again, fondly recalling the sublime sensation from the other day as if it were already a lifetime ago. Judging by how much she wanted him now, it might as well have been. 

“You must know how badly I want you,” Gale exhaled in a harrowed whisper against her mouth, kissing her again as soon as the words were uttered. He urged Merit’s legs to wrap around his waist though her hand remained insistent at the ever-hardening length of him.

“But this was supposed to be about you,” Merit uttered, relinquishing all resolve into his next rapturous kiss. 

Gale retracted one hand from her back to take hold of her ardent touch, silently persuading Merit to release her hold on him and for her to give in to their shared impulse. Powerless to resist, Merit weakly obliged, gasping as she felt the hot cusp of his desire against her, asking for entry. All it took was another roll of her hips against him and Merit welcomed Gale inside her, the eager tip first, warm and wanting, before the welcome whole of him, another unbidden gasp escaping her throat at the instant ecstasy of it. 

He looked as if he might say something, something along the lines of a vaguely cocky I told you so, but instead Gale gave way to her completely, his eyes glazing over and his expression going nearly slack as he entered her so deeply and so completely that Merit saw stars. She only held Gale more tightly to her as he slowly but hungrily thrust himself inside her, over and over again, pressing kiss after ravenous kiss to her wanting mouth as she accepted him deeper and deeper.

“You feel absolutely divine,” Gale gasped. He fell out of her kiss and groaned against her neck, running his lips along the underside of her jaw as he moved his hips against hers, the feel of him inside her both sweet and devastating in its all-eclipsing ecstasy. Merit could only oblige and ride her body’s inherent craving for more even as she hungrily accepted the pulsating whole of him again and again.

Whatever heaven Merit had briefly retreated to earlier when Gale kissed her neck, she revisited suddenly now, her eyes rolling back at the feel of him as his lips grazed her skin and his keening desire pleased the velvet core of her in a way that she almost thought wasn’t possible. Perhaps it was the place, perhaps it was the time, or perhaps it was the mounting threat of their potential demise that made the feel of him so especially sweet inside her. It was almost syrupy, her desire mingling with his in a way that made Gale’s every insistence inside her slick and yearning. 

Merit ran her hands along Gale’s chest, her fingers raking along the damp warmth of his skin as she eased his passage, relinquishing more of herself to his adamant longing, her ache matching his own as he pressed himself deeply within her again and again. Hungry for more of him, and as honeyed as his constellation of kisses were draped across her neck, her shoulders, her collarbone, her chest, Merit couldn’t help but bring Gale’s hungry lips back to hers, capturing him in yet another covetous kiss as she uttered, “I love kissing you while you’re inside me.”

At the sound of her confession, Gale gave himself up completely, surrendering entirely to Merit as he ceded to her all-encompassing kiss, his tongue probing hers much in the way the rest of him did. Merit whimpered against his mouth, relishing in the saccharine feeling of Gale urging up and inside of her, her nerves supple and pliant against the pleasing hardness of him.

She wanted to promise again how this was supposed to be all about him, her intention only to bring him pleasure in all the ways she had power to and nothing else. And yet she stood helpless in the wake of his never-ending want for her, her longing just as strong as his as she savored the feel of him carving his endless longing at her crux, her nerves edging over the border of covetous need and careening carelessly into craving indulgence.

“Gale, I’m so-” Merit gasped before her inevitable realization could truly come to fruition.

But Gale only upped his pace, his need building just as hers did. 

“You’re too good to me,” she exhaled against him before letting out a low moan, her inner pleasure mounting precariously in a way that was both welcome and overwhelming. “Let me return the favor. Please.”

But Gale only quieted her with another kiss, his tongue insistent against hers in a way that sundered her completely. 

“Gale-” she breathed, his name the very air on her gasping tongue. “Gale.”

She had no plea other than to repeat his name, replacing all thought other than that of the profound bliss rising inside her, threatening to consume her deliciously whole.

“Gale,” Merit uttered again as Gale pulled away, his eyes flashing enticingly with a satisfied ferality at the sound of it. Gale first planted a hungry kiss against the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, working his ravenous way towards her ear.

“I love it when you say my name,” his voice rumbled against her skin as he began to nibble at her earlobe, biting only hard enough for Merit to melt against him in an instant. As much as she loved kissing him, he knew she loved this too, her body turning to honey against him as her hands clawed at his back and raked through his hair as she relished in the sensation. 

But this was about him, she reminded herself again. Merit bit down on a devious smile when she realized she had yet another tool in her ever-growing arsenal.

“Gale,” she panted with a lilting breath, pleased to feel him buck into her almost erratically at the sound of it before saying his name again. “Gale.”

Merit was careful to utter his name against the shell of his ear, her lips and her breath lightly grazing his skin as she said it. In response, Gale emitted what she could only describe as a satisfied growl against her neck, the gravely vibrato of his voice satisfying some yet unknown part of her she now wanted to explore in its entirety.

“You’ve no idea what you’re doing to me,” Gale sighed against her mouth, drawing her into yet another starved kiss. Merit smiled into his embrace, a semblance of pleasurable pride washing over her even as she gave in to the rest of him, unable to deny herself this.

As if reading her mind with intent to spoil her victory, one of Gale’s hands lowered to join his adamant urging, his fingers circling over her clit with a soft but deliberate motion that elicited an impassioned whimper to escape her throat. It made Merit only melt against him further, giving way to the euphoric feel of him. She wanted to pull on the reins, she wanted to wait. She yearned to feel the warmth of Gale’s culminating desire pool within her, but she was already teeming with a burgeoning climax of her own that was ever mounting and inescapable. And before she knew it, her every nerve gave way to utter elation, the feel of it lapping over her in wave after inescapable wave.

Gale slowed, but only just so, insisting his keening want inside Merit’s tightening, slickening center until he, too, shuddered and succumbed to the sweet sensation of her, his warm yearning filling her just as he pulled out and placed a careful kiss to the corner of her mouth, the hollow of her cheek, and then the crest of her cheekbone before wilting completely, out of breath against her chest as their bodies relaxed against the other’s in the warmth of the water.

Merit guided Gale’s mouth back to hers in the quiet aftermath, her heart still racing, only wanting to drink him in after submitting to his behest. It was as much for him as it was for her, though as always, it was only the fall after the peak of her rising desire that Gale would find satisfaction. And that simply would not do.

But other than that, Merit had no complaints, an easy smile overcoming her as she eased back into the weight of the moment and kissed him in earnest.

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” she admonished as she kissed him yet again, his mouth plush and pliant against hers. 

“Then what was?”

Merit couldn’t tell if Gale was simply being cheeky or if he truly didn’t know, her fears lying with the latter.

The mere look of him staring back at her was enough to send Merit wanting again, and so much so that instead of answering, Merit had to gently remove herself from the bath and from Gale’s lovingly reaching hands. Instead she readied herself with the remainder of her plan, hoping her next idea would absolve her of the endless desire seeking to possess her mind and body. Not that desire wasn’t key to this entire operation, instead relying on her personal restraint from its devious appetites which she had already fallen victim to and vowed not to fall for again lest it lead her astray. It was a tightrope, really, a delicate balance she needed to hold in order to fulfill Gale’s every unvoiced desire while also denying her own. At least for the moment. 

She knelt by the bathside now, anointing her hands with oil once more before beckoning Gale to join her. He looked delightfully flushed as he obliged, wading towards her but remaining in the bath. He crossed his arms along the water’s edge and looked up at her longingly through the lush dampness of eyelashes, a lock of his still-wet hair falling into his eyeline in a way that made Merit blush in kind. Only a moment had passed and her insides were already working tirelessly to tame the quiet rise of carnal hunger at the sight of him.

Without speaking, Merit reached for one of Gale’s hands and began working the oil into his glistening skin. She kneaded the soft plush of his palms and worked her fingers through the muscle at the base of his wrist, working her way up his forearm before silently asking that he surrender his other arm to her as well.

“You’re going to have to get out of the water for the next part,” she said, gracing his knuckles with a kiss. 

Gale didn’t obey, instead reaching for the rose red bottle and placing some of its contents on his own hands before gently caressing her thigh, placing a kiss atop her knee as his eyes met hers in silent question. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, her voice escaping her throat in a hushed half-whisper. She gasped as Gale placed another hand along her other thigh, slowly working the oil into her skin before he paused, a hand on either knee as he lightly tried to part them before him, his eyes alight with a wanton appetite Merit was beginning to know all too well.

Merit’s shoulders slumped in momentary surrender, her heart running somersaults within her ribcage as Gale’s hands massaged the inside of her kneeling thighs, working his hands along the tender skin there. She allowed him this, pleased to see his undoubted love and need for her reflected in his gaze, but stopped him once he raised himself from the water, his hands drawing precariously close to the sweet spot between her legs.

“You’re going to have to stop right there,” Merit said, her voice like silk. She retreated only an inch out of his grasp. “This was supposed to be about bringing you pleasure.”

Gale only followed her, his eyes glancing down at her enticingly before uttering so sweetly, “What if pleasuring you is what brings me pleasure?”

A stray hand crept further up her inner thigh. Merit let it happen, sighing as she gave into his delicately eager touch, his fingers running over her with tempered zeal. 

Merit eased herself against his hand, and despite her mounting pleasure said, “What if the same goes for me but you haven’t given me the opportunity to find out yet?”

Gale paused but he didn’t stop, his eyes glancing down at his intrepid fingers as he considered her words though clearly did not wish to desist.

“Would you be so cruel as to deprive me of that?” Merit asked, her voice sweet but firm. 

His touch circled over her as he afforded the thought credence, eventually pulling away though his hand did grip her thigh with controlled craving, placating himself as he finally rose from the water by sowing a tender kiss on her exposed shoulder.

“I suppose it’s only fair,” he said, draping more kisses up her neck. 

“Trust me,” Merit promised as he finally brought his mouth to hers again. “You deserve this.”

“If you say so.”

Merit could have sworn she spied a glint of uncertainty in Gale’s gaze as she pulled away, his posture slumping as she slipped out of his grip and grabbed the tray of wine and fruit. Merit curled a tempting finger at Gale as she walked slowly backwards into the other part of the grotto towards the bed, placing the tray on a nearby table and pouring the wine as Gale eventually followed.

“We could eat first, or we could-” Merit said, a glass in either hand, but before she could finish speaking, Gale swept her up in a kiss that enraptured her entirely, her knees going weak as he let out a hungry whimper against her mouth. One hand pressed to the small of her back, pulling Merit closer, as Gale’s other hand tenderly cupped her breast, running a thumb over the crest of her until she whimpered against him in kind. Merit gave in again, for a moment, before regrettably pulling away.

“Not right now,” she said, an uncontrollable smile possessing her mouth as she did so. “Much as it would please me to say otherwise.”

Gale bit down on a blossoming smirk and brought her closer, this time plucking one of the wine glasses from her hand. 

“Are you sure?” he teased, taking a sip of wine and placing it down again before threatening to overcome Merit with another valiant effort to sweep her off her feet. “There are still so many things I want to show you, so many ways to show love.”

At this proposal, Gale tucked a thumb and forefinger beneath her chin and brought her mouth to his, placing the most innocent, earnest kiss to her lips. She hummed into his unspoken plea, knowing in her heart of hearts that if she could only do one thing for her remaining days it would be to kiss Gale endlessly. But at this rate, she’d never get anything done…

Merit tried to pry herself from his insistent grip, finding it difficult since she truly wanted him to continue, curious to see where he’d go and to what lengths he would traverse to further please her. But that was the entire reason she brought him here. As flattering as it was, she knew it was borne of some deeper insecurity she had no hope of remedying other than returning the effort and showering him with the same endless adoration he constantly bestowed upon her. 

“Do you not trust me?” she asked, her question both earnest yet playful. 

She was trying to be coy but also convincing, though unfortunately her every effort worked against her. Instead of relenting, Gale’s hands reached for her once more as he descended onto the side of the bed, pleading for her to join him. He pleaded wordlessly, his dark eyes heavy-lidded and luminescent as his irises reflected the warmth of the room in his gaze, his touch adoring and yielding if not endearingly yearning, his excitement palpable as Merit took in the sight of him and was suddenly struck with another idea. 

“I won’t warn you again,” Merit said as she twisted out of his hunting hands. “Now, lean back.”

Gale reclined onto the mattress, propping himself up on the backs of his elbows as he watched her. His countenance was delightfully red, still warm from the bath and running hot with want for her, as if the hardening length between his legs wasn’t enough of an indication. Gale bit his lip as Merit crawled atop him, her hands slow and questing as she adjusted his position and admired his every feature - the waves of his damp hair, his expectant expression, his slightly parted lips and the quick of his breath, the breadth of his chest and the planes of his stomach, the veins in his arms and the simple way his wrists wrought into the delicious shape of his hands, fingers clutching the sheets as he tamed his need to touch her. 

Merit’s eyes met Gale’s, and with a wordless request her tadpole reached out and linked with his. Within the span of a moment, Gale saw everything Merit did, felt everything she felt, her every adoring observation ringing with both desire and devotion. And with their minds still linked, Merit placed kiss after deliberate kiss on every part of him, draping her lips over his shoulders, his chest, his upper thigh, taking special care to run the soft pad of her thumb over her favorite birthmark of his kept hidden there, as she then descended off the side of the bed and onto her knees. Merit parted his legs ever so much, allowing just enough room for her to kneel between them. And then, with a hand planted on either thigh, Merit turned her gaze to Gale.

“Now, stay there,” she instructed before whispering, “Non movere.”

A soft, shuddering wave washed over him and Gale was transfixed to the bed, but only just so. Merit couldn’t fathom harnessing enough concentration to command the spell properly, nor was she entirely comfortable doing so beyond getting her playful point across. Surprise flashed in Gale’s eyes before he was instead overcome with overwhelming need, the length of him growing harder at the sight of Merit on her knees before him, her hands planted at the base of his thighs. Merit followed his gaze as it drifted downward, the desire clear in his eyes even if he wouldn’t voice as much. One day, he would voice his every want to her freely, unafraid of his own desires. But for now, she had no trouble easing them out of him, bit by bit.

Still psychically connected, a tremor of expectant ecstasy coursing through both their minds, Merit was granted with an image and a thought - an image and a thought she immediately made true. Her hands remained firm atop his legs even if Gale no longer needed to be pinned down and she ran each of her thumbs back and forth over the sensitive skin that swathed his inner thighs, a pleasant shiver coursing through him as Merit then made him tremble even more as she carefully licked the length of him from base to tip, her eyes never leaving his. With her gaze steady, she brushed her lips across his apex like a lilting kiss, the taste of it hot on her tongue as she slowly eased the rest of him into her mouth. 

She couldn’t swallow him whole, but she guided what she could of his hardness down her throat, thrumming with want, while she looked longingly up at him through the thick of her eyelashes. His skin tasted sweet here, more tender but piquant as she swirled the length of him around her mouth. She wanted to savor the taste of him but also his expression, watching various states of bliss cross Gale’s face as she massaged the length of him in and out of her mouth, occasionally licking her lips and teasing the tip of him with her kiss and her tongue before going back in for the sumptuous plunge.

It wasn’t long before she felt him grow impossibly hard, the whole of him even more difficult to keep housed in her mouth even if she longed to, trying to fit the entirety of his desire inside her. Just as she felt him tense beneath her, white-knuckled against the sheets, Merit slowed. Gale’s eyes went wide in anguish, wanting to buck himself back into her mouth but finding himself unable to move. Merit kept her eyes on him, aroused by the desperation coloring his features, his face flushed and beautiful as she instead ran her tongue along the length of him once more, taking her time. 

You don’t need to be afraid with me, Merit communicated wordlessly. I want this too. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. 

Gale’s eyes steadied on hers again, his breathing haggard as the spell eased, succumbing to her invitation. With another flash of thought, Merit saw Gale’s desire in her mind’s eye as he began to slowly gyrate his hips up and into her welcoming mouth. She accommodated his every urgent thrust, harboring his every need and allowing it safe passage. A languid relief flooded him as he finally gave in to his baser desires, allowing himself to be selfish for once. Merit hummed against his every hungry motion, pleased to feel his imminent climax tempting her fervent tongue. 

Completely free of the spell now, Gale rose from his elbows, reaching for her as he combed loose locks of hair from her face, watching her continue to please him with her mouth, her lips, her tongue, his hand gently but firmly telling her exactly where he wanted her to go, how deeply he wanted to feel her, and just how much.

This, she thought rapturously. This is what I want from you. Tell me what to do, what you want. Tell me everything. Anything for you.

But was that selfish, too? Or better yet, did it matter? Wasn’t that all part of being human? Forever messy and complicated, somehow both sweet and selfish, forever insatiable and aching?

Gale stiffened beneath her, the length of him hot and quivering against the soft embrace of her lips, her mouth, her tongue; trembling, poised inside her before he spilled completely, the warmth of his want filling her mouth so long as she kept him there, eyeing him up from beneath her lashes as she licked back and swallowed every last bit of him. Out of breath, Gale collapsed against the bed, running a hand through his mussed hair as he smiled bashfully up at the ceiling. Merit wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand and finally joined him, tucking her body comfortably against his.

She laid a lazy hand on his sternum, enraptured by the sensation of his chest heaving beneath her touch. Their eyes met again, but this time Gale melted completely at the sight of her, pulling her to him in a breathless kiss. 

“I didn’t realize I was denying you such… pleasure,” Gale said, searching for the right word before landing on one that managed to describe them both. “It seems we do, in fact, share that in common.”

“I told you so,” Merit pressed a kiss to his brow, gently nuzzling her nose against the warmth of his temple. “How do you feel?”

Gale was still panting slightly as his eyes searched Merit’s face, his gaze filled with absolute adoration. 

“Utterly spent, and completely in love with you.”

There was so much more Merit wanted to do for him. Smaller things, like bringing tea into his study, or poring over a book together by the fire, admiring the sun rise as they while away a lazy morning, watch the day turn to noon and then to night without ever leaving their bed. But she also thought of the book Gale shared their first night together, hoping against hope that there would be a thousand more nights they might share together, learning how best to love one another.

“There’s so much more I want to show you,” she whispered against his cheek. “Just as much as you want to show me. I want to see it all, feel it all. With you.”

Gale panted into the warmth of a smile as he brought her face close to his, weaving a hand through her hair. 

“As do I,” he sighed, kissing her gently as his hand roamed from her hair, to her cheek, to her shoulder, before eventually resting against her waist. “I already have a few more ideas.”

Gale brushed his nose against hers, savoring the warmth of their closeness. Merit smiled before kissing him again, just as she could keep kissing him forever.

“Tell me everything,” she whispered. “I don’t know how much time we have, but we at least have all night.”

[disgruntledexplainer]

The Squadron Supreme, or How Man of Action Studios showed how stupid power scaling contests really are

Man of Action Studios, for all their flaws, have a remarkable understanding of the superhero genre and what makes heroes compelling. I could go on and on about their original shows like Ben 10 and Generator Rex, on how they always make sure that their heroes prioritize the safety of civilians over their mission or their own safety, how they use the posture, movements, and behavior of the heroes as a way to show how the hero views himself and his job, and other such things. Indeed, I already have done both of those in brief. But I think one of the best examples of their grasp on the genre actually comes from the Avengers Assemble cartoon, which they worked on during seasons 1 and 2 (the absence in season 3 onwards is actually kind of noticeable in the sudden drop in quality).

In season 2, Avengers Assemble does something that by all accounts shouldn't work, something that under normal circumstances I would ABSOLUTELY HATE. they had an Avengers versus Justice League plot arc for a third of the season. Personally, I hate power-scaling. "Oh this guy can beat that guy! Let's smash our action figures together and see which one breaks!" But despite this, they managed to make it work. How?

Obviously the show couldn't bring in the real justice league for legal reasons, so instead they made obvious parallels. Hyperion, a twisted version of Superman, had already been introduced in season 1. Nighthawk was their version of Batman, Zarda was their version of Wonder Woman, Speed Demon was their version of The Flash (clearly taking inspiration from the Barry Alan iteration), and Nuke was their version of Captain Atom. Interestingly, Professor Prism seems to be a hybrid of Green Lantern and Martian Manhunter in origin and powers respectively.

HOWEVER

these characters are VERY MUCH NOT their actual justice league counterparts. Nor are they "mirror images" of them with opposite traits. But they are those characters with all of their heroic traits carefully, surgically removed.

The Squadron Supreme, as they call themselves, are the justice league without justice, heroes without heroics. They disdain the rule of law, instead favoring the rule of terror, taking justice into their own hands, beating the living daylights out of people who cross them. Hyperion, unlike superman, has no restraint. Speed Demon revels in tormenting his opponents. Nuke uses his powers at will despite knowing the danger they pose to everyone around him. Zarda kulls the weak to demonstrate her power. Professor Prism cowers behind the others, and bends to their will with little resistance despite ultimately being a good person. And nighthawk.

Nighthawk is the most telling of the bunch. He is the "batman could beat anyone given enough prep time" version of batman. He is the "actually batman should be totally fine killing people" version of batman. He is the "batman works alone and beats up goons" version of batman. He is the juvenile version of batman as thought of by power-scalers and, apparently, Hollywood executives. In other words, he is an ABSOLUTELY HORRIBLE PERSON, and one of the most dangerous foes ever introduced in the series. He uses his friends as living weapons, deliberately endangers civilians to try to take out the heroes, and beats criminals within an inch of their life to send a message. Trying to fight his plans is like trying to hold back a tsunami with your hands; time consuming and futile.

They say that if you can't imagine your version of batman comforting a scared child, he's not batman, but punnisher in a funny mask. well nighthawk would fire a rocket at a child if it was part of his many unstoppable schemes. He's a monster.

You would expect, since the show is about the Avengers, that the Avengers would wipe the floor with the Squadron. But nope. All other things being equal, the Squadron ABSOLUTELY WIPES THE FLOOD WITH THE AVENGERS. Iron Man gets into a fight with Nighthawk, only for nighthawk to completely dismantle his armor in seconds, and the rest of the Avengers can barely take down Hyperion if they all gang up on him, let alone the other members of the squadron. They are just too powerful; it is essentially an admission that in a straight fight between the two, the Justice League would win.

But it is also a statement that in order for the fight to occur at all, the Justice League would have to cease to actually be the justice league. they would have to be reduced to their powers and strategies, with all that is good about them thrown in the trash.

Ultimately, what allows the avengers to win in the end is this exact fact: that the Squadron AREN'T actually the Justice League. The members of the Justice League care about each other, and have each-others back. They would never willingly sacrifice each-other for the sake of a plan, even if that plan assured victory. But the Squadron ABSOLUTELY would. Ultimately they are able to isolate them, or convince Nighthawk to sacrifice them one-by-one for his schemes until they finally have an opening to finish things, and Iron Man manages to defeat Nighthawk not through fighting or even guile, but through making an act of self-sacrifice that Nighthawk couldn't rap his head around.

The Squadron Supreme shows what traits actually make up the Justice League and make them who they are by contrast; showing us what the characters would be like without those traits. Without compassion, restraint, empathy, friendship, the Justice League simply isn't itself.

To think this insight came from an Avengers cartoon instead of a DC property.

Anyways, that is why I think Man of Action Studios deserves a bit more credit for their writing.

[ddarker-dreams]

what about ranking the phantom troupe (including my queen hwr reader) on the horny scale?

Note: the day where i reveal the nickname i've personally given HWR reader is drawing nearer... i can feel it . for now i'll continue to call her miss avalor/lady avalor <3 Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, dubcon, voyeurism for Shalnark, dubcon, not SFW themes under the cut.

[Least]

Machi

Machi makes an active effort to exercise restraint. While she’s not a pious individual who lauds sex as a most sacred act, she still finds it to be intimate; vulnerable. It’s the vulnerability that serves as an active deterrent from her engaging in it with you. Beneath that frosty exterior is a being who genuinely cares for you. You’d think that it’s her pride that has her tiptoeing around anything sexual since your rejection of her advances is inevitable, when in reality, it’s her heart. Machi is far more sensitive than she lets on when it comes to you. If you were the one to initiate, she’d be suspicious throughout and never able to fully enjoy it because of that. She figures you’re always going to be looking for an opportunity to escape/leverage the circumstances in your favor since that’s how she would think in your situation. So she ends up quietly admiring you from a safe distance (unfortunately for you, it really looks like she’s glaring when she does this). 

HWR Reader/Lady Avalor

Lady Avalor is normally too preoccupied to give her physical wants much thought. She likes to keep herself busy because honestly, if you sat her down and asked her to let you go in a convincing enough manner (putting a heavy emphasis on the mental toll it’s making you endure), she’d have a difficult time denying you. When she does slow down enough... her mind tends to go to more impure places. She’ll subconsciously try to appeal more to you by wearing tighter clothes/anything that shows skin. If you were to call her out on this behavior though, she’d secretly be mortified and probably brood for a few days. Carnal desire without an outlet really perturbs her because it makes her feel like she’s not in control of herself, leading to two possibilities: ignoring it or dealing with it in secret. If she’s ever in the shower for a few minutes longer than normal, that probably means she decided upon the latter solution.

Feitan

Feitan is tricky to definitively place since he can go from zero to a hundred at random. From your perspective, he has an almost nonexistent interest in physical relations. Which further perplexes you about his reasonings for keeping you around when he emits (what feels like) indifference or outright irritation toward your existence. As if he temporarily forgot that he’s the reason you’re here — you’d choose to be anywhere else if given the option. In truth, he is thinking lecherous thoughts about you almost constantly, he just chooses not to act on them. This isn’t due to any goodwill on his part. Rather, there’s a unique satisfaction to be gained from denying his urges, letting them build and build for weeks on end. He keeps you unsuspecting of what is to come. The tension, the uncertainty; he savors your negative emotions and waits until his self-control can't take it any longer to devour them. Since delayed gratification is his thing, he can sometimes go weeks without coming onto you.

Pakunoda

Due to her information-gathering profession, Pakunoda is adept at getting what she wants from others, you included. She’s a master of timing and charm without coming off as pretentious. A smooth talker where the flattery is so specific to you, it’s impossible to come off as anything less than genuine. She’ll craft the atmosphere, come to you with clear intentions, and ease you into it. The entire setup feels so natural that you almost forget you’re her captive. Her patience is remarkable too. If you remain standoffish despite her best efforts, she’ll take it in good humor, all for the sake of building rapport. Sometimes she’ll leave it at that... other times, however, she doesn’t see the point in denying herself what she wants. She’ll excuse herself to your shared bedroom and close the door without locking it. From the light buzzing and gasps of your name, you have a decent guess of what she’s getting up to. Pakunoda’s philosophy is to show you what a good time you’re missing out on to lure you in.

Chrollo

Chrollo has a slightly above-average libido but would have you believing otherwise. This isn’t due to shame, mind you, he just prefers to give off the illusion of a gentleman (he’s not). For his pride’s sake, he’d prefer to have you willing. The fact he’d be able to rub it in your face later is just too tempting to pass up on. Chrollo plays into everything that could, at the very least, get him a physiological reaction. He’ll put an arm around your shoulders, a hand on your thigh, whisper slightly suggestive promises into your ear too vague for you to call him out on. The bastard knows he’s attractive and that this works to his advantage. To make matters worse, he’ll take your preferences into account too. Lord help you if he finds out any of your kinks because he plays to them without the slightest hint of shame. He’s not above exchanging sexual favors from you for certain allowances. In fact, he finds the process of your internal justification of allowing him to do what he pleases with you for little gains to be delightful. 

Shalnark

The very definition of looks can be deceiving. Shalnark has an absolute filthy mind, thinking some of the most depraved things about you while maintaining that boyish smile. You end up underestimating the depths of his perversion due to this pretense. Sure, there’s no doubting he’s dangerous, but you look at him and hope maybe it won’t be that bad...? He gets a kick out of you thinking this way and never tries to correct you. His phone is full of photos he’d taken without your knowledge, ranging from ‘innocent’ candid shots from his stalking days to the risqué; such as when wind would whip up and reveal your undergarments. If only it stopped there. He has hard drives filled to the brim with more content relating to you. Videos from secret cameras set up in your shower and bedroom, not to mention what he’s gotten from your webcam. Plus audio from your phone. The creep has even memorized the timestamps of his favorite videos of you. He times his release to match up with yours in the videos he has of you masturbating. 

Phinks

To his credit, at least he’s straightforward? Pretty much everyone else here is going to be playing some mind game with you when it comes to getting what they want. Not Phinks. The man has no shame and, for better or for worse, no patience for that nonsense. Even though he’s always rather handsy, you can tell when he wants to get frisky. He’ll pull you into his lap, “accidentally” brush against your ass with his clothed member, the works. If that somehow doesn’t manage to get the message across he’ll just pick you up (sometimes slinging you over his shoulder) and bring you to the bedroom. It’s kinda hard to misconstrue that. Phinks is basically horny for you from dusk till dawn. He’s especially down bad in the summer, when you go around wearing such skimpy clothing... the man would punch the AC and say ‘whoops’ if it meant getting to see more skin from you. He’s addicted and insatiable, making for an insufferable combination. 

[Most]

[fieldandfountain]

Pushing Aegon Targaryen Down the Stairs and Nursing Him Back to Health Again

reader (any gender)x Aegon

hurt/comfort. 

Aegon is clearly hungover.

The horny bastard has been at it all night, and it’s disgusting but it also amuses you. You’ve been betrothed to him for three months, and sometimes, after he’s been in his cups, he crawls after you begging for attention and sometimes the sex you refuse to give him. He seems fond of you in his needy way, and you’re pleased that he at least shows some restraint with you.  

He leans over the banister. He pouts at you with his full lips, and the dark beneath his eyes make them seem huge. You’ve thought about kissing him before, but he’s this perfect mixture of fragile and spoiled that makes it impossible to resist.  

You push him down the stairs.

He doesn’t look quite real as he falls, his limbs tumbling around each other like a ragdoll’s. But he is remarkably quiet on his journey down aside from the banging noises, making a ‘humph’ noise as the air exits his lungs. It’s only when he’s on the bottom that the whining begins.

You roll your eyes as you walk slowly down to check on him. You have to admit that the drama he exudes is part of his charm, but it does grow stale.  

He flails and kicks as you kneel by him, trying to right himself. “Stop it,” you laugh. You run your hands through his silky white hair. He hasn’t broken anything, so your lord father won’t mind.

“Why?” he mouths, and his eyes are so sorrowful you feel your heart contract.

You simply shake out your hair. “Come here, darling.” You guide him upwards, and looking at you reproachfully, he leans on your shoulder.

You help him onto his bed, and pull up a seat beside him. Gentle morning sunlight falls over his lashes, and he looks even more pretty than usual. He’s a beautiful man, you’ll give him that.

“I am your king, you know,” he says, grumpy.  You dab your kerchief on his lip.

“Shhh,” you calm him, and he responds to it like a startled horse, letting your tone soothe him. The skills you learned on your family farm in the Westerlands have proven remarkably useful in handling him.

And you are well aware that he is the king. He gets a kingly kiss on his forehead and on his palm. You walk toward the cabinet.

“Where are you going?” he whines.

“Leaving you to die,” you say, as you rifle through the brightly colored bottles.

“Serve your king!” He clutches his head, pained by the exertion on yelling. “Ow!”

“Honestly, Aegon, I’m amazed you lived long enough to even be king.” You take a bottle of salve and dab it on his lip and cheekbone. “Not only are you physically frail, but you’re a drunk who annoys everyone you meet.”

“Not everyone. And nobody pushed me down stairs until you came along.” He pouts and rubs his shoulder. “My love, I would bear it all if you would only bed me.”

You ignore him. “Does that hurt?” You place your hand over his on his shoulder.

Aegon’s eyes twinkle. “Yes. I command you to rub it better.”

You roll your eyes. “Off with your shirt then.” You hop up beside him in bed.

He’s better built than you would expect, with wiry strength in his arms and legs that sometimes surprises you. You rub the salve over his shoulder and he groans as you work your hands over the cords of muscles.

“Mmm,” he says, then the sound grows more intent. There is a goofy grin on his face and you know exactly what he wants. “Mmmmm.”

“You’re supposed to be hurt,” you say as he pulls you forward. He nibbles on your neck and you’re surprised how good it feels. “Why do you think I keep-“ you say, and  the nibbles have become kisses- “injuring”- his hand snakes up your hairline, and his thumb is on your jaw. “You.” Your eyes meet and he leans in, his kiss warm and soft and almost chaste. Then he growls and pounces on you, toppling you over.

You suppose you had it coming.

[firstelevens]

hi zainab!!!! 2, 3, 6, and 29 for the fic writer ask???

Hi Mak! Thank you for sending these in!

2. Do you read/reread your own fics?

Yes, because I am absolutely my own biggest fan!

On a much more practical note, sometimes I reread because it's part of a series and I'm checking a canonical detail (although if it's in the Bake Off AU I'm better off just asking @sesamestreep, who is the official lorekeeper and knows that universe's canon better than I do.) Other times, there's a fic where I just really like what I did with a character's voice or the general tone of a scene and I'll go back just to get a feel for what I did the last time.

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

I mean, the Bake Off AU has my whole heart and there's so much of me in it that it will always be special to me BUT!!! I really love the Thunderbolts-era epistolary fic counted days, counted miles because I think it's an exercise in me managing to show writerly restraint, which is a skill I'm still working on. (And also I got to come up with so many fun spy tricks for hiding letters; it was great.)

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

How fortuitous that you picked this question when I have reread wish that i could wind (like a spiral stair through time) FIVE TIMES in the past month. That fic is a work of art. I am also never far from rereading and never ever watch the ten o'clock news, which is Emma's phenomenal Psych AU of Rogue One which is just so wonderful and funny and it continues to hold up. Oh also! There's don't read the last page, which is a Brooklyn Nine-Nine fic that is short and sweet and just so warm and cozy and I go back to that one a lot just for the mood of it.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic.

Okay so this question reminded me that there's a 1200 word scene from the Formula 1 AU that was originally going to be the epilogue but got canned which SUBSEQUENTLY reminded me that there's a whole scene that I wrote for the Bake Off AU that got cut from Chapter 6 because things ended up going another way!

The beginning will looks familiar if you remember anything from that chapter, but then there's a sharp left turn that involves the lost plot point of Becca Barnes creeping on Joaquín's thirst trap and restaurant review filled Instagram in order to figure out where Bucky could go for dinner. I was sad to lose it tbh but the restaurant still made it into the fic as the place where Sam and Bucky go out on their definitely-not-a-date in Chapter 10.

A peek at the alternate timeline under the cut!

Bucky is starfished on his bed, trying to muster the energy to get up when his phone rings. His eyes are squeezed shut, but he opens one to peer at the screen. He only answers because it’s Becca, but he’s too tired to do more than grunt into the phone when he picks up.

“Good day, huh?” she asks, laughing when he just groans in response.

“Hope yours was better than mine,” Bucky says, when he finally manages to talk. “How’s day shift treating you?”

“I’m discovering that there’s this thing in the sky called the sun, and it provides light? And makes people happy? Do you think other people know about it? Should I be telling them?”

He laughs tiredly. “You can use all this newfound energy to make a TikTok about it.”

“I’ll get on that,” Becca says. “What about you? You okay?”

“Yeah,” says Bucky, bringing his hand up to his face. “I just need to lie down for a while.”

Not that lying down for the past half hour has helped, but he’s got high hopes for that sixty minute mark.

“No, what you need to do is eat something,” Becca says, sounding remarkably like their mother. “Tell me your head isn’t hurting right now.”

Bucky freezes, his fingers still pressed into his temples. “It’s creepy when you do that, you know.”

She laughs. “I know. Hey, why don’t you go to that place that you and Steve went to all the time, the one with the waffles?”

The last time Bucky had been there, four years ago, he’d spent the entire evening bickering companionably with Sam while Steve dealt with a work emergency. It had felt remarkably like flirting, and he’d even thought about asking Sam to get a drink sometime—and then Bucky had been eliminated after the next day’s Showstopper, and that put an end to that.

He shakes his head to clear it. “I’m tired, Bec, and they pick us up at like, six AM. I think I might just grab something from the convenience store.”

“Buck, I spend half my time listening to newborn babies cry and that is still the most pitiful thing I’ve heard this week. You are not eating yogurt for dinner alone in your hotel room.”

Bucky huffs. “Well, I’d grab a random stranger off the street to join me, but I’m not looking to get murdered today, Rebecca.”

He can hear the sound of Becca typing, doing the thing where she studiously ignores his asshole behavior until he comes around and starts acting a more like a person. It’s annoying how well it works. 

After a minute or two of typing and what he assumes is scrolling, she lets out a, “Huh.”

When he waits for her to elaborate and she doesn’t, Bucky sighs. “What is it?”

“Do you know a Joaquín Torres?”

It’s far from the question he was expecting but Bucky answers in the affirmative. “He’s a baking consultant on the show.”

More typing. “Does he have good taste?”

There’s a tiny, childish part of Bucky that wants to say no, because Torres is chirpy and bright-eyed and his unfailing enthusiasm is exhausting at times, but that would be a lie. “Yeah, he knows his stuff. Why?”

“He lives in Atlanta; he posts about a lot of local hidden gems. There’s a Tunisian restaurant a couple blocks from your hotel, apparently? Kind of looks like a hole in the wall but he says the food is amazing.”

“I don’t know, Bec. It’s late and eating out alone is depressing.” His limbs feel heavy, and his shoulder is starting to hurt from having the prosthetic on for so long, and he knows that food would make his headache go away, but he just can’t drag himself off the bed.

Like Becca knows what track his mind is on—and honestly, she probably does—, she chooses this moment to go for the knockout. “Come on, Buck; it’s my job to look out for you, and you’re too far away for me to drag you out to dinner and make sure you eat. Throw a girl a bone here.”

She’s too powerful for her own good.

Bucky drags a hand down his face, sighing again. “You know, I hear some people don’t let their baby sisters tell them what to do all the time.”

“Poor them,” says Becca.

“Poor them,” echoes Bucky, and asks her to text him the address.

When she does, he looks it up and realizes that it really is only two blocks away: completely walkable, even in Atlanta’s late spring heat, and only a little further than the convenience store where he’d planned to grab his apparently pathetic dinner.

It’s only when he gets to the door of the restaurant that he remembers it’s a Saturday night and he probably should have thought to make a reservation. The place only has a handful of tables to begin with, and they’ve all got people at them. The host already has an apologetic look on his face as Bucky walks in, but they both turn in surprise when they hear someone inside the restaurant call out to him.

“Bucky!” says Joaquín, as brightly as ever. “Come sit with us.”

Because the universe has a sense of humor, ‘us’ is of course Joaquín and Sam, who are having dinner together. Alone. On a Saturday night.

It can’t be a date, Bucky reasons. No one would invite a random acquaintance to third-wheel their date, right?

He realizes that he still hasn’t responded when the host assures him that of course they’ll be able to add another place setting to the table, and before he knows it, Bucky is being whisked over to their table.

Whatever mood had settled over Sam after the signature today seems to have dissipated, and he turns to Bucky with a grin on his face. “I hope you trust Torres over here, because he ordered way too much food for us and didn’t let me see the menu.”

Joaquín shrugs. “I come here a lot,” he says. “Not enough people know about it, but it’s amazing.”

“Which is why he’s on a mission to be their one-man marketing team,” says Sam. “We got here half an hour ago and he’s already posted on Instagram like, ten times.”

Bucky thinks of the sound of Becca on her computer as she’d talked to him earlier, how she’d pivoted from suggesting the diner he’d probably have ended up at to this specific restaurant, and suddenly, this coincidence feels markedly less like a coincidence.

He’d probably feel more annoyed about it if he didn’t spend the meal close enough to Sam for their shoulders to constantly be brushing. Torres is right; the food is great, but if anyone asks, Bucky’s pretty sure the only thing he’d be able to recount is how many times Sam touched his arm to ask him to pass things, or dished some more food onto his plate, or gently nudged him while telling Joaquín stories of their time filming season two.

When the check comes, Bucky insists on paying, to make up for crashing Sam and Joaquín’s dinner, and as they stand on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, Joaquín offers to drop them off at the hotel on his way home. He’s about to accept when Sam waves it off. 

“I think we’ll just walk back,” says Sam. “It’s so nice out, and the hotel’s probably closer than your car is.”

There’s a moment where all three of them silently commiserate over the trials of city parking, and then Joaquín says he’ll see them tomorrow and heads off.

Bucky glances sidelong at Sam, whose eyebrows are knitted together as he looks down the street towards their hotel. He can see the entrance from where they’re standing, but Sam gently touches his elbow and nods down the street to their left—the long way, Bucky realizes, a moment too late.

[dandelionrevolution]

Good News - April 1-7

Like these weekly compilations? Support me on Ko-fi! Also, if you tip me on here or Ko-fi, at the end of the month I’ll send you a link to all of the articles I found but didn’t use each week - almost double the content! (I’m new to taking tips on here; if it doesn’t show me your username or if you have DM’s turned off, please send me a screenshot of your payment)

1. Three Endangered Asiatic Lion Cubs Born at London Zoo

“The three cubs are a huge boost to the conservation breeding programme for Asiatic lions, which are now found only in the Gir Forest in Gujarat, India.”

2. United Nations Passes Groundbreaking Intersex Rights Resolution

“The United Nations Human Rights Council has passed its first ever resolution affirming the rights of intersex people, signaling growing international resolve to address rights violations experienced by people born with variations in their sex characteristics.”

3. Proposal to delist Roanoke logperch

“Based on a review of the best available science, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (Service) has determined that the Roanoke logperch, a large freshwater darter, is no longer at risk of extinction. […] When the Roanoke logperch was listed as endangered in 1989, it was found in only 14 streams. In the years since, Roanoke logperch surveys and habitat restoration have more than doubled the species range, with 31 occupied streams as of 2019.”

4. Fully-Accessible Theme Park Reopens Following Major Expansion

“Following the $6.5 million overhaul, the park now offers [among other “ultra-accessible” attractions] a first-of-its-kind 4-seat zip line that can accommodate riders in wheelchairs as well as those who need extra restraints, respiratory equipment or other special gear.”

5. ‘The Javan tiger still exists’: DNA find may herald an extinct species’ comeback

“A single strand of hair recovered from [a sighting] is a close genetic match to hair from a Javan tiger pelt from 1930 kept at a museum, [a new] study shows. “Through this research, we have determined that the Javan tiger still exists in the wild,” says Wirdateti, a government researcher and lead author of the study.”

6. Treehouse Village: Eco-housing and energy savings

““The entire place is designed and built to meet the passive house standard, which is the most energy-efficient construction standard in the world,” says resident Wayne Groszko, co-owner of one of the units at Treehouse.”

7. 50 rare crocodiles released in Cambodia's tropical Cardamom Mountains

“Cambodian conservationists have released 50 captive-bred juvenile Siamese crocodiles at a remote site in Cambodia as part of an ongoing programme to save the species from extinction.”

8. The Remarkable Growth of the Global Biochar Market: A Beacon of Environmental Progress

“Biochar, a stable carbon form derived from organic materials like agricultural residues and forestry trimmings, is a pivotal solution in the fight against global warming. By capturing carbon in a stable form during biochar production, and with high technology readiness levels, biochar offers accessible and durable carbon dioxide removal.”

9. 'Seismic' changes set for [grouse shooting] industry as new Scottish law aims to tackle raptor persecution

“Conservation scientists and campaigners believe that birds such as golden eagles and hen harriers are being killed to prevent them from preying on red grouse, the main target species of the shooting industry. […] Under the Wildlife Management and Muirburn Bill, the Scottish grouse industry will be regulated for the first time in its history.”

10. White House Awards $20 Billion to Nation’s First ‘Green Bank’ Network

“At least 70 percent of the funds will go to disadvantaged communities, the administration said, while 20 percent will go to rural communities and more than 5 percent will go to tribal communities. […] The White House said that the new initiative will generate about $150 billion in clean energy and climate investments[…].”

March 22-28 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[midgardian-witch]

The Consequences Of Being A Brat

After days of Nathan being a brat, Reader decides on a punishment that leaves the resident genius wet and wanting.

Part 1 | [Part 2] | [Part 3]

AO3

tags: sub!Nathan | Dom!Reader | AFAB!Reader | Mommy Kink | Spitting Kink | Humiliation Kink, Dumbification (slight) | cock ring | bondage | cock cage | Chastity Kink | Cunnilingus | Face Riding | CBT (slight) | finger sucking | Orgasm Denial | cursing | Temperature Play | BDSM

ships: Nathan Bateman/Reader

AN: What started as one little fanfic now turned into this almost 3.9k part one of a three part fanfic. The other two parts are already planned out and only need to be written now.

tagged list: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

You watch him squirm uncomfortably, desperately humping the air, the restraints keeping him tied to the bed spread-eagle and cock ring keeping him hard even after what to him feels like hours spent like this. You've been sitting to the side of the bed, out of sight from him while having the perfect view yourself. His head turns side to side, desperate to see you, to see if you approve or not. He's been slowly but surely sinking into this needy, eager, submissive headspace since you teased and then left him tied to the bed alone without relief. Denial was the easiest way to help him slip into this headspace - too stubborn otherwise to give in to what he really wants, what he needs. 

Finally you slowly rise from your seat and with measured steps make your way over to the withering mess that is your lover. As he catches your gaze, his eyes look vacant, blown wide, almost delirious. His mouth hangs open, drool steadily dribbling from the corners of his mouth, his beard shiny with saliva. Seeing him like this you're sure there is not one coherent thought left in his head. 

Good. 

You sit down next to him on the bed, fingers drawing lazy circles over his torso, your touch lighter than a feather. And yet that simple touch makes him keen, his body instinctively chasing your hand even as you withdraw it again. 

You tsk at him, shaking your head. When he hears the sound of your disapproval he whines pitifully. 

"Are you ready to be a good boy now, Nathan?"

Your voice is as cold as ice despite the heat flooding your core. Nathan looks at you with glassy eyes and you're not sure if he can actually see you without his glasses, his eyes re-focusing every few seconds. 

He nods furiously and when he finally talks his voice sounds broken, raw from moaning and begging, the tension too much for his brain to take, heavy breathing and hiccups slurring his speech. 

"Y-Yes Mommy hic I-I'm sorry Mommy. I-I-I'll be g-good."

You hum thoughtfully in reply as you resume your feather-light touches. Your fingers glide over his chest and stomach as you make a great show of mulling over your options. Laying your hand flat over his abdomen you can feel him try to buck into your touch, only stopped by the restraints holding him down. 

Nathan had a tendency to be a brat most of the time but the last few days have been agony. He had gotten stuck on one of his projects and when working out and drinking himself into a stupor hadn't given him the relief he needed, he had turned his bad mood on you. Nathan Bateman was a smart man, a genius even, but his stubbornness had always been his downfall. Instead of asking you to help turn his mind off of things and give him the mental break he so desperately needed, he decided to behave like a spoiled child. 

Ignoring you when you asked him something. Giving more and more snide remarks when you talked. Starting fights over the smallest, silliest things. After almost a week of living with this you decided to draw the line. 

"You've been a real brat lately, Nathan", you state calmly as you run your nails across his abdomen. You can hear his breath hitch in response. 

"I'm sorry. I'll be good. I-I'll be good, Mommy."

His wrecked, pleading voice is music to your ears. You suppress a smile and shake your head instead. 

"Oh I know you will be after we're done."

"D-Done? But-" 

"But what? Did you really think we were already done with your punishment, Nathan? And here I thought you were smart."

Your amused chuckle fills the room as you pull your hand back again. 

"Not so smart after all, hm? I mean look at you. You're a mess, drooling all over yourself."

Slowly you lean over him, careful that your body is not touching even an inch of his skin. His glassy eyes snap to your face as you look down on him, desperate for your attention. 

Gently you caress his face, fingers combing through his thick beard. His eyes flutter closed and he leans into your touch with a pleased hum. Nathan looks beautiful like this, relaxed and unashamed. The trust he puts in you, to let you see him like this, never fails to make your heart melt. 

Holding his face in your hand your thumb gently teases his bottom lip. On instinct, Nathan opens his mouth wider and you slip your thumb into it with ease. With a muffled moan he begins to suck eagerly on the digit, his tongue swirling around it with slow strokes.

"So eager. It's actually kind of funny, you know? All that genius, building Artificial Intelligence, androids and then what did you do? You used these brilliant machines as nothing more than house maids and human-sized sex toys."

Your disapproving tone gains you another desperate whine in response and you can see tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. You push down on his tongue with your thumb and tilt his head upwards. 

"Look at me, Nathan."

His eyes open, wet with tears as he looks up at you dutifully. 

"See? This is much better, isn't it?" 

He moans around your thumb and nods dumbly. 

You chuckle again, a cruel smile forming on your lips. 

"I figured you out, you know? All these androids? I know why you use them. Not because you couldn't get your dick wet any other way, no. It's because you're actually jealous."

You can see in the way his brow furrows that he is desperately trying to follow your words but his mind has a hard time keeping up, now that you have broken him down so thoroughly. You intend to take him even further tonight. 

"You build these machines while in reality you want to be used like you use them. All you really want is to shut off your silly little brain and get used like a mindless fucktoy."

He nods vigorously and you can feel him swallowing around your thumb. Slowly you pull your digit out of his mouth. You shush his needy whimper at the loss. 

"Y-Yes, Mommy. Please…please use me."

You place your hands next to his head, one on each side. Neither of you is breaking eye contact as you stare him down. 

"Open your mouth."

Instinctively he follows your order, mouth opening wide enough for you to see his pink tongue. 

"Very good."

His eyes nearly roll into the back of his head at your praise, a high-pitched keen spilling out of his throat. 

You position your face right above his as you gather saliva in your mouth. Slowly you part your lips and let your spit drip down. You can feel him try to push himself up, so your saliva can reach his awaiting mouth sooner but it's no use. After what to him feels like ages your spit finally hits his tongue and unable to restrain himself Nathan lets out a guttural groan. Obediently he keeps his mouth open, still staring up at you, eagerly waiting for instructions.

"Swallow."

At this point you're sure Nathan couldn't even think if he tried. Mindlessly he obeys your command and you see his Adam's Apple bob as he swallows your saliva. 

It's getting harder and harder not to openly show your delight. You pull back from him and stand up with one smooth motion. As you turn your back to him you grant yourself a pleased smile. 

With measured steps you make your way over to the box of sex toys you had placed at the bottom of the bed earlier. Accompanied by the sound of Nathan's labored breathing you dig through the various contents. Between multiple vibrators, butt plugs, dildos and strap-ons you find the item you've been looking for. You close the box and place your chosen object on top of it, out of Nathan's sight for now. 

You straighten your posture and pull yourself to your full height. Without even looking you know Nathan is watching your every move. You can feel his gaze on you as you linger a while before taking off your clothes. 

As the first item of clothing hits the ground something in Nathan seems to snap. He lets out an incomprehensible string of words and moans, most likely curses, as he watches you slowly reveal your naked body. 

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and shake your head. 

"Could you repeat that? I'm sure there was a sentence under all that whining."

"Please, Mommy. I wanna- please let me take those off."

Torturously slow you undress further, dragging out every movement. It almost makes you feel bad, denying him like this. Nathan wanted so badly to be good for you but you were not done. Not by a long shot. 

"Not tonight. Only good boys get to undress and touch Mommy. And you've been anything but good lately", you remind him, your voice just a touch more gentle than before. 

"I'm sorry, Mommy. Please! Please let me be good for you. I wanna be good!" 

Oh how his begging made your insides tingle. You could feel how wet you were already, just from this. You force yourself to ignore his pleas, instead finally stripping down fully. 

Once you're completely bare, you walk around the bed, like a predator stalking its prey. Squirming on the bed, Nathan follows your every move with his hooded eyes, mouth still hanging half open. 

"Please, Mommy. Can I touch you? Please let me touch you, Mommy!" 

You tap your lips with your pointer finger and let out a thoughtful hum. It's a difficult decision: you know Nathan is good, very good, with his hands and yet, this is still supposed to be his punishment for being a careless brat. And if you go soft on him now all would be for nothing. But just because it's his punishment doesn't mean you'd deny yourself the pleasure of feeling Nathan's body against yours forever. 

You crawl onto the bed straddling his head with your thighs. Slack-jawed Nathan stares up at your pussy hovering right above his face, saliva steadily dripping into his beard. 

"Your hands stay tied to the bed, but this is much better anyways, isn't it, baby?" 

Nathan audibly swallows, nodding and humming affirmatively. 

"Yes, Mommy. Please, can I eat your pussy, Mommy? Please! I wanna taste you so bad."

He slurs his words, seemingly already pussy drunk without even having had a taste yet. You lower yourself down, your pussy just inches away from his face, before you stop. In response to your teasing he whines, craning his neck to get closer to your soaking wet folds. 

"Will you be a good boy for me, Nathan? Promise me to be good and I'll ride your face, baby." 

You're not sure what affected him more, your gentle cooing or just the thought of getting to get his mouth on you. The high-pitched, almost pitiful sounds spilling from between his lips suggest either or both to be true. 

He nods frantically before his begging continues. 

"I promise. I'll be so good for you, Mommy. Please, can I eat your pussy? Please, let me make you cum, Mommy!" 

A pleased grin spreads across your lips. Classic Nathan, already getting ahead of himself. You know how much he loves to make you cum so you're not surprised. And since he was behaving himself so well (for now) you'd give him that. 

Without another word you lower yourself fully on top of his face. As soon as your drenched folds all but graze his nose he is on you. Like a starving man he practically tries to devour you. With rhythmic, practiced motions he rubs his nose against your clit as his tongue licks a long stripe between your folds. Skillfully switching between licking and teasing your entrance with his tongue, all while keeping a soft pressure on that sensitive bundle of nerves, Nathan is intent on giving you as much pleasure as he can in this position. The feeling of his beard against your most sensitive spots makes you shiver in delight. 

You steady yourself against the wall behind the head of the bed as his ministrations make you lose your balance for a second. Nathan was divine with his mouth, unsurprising since he loved to use it so much. Even though usually he used his mouth to be a know-it-all brat. You just had to find a better use for his mouth than that. And what a better use this is. 

With every lick and suck his movements get more sloppy. His muffled moans vibrate against your sensitive pussy, adding to the stimulation. Slowly you begin to move your hips, grinding down on his face, seeking more of that delicious friction. In moments like this you regret Nathan's shaved head and lack of hair to grab and pull. Repeated, broken pleas of "Thank you" and "Mommy" echo from between your legs as you rub your clit against his shapely nose. Nathan licks and sucks your wet folds as best he can, your fluids leaking into his thick beard and joining his own saliva. 

With every stutter of your hips you can feel your orgasm building. You voice your pleasure unabashed, moans and praise spilling from between your lips, mixing with Nathan's muffled groans and begging as the sounds of your shared lust fill the room. 

"You're doing so well, baby. Come on, make Mommy cum.", you encourage him as you feel your legs start to shake from the strain. 

"Yes, Mommy. Please cum, Mommy. Please cum. Wanna make you cum."

Despite the lack of grabbable hair you put one of your hands on his head to hold him in place as you ride Nathan's face, your knees shaking with pleasure. You feel your orgasm building, higher and higher with every stutter of your hips. 

With another grind against his nose, with his tongue as deep inside your core as your position allows, you find your peak, your walls clenching around his tongue as you cry out. Your pussy is still pulsing in the afterglow as you ride out your orgasm. After a few more movements you quickly dismount your lover's face, the soft scratch of his beard starting to be too much on your sensitive pussy. 

You sit down next to Nathan, catching your breath, chest heaving. Your skin is soaked with sweat, your limbs start to feel heavy but you remind yourself that you are still not done with Nathan. 

You turn around to look at your lover and the sight of Nathan steals your breath away. 

He's a mess. With his beard completely soaked with your fluids and his own saliva, the mixture smeared all over his face, he looks ruined. He looks at you with a dopey grin, eyes unfocused and glassy. 

"Did- Did I do a good job, Mommy?", he asks blissfully, his voice cracking from overuse. 

You grant him a pleased smile, your hand reaching out to pet his head. "You did a great job, baby. Such a good boy.", you answer and lean over to place a soft kiss on his temple. 

He looks up at you adoringly, tilting his head up in a silent question. You indulge him and place several more kisses to his nose, cheeks and finally on his lips, lingering there just enough to taste yourself. 

"My good boy.", you whisper against his mouth. Your other hand spreads across his chest, gently tracing his sweat soaked skin. Your lips follow your hands, showing him just how pleased you are, making him feel your love and appreciation. 

Your hands and lips trail down further until you are face to face with the evidence of his arousal. Nathan's cock stands proud against his abdomen, head a dark, angry red as it's kept erect by the cock ring you had put on him at the start of his punishment. It's still leaking a steady trail of pre-cum, leaving him wet and slightly sticky. The ring has done his job in preventing him from both coming and going completely flaccid while you were busy teasing your favorite genius. 

Even your breath against his cock makes him twitch. He squirms again, gasping. 

"Please. Please can I cum, Mommy? I was good! You said I was good!" 

You can't stop your chuckle at his continued begging. "Oh sweetheart. This wouldn't be a punishment if I let you do that, now would it?" 

You get up from the bed, ignoring Nathan's whining for now. 

"Wait here. And don't move.", you order with a wink, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to move even if he wanted to. 

You return as fast as you vanish, knowing the maze-like pathways of the facility by heart and making your way quickly from your bedroom to the kitchen and back. As you re-enter the bedroom Nathan's eyes are immediately on you.

"Mommy! Please don't leave me again! You were gone so long!" 

You were gone maybe five minutes but you would never fault him for complaining in his state. The poor genius is only slowly getting out of subspace, his mind still a little foggy. 

"I'm sorry, baby. Don't worry. Mommy will take care of you.", you try to soothe him, holding up the glass of water you have gotten from the kitchen. You walk over to Nathan, and sit back down next to him. Tilting his head down you hold the glass to his lips, gently feeding him the cool liquid. He gulps down the water eagerly, some of it spilling into his beard, until there are only ice cubes left. 

You pet his head again and kiss his cheek before returning to the foot of the bed. 

"Now, let's take care of this.", you mutter as you trace his erection with a single finger. His cock twitches and another bead of pre-cum pools out of the head. Gently you remove the ring pressed snuggly around the base of Nathan's cock. He gasps once he's finally free from the torturous pressure. 

"Poor baby. I bet you'd come with only a few strokes."

You tease his balls as he keens and more pre-cum spills forth. His drawn out "Mommy please" makes you chuckle devilishly. 

"Listen well, baby. You've been a brat for almost a week. So as punishment, you're not allowed to cum for the next seven days, starting now. Do you understand?" 

"Yes, Mommy. I-I-I'll be good, Mommy."

"Very good. And since I am so nice, I even have something to help you."

You pluck the item you had hidden from him earlier from atop the toy box. You raise it to the side of your head, showing him the metal cock cage in your hand. Nathan stares at the cage in a mix of horror and arousal. 

"Are you OK with this, Nathan? I need a clear yes or no.", you ask softly, ready to abandon your plan if he is too uncomfortable with it. 

You see his Adam's Apple bob as he swallows hard, thinking it over. You can feel the gears turning in his head as the fog of subspace is slowly dissipating. After a few moments he answers with a sharp nod: "Yes, Mommy. I'm ok."

Your shoulders sag in relief and you let out a pleased sigh. Quickly you put a confident smile on your face before turning back to your lover's straining erection. 

"Well this won't fit at all. But thankfully I came prepared."

You take one of the ice cubes out of the glass and gently hold it to his shaft. Nathan gasps and struggles in his bonds. 

"Cold! Fuck. Too cold!" 

"That's the idea, sweetheart. You remember your safe word, don't you?" 

"Yes, Mommy. Python."

"Good. Use it if it gets too much."

"Yes, Mommy. Please continue."

He doesn't look at you but his tone of voice tells you more than his eyes ever could. He wants this even if he isn't ready to admit it to himself. You'd have to explore that further. Another time. 

You pick up the next ice cube and gently run it along his cock, tip to root. He squirms and writhes underneath you, gasping and shaking, but no words other than "fuck", "oh god", "shit" and other curses leave his mouth. You giggle quietly as you watch his cock go soft and shrink under your freezing touch. 

After a few minutes of the same routine Nathan's impressive cock has been cooled down to a manageable size. You think about teasing him about it, knowing a little humiliation is definitely on his kink list, but you push that away for later too. 

With careful touches you squeeze his cock into the silver cage. You turn the key and with a resounding click the cage is locked. Somehow his cock looks even smaller, engulfed in metal. You run your fingers over the cage, feeling the smooth, unyielding material under your fingertips. 

"How does it feel?" 

"Fuckin' unreal."

You laugh, shaking your head. 

"In a good way?" 

He swallows hard but nods. 

"Yeah…"

You raise an eyebrow at him and he clears his throat with an eye roll. 

"Yes, Mommy. Can you untie me now? Fuck, if my wrists are fucked up because of this, I swear I'll-" 

Seeing your unimpressed stare he stops himself and mutters a quiet "Sorry" instead. Even a bratty genius could learn, it seems. 

You untie his legs first, massaging and rubbing the indents the leather straps left on his skin. Once you're done with his legs you crawl over him, sitting down on his lower stomach and freeing his arms with skilled fingers. You soothe his wrists too, careful not to irritate the skin further. You make him move his wrists, checking for any damage. Once you're satisfied with your check up you lean down for a long kiss, your lips sliding against his. You hum into his mouth, ignoring the wet feel of his drenched beard against your face. 

Needing air the two of you part. He wraps his arms around you, finally free to roam across your skin. You lay there, your forehead pressed against his, just enjoying the feeling of being so close to eachother. 

"I don't know about you but I could use a nap."

You feel Nathan laugh against your lips in response, before his low chuckle turns into a thoughtful hum. 

"Let's stay like this, OK? Just say something if I get too heavy. Or roll me over. You got the use of your limbs back after all.", you joke before pressing a soft kiss to his nose. 

You only get another hum in response. 

Concerned, your eyebrows furrow. 

"Nathan?“ 

"A whole fucking week?", he grumbles, mouth turned into the cutest pout you've ever seen. You snort and give him another kiss. 

"You'll survive. And after…"

"After?"

"Be good for a week and you'll see."

Nathan rolls his eyes at you and you're sure he could hurt himself if he rolled them any harder. 

"A week.", he repeats. 

"Yup."

"You're cruel."

"You love it."

He looks at you, his brown eyes somehow seeming so much warmer than before as he admits: "I do."

[hd-junglebook]

Edge of Exile

Part 6

Getting Lincoln out of the parking garage without incident felt like a miracle. Your ragged group emerged back onto the surface, with Bellamy leading the way, his gun poised warily. You supported Lincoln on one side while Octavia clung to the other, murmuring words of comfort.

Lincoln remained surprisingly calm during the long walk back to the dropship. He dozed off occasionally, only stirring with low growls that meant minimal waking up and attempting to eat your face off.

Your footfalls crackled on pine needles as you slipped between the trees, senses hyperalert for any sign of the acid fog returning. But the forest remained still.

"Just a little further, Lincoln. We're almost there," you said gently as he began to rouse. He blinked slowly at you before settling back down.

Getting him back here had been tricky, but at least he was safe for now. Bellamy carried him up to the top floor, leaving you alone with Octavia. You could sense her fear.

Gripping her shoulder firmly, you reassured her, "I'll be right by your side the whole time. We'll get Lincoln back." She nodded, taking a deep breath before climbing the ladder. You followed her up to the top floor where Lincoln was now tied up.

Examining him, you tried to figure out your next steps. There had to be a way to reverse the Reaper's influence.

Bellamy's voice rasped into the silence, breaking your thoughts. "We did what we could. Now we just have to get Clarke here. She’ll know what to do." He didn't sound overly convinced.

"You’re right. Clarke can do it," you said finally, putting as much encouragement into your tone as you could muster for the sake of Octavia.

Bellamy's answering half-smile didn't reach his eyes, but he reached over to squeeze your hand lightly in appreciation. His fingers caressing the tips of yours before he headed down the ladder.

…

You watched Bellamy disappear down the ladder, you turned back to Octavia, a small smirk playing on your lips. "Well, looks like it's just you and me and our friendly neighborhood Reaper," you quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

Octavia managed a weak chuckle, "Yeah, lucky us," she replied, her sarcasm matching yours.

You moved closer to Lincoln, studying his face for any sign of recognition. "So, Lincoln," you began, addressing him as if he were fully aware. "Any chance you can snap out of this Reaper thing and tell us how to reverse it?"

Octavia rolled her eyes at your attempt at conversation with a semi-conscious Grounder. "I don't think he's up for a heart-to-heart right now," she remarked dryly.

The minutes ticked by in tense silence, broken only by the occasional creak of the dropship settling. Octavia paced back and forth, her anxiety palpable.

You reached out, gently touching her arm to stop her. "Hey, relax. We'll figure this out. We always do," you said, injecting a note of confidence into your voice.

Octavia gave you a grateful smile, her tension easing slightly. "Thanks, Y/N. I don't know what I'd do without you."

…

The minutes stretched into hours, and the dropship was eerily quiet in the time between Bellamy’s departure and now. You sat against the cold metal wall; knees pulled tightly to your chest.

Across from you, Octavia mirrored the same weary posture, her dark hair falling limply across her face, eyes heavy with exhaustion. But sleep still eluded you both. Between you, Lincoln stood, his massive form unnaturally still, but the slow rise and fall of his chest showed he still clung to life. Barely.

The sun was creeping across the sky when approaching footsteps signaled Clarke and Bellamy’s arrival. You roused yourself, steeling your energies, as Lincoln's eyes shot open at the sound of Clarke entering. He fought against his restraints, causing the cuffs to clang against the metal, and the guttural groans returned.

Bellamy stepped forward hurriedly, placing a reassuring hand on Clarkes shoulder. "We rescued him from the Mountain. It’s okay we restrained him."

“I can’t believe we're back here again,” Clarke stated, shaking her head in shock at Lincoln's state. From the corner, Octavia mumbled, “Can you help him?” her eyes begging Clarke to say yes.

"I don’t know," Clarke replied, striding forward to inspect Lincoln's confused, bloodshot eyes. “I knew Mount Weather controlled the Reapers,” she said in a low voice. “I had no idea they were creating them.”

You nodded, glancing warily at Clarke up ahead. She was right. If they did this to Lincoln, what were they doing to your friends?

…

You stood anxiously in the cramped confines of the drop ship, watching as Clarke examined Lincoln's unconscious form. His wrists and ankles were bound in thick chains.

Clarke's urgent commands cut through the chaos, "Shine the light over here, on his neck."

Octavia brought the flashlight closer, illuminating a row of angry puncture wounds along Lincoln's veins, Clarke’s expression darkened with worry.

"Needle marks?”

Before anyone could react, Lincoln let out a guttural roar, he strained against the chains, muscles bulging as began breaking free from his chains with terrifying strength.

With a snap, the chains broke. Lincoln lunged for Clarke, his bony fingers tightening around her throat.

"Lincoln!" Octavia screeched. her desperation evident as she and Bellamy rushed forward to assist. Lincoln's frenzied state rendered him impervious to their efforts, flinging them aside with frightening ease.

With Clarke still trapped in his grasp, you and Octavia fought to restrain Lincoln, grappling with him as he thrashed and howled. Every muscle in your body strained against his relentless onslaught, knowing that one wrong move could spell disaster.

In a desperate bid to subdue him, Octavia seized a nearby pipe, swinging it with all her might.

The sickening thud as it connected with Lincoln's body echoed in the cramped space, momentarily halting his rampage. As he crumpled to the ground, Octavia's gaze lingered on him.

…

“We have to stop the bleeding, Y/n we need to get that bullet out. Hold his leg down.”

You followed Clarkes instructions, holding Lincolns leg down as he screamed in pain. As Clarke worked, Bellamy and Octavia's voices rose in a heated conversation. Octavia's eyes blazed with accusation, pinning her brother with a look that could melt steel.

Bellamy's jaw tightened at the sight of Lincoln. "Once the drug is out of his system, he'll be okay," he offered, his voice low but edged with concern. "You know that."

"You can't protect me from this one, big brother" Octavia's voice cracked with anger.

Before you could say anything, Clarke's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "Focus, Bellamy. We need to keep Lincoln stable," she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. Reluctantly, Bellamy tore his gaze away from Octavia, his strong grip replacing yours on Lincoln's leg.

Octavia stormed back into the room, her emotions raw and volatile. She brought with her a man, Nyko, whose presence seemed to intensify the already charged atmosphere.

Nyko entered, you instinctively raised your gun, ready to defend against any potential threat. Octavia's urgent plea halted your actions, “don't! He's Lincoln's friend and their healer.”

Bellamy looked unconvinced but turned to you, visibly wary but he intervened, his hand gently guiding yours away from the trigger. Reluctantly, you complied, but your suspicion lingered, a silent sentinel in the room.

Lincoln's condition worsened as he began to seize, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Octavia pushed Nyko forward begging him to do something. Nyko crouched down, looking over Lincolns face as he reached into his pack and retrieved a vial.

“Yu gonplei ste odon” Nyko repeated with an unsettling calmness. The foreign words hung heavy in the air, ominous and foreboding.

“Wait!” Clarke yelled at Nyko, her voice cut through the ship like a whip crack as Clarke caught the drop in her hand before it could reach Lincoln’s mouth.

"Yu gonplei ste odon. It's what they say before death," Clarke said, her eyes flashing with anger as she confronted Nyko. "He's not trying to heal him...he's trying to kill him."

Finn's sudden appearance disrupted the tense atmosphere, his urgent words slicing through the escalating confrontation. "We have to go, the camp's leaving," he announced, panting heavily from the exertion.

Nyko's rage erupted like a volcano, his accusatory words directed at Finn like fiery projectiles. "You?" he bellowed, his eyes ablaze with fury as he advanced toward Finn.

"You slaughtered my people. Elders. Children. Innocents.! You deserve to die!" Nyko shouted, his grip around Finns neck tightened viciously.

Octavia leaped into action, positioning herself between Bellamy and Nyko in a desperate attempt to defuse the volatile situation. you remained rooted to the spot, your focus never wavering from the injured Lincoln at your side.

Clarke's expression turned grim as she scanned the room, her eyes searching for a solution to quell Nyko's wrath. You spotted the shock baton nearby and gestured urgently to Clarke, silently urging her to seize the opportunity to intervene.

Nyko's screams reverberated through the air, his grip tightening around Finn's neck, Clarke moved swiftly, seizing the shock baton with determination.

With a swift, decisive motion, she brought the weapon down, delivering a stunning blow that sent Nyko crashing to the ground, his fury abruptly silenced by unconsciousness.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gazed at Lincoln's now-limp form, a cold dread gripping you. "Oh god, Lincoln! He’s not breathing!"

Clarke's voice sliced through the panic, sharp and commanding. "His heart stopped, move to his other side."

You nodded, your focus sharpening as you moved into position beside Lincoln. Clarke began CPR, her movements urgent and precise, the sound of her compressions echoing in the tense silence of the room.

you felt a surge of hope as Lincoln suddenly gasped for air, his body convulsing with coughs as life returned to him. Nyko's eyes widened in shock as the fog of death lifted from Lincoln's eyes, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath.

"He was dead... how did you do that?"

Your curiosity piqued, you couldn't help but ask, "You've tried bringing Reapers back before?"

Nyko's gaze darkened, his voice heavy with sorrow. "Yes. But it always wins. Their minds too warped, their bodies too broken. Death is a mercy."                                  

"And they died like this?" you pressed, glancing around at your friends, the weight of their losses heavy in the air.

Nyko nodded grimly. "The damage is too severe."

The gravity of what you had achieved settled over the group, a uneasy silence enveloping you all.

"Y/n, what is it?" Clarke's voice was soft, her eyes searching yours for answers.

You hesitated, your mind racing with possibilities. "I know how to stop the attack," you realized aloud as Clarke grabbed your arm.

Locking eyes with her, you continued, "Bringing Lincoln back was just the first step. Once they realize we can keep bringing Reapers back, they'll be forced to negotiate."

Clarke's grip on your arm tightened, her eyes blazing with determination as she pulled you into a fierce embrace.

Bellamy's hand landed on your shoulder, his expression etched with concern. "This is a big risk. Are you both sure about this?"

You covered his hand with yours, meeting his dark eyes with unwavering resolve. "It's worth the risk. We have to try."

Bellamy grabbed your shoulder, his expression etched with concern. "This is a big risk. Are you both sure about this?"

You covered his hand with yours, meeting his dark eyes. "It's worth the risk. We have to try."